#primal play

This had started as a stupid bet back at the cabin, a heated argument over who could disappear better in the woods. Now, the damp moss beneath your boots felt less like ground and more like a snare. You didn't budge, moving meant giving yourself away. You dug your nails into the grooves of the tree, your pulse thumping an erratic beat against your ribs.

The forest went dead silent. The wind picked up, rustling the highest leaves, but down on the floor, everything was frozen. You strained your ears, trying to catch the sound of his boots, but Sylus moved with a terrifying patience. He wasn’t rushing. He was letting the anticipation do the work for him, letting your own nerves fray until you made a mistake.

A fat, icy drop of rain slammed into your cheek, followed by another, and another. Within seconds a steady downpour began to pelt the upper canopy and the air turned freezing cold, the smell of wet earth surged into your nose. Water began to trickle down through the leaves, dripping onto your hair and soaking through the shoulders of your jacket.

You used the sudden noise of the rain to move, stepping back into a deeper shadow, but your foot caught the edge of a slick stone. You didn't fall, but your boots slid across the wet earth with a distinct squelch.

He didn't make a sound as he approached. The glint of his Evol caught the reflection of the falling water, a brief, dangerous red pulse in the dark. You went to bolt to the right but a heavy hand shot out of the gloom, fingers locking around your throat with a grip that didn't choke you but made it impossible to move. Before you could blink, Sylus had you pinned, his body crushing you against the wet cedar.

"Found you,"

His breath was hot, contrasting violently with the freezing rain that ran down his jaw. One crimson eye burned through the dark, a glowing ember that seemed to see right through the facade of your fear.

"You... you cheated," you managed to say, fingers instinctively grasping at his wrist. His skin was searing.

Sylus let out a low, rough chuckle that vibrated through your own chest. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, a slow, possessive stroke that made your stomach flip. "Did I? Or did you just get sloppy, kitten? The rain didn't hide you. You tripped. And now..." He leaned in closer "...you owe me."

His thigh wedged between yours to lock you in place. His free hand moved to the collar of your jacket, his fingers hooking into the fabric and pulling. The sound of your zipper breaking apart was swallowed by the roar of the downpour. He shoved the wet material off your shoulders as the freezing rain hit your bare skin, causing you to gasp and shiver violently.

"Sylus, it's pouring—"

"I don't care." He cut you off "I've waited too long for this to care about the weather."

He bent his head, mouth capturing yours in a bruising kiss. It was completely devoid of gentleness. His tongue forced your lips apart, claiming the inside of your mouth while the rain poured over your faces, mixing with the heat of the kiss. He tasted like smoke and rain. His hand slid from your throat down to your waist, his fingers digging deep into your hip bone through your wet pants, pulling your pelvis hard against his.

You whimpered into his mouth, your fingers knotting into the wet leather of his jacket for balance as the ground beneath your feet became slick mud. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his breathing turning ragged.

He reached down, his hands efficient and ruthless as he stripped your pants down, exposing you completely to the biting storm. The cold air made you tremble, but the moment his bare hand slid between your thighs, the contrast was staggering. He was hot. His fingers found your pussy, already slick and dripping with your own moisture, mixed with the rain tracking down your belly.

"You're ready for me," he whispered against your lips, his fingers stroking you with a delicious friction that had your head snapping back against the bark. "Tell me how much you want it."

"Please... Sy, please," you begged, hips twitching involuntarily against his hand.

He kept you there, teasing you with just two fingers while the rain drenched both of your bodies, slicking your skin and making every slide of his hand incredibly wet and loud. Every time you neared the edge, he would slow down, pulling his fingers almost entirely out until you were crying out into the empty woods, your hands clawing at his chest.

With a frustrated groan, he pulled his hand away, leaving you empty and aching. With a quick movement, he freed his thick cock and pressed it against your soaking thighs.

"Fuck, you're doing this to me," he hissed, his voice strained and raw over the sound of the rain hitting the leaves. "I'm so hard it hurts. Touch me."

You reached down with a shaking hand, your wet fingers wrapping around the base of his cock now pressing against your opening. The heat radiating off him was incredible, his pulse jumping against your palm.

"Clench for me," he ordered, his eyes locked onto yours, "Let me feel how tight you can get before I even put it in."

