Youāre officially done waiting around.
Itās been days. No texts, no stupid voice notes of him rambling about his day, no random āyou eat yet?ā messages as soon as you got off work like clockwork. This isnāt Valko. Your puppy is glued to his phone when it comes to you. So after one too many hours of anxious pacing, you grab the spare key he gave you months ago (ājust in case, sweetheartā) and storm over to his place.
Your heart is hammering the whole way. Worst case scenarios flash through your head, him passed out, bleeding, hurt over something he didnāt tell you about. Youād take that.
But the second you push the door open, the air hits you like whiplash.
Stuffy. Thick. Heavy with something musky, sweet, and feral that makes your stomach flip. Thatās when you hear it, muffled, desperate panting, broken groans, the faint creak of a bedframe.
Your brain short circuits. You donāt think. Before you have time to mentally catch up, you just move, storming straight to his massive bedroom and shoving the door open.
Valko is sprawled across his bed, completely naked, skin glistening with sweat. His ears are fully out, twitching wildly. His tail thumps hard against the sheets. Heās fisting his cock with frantic, sloppy strokes, thatās when you notice; itās huge, thick, flushed dark and leaking all over his abs. His chiseled chest heaves, abs flexing with every desperate roll of his hips. Those thick thighs are trembling. And when your eyes finally drag up to his faceā¦ his eyes are glazed over, cheeks flushed crimson, and there are actual tears clinging to his lashes.
Youāre frozen in the doorway, mouth hanging open unable to look away from the obscene sight. The way his big hand struggles to even wrap fully around himself. The way his hips keep bucking up like he canāt stop. The wet, filthy sounds filling the room.
Before you can even process it, his movements stutter to a halt.
Wide, frantic golden eyes snap to yours. His ears shoot straight up. For a second he just stares at you, chest still heaving, cock twitching hard in his grip like it has a mind of its own.
Then something clicks behind that hazy gaze.
āā¦Youāre here,ā he rasps, voice wrecked and deeper than youāve ever heard it. A broken groan slips out as something seems to overwhelm him, making his hips jerk involuntarily into his fist again. āFuck- youā¦ you shouldnāt see me like this-ā
He looks equal parts mortified and starving.
So thatās what a rut is.
