I woke up in Vilo's wings.
Her arm dragged me forward before I could even move, pulling my head straight into her chest. My face hit the soft swell of her breasts, warm and slightly firm beneath the smooth gleam of scale. They smelled faintly of lavender and steel, like everything else she wore. I let out a muffled sound, flustered, but she didn't react beyond curling one wing tighter around my back.
"Grope them," she said.
"W-What?"
She shifted, her legs tangling with mine. "You heard me."
I stared up at her, face burning. "You're serious."
"You always hesitate. Don't."
"O-Okay…"
I reached up, hands trembling slightly, and cupped them gently. They yielded under my touch, heavy and plush despite her frame. I squeezed slowly, thumbs brushing the slight ridge of scale that traced the upper curves.
"You like it," she said.
I glanced away. "I-I mean… yes."
"They're yours. Act like it."
I flinched as her thigh moved suddenly, shifting up under the blanket and pressing against me. I didn't have time to adjust. My hips twitched. Her leg stopped.
"…You're hard."
"I—I didn't mean—"
"You're always this soft until I do something about it."
"I wasn't trying to—!"
She slid her thigh between mine and locked it in place, trapping my erection with steady pressure. I choked out a breath.
"Still embarrassed?" she asked calmly.
I nodded.
"Don't be. I prefer you this way."
"V-Vilo—"
She leaned down slightly, lips near my ear. "I have a long day ahead. You will massage me this morning. Thoroughly."
"Y-Yeah. Of course."
"Good." She paused. "Start with my thighs."
I blinked. "Right now?"
She pushed me away and rolled over without another word, her wings folding back as she stretched across the sheets. The blanket slid off her hips, revealing the smooth, pale curve of her backside. She glanced over her shoulder.
"Well?"
I moved behind her, still half-dazed. My hands settled on her thighs, firm and solid beneath her skin. I massaged gently at first, kneading slow circles just above her knees, then higher, toward her hips.
"Harder," she said.
I pressed in deeper, using my thumbs. Her legs twitched once beneath me, the faintest reaction.
"Higher."
I moved up, hands sliding to her rear. Her butt was plush, dense with muscle, soft to the touch despite the faint armor of scale that traced along the sides. I squeezed gently.
"You're enjoying this," she muttered.
"You told me to."
"You didn't complain."
"…I wouldn't."
"Because you're mine."
"Yes."
She let out a low hum, almost thoughtful. "You're blushing."
"I can't help it."
"Don't hide it."
"I'm not!"
She sat up suddenly, tail flicking over the edge of the bed. "Dress me."
I stood and grabbed the robe from the nearby chair. "Uh—okay."
She rose with effortless grace, letting me wrap the fabric around her shoulders before turning her back to me. Her long hair slid over my hands as I fastened the clasps at her collarbone.
As I worked my way down the front of her robes, I cleared my throat. "Vilo?"
"What."
"…Did you just call me hubby earlier?"
She didn't answer.
I glanced up. "Did I imagine that?"
"You heard correctly."
"I just didn't expect you to—"
"Use the word? You are my consort. My husband. The term is accurate."
"I mean… yeah. Just sounded… soft. Coming from you."
She turned slightly. "Do you dislike it."
"No. Just surprised."
"Then stop whining."
"Wasn't whining."
"You were."
I tied the last sash around her waist. "Done."
She adjusted the robe slightly, smoothing one sleeve with a clawed hand. "Efficient."
"Thanks?"
A knock hit the door.
Vilo didn't flinch. "Enter."
The door opened and her advisor stepped in, scrolls tucked under one arm. "My queen. The war table is prepared. The high court waits."
"I'll be there shortly," she said.
The advisor nodded and stepped back without looking at me.
When the door shut again, Vilo turned to me. "Have the oils ready tonight."
"Yes, ma'am."
She stared at me for a beat longer than usual. Then reached out, cupped my cheek with one hand, and leaned in close.
"You'll need both hands."
I nodded quickly. "Y-Yes."
