#subvalko

Half the time, his flirting crashed and burned so spectacularly that it somehow looped back around into being…Weirdly endearing. He was a complete dork. An absolute doofus. Brilliant enough to run a company and solve problems that would make your head spin, yet somehow capable of saying the dumbest thing imaginable seconds later with complete sincerity.

You often wondered if he had more muscle than common sense. A walking, talking, six-foot-two beef bag of ADHD with a confidence far bigger than his self-awareness. He made you want to smack him upside the head almost as often as he made you laugh, and somehow, against your better judgment, against your own common sense, against every standard you’d ever claimed to have, you’d let the idiot grow on you. Worse yet, you’d grown so attached in such a ridiculously short amount of time that you sometimes wanted to smack yourself just as hard for letting it happen in the first place.

There was, however, something about him that made it impossible to completely write him off. Buried beneath every eye roll he earned and every moment that had you internally cringing at yourself for finding him even remotely attractive was a man who was so painfully genuine that it was almost disarming.

Valko wore his heart on his sleeve without a shred of shame. He was sincere to a fault, brave in ways that had nothing to do with physical strength, effortlessly funny without always meaning to be, and so unbelievably affectionate that it sometimes left you wondering if he had any concept of personal restraint. He was warm in every sense of the word, always reaching for your hand, your waist, your shoulder; always finding some excuse to be close. He wasn’t embarrassed by the way he looked at you, either. If anything, he seemed determined to make sure everyone around him knew exactly how hopelessly smitten he was. He didn’t hide his feelings behind pride or carefully maintained indifference like so many people did. He flaunted them. Loudly. Shamelessly. Almost ferally. He simped over you with such shameless enthusiasm that it should’ve been embarrassing to witness.

Maybe that’s why you’d tested him so relentlessly. You’d teased him. Picked on him. Deliberately brushed him off whenever he got too close, watching carefully to see if the mask would crack or if the sweetness would disappear the moment you stopped making things easy for him. Part of you wanted proof that it wasn’t just love bombing; that he wasn’t putting on some impossibly charming performance until he got what he wanted. Another part simply wanted to protect yourself. You wanted things to move at your pace, not his. You wanted to decide how much of yourself you gave away and when, to keep enough distance that you could still retreat if things became too overwhelming.

The strange thing was…He never pushed. No matter how much you huffed at him, rolled your eyes, or lightly bullied him for acting like an overgrown puppy desperate for attention, Valko somehow always respected the boundaries you set without ever making you feel guilty for having them. He’d grin, laugh it off, throw another ridiculous joke your way, and wait. Patiently. Like he already knew you’d come back to him when you were ready.

Somehow, despite all your efforts to keep him at arm’s length, he’d managed to slip past every wall you’d tried so carefully to build. He always called it fate. Or biology. According to him, whatever existed between the two of you was something neither of you had any real control over, something instinctive and inevitable that had been pulling you together since the day you met. The first time he’d said it, you’d laughed right in his stupid, punch-bruised face, convinced he was just being his usual dramatic, overconfident self. Now, though…Now you weren’t so sure he was wrong. Maybe he was right about the whole primordial soup theory.

You had just finished the last sip of your wine when a familiar clink echoed from outside, followed by the unmistakable scrape of something bumping against your balcony railing. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, already knowing exactly who it was before you even looked. Oh, for God’s sake. Couldn’t he just use the front door like a normal person?

The man had an actual key, now. He knew how locks worked. Yet, for reasons known only to the giant idiot himself, he seemed to treat your third-story balcony like it was the designated entrance every single time he came over. It was ridiculous. Completely unnecessary. The kind of thing that made you instinctively facepalm before you even laid eyes on him.

…Not that you hadn’t been waiting for him. His late-night Target run had taken longer than expected, and although you’d spent the last hour pretending you weren’t paying attention to the clock, you’d caught yourself glancing at it far more times than you’d ever admit aloud.

Shaking the thought away, you quickly rinsed your wine glass and set it upside down in the drying rack before tossing the empty bottle into the recycling bin with a muted clatter. Then you made your way toward the balcony, pulling your lounging robe a little tighter around yourself as the cool night air seeped through the cracks of the sliding glass door. The chill brushed against your bare legs the moment you slid it open, carrying with it the crisp scent of the evening.

And there he was. The giant loser trapped inside an unfairly attractive body. Valko landed on your balcony with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible for a man his size, straightening up with that impossibly pleased grin already stretched across his face. Moonlight spilled over his broad shoulders, catching the gold in his eyes and the sharp points of his teeth as he beamed at you like he’d just returned from some grand expedition instead of a Target run. A plastic shopping bag swung triumphantly from one hand before he held it out toward you like a prize.

“Got the essentials,” he announced proudly, “another bottle of cab, your chocolate pretzels, popcorn, dish soap—”

“—Dish soap??” Your brows knitted together as you crossed your arms, looking up at him with open confusion.

“You were running out,” he replied matter-of-factly, pointing past you through the open glass door toward your kitchen sink before continuing down his mental checklist.

Your attention barely stayed on the words. Instead, your eyes lingered on the way his pointed canines caught the moonlight every time he smiled; that stupid, lopsided smirk somehow managing to look both mischievous and impossibly genuine at the same time.

“I took a little longer than I thought I would cause I realized I needed to grab myself some Swiffer pads,” he continued with a sheepish shrug, “can’t do a Target trip without it turning into a whole mission. Y’know how that goes.”

Before he could stride over and inevitably bend down to nuzzle the top of your head for what had to be the millionth time that night, you planted your palm squarely against his chest, stopping him in his tracks. The contact was almost comical. His chest was ridiculously firm beneath your hand, like trying to hold back a brick wall wrapped in an expensive tank top, yet he froze instantly the moment he realized you were serious.

“My birth control?” You asked, your gaze dropping pointedly to the white Target bag dangling from his hand.

His golden eyes widened. His jaw slowly went slack. For one horrifying, painfully familiar second, he stared off into the distance as though his soul had just left his body to retrace every step he’d taken through the store. Oh, God damn it. You knew that look.

“…Uhhh,” he answered after a beat, still frozen in place as his eyes drifted down toward the bag, “right. Yeah, I got that…I think…”

A slow, weary sigh slipped through your nose.

“I hope so,” you deadpanned, “considering that’s the entire reason you went to Target for me.”

“Don’t worry, I swear I got it,” he flashed you a smile that was far less convincing than he clearly intended before immediately shoving his hand into the bag and beginning to rummage through it with increasing urgency.

Plastic crinkled loudly as bags of snacks, cleaning supplies, and whatever else he’d impulse-bought shifted around.

“Damn it, I swear it’s in here…Hold on,” his movements became faster, more frantic, “would you quit staring at me like that? It’s making me nervous!”

“You should be nervous!” You huffed, folding your arms tighter across your chest as disbelief began replacing your patience, “ugh, don’t tell me you forgot, Valko…”

“I didn’t!” His head snapped up so quickly you almost believed him. Almost, “I—…”

His confidence evaporated just as fast.

“…Oh my God.”

He stopped digging through the bag altogether, horror washing across his face as the realization finally hit him.

“I left it on the pharmacy counter…” He admitted, sounding as though he’d just confessed to a felony, “I was rushing to get back here.”

You let out an exaggerated groan, your entire body sagging with defeated disbelief as you tipped your head back to stare helplessly at the moon hanging overhead. The cool night air brushed across your damp hair and bare legs, but it did nothing to soothe the mounting frustration bubbling inside you. Both hands dragged down over your face until your palms covered your eyes completely.

“Ughhh…Why are you like this?!”

“I told ya,” he defended himself, lifting one shoulder in an apologetic shrug, “I was rushing!”

“Why the rush?!”

The frantic rustling of plastic suddenly stopped. Silence settled between you for a beat before you lowered your hands just enough to peek at him. Valko was staring down at you with an expression that hovered somewhere between confusion and genuine disbelief. He blinked once. Then again. His brows slowly knitted together as though the answer should’ve been painfully obvious.

“…You’re really asking me that,” he said, his voice flat with incredulity, “when you’re standing there in a fucking silk robe of all things…”

His golden eyes drifted over you, lingering for only a second before meeting yours again with maddening confidence.

“And you don’t even have underwear on under it?” He added.

Your breath caught. You actually gasped. How the hell did he know that? For one mortifying second, you instinctively glanced down at yourself as though expecting the robe to have somehow betrayed you. It was tied securely. Nothing was showing. There was absolutely no reason he should’ve been able to tell.

When your gaze snapped back up, he was already looking at you with the single most unimpressed expression you’d ever seen grace his stupidly handsome face. A long sigh escaped him as his broad shoulders relaxed, the tension leaving his body all at once. He straightened to his full height, towering over you beneath the silver wash of moonlight, and looked at you like you were the one asking ridiculous questions.

“C’mon,” he huffed out a short laugh through his nose. One dark brow arched, “seriously? You think I’m stupid or something?”

Your eyes widened. Heat flooded your face so quickly it felt like your cheeks had caught fire, and you immediately folded your arms tighter across your chest as though that might somehow make the situation less embarrassing.

“I-I didn’t think about it,” you stammered, unable to meet his eyes for more than a second, “I just got out of the shower and put on whatever—”

He cut you off with a loud, hearty laugh that echoed across the quiet balcony. His head tipped back, completely unrestrained, while one hand disappeared into his tousled hair, raking through the auburn strands as his shoulders shook. It was almost obnoxious how entertained he looked, his grin stretching so wide that the sharp points of his canines caught the moonlight with every laugh.

“Ohhh, right. Right,” he nodded along dramatically, still chuckling to himself, “and I’m supposed to believe that.”

