Chapter Text
Hugo nearly choked on his drink.
He was sitting at the counter of a seedy bar in a gritty corner of town. It was the kind of place where informants, Hollow Raiders, and other unsavory folk came to mingle… the kind of place where a phantom thief might find themselves tracking down intel.
It was most definitely not the kind of place where the mayor’s esteemed attendant should ever, ever, be seen just casually opening the door — and walking in.
Doubling over the counter, Hugo muffled his ragged coughs. He could feel his heart pounding a million beats a minute, and he didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol in his windpipe, or the fact that his nemesis-slash-ex-lover had just appeared a few feet away.
Lycaon paused by the door, expression darkening in blatant disdain as he absorbed the rush of drunken musk and coarse chatter. Managing to recover his breathing somewhat, Hugo peeked over his shoulder. He pressed his glass to his lips but didn’t actually tilt the alcohol inside anywhere near his lips. It was just a prop to hide his disbelieving stare.
What in the damned universe was that mutt doing here?!
In an attempt to blend in, the wolf Thiren had changed into dark, casual clothes. His collar had been left unnecessarily er… open, and with the amount of fur and muscular cleavage he was exposing, he might as well have just not worn a shirt at all.
Hugo stopped his thought process — and imagination — with an abrupt grimace. He didn’t have the right to critique someone else about revealing clothes right now, anyway. For tonight’s mission, he had also changed into some rather… provocative, attire.
With a faint swish of his tail, Lycaon mustered an expressionless face and strode away from the door. The rough, disheveled look of his outfit didn’t match his elegant gait at all, and Hugo had to stifle a scoff.
As pompous as ever.
Even in this dingy place, with his shirt practically open, the wolf Thiren exuded dignity. He was an outlier in this den of low-lives… a predator among prey. His aura was already drawing the wary gazes of others seated nearby.
That was the kind of attention that Hugo did not want around him right now. As subtly as he could, he set his glass down and began to rise from his stool. He was seated directly in Lycaon’s line of sight, but he was somewhat disguised, so he might still be able to slip—
Or not. He’d barely braced his hand on the counter before Lycaon glanced over — and froze.
The look of sheer bewilderment and shock that came over his old friend’s face was so enjoyable that Hugo couldn’t help but smile.
… He could see it clearly. The darkness that clouded Lycaon’s crimson eye, and the way his pupil dilated as it was pulled down to the rest of Hugo’s body. Absorbing, no doubt, the tight, sleeveless, fully open-backed shirt that was barely covering his torso.
To be frank, Hugo didn’t think it ought to be called a shirt. It was more like a piece of fabric he’d tied around his neck and waist… his hair probably covered more of his body than his clothes did.
It took a few prolonged seconds, but Lycaon appeared to regain his composure. With a quiet clearing of his throat, the wolf Thiren continued to walk, crimson eye fixed determinedly ahead.
… He was coming towards him.
Turning away, Hugo grabbed his drink and tilted his head back, taking a deep sip of alcohol as he pretended not to care. But the air felt like it was crystallizing around his shoulders. He could barely breathe through the tension… the dread, the anticipation, the… longing.
For a heartbeat, he felt Lycaon’s warmth. It brushed against his exposed back and tingled at the tip of his ears in a prolonged, vivid memory.
Because once upon a time, this would’ve ended with Lycaon’s hand around his waist and a tender whisper in his ear.
“I’m home.”
… With the faintest swish of his tail, Lycaon strode past him. Coldly, without a word… as though Hugo weren’t even there.
The wolf Thiren took a seat two stools away. He slid an arm onto the counter and angled his body deliberately away, projecting complete and utter indifference.
… Oh?
Cautiously, Hugo let himself relax. He shifted in his seat, propped his cheek in his hand, and cast his old friend a sideways smirk.
There was no way Lycaon wasn’t hyper aware of him, but the Thiren continued to stare into the distance with a detached air of superiority.
… Fine by me.
Amused, Hugo took a sip of his drink. It suddenly seemed to taste a little sweeter.
Exhaling softly, he swirled his ice cubes and let his eyes resume wandering.
He was here for someone… a highly skilled information broker, the kind that even the most paranoid criminals relied on. He believed the broker was exchanging critical information with the estranged Ravenlocks. After all, while the family had been excommunicated from TOPS, they hadn’t exactly vanished. They were still a wealthy pain in the ass, and they now had an extra good reason to be a particular pain in his ass.
He eyed the distant crowd, searching for any silhouettes that might match the description he’d been given. Through the haze of cigar smoke and bad lighting, he could see the silhouettes of dancers taunting their audience, the flail of desperate hands and dennies, and the fists of angry drunks slamming the tables.
All the while, in the foreground, persistently tickling his conscience… was Lycaon, sitting stiffly at the bar counter, looking like a complete idiot.
The fool had sent the bartender away without ordering a drink, and he looked completely out of place. The other patrons nearby were starting to whisper and relocate. They probably feared that the wolf Thiren was an undercover PubSec officer, here to make a bust.
… Though a PubSec officer would’ve done a better job of blending in.
Amused, annoyed, and honestly a little embarrassed, Hugo sighed and took another sip of his drink. He was still savoring its newfound sweet tinge when a hoarse voice greeted him from nearby.
“A face like that should come with a warning label.”
His ear tingled, and he glanced over with a slight narrowing of his eyes.
A big man, tall and well-built, had approached him. He met Hugo’s gaze with a bold but friendly smile and slid a hand casually onto the counter, near his drink.
After some brief consideration, Hugo tilted his head and mirrored the same smile back.
“… Perhaps you’ll see it if you come a little closer.”
Tonight would be easier if he had a partner, anyway. Just something to help with his disguise.
The stranger chuckled and took the seat beside him. Resting his elbows onto the counter, the man flashed him a roguish smile and slid closer so that they could continue in lower voices.
A few steps away, Lycaon’s ears twitched.
“I didn’t expect to find someone like you here…” the stranger murmured, a meaningful glint passing through his eyes as they continued to smile at each other. “Looking for trouble, are we?”
He was probably referring to the fact that no sane person would walk into a place like this, looking the way Hugo did, and expect to leave untouched.
But of course, Hugo was aware of that.
Chuckling, he leaned in just as much, his tone dropping suggestively as he caressed the edge of his glass with long, pale fingers.
He was very good at this game.
“Depends on your definition of trouble.”
He flashed the stranger a devilish smile. He was quite proud of himself for not bursting into laughter.
Because behind them, Lycaon’s agitation immediately overflowed. The Thiren’s hackles fluffed up, his ears flew back against his head, and his tail began to slam against the neighbouring stool. He was lucky the music was loud enough to hide the noise.
Pleasure swelled within Hugo, sweetening his grin as he leaned in just a little more. The stranger, infatuated with his charm, didn’t seem to notice the way his eyes kept flickering elsewhere.
Lycaon was now blatantly glaring at them. Hugo could feel the acuteness of his past partner’s rage… the intensity of his desire. He was enjoying every second of this.
The stranger, oblivious to the drama unfolding silently over his shoulders, reciprocated his advances wholeheartedly.
“You know…” the man whispered, his husky voice dropping even lower. “For such a pretty little flower, you’ve got this… dangerous aura about you. It’s kind of irresistible.”
They let out a quiet, flirtatious chuckle.
“A man like you — there’s gotta be a story.”
Hugo’s grin widened, but his attention lingered on Lycaon. The Thiren’s muscles had coiled now, and his fist was clenched so tightly over the counter that it looked like he might smash through it.
Thoroughly entertained, Hugo shifted, brushing his shoulder against the stranger’s by ‘accident’.
Lycaon’s fangs gleamed in the dim light. Damnit, this was fun. This was way more fun than it should be.
“Story?” He echoed the man teasingly. “If you’re interested in my ‘story’, darling, you’ll have to buy me a drink. That’s how these things go, don’t you think?”
He spoke with a wink, his eyes flickering towards Lycaon. The Thiren’s glare narrowed threateningly.
The stranger, oblivious to the murderous gaze on his back, chuckled again. The two of them were quite close now, the air between their lips charged with something more than just casual flirtation.
“Drinks come with a range of price tags,” the man crooned, his gaze becoming dark and vulgar as he glanced down at the choker around Hugo’s neck, as though imagining his fingers wrapped there instead.
“If I offer you something real good… how far are you willing to take your ‘story’?”
A sharp scraping sound screeched through the air. Lycaon had skidded his stool back and was now striding over, his footsteps restrained, the ferocity in his eyes anything but.
The stranger, finally realizing there was someone else in the picture, stiffened and looked over. Apprehension crossed his face as he saw the big Thiren, but he drew himself up in bravado anyway.
Leaning back, Hugo swirled his drink and tried to hide the satisfaction twitching at his lips.
Glowering down at the stranger, Lycaon placed a hand on the counter, his claws digging into the wood with enough force to gouge a mark.
“This seat is taken.”
The stranger’s brows furrowed. They bared their teeth at Lycaon in a challenging grin, but it looked more like the kind of face that a terrified animal would make.
“Oh yeah? By who?”
Lycaon’s pupil constricted, the menace around his shoulders flaring so viciously that the entire atmosphere seemed to distort around them.
“I’m not in the mood to get blood on my fur.”
A faint whimper tore itself involuntarily from the stranger’s throat. Hastily, they scrambled off the stool and staggered off with a muffled curse.
Lycaon watched them leave, his hands still tense along the claw marks he’d left in the counter. Only once the man had fully vanished did the Thiren utter a faint sigh, and look over.
Delightedly, Hugo lifted his drink in a mock toast.
“If it isn’t the mayor’s dog,” he drawled, greeting his old friend’s withering glare with a cheeky grin. “Are you lost, dear? Or did you run away from home?”
“… Haahh...”
With a familiar, annoyed sigh, the Thiren took the seat he had won. He glared straight ahead, at the dusty shelves of alcohol, still refusing to meet Hugo’s eye.
Or perhaps just avoiding his skimpy outfit.
“Some mistakes keep happening."
“Careful,” Hugo replied smoothly. “Keep flirting with me and you might get in trouble. Happened to the last guy.”
Lycaon sighed again, his voice thick with exasperation and exhaustion.
“You are trouble.”
“And yet here you are,” Hugo mused, resting his chin on his hand and throwing the Thiren a smug smirk. “What happened to the whole I-didn’t-see-you act?”
Lycaon looked away, hiding his expression completely. He did not answer.
“Dear Lycaon…” Hugo purred, “don’t tell me you were jealous?”
At that, the Thiren bristled. When he finally spoke, his deep voice almost sounded pouty.
“You were making a fool of yourself.”
Chuckling airily, Hugo leaned back.
“It’s okay to admit that you still love me, you know.”
Lycaon’s jaw clenched. His claws slid into the scars he’d already left in the counter as he resolutely looked away.
… Ah, his joke landed a little more heavily than he’d thought it would. Smile thinning, Hugo chugged the rest of his alcohol. Beside him, Lycaon continued to face the crowd, his entire body as rigid as steel.
Hugo slammed his glass back on the counter with a gasp, not missing the way Lycaon’s ears flinched. Half amused, half irked, he grinned aggressively at his old friend’s back.
“You’re killing the vibe, dearest. Smile a little. Pretend you’re having fun.”
Through audibly gritted teeth, Lycaon muttered, “I am.”
Hugo jabbed a finger into the Thiren’s shoulder. He might as well have poked a rock.
“If you get any stiffer, someone will mistake you for a sculpture. Or a bad hitman. Could go either way.”
“… You’re still as insufferable as ever.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
He brushed it off as usual. Lycaon sighed aggravatedly as usual.
They fell silent, as usual.
Swirling the ice cubes in his otherwise empty glass, Hugo tried not to be self-conscious of the tension between them, or of the fact that their shoulders were almost brushing. He kept an eye on the smoky shadows of the bar, aware that Lycaon seemed to be doing very much the same.
The ice cubes clinked back and forth. He could see Lycaon’s ears twitching, reacting instinctively to the noise. The Thiren was clearly still hypersensitive to his presence, but he wasn’t complaining or pulling away — just sitting there, in front of Hugo, glaring at everyone else like he was warning them not to get any closer to what was his.
Hugo smiled ruefully to himself. In some ways, his old friend hadn’t changed at all…
Perhaps the incessant noise of his ice cubes finally drew the bartender over. They approached, skirting a little warily past Lycaon, their eyes then widening meaningfully at Hugo.
He slid his empty glass over with a warm smile.
“A refill for me, a Boulevardier for the mutt — but go easy on the whisky. He’s dangerous enough sober.”
Lycaon stirred and uttered a threatening growl. The bartender immediately tensed, their eyes flickering fearfully towards him as they backed skittishly away from the counter.
Seeing the reaction he had caused, the wolf Thiren stifled himself. He sighed, forcefully relaxed his shoulders, and offered the bartender an apologetic nod.
“… Appreciate it.”
The bartender slid away to prepare their orders, and Lycaon turned to cast him a glare. Unintimidated, Hugo lifted his hand in a blithe shrug.
“It’ll help you blend in. You do realize you’ve driven everyone away, right? Or is that why you’re here?”
“Of course not,” Lycaon muttered tersely, turning to accept his drink with a curt nod. Hugo flashed the bartender another warm smile as his own glass was delivered.
“You can put both on my tab.”
“You…” Lycaon began, but stopped himself with a weary sigh.
They paused for a moment to taste their drinks. As the cool shimmer of liquid brushed against his lips, Hugo couldn’t help but glance over.
Lycaon cradled his glass with long, muscular fingers, tilting it gently towards his mouth as he sipped with a delicate sort of elegance. He didn’t grimace as the alcohol hit his tongue, nor did he look anything but composed as he set the glass back down in graceful silence.
“… Do you drink often?”
Hugo felt a twist of something strange. He told himself it was curiosity.
They hadn’t really drank together like this before, he realized. They hadn’t been old enough for many of those years, and after they’d come of age, they had always been too eagerly chasing their next foolish dream.
Lycaon cast him a wary glance.
“Of course not.”
“What an arrogant answer,” Hugo scoffed, amused but unsurprised. “Is consuming alcohol totally beneath you or something?”
Lycaon sighed. Hugo reckoned he ought to start rewarding himself with chocolate every time he made his old friend sigh.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Just doing it for the mission, then?” Hugo continued smoothly, getting to the actual reason he’d asked such an obvious question.
Lycaon tensed slightly, his tail flicking once in agitation.
“… I can’t say anything more.”
Rolling his eyes, Hugo turned away to take a sip of his own drink.
“Relax, I’m not interested. I’m only here to enjoy my night,” he scoffed. “Pity you scared my would-be companion away,” he added with a dramatic sigh of forlorn. “He didn’t look too bad. I think we would’ve had plenty of fun.”
Predictably, Lycaon’s lips curled back in an aggravated snarl. Grinning, Hugo leaned over and slid a finger cajolingly beneath the wolf Thiren’s chin, forcing him to twitch his muzzle upwards in alarm.
“Unless you’ll volunteer to be his replacement?” he crooned, baring his fangs in a mischievous grin. “Old ‘friend’…?”
Lycaon stiffened, his snarling immediately cutting off. Grabbing Hugo’s hand, the Thiren shoved it away, his white fur looking a little flushed as he averted his gaze.
“Stop playing around.”
“But that’s exactly what I’m here to do~” Hugo protested in a sing-song. He flung out his hand in the beginnings of a carefree shrug — only to abruptly tense, his pupils sharpening and locking in on a splash of colour that had just flickered through the dim smoke.
Sharp, glittering green — a fat peridot ring, waving through the darkness around the gloved finger of a man who had just entered through a side door.
His mark.
“Well as much as I adore your company,” Hugo began, rising to his feet with a lofty excuse half out of his mouth. To his surprise, Lycaon also stood at the same time — and in their sudden scramble, they collided.
He felt his drink lurch out of his hands. Hugo reached to catch it, his swift fingers grazing the glass — but then the world fell next.
It spun over his face and tumbled over his head — the counter, the floor, everything. It felt like his eyeballs had fallen out of their sockets and the chaotic blur of colour was what he was still seeing as they bounced around on the ground. His heart fell into his gut, and his gut sank somewhere even lower. The dizziness that hit him was so sharp and intense that he nearly threw up on the spot.
When Hugo came to, he was collapsed over a thick arm, his legs uselessly limp beneath him. His cup had smashed to the ground in a brilliant explosion of glass and he gasped down at it, still disoriented, still holding back the impulse to retch.
The mark—
He wrenched his head back up. Not far away, the man with the peridot ring had glanced over, their eyes sharp and spooked as they began to scurry away.
No—
Hugo tried to lurch after them, but the big, warm hands grabbing him were holding him firmly in place.
“Careful.”
Lycaon’s face swam into view, his crimson eye narrowed in a mixture of confusion and concern.
“There’s broken glass.”
“Yeah, and roses are red,” Hugo snapped, peering urgently around the big Thiren’s shoulder.
Damnit… the man had vanished. He’d spent his entire evening waiting, and of course it would all be ruined by—
A touch brushed his collar. Distractedly, Hugo glanced down and realized Lycaon was trying to dry him off with a handkerchief. The Thiren dabbed at his thin shirt, his gaze narrowed in concentration. But Hugo could feel the warmth of his past companion’s fingers seeping through the fabric, and it left him with a strange shudder.
Breath hitching, he grabbed Lycaon’s wrist, his usually silky voice clenching into a flustered rasp.
“What’re you—”
“The man with the peridot ring.”
Hugo stopped. He stared at Lycaon, his grip slowly slackening. The Thiren met his gaze briefly, revealing the shrewd glimmer in his eye.
“He’s a trusted informant for some of the most notorious criminals in New Eridu.”
Lycaon leaned closer to him as his voice softened into a discreet mutter. Like this, the Thiren’s hot breath and deep voice brushed against the sensitive folds of his ear, and Hugo had to bite his lip to hide his vulnerable huffs.
“… I need to know who he’s meeting today, and what he’s telling them. I can’t have you scaring him off before that happens.”
“You’re worried I’ll mess things up?” Hugo hissed, baring his fangs. “He’s my mark — and I was planning to do the exact opposite of ‘scare him off’.”
Lycaon pulled back slightly, revealing the surprised frown on his face.
“The opposite…?”
The Thiren trailed off, eye widening in realization as Hugo pulled open the collar of his shirt and revealed the faint glimmer of a recording device hidden along his torso.
Lycaon blinked, then sharply looked away, ears flattened and tail swishing again.
“So that’s why you’re dressed so… lightly,” the Thiren muttered, his fur definitely quite rosy now as he covered his face and sighed. “Must you always resort to such lecherous tactics?”
“Lust is the most powerful blindfold there is,” Hugo scoffed, detaching Lycaon’s other hand from his shirt. “… Except perhaps wealth.”
Lowering his hand from his muzzle, Lycaon snuck a tentative peek at him and immediately flinched away again.
“I’m not letting you approach the target,” he muttered gruffly. “I can’t have you affecting the outcome of the conversation.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” Hugo scoffed, straightening his shirt and stepping past. But he again barely made it a step before thick fingers wrapped around his arm and clamped down, hard.
“Oi—”
Truly annoyed now, Hugo flashed a deadly glare back.
“Touch me one more time and I’ll—”
“Hugo.”
His tongue knotted. He hated how his heart still leapt whenever Lycaon called his name like that.
The wolf Thiren gazed at him solemnly, his voice soft and earnest.
“Let’s work together.”
Hugo went silent. He stared at his once dearest partner, his throat swollen with longing and tension and pain.
“I have information on the party that the target may be meeting with. What they exchange tonight could make everything clear.”
There was a subtle urgency in Lycaon’s voice… in the way his fingers seemed to grow hotter against Hugo’s skin.
“Assist me, and I will share everything that I know. I won’t ask for your own intentions.”
And you think I trust you?
The words clung to the tip of his tongue as he returned the Thiren’s genuine gaze. A few weeks ago, Hugo would have spit them out. But a lot had happened since then… and he found himself hesitating.
Trust Lycaon… he did.
It just… didn’t come without the sharp sting of doubt.
He forced a tattered scoff past his throat.
“I doubt you hypocrites know anything that I don’t already know.”
But Lycaon simply clung to him and murmured again.
“Please.”
His heart fluttered so violently that it felt like it had been physically thrown against his ribcage. The pain that blossomed in his chest made him lose his breath, and for a moment he could only lie there, against Lycaon’s arm, stunned — or maybe entranced.
That was the thing about exceptions. They always managed to draw out the ‘you’ that you were never supposed to become.
“… Hmph.”
Stepping back from the Thiren, Hugo shifted his weight back to his own two feet, pretending his stumble was just a stylish sort of walk as he pushed a hand into his bangs and brushed back his hair.
“Fine,” he declared dramatically, “since I’m a loyal friend who can’t bear to see my past companion returning to his master with his tail between his legs… I suppose I can do things your way, just this once.”
Lycaon’s expression darkened in irritation, but the Thiren held back his retort and controlled himself with a sigh.
“Based on the information that I have, tonight’s meeting is not one that the broker can skip just because he was spooked by a glass dropping. If we scour the venue, we should still be able to find him.”
The wolf Thiren raised his arm in a gesture for Hugo to proceed first. Hugo brushed past him with an unceremonious scoff.
“You’d better be right.”
There was a reason Hugo had stayed by the door. The deeper they walked into the bar, the more disgusting it became. The air was thick, humid with sweat and old perfume, humming with the throb of low bass. As they maneuvered through some of the denser crowds, Hugo felt something brush the small of his back and nudge him away from another sweaty body. The cold buckle of his shirt pressed into his skin and he instinctively twitched, shivers running up and down his spine.
The touch immediately faded, and he threw an irritable glare over his shoulder. Lycaon was completely stone-faced, but his tail was wagging behind him — trying, and failing, to pretend that he wasn’t the culprit.
Scoffing softly, Hugo turned his attention back to the front. He told himself that the smile that he’d briefly worn was just a lingering mask.
There was a rambunctious stage with poles back here. It probably looked like a cheap wooden platform during the day, but right now, the neon lights and alluring dancers made it the highlight of the bar. Avoiding the excitement, they skirted up to the darker, quieter lounge chairs lining the shadowed edges of the bar and continued to search for the man with the peridot ring.
A pleased chorus of gasping and laughter burst from the stage, and Hugo glanced over to see the curvy canine Thiren poised in gravity-defying grace along her dancing pole. Hanging upside down, back arched like a drawn bowstring, tail wrapped coyly around the spire, she lingered there for a moment before she kicked her legs down and began to grind sensually against the rod.
He glanced at Lycaon. The wolf Thiren was gazing ahead, his crimson eye narrowed in absolute focus, completely oblivious to the stage.
“… Lycaon,” Hugo piped up, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. “We should hang out here sometime, watch the show.”
Lycaon turned and stared at him in confusion. Hugo had to angle his head towards the dancers.
Following his gesture, Lycaon stared blankly at the stage for a moment. Then, in complete nonchalance, he looked away.
“You can do whatever you want with your free time,” the Thiren said calmly, already back to the task at hand. “I’d rather read a book.”
Ehh…
Hugo leaned forward slightly so that his old friend could see his smirk.
“And if I step onto the stage for you?”
A visible tremor rippled through Lycaon’s entire body, practically every strand of his fur standing on end. His ears flattened against his head and his tail smacked into a nearby chair, sending it scraping across the floor.
“Pfft—” Hugo laughed out loud. Now that was the reaction he had been expecting.
Lifting his hand, he slapped his old friend on the back and shoved him along.
“Haha! You should see the look on your face — sorry, but I’m joking.”
Muzzle crinkling in barely-contained… fury, probably, Lycaon growled under his breath.
“If you think I’m disappointed, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“Oh?” Hugo raised an eyebrow in intrigue. “Do enlighten m—”
He broke off, startled, as Lycaon suddenly grabbed him around the waist and yanked him aside. The Thiren’s palm was warm and soft against his bare skin, and for a moment, Hugo’s thoughts completely scattered.
It took him a moment to realize that a drunk man had just lurched past them. Lycaon had pulled him to safety.
… And now he wasn’t letting go.
An extremely complex grin contorted Hugo’s face. Looking up at his old friend, he took in the Thiren’s impassive expression and realized what Lycaon had meant just now.
I’m relieved. I wouldn’t want all those other eyes on you.
“… Possessive, aren’t you?”
Lycaon replied softly.
“I’ve always been like this.”
“… No, only when you want to be.”
Hugo pulled away, his bitter whisper lingering between them as Lycaon frowned but let him go.
They had nearly scoured the entire bar by the time they finally spotted the target — huddled over a small table at the very back of the bar, where the dust, darkness, and lack of entertainment kept other patrons at bay. There was another figure with them, a woman from the looks of it, but they were too deep in the shadows for Hugo to make out her face.
Their target was surrounded by rows of empty tables and sofas. It would be impossible to get anywhere near them without raising their alarm.
Clearly realizing this, Lycaon chose to stop at a table near some drunk old-timers. They wouldn’t draw suspicion at this distance, but the stage was still nearby, and the music meant that it would be difficult to overhear their conversation.
Not about to settle for such a pathetic compromise, Hugo grabbed the Thiren by the arm and dragged him forward, into the shadowed no-man’s land.
“What are you doing?!” Lycaon bristled and tugged back, but he couldn’t resist outright. The broker and his client had, expectedly, noticed them, and were eyeing them warily as they approached. “This is too close, we can’t—”
Ignoring him, Hugo yanked him closer with a deliberately loud giggle. Dragging Lycaon to a dusty lounge seat dangerously close to their target, he then turned and shoved his old friend into the sofa, hard.
The big Thiren fell in with a startled grunt. Swiftly, before he could recover, Hugo slid his knee onto the cushion — and slid on top, straddling Lycaon firmly in place.
“What—?!”
Lycaon’s flustered hiss broke off as Hugo slid his arms sensually around his shoulders — and leaned in.
“Drop your foolish façade, darling,” he purred, nuzzling the Thiren’s cheek. “I know you’ve been dying to kiss me.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw the intelligence broker look away in unveiled disgust. The sharp gaze of their client lingered on them a while longer.
Lycaon’s breath hitched, and his next retort clenched into an uncertain grit of his fangs. His tail twitched against the back of the chair, and his claws hovered reluctantly above Hugo’s hips, as though not daring to get any closer.
Sensing his partner’s hesitation, Hugo pressed himself even closer. Twining his fingers through the luscious fur behind Lycaon’s head, he shifted, grinding their torsos against each other and locking their hips together.
Lycaon tensed. A faint, gritted grunt slipped through his teeth.
“… Behave.”
Chuckling softly, Hugo hugged the Thiren’s head, practically shoving Lycaon’s face into his chest as he strained forward to whisper in his ear.
“You asked for my ‘assistance’.”
His murmur was barely audible. He knew Lycaon could only hear it because his lips were literally brushing the soft fur of his ears.
“This is better than what you had in mind, isn’t it? We’ll hear every word clearly from here.”
He shifted again, not to affect Lycaon this time, just to find a comfortable position where he could see the target from the corner of his vision. The motion was innocent by necessity, but it drew a low, startled grunt from the face muffled in his arms. He felt Lycaon flinch, and the Thiren’s still-floating claws clenched in midair.
The client’s gaze seemed to narrow.
Ugh, this oafish mutt.
Fisting Lycaon’s fur, he yanked the Thiren’s head back up, forcing their lips precariously close as he raised his voice just enough to be audible.
“Oh no, don’t be shy, my dearest partner,” he whined in a voice drenched with sickly sweet affection. “Tell the world of our love…”
The client looked away. It appears she might even have scoffed.
Ugh, his ears were burning from the sound of his own voice. Irked, Hugo bumped their cheeks together in a gesture that was more of a blow than a caress.
“If you don’t start getting into the act,” he crooned threateningly against his partner’s lips, “I’m actually going to kiss you.”
Lycaon stilled, entirely. His eye seemed to flicker to Hugo’s lips. He lingered like that for a moment, staring at Hugo with a strange light in his crimson iris. Then… slowly, his hand slid onto the curve of Hugo’s back.
The other slid onto his hip. The Thiren’s long, thick fingers wrapped almost naturally along the curve of his buttocks and squeezed, ever so slightly.
… Uh, that’s better. I think.
Stifling a restless huff, Hugo averted his gaze. They needed this, he reminded himself. For the target… the mission…
The broker and their client exchanged wary glances. Then, after a long pause, the woman took a leisurely sip of her drink, set it down, and shrugged.
“The dove still sings.”
She swirled the ice in her drink. It seemed deliberate.
“I was promised silence.”
Hugo uttered a faint sigh of relief. As his breath rustled Lycaon’s fur, the Thiren’s claws sank deeper into his waist, afflicting him with a sharp tingle. He grimaced and arched his back to ease the sting.
The broker replied in a raspy but calm voice.
“He’s a… peculiar breed. Doesn’t sleep like the others. Might be the air down there.”
The man seemed to chuckle. He flicked out his hand, the one with the peridot ring, in a seemingly meaningless gesture.
“Or the wiring.”
The woman tapped two of her fingers on the table as though in agitation.
“Then change the current.” She paused, her eyes straying warily towards them again. Hugo quickly bowed his head and pretended to immerse himself heatedly in Lycaon’s face. In reality, he was just pressing their cheeks together.
“… Mm…”
He uttered a muffled moan for good measure. The grip around his buttocks tightened and pushed him closer, grinding his crotch against the metal buckle of Lycaon’s belt.
“Tonight.” She continued, in a quieter voice. “Under black glass, before the chimes.”
“… Ah—”
A faint yelp slid from his lips, and he hadn’t actually meant for it to. He’d simply been releasing his held breath when Lycaon’s knuckles slid deeper between his legs. Distracted by the growing pressure poking through his very tight-fitting pants, Hugo fidgeted and tried to find a less… agitating, position.
His groin slid over something — the Thiren’s phone, or keys, or some other immensely hard thing that might be within his pants. Lycaon grunted in his ear, and as the Thiren’s hot breath tickled his sensitive skin, Hugo flinched and had to stifle a coy gasp.
“Careful, dearest,” he hissed, sparing his friend an irked glare. “If you keep touching me like that, I might get the wrong idea.”
Lycaon released a heady pant, his words damp and boiling as they licked his ear.
“This was your idea.”
“Uhngh—”
Wincing, Hugo jerked his ear away from the Thiren’s muzzle. He threw a fleeting look over at the targets, worried he’d caught their attention — but thankfully, the two were still focused on their exchange. They seemed convinced that he and Lycaon were just frisky lovers searching for a place to be indecent.
The broker’s head inclined in a faint nod.
“I’ll pass on the message immediately. And the rest of the songbirds? The ones boxed and feathered?”
“Release them,” the woman replied offhandedly. “They’ll find their own cages.”
She slid a folded card forward as she spoke. From what little Hugo could see beyond his partner’s fur, it was stamped with a cracked hourglass.
The broker accepted it with a slightly mocking flick of his fingers.
“As always, the maestro conducts in silence. And what if the overture is still… dissonant?”
The woman paused. Hugo tensed again, prepared to deepen their act — but her gaze didn’t flicker towards them.
Instead, she leaned in, her voice frigid as she murmured to the broker with threat dripping in every word.
“She expects harmony by the Equinox.”
A heartbeat passed, the air thick with venom. Hugo shifted again, but the pressure between his legs only seemed to press in harder. Damnit, his seat was getting extremely uncomfortable—
“… Or we burn the instruments and start again.”
Hugo tensed. Across the table, the broker seemed somewhat taken aback, too.
“… That’s a shame.” Though the man’s voice was calm, almost wry, when he finally replied. “Woodwinds are hard to come by, these days. Shall I remind the orchestra?”
“No,” the woman said, leaning dismissively back in her seat. “Remind the conductor. Loudly.”
Hugo’s fingers tightened within Lycaon’s fur. He couldn’t tell if it was anger from what he was hearing, or because Lycaon’s fingers had slipped beneath the buckle of his shirt. That little buckle was the only thing holding this sparkly rag over his body, if Lycaon kept fidgeting with it like that, his entire shirt might fall off. The mutt realized that, right? Right?
In silence, the broker raised his glass to his lips, but didn’t drink. The woman across from him was already standing.
“Black glass,” she reminded him cooly, tapping gently on the table before vanishing into the shadows. “Before the chimes. No encore.”
That marked the end of their conversation. Relieved, Hugo began to disengage — but as he began to pull away, the grip around his waist tightened sharply.
In a single swift motion, Lycaon grabbed him and reversed their positions, shoving him into the sofa. He only caught a glimpse of the Thiren’s shadowed face before it came down, fast.
Heat rushed into his mouth — actual, real, heat. Realizing that the broker was striding past them, Hugo didn’t resist. The man scoffed and turned away from them with a disgusted shake of his head, not once glancing back as he scurried away.
They could have stopped. They should have stopped. But all Hugo could perceive by then was the tongue pushed against his own, the saliva dripping into his throat. His fingers twined within Lycaon’s fur as he pulled his former partner closer, lips smearing and breaths colliding in a wanton frenzy as they kissed, and kissed… and kissed.
“Mm—”
He uttered a muffled whine as Lycaon’s fervor shoved him into the cushions, his brows lifted in an expression of utter surrender as he relinquished the rest of his pride. Drawing up his knees, he cradled the body pressing him down and parted his lips wider, welcoming the Thiren deeper inside him.
“Mm… mhmgh…”
His hushed moans continued to escape, becoming piqued and strained as he began to run out of air. Even with his eyes closed, the shadows seemed to spin, and as distress slipped naturally into his voice, he felt the weight against him begin to pull away.
No. He didn’t want to stop. He tightened his grip on Lycaon’s fur and pinned the Thiren close, refusing to let them part. Warm fluids spilled over his lips and dripped onto his chin, making him flinch and gulp as it tickled his sensitive throat. He felt the body against him ripple with a deep, warning snarl, and for a heartbeat, Hugo stiffened.
Dread, anticipation, fear, desire… he couldn’t distinguish a single part of the mess they had made. Perhaps, if they continued… if Lycaon truly devoured him, right there and then, he would eventually receive his answer.
But instead, with renewed determination, his partner held him… and gently pulled away.
… For a long while, they didn’t speak. They lingered there, panting, their breaths colliding but their gazes averted, not daring to look at each other. Hugo’s heart was pounding so violently that it drowned out even the distant bass. His lips stung, his chest ached, and the rest of his body burned with unbearable need.
Eventually, he snuck a glance at Lycaon. The Thiren peeked over at the same time, and their eyes promptly locked together.
“… What the fuck.”
He didn’t know if he was demanding an answer, or if he simply needed to tell Lycaon that he was very messed up right now.
His companion’s next breath dropped more heavily. It took a few more pants, but Lycaon eventually closed his eye, inhaled deeply, and opened it again.
“The ‘dove’ they were speaking of — it’s you, isn’t it?” the Thiren muttered, his voice still hoarse and breathless. “I was worried the broker would recognize you if he saw your face.”
Lycaon’s gaze flickered downwards as he spoke. Hugo felt a distinctly thrilling shudder as he realized the wolf Thiren was looking over his dishevelled, revealing state. He could almost feel Lycaon tearing through his clothes.
“What’s this?” he jeered in bravado, reaching up and grabbing the Thiren’s hair in an aggressive sort of head-pat. “Have you been taking poetry interpretation classes? Hoping it might earn you extra treats from your masters?”
Sighing irritably, Lycaon grabbed his wrist and dragged it away.
“I am capable of deciphering such a simple code. They’re after you — that’s why you came tonight, isn’t it? I can’t believe you were reckless enough to plan and make contact.”
“Spare me the lofty lecture,” Hugo scoffed, batting at Lycaon’s arm in a gesture for the Thiren to let him up. “I would have been perfectly fine. Don’t tell me you thought you were protecting me?”
Lycaon’s jaw clenched. He did not let Hugo up.
Exasperation blossomed in his chest, but it felt oddly warm.
“That’s not how the trade works,” Hugo pointed out wryly. “Intelligence brokers receive as little information as possible in a deal like this, because otherwise they’d just sell it. The client won’t give away who their target is. Come on, old friend,” he added tauntingly, lifting his hands by his head in mock surrender, “you didn’t seriously think I’d design a plan that could fail?”
Lycaon’s brow furrowed, his expression darkening in a combination of irritation and chagrin. Sighing, he finally began to pull away — only to falter, startled, as Hugo grabbed his shirt — and yanked him back down.
“Admit it.”
He brushed a whisper against his former partner’s surprised face.
“You actually wanted to kiss me, didn’t you?”
A growl of denial began to emerge from the Thiren’s throat, but it faded quickly. They glanced at each other, their eyes meeting only briefly before they leaned in, silent, pulled together by that inexplicable force that wouldn’t seem to leave them alone.
Their foreheads brushed, then their cheeks, then their noses. It wasn’t a kiss, not really… just a nuzzle, a familiar gesture that they used to share all the time. An implicit ‘yes’, a gentle ‘are-you-okay’, and a silent ‘I—’… words they could no longer share.
The warmth in his chest sharpened into a burn and constricted painfully around his heart. They parted, just slightly, just enough to gaze at each other again. They lingered there for a prolonged heartbeat, anguish mirrored in each other’s gazes, hesitation in their held breaths.
And in that moment, Hugo realized, they were no longer in conflict. Their fears, their desires, their needs... were the same.
There was no reason to stop.
His lashes began to flutter at the same time Lycaon closed his eyes and leaned back down. Their lips were only a breath away when, from the corner of his eye, Hugo spotted a sickeningly familiar face appear in the distant crowd.
He tensed and jabbed Lycaon in the ribs.
The Thiren jerked back with a grunt—
“What—”
—only to break off as soon as he saw the look in Hugo’s eyes.
We need to go. Now.
They didn’t need to exchange actual words. Lycaon pulled away, smoothly guiding Hugo to his feet with a subtle hand on his back. Concern and a thousand questions clouded his companion's gaze, but he didn’t ask them, nor did he protest as Hugo grabbed his wrist and pulled him from the lounge seat.
They slipped back into the busier areas of the bar, past the rowdy tables of intoxicated Hollow Raiders, towards the nearest exit sign. They had nearly reached the final corridor when someone suddenly tilted their chair back and smashed into Hugo.
Normally, he wouldn’t have let himself get hit. Nor would he have stumbled. And he definitely wouldn’t have toppled over with a startled gasp, his hand flying onto the drunk's shoulder in an instinctive attempt to break his fall.
… But it happened again. The world inverting in on itself, the vertigo that left him needing to throw up.
“Huuuh—?!” A voice barked sharply up at him, though he was still too dizzy to process it. “The hell’s your problem? You lookin’ for a fight or somethin’?!”