She turned, wings flaring once, and walked out.
I sank back onto the bed, heart still pounding.
Was that… her idea of flirting?
Because if it was, I was doomed.
A few more days passed. I woke up to the weight of her thighs already around my waist.
The covers were still half-draped over us, dawn barely spilling light across the obsidian floor tiles, but Vilo was very much awake—her breath calm, arms folded, wings tucked behind her like folded banners. She didn't speak right away. Just stared down at me with her usual piercing stare, silver hair spilling over her shoulders in a loose curtain.
"Your new task begins now," she said flatly.
I blinked, still groggy. "My… task?"
She tilted her head. "My morning warmth."
"Morning wha—"
Her tail flicked once and pulled me closer, face-first between her thighs.
"I've concluded that traditional wake-up routines are inefficient. I remain cold too long. Unacceptable." Her claws slid down to rest on my scalp. "You're soft. And warm. So you'll be used for heat."
"W-What kind of heat—?"
She didn't answer. Just leaned back slightly and pointed downward. "Begin."
I hesitated, then placed my hands gently on her hips, massaging in small circles. Her body was always so firm beneath the surface—scales like silk, but muscle like tempered steel. She made a quiet sound in her throat. Not quite a moan. Not quite a command. Just a signal.
"You'll massage until my breath changes," she said.
"That's the rule now?"
"It is."
"And if it doesn't change?"
"Then you'll continue until it does."
I swallowed, cheeks warm. My hands moved up, cupping her thighs, then gently higher. I leaned forward, kissing just below her navel, feeling the slow rise and fall of her breath under my lips.
Each kiss made her grip tighten.
Not drastically. Just enough.
By the time I reached her chest, she grabbed the back of my head and pressed it to her cleavage without ceremony.
"Stay there," she said, voice low.
"I can't breathe."
"You don't need to. Just be still."
I was anything but still.
My face was buried in the soft, cool valley of her breasts, her arms crossed behind my head, holding me there like a lock. I kissed once—softly—then again. Her body tensed. She said nothing, but her thighs wrapped tighter around my hips.
"More," she whispered.
I kissed up her chest, gently sucking against the upper swell of one breast. Her fingers curled into my hair. Her tail snaked around my back, looping, holding.
"You're heating up," she murmured.
"I think that's you," I mumbled into her skin.
She didn't reply.
Only pressed me tighter.
And then she kissed the top of my head.
No fanfare. No warning.
Just a slow, cold press of lips into my scalp.
"Continue," she breathed.
I obeyed.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
I lost track.
Eventually, she exhaled and released me. Her eyes half-lidded now. Her body fully flushed. But she didn't move.
"You're not allowed to leave the bed," she said.
I blinked. "What? I—why?"
"Because I'm not satisfied yet."
"I thought I finished the routine."
"You didn't."
"But I—"
She sat up slightly and shoved me back onto the mattress. One hand on my chest. Her weight pinned me. Her eyes narrowed.
"You think warmth only lasts one round?" she asked.
"N-No…"
"Then stop complaining."
She leaned down, capturing my mouth in a long, slow kiss. Not rushed. Not forceful. Just deep. Controlled. Thorough.
When she pulled back, her breath was warm against my cheek.
"I'm changing the rules," she said.
"Again?"
"Every morning begins with this. You will warm me properly. Then you will assist with dressing."
"Dressing?"
She grabbed the covers and tossed them aside. Her bare skin gleamed in the low light, silver scales catching every trace of morning sun. She stood, stretching with terrifying grace, then glanced down at me.
"You'll help me wear my armor. Face-first. Naked."
I stared. "Face-first?"
She reached down, grabbed me by the wrist, and pulled me toward the wardrobe.
"Into my chest," she said.
"Y-You mean literally?"
"You'll start there. And then work down."
She paused at the mirror.
Then added, "If you fumble a strap, I'll punish you."
I was already flushed to my ears. "Punish how?"
She smirked—barely. But it was there.
"You'll learn."