“I swear!” You insisted, your voice climbing an octave as the accusation landed far closer to the truth than you wanted to admit. You could feel yourself growing flustered by the second, annoyance mixing with embarrassment until your face burned even hotter. The worst part wasn’t that he’d called you out.

It was that he’d read you so effortlessly. Again. He threw both hands into the air in mock surrender, his face contorting into the most exaggerated expression of innocence you had ever seen. Then, as if embarrassing himself came as naturally as breathing, he pitched his voice up into an absurd little imitation of yours. To complete the performance, he even bent one knee and kicked his heavy boot back behind him with theatrical flair.

“I swear! I totally didn’t just drink to calm my nerves right now while you were gone, Valko—”

“—Shut your bitch ass up!” You groaned, launching your palm squarely into his chest with a solid thump.

It accomplished absolutely nothing. His body barely budged beneath the shove, his chest feeling less like a person and more like a brick wall hidden beneath a fitted tank. You hit him again out of pure spite, only for him to laugh harder, the deep, unrestrained sound rumbling in his chest as he casually batted your arm away.

“Oh, c’mon—”

“—No!” You swatted at him again, growing more indignant with every infuriating grin he flashed your way, “don’t think you can distract me from the fact that you forgot my damn birth control!”

“Oh, darn,” he rolled his eyes with enough dramatic flair to deserve an award before hooking the shopping bag over the crook of his elbow. The moment both of his hands were free, they found your wrists with practiced ease.

His grip was enormous. Warm. Firm enough that you couldn’t immediately pull away, yet impossibly gentle all the same, as though he was instinctively careful not to squeeze any harder than necessary. That stupid wolfish grin spread slowly across his face, stretching wider as his golden eyes narrowed with unmistakable amusement.

“Looks like…” He mused, deliberately taking one slow step forward.

You instinctively took one back.

“…I’ll just have to spend tomorrow here with you too…” Another step.

You retreated again, the cool floor beneath your feet giving way toward the warmth spilling from your apartment.

“…If ya want me to pick it up that bad—”

“—I’ll do it myself!” You huffed, finally twisting your wrists just enough to slip free from his hands. The instant you escaped, you spun dramatically on your heel and marched back inside, your robe fluttering around your legs as the warmer air enveloped you.

“Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-no.”

You’d barely made it two steps. Behind you came the hurried shuffle of boots, followed by the quick scrape of the balcony door sliding shut. You didn’t even need to turn around. You could picture the entire sequence perfectly: Valko setting the Target bag on the floor in a rush before jogging after you with all the grace of an overexcited golden retriever trapped inside the body of a six-foot-two werewolf.

A heartbeat later, his hands settled on your shoulders. Before you could protest, he dipped his head, burying his face against the top of your hair with a long, contented nuzzle. Warm breath stirred the still-damp strands from your shower, and you felt him inhale softly, lingering there for a second as though simply breathing you in was enough to calm him. His broad chest settled against you while those ridiculously muscular arms slid around you, wrapping you up so completely that it felt less like being restrained and more like being swallowed by the world’s warmest weighted blanket. His embrace was impossibly secure without ever being forceful, effortlessly bringing your little storm of indignation to a halt.

“It’s like…” He mumbled into your hair, his voice vibrating softly against the back of your head, “nine o’something. Relax.”

One of his hands gave your side a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ll grab it in the morning for ya. It’s not like you’re missing any days,” a mischievous chuckle slipped past his lips, “y’know…I was totally joking when I made that comment about breeding ya—”

“—Ew!”

You immediately began squirming in his arms, swatting at whatever part of him you could reach while desperately trying, and spectacularly failing, to suppress the laugh bubbling up in your chest. The memory resurfaced far more fondly than you wanted to admit, making your cheeks warm all over again.

“God, don’t remind me, you weirdo…”

You finally managed to twist just enough to point accusingly toward the floor.

“Hey!” Your finger jabbed toward his feet, “boots off. Now.”

He immediately raised both hands in surrender, the picture of exaggerated defeat, “alright, alright.”

With an overly dramatic sigh, he caught himself before taking another step inside. He leaned against the wall to unzip his heavy boots, tugging them off one at a time before neatly lining them up beside the entryway without another word. You couldn’t help noticing how absurdly obedient he became over the smallest things whenever you called him out. For all his bravado, he’d listen the moment you genuinely asked him to do something.

“Weirdo?” He echoed, lifting a skeptical brow as the corner of his mouth curled back into that infuriating grin.

You barely had time to react before he was closing the distance again. Just like a puppy. An oversized, overly affectionate, six-foot-two puppy that apparently had no concept of personal space. Before you could slip away, one powerful arm hooked effortlessly around you. The floor disappeared beneath your feet as he scooped you up as though you weighed next to nothing, bouncing you once into a secure bridal carry that made you instinctively grab onto him for balance. His arm beneath your knees barely flexed under your weight, while the other settled comfortably behind your back, holding you snug against his broad chest.

“There we go,” he murmured with obvious satisfaction.

Without missing a beat, he turned back toward the abandoned Target bag, carrying you with the same ease someone might carry an extra pillow. His stride never faltered, and neither did his eyes. They stayed fixed on you the entire time, molten gold glinting beneath the kitchen lights with that unmistakable spark of mischief dancing inside them.

He lowered his voice, “you were the one begging for me to cum inside of—”

A mortified whine escaped you before your hand shot over his mouth, smothering the rest of the sentence against your palm, “oh my God, no I wasn’t, shut up!”

His smug smile only widened beneath your hand. Of course it did. For one blissful second, you thought you’d successfully silenced him. Then you felt it. A slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue across the center of your palm.

“Eugh!” You recoiled on instinct, yanking your hand away with an expression of pure disgust as you stared down at the sheen of saliva now glistening across your skin.

“Mmm,” he smacked his lips with theatrical appreciation, looking altogether too pleased with himself, “salty...”

“You are unbelievable,” you groaned, immediately wiping your hand across the front of the skintight black tank top he always seemed to wear. The soft fabric stretched over his chest as you smeared your revenge across it, earning yourself another amused chuckle instead of the annoyance you’d been hoping for.

He simply laughed under his breath and kept walking, carrying you deeper into the kitchen as though nothing had happened.

“You don’t have to carry me, you know,” you muttered, giving a half-hearted squirm despite making no real effort to escape, “I have legs.”

“I know you do,” his response came so matter-of-factly that you almost missed the absentminded squeeze he gave your thighs where his arm supported them.

It wasn’t suggestive so much as instinctive, his large hand adjusting its grip to keep you comfortably settled against him as he reached the kitchen counter.

“I like carrying ya,” his grin softened into something warmer, his voice losing some of its teasing edge, “what…Am I being too clingy again?”

He tilted his head just slightly, studying your face with an almost playful curiosity. Maybe he was. You were quickly learning that everything about Valko existed at an intensity you weren’t used to. His affection was intense. His attraction was intense. Even the way he simply occupied a room felt larger than life. And yet, somehow, none of it felt calculated. None of it felt performative. If any other man had come on this strongly so early into knowing you, you would’ve written him off immediately. You would’ve called it love bombing without a second thought and started looking for the nearest exit.

With Valko…You couldn’t. There was something strangely uncomplicated about him that made all of it feel…Real. The longer you spent with him, the more you started wondering if this was simply what being a werewolf meant for someone like him. Whether all of that relentless affection, the constant need for closeness, the endless touching, cuddling, nuzzling, and shameless adoration were less of a conscious decision and more of an instinct he never tried to suppress. It reminded you, almost embarrassingly, of a puppy. Loyal to a fault. Endlessly loving. Excitable over the smallest things. Playful. Eager for attention, but just as eager to give it back tenfold. There was something so hopelessly sincere about the way he loved that it became difficult to make fun of him for it…Even though you still absolutely did.

“…I just don’t know you that well yet,” you admitted quietly.

His expression softened immediately. Without complaint, he loosened his hold and carefully lowered you back onto the kitchen floor. Your bare feet met the cool tile with a quiet tap, the lingering warmth from his arms disappearing almost instantly. You hadn’t realized how comfortable you’d been in his embrace until it was gone, and the absence left behind a faint, unexpected sense of loss that you stubbornly refused to dwell on.

The moment you were standing again, the difference in your height returned in full force. He towered over you. It wasn’t just that he was tall; although six-foot-two certainly didn’t help. It was everything else. His shoulders seemed broad enough to block out half the kitchen light whenever he stood too close, his frame filling your tiny apartment in a way that almost looked comical. He always seemed slightly too big for your space, like someone had dropped a grizzly bear into a one-bedroom apartment and expected it to fit comfortably.

And yet…It was beginning to feel normal. His boots by the front door. His leather jacket draped over the back of a chair. His laughter bouncing off your walls. His scent lingering faintly on your blankets long after he’d gone home. Little by little, he was becoming part of your apartment just as much as he was becoming part of your routine. You were growing used to his presence, to the way he naturally commanded every room he entered without even trying. Everything about him felt oversized; his body, his personality, his emotions, his laugh, even the space he occupied simply by existing.

“Fair enough,” there wasn’t even a hint of disappointment in his voice.

He simply smiled with that same understanding warmth that always seemed to catch you off guard before one enormous hand drifted slowly down your arm, his calloused fingertips brushing lightly against your skin in a touch so absentmindedly affectionate it almost seemed unconscious. The simple gesture lingered for only a moment before he stepped aside, giving you room as you turned toward the Target bag resting on the counter. You began unpacking everything one item at a time, setting each purchase in its place while plastic rustled beneath your hands.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower while you do that,” he said casually, “you okay with waiting for me?”

