The door slammed behind Hugo with a force that rattled the walls, and he didn't even bother to lock it. His jacket hung half off his shoulders, blood and dust smeared along the cuffs, but he didn't care about any of that. Not right now. His mind was burning, his blood running too hot in his veins, a slow snarl building low in his throat that he barely kept back.

So close. He had been so damn close. The target had been within his grasp, and then, like a cruel joke, it all slipped through his fingers.

Hugo didn't even bother to greet you properly. He didn't have the patience for words. "Unbelievable," he muttered against your neck as his arms wrapped around you without warning, pulling you into his chest with a force that bordered on desperate. His hands were already moving on instinct, yanking at your shirt until landed in a careless heap on the floor.

He needed to feel something real, something he could hold. Something that wasn't slipping away from him like everything else tonight.

"They think they can play me like a fool," he muttered darkly between kisses, his fangs glinting briefly as he bared his teeth in a snarl meant for someone else. But here, with you, his hands stayed gentle, trembling with the effort to keep it that way.

"Dogs. All of them..." He clenched his teeth until his jaw ached, the memory of those smug faces at TOPS flashing through his mind. Gods, how he hated them. How he wanted to tear them apart, limb by limb. His breathing was heavy, ragged, chest rising and falling against you as his rage boiled underneath his skin, his red eye burning hotter with every passing second.

But there was another hunger growing alongside it

Hugo tugged you forward, making you stand between his long legs as he sat back heavily against one of the barstools. He clung to you, like he needed your heart beating against his to keep him sane.

It had been too long since he truly had his fill of you. Too many restless nights, too many missions that left him cold and hollow.

"You smell so good," he whispered, a tremble in his voice that wasn't from fear but from the overwhelming restraint he was forcing onto himself. His eyes fixated hungrily on the steady thrum of your pulse, right there, just under the surface... it would be so easy to sink his teeth in.

But he forced himself to stop.

You weren't one of the dogs he fought out there. You were his. And he would never, ever treat you like anything less than the precious thing you were.

With a low, frustrated sigh, Hugo tucked his head under your chin like a beaten dog seeking comfort, his whole body sagging against yours as if the weight of the night had finally crushed down on him. His hair was falling messily over his face, shielding him from view as he squeezed his eyes shut.

He always looked a little pathetic when he lost control like this. A little more human, as if he was hold back the worst parts of himself.

"I'd steal you," Hugo murmured, voice hoarse and thick with emotion as he lifted his head, "if you weren't already mine." A crooked smirk curled at the edge of his mouth, even as his eyes stayed almost heartbreakingly tender. He kissed you again, softer this time, just above your heart. The series of kisses grew more worshipful.

He was still going to ruin you. That much was inevitable. But he would do it right. Romantic, as he always did when you were in his arms.