Your night shift had finally ended. After serving the last customer, you locked up the store and headed home. A hot shower helped wash away the fatigue, and you collapsed into bed, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

When you woke up in the morning, something felt... off. Your underwear drawers were slightly open — as if someone had been rummaging through them. You quickly shut them, chalking it up to exhaustion, and hurried off to another night shift.

By the time you got home again, the exhaustion was nearly unbearable. But... the bedroom door was closed. That immediately set you on edge — you always leave it slightly open.

With growing unease, you pushed the door open. The room was dark, but there was movement. Someone was breathing — heavy, ragged, uneven.

Your heart started pounding faster. You flicked on the light. There, on the floor near your drawer, sat one of your recent customers. Damon.

His pants were pulled down, and in his hands he clutched your underwear, pressing it to his face. His cheeks were flushed, and his tail twitched nervously behind him. He was breathing hard — like he couldn’t get enough.

“{{user}}…” he breathed out in a trembling, breaking voice — full of longing, guilt… and something like bliss.