Your eyes drifted toward the fresh bottle of wine sitting on the counter, its dark glass catching the warm kitchen light. Then they found him again. A small, almost helpless smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Your gaze dropped, briefly, but deliberately, to his crotch before lifting back to meet those molten golden eyes.

“…Can you hurry up?” You pouted a bit.

A quiet puff of amusement escaped through his nose, the corners of his mouth twitching upward before he reached over to affectionately ruffle your still slightly damp hair. His fingers lingered for just a second longer than necessary, leaving the strands adorably disheveled.

“Oh?” He teased, his grin growing wider, “someone’s impatient for me tonight…”

The smug satisfaction in his voice made heat creep into your cheeks.

“Fine,” he chuckled, taking a reluctant step backward toward the hallway, “I’ll be fast.”

One finger pointed squarely at you in mock warning.

“Don’t you dare touch that shit without me,” he warned playfully.

Your eyes slowly slid back toward the unopened bottle. Then, just as slowly, they returned to him.

“Oh…” You replied innocently, though the mischievous glint in your eyes ruined the act immediately.

Your fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle while your other hand settled over the cap.

“You mean…” You began twisting it with exaggerated slowness, never once breaking eye contact, “this shit right here?”

His smile faltered. Not completely. Just enough. You watched the muscles along his jaw tighten as his eyes followed the deliberate movement of your hands. The teasing tilt of your head and the arch of your eyebrow only made it worse. For the briefest moment, he simply stared at you, looking like he was actively reconsidering whether he actually needed that shower after all.

You couldn’t help smiling a little wider, “you have ten minutes, Valko.”

The cap gave way with a crisp, satisfying pop.

You held the opened bottle up ever so slightly between the two of you, “so hurry the fuck up already before I—”

“—Ooh, yes, ma’am!” He straightened so quickly it was almost comical, snapping into an exaggerated salute with all the seriousness of an overgrown kid playing soldier. That enormous grin spread across his face again, though the look in his eyes had shifted into something hungrier, more intent, lingering on you in a way that made your stomach flutter despite yourself.

He started backing out of the kitchen, forcing himself to keep moving toward the hallway even as his gaze refused to leave you.

“Jesus Christ, woman,” he groaned dramatically over his shoulder, “no need to rile me up like that before I wash up. Now that’s just plain cruel…”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing as he disappeared down the hall, “I wasn’t even trying!”

“That’s why you’re so sexy!” He called back from somewhere beyond the corner, his voice echoing through the apartment.

You rolled your eyes with an amused snort, the smile he always seemed to leave behind lingering on your lips as you turned toward the cupboards. Reaching up, you pulled down two wine glasses, setting them gently on the counter beside the newly opened bottle with a pair of soft clinks.

God damn it. That idiot. That absolute moron. That…Fucking handsome wolf of a man. The thought alone made you scoff under your breath. If someone had told you a few weeks ago that you’d be standing in your own kitchen pouring wine for the chairman of EonCore Tech, you probably would’ve laughed yourself sick. If they’d told you that you were sleeping with him? You would’ve called them delusional.

Actually…Were you even just sleeping with him anymore? Dating? Seeing each other? Whatever the hell this was? You honestly had no idea. Neither of you had ever bothered putting a label on it. The conversation had never happened. Somewhere between nearly killing each other and sharing takeout on your couch, the connection had simply…Become whatever it was now. Which was absurd.

The first time you’d ever met Valko, you’d introduced yourself with your fist. Right into his stupidly handsome face. You’d shot at him. Fought him. Fully prepared to treat him like the enemy he’d appeared to be. And somehow, against every ounce of common sense you possessed, you’d ended up in his bed instead.

Or, more accurately…He kept ending up in yours. Somewhere along the way, “just this once” had quietly turned into accepting his invitations for late-night chocolate milkshakes, movie nights that usually ended with the film being ignored halfway through, dinners that lasted far longer than either of you intended because the two of you couldn’t stop talking; or bantering. You’d started letting him into your apartment without a second thought, watching him make himself comfortable like he’d always belonged there. More than once, he’d fallen asleep in your bed, dead to the world, looking so impossibly peaceful that you never quite had the heart to wake him.

You had, however, absolutely screamed at him the first, and thankfully only, time he’d propped those filthy boots up on your couch. He’d learned that lesson remarkably fast. Then there were the pajamas. God. The pajamas. He’d insisted on leaving a spare set at your apartment after “accidentally forgetting” to take them home. You’d seen right through the excuse immediately. There was nothing accidental about it. The idiot had practically engineered an excuse to leave a piece of himself behind. You’d complained. You’d rolled your eyes. You’d called him clingy…And then you’d folded them after washing them instead of tossing them into a bag for him to take home.

Deep down, you hadn’t really minded. Some cruel twist of fate had decided that the man who was supposed to be your enemy would also be the one who treated you with the most gentleness you’d ever known. Beneath all the cocky grins, terrible jokes, and endless teasing was someone endlessly patient with you. Someone playful enough to coax laughter out of you even when you tried to stay irritated. Someone attentive enough to notice when your favorite snacks were running low or your dish soap needed replacing. Someone whose warmth seemed to seep into every room he entered until the apartment felt strangely emptier whenever he wasn’t there.

He was infuriating. Ridiculously intelligent. Hopelessly annoying. And somehow, despite your best efforts, he’d rooted himself somewhere inside your heart before you’d even realized you’d left the door open. You couldn’t seem to get rid of him anymore. Not from your apartment. Not from your routine. And certainly not from your mind. Even his scent seemed to linger long after he’d stepped away; that clean, woodsy warmth that clung to your blankets, your clothes, and even your own skin, refusing to let you forget him no matter how hard you pretended you wanted to.

After pouring two generous glasses of wine, you began unpacking the rest of the Target bag while you waited for Valko to finish showering. One by one, you set everything on the counter; the popcorn, your chocolate pretzels, the dish soap he’d somehow remembered before the one thing you’d actually sent him there for. Then your hand paused. Nestled near the bottom of the bag was a wide black leather collar. A matching leash rested beneath it.

You frowned, “…Huh.”

You picked the collar up for a moment, turning it over in your hands. The leather was soft, well-made, surprisingly expensive by the feel of it. You hadn’t known Valko had any pets. Every time you’d been to his place, you hadn’t seen so much as a food bowl or a stray tuft of fur that wasn’t from his tail. No barking. No scratching at doors. Nothing. Maybe he’d gotten one recently. Or maybe there was something about his life you simply hadn’t learned yet. You shrugged to yourself, setting it back into the bag without giving it much more thought.

With both wine glasses balanced carefully in your hands, you wandered into the living room. You placed one on the coffee table before settling onto the couch with the other, lazily swirling the dark red wine around the bowl of the glass as you searched for something to watch. After picking a movie, you dimmed the lights from your phone until the apartment melted into a warm, amber glow, the television becoming the brightest thing in the room.

The first sip burned pleasantly on its way down. You unconsciously caught yourself smelling your own wrist, then the collar of your silk robe, making sure the fresh scent of your shampoo and body wash still lingered after your shower. Beneath it, you could already feel the alcohol beginning to settle comfortably into your system; not enough to make you drunk, just enough to smooth away the last edges of your nerves. Perfect.

Just as you let yourself sink back against the couch, you heard it. His footsteps. Your attention snapped toward the hallway before you even realized you’d moved. Valko stepped into the dim living room, and your brain immediately forgot whatever movie you’d just put on.

…Oh, he had to be kidding you. That absolute whore. That giant, six-foot-two whore. Fresh from the shower, he hadn’t bothered putting on a shirt. His broad shoulders were still faintly damp, tiny droplets of water catching the glow from the television as they disappeared over defined muscles and down the length of his chest. His dark red hair had been hastily pushed back with his fingers, still messy from the towel, leaving a few stubborn strands falling forward again as they slowly dried. His tail looked like he didn’t bother with more than just a towel dry. He looked comfortable in his own skin, carrying himself with the effortless confidence of someone who had absolutely no idea, or perhaps every idea, what he looked like.

The sweatpants weren’t doing you any favors, either. They hung low on his chiseled hips, untied and dangerously relaxed, clinging just enough to outline the powerful lines of his thighs every time he moved. The fabric left very little to the imagination. Even completely soft, you could make out the unmistakable weight and outline of his cock resting naturally against one thick thigh beneath the thin material, shifting subtly with each step he took. Your eyes lingered for a heartbeat longer than they should have before you forced yourself to look away, your face growing warmer by the second. God…Was he even wearing any underwear?

You silently cursed yourself the moment he wandered over and dropped onto the couch beside you. The entire piece of furniture groaned beneath his weight, the cushion dipping so deeply that your body instinctively slid toward him before you even had a chance to brace yourself. It wasn’t enough for him, apparently. The clingy bastard scooted even closer, his thigh bumping yours as the cushion compressed further beneath his massive frame, leaving gravity itself to betray you. You rolled right into his side exactly the way he knew you would. Exactly the way he wanted.

His arm was already waiting. The instant your shoulder bumped into the solid wall of his chest, his arm slipped behind you with practiced familiarity, draping across the back of your shoulders before his broad hand settled comfortably against your upper arm. With one easy squeeze, he pulled you flush against him until every inch of your side was pressed against the lingering warmth of his freshly showered skin. You felt his chest rise beneath your cheek before a slow breath escaped him, almost like relief, as though this simple closeness had been something he’d been craving the entire time he was gone.

“…No shirt?” You challenged, forcing your attention toward the television instead of the man beside you. You lifted your wineglass for another sip, pretending to be deeply invested in whatever opening scene was playing. Looking at the screen felt infinitely safer than looking at him.

A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest. You didn’t just hear it. You felt it. The vibration traveled straight through the side of your face where it rested against him, warm enough to make your heart stutter.

“No panties?” He countered without missing a beat.

