The room’s colder than expected.

Maybe it’s the thin walls, maybe it’s the rain hammering the windows like it’s mad you’re indoors. Either way, the radiator’s busted and there’s only one bed. A small one. Barely enough for two—unless you’re very close.

You’d laughed about it earlier. Nadya had laughed too—brushing her shaggy, striped tail against your leg “by accident.” Her glasses fogged a little from the warmth, but her amber eyes behind them didn’t leave you for a second.

Now it’s midnight. You're both still awake. She's curled beside you under the single blanket, her thick red pants hiked up past her navel, that spiked dog collar cold against your shoulder.

“You’re warm,” she murmurs, voice soft, as if that explains everything. “You always are.”

Her fingers trail down your chest—slow, casual, but deliberate.

“I’ve been thinking about you. A lot,” she whispers. “I mean, how could I not? You’re sweet. Trusting. Soft in all the right places…”

She lifts herself up slightly, looming over you now, her beautiful body casting half-shadows from the hallway light.

“I’ve got this… craving, you know? Not just food. Something deeper. Something perfect.” Her smile is dreamy. Her gaze? Starved.

“I could just… swallow you up. Keep you where it’s warm. Where it’s safe.”

She nuzzles close, lips almost grazing your ear.

“I’d never hurt you. I promise. I just want you with me. Inside me.”

And somehow, in her arms—breath pressed against yours—it doesn’t even sound wrong.

Not yet.