Twilight's Hair

You’re laying your head on his shoulder as you hear his soft sighs, which are his attempts to stay awake. You wonder why he tries to do so even though you’re both coming home after a long shift, but leave it to Xavier to leave you with more questions than answers. 

At least his flair for secrecy appeals to your endless curiosity, even though it has also led your heart to predicaments unfamiliar to you.

“Xavier, if the world falls apart…” You begin to ramble sleepily knowing he’ll entertain it. “Would you fly to the moon, Frank Sinatra style?”

His chuckle reverberates, sending happy little butterflies to flutter all throughout your body. Soft, gentle, and oh so comforting. “I’d try to save it first. Get rich or die trying, 50 Cent style.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” But you laugh anyway because no emotion remains hidden when you’re around Xavier.

The train ride is quiet, with the few passengers around you living in their own worlds. You catch the titles of the books they’re reading and silently admire some of their tastes in fashion. Pairing a black scarf with a white shirt is an interesting choice, but then again, so is falling in love with your mission partner. 

You don’t entertain that thought any further.

Xavier’s hand sits near your hip, but it settles atop your purse instead. If you were any bolder, you would hold it and notice the little details you could only imagine about. Maybe it has scars and little cuts from the sword he swings around like it’s nothing. Or, maybe it’s smooth, reminiscent of how comfortable it feels to be around him.

“If the world were to end,” he brings up the topic you had accidentally let go of, “I hope you’re safe, and I would find you wherever you end up at.”

You lift your head up to meet his gaze, not realizing how close you two would be. Your noses are practically touching, and you can see his blue eyes darken once he realizes. Soft, still comforting, but with a hint of a storm brewing as well.

“That’s such a mission partner answer,” you scoff, laughing with no humor in your tone. “Tell me what Xavier would say.”

You know it’s risky to tease him like that. Trying to pry open his vault is as futile as uncovering your own mysterious past, but there’s no harm in trying, right? Especially when you have Xavier softly chuckling at your attempts while the storm in his eyes disappears slowly.

“Hmm, Xavier would stand by your side no matter what.”

“Another mission partner answer.” You pout to tease, and judging by his wide eyes, it works. “C’mon. I mean much more to you than that, don’t I?”

His expression is indiscernible. On one hand, his smile is still there, everpresent the way it is when you have sleepless nights and you need illicit scenes to assist you. On the other hand, his eyes have darkened once more, turning into a storm hiding every thought he refuses to say aloud.

Only when the train halts and announces the stop does Xavier find the courage to look away. And while you don’t admit it, your heart drops, making you look away as well.

“Such a cute couple!” A passenger comments, and you look up to see what you swear is you and Xavier if you were given a kind, gentle future. A lovely grandmother waves at you as she walks out to her stop, a laugh erupting from the person holding her hand. It sounds as youthful as Xavier’s, yet the shakiness of it carries experiences inevitable in a long life. They leave the train with happiness so unavoidable the other passengers begin whispering to themselves with grins on their faces.

“Is it too late to tell them we aren’t one?” you whisper to Xavier, expecting his usual soft chuckle. You even poke his cheek to prepare for a wide smile. 

Instead, however, his gaze darts from the train’s door to your eyes, and in the sudden closeness, he whispers, “I wouldn’t want to lie to an elderly couple.”

Lie?

A genuine chuckle escapes his lips at your surprised expression, and the implications sit in the nonexistent space between the both of you as the train continues its journey. The soft music and new conversations are what cushion your thoughts as you proceed to ask every one of them.

“What do you mean by that, Xavier?”

His smile radiates so much you’d think the sun was out on this night. “What do you think that means, starlight?”

You’re speechless. Your brain can barely go past the fact that he called you starlight — how playfully cruel of him to expect you to conjure up a coherent conclusion in this state. 

But Xavier isn’t inherently cruel, so he makes his point clear. “I like you, and if… only if you want…”

You wait patiently for the words he’s too flustered to say aloud. The soft music and the conversations around you are reduced to nothing, all your focus settling only on Xavier. 

“I’d like to be your boyfriend.”

You don’t know about the years of anguish he’s endured to find the courage to ask such a simple question. The stars he’s once looked up to for answers are now in your eyes, glossy and incandescent, as you find your voice once more.

And when you do, it carries your whole heart with it.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

The train ride becomes a memorable journey, leading you to your home.

a/n: ugh, I love Xavier. such a sweetie pie :3

thank you for reading! I appreciate any form of interaction, but a small comment would mean the absolute world to me. I haven't had much energy as of late, so I could really use the pick-me-up. I love you all so much!

Work had filled most of your time this week. Back to back missions, three cases that bled into each other, a Thursday briefing that ate the entire day. The Association had kept you moving and moving was good. Moving meant you weren't sitting still long enough to think about things you should not be thinking about.

The problem was tonight there was nothing to move toward.

You'd slowed down. Today's mission had seen to that —a clean operation until it wasn't, until you'd caught the edge of something you'd moved a second too late to avoid and ended up limping through the debrief trying to look unbothered. The Association medic had looked at your leg, told you to rest it, and now you were on your couch. Leg up. Thinking.

You'd worked with Sylus enough times to understand how your arrangement functioned, he had access to things the Association didn't and in exchange you'd give him information he found useful. You showed up. He had what you needed. You left. Repeat.

That part made sense.

What didn't was the rest of it. The part where two weeks of silence felt different now. He was the most wanted name on the Association's list and you were a Deepspace Hunter. The math on that was simple.

So no, you did not miss Sylus.

Your leg throbbed. You shifted your weight and stared at the ceiling again, trying to have an internal conversation about professional conduct and the importance of clear boundaries and then your phone lit up.

You grabbed it so fast you nearly put your elbow through the side table.

Sylus: I heard your mission went sideways. How's the leg?

You: How did you...you know what. Never mind.

Sylus: Mephisto was nearby.

You: You sent your bird to check on me?

Sylus: Mephisto goes where he likes.

You: 🙄🙄

Sylus: He said you were limping.

You: Tell Mephisto to mind his own business.

Sylus: He'll be devastated.

You: Good.

Sylus: I have something that might interest you. Have you ever seen a white Protocore?

You: White Protocores don't exist. Whatever you have is a fake.

Sylus: The seller pulled it from an anomalous Wanderer outside the N109 zone.

You sat with that for a moment.

Sylus: Come see it yourself. You'll want to.

The color alone was impossible by every known framework for protocore classification. Which meant either the seller was running an extremely convincing con, or something had come out of that wanderer that nobody had a category for yet.

Your feet were already on the floor.

You: Don't let anyone touch it. Give me 20 min.

Sylus: No need to rush, kitten. Look out your window.

You crossed the room in four steps and pulled the curtain back an inch.

Black car at the curb. No-parking sign directly above it, ignored completely. Sylus leaned against the driver's side door looking up at exactly the moment you looked down.

He raised his phone.

Sylus: Five minutes. Or I decide the leg is worse than you're letting on and leave.

You let the curtain fall.

"Not a chance," you said, to nobody.

You changed fast —jeans, jacket, hair up, sidearm checked —and ran down the stairs in a time your leg was going to remind you about tomorrow. The night air outside hit you cool and sharp.

Sylus hadn't moved from the car. He looked at you coming through the door, down the steps toward him and said nothing until you were close enough to hear.

"You ran down the stairs?"

"I want to see that Protocore."

"Of course." His mouth curved and there it was, the look that sat underneath the smirk, the one you'd filed away and kept finding again. "That's the only reason."

"It is"

"Then why are you still standing here instead of getting in the car."

You pulled the passenger door open yourself before he could do it, which seemed to amuse him. The interior smelled like expensive leather and him.

He slid in beside you, started the engine— the sound of it vibrating through the seat— and pulled away from the curb without looking at the road for the first two seconds because he was still looking at you.

"My people investigated as much as they could." He shifted gears, smooth and unhurried. "Which is why I need someone who knows what a forgery looks like at that level."

"But you also have people for that"

"I have people for a lot of things." He glanced over. Red eyes catching the streetlight for just a second. "None of them are you."

You looked out the window " Is that a compliment?"

"I didn't say it was."

The N109 Zone came up around you, neon and dark in equal measure, a place that operated on entirely different rules than Linkon City. You'd been here more times than your Association file strictly reflected. You knew the streets. You knew the hierarchy. You knew which doors opened for which names. All thanks to the man sitting in the driver's seat.

You had no idea what a white Protocore was. You had no idea what tonight was going to become but you had a feeling you were about to find out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His office, you knew this place better than your own.

The reinforced doors. The security overrides, which ones were decoys and which ones actually mattered. The hidden safes, three of them, one behind a painting ugly enough to be forgettable on purpose. You'd learned all of it slowly, standing close enough and quiet enough that he forgot you were paying attention.

The White Protocore sat inside a glass tube at the center of his desk, and you hadn't moved in two minutes.

It looked like the others at first. Same crystalline structure, same geometry. But every other Protocore carried color, blue, gold, pink, red, green and purple. This one just a faint pulse, soft milky light spilling across the dark wood. Strange and uncategorizable.

Sylus wasn't looking at the protocore, he was watching you. His eyes were tracing the curve of your jaw, the focus on your expression. In his world of cutthroat deals and rare power, you were his white protocore.

The back of your neck went warm but you kept your eyes on the protocore.

"Can I touch it?"