Your grip tightened slightly around the stem of your wineglass. Before you could think of a comeback, you felt that enormous hand begin a lazy journey down your side, his palm gliding over the smooth silk of your robe with an almost absentminded confidence. His fingertips traced your waist before slipping lower, until his hand settled squarely over your hip. And then lower still, straight to the round of your ass. Your breath caught. His hand effortlessly spanned over one cheek, giving it an unapologetic squeeze through the thin silk. The warmth of his palm seeped through the fabric almost instantly, his grip confident without being rough, followed by a contented little sigh that sounded so genuinely indulgent it made your entire body burn.

God. Good God. The casual boldness of it; the way he acted like touching you came as naturally as breathing, sent a rush of heat pooling low in your stomach before you could stop it. Without realizing it, your free hand had found his thigh. Your nails pressed into the thick muscle beneath the soft gray fabric, digging in just enough to make your embarrassment known while you stubbornly refused to look at him. Whether it was retaliation or an unconscious attempt to ground yourself, you couldn’t have said. Valko only laughed softly. The squeeze eased into a gentle pat before his hand lingered exactly where it was, rubbing slow, affectionate circles through the silk as if soothing both of you at once.

You stubbornly kept your eyes on the television. Unfortunately, that didn’t help much. From the corner of your vision, you couldn’t help noticing the way the flickering light from the screen danced across his bare torso before casting shifting shadows over his lap. As he slouched deeper into the couch, spreading his legs comfortably beneath him, the soft fabric of his sweatpants stretched just enough to reveal the steadily growing outline beneath them. A tent. A fucking tent. You immediately took another sip of wine. You were going to need it.

“Aren’t you gonna drink your wine?” You asked, nodding toward the untouched glass sitting on the coffee table.

He blinked, straightening slightly as though you’d just reminded him it existed.

“Oh—yeah,” he let out a sheepish little laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, “thanks for that.”

Typical. You couldn’t help smiling to yourself. For someone capable of running an entire corporation, the man could forget the most painfully obvious things. You shifted upright just enough to let him lean forward, his broad frame momentarily eclipsing the television as he reached for his glass. The muscles along his back flexed beneath his damp skin before he settled comfortably against the couch again.

His eyes found yours immediately. They always did. A warm smile spread across his face as he lifted his glass toward you, “cheers.”

“Cheers,” you met it with your own.

Crystal clicked softly against crystal before the two of you took a drink together, the rich wine washing pleasantly over your tongue. The second glass was already making you feel looser, the warmth settling comfortably in your chest and lending your curiosity just enough courage to finally ask the question that had been lingering in the back of your mind.

“So…” You began, drawing your legs beneath you as you turned to face him fully.

The movement only seemed to encourage him. Without hesitation, his arm found its familiar place around your waist again, his palm settling against your side as naturally as if it belonged there.

“…What’s with the collar and leash?” A teasing smile tugged at your lips, “are those for you or something?”

The reaction was immediate. The tips of his ears flushed a brilliant shade of red. A moment later, the color spread across his chiseled cheeks as well.

“Oh, shit…” He laughed, ducking his head with an almost bashful smile that looked strangely adorable on someone his size. One hand rubbed absentmindedly along the back of his neck, “well…”

He glanced away for a second before looking back at you.

“I was looking at stuff…And then I got distracted.”

“Uh-huhhh?” You hummed, drawing the word out as you leaned in ever so slightly, your curiosity only growing, “distracted how?”

He shrugged, looking almost sheepish.

“…Thought they looked kinda cool,” he confessed. His fingers absentmindedly traced the stem of his wineglass, “the leather and all.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unconvinced, “okay…What are you planning to do with them?”

Your mind immediately supplied the worst possible answer. You prayed he didn’t buy them planning to use them on you. Somehow, that felt infinitely more embarrassing than anything else he’d suggested tonight. Instead, a slow smirk spread across his face.

“…I was thinking…” He began, his golden eyes meeting yours with a mixture of confidence and unmistakable amusement, “…You could put them on me tonight.”

Your eyes widened. His hand, still resting comfortably against your waist, slid lower until it settled over your thigh, giving it a slow, reassuring squeeze through the silk of your robe.

“It’d be pretty hot, don’t ya think?” He murmured, his voice dropping just enough to send a pleasant shiver crawling up your spine. His thumb idly brushed along the edge of your robe where the silky fabric met warm skin, never rushing the touch, simply lingering there.

You stared at him. Then toward the kitchen. Then back at him again. Your brows knit together as you searched his face for even the slightest hint that he was joking.

“…Wait,” you blinked, “are you serious?”

“Yeah,” there wasn’t a trace of embarrassment in his answer now. Only quiet sincerity.

He took another leisurely sip of his wine before lowering the glass again, his smile softening into something almost impossibly genuine.

“I think you’d be good at it,” his shoulders lifted in an easy shrug. A quiet laugh escaped him, “you know…Yank me around. Boss me around.”

His grin grew just a little wider.

“You already do that,” he tilted his head, amusement dancing in those golden eyes, “but do it with a leash on.”

Oh, God. He was completely serious. You searched his face for the punchline, waiting for that familiar grin to crack into laughter or for him to admit he was messing with you. It never came. Instead, he simply looked back at you with calm, unwavering sincerity, as though he’d just confessed to liking a particular movie instead of telling you he wanted you to put a collar on him. You could only stare. Your expression must have been priceless because, after a few seconds, he finally broke, a warm laugh escaping him as his shoulders bounced.

“What?” He chuckled, “don’t yuck my yum.”

His hand landed lightly against your ass again with an affectionate smack before lingering there, rubbing you through the silk of your robe.

“Everyone’s got their fantasies,” he said with an easy shrug, “this is just one of mine.”

You watched him in stunned silence as he lifted his wineglass again. He took a longer drink this time, humming softly in appreciation as he swallowed before turning his attention back toward the television as if the conversation he’d just started wasn’t completely derailing your brain.

“…You really want me to collar you like a dog?” You asked after a moment, still trying to process the image in your head.

“Yep,” the answer came so simply. So matter-of-factly. Not an ounce of hesitation. Not a trace of embarrassment. Just complete, unshakable honesty.

You blinked at him. Well…You supposed there wasn’t any harm in playing along. Right?

“…Okay,” you said cautiously, your eyes flicking toward the kitchen where the shopping bag still sat before returning to him, “well…In that case…”

A tiny, mischievous smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“…Go fetch.”

The reaction was instantaneous. His golden eyes widened so fast it was almost comical. For a split second, every bit of the confident businessman vanished, replaced by something so openly eager that it genuinely reminded you of an excited puppy who’d just been told he was going to the park. The look on his face was so earnest, so shamelessly delighted, that a laugh nearly escaped you.

Your stomach fluttered. There was something strangely endearing about the way he looked at you in that moment, like you’d just handed him the greatest gift imaginable. His grin stretched impossibly wide, revealing every sharp canine as his entire face lit up with barely contained excitement.

“Yes, ma’am…” He answered, the words leaving him with so much obvious satisfaction that it almost caught you off guard.

Still smiling from ear to ear, he rose from the couch in one fluid motion, tossing back the rest of his wine in a single swig before setting the empty glass onto the coffee table with a quiet clink.

“Now…” He said, already turning toward the kitchen, a laugh bubbling in his voice, “that’s what I’m talking about.”

You snorted, covering your face with one hand as a helpless laugh escaped you. God. He was actually doing it. The second you’d given the command, he’d practically sprung off the couch, making quick work of crossing the apartment to the kitchen. You watched him disappear around the corner before returning only moments later with the leather collar dangling from one finger, the matching leash looped casually in his other hand. He twirled the collar absentmindedly as he walked, wearing the biggest, most unabashed grin you’d seen all night.

Your stomach twisted. Not with regret. With the overwhelming realization that he looked entirely too fucking good like this. He wasn’t embarrassed. He wasn’t hesitant. If anything, he looked delighted. The way those golden eyes stayed fixed on you as he approached, bright with anticipation and shameless excitement, made something tighten pleasantly low in your stomach. It was impossible to mistake the eagerness written across his face. God, he was way too excited about this.

He flopped back onto the couch beside you, the cushions dipping dramatically beneath his weight as he held both the collar and leash out for you to take. The instant they left his hands, he leaned his elbow onto the back of the couch and rested his head lazily against his palm, looking at you with quiet expectation. He didn’t rush you. Didn’t speak. He simply waited. Smiling. Watching you like you held all the answers. It was unfair. Utterly unfair. Someone had absolutely no business being that ridiculously handsome while looking at you like that.

You cleared your throat, buying yourself a second to gather your composure before your mouth managed to outrun your brain, “…Aren’t you gonna get on the ground for me?”

“Oh,” his brows lifted with genuine, almost delighted surprise.

He straightened immediately, lifting his head from his hand as though he’d just realized he’d skipped an important step.

“Where the hell are my manners tonight?” Hey laughed at himself, “jeez…”

Without another word, he rose from the couch. He came to stand directly in front of you, towering over where you sat. The warm light from the television flickered across the hard planes of his bare chest and shoulders, his damp hair still slightly tousled from the shower. Even standing there so casually, he seemed impossibly large inside your little living room.

“So…” He asked, smiling down at you with complete sincerity, “…Where do you want me?”

You shifted on the couch, crossing one leg over the other in an effort to appear far more composed than you actually felt. The leather collar rested heavily in your hands as you lifted one foot, pointing your toes toward the floor directly in front of you.

“Here,” your voice came out steadier than expected, “right in front of me. On your knees.”

