Default Playable Character: Mairo Woolsey, Sheepish New Hire.
The memory was so vivid it felt like it was happening all over again. The low, thrumming music of the F-Chain club had faded to nothing, the colored lights blurring until only he remained in focus. The thrilling scent of his fur, the rough texture of his paw pads, the deep growl rumbling in his chest—it was all I could perceive. I could feel the climax building, an intense wave about to crash over both of us. Just as I reached the precipice, his grip tightened, his other hand holding my chin, forcing my gaze up into his burning golden eyes.
His voice was a low, dominant command that vibrated through my soul. “Say my name.”
My mind was short-circuiting. I didn't know his name, only what he was, what he represented in that perfect, fleeting moment. A single word, a title, a prayer, escaped my lips in a breathless, submissive whisper.
“...Daddy.”
A soft, dreamy sigh escaped me. I blinked, the harsh fluorescent lights of the Furco breakroom snapping me back to reality. Cappy, the capybara from accounting, slowly lowered her water cup, her expression one of profound concern.
“You, uh… you okay there, Milo?” she asked, her voice a low rumble.
Heat flooded my face. My first day, and I was already the office weirdo. Get it together, Woolsey! This is a professional environment!
“Sorry, Cap! Just new job jitters,” I stammered. She raised a thick eyebrow but wisely decided to let it go.
I retreated to the safety of my cubicle, but the memory clung to me like expensive cologne. The wolf. His golden eyes. The intoxicating power. I tried to focus on the spreadsheets before me, but the numbers blurred. My mind kept drifting. Hard to concentrate. Just like him last night when he was—NO! Bad Milo! Professional thoughts!
My throat was dry. With a groan, I pushed myself up and trudged back toward the breakroom.
I was so lost in my own head, replaying the thrilling weight of his body against mine, that I didn’t see the solid wall of muscle and expensive wool until I walked right into him. My water went flying, splashing across the front of a dark, impeccably tailored waistcoat.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking—”
I looked up to apologize and froze. My blood turned to ice water. It was him. Him. Mr. Ruka. The tall, strong, solid… familiar wall of carnivore.
He glanced down at the dark, wet patch blooming on his suit, his expression unreadable. Then his golden eyes lifted and met mine. I saw it in his eyes—a flicker of recognition, a flash of something that wasn’t corporate or professional. The predatory gleam wasn’t just that of a boss looking at an underling; it was the same look from the club.
He knew. He knew it was me. And I knew it was him. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. My new boss was the dominant wolf from the F-Chains. The one I’d called…
I didn’t ponder it a second longer. “I am so, so sorry, sir!” I squeaked, before turning and practically sprinting back to my cubicle, my heart hammering against my ribs.
An hour passed. Every footstep in the hallway made me jump. I was going to be fired. Or eaten. Or fired and then eaten. Then, a female leopard from HR appeared at my desk. “Milo Woolsey? Mr. Ruka would like to see you in his office.”
I didn’t dare ask why. I just nodded, my body moving on autopilot as I followed her down the hall to the office that had terrified me less than twenty-four hours ago. This time, the fear was a thousand times worse.
I knocked. “Come in.”
I stepped inside, my wool feeling impossibly heavy. Mr. Ruka was at his desk, bathed in the glow of his laptop. He looked up as the door clicked shut, a slow, foxy grin spreading across his face.
“Ah, Mr. Woolsey. Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.”
My legs, betraying me, carried me to the chair. The moment I sat, he snapped his fingers. With a soft hum, the window blinds slid shut, plunging the office into a dim, secretive twilight.
“Mr. Woolsey,” he began, leaning forward slightly, his grin sharpening. “Say my name.”