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“Honestly, how can they get away with this!? Five days! Five days, to fix the fucking heater, in the middle of winter!?"

Before this week, you saw no issue with having a Komodo dragon as a roommate. Honesty, venomous bites, unpredictable behaviour, size and strength eclipsing that of a human… all that stuff didn't concern you at all.

Now, what might have made you take pause was being told that a Komodo dragon, if stuck in a house without working heating in the middle of winter, would become almost insufferably moody.

Kevin was clutching the tip of his heating rock over in the corner of the room and continuing his incessant whinging. That ordinarily imposing reptile—with his hefty yet toned frame, accompanied by a bulky tail almost as long as the rest of him—was now reduced to grovelling around his synthetic stone.

Like most of his species, the majority of his scales were a dull, sandy grey, but he took particular pride in how his upper head and four limbs were discoloured to the others. Those shined a deep bluish-black, though faint splotches of his lighter colouration could be seen in the cracks separating each of those dark scales.

Earlier today, you had joked that the bluish-black on his face and extremities looked a bit like the start of frostbite. He didn't seem to appreciate that one…

You don't understand what the problem is, though. You had bought him a high-quality heat rock and the highest strength UV light you could find. That lamp had been running full blast over his back for the entire day. In fact, your electricity bill would probably be higher than simply having a portable heater running non-stop.

“Ugh, seriously, could you just try calling them again?" He turns his head to the side to peer at you. “You weren't trying hard enough! Try something like, 'there's a really mad Komodo dragon who might kill me if you don't come over and fix the fucking heater!'" The burnt orange contours of his visible eye, encircling his enlarged, pitch-black pupil, convey a rather menacing glare. At least, more menacing than usual.

You can only sigh after hearing that request for the tenth time today. “I think if I make another call, they might not come at all."

While it is unpleasantly cold, it was nothing that thick socks, an extra layer, and a loose hoodie can't fix—at least, for you. Sure, Komodo dragons are cold-blooded, so insulating them in clothing wouldn't work to warm them up, but that doesn't mean they wouldn't benefit from having something thick protecting their scales from the biting cold.

“Anyway, it feels like a sauna over there," you say, returning your attention to your phone. “What are you complaining about?"

He hisses in response. “Oh yeah, because I fucking love having to hug this stupid rock for the entire day." He looks up and taps a sharp claw against the bulb of the lamp. “And was this really the strongest you could find? I said I would pay you back…"

“All they had."

“I swear, they make these things for tiny geckos or some shit. All well and good if you're a small fry, but god help you if you're 7 foot!"

“Give it a rest…" All day. All fucking day had been filled with the sound of him complaining. “It's 9 pm. What do you need the heat for this late, anyway?"

Another huff of frustration from him. “I'd rather not freeze to death tonight, thanks. Oh, and I'm REALLY looking forward to having to hump this dumb rock tomorrow as well."

He's been complaining about last night for the entire day as well—about how he couldn't get a wink of sleep because he was shivering from the cold the whole night. So not only is he irritated by the temperature, but he's also cranky from lack of sleep.

You can sympathise somewhat. It's obviously not an enjoyable experience for him. Still, what more could either of you do? Sometimes, you just have to grin and bear it.

He wasn't doing much grinning, though; his maw had been transfixed into a permanent scowl.

You sigh and say, “Look Kev, I'm just going to go to bed early tonight." You rise from the couch and stretch your arms upwards as if to emphasise the 'I'm sleepy' point. “Just promise me you'll turn this thing off before you go to bed? Oh, and don't actually sleep under it. The warning booklet said—"

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck, getting roasted alive might be a better alternative to having to deal with this for the next five days…"

You couldn't agree more. He continues to grumble—both to you and himself—as you head to your bedroom. You guess you can look forward to another five days of having to deal with his attitude…

---

Your room is pitch black, save for the faint white glow from your LED clock—11:04 pm. You rarely go to bed this early, but anything is preferable to having to spend another minute with that grumpy lizard. Besides, being under a triple stack of insulated blankets makes you feel toasty and snug, despite the chill throughout the house. It's warm enough to sleep naked, in fact, and there's no better feeling in the world than having your entire body heated, with only your upper head exposed to the cold for that point of contrast.