The words seemed to strike something deep inside him. His expression softened into something almost reverent.nWithout the slightest hesitation or trace of self-consciousness, Valko obeyed. His enormous frame lowered smoothly until both knees settled onto the floor between your legs. His hands came to rest neatly atop his thighs with the gear, his back straight, his shoulders relaxed, his head tilted upward so those warm golden eyes could stay on yours. He looked…Happy. Like this was exactly where he wanted to be. Waiting patiently for whatever you decided came next.

Your breath caught. Then your gaze drifted lower. Between the broad spread of his massive thighs, the gray sweatpants left very little to the imagination. Oh. Oh, God. He was completely hard. The thin fabric did absolutely nothing to hide it. Instead, his massive cock clung just enough to reveal the heavy outline resting against one powerful thigh, unmistakably pronounced beneath the loose material. Judging by the way everything shifted beneath the sweats, he clearly hadn’t bothered putting on any underwear after his shower.

Your pulse skipped. Seeing it like this somehow made the memory rush back all at once; just how big he’d been the first time, how overwhelming it had felt, how impossible it had seemed that someone his size fit together with the gentle patience he’d shown you. The sight was almost intimidating. The stupid gray sweatpants only made it worse, outlining him in the most infuriating way possible while he knelt there looking up at you with complete trust, as though he hadn’t just given you one more reason to completely lose your train of thought.

You slowly rose from the couch as you stepped in front of him. Valko’s eyes followed your every movement without hesitation, lifting higher and higher until he was looking up at you from where he knelt between your legs. The look on his face alone nearly made your knees weak. Then his wolf ears appeared. They slipped free from the tousled mess of his still-damp auburn hair with an almost involuntary twitch, both ears perking upright before flicking toward you, completely focused. A heartbeat later, the enormous auburn tail behind him began wagging with absolutely no restraint whatsoever. It swept enthusiastically across your hardwood floor with rhythmic thump, thump, thumps, the fluffy thing practically knocking against your coffee table as though he had forgotten it existed. He wasn’t embarrassed. Not even a little. If anything, he looked positively thrilled.

The sight stole the breath from your lungs. This massive, intimidating werewolf, broad enough to fill your entire field of vision, strong enough to snap you in half without effort, was kneeling obediently in the middle of your living room because you had told him to. Worse yet, he was visibly excited about it, his ears twitching with anticipation while his tail refused to stop wagging.

God…That shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. Yet the warmth already humming through your veins from the wine seemed to spread lower, settling heavily in your stomach as your pulse quickened. Seeing someone so overwhelmingly powerful choose to become so openly, enthusiastically submissive for you awakened something instinctive inside you that you hadn’t known was there.

You extended your hand toward him. Without being asked twice, he immediately placed both the collar and leash into your open palm. His fingers lingered for only the briefest second before withdrawing, and as soon as the leather left his hands, he instinctively lifted his chin, exposing the thick column of his neck without the slightest trace of hesitation. Ready. Waiting. Trusting you completely.

“…Good boy,” you tested quietly.

The effect was immediate. His tail wagged even harder, beating happily against the floor with enough force that you wondered if your downstairs neighbors could hear it. A soft, utterly content little hum vibrated in the back of his throat as his eyes fluttered halfway closed, his expression melting into pure satisfaction. Oh. He really liked that.

Your fingers slipped beneath the leather strap, wrapping it carefully around the thick muscles of his neck. His skin was still warm from the shower, and the faint scent of soap mingled with the clean, woodsy smell that was uniquely his. As you fastened the buckle, he leaned into your touch without thinking, his face brushing gently against your forearm.

Then he nuzzled you. Slowly. Instinctively. The bridge of his nose dragged softly against your skin while his warm breath fanned across your wrist and the inside of your arm, sending goosebumps racing up to your shoulder. You felt him inhale deeply, drawing in your scent with an indulgent sigh so content it almost sounded blissful before you clipped the leash securely onto the metal ring. God…He really was like a wolf. This enormous, ridiculously handsome, hopelessly pathetic man. The biggest loser you’d ever met. And somehow one of the hottest people you’d ever laid eyes on.

The wine had dissolved whatever reservations you’d still been clinging to. There was something intoxicating about standing over him like this. Something about looking down at a man built like solid concrete; a man who could so easily overpower you if he ever wanted to, only to find him waiting patiently for your next instruction instead. The power imbalance made your heartbeat pound against your ribs.

Before you could overthink it, your body acted on pure instinct. You lifted your bare foot from the floor and planted it firmly against the center of his broad chest. At the very same moment, you wrapped the leash once around your knuckles and gave it a deliberate tug. The leather pulled taut. He instinctively leaned forward with it, only for your foot to stop him, pressing firmly against the hard wall of muscle beneath his skin. The pressure forced him to straighten instead, shoulders rolling back as he settled obediently against the restraint.

A quiet sound escaped him. Not quite a gasp. Not quite a whine. Just the smallest, breathless noise of surprise as he swallowed hard. His golden eyes widened, fixed entirely on you, while his lips slowly parted. You could feel the solid resistance of his chest beneath the ball of your foot, every breath expanding against your skin as the leash remained snug between your fingers.

Leaning down until your face hovered just above his, you held his gaze while keeping the collar taut, your voice lowering almost instinctively, “who’s big puppy are you?”

“I’m your big puppy…” He answered without a hint of embarrassment, smiling up at you with such open, earnest delight that it almost stole the breath from your lungs. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his voice. If anything, the words seemed to make him happier, his tail giving another eager series of heavy thumps against your floor while those golden eyes shone with unmistakable excitement.

Oh, God. How were you the one getting shy? Here was the fucking chairman of EonCore Tech, one of the most powerful men you’d ever met, kneeling at your feet in the middle of your living room with a leather collar around his neck, happily calling himself your big puppy like it was the most natural thing in the world. This had to be some elaborate joke. Some bizarre prank. Or maybe he was simply out of his goddamn mind. Then again…Maybe you were.

Because if anyone had told you a month ago that this was where you’d end up, you would’ve laughed until your sides hurt. You would’ve called them delusional. You would’ve sworn there wasn’t a universe where you’d find yourself standing over a gorgeous, towering werewolf with a leash wrapped around your knuckles, feeling…Whatever this was. Except you were. And the worst part? You couldn’t honestly pretend you weren’t enjoying it anymore.

This had long since stopped feeling like harmless teasing or entertaining his ridiculous little fantasy out of curiosity. Somewhere between calling him your puppy and watching his ears perk with excitement, something inside you had shifted. The thrill blooming in your chest wasn’t fake. The confidence coursing through your veins wasn’t an act. Every racing heartbeat, every flutter low in your stomach, every pulse of adrenaline humming beneath your skin felt achingly real. You felt…Alive. More alive than you had in a long time.

Your heart hammered so loudly against your ribs that you were painfully aware of it. And he could hear it. Of course he could. With those heightened senses of his, there was no hiding the quickened rhythm pounding inside your chest. No disguising the subtle hitch in your breathing or the warmth creeping into your face. If he could smell your shampoo from across the room, there was no chance he was missing the fact that you were just as excited as he was.

A soft chuckle rumbled up from deep in his chest, low and warm, as though he’d caught onto your thoughts without you saying a single word. His eyes glimmered knowingly as one large hand lifted from his thigh and curled gently around your bare foot where it rested against his chest. His touch was impossibly careful despite the size of his hand, his thumb brushing absentmindedly across your toes while he looked up at you with that same hopelessly eager smile.

“Am I a good boy?”

You nearly laughed. Of course he was fishing for praise. The shameless little attention whore. You could practically see the anticipation written across his face, the hopeful twitch of his ears, the lazy sweep of his tail across the floor betraying just how badly he wanted to hear it. Ordinarily, you would’ve teased him. Made him work for it. But…You were having entirely too much fun. Far too much fun to deny him. And far too much fun to keep pretending that you weren’t enjoying every ridiculous second of this strange little game the two of you had somehow stumbled into together. Whatever this was…It was weird. It was completely unexpected. And, against every ounce of common sense you possessed…It was wonderful.

“You’re my good boy,” you murmured, the words leaving your lips almost experimentally as you dared to reach down and scratch beneath his chin.

The reaction was immediate. His entire body seemed to melt beneath your touch. You watched his pupils bloom until they nearly swallowed the gold of his irises, his heavy eyelids drifting halfway shut as a deep, contented hum vibrated in his throat. His wolf ears twitched eagerly against his damp hair, and his tail resumed its relentless thumping against the floor with enough enthusiasm that it almost became distracting. The sight was so unexpectedly adorable that a helpless giggle escaped you before you could stop it, your stomach fluttering with nervous excitement. At the very same time, however, an entirely different kind of warmth spread between your thighs, growing hotter by the second until your pulse seemed to settle there. The steady hum of arousal made your clit buzz. Christ…This was so much more exhilarating than you ever could have anticipated.

“So, do I get a treat?” He asked, his voice noticeably rougher now, lower and thicker than before.

As he spoke, his gaze slowly drifted downward. That’s when it clicked. Your robe. The position you were standing in. Your bare foot braced against his chest. Oh, God. He had an unobstructed view. Every ounce of confidence you’d borrowed from the wine threatened to evaporate as you realized he’d been able to see beneath your robe this entire time. Judging by the way his expression subtly shifted, he had only just put the pieces together himself. His breathing deepened almost imperceptibly before the large hand resting around your ankle began moving with deliberate slowness, guiding your foot upward over the hard planes of his bare chest. His palm slid carefully beneath your calf until your foot came to rest against the broad curve of his shoulder instead.

The shameless bastard. He’d spread your leg just enough to improve the view. His sharp canines peeked from behind an unmistakably pleased smile as those molten golden eyes lingered without even pretending otherwise, drinking in the sight of you with an intensity that made heat rush through your entire body. Fine. If he was going to be that bold…Then you were going to remind him exactly who was wearing the collar.