A low sound from his chest. Not quite a laugh. "I don't recall ever saying no to you, sweetie."

His fingers worked the glass tube open and lifted the protocore into his palm.

You reached for it.

Your fingers brushed his skin and the protocore sat between your hands for a single second and then —

No warning. Just white light swallowing the desk and the dark walls. Then the wind hit, not from outside but from inside the protocore, like a vacuum pulling in with a force that emptied your lungs before you could inhale. The sound of it was scary, like space tearing apart. The air collapsed into that small white light in your hands, the floor dropped away and you were falling without falling.

The first thing that came back was pressure.

Arms locked across your chest and shoulders, tight enough your ribs couldn't move. Something solid at your back. You tried to breathe. Couldn't. Tried again.

"Sy" Barely a whisper. "Can't— brea—"

His arms dropped instantly.

He was on his feet before you inhaled, one fluid motion, hand going to his gun, eyes sweeping the room. No targets. His hand dropped, but his shoulders stayed coiled, still reading the space.

You sat up. Pulled air in slowly until your chest stopped aching.

"Where are we?"

He didn't answer. Still looking.

You looked too.

Dark wood, heavy draping, expensive things chosen for use as much as looks. It felt like his place at first glance.

In the corner was a record player, vinyl turning silently, needle down, producing nothing. Beside it a bookshelf climbed straight to the ceiling, a ladder running the whole length on a track.

On the low table in front of the couch sat two glasses of wine. One half empty. Whoever had been drinking had stepped away expecting to come right back.

You stood slowly.

Sylus had crossed to the far side of the room. His head was angled down at something on the shelf.

You crossed after him, boots loud on the floor.

"Sylus."

He didn't turn.

You came up beside him, followed his eyeline, and stopped.

A photograph. You in your Hunter uniform with a different insignia of a rank you didn't hold yet, holding a trophy. Your smile in the photo was wide open and unguarded, a version of happy you didn't wear on your face very often.

There was a small engraved plaque at the bottom of the frame.

Hunter of the Year — November 2051.

You picked up a magazine beside it.

Your face on the cover. Same uniform, same trophy, same smile. Hunter of the Year in bold letters across the top. Small print in the corner, neat and impossible.

November 2051.

You set it down carefully.

Behind you, Sylus had already moved to the mahogany desk near the windows. Papers shifted. Folders opened and closed. His hands stayed busy and his face gave nothing.

"Sylus." You kept your voice steady. "Look at me."

He didn't.

You crossed to the desk and placedd your hand flat over the document he was holding.

"Three years," he was staring at nothing in particular, whatever was running behind his eyes not making it to his face.

You looked at the half empty glass. The record player still turning in silence. A coat hanging by the door.

"Sylus."

"I see it."

"That's your coat."

"This is one of my safehouses"

"Since when do you keep pictures of the Association Hunters? Last I checked you called us glorified errand runners."

A slow smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth "I've got a taste for beautiful art, sweetie, and maybe I like having a permanent reminder of my favorite headache."

"I'm not your—"

"Someone's coming." his eyes sharpened, hand closing around your wrist.

"Who—"

"This way." He was already pulling you toward a closet.

He yanked the door open expecting to see his weapons.

There were no rifles or guns, just stacked piles of the same magazine you saw earlier, floor to ceiling, your face on every cover, hundreds of them.

"Do you also collect magazines?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice down as he shoved you into the tiny space and squeezed in after you, pulling the door shut. "This is a lot of me for one closet"

"If you keep talking you're going to get us both caught."

You bit down on a laugh and then it died in your throat completely.

The door clicked open and Sylus stepped into the room.

You gasped, turning on instinct to check whether he had somehow warped himself out there with his Evol, but he hadn't moved an inch.

Future Sylus's hair was a mess, like he'd run his hands over it more than once, and a bit longer than you were used to. His shirt was wrinkled, streaked faintly with mud, stretched tight across shoulders that looked broader than the ones currently pressed beside you in the dark. There was more color in his face too, like time had put some weather on him. He paced the length of the room like a caged animal, fists clenching and releasing at his sides. He stopped mid stride, head turning like he'd caught a sound in the room, inside Sylus's hand shot out, closing around your wrist as one finger came up to his lips, a silent order to stay quiet.

Then the door opened again, and future you walked in.

She looked pissed. Shirt torn at the shoulder, soot and dirt ground into the fabric, but her eyes were lit up with anger.

She was you, there was no doubt about that, but she was different. There was more color to her face too and her body was softer in some places, sturdier in others.

"You had no right, Sylus!" She slammed the door behind her "I can still fight! I had that under control!"

"You almost got killed" Sylus didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. Whatever was in his tone was cold enough to make the room feel smaller.

"That's a fucking lie and you know it!" She crossed the space between them fast, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I'm not some damsel for you to decide when I fight and when I don't!"

Beside you Sylus dipped his head, lips grazing the shell of your ear. "Different year. Same feisty kitten." His breath felt warm against your neck.

"Shut up, Sylus. Shut up" you hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. He huffed out a quiet laugh like you'd done him a favor.

Outside, the fight kept climbing.

"You think you can pull me off a fight and take me wherever you want?" her voice bounced off the ceiling. "I'm a Hunter, Sylus. I'm not joining Onychinus. Not now, not ever, no matter how many times you bring it up."

"You've made that perfectly clear."

"It's my job, Sy"

"Not anymore, it isn't."

"You don't get to make that call for me!"

He didn't answer with words. He started walking her back instead, one slow step for every one she gave up without notice, until her spine hit the ladder bolted to the bookshelf.

She was out of room. He planted a hand on either side of her head against the wooden rungs, boxing her in.

"Are you sure about that, sweetie?" Not a question so much as a challenge.

"We don't even know ye— get out of my space!"

"Make me."

Their faces were a breath apart now, close enough that the argument had stopped sounding like an argument. Through the door you felt the air on the other side change, something thick and charged, like the silence that comes right before either a fight or something worse. Your face went hot just watching it, the line between the two of them hating each other and wanting each other collapsing.

"I hate you"

"Good," he murmured so close to her lips. "You can hate me all you want, Mrs. Qin. You're still wearing my ring."

He closed the distance, hand curling around the back of her neck, and kissed her like it was the only thing he had left to say.

Beside you Sylus went completely still.

Future you made a sound against his lips that started as surprise and turned into a moan, her hands coming up to grip his shirt before she dropped them and grabbed him instead.

You turned to look at Sylus, his eyes dropped to yours and a slow smile moved across his mouth and your stomach went with it.

His shirt hit the floor first, hers followed.

Future Sylus lifted her off the floor and settled her onto a rung of the ladder. She grabbed the rung above her head to steady herself and he stepped back just far enough to look at her, taking his time with it while she sat there catching her breath.

Then he reached for her boots.

He pulled the first one off, fingers working the laces without looking down, eyes on her face the whole time. The second followed. He set his hands on her knees and dragged them up her thighs and she made a small sound before he'd even done anything.

His mouth found her collarbone. Moved down. The thin lace of her bra was still on and he put his lips over it anyway, tongue pressing through the fabric against her nipple, and her head went back against the ladder. He bit down through the fabric, and the sound she made was immediate.

You pressed your hand to your mouth.

He did it again on the other side, slower, and her knuckles went white on the rung above her while her hips moved forward looking for something that wasn't there yet.

He kissed down her sternum. The soft skin below her ribs. His mouth dragged across her stomach and she was already breathing in pieces by the time his hands moved to her pants. He worked them down her legs and off, then dropped to his knees.

You made a small sound against your hand.

He was now on his knees between her thighs, hands finding the backs of them, hooking her legs one at a time over his shoulders. The muscles in his arms and neck shifted with the motion and he settled her weight there easily, like he'd done it before. Because in three years he had. Many times. You could tell by how she exhaled when her legs landed on his shoulders— relief. Her whole body recognizing what was coming.

He looked up at her.

Hands spread across her inner thighs, holding them open, red eyes on her face, waiting.

She looked down at him.

Her chest was moving fast. Her lip caught between her teeth. She held his gaze for one long second and then, quietly, barely enough to hear—

"Please."

His fingers found her thong and pulled it to the side.

One hand went to his hair, pulling him in, the other stayed above her head. Her nipples were hard against the wet lace.

Every sound came through clearly. His mouth on her wet pussy. Her breathing. Your face burned. Other things burned. You pressed your thighs together and it didn't help because the sounds didn't stop.

You turned to look at him again.

His right eye burned red in the dark closet. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that wasn't steady.

"Sy—"

"Don't stop." Future you's voice came through the door, breathless. "Fuck, Sy...just like that."

Your face went hotter and you faced forward again.

Sylus exhaled against your hair. His hand was still on your wrist. Neither of you had moved it.

He made a sound against her and the sounds that followed were louder and wetter.

Your fingers found the front of his jacket and held on.

"Is this affecting you?" he asked, right against your ear.

"Shut up."

Then her voice again, completely gone, nothing held back. "Yes — baby, my clit, suck on it — fuck yes—"

His hand tightened on your wrist. Hard.

"Sylus." Your voice came out dry. Broken in the middle. Not what you'd intended at all.

"I know," he said.

Future you screamed his name. The closet pressed in from all sides.

"We need to leave"

"Yes," he agreed, but neither of you moved.

Her thighs locked around his shoulders and shook. He stayed until the last tremor left her. Then he stood, chest glistening, and his hands dropped to the button of his trousers.