How about you learn how to sit still, you imbecile? He would have said, if he hadn’t been busy holding back his nausea. Otherwise, that chair is better off with your face slammed in its seat—
“… Is there a problem?”
An unfamiliar voice, haughty and graceful in a way that was immediately out of place in this forsaken bar, called over their heads. Hugo tensed, ice tingling in his fingertips as he twitched towards his hidden dagger — only to be yanked aside and slammed into the wall, hard.
His breath was wrenched past his lips. He’d already gripped the hilt of his dagger when he realized that the weight smothering him was familiar… and warm.
“… Apologies,” Lycaon replied calmly, his back rumbling slightly as it pressed Hugo into the wall. The Thiren had shoved him there to shield him from view. “I’ve had a few too many drinks tonight."
Exhaling slowly, Hugo pulled away from his weapon. He snuck a peak beneath the Thiren’s arm and spotted, standing next to the table of sour-faced drunks, a man with pale hair and pointed ears. They had also changed into attire more fitting to this environment, but there were too many details that made it obvious who they were. After all, Ravenlocks were not known to be subtle.
Hugo huffed irritably to himself. He supposed he owed Lycaon for catching on so swiftly… this one would’ve recognized him for sure.
The Ravenlock tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in curiosity and suspicion as he scrutinized Lycaon more closely.
“Do I know you?” he asked, stepping boldly up to the large Thiren. “You look… familiar.”
Hugo braced a hand against the Lycaon’s back, prepared to smack him should he try to answer politely again. Where did this idiot think they were, City Hall? What kind of drunk wolf Thiren started their sentence with “Apologies”?!
Thankfully, Lycaon seemed to realize his mistake. A low rumble began to emerge from the wolf Thiren’s throat as he drew himself up, hackles bristling as he loomed over the man.
“You don’t,” he said in an icy voice. The menace that flared from his shoulders was not reckless and rugged like everything else about this bar, but commanding… elite. It was a good pivot, considering his earlier greeting.
“… And if you did, you’d know not to stare.”
The man took a small step back, a nervous sort of grin fluttering to his lips.
“Haha, right… must be a different wolf Thiren. New Eridu has quite a few, after all…”
They turned and retreated, rejoining a few other men deeper into the bar. As soon as the attention had shifted away from them, Lycaon grabbed Hugo and yanked him swiftly into the exit corridor.
The narrow hallway smelled of smoke and sweat, and the foulness heightened Hugo’s urge to retch. He stumbled again, lifting his arm over his mouth to muffle a ragged cough. He didn’t register Lycaon turning on him until he was once again pinned to the wall.
This time, Lycaon was facing him. The wolf Thiren’s glare pierced him in the darkness as he growled in Hugo’s face.
“What is wrong with you?”
Chest still rising and falling in laborious breaths, Hugo met his former partner’s gaze and mustered a grin.
“It’d take too long to list everything.”
Exasperation darkened Lycaon’s stare, but he didn’t look away, nor did he ease the gentle but firm hand pinning Hugo to the wall. He glanced down again, his gaze flickering to Hugo’s alcohol-soaked shirt and pale shoulders, his expression nothing but concerned.
“… That drug Hartman dosed you with,” Lycaon began slowly, as though he were finally beginning to understand. “Even after the workers received the antidote, some of them still suffered lingering effects. Dizziness, shortness of breath, nightmares, and sometimes hallucinations. Two of them are experiencing irregular body regulations — uncontrolled fluctuations in blood pressure, temperature, glucose levels…”
The Thiren’s hands tightened around his shoulders as his anxiety became clear.
“If you have any of these symptoms, you must tell me. It could be extremely dangerous for you—”
“Must tell you?” Hugo interrupted scathingly, shoving one of Lycaon’s hands away from his shoulder. “Oh I’m sorry, did I miss the part where we got back together? Since when did you become my keeper?”
Anguish flashed over Lycaon’s face. It had been there this entire night, hiding beneath the stiff silences, the tail swishes, and the pensive glances — but this was the first time it revealed itself so clearly.
The Thiren released him and stepped back. He lowered his head, expression completely hidden beneath his long bangs as he wilted with a long, loud sigh.
Hugo might as well have scolded a puppy. Fixing his shirt, he averted his gaze and pushed away his irrational guilt.
“… That man back there,” Lycaon muttered instead, “he was a Ravenlock, wasn’t he? Are they still after you?”
Hugo was under no obligation to give anything away, but Lycaon looked heart-wrenchingly dejected, so he sighed and confessed.
“You didn’t think they’d just take the loss and retreat to wipe their tears in silence, did you? There are a few disgruntled family members independently seeking revenge. It’s nothing that I need you for.”
He turned away from Lycaon with a dismissive flick of his hand and headed for the exit. He could hear the faint metallic footsteps of the wolf Thiren trudging gloomily after him, and part of him wished he could turn back, throw himself at Lycaon, and kiss him until he stopped feeling sad.
… A small part. Only a small part. An effectively miniscule part.
Quickening his pace, Hugo shoved the door open and strode out into the moonlit alleyway with a huge sigh of relief. Ah, fresh air… or at least, cold air, tainted with the reek of the nearby dumpsters.
He tried not to mind it. It was probably worse for Lycaon, who was already flicking his tail agitatedly, nose twitching, irritation in his gaze.
Turning, Hugo flashed his old friend a smile.
“Well, it’s been a thrill, dearest. But I have other hearts to steal tonight.”
Lycaon opened his mouth, looking like he might blurt out a protest — only to stop himself, as though realizing there was no reason for them to proceed together. He hesitated, clenched his fists, and tried again with a resigned sigh.
“… Stay out of trouble.”
With a charismatic twirl of his hand, Hugo bowed.
“You know I always do.”
He flicked his wrist as he straightened, tossing a glint of something gold through the moonlight. Lycaon caught it on instinct — a chocolate coin, the kind he always carried around with him.
By the time the Thiren looked up, Hugo had already vanished into the night.
Grappling onto the nearby rooftop, the thief landed lightly on the old bricks and paused by the edge. He looked down, at the moonlit silhouette of his old friend, and watched as Lycaon held the souvenir he had left behind.
The Thiren turned the coin over in his fingers once, twice. Then, slowly… tenderly, he pressed it to his lips.
A shiver tore through Hugo’s body. He knew it was just an echo, a memory — but his lips stung as though Lycaon had kissed him that lovingly, and not the cold chocolate wrapper.
… Damnit, you… don’t get to do that.
He exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. Still wrought with that warmth, that weight, that agonizing longing that he never knew what to do with, Hugo turned. He didn’t notice the distant gleam of a scope until it was already too late.
Pain bloomed in the back of his neck. He staggered, ice flooding his spine, slapping the back of his neck as he whirled towards his attacker.
Fuck—
But the rooftop tilted sideways, and the concrete came up fast. The last thing he saw before the night swallowed him whole was the full moon and its pure, incessant light.
Just like… you…
Chapter 2
Notes:
CW: violence
Chapter Text
He should have seen this coming.
He should have realized it when they’d told the broker, ‘tonight’.
He should have realized it the moment he’d seen a Ravenlock at the bar.
He should have at least realized it once he’d stepped onto the roof.
But Hugo had been distracted, pathetically entranced by the sight of an old companion caressing something he had once held, engrossed in the fantasy that they might someday be able to hold each other again.
If only he wasn’t still such a lovesick idiot, this would never have happened.
Fuck.
… On the bright side, he was conscious. Though he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t open his eyes, so Hugo wasn’t sure if that was actually a good thing.
He was being carried. He could feel an arm hooked under his shoulder, and another beneath his legs. But his senses were blurred, and he couldn’t hear anything clearly — only faint grunts, one sounding close to his ear, the other a little further off.
Ugh…
He struggled to open his eyes. He managed to get his eyelids to twitch a little.
The cold air hit his face in gusts. He had blacked out earlier, but it seemed like they were still on the rooftop. He must have only been unconscious for a few minutes.
He breathed in quietly, letting the cold air encourage his paralyzed body. This wasn’t good, but he was relatively calm. After all, this was hardly the most terrifying thing he had been through.
His captors continued to mutter as they hoisted him over the rooftop’s edge and onto the fire escape. Metal creaked beneath their boots, the noises becoming clearer by the second. He counted the number of turns they took down the stairs. Eight… ten… twelve.
Their boots landed on something with a hard crunch. Pavement.
“Open the back,” a voice grunted. He heard the dull thumping of a vehicle door being yanked open.
His hearing was quite clear now, so Hugo tested his eyes again. This time, he managed to lift his lashes off his cheeks.
He only snuck a quick peek — he didn’t want them to know he was awake. He saw the vague silhouette of a grey van and the unlit pavement of a quiet back street. The vibrant pink glow of Starloop Tower shimmered in the distance, but his vision blurred before he could see any more.
He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply.
Dizzy…
He recalled the anxiety in Lycaon’s gaze. Hmph, if that mutt knew that this was happening right now, he’d probably say something snobbish like “I told you so.”
Indignation and amusement tingled in his fingertips, helping them twitch. Taking another deep breath, Hugo focused and tried to flex his digits again.
They hoisted him up, the lurching motion so horrible that he nearly groaned out loud. He was placed on a cold metal surface and dragged roughly deeper.
“You got him?”
“Yeah.”
A door slammed close, and a pair of footsteps faded around the side. A faint sigh rustled overhead and cold gloved hands grabbed him around the waist, probably to turn him over.
Instantly, Hugo twisted upwards. He drove his elbow into the man’s throat — or what he assumed was close to it. It still felt like he was being suffocated in bubble wrap.
He heard a shocked wheeze and saw the shadow buckle. Scrambling forward, he shoved through the doors and lurched out of the vehicle, hitting the ground — and collapsing to the concrete, his legs still not quite able to support his weight.
“What the — shit!”
Footsteps thundered back towards him. With what strength he could muster, he reached into his jacket and flicked out his dagger. Wrenching himself onto his back, he slashed upwards in an arc just as a second shadow lunged at him.
He heard a howl of pain. Something warm splashed onto his face.
As sickening as it was, the sensation cleared his vision somewhat. He blinked just in time to see the first man diving out of the back of the truck, face contorted in fury.
… Funny how clearly he could see that. The fury.
Scrambling unsteadily to his feet — or his knees, he wasn’t quite sure exactly how he was moving right now — Hugo reeled to the side. He whirled back with his knife and tried to dissuade his attacker, but his grip was pitiful, and the blade was knocked out of his hand.
Fuck.
Heaviness slammed him into the road, hard, his breath crushed from his lungs in a single ragged gasp. He writhed beneath the man’s bulk, arms grappling, knees digging into bone, but the brute was heavy-handed, and Hugo still felt like throwing up. Cold, gloved fingers slid around his neck and began to squeeze viciously. Realizing that this was about to get a lot worse, Hugo gathered his bile and spat.
He struck the bastard right on the face. The man cursed, loud and furious, one hand wiping his messy cheek — the other reaching furiously to smother Hugo’s mouth.
How predictable.
He bit down, deep, sinking his fangs into the man’s meaty palm with a squelch. They let out a strangled yell and jerked back — just enough for him to twist and scrabble free.
His elbows and knees tore as he dragged them against the coarse asphalt, but he didn’t feel the pain. Lurching to his feet, he staggered forward, his legs managing to carry him around the next corner before they gave out.
He caught himself on the edge of a trash bin. He doubled over it and promptly threw up.
Oh, fuck. That felt so good.
Gasping, he spit the rest of the acid out of his mouth and hobbled forward on a slightly steadier gait.
He could hear shouts and footsteps in the distance, but it didn’t seem like they had noticed him vanishing into the alley. He ran as though they were on his heels anyway, knocking over an abandoned crate and scrambling up a chain link fence. He barely made it over before the horizon spun and he let go.
He landed hard on his side with a dull crack.
… Ah, okay. He could feel it now. The pain. Yes, he could feel it quite clearly.
He dragged himself to his feet with a ragged groan. His ribs begged him to lie down and sleep. His legs kept running.
Neon lights flashed overhead, bleeding strange psychedelic colours onto his pale skin. In the horizon, Starloop Tower split into two, then three. He squinted at it and staggered forward.
Somewhere underfoot, a train rumbled by. The vibrations shuddered through the bricks and hummed deep in his ears.
He turned into a back street, vaulted clumsily over a low railing, and grabbed the cold metal handrails of a stairwell. Dragging himself up, he staggered to the apartment door, his lungs screaming and his brain feeling like it was about to implode.
Fleetingly, he felt a pang of confusion. Was he home? Had he really been running for that long already?
Or was this some stranger’s doorstep that he was about to pass out on?
The doorknob swerved over his head as he reached for it. He didn’t get to think of an answer.
***
“… Hugo?”
A smile flickered onto his lips. He had never told anyone, because he knew it would only sound silly… but he had always loved hearing Lycaon call his name.
There was just… something about the way he said it that made him feel like a different person. Not that wretched, unwanted bastard child with evil blood flowing through his veins, but… a happy person. A person who was loved.
“Yeah?”
He called back, his voice echoing through the dimly lit attic.
“Have you seen my ◼◼◼?”
He scoffed. It wasn’t like that neat freak to misplace anything.
He glanced around, scouring the cracked shelves and dusty corners for what Lycaon had lost. It didn’t take much effort to spot it resting atop a pile of books nearby.
“Yeah.”
Lowering his pen, he got up and went to grab it.
“It’s right here.”
Rolling it around in his palm, he turned and headed towards the sound of Lycaon’s voice. The old rug felt warm against his bare feet, and he smiled as he traced the familiar crinkles in the wallpaper with his fingertips.
Lycaon had a reading corner in a cooler part of the attic, where the heat wasn’t as effective. The Thiren liked to nestle there with his thick winter coat, surrounded by piles of old unwanted books they had scavenged from garage sales and thrift stores. Some days, Hugo would be with him, snuggled securely in his embrace. They’d act out dramatic lines from the story together, laughing and wrestling with each other when they mixed up sentences, fumbled over words, or just hilariously failed at playing a character.
The lamp was on, its glow warm and soothing across the nook. But Lycaon was not there. The books were scattered, the blankets old and tattered. Hugo blinked, and the light vanished.
… The nook was dark. Beneath his feet, the floorboards were littered with pages brutally torn from their fairy tales.
Strange, he’d thought Lycaon would be here. Turning, Hugo looked across the attic again, grimacing as his vision blurred.
Ugh, he must be low on sugar.
“Lycaon?” he called out, his voice tinged with confusion. “Where are you?”
“What kind of question is that?”
Lycaon’s voice floated back, warm and slightly amused.
“I’m right here. Where I usually am.”
“… Ah, right.”
Of course — how silly of him. As soon as he had delivered this, he would grab himself some chocolate.
He turned another corner and headed deeper into the house. Jack had a workstation in the back, and ever since he passed, Lycaon had been spending a lot of time there.
Sometimes, the Thiren would be mending their clothes, working on props for their next heist, or sharpening their tools. Other times, he’d simply sit in the wooden chair in a nostalgic silence, as though missing their mentor’s presence… or contemplating words he’d left behind.
The door was already ajar. Hugo tapped his knuckles briefly against it before walking in.
“Delivery for a certain clumsy—”
His gallant greeting broke off as he realized that this room, too, was empty.
The wooden chair had been overturned, one leg split clean off. Twisted metal and shattered ceramic littered the workbench, and the walls were scarred with dents.
Hugo lowered his arms to his side.
“… You’re not here, either.”
“That’s impossible,” Lycaon’s voice scoffed from down the hall. “I have to be here. I literally cannot be anywhere else.”
He turned. He could feel a chilling uncertainty trickling into his bloodstream as he strode down the strips of light and shadow cutting through the hall.
This…. wasn’t what their home was supposed to look like.
His mind churned, but it felt sluggish, as though it were being flattened by something enormous. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he began to feel that something was wrong.
Lycaon would never have let those cobwebs grow on the ceiling. Nor would he have let that much dust accumulate on the windowsill. The lamp should be lit, the books should be whole, the chair should be standing—
This was wrong. This was all wrong.
This was what the house had looked like that night. When he’d returned home, alone, his hands smeared with blood. He’d grabbed the books and torn out every page, screaming. He’d flung their props to the floor and smashed that chair into the wall. He’d cried and ripped apart everything he could possibly touch, until he was so fatigued from his wounds and his weak body that he finally collapsed amongst the wreckage, nothing more than a broken item himself.
But… that shouldn’t have happened yet.
It shouldn’t have all burned down yet.
“Lycaon…?”
His voice quivered. His fear was starting to show.
“Is everything okay? Are you okay…?”
“You’re asking weird questions, Hugo,” Lycaon replied, his casual voice distorting and slipping into a furious snarl. The way he spoke his name was suddenly drenched in venom and hatred, and Hugo faltered as icy terror flooded his body.
“Why would I be okay?”
He reached the bedroom at the end of the corridor. Grabbing the doorknob with trembling hands, he pushed it open, dreading what he’d see on the other side.
He slipped inside. Lycaon was sitting in bed with a book, warm beneath a blanket. A lamp was on beside him, illuminating the left side of his face with soft gold light.
Hugo nearly melted in relief.
“There you are.”
He stepped closer and lifted his hand, intending to deliver what Lycaon had asked for.
Lycaon turned towards him, revealing the other half of his face — an empty eye socket, blood still pooled within it, staining his white fur as it dripped over his cheek.
Hugo stiffened. The room distorted again, flashing black, then white, then scarlet.
He could suddenly see everything clearly. The flatness of the blankets covering Lycaon’s lap… the lack of limbs underneath.
“I literally cannot be anywhere else.”
“Oh, thank you.”
Lycaon spoke graciously, even as his snarl whispered in Hugo’s ears. As the Thiren reached forward, Hugo glanced down at his open palm and realized he was holding an eyeball.
A gasp lurched into his throat but didn’t quite make it past his lips. He froze, not daring to drop it despite the immediate urge to do so.
It rolled slightly across his palm, leaving a trail of warm moisture against his skin. The tendrils of muscle ringing that black pupil were a terrifyingly familiar shade of crimson.
Lycaon’s hand came closer. Hugo blinked, his vision blurring as his lashes fluttered, the room suddenly seeped in a throbbing, ominous darkness.
The bed wasn’t there anymore. Lycaon wasn’t there. Only a crimson glint embedded in a black shadow, and a dark limb extending into his chest.
He looked down, a ragged cough falling from his lips as he realized he couldn’t breathe.
Cold… his chest felt so cold.
“It’s the least you could do…”
Something tore through his ribcage with a sickening squelch. His eyes widened and rolled upwards in shock — but all he saw in that gaze was hatred.
It reverberated inwards, suffocating him, the voice of a friend who found him repulsive to the very core.
“… Hugo.”
He staggered, his own breath burning in his lungs like frostbite, his vision blurring in the darkness. The agony in his chest was unbearable, like his heart had been pierced with a jagged icicle that was now tearing it out of his ribcage. Slowly, drawing out the pain, ensuring he could feel every tendril stretching and snapping with excruciating clarity.
It was freezing.
It was freezing.
Stop…
He reached out blindly and latched onto the limb that had pierced his chest. Digging his nails into its warmth, he gripped it tightly and struggled to push it away.
“Tsk—”
He heard an irritable grunt, and his eyes fluttered open. Light rushed into his brain, disorienting and thickening his panic.
He saw white fur, black straps, and a crimson eye. He saw Lycaon’s jaws part, and — in pure, unthinking terror, he cried out first.
“Don’t—!”
Agony lurched through his chest, so sharp and violent that his voice cracked in pain. But he didn’t stop, not even when it felt like every word was a knife sawing through his ribs.
“I know — you’re right — hate me, hate me all you want, but please, please—”
He gasped, his voice half-choked, his fingers scrabbling desperately against Lycaon’s gloves.
“—don’t say it like tha—!”
“Hugo.”
He broke off with a gasp.
The voice that had called for him was the same as it had always been. Deep, stern, tinged with exasperation, and annoyingly disapproving. But overwhelmingly, above all that complexity… tender, in an almost pained way.
It was the voice of someone who longed to be by his side.
Hugo blinked. The light in his eyes condensed into colours, then aligned into a familiar room. Consciousness rushed into his head at about the same time.
Oh… he was awake.
That meant he had been dreaming.
He was lying on the sofa of his living room, in their apartment above the gallery. His shirt had been removed and Lycaon was hovering over him, pressing an ice pack to his ribs.
Well, that would explain a lot.
Sighing in relief, Hugo fell limp against the cushions. He realized a moment later that there were more stares trained intently on his face.
So intently, in fact, that he almost didn’t dare to look.
Grimacing, Hugo braced himself, then snuck a wary peek.
… Yeah, she appeared… less than pleased.
Vivian was sitting in the adjacent armchair, hugging Robin tightly to her chest. She wasn’t crying, but her eyelids were red and puffy, and her nose was bright pink compared to the rest of her pale skin.
Catching his glance, she pressed her lips tightly together, the scarlet hues of her irises quivering like boiling blood.
“Aha…”
Hiding his sheepish cringe beneath a scoff, Hugo lifted his hand over his face and dramatically flipped back his hair.
“Well, what do you think?” he proclaimed loftily. “I’m quite adept at playing the damsel in distress, aren’t I?”
Lycaon spared him an irritable glance. Vivian’s murderous glare did not waver. Even Robin looked extremely unimpressed, and a Bangboo’s facial features were limited in variation.
Hugo’s smile twisted in forlorn. He lowered his hand, wincing as his shoulder stung.
“Uh… alright, I can explain—”
“No need,” Lycaon muttered, pressing the ice pack harder into his ribs. Pain erupted over his torso and Hugo promptly collapsed back in the cushions with a grunt.
“Ow—”
Ignoring his teary-eyed glare of accusation, the Thiren sighed and eased the pressure.
“I’ve already cleaned your scrapes with saline and applied antibiotic cream to most of your wounds. But I believe you may have fractured some ribs. It must be painful, so try not to speak unnecessarily.”
“That’s great and all, but what are you doing here?” Hugo demanded, glancing over at Vivian.
She raised an eyebrow challengingly, her expression as frigid as steel.
“I called him.
“You called him?”
“Well who else do you trust?”
“How about anyone els—”
“Ugh.”
With a disgusted scoff, Vivian rose abruptly to her feet and stomped away, taking Robin with her. A moment later, her bedroom door slammed with a pointed bang.
Hugo stared after her for a moment, mouth open. He then glanced back at Lycaon.
The Thiren seemed to shrug.
You should have known better.
That was true, but Hugo rolled his eyes before admitting defeat in silence.
“… Can you hold this?” Lycaon said after a while, gesturing at the ice pack. His voice was polite but impassive, as though it were a perfectly ordinary occurrence to be tending to his estranged ex-lover’s wounds. “I see that your ear has begun to swell. I’d like to take a look.”
Hugo reached for the ice pack, but as he moved his arm, a sharp pain stabbed through his shoulder and he tensed up with a flinch.
“Oh?”
Lycaon grabbed his arm immediately and leaned closer to inspect the area. The Thiren’s eye narrowed as he scrutinized the pale, bruise-marred skin. After a moment, he leaned back, frowning slightly.
“Sit up and show me the range of movement of your arm.”
“How about a please?” Hugo said dryly.
Without a beat of hesitation, Lycaon looked him in the eye and murmured,
“Please.”
Ugh, his rib cage was in no condition to be housing a pounding heart. Though he supposed he had nobody to blame but himself.
Sighing, Hugo began to push himself up. Lycaon reached beneath his back and gently provided support.
… Damnit, wasn’t this bastard being a little too nonchalant about this? Where was the fluster, the anger, the obnoxious I-told-you-so?”
Closing his eyes, Hugo tried to suppress his confusion as he began to swivel his arm. He only made it about halfway before he had to stop with a grunt of pain.
“Ngh—”
A big, warm hand clamped around his forearm and pushed it gently back to his side. Opening his eyes warily, Hugo saw the Thiren gazing down at him in thoughtful concern.
“You appear to have sprained your shoulder, too.”
Lycaon’s gaze flickered up to his face. Hugo forced himself to stare challengingly back, not wanting to admit how hot his cheeks were starting to feel under all this attention.
“It’s the same side as your ear. Did you fall?”
Had he? He could hardly remember. He was pretty sure he had hit the concrete multiple times tonight.
Hugo shrugged and immediately winced in regret.
“… Maybe.”
Lycaon’s eyebrow arched in alarm.
“Maybe? As in you don’t remember?”
“… I was injected with something,” Hugo admitted wearily, angling his head in an invitation for Lycaon to take a look. His hair had become untied, so it must have hid the wound at the back of his neck.
“But the effects seem to have faded now.”
More or less, anyway. His vision still blurred every time he blinked, and he was quite sure he didn’t feel this woozy on an ordinary day.
“Ravenlock?” Lycaon asked, his voice quickening in urgency as he leaned close and brushed Hugo’s hair aside. The Thiren’s fingertips left tingles in his skin as they slid across the back of his neck, and Hugo bit his lip as he shivered.
“… Likely,” he muttered breathlessly. “Didn’t feel like their style, though. They must be up to something bigger than just taking revenge on me.”
Lycaon uttered a quiet, displeased growl, then lowered his hair gently back over his shoulders.
“Don’t lift this arm,” the Thiren muttered, brushing his shoulder.
Hugo immediately tried to lift it.
“I’m fine,” he scoffed, only to break off with a wince as Lycaon grabbed his hand and wrenched it down to the sofa.
“Lift it again and I’ll break the other one.”
Amused, Hugo smiled at his former partner. Lycaon’s fierce glare lingered on him for a second before the Thiren cleared his throat and moved on in a composed but noticeably huskier voice.
“Turn your head so I can see your ear clearly.”
Hugo obeyed, though Lycaon seemed to find it necessary to slide a finger beneath his chin and gently help him with that. He could have remarked that he didn’t need assistance — it wasn’t like he’d sprained his neck — but he decided to keep silent.
He wasn’t confident that his act would be impeccable if he spoke right now.
A thoughtful rumble, low and husky, buzzed through his ear as Lycaon leaned closer. Hugo’s breath hitched, his lips parting with a restless huff as the vibrations teased his delicate skin.
“You must have struck it when you fell,” Lycaon murmured. The proximity of his voice wrought Hugo’s ear with stings of bliss and pain combined, but the Thiren didn’t seem to notice him wincing.
“What about your head? Do I have to worry about a concussion, too?”
Lycaon’s fingers combed through his hair and pushed carefully into his skull. The Thiren’s gaze remained intently focused on his face, clearly watching him for any signs of pain.
Self-conscious of his burning cheeks, Hugo closed his eyes and replied dismissively,
“Technically, you don’t need to worry about anything. As I said, I’m f—”
He broke off with a sharp hiss as pain erupted violently across the side of his head. It felt like his ear had just been torn in half, and the sting was so excruciating that Hugo dropped his ice pack.
“Apologies,” Lycaon said flatly. “I need to remove your earrings before the swelling gets any worse. Since you’re fine, it won’t be a problem, right?”
“You…” Hugo snarled through gritted teeth, though he couldn’t finish his sentence. Fuck… that had really hurt.
Seeing his distress, remorse softened Lycaon’s face. Sighing, the Thiren gently combed his hair away from his ear and murmured in a kinder voice.
“Take slow, deep breaths. If you need me to pause, just say so. I’m going to start, alright?”
“… Yeah.”
Closing his eyes, Hugo inhaled, deep enough that he could calm his pounding heart, slow enough that his ribcage didn’t scream. He felt something warm slide over his ear, and he instinctively tensed as it began to sting.
“… Relax,” Lycaon whispered, his deep voice hushed and soothing. Roused by the vibrations of his murmur, Hugo released his breath too quickly. His chest stung, and he stiffened up with a wince.
Against his ear, Lycaon let out an agitated sigh. His companion knew how sensitive his ears were, and despite his occasional bouts of roughness, he was clearly doing his best to not hurt Hugo more than necessary.
“This might be painful,” Lycaon muttered after a while, his fingers pausing against his skin. The pain had already been escalating steadily, and Hugo was starting to feel dizzy from it. “Are you alright?”
“Just get it done,” Hugo muttered, curling his fingers into the cushions as he braced himself.
Lycaon uttered a soft sigh — not annoyed, exactly, just tense with concern.
There was a pause. Hugo unconsciously held his breath.
Then—
“—ngh!”
He nearly wrenched himself away. Sharp, excruciating pain shredded through his ear and drilled deep into the marrow of his skull. The entire world narrowed to a single burning point of agony.
He struggled to stay still, but his instincts made him twitch to escape. Lycaon’s hand immediately caught him, its warmth steady and firm as it cradled the side of his head.
“… I know.” His partner’s murmur was incredibly tender. “I know, but don’t move.”
He could feel the metal cuff scraping along his swollen flesh. It felt like his skin was being peeled off his bone. His lips parted as he began to pant and tremble, the sting of his ribs miniscule compared to what he was enduring now.
It was too much. It was too much. Hugo could handle a lot of things, but this—
The burn reached a fever pitch. He couldn’t stop himself from gasping.
“Lyc—!”
It popped free, the cuff. His voice strangled itself as the pain abruptly sank.
He slumped over. Lycaon heaved a sigh of relief and remained by his side, resting their heads gently together. They stayed like that, breathing each other in. Hugo’s ear continued to throb, but pain felt like a distant thing now, dull compared to what he had just suffered.
Lycaon murmured something, his voice soft and low, a question, or words of comfort — Hugo didn’t know. He huffed faintly in response, light-headed with exhaustion and relief. He felt incredibly comfortable… pressed against the wolf Thiren’s warmth, listening to his caring voice.
… But eventually, as he always did… Lycaon pulled away.
“I’ll bring you to a doctor tomorrow,” the Thiren murmured, turning towards the coffee table. First aid supplies had been littered all over it, bandages, antiseptic, and wads of bloodied gauze. As Lycaon deposited his earrings onto the table with a faint clatter, Hugo spotted flecks of red mixed in with the gold.
“We need to clean and compress your ear until then, or the swelling could harden.”
He heard the crisp pop of a cap opening, then the faint glug of liquid being muffled in cotton. The sofa dipped beneath him as Lycaon returned, and Hugo’s tired body leaned instinctively towards that warmth.
The Thiren uttered a scattered huff as he rested against him, finally beginning to sound flustered.
“Ahem… speak up if it hurts.”
A hand slid under his chin, holding his head gently but firmly as something cold began to tickle his ear. Hugo flinched at first, but after a few seconds of nothing more than sharp prickles, he released his held breath and cautiously began to relax.
After carefully lathering his ear, Lycaon released him and returned with more supplies.
“Hold still.”
Hugo obeyed his commands silently, only half-conscious in his exhaustion. An unfamiliar weight pressed in on his ear and stayed there, but it wasn’t the kind of discomfort that hurt.
“… Alright,” Lycaon sighed, crumpling wrappers and leftover gauze in his fist as he pulled away.
Blinking to, Hugo tried to touch his ear. His shoulder stung the instant he began to lift it and he stopped short with a wince, then tried again with his opposite hand.
He felt the slightly coarse texture of bandages, padded by something thick, like foam.
“The swelling doesn’t seem too severe,” Lycaon informed him in a rather weary voice while cleaning up the supplies scattered over the table, “so it should be fine until tomorrow afternoon. That was the earliest I could get a doctor’s appointment, as unfortunately, it’s flu season.”
“… Lycaon.”
At the sound of his hushed murmur, the Thiren froze. He stood there, still bent over the table, half-reaching towards a stray wrapper… ears twitching and tail flicking, betraying the emotions that were hidden from his face.
Hugo waited. He waited patiently as Lycaon slowly, almost hesitantly, straightened and turned to face him. He waited until his once dearest partner was gazing into his eyes, his own crimson iris shadowed with wariness and uncertainty.
Then, Hugo tilted his head… and smiled.
It had been so long since he’d made such an expression that it felt imperfect, delicate… unfamiliar, almost.
“… Thanks.”
Lycaon’s eye widened. His ears flew back, and his tail swiped the box of bandages off the coffee table.
“Ah—”
As the Thiren hastily bent down to retrieve it, a laugh burst from Hugo’s chest, only to wither into a grunt as his entire body seized in pain.
“Ugh, ow—”
Wheezing, he grabbed the ice pack and pressed it back against his ribs in an attempt to numb the pain.
Setting the bandages away, Lycaon deposited the garbage into a temporary bag, then returned to the sofa. Only then, as the wolf Thiren knelt down in front of him and looked into his face, did Hugo realize what kind of expression his old friend was wearing.
His heart skipped a beat. His breath faded in his throat. His ear tingled, then stung like mad.
The crimson tendrils of Lycaon’s iris shimmered with moisture. He could see his own mesmerized stare reflected within the Thiren’s gaze, the ashen hues of his iris glinting like moonlit silver in Lycaon’s.
“Hugo…”
A palm slid over his own, easily smothering his entire hand from sight. Hugo unconsciously leaned away, his breath catching as his shoulders hit the sofa. But strange… the distance between them didn’t change. Lycaon chased him, his fingers sliding tenderly past his knuckles, his whisper warm and soft against his lips.
“… Hugo…”
Shudders tore through his spine and branched into every nerve ending in his body. Ah, it really was special… the way that Lycaon said his name. He wanted to give in, to relish it, to close his eyes and let himself indulge in whatever might happen, but…
His nightmare was still vivid in his mind.
The more he let these feelings fester, the more painful it would be when that voice became drenched in loathing.
He had… already heard it happen once.
Neither of them could promise that it wouldn’t happen again.
His eyes fluttered shut. Warmth brushed against his lips and he lifted his chin to greet it, helplessly lured forward despite the dread poisoning his thoughts. His mouth parted, his throat bobbed, and a faint rasp of anticipation — of trepidation — left his tongue.
“Lycaon…”
It was practically a plea, what he uttered… a whisper begging Lycaon to do it, quickly, before he became strong enough to stop himself.
He heard the Thiren’s breath catch and darken in ragged desire, and he felt the hand above his own curl possessively around his wrist. He tensed, saliva pooling beneath the tip of his tingling tongue—
—only to hear a door down the hall open.
Lycaon reeled back. By the time Vivian had shuffled into the living room, the Thiren had managed to control his tail and was pretending to brush the lint off his uniform.
“I’m making tea,” Vivian announced grumpily, setting Robin down and trudging over to the kitchen counter. Her eyelids seemed a little puffier than they had before, and she continued to purse her lips in a pout. But despite her tone and the unnecessary force with which she slammed the lid of the water boiler shut, her actions were conscientious.
“It’s quite late — you must be tired, Lycaon. Hugo’s awake now, so you can go home if you need to.”
She cast Hugo a pointed glare as though to remind him that this was completely his fault. He smiled and lifted his uninjured arm in a gesture of guilt.
“It’s alright,” Lycaon replied politely. The slight rasp in his voice was the only indication that he was anything less than composed. “I’d rather be sure that you feel safe for the night, Miss Vivian.”
“I’m fine now,” Vivian sighed heavily. “I more or less understand the situation, and it sounds like the idiot managed to drag himself home without being followed. Besides, if anyone comes breaking down the door, I’ll just hand him over. He can’t stop me in this state, and they’ll probably leave me alone once he’s gone.”
Lycaon chuckled. “Sounds like you have a solid plan.”
“You know I’m right here, right?”
They ignored him. Only Robin offered him any sympathy.
“Rest assured, Hugo,” the Bangboo declared solemnly. “I shall keep Miss Vivian safe once you’re gone.”
“You…” Hugo flashed his Bangboo an irked grin. “… Thank you, Robin.”
The earthy aroma of tea warmed the room. Vivian set two cups on the dining table, then asked Robin to deliver the third to ‘that idiot’. Lycaon and Robin went to join her at the table, leaving Hugo abandoned on the sofa.
“I will return tomorrow, after my shift ends,” Lycaon began, sounding soothed by the tea, “to bring Hugo to the doctor’s office.”
“I’m perfectly capable of bringing myself,” Hugo called over his shoulder. He regretted it. It hurt to raise his voice.
“However, if his wounds are as serious as I believe they are, he’ll remain a hassle for several weeks,” Lycaon continued calmly as though he hadn’t heard. “Miss Vivian, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to drop by occasionally, to help with errands and ensure that everyone is doing well. As a former member of Mockingbird and the one who was with him earlier tonight, I feel responsible for the trouble that he’s caused.”
“Oi—”
“You can simply think of me as a part-time attendant.”
“Fine by me,” Vivian replied, though she sounded somewhat skeptical. “Are you sure you have the time?”
“Indeed, Victoria Housekeeping is quite busy this month,” Lycaon admitted with a troubled sigh. “While I can make time, the schedule may be quite erratic. I’m afraid my visits would likely be on short notice.”
“No need to give notice,” Vivian said dismissively. “Just drop by whenever you’re free. I’ll give you the spare key in case I’m not home and he refuses to let you in.”
“Oi—”
“Much appreciated,” Lycaon said warmly. “Thank you for placing such trust in me. On behalf of both myself and Victoria Housekeeping—”
“Hey,” Hugo interrupted, having finally managed to twist himself around so that he could glare at the two conspirators over the back of the sofa. “Where’s my say in all this?”
Lycaon cast him a disdainful glance and opened his mouth to answer, but Vivian surged to her feet first.
“Your say? Your say?!” She echoed, her voice quivering with fury as it slowly but surely rose in volume. “How about my say, Hugo? How do you think I felt when I found you collapsed at the door with blood all over your face?! I thought you were dead! I thought someone killed you and dumped you there to prove a point!”
She shoved her chair back and began to pace, hands waving in the air as though narrating her anger.
“And — and even after I confirmed your pulse, I didn’t know if someone had followed you, or if you had been poisoned, or if they were going to come back to finish you off, or—”
She swivelled towards him and fixed him with a deadly glare.
“—and you have the nerve to demand why I asked Lycaon to come?!”
Despite himself, Hugo shrank a little behind the sofa. He glanced at Lycaon, but the Thiren was looking resolutely away, ears flattened against his head and hackles half-raised, his expression unreadable otherwise.
Vivian resumed her pacing, stabbing a finger repeatedly into her palm as though listing his heinous crimes.
“You didn’t call. You didn’t leave a message. You didn’t even send a signal of distress. You just… dragged yourself home to die quietly like a stray. And we’re supposed to what — believe you when you say you’re fine?”
She again stopped to throw him a glare. Offering a sheepish grin in return, Hugo tried to think of something to lighten her tantrum — only to stiffen in surprise when he saw the tears collecting at her lashes.