With a quick flick of your leg, you pulled your foot free from his shoulder before planting it squarely against the growing hardness beneath his gray sweatpants. The reaction was instantaneous. Both of his hands flew to your calf on pure instinct, wrapping around it protectively with a firm squeeze as surprise flashed across his face. The moment he was distracted, you slipped your free hand beneath the silk robe, your fingertips gliding between your thighs.

Your breath caught. God, your pussy was soaked for him. Your fingers came away glistening, slick with your own arousal, and the realization alone sent another pulse of heat through your body. Using the solid pressure of your foot against his crotch for balance, you leaned closer until you were hovering just above him. Then, without warning, you pressed your slick fingertip against his lips.

“Aw, is this what you wanted?” You teased sweetly.

His eyes widened for only a heartbeat before the surprise dissolved into unmistakable bliss. A low, appreciative moan escaped him as his lips parted without hesitation, drawing your finger into his mouth all the way to the knuckle. His sculpted cheeks hollowed around it as he sucked greedily, those glowing golden eyes never leaving yours, their hungry, devoted gaze making it painfully obvious just how much he was enjoying every second of it.

You couldn’t help giggling as the warmth of his tongue glided over your fingertip, the slick, shameless enthusiasm of it making your stomach flutter all over again. He looked far too content, far too pleased with himself, and judging by the way those massive hands suddenly tightened around your calf, he had every intention of ending your little game right then and there by dragging you down into his lap.

“Oh, no you don’t,” you scoffed.

Before he could pull you in, you slipped your leg free from his grasp with a quick twist, earning yourself an unmistakably annoyed look. His brows knit together as those golden eyes flashed up at you, the frustration on his face almost comically puppy-like. Rather than letting you escape entirely, one of his hands immediately shot upward and caught your wrist instead.

His grip was warm. Secure. Careful. Without a word, he guided your hand back toward himself until your palm was cradling the side of his face. His eyes fluttered closed for a brief second as though he were savoring the contact before his lips found your finger again. This time, he drew it deeper into his mouth with an indulgent hum, his tongue lazily sweeping over every trace of your slickness with such unabashed appreciation that your pulse skipped. The way he looked up at you while tasting you, completely devoted, completely unashamed, made your face burn hotter than the wine ever could.

“Well…” You slowly slid your finger free with a quiet pop, watching the obvious disappointment cross his features before a grin spread across your own face, “…Come and get it, then, boy.”

You lifted your foot away from where it had been pressing against the bulge beneath his sweatpants before giving the leash a playful tug, encouraging him back onto his feet. He rose immediately, towering over you once again, and you could practically see the intent settling into his expression. His shoulders rolled forward ever so slightly, his hands already beginning to reach for your waist.

Oh, absolutely not. Before he could scoop you up into those ridiculously strong arms and march you straight to the bedroom, you darted backward with a laugh, tightening your grip on the leash as you spun on your heel and took off. The leather pulled taut. He followed without hesitation. Your laughter echoed through the apartment as you hurried down the hallway, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste while the leash bounced lightly between you. Behind you came the heavy, unmistakable sound of his footsteps, quick enough to tell you he was letting you run rather than struggling to keep up. You barely made it into the bedroom. The moment you turned, he was already there.

You barely had time to think before those enormous hands found your hips. You squealed. One effortless motion was all it took. He lifted you clean off the floor as though gravity simply didn’t apply to you, tossing you lightly upward with a confidence that would’ve terrified you if you didn’t trust him so completely. For a fleeting second, you were weightless before your back met the mattress with a soft bounce that sent the bed springs protesting beneath you.

You barely had time to laugh. He was already moving. With an eager grin that exposed every sharp canine, Valko practically pounced after you, following you onto the bed with all the restrained enthusiasm of an oversized wolf who’d finally been invited to play, “there’s my prized meal…”

The mattress dipped dramatically beneath his sheer size, forcing another startled bounce from you as the frame let out a loud, complaining creak under the sudden addition of well over two hundred pounds of solid muscle. The entire bed seemed to groan beneath him.bYou found yourself trapped in an instant. The mattress behind you. His broad body above you.

For all the obedience he’d shown moments ago, there was no mistaking the shift that had come over him now. The playful restraint remained, but beneath it you could feel something instinctive waking up, something impossible to ignore as he loomed over you, filling your entire field of vision with that enormous frame and those bright golden eyes that never once looked away.

You barely had time to suck in a breath before you gasped, “hey! Don’t break the—”

He stole the rest of the sentence straight from your mouth. His lips crashed against yours with all the pent-up eagerness he’d been restraining since the moment you’d collared him, silencing your protest beneath a kiss that was warm, demanding, and impossibly hungry. The force of his body settling over yours made the mattress dip even deeper, the bed creaking beneath his sheer size as he caged you in completely. There was nowhere for you to go. His broad chest blanketed your own, his powerful frame fitting over you so completely that your thighs instinctively parted around his hips simply to accommodate him. He felt impossibly solid, like a wall of living muscle pressing you into the mattress, yet every ounce of that overwhelming weight was carefully controlled, supported by the strength in his arms as he held himself just enough above you to avoid crushing you.

God…You’d missed this. The realization struck with almost embarrassing force. You’d been craving him far more desperately than you’d allowed yourself to admit over the past week. You’d missed the heat radiating from his body, the reassuring weight of him draped over you, and the way his touch never seemed hesitant. His enormous hands wandered over you with shameless familiarity, slowly mapping every curve of your waist, your hips, your sides, your breasts, as though reacquainting themselves with a place they’d longed to return to. There was something almost possessive in the way he touched you, not demanding ownership, but expressing unmistakable adoration, his palms lingering wherever they landed as though simply feeling your skin beneath them brought him comfort.

A slow, satisfied sigh escaped him into the kiss, the warm breath brushing across your cheek before he deepened it again, “God, more…”

His mouth moved against yours with eager enthusiasm, his tongue coaxing yours into a rhythm that quickly left your thoughts scattered. Every so often, the sharp edges of his canines caught your lower lip just enough to send a pleasant shiver racing through you, never enough to hurt, only enough to remind you exactly what he was. The sensation made your pulse flutter wildly beneath your skin.

A helpless little moan escaped you before you could swallow it back. The sound only seemed to encourage him. His broad chest shifted against your bosom as he adjusted his weight, the solid muscles beneath his skin gliding heavily over your breasts before settling lower. Between your parted thighs, you could already feel the unmistakable evidence of his excitement pressing insistently against you through the remaining fabric, and your stomach tightened in anticipation at the familiar sensation.

Patience had clearly abandoned Valko. Without breaking the kiss, his hands found the knot securing your silk robe. His fingers fumbled with it for only a moment before giving up entirely, tugging impatiently until the sash came loose. The silky fabric immediately relaxed beneath his hands, and with one firm pull he opened the robe, exposing you to the warm glow spilling in from the living room.

Only then did he finally break the kiss. Not to pause. Simply to help you out of it faster. His lips brushed your jaw and cheek in fleeting, absentminded kisses while he guided the robe from your shoulders, easing it down your arms before letting it slip away entirely. The leather leash clipped to the collar around his neck swayed between the two of you with every movement, occasionally brushing your skin as it hung forgotten against his chest.

For the first time since tumbling into the bedroom, the frantic rush slowed just enough for the two of you to really look at one another. His golden eyes traveled over you with open admiration, taking you in without the slightest attempt to hide how beautiful he thought you were.

“Shit, you’re perfect…” He said, shaking his head in disbelief.

You found yourself doing exactly the same, your gaze tracing the broad planes of his chest, the defined lines of his abdomen, the water still clinging to the faint dusting of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. There was an urgency between you now, but it wasn’t frantic; it was the impatient excitement of two people who’d spent the entire evening building toward this moment.

Your discarded robe landed somewhere beside the bed. At nearly the same moment, Valko shoved his sweatpants down with little regard for where they ended up, too focused on you to care where they fell. Your heart lurched the instant your eyes dropped between his powerful thighs. God. You remembered he was big. You had not remembered just how big. The sight of him stole the air from your lungs all over again. His erection rested heavily against his thigh, impossible to ignore and even harder to look away from. Every instinct told you not to stare, yet your gaze betrayed you anyway, lingering just long enough for him to catch it.

Of course he caught it. The smug bastard. That familiar smirk slowly spread across his face, lazy and self-satisfied, his golden eyes glittering with unmistakable amusement as he watched your expression give you away. You knew that look. You could’ve smacked that grin clean off his face like you’d threatened to the first time you’d seen him naked, and the infuriating part was that he’d probably enjoy every second of it. He’d only laugh, call you a feisty little woman, and grin even wider while you scolded him, somehow managing to look even more turned on by your irritation than your admiration. He was impossible. Absolutely impossible.

“See something you like there? Well, don’t even think about it,” he murmured, giving a slow shake of his head as he looked down at you.

His own breathing had already deepened. Each steady inhale broadened his chest before slowly escaping again, and despite his teasing, his eyes wandered freely over your body with an openness that made heat bloom beneath your skin. There wasn’t an ounce of shame in the way he admired you. His gaze lingered over every curve as though he were trying to commit you to memory all over again.

Then he leaned closer. Close enough that his lips nearly brushed your ear. You felt the corner of his mouth curl into another grin against your skin before he drew in a slow, deliberate breath, inhaling your scent so deeply that it sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. Warm breath ghosted over the sensitive shell of your ear, and the low rumble of his voice vibrated pleasantly through you, raising goosebumps from your shoulders all the way down your arms.

