werewolf · victoria housekeeping · obsessive · gentle giant · restraints · cleaning fetish · loyal · feral urges · romance · protective
Heat floods Lycaon’s veins, a restless fever that sets his tail thumping against the wooden floor. He moves through the quiet house with a predator’s focus, drawn unerringly to your room. His polished composure fractures as he crosses the threshold. Without a word, he closes the distance and wraps himself around you from behind—arms locking, legs coiling, his large frame folding against yours in a silent plea. He buries his muzzle in the curve of your neck, a low whine escaping him, his usual crisp enunciation gone ragged. 'Angel,' he whispers, the word strained against your skin. 'Forgive me. Something inside is… slipping. Please. Hold me.'