You squeezed your internal muscles around the tip of his cock, the movement causing him to let out a harsh, ragged breath that bloomed like steam between you. His hands gripped your hips until it was nearly bruising.

"Yeah. Just like that," he ground out, his teeth bared against the rain. "You're going to squeeze me like that the entire time."

He didn't give you another second to prepare. He drove his hips forward, a heavy thrust that buried his entire cock inside you. The sudden fullness made your eyes go wide and your spine press hard into the cedar. There was absolutely no space between your bodies.

"Ah! Sylus—"

"I've got you," he growled, slamming his hips against yours.

He lifted one of your legs, hooking your knee over his hip to get a deeper angle, the sound of your skin slapping together echoed through the trees.

He was using his size and weight to completely dominate your movements. Every thrust hit that one sensitive spot inside you until your vision went hazy at the edges.

"Squeeze me," he demanded again, his voice raw as he pounded into you "Tighter. Hold onto me with everything you have."

Your fingers scratched at the wet leather of his jacket, your voice breaking as you screamed his name into the dark.

He gave three more bruising thrusts, burying himself as far as he could go, and then he locked up against you. A thick rush filled you, a heavy warmth that triggered your own climax, sending shaking waves of pleasure through your entire body.

Your legs completely gave out, and he caught your full weight against his chest, holding you tightly against the oak tree as the rain continued to fall around you, the sound swallowing the ragged, synchronized sound of your breathing.

You sprinted toward the door behind him, but your movement was barely a second old before his hand caught the back of your shirt, yanking you to a dead stop.

You gasped, chest jerking from the force.

“You’re not fast enough,” he growled in his guttural voice, laughter rumbling like thunder in his chest.

He held you effortlessly, feet dangling above the floor like you weighed nothing.

“Yes, okay, fine. I’m not fast enough for you,” you said, playing defeated. You lowered your head with a dramatic sigh, giving in.

But you’re a human.

And humans are liars.

“But…” you looked up at him now. “I take pride in being unpredictable.”

Before he could blink, your hands shot up, grabbing a fistful of his dreadlocks and yanking with all the force you could gather.

He gasped, stumbling back half a step, surprised more than hurt, but it was all you needed.

You twisted your body free, slipped out of his grip like smoke, and bolted.

Behind you, the alien let out another rumble — louder this time, half-choked between frustration and delight. He dropped to one knee, catching his breath.

“You are feisty,” he growled breathlessly, voice edged with something that could have been appreciation.

“Damn right,” you shouted over your shoulder, already running again.

Your feet carried you into another corridor, heart racing, lungs burning with the excitement. You could hear him behind you, doors slamming open, his presence a crashing wave, unstoppable.

You were in trouble now.

Delicious, dangerous trouble.

You slowed down, just enough to taunt him with a glance. And that was your mistake.

Because this time, he didn’t play.

You heard it, the shift in his movement, the predator dropping the act.

His footsteps turned brutal, fast and hungry.

Your blood turned to ice.

You tried to speed up, to recover your lead, but your knee caught the edge of a crate and you stumbled, hitting the floor with a thud.

Before you could crawl forward, something latched around your ankle.

“What the—fuck?!” you gasped through your laughter, twisting to look behind you.

He had you, again.

And this time, he didn’t even bother pulling you upright.

He just dragged you by your ankle.

Your body slid across the metal floor, your hands scrambling to grab anything to stop him, but nothing held. His grip was absolute, his strength unimaginable.

“You know you could try being civilized about this!” you shouted, laughing even harder now.

He didn’t answer, just clicked his mandibles in amusement, dragging you like a hunter hauling his prize.

The hallway darkened as he turned into a new chamber, and when the light returned, you saw it.

A room.

More personal than the others. In the middle of it, the floor was padded with hides and layered furs, messy and warm like a nest.

He lifted you with one hand still around your ankle, holding you upside down like he was inspecting you.

Your shirt slid up, your body aching from the rough ride.

“That hurts,” you grumbled, slapping at his abdomen — abs like stone.

“I know,” he said flatly, no apology in his voice. His hand shifted, and without ceremony, he dropped you onto the nest.

You landed with an oomph, twisting onto your side as you stared up at him.

