Eventually, exhausted, belly stuffed with dragon-spunk to the point you look ready to birth a pair of dragon toddlers, and feeling incredibly well-sated, you lay on Ember’s chest, cuddling your limp, utterly drained lover. The dragon is fast asleep, having passed out from exhaustion, and you amuse yourself by listening to his heart beating as he inhales and exhales softly in his sleep. To be honest, you could use a nap too, and you pass out atop him.