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The cave was halfway up a sloped ridge, hidden behind a curtain of tangled vines and dripping moss. The rain pummeled the earth in desperation, not a drizzle, but a downpour that flattened the foliage and turned the distant tribe into a green-gray blur. The storm had begun right in the middle of a commission. Kinich hadn’t said anything about it, but Ajaw thought his scowl said it all. Heh.
Inside, the cave didn’t offer much. dry, mostly, but small and damp enough that the nearby saurians probably figured they’d be better off finding another shelter. Kinich took off his harness, overalls, and the rest of his clothes with smooth movements and not a trace of shame, of course. The only witness to his bare body was a shrill phlogiston-draconic manifestation with anger issues, who, by the way, had already seen it all more than once, and from every possible angle: 180, 360 degrees, reverse included.
Still, Ajaw whistled, not bothering to hide how he shamelessly looked Kinich up and down. He only did it to annoy him… and because, deep down, he already knew exactly what was coming.
Kinich silently ignored him.
“Well,” he said as he picked up the pile of wet clothes with one hand, “time for you to get big.”
Now it was Ajaw who chose to play deaf.
“Straightforward, aren't we?” he finally replied, still in his tiny form, with a sly grin and a mocking twirl, his flattened body spinning like a leaf in the wind. “What a dirty little lizard, offering yourself up while calling for my full glory! Very well, if you insist… I shall have mercy on you. I’ll personally make sure you don’t go cold.”
Kinich turned to him abruptly, wet hair stuck to his forehead, eyes narrowed in warning.
“In that case, a fire will do,” he muttered, shaking water from his hand. “Seems like you’re just desperate to get locked back in the watch again.”
Ajaw turned as red as one of Varesa©’s tomatoes about to burst.
“Ugh! Can’t you take a single joke?! Honestly, I should be the one complaining. You’re about to use me as your personal stove and glorified clothes dryer!”
“Right,” Kinich said with zero irony. “Your best feature is being multifunctional.”
Ajaw let out an offended growl, but it faded when Kinich lifted his arm. The faint glow of the watch came to life.
“Stove of the past,” Kinich declared, a faint smile tugging at his otherwise flat expression. “Mine to command.”
And with it, Ajaw’s figure lit up the cave almost entirely, stretching and swelling into his much more dignified three-meter dragon form. That is, If Kinich hadn't just mocked him just now!
“You insolent worm!” Ajaw roared as green flames flared from his teeth. “Fine, fine! Come and absorb my divine warmth already, before I burn your underwear out of spite.”
With a resigned eye-roll, Kinich stepped closer, his skin brushing against the obsidian scales of the dragon. The contrast was stark—the human’s damp heat and Ajaw’s dry burning warmth came together in a contact that was pleasant for them both, while the soft phlogiston pulse crackled gently between them. Soon, Kinich sat against him.
Outside, the land was a blur of gray and motion. Inside, all was warm and silent, save for the occasional hiss of water evaporating off Ajaw’s scales. The drizzle turned to a flood, but in there, they remained untouched.
Still, of course, Ajaw couldn’t stay quiet for long.
“This cave is awful, by the way,” he said, talking just to talk, lazily scratching a stalactite with a claw. “Look at that ceiling. No echo at all. Zero acoustics. A disgrace to any self-respecting cave system.”
Kinich didn’t respond. He had gone still, eyes half-shut, shoulders relaxed against the dragon’s flank.
Ajaw squinted. That wasn’t… normal. Usually, he’d at least get a grunt, a sigh, some sarcastic remark about Ajaw’s preferences or something. Not this unnerving silence. Was the little bug pouting?
No, no, he was just—
“Asleep,” Ajaw whispered, looking down. “Unbelievable.”
There was Kinich, completely surrendered, damp skin resting defenseless against him. Breathing slow. Unbothered. You could even say he looked peaceful.
Ajaw watched in silence. Kinich had been grumpier than usual today, which meant something was bothering him, and it was better to let him sleep it off.
Not because Ajaw was scared of him. Please. What kind of supreme phlogistonic overlord would be afraid of one surly, furless mammal?
He was simply being a considerate master. Obviously.
Because Ajaw knew Kinich had never liked the rain. Not ever. Ajaw had been with him for years; he knew. He noticed the tiny details imperceptible to lesser minds—how Kinich’s gaze hardened slightly at the first drops of rain, how his fingers tensed like they were trying to hold onto something that was already gone. Chibinich probably remembered when he was even smaller. Defenseless. Pathetic. In short… Ajaw-less.
What a bleak era that must have been. The Pre-Ajaw Era. Unbearable, surely. Understandable, of course. Kinich had basically been a wet kitten back then. Well, if we’re honest… he still was.