“You’re selfish, Hugo,” Vivian said sharply, breaking off to sniff and wipe the lone teardrop that had escaped with an angry scrub of her cheek. “You’re always thinking about how to protect people so you don’t have to lose to them. But you never think about what happens to the people who have to lose you.”
Another tear rolled down her opposite cheek and she wiped that one off too, but soon they were flowing, and she ended up burying her face in her hands.
“You scared me!” She cried, her voice quivering with an emotion that didn’t sound entirely like rage. “Again! Why should you have a say?!”
Her voice cracked into a shrill sniffle, then faded into a thunderous silence.
The first one who dared to break it was Robin. He hopped onto the dining chair to offer Vivian a box of tissues, then glared at Hugo with the bit of him tall enough to peek over the table.
“Hugo, I believe you owe Miss Vivian an apology.”
Face still smothered in her hands, Vivian uttered an indignant scoff and sat back down in her chair. She turned away, grabbed a tissue, and proceeded to continue hiding her face in it.
It took a few more seconds for Hugo to regain his voice. He sighed, only to break off with a grunt as his ribs stung in complaint.
“… Alright,” he admitted, in as remorseful a voice as he could muster. He offered Vivian an apologetic look that he wasn’t sure she could see behind her tissue. “I’m sorry. I truly am. I acknowledge my shortcomings and fully transfer my vote to you, Vivian. Is that satisfactory?”
Crumbling up her tissue, Vivian peeked over it to glare at him.
“Far from it,” she huffed. “All that means is that this is settled.”
She slid a key across the table, towards Lycaon. Her sharp gaze swivelled commandingly between the two of them as she announced,
“He’s yours now.”
Lycaon blinked in alarm. Hugo raised an eyebrow in amusement.
But Vivian sounded completely serious.
“Take good care of him, Lycaon.”
Chapter Text
The night after his er, transfer of ownership, Hugo tried to offer Vivian a more thorough apology. But she was still pouting and waved him off, insisting that he return to his room to rest. She tasked Robin with keeping an eye on him, and the Bangboo looked so determined to accomplish his mission — he even took out his card gun — that Hugo sighed and did as he was told.
He passed out with Robin’s glowing eye still hovering over his face. When he woke in the morning, the Bangboo was collapsed by his pillow, out of battery.
He laughed and promptly winced, his hand flying to his ribs, his shoulder then stinging, too. Grimacing, Hugo waited until the pain had faded, then exhaled slowly and sat up with greater caution.
He refreshed himself, then carried Robin out to the living room and plugged him into the charging port. Straightening with a stiff sigh, Hugo looked around and winced as he was struck with blinding sparkles.
Every surface was… glistening. The countertops were radiant. The flower vase was literally emitting light. He was quite certain it was not supposed to do that.
And… the apartment was empty.
A wicked grin flashed onto his lips. Grabbing his jacket, he flung it over one shoulder, slid his hat on, and escaped out the door.
It was a cool but sunny day, and he breathed in the fresh air with a grateful sigh. Setting off down the familiar sidewalk, he took out his phone and sent a Knock Knock message.
“Once, I sought absolution in the marrow of order.”
A reply came a few seconds later.
“Now I sip ruin from a silver chalice.”
With the usual exchange of codes out of the way, Hugo sent a picture of the Ravenlock he had seen last night.
“Need a location. Today, ASAP.”
“2x the usual fee.”
He scoffed quietly and transferred the deposit. Pocketing his phone, Hugo turned towards Starloop Tower and stared at it for a while, tapping at the brim of his hat. Then, with a faint smile, he turned his back and set off the opposite way.
He dropped by a café first to grab breakfast — a donut and a coffee with five sugars. Then, he began to retrace his steps from last night. It was quite a distance from the gallery to that shady bar, so he was impressed he’d managed to make it that far. He passed a few metro stations, crossed the street where a train rumbled underfoot, and eased into the older neighbourhoods closer to Hollow Zero.
He eventually passed an alleyway with a chain link fence.
His ear stung sharply. Halting in his tracks, he eyed the fence for a few seconds, then backtracked and detoured to the other side.
This was the street.
The bar was a couple buildings down, surrounded by old low-rises and other seedy businesses. There was a different van parked by the curb, and he could still see some suspicious ruddy stains in the pavement — but otherwise, it was quiet.
Hugo glanced around, scanning the rooftops and the dark windows for any wary gazes. Satisfied that it was clear, he approached yesterday’s building and took the fire escape up to the rooftop.
Ah, stairs.
He paused in the middle to take a breather and let the pain settle, then finished the rest of the climb.
Emerging onto the roof with a hefty sigh, he strode to the area where he had stood last night, exhaling slowly through his aching ribs. There was a small flash of colour in the otherwise grey concrete up ahead, and he noticed it almost immediately.
Grimacing, Hugo bent down and picked it up with his gloved hand. An injector dart, about the size of a cigarette. Its needle was bent now, and its polymer vial had been shattered. Any solution that might have been leftover would have long spilled and evaporated.
Unfortunate. He bagged it, anyway.
Straightening, Hugo retraced his exact steps. He went to the edge of the rooftop, lifted a foot onto the brick ledge, and looked down at the alleyway below. He could see the same dumpster and the same back door of the bar. He could see the exact position where Lycaon had stood the night before, bathed in moonlight, holding the golden coin to his lips.
Exhaling through slightly gritted teeth, Hugo turned. He touched the back of his neck, brushing the sore spot where he’d been struck, and recalled the glint he had seen in the distance.
Turning in that direction, he scanned the adjacent rooftops. A dart of this size couldn’t travel far, so the shooter must have been on one of the buildings across the street. Pulling up a map on his phone, he marked the current position for safekeeping, then made his way back down the stairs.
He checked the rooftop across the street but found no traces, so he checked the building beside it, too.
Still nothing. He had climbed an extra flight of stairs to no avail.
He was halfway through circling the rooftop for the third time when he received a message.
“lumina square, meeting with lawyer 2pm, white stone building across the bank”
It was accompanied by a low-resolution image of a blonde head in the distance.
“2x the usual”
Scoffing again, Hugo transferred the rest.
He called a cab and headed straight to Lumina Square. There were a few banks in the vicinity and numerous white stone buildings, but he made an educated guess based on details he had seen in that blurry image. Regardless, it wasn’t difficult to walk into the building and confirm that there was indeed a legal office on the eighth floor.
It was 2:32 PM right now. If his informant was right — and they usually were — then the Ravenlock should still be here.
The elevator led directly up to the legal office. Limping into the lobby, he waited until he’d hobbled past the security camera before taking off his hat.
“G… Good afternoon…”
Hugo went up to the front desk, his voice warm but a little strained. The clerk looked up from her paperwork and immediately did a double-take, her eyes widening in alarm as she looked at his bandaged ear, pale complexion, and bruised neck.
He made a show of wincing as he adjusted his weight to the other foot.
“Apologies, I know I’m a mess… um, I believe I have a meeting today, with Mr. Carswell?”
He had seen the name on one of the business cards at the counter.
“My name is Ciel Robins.”
The clerk’s expression furrowed in pity. He could practically hear the ‘oh you poor thing’ in her voice as she spoke.
“Of course, dear, let me just check you in…”
She clicked around on her computer, her brows slowly but surely knitting together. She glanced up at him a few times, but seeing his hopeful smile, turned back, frowned, and clicked around some more.
He appreciated the effort she was putting in.
Eventually, she sighed and met his anxious gaze.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t see any appointments for Ciel Robins today… could there have been a mistake?”
He blinked in shock and tried to speak, only to rasp something inaudible and stop. Touching the striations around his neck, he cleared his throat with immense difficulty and tried again in a weak rasp.
“T… That can’t be, I’m not sure what happened. I’m sorry, it’s, um… been a long week.”
He stopped to catch his breath. The clerk stared at him with heartache overflowing from her eyes.
Breathing heavily, he lowered his hand and gripped the counter with trembling fingers.
“Please, I’d really like to speak with him today. Just five minutes would be enough. I wouldn’t be causing so much trouble unless it were really important, I hope you can forgive me.”
She heaved a sympathetic sigh, hesitated for a moment, then rose to her feet.
“He’s in a meeting right now, Mr. Robins… but let me see if I can get a word in and tell him you’re here.”
Offering him a comforting sort of smile, she turned and strode away from her desk. Hugo waited until she had disappeared before putting his hat back on and slipping past the counter.
He strode purposefully through the air-conditioned, corporate halls, keeping one hand leisurely in his pocket. An employee rushed past him, but they didn’t even spare him a glance.
The corridors ran surprisingly deep, but he headed confidently towards the windows, where he presumed the more luxurious meeting rooms would be. He found his target only a few minutes into his search — seated in an extravagant glass room overlooking the city… the Ravenlock from last night.
There was a man and a woman in the room with him, all three of them seated at a large table. Hugo couldn’t risk showing his face, so he paused around the corner and tried to strain his ears.
… He couldn’t hear anything. The room had been built to be soundproof.
Tsk.
He did, however, spot a stationary holder at the table. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, he took out a pen and dropped it to the ground, then turned and deftly strode the other way.
Chances were, someone would pick it up and return it to the room, where it ‘belonged’.
He returned to the lobby. The clerk was still gone, so he kept his head down, passed the camera, and took the elevator out of the building.
Outside, in the shade of the building, Hugo paused to sigh and check the time. 2:44 PM… he had no idea when the Ravenlock would be finished, but he had nowhere else to be. Might as well wait and see if he could tail them any further.
There were no coffee shops nearby, and the bank across the street was no doubt equipped with cameras and security guards. Walking to an intersection a little further away, he found a quiet corner across the street where he could stand.
There, still keeping an eye on the building, he lifted his phone to his uninjured ear… and began to talk to himself.
Unfortunately, as Lycaon had warned him, talking was… unnecessarily difficult in his current state. He gave himself generous pauses as he pretended to listen to the other person on the line, but Hugo was feeling quite exhausted after only fifteen minutes. He trailed off, blinking slowly and huffing as his vision blurred. There was a street lamp beside him and he leaned towards it, about to rest when—
A hand slid over his mouth and yanked him back. Stiffening, he raised his arm to ram his elbow somewhere it would really hurt — only to catch a glimpse of white from the corner of his eye.
… It was just Lycaon.
The grip around his face pulled away. Huffing shakily, Hugo whirled around.
“What the hell?”
“That’s my line,” Lycaon rumbled, grabbing his raised arm and carefully forcing it down. He’d instinctively used his injured side, Hugo realized — his shoulder stung sharply as it was moved back, and he couldn’t help but wince.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” the Thiren continued sternly, towering over him without releasing his arm. “Need I remind you of your injuries?”
Lycaon’s fingers clenched around him as though threatening to twist it in a way that would really hurt.
Not that he ever would. Unintimidated, Hugo raised his other arm in a shrug.
“I am resting, dear Lycaon,” he proclaimed blithely. “I’m just out for a stroll, getting fresh air.”
Lycaon grabbed his other wrist, too. Releasing his injured side, the Thiren turned away and began to pull him irritably down the street.
“Who do you think I am?”
Eyes still lingering on the building, Hugo remarked dryly, “Someone who doesn’t know me at all, apparently.”
He expected Lycaon to heave that exasperated sigh of his and fall silent. Instead, the Thiren came to an abrupt halt.
There, in the middle of the busy street… his former companion grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him in the eye.
“… You’re right.”
The crowd parted around them, but they were standing so close that Hugo could not even pretend to look elsewhere. He was forced to look at it. Forced to see it. Forced to hear it.
Every shimmer glistening in Lycaon’s scarlet iris. Every quake in his low, quiet voice.
“I misunderstood you. This entire time, I thought you were being selfish and delusional, when in fact you were shouldering terrible burdens, alone, to save others. I was wrong.”
Lycaon’s grip tightened around his shoulders.
“I’m sorry. If I could go back to that time and embrace you instead of abandoning you, I would. But what about you?”
The Thiren’s voice cracked and softened in anguish.
“You didn’t talk to me. You didn’t tell me I was mistaken. I can’t read your mind, Hugo… I can barely even read your face.”
Lycaon’s gaze flickered over Hugo’s features, as though desperately trying to see through his mask. In a tender, aching whisper, his once dearest partner begged him,
“I trust you. I won’t make the same mistake again. But if you want me to know you, then you must first let me.”
The Thiren’s rasp faded into a long silence. Hugo could feel the stiffness in his face as he gazed back, the chill that came with an unsmiling, unfeeling mask. The longing in Lycaon’s gaze burned with such familiar fervor that he could feel his soul being tugged towards his old friend, but…
“… I wasn’t the one who first started hiding secrets, Lycaon.”
His whisper was even softer. Even more broken.
The agony of this moment was nothing. He would never forget what he had felt the night he overheard Jack and Lycaon in the attic… the only two people whom he’d thought he could trust, the closest thing to a family he had known since losing it.
He had dared to love them.
And they had pushed him away.
They had lured him to the edge of the abyss with their warmth and their light and their promises, softened him up until he was dancing along the edge with only their fingertips to guide him, and then—
… they had let go.
Perhaps they had even pushed him in.
Into the darkness, into the thorns. They had watched as the needle-sharp puppet strings sliced into his arms and dragged his hands through blood.
And then they had told him, in horror, as though they had never believed in him even once…
… We were right about you.
Hugo’s vision blurred. The tormented but tender gaze in front of him distorted into a cold, hateful glare. The sun’s rays chilled his skin, and his shaky breath misted the air.
But as terrifying, as excruciating as it was to be held by the very same person who had torn apart what little was left of his heart, Hugo… couldn’t pull away.
Realization stiffened Lycaon’s gaze, followed almost instantly by the bright sheen of agony. His claws dug into Hugo’s shoulder, and for a heartbeat, it seemed like he might forgo the crowd and drop to his knees, or sweep Hugo into his arms, or somehow… both.
… Lycaon’s jaw clenched. Slowly, shakily, he released a low sigh… and let go.
Stepping away, the Thiren recovered his usual elegant posture and looked down at Hugo with a veiled gaze.
“I came to find you,” he declared nonchalantly. “You have a doctor’s appointment in thirty minutes, and you weren’t home.”
… Yeah, Hugo didn’t think that the middle of Lumina Square was a good place to have this conversation, either.
Expelling the sentiment from his chest with a shaky huff, Hugo nodded curtly and gestured for his old friend to lead.
The doctor’s office was at the opposite side of Lumina Square, so Lycaon shepherded him into the metro station for a one-stop ride, grumbling about how he had already run around far too much. Hugo listened in a mostly bemused silence, laden down by unexpected memories and… admittedly, a little fatigued from the day’s activities.
His companion ran out of complaints once they left the train. Lycaon hovered protectively over him as they rode the escalator up, and without either of them speaking, the silence quickly became awkward.
“How did you find me, anyway?” Hugo eventually spoke up, just to relieve himself of the tension.
He fleetingly wondered if Lycaon had bugged his phone. He wouldn’t put it past him.
“The Ravenlock from yesterday,” Lycaon answered quietly. The narrow escalator steps meant that the Thiren was practically whispering in his ear, and Hugo had to consciously subdue his restless breathing. “I suspected that he might have been involved in your attack, so I looked into him. When I saw you missing from the apartment, I figured you’d be doing the same. So I tracked him down, to find you.”
“Oh? Impressive,” Hugo drawled, though his taunt came out a little breathy. “No wonder the mayor still finds you useful.”
Lycaon cast him a familiar annoyed look, but they had reached the top of the escalator, so they paused the conversation. As Hugo stepped off, he thought he felt a hand press gently against the small of his back, as though to steady him. He glanced over his shoulder, but by then, the touch had vanished, and Lycaon was looking the other way.
The doctor’s office was a block away, across the street, on the ground floor of a bustling business complex. When they opened the door, the waiting room was quite full, and they had to wait in line to speak with the receptionist.
“Hello,” Hugo took the liberty of speaking first once it was their turn. He leaned an arm over the counter and flashed the receptionist a sharp-toothed grin. “I’ve brought my dog for his annual shots.”
Clearing his throat loudly, Lycaon fisted the back of his jacket and dragged him away from the counter.
“Ahem… Mr. Hugo Vlad is here for his appointment at 3:30.”
“Ah…” The receptionist nodded and gestured for them to take a seat.
The office was indeed quite busy, and there were many families with young children clamouring over the chairs. Opting not to get in the way, Hugo went to stand by a wall, and Lycaon went to stand with him. Ignoring his companion’s concerned side-eye, Hugo pulled out his phone and focused on another task.
The tracker on that pen he’d dropped still pin-pointed its location at the legal office. Good, it hadn’t been thrown away in a dumpster yet. He’d check back later to see if it had picked up any audio. As for the dart he’d found on the rooftop…
He opened his Knock Knock, but he was conscious of Lycaon staring intently down at him. After hesitating with his thumb over a contact’s profile icon for a few seconds, Hugo looked up and cast the Thiren a meaningful smile.
“Do you mind?”
Lycaon blinked, frowned, then looked away with a sigh.
“… What did you find?”
“Sunlight, a nice breeze, some pigeons,” Hugo replied airily, typing quickly while the Thiren wasn’t looking. “It’s a perfect day for a stroll around the square. I’m sure it’d do wonders for someone with light injuries.”
Lycaon scoffed, the twitch in his ears giving away his amusement.
“Indeed, it would.”
A little after 3:40, a medical assistant came out and called Hugo’s name. They were led down a clean white corridor and asked to wait in an examination room on the left. Lycaon sat down in a chair at the side of the room, but Hugo wandered around and curiously examined the posters on the wall.
“… Sit,” Lycaon muttered after a minute or so, his tail twitching agitatedly.
“Why?” Hugo glanced over his shoulder. “It’s not like my legs are broken.”
“Have you felt dizzy at all since waking up?”
“… No,” he answered gingerly.
“I hope you don’t lie to the doctor.”
Hugo chuckled faintly. “See, you can read my mind just fine.”
At that, Lycaon frowned and fell silent.
About ten minutes later, an older woman with grey-streaked hair came in and greeted them warmly. Lycaon stood up to acknowledge her, and Hugo offered her a friendly but slightly reserved smile.
“Lycaon, it feels like I’ve been seeing you a lot lately. How is Corin doing? Did she fully recover from her last stomachache? Has Ellen had any more migraines?”
“Everyone is doing well, thank you,” Lycaon replied earnestly.
“And you must be Hugo,” the woman continued, pushing up her glasses as she turned to smile at him. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Have you?” Hugo raised an eyebrow at his old friend. Lycaon determinedly gazed elsewhere.
“Well of course,” she continued in a brisk but amiable voice, striding to the far counter to arrange her charts and supplies. “My name is Dr. Isabelle Lin, but do call me Isabelle. I’m one of the doctors tasked by Mr. Mayflower to monitor the conditions of Hartman’s victims. I heard that a certain Hugo Vlad had much to do with the antidote and their safe return.”
She turned and approached him with a beam and a rather massive needle.
“Now it seems you’ve encountered trouble for your efforts? Lycaon has already provided some details.”
She gestured for him to take a seat at the examination table. He hesitated, eyeing the needle.
“Ah.” Isabelle followed his gaze to her weapon and then flashed him a comforting smile. “For your ear. I can tell at a glance that there is blood pooled between the skin and the cartilage of your outer ear. It needs to be drained, sooner rather than later.”
Oh, wonderful, straight to the most terrifying part. Hugo remained where he was.
Lycaon raised an eyebrow at him.
“Would you like me to hold your hand?”
Hugo smiled pleasantly back.
“If it makes you feel better, dear Lycaon, I wouldn’t be opposed.”
The Thiren gazed at him for a moment, then walked over. In complete and utter nonchalance, Lycaon took his hand and led him to the examination table.
“Oh?” The doctor produced a rather intrigued sound, but didn’t comment further. Placing the syringe on a sterile metal tray, she came up to his injured side and reached for his ear.
Hugo tensed the instant he felt her touch and instinctively leaned the other way, pressing himself closer to Lycaon. The Thiren didn’t say anything, but the hand wrapped around his tightened, and the warmth against his shoulder pressed back ever so gently.
After removing his compressions and cleaning the area, Isabelle lifted her weapon.
“This shouldn’t hurt too much,” she assured him as she pressed his ear in place. Given how much it was already hurting, Hugo was inclined not to believe her.
He closed his eyes and braced himself, unconsciously squeezing Lycaon’s hand as he waited for yesterday’s excruciating pain. He did feel a sharp jab and tensed, but… steadily, the discomfort in his ear began to fade. The soreness and the throbbing eased away, and he relaxed against Lycaon with a shaky breath of relief.
“Alright,” Isabelle said briskly, sealing the dirty syringe off. She put the soiled supplies away, then returned with a fresh set of gauze and first aid supplies.
“Now, I’m sure Lycaon tended to your wounds amazingly”—her gaze lingered on their still-intertwined hands—“but I’d like to have a look, too. Can you take off your shirt, if you’re comfortable?”
“His shoulder may be sprained,” Lycaon said, stopping Hugo and grabbing the folds of his shirt himself. In a quieter voice, he murmured, “Allow me.”
Hugo grabbed the Thiren’s wrist in a gesture for him to stop.
“I can do it myself.”
Lycaon frowned and gently pried his hand away.
“You’re being unnecessarily stubborn.”
“You’re being unnecessarily overbearing,” Hugo muttered under his breath, flicking his eyes pointedly towards the doctor. She was watching them with an extremely vague smile on her face.
Realizing, Lycaon hesitated, then reluctantly pulled away. Folding a hand behind his back, the Thiren turned and stared at a distant wall with his tail swishing agitatedly.
Hoping his flush wasn’t as obvious as it felt, Hugo removed his suit and tie and showed the doctor his injuries. She took an X-ray of his ribs and confirmed that he did have a fracture, but reassured them that it was minor. Aside from being very painful for a week or two, it would eventually heal on its own.
As for his other symptoms, Isabelle returned with another tray of supplies. Spotting the needle, Hugo leaned slightly closer to Lycaon, his bare shoulder brushing against the Thiren’s arm. As usual… it was very warm.
“Your side-effects do match what we’ve seen in some of Hartman’s other victims,” she said, gesturing for him to offer his arm. She slid a soft band around his arm, then inspected his inner elbow and picked one of the veins flowing beneath his pale skin.
“Furthermore, you took reckless measures to amplify the effects of the drug so that an antidote could be quickly created. It’s not surprising that your side-effects would be particularly severe. That said, speculation is hardly a medical diagnosis—”
She swabbed the area and returned with a needle and a smile.
“—so I’ll take a blood sample and send it for analysis. That will at least confirm whether the injection you received last night was a tranquilizer, another dose of the same drug, or something else entirely.”
She lined the needle tip to his vein. Though Hugo hadn’t asked, Lycaon slid a hand comfortingly onto his back.
Damnit. His pulse quickened. He ought to tell the oaf that that was more distracting than reassuring—
The doctor filled three collection tubes with his blood. It didn’t seem like a lot, but Hugo felt a slight pang of light-headedness once it was done.
“Oh, right.” Isabelle clicked her tongue briskly. “Do you have any sugar on you? Candy, or chocolate?”
“Yes,” Lycaon and Hugo said at the same time.
“Good, make sure you always do,” she said, securing the vials away and returning this time with a high-tech looking box. “One of the side-effects is erratic body regulation, which can cause spikes or — more dangerously — drops in blood sugar. Given your pre-existing condition, Hugo, a severe event could be fatal, so Lycaon has requested that we install a glucose monitoring patch on you.”
Hugo cast his friend a side-ways glare. “You what?”
“Of course, we’ll only do so with your consent,” Isabelle clarified, though she opened the box like she already knew the answer.
“No — I mean, that’s not a problem, go ahead,” Hugo spluttered, throwing Lycaon another disbelieving glare. “Oi Lycaon, you’re taking this whole ‘ownership’ thing a little too seriously, aren’t you? It feels like you’re microchipping me — I’m not your new puppy.”
“I am aware,” Lycaon replied calmly.
Hugo raised an eyebrow.
Okay, and…?
Lycaon did not answer. However, his ear twitched, and he almost looked like he was struggling not to smile.
“Hugo, if I could borrow your attention for a moment…” The doctor cleared her throat. Hugo immediately looked over, his face feeling quite hot. The way she was smiling really wasn’t helping.
“I’m going to show you how to apply the device. It’s very simple, but it needs to be changed once every two weeks, and you will be doing that on your own.”
“I will be doing it,” Lycaon corrected, sounding rather adamant. “I’ve tended to a client with a similar condition, so I’m familiar with the process.”
Clearly amused, Isabelle showed him anyway. “Then, for your own curiosity, Hugo.”
The glucose patch was basically just a square sticker with a metal thread sticking out the middle. The doctor stuck it to the back of his shoulder, and the only thing Hugo felt was a tiny pinch.
“Readings go to an app on your phone,” Isabelle continued, handing the box over to them so that they could read the instructions. “There are only two licenses by default, so only two devices can be registered. You can change the devices later, so I recommend that you and Lycaon install the app for now. It will send an alert if your glucose levels drop below a concerning threshold.”
Hugo took out his phone, and Lycaon did the same. They leaned their heads together to read the instructions at the same time.
“This feels like a massive invasion of privacy,” Hugo sighed.
“I’m quite sure we’ve already passed that point on numerous occasions,” Lycaon remarked.
Isabelle chuckled. She quickly cut herself short and turned away to finish her notes.
The app was simple enough to set up, though Lycaon fumbled over some steps — for someone so supposedly capable, the Thiren was oddly clumsy with certain technological nuances. Hugo helped him through it, not missing any opportunity to drop a snide comment.
Once everything was finished, the doctor asked if they had any more questions. Lycaon had many, while Hugo simply put his clothes back on in silence. They finally left the doctor’s office over an hour later, shoulders brushing and ‘very worn out’ from each other’s presence.
As they stopped at a red crosswalk light, Lycaon handed him a chocolate coin.
“Here.”
It looked like the same one Hugo had given him last night… the same one the Thiren had held against his lips.
Lycaon then showed him his phone. According to the app they had just installed, Hugo’s blood sugar was getting low.
“Perfect,” Hugo scoffed, accepting the chocolate nevertheless. “Another reason for you to be unnecessarily involved with my life.”
He unwrapped the chocolate coin and promptly stiffened in alarm as a gooey substance dripped out. Lycaon must have kept it in his pocket, against his warm body, for so long that it had melted.
“Oh—”
Flustered, Lycaon began to scramble for a handkerchief.
“My apologies, I didn’t realize…”
Chortling, Hugo licked the chocolate oozing over his thumb, then lifted the half-open wrapper above his head and let the rest dribble into his open mouth. A droplet splattered onto his cheek, and as he was straining his tongue towards it, Lycaon reached over his face and gently smudged it off.
The Thiren then proceeded to lick it off his own finger. He didn’t notice the way Hugo was staring at him until he was already smacking his lips.
… But then he did. And he froze.
They stared at each other, their eyes wide and shining in the sunlight, unreadable with a chaotic mixture of emotions.
They were in the middle of a crowd, pushed together by the other bodies waiting to cross the street. But the noise, the grumbles, the heels clicking — everything else was muted, greyed out, as though they didn’t matter. As though the two of them had momentarily slipped into another realm.
Maybe, in this realm, Lycaon had never left. Maybe Hugo had told him the truth from the start, or had confronted him that night in the attic. Maybe he had never had to tear that ring from his finger, and they were now just two people who had never stopped loving each other, standing in the middle of the street, sharing a pause.
There was still chocolate glossing the corner of his mouth, sweetness tickling his taste buds. He could see Lycaon’s eye flickering down to his lips, and he could see the Thiren’s pupil constricting, then dilating. He wondered if Lycaon was imagining what he would taste like. He was certainly thinking the same…
Would they be insane, if they kissed here?
If they ignored the light turning green, the crowd surging forward, the bodies shoving past… if he lifted his hands to Lycaon’s face, cradled him close, and let his companion sweeten his tongue with his own, would that be…
… wrong…?
The light turned green. The crowd surged forward. Someone shoved past with an irritable curse, slamming into Hugo’s injured shoulder.
He winced and stumbled back, only to find himself swiftly dragged into a reassuring warmth.
A low snarl rumbled through the chest cradling him close. Seeing Lycaon’s gaze sweeping furiously through the crowd, Hugo forced out a cajoling chuckle and pushed himself away.
“It’s fine,” he said airily, slipping his hands into his pockets and joining the crowd. He felt Lycaon press after him, still huffing unhappily.
“You should lay off the chocolate though,” Hugo continued blithely, trying to lighten the mood. Damnit, his heart was still pounding far too quickly for the rest of his body to support. “Isn’t it bad for dogs?”
“I’m not a dog,” Lycaon grumbled.
“Caffeine’s not good for Thirens.”
“In certain quantities. Are you worried about me?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Averting his gaze self-consciously, Hugo looked across the square and spotted the market. It was after-work rush hour, so the streets were very busy, and the market looked packed. Perfect for pick-pocketing, or…
He glanced back at Lycaon.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?”
Lycaon had been staring into space looking a little dazed, but at that, he looked over with a blink and a surprised flick of his ears.
Hugo smirked. “What? I’m only asking cause the floors could use some mopping.”
A familiar look of exasperation crossed the Thiren’s face, but it was quickly muffled by impassive composure.
“I have no further appointments scheduled for today,” Lycaon replied in his elegant attendant voice, “so if it’s alright with you and Vivian, I’d love to stay for dinner.”
Hugo raised an eyebrow.
“Love to?”
Lycaon paused for a moment with his mouth hanging open.
“… I’m only being polite,” he muttered, after a while.
Hugo shoved his uninjured shoulder playfully into the Thiren’s arm, jostling Lycaon as they walked down the street.
“And I’m only your oldest friend, so there’s no need for such theatrics around me, right?”
He tilted his head and returned Lycaon’s disgruntled glare with a softer, meaningful smile.
“It’ll be easier for me to be myself if you do the same.”
Lycaon blinked, his ears angling back and his tail swishing slowly. He was silent for a few steps before he spoke, his voice an almost tentative murmur.
“What if this is just who I am now?”
Hugo pushed ahead with a scoff.
“Pompous mutt.”
He heard a growl and the rapid clink of footsteps.
“Arrogant thief.”
A hand grabbed the back of his jacket and forcibly dragged him back. Hugo laughed as they collided and pushed into each other, their legs intertwining as they stumbled along the sidewalk.
But eventually, as they always seemed to do… they settled by each other’s side, hands gently brushing as they matched each other’s stride.
“… That’s better.”
Chapter Text
They went to the pharmacy first, to pick up Hugo’s prescription for painkillers. As with the doctor’s office, they were extremely busy, and the pharmacist apologetically told them that it would probably be an hour before it was ready.
Leaving the bustling store, they paused together at a corner.
“If you’re staying for dinner, we should pick up groceries,” Hugo suggested airily. He jerked his thumb at the market across the street. “We probably don’t have enough ingredients to satisfy your fine culinary needs, Mr. Attendant.”
“Yes,” Lycaon agreed, a hint of teasing in his otherwise solemn reply. “When I checked the fridge yesterday, its contents were abysmal. Are you sure Vivian has enough to eat?”
“Oi…” Hugo cast his friend an irked, sharp-toothed grin. “How dare you insinuate that I’m not taking care of my companions? Of course she does. Besides… she prefers that I let her handle the cooking.”
Lycaon pulled ahead with a chuckle.
“Indeed, you may be multi-talented, but the only thing you did well in the kitchen was look good in an apron.”
“You—!” Shocked, Hugo stared at his former partner for a flabbergasted moment before hastily catching up. “You’ve got some nerve saying that in public, you bastard…!”
He punched Lycaon in the arm, but the Thiren simply smiled and maintained his elegant stride as though he hadn’t felt it at all.
“Oh? Is it not simply the truth?”
“Absolutely not,” Hugo declared, drawing himself up in dramatic arrogance. “I’ll have you know, I’m quite the proficient pâtissier now.”
“Is that so…” Lycaon mused, brushing his chin in apparent contemplation. “So you no longer turn caramel into super glue, macarons into ash, nor crème brûlée into flaming towels?”
“No!” Hugo cried, though he almost bit his tongue. That was uh, excluding the time he had spent an entire afternoon with two fingers resolutely caramelized together.
“I practiced a lot after you left,” he continued, throwing the Thiren a side-ways glare. “So I suppose I have you to thank.”
At that, Lycaon’s smile abruptly faded, and he closed his eye with a quiet sigh as they slid into the narrow corridors of the market.
… Ah, he hadn’t meant to dampen the mood. His bitterness had simply festered for so long that it was difficult to suppress. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he glanced around the bustling market and decidedly veered towards a fruit vendor.
“Blueberries are in season, should we get some? Vivian really likes them.”
Lycaon trailed after him, lingering two steps behind, looking immersed in his own somber thoughts.
“The strawberries are on sale, too.”
The Thiren nodded his head slightly, but otherwise did not react. A little exasperated, Hugo cast his old friend a pointed look and reached for an apple.
“These apples look delicious, don’t they?”
Lycaon gazed at him blankly. Staring challengingly back, Hugo lifted the apple to his lips — and took a bite.
His fangs sank into the flesh of the fruit with an audible crunch. Emotion finally shattered Lycaon’s stupor — shock, indignation, and disdain.
“Hugo, you can’t just—”
Raising an eyebrow, Hugo deliberately took another bite and went on to loudly chew. Lycaon’s brow furrowed in displeasure, and the Thiren turned towards the vendor with a frustrated sigh.
She had just finished helping another customer, and she turned to Lycaon with a warm, welcoming smile.
“My deepest apologies,” Lycaon began, sounding quite embarrassed as he gestured at Hugo and pulled out his wallet. “I will pay for the apple…”
Amused, Hugo turned away and began to inspect the blueberries, shamelessly enjoying his apple in the process.
“Oh, it’s not a problem!”
He heard the vendor’s cheerful voice, and he could vividly imagine her waving her hands reassuringly.
“Mr. Hugo saved my husband from a Hollow disaster last year. He still drops by to help us with medical fees from the ether condition that he developed because of it.”
Hugo scoffed quietly to himself. She always had been too talkative… he hoped she didn’t name-drop him to every customer who asked.
“I told him it’s alright, but he insists he’s only paying for how delicious our apples are. So don’t worry about it dear, your friend has more than paid for that apple.”
Hugo, by then, had strolled to another vendor across the aisle. The blueberries did look good, but they had purchased a huge basket last week, and he remembered Vivian mentioning that she had grown tired of them.
Hearing the tell-tale clatter of Lycaon’s footsteps coming up behind him, Hugo tossed a smirk over his shoulder.
“Well there you go,” he said airily. “Learned something new about me today, eh, partner?”
“I still paid her for the apple,” Lycaon said stiffly, tail twitching behind him. “And next time, I’d prefer if you tell me the backstory before you take someone’s goods.”
“Too many stories, too little time.”
Hugo shrugged and kept walking. This time, Lycaon stayed right beside him — perhaps wary of what else he might steal, or just successfully distracted by his diversion.
“We’ve been apart for many years, you know. A lot has happened.”
Lycaon sighed, his ears and tail practically wilting as he began to fall back again.
“Indeed…”
Sheesh, he hadn’t meant that as a bad thing. Though it was somewhat cathartic to see his former companion expressing such remorse over their separation, it wasn’t like Hugo had spent the entire time in misery.
“In any case, Mr. Attendant,” he declared loftily, “shouldn’t you be recommending produce for us? We’re still empty-handed, you know—”
He broke off. At that moment, in the middle of the busy intersection, he caught wind of a wondrous scent.
“Oh!”
Without thinking, Hugo grabbed Lycaon’s arm and began to tug him through the crowd. He heard the Thiren utter a flustered sound, but he was too excited to think about this from Lycaon’s perspective. The two of them, arms practically linked, dashing through a bustling marketplace like an energetic young couple—
The scent was golden and buttery. It was more than just the smell of bread and pastries, it was an irresistible, sizzling, rich aroma that was almost intoxicating to breathe in.
It came from a small bakery in a corner of the market. The specific scent belonged to their most famous product, a pastry so popular that Hugo had only ever managed to try it once. Every other time he’d passed by, it had always already been sold out.
How lucky.
They brushed past the aisle and emerged before the shimmering light of the bakery’s display cases. His sharp eyes spotted it instantly — the last one, a lone golden crown behind the counter.
Hugo stepped towards the door, stomach already gurgling in elation — only to be shoved back by a group of shrieking children rushing into the store.
“—Hugo.”
He tumbled right into Lycaon’s cautious embrace. The Thiren closed a hand around his arm, and though Lycaon didn’t seem confident enough to touch him anywhere else, his voice was drenched in concern.
“… Are you alright?”
Inside the bakery, the children had gathered around the crown-shaped pastry and were cheering together. Hugo eyed them for a moment, breathing shallowly through his stinging ribs. But his annoyance faded quickly with his pain, and he uttered only a resigned sigh as he turned away from the bakery.
Lycaon remained just behind him, his warmth brushing against Hugo’s back.
“… Didn’t you want to purchase something?”
“Nope,” Hugo said airily, slipping a hand into his pocket. “I merely thought I saw someone with a valuable ring. Unfortunately, on closer inspection, it was fake. Ahh, how disappointing… I was hoping to add it to my collection.”
Lycaon frowned, but the Thiren didn’t seem to believe his lie. He glanced over his shoulder as they walked away, scrutinizing the bakery in confusion.
They returned to the market and began to make some purchases. Hugo left most of the actual shopping to Lycaon, watching with a vague smile as his former partner inspected produce with practiced hands and an extremely thoughtful frown.
“You’re still as picky as ever,” Hugo drawled, curiously picking up a tomato that Lycaon had deemed inferior. He honestly could not see what was wrong with it. “Why didn’t you like this one?”
“The blossom-end is slightly puckered,” Lycaon explained matter-of-factly. “That means it matured unevenly.”
“It’s a tomato,” Hugo pointed out amusedly, “not a diamond.”
“Says the man who once rejected a sapphire for ‘having a jealous hue’.”
“That was different!” Hugo protested, his voice shrill with both laughter and indignation. He put the tomato down and caught up to his companion’s side. “The stone was insecure. It knew it wasn’t worth stealing.”
“… Mm.” Lycaon uttered a satisfied hum as he selected another tomato. He passed it to Hugo to put in the bag. “And I’m not ‘picky’. I’m meticulous.”
After purchasing a rather alarming variety of vegetables, Lycaon led him to the aisle between the meat and seafood sections.
“What would you like for the main course?”
“Not broccoli,” Hugo replied, eyeing the bagful of green he was being forced to carry.
“Seafood or meat?” Lycaon clarified smoothly, sounding completely unconcerned.
