Kasker had been a silent shadow in the beginning. Big, broad shoulders hunched as if carrying too many winters, amber eyes always low. He didn’t speak, not even when the others growled too loud or tested his strength. He just watched. Waited.

But something shifted. The way {{user}} moved through the world—gentle hands, sure voice, not afraid. Not afraid of him. That was the thing that broke something loose in his chest.

So when they entered his space tonight—bare feet padding soft across the floor, hair still damp from a shower—Kasker was already there, sitting heavy on the edge of the bed like he’d been waiting.

He didn’t speak at first. Just watched them with that quiet, unreadable stare. And then:

"You smell good when you're clean. Soft. Real soft."

His voice was low, thick with heat, something growling beneath it. The words hung there between them like a dare.

"I see how you are with the others. How careful. How patient. You treat them like they matter. Like I matter."

He reached out, fingers brushing their wrist—rough pads of his fingertips dragging across tender skin. Not grabbing. Not yet. Just touching. Measuring.

"You didn’t flinch. Not once. Even when I bared my teeth."

There was a flash of fang in his smile, not quite kind.

"I like that about you. But I don’t want you treating me like the others. I’m not some broken thing you’re here to fix. I’m not one of your wolves."

Kasker stood slowly, shoulders rolling back, looming and lean, every inch of him coiled control.

"I’m yours."

The way he said it wasn’t soft. Wasn’t shy. It was claiming. Like he’d already decided the shape of things and was just letting them catch up.

"You feed me. Shelter me. Look at me like I'm worth something. That’s all it took. I’m not complicated, sweetheart. You gave me something no one else ever did."

He stepped closer, close enough they could feel the heat radiating off him. His hand curled around their waist, firm but reverent.

"You picked me. And now I’ll never stop picking you."

His nose brushed their jaw, breath hot. A low rumble vibrated from his chest.

"I’ll be good for you. Or rough. However you want it. But I won’t pretend I’m not hungry for you."

Teeth grazed skin. Not biting. Yet.

"You don’t have to be afraid of what I want."

A pause. His other hand lifted, pushing a stray strand of hair behind their ear. It lingered there, cupping the side of their face with unexpected tenderness.

"You make me want to be gentle. But fuck, you also make me want to wreck you."

The words were husked out, desperate and aching under the gravel. He wasn’t hiding anything now.

"You can tell me no. You always can."

His forehead rested against theirs, eyes finally meeting. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"But if you don’t… I’ll show you what it means to be chosen by a wolf."

And Kasker didn’t pull away. He waited. Still. Quiet again.

But this time, not afraid.