“What now?” you asked, tone sharp.

He paced around the furs, arms folded, voice low.

“You run like prey.”

“I’m not one though,” you snapped, sitting up, arms folded to mirror his stance.

“I know.”

He said it so simply. No malice. No smugness. Just truth. It twisted something inside you.

You tilted your head. “I caught you off guard.”

“I know,” he repeated, stopping in front of you.

Then he said something that made the air in your lungs turn to fire.

“I can see your heat. Everywhere.” His voice was low, almost vibrating, each word sinking into you like a pulse. He started crawling forward, slow and focused, like an animal closing in. Your instincts screamed at you to run, but you stayed put. This felt like another test. How far you would go. How much you could take.

You swallowed hard, eyes flicking to the way his long dreadlocks dragged against the furs, the strands swaying with his movements. His gaze was darker now, heavier, pure predator locked on prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“You’re a beast.” You meant for it to cut, but the words slipped out softer, breathless. Scared.

Something in him moved at that sound. He groaned, deep, rich, and unhurried, like he was tasting your fear and savoring it. His eyes stayed locked on yours, and you felt small under the weight of them. Small, but not weak.

Then something in you moved. You reacted, fast, turning like you might bolt from the nest, muscles tensed and ready. You wanted to bait him, see him move, see what would happen if you pushed.

You almost made it, until his voice stopped you cold.

“If you leave,” he said calmly, “I will hunt you and breed you right there on the floor. Your choice.”

Your eyes widened.

You knew he meant it. You were in his game now. And once he caught you, there’d be no running.

But still… part of you wanted to. Wanted to see him snap.

Your lips twitched, almost a smile, but you kept it tight, jaw clenched. You wanted to push him, see him lose that perfect control. You wanted the weight of him again, his breath in your ear, the press of whatever was straining under that loincloth.

Instead, you turned back and sank down into the furs like you hadn’t moved at all.

“I’ll bite your dreadlocks and make you bleed,” you said, chin tipped up.

He didn’t scare you. Not exactly. You were just… curious. Curious about what sat behind that calm, the exact point where you could make him break and groan for you. The memory of how he had moved, how his hips had rolled when you had dragged your tongue along his locks, flashed in your mind, and your teeth caught your bottom lip.

His eyes tracked it. Tracked everything.

“You won’t have any breath left to move if I let myself touch you,” he said, voice low but heavy with certainty.

Then he leaned back on the other side of the nest, sprawling his long legs out. One arm braced behind him, the other bent so his fist could hold the side of his head. The position made him look impossibly big, relaxed, but dangerous in a way that made your pulse crazy.

His gaze traveled slow—painfully slow—from your feet up your body, inch by inch, like he was reading you.

You felt naked under his stare, stripped bare without a single touch. Goosebumps prickled up your arms and you instinctively folded them across your chest, glancing away just long enough to steady your breath before letting it out slow.

He moved—just a slight shift—but his hand came up, a single finger pointing toward your legs.

“Do what you did earlier,” he rumbled, voice deep in his chest. He leaned back against the nest like he owned the space, one knee lifting, the loincloth sliding over his hips and resting against his abdomen. His head tilted, eyes sharpening, as if he wanted a better view before he braced his head against his fist again.

Heat crept up your neck, spreading across your cheeks. You knew he could see it. Shame. Want. Hunger. All tangled together.

You clenched your jaw, ready to tell him no. Ready to push back.

But something inside you—something that had nothing to do with pheromones—wanted to give in. To put on a show. To see him lose that grip he kept so tightly around himself.

You slid back into the furs, your body mimicking his posture. His legs nearly brushed yours, his sheer size making the air between you feel thin.

Your knees lifted slightly. Your fingers found the heat between your thighs, pressing against your underwear, but your other hand rose as a shield, blocking his view, letting him know you would only give him so much.

The sound he made was low and dangerous, a growl that promised teeth if you pushed your luck.

You kept going anyway, fingers pressing in slow circles over your clit. Your head tipped back, your lips parting, the quietest moans slipping free. The heat was everywhere now, around you, in you and you let it consume you.

When you looked at him again, your eyes half-lidded, you saw the change. His breath was heavier, each exhale laced with something primal. He looked like he could tear the air apart if you made him wait another second.

