Zac wanted to be angry. He wanted to protest. But the sensation of dueling dragon snouts pressing into his neck, his hair, his shoulders, was such an unexpected and delightful treat that he could do little but giggle.
"Oh, Bune!" he laughed, squirming slightly. "Let me shower first! I'm all messy!"
Bune was not listening. He was locked in a fierce internal battle. Zac could feel the butler's body tense, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he struggled to control himself, to prevent his third, more primal head from emerging. The scents were overwhelming. On one hand, there was the pure, untouched, intoxicating scent of virginity, the core of Zac's being. But overlaid on top of it, clinging to his skin and his robes, was the rank, musky, post-coital scent of a body that had just been thoroughly railed by a ten-foot-tall murder-deer. It was a contradiction, a paradox, an affront to the collection.
The Left Head's eyes were closed in a state of near-ecstasy, its forked tongue flicking out to taste the air near Zac's neck. "Still pure…" it whispered over and over again, a desperate mantra. "Still pristine… the seal is intact…"
But the Right Head was all business. Its golden eyes locked onto Zac's, stern and demanding. "Who was it?" it hissed, its snout inches from Zac's face. "Who invaded your dream? Where did the bad demon touch you? Was it your amygdala? Your hippocampus? Your prefrontal cortex? Show me on this psychic diagram where he violated your subconscious!"
Zac blinked, trying to process the question. "Uh… he touched my butt. With his dick. A lot."
"Ha!" Bune's Left Head laughed, a sound of pure relief. He placed Zac down gently and patted the human's head. "No one did any such thing. Your body is pure. Your virginity is intact." Both heads smiled down at Zac, their expressions reassuring.
Zac frowned back up at the dragon. That was not the correct response.
"So it was a he," the Right Head mused, scratching its chin with a claw. "Interesting. What else can you tell me about the perpetrator? We will need a full report for the Captain."
Zac decided to lean into it. He lowered his gaze, his voice becoming a quiet, trembling whisper. "He was so… so big and rough with me. He was really trying to scare me. He… he pinned me down in the snow."
"Oh, you poor thing!" the Left Head exclaimed, awkwardly pulling Zac into a hug. The dragon's body was surprisingly warm, the scales smooth under his cheek.
"It was so… awful," Zac whimpered, burying his face in the dragon's stomach.
"I'll destroy them!" the Right Head roared, a jet of violet flame shooting from its mouth and harmlessly scorching the stone ceiling. "They dare upset our pure Avatar!"
Zac hugged the dragon butler tighter, rubbing his cheek against the fine fabric of his waistcoat. "I can't remember how awesome it was to get my tight little butt totally gaped," he sobbed.
Bune went completely, utterly stiff. The comforting embrace turned into a rigid statue.
Zac felt the shift and held on tighter, wrapping his arms around the dragon's waist so the ancient demon-reptile could not escape.
"He made me orgasm so hard without even touching myself!" Zac wailed into Bune's stomach. "And I can't remember what it felt like! This is worse than being digested! At least then I'd know what its like to choke on something!"
Bune began trying to gently, then not-so-gently, push the wailing human off of himself. "Oh, that is… uh… Zachary, you must just be cranky when you wake up! Yes! That's it!"
The butler collected himself, straightening his posture even as Zac clung to him like a limpet. "The wolf is cranky when he wakes, too! This is not a problem! Perfectly normal!" He put on a strained, waxy smile. "How about we get you to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up? A nice hot shower will make you feel better."
Zac sniffed, looking up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. "Will you scrub my back for me?"
Bune looked around the empty hallway, flustered. "Uh, I'm not sure that is within my duties as a-"
Zac let go with one arm only to grab one of Bune's four hands, pulling it insistently toward his own chest. "And my front," he said, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "My front needs scrubbing, too. Thoroughly."
Bune's cheeks flushed a deep, embarrassed violet. He quickly turned away from Zac, pulling his hand free. "No! You will need to scrub yourself, Avatar! It is… character building. Please, come this way."
His second head coughed. "The water pressure is quite strong," it added, trying to sound helpful. "Your human skin is so soft. You might not want to scrub too vigorously."
Zac grinned, a triumphant, wicked expression. He followed the flustered dragon demon down the hall, his hormone-addled brain already hard at work. 'He'd look so much better in a French maid's outfit,' he thought, a vivid image of the primal necromancer dragon, all four arms and two heads, stuffed into a stereotypical black-and-white uniform, looking mortified as he dusted with a feather duster. The image was so delightful that Zac walked directly into a wall.
Bonk.
"That is not the door, Avatar," Bune said, holding open a door a few feet to Zac's left. "You must be half-asleep still. Humans are so fragile."
Zac rubbed his face and corrected his trajectory, stepping through the doorway.