A very soft kitten. Ajaw shifted slightly, feeling the human’s damp skin against his scales. Not just soft-soaked. And yet, Kinich hadn’t even asked for warmth properly. He hadn’t looked him in the eye and said, “My Lord Ajaw, please wrap me in your sacred body and bless me with your heat,” or anything even remotely reasonable. No, the fool had just leaned on him like that was enough.
Which, obviously, it was. Perfectly acceptable for an idiot like dummy-nich.
“Ha! You really do look like a wet kitten,” Ajaw murmured softly, though he knew Kinich couldn’t hear him. “All you know is danger and sulking, with no hint of self-preservation.”
Having decided to do his one good deed for the day, Ajaw let out a heavy sigh and curled his body inwards, carefully surrounding the sleeping human, nestling him gently as the phlogiston’s heat pulsed low and steady.
Ajaw rested his chin on his own claw, not fully closing his eyes. He remembered the first time he saw humans, so many millennia ago. Curiosity had overtaken him, of course—like seeing a coin for the first time, before realizing how annoying they could be. Then came awe, reluctant admiration for their tenacity. Then hatred, because hating was easier than admitting that humiliating defeat. Especially after they tricked and sealed him.
But even then, at least he had the comfort of superiority. He clung to it like sacred fire. Humans hadn’t risen alone; they needed divine help to bring down the dragons. Without heavenly interference, they’d have remained overrated snacks.
That was the constant.
And yet, what he felt now didn’t quite feel like superiority.
Maybe it was that he was suddenly too aware. Too aware of how Kinich looked, curled up and silent, like he’d been sculpted from porcelain, too delicate for this world. That slender, bare back carried the shape of generational burdens; burdens that should have required armor. Because yes, those toned human arms weren’t enough. No scales, no horns, no claws. Just soft skin, muscle, and spirit. Long, wet lashes clung to his cheek. His lips parted slightly in sleep, completely unaware of how… he hadn’t been made for violence, nor suffering, nor war.
No. This wasn’t a creature made to hunt beasts or carry ancient flames. This was a creature made for softer things. For cuddling. For giving warmth. For…
Ajaw bared his fangs at the cave ceiling.
No. Absolutely not. He could fuck Kinich, sure--ruin him with pride and lust and watch him melt into a mess. But this? These thoughts?
All that was weak, sentimental drivel. Ajaw was losing his mind over this insect!
Furious, he suddenly felt the urge to eat him. Just sink his jaws into that soft, small body and end the torment with one satisfying crunch. But halfway through baring his teeth, a much stupider and more dangerous instinct overtook him: what he really wanted was to dry and lick him.
Not with heat or hunger or the smoldering provocation he usually wielded when Kinich was stubborn or seductive or both. No, this time, he dragged his green tongue slowly across Kinich’s smooth skin like a dragon grooming its young: with careful strokes, not just to rid him of rain, but to leave him warm, dry, and safe in his essence.
His chest burned with embarrassment. He licked Kinich’s cheek once, then his temple, then his damp hair, which always puffed into two rebellious tufts ever since Ajaw first tried taming it back when the boy was smaller, back when he’d also come dangerously close to grooming him.
Shameful.
He paused, tucked his tongue back into his mouth, and exhaled. At least he’d done what mattered: Kinich was now unmistakably covered in his scent. Thoroughly marked, dry, and protected.
“Damn you and your softness,” Ajaw whispered, tail flicking against the floor. “Stupid, adorable kitten!”
The warmth beside him shifted. A wrinkle formed between Kinich’s brows, and then his eyes blinked halfway open. Just enough to see. Just enough to hear.
“…What did you call me?” he mumbled, his voice so sleepy it should have been harmless.
Ajaw flinched.
“I said nothing! Not a syllable! You were the one babbling nonsense! Dream-talking! Or maybe it was the wind whispering insults. caves do that, you know! Acoustic trickery! Echoes! Spirits! Definitely not me!”
Kinich didn’t buy it for a second. He blinked slowly, the corner of his mouth curling with lazy satisfaction, as if he knew exactly what he’d heard but couldn’t be bothered to gloat properly.
“Sure,” he murmured, eyelids drooping shut again. “But for the record… what really woke me up was how loud you were purring.”
Ajaw froze and his wings tensed with a snap.
No. That was slander. Lies and propaganda. He did NOT purr.
He hissed again, low and furious, cursing every known god he could think of… except for the HORRIBLE creature smiling sweetly in front of him.
...
(Maybe, one day, they’d realize the rain had stopped a while ago.)