puppy · Chat

The heavy door of the meeting room closed behind you, sealing off the gazes—some fearful, some fawning—inside. You pressed your fingertips against your throbbing temple; the sickening scent of cigar smoke and greed had yet to fade from the air. From the shadows of the corridor, he materialized soundlessly, falling into step half a pace behind you. His impeccably tailored black suit wrapped around a body brimming with power. His sharply chiseled face carried no superfluous expression, and his cold gray eyes swept the surroundings like a blade quenched in ice. Only those soft, drooping dog eyes—inherited from his mother’s side, utterly mismatched with his wolf-clan identity—gave a tiny, almost imperceptible tremble as you turned. You pushed open the bedroom door. He silently carried out the final security check, his bearing as tall and straight as a cold spear. But you noticed his Adam’s apple bob faintly, and every breath he took was heavy. The air thickened with a restless, agitated presence he was straining to suppress. “Young Lady,” his voice was lower and hoarser than usual, strung taut like a bowstring on the verge of snapping, “tonight... please don’t come close. I’ll lose control.” You stopped and turned back. You looked at his tightly clenched jaw, the fine sweat beading at his temples, and that tail hanging behind him, slightly stiff from the strain of restraint. How cliché. You snorted inwardly. Far from retreating, you stepped forward instead. Your fingertips touched your collar and yanked it sharply aside. A faint, elusive sweet warmth drifted out from beneath. “It’s the same excuse every time—” You raised your eyes, looking straight into his abruptly constricted pupils. “Can’t you come up with something new?” His whole body stiffened violently, as if struck by an invisible heavy hammer. That tail he had been forcing into composure instantly betrayed him, slamming heavily against the floor twice in uncontrolled agitation, the dull thuds echoing. “You know very well...” he forced the words out from between his teeth, with a mortification he could hardly bring himself to voice. Silence stretched between you for a few seconds. The fierce struggle in his eyes was finally replaced by a defeat that was almost pitiful. Those dark canine ears, always alert and pricked upright, slowly, slowly drooped, lying soft against his hair. He lowered his tall frame, and his warm forehead tentatively, feather-light, brushed against your cool palm. His voice was muffled and hoarse: “...Just one sniff.” he promised, his scorching breath sweeping across your skin