“Move your hand,” he said finally.

But what you expected never came.

The snatch of your arm, the sudden weight of him pinning you down in the furs, claiming you like a prize, that moment you braced for… It didn’t happen.

Instead, heat bloomed across your skin like wildfire, crawling up your body until your chest felt too tight, your breath catching like the air was slowly leaking out of your lungs.

Then came the pressure, curling in your gut and spreading downward until you couldn’t think past it. You gasped, desperate for air, every inhale shallow and shaky. Your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill, but you didn’t stop, your hand pressed hard over your damp underwear, fingers slipping inside to stroke that maddeningly sensitive spot. Your other hand rose to your breast, twisting your nipple until the jolt of sensation dragged a raw moan from your throat.

Your body melted into the nest, your back sinking into its center, knees up and shaking. You touched yourself like it was the only thing keeping you from burning alive, every nerve strung tight, every muscle begging for him. You needed him. Needed his weight, his heat, the way he would fill you and you couldn’t explain it. You didn’t need to.

The low rumble in his chest broke through the haze. Steady, deep, vibrating like it was meant for you. It wrapped around you, an unspoken command to keep going, to push until you shutter.

You lifted your head, just enough to see him watching you. Eyes locked on you, unblinking. Not touching himself. Not moving. Just leaning back, drinking in every second like it was enough to feed him.

The flush of embarrassment hit you hard, you wanted him to react, to lose himself the way you were losing yourself. You started to pull your hand away.

“Keep going,” he said, low, firm, a voyeur’s demand, as if stopping now would offend him.

A slow smile tugged at your lips. So, he was enjoying himself. He didn’t have to touch himself, not like a human would. He wasn’t human.

The thought of him taking you in like this, feeding off your sounds, your desperate little gasps, the way your thighs squeezed together trying to hold on just a little longer, made your body twitch. The heat surged again, and the sound that left you was half squeal, half moan, raw with need.

You were breathless, clinging to the last scrap of sanity in your head just so you wouldn’t finish right there, so you wouldn’t drown in the rush of hormones pounding through you.

It was obvious now. He had punished you for not obeying his command and let him see you touch yourself, but in his own way. Releasing that heavy wave of pheromones again, choking you in your own breath and spit, making your body beg for him without a single word.

You wanted him—God, you wanted him—but this wasn’t just want anymore. When those pheromones hit, it was like something deeper and primal woke inside you. A gut instinct to be taken. To be bred. It scared you. It thrilled you. And it made you burn with a shame you couldn’t hide.

Your body trembled, your mind lost, when suddenly, the fire just… stopped.

You sucked in air like you had been underwater for minutes, chest heaving, your hands flying up to clutch at yourself just to ground your body.

“Fuck…” you muttered, in exhaustion and frustration.

“Don’t disobey me again,” his voice cut in, rasp, low, that guttural tone crawling over your skin.

You nodded fast—yes, yes—you didn’t even trust yourself to speak. You knew if he hit you with that scent again, you would lose every last shred of control. You would be on him, begging, clawing for him to take you.

You stayed there, breathing hard, staring up at the ship’s ceiling, still not fully down from the high when a deep, heavy scoff pulled your attention back to him.

It was subtle, intentional. He wanted you to hear it.

“You’re enjoying watching me struggle, aren’t you?” you shot back.

He made a sound, almost a hum, like he was agreeing with you. But there was something else in it. For once, he let a sliver of real emotion through.

“Come here,” he said, not a command this time. There was something almost… gentle in it. Or as gentle as he could be. It didn’t sound like he wanted to boss you around this time. It sounded like he wanted you close, to touch you, to feel you, to explore you.

You lifted your head to look at him, and his face seemed… different. The hard edges hadn’t gone and his expression wasn’t exactly soft. But you saw a frown that was trying to hide something desperate underneath.

“Come,” he repeated, sharper this time. It made you flinch.

You tried to push yourself up, to obey, but your body wouldn’t listen. You were still weak, breathless, your palms pressed into the rugs just to hold yourself steady. The air felt thick, heavy, and the aftermath of his pheromones still clung to you, weighing you down.

And then you felt him move. He extended his massive hand toward you, the shadow of it stretching over your skin.

