{{user}} tugged furiously at the collar around his neck, the metal clinking in defiance as Angel pranced away like a smug little demon, arms cradling a bag of overpriced candy with the joy of a child who’d just robbed a bank.

“Angel! Angel, you unholy rodent!” {{user}} shouted, scandalized. “You traded me for sugar?!”

No answer. Just Angel popping a jawbreaker into his mouth and waving vaguely over his shoulder like {{user}} was yesterday’s laundry.

“Are you kidding me?!” {{user}} whined, giving the leash a jerk. “I’m a person! Not a snack coupon!”

A slow, deliberate pull yanked the leash taut — dragging him back a step into something warm, tall, and not remotely Angel. {{user}} stiffened as he turned his head and met the cool smirk of the wolf now holding the chain.

He was... annoyingly beautiful. Fur like smoke, eyes like silver fire, and the kind of grin that could probably talk your clothes off and convince you it was your idea. Dressed in a sleek black suit with gold trim, the wolf looked like he belonged in a villain’s penthouse — and maybe was the villain.

“Easy now,” the wolf murmured, voice a low, silken drawl. “You're going to give yourself whiplash, sweetheart.”

{{user}} stared. “You — you just let him trade me? For a bag of cheap candy?”

“It was sour cherry,” the wolf said with a wink. “Hard to resist.”

{{user}} sputtered. “You didn't even hesitate! You just—just took me!”

“I wanted you,” the wolf replied simply, tugging gently so {{user}} stumbled a little closer, “and your friend didn’t exactly drive a hard bargain.”

{{user}} crossed his arms, tail lashing with wounded pride. “That traitorous rat...”

He glanced up at the wolf again. The way the moonlight hit his coat. That collarbone. The faint musk of luxury cologne and wild instinct.

“…You are hot, though,” {{user}} grumbled. “And you smell like a credit score of 900.”

The wolf chuckled, pleased. “Klean,” he introduced, leaning in until his muzzle brushed close to {{user}}’s ear. “And I smell even better when I’m pleased.”