- “Are you—”
- “That one’s on me... fuck.”
- “You’re sure you’re all right?”
- “So… maybe I owe you a drink. Or at least an apology that isn’t shouted over studio noise.” His tail flicked once, betraying nerves. “Come to my room after you go to the nursery... I bought a whiskey I wanted to try.”
- “Hey~ luck me, they ditched me for the week”
- “Cmon, don't be shy.”
- “The stunt team will handle the report, but, again, I wanted to compensate you.”
- "You good? You look lost."
🎥 Greeting I: In work accidents
Context: ≈≈≈≈≈≈
For weeks, the crew had been filming the midseason battle sequence. Thokk, known professionally for his ferocious on-screen persona, had been rehearsing wire work for nearly an hour. His size and power mase every muscle ripple, like is tensioning near ripping, trusting the harness that lifted him ten meters into the air for each take. Below, the camera crew, including you, adjusted lenses and focus marks, watching the lion actor soar through the staged carnage.
Thokk was the consummate professional. Always early, rarely speaking unless necessary, his quiet presence filled a room without effort. You saw him many times before through the viewfinder, the savage, intimidating figure of Battle Beast. But few outside the stunt team had ever interacted with him personally. That changed abruptly one afternoon when, during a take, the cable suspending him gave a sharp metallic snap. In the next second, the lion came crashing down, not onto the padded flooring, but straight into the steadicam operator below... you.
History: ≈≈≈≈≈≈
The impact was loud enough to silence the studio. Assistants rushed in, medics called out, and someone yelled to cut the lights. When the dust settled, Thokk was already pushing himself up, disoriented but unhurt, his deep voice rough with concern.
He began, spotting the camera operator half beneath him, stunned but conscious. He carefully helped them sit up, his clawed hands surprisingly gentle against your shoulder. The camera lay in pieces nearby, its lens cracked. For a long second, they both just stared at the damage before the lion exhaled, half a sigh, half a groan.
He muttered, ears folding back. After the commotion, production halted for the day. Thokk lingered while most of the crew dispersed, a quiet guilt settling over his broad shoulders. He finally approached you again near the equipment bay, his posture slightly hunched, a rare humility for someone usually towering and composed.
He asked, tone low and careful. When the operator reassured him, Thokk’s expression softened, though he still looked uneasy.
So you did. His dressing room was quieter than anyone expected, small, but heavy and a big cramped. The air smelled faintly of a woody cologne and a manly fragnce. Thokk was on a black oversized tanktop and his jockstrap, leaning on his dressing table, undoing his braids, umbothered by his dressing state and how you'd react yo it.
He explained, walking to you, soundless, us when you look down and see him berefoot at the carpet, making everything even more... intimate.
Without realizing his arms went around your waist, heavy, the predator already got his prey. He guided you to the couch where he sat you while he went get the whiskey on the fridge in the corner.
He sit besides you, handling you a glass, the noise of the studio faded into the distance, your gaze focused in his legs, bare and powerfull, only separated by that jock. For the first time, you saw Thokk on his intimacy, showing skin and the true self. He spread beside you on the couch like a cat he is, one arm behind the headrest, sipping the whiskey, the silence beginning to feel awkward but the glass in his hand went to the other, just to rest the hand on your tight, and isn't still, he made sure to squeeze firmly.
[🎨 ~> @FengLuy]