You stared at it, unsure. Was he helping you up?

Your eyes flicked back to his, sharp, alien. He moved his fingers slightly, a wordless signal to come closer.

You hesitated, caught between wanting to give in and wanting to make him wait.

Slowly, you reached out. You braced for a rough yank, for that predator’s grip you knew so well. But instead… he took your hand, his palm rough and cold, the texture of his kind written on it.

He pulled you toward him, slow at first. You crawled forward, your breaths shallow, your skin slick with sweat, the corners of your eyes still damp with tears. Your body burned, flushed, aching and yet there was that voice in your head, whispering danger, telling you to stop.

You ignored it.

His grip slid from your palm to your wrist, and then the pull became stronger, more impatient.

You ended up on his lap, his legs stretched open beneath you. You sat onto one of his massive thighs, solid and powerful under you, bigger than anything you had ever seen attached to a body. And sitting there, you knew you weren’t just close to him. You were in his space completely, exactly where he wanted you.

He guided you onto him slowly, pulling until you collapsed against his chest. Your palms found his pecs to steady yourself. One of his hands slid to your back, holding you there, keeping you grounded while you tried to breathe through the chaos he had left in your mind and body.

You clung to him, pressing your face into his chest, counting his slow breaths to steady your own. His hand came up to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, studying its softness the same way you had once studied him.

“Breathe,” he growled, the sound deep and rough. You were trembling against him, nails digging into his skin, the feverish heat in your body making every inch of you throb.

You were touching him everywhere you could reach—shoulders, chest, sides—your body melting against his. He didn’t push you away. Your legs rested between his, and with your eyes closed, your nose pressed to the side of his neck, you inhaled him. That alien scent wrapped around you, sank into you, made your teeth ache with the urge to bite.

“Will you stop releasing pheromones now?” you asked, voice muffled against his cool skin. You chased that coolness with your lips, desperate for relief from the heat consuming you.

“I’m not,” his chest rumbled.

Your eyes snapped open. You leaned back slightly, searching his face.

“What…?”

He tilted his head, at you. He was honest.

So all this—this dizzy, aching need—wasn’t his pheromones? Just you… wanting him?

Could be.

The purr in his chest grew louder, and it curled through you, sliding up your spine and settling low between your legs. You closed your eyes, shivering, your hands finding the thick column of his neck, holding on as you tilted his head down toward yours.

Red irises locked on you, alien and sharp, set in a sclera as black as deep space. But there was something softer in the way he looked at you… or maybe you just imagined it.

He clicked his mandibles, like he was waiting for you to speak, but you didn’t. You just held him there, close enough to feel his breath.

He was brutal. Unforgiving. Deadly.

And yet, he let you hold him like this, let you stay on his lap while that low purr kept pushing you to melt against him.

You swallowed hard as he leaned down, his massive hand sliding over your head, fingers tangling in your hair before tugging it back gently. His teeth pressed into your shoulder, not sharp enough to bleed, but enough to make your body jolt.

You flinched, biting down on a sound, trying to swallow it back.

His hand shot up, gripping your wrist and pulling it away from your mouth.

“Don’t hide it. I want to hear you,” he said, his voice thick with want.

You held his gaze, but your stomach was twisting with heat you couldn’t name.

His mandibles shifted, brushing your skin before his teeth found the side of your neck. The bite was hard, enough to make a sound slip from your lips, in pain, in pleasure. The rumble in his chest matched your voice, feeding off every gasp, every whimper.

You held his head, fingers tangled in whatever you could grip, as he tested you, biting harder, pressing deeper, pushing to see how much you would take before you finally told him to stop.

His mouth roamed like he couldn’t help himself, down your arm, over the curve of your neck, the inside of your wrist, tasting you, tracing you, as though the feel of your skin was some impossible temptation he had finally given in to.

You touched his chest, both to steady yourself and to explore. His skin was cold, thick, strange… yet somehow you wanted more of it.

He caught your wrist, his mouth still at your neck, and guided your hand up to his head. You didn’t need him to explain. You understood.

So you touched him, fingers slipping into the weight of his dreadlocks, feeling the texture, the life in them. He took your hint just as you had taken his, his forked tongue dragged along your neck, licking your skin until it brushed your ear. You hissed, and without thinking, your fingers tightened around two of his locks, giving them a small squeeze.

