The last of the estate's hired hands finally left, their cart rumbling down the dirt track and leaving behind a profound and echoing silence. Jukrit stood on the threshold of what was now his house, his nose twitching at the complex scent of dust, old wood, and the sharp, clean tang of the evening air blowing through the now-empty rooms. The "disaster house," as they’d come to call it, was no longer a mountain of someone else’s forgotten life. It was a vast, hollow shell, waiting to be filled with theirs.

The main living space was cavernous, especially to a squirrel. The floor plan was open, with a massive stone hearth taking up one wall. The estate crew had cleared everything, leaving only scuff marks on the wide-plank pine floors and the lingering ghosts of hoarded possessions. The dragon-sized door, the very thing that had drawn them here, stood like a silent promise at the far end of the room, its dark wood a stark contrast to the pale, dusty interior.

A soft, rhythmic thud echoed from the doorway, and Noraxia had to duck her head significantly to enter. In her anthropomorphic form, she was a breathtaking sight, all lean muscle and graceful power. Her furred hide, a tapestry of deep browns and tans, shimmered in the dying light filtering through the grimy windows. She moved with a liquid economy of motion, her long tail swishing gently behind her, the tufted end brushing against the doorframe.

"They're gone," she rumbled, her voice a low, melodic thrum that vibrated through the floorboards and up into Jukrit's bones. She looked around, her golden eyes, slit-pupiled and wise, taking in the sheer emptiness. "It's… bigger than I imagined. Emptier."

Jukrit scampered over to her, his small form a blur of russet fur against the vastness of the room. He stopped by her feet, craning his neck to look up at her. "It's a blank canvas," he chirped, his own voice a higher, quicker counterpoint to hers. "Our canvas. We can put the healing herbs over there," he pointed a small clawed finger toward a sunny spot near the windows, "and your tapestries on that big wall. And a bed. A very, very big bed."

Noraxia’s lips curled into a smile, revealing the hint of fangs. She lowered herself carefully, folding her long legs until she was sitting on the floor, bringing her face closer to his. The sheer scale of her was intoxicating. Her hand, large enough to crush a skull, rested on her knee, and Jukrit could have sat on her palm like a throne. He reached out and placed his own tiny paw on the back of her hand, feeling the thick, soft fur and the solid warmth of her beneath.

"A bed," she repeated softly, her gaze locking with his. "A place to rest. Together." The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. For two seasons, they had slept under the stars, on the hard ground, or in the haylofts of grateful farmers. They had huddled together for warmth, his small body curled against her immense side, but it had always been a companionship of necessity and proximity. Tonight was different. Tonight, it was by choice, in a house that was theirs.

Jukrit’s heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He scurried up her arm, a familiar and comforting journey. Her fur was a well-known landscape to him now, the scent of clean beast and wild forests a homecoming. He settled on her shoulder, nuzzling the thick ruff of her neck. "I'm glad you're here, Noraxia," he whispered into her ear. "I'm glad we're here."

She turned her head, her snout nudging him gently. "I was so alone for so long, Jukrit. I forgot what it felt like to just… be. With someone." Her breath was warm, smelling of the sweet berries they’d shared for dinner. "You saw me. Not a monster. Not a beast. Just me."

"And you saw me," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "Not just a squirrel with a pouch full of weeds, but a healer. A partner."

The unspoken tension that had been building between them since their confession in the Garden of Whispers finally filled the space between them. It wasn't just love; it was a profound, soul-deep relief. They were two misfits, a squirrel shaman and a shapeshifting dragon, who had found their counterpart in a world that had only ever offered them scorn and fear.

Noraxia stood, her movements fluid and deliberate. She crossed the room to the area Jukrit had indicated for their sleeping space. The floor was bare, but the wood was solid and clean. She lowered herself onto it, lying on her side, her body forming a crescent of soft, dark fur. She looked at him, an invitation in her golden eyes.

Jukrit didn't hesitate. He scrambled down her side, his paws finding easy purchase in her dense coat. He moved to the curve of her belly, a vast, warm expanse that rose and fell with her steady breathing. He pressed his small body against her, feeling the incredible life force thrumming just beneath her skin. It was like lying against a living mountain, safe and unshakeable.

He began to explore her with his healer's hands, but his touch was no longer clinical. It was reverent. His small paws traced the powerful lines of her muscles, the subtle shift of her ribs as she breathed. He found a spot just below her sternum where her fur was softer, thinner, and pressed his cheek there, listening to the deep, slow drum of her heart. *Thump-thump… thump-thump.* It was the most comforting sound he had ever known.

Noraxia rumbled, a low, purring sound that started deep in her chest. Her own hand, impossibly large and gentle, came to rest over him, covering his entire back. Her fingers curled slightly, shielding him, holding him. The touch was possessive but not crushing; it was the touch of someone who had finally found something precious and was terrified of breaking it.

Jukrit looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers. He saw the love there, the vulnerability, the lingering traces of a lifetime of loneliness. He saw his own feelings reflected back at him. He scrambled up her chest, his paws finding purchase on the soft fabric of her simple tunic, until he was face-to-face with her. He wrapped his arms around her neck, hugging her with all his might.

"I love you, Noraxia," he breathed, his voice muffled by her fur.

"I love you, Jukrit," she rumbled in return, her voice a vibration that he felt through his entire body. "My little shaman."