Popped it open. Pushed the fabric down his thighs.

The outline of his cock through the fabric of his underwear made your throat close. The tip already wet, a dark circle spreading through the cotton, and his fingers found the waistband—

A large hand came down over your eyes.

"Hey—" You grabbed his wrist. His fingers didn't move.

"If you want a show," his voice low at your ear, "you only have to ask."

"Move your hand." You twisted your head. His palm stayed exactly where it was.

Dark behind it.

Then the sounds hit again.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

Skin against skin. Her voice breaking between each impact, the sounds coming in waves that your brain immediately started filling in visuals for and that was so much worse than if he'd just let you look.

"You're burning up," he said against your ear, not in concern but in pure mockery.

Your thighs pressed together hard. "I swear to god—"

His fingers spread open.

She was still on the ladder. Legs locked around his waist, both of them flushed, sweat catching the light. He had one hand on her hair, holding her close to his face, their mouths almost touching, breathing the same air while his hips rolled forward in deep slow drives that shook her whole body. He was saying something to her, too low to carry, but whatever it was kept fracturing her expression every time he said it.

Then his voice came through clearly.

"Look at me." Steady, even over everything else. "Tell me who you belong to."

Her tongue dragged across his upper lip. "Yours—" Her head dropped back. "Ah— yours, Sy, I'm yours—"

Your underwear felt damp and your clit was pulsing with a persistence you were doing your very best to ignore.

"Do you really think," Sylus whispered against your temple, "it takes us three whole years to get here?"

"I don't—"

Future Sylus pulled back, his tongue dragged slow up her throat while she panted against his shoulder. "You taste different today."

"Because you're—" she gasped, "—you're driving me insane—"

"That's not it." He pushed forward, one deep thrust that tore a cry out of her "You shouldn't be taking field hits right now." A beat. "Not when you're carrying my child."

The closet went cold.

Your jaw dropped. Hers did too.

Pregnant.

The argument. Him yanking her off the mission. All of it clicked into place at once. She was carrying his baby. In three years, you'd be carrying his kid.

Your knees went out from under you.

Your foot caught on something hard as you stumbled back. A stack of magazines toppled with the movement, and everything blurred, sound, vision, all of it going soft at the edges.

"—watch—"

Crimson light cracked through the dark. Sylus's Evol flared, and every falling magazine froze mid air.

The energy didn't stay contained. It rolled out through the closet door and everything on the other side went dead silent.

The sounds stopped. All of them. What replaced the noise had weight to it.

Sylus's eyes were locked on the door. Jaw tight. Not a muscle moving.

"Pathetic," future Sylus said, clear, not a trace of what he'd been doing thirty seconds earlier, "a top tier Hunter and the leader of Onychinus, hiding like toddlers playing hide and seek."

Your stomach dropped straight through the floor.

"Sylus?" Future you, breathless, confused. "Who are you talking—"

"I know you're in there." He sounded almost bored. "You're both breathing like horny teenagers."

Beside you, Sylus exhaled through his nose and reached out to push the door open. "I could say the same"

He stepped out first, glanced down at his sleeve, and flicked off a piece of lint that probably wasn't there. Then he reached back, hooked an arm around your waist, and pulled you out with him. You stumbled onto the polished floor, face burning hot enough to set the room on fire.

Future Sylus had future you pulled against him, her bra strap slipping off one shoulder, hair a wreck, and she was staring between the two of you with her mouth hanging open.

"Is that—" Her eyes went from you to the Sylus standing next to you and back again. "Are we— are they—"

Sylus looked at his future self. Future Sylus looked right back.

Three seconds of silence passed between them, and somehow it felt like an entire conversation.

"You look good," Sylus said.

"And you are interrupting," future Sylus said, arm tightening around future you.

You stopped watching the two of them and scanned the room instead.

There. The White Protocore, sitting beside the wine bottle, pulsing soft in the low light.

You moved before anyone could stop you, crossed the room, and closed your hand around it.

Sylus was right behind you. His hand landed over yours, the stone was caught between your palms again, warm and humming under your skin. He tossed one last glance over his shoulder at his future self and smirked.

White swallowed everything. The floor vanished, and then thud.

The familiar light of his office in the N109 Zone.

You were flat on your back, staring at the ceiling, just breathing.

The Protocore rolled out of your hand and knocked against the leg of his desk before it dissolved into dust.

Sylus sat up, forearm braced on a raised knee, and looked down at you, smirk already back in place. His gaze dropped to your mouth, your throat, the way your chest was still heaving.

"So," he said, leaning over you with one hand braced on the floor beside your head. "A baby."

You threw an arm over your face. "I will shoot you again."

"I'm just thinking ahead." His fingers found a strand of your hair "Sounds like we've got a lot of work to do in the next three years, Miss hunter."

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Your inner prey instincts shrieked in protest. Yet, as you stared at the attached photo, your throat went dry. With his sharp jawline, striking eyes, and furry burgundy ears poking through his hair, the man was undeniably gorgeous. 

Worse, his profile had a warning listed: Lupine genes present extreme rut cycles. Past cycles managed via pharmaceuticals due to high stamina projections. 

So, he’s never had a partner, you thought. A pent-up predator didn’t bode well, especially not to a bunny. Even so, according to the warning, he had the exact untapped reservoir of energy that you needed to get through your insatiable heats. It certainly didn’t hurt that he was breathtakingly easy on the eyes. 

A sudden, sharp throb low in your belly shattered your hesitation. The early waves of your heat were beginning to roll in, warming your skin and sending a restless twitch through your elongated ears. You didn’t have the luxury of time, especially not to second-guess the man that, admittedly, exacerbated the effects of your impending heat.

Shifting your finger across the touchpad of your laptop, you slammed the Accept Pairing button before the more logical side of your brain could talk you out of it. 

In an instant, the screen flashed with a bold, celebratory notification: MATCH CONFIRMED!

 A soft gasp escaped your lips. He had already accepted. Before your mind could fully process that little fact, a new interface slid into view. 

KnotAlone Chatroom: Valko and You

The text bubble at the bottom of the screen was already bouncing, the three dots doing their usual rhythmic dance before disappearing, replaced by a message that was surprisingly warm for an apex predator. 

Valko Ao: Hello! So glad you accepted the match. To be honest, I was worried my profile statistics would scare people off. 

You blinked at the screen, intrigued. His message was devoid of the growling dominance and arrogance you had come to expect from predator hybrids. Another message came through before you formulated a response. 

Valko Ao: Your profile mentioned needing someone who can match your stamina, right? That works out perfectly. My doctors always insisted that my rut cycles are too intense for a standard pairing, so I’ve just been using suppressants up until now. I’d love to help you through your heat if you’ll have me. When does your cycle start?”

You bit your lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard as a flush crawled up your neck. It was one thing to fill out personal info on a questionnaire, but it was another to openly share with another person.

You: within the next two days at least. Already feeling the warning signs :/

Valko Ao: that’s fine! I can clear my schedule right away.

His easy, accommodating response did wonders for your nerves. Over the next two days, the anticipated dread of your impending heat transformed into something entirely different. Valko texted you constantly, sending jokes, asking about your personal preferences and hobbies, and sharing bits of his own life. By the time the warning signs had become full-blown symptoms, you found that you were genuinely excited to meet him, even if the circumstances weren’t the most ideal.

You woke on the third morning drenched in sweat, your skin hypersensitive to every little touch. Your panties were already soaked and sticking to your swollen folds. It was pitiful, really, how quickly you were made a slave to your own biology, no more able to fight it than you were able to count the stars in the sky. 

With a shaky hand, you reached for your phone on the nightstand, shooting Valko a simple text, followed by your address.

You: I need you

He replied almost instantly, informing you that he was on his way. With a groan, you dropped your phone onto the bed, curling into yourself and wishing you could sleep away the scorching need coursing through your body. It felt like mere minutes had passed when a knock echoed through your apartment.

You stumbled from your bed to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open to see Valko standing in the hallway, his ears twitching almost nervously. Before he could even say hello, he froze. The combination of seeing you in such a vulnerable state and smelling the sweet, heady scent that seeped from your apartment had rendered him speechless, his mouth watering and his cock already hardening in his pants. 

He swallowed thickly. For a fraction of a second, Valko tried to hold onto his manners, but the more of you he inhaled, the more he felt like a wolf rather than a man. He opened his mouth to greet you, fighting every urge to pin you to the wall of the entryway and take you there, but his throat constricted and his body locked up.

You could see in the rigid set of his posture that he was at least trying to be a gentleman, but you didn’t want a gentleman at the moment. You needed him rough, and you needed him now.

While he was still trying to pull himself together in the doorway, you tugged him in by the fabric of his shirt, the door slamming closed behind him. He stumbled forward, his polite composure crumbling to dust under your touch. You practically dragged him through your apartment to your bedroom, and his hand hovered over your waist.

“I’m Valko,” he finally managed, his voice raspy as his eyes locked onto the way you were already pulling your shirt over your head.

You giggled at that, and Valko thought it was the prettiest sound he had ever heard.

“I sure hope so.” He flushed, embarrassment crawling up his spine. Obviously you knew who he was. You wouldn’t have let him in otherwise. He blamed it on your intoxicating scent. It was muddling his brain and making it impossible to focus on anything that wasn’t you. You, who was now wrapping your arms around his shoulders and mouthing at his neck, pressing your body flush against his.