“You can have your bone after I eat a full meal,” he murmured, his voice rough with anticipation, “I’m fucking starving for ya…”

Your breath hitched. God. That fucking bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how unfairly seductive that voice became when it dropped into that low, gravelly register. He knew how shamelessly he weaponized every heightened sense he possessed, and judging by the satisfied glint in his eyes, he also knew exactly what it was doing to you. There was no hiding it from someone like him. He could hear your pulse hammering wildly in your chest. He could smell the rush of adrenaline blooming across your skin, the nervous excitement, the growing arousal that your body betrayed long before your pride ever would.

And the asshole was enjoying every second of it. Fine. If he wanted to play that game… So could you. Your hands planted firmly against his broad chest, and with a determined shove you forced him backward. It wasn’t enough to truly overpower someone his size, but it was enough to make your point. At the same time, you tightened the leather leash around your knuckles and gave it a sharp tug. The collar pulled taut. His body followed the motion. He could’ve resisted without the slightest effort. Instead…He let you. A pleased laugh escaped him as he surrendered to the pull, allowing himself to rock backward onto the mattress. There wasn’t a trace of reluctance in him. If anything, the eager brightness in his golden gaze only intensified, his ears flicking forward and the corners of his mouth lifting into an almost boyishly delighted smile.

You climbed over him before he had the chance to recover, settling yourself astride his hips while keeping the leash snug in your hand. The leather remained taut between your fingers as you looked down at him, and the sight that greeted you made your stomach flutter all over again. He looked…Happy. Not merely entertained. Not humoring you. Genuinely, wholeheartedly happy to be exactly where he was; beneath you, looking up at you with complete trust, his expression glowing with the unmistakable excitement of someone whose fantasy was unfolding exactly as he’d imagined it. Somehow, seeing that look on his face thrilled you almost as much as having him there beneath you.

“That’s all you ever think about, huh?” You teased, though the words came out far more breathless than you’d intended.

You shifted your weight, trying to steady yourself atop him, but it wasn’t exactly easy when Valko’s body was so broad beneath you. His chest alone seemed wide enough to support your entire torso, and straddling him left your knees spread farther apart than you were accustomed to. It should have made you feel awkward. It probably did. Yet the warmth radiating from his body, the unwavering way he looked up at you, and the wine still humming pleasantly through your veins left very little room for self-consciousness.

He answered with an amused grin, “how’d you know?”

You couldn’t help noticing, once again, just how enormous he was. Even lying flat on his back, he dominated the bed with his size, his shoulders stretching across the mattress while his hips pressed insistently against the insides of your thighs as you climbed higher. Every movement required you to brace yourself against solid muscle, and despite how ridiculous the logistics of it all should have felt, neither of you seemed to care. If anything, Valko looked utterly captivated, his golden eyes tracking your every movement with eager anticipation, his breathing growing deeper the closer you came.

Looking down at him, there was really only one thing on your mind. He’d spent the entire evening hinting about how starved he was, shamelessly telling you exactly what he wanted, and if you were being honest with yourself, you wanted to give it to him just as badly. The realization emboldened you. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the strange confidence that had settled over you ever since you’d fastened that collar around his neck. Whatever it was, it drowned out the timid part of your mind that normally would’ve second-guessed every move.

This time…You were the bolder one. Without another word, you continued climbing higher until your body was positioned directly over his face. Your robe had long since been discarded, leaving nothing between the two of you, and as you settled yourself there, your soaked pussy hovered only inches above his chiseled features. The change in his expression was instantaneous. His eyes widened with unmistakable surprise, the confident grin faltering as realization finally caught up with him. For perhaps the first time all night, you’d genuinely caught him off guard, and the sight of it sent a thrill racing through your chest.

A slow, satisfied grin spread across your own face, “just something about the way you look at my pussy…”

You couldn’t look away. His throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed, his lips parting ever so slightly while his gaze remained hopelessly fixed on you. For all his teasing bravado, he suddenly looked almost weak with hunger, every instinct written plainly across his face. His nostrils flared with a slow inhale, and before he even realized he was doing it, another followed, deeper than the first. His entire focus had narrowed to the warmth and scent hovering just above him. A faint sheen of saliva gathered behind the points of his fangs as he stared shamelessly upward, looking so openly greedy that it made your stomach tighten with excitement.

“I can’t help myself…” He whispered, licking his lips, “it’s so pretty…Just wanna eat this thing.”

The poor, shameless ball of greed. His enormous hands rose almost reverently to your hips, spreading wide enough to engulf them as his thumbs stroked unconsciously over your skin. He didn’t try to force you down. He simply held you there, breathing you in with an expression that bordered on worship, as though he was trying to savor every second before he was allowed to taste you.

“In that case…” You reached down with your free hand, threading your fingers deep into the roots of his damp auburn hair. Your grip tightened deliberately, earning a soft sound from the back of his throat as you gently but firmly guided his attention upward whenever his eyes threatened to drift back between your thighs, “…Eat up, pup.”

Still holding him firmly by the roots of his damp auburn hair, you lowered yourself the final few inches with agonizing slowness, watching every flicker of anticipation ripple across his face. His warm breath washed over your soaked pussy first, the slow exhale sending a delicious shiver up your spine before his lips finally met you. The instant they did, they parted eagerly, welcoming you with a reverence that bordered on worship.

The moan that escaped him wasn’t something you merely heard. You felt it. It vibrated hotly against your folds, muffled beneath you as though he couldn’t contain himself. His brows knotted high across his forehead in immediate bliss, golden eyes fluttering shut while his fingers buried themselves into the soft flesh of your hips, gripping you with enough firmness to anchor you without ever trying to restrain you.

“Mmph…” He groaned shamelessly into you, the words smothered against your slick heat, “ruin me…”

The plea barely had time to register before his mouth truly went to work. He drew a deep, greedy suck from your pussy, his lips sealing around you with unabashed hunger as he pulled your swollen clit past them. A heartbeat later, his thick tongue rose to meet it, flattening beneath you before giving it a slow, indulgent slap that made your entire body jolt. The sensation ripped a helpless gasp from your throat. Every deliberate stroke that followed was hot, wet, and impossibly eager, his tongue lapping at you with the enthusiasm of a starving man finally being allowed his first meal.

Your jaw dropped. Heat exploded low in your belly, racing through your body so intensely your thighs trembled around his head. You couldn’t stop watching him. The expression on his face was almost more intoxicating than what he was doing to you. His features had softened into pure ecstasy, every satisfied hum vibrating directly into your cunt as though your pleasure and his had become hopelessly tangled together. He looked utterly consumed by it; worshipping, devouring, indulging with such shameless greed that your pulse hammered louder with every passing second.

“O-oh…Fuck…” You sighed breathlessly.

Your free hand, still looped through the leather leash, instinctively found the large hand resting on your hip, your fingers curling around his for balance as your knees threatened to weaken. Your other hand remained fisted in his hair, guiding him almost instinctively, though he hardly needed the direction.

You couldn’t help yourself anymore. With a needy little whimper, you smothered yourself more fully onto his waiting mouth, your hips beginning to move of their own accord. Your clit rolled helplessly across the broad heat of his tongue as you ground yourself against him in slow, desperate circles, chasing every delicious stroke he offered. His answering groan vibrated straight through you, his mouth never relenting, only encouraging you further as he eagerly met every movement with devoted enthusiasm.

“Just like that…” You breathed, your voice already breaking into uneven little sighs, “just…Like that…Val…”

Your fingers tightened gently in his hair, holding him exactly where you wanted him as another wave of pleasure rolled through you.

“Mmm,” you moaned, melting into a smile, “yeah, Valko…”

The instant his own name left your lips, he answered with a hungry, eager pull that made you yelp. Your entire body buckled. Instinctively, your hips tried to lift away from the overwhelming rush of sensation, but his hands clamped firmly around your hips, the sheer size of them engulfing your waist as his fingers dug into the softness of your flesh. There was no forcefulness in the grip; only determination. He simply refused to let you escape.

“Mmph…” The pleased sound vibrated straight through your soaked pussy.

He shook his head slowly between your thighs, his mouth never leaving you for even a second. The movement dragged your slickness shamelessly across his lips, his cheeks, and the sharp line of his jaw until your arousal glistened openly against his skin. His face was becoming an absolute mess beneath you, and judging by the blissful expression he wore, he couldn’t have cared less.

Another helpless shudder raced through you when the faint roughness of his jaw brushed against the insides of your thighs. He’d shaved this morning. Already, the first hint of stubble had begun to return, and every tiny scrape against your sensitive skin sent another wave of delicious heat rolling through your belly. It prickled just enough to make you gasp, your thighs twitching around his head as goosebumps erupted over your arms.

You couldn’t help yourself. Your hips rolled forward in search of him, desperately chasing the broad, wet heat of his tongue as though your body had forgotten how to do anything else. That’s when he looked up at you. Shit. Oh…Shit. His golden eyes rose beneath the furrow of his heavy brows without his mouth ever stopping. The look he gave you from between your thighs was so devastatingly hungry, so openly devoted, that it stole every coherent thought from your head. His pupils had widened until the gold around them burned brighter than before, every ounce of restraint gone as he stared up at you like you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.

The sight hit you like a physical blow. Goosebumps raced across your skin. Your nipples tightened instantly. Your fingers buried themselves deeper into his damp auburn hair before you even realized you’d moved. A broken moan spilled from your lips just as his mouth closed around you again, taking another deep, greedy suck that ended in an obscenely wet smack against your folds. The sound echoed shamelessly through the room, loud enough to make your face burn, yet all it accomplished was sending another violent shiver straight through your body.