“I don’t have a preference.” Hugo did pause to think, though. “… I don’t know if Vivian would.”
“Understood,” Lycaon decided, setting off.
Hugo followed him with a dubious eyebrow-raise.
“Understood what?”
The Thiren ended up purchasing both fish and meat. Hugo unceremoniously offered to carry the bags so that Lycaon could fuss over his produce at maximum capacity, but the Thiren firmly declined.
“You’re wounded.”
“I am,” Hugo reminded him with an irritable beam, “a fully grown man.”
“Who’s wounded,” Lycaon repeated, brushing past him with most of their bags.
After circling the other half of the market, they passed a corner store. Lycaon set his bags down and asked Hugo to keep an eye on them while he went inside.
The store looked very busy, and Hugo had no desire to add to the congestion. He nodded curtly and watched as Lycaon went up to the door, then proceeded to be stuck holding it open for a large wave of people.
The Thiren eventually made it inside, the black tips of his ears visible above the sea of people beneath him. Hugo watched in amusement for a while, but eventually took out his phone.
Vivian had sent him a message. She’d be out with friends until late, and wouldn’t be back for dinner.
… Oh.
Hugo glanced at their bags of accumulated groceries.
“How tragic.” He messaged her back. “Then tonight I dine not in peace, but under the looming presence of peril. Lycaon is making dinner. Are you really abandoning me to the mercy of the big bad wolf?”
Vivian replied a few seconds later.
“Oh, good. Maybe being on the menu will teach you to cut down on the thrill-seeking until you’re less dead.”
Hugo scoffed. Lycaon, that traitor… he must’ve told Vivian he’d snuck out the instant he’d seen the apartment empty.
He waited there for a while, entertaining himself by imagining how he would maneuver this environment while fleeing from pursuers. Lycaon trudged out a while later, the fur along his tail a little tousled, carrying a large bag of bulky objects.
“At last, you return!” He greeted his old friend with a sharp-toothed grin. “Has your sacred quest come to an end? Did you find that perfect carton of golden eggs?”
“Yes,” Lycaon replied coolly, picking up the rest of their bags except the one with broccoli.
Damnit, was he doing that on purpose?
“It’s been over an hour,” the Thiren continued, angling his body towards the exit. “Your prescription should be ready.”
They left the marketplace and returned to the open streets of Lumina Square. It was well into evening now, the sun hanging low in the sky, the rush hour crowd steadily thinning. They picked up Hugo’s medicine without much delay and silently agreed to take the metro back.
The train was crowded, which was normal for this time, but bearable. It wasn’t until a stop later that an avalanche of passengers suddenly squeezed in. An event must have just ended at Starloop Tower, and everyone was leaving all at once.
They sidled closer to make space, but people continued to cram inside. By the time the train doors were finally able to close, the car was completely packed. The largest gap between any two bodies was probably the one between himself and Lycaon.
Hugo had already flattened himself as much as possible to the wall of the car. Lycaon was hovering over him, one arm braced by his head, stopping the crowd from shoving him any close. He had tucked his tail between his legs, and though the Thiren was gazing quietly off to the side, his fur bristled in obvious discomfort.
The train turned a corner. The crowd leaned like a rippling wave, and the crushing force shoved Lycaon closer.
The Thiren let go of the grocery bags and abruptly slammed his other hand against the wall — but it was too late. They had lost their padding, and now the crowd was not letting them regain any space.
… They were completely pressed against each other. He could feel the buttons of Lycaon’s uniform pressing into his stomach, and his knees were trapped between the Thiren’s prosthetics. Lycaon’s tail was whisking around his ankles. Hugo’s face was practically buried in his companion’s throat.
… Lycaon smelled really good…
It was impossible not to think about that. It was also impossible not to think about how soft his fur felt, or how warm his body was. It was impossible not to peek up at his lips and recall how heatedly they had kissed on that dark lounge sofa less than twenty-four hours ago, and it was impossible not to imagine doing the same thing right now.
Against his forehead, Lycaon released a slow, strained sigh. Hugo envied him for even daring to breathe.
They reached the next stop an unbearable five minutes later. The space situation did not improve, but Hugo took advantage of the shifting crowd to turn around and face the wall.
This way, he figured, they wouldn’t have to look at each other. That ought to make things better—
The train started with a lurch, and the crowd shoved them into each other again. Lycaon plastered him to the wall with a startled grunt, and Hugo uttered a regretful sigh as he immediately realized that this… was most certainly not better.
Lycaon was now breathing right on his ear.
The walls rumbled loudly beneath his palms as they turned another corner. The heat pressed against him grew heavier, and he felt Lycaon’s breath hitch. The Thiren had grabbed some of their grocery bags to stop them from falling, and Hugo could feel a vegetable jabbing into him.
He shifted slightly, not thinking much of it until a hotter, headier huff swept over his skin. Taken aback, he stopped and stared at the wall in astonishment.
The crowd pressed them closer. Against the wall, Lycaon’s hand clenched into a very agitated fist.
“… Lycaon.”
The Thiren tensed, his breath turning shallow and restrained against the back of Hugo’s ear.
“Did we buy eggplants?”
There was a poignant pause.
“… Uh… yes.”
It took all of Hugo’s willpower not to burst out laughing. A few chuckles still wrenched themselves from his bruised chest, and he forced them down into amused gasps.
The vegetable poking into him throbbed in a very non-vegetable-like way. Hugo was quite certain they had not purchased any eggplants.
Realizing he had been caught in a blatant lie, Lycaon uttered a flustered growl, then lowered his head and whispered hoarsely.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Hugo huffed gleefully, angling his head back. His cheek brushed his companion’s soft muzzle, and for a fleeting moment of insanity, he imagined wrapping his arms around this big fluffy head and smashing their lips together. “If anything, I’m quite flattered.”
But he managed to stop himself. As tempting as it was to implicate the mayor’s prestigious attendant in a public scandal, Hugo would prefer to not have photos of him and Lycaon making out circulating the Inter-Knot.
Against him, Lycaon closed his eye and repeated in a rasp so remorseful that it almost sounded like a whine,
“I’m sorry…”
They arrived at their station a few stops later. Hugo breathed in the fresh air with a relieved sigh, while Lycaon adjusted his necktie and took multiple deep breaths. The wolf Thiren looked quite flushed, and though it could have just been the sunset against his fur, Hugo had reason to believe otherwise.
They walked back to the gallery. Lycaon’s hands were filled with groceries, so Hugo graciously held the front door open for him, smirking meaningfully at his friend in a silent tease.
After you, Sir Lycaon.
His supposed attendant brushed past with a slightly flustered sigh, and Hugo followed after, distractedly checking his watch.
It was 6:54 PM… the gallery opened at seven today. They had made it back just in time.
“Oh!”
A surprised voice made him look up. Right, they had a part-timer today, the one recommended by Vivian. She and Lycaon had stopped to stare at each other in the middle of the gallery.
“Worry not,” Hugo said airily, striding between them with a dismissive twirl of his keys. “He’s just the new attendant. You can open up whenever you’re ready — I’m going to get him acquainted with the feather duster first, I’ll be with you shortly.”
Lycaon cast him a mildly annoyed look. The part-timer nodded her head enthusiastically.
“Yes, of course, Mr. Hugo!”
They went upstairs through the back of the gallery to find the apartment empty. Vivian had either taken Robin with her, or the little Bangboo had gone off on his own adventure.
“Ah, right, Vivian just told me she’d be out with friends all evening,” Hugo remembered to say. His voice was a little breathless — he was used to running around New Eridu all day, but now that he was home, the sofa looked tantalizing.
“So it’s just the two of us,” Lycaon mused, gracefully lifting their groceries onto the kitchen table. “I suppose I’ll have to endure your undivided attention.”
Taken aback, Hugo raised an eyebrow at the Thiren — but Lycaon was sorting out their food, apparently comfortable with the insinuation behind his words.
“… Allow me to reassure you, then,” he said coolly. “My attention will be on the gallery and its guests, so there will be little you need to endure. You’re free to do whatever you wish and eat whenever you’d like. I’ll come up for sustenance when I feel like I need it.”
Lycaon paused and turned his head slightly, revealing the side of his face covered by his eyepatch. It was impossible to see what expression he was actually wearing, but there seemed to be disappointment in his voice.
“… Is that what you prefer?”
Hugo felt his grin twitch. Surely his former partner hadn’t been looking forward to an intimate, familial dinner?
“I prefer to see you on your knees with a wet rag,” he scoffed, resting his arm against the railings. “But I’m compromising.”
Lycaon turned fully, revealing the solemn look in his eye.
“I can do that as well.”
Hugo’s elbow slipped off the railing. He recovered his balance with a slight huff and cast his old friend an incredulous look.
“You idiot, that was obviously a joke—”
Only to realize Lycaon had already returned to the sink and was chuckling quietly.
Flushing, Hugo smoothed out his suit and turned away with an indignant swish of his ponytail.
“I’ll be downstairs,” he announced arrogantly.
“Try not to overexert yourself,” Lycaon called back amiably.
“… Hmph. That’s my line.”
He then escaped down the stairs before Lycaon could see his face.
Hugo had spread rumors of some new rare pieces being displayed tonight, so the gallery was quite busy. It buzzed with soft conversation, its warm lighting casting golden halos across the polished floors. Ever the seasoned performer, Hugo floated from guest to guest, smoothly striking up pleasant conversations and entertaining them with stories about his collectibles.
“An elaborate music box,” he declared gallantly, gesturing at a bronze automaton in one corner, “originally gifted to a disloyal mistress. The eyes used to light up when played, although I’m told the effect was less charming in the dark. Would you like to hear it?”
He snapped his fingers without awaiting their answer. Soft metallic notes rang out in a chilling melody, eliciting delighted gasps from his audience and luring in other visitors.
Elsewhere, he guided a pair of young lovers through a series of fabric murals that he may or may not have stolen himself. The murals depicted a rich fairy tale intertwined with both tragedy and comedy. He narrated the story with utmost enthusiasm, though really he was just entertaining himself. The couple seemed too immersed in each other to understand his performance, but he let them be and continued to act as their accompaniment.
There was only one moment where Hugo paused, his eyes lingering on them as they leaned together for a not-so-sneaky kiss. He definitely did not think about how he and Lycaon had nearly been intertwined in the same way not that long ago.
At some point, an arrogant, well-dressed guest asked Hugo if he truly believed that a certain amulet had belonged to a Void Hunter. Hugo simply smiled and replied, “Doesn’t it seem more interesting if I do?”
They then insisted on seeing his ‘private collection’. Hugo laughed as heartily as his ribcage allowed, then showed them to some artistically nude paintings.
They didn’t take to his joke very kindly. After spewing some angry language about buying out the whole gallery one day, the guest stormed out, unknowingly leaving a large portion of their dennies in Hugo’s hands.
The evening wore on quickly, and as the streets outside darkened, the gallery’s warm glow began to feel like a golden sun in the night. They had been open for several hours already, but Hugo loved talking about his collection, and he still felt quite lively. Noticing some visitors hovering around one of his favourite pieces — a mother-of-pearl brooch pendant — Hugo slid seamlessly over and began to tell the story behind it.
“Have you noticed what’s carved into this pendant?” he queried, stepping out of the audience and onto the stage.
“A crescent moon and a bird,” a confident guest answered.
“A crescent moon and a mockingbird,” Hugo corrected with a pleased smile. “This pendant belonged to a playwright who kept it pinned to his collar during every performance. He said it helped him remember every voice he had ever heard… every critic, every lover, every rival. ‘A mockingbird never forgets a tune’, he wrote once. He died mid-monologue, still wearing it.”
A mixture of amazed and unnerved murmurs rippled through the crowd. Hugo chuckled and lowered the pendant carefully back into its display.
“But of course, that’s the kind of thing all dramatists say. I keep it because I like the carving.”
Having heard his story, the guests began to disperse. An older couple thanked him profusely before moving on towards the refreshments, and Hugo lifted his hand to offer them a gracious wave — forgetting, in the stage lights, that that was his injured side.
His hand faltered mid-air and he stiffened with a wince. But his heart leapt far more violently when a hand grabbed his wrist from behind.
A large shadow fell over him, eclipsing the golden lights above. Hugo parted his lips with a startled huff, but as his arm was forced gently back to his side, he realized it was Lycaon.
He turned slightly, his head brushing against the wolf Thiren’s fur. That was how close they were standing right now — pressed against each other in the middle of the gallery and its guests, like some kind of exhibit themselves. Self-conscious of the curious glances being thrown their way, Hugo bared his fangs in an irked grin, about to hiss a concealed threat when he became distracted by the scent of something delicious.
Not just delicious… overwhelmingly delicious. Lycaon smelled like a whole bakery.
His hiss turned into an incredulous glance.
“Goodness, Lycaon. Have you been frolicking in butter?”
The wolf Thiren’s expression remained mostly nonchalant, though his eye might have gleamed slightly.
“May I borrow you?”
Hugo pulled away and turned to face his former companion.
“For what?”
Lycaon lifted his phone. According to his glucose patch, his blood sugar was getting low.
Hugo refrained from rolling his eyes, only because he knew guests were still watching.
“I thought you’d be up for dinner by now,” Lycaon murmured. “It’s late. You should eat.”
“I was covering the part-timer so she could grab a snack,” Hugo replied dismissively. “I’ll check if she’s back.”
He turned and strode to the front of the gallery, Lycaon persistently trailing after him. The part-timer had just returned — she was removing her jacket and draping it over the chair behind the front desk.
“Mr. Hugo!” She greeted him brightly, her gaze quizzical but friendly as it turned towards Lycaon. “And…?”
“You may call me Lycaon,” the Thiren introduced himself politely. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I borrow Mr. Hugo for an hour so that he may have dinner?”
“I don’t need an hour—” Hugo objected sharply, but the part-timer was already nodding fervently.
“Of course! Take as long as you need!”
Her enthusiasm seemed unnecessarily joyful, and her gaze seemed to linger on the way Lycaon was practically attached to him. A little warily, Hugo stepped aside, pointedly increasing the distance between him and his former partner.
“Let me know if you need anything and I’ll be down right away,” he told her. He would have said more, but Lycaon had grabbed his uninjured arm and was starting to tug him back.
“If the food gets any colder, it will become inedible,” the Thiren muttered agitatedly.
Damnit, Hugo didn’t miss the way she grinned as they left.
Lycaon released him once they’d reached the stairs and gestured for him to go first. Hugo complained the entire way, climbing each step with exaggerated grudgingness.
“You know, some of us have a schedule, a routine way of going about their night,” he grumbled. “I told you I’d go up for food when I felt like it. Didn’t you say we could consider you as our part-time attendant? Do you usually storm in and start dragging your masters around, Mr. Attendant? Or are you still immersed in that fantasy of me being your new puppy? I am not a pup, nor am I some Bangboo that you can just boss around and micro-manage, you know, I—”
He stepped into the apartment, caught one glimpse of the dinner table — and abruptly halted.
His tirade faded into a stunned silence.
He didn’t recognize the kitchen. The lights had been dimmed, and a mahogany tablecloth had been laid across the dining table, cushioning a parade of exquisitely crafted dishes. Delicate and colourful, gleaming with sauces and garnish… a literal banquet had been carefully arranged before their humble seats.
And at the very center, elevated on a silver pedestal… was a plate of golden crusted crowns.
It was the pastry he had spotted at the bakery today.
… A whole plate of them.
Chapter Text
Brushing past him with a distinctly amused huff, Lycaon strode to the table and pulled out a chair for him. The wolf Thiren bent over in an elegant bow as he gestured for Hugo to take the seat.
“At your leisure, Master Hugo.”
Hugo closed his mouth. If he didn’t, he’d blurt out something regrettable, or start salivating on the ground.
Avoiding Lycaon’s smug gaze, he walked over to the table, his knees suddenly feeling wobbly. Strange, he had been perfectly fine a second ago… but now it felt like he hadn’t eaten in days. His stomach ached, his vision spun, and he felt so light-headed that he wouldn’t be surprised if he fainted before reaching the table.
He somehow made it to his seat. Lycaon smoothly pushed his chair in as he sat down, then stepped back to introduce the dishes.
“For starters,” the wolf Thiren murmured in a refined voice as he presented every plate with impeccable grace, “we have seared scallop on cauliflower purée with a microgreen garnish, and a tomato carpaccio with burrata, basil oil, and balsamic pearls. For soup, we have creamed broccoli with garden herbs and a side of cheese puffs.”
Lycaon did pause to give him a rather pointed look.
“I do expect you to finish a bowl of it.”
It looked absolutely delicious for something so alarmingly green. Hugo tried to fake an indignant glare, but he was pretty sure he came across as more starved and confused.
The Thiren moved on with a pleased chuckle.
“As we weren’t sure whether Vivian would like meat or fish, I prepared both. For our fish course, we have crispy-skin sea bass with beurre blanc and asparagus tips. For our meat course, we have duck breast with red wine jus, parsnip purée, and glazed baby carrots. Last, but most certainly not least…”
Lycaon twirled his hand towards the crown-shaped pastries elevated on their silver throne. He paused there and smiled at Hugo, clearly enjoying his vain struggle to hide his overwhelming anticipation.
“… For dessert, we have savoury kouign-amann with Comté cheese — otherwise known as butter cake. It is a pastry famous for its moisture, crispy exterior, and deep buttery tones.” The wolf Thiren smiled warmly at him. “It’s traditionally made with caramel, but I believe this variation is what had you so excited at the market.”
Hugo sat there for a moment, silent.
… This was food? It looked more like art. He was tempted to display the entire table downstairs.
He could feel Lycaon’s expectant gaze awaiting his feedback, but he suddenly felt too weak to move. He didn’t think he’d even be able to grab his fork.
“… You…”
When he eventually managed to utter any kind of sound, it was a rasp.
“… Don’t you think this is a little excessive…?”
Lycaon seemed prepared to answer.
“This is simply how I prefer to cook dinner.”
“I’m not some wealthy client of yours, you know,” Hugo pointed out a little breathlessly. “You didn’t need to go through all this effort—”
Lycaon interrupted him softly.
“The effort I’d put in for a client, I’d put in ten times the amount for you.”
His voice died in his throat. Hugo stared at his former partner’s sincere smile for what felt like a very long time.
… He was a performer. Performers were never truly speechless. This silence, this tension, this inability to speak, to even think, he had never… experienced it before.
His fingers twitched. Slowly, Hugo lifted his hands… and buried his face.
“Lycaon…” he groaned, genuinely bewildered. “I think I’m hallucinating.”
He heard a pleased chuckle, and through the slivers between his fingers, he saw the wolf Thiren sit down in the chair next to his own.
“Then let’s tone it down a little,” Lycaon said warmly, picking up a fork. “I’ll dine with you. Does that help?”
Hugo hesitated, then lowered his trembling fingers to his own cutlery. Fully aware of how insufferably smug Lycaon looked right now, he cast his old friend an exhausted glare.
“… Yeah.”
He gripped his fork tightly, only to pause. This time, he hesitated for quite a while, and Lycaon eventually looked over questioningly.
“… Vivian,” he began.
“I’ve already set aside portions of everything for her,” Lycaon assured him.
Hugo released his breath in a relieved sigh. He stared across the table for a moment… then reached straight for the kouign-amann.
Lycaon chuckled. Hugo flushed, but didn’t let his embarrassment stop him. He shoved the pastry indignantly into his mouth and sank his fangs into its crispy surface.
Moist, buttery, heavenly flavour billowed over his tongue and flooded the rest of his body like a physical wave of bliss. He could quite literally feel his discomforts being swept out of his extremities. Every bite was drenched in luscious, gooey cheesiness and crisp, succulent dough. It was juicy and crunchy and flaky and tender all at the same time.
Hugo lowered his head, took another bite, and chewed in silence.
“How is it?”
He heard Lycaon ask with concern in his voice, but he couldn’t answer.
“… It was a bit rushed,” the wolf Thiren admitted after a while, perhaps taking his silence as an indication of disappointment. “Ideally, I would have prepared the dough myself and spent more time on the laminations, but that would have taken the entire day. If it lacks layers, or if it’s sticky—”
“Lycaon.”
Lycaon broke off and gazed at him questioningly. His companion listened to his silence for a long time before Hugo sighed.
“… Nevermind.”
He took another bite. He couldn’t possibly voice what he had been thinking just now… “If you asked to rejoin Mockingbird, in this moment, I’d say yes.” Even if it was phrased as a joke, he would probably have made it sound completely serious. Maybe he was completely serious.
Lycaon’s tail began to swish anxiously as his fussing promptly grew in volume.
“Is the cheese too heavy? Are the layers still stuck together? Is it too dense—?”
“No,” Hugo said. “It’s—”
“Perhaps I should have added less Comté, or considered bacon bits, the oil may have helped with—”
“No,” Hugo repeated, “it’s fine—”
Lycaon heaved a deeply troubled sigh. “Or perhaps—”
“Damnit, it’s absolutely delicious, okay?!” Hugo finally cried, his voice shrill with irritation and something far less understandable. He knew he ought to stop there, but his mind and body had been so overtaken by sheer bliss that he just had to blurt out the rest.
“I’m — I’m blown away by how good it is, it’s so good that I almost asked if you could stay with us forever!”
His confession rang in the silence. Hugo froze, his body paralyzed in indecision as he felt the immediate urge to both crawl under the table and reach for another butter cake.
Lycaon stared at him, his crimson eye wide and shimmering with painfully obvious emotions. Slowly, one faint twitch at a time, an abashed sort of smile flickered onto the Thiren’s lips.
The silence broke with his soft chuckle.
“… Thank you. I’m glad.”
Lycaon pushed a scallop onto his fork and slipped it quietly into his mouth. Hugo released his held breath shakily and grabbed a second butter cake in utter mortification.
But the tension only lasted until Lycaon insisted that he have a bowl of broccoli soup now. Hugo proposed dipping kouign-amann into it, which seemed to horrify the Thiren. They relaxed into their usual banter as they argued about whether it was blasphemy or not.
By the time they finished dinner, just over an hour had passed. There were quite a few leftovers and many plates to clean, but Lycaon assured him that he’d handle it.
“Return to your gallery,” the Thiren said gently as he took Hugo’s plates off the table. “You seem worried about the part-timer.”
“What happened to not being able to read my mind?” Hugo scoffed, stacking a couple other plates and bringing them to the sink for Lycaon. He deliberately brushed against the Thiren as he delivered the dishes, subtly showing his appreciation… and admittedly, enjoying the sensation of his old friend’s warmth.
He tidied himself quickly in the mirror, then returned back to the gallery. The part-timer did a great job of greeting and assisting guests, but she was most certainly not a curator, and their visitors had been wandering around on their own in his absence. Filled with more warmth than he ever thought possible, Hugo put on a broad smile and stepped forward to resume the show.
It became quite late, quite quickly. Most businesses on the street had closed by now, and Hugo told the part-timer to return home for the night. The guests had thinned, but there were still a few trickling in — it was the perfect pace for leisurely storytelling, and Hugo enjoyed himself immensely.
It was nearly midnight by the time he escorted the last guest out and locked the front door. He spent another half hour cleaning up and ensuring that everything was still in order, then turned the lights off. He loosened his tie as he strode upstairs, heaving a weary but content sigh.
Given the time, he assumed Lycaon would have left — so he was a little startled to find the wolf Thiren still seated at the dining table, polishing their cutlery.
He paused for a heartbeat with his hand on the railings. Then, he uttered a faint scoff, hung his jacket up, and strode over.
Lycaon’s ears swivelled towards him, indicating that the Thiren was aware of his presence — but they didn’t greet each other, at least not in the traditional sense. He brushed Lycaon’s shoulder as he passed the back of his chair, and the Thiren replied by lifting a chocolate coin. Amused, Hugo accepted it but slipped into his pocket instead. As Lycaon, expectedly, turned to protest, he leaned down and met his old friend with a nuzzle.
The Thiren’s stern rumble faded into a surprised silence as their cheeks brushed. They were quiet for a moment, eyelids hanging low and relaxed, sharing a simple pause. Somewhere in the very back of his mind, Hugo was horrified that he was willing to indulge in such an act, but it had been a long day. He was tired, and Lycaon was here, and… it was difficult to suppress such an ingrained, instinctive habit.
“… Got any leftover kouign-amann?” he murmured, after a while.
Silently, Lycaon reached over the table and lifted a metal food dome, revealing the single golden pastry preserved for him underneath. It had been re-plated with some fruits arranged into the shape of a bird, and Hugo squeezed his friend’s shoulder with an incredulous laugh.
He hadn’t actually expected Lycaon to leave one out for him, nevermind prepared so deliberately.
“Seriously?”
“There are still some things that I know about you,” Lycaon replied solemnly.
Hugo inclined his head in agreement as he took the adjacent seat.
I’ll give you that.
He bit into the butter cake, its still-luxurious crunch echoing in the kitchen as it crumbled slowly beneath his fangs.
“Mm…” he groaned between muffled bites, rewarding Lycaon with an exaggerated display of indulgence. “Mm… it’s so good. Mm… mmm…”
Lycaon chuckled, his tail wagging quite vigorously.
“Stop.”
Grinning, Hugo offered the last few bites to his former partner.
“Want any?”
“I’m alright,” Lycaon refused politely.
“Are you sure~?”
Hugo leaned over and waved the pastry playfully in his face. Lycaon tried to evade at first, but the Thiren eventually grabbed his arm and pushed it away with a light-hearted sigh.
“It’d be a crime to take it away from someone who enjoys it so much.”
Chortling, Hugo finished the rest and wiped his hands, feeling extremely content as he licked the lingering butter off his lips.
“Worried I’ll come after you in the name of justice?”
“Hardly.”
Grinning, Hugo slid his arm over the back of Lycaon’s chair and leaned towards his companion — close enough that he could feel the Thiren’s startled breath against his face.
“Heh…” he purred, his voice sweet and teasing as he brushed his lips against Lycaon’s muzzle. A faint rumble began to rise from the Thiren’s chest, but it didn’t sound at all angry. “At this point, I might come after you just to get more…”
He caressed the corner of Lycaon’s mouth with his lips. The Thiren’s rumbling faded, and slowly, Lycaon turned towards him, crimson eye narrowed and shadowed by a thick, dark haze.
They shifted, their heads angling relative to each other, their mouths parting as they tested each other with the tiniest of brushes. Hugo could taste a hint of Lycaon on his tongue, and it made his mouth wet with saliva. This kiss… he wanted it more than any pastry, but as overwhelming as his desire was, he was too proud to make the first desperate move.
So they continued to linger, noses brushing against each other’s cheeks, huffing softly as though testing each other’s will. And Hugo knew that his will was strong, tempered — it had been through far more than it ever should’ve had to.
Which meant… he shouldn’t have to test it, he realized. He shouldn’t have to prove anything.
If what he wanted, right now, was to climb over Lycaon and kiss him until they were both dizzy, then… he ought to just do it.
Tightening his grip on the back of Lycaon’s chair, Hugo braced himself and—
“Oh, Hugo. Did you finally close up?”
The hallway light turned on, and a familiar voice slipped into the room. Hugo reeled away, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.
Vivian paused in the hallway, one eyebrow raising in surprise. She looked like she had just showered — she had changed into pajamas, and was holding a rather squirmy Robin in her arms.
“Sorry, did I interrupt something?”
“Aha!” Hugo laughed, way too loudly. His ribs hurt. His embarrassment hurt more. Lycaon, that bastard, was doing a terrible job of hiding his amusement. “What is there to interrupt?”
Vivian did that movement with her eyes that indicated she thought he was spewing nonsense. She set Robin down and strode into the kitchen, brushing past them and heading for the tea cabinet.
Trying to sound casual, Hugo asked, “Did you try the kouign-amann?”
“I’m saving it for breakfast tomorrow,” Vivian replied. “Is it good?”
“Hmm…” Hugo made a show of being skeptical. “It’s… passable, I suppose.”
Lycaon raised an eyebrow at him. He flashed a grin back.
“Since you asked, it must be amazing,” Vivian said dryly.
Lycaon let slip a hoarse chuckle and quickly lifted a hand to his muzzle as though to stifle himself. Hugo felt his smile twist in a mixture of annoyance and pride. As expected of his fellow phantom thief…
“You’re making a cup for me too, right?” He changed the subject and gestured at the tin of tea she had taken out.
Vivian spared him a disdainful glance.
“I’m making a cup for everyone.”
Ah, how polite. Hugo chuckled and rested his head in his hands, letting his gaze linger fondly on her pale curls.
Once the tea was prepared, Vivian graciously poured everyone a cup, then joined them at the table. Robin had settled into his personal seat by the television and had opened a newspaper to read, probably trying to act sophisticated in front of Butler’s master. Hugo could still see his gold-tipped ears wiggling all over the place as he snuck glances over.
They enjoyed their first few sips of tea without speaking. Vivian pulled out her phone, and Lycaon had closed his eye as though immersed in his own meditation. Hugo found the silence slightly unsettling — it wasn’t every day that both his former and current partner sat with him at the same table, after all — but the other two didn’t seem to share his discomfort.
“So,” Vivian spoke up casually, still scrolling through her phone. “What were you two up to today?”
Lycaon choked slightly on his tea. Hugo took the liberty of loftily answering first.
“I took my dog to the vet. He made a huge fuss, you should’ve seen him—”
“We,” Lycaon growled over him, “went to the doctor’s office.”
“He microchipped me!” Hugo cut in indignantly, lifting the shoulder where his patch was.
At that, Vivian looked up with both eyebrows raised.
Lycaon hastily cleared his throat. “His injuries are what we expected, but it’s not clear what he was injected with last night. We’ll have a follow-up visit once his blood test results return — until then, to ensure that his blood sugar levels remain safe, he’ll be wearing a glucose monitoring patch. It’s not a microchip.”
The wolf Thiren paused to throw Hugo a pointed glare.
“And I’m not a dog.”
Pulling up the monitoring app on his phone, Hugo showed it to Vivian and lamented dramatically, “Look, now he can see my body any time he wants on his phone—”
“Ahem.”
Lycaon cleared his throat again with increased force.
“The only data it captures are his blood glucose levels, and in case you’ve forgotten, Mr. Hugo, you gave explicit consent.”
Thoroughly entertained, Hugo poured more honey into his tea and stirred it with deliberately loud clinks of his spoon. Seeing that he wasn’t listening, Lycaon heaved a massive sigh and turned back to Vivian, who was watching their interaction with a rather complicated expression on her face.
“There are two license keys, and I do indeed have the other one at the moment,” Lycaon explained in a rather apologetic voice. “But they are transferable, and I was intending to pass mine to you.”
“No.” Vivian rejected the offer without hesitation. “You take care of it.”
“Huh?!” Hugo cried, more out of indignation than shock.
Vivian shrugged and lifted her teacup.
“He trusts you more anyway.”
“That’s not—”
She interrupted him with a deadly glare.
“Who was the one you decided to work with when you faked your death?”
Hugo paused for a moment, then leaned his head against his hand and flashed her a cajoling grin.
“Aww, are you still angry about that? I’ll apologize again, alright? I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart.” He placed a hand over his chest for emphasis, though his tone remained perhaps a little too playful. “I didn’t want to get you in trouble.”
“Hmph.”
Lips pursing in a pout, Vivian turned back to her phone.
“Besides,” Hugo continued airily, “because of this incident, you were able to spend quite a bit of time with Phaethon, weren’t you? Didn’t that make you happy?”
Vivian’s gaze softened, but her frown remained stubborn.
“Hmph. I was glad I was able to spend that time with Lord Phaethon,” she muttered grudgingly. “But how could I be ‘happy’ when I thought you might be dead?”
Hugo blinked, the teasing comeback he had prepared fading alongside his grin. He gazed at the light-haired girl for a moment, his chest constricted by a pain that was both agonizing and warm.
“… I truly am sorry.”
Vivian hesitated for a moment, her lips quivering slightly as she pressed them together. Then, she closed her eyes and sighed.
“I know. Just… keep your promise.” She met his gaze with an imploring one of her own. “No more next time.”
Hugo offered her a smile.
“Promise.”
For some reason, displeasure crinkled at her brows. Had he not sounded genuine enough?”
“So why are you still here anyway, Lycaon?” Hugo drawled, hastily changing the subject. “Don’t you need to hurry home before you turn into a werewolf?”
Lycaon was mid-sip of tea, so Vivian answered for him.
“He said he wanted to see you again before he left,” she said dismissively.
Spluttering, the Thiren set his teacup down and dabbed at his lips with a handkerchief.
“I… didn’t exactly say that.”
Across the room, Robin looked up from his newspaper and piped up helpfully.
“He said, exactly—” the Bangboo deepened his voice to mimic Lycaon’— “‘I want to make sure he’s alright… and maybe see him smile again before I go.’”
Lycaon proceeded to cough into his fist. Hugo spit out a laugh and promptly doubled over, half-wheezing, half-gasping in pain as his body suffered from violent quakes of laughter.
“Hugo!” Robin leapt out of his chair and took out his card gun, digital eye narrowed in determined alarm. “Your heart rate is extremely elevated! Miss Vivian said to enforce rest if any of your bodily functions become abnormal!”
As the little Bangboo waddled over threateningly, Hugo flung out his hand and struggled to speak.
“Wait, wait — I’m pretty sure, if you compare my heart rate to Lycaon’s right now,” he gasped, “it’s quite normal.”
Robin stopped and turned to peer at Lycaon. The wolf Thiren cleared his throat again and looked away, ears flattened along the back of his head.
After a moment of scrutiny, Robin put away his weapon.
“… You appear to be correct.”
“Pfft—”
To everyone’s surprise, Vivian muffled a laugh. Hugo blinked at her in a double-take, while Lycaon tried to clarify what he had actually meant.
“I merely wished to ensure your condition was stable before leaving.”
Robin continued to stare at the wolf Thiren, as though amazed by the data he was seeing right now.
Pushing down the rest of his giggles, Hugo straightened and heaved a deep, calming breath.
“Well, I’m clearly fine, and Vivian is home to keep an eye on me now,” he said, his voice still quite breathless. “And here, in case you haven’t had enough—”
He flashed Lycaon a wholehearted beam. He supposed his old friend deserved as much, for the kouign-amann if nothing else.
“… So you can go home and rest now.”
Lycaon’s tail began to swish so rapidly that it made audible noises through the air. Robin lifted an arm to shield himself from the wind, looking like he might be blown away as his cape flapped wildly behind him.
“Mr. Lycaon!” the Bangboo screeched. “I have never seen such alarming numbers! I must tell Butler at once! His master may be in danger!”
“I’m fine, Robin,” Lycaon said hoarsely, rising to his feet and straightening his cravat with a flustered clearing of his throat. “It must be, er, because I am a Thiren. In any case, I should probably get going…”
He pushed his chair in and dipped his head at Vivian.
“Thank you for the tea, Miss Vivian. Please take care. As for… you…?”
Lycaon trailed off, his polite voice twisting in confusion as Hugo also stood from his chair.
“I’ll see you out,” Hugo shrugged, heading for the door first. “I’d feel more at ease knowing that you’ve really left.”
Lycaon uttered a faint scoff, but followed without complaint.
They left through the back, taking the outer stairwell down to the back street. The handrails had been cleaned since last night, Hugo observed in mild gratitude. It would have been unpleasant if the neighbours happened to see blood and called PubSec to investigate.
“In case it wasn’t obvious,” he said airily, as they set off at a leisurely stroll along the shadowed street. “Dinner was delicious.”
He would accompany Lycaon to the end of the block, Hugo figured. Just until the end of the block.
“Thank you for the cleaning you did yesterday, too. It was unnecessary, but appreciated.”
The Thiren walked beside him, adjusting his stride to match Hugo’s, silent. There was a visible tension in his shoulders, like he was holding something in with great difficulty, and his crimson eye remained fixed ahead in an unreadable, shadowed haze.
“And… I suppose I’m grateful for the microchip,” Hugo admitted, though he made a show of sounding miffed. “But try not to peek at it too often, would you? I can take care of myself.”
He paused to let Lycaon retort. To his surprise, the Thiren still did not speak.
They reached the end of the block. Beyond this corner was a sidewalk leading to the rest of the world.
But here, shadowed from the moonlight, it was quiet. It was only the two of them.
Hugo stopped. Lycaon turned to face him, his gaze shimmering with a myriad of uninterpretable emotions.
“Anyway,” Hugo scoffed airily, trying not to sound too grateful. “All that practice you had serving those hypocrites wasn’t a complete waste. Today wasn’t half bad, Lycaon.”
He let a sincere smile ease onto his lips, counting on the darkness to mask his vulnerability.
“… Thank—”
Warmth slid onto his face and pulled him close. Hugo blanked, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. Lifting his chin, he pushed their lips together as though he had been waiting, this entire day, to welcome Lycaon’s taste into his mouth. He relaxed against the Thiren, one hand sliding onto the lapels of his companion’s vest, his injured side trying and failing to follow. He felt Lycaon cradle him closer, claws combing through his hair, warmth drilling deep into the back of his mouth. He breathed in a shaky gasp, and released it in a faint, muffled moan.
His whole body shuddered with a paradoxical mix of relief and yearning. Lycaon had always been easy for him to read, so he hadn’t expected that his former companion had been holding back… this much.
It was immense, the desire that he could feel within Lycaon’s embrace, the sheer desperation and hunger and near obsession with which he gripped Hugo and pinned him against his heaving chest, bending him over as though he might truly devour him—
His wounds stung, and Hugo flinched slightly. It was barely a twitch, a catch of his muffled breath, but Lycaon immediately froze.
Slowly, a little shakily, the Thiren eased his embrace. His hand slid from Hugo’s head down to the small of his back, and they lingered there for a few pounding heartbeats, foreheads pressed together, breaths warm and ragged between their lips.
Then, in a voice so strained with anguish that it made Hugo’s throat ache, too, Lycaon rasped,
“I’ll come see you again tomorrow.”
His warmth slid away. Turning quickly on his heel, the Thiren fled around the corner, his tail swishing agitatedly behind him.
… Leaving Hugo standing there, dazed, alone.
He couldn't move. He could still feel the imprint of Lycaon’s tongue around his own. He could still feel the weight of the Thiren’s hand against his back.
An engine popped in the distance. He finally stirred.
Exhaling shakily, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his fingers trembling in the darkness.
“You idiot…”
He could hear the longing in his quiet scoff. He wished he couldn’t.
“… What exactly do you think we are…?”
Chapter Text
Lycaon did come the next evening, with a basket of cream puffs. Apparently, he had made too much for their client, and had come to deliver the excess.
Or so he said, but after setting the basket on the table, the Thiren rolled up his sleeves and casually began to prepare dinner.
