His touch had changed, and she wanted to cry. He was being so gentle, but she worried it was all to get what he wanted. Still the doubt persisted, and she let him repeat the action until it seemed to still. He hadn't done more than touch, and the warm hands of the dragon were ok. They weren't nice, or as mind erasing as before he had taken her, when instinct had her writhing against him. If their first time had been better, she was sure this moment would be very different.<br/><br/>She let her legs open a little more, her eyes searching his face for a threat, but found little. He was concentrating on her, and her body. This was how their first time should have started. She closed her eyes, trying to stop the flood of memories from their first time, the pain, and the sickness she had felt with him deep inside her.