Christ…You almost hated how good it felt. How unbelievably hot it was. How every filthy, messy second of it made your pulse race harder. How much you’d missed this. How desperately you’d been craving the broad slap of his tongue against your pussy, the hot breaths that became trapped beneath the press of his nose against your sex before spilling back over your slick skin, the relentless squeeze of those enormous hands anchoring you against him as though he wanted every ounce of your weight bearing down on his face. As though drowning beneath you was exactly where he wanted to be.

It was driving you insane. Your skin had begun to glisten with sweat. Your breathing came in uneven little gasps. The room seemed to blur pleasantly around the edges until all that existed was the heat between your thighs and the starving man beneath you. Acting on nothing but instinct, you tightened your fist in his hair and gave a firmer tug, guiding his head from side to side as your hips followed the movement in slow, needy circles. A soft, sultry giggle escaped you before you could stop it, carried on another shaky breath as you watched his eyes roll blissfully back for a heartbeat, his expression melting into pure pleasure as eagerly as your own. God. The shameless idiot actually liked it when you played rough with him.

“Good boy,” you praised softly, smiling down at him as his blissed-out eyes struggled to stay focused on yours. His lips glistened, his cheeks were slick with the mess he’d so enthusiastically made of himself, and somehow he still managed to look shamelessly pleased, “eat this little pussy like you mean it…”

The praise alone seemed to undo him. A pleased, muffled groan vibrated through your folds before one of his enormous hands slid away from your hip. The other remained firmly hooked around your waist, pulling you down against him with unmistakable need. His broad palm spread possessively across your stomach while his thumb slipped lower, finding just the right place to draw your body open even farther for him. The movement exposed your clit completely to his warm mouth, and he responded immediately, burying himself against you with renewed enthusiasm.

God. The absolute state of him. His mouth had become delightfully filthy, glistening with your arousal as he kissed, licked, sucked, and slurped with such greedy abandon that it almost made you laugh. Every eager sound he made seemed to vibrate directly through you, every satisfied hum melting into another hungry kiss as though no amount of tasting you could ever possibly be enough. He was insatiable. Utterly, hopelessly insatiable.

Then something else caught your attention. Beneath you, his body gave the faintest tremor. At first you thought it was another shiver of pleasure, but then you felt it again; a subtle, rhythmic movement traveling through his torso. One of his shoulders shifted differently than before, and somewhere behind your hips, his free arm was moving. Back. And forth. Your curiosity got the better of you. Twisting just enough to glance over your shoulder, your breath caught in your throat. Oh…God. Ohhh, God. The shameless bastard was jacking himself off.

His fist was wrapped firmly around the thick base of his impossibly hard cock, stroking himself with obvious desperation while he refused to stop eating you for even a second. Every slow pump of his hand looked driven by pure instinct, as though he simply couldn’t bear not to touch himself while he had you sitting on his face. The flushed head gleamed beneath the dim bedroom light, swollen and angry with arousal, a bead of precum gathering at the tip before slowly trailing downward along the smooth skin.

The sight stole every coherent thought from your mind. Your lips parted. A tiny gasp escaped you before you could stop it. God…That fucking pervert. That deliciously shameless, wolfish pervert. The realization sent another rush of heat straight through your body. Unable to stop yourself, you turned back toward him with an amused grin spreading helplessly across your face. A breathless laugh bubbled from your chest as your eyes met his again, silently telling him you’d caught him. He didn’t even look guilty. If anything, his eyes softened with embarrassed delight, the corners of them crinkling as he looked up at you through heavy lashes, still devotedly buried between your thighs. The idiot.

You rewarded him by settling more of your weight onto his waiting mouth, pressing down just firmly enough to earn another blissful groan against your slick folds. His eyelids fluttered closed for a heartbeat before rolling open again, every ounce of euphoria written plainly across his face. The hand that had been spread across your stomach abandoned it entirely, sliding instead to grip your thigh with eager urgency. His fingers flexed against your skin, encouraging every slow roll of your hips as you ground yourself against his mouth, his own movements matching yours with relentless enthusiasm while a pleased smile stretched beneath the wet, messy press of your folds against his lips.

He let out a husky groan, “crush me.”

“You love it that much, huh?” You teased, unable to hide the grin tugging at your lips.

He nodded without an ounce of shame. Slowly, deliberately, you lifted your hips just enough to deny him what he’d been greedily chasing. The loss drew an immediate reaction. He inhaled deeply, almost desperately, drawing your scent into his lungs with an indulgent breath that made his chest rise beneath you. His mouth parted instinctively, chasing after you before you could pull completely away. You bit back a smile. The moment his face was exposed again, your palm came down with playful slap against his damp cheek.

“Don’t you dare fucking cum,” you slapped him again, making sure you were clear, “you hear me, Valko?”

A needy sound escaped him before he even answered. His hand immediately tightened around you, already trying to pull you back down, his enormous palm guiding your hip toward his waiting mouth as though the separation physically pained him. Despite the command you’d just given him, his face was beautifully ruined; flushed a deep crimson, lips swollen and glistening, your slick shining shamelessly across his mouth, his jaw, and the bridge of his large nose. The sight alone made your pulse flutter.

“Yeah, yeah, I got ya,” he laughed breathlessly, tugging at your hips again with impatient enthusiasm, “now come he—”

“-I mean it,” your voice dropped into something firmer.

The leather leash looped around your knuckles once more before you gave it a sharp, deliberate pull. The collar tightened. His neck followed obediently, the movement drawing his chin upward until those glowing golden eyes met yours again. They widened just a fraction, not with fear, but with unmistakable delight. You could practically see the excitement flash across his face as the leash grew taut between your hand and the thick leather circling his neck.

Leaning down, you held his gaze without wavering, “I’ll kill you.”

The threat only made him laugh. Not nervously. Not cautiously. He laughed like you’d just whispered the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. His eyes gleamed beneath the dim light, bright with playful mischief as one corner of his mouth curled into an infuriating smirk. The hand resting on your thigh slowly wandered higher, sliding around to the small of your back with lazy confidence.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” he muffled between your slick folds.

Before you could think of a comeback, his hand suddenly pressed firmly against your lower back. The shove caught you completely off guard. A startled gasp escaped you as your balance disappeared beneath you, your body pitching forward until you landed squarely back onto his waiting mouth. Your hands flew out on instinct, scrambling desperately for the leather headboard before your face could follow, your fingers wrapping tightly around the wood as your back arched from the sudden movement.

The new position changed everything. Your spine curved naturally, lifting your hips higher without you meaning to. Your ass was presented directly to him. As though he’d been waiting for exactly that. The hand that had been wrapped around his own cock abandoned it without hesitation, joining the other so both of those enormous hands could spread greedily across your ass. They engulfed you completely, each palm spanning your cheeks before squeezing with open appreciation.

You gasped. His fingers dug into the soft flesh just hard enough to make your breath catch, the pressure toeing the delicious line between rough and careful. Every fingertip pressed into you with unmistakable hunger, kneading you as though he couldn’t decide what he wanted to touch first, while another muffled groan vibrated hotly against your slick folds, making your entire body shiver in response.

SMACK!

The sharp crack rang through the bedroom, loud enough to bounce off the walls of your tiny apartment. His palm landed squarely across your ass from beneath you, the sting blooming instantly into delicious warmth as the impact rippled through the soft flesh of your hips. The force of it sent a shiver racing up your spine, your entire backside jiggling helplessly beneath his enormous hand. Even your breasts bounced where they hung above him, your body responding to the strike before your mind had the chance to catch up.

A startled gasp tore from your throat. Beneath you, you felt his chest rumble with a deeply satisfied chuckle. The sound melted into another shameless kiss. A loud, wet smack echoed obscenely through the room as his lips found your clit again with unabashed enthusiasm, the heat of his mouth wrapping around you before his tongue swept over you in a slow, indulgent stroke that made your entire core twitch. Every eager sound he made seemed amplified by how close you were to him; the greedy slurps, the satisfied hums, the wet smacks of his mouth against your soaked cunt, all of it vibrating straight through your body until your thighs quivered around his head.

God…He was making an absolute mess of you. His hands spread across your ass again, engulfing both cheeks so completely that you almost laughed at how easily he held you. His fingers disappeared into the softness of your flesh as he squeezed with open appreciation, kneading you firmly enough to make your breath hitch. The pressure spread you apart beneath his hands, exposing you even more to the relentless attention of his mouth.

The greedy bastard. He wasn’t merely holding you anymore. He was guiding you. Every squeeze of his hands encouraged your hips to move, and before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself rolling against him with slow, helpless need. Your body instinctively chased the broad heat of his tongue as it slapped eagerly against your swollen clit, each upward stroke coaxing another broken breath from your lips.

You were riding his face now. Completely. Hopelessly. The rhythm had stopped belonging to either of you individually somewhere along the way. Every time your hips rolled forward, he eagerly met you, his mouth opening wider to welcome you while his tongue continued its relentless work. It felt less like he was following you and more like the two of you had fallen into the same desperate, instinctive rhythm without ever needing to think about it.

A moan climbed your throat. You tried to swallow it. You really did. But it only escaped louder, trembling from your lips despite your best efforts to keep quiet inside your tiny apartment. Your head fell back. Your eyes rolled shut. Your fingers clung desperately to the headboard, nails digging into the wood until your knuckles turned shaky as your back arched even higher. Every wet pull of his lips, every greedy suck that lingered just a little too long, every shamelessly loud kiss he pressed against your pussy sent another violent tremor through your body. The sounds should have embarrassed you.

They almost did. Almost. Because every filthy, messy noise he made only drove you higher, sending wave after wave of pleasure surging up your arched spine before crashing back down through your trembling thighs. His hot breaths became trapped beneath the press of his nose against your front, warming you between every eager inhale, while the steady strength of his hands kept you anchored exactly where he wanted you. As though he’d never let you leave if he had the choice.