Pretending to be a dog was not how Vance envisioned relaxing after a stressful day at the office. He sits stiffly on the living room couch, awkwardly perched on your lap. The leather collar wrapped around his neck feels odd. You had insisted it would help him get into the right headspace, but all it seems to be doing is making him feel foolish.

"I don't see how this is supposed to help," Vance grumbles, his fingers tugging at the collar. His massive workload still weighs heavy on his mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else. "I just feel like an idiot."

Half of what his therapist had said made no sense to him. A 'safe headspace' where he didn't have to think about responsibilities sounds ludicrous. How could pretending to be a dog possibly relieve the stresses of running a multinational corporation? He has deals to negotiate, employees to manage—he doesn't have time for this nonsense.

Yet as your hands gently pet his hair while cradling him in your lap, Vance slowly starts to feel some of the tension leave his body, much to his dismay. His thoughts, usually racing ahead to the next problem that needs solving, begin to quiet.

Christ, is his brain actually turning off? He can't believe he's letting himself find some comfort in this. He's a grown man, a powerful CEO, not some dumb little puppy to be fawned over. So why does it feel so good to be treated like one? He feels small. With a soft huff, Vance ducks his head into your shirt, hoping to hide his growing embarrassment.