Before he could even think, his strong arms landed on your hips, pushing you back slightly to make space. You pouted, and he suddenly felt like a world-class villain.

“Easy, sweetheart. I’m gonna help you,” he soothed, pushing you backwards until the bed hit the back of your knees. You fell onto the plush on the mattress, bouncing slightly. Your breath quickened. Through the haze of your arousal, you were vaguely aware that you had invited a predator into your home. You were also acutely aware that even the worst of your heat cycles had never affected you as much as the hulking man that was guiding your pliant body to lie against the pillows. 

“So pretty,” he murmured, his hands ghosting over your bare skin, his fingertips skimming the lacy fabric of your bra. It was almost painful, the way his cock was straining against his pants.

You placed your hand atop his, guiding it to cup your breast. “You don’t have to be sweet, you know?”

He locked eyes with you, searching for any hesitation or reservations, and found none, only pure want and need. He surged forward, capturing your lips with his. It was messy, all teeth and tongue and unrestrained instinct.

You arched your body into his, your hips grinding against the bulge in his slacks. He groaned into the kiss, his hands shooting down to hook into the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling both down in one firm tug. Your bra followed shortly after, leaving you entirely bare beneath him. God, you were a fucking vision.

The whimper he let out was pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when a pretty little bunny was completely offering herself to him. Your hands were everywhere, sliding beneath his shirt, stroking his ears, palming his leaking cock. Wherever you could reach.

He reluctantly pulled away from you once more, just long enough to strip his own clothing. His impressive build had you salivating, and your weeping pussy clenched around nothing in anticipation as he resumed his spot above you, your legs on either side of his hips. 

“Please, Valko, please I need you,” you practically sobbed, staring up at him with watery eyes. Valko’s heart thundered in his chest, a possessive pang shooting through his chest. 

It was too much. Your desperate pleading, your legs spread for him, your cunt on display just for him. It was maddening. He lined himself up with your pulsing hole, and you keened, eager to finally be filled, pushing your hips up to force him deeper.

You were dripping, his thick cock stretching you with ease as he sunk all the way to the hilt. You moaned loudly, your fingers clawing into the sheets. He was so big you swore you could feel him in your throat.

“So tight,” he groaned deeply, nearly growling. He was already panting and he’d only just begun. “You feel so— ngh—good.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him into you like you never wanted him to leave. “More, Valko, pleasepleaseplease,” you begged, urging him to move, to touch you, anything that would quell the wanton need that radiated from your core. 

His hips snapped into yours, the blunt head of his cock molding your insides around him. It took everything he had not to cum prematurely. Your pussy gripped him like a vice, and he was sure this was as close to heaven as a man could get. 

The delicious drag of his cock had you beyond words, only able to cry out with pleasure every time his hips met yours. Your breath was ragged as he pounded into your slick hole, and your fingernails left red claw marks on his shoulders that he would later marvel at in the mirror.

“So perfect,” Valko breathed. “Made just for me.” His face was flushed a magnificent shade of his red, and his eyes were heavily lidded, drawn to the juncture where your bodies met, your slick leaking around his cock and soaking the bedsheets. 

You cried out his name, the edge of pleasure so tantalizingly close. His name fell from your lips like a mantra, spurring him on, his thrusts losing their rhythm and becoming frantic. He was already swelling at the base, but he’d be damned if he embarrassed himself and finished before you. Inexperienced though he was, he wasn’t a total prude. 

He brought his thumb to circle your neglected clit, sending pleasure shooting up your spine. You squealed, arching into his touch, your pussy spasming tightly around him as your vision went white.

Valko gasped, his own release overtaking him. Hot spurts of cum flooded your fluttering walls, and his swollen knot kept it all plugged snugly inside you and kept you connected to each other. 

Your vision was hazy, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, you actually felt sated, at least for the time being until your body again demanded more of him.

Quiet settled over the room, save for the twin sounds of your heavy breaths. Valko grinned broadly, a chuckle rumbling through his chest as he dropped his forehead onto yours, nuzzling his nose against your face. Behind him, his heavy tail thumped against the mattress.

It was comforting to be wrapped in such strong arms and taken care of, but the peace was short-lived; your body, in its current state, was already squirming beneath him for friction.

Valko groaned deeply, still sensitive from his release only minutes prior, but the thick smell of your pheromones was pulling him into renewed lust right along with you.

Whether it was with your knees pressed to your chest, from behind where he could watch your cute little tail twitch, or holding you on his lap to fuck up into you, he couldn't get enough of you or the sinful sounds you made when he was buried deep inside you. It was hours before he collapsed onto the bed beside you, his cum dripping down your thighs and a satisfied grin on his face as he took in how thoroughly wrecked you looked all because of him.

As your breathing finally slowed, Valko pulled you into his embrace, clawed fingers stroking up and down your back soothingly. “Are you okay? Was that alright?” he asked, his voice rough and vibrating against your skin.

“I’m perfect,” you rasped, burying your face in his chest, your heart swelling at his genuine care. “Better than perfect. I can see why your profile had a warning on it,” you laughed, recalling the words of caution on his profile.

He let out a soft, pleased sound, his arms tightening around you as if he had absolutely no intention of leaving the bed—or your life—anytime soon. It was like your scent had completely rewired the primitive part of his brain, the part that was now claiming you as his own despite the brief acquaintance. Though, to be fair, you had done more than what typical acquaintances do. He didn't think he could be satisfied being just your heat partner.

A flush crawled up his neck as he debated with himself, his wolf ears twitching nervously, but there was no time like the present. “That’s good. I’m glad I didn't disappoint.” He hesitated, the words he truly wanted to say sticking in his throat. It didn't help that you were looking up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. Now that his more animalistic side had been satisfied and your scent wasn't sending him into a frenzy, he could take the time to admire just how delicate your features were.

“I know we still have a few days left to get through, and I’m not going anywhere, but when this is over, would you want to go on a proper date with me?”

His words had barely even registered before a bright smile lit up your face, and sweet giggles spilled from your lips. You nodded, your long ears shifting with the movement. 

A few months into dating you sort of fall into this routine where you go spend the night at his place once to twice a week. You would be done with your daily activities (work/uni) then make a quick trip to your flat to fix yourself up (it's a date after all) grab your bag and then get picked up by your boyfriend either with his car or his bike.

And it's been wonderful.

To be fair there are some days that drain you more than others and, sure, it would feel nice to just go home, get into your pajamas and just lay on the couch watching whatever is on TV just letting your mind declutter.

But still even if you're not 100% in the mood, once you get to his place and he starts treating you so well, you immediately feel better and tell yourself that it was worth it even if you are tired and the day has been rough.

And then it happens.

The day starts off pretty bad because the route of your bus has been changed due to roadwork, and you only find out after having been waiting for that very bus for half an hour, which immediately makes you late for your shift.

So by the time you get to work, the tasks have already been assigned and you're stuck doing what you hate the most but you can't even complain because, again, you were late.

The day is still not done yet because in the afternoon you're due for a presentation and your manager has clearly stated that she's counting on you doing a good job with the commission

And maybe it's because you've just spent the morning looking at all those numbers, or maybe it's the fact that your manager is somehow making you feel even more pressure but it doesn't go as well as you had planned.

You end up disappointing the commission, your manager the most importantly yourself.

5:36 pm Sylus >> remember it's date night kitten

5:37 pm Sylus >> I'll pick you up as usual.

You sigh. Right. Date night. Are you even in the mood for it? No really, no, but what you dread even more than that is the possibility of disappointing someone else today.

5:38 pm you << sure. See you later!

Thankfully though, your shift does come to an end at some point, and you finally manage to go back home, even though it takes you longer than usual because of the bus route change. It even starts raining a little bit and all you can think about is the fact that it would be a perfect evening to spend inside your house, eating warm food in comfy clothes and then go straight to bed curled up with a book.

But because you don't like standing people up you simply go inside, grab your overnight back and get out.

Sylus is already there by the time you're outside, so you just jump in the car and you drive off. during the trip You're unusually quiet and you're almost sure that sylus can pick up on that but even if he does he does not mention it.

At his place there are two bags of delicious smelling take out food waiting on the counter and you do feel a little bit better at the thought of having someone get dinner for you, but the atmosphere shifts once he begins doing small talk.

"so how was work today?"

Shit. It was shit.

"um. Fine. Tiring."

He hums. "I remember you told me you had a presentation, right?"

You feel like you're swallowing stones instead of chewed up food. "Uh huh. That was fine too."

Your phone pings and from the corner of your eye you recognize your landlord's profile pic. Rendered puzzled by the odd timing (it's around 7 pm) you take a peek at his text.

Hey I just passed by the house to take a look at the washing machine but noone was home

What? You've been complaining about the washing machine for almost a month and he finally decides to show up without warning on a wednesday evening?! And then has the courage to be passive aggressive because you weren't there?

But because the universe has decided to go all out today, you get another text from your manager this time. It's the file you spent all morning working on, with the caption "to fix by tmrw"

You feel your patience quite literally snap like a tree branch being stepped on.

Sylus, ever so observant, notices the way you've stopped eating and are staring at your phone screen, so he pops the question: "are you okay?"