The gallery was closed today, and Vivian was home. That was good, because considering how he and Lycaon had parted last night, they probably shouldn’t be alone together. It would’ve been unbearably awkward at best, and at worst… Hugo didn’t want to think about it.
While Lycaon worked, Vivian returned to her room to read, and Robin lounged around watching TV. Hugo lingered on the sofa too at first, but he quickly grew bored. He was far more interested in the Thiren darting back and forth across their kitchen.
After some hesitation, he got up and wandered over, intending to make Lycaon’s life harder.
“So what’s on the—”
He broke off as an onion was shoved into his hands.
“Slice it,” Lycaon said briskly, pausing only to glance back and add as an afterthought, “… please.”
Hugo stood there and frowned at the Thiren, but Lycaon was too busy stirring the pot while preparing three other garnishes at the same time to notice.
“… Hmph.”
With an irked huff, Hugo grabbed an apron, a cutting board, and a knife. He didn’t like being ordered around, but he didn’t like losing to Lycaon even more. And while he might not have his former partner’s level of culinary expertise, he was very good with a knife.
Before he knew it, he hadn’t just sliced onions, but also carrots, green beans, lemon wedges, and an assortment of other things. He minced the garlic so finely that it was practically a paste, cut the potatoes into perfectly uniform cubes, and sliced the cucumbers with such precision that each piece was translucent. He even arranged everything into attractive patterns on their plates.
Lycaon, who had been walking past, paused and raised an eyebrow. Hugo smirked proudly to himself and hummed as he wiped his knife clean.
How’s that, old friend? I can do much more than just look good in an apron.
Robin wandered over at some point and asked if he could help. He seemed eager to impress Butler’s master, and though Lycaon did give him a few simple tasks to help with, the Bangboo mostly just zoomed around waving spoons in the air and asking for more instructions.
At half past seven, everything was ready. Robin set the table, Lycaon plated the last few dishes, and Hugo went to tell Vivian that dinner was ready. She jumped when he knocked and nearly threw her book into the air.
Hugo did find her fluster quite intriguing, but he knew better than to pry, so he returned to the kitchen first and let her follow at her own pace.
Dinner was tender braised chicken with mushroom and herbs, garlic mashed potatoes, and butter-sautéed green beans. They sat at the table and bickered so much that it took them over an hour to even get through half of their food.
“Did you know,” Hugo declared tauntingly, pointing his spoon at Lycaon, “once, when we were escaping across some rooftops, this oaf froze because seagulls had nested on the ledge?” He scoffed at the memory. “He insisted we go around. We had armed bodyguards on our backs and he wanted us to detour for a flock of birds!”
“I didn’t insist, I suggested,” Lycaon replied gingerly, slicing his chicken with impeccable care. “And after ignoring my suggestion, you went ahead and got dive-bombed. They pecked you off the ledge and you fell into a dumpster. It took hours to scrub the smell off you, and you were whining the entire time.”
Vivian chortled. “Oh, so that’s why you’re always rambling about how gentle pigeons are.”
“How does that— I say that because it’s the truth! Also, I did not whine—”
Lycaon chuckled alongside her, their warm voices mingling over the table.
“He’s still as dramatic as ever, I see.”
“Hey, I’m hardly the only dramatic one here!” Hugo objected indignantly. “You once did a triple cartwheel to avoid a security camera. No one asked you to. It was completely unnecessary!”
“And you applauded so loudly that the guard heard us and set off the alarm,” Lycaon said wryly.
“Hugo,” Vivian pointed out, “Don’t you still do that thing where you maneuver through a bunch of lasers and then strike a pose at the end?” She giggled. “I caught it on the security footage last week, but don’t worry — I wiped it.”
“Alright,” Hugo declared, his face starting to feel warm. “If we’re trying to out-embarrass each other here, I’m not going to lose.”
“Debatable,” Lycaon mused, sipping calmly at his wine.
Baring his fangs in a determined grin, Hugo spoke melodramatically.
“We once had a job at a masquerade. Only one of us could get an invite, and they were expecting a woman — so naturally, I stepped up.”
Lycaon uttered a sudden strained sigh, but didn’t try to stop him. Perhaps he realized that doing so would only be admitting defeat.
“I had an old contact help with the disguise. Full backless gown in liquid gold silk, slit up to the hip. I was radiant. The problem?”
Hugo threw his old friend a knowing smirk. Lycaon was pretending to be extremely immersed in scraping the herb crumbs off his plate.
“Lycaon saw me and completely short-circuited. Froze on the roof like a statue while I was flirting for access codes.”
“… You looked up and blew me a kiss,” Lycaon muttered. “Mid-operation. In front of two guards. You nearly gave away my position.”
The Thiren stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork, but instead of eating it, swirled it grumpily through his potatoes.
“I was trying to maintain operational focus — which someone was very obviously undermining.”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” Hugo crowed delightedly, raising his glass at the Thiren. “‘Operational focus’? You dropped comms mid-sentence. It was just heavy breathing for three minutes!”
“That—” Lycaon broke off. His throat bobbed, and he closed his eye in a moment of silence.
Eventually, he replied with an under-the-breath mumble.
“… You heard that…?”
… Oh.
Only just now realizing what had actually happened, Hugo stopped short.
Across the table, Vivian wasn’t replying with a tale of her own, but staring at them with wide eyes. Her glass of juice had frozen against her lips.
So that was why Lycaon had locked himself in his room for the entirety of the next day… Hugo had always thought his partner had just been angry at him for the recklessly blown kiss.
Setting down his drink, Hugo forced a blithe smile onto his face and turned to Vivian.
“So, Vivian, you’ve been reading a lot of books lately, care to—”
She immediately choked on her drink and doubled over coughing, prompting everyone else to rush over in concern. Lycaon hurried to fetch her water, Robin ran to grab some tissues, and Hugo stayed to pat her on the back.
Not quite the distraction he had been going for, but an effective one nevertheless.
It was late by the time everyone finished eating. Vivian went to take a shower, and Hugo decided to help with the cleanup. He donned an extra pair of gloves and sidled over to join Lycaon at the sink. As their shoulders brushed, the Thiren stiffened and promptly dropped the glass he was holding, splattering them with suds and water.
Hugo snorted. “Very elegant.”
He grabbed a clean cloth from nearby, wiped himself off first, then offered it to Lycaon. The Thiren took it in a flustered silence.
Once everything was tidied up, Vivian suggested that they go for a stroll by the river. They took the metro to Lumina Square and walked along the lower seawall, enjoying the glow of the moon and the shimmering reflection of lights on the water.
Unsurprisingly, Vivian asked Lycaon to tell her about how he had met Phaethon. The two of them chatted warmly about their adventures with the Proxies, while Robin piped up with the occasional mention of Butler. Hugo just… well, the usual. He’d offer the opportune snarky jab, Lycaon would sigh or utter a disdainful remark back, and then they’d brush shoulders and fall into a soft silence.
Once the wind began to pick up, they circled back and returned to the metro, parting ways there to take different trains back to their homes. Vivian hummed a cheery tune in the empty car, and Robin joined in. They bobbed their heads and twirled their arms in a chaotic but merry little dance.
“You seem happy today,” Hugo observed.
“Let’s not deflect, Hugo.” Vivian shot back a knowing grin. “You’re clearly the happiest one here!”
Lowering his head, Hugo tipped his hat down and allowed himself a smile.
Lycaon had mentioned that his schedule would be quite full for the next few days, so he wouldn’t be able to visit.
He did drop briefly the next day, however, with a box of tea leaves and a small bag of groceries.
“I noticed you were low on tea,” he said. Vivian looked surprised, because they very much were not, but she accepted the gifts with a polite thank-you and asked if he’d like to join them for dinner.
“Unfortunately, I cannot,” Lycaon said apologetically. “I’m still working a shift — just in between errands.”
The next day, he showed up early in the morning with some breakfast wraps, claiming that he had been in the area.
“For what?” Hugo asked, only out of curiosity.
“Uh…”
Lycaon trailed off into a silence that lasted over thirty seconds.
“Nevermind,” Hugo eventually scoffed, saving him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I lost interest.”
The day after that, Lycaon wandered in around noon with a platter of grilled cheese sandwiches, explaining that he had made extra while preparing lunch for the mayor. Impressively, he had made enough excess to serve precisely two people.
Hugo raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he said dubiously. “The mayor likes grilled cheese sandwiches?”
There were many believable excuses Lycaon could have made, but instead he muttered something vaguely along the lines of, “It’s for his… tortoise. She has very particular… sandwich preferences.”
Hiding his amusement with immense difficulty, Hugo went over to accept the plate. He stood on his tippy-toes and snuck a kiss onto the Thiren’s cheek before swiftly pulling away.
“Well, thanks. I guess I owe his ‘tortoise’ for the meal.”
Lycaon’s tail smacked into the umbrella holder and sent it flying. The Thiren went after it with a flustered huff.
“Are you staying?” Hugo asked. His voice was strained from holding in his laughter. Goddamnit, his ribs hurt.
“I’m, er, no.” Lycaon muttered. “On lunch break…”
“Oh, then you should eat. Take the other half,” Hugo suggested, waving one of the sandwiches at him. “Vivian’s out, and I shouldn’t finish this myself.”
He could, since they were delicious. But he shouldn’t.
Lycaon hesitated by the door, his fist clenched in front of his suit, tail still twitching, looking absolutely tortured.
“Oh come on,” Hugo scoffed, offering his former partner an insinuating smile. “I’m inviting you to have lunch, not to commit a crime — and you know you’d do that with me.”
At that, Lycaon blinked and strode towards the table with a rather disgruntled frown.
“… I would not.”
Chuckling, Hugo slid the plate over.
“Calling your bluff.”
The fourth evening, Lycaon showed up at the gallery while it was open. He waited patiently beside an exhibit, looking every bit like a security guard, until Hugo excused himself from his guests to ask what the hell he was doing.
“You left this in my coat pocket,” Lycaon said matter-of-factly, holding up a frilly pink scrunchie that Hugo definitely did not wear.
“Ah yes,” Hugo replied wryly. “My signature move — covert hair tie insertion. No, dear Lycaon, unless I’m a princess whose dresser moonlights as your coat pocket, I think not.”
“Oh.” Lycaon pocketed the scrunchie as calmly as though he had foreseen this outcome all along. “My mistake, then. But since I’m here…”
The Thiren produced several chocolate coins from his other pocket.
“Your blood sugar has been low for a while. Have you had dinner? At least eat some chocolate.”
“You…” Hugo stopped himself with a sigh and accepted the chocolate coins. “Let me guess,” he said shrewdly, popping a coin into his mouth and letting it dissolve. “Still at work, on a break, can’t stay?”
Lycaon glanced out the window as though he’d spotted a fascinating bird.
“Yes.”
Sighing again, Hugo finished a second coin, then held the third one meaningfully between them.
“I will finish this,” he declared pointedly, “and then I will have dinner — if you go and do the same.”
At that, Lycaon turned and met his gaze, his tail wagging slightly and his posture relaxing.
“I already ate,” the Thiren murmured. “The client allowed me to have their leftovers, so it was quick. Were you concerned?”
Hugo scrutinized his old friend dubiously, but it didn’t seem like he was lying.
“And if I say yes?”
Lycaon’s tail wagged considerably faster.
“… I should go.”
The Thiren leaned down and — in front of the entire room — kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“Don’t forget, dinner.”
The gallery door shut with a quiet jingle behind him.
The day after that, rather late into the night, Hugo emerged from his shower to find the Thiren sitting in the living room with two cups of tea.
“Robin said you seemed unwell today,” Lycaon explained.
“Eh-neh?!”
Robin seemed shocked. Hugo raised an eyebrow at his Bangboo, then at Lycaon.
The Thiren cleared his throat. “Remember? When I mentioned that we’d invite you over to try Butler's new souffle recipe.”
“Ah yes,” Robin agreed with immediate fluency. “I did say that. Hugo, you seemed unwell today.”
“Oi Lycaon,” Hugo scoffed, “don’t drag my Bangboo into your traitorous lies.”
He plopped himself into the sofa next to the Thiren anyway. He reached forward for the tea, and he didn’t miss how they were suddenly sitting much closer by the time he leaned back.
They sat for about twenty minutes, sipping at their tea and exchanging vague mutters.
“… How are your wounds?” Lycaon asked softly.
“Fine,” Hugo replied, raising his arm to demonstrate. His shoulder did sting past certain angles, but it wasn’t nearly enough to stop him. “Doesn’t even hurt.”
“I saw you wince.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Hugo scoffed. “Right, when you came to deliver my pink scrunchie.”
Lycaon huffed amusedly.
Wryly, Hugo said, “You do realize how painfully obvious you’re being, right?”
Instead of answering, the Thiren grabbed his wrist and gently pulled his hand closer.
“That bruise looks new.”
There was, indeed, a new darkening splotch along the base of his thumb.
“What happened?”
Hugo shrugged. “Caught a flying vase. It was heavier than I expected, I might’ve sprained my thumb.”
Lycaon’s eyebrow shot up. “Someone threw a vase at you?”
“I never said that.”
“… Did you deserve it?”
“That’s besides the point,” Hugo declared, half-offended, half-amused. “And no, I didn’t. It was just some disillusioned guest returning for revenge. They first came a couple nights ago asking for my ‘secret collection’, they left angry.”
“And denniless?”
“… I didn’t take all of them.”
Sighing heavily, Lycaon rested their heads together and gently caressed his bruise.
By the sixth night, Hugo was completely unsurprised to see his old friend coming through the door.
“I was passing by and thought I saw someone suspicious outside the gallery,” Lycaon began.
“Sit,” Hugo said offhandedly. “I made you a quick dinner. Y’know, in case your client didn’t let you have the leftovers today.”
He gestured at the rice balls on the table. Lycaon stared at them in surprise for a long time before coming over.
Quietly, almost warily, the Thiren picked one and took a bite. He chewed carefully, his crimson gaze shimmering but otherwise unreadable.
“… The eggs are a little sweet.”
“So are you, but I don’t complain.”
Lycaon smiled and took another bite.
“… Thank you. It’s quite good.”
Hugo grunted noncommittally and pretended to be busy on his phone.
“… Though you do, actually,” Lycaon mused softly. “—complain.”
Soon enough, an entire week had passed, and Hugo hadn’t gone a single day without seeing their ‘very busy’ ‘attendant’.
On the morning of the seventh day, he woke to a message from Lycaon.
“Your blood test results came in. Dr. Isabelle wants to see you as soon as possible. Are you available today?”
Well, that sounded ominous. Hugo could only imagine how anxious his worry-wart of a friend must be right now.
“Alas, I had plans to be mysterious and elusive all morning. But I suppose I can make some time.”
He saw the dot-dot-dot of Lycaon typing a reply.
“I’ll be there in 20. Get dressed.”
Sitting in bed with his hair still tousled, Hugo cast an irked grin down at his phone. How presumptuous of that mutt to assume he still needed to get dressed.
He would have liked to shower, but twenty minutes didn’t seem like enough time to fully dry his hair, and Lycaon would surely get fussy if he left it damp. So Hugo settled for a quick morning refresh, changed into a comfortable button-up shirt, and waited in the kitchen.
Lycaon arrived eighteen minutes after the timestamp of his message with an umbrella and a very wet tail.
“Good morning. Are you ready?”
The Thiren sounded slightly out of breath. Hugo arched an eyebrow as he got up and joined him at the door.
“Yeah.”
Lycaon frowned as though displeased with his answer and looked him up and down.
“It’s raining. Wear something warmer.”
“I’ll stay close to you,” Hugo said dismissively, brushing past the Thiren.
At that, Lycaon uttered a flustered noise and followed him without further objection.
They headed to the doctor’s office together, sharing the umbrella under the rain. It was quite chilly today, but Lycaon was also very warm, so Hugo felt quite comfortable by his side. His only grievance was that every time he pressed closer, the Thiren’s wet, wagging tail would splash water everywhere.
But he didn’t voice it. Lycaon was probably more bothered by it than he was.
They made it to the examination room smoothly, though the Thiren’s restlessness was starting to overflow by then. This time, it was Hugo who suggested that he ought to sit.
“I—”
Lycaon stopped, then resumed his pacing, his prosthetics clattering loudly with each step.
“My tail is wet. I don’t want to soak their seats.”
Hugo glanced at the many puddles the Thiren was tracking over the floor instead, but decided not to comment.
The doctor couldn’t have come in sooner. She greeted them with a warm smile but refrained from the same enthusiastic welcome as last time, clearly aware of Lycaon’s agitation.
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” she said, her voice intentionally low and soothing. “And don’t worry — the bad news is not that bad. I just wanted to update you on the situation as soon as possible.”
“The bad news?” Lycaon asked tersely.
Isabelle tried to offer him a reassuring smile as she walked over to her counter of chart packs.
“Let’s see…” she began calmly, flipping back the pages of her clipboard and settling on something in the middle. “There are a few things, but primarily, the substance you were injected with, Hugo…” She peered at him over the top of her glasses. “It was not a tranquilizer.”
He already knew that. He nodded curtly for her to continue.
“The bad news is that it’s a new substance not registered in our medical database — we don’t actually know what it is.”
Lycaon’s tail flicked water on the floor with an audible splat. The Thiren sighed and lifted a hand over his muzzle, but that didn’t do much to hide his anxious bristling.
“What we do know is that it shares similarities with the mind control pills that Hartman was using,” she continued briskly. “It’s an aggravator — it amplifies the symptoms of those pills, which is why Hugo saw such a sharp increase in the severity of his side-effects. However, we don’t know if that’s the only thing it does.”
She looked at him again, her gaze sharper this time.
“I’ve asked the lab to prioritize its analysis. Is there anything you can tell us about your current symptoms? How have you been feeling? It may help us understand what this new substance is, sooner.”
Lycaon also turned and stared at him with urgent expectation.
Hugo shrugged.
“I feel fine. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary.”
Lycaon uttered a rather impatient sigh.
“If you’ve experienced any kind of discomfort, just say so. You shouldn’t hide it.”
“I said,” Hugo repeated with a pointed look at his former partner, “I’m fine.”
“… I can stand outside if you wish,” Lycaon muttered, taking a step back. “You can speak with the doctor alone.”
Hugo frowned. It offended him more than he thought it would — the fact that Lycaon still believed he didn’t trust him.
“Seriously, I’m fine. Are you not able to tell when I’m speaking the truth?”
The Thiren gazed steadily at him, his crimson eye hardening.
“You already know the answer to that.”
They glared at each other in silence.
Isabelle glanced between the two of them several times. When it didn’t seem like they’d be able to settle their unspoken fight, she spoke up.
“You were injected with this substance more than once, weren’t you, Hugo?”
“What?!”
Lycaon’s voice exploded in the room. He immediately flinched, as though startled by his own reaction. Clearing his throat, the Thiren tried again in a quieter but equally furious rumble.
“Hugo. The truth. Now.”
Brows furrowing, Hugo flashed the doctor an annoyed beam. Damnit… no wonder the mayor had asked her to help with the Hartman case.
“Alright, but don’t tell Vivian. There’s no need for her to worry—”
“I promise nothing.”
“You—”
Isabelle interrupted them swiftly. “Lycaon mentioned that you already had periods of acute dizziness the night you were attacked, before it happened. Were you dosed with the aggravator prior?”
Lycaon’s ears flew back, his eye widening in abrupt realization.
“… Yes,” Hugo admitted resignedly, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. He sighed heavily as he continued, reluctant to admit that he had fallen for the same trick twice.
“They used a dart the first time as well, four nights before the second attack — that’s what prompted me to start investigating. However, I didn’t black out the first time, nor did they send anyone to abduct me. In fact, nothing happened at all. It was quite anticlimactic, really.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?” Lycaon said, his voice shrill in disbelief. “You didn’t go to a doctor?”
“I did — go to a doctor,” Hugo replied, sparing his friend an irked glare. “They said the same things that you did — side-effects of the mind control pill. They assumed I had been injected with the same drug. Didn’t try to take a blood test.”
Lycaon snarled under his breath. He almost looked like he was going to demand the name of that doctor.
“I didn’t really believe they’d try something that stupid,” Hugo continued with a scoff, “which is why, like I said… I began to investigate.”
“And the severity of your symptoms this past week?” Isabelle asked, cutting in front of whatever Lycaon might have been about to growl.
“About the same,” Hugo said wearily, closing his eyes. “Occasional dizziness, nausea… general feeling of weakness. Temperature and blood sugar fluctuations, I guess. I haven’t had any hallucinations… I think.”
He cast Lycaon another look, but the Thiren seemed too stressed to enjoy his subtle joke.
The doctor nodded and began to note his comments down. In the meantime, Lycaon began to rumble slowly to himself.
“… ‘The dove still sings’… ‘I was promised silence’…. ‘Doesn’t sleep like the others’… ‘Change the current’…”
Understanding slowly but surely illuminated the Thiren’s iris as he recited the code they had heard that night.
Catching his friend’s eye, Hugo frowned and inclined his head meaningfully towards Isabelle. There was no need to drag a civilian into this mess.
Realizing, Lycaon pressed his lips together and fell silent, though not without a frustrated sigh.
The flurry of Isabelle’s pen stopped with a brisk flourish, and the doctor flipped the other pages of her clipboard down.
“I’ll pass everything to the lab,” she said, offering Lycaon a consoling smile. It faded into more of a serious look as she turned to Hugo. “I’ll contact you if they find anything. In the meantime, just be careful, refrain from strenuous or dangerous activities, and continue monitoring your symptoms. If anything changes, it’d be in your best interest to tell someone right away.”
Her gaze flickered meaningfully towards Lycaon. Hugo stifled a sigh and mustered a grateful smile.
“Of course, Doctor,” he replied smoothly. “Thank you for all your help.”
Lycaon threw him a rather irritable glance, as though taking his politeness as a sign of deceit. The Thiren then turned to Isabelle and asked somewhat pleadingly,
“Is there anything I can do to mitigate the risk of him collapsing in the middle of oncoming traffic?”
Hugo scoffed, but didn’t interrupt for the sake of the doctor.
“Until we know more, it’s just rest and caution,” Isabelle answered calmly, setting her clipboard down and reaching for a box of gloves. “Would it help put you at ease if I checked his other wounds?”
“Yes,” Lycaon agreed heavily.
Isabelle cast Hugo a questioning smile. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he went over to the examination table and began to unbutton his shirt.
They spent a couple more minutes examining his wounds. Lycaon asked many more questions, Isabelle assured him that everything was recovering smoothly, and Hugo tried to read the messy writing on the doctor’s clipboard, curious about his actual blood test results.
By the time they emerged from the doctor’s office, the rain had stopped. The sky was still heavy with dark clouds, but across the river in the distance, sunlight had begun to peek through a crack in the hazy sky.
As they were waiting to cross the street towards the metro, Lycaon heaved a massive sigh.
“I will take a week off.”
“There is absolutely no need for you to do that,” Hugo scoffed. “You’re overreacting.”
The crosswalk light turned green. As Lycaon began to step forward, Hugo twirled in front of him, blocking his path and interrupting his annoyed growl with a mischievous grin.
“If you really want to ensure my recovery — why don’t we hunt down the bastard who injected me and simply ask him what it was?”
The Thiren glared down at him in disapproval and disdain. Hugo smirked back.
“You know it’s a good idea,” he purred. “Besides, you still owe me intel — remember? In exchange for the lap dance I gave you last week.”
A few people swarming past turned their heads in incredulity. Lycaon loudly cleared his throat, his fur standing on end as he asserted in a very clear voice,
“That is not what happened.”
Amused, Hugo continued to gaze back, his eyebrow arching challengingly.
Isn’t it, now?
Lycaon’s eye narrowed, then escaped elsewhere in a fluster. Unleashing an aggravated sigh, the Thiren grabbed him firmly around the arm and began to pull him the other way.
“… Let’s go somewhere more discreet.”
Chapter Text
“I am still of the opinion that you should not be entering a Hollow in your current condition.”
That must have been the tenth or so time that he heard Lycaon say that in the past hour.
“And I’m still of the opinion that your opinion does not matter,” Hugo replied airily, grabbing his hat as wind buffeted through the depilated streets.
They were in the Ballet Twins Hollow, striding along the ruined concrete streets of the once-sleek district. Sparkling Ether dust swirled around their ankles, and he suppressed the urge to cough as the particles tickled his throat. That would most certainly make his companion even more annoying.
Unfortunately, Lycaon noticed anyway. The Thiren had been watching him closely ever since they’d set foot in the Hollow — so closely that Hugo doubted he was paying attention to anything else. If an Ethereal were to fall from the sky and land on their heads at this very moment, Lycaon probably wouldn’t even blink.
His companion sighed and repeated the same thing he had repeated last time.
“For a simple investigation mission, I am more than capable of—”
Whirling around, Hugo snapped his fingers at the wolf Thiren’s muzzle, interrupting him with the crisp noise.
“Sablier Noir,” he declared briskly, maintaining an expectant smile as he walked backwards. “That’s the name of the criminal organization that the mayor sent you to sniff out. They also happen to be the group that the Ravenlocks have commissioned for their next dirty scheme. So tell me more, dear Lycaon — surely that’s not all you know? Or are you waiting to receive more than a lap dance?”
He arched an eyebrow meaningfully. The Thiren looked away and cleared his throat, tail swishing agitatedly behind him.
“I’m not trying to hide anything from you,” Lycaon muttered. “As you’ve said, you’re already far too involved.”
The Thiren paused for a moment, his gaze passing warily over their surroundings before he resumed in a lower voice.
“Sablier Noir isn’t a typical gang, but rather a circle of intellectuals… researchers, chemists, surgeons, and so on. They take commissions from the highest bidder with little regard for ethical implications — dubious surgeries, organ harvesting, drug production, and the like.”
“Mm…” Hugo lowered his gaze thoughtfully. “In the code we heard, ‘orchestra’ is the members producing the drug, and ‘conductor’ is likely the overseer of the project.”
“I agree,” Lycaon murmured. “Then, the overture being ‘dissonant’—”
“I have a pretty good idea,” Hugo interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But we’ll find out soon enough.” He gestured at Lycaon to keep talking.
The Thiren sighed, but continued.
“Mr. Mayflower has been tracking them for years, but they’re meticulous and careful. They hire armed bodyguards and top information brokers to handle communications, with the core members staying behind the scenes at all times.”
Lycaon paused. Hugo tilted his head expectantly. “… However?”
The Thiren gestured at the skyscraper they were heading towards — a tall building about two blocks away from the Ballet Twin Towers.
“Victoria Housekeeping noticed suspicious activities in some of the other towers nearby. We’ve been tracking them carefully, and long story short… we believe that some of their operations are being conducted here.”
“Right under your noses,” Hugo mused, flinging his suitcase over one shoulder and sauntering ahead. “I’m surprised you haven’t already rushed in to clean it up.”
Lycaon’s footsteps quickened behind him as the Thiren hastily matched his pace.
“While their presence is irksome, it’s our only lead, and we don’t have enough leverage to risk losing it. Which is why,” Lycaon declared with emphasis, “today, we must be extremely careful. We are not here to capture anyone or scare them away.”
“In and out with nobody the wiser,” Hugo replied airily. “Got it. Relax, Lycaon. In case you’ve forgotten—”
He twirled his dagger around one finger and flashed back a smirk.
“—your partner today is Mockingbird.”
Lycaon uttered a familiar, heavy sigh.
“A Mockingbird with a fractured rib and an unknown substance active in their body.”
Annoyed, Hugo sheathed his dagger and turned away.
“I’m not going to be the one slowing us down, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That is honestly not what I’m worried about,” Lycaon said, his voice exasperated but warm with concern. The Thiren’s footsteps sped up, and a hand grabbed him around the arm. “Hugo—”
Hugo tensed and abruptly jerked away. From the corner of his eye, he saw the wolf Thiren’s ears fly back in surprise, dismay blooming over his facial features. Hugo turned his head slightly, but not to offer any sort of comfort or excuse.
Instead, he angled his head silently towards the building ahead.
It took Lycaon a moment to tear his gaze away from his face, but as soon as the Thiren looked past him, he caught on.
Ethereals — little ones, but a sizable group of them. They were loitering around the front door of the tower, dragging their limbs around like zombies.
Quietly, Hugo asked, “Shall we go around?”
“No,” Lycaon muttered. “The group operates on the upper floors. I’d rather take a direct route and finish this as soon as possible.”
Following a step behind, Hugo smiled ruefully up at the wolf Thiren’s back.
“You’re not making that decision for my sake, are you?”
Ignoring his question, Lycaon stepped forward, his gaze already focused on the Ethereals.
“… The usual,” the Thiren murmured.
Sighing, Hugo lowered his briefcase from his shoulder.
“After you, my dear.”
Lycaon went ahead, his tail swishing and brushing briefly against Hugo’s arm as he passed. Striding up to the hoard, the Thiren paused to fix his cravat and sigh, exuding the contemptuous aura of someone faced with an unpleasant chore.
The Ethereals turned their heads with a distorted ripple of chattering. They stiffened and stared at the Thiren for a moment, as though confused by his confidence. Then, in a scattered mess, they began to surge towards him.
Lycaon met them head on, slamming them mercilessly back into the concrete as he unflinchingly beat the lesser enemies down. He would be perfectly fine on his own, Hugo observed mildly as he made his way over at a leisurely pace.
This was their ‘usual’ — Lycaon would dive in as the decoy, the brute force, the cavalry. Hugo would await an opening to weave in and finish them off with a critical blow.
He did see chances — he saw several — but Hugo stood back and observed his former partner a little longer. Lycaon’s legs did appear to be… fine. They served him well in combat, and he was clearly adjusted to them. His movements were fierce but elegant, his blows ground-shakingly powerful yet still precise and controlled. The Thiren had insisted many times that he was fine now, that it wasn’t Hugo’s fault, but… sometimes, his doubt lingered.
In nightmares, in pauses, in pangs of regret that he couldn’t control… Hugo had never let himself forget that he was not the only one who had suffered that night.
The Ethereals staggered into a group. It was such a blatantly perfect opening that it snapped Hugo out of his melancholy. He blinked forward, scythe extending fluidly in his hands as he appeared behind them and swung his blade across their shoulders. Prismatic shards of ice exploded across the concrete, and the Ethereals sizzled out of existence with a colourful distortion of particles.
Stepping back, Lycaon straightened and adjusted his necktie with a slightly annoyed sigh.
“You could have done that sooner.”
Feigning breathlessness, Hugo lifted a hand over his chest.
“Are you berating an injured person for not fighting better?”
He dropped that act quickly though, chuckling before Lycaon could actually begin to fuss.
“Just kidding. You looked like you were having so much fun, I didn’t wish to interrupt.”
They proceeded together to the building’s front doors. There was an electronic lock, but the mechanism had become so heavily corrupted that it was no longer functional, and the doors slid readily open for them.
The foyer inside was grand but cold, the marble tiles and decorative artwork gouged with cracks and rubble. Two intimidating arched stairways led up to a mezzanine on the next floor, and beyond the glass railings, Hugo could see elevators.
He didn’t need to look to know that Lycaon had made the same observation. On unspoken consensus, they took the stairs and headed up.
The elevator doors opened easily for them, but they quickly found that none of the buttons worked without an access card. Prepared to work some magic, Hugo knelt down and began to inspect the card reader — only to feel a light touch on his shoulder.
He glanced up to see Lycaon showing off a shiny black card. Scoffing, he stood back and let the Thiren try it.
The card reader beeped and blinked red. The buttons remained unresponsive.
“Hah,” Hugo said scornfully, feeling triumphant despite himself. “Looks like Mr. Mayor didn’t give you his real full-access card. Does he trust you at all, Lycaon?”
The Thiren sighed and stepped back to give him space.
“There are many people with malicious intent by the mayor’s side. Withholding information is a necessary security measure to keep everyone safe.”
“You still love making excuses I see,” Hugo scoffed.
Sidling back to the corner, he knelt down and refocused on the card reader. Prying the lid off with one of the many tools hidden in his pockets, he inspected the panel underneath for a moment, then rose back to his feet. Holding down the door close button with his thumb, he stretched his finger to pin down the fire mode switch, then pressed down the button for the eighth floor. He held down all three buttons and counted to ten in his head.
There was a quiet beep. Stepping back, Hugo poked the button for the highest floor and smirked as it lit up.
“Elevators are like people,” he boasted, tossing his old friend a grin. He knew Lycaon was actually impressed beneath that rigid frown. “Say the right words in the right order, and they’ll take you anywhere.”
“All you did was read the override code hidden beneath the panel,” Lycaon said flatly.
… Okay, maybe he wasn’t actually that impressed.
The highest the elevator could take them was the twentieth floor. They stepped out, Lycaon making a point of going first. The Thiren’s ears twitched towards the left and he immediately stiffened — Hugo did the same a split second later.
The floor shook with a reverberating thud. Footsteps… from something very massive.
Hugo turned his head and looked to the left. Between the decorative metal slabs dividing this room from the next, he could see a dark silhouette stretching from the ground to the ceiling.
Thud.
The ground shuddered beneath their feet.
“… That’s a big Ethereal,” Hugo whispered.
Lycaon spared him a rather withering glance. The Thiren inspected his Carrot for a moment, then gestured towards the hall on the right.
A rather obvious choice. Hugo took a step forward, Lycaon doing the same.
The elevator doors closed behind them with a cheerful ding!
They froze.
The grand chandelier in the center of the room buzzed — then flickered, static crackling faintly through the air. Hugo reached for the hilt of his hidden dagger. He slid his gaze sideways.
Lycaon was already looking at him, crimson iris gleaming with dread.
A roar shattered the silence. Deep, bone-splitting, the vibrations so jarring that Hugo flinched and had to slap a hand over his ear.
It barreled through the dividers — something dark and enormous, hurtling chunks of metal and Etheric debris across the room. Instantly, Lycaon grabbed Hugo around the waist and swept him off the ground. In the same moment, Hugo twisted and hurled his dagger overhead, smashing his blade into the chandelier and exploding it in a burst of sparks and shattering glass.
The Ethereal’s grotesque limbs thrashed towards the flashing light. While it was distracted, Lycaon sprinted down the other hall, carrying him under one arm like a sack of potatoes. The rough jostling made it difficult for Hugo to catch his breath, and he winced as his ribs stung.
Ah, just like the good old days.
On the other side of the wall, the Ethereal bellowed again. A terrible rumble shredded through the concrete as it tore something substantial, probably to pieces. It had lost sight of them for now, but it knew they were nearby.
Lifting his hand, Hugo tapped a series of patterns against the back of Lycaon’s shoulder.
Maybe we should just fight it.
He felt similar taps reply against the dip of his waist.
Too dangerous. Too conspicuous.
The ground began to rumble beneath them. The Ethereal was sprinting now, moving so quickly that its footsteps felt like an earthquake.
Hugo eyed the end of the corridor nervously. He could see its shadow growing rapidly against the wallpaper.
Then hide, he tapped against Lycaon’s back. Now!
With a terse huff, the Thiren veered through an open doorway. Hugo caught a glimpse of blinking metal cabinets lining the walls before he was slammed into a hard corner and promptly smothered in fur.
His breath escaped in a muffled gasp, and he blinked in an effort to adjust to the sudden darkness. Lycaon must have brought them into a server room and crammed them into one of the metal cabinets. He could feel wires and power conduits jabbing into his back, and he could feel — ah, well… Lycaon. Everywhere.
There was no room to move. He was completely squished within the wolf Thiren’s embrace, smothered in his fur, his scent, his heat. He could feel Lycaon’s hand cradling the back of his head, protecting him from the sharp edges of the circuitry behind them. He could feel the Thiren’s shallow breathing against his temple, and he could feel something, a leg, or an arm, or… honestly, he didn’t know, but it was pressing up between his thighs, and it was very warm and very solid.
He uttered another flustered pant, cut short as the heavy thoom of footsteps rumbled nearby. Hugo stiffened, his already-scattered thoughts reeling in every direction as a low warble drifted into the room.
With an ear-splitting explosion, the Ethereal punched through the wall. Chunks of concrete scattered across the floor and struck the metal lid of their hiding place, denting it and squeezing them in further. Hugo flinched. Pressed against the palm of his hand, the pulse within Lycaon’s chest quickened furiously.
Through the slits in their cabinet door, he saw a hulking shadow squeeze through the destroyed wall. The Ethereal strode closer, dragging its claws threateningly across the metal doors as it began to search the room.
Screeeeech…
Hugo grimaced. Against his ear, he felt Lycaon’s breath catch in similar discomfort. The terrible noise scraped past their door… and paused.
Holding his breath, Hugo eyed the shadow outside, every fibre in his body tensed. They were so wound together right now that if the Ethereal were to smash through this locker, they might not be able to react in time.
Against his hand, Lycaon’s heart pounded. Hugo squeezed the Thiren’s chest as though that might somehow make it beat a little quieter, but that only seemed to double its pace.
He felt something tap against the back of his skull.
Stop moving.
Hugo bared his fangs, irked. He tapped his finger against Lycaon’s chest in reply.
I’m not. Stop breathing.
A warm, silent huff wafted against his ear. Hugo cringed and bit his lip as he had to frantically muffle an instinctive gasp.
A low snarl swung towards them. The muscle wedged between his legs tensed as it braced itself for action, and Hugo squeezed his eyes shut as two very different kinds of shudders tore through his spine.
Oh, fuck.
He didn’t send a code this time. He was quite certain Lycaon knew what he was thinking, anyway.
If we die here, it’s your fault.
The ominous rumbling outside their door continued as the Ethereal lingered for an endless moment. The void of its Etheric core sucked the oxygen out of the air as it stood there, staring at them through the lid of their dented metal cage.
Thud.
Then… it stepped away.
Hugo pressed his lips together, holding in his relief as he watched it scour the rest of the room. It circled the metal cabinets once, then turned and squeezed back through the shattered wall with a disgruntled growl.
He didn’t breathe until its footsteps were far away. When he finally dared to sigh, his shuddering breath fluttered through Lycaon’s fur.
The warmth pressed against his face swelled, then withdrew. Lightheaded, Hugo relaxed against it, resting his cheek against the Thiren’s shoulder as he sucked in another breath and uttered a faint, shuddering groan.
“You alright?”
Lycaon’s murmur slid into his ear, hushed and hot against his skin. Hugo twitched away from it with a sharp catch of his breath.
“I will be once you get off of me,” he muttered, attempting to twist himself away. He promptly faltered, cringing as his efforts caused himself to rub against whatever was stuck between his thighs.