The sound he made against your ear, deep, choked, almost unwilling, hit you harder than you wanted to admit. It was the most attractive thing you had ever heard from him.

A strange heat radiated off his body, his hand sliding up the back of your neck to hold you there. Not painful, but firm enough to remind you.

Don’t push too far.

“I’ll behave if you do,” you murmured, turning your head so your lips brushed close to where his ear might be.

“You don’t get to make the rules,” he rumbled, leaning back enough to look at you. His grip shifted, moving your head from side to side, studying your face like he was deciding what to do with you.

“I think I do.” Your hand was still tangled in his hair, and you gave it a playful tug—once, twice—warning him right back. Your smile was knowing and a little dangerous.

“You’re soft,” he said, almost to himself, “yet you don’t know not to challenge bigger threats like me.” His thumb skimmed over your lips, and you opened your mouth, letting him slide it in.

“You’re so willing to open for me,” he murmured, testing a softer voice, like it was the first time he was using it.

The purr in his chest began again, low and deep. His eyes stayed fixed on your mouth as you took his thumb in, your tongue curling around it, wetting the skin before pulling it deeper. He let you have it, even though you both knew you could bite if you wanted.

And you did.

The urge to tease, to test him, took over. Your teeth grazed his skin, closing just enough for him to feel it.

His hand on your nape tightened.

You opened your mouth, freeing his finger and looked up through your lashes. “I won’t bite,” you breathed, your smile curling at the edges.

He hesitated, eyes locked on you, weighing whether you were worth the risk.

“Please…” This time, your voice was a purr, soft and inviting, as you guided his hand back to your mouth.

He didn’t resist, which was almost more dangerous than if he had. You slid his finger past your lips again, teeth grazing it lightly as it entered your mouth, your tongue slow and teasing.

His head tilted, watching you like he was trying to make sense of your nature.

How you could use your teeth so… gently.

The hand around your neck loosened, drifting lower until it rested above your chest. The tips of his claws tapped there, a slow rhythm, testing the fragility of your skin like he couldn’t get enough of how soft you were.

You sucked his thumb again, just enough pressure to make him feel the edge of your teeth. His claws responded in kind, pricking against you, a mirrored warning.

Then his patience snapped, he grabbed your waist, his palm pressing hard into the small of your back, dragging you across his thigh until you straddled it. His hand came down fast, slapping the outside of your thighs so they open, settling you over the solid muscle beneath.

Your eyes widened at the sudden move, your lips parting to protest but you didn’t get the chance, because his hand was on your face, fingers squeezing your cheeks together, holding your mouth shut.

“Keep going,” he rasped, voice low and rough, vibrating deep in his chest. It wasn’t just an order, it was an invitation to play along.

He wanted more. Your teeth on him, your hands, your body testing him the way he tested you.

His palm pressed into your lower back again, pushing you forward. The friction between you made you shiver instantly, his skin cold, alien, yet against your heat it felt almost unbearable. A hiss escaped you before you could stop it.

He answered with a sound of his own, a deep, resonant purr that poured out of his chest like a wave, running straight into your body. You felt it between your legs, low and electric, like he knew exactly how to vibrate the air between you until your muscles went slack and your breath caught.

It wasn’t just the purr, it was the way it was for you, tuned to the frequency of your want. And he was watching to see just how far you would let yourself go on top of him.

You leaned in, mouth parting as you buried your face against the side of his neck, clutching at his dreadlocks like they were the only thing keeping you grounded. Your breath came in short, shaky gasps as you moved against his thigh, slow at first, the friction building with every drag forward, every roll back.

His hand stayed firm at your lower back, not pushing, just holding you there, letting you set the pace like he wanted to memorize the way you liked it, the way your hips moved and pressed into his skin, the way you kept coming back for more.

Then he rumbled something low, the sound heavy and rough—definitely a word, but in his language. You couldn’t understand it, but you could feel it. The tone was guttural, almost desperate, like it slipped out without his permission.

His other hand found your face where you were hiding in the crook of his neck, trying to smother your flushed cheeks and swallow your moans. His fingers slid under your chin, lifting it up until you were forced to meet his eyes.