You can still hear Kev groaning and pacing around outside, from somewhere in the house. But you pay him little mind as your eyelids flutter. You find yourself drifting off not long after.

… Though, some unknown time later, you begin to stir. Your body is telling you to wake up. It doesn't take long for you to realise that you're freezing! Or, rather, part of you is freezing. The chill is centred on your back and seems to be slowly spreading through your entire form. But it's strange, as you can still feel the comfortable weight of those thick blankets pinning you against the mattress. So where did this painful sensation of cold come from?

In reflex, you try shuffling to a different position on the bed, but you barely move an inch. In your groggy haze, you then try rolling onto your back, hoping to conceal it from the cold by flattening it against the mattress. But again, your body refuses to move. What is going on?

Still trying to rouse yourself from sleep, you feel another patch of ice form on your chest. You shiver from the sudden sensation and move your hands to it by instinct. They come to rest on something solid and pointy. Like… claws?

A raspy voice pierces your ears and brings you closer to lucidity. “Fuck dude, how are you so warm…?"

“K-Kev?" you say, still in a daze. What is he doing here?

… Actually, that's a good question! What _is _he doing here—in _your _bed!?

The realisation causes you to snap awake, and, with outward shock and confusion, you say, “W-what the hell are you doing in my bed!?" Your hands press against that chill on your chest once more, and you finally muster the energy to glance down to their source. His big, scaled hands are wrapped around you, and his claws—in desperate need of a trim—are resting against your skin. A little too close for comfort! “A-and why are you holding me!?"

You hear him exhale next to your ear as a deep, rolling grumble seems to sound out from the depths of his throat. “So, dude, I like, had the best idea…" He chuckles as he tightens his arms, adding a bit more pressure to your chest. “Okay, so humans are warm-blooded, right? So… what if I just use you as a heat rock?"

“W-what?" Is this really what this is all about? You probably should have used some choicer words in response to his absurdity. But the bizarreness of the situation, along with having been suddenly woken up from the unwelcome sting of his winter chill, doesn't result in the most eloquent response: “I'm not a heat rock!"

“Well, not during the day! But it's not like you're moving anywhere at night. So what's the harm?"

“Kev, seriously!?" His behaviour is becoming ridiculous now. Besides being a moody prick, he's now turning you into an icicle! “Y-you don't just hop into someone's bed and start hugging them!"

“Come ooooon. It's either this or I freeze all night!" he says, clearly trying to guilt-trip you—even including a drawn-out whine in his words for added effect.

“You're not going to freeze!"

“Do you not feel how fucking cold I am? I'm ALREADY freezing!"

… He has a good point; he's extremely cold! You piece together that the coldness seeping through your back must be coming from his enormous body pressing against it. That also explains why you can't move an inch—having a hefty Komodo dragon grasping you would stop anyone.

But that doesn't excuse him from now sharing that chill with you! You're now actually shivering, but that only encourages him to grip you tighter. And then, seconds later, he wraps his legs around your waist as well! He does it so smoothly that you don't even have time to protest or react before he binds you between his limbs. And now you have another half of your body exposed to his freezing cold form.

A sudden reminder shoots into your head as you feel the claws of his scaled feet rub up against your outer thigh—you're naked!

“G-get off Kev! I'm not wearing anything!"

“I don't care about that, dude. I'm always naked." He huffs out a sigh as he adjusts his position and presses more of his scales along your back. His head is resting just behind your ear, and you can feel his humid breath steam against it when he exhales.

You're getting annoyed at how he finds an excuse for everything; you being naked and him being naked isn't the same thing! “Y-yeah, okay, but you have your stuff hidden in—"

“Yeah, and that's why I don't care. All that matters to me is how fucking warm you are…" His voice becomes gentler—despite his still-rough words. It's a welcome change to his angst throughout the day.

You wiggle, hoping to fling him off somehow. No luck, however; Komodo dragons may as well be unmovable objects. You're still irritated at his uninvited intrusion upon your sleeping space, but, at the same time, him coiled around you certainly isn't the _worst _feeling in the world—especially as you can feel him slowly warming up.

Trying to make your voice sound as annoyed as possible, you ask, “So, you're using me as a heater?"

“Yep!" His tone radiates with sudden, positive energy, with just a hint of his trademark smugness.

“Leeching off my superior biological advantage?"

“Yep!"