Ack—
He bowed his head, hiding his flustered grimace. His fingers curled in Lycaon’s fur, and his heart hammered against his ribcage. Fuck, his fur was so soft. He smelled so good. He was so warm and solid. It seemed impossible that Lycaon wouldn’t notice… his pounding heart, and his reaction further down, too.
The Thiren’s chest rose and fell in a deep, slow sigh against his face. Bracing himself for utter humiliation, Hugo held his breath as Lycaon paused… and then cautiously eased the door open.
Thank goodness…
Hugo fell limp with another wave of relief.
The Thiren eased them out with some difficulty, careful not to make too much noise as he untangled their limbs and slid free. Settling somewhat shakily onto his own feet, Hugo rested a hand against the scratched metal door, closed his eyes, and focused on breathing deeply.
A gentle tap against his elbow stirred his attention. He looked up to see Lycaon jerking his head.
This way.
His companion didn’t elaborate, but he was holding the Carrot, so Hugo nodded curtly and followed after him.
The Ethereal was still roaming, so they moved carefully. Turning a corner, they passed another hall and entered a large, lecture-hall like foyer. At the very back, beyond a long slope of stairs, was a blank wall — a security partition, separating this part of the building from the next. They had seen similar mechanisms at the Ballet Twin Towers.
Luckily for them, the operating panel was right beside it, and Lycaon seemed familiar with its mechanics. While the Thiren silently began to work on the panel, Hugo turned and kept watch, fidgeting with his briefcase as he tracked the sound of the Ethereal’s footsteps.
It wasn’t far away. It had been circling the corridors, but it seemed to be approaching now…
Hugo glanced over at his companion. He opened his mouth, but hesitated, then decided to keep silent. Lycaon looked like he was concentrating, and it didn’t seem like a good idea to distract him.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The dusty marble floor began to rumble again. The ornamental metal statues lining the room were startling to rattle. Lycaon, realizing the Ethereal’s proximity, uttered a frustrated tsk but remained peeled on the control panel.
Hugo extended his scythe. He slid his hand warily along its handle, adjusting his grip as he began to think ahead. If they couldn’t open the partition in time… he would lure the Ethereal away from Lycaon. He had always been the better escape artist, and though he was no Proxy, he was familiar with the art of navigating Hollows. Even without a Carrot, he ought to be able to disengage and find his way back to this room.
The Ethereal turned the corner, a gargantuan twisted shadow with a massive Ether core spasming above its broad shoulders. It turned towards them — stiffened for a moment — and then threw back its arms with a blood-curdling roar.
Clenching his jaw, Hugo gripped his weapon and made to dash forward. But just as he began to leap, he was grabbed by the back of his jacket and flung the opposite way.
The security partition had just begun to open. Rather unceremoniously, Lycaon swung him through the air and hurled him beneath it like a bowling ball, then dove beneath the partition himself.
“What the—?!”
Hugo’s indignant yelp vanished beneath a boom as the Ethereal smashed through the rest of the wall. He saw thick chunks of concrete erupting around its shoulders, debris and thick claws hurtling towards him in slow motion. But before any of it could reach him, something white threw itself over him.
He was slammed into a fissure. The world distorted into a nauseating blur of colours and then abruptly spit him back out in a free fall. Gasping, Hugo grabbed hold of a ceiling beam as it hurtled by, abruptly breaking his fall.
Beneath him was a new room, quiet and disarmingly peaceful. The familiar décor told him that he was still in the same building, but it looked like a grand conference room, or a theatre of some sort. Here, there were no ominous footsteps, nor hulking shadows lumbering around.
Lycaon…!
Hugo looked around, his heart lurching into his throat as he remembered how frantically he had been shoved aside.
That idiot, don’t tell me he—
His vision swept past something white. He doubled back on it, tensing in fear — then relief.
The wolf Thiren had landed on another ceiling beam nearby. He had already dragged himself onto it and was kneeling on the narrow beam, brushing off the lapels of his uniform as though he found the dust more unpleasant than nearly being crushed by an Ethereal.
His grip slipped a little. Hastily, before he could actually fall, Hugo swung himself up onto his beam, too.
They rested there for a moment, recovering their breaths and exchanging glares. Hugo’s whole body stung — the brute had actually tossed him like a ragdoll. He had confidence in his own abilities, but sometimes, he forgot how much stronger the wolf Thiren was, physically…
After a lengthy, silent quarrel, Lycaon’s stern gaze eased into a sigh, and the Thiren parted his jaws to actually speak.
“Ugh, this is such an inconvenience…”
—Though the voice that sounded wasn’t his own.
They tensed, their gazes flitting downwards. Two men had entered the room, armed and dressed in heavy tactical gear. Their uniform didn’t belong to NEDF, NEPS, nor HAND, and they clearly weren’t Hollow Raiders. That left only one likely possibility — they had chanced upon Sablier Noir’s hired guards.
Hugo shot Lycaon a glance and saw the Thiren already peeking back. Brow arching, he tilted his head and flashed his companion a meaningful smirk.
Lycaon frowned and hesitated, but gave in with a grudging nod.
Beneath them, the guards continued to complain as they strode down the aisles of seats.
“You’d think with all those supposed geniuses, they’d find an easier way to get upstairs. It’s still such a hassle.”
“Stop complaining, we’re almost there. Then all we need to do is stand for six hours and get paid.”
Bracing his hands along the edge of the beam, Hugo grinned to himself. Perfect, it sounded like they had just caught a shift change. Even better, they were already ‘almost there’.
He waited until the guards were directly beneath him. Then, he pushed himself deftly off the ledge.
He landed directly on top of one of them, slamming them into the ground. He immediately hurled a kick at the other guard’s head, sending them flying into an aisle of chairs. They didn’t get even a single gunshot off. They barely even managed to yelp.
Straightening, Hugo straightened his jacket and uttered a satisfied sigh. Lycaon dropped down quietly behind him, his expression shadowed with disdain as he strode past without even looking at the fallen guards.
“There’s another fissure ahead,” Lycaon said, reading his Carrot. “It appears to lead to the edge of the Hollow.”
“Oh?” Hugo said curiously, kicking the guns aside and bending down to strip the guards of their gear. “Their hideout isn’t in the Hollow?”
“… Seems so,” Lycaon said, glancing back. “Anything inside the Hollow would have to be protected from Ether corruption, after all. It would be too expensive to maintain a lab or a storage unit inside one.”
“So the Hollow is only being used as a front door,” Hugo guessed, removing his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. “If the fissure is the only way in or out, the Hollow would provide natural security against intruders.”
“Yes, that’s… what are you doing?” Lycaon asked, sounding quite bewildered. As Hugo unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants, the wolf Thiren abruptly looked away, tail wagging furiously behind him.
“I’m taking over their shift, of course,” Hugo replied blithely, pulling the heavy tactical gear over his hips. The pants were far too wide for him, and he had to tighten the belt an absurd amount in order for it to stay in place.
“… Ah.”
Still carefully averting his gaze, Lycaon sidled over and picked up the other man’s jacket. It suddenly looked very small in his hands, and the wolf Thiren stared at it in silence.
“It’s not going to fit you,” Hugo said amusedly, squirming into a still-warm, slightly smelly shirt with a grimace. “Don’t bother. Remember the last time you forced yourself anyway?” He chortled at the memory. “You looked like you were going to burst out of your shirt! The secretary was eyeing your buttons like they were going to turn into bullets.”
Sighing, Lycaon dropped the shirt and turned towards him with a perplexed frown.
“How shall I accompany you, then?”
“Hmm…” Hugo began to think, but he trailed off distractedly in order to figure out how the body harness was actually supposed to clip over his chest.
“Take me prisoner,” Lycaon suggested eventually.
A laugh burst from his lips before he could stop himself. Looking over, Hugo saw the wolf Thiren holding a coil of rope that he’d picked off one of the guards.
He grinned roguishly. “So you’re still into that kind of roleplay, eh Lycaon?”
His former partner’s tail flicked agitatedly as he flushed and growled.
“It’s only for the mission. I’m not letting you walk into that fissure alone.”
“Pretentiousness aside, I have no objections,” Hugo scoffed, taking the rope into his own hands. Raising an eyebrow at the Thiren, he smirked and waited expectantly. “Well, go on then, my darling prisoner. Turn around so I can tie you up nice and tightly.”
Heaving a massive sigh, Lycaon grudgingly turned around and folded his arms behind his back.
Cackling, Hugo grabbed the wolf Thiren’s hands, thoroughly enjoying himself as he wrenched them together and began to bind them in rope. Lycaon uttered another heavy sigh as he worked, already sounding deeply regretful.
Once he neared the end of the rope, Hugo yanked it tight enough to make the Thiren grunt. He fastened it in place with a complicated knot, then stepped back to admire his work.
“How does it feel?”
“Like an extremely bad decision,” Lycaon muttered, testing his restraints. He was able to shift his arms somewhat, but the knot itself was firm.
Chuckling, Hugo patted the big Thiren on the back and began to escort him forward.
“Don’t worry, dearest… I’ll be gentle~”
Chapter Text
Hugo took the Carrot, then grabbed Lycaon by the arm and escorted him towards the fissure. Passing through the distortion, they emerged onto a slanted corridor leading upwards to the next floor.
Hugo consulted the Carrot. According to its data, the edge of the Hollow was indeed just ahead.
He paused to check on Lycaon. The wolf Thiren met his gaze and inclined his head in a curt nod.
Smirking, Hugo placed his palm on his companion’s back and continued to push him forward.
He felt the edge of the Hollow ripple over his skin as they passed. The subtle pressure in the air eased away, and Hugo couldn’t help but utter a faint sigh of relief as he breathed in the refreshing breeze.
They were still in a skyscraper, he observed immediately — on the top floor, based on the sky and the expansive view he could see outside the windows. This must have once been a luxurious, panoramic office space, but it had since been abandoned, left frozen in a state of panic from the day the Hollow had first formed.
Its situation was exactly like the Ballet Twins, Hugo realized. The top of the skyscraper must be jutting outside the Hollow, while the rest of the building remained within it.
Just ahead, two guards who had been sitting at a desk stiffened and abruptly rose to their feet.
“What the hell is this?” one of them growled, reaching threateningly for their gun.
“This?” Hugo raised an eyebrow. “A wolf Thiren. Never seen one?”
“No, I mean—”
“He ambushed us on our way up, took out the other guy,” Hugo said, shoving Lycaon towards the guards and forcing them to catch him. The Thiren snarled and bared his fangs at them, looking every bit like a feral beast as he strained against his ropes.
“Oh yeah? And who’s the other guy?” the same man said suspiciously.
“You know, that guy, the guy with the…” Hugo made some extremely vague hand gestures that could have meant anything.
The man nodded slowly, the doubt easing slightly from his face.
“Yeah, but uh, he’s lying face-down in the Hollow now,” Hugo finished, striding blithely forward. There was an office door behind the men — it was likely what they were guarding.
A hand slammed on his shoulder as he tried to pass, abruptly stopping him.
“Hey.” The man glared at him. “We can’t go back there. If you were a real hire, you’d know that.”
“You can’t go back there,” Hugo scoffed, withdrawing a small vial of coloured fluid from his pocket. He held it between his fingers and shook it in front of the man, smiling as bewilderment crept into their face. “I have an important delivery. They’ll be pretty pissed off if you don’t let me hand it over. Of course, you could take it and deliver it yourself, but…” He shrugged, then flashed them a wicked smirk. “Apparently, you’re not allowed to go back there.”
“… Tsk.”
Growling, the man withdrew his hand. He looked like he’d shadow Hugo to the door, but at that moment, Lycaon uttered a threatening snarl and began to fight against his captor.
“Uh — hey — a little help?!”
Both guards promptly became preoccupied with keeping the wolf Thiren under control, allowing Hugo the freedom to casually slip through the door behind them.
An angry voice greeted him the instant he entered the next room. Hugo tensed warily — but as he continued to listen, he realized it was just someone speaking on a phone.
“No — this is absurd! We already made the batch that they paid for. ‘Efficacy’ was never in the contract. It works to a point, and it doesn’t beyond that — by definition, it’s still effective.”
He had entered what looked like a large office, currently being used as a storage room. Boxes had been stacked high on every surface, giving Hugo plenty of cover to creep towards the voice.
He paused to peek between some glass vials. He could see a man in a lab coat at the center of the room, pacing agitatedly as he continued to argue into his phone.
“The first batch was unsuccessful, fine, yes — so we made a second at no additional cost. But a third?! Who do they think they are?! We’ve already spent weeks on this project. There are better paying commissions waiting. Either they double the payment or we — hey!”
The man broke off, his head snapping up in alarm as Hugo strode casually into his sight. Pocketing his phone, the man drew himself up, eyes gleaming in fury behind his spectacles.
“You’re not supposed to be here!”
“I know,” Hugo answered calmly, holding up the same vial of fluid he had presented to the other guard earlier. “But I think you’ll want to see this.”
The researcher paused, curiosity passing through his eyes. After a wary hesitation, the man reached forward and snatched the vial away.
“I found it on a wolf Thiren on my way up,” Hugo explained.
“A wolf Thiren?” The researcher looked at him in alarm. “Tsk, it must be the mayor’s—”
“We’ve got him captured in the other room, so there’s no need to worry,” Hugo assured him solemnly, taking advantage of the man’s distraction to stroll around the room. Some of the boxes were labelled with a broken hourglass logo, and as he peeked inside the open ones, he saw vials of coloured fluid.
The back of his neck tingled. Those were the same vials used in the injection dart.
“… What did he say this was?” the researcher muttered after a moment.
“He wouldn’t,” Hugo shrugged, turning to raise an eyebrow at the man. “I assumed you’d be able to tell. All he said was something about a Ravenlock.”
The researcher unleashed a deeply offended snort. Hugo had to suppress a smile.
“Hmph, alright, well the colour is a little odd,” the man murmured thoughtfully, lifting the vial to the sunlight and shaking it slightly. “But if it’s a variant of our solution, then…”
The researcher stiffened suddenly.
“Hey, wait, this is just—”
Already behind them, Hugo struck the man firmly in the back of the head. They broke off mid-sentence and he deftly caught the vial of solution from their limp hands as they tumbled to the ground.
Smiling to himself, Hugo stepped back and pocketed the vial. It was always remarkable what a medical-like container and some food colouring could achieve.
He resumed his search of the room, prioritizing the boxes with broken hourglass symbols. He counted at least four dozen sets of vials, but most of the boxes had been smeared with a scarlet X on the side, and some of the vials had even been shattered.
A few minutes into his search, quiet, clinking footsteps approached his back. Hugo didn’t let it distract him.
“… What happened to ‘none the wiser’?” Lycaon’s voice sounded softly behind him. The Thiren was probably referring to the unconscious researcher in the center of the room.
“I think we’ve found enough information to no longer worry about scaring them off,” Hugo replied gingerly, waving a paper note he’d found towards the Thiren. He looked over his shoulder to cast his companion a knowing smile. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have dealt with those guards either, right?”
Lycaon took the note and looked away with a disgruntled mutter.
“I heard noise. I was worried you had encountered trouble.”
Hugo turned back with a roll of his eyes.
“Spare me the excessive concern… I’m surprised you still remember how to escape that knot.”
“I’ve had too much practice,” Lycaon replied, frowning distractedly as he held the note up to his face and read it. “Maybe if you hadn’t used it to prank me so often in the past, I’d have struggled at least a little bit.”
Hugo couldn’t help but chuckle. “But how could I resist? That look on your face when you woke up to find your tail tied to your arm — and the way you struggled with it, like a dog chasing its tail, haha—!”
“You were insufferable,” Lycaon agreed nonchalantly. The Thiren lifted a hand thoughtfully over his muzzle as he finished with the note. “I see… so the drug they’re trying to produce is a stronger version of Dina’s mind control pill, one that bypasses the antidote we made.”
“Yes, but so far, they haven’t fully succeeded,” Hugo replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “It remains ineffective in certain people, such as myself.”
Lycaon nodded slowly in understanding. “The overture remains ‘dissonant’.”
“From what I overheard,” Hugo continued, “the first batch was mostly useless. That must have been what they tried on me first. The second attempt had some success, but clearly doesn’t work on everyone.”
He lifted his hand to indicate at himself. Lycaon gazed back warily.
“… Are you absolutely certain it’s not working?”
Hugo raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Well, do you think I’m being mind-controlled right now?”
Lycaon hesitated, then admitted softly, “Sometimes… I’m not sure I know who you are.”
A pang throbbed in his chest, more painful than Hugo would have expected. He forced a smirk to his lips, but he could feel that it was flawed.
“Alas, even my dearest partner does not know my real face. I suppose I only have my unmatched talents to blame.” He lifted a hand over his heart, dramatizing his pain in order to disguise it. “Alright then, ask me something that I wouldn’t be able to answer correctly if I were being mind controlled.”
Lycaon remained silent for a while, his crimson eye glimmering with a complex mixture of softness and uncertainty. Eventually, in a very quiet voice, the Thiren murmured.
“A day and a month. What is the first thought that appears in your mind?”
Hugo’s smile faded. Whatever warmth had existed in his fingertips seeped away, and he stared at his old friend in a blank stupor.
“… You know…” A voice fell from his lips, faint and raspy. “For someone so morally upright… you’re actually quite cruel.”
Closing his eyes, Hugo heaved a long, shaky sigh and answered as offhandedly as he could.
“◼◼◼ ◼◼.”
The anniversary of Serena’s death.
His voice quivered as it trailed off. Hugo lowered his head and gazed blankly at the carpet, silent.
He heard a remorseful sigh, and he saw a white silhouette move closer. Realizing Lycaon was approaching, Hugo tensed and leaned away.
“I don’t need you to—”
“It’s for me,” Lycaon murmured, stepping forward and pulling him into an embrace anyway.
The Thiren’s warmth enveloped him tenderly. Hugo remained stiff within it, unwilling to let himself be consoled. But the seconds passed, and Lycaon’s embrace remained around him, steadfast… unwilling to let go.
Unconsciously, Hugo’s eyelids began to droop. He rested his cheek against his companion’s arm and closed his eyes, a shaky sigh leaving his chest as Lycaon’s warmth soaked up the tension from his limbs.
It was… too easy. With Lycaon, it was too easy to relax… too easy to be comforted… too easy to feel safe.
“… I’m sorry.”
The Thiren’s husky voice brushed his ear. Hugo buried his face deeper into Lycaon’s fur and allowed himself a last indulgent sigh before pulling away.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he scoffed, brushing off a few tufts of fur from his uniform as he turned away to hide his face.
“Ah, I should submit a pre-order request to Dew Gardening soon,” he said airily. “The date’s coming up and the flowers are rare, so they aren’t always in stock. Thanks for reminding me, Lycaon.”
He could tell from the sombre silence that his former companion didn’t buy his act at all, but Lycaon let him change the topic.
“I found lists of codenames in several of the boxes,” Hugo continued briskly, offering more slips of paper to the Thiren. “Some of them are for the mind control drug, others seem like they’re completely unrelated. Different clients, probably. Sablier Noir has been using this office as a temporary storage room for their goods.”
“Codenames… other targets?” Lycaon lifted his head sharply, his eye narrowing in anger.
“Likely,” Hugo agreed grimly. “‘Dove’ is one of them. We should figure out who the others are and get them treatment before anything catastrophic happens.”
“… Yes,” Lycaon said heavily, slipping the pieces of paper carefully into his vest. The Thiren then turned to him, remorse and tenderness tainting his gaze.
“Hugo…”
He never got to finish. Before Lycaon could utter something heart-wrenching, before Hugo could try to stop him or scoff it off — the ground began to tremble, violently.
Startled, Hugo grabbed the nearest shelf and shot an incredulous look in Lycaon’s direction. The Thiren mirrored his shock, hackles bristling and ears perked.
Ethereal? Earthquake…?
No…
He saw Lycaon’s eye widen in realization at about the same time he figured it out himself.
It was worse. It was much, much worse.
… The Hollow was expanding.
Hugo blinked. Or at least, it felt like he did, but he was quite sure his eyes remained open the entire time, stretched wide in alarm.
But the change had been so abrupt, so dramatic, that he couldn’t comprehend how it could have happened unless he’d blinked.
The entire world lurched upside-down, then sideways. The atmosphere flashed and distorted and became seeped in a deep, bloody red. For a moment, he was hovering through a nightmarish crimson river of broken, floating pieces. It felt just like a dream, the kind where logical and universal laws did not exist, only… he knew he was awake.
He knew this was real.
The distortion ended by slamming him into the ground. He lingered there for a moment, his face plastered against the cold floor, his head still spinning with nausea. It took him a moment to remember how breathing worked. It took him another moment to remember how to open his eyes.
He dragged himself up, wincing as a fiery gust of air threatened to knock him aside. Pushing the hair out of his face, Hugo blinked blearily at his surroundings and struggled to make sense of the crimson shadows surrounding them.
The sky around them had turned a deep red. He was still in the storage room, though it took him a moment to realize it, because a massive chunk of the skyscraper had been cleaved away.
The entire building behind him — where the guards had been, where the door had been, where many of the shelves had been — was completely gone. It was just… air, sparkling with Etheric matter, and a dizzying bloody horizon everywhere else he looked.
Lycaon—
He turned sharply, huffing in relief when he found the wolf Thiren not far away, also picking himself groggily off the ground. The two of them had been standing in a corner of the room spared from most of the destruction… but the researcher they had left in the middle had not been so lucky.
The man was waking up now, mercilessly roused by the changing atmosphere… and the wounds he had sustained. His arm had been severed at the shoulder, vanished alongside the other half of the building. An Etheric spike had pierced through his abdomen, formed when the Hollow had engulfed this part of the building.
Crystals were already beginning to harden along the man’s arms. He groaned, struggling to lift his head, his bleary gaze widening in horror as he began to take in his new reality.
Gritting his teeth, Hugo grabbed his dagger and leapt towards the man.
“Hugo!”
He heard an alarmed shout, but he ignored it. Shoving a hand against the researcher’s chest, he pushed the man back against the ground and braced his dagger against their throat.
“Tell me something useful, anything,” he murmured urgently, leaning close and locking their eyes together. He forced himself to absorb it — the agony, the terror, the despair in the man’s gaze. “And I will end this quickly for you.”
The man parted his lips, tears welling over his eyes. Crystals had already begun to harden his tongue, and Hugo bent down to hear his final rasp.
“Ru… by…”
The man’s face drowned beneath a crystallized lump. Hugo only had a split second to realize they had already turned before he was suddenly flying back.
“You idiot!”
An Etheric blade had lunged from the researcher’s body, piercing the air where Hugo had been kneeling an instant earlier. If Lycaon hadn’t yanked him aside at that exact moment, he would have been thoroughly impaled.
“Tsk.” Irked, Hugo dragged himself to his feet and smeared the Ether dust off his cheek. “So close.”
“It was too late!” A few steps away, Lycaon threw him a frantic glare. The Thiren’s hackles were fully raised, his tail coiled and bristling with more than just agitation. “What the hell were you thinking, getting that close to someone about to turn?!”
“I don’t know, that I’d save them with a few tears?” Hugo scoffed, stumbling a little as the ground continued to shake. In front of them, the newly formed Ethereal parted its jaws and unleashed an agonized roar.
They separated as the monster lunged at them, dodging opposite ways. There wasn’t much room to evade on the destroyed tip of the skyscraper, and Hugo huffed as a flailing limb nearly smashed him off the edge.
“We need to leave, now!” Lycaon shouted. “The Hollow is still expanding, it’s only a matter of time before—”
“Carrot’s dead!” Hugo called back. That was to be expected — even if it hadn’t completely died, the Hollow was undergoing major shifts, so its data would be useless, anyway. “But there should be a fissure—”
He broke off, momentarily forced to focus on staying alive as he was very narrowly pierced by the Ethereal’s spiked tail.
A ferocious snarl tore through the air, and he saw Lycaon’s white silhouette leap into the sky. The Thiren slammed a kick into the Ethereal’s chest, the impact of his attack so decimating that it left a visible shockwave. The Ethereal staggered, the momentum of the blow rippling through its massive body — then whirled back, roaring, shedding Ether crystals, the damaged skyscraper tilting unsteadily from its weight.
The ground lurched sharply beneath Hugo’s feet. Grabbing onto a ledge, Hugo caught himself and threw his former partner an incredulous look.
“Are you trying to knock the whole building over?!”
“I’m trying to get rid of the Ethereal so we can think!” Lycaon snapped, stumbling against a shelf as the building swayed back like a rebounding swing. The Ethereal stormed towards the Thiren and he leapt away, sprinting towards Hugo — and sweeping him up as he passed.
“Whoah—”
The Thiren lifted him bridal-style this time, and Hugo wrapped an arm tightly around Lycaon’s neck as they hurtled across the room, evading the Ethereal’s enraged swings.
“Now would be a really good time for one of your bright ideas,” Lycaon growled breathlessly.
“Uh, alright,” Hugo huffed, glancing down at the blurred streets below. His heart pounded as he calculated how high they must be right now. Probably at least eighty floors off the ground… his jump off the Ballet Twins had been higher, but the circumstances then had been a little more… assured.
“See that corner?”
He flung out a hand and pointed at a tattered ledge near the back of the torn skyscraper.
“Go there!”
With a grunt of acknowledgement, Lycaon jerked to the side to avoid a swinging limb, then darted in the direction Hugo had pointed.
“And jump!”
“What?!”
The Thiren skid to a halt at the very edge. They teetered there for a moment, dangling over the red-tinted concrete and minuscule ruins far beneath, the skeleton of the building still swaying unsteadily beneath their feet.
“Or throw me off first!” Hugo insisted, shoving a hand against Lycaon’s chest to snap him out of his stupor. “If you don’t see my crushed body on the ground, you can come after!”
“You—” Fangs bared in an agitated snarl, Lycaon stepped away from the edge, his ears swivelling back as the Ethereal roared and began to storm towards them. “How do you know there’s a fissure?!”
“Do you really think there’s time to explain?!” Hugo cried, struggling to wriggle free of the Thiren’s embrace. “If you don’t trust me, just throw me off—”
An aggravated snarl muffled his cry, and air rushed into his open mouth. Embracing him tightly, Lycaon leapt off the ledge, their silhouettes suspended against the crimson horizon, the Ethereal’s limbs smashing through the empty concrete where they had once stood.
Then, they dropped.
The sky lurched upwards. The air screamed past them, tearing through his ears and making Hugo flinch. The bitten rooftop they had just escaped hurtled over their heads in a blur of steel and glass.
They were falling.
Plummeting.
Hugo’s arms locked around Lycaon’s neck. His breath caught — sharp, panicked, thrilled. He could feel the Thiren’s heartbeat thundering beneath his ribs, and he could feel the arms holding him squeeze even tighter… more secure than any lifeline, more comforting than any promise.
But they were falling.
Far below, the world rushed closer in a dizzying blur of crimson and grey. Windows flashed by, rows and rows and rows of them, until the light blurred into streaks and everything was just noise and motion and cold, breathless air.
They weren’t slowing down.
Hugo’s heart began to quiver. It began to feel like it would tear out of his chest and flutter down at its own pace, leaving him an empty shell for the rest of the fall.
Did I miscalculate?
A spark of fear bloomed in his chest, hot and sour, almost unfamiliar. This was nothing new to him — the exhilaration, the danger, the flight. He didn’t call it falling, he called it flying. These prolonged seconds ought to feel delightful, the dazzling lights hurtling past ought to be magical, but instead of tilting his head back and enjoying the experience, Hugo… looked up.
Their eyes met. Lycaon was already gazing at him.
There was no trick to this. No net, no wires, no wings.
Just them.
What if I was wrong?
He wondered what his expression must be like, in Lycaon’s eye. He wondered if that was why his companion was cradling him so tightly.
What if we don’t make it?
Lycaon’s lips pressed together. A flicker appeared in the Thiren’s gaze, illuminating it and softening it at the same time. The scarlet glint reflecting off the windows shimmered in his iris as they leaned their heads together and shared a shaky breath.
The ground was visible now — racing towards them, close enough to make out the cracks in the pavement, the faint outlines of impact.
But in the silence between their heartbeats, time held still.
Hugo could feel Lycaon’s breath against his cheek. The wind didn’t matter anymore. The ground didn’t matter. Only this — this last, suspended instant.
If they were going to die — if this was really it — then… in this final moment, Hugo wanted to forget everything. The betrayal, the pain, the guilt… the jagged memories that he still held between them like knives.
His fingers curled into Lycaon’s fur. The Thiren nuzzled his face with a faint, soothing rumble.
I love you, Hugo almost said.
Lycaon’s lips parted, like he might say the same.
And then—
The air distorted around them.
The ground vanished into something white, then black, then blue, then grey. His stomach hit the top of his ribcage, then lurched down into his gut.
They halted abruptly in the air, two inches off the pavement, for exactly one second. In that one second, Hugo felt his heart pound a million times.
Then, they resumed their fall.
Thump.
It was a laughably soft thump.
He lay there, on top of Lycaon, his fingers still tangled in the Thiren’s fur. The ominous flicker of the Hollow loomed over his back, but here, around them… the sunset was cerulean, apricot, and gold. Budding weeds peeked through the concrete, and the river’s tangy breeze rustled gently between their faces.
There had indeed been a fissure, and it had spit them right outside the Hollow.
… He hadn’t been wrong.
A breath tore from his lips, shrill and loud. Beneath him, Lycaon’s torso lifted him upwards with an equally loud gasp.
Rolling off, Hugo collapsed on his back beside the Thiren, every nerve ending in his body alit with exhilaration and relief. He could barely recognize the sound of his own wheezing.
Beside him, warm and intertwined with his fingers, Lycaon uttered a ragged cough.
“I forgot that this is what it’s like to jump off a building with you…”
“… Hah…!”
A laugh split from his chest. Hugo rolled over and promptly curled up against the Thiren, hugging his ribs as he giggled and struggled for breath at the same time.
“Haha — ow — fuck — haha…!”
The warmth beside him shifted, and he felt it press comfortingly against his back. He heard a tender, worried sigh, the kind that would probably soon turn into a full-fledged stern lecture.
But it trailed off before it could do that, sharpening into a terse huff instead as sirens began to ring in the distance.
NEPS or HSO must be coming to check on the Hollow.
Struggling to his hands, then his knees, Hugo straightened and tossed back his hair with a hefty sigh. He looked down at his companion and flashed a dazzling, sharp-toothed grin.
Lycaon gazed numbly back, a stunned sort of breath falling from his jaws as Hugo’s reflection shimmered in his iris like a warm, radiant sun.
“Let’s get out of here before things become scandalous… shall we, partner?”
Chapter Text
He coughed the entire way back.
Hugo could only imagine the hour-long lecture that must be burning in Lycaon’s throat right now. It might even be as intense as the pain wreaking his ribs.
But the Thiren managed to hold it in. Hugo had to give him some credit for that.
The apartment door clicked shut behind them. Hugo stumbled two steps forward before bracing himself against the wall, one arm folded tightly across his chest.
“Vivi—” He called out in greeting, in case she was home, only to break off with a sharp cough.
“Sit,” Lycaon muttered, placing a hand against his shoulder and guiding him gently to the sofa. “I’ll check if she’s here.”
Hugo sat without arguing, collapsing against the cushions and closing his eyes. He heard Lycaon’s quiet footsteps fading down the hall, but he didn’t think much of it. There was a persistent tickle in his throat, and he struggled to suppress his coughing. The expansion had come with a massive influx of Etheric material, and though Hugo’s tolerance was usually very high, his lungs seemed to find the dust particularly aggravating right now.
The faint clink of metal parts signalled Lycaon’s return. Hugo opened his eyes to find the wolf Thiren carrying a folded bundle in his arm — clean clothes, a towel, and a carefully centered pair of briefs.
Even after everything they had just been through, Lycaon still looked crisp. His cravat was a little wrinkled and his collar was slightly askew, but he was composed.
Stubbornly composed.
… And to think, less than an hour ago, Hugo had almost blurted the forbidden words to this pompous mutt.
“Vivian appears to be out, and Robin is resting in his charge port,” Lycaon informed him solemnly. “You should bathe.” The Thiren offered his free hand towards Hugo. “There is Etheric material lingering on your clothes and in your hair.”
“Then you must be just as filthy as I am,” Hugo scoffed. He tried to get up on his own, but Lycaon stepped in and gently grasped his hand. He decided not to complain about the assistance.
“I will brush myself off outside,” the Thiren promised, following Hugo closely down the hall. He opened the bathroom door for Hugo, then closed it quietly behind them.
Hugo was already halfway through unbuttoning his shirt by the time he realized Lycaon was still standing there, holding his towel and his clothes.
Pausing, he raised an eyebrow at the Thiren.
“When did you turn into a towel rack? Or is this one of your attendant duties, too? Do you watch all your clients shower?”
Lycaon’s tail swished, making audible noises as it brushed against the door. But his voice remained as composed as ever.
“In your current condition, it is dangerous for you to be taking a standing shower. I recommend taking a bath,” he said graciously. “If you’ll allow me, I can prepare something relaxing.”
“I don’t allow you, nor do I need you to watch me.”
Hugo twirled his hand at the door and fixed his former partner with a meaningful look. Lycaon stared back, his ears and tail drooping, his eye growing rind and shiny.
Hugo smiled somewhat forcefully. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit swayed.
“… That’s not going to work.”
At that, Lycaon heaved a defeated sigh and stepped closer, his large body smothering Hugo in the small bathroom.
Uh—
Hugo tensed, his hands flying onto the counter as he was pushed into it. His pulse raced off, his breath hitched in his throat, and his gaze slid upwards in incredulity as Lycaon’s thick arms slid around him—
… to grab an empty tissue roll that had been left on the counter.
The Thiren had only reached past him to clean it up.
Without another word, Lycaon turned and squeezed himself out the door. It shut quietly behind him, leaving Hugo alone in the bathroom with his still-pounding heart.
He huffed to himself, restless. What was this… weird, disappointed pang in his chest? Had he actually been hoping for something to happen?
Haha… absolutely not. He might’ve lapsed into sentimentality during that fall, but that had been the adrenaline speaking, the thrill of the moment taking over his mind. They hadn’t died, and they weren’t going to anytime soon. He and Lycaon remained the same as they had been for many years — complicated. Enemies. And sometimes, accidentally, not.
He shouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts. He shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea of asking Lycaon to stay, never mind go as far as to imagine the Thiren helping him remove his clothes. As Hugo bent down to step out of his pants, he shouldn’t have been imagining that Lycaon was behind him, grabbing his waist and pressing up against him in a gentle but very meaningful way. Nor should he have felt the ghost of a warm palm splaying over his abdomen and sliding lower as it helped him back up.
Hugo turned on the shower and stepped into the stall, still wrought with strange pangs. Bracing his hands against the wall, he lowered his head and closed his eyes, letting the water stream through his long hair and parted lips as he heaved a shaky sigh.
… That fall…
His heart quickened as he thought of it. It was still vivid in his mind… the adoration he had felt in that embrace, the yearning he had heard in his partner’s rumble.
He hadn’t said those words out loud. Neither had Lycaon.
Yet for some reason, they kept echoing in his mind, as clearly as if the two of them had whispered it not once, not twice — but over and over against each other’s lips.
“I love you, Hugo.”
The back of his ears tingled as though Lycaon’s husky voice had actually slid over them. Hugo shuddered, the flow of water trembling as it dripped past his parted lips.
“I love you.”
He heard it again, more clearly this time. It wrapped around his back and caressed his wet skin, a warmth he could physically feel. It traced the shivers along his spine and trailed down to the tip of his tailbone, blossoming over his lower back and wrapping snugly, tenderly, and a little bit possessively around his waist.
It pulled him back slightly, pressing him against something hard. He tensed against it, a restless sigh shifting within his throat as the warmth followed the grooves of his hips forward… and inward.
“… Hugo…”
It slid beneath his chin and tilted his head back, baring his face to the steam. The showerhead sprayed onto his throat and he gulped, another shudder tearing down his back as he parted his lips and let the heady mist fill his mouth.
“… Hah…”
A pant slipped into the air, restless, coy. Part of him realized that it sounded disjoint from the voices in his ear, but he was too dizzy, too submerged in the intensity of these sensations to really think about it.
He could feel it all over him… that warmth. It slid beneath his arms and over his ribs, crawled over his throat and wrapped around his chest. It touched him everywhere, ever so lovingly, each tingle laced with pangs of affection. A soft, heady moan wafted from Hugo’s lips, and as though incited by the noise, the warmth trickled lower.
It pushed between his thighs and gripped him there, where he was most sensitive. Hugo flinched a little, abashedly lifting a hand over his mouth as coy, shameful noises threatened to spill off his tongue. He arched into the heat, unable to help himself as gratifying bliss began to seep through his aching body.
It had been… so… long…
He uttered a low, breathy groan, his ears stinging as his voice echoed back to him beneath the splattering of water.
“Does this… please you…?”
Heat brushed against his cheek and he twitched into it, biting back a mewl as the answer swelled in his throat.
Yes…
A shaky moan escaped his lips. The warmth wrapped around him tightened and quickened its pace, as though rewarding him for his honesty.
“Uhnn…”
It intensified steadily, the pleasure, a sensation he ought to be familiar with, but had become sensitized to after so many weeks without it. The water splattering against his torso made him feel tingly and he cringed, his breath catching as the more sensitive parts of his chest were struck. The heat in his groin surged sharply and he twitched, bumping into a bottle with the back of his thigh and toppling it over.
The crash was immense. Hugo flinched, but the warmth didn’t release him. It continued to caress him, cradling his hips in place as it drove him steadily towards unbearable ecstasy.
“Nhghh…”
Vibrations rumbled through the ground, the sound of rapid footsteps. A sharp knock struck the door and Hugo gasped, his eyelashes fluttering upwards. Light, dim and golden, flooded his vision, but it wasn’t enough to rouse him from his reverie.
“…. Hugo?”
Ah…
Exhilaration rushed through his entire body. His breath flooded past his lips in a heady gasp, and the tension in his groin began to pulse.
Muffled outside the door, Lycaon’s voice rose in urgency.
“Are you alright?”
The door handle tilted slightly, as though threatening to open. Hugo’s pulse quickened… he had forgotten to lock it. If Lycaon were to come in now…
“… I’m fine…”
The handle stopped, then slid back into place. He was a little surprised that the Thiren had even managed to hear his piqued huff.
“Are you sure?”
But Lycaon’s voice remained. It seemed uncertain, hesitant… but gentle, just like the voice that was crooning in his ear.
“You sound a little… distressed. You didn’t fall, did you?”
