A little while after the climax, the two were still lying on the soft rug in front of the fireplace, their bodies warm, sweaty, and relaxed. Evelyne had pulled Mirabel on top of her, letting the redhead rest her head on her chest while her hands lazily slid along her back and the curve of her ass.
Their breathing had already calmed down, but the air still smelled of sex, sweat, and recent desire. Every now and then, a satisfied sigh escaped Mirabel's lips.
Outside the mansion, illuminating the entire facade with a magical and mysterious glow, was the green dragon.
Its long and elegant body remained gracefully coiled around the main tower, as if it were part of the mansion's own architecture. Its deep emerald-green scales glistened wet from the fine rain, capturing and reflecting the golden light still escaping from the living room windows. Thin golden veins ran across its half-open wings, pulsing gently as if they had a life of their own, casting turquoise and gold reflections that danced across the stone walls and tall glass panes.
Its large eyes, luminous and serene jade-green, calmly observed the interior of the mansion. There was an ancient and tranquil intelligence in that gaze — as if it could sense the heat, the moans that still echoed softly in memory, and the desire that had just calmed down inside.
A soft greenish-blue fire gently escaped from its nostrils, illuminating every raindrop that fell around it and turning them into thousands of tiny bright emeralds that floated in the air before touching the ground.
The dragon tilted its head slightly, its scales catching the flickering light of the fireplace. For a moment, it seemed to smile — a serene, almost affectionate smile. It didn't need to enter. Its presence alone was enough: an elegant guardian, a being of ancient beauty that enveloped the entire Ravelle Mansion with its ethereal light, as if silently blessing what had just happened inside.
Slowly, the green dragon closed its eyes. The golden veins on its wings pulsed one last time, stronger, spreading a soft and warm glow across the entire facade. The rain seemed to dance to the rhythm of that light, and for a few moments the entire night became even more beautiful, more magical, more alive.
Inside the room, Evelyne kissed the top of Mirabel's head and murmured softly:
— He's shining brighter now… it looks like he enjoyed the show.
Mirabel smiled against her chest, her voice still hoarse and satisfied:
— Then let him shine… while we stay here, warm and wet.
The two held each other a little tighter, their bodies relaxed and content, while the green dragon remained outside — quiet, majestic, and protective — bathing the mansion with its emerald-green light, making that rainy night even more special.
Mirabel broke the silence first, her voice low but filled with determination:
— Do you think we can win with him? Not just by painting… but by using him for real. Imagine us on stage, with him behind us, wings half-open, the greenish-blue fire slowly coming out of his nostrils, illuminating our bodies as if we were part of the same legend. His scales shining, the golden veins pulsing… it would be something no one has ever seen before.
Evelyne smiled slowly, her eyes shining with fierce intensity. She squeezed Mirabel's waist and replied with a firm, sharp voice:
— Win? We're not just going to win. We're going to dominate. We're going to bring that dragon to the center of the stage as if he were ours. We're going to present ourselves as a living work of art — two women, skin against skin, movement against movement, while he illuminates everything with that ancestral light. When his scales reflect upon us, the audience will feel the weight of something greater. It will be art that breathes. Art that burns. Art that no one will be able to forget.
Mirabel lifted her face, her green eyes full of fire:
— Then let's do this right. Nothing timid. Nothing safe. We're going to put the dragon at the center of the performance. Let him be part of the work — not just background, but presence. When he opens his wings and the green fire touches our skin, the jury will understand that we're not competing… we're redefining what's possible.
Evelyne pulled Mirabel closer, her voice low and powerful:
— Exactly. We're going to deliver something that transcends painting. We're going to deliver a moment. A spectacle. A living legend. And when we're done, the entire contest will remember that two women and a green dragon stepped onto the stage… and left as winners.