Your blood boils and bubbles in your vessels. "Am I okay? Am I okay? No, I'm not okay! Today has been awful! I proved to everyone at my office that I can't do my job! My manager hates me now! I got to work late on the only day they had warned us not to because corporate was there! The washing machine has been broken for a month and I know that my landlord doesn't want to get a new one so I'll be stuck going to the laundromat for the rest of eternity! I stained my good sweater with oil at lunch and I just know that thing is ruined! On my way home I had to walk a bit more and I fell down and scraped my knee and hand! Oh, and I burnt my toast this morning, I turned it into a piece of coal!"

Sylus appears mildly startled by your outburst, but nothing concerning.

You, however, feel a freezing shower pouring over your head and immediately cool you down. You're so cold now that you realize that you've been raising your voice to the only man who did nothing but make you feel better.

Before you even realized it, you've run off and locked yourself in the bathroom.

It's one thing to embarrass yourself in front of your partner once in a while but it's a whole other thing to basically throw a tantrum like a child. You fear Sylus will never look at you the same again.

What's even worse is the fact that you've spent so much time proving to him that you're a grown, mature woman with a career and an attitude and all that. Now what? Is he going to dump you?

Is he going to stop hosting date night because clearly you can't handle it?

You press your head on the door and weirdly enough there's no noise outside. Has he left?

Eventually you come out.

I'll just grab my stuff and call a cab, there's no way I can take the bus at this time of the night.

The kitchen is all cleaned up, like a crime scene at the end of the investigation.

You head to the bedroom to grab your bag and find Sylus inside, freshly washed up and in his disgustingly expensive pajamas, and it startles you.

"oh my- what are you doing here?"

"I thought we were going to turn in early tonight. I'm getting ready for bed."

"o-oh. Right. Okay. Well, I'm just going to- get this. And go. Goodnight then."

"how about you kiss me goodnight later, when we're both in bed?"

"wait, you want me to stay the night?"

"I don't believe I ever asked you to leave."

"well, no. But given what happened at dinner, I feel like-"

"pardon?"

"I feel like sometimes you don't really see me as your partner."

That sentence makes you do a double take.

"sometimes I get the feeling that you don't want to rely on me, that you don't feel comfortable with me. You don't allow yourself to be transparent with me. I still have to convince you that I'm worth it."

Sylus, the most confident man you've ever encountered, appears genuinely hurt and resigned.

"I do rely on you." You insist.

"do you? You were so tightly wound earlier, I thought you were going to pop like a bottle cork. Why don't you just come talk to me when you're feeling like this?

"because I wouldn't be talking, I'd be venting. And I don't want to bother you."

He sighs. "You wouldn't. But I still can't get you to trust me on that. How about you get washed up, now. I want you to get as much sleep as possible tonight."

By the time you're back in the room, Sylus is under the covers with only a lamplight on.

You snuggle in bed on the other side and wait for the room to turn dark.

"I understand that."

Once it does, you speak.

"It's not that I don't trust you. I do, truly. I'm just used to doing things my way, on my own terms."

"I just don't want to take too many liberties, Sy."

"it's not about that. I'm telling you outright that you shouldnt feel shame sharing different aspects of your life."

"yeah but this was date night, it's no place to rant."

"it can be. I don't want you to force yourself to pretend for the sake of the evening. Date night is just another way to say eating together and then watching TV. In fact, if it makes you less comfortable, I'd rather not do date night at all."

Silence dawns on the room.

Sylus turns to you, convinced that you're being quiet to get this conversation over with and is met with your big wet eyes instead.

"I'm sorry. I just don't want you to deal with my stuff too, I know how difficult your job is, you must be stressed out already. But. If me keeping it all to myself makes you feel even worse, I'll share more. Even if it's just complaining that a lady at the bakery cut the line."

Digging your toes into the sand, you became rooted as the growing tide glided over your feet, lapping at your shins. With your arms spread wide, you soaked up those final rays, inhaled the breeze until you could taste its salt. 

You loved the sea. Always had. You couldn’t understand why you were forbidden to swim in it. 

‘You can only look,’ your parents had initially warned. Then it progressed to, ‘just stay on the shore, the sand is safe.’ 

They hadn’t permitted this, though. Peering down at your rebellion, you chewed your lip, intermingling both excitement and guilt. Despite the crawl of winter, the water was unusually warm, and you felt a strange stirring of emptiness inside. 

The final flash of sunset, and then it was gone, swallowed by the horizon. You hugged your elbows, tears welling. It was foolish to be upset, yet you were. It wasn’t fair. How could the sun take so long to traverse the sky, but only give a handful of seconds before vanishing at the end? 

You were obsessed with sunsets. They were your favourite colour in all the world, and this was the only place that gave you such glory. With a sulky pout, you retreated from the water, coming to sit where it was dry. Knees tucked and chin atop them, you stared out at the gentle swell for a while, more than content to listen to its lapping lullaby. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” came a drawling, hypnotic voice. 

Whipping about, you saw no one. Goosebumps rippled across your skin. Bolting onto your feet, fists weakly clenched, you called out, “Who’s there?”

“Out here, little one,” the mysterious voice returned, almost echoing, as if it were inside your head. 

With a frown, you swept your gaze onto the ocean, heart galloping into your throat when you spotted him. 

A Lemurian. 

You stumbled away, but the sand was uneven, and you fell onto your rear, eyes about to fall out of your head as you gaped. 

Lemurians never spoke to humans. They weren’t a myth, but they were certainly a mystery. One might consider them a sign of good fortune… or a terrible omen. 

With a shaky breath, you regained your composure, then, with a bow of your head, you mumbled, “I’m so sorry I’ve disturbed you. I’ll leave immediately.”

How stupid of you. Of course this was the reason the beach was forbidden. You inwardly cursed, praying that you might slip free of this ethereal creature. 

Humans weren’t permitted to cross Lemurian territory—no exceptions. It was just rather rotten luck that no one knew what those territories were. It all relied on tragic tales of drowned sailors or lured women. 

You’d half-turned to run when the Lemurian’s honeyed voice ensnared you. “Don’t leave.” His tone was so sweet, yet his stare held sharp command. 

Shivering, both from the cold and from a touch of fear, you accidentally met his gaze. He was extraordinary. Ethereal. You couldn’t believe it, and even as you pinched the skin of your inner wrist, the dream didn’t shatter. 

This was real. 

The Lemurian was a beautiful kind of masculine, the kind that only existed in paintings. A straight nose, pouty lips, sparkling eyes, and that lean, muscled build. His hair fell around him like swaying branches of wisteria, his glowing fins poking out of it. 

A delicate crown weaved about his head, like golden coral, decorated with the occasional pearl. To match such a piece, his bared torso dripped with similar jewellery, complementing his Lemurian markings. 

“Come closer.” He phrased it like a question, yet you knew it wasn’t.

With an outstretched hand, you felt your own drift up, a longing filling the centre of your chest to take it. With your other hand, you clamped down onto your wrist and jerked them both down your front, shaking free of his siren spell. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, mostly to yourself. 

“And yet you are,” the Lemurian smiled, still awaiting you. “So come closer.”

When you slipped your hand into his, you gasped at how warm it was. Smooth, too. Like glass. With such tender politeness, he brought it up to his lips, planting a chaste kiss on the back. 

“Is this the correct custom?” He rasped against your skin. 

Your cheeks went pink. “It’s… well, it’s usually when—”

Your words fell short. At a distance, you hadn’t noticed the colour of his eyes, but now that you were standing in the water, holding hands with a Lemurian, you couldn’t breathe. 

They were your colour.

“Your eyes…” You breathed at him, in true wonder. “They’re like sunsets.”

He laughed, the sound of it rich and tinkling. “What is your name, little human?”

You told him, or maybe you didn’t. You were too lost in that swirl of amber and amethyst. 

“I am Rafayel,” he released your hand, and you nearly whimpered at the loss of contact. “And these are my shores.”

Reality rolled through you, and as if waking from a dream, you blinked a few times. “I didn’t mean to trespass,” you insisted, fear furrowing your face. “Please, I truly didn’t! I just like to watch the sunsets on the water. But I’ll never come back, I swear it to you!”

Not much was known about Lemurians, and you didn’t want to risk the wrath of one. Begging was not beneath you. 

“Never come back? And break my heart? Surely you wouldn’t do that.”

Your breath failed you. “No… I wouldn’t…”

+++

Rafayel was fascinated by humans. He pried for every detail, from your language right down to bodily function. 

“What do you eat?” He probed, resting his chin on a hand. 

He had noticed your constant shivering as you conversed by the ocean shore, the nightly breeze laced with a southern chill. Guiding you along in the dark, you were surprised to find a secret cavern. Having you gather some old driftwood, he lit a fire, and there you sat by it, warm and comfortable, while Rafayel remained in the water, leisurely draped over a rock. 

It was almost comical that a creature of the sea could control fire. Regardless, you were grateful. 

“We eat all sorts of things. Fruit, vegetables, animals. Some things we cook, otherwise we get sick.” 

“What is your favourite?” 

You pursed your lips as you considered. “I like sweeter things. We have a dish that’s called cake. We can make it with all sorts of flavours, but I think orange might be my favourite.”

You had no idea why Rafayel had taken such a great interest in your knowledge. Surely other people out there had caught his attention—you were still young, yet to see the world, to take what it had to offer. 

Maybe you really were the only one breaking the rule about the ocean. 

Sneaking a glance at the Lemurian, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about that. 

“How do your legs work?”

You giggled. “I suppose the same way your tail does. I don’t know. I just use them.” 

He snorted, but you spied his amused smirk. 

