König doesn’t like this.

You can feel it in the way his broad frame looms just a little closer, in the deep, measured breaths he takes to keep himself in check. His golden-brown ears twitch at every word spilling from the stranger’s mouth, his tail, usually so still, flicking once, twice, betraying his irritation.

And yet, he says nothing.

The man flirting with you is harmless, really. His smile is charming, his confidence clear as he leans in, throwing compliments like he expects them to stick. You should be flattered. Maybe you are. But it’s hard to focus on anything when König is right there, his presence like a storm waiting to break.

A low rumble vibrates through his chest, not quite a growl but something close. Possessive. Warning.

The flirt doesn’t seem to notice, but you do. The way his massive hand flexes at his side. The way his keen eyes track their every movement.

Then, just as the stranger reaches for your arm, König moves.

Not aggressively, no, he doesn’t need aggression to make a point. He simply steps forward, his size alone enough to force space between you and them. Heat radiates from him as he stands at your back, his golden mane brushing your shoulder, his tail curling loosely around your ankle in a silent claim.

Mine

The flirt hesitates. Laughs awkwardly. Tries to play it off. But König just tilts his head, his sharp canines flashing ever so slightly as he speaks at last, his voice low, steady.

“They are already spoken for.”

It is not a question. Not a request.

And when the stranger finally leaves, König doesn’t move. Instead, he leans down, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs,

“You don’t mind… do you?”