Her head lowered, and her lips, surprisingly soft, found his. It was a strange and wondrous kiss, a meeting of two vastly different worlds. Her mouth could have swallowed him whole, but it was a kiss of exquisite gentleness. He tasted the sweetness of the berries, the wildness of the forest, and the unique, musky flavor that was simply *her*. He opened his mouth to her, his tiny tongue darting out to meet hers. The sensation was overwhelming; her tongue was large, textured, and impossibly dexterous, stroking his with a tenderness that belied its size.

The kiss deepened, growing in urgency. Jukrit felt a heat blooming in his own small body, a fire mirrored in the growing warmth of her. He broke the kiss, panting slightly, and looked down the length of her body. He wanted to know all of her, to worship every inch of her.

He began his descent again, his paws and mouth mapping her form. He nuzzled the hollow of her throat, feeling her trachea vibrate with her soft moans. He moved lower, his paws tracing the lines of her ribs, his mouth following, planting tiny, worshipful kisses through her thick fur. He could feel the muscles of her stomach quiver beneath his touch. He was a shaman, accustomed to reading bodies, but this was different. This was not a diagnosis; it was a discovery.

He reached the lower part of her belly, where her fur grew even softer and the scent of her was stronger, more primal. It was a scent of musk and rain and warm earth, a scent that spoke of ancient power and deep, feminine readiness. He felt his own body respond with an instinctual ache, a need so profound it was almost painful.

Noraxia shifted, her legs parting slightly, a silent, offering gesture. Her breathing was deeper now, her purrs interspersed with soft, gasping rumbles of pleasure. Jukrit’s paws ventured into the warmth between her thighs, through the thick, soft fur. He felt the heat there, a damp, inviting warmth that pulsed with life. He found the folds of her sex, a delicate, hidden landscape amidst her powerful form. She was slick and hot, and as he gently stroked her, her whole body arched, a deep, guttural groan escaping her lips.

"Jukrit," she gasped, his name a prayer on her lips.

He took his time, learning her rhythms, listening to the language of her body. He was small, but his touch was precise, his knowledge of anatomy and pressure points serving him well now. He found the small, hidden nub of her clitoris, a pearl of incredible sensitivity, and circled it with the pad of his thumb. Her reaction was instantaneous. A tremor ran through her entire frame, her claws flexing against the wooden floor, scoring deep lines in the pine.

He continued his ministrations, his other hand exploring her, his mouth leaving a trail of damp kisses across her belly. He could feel her tension building, a coiling spring of immense power. Her purrs grew louder, more ragged, until they were a continuous, ecstatic thrum. He felt her inner muscles clench around his fingers, and with a final, shuddering cry that echoed through the empty house, she found her release. It was a powerful, full-body orgasm, a wave of pleasure that seemed to shake the very foundations of their new home.

As she lay panting, her body limp and sated, Jukrit scrambled back up to her chest. His own need was a desperate, throbbing ache. He was painfully hard, his proportionately large red cock straining from its furry sheath.

Noraxia’s eyes, soft and hazy with bliss, focused on him. She saw his arousal, his need. With a tenderness that brought tears to his eyes, she gently picked him up and lowered him to the heated, wet center of her being. She carefully placed him there, his small feet sinking slightly into the soft, damp fur of her inner thigh. The scent of her arousal was overwhelming, a primal call that his body answered without hesitation.
He understood her silent invitation. He scrambled forward, his paws finding purchase on her slick folds, until he was positioned at her entrance. He pressed his hips forward, and the tip of his cock slid into her.
The sensation was staggering. She was incredibly hot, impossibly wet, and her inner walls clenched around him with a gentle, welcoming pressure. It was a tight, velvety sheath that enveloped him completely. He cried out, a sharp, high-pitched sound of pure ecstasy, and buried himself to the hilt inside her.
Noraxia let out a low, guttural moan, a sound of pure satisfaction. Her massive body trembled, not with the violence of her first orgasm, but with the deep, resonant pleasure of their union. Her hand, which had been holding him, now rested gently on his lower back, her thumb stroking him in a slow, encouraging rhythm.
Jukrit began to move. His thrusts were short and quick, driven by a desperate, instinctual need. He was lost in the sensation, the heat, the wetness, the way her powerful muscles gripped him, pulling him deeper. He clung to her fur, his small body straining as he drove into her again and again. He could feel her responding, her hips rolling subtly to meet his movements, her purrs returning, a deep, continuous vibration that resonated through his entire body.
He felt his own climax building, a tight, hot coil in his groin. The world narrowed to the point of their joining, to the slick heat of her body, to the sound of her pleasure rumbling through him. With a final, desperate thrust, he spilled himself inside her, his body convulsing with the force of his release. It was a blinding, all-consuming pleasure that left him trembling and weak.
He collapsed against her, his small body spent, his heart hammering against his ribs. He lay there for a long moment, his cock still twitching within her, as the last waves of pleasure subsided. He could feel her heart beating, a slow, steady rhythm beneath him, a comforting counterpoint to his own frantic pulse.
Noraxia gently scooped him up, cradling him against her chest. She held him close, her body a warm, living shield against the world. Jukrit curled into a ball, his mind reeling from the intensity of their union, his body buzzing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. This was not like his time with the lioness; this was an act of true love.
They lay there in the gathering darkness, the only sounds their breathing and the gentle sigh of the wind through the eaves. The house was still empty, still a work in progress, but it was no longer hollow. It was filled with the sound of their heartbeats, the scent of their lovemaking, and the profound, unshakeable peace of two souls who had finally found their way home.