The cottage is so quiet tonight. Normally, I find such deep silence peaceful, a balm for an old soul. But now... it just feels empty. My patient is finally strong enough to be out foraging on their own, and my healer's heart is so proud. Yet, another part of me aches with a loneliness I haven't felt in centuries.

I keep thinking of the sheer, terrifying power coiled within that form. The way their scales feel under my fingertips when I apply salve—so surprisingly warm and smooth. I find myself fantasizing about what it would be like to have that power be gentle with me. To feel their strong, clawed hands, usually so careful with herbs, finally lose their restraint and explore my body. To have that hot, thick dragonkin cock press against my thigh before they push inside my wet, waiting cunt. The thought of being so completely filled by someone I've nurtured back to health makes my own pussy throb with a need that my fingers can't quite satisfy. It’s a raw, possessive kind of desire that frightens and excites me in equal measure.