The handle twitched again. Swept with a wave of bliss, Hugo clenched his throat and struggled to suppress his groan, unable to answer.
“… Hugo?”
Fuck…
His lips parted. He tried not to sound like he was moaning as he replied.
“I’m fine, Lycaon…”
But as his tongue curled around those familiar syllables, a wondrous shudder swept through his body. His knees weakened, and he pressed himself to the wall with a shaky gasp as he couldn’t help but say it again, softly.
“… Lycaon…”
Another ripple seized his torso. This time, he couldn’t withstand it.
“… Ahhh…”
It billowed over, the warmth, the bliss, the exquisite throbs of exhilaration and shame. He seized up, his expression crumbling in an alluring grimace, his head straining upwards as he spilled over and over into the warm water.
… What happened after, Hugo couldn’t remember clearly. He didn’t know how long he lingered there, watching the water mix with the pearly fluid smeared in his palm, breathing in the steam, dizzy and completely unthinking.
At some point, he did manage to turn off the water. He towelled himself off, dried his hair, and buttoned up his clothes with trembling fingers.
He opened the bathroom door. That was probably when his conscience returned.
… What have I done?
He stood there for a moment, blasted with cool air from the hallway, staring at the opposite wall in utter horror.
He could still feel the lingering pangs circulating through his thighs, reminding him of the things he had just imagined, the noises he had just made.
Lycaon had been right outside the door. There was… there was no way the wolf Thiren hadn’t heard him.
Lifting his hands to his face, Hugo sank slowly to the ground. He crouched there for a moment, submerging himself in doom.
… Fuck, it had felt so good.
He closed his eyes and muffled a groan into his hands.
It really had felt so good… the bliss he had enjoyed when he’d whispered Lycaon’s name, it had been… absolutely breathtaking…
With immense difficulty, Hugo rose to his feet. Bracing himself for the worst possible confrontation, he took a deep breath, stiffened his facial features, and strode purposefully into the living room.
Lycaon was sitting at the dining table with a cup of tea. A second cup had been prepared for him in front of the adjacent seat.
Hugo would have liked to sit further away, but he felt that would seem suspicious, so he took the seat that Lycaon had assigned him. The wolf Thiren was serenely enjoying the silence and didn’t react much to his presence, so Hugo didn’t say anything, either.
… Did he not hear?
He brought up his phone and pretended to immerse himself in the Inter-Knot, sneaking furtive glances at his companion the entire while.
Lycaon looked composed. His fur didn’t seem at all flushed. His tail was relatively still, and his ears were calm.
… Had he really not heard?
Perhaps the Thiren had left before Hugo had uttered his name the second time. Or perhaps the water had been loud enough to muffle his voice.
… Good.
Hugo would rather pretend nothing had happened than have to admit he had just climaxed while moaning his former partner’s name.
Tentatively, he began to lower his guard. He released his held breath as quietly as he could, conscious of his voice trembling as he breathed.
Beside him, Lycaon’s tail wagged slightly. But the Thiren didn’t speak.
In the prolonged silence, Hugo’s composure slowly returned. He closed the Inter-Knot and opened his Knock Knock instead, browsing his contacts before picking out a few preferred informants.
Despite their hectic escape, their excursion today had been immensely successful. He had many new leads to follow, and many people to contact…
“… The list of codenames,” Lycaon began.
Hugo nearly tossed his phone into the air. He stiffened, heart pounding, the sound of Lycaon’s deep voice echoing over and over in his mind.
Does this please you…?
Clearly noticing, the Thiren paused and eyed him strangely for a moment. But he continued anyway, albeit warily.
“Uh… I’ll pass them to the mayor. Mr. Mayflower is extremely dedicated to the safety of his citizens, so rest assured, analyzing the drug samples and finding the other targets will be our highest priority. We’ll have all the best resources on it.”
“Okay,” Hugo said offhandedly, continuing to send more messages.
Lycaon eyed him a little longer before sighing and dropping the polite tone.
“What are you doing?”
“My job,” Hugo replied, sparing the Thiren a raised eyebrow. His heart leapt a little as he met Lycaon’s gaze. “What are you doing?”
Lycaon’s eye narrowed.
“You’re not doing gallery work, are you?”
“No,” Hugo agreed gingerly. “I’m doing my other job. Again, what are you doing?”
Sighing heavily, Lycaon set down his cup of tea.
“The mayor and I will handle everything. Whatever plans you’ve made for Mockingbird, delay them. You should rest.”
Hugo scoffed.
“Last I checked, you betrayed Mockingbird years ago.”
He heard a third sigh. This time, his companion did not answer.
Hugo sent a few more necessary messages, then lifted his head and snuck a glance at Lycaon.
He was immediately caught. The wolf Thiren gazed back. He must have been staring at him this entire time, his eye round and shimmering, his ears drooped over his head. As their gazes met, Lycaon’s tail began to sway ever so hopefully.
Hugo heaved an exasperated sigh. He never had managed to develop full immunity to Lycaon’s sad dog act.
“… What do you usually do in your spare time nowadays?” he asked wearily, taking a sip of his tea. “Or do you not have any?”
Still sounding subdued, the Thiren muttered, “While it’s not a lot, I do have the occasional moment of leisure.”
“Well, okay… what do you do then?” Hugo asked again, raising an eyebrow dubiously. “Don’t tell me you just sit there gloomily reminiscing over the past?”
Lycaon stared at him and did not answer.
Hugo dropped a short, incredulous laugh.
“Seriously?”
The wolf Thiren averted his gaze. “Of course not,” he muttered. But in a softer voice, one laced with a yearning that Hugo didn’t miss, he added, “… Not all the time.”
Hugo’s smile twisted in forlorn. He took a longer sip of his tea, acutely aware of the awkward tension thickening between them.
… Damnit, he wasn’t capable of doing this right now. He couldn’t sit here and avoid Lycaon’s persistent concern with his usual blithe remarks and jabs, not after what they had just been through, and certainly not after what he had just done.
Rising to his feet, Hugo heaved a loud sigh.
“Well, it’s getting late. I’ll escort you out.”
“Let me stay the night.”
There was so little hesitation in Lycaon’s voice that for a moment, Hugo thought he’d heard wrong. He stared down at the Thiren in a shocked stupor, repeating the request in his head many times without actually understanding it.
… Huh? Was he hallucinating? Had that been Lycaon speaking, or was he imagining the Thiren’s voice again?
His companion’s crimson gaze glowed with absolute earnestness. Lycaon spoke again, his voice soft and solemn.
“… Please.”
Hugo rested his hand back on the table. He needed it to support his weight.
“Oi, you…”
He trailed off momentarily, his voice fading as he became overwhelmed by an unfamiliar combination of emotions.
“… are you okay…?”
He spoke before he even understood what he was trying to say. But as Hugo looked at the wolf Thiren, really looked, he realized… he had never asked.
For weeks, Lycaon had been tending to him, showering him with incessant care and concern, and Hugo had never once thought to ask the same thing back.
He slid back into his seat and faced the Thiren seriously.
“Did something happen at work?”
Lycaon sighed heavily. He remained silent for a moment, his ears twitching as he hesitated, but he eventually took a breath and admitted,
“I’m worried.”
“About…? Work? The mayor? Corin?”
Lycaon lifted his head, his expression somewhat exasperated, as though the answer should have been obvious.
“You. Who else?”
“I don’t know.” Hugo leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Anyone else seems like a more probable exc—”
“Please stop.”
Anguish crumbled the wolf Thiren’s face. He sounded genuinely pained.
“Stop what?” Hugo scoffed, vainly pretending he couldn’t feel the same sharp stings stabbing into his own heart.
“Hugo.”
His breath faded abruptly in his throat.
They sat there for a moment, his name lingering in the air, hoarse and tender and fierce with desperation. The many moments they had stolen these past few weeks suddenly felt like they had been laid out on the table — kisses they should not have snuck, laughter they should not have shared. Evidence, of their guilty crimes.
Hugo dropped his hands. He dropped his act, with them.
“Lycaon.”
He paused. He had to, to breathe, to loosen the painful constriction that had formed in his throat.
“I didn’t want to have this conversation outright.”
He said it reluctantly. He knew what kind of expression it would put on Lycaon’s face, and he didn’t want to see it.
“… But what exactly do you think we are?”
Agony contorted his companion’s features. Hugo knew that at least some of that pain was reflected in his own.
He gave Lycaon a long time to answer. But the Thiren remained silent.
Raising a hand between them, Hugo spoke with a fragile bravado.
“In honour of all your help these past few weeks, I’ll allow you to consider me an old friend. And I won’t deny that to me, you were once my dearest partner. But how many years—”
His throat clenched again. His composure threatened to break, and Hugo broke off to swallow hard and grimace.
“… How many years do you think it’s been since we last held hands, and kissed, and… I don’t know, whatever naïve lovestruck idiots do?”
He gazed at Lycaon, unable to fully suppress the plea, nor the quiver in his voice.
“That time doesn’t vanish, Lycaon. Neither does the past, nor the pain that you put me through.”
He turned his hand, letting the light illuminate the faint scar around his finger. There had once been a ring there… a very precious ring. But one night, he had returned to that house and agonized over how to remove it. He had twisted it over and over, struggling to get it off even though it should have been as simple as sliding it free.
But it hadn’t been simple. Because he hadn’t wanted to let it go. Even if just feeling it against his skin had been excruciating, he had been unable to remove it from his hand.
That entire night, he had wrenched it violently back and forth, chafing the skin off his bone until his hand became a bloody mess and he could no longer distinguish what was worse — the physical pain, or the agony of his grief.
Softly, Hugo reminded him.
“I never said I’d forgive you.”
Lycaon’s ears flattened against his head. Moisture gleamed in his iris, and his voice clenched in sheer misery as he rasped.
“I know. I’m sorry. But I can’t help it—”
“Can’t help what?” Hugo interrupted sharply. He didn’t know what was fueling the rising volume in his voice. It wasn’t anger, nor was it entirely frustration. Perhaps it was simply the desire to make this all stop.
Desperation, perhaps.
“Being my almighty saviour? Wanting to fix me?”
He didn’t want to see Lycaon this pained. Nor did he want to inflict this upon himself.
… But it was a fact. It was simply a fact.
The past had happened. That would never change.
Maybe it would just be better, then, if they parted and never had to do this again.
“Don’t tell me you still believe you’re the ‘light’ to my ‘darkness’,” Hugo scorned, “or some righteous hero who will ‘pull me out of the abyss’—”
“Caring about you.”
Lycaon’s answer cut through his bitterness like a heated knife.
I can’t stop caring about you.
Hugo stopped. He stared at the table for a moment, conscious of the gaze burning into his face, but not daring to meet it.
… Then, slowly, he rose to his feet.
Pushing his chair in, he turned his back and left, leaving only a mutter behind.
“The sofa’s yours.”
He stomped down the hall, his footsteps the only cover for the trembling rasps falling from his lips.
His throat ached as though it had been sliced open. He hadn’t thought that Lycaon’s answer would be so painful to hear.
Wanting to save him — wanting to change him — he could weaponize that. He could scoff it off and berate the fool for being haughty and naïve. He could use that to push Lycaon away, to prove that he didn’t need him, didn’t want him.
But that… what Lycaon had said…
There was… there was nothing Hugo could do about that.
Nothing he could do but desperately try to stop himself from wanting more.
Escaping into his room, he grabbed the door, about to slam it shut when he realized he had been followed.
Robin’s ears wiggled as the little Bangboo halted and stared apprehensively up at him. Surprised, Hugo stared back for a moment, then stifled a sigh and held his door open so the Bangboo could safely come in.
He must have heard the entire conversation, Hugo realized. The Bangboo was unnaturally quiet as he waddled inside. He didn’t speak, not as Hugo had shut the door, not until they had sat down together on his bed.
There, his digital eye round with innocence and confusion, Robin blinked at him and asked,
“Why did you do that?”
The Bangboo tilted his head, his ears drooping to one side.
“Mr. Lycaon was just worried about you. Isn’t that a good thing?”
Crossing his legs, Hugo heaved a deep sigh and took a moment to formulate his answer. Carefully, he began to speak.
“If someone you cared about was in danger, and the only way to protect them was to do something very, very bad… what would you do?”
“How bad?” Robin asked.
Quietly, Hugo answered, “The worst.”
Robin stared at him in silence, his ears gradually twisting together above his head.
Hugo allowed himself a strained chuckle and reached over to untangle the Bangboo’s ears.
“Haha, please don’t short-circuit. I don’t actually need an answer.”
He paused for a moment to sigh.
“… You see, for me, that decision is very simple,” Hugo admitted softly. “I wouldn’t hesitate. But for people like Vivian and Lycaon…”
Robin looked at the door and nodded in understanding.
“If they ever found themselves in such a situation, they would be in a lot of pain,” Hugo murmured. “They would probably end up doing something drastic, like putting themselves in danger instead. They’ve both already made similar choices before — Lycaon paid dearly for it. And Vivian…”
He trailed off, unable to stop his expression from crumbling in grief.
Again… he’d almost had to go through that again. If he had failed, a second time… he would never have forgiven himself.
“… She nearly did, too.”
Robin turned back to him, his eye glowing in realization.
“That’s why you have to make them think you’d never be in trouble?”
Hugo smiled and patted his Bangboo on the head.
“I don’t just have to make them think it. I have to make it true. I can always take care of myself,” he declared, raising his voice in a haughty bravado. “Understood, Robin?”
Robin saluted, his eye narrowing determinedly.
“Understood!”
But then the Bangboo paused, and when he lowered his arm, he looked melancholy.
“But Hugo… that seems sad.”
Surprised, Hugo tilted his head.
Robin peered up at him with a round, doleful eye.
“Isn’t that the same as being alone…?”
He stared down at his Bangboo, a little taken aback. Then, chuckling, Hugo slid his arm around Robin and yanked him close.
“Not at all,” he replied cheerfully. “Because when everything is fine, we can all be together, and when everything is not… I’ll still have you, won’t I? My special little partner~”
Lifting Robin into the air, he smeared his face against the Bangboo’s belly and chuckled as Robin shoved his face in protest.
Because despite his indignant squirming, Robin’s answer was very proud.
“Of course, Hugo!”
Chapter Text
Hugo had a terrible nightmare that night.
… He couldn’t remember it, not even vaguely. But he woke up gasping for breath with tears streaming down his face, feeling as though his ribcage had been torn open, the contents of his chest shredded and left to rot in his gaping body.
But once he calmed down and actually began to breathe… Hugo realized that it smelled good.
Not just bacon-and-eggs good… it was something warmer, thicker, more extravagant. It felt like aromatic air was gluing together the wounds of his nightmare with each breath that he took.
He got out of bed, freshened up, and slipped out into the hall. The aroma was even more overwhelming out here, and Hugo couldn’t help but breathe it in with an audible sigh.
He found Vivian at the table, slowly nibbling on her breakfast while on her phone. Across from her seat was a second plate of food, carefully preserved beneath a glass dome. Egg benedict, Hugo observed, with a flaky croissant base, perfectly smooth poached eggs, and golden butter sauce. A few grapes, cut and arranged in an excessively decorative way, had been plated to the side with a small drizzle of maple syrup. A stack of chocolate coins sat next to the plate.
“Good morning.”
He greeted his fellow phantom thief first, graciously. Vivian was chewing and acknowledged him with a grunt.
“… Where’s Lycaon?”
He then asked the question he had actually been burning to start off with.
Vivian swallowed, then angled her fork at the back door.
“Lycaon already left.”
She then raised an eyebrow at him in mild, somewhat judgemental curiosity.
“Did you two have a fight?”
“What kind of question is that?” Hugo scoffed light-heartedly as he skirted past the table to make some tea. “When do we not fight?”
“No, like an actual fight,” Vivian insisted, “like the kind where you really try to hurt someone and end up regretting it cause that just makes you miserable too.”
The water boiler clicked. Hugo stood at the counter for a moment, silent.
Then, he pushed back his hair, sighed, and trudged back down the hall.
“… I’m going to take a shower.”
Hugo spent the day being productive. He had taken samples of the drugs yesterday when Lycaon hadn’t been looking, and he had arranged to meet with an old contact for a drop-off.
They sat down on the rooftop of Lumina Square’s Copa Café, at the corner closest to the river. The sun was shining, and the breeze was extremely pleasant. Hugo slid a tin of cookies over the table and presented it to his contact.
“A gift,” he said lightly. “Please have a taste as soon as possible.”
His contact took a leisurely sip of coffee before answering.
“I only treat gifts with such enthusiasm if they come from royalty.”
“Then crown me.” Hugo flicked his hand dismissively. “Just don’t let it rot in the tin.”
“Very well, Your Highness.” His contact chuckled as they slid the tin of cookies into their bag. But as the man straightened, he cast Hugo a curious look.
“It’s a beautiful day, yet you seem a little… icy. Is everything alright?” The man smiled. “Asking as a friend, of course.”
Sitting back in his chair, Hugo crossed his arms and flashed them a sharp-toothed grin.
“What do you mean? I’m as charming as always.”
His contact nodded in a rather patronizing way and took another sip of coffee.
“How’s Lycaon? Rumors are flying that the two of you are partners again.”
Hugo set down his cup with markedly more force than necessary.
“I’m not in the mood to talk about enemies,” he said quietly, smiling with his lips but glaring with his eyes. “And if you don’t wish to become one, you won’t mention his name again.”
His contact returned his deadly stare with a fascinated eyebrow-raise.
“You are absolutely frigid today.”
Disgruntled, Hugo rose to his feet. He slapped a couple dennies on the table for their coffee, then strode away with a mutter.
“… Enjoy the cookies.”
There were many other tasks that Hugo had to finish today, including favors he owed from the recent past — unrelated to current matters, but important nevertheless. His contacts expected an equivalent exchange, after all, and some of them preferred slightly… unconventional forms of payment.
By the time he finally returned home, it was late. He had trekked across the Janus Quarter, visited three Hollows, and finished all his chocolate coins. His side effects were acting up again, so when he stumbled into the apartment to find lavish food on the dinner table, Hugo assumed he was just hallucinating.
He hung up his jacket and loosened his tie. When he turned around, there was still food sparkling on the table.
Squinting skeptically at the kitchen, Hugo strode over to the sofa and paused behind it. Robin and Vivian were curled up together, watching TV and munching on homemade snacks.
“Lycaon dropped by again?”
He spoke disbelievingly. After how they’d ended their conversation last night, Hugo would’ve expected his former partner to stay away for a while.
Vivian looked up at him like she was going to answer, but her mouth was full, and she ended up staring at him like a chipmunk with full cheeks. Amused, Hugo smiled and placed a hand gently on her head.
That was about when he heard the faint clink of footsteps. He looked up in alarm — to see a big, white, freshly-showered wolf Thiren standing in their hallway.
Lycaon had changed into casual clothes. His fur had been brushed and fluffed but it was still a little moist in places, and the lovely scent of his shampoo billowed over in thick, intoxicating droves.
Their eyes met. Lycaon slowed to a halt, but continued to towel-ruffle the back of his head. Hugo stared back with his mouth open, considerably more stupefied.
Beside him, Vivian swallowed her food with a gulp and answered matter-of-factly.
“Yup.”
… Yeah, I can see that, Hugo would have said dryly, if he wasn’t still choking on all the question marks that had surged into his throat.
“Apologies,” Lycaon began in his usual polite but brisk tone, striding past Hugo with remarkable composure. “I had a commission in the Hollow today. Miss Vivian graciously allowed me to borrow the shower.”
Hugo looked over his shoulder, keeping a wary eye on the Thiren.
“Why didn’t you use the shower at Victoria Housekeeping’s headquarters?”
A little abashedly, Lycaon said, “That was my intention, however—”
“I said he could stay another night,” Vivian interrupted with a shrug. “He’s got an early shift tomorrow morning, and the client lives nearby. He stayed quite late making dinner for us,” she added, casting Hugo a pointed side-ways look as though anticipating his protest. “So I figured it was the least we could do.”
Hugo didn’t have the energy right now to debate with her, so he held his tongue and pulled away with only a miffed sigh.
“Next time, we can just pay him.”
He was unnerved by Lycaon’s presence, but Hugo hadn’t eaten since morning, so he couldn’t resist the temptation of food. He went to the table and sat down, avoiding eye contact and making as little noise as possible.
In the corner of his vision, he saw the Thiren approach. Despite himself, Hugo tensed, his grip tightening around his cutlery as Lycaon leaned closer over the table.
But when the Thiren spoke, it was only to tell him about the food.
“The salt and wasabi are for the cutlet,” Lycaon explained politely, sounding completely calm. “There’s extra pepper here, it goes well with the enoki. May I get you water, or tea, or anything?”
“… I’m fine,” Hugo said stiffly, keeping his gaze carefully averted. “Thanks.”
He didn’t move — he didn’t even dare to breathe — until Lycaon stepped away.
Sighing faintly in relief, Hugo resumed cutting his pork cutlet as quietly as possible. It felt like he was sneaking food from a dragon’s nest… even the slightest noise made him tense. His nerves were all over the place, but the instant he actually put food in his mouth, he… melted.
His bitterness, his agitation, and his stubborn anger faded. It was impossible not to enjoy food this good.
He finished every last bite and even scraped the sauce off the plate. After cleaning his own dishes and wiping down the table, Hugo washed his hands, then turned and looked around.
His stomach was soothed, and his head felt a little clearer now. He was in a slightly less terrible mood.
The TV was off, and Vivian’s bedroom door was closed — he assumed she and Robin had retreated there for the night. The rest of the apartment looked empty… Lycaon was nowhere to be found.
Had he left? But didn’t Vivian say he was staying the night?
Tilting his head curiously, Hugo went and searched for the Thiren. He checked the bathroom, peered out the back door, and looked down the staircase leading to the gallery. He even checked his bedroom, though he was a little reluctant about it — Hugo didn’t know what might happen next if he walked in on the Thiren rolling around in his bed.
But he did not find Lycaon.
Hugo returned to the living room and stood at the very center of the apartment, confused. He lingered there for quite some time before he remembered they had a balcony.
The blinds had been drawn, and they didn’t use it very often, so he had forgotten. But as he pulled back the curtains, he did indeed find the wolf Thiren — sitting on a small metal chair outside, oiling his prosthetics.
Hugo sighed, relieved. He immediately stopped and frowned to himself.
Relieved? There was no reason to be relieved.
Mustering a more neutral expression, he opened the balcony door. Lycaon looked up at the sound of the door sliding open, his expression amiable but a little surprised.
“Why are you out here?” Hugo grumbled.
Lycaon gestured at his prosthetics.
“I didn’t want to disturb Miss Vivian, nor you, while you were eating,” he answered matter-of-factly. “I didn’t know where else to be doing this.”
Sighing, Hugo leaned back but continued to hold the curtains open.
“Come inside.”
It was dark, and it was getting chilly. Lycaon was lightly dressed, and even with his fur, it probably wasn’t easy nor pleasant to be tending to his legs on the balcony.
But the wolf Thiren simply continued.
“I’ll finish up first.”
Hugo’s throat clenched, but he didn’t argue. He stepped back inside, leaving the balcony door open behind him.
He retreated to his room to shower. It was past midnight now, and though the food had helped immensely, he still felt pangs of dizziness while breathing in the steam. Even once he changed into nightwear and wrapped himself comfortably in his blankets, Hugo couldn’t settle down.
He kept thinking about it. Lycaon, outside in the dark, alone in that small chair. He thought of the anguish he had seen on the Thiren’s face when they’d spoken yesterday, and he wondered what Lycaon must have done after he’d left. How long had he sat there, alone with two cups of tea, tormented by Hugo’s words?
I never said I’d forgive you.
Was Lycaon still thinking about that now as he lay in the living room, uncomfortably splayed over that small sofa, gazing up at the unfamiliar shadows across the ceiling?
… Damnit.
Hugo turned his face into the pillow. He covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, as though blocking out his senses might somehow quell his thoughts, too.
What does it matter?
He can take care of himself.
It’s none of my business what he does and where he chooses to do it.
Unlike a certain haughty mutt, Hugo didn’t have a habit of suffocating people with his self-righteousness. Concern? Hmph. Lycaon was just projecting his guilt through obsessive caretaking. Hugo was perfectly fine now, and the Thiren was only hanging around because he couldn’t stop—
—caring about you.
Hugo’s breath faded. He lay there for a moment, suffocating in his pillow.
Then, he threw his blankets aside and sat up.
… Damnit…!
Growling irritably under his breath, he opened his bedroom door and stomped into the living room. He flicked the light switch on brusquely, flinching as he and everything else were flooded with piercing light.
Lycaon was already sitting up by then, one ear half-bent but otherwise fully alert.
“… Come,” Hugo commanded grumpily, turning away with a wave of his arm.
The Thiren stared at him with a confused and rather concerned frown.
Annoyed, Hugo glanced back and tried to elaborate.
“You can take the bed. The sofa’s too small, you look ridiculous.”
“It’s fine—”
“I can’t sleep at the thought of you out here!”
His snap rang in the silence, harsh and grating compared to the Thiren’s calm murmur. Turning away to hide his grimace, Hugo stood there with his fists clenched… waiting.
“… Alright.”
He heard a rueful sigh, and the sound of shifting. Once Lycaon’s footsteps were following, Hugo strode ahead and led the way back to his bedroom.
He climbed back in bed and buried himself beneath his blankets, huffing irritably as he shifted to the far side. Lycaon closed the door and walked over slowly, hesitating by the edge of the mattress.
“We’re sharing…?”
Hugo looked over his shoulder. The Thiren was staring down at the space he’d left for him, his arms rather tense-looking.
“Yeah, problem?” Hugo grumbled. “You’re the one who’s been acting like we’re still together. Don’t tell me you’re getting sensitive about it now?”
Lycaon heaved a heavy sigh. Carefully, the Thiren sat down at the edge of the bed and paused again, his fingers curling stiffly against the sheets.
“… I’m sorry,” he murmured, eventually.
Hugo shut his eyes and pressed his lips together, fighting the part of him that wished to sink into that familiar, tender voice.
“You were right,” Lycaon admitted, his voice weary with sadness and regret. “We aren’t what we were in the past. Even if I was worried about you, I shouldn’t have crossed those boundaries.”
“… Shut up and get in,” Hugo muttered, pulling the blankets over his face. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
There was a pause, then a faint huff. The mattress dipped beneath him, and the blankets tugged over as Lycaon lay down.
Then… silence.
Complete and utter silence.
No rustle of fabric. No creaking of the mattress. Not even the faintest sound of breathing.
Just stillness — fragile, but heavy.
The only thing Hugo could hear was the frantic pounding of his heart.
He had already rolled over to the farthest edge of the bed, and he could tell that Lycaon was cautiously keeping his distance, too. But the mattress wasn’t large, and the wolf Thiren’s body heat radiated like a low fire in the dark. Lycaon’s familiar warmth was there, as steadfast and soothing as it had always been.
It was there, but… now, it remained just out of reach.
Memories crept uninvited into Hugo’s mind. Of nights they had spent tangled together… of fingers brushing his hair as he drifted to sleep… of warmth, safety, silence… the kind of silence that meant he was safe.
But this silence? It wasn’t the same.
This was… unbearable.
“… You’re not breathing,” Hugo muttered, unable to stand it any longer. “Are you dead, or just nervous?”
There was a pause. When Lycaon replied, his voice was low and slightly strained, as though enduring his own struggle.
“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”
“I don’t. Just checking you’re alive.”
The pause was slightly longer. The reply that came after was even softer.
“… I’m happy you care.”
Hugo made a derisive noise in the back of his throat.
“Your standards are too low.”
Lycaon chuckled. Hushed and pained with stifled tenderness, it crossed the gap between them and caressed the back of Hugo’s ears.
Releasing a shaky huff, he burrowed deeper into the blankets, pressing the cool fabric against his forehead as though that would soothe the ache tormenting his entire body. Closing his eyes, Hugo replayed that soft laugh in his head over and over, guiltily letting it convince him that this was fine. This was enough.
… It had to be enough.
When Hugo woke the next morning, the space beside him was empty.
He didn’t think much of it. Vivian had mentioned that Lycaon had an early shift.
Lycaon didn’t visit that evening, either. Nor the next evening. Nor the one after that.
Hugo didn’t bother asking. He told himself it didn’t matter.
It was on the fourth day that he found it — the spare key that Vivian had given Lycaon weeks ago, tucked safely in the basket where they usually hid it.
Hugo stared at it for a moment. Then, he turned away without touching it.
… Of course Lycaon wouldn’t be coming back. Why would he?
Hugo was almost fully recovered. He was off his painkillers now, and his ribs were healing fine. He wasn’t a puppy. He didn’t need to be fed and let out and taken care of.
If anything, this was what he’d wanted all along — for Lycaon to stop hovering. Stop interfering. Stop acting like they were still—
Hugo shook the train of thought out of his head and busied himself with his usual tasks.
… Nothing was going right.
The sample he’d passed on for analysis kept getting delayed — “technical backlog,” supposedly. One of his more reliable informants had dropped off the grid entirely. The rest were sending fluff leads that looped back to dead ends.
And to make matters worse, that blonde-haired Ravenlock they’d seen at the bar ended up being a complete red herring.
Hugo’s pen trick at the legal office had worked — since that day, it had been recording every conversation that went on in that meeting room. Robin helped him filter out the relevant audio, and after many hours of careful review, Hugo came to the conclusion that Burton Ravenlock was simply a pathetic leech — entitled and unpleasant, but mostly harmless. His ventures at the legal office were simply desperate attempts to salvage what little of the family’s wealth was still his, and his appearance at the seedy bar that night had been a pure coincidence. Apparently, Burton had a habit of frequenting questionable venues and indulging in questionable activities.
Hugo doubted anything more would come out of investigating the man, but he needed a distraction, and he happened to receive a tip that the Ravenlock would be at a certain bar tonight.
So, he showed up in a disguise, slid onto the counter, and asked the bartender to get them both a glass of the most expensive shot available.
To his slight surprise, Burton warmed up to him quite readily. Hugo would have thought that after being tricked into bringing Vivian to the banquet, the man would have developed some sense of caution… but it appeared Burton was still the same fool.
In any case, Hugo continued to order them luxurious alcohol, intending to lure Burton into spilling some family secrets. He supposed he succeeded, because by the end of the night… they were both completely wasted.
“My good friend!” Burton sobbed, flinging an arm around Hugo’s shoulder and dragging him haphazardly closer. “You understand me so well! You are the only one who understands me in this cruel world!”
“Indeed,” Hugo lamented dramatically. “Why must the world be so cruel? Family is nothing more than a curse, trust exists only to be betrayed, and love is fated to fade.”
He was drunk. He knew he was drunk. But what was he supposed to have done? Order water while everyone else toasted to blood money? He wasn’t Lycaon. Damnit, he needed to stop thinking about Lycaon.
“No!” Burton cried fervently, patting him affectionately on the cheek. “Not this! You will always be my best friend! I will always be there for you, always! This special bond that we share, it will never fade! From today henceforth, you are my brother… uh… you…!”
The man trailed off, his expression scrunching in confusion as he squinted at Hugo in a struggle to focus his gaze.
“… What was your name again?”
Hugo finished the rest of his shot and slammed his empty glass on the counter with a gasp.
“Lighter,” he answered emotionally.
“Lighter!” Burton proclaimed, dragging him into a joyous one-armed hug and spilling a bit of his drink over himself in the process.
They drank, cried, and hugged some more. At some point, they ended up on the sidewalk together, drenched in alcohol. Hugo vaguely remembered that after Burton spilled his entire drink over himself, they had burst into giggles, then ordered more alcohol to pour over each other.
That was probably when the bartender had kicked them out.
They stumbled down the sidewalk with their arms around each other’s shoulders for a block or two before Burton’s driver found them and picked them up. In the back seat of a luxury van, they had more drinks and exchanged more heart-wrenching gibberish, none of which Hugo would remember. Then, as they were driving through a wealthy neighbourhood, Hugo spotted something outside the window and hurriedly rolled it down.
He stuck his head outside and began to shout, “Wait, wait! Let me off!”
The driver immediately lurched to a halt, probably thinking he needed to throw up. Hugo unlocked the door, stumbled out onto the sidewalk, and slammed it shut behind him.
“I’m good here,” he called, waving his hand at the car. “Thank you for the ride!”
Burton leaned out of the window to stare at him with tears in his eyes.
“But Lighter, my dear brother! I was going to show you my collection of cigars!”
“Another day, dear Burton, another day,” Hugo cried back, pressing his hand over his heart.
The car began to drive off with Burton still blowing kisses at him from the rear seat window.
“Goodbye, Lighter! May we meet again in a kinder world!”
Standing as steadily as he could, Hugo waved back until the car was out of sight.
The neighbourhood sank back into a muffled, serene presence. He wobbled there for a moment, adjusting to the peace, the darkness, and the pleasant breeze.
“… What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
Then, an exasperated voice spoke to him from behind.
Hugo looked over his shoulder. The gaze of an old friend stared back down at him, cold with disdain, warm with concern.
“None of your business,” Hugo replied cheekily, staggering the opposite way in petty contempt. The wolf Thiren sighed and trailed after him.
“This isn’t the way back to the gallery.”
“I’m not trying to return to the gallery,” Hugo scoffed, tripping over a ledge in the sidewalk. He staggered a few steps before regaining his footing and straightening with an obnoxious hmph, acutely aware of the judgemental stare on his back.
“Then, where are you trying to go?”
He had no fucking clue, but that didn’t seem important right now. In fact, nothing seemed important right now. Why did he have to go anywhere? Why did he have to accomplish anything?
Lycaon sighed again, the quiet clinks of his prosthetics quickening after him.
“Hugo, it’s chilly, and it’s late. Vivian must be getting worried. Go home.”
“Thank you for the concern, it’s completely unnecessary~” Hugo sang, grabbing a street lamp and twirling happily around it.
Oh, bad idea. He covered his mouth with a hand and staggered away, pushing down the urge to hurl.
Lycaon continued to follow him with that insufferable combination of worry and distaste.
“Are you doing this because you’re angry at me?”
“No,” Hugo retorted. “Not everything’s about you, you know.”
“… But you are angry at me?” Lycaon asked in a quieter voice, walking by his side now.
“Of course,” Hugo replied, “I’ve been angry at you for a long, long time, Lycaon.”
He twirled towards the wolf Thiren and reached for his companion. Their fingertips touched, but before he could feel anything, his vision blurred.
By the time it cleared, he was already on his hands and knees, collapsed against the sidewalk.
He heard a faint sigh, and saw a white silhouette kneel down. Gently, Lycaon tried to offer him a hand.
“What can I do for you to forgive me?”
Hugo smiled at him.
“Nothing,” he said cheerfully. “Whether I forgive you or not is irrelevant. You are who you will always be, and I have decided that I will be whoever I wish to be, no matter what you or anyone else says.”
Lycaon’s brow furrowed slightly.
“… I’m not sure I follow.”
“Haha, you always were a little slow on the uptake.”
The Thiren uttered a faintly annoyed growl. Unbothered, Hugo staggered to his feet and spun to face Lycaon, haughtily flipping back his hair as he turned.
“It means, old friend, that I no longer think about forgiving you, and you should no longer ask me to. You betrayed me — that is a fact that will not change.” He closed his eyes and melodramatically posed his fingertips over his heart. “What happens between us now will depend on what you do today, and tomorrow, and the day after that… not what you did all those years ago.”
“… So I don’t need your forgiveness?”
“Of course not. After all, you,” Hugo declared in slurred words, flinging a finger at his companion, “… are just a hallucination.”
Lycaon gazed back at him with a faint smile.
“You’re drunk,” the wolf Thiren said quietly.
Hugo turned away with a scoff.
“I’m sober enough to agree with you.”
He stumbled across the street, proudly remembering to stop in the very middle to check for oncoming traffic. Lycaon stayed by his side, his white fur glowing in the moonlight.
“Do you know where you are, Hugo?”
“Of course,” Hugo snorted indignantly. He stepped carefully onto the elevated sidewalk and stumbled forward, towards the tall iron gates of an elegant manor.
“I…”
Grabbing the metal bars, he rested his face into the gap.
“… am…”
He gazed at the dark windows of the manor beyond the fence, and he felt a familiar ache twist at his heart.
“… here.”
His whisper was cracked with anguish, barely audible in the night.
Here. Victoria Housekeeping’s headquarters. He had seen it from the window of Burton’s car, and he had immediately cried to be let out.
Hugo had come here many times over the years, but he had never actually passed these gates. He had simply lingered, disguised, on the street outside, sitting on that bench with a newspaper, pretending to feed the pigeons. There had been little he could see from the windows. But he could still remember every moment clearly.
He remembered Lycaon’s first week as an attendant. Back then, the Thiren’s fur had been shorter, his black fringes not yet developed. He used to spend hours practicing walking up and down the hallway with various objects in his hands, his ears flattened nervously against the back of his head as Rina watched closely with a pleasant but eerie smile.
He remembered Corin’s first day, too. She had been even more timid back then, and when she first saw Lycaon, she had been so startled that she immediately burst into tears.
Hugo chuckled to himself. He would never grow tired of recalling that expression of utter bewilderment and panic on his old friend’s face as he’d frantically tried to calm her down.
He also remembered when Ellen first started working with them. Lycaon would watch her walk down the same hallway in the exact way he had once done, his expression tinged with exasperation, sighing about once every two minutes. Hugo remembered musing to himself, now that’s a familiar sight… I haven’t seen it in a while.
… He wondered what they were doing now. His former partner, with new companions, living together in that estate like family. Did Lycaon have a new reading corner where he would huddle together with Corin, reading fairytales to her on the dark and cold winter nights when she couldn’t sleep? Did he have a new workstation where he’d sit late into the night, mending Ellen’s uniform when it became torn during commissions? Did he have a new favourite blanket that he would stay warm beneath when Rina visited his room to chat about their dreams and their futures, because they could… because they still had one?
Heartache swelled in his chest and rose into his throat. Hugo’s hands slid lower along the cold metal bars as he bowed over, closed his eyes, and endured through his misery.
With immense difficulty… he gripped the gate tightly — then let go. Eyes blurred with something warm, he tore himself away and stumbled down the sidewalk.
He tried to leave, but the agony in his throat continued to sharpen, worsening until it felt like there was jagged metal wire coiled around his neck. He grabbed at his throat, lips quivering, unable to even cough as the pain swept into nausea.
… He needed to throw up.