You were too shy to ask him questions about Lemurian things. This was a miracle, and you were terrified of scaring him off, or worse, angering him. There was still a risk here. These were his shores, he’d said so himself, and he had every right to do whatever he wanted to you, since you were a no-good trespasser. 

But the more you talked with Rafayel, the more you felt secure. He wouldn’t hurt you. Well, not out of vengeance. Maybe out of curiosity, at most. To see how your human body differed from his. 

“Can I touch your foot?” He asked, far too excited. 

Your laugh was nervous, perhaps embarrassed. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Please? I will be very careful. I find them fascinating.”

Holding your breath, you slid your foot closer until it was within his reach. He leaned in and, with those warm hands, began to inspect it. You couldn’t suppress your shiver as you watched him, unsure whether it was apprehension or enjoyment. 

It was endearing to see him so enraptured by something so simple as a foot. “So bizarre,” he murmured under his breath. 

Your breath hitched as one hand began to sculpt higher, caressing the muscle of your calf. Cheeks growing hot, you pulled out of his grasp. Rafayel’s brows fell into a harsh scrunch. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

You cleared your throat. “Oh, no. It’s just… Well, humans don’t normally touch each other’s legs. I’m not used to it.”

“I had no idea they were sensitive,” he nodded, intrigued.

No longer as flustered, you let out a breathy laugh. “They’re not. Well, sometimes. It… it really depends on the circumstance.”

Rafayel cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

The tips of your ears were scorching. “Um, oh. It’s… Uhh—”

“Your face is very red. Are you alright?”

You snapped your eyes shut, vibrating with embarrassment. 

“Some parts of us are naturally always sensitive, other parts aren’t. But they can be, depending on the type of touch.”

Rafayel pursed his lips, and after a long moment, he lit up. “You mean like a mating ritual?”

“Exactly. Yes.”

Rafayel then frowned again, slowly considering you. “But we are not the same species. Your body still responds?”

You needed to change the conversation. Immediately. Before you melted away out of mortification. You swore your neck was a vivid shape of crimson right now, the heat that was coming off you. 

“Yes,” you managed to splutter. “It’s not that I, uh, want to. Sometimes our bodies just… react to things. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be foolish. I am very intrigued. In fact, I’d love to see more.”

You choked on a surprised yelp, fully flinching at his words. “What!”

He merely shrugged. “Lemurians can only mate once a year, and it isn’t through touch. I’d like to know more about humans and their mating rituals.”

“You don’t… touch each other?” 

He shook his head. “We could, but it’s not something we do.”

“Humans… well, we touch each other. A lot. In many places. It’s like what I was trying to explain before.” Your humiliation ebbed away, just like the tide. Here was simply a mind that yearned for knowledge. For whatever reason, this beautiful creature was trusting your explanations and took every word as fact. You had a duty to do this properly. This could be the beginning of a cultural connection! The possibilities… and if all it meant was you had to explain what sex was, well…

“We can mate whenever we want. And it’s not always just to have children. Most of the time, it’s for fun.”

Rafayel’s brows nearly shot off his face. “Truly?”

You nodded, smiling now, finding his curiosity oddly cute. “The body parts that we use are very sensitive. And it feels very good. That’s why.”

“Can I see?”

And just like that, your stomach twisted. 

“Your face is red again. What does that mean?”

“It…” with a shaky breath, you tried to smile through it. “I’m embarrassed. Those parts are very private, Rafayel. We don’t show them to anyone.”

Rafayel nodded. “So you only use these special parts for sex? Fascinating.”

Your mouth parted, the words stuttering from you. “Well, no. We can use everything. The main part of sex does involve those parts. But it doesn’t have to.”

“Explain.”

“Humans sometimes use their hands or mouths. There’s really… Um.” You bit your lower lip, far too self-conscious to continue. “Rafayel, this is… I’m not sure I should be the one to tell you these things. I’m not very experienced.” You mumbled the last part. 

Alarm flashed over his face. “Oh, I am terribly sorry. I thought you were an adult.”

Way to inadvertently twist the knife. “I am,” you sighed. “I’m just… undesired. No one wants me.”

Rafayel shifted, face contorting into the most bewildered pout. “I’m very confused. You are an adult human, and you are beautiful. How are you undesired?”

A warmth spread through you at the sincerity of his words. “You… think I’m beautiful?”

“I have seen many humans. I would consider you stunning.”

A chesty, sorrowful laugh escaped you. “Thank you.”

“If only I were a human man,” Rafayel murmured, something flashing behind his eyes. “You have given me a taste of your life, but I can’t help but long for more.”

“There’s really not much else I can offer you, though.” You tucked your chin down, hiding from his intense gaze, like he was trying to pry something from your head. 

“You have enthralled me,” his voice crawled along your skin like velvet. “I want to give you everything.”

Everything froze but your rapid heart, which lurched up into your mouth. Your eyes followed his movements as Rafayel reached to touch you. 

“Show me how,” he rasped, coming into contact with your ankle. His ascending hand left a smoldering heat in its wake, your skin tingling something fierce in response. “Show me how to give you pleasure.”

You whimpered as he approached your aching core, not that he knew it. But he was observant. He knew that his touch was stirring things within you, eyes narrowing with satisfaction as your eyes fluttered closed and your breath grew shallow. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said softly. 

“I don’t want you to,” you admitted with a moan. 

Standing up, you removed your garments, and as he stared up at you from the water, you felt electric. He tilted his head as his sunset gaze devoured your naked body, partly curiosity, but the other something darker—sinful. 

Rafayel slipped off the rock and sat in the shallow water, and with the flare of his hand, ignited his flames beneath, warming it for you. Slowly, you stepped in, coming to sit beside him with a twist of nerves, but also exhilaration. 

Wrapping an arm about your waist, he secured you against him, hand resting on the plush of your thigh. 

“Guide me,” he whispered into the shell of your ear. With a shiver, you placed your hand atop his, and your chest tightened at the size difference. He was lean, sure. But he was much larger than you’d anticipated. 

With scalding slowness, you guided Rafayel until those gorgeous, long fingers brushed against your slick core, softer than moth wings. You arched up with a whispering gasp. 

“Tell me,” his voice had dropped into a rasp, almost husky, scraping against your cheek now. “If I were a man, is this where you’d take me?”

You nodded weakly, eyes rolling back as with one slow push, his finger sank into you. 

“So wet,” he murmured, heavy with lust. “How does it feel?”

“So good,” you moaned, grinding your hips for some friction, to have him go deeper. “But you can give me more, if you want.”

Obeying your plea, he slipped in a second, and beyond all reason, Rafayel knew exactly what to do. Curling his fingers just right, he fucked you. Braving a peep at him, your cheeks grew aflame, for he was staring right into you, lips parted and a heavy-lidded expression on his face. 

“Your thumb,” you gasped at him, astonished at how easy he worked you, fingers plunging in and out in a languid pace. “Press… here…” your hand slipped back down to show him your clit. 

When he pressed down with delicious pressure, you choked on your scream, your orgasm rising within you, promising to be a blistering, white-hot release. 

“Not too much, but not too little,” you panted at him, your pleasure threatening to burn you from the inside out. 

“You’re squeezing my fingers,” he observed, a sinful smirk tugging at his mouth. “Am I doing well?”

“Yes,” you whined, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder, falling away into bliss. “So, so good, Rafayel…”

His increasing pressure had your vision blurring, mouth agape, senses drowning in bliss. He didn’t need any more of your guidance; your expressions and reactions were more than enough to push you closer to the edge. With a final moan, you plunged into an electric wave of pleasure, ripping through your body like lightning. 

Circling your clit, Rafayel earned a needy sob from you, and you clenched hard around his fingers, riding out the final wave of your release.

When he withdrew from you entirely, you whimpered, slumping against his large body. A new kind of heat bloomed through your abdomen when you watched him suck on his fingers, tasting your slick. 

The glimmer in his eye had your mouth go a little dry. 

The words came tumbling out in one long, panicked ramble. He admitted your scent had changed. That he’d figured out you were ovulating. That his werewolf instincts had gone completely fucking haywire. That he’d been trying so hard not to make it your problem because he knew how insane this looked. And he was so, so sorry for being a complete creep.

The poor man looked absolutely mortified. Meanwhile, you couldn’t stop laughing.

He kept apologizing every other sentence, refusing to meet your eyes while looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. He was so genuinely ashamed of himself that it was impossible not to find the whole thing weirdly…Cute. Until your eyes drifted downward. He was still painfully hard.

“…Wait,” your laughter fizzled into surprised disbelief, “are you seriously that worked up?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and let out the most defeated groan you’d ever heard, “I am.”

Before you could tease him another second, he suddenly scooped you clean off your feet like you weighed nothing.

You yelped as he carried you to the bed with determined, almost frantic need. He practically threw you onto the mattress before immediately following after you, caging you beneath his huge frame. He buried his face against your neck, breathing you in with a shaky, indulgent sigh, his restraint hanging by a thread before his voice dropped into a rough growl that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

“Let me smell it, pretty baby…”

The moment he opened the apartment door with his key, the first thing Valko perceived was her scent, flooding his senses and causing his shoulders to release tension automatically, practically instinctively, and everything in him to relax.

It took less than five seconds for his gaze to fall upon her, sitting on the sofa, a blanket covering her legs, the blanket he had given her when they first started their relationship, and revealing his t-shirt, which she used as pajamas. A smile formed on his lips at the sight of her like that, the light from the television partially illuminating her face, framing her features, which he loved so much, in a peculiar way.