“And what do I get out of this?"

“Hm," he says, mock-pausing for thought, “I guess I can promise to be a little less grumpy tomorrow…"

Wonderful. A little less might make living with him bearable. Just a little more.

Pleased that you seem to be a bit more accepting of his genius idea, he repositions his hands, sliding his smooth scales around your upper torso. His pointy claws follow behind them, lightly scratching along your skin. It causes a strange, tingling sensation, though it's by no means unpleasant.

“Also, dude, jokes aside, this actually feels great. I can't believe we didn't think of this idea sooner."

We!? Turning yourself into a portable heat rock for him isn't exactly an appropriate solution from your point of view!

As he makes himself comfy underneath the sheets—all the while tucking himself snugly against you—he's also idly tasting the air by flicking his forked tongue out. It's a trait that's common to many lizards. However, as he brings his head further towards you, you feel his sticky tongue glide along your ear lobe. The surprise contact sends a shiver up your spine, and you shout, “G-get your mouth away from there! The last thing I need is to get sick from your bacteria!"

“Hey!" His tone becomes coarse and annoyed. “That bacteria thing is some bullshit that was invented by the iguana lobby! Completely made up! My mouth is—"

“L-look Kev," you say, interrupting him before he starts on one of his rants, “I don't care. But the last thing I need is to get sick from this!"

“Reeeelax, dude. I'm not gonna bite you…" He chuckles at a joke neither of you made, and, instead of retreating his face from your head—he brings it closer! You feel the soft under-scales of his neck nuzzle against your cheek and jaw as he tries to find a comfortable position to lay his head on you.

You just… don't even have the energy to complain anymore. Complaining wouldn't make a difference, anyway. And, at the very least, the underside of his maw feels surprisingly comfy resting on top of you.

You feel his throat vibrate against your cheek as he gives a long, wistful sigh. And then silence.

For only a few moments.

“Chomp."

“Seriously…" you groan out, “I'm doing you a huge favour here…"

“Yeah, I guess you are. If you wanna pretend you don't enjoy getting cuddled…" He makes an exaggerated sniffing noise and, while incorporating some mock-sobbing, says, “I-I can't believe y-your heart is so icy that you d-d-d-don't even like being cuddled… A-and I thought I was the cold-blooded one…"

You decide not to dignify that with a response. However, he doesn't need one to keep the conversation going.

“But seriously. Dude. Your body heat is working miracles here." By now, he's exuding a gentle warmth, and—while it doesn't yet compete with the triple-stack of blankets—it's a welcome change to the onslaught of frosty scales he initially 'graced' your body with.

You couldn't say you hated it. In fact, the feeling of his huge form embraced with yours, combined with the gentle rise and fall of his chest against your back—in time with the deep breaths sounding in your ear—is very soothing and strangely reassuring. It makes you feel protected and secure.

But you don't want him to get smug through him realising that you're enjoying the experience. Trying to be subtle, you say, “It's fine. Let's just keep this between us, okay? And get some sleep."

“Wait. One last thing." Kev hesitates, idly tapping a claw on your chest as if searching for the right words. “My tail is still kinda cold. Could you, uh… warm it? For me?"

“Come on, really? It'll warm up, eventually. And besides, if I do that, then your chest will start getting cold again."

“You don't need to move an inch, see," he says as his bulky tail curves itself between your legs. You gasp from the feeling of its scales gliding along your thighs, their cool temperature in stark contrast to the rest of his body. As if expecting you to panic from the sensation, he tightens his arms and legs around you and squeezes you deeper into his comforting form.

His long tail is a massive and often unwieldy instrument. A surprised turn from him would often send any items perched on top of furniture (and, occasionally, the furniture itself) hurtling across the room. That's not to say he's clumsy, though. His tail is actually very flexible; despite its girth, he has complete control over its movements, which is often needed when trying to navigate the tight confines of human-centric architecture.

And tonight, Kev is showing off just how flexible that appendage is.

After the first few feet clear your legs, he curls his tail upwards and inwards, closer to your body. Moments later, his smooth under-tail is brushing along your belly, before reaching your chest. It's as if he's trying to sandwich you between his heavy tail and muscular torso.