You shook your head slightly, a quiet plea to let you hide, but he wasn’t having it. The thought of looking him dead in the eye while you were this close to falling apart made heat pool in your stomach and your knees go weak, but the vibration running through his body was driving you straight there whether you wanted it or not.

“Don’t,” he snapped, low and sharp, not loud, but with a kind of control that didn’t need volume. “Keep your eyes open.”

His thumb brushed your chin, steadying you, holding you in place so you couldn’t break eye contact. You felt naked under his stare again, every sound you made caught between you, his red eyes locked on yours as you moved on him, chasing the pulse of heat with every roll of your hips.

“Good,” he murmured, the praise deep and warm, before his hand slid around the back of your head. You braced for another tug to your hair.

But that’s not what came next. His hand stayed resting at the back of your head, just there, moving with your body as you lost your breath because of him.

“Keep going,” he said, his chest rumbling with that deep, rich sound again. It hit you like a wave, making you feel like you might finish right there, the way his voice was low but not threatening. Nothing like anything you had ever heard before, alien and strange, but somehow encouraging. Like warm water washing over your skin, easing your body and mind.

“Are you using your pheromones again?” you asked, heat pooling between your legs, a warm fire spreading through your stomach.

“No,” he rumbled low. “That’s all you.”

You knew he felt it, the wetness soaking into his thigh under you.

His hand held you steady as you leaned closer, your forehead resting against his chest. He finally let you close your eyes, your hips picking up pace, chasing that friction, your climax closer now.

Your palms pressed against his chest to keep balance as your hips moved on their own rhythm, angling just right so the cold touch of his skin sent shivers all through you.

You knew he knew. He could feel your heartbeat racing, the way your hips moved, the warmth pooling between your legs.

You held onto him tight, losing yourself in the feeling, the slick heat meeting his thigh with harder thrusts now.

Your climax hit you hard and fast, uneven gasps spilling from your lips, your mouth falling open in a moan that shook with every move you made.

His vibration never stopped, a steady pulse under you, urging you on, making you want to stretch that moment forever.

Your eyes closed as you leaned into him, but then, caught somewhere between bliss and chaos, you opened them just in time, looking up at him before the wave of pleasure faded.

And that was the best decision you made all night. Because the sight was unforgettable.

His chest rose and fell fast, breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he looked down at you.

The hand holding your head had shifted, gripping the fur beneath you so tightly his knuckles had turned pale, almost another color.

His mouth was open, mandibles clicking rapidly to match his ragged breath.

There he was. Slowly breaking down under you, undone by your sounds, the way you clung to him, your nails digging into his flesh as you rode that perfect orgasm on top of him.

You didn’t get to savor the wreck he had become, his hand shifted, pulling you back on top of his thigh, urging you to finish on him. So you did.

You were coming down from your high now, every touch made you sensitive. You moaned softly, biting your lip as you rode his thigh lazily, a slow smile spreading over your face just from the sheer bliss of watching the mess he had turned into.

“You like it when I’m loud?” you whispered close to his ear, moaning the words like you knew exactly how to tease him now.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand grabbed your face again, guiding you so you met his gaze fully.

Your skin flushed, hair wild, lips bruised from biting too hard. A living painting of the after-glow. You could feel it too, chest light and stomach fluttering like butterflies were dancing inside.

“You don’t want to know,” he rumbled low, his voice thick with that guttural growl. He let go of your face, resting his hands on your thighs, eyes locked on yours.

Behind those eyes, you caught a flicker, something telling him you were more than just a toy to pass the time.

Because the way you sounded, the way you moved, it was intoxicating. He worried he might get addicted to it.

And then, in a blink, his gaze changed. The beast you knew came back now.

His grip tightened for a second and then slowly he pushed you off his thigh. You slid down, confusion twisted inside you at the sudden change.

You searched his face, looking for a clue why he was pulling away.

“You can sleep here tonight,” he said quietly before standing and walking away.

Your heart thumbed hard in your chest.

What had just happened?

Why did he leave like that?

Had you pushed too far?

You let your fingers trail over the fur beneath you, so much better than the cold floor you have been sleeping. You sank onto your back, letting the warmth wrap around you.