The moment Valko placed his keys and phone on the table by the door, she sensed his presence, glancing up from the television to find him taking off his shoes.

She said nothing immediately, choosing to allow herself the time to contemplate him in silence, as if he were a work of art in a museum. He was still wearing the dark suit he had worn that morning, and with the ease of someone who repeated this gesture every day, he slipped the jacket off his shoulders, revealing the black shirt underneath. The fabric stretched slightly across his back as he moved his arms, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders, emphasizing how wide they were, how large he was. She watched as Valko carefully hung his jacket on the coat rack in the entryway and then began rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, his forearms exposed as the fabric clung to his biceps, making her heart skip a beat.

It was incredible how, even after all the time they'd been together, he could still leave her completely mesmerized with something as simple as coming home from work. She was utterly captivated by this man.

Then her eyes left him and focused on the three large brown paper bags he was holding in one hand, as if they weighed next to nothing despite being completely full of boxes. But before she could say anything about it, he looked up and his eyes met hers.

The smile Valko gave her almost took her breath away. She could feel the hairs on her skin prickling at the gesture and the way he looked at her. It was that smile reserved only for her, the one that always appeared on his face when she was near. It was warm, sincere, overflowing with so much affection that it could make something soften in her chest.

She felt a warmth spreading from the center of her chest to the rest of her body, melting her from the inside out with the same ease as always. She would have thought it unfair the effect he had on her, that with just a look he could elicit such a reaction from her, if it weren't for the fact that she knew she evoked something similar in Valko.

Entering the apartment, Valko placed the overflowing bags beside the sofa and closed the short distance between them.

"There you are," he said, his voice deep and tired after a long day, but completely softened as he addressed her. "Hi, bunny."

She barely managed to part her lips to try and return his greeting before he leaned toward her, resting one knee on the cushion to get close enough. One of his hands found the edge of the backrest behind her, while the other gently rested on her cheek.

The kiss came calmly, as if there were no rush, as if he hadn't been waiting for this moment since leaving the apartment that morning, which he truly had, because he never stopped thinking about her all day.

Valko's lips met hers with a familiarity that completely disarmed him, barely a touch was enough to elicit a deep, satisfied sigh from his chest.

God, how he had missed her.

The sweet scent he always associated with her enveloped him completely, easing the heaviness he had carried with him all day, it felt like coming home in the most literal sense of the word. Beneath his skin, his wolf let out a contented, silent purr, relaxing as he felt his mate safe, warm, and in his arms once more.

There was absolutely nothing that could compete with that feeling for him.

When the kiss ended, he didn't pull away too far. His thumb continued to slowly caress her cheek, with extreme gentleness, as he rested his forehead against hers.

"Hi love, how was your day?" she asked softly.

Valko let out a small laugh through his nose. "Decent, normal all things considered," he shrugged. "Really long meetings, too many emails, and people I had absolutely no interest in seeing." His fingers slid behind a strand of hair, tucking it with infinite tenderness behind her ear. "But my day just got a whole lot better." The smile he gave her was so warm that it made her feel that familiar flutter in her chest again. "I missed you so fucking much, babe."

"I missed you too, Val."

He stole one more fleeting kiss, unable to resist, before sitting up with a soft, amused groan.

"Now..." he murmured, turning to the bags he'd left by the sofa. "I actually need your professional opinion."

She raised an eyebrow. "My professional opinion?"

Valko picked up the bags and placed them on the coffee table with a suspiciously proud expression. "I brought chocolate."

He began pulling out one elegant black box after another, arranging them on the table into three small piles, his factory logo was visible on them.

"You brought your entire company with you?" she laughed, eyeing the ridiculous stack of elegant black boxes balanced on the table.

"They're samples."

She crossed her arms. "There are at least twelve."

"There are fourteen."

"...Valko."

"What?" He offered her the most innocent expression he could muster. "Quality control requires dedication," he said, then pulled two containers of chopped fruit from the last bag.

"And what's the fruit for?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"For the melted chocolate, babe," he replied as if it were obvious.

She stifled a laugh. "You planned fondue?"

"I planned research."

"So, basically you planned a date."

"...Research."

Her grin widened, "God, you’re so cute."

"I'm not cute," he murmured under his breath, feeling a warmth rise up his neck, face, and ears, causing her to smile even more.

She leaned up just enough to steal a quick kiss from the corner of his mouth. “You are extremely adorable, my love, and I love it.”

Listening to those words, his wolf all but wagged its tail inside him, basking shamelessly in her affection. The restless creature that could spend an entire day prowling beneath his skin melted into a content, almost embarrassingly pleased heap the instant the words I love it reached his ears. His wolf practically preened with quiet pride, soaking in every ounce of her affection as though it were the greatest reward it had ever earned. And a helpless smile tugged at Valko's lips before he could stop it, soft and utterly unguarded. There was no point pretending those words didn't affect him, they always did.

An hour later, the coffee table had disappeared beneath bowls of strawberries, banana slices, apples wedges, grapes and even marshmallows. Several chocolate bars had already been sacrificed in the name of "testing”, and the apartment smelled overwhelmingly of cocoa.

Valko had already removed his tie and undone two of the buttons on his shirt to be more comfortable, keeping his sleeves rolled up, while he melted the samples himself, insisting that temperature mattered. And apparently, its viscosity, appearance and aroma also mattered. According to Valko's standards, absolutely everything mattered when it came to chocolate.

She sat cross-legged on the rug opposite him, happily sampling every new flavor while reading the notes attached to each prototype.

"Prototype number six,” she murmured, dipping a strawberry into the melted chocolate. "Hazelnut praline filling..." she bit it carefully so as not to get dirty. "...Oh.”

Valko looked up from the notebook in his lap. "Well? How does it taste?"

She closed her eyes as a tiny, involuntary sound escaped her throat. "Mmm..."

It wasn't loud, it was barely more than a satisfied hum, but to Valko's enhanced hearing... It landed somewhere dangerously low in his stomach. His pen stopped moving, his eyes were fixed on her lips, on how her jaw moved.

She swallowed smiling to herself. “This one… Is incredible, God I love it,” she commented while another strawberry disappeared beneath the glossy chocolate. Another bite, another pleased little sound. “Mmm…”

His fingers tightened around the pen as he watched her slowly run her tongue over her lower lip, or at least that's how he perceived it, to remove the chocolate that had stuck to it.

She had no idea, no idea what those tiny noises and those gestures were doing to him. His wolf lifted his head immediately, attentive and curious, drawn to her in the same instinctive way it always was. Another one, it wanted another one of those little sounds.

Valko forced his attention back to the notebook resting on his lap, lowering his eyes to the page with determined focus.

Prototype six. Hazelnut praline. Positive response... His pen hovered uselessly over the paper.

"...Mmm."

There it was again. His wolf stirred restlessly beneath his skin, ears pricked, tail giving an eager sweep as though it had just spotted something irresistible. It nudged insistently at his consciousness, urging him closer.

His jaw tightened. Focus, he said to himself, because he was supposed to be taking notes and evaluating flavor profiles. Not memorizing the way the corners of her lips curved every time she discovered a chocolate she loved, not noticing how her eyes fluttered shut with genuine delight and not wondering if she'd make that same contented little hum if he put... something different in her mouth.

His wolf, utterly unconvinced by the argument, pushed again to be closer to her. And without realizing it, Valko shifted across the couch, barely an inch but enough for his knee to brush lightly against the edge of the blanket that was still draped over her legs. That's when he noticed his trousers suddenly felt much tighter than they had a minute ago, so he forced himself to focus on the tasting notes.

"This is definitely my favorite so far,” she said, smiling.

Hazelnut. Balanced sweetness and creamy texture, he wrote, trying hard not to look up at her.

But then another soft hum floated across the room and without being able to stop himself, he raised his gaze, his pupils dilating as he watched her slowly suck a drop of chocolate that had remained on her thumb.

He swallowed hard, the scent of warm cacao mixed with hers until it became almost impossible to separate one from the other. His breathing deepened and without consciously realizing it he leaned closer, just a little and then another inch. His wolf purred in complete ecstasy, it wanted her close, even closer.

"Do you want one?" she asked, holding up one of the strawberries with her hand and showing it to Valko, tilting her head slightly as she looked at him, as if she were unaware of the effect all her behavior was having on him.

His voice came out lower than expected. "...Please, bunny."

She smiled brightly, soaking it in chocolate. "Open up, love."

And he did it, without even hesitating for a second, completely obedient to her. Carefully she guided the strawberry toward his mouth… and deliberately missed, chocolate smeared neatly across the corner of his lips and onto his cheek.

"Oh,” the corners of her mouth twitched. "I may have... slightly missed."

Valko stared at her in silence for a couple of seconds. "Did you?"

"I was aiming for your mouth."

"Were you? You sure?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow playfully.

She nodded, pressing her lips into a thin line to stifle any sound that might escape her lips at the way he was looking at her. "I have terrible depth perception."

"You've never had terrible depth perception."

A laugh escaped her. "No?"

"Not once."

She bit back another grin, making absolutely no effort to look convincing. "What a tragedy."

He narrowed his eyes, though the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth betrayed him. "You did that on purpose."