What you're feeling is almost indescribable: warm, restrictive force resting around your back, contrasted with cold, heavy weight pressing into your front. All the while, snug, welcoming blankets remain bundled on top of you, with his head covering the only part not underneath them: your head. Despite being effectively bound by the heavy Komodo dragon who had rudely interrupted your sleep, you feel safe and content.

Before long, his entire tail has travelled up your form, and its hefty yet cushiony undercarriage is squishing against your lower waist up to your collarbone. His tail tip furled in front of your eyes for a moment, as if he's trying to figure out the best spot to recline it against. He decides to curl it back slightly before tucking the tapered tip underneath the fluffy pillow supporting your head.

You hear a satisfied huff from Kev, whose head remained still atop your cheek during the entire process. As quiet as a mouse, he asks, “There… you comfy, dude?"

“Yeah… I am." You can't think of another time you had felt this comfy.

You feel his tongue flick against your ear again as he asks, “Do you wanna cuddle it?"

“Hm? Cuddle… what?"

“My tail, dude." He squashes it against you a bit more, pulling you into a firmer embrace. “I hug you, and you hug my tail. It's not fair that I'm the only one who gets to wrap my hands around something…"

You don't give it a second thought. With his arms still tucked under yours, you stretch yours out and wrap them around that chubby noodle adjoining your chest. It was just wide enough to let your hands meet together on the scalier front-side. You interlock your fingers and squeeze your arms in, pulling the tail deeper into your chest. It's now lukewarm. If the rest of his body is anything to go by, it should radiate a soothing warmth against your torso in a few more minutes.

Almost as if it's a natural next step, you repeat the process with your legs by wrapping them around the lower part of his tail—which is slightly thicker than the upper half—and tucking them in tightly against his soft scales. With your arms and legs both in place, you tense them, trying to squish yourself even more between him and his strong tail.

And you stay like that—with you in a full-body hug with his tail, and him treating you to an unending, full-body cuddle.

There is silence for a few minutes as you relax in each other's embrace and warmth. You can feel his tail slowly warm and reach a cosy temperature. As he continues squeezing his chest into your back, the only movement you can feel is that of him breathing and a quiet, uniform rumbling from his neck, gently vibrating your head.

He shifts slightly as his tender, scaled hands and feet leave your body. Your disappointment is short-lived, thankfully, as he suddenly presses his back further into you while reaching his limbs out to his tail. You see his hands glide along the tail's soft underbelly and work their way around to the other side. You soon feel them come to rest on top of your clasped hands. His feet repeat the same process, and soon you also feel their pleasant touch against your toes.

Once his hands and feet are in place, he tenses the both of them—kneading you between him and his tail once again. The entire experience feels like a heated blanket encompassing you. Though, instead of cloth, it was the smooth scales of a large (and ordinarily moody) Komodo dragon, now toasty-warm thanks to your own metabolism. An odd, though affectionate, symbiotic relationship.

“Thanks, dude… I really owe you for this." Kev gives a joyful though sleepy sigh before asking, “Not too tight, is it?" He sometimes surprises you with just how warm-hearted he can be.

When he wants to be.

“Nah, I think it's just right…"

“Just right, he says… Fuck, why are you humans so warm and soft? Skin feels fucking amazing…"

You playfully scoff and ask, “And why are you so big and heavy and scaly?"

“To force you into tight hugs, idiot." Kev treats your ears to a mellow chuckle in response to his own 'joke'. You feel his clawed fingers rub along your own, as if he was trying to reposition them just slightly. The odd contrast of rigid claws against your malleable skin makes you feel warm and tingly.

Sighing against your ear once more, Kev says, “Let's try to get some sleep then, okay?"

“Yeah, I'm about to pass out."

“Me too. Spending a night freezing will do that to you. Good to know things will be different tonight…" From your peripheral vision, you see a thin, flicking shadow, most likely his tongue poking out to give your smell one last taste. “… Night, dude."

“Night, Kev."

You both become still and quiet. The room is tranquil.

You're trapped between a rock and a hard place, quite literally. Your soft skin between his firm scales. His toned body on one side, and his thick tail on the other, with both sides gently pressing into you. It's as if you've been squeezed into a heated cocoon.

And despite that—or, perhaps, because of that—you are completely at peace.

Your last thought before dozing off is the realisation that you can look forward to another five nights of having to deal with this.

But, then again, who says you have to stop after only five nights?