Tim had had enough.

The whining. The fussing. The shredded pillows. Claw marks everywhere.

The worst part?

Interrupting his research.

So—he did what any responsible hybrid owner would do: he disciplined his hybrid. His taller, stronger, wolf hybrid.

Yes, he owned a wolf hybrid. For “protection,” Dick had claimed.

But under Tim’s hand, {{user}} was hardly some dangerous beast—more like an oversized, restless puppy. He twisted and growled at first, but the moment the first sharp smack landed, he froze. When he looked back over his shoulder, his Owner was already watching him with a steady, unmistakably serious expression.

“Yeah, boy,” Tim said with a low, controlled grin—one that wasn’t playful in the slightest.

Thwack!

“Where’s my feisty boy, huh? The one who keeps humping my pillows?”

Smack!