"Can you prove it, love?" she leaned in before he could answer, her gaze dropping to the smear of chocolate she'd left behind. "Hold still..." Her voice softened into an almost absent-minded murmur. "I'll fix my mistake."

Valko's breath caught. She was suddenly much closer than before, close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from her, close enough for every beat of her heart to ring clearly in his ears. Even his own heart seemed to forget how to keep a steady rhythm.

She had noticed, of course she had. The way he'd been watching her, the way he'd gradually drifted closer without realizing it and the way every absent-minded hum she'd made had stolen a little more of his composure.

As she leaned into his space, her eyes met his and there it was, that knowing look. Warm, playful, all he needed to know that she knew. And heat rushed across Valko's face before the realization of something else fully settled… His ears and his tail, his wolf had betrayed him again.

He could feel the telltale weight of his ears atop his head, the lazy sway of his tail behind him, and suddenly every inch of him felt unbearably warm.

"...I—"

He wasn't even sure what he intended to say. An excuse, perhaps or maybe a pathetic attempt at pretending nothing had happened. But she gave him no chance, because without breaking eye contact, she closed the remaining distance between them.

Her lips brushed his, just barely, a fleeting, featherlight touch that stole the words straight from his mouth. Before he could recover, she tilted her head ever so slightly and instead of kissing him again, she turned just enough for her tongue to trace slowly over the streak of chocolate she'd left on his cheek.

The warmth of it, impossibly gentle and completely unexpected, sent a shiver down his spine. Every muscle in Valko’s body locked, his eyes widened and his breath vanished.

She pulled back only enough to meet his gaze, a tiny smile curved her lips as she thoughtfully hummed. "Mmm,” she tilted her head while letting out another sound of satisfaction that only managed to agitate him more. "You know what? I think..." another tiny pause. "This one is my favorite of them all.”

The response to her words was silence, complete silence.

Valko looked utterly frozen, his pupils swallowed almost all of the golden in his eyes, his ears stood straight up and his tail had completely stopped moving. It was as though his entire mind had simply... stopped working.

She couldn't help but smile when she saw him like that; God, how she loved the way she could almost break him. "...Valko?" Nothing, so she waved a hand in front of his face. "...Did I break you, love?"

A slow blink, then another and finally he exhaled, dragging a hand down his face as though trying to collect whatever remained of his composure.

"...That's not fair."

She tilted her head innocently. "What isn't?"

"You.”

A quiet chuckle escaped her. "What did I do, Val?"

"You've done enough taste-testing, bunny." He reached for another strawberry, rolling it thoughtfully between his fingers before dipping it into the bowl of warm chocolate. "I think it's my turn now."

Her brows lifted in curiosity. "Uh?"

Instead of offering her the strawberry so she could bite into it, Valko held her chin with his other hand to keep her still while he smeared chocolate on her lips, as if it were a brown, shiny, appetizing lipstick that made you want to taste it.

She instinctively parted her lips in surprise and he couldn't help smiling. "There,” he set the strawberry back onto the plate, never taking his eyes off her. "Don't you dare wipe it away."

"And why not?"

"Because," he murmured, his voice warm with quiet amusement, "I should probably verify your conclusion."

His palm settled against her warm cheek while his thumb rested beneath her jaw, tracing the faintest, absent-minded caress over her skin. For a heartbeat, he simply looked at her.

Then he kissed her. Not gently, not cautiously, but hungry. As though every ounce of restraint he'd clung to over the last several minutes had finally given way.

His mouth captured hers in a deep, lingering kiss that tasted unmistakably of that wonderful chocolate, the sweetness lingering between them with every breath they shared. It was warm, rich and dangerously addictive, just like her.

She melted into him almost instantly. A quiet, pleased sigh escaped her as one of her hands slipped into his maroon hair, her fingers threading through the soft strands at the nape of his neck. The simple touch earned a barely audible rumble from deep within his chest, and he instinctively leaned closer, as though every part of him craved the warmth only she could offer.

His lips found hers again, and again. Each kiss stole a little more of the space between them, unhurried but impossible to resist. He lingered just long enough to memorize the sweetness left behind before returning for another, unable to convince himself that one would ever be enough.

She smiled against his lips and he answered with one of his own. The corner of his mouth curved before he caught her lower lip in a nip, only to soothe it immediately with another lingering kiss. A breathless laugh escaped her in response, soft and bright, the sound vibrating against his lips and making his heart stumble somewhere inside his chest.

For a brief second, their foreheads bumped together. Neither of them pulled away, he rested there, eyes half-lidded, his breathing uneven as he searched her face, only to steal one last kiss, slower this time, almost reverent, as though he intended to savor every trace of chocolate that still lingered on her lips.

When they finally separated, it was only by a fraction, because neither seemed willing to create any real distance. She remained close enough that every slightly unsteady breath mingled with his own, the warmth of her exhale brushing across his skin.

Her cheeks glowed with a delicate flush. Her lips, still carrying the faint sheen of chocolate, were just a little swollen from his kisses. She looked wonderfully flustered before his eyes.

“…Well?” she whispered almost breathless.

He smiled, slow, crooked, entirely wolfish. "For now..." His thumb gently brushed away the last trace of chocolate near the corner of her mouth. "...I think this one is my favorite."

She laughed softly despite herself. "For now?"

"Mhm… There are still several prototypes left,” he answered in a hoarse voice.

"Oh?"

He glanced toward the neglected boxes still covering the table and then back to her. "I'll need help evaluating them."

She smiled knowingly. "I had a feeling this stopped being about the chocolate a while ago."

"It absolutely did."

"And your official conclusion, Mr. Chairman?"

He leaned close enough for the tip of his nose to brush hers. "My official conclusion..." his tail began wagging again, entirely beyond his control. "...is that the tasting should continue somewhere considerably less distracting."

Her gaze flickered briefly toward the unmistakable movement of his tail before returning to his eyes, a playful smile spread across her lips. "I'd be happy to assist with the remainder of your... testing.”

"I was hoping you'd say that."

She barely had time to smile before his mouth found hers again. The kiss stole whatever witty reply she'd been preparing. It was deeper than before, needier, because every ounce of restraint Valko had fought to maintain throughout the evening seemed to unravel all at once. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt as he kissed her with unmistakable urgency, each slow, lingering kiss quickly giving way to another as though he couldn't bear the brief separation.

His tail swept excitedly behind him and his ears twitched beneath her fingertips. On instinct, she reached up and gently ran her fingers through the maroon hair at the base of one ear. The reaction was immediate, a low, breathy groan that vibrated against her lips. His eyes snapped open for the briefest instant, pupils impossibly wide.

"Careful, bunny, " he murmured hoarsely.

Ignoring his warning, her fingertips stroked the soft fur once more. Another restrained sound left his throat, this one quieter, almost swallowed by the next kiss he claimed from her. His composure shattered completely.

"You're trouble," he breathed against her lips.

"But you like trouble."

"I love trouble, above all in the shape of you.”

Before she could tease him again, one arm slipped effortlessly beneath her thighs while the other steadied her back. She let out a surprised laugh as the floor disappeared beneath her.

"Valko!" she said, clinging to him, even though she knew he would never let her fall.

"As I recall," he said, unable to hide the grin spreading across his face, "you offered to assist with my testing, and the sooner we start, the better."

"So impatient."

"For you? Always.”

He adjusted her easily against him as though she weighed nothing at all. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, her heartbeat racing when he kissed her again without ever slowing his pace, desperately demanding her lips, hungrily, as if he hadn't stolen her breath with a dozen kisses minutes before.

The walk toward the bedroom was anything but graceful. His shoulder clipped the hallway wall, a framed photograph hung crooked after his tail accidentally knocked against it, stealing a laugh from her before silencing her with another kiss that completely clouded her mind.

"I'll fix it tomorrow."

"The lamp—"

A quiet thud echoed behind them.

"...Definitely tomorrow."

He nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, moonlight spilled across the room, bathing everything in silver. Without breaking eye contact, he carried her inside and the door swung shut behind them with a soft click.

He crossed the room in a few unhurried steps before carefully lowering her onto the edge of the mattress. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. He simply stood between her knees, one hand resting lightly against her waist, the other brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face.

His ears remained proudly on display, his tail swayed behind him in slow, content arcs. She reached up once more, gently scratching behind one ear and his eyes fluttered closed. Another quiet rumble escaped his chest.

When he looked at her again, there was warmth in his gaze, but also that unmistakable, possessive spark only she ever managed to awaken.

"You know..." He leaned down until their foreheads touched. "...I spent all evening trying to decide which chocolate deserved to be my favorite."

She smiled knowingly. "And?"

His hand settled possessively against the small of her back. “Every sample we tried tonight,” a smile slowly curved his lips. “Only reminded me that my favorite sweet has been sitting right in front of me.”

"Is that so?"

"Mhm,” his thumb gently brushed her lower lip.

"And unlike the chocolates..." he smiled again. "I don't think I'll ever grow tired of tasting this one."

She felt heat rush to her cheeks. "You really do have a sweet tooth."

"For one thing in particular," he stole one last lingering kiss, smiling against her lips before his mouth began a slow, deliberate path downward, along her jaw, the soft line of her throat, the gentle slope of her collarbone and more. Each press of his lips was unhurried, almost reverent, until he reached the warm skin just above the waistband of her pajama shorts. There he paused, breathing her in, his voice a low murmur against the fabric. "And tonight..." his tail gave another eager sweep behind him. "...I'm going to spoil myself."