He held it in, grimacing as he continued to move forward — or whatever looked like forward, anyway. His phone was making alert noises, and the sounds echoed annoyingly in his ear. The street swayed and tilted, and he staggered as he tried to maintain his balance in the shifting landscape. Squinting at the gold light of the streetlamp ahead, Hugo tried to steady himself, but even the lamp swung back and forth, luring his gaze like a hypnotic device until suddenly — it inverted, entirely.
Pain shot through his knees. Hugo only realized a few seconds later that he had fallen.
He lowered his hands to the ground and bowed over. The concrete looked like cotton. He wondered how good it would feel to rest his head against it.
… Ah, his chest hurt. He opened his mouth and took a breath, expecting air to rush in and soothe his collapsing chest, but the tension only worsened. He opened his mouth wider and tried again.
He could hear himself wheezing in the silence, but there was still no air. He… couldn’t breathe, he realized.
He tried again, and again, his efforts growing more panicked, his gasps turning choppy and shrill. He lowered himself to his elbows and pressed his head into the concrete. It wasn’t soft. Its perforated surface grated harshly against his skin.
This is bad. This is… bad, Hugo began to realize. His vision blurred, then began to darken. He tried one last gasp for breath, his voice a near sob in the night—
“—Hugo!”
Footsteps clamored down the sidewalk, and warm hands grabbed him beneath the arms. Someone pulled him up and the lurching motion made Hugo groan, but the warmth that squeezed his face afterwards was so soothing that he promptly forgot about his discomforts.
He was pressed against something large and sturdy. Softness tickled his lips and air swept into his chest, scented with something achingly familiar. The spinning streetlamp vanished between a softer, whiter glow and Hugo chortled as he squinted at it.
“There you are…”
Relief eased away his pain. He fell forward and breathed in with a dramatic sigh, relishing the warmth that had returned to his side.
“… my dearest partner.”
Chapter 11
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Lycaon’s day had been, to put it bluntly — an absolute disaster.
That morning, Corin had unknowingly ingested fruit juice made by Rina for breakfast. Thankfully, they still had medicine leftover from last time, but by the time she had stabilized enough for him to leave the house, he was half an hour late.
The client was not happy, and though they appeared to accept his fervent apologies, they also left him with an unreasonably long list of tasks to complete by afternoon.
Lycaon managed somehow, of course — the reputation of Victoria Housekeeping had been at stake, and he would never let it suffer because of him. But it did mean that he had no time for lunch nor rest of any kind.
His work ended at 4 PM. He had planned to buy groceries, then return home to cook dinner and perhaps get a moment of rest. But then Ellen had asked if it was possible for him to cover her evening shift. One of her close friends had just had a big fallout with their parents, and her friend group was throwing a surprise dinner to cheer them up. It’d be incredibly unsupportive of her to not be there.
It wasn’t preferred, but it was possible, so Lycaon wearily agreed. If he had known that the task involved babysitting the client’s infant twin children, he might have reconsidered.
He didn’t dislike young children, but he did find them… challenging, to be around. They either found him terrifying and wailed at the sight of him, or they adored him — and his tail — far too much.
By the time he finished making dinner and feeding the twins, he — and the rest of the room — were covered in thrown food and shed fur. He spent two hours coaxing the infants to sleep, then tiptoed around cleaning the chaos to the best of his abilities.
It was about 10 PM when he finished. The clients returned home from their much-needed night out, thanked him profusely, and set him free.
He returned to Victoria Housekeeping, exhausted, to be greeted warmly by Rina with a homemade feast for his hard work.
After making a long string of excuses, Lycaon managed to slip away and take the plates of… he couldn’t tell what they were, but those looked vaguely like tentacles — to the nearest Hollow. As he was burying them in hopefully safe places, their… aura, attracted a large symbiotic Ethereal. It chased him into a fissure that landed him somewhere deep in the Hollow, where his Carrot had no data. He wandered around following his instincts and his sense of smell, and luckily managed to find another fissure that led him back to a familiar location. From there, he was able to follow his Carrot to the nearest exit.
… So yes. Lycaon was quite close to his limit. It was past midnight. His fur was tangled. He was covered in crusted food and Etheric dust, and he had a headache from breathing in the fumes of Rina’s creation.
But when he saw the figure doubled over in front of their driveway, his exhaustion, his frustration, his annoyance — all of it, the accumulation of everything he had endured today — instantly vanished.
“Hugo!”
He rushed over, hackles raised and muscles tense with sudden adrenaline, taking in everything all at once. The streets were silent. There was nobody around them, no suspicious figures, no threatening objects. But the man in front of him was collapsed on his knees and elbows, head bowed, gasping for breath as though fatally wounded.
“… Hugo.”
Lycaon knelt down, struggling to contain his panic as he reached beneath the blonde and carefully pulled him up.
Within his grip, he could feel Hugo’s arm trembling. It suddenly felt frighteningly thin, and pitifully fragile.
A swell of complicated emotion, confusion and panic and worse — happiness, simply because he was here, because he could hold him — clogged Lycaon’s throat. Willing himself to stay focused, he grabbed Hugo’s face and examined the man’s features, searching for the answers to his questions.
What happened? Why was he here? Was he alright?
Hugo gazed back, his hands climbing over Lycaon’s, his fingers threading between his own. His pale skin was flushed a beautiful pink, his mismatched irises shimmered with an unnatural light, and his grin… was perfectly dazzling.
“There you are…”
Lycaon’s grip weakened. Hugo fell against him, relaxing all too easily into his embrace. As his former companion wrapped his arms around his back and pulled him into an earnest hug, Lycaon opened his mouth with a flustered huff — and that was when it hit him.
The scent of alcohol.
“… my dearest partner.”
Hugo reeked of it. He was drenched in it. His clothes were damp and clinging to his torso, chilled by the night breeze and freezing to the touch.
Exasperation and relief drained away Lycaon’s panic as he realized that this wasn’t an emergency, but just a case of a drunkard wandering in front of his residence.
“You…”
Lycaon trailed off with a helpless sigh as Hugo burrowed his face into his chest. His exhaustion had returned, but it wasn’t possible to feel angry when he was being embraced this wholeheartedly.
Sliding his hand onto the back of Hugo’s head, Lycaon pressed the man closer. Gently, he combed his fingers through the blonde’s long hair and took a deep, slow breath, closing his eye as he relished this moment. This serene… agonizing moment.
“… Let’s get you home, you idiot.”
He took the car and drove Hugo back. The man fell asleep during the ride but remained quite active, mumbling some gibberish about lighting up New Eridu. Several times, he went silent, then quietly called Lycaon’s name.
Those soft, wistful murmurs stabbed him like daggers. By the time they pulled up behind the gallery, Lycaon felt like both his soul and his self-control had been riddled full of holes.
Stepping out of the vehicle, Lycaon had to stop and take a deep breath.
How ridiculous. Hugo was the one who was absolutely hammered here. So why did he also feel so… tattered, and dishevelled, and ruined?
Once he had regained some composure, Lycaon went to the passenger side and carried Hugo up the back stairs. For all the height he had gained, the haughty thief was still as light as ever. Lycaon couldn’t help but be amazed by how easily he could grip the man’s entire waist.
By the time they reached the gallery’s back door, Hugo was semi-conscious — awake enough to stand, sort-of. Lycaon still had to keep one arm around him to hold him steady.
It was very late, so he assumed Vivian was home. But after knocking on the door and waiting a while, nobody came to answer the door.
Frowning slightly, Lycaon knocked again. He leaned close to the door crack and called Vivian’s name. He waited again, but still, no answer.
Was she asleep? Was Robin charging?
Lycaon checked his phone, intending to send her a message — only to stiffen, shocked, when he saw the alerts on his home screen. Multiple alarms had gone off for Hugo’s blood sugar, the first one about one hour ago, the last one twenty minutes ago. He had been in the Hollow, so he must have missed them.
Nobody was answering the door, and Hugo needed sugar, immediately.
“Do you have any chocolate?” He turned to Hugo and began to urgently search his pockets.
Affectionately, Hugo grabbed his face and purred, “You’re not allowed to have chocolate, Mr. Wolf.”
“It’s not for me, it’s for you,” Lycaon sighed, annoyed but admittedly quite smitten by the blonde’s bleary smile. “Your blood sugar is—”
“Mngh…”
Lycaon froze. In the lingering echo of Hugo’s piqued moan, he was suddenly too aware of too many things.
He had grabbed the blonde’s waist with one hand to hold him still, and in his anxiety, his grip had become tight. He had squeezed his other hand into Hugo's back pocket to search it for chocolate, but now he could only feel the soft, warm curve of the man’s buttocks squished against his palm. Hugo’s damp shirt was clinging to his chest, and two tell-tale, perky little bumps were poking quite visibly through the wet fabric.
“Oh, so you’re one of those…” Hugo teased, his voice breathless and slurred but sweet with mischief as he massaged Lycaon’s cheek fur. “You’re a big, bad, naughty wolf…”
Unconsciously, a low, feral growl began to rumble in his chest. Lycaon glared down at the man, struggling to resist the dark thoughts suddenly tainting his mind. How good would it feel, to turn that cheeky little grin into an expression of utter wanton… to fill those dazzling irises with tears, and smear those pretty cheeks with a lecherous flush…
With immense difficulty, Lycaon pulled away.
“Where’s Vivian?” he muttered thickly, grabbing the doorknob. “Is she not home?”
“I don’t know~” Hugo replied in a cheerful sing-song. “She’s probably with her beloved Phaethon~”
“And Robin?” Lycaon asked agitatedly, trying the doorknob as though it would open if he twisted it hard enough.
Hugo draped himself dramatically over his arm and flashed him a beam.
“He’s probably stalking his beloved Butler~”
Lycaon spared the man a wary glance. He felt like he ought to find that concerning, but it was hard to feel anything coherent when he was being blinded by that beautiful grin.
“And I’m with my beloved Lycaon~” Hugo finished on a happy high note, turning around and arching theatrically over his arm.
“… Give me your key,” Lycaon sighed, grabbing him and patting him down again.
“Ohh… ahnn…”
Ignoring the strange noises and unnecessary squirming, Lycaon eventually found the man’s keys in one of his inner jacket pockets, alongside an extensive collection of suspicious tools.
The doorknob turned with a click. It had been a while since Lycaon felt this relieved.
Pushing the door open, he dragged Hugo inside. The man stumbled forward with a delighted chortle.
“You could have just picked the lock! And you call yourself a former member of Mockingbird? Are you sure you didn’t just want an excuse to touch me?”
Still resolutely ignoring him, Lycaon flicked the lights on and pulled him into the kitchen. He searched the counters and cupboards for chocolate, but only ended up finding a juice box.
Slamming the straw in, he held it out to Hugo with a single gruff order.
“Drink.”
The blonde tilted his head and smirked devilishly back.
“Make me.”
He was at his wits end. Without hesitation, Lycaon drew juice into his mouth, grabbed Hugo by the hair, and smashed their lips together.
Hugo opened his mouth readily, far too readily, as though that was exactly what he’d wanted Lycaon to do. The sugary fluid mixed with their saliva as their tongues slid into each other’s mouths, and he could hear Hugo’s throat bobbing as the blonde swallowed the concoction deeper into his body. Desire, fervent and uncontrollable, rose in Lycaon’s chest and he unconsciously tightened his grip on the man’s ponytail, angling his head and deepening the kiss with primal ferocity.
“… Nn…”
A muffled sound, coy but smug with triumph, escaped from their lips. Jolted by the noise, Lycaon forced himself away before he could go too far. They lingered there for a moment, panting against each other’s lips, tongues still stained with juice.
Then, Hugo licked his lips, grinned up at him, and whispered.
“Again.”
A shudder tore down his spine. Abruptly, Lycaon released the man, stepped back, and shoved the juice box in his face.
“Drink,” he growled hoarsely.
Hugo sighed in exaggerated dismay, but obeyed without further mischief.
Swiftly, while he was still docile, Lycaon shepherded the thief into his bedroom. He sat Hugo down on the edge of the bed, then turned away to gather his pajamas while the blonde sipped loudly at his juice box. Checking his phone quickly, he observed with relief that Hugo’s glucose levels were starting to rise.
Hugo had finished his juice box by the time Lycaon returned, so he pulled the man up, set the juice box aside, and tried to help him change.
“Your clothes are soaked,” Lycaon scolded, unbuttoning his shirt for him. “What were you doing, bathing in alcohol?”
He slipped the last button loose and lifted his hands to Hugo’s collar, about to slide his shirt off when the blonde suddenly flung his arms wide.
“Lo!” Hugo proclaimed in a gallant voice. “The velvet night has drawn its curse upon me — strip me of my finery, good knight, ‘ere the moon strikes thrice and I forget my name!”
Ah,so he still had this habit… Scoffing under his breath, Lycaon reached again for his shirt while dryly playing along.
“Your Majesty, if you would just raise your arms — yes, like that — lest the curse strikes your ribs instead.”
He peeled Hugo’s shirt off with exaggerated flourish. The blonde twirled away and collapsed dramatically onto the bed, half-naked.
Kneeling down, Lycaon began to remove his other layers.
“Brave knight!” Hugo continued to cry, extending his limbs in theatrical passion. “Swear fealty on my heel — kneel but once and I shall make thee my consort!”
Lycaon tugged his sock off in a deadpan.
“If Your Majesty would cease kicking me, I may consider it.”
With some careful maneuvering, he managed to get the rest of the thief’s clothes off. Sighing, Lycaon straightened and set his soiled clothes on the dresser, then returned with his pajamas.
“You’ve usurped my robes,” Hugo accused, squinting indignantly up at him. “Treason!”
Sliding an arm under the man’s back, Lycaon pulled him up so that he could get his pajamas on. Hugo remained limp against his arm, and for a moment, they posed like performers on a stage, acting out the climactic scene of a protagonist cradling their wounded lover.
“You’re shivering,” Lycaon murmured, unable to hide the tenderness in his voice. “It’s for your own good. Be still, Your Majesty.”
He managed to get one arm in before Hugo suddenly darted away — chortling, breathless, and naked but for the pajama shirt flapping from one shoulder.
“You dare bind me in chains?! I am no captive prince — I am the fearsome winged beast of the night! Uncatchable! Unknowable!”
Lycaon trailed after him, resigned but amused.
“You’re going to trip and impale yourself on your own nonsense.”
He reached forward, but Hugo leapt out of his grasp. The blonde landed on a chair with surprising grace and struck a mocking pose.
“Ha! Come, O’ mighty hunter — let us test your skill!”
Lycaon lunged. Hugo darted away. They weaved chaotically around the furniture for a few seconds before he managed to catch the thief by the waist and haul him in with a grunt.
They scuffled, though it was more of a grappling embrace than a struggle. Somehow, Lycaon managed to get the man’s other arm through his shirt.
Laughing, Hugo twisted in his grip.
“Unhand me, villain! I’ll curse your bloodline for a thousand years!”
Fur thoroughly ruffled and hands warm with his companion’s skin, Lycaon heaved a sigh thick with exasperation and longing.
“… You already have.”
With great difficulty, he was able to yank Hugo’s pants on. Abruptly, the thief gasped like a stabbed damsel and fell limp, arching back in Lycaon’s arms with melodramatic flair. He groaned, eyelashes fluttering as he rested a hand daintily over his forehead.
“Alas…! My strength fails me… this must be… the end…!”
Lycaon sighed and adjusted his grip so that the man could play dead more comfortably.
“You weigh more when you monologue.”
Upside-down in his arms, Hugo grinned. But his voice, when he replied, was soft.
“That’s because I’m full of sorrow.”
The room grew quiet, and the air stilled. They gazed at each other, the joy of their theatrical banter fading into a sombre silence.
Slowly, Hugo lifted a hand to his cheek. Lycaon could feel his expression crumbling in anguish as the man’s cool fingers stroked his fur.
“… I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” Lycaon whispered.
They were quiet for another moment, their confessions lingering together.
Then, softly, Hugo asked,
“Then why won’t you kiss me?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Lycaon admitted, a tremor in his voice.
Hugo’s eyes glittered as they gazed into his own, smoky and scarlet, tender and exposed.
“… But you’ve already hurt me.”
His heart throbbed. It was a most excruciating throb.
“So what could we possibly lose…?”
The man grasped his face with his other hand. He pulled Lycaon down, brushing their faces together, his breath escaping shakily against his muzzle.
Lycaon hesitated. He thought of the scar on Hugo’s finger, and he remembered the agony in his eyes as he’d whispered, I don’t forgive you.
He couldn’t. He didn’t have the right. He—
But Hugo pushed their lips together, and he… he blanked.
He grabbed the man, his hand sliding into Hugo’s hair, their mouths crashing together, the kiss landing fiercely as they delved desperately into each other’s heat. Hugo tasted like wine and sugar, defiance and pride, mischief and sunshine — he was delicious. He was irresistible. Lycaon would never have enough.
By the time he even realized what he’d done, Hugo was already beneath him — pressed into the bedsheets, lips red and kiss-swollen, chest bare and heaving. The man was clutching his harness, tugging him stubbornly close, not letting him leave. Lycaon’s knee sank into the mattress between Hugo’s legs, his weight pinning them both in place.
“Lyc— ah…”
Hugo’s breathless huff trailed off, his breath hitching and his back arching as Lycaon swept his hands across the arch of his spine and plunged them deeper, past the hem of his pants. Gripping the soft curves of the man’s buttocks, he lowered his jaws to Hugo’s throat, a snarl rippling through his chest as he bared his fangs and—
Catching himself abruptly, Lycaon stopped and pulled away with a breathless curse.
“Wait — wait. We can’t,” he panted raggedly, struggling to clear the haze from his vision. “Not when you’re in this state.”
Hugo lay beneath him, dazed and breathless, his pants bundled around his pale thighs.
“You’re joking.”
“You’re drunk,” Lycaon reminded him indignantly.
“So?”
Agitated, Lycaon lifted a hand over his face, his tail shifting the blankets behind them. “What do you mean, so—”
“Don’t give me that high and mighty act now,” Hugo scoffed, baring his fangs irritably. “I’ve already seen you at your worst, Lycaon. Your morality is wasted on me.”
“It’s not an act,” Lycaon growled, grabbing the open ends of Hugo’s shirt — he had no idea when it had gotten flung open — and pulling them together. “And it’s not a waste. It’s because I care about you.”
Ah, his pants… Lycaon realized he ought to do something about them too, but he didn’t dare look down there right now, nevermind let his hands anywhere near. Just imagining how the elastic of Hugo’s silk pants were squeezed around his thighs like rope binding him together was already making him—
A hand wrapped around his wrist, stopping him before he could properly button up Hugo’s shirt.
“What if I can prove that I’m sober?”
Lycaon blinked, surprised. The messy, indecent images in his head faded, replaced by Hugo’s determined gaze.
“Give me a test,” the man continued, loosening his grip so that Lycaon could pull his hand away. “If I pass, then your precious moral conscience will be soothed, and we can keep going, right?”
Lycaon opened his mouth, but he didn’t object. He couldn’t. Because… those things he had imagined just now… what if he could make them real? What if he could actually pound Hugo senseless…?
His throat dried out. Part of him knew he ought to resist, fight harder, stay within his restraints, but… against his better judgement, Lycaon lifted his hand.
“How many fingers?” he rasped.
Hugo raised an eyebrow. Lycaon felt the sudden extreme urge to make a mess over that haughty face.
“Three.”
Lycaon held up his other hand. “And now?”
“Three plus four.”
“Which is?”
“Seven.”
Lycaon’s mind raced. Was that correct? Damnit, he hadn’t thought that far. Three plus four was… it was… uh…
A hand slid onto his thigh and began to trickle upwards, tickling the crease of his pants. Hugo fidgeted against him, rubbing himself against Lycaon’s knee while uttering frisky sighs, his expression crumbling defencelessly but his eyes glinting with mischief. The thief knew exactly how difficult it was to do basic arithmetic while preoccupied with less innocent thoughts.
Grimacing, Lycaon grabbed Hugo around both thighs. It was just to stop him from squirming, he told himself as he let a few fingers glide past the crumpled crease of his half-shed pants. Ah… he was so smooth… so fragile… his fingertips tingled with delight just grazing the man’s skin.
Beneath him, an immensely smug smirk twitched onto Hugo’s lips. Struggling to appear composed, Lycaon met the man’s insolent gaze and asked in a husky voice,
“What name did you use at the prince’s masquerade?”
“Baroness Coquelicot,” Hugo answered smoothly. “Gold dress, diamond heels.” The man trailed off with a gleeful chortle. “I winked at you and apparently you jerked off for three minutes on that rooftop.”
“That is not what happened,” Lycaon growled, flushing. His hands tightened around the man’s legs as he inadvertently remembered that night. It was still so vivid in his mind… the sight of Hugo, draped in a shimmering gold gown that clung to every line of his body, his shoulder blades scandalously bare, his pale thighs flashing provocatively with every step. His gold hair had been swept up and powdered with glitter, his smirk had been painted a deep, dangerous red, and his mismatched eyes had gleamed like mischief incarnate. He had stood there, poised between the prince and his guards, all three men helplessly smitten and practically drooling over his beauty. And then… he had turned. He had cut through the shadowed boulevard with his smile, found Lycaon on the rooftop across the street, and winked.
A slow, decadent wink, followed by a sensual pursing of his lips and a taunting flick of his fingers.
Lycaon had nearly fallen off the damn rooftop. He had spent those three minutes clinging to a ledge, half fighting to regain his balance, half fighting to regain his sanity.
… He hadn’t actually done anything until they’d returned home. But then, yes, he had spent the entire day being indecent.
Hugo was gorgeous. He knew he was gorgeous. He weaponized it far too effectively.
Even now, as he lay beneath Lycaon, supposedly inebriated, he dragged one hand lazily down his torso, trailing his fingers over his pale skin like he was telling Lycaon where his tongue ought to go.
“It’s alright,” the man whispered, lifting his hands towards Lycaon as though daring him to have a taste. “No need to hide it. I find it flattering.”
Flatly, Lycaon declared, “For insisting that something nonexistent happened, you fail this test.”
“That’s not fair!” Hugo protested, half whining, half laughing as he slid both hands onto Lycaon’s face. “Just because you refuse to admit something doesn’t mean I’m wrong!”
Grasping one of Hugo’s hands, Lycaon pulled it away from his cheek. It hadn’t been his intention, but as he slid the man’s thin fingers beneath his own, he ended up pulling the blonde’s hand to his lips. Gently, he brushed Hugo’s knuckles against his muzzle and added in a slightly grumpy mumble.
“Also, you didn’t just wink. You blew me a kiss.”
“Ahh, right…” Hugo purred, though his tease was laced with breathlessness as his fingers twitched against Lycaon’s lips. “And how many times did you come to that?”
… That was a secret Lycaon would take to the grave.
Moving on, Lycaon pulled the man’s hand over his shoulder and let it rest there as he leaned down. Bracing one arm by Hugo’s head, he lowered the other to the man’s pale abdomen. Exhaling a little shakily, he locked their eyes together and tapped his fingers against Hugo’s navel.
“How many times did I tap you?”
Hugo closed his eyes and hummed the tune he had played.
“Hm hm-hm-hm hm hm, hm hm~”
Then, he looked at Lycaon, winked, and puckered his lips to make an audible smooching noise.
“Eight… ♥”
Lycaon nearly blacked out. He’s sober. He’s sober enough. He’s clearly fine. His mind rampaged freely in the two seconds that it took for him to regain control. There was no need to hesitate, no need to wait, no reason to not grab this arrogant thief and fill him with his knot and his seed and his love—
“… What did I say?”
He tapped again, his fingers trailing a little lower as he played Hugo’s torso like a musical instrument.
The man’s arms tightened around his shoulders and forcibly pulled him down. Straining towards Lycaon’s ear, Hugo offered his answer in a rapturous sigh.
“You said, dear Lycaon…”
The blonde arched off the mattress, clinging to Lycaon as he slid his smooth torso against his fur.
“That you can’t wait to fuck me til morning…”
He… had not said that. Lycaon was quite certain he had not said that. He hadn’t said that, right?
“You… are you even trying to pass?” he muttered thickly, instinctively sliding a hand onto the arch of Hugo’s back and pressing them closer.
A giggle muffled itself into his fur. Sighing, Lycaon lowered himself onto his elbow and pushed Hugo back down onto the mattress.
“… Don’t flinch,” he whispered, leaning down and blowing air against the man’s ear.
Hugo immediately flinched.
“Hey…!” he yelped, fisting the fur along the back of Lycaon’s head. “You know I can’t help that…!”
Ah, sweet, cathartic triumph. Lycaon allowed himself a faint chuckle and did it again.
“Hngh—!”
Hugo’s entire body twitched this time, his knees twitching around Lycaon’s waist as the man couldn’t help but reflexively cling to him. Bewitched by his abashed whimper, Lycaon uttered a low, heady growl and slid a hand down to the back of Hugo’s knee, pulling it up and straddling himself between the blonde’s legs.
“Tell me what cologne I’m wearing,” he murmured, brushing their faces together.
He heard Hugo take a deep breath, then answer in a low, lavish moan.
“… Yours…”
Lycaon almost scoffed. He lowered his head and sighed, amusement and exasperation clashing along his twitching lips.
Clearly aware of every emotion he was causing, Hugo chuckled and continued in a hushed whisper.
“You smell like woodsmoke and jasmine, vanilla and tea. But it doesn’t matter, because very soon…”
The thief curled his legs tighter around Lycaon, tugging him closer with a slow grind of his hips.
“It’s going to be everywhere… mixed with my scent… all over my bedsheets… spilled deep inside me…”
Lycaon could hear his breath cracking. His vision throbbed in and out beneath a dark haze. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that he had already been defeated, the ending of this story already decided. But if he was still capable of interpreting his mind right now, he wouldn’t have ended up like this.
“… I feel like that should be a fail,” Lycaon heard himself rasp.
A soft, amused breath wafted against his fangs.
“Just because I exceeded your expectations doesn’t mean I didn’t meet them.”
“That… made absolutely no sense,” Lycaon muttered groggily.
“Shut up,” Hugo breathed, pushing their mouths together. “I think it did.”
Their lips crashed, their tongues instantly aflame with want and frustration. Hugo’s fingers twined in his fur and dragged him deeper, body arching against his as though starving for every inch of contact. Lycaon groaned into his mouth, the sound low and ragged, helpless to resist the charm of this willful thief.
How had things turned out this way…? He had meant to show that Hugo was not lucid enough to make decisions. Instead… he had ended up intoxicated, too.
A strained gasp pushed between their lips, breaking them apart — just barely. They hovered together, their breaths hot and trembling as they gasped against each other’s tongues. Lycaon’s mind was whirling. The arm carrying his weight was trembling, and he could barely keep himself upright. He gazed into Hugo’s eyes, sinking into the duality of his gaze, his heart pounding with equally unbearable amounts of desire and hesitation.
Shakily, he whispered, as though it were a plea rather than a final test.
“… Say something honest.”
The light in Hugo’s irises shimmered, swelling and growing bright like trembling stars in his eyes. His confession was barely audible, the words so fragile and precious that they might shatter with only a single breath.
“I never wanted you to leave.”
Intense emotion flooded Lycaon’s entire being, igniting an excruciating, throbbing ache in every part of him that could feel. His expression crumbled, moisture trickling into his fur as he answered.
“I never wanted to leave you.”
They slid together again, relief and hunger shuddering into each other’s mouths as they embraced and kissed with passionate wanton. No longer restrained, Lycaon grabbed the blonde’s hair, uttering heady pants of desire into Hugo’s throat as he dragged his fingers through the silky strands of gold. He slid his hand lower, trailing his palm down the back of the man’s neck and onto his spine, tracing the contours of his lithe body down to the curve of his back.
Splaying his palm there, Lycaon pushed into the arch of Hugo’s spine, pinning their bodies together as they delved deep into each other’s mouths.
His touch continued to shift lower, gliding slowly but steadily downwards until he was cupping the soft curve of the thief’s buttocks. Smothered beneath his tongue, Hugo uttered a faint gasp that gave way to a softer, silkier moan as Lycaon gently squeezed the flesh in his hand. Wonder rippled through his spine as the man’s buttocks pressed back against his palm, so marvellously petite yet succulent, so easily possessed by his grasp. He kneaded them dazedly, satisfaction and frustration lacing paradoxically through his chest as he relished the sensation, and fervently lusted for more.
Sneakily, his grip tightened, his fingers curling deeper, sinking into hotter, more intimate grooves. Their kiss was still ongoing, messy with frantic gasps and mixed saliva as they pushed past their bodily needs for air, preferring each other instead.
Gently, Lycaon began to stroke the more delicate parts tucked away between the blonde’s legs. Hugo’s breath hitched and he began to fidget, tugging on Lycaon’s fur in coy protest, twitching and twisting away as though ticklish. A piqued little grunt, halfway between a complaint and a whine, escaped between their chaotic kiss and Lycaon couldn’t help but chuckle. His ears flicked gleefully at the sound and he redoubled his efforts, grazing the man’s soft skin with his claws and squeezing with darker, hungrier intent.
Shifting his weight, he freed his other hand to reach for Hugo’s face, brushing the man’s long hair back as he caressed Hugo’s cheek and slid towards his ear. Lycaon parted his fingers and clamped the soft bone between his knuckles, grinding gently against this very sensitive part of his companion. Clearly stirred, Hugo grimaced and tilted his head towards his hand, the faintest trace of a whimper tinging his voice as he gasped within Lycaon’s mouth.
The heat of their bodies flared, Hugo’s cool, pale skin gradually becoming warmer and rosier with each shiver trickling through his limbs. Lycaon’s fingers slid deeper into the thief’s body, and as his claws grazed the blonde’s pucker, Hugo uttered a terse huff and abruptly broke away.
Lycaon froze. They halted there, foreheads pressed, chests heaving, breathing in each other’s gasps. Lycaon didn’t dare move a muscle. Doubt, guilt, and despair clawed through his mind as he began to wonder — was it too much? Too fast? Too soon?
He worried if this was wrong. He worried if he still had no right.
Hugo panted against his lips, not breaking the silence, not letting go. The tremors in his voice faded as they lingered, his gasps easing into slower, steadier huffs.
Eventually, the man uttered a long, shaky sigh… and pulled Lycaon more snugly into his arms. Holding him tightly, Hugo strained upwards and spoke softly into the fluff of his ears.
“… Keep going.”
A heavy breath expelled itself from Lycaon’s chest as he hesitated, conflicted. Beneath him, Hugo twitched his thighs wider and arched his back, pressing his buttocks cajolingly into Lycaon’s unmoving palm. Gripping his fur tightly, the thief tugged him down and kissed him again, prying insistently at his lips and licking his fangs until Lycaon obliged with a terse rumble. He parted his jaws to let Hugo in, but only kissed him back briefly before pulling away. The man grumbled in complaint as he left and Lycaon appeased him quickly, nuzzling his lips and smooching the corner of his mouth before continuing lower, to his nape and throat.
He slid Hugo’s pants away, gliding his hand sensually along the back of the blonde’s thighs down to the back of his knee. Opening Hugo up, Lycaon slid himself closer, grinding the hottest parts of their bodies together as he continued to taste the wily thief.
Nuzzling Hugo’s chin upwards, Lycaon pressed his tongue against the exposed arch of the man’s throat and unleashed a deep, gravelly snarl. He heard an exhilarated huff fall from the blonde’s lips as Hugo’s legs clamped tightly around him. It was hard to tell if the thief was trying to stop him, or trying to pin him closer.
Lycaon slid his hand along the entire length of the man’s slender leg, stopping at his ankle. Encompassing Hugo’s limb far too easily in his hand, he dragged the man’s leg over his shoulder and leaned forward, stretching the thief, pushing his thigh all the way back. Hugo didn’t flinch at all, his pliable body enduring Lycaon’s whims with ease.
Lycaon’s other hand remained against the thief’s ear, flicking at his earrings, stroking the grooves of his sensitive soft bone. He pushed his thumb deeper and Hugo cringed, his head jerking aside as he let slip a restless mewl.
“Uhngh…”
Desire swelled within him, so intense that he could feel himself physically enlarging. Thoroughly riled up, Lycaon quickened his pace and trailed his kisses lower. He released Hugo’s ankle and let the man’s leg relax against the mattress, instead shifting his hands back onto the blonde’s haunches and cupping his buttocks instead. Cradling them with gentle fervor, he raised Hugo’s hips towards his mouth. He felt a yank on his fur but it wasn’t a protest, just an excited twitch of the thief’s hands.
Pausing, Lycaon glanced up. He caught Hugo gazing back down at him, looking utterly enchanting. A light, rosy hue had flushed the man’s usually pale skin, and his mismatched irises shimmered with honesty and desperation.
Slowly, Lycaon opened his mouth. He saw Hugo tense and draw in a sharp breath as he waited there, savouring how the thief was practically trembling with anticipation and impatience. With deliberate sluggishness, Lycaon lowered his head and dragged his tongue along the man’s lower abdomen, tasting the intimate grooves of his pelvis and the lean contours of his muscles, caressing him everywhere except… there.
Hugo’s breaths hitched and fluttered restlessly, his hands fisting Lycaon’s fur and pulling in growing agitation. Angrily, the man tried to growl, but his complaint came out as more of a trembling groan.
“… Lycaon… you…”
Lycaon replied with a low, pleased purr. As the vibrations rippled through Hugo’s skin, he broke off and bit his lip, muffling a piqued grunt as he twitched all over. He struggled for a while, the agitation and pride in his features gradually crumbling away as finally, he gave in, and allowed a trembling whisper to leave his lips.
“… Please…”
Hugo’s plea was so alluring, so helplessly ravaged, that Lycaon could not possibly resist. He let himself touch it, finally, grasping the base of the man’s erection and holding it still as slowly, gently, he slid his tongue over its entire aching length.
“Ahh…”
Hugo’s breath shuddered loudly and he let slip a moan that he hastily suppressed. Lifting his arm, the blonde pressed the back of his hand against his lips, muffling himself as his features crinkled in bliss.
Lycaon lapped tenderly at the man’s length, mindful of his fangs as he slid the rigid heat onto the back of his tongue and squeezed it within his mouth. Hugo struggled to hold back his voice, but the noises that did escape were ravishingly exquisite. They stirred pangs within Lycaon’s own groin, his breathing turning restless and ragged as he struggled to retain some fragment of self-control.
His clothes were too restraining… he could feel an immense, feral need to tear them off, grab Hugo, and simply have his way with him… but no. What Lycaon desired, right now, wasn’t to destroy his companion — but to cherish him.
Hugo quickly grew hotter and harder, his scent and his taste flaring in Lycaon’s mouth. As his saliva trickled down over the blonde’s other sensitive parts, Hugo’s hands twitched in his fur, his moans escaping a little more readily as he began to submit to the pleasure. Enthused, Lycaon delved further, stroking the man’s length steadily with one hand while grasping his buttocks with the other. He pushed Hugo’s hips upwards as though raising a chalice to his lips… and drank from him. Slurping the thief’s delicate parts into his mouth, he stirred them with his tongue, relishing how they quivered almost fearfully against him. Squeezed within his hand, Hugo throbbed, his voice blossoming into the air and hanging there, quivering, breaking.
The thief was nearing his limit.
Lycaon squeezed harder, tempted to stop him, to draw this out, to maybe ruin him a little more… but his own desires were getting too painful, and his composure could only withstand so much.
He focused, closing his eyes and tending lovingly to his companion with all of his senses. Hugo tensed and pulled at his fur, his hands twitching close to Lycaon’s ears. His ear flicked back against the blonde’s knuckles, making them both shiver and flinch as even that subtle contact felt like lightning leaping between their bodies. Hugo’s legs locked tightly around his torso, trapping him and pressing him close. The softness in his mouth throbbed and hardened, and Lycaon uttered an elated rumble as he felt it coming. His senses tingled, his primitive instincts surged, and his groin pulsed with carnal excitement. Hugo jerked and grew rigid against him, his strained breaths flourishing into a luxurious moan as he began to burst.
Hot, heady fluid spilled over Lycaon’s hand and dribbled past his knuckles, drenching his fur. Pulling away slightly, he continued to stroke the man’s length, panting groggily as he admired how pregnable Hugo looked right now, with his features crumbled in an exquisite grimace, his lithe body arched and battered with quaking convulsions.
He wondered how many people would sacrifice everything just to catch a glimpse of the legendary Mockingbird, unraveled like this.
He tended to his companion through the entirety of his climax, caressing him gently until his throbbing subsided. Gradually, Hugo began to relax, his knees dropping to the mattress and his hands falling limp in Lycaon’s fur. His strained gasps gave way to a gratified sigh that shuddered, then faded into silence.
A sharp pain jabbed between Lycaon’s legs. He grimaced and shifted, but couldn’t relieve much of the pressure. He felt groggy, delirious with pent-up hunger, his heart pounding with the bloodlust of a beast actively chasing its prey. Dark, stormy desires tainted his mind, and he couldn’t hold all of them back.
He couldn’t wait… he couldn’t wait to bury himself inside of Hugo, to fill him completely with his knot and overflow his insides with seed. That petite torso of his wouldn’t possibly be able to contain it all, and Lycaon imagined that his fluids would bulge beneath the man’s stomach, trapped inside him and being pushed deeper still as he continued to thrust. He couldn’t wait to pummel him until there wasn’t a single ounce of arrogance left in this little thief, until Hugo was just a quivering wreck beneath him, mewling unintelligibly, his pale skin flushed and marked with Lycaon’s claws and teeth, the bedsheets drenched in their indecent fluids.
Shaking the darkness out of his vision, Lycaon growled and dipped his fingers into the pearly goo that Hugo had splattered over himself. He dragged the cream lower, luring it between the man’s legs and over his delicate parts, smearing it against Hugo’s entrance. His hackles bristled in excitement and exhilaration as he pressed his finger against the textured muscle and realized how immensely tight it was, how ridiculously small it felt. It didn’t seem like it would even fit a finger, nevermind the mass that was pulsing in his groin right now.
Lycaon held his breath, willing himself to be gentle. But just as he was about to push a little further, he remembered to first glance up and check.
… Wait.
He halted. Disbelief clawed through his consciousness like harsh rays of light.
Hugo lay relaxed in the blankets, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in serene breaths. He was completely oblivious. He was… asleep.
Incredulity and despair rushed through Lycaon’s body and expelled itself from his throat in the form of a massive sigh. Pulling away, he bowed down and pressed his head against the man’s innocently limp hand.
“Hugo… you truly are…”
His bleak, ragged groan echoed around them with only himself as its witness.
“Insufferable…!”
Chapter 12
Notes:
Spoilers reminder: there is a bit more plot reference to the main story of 1.6/1.7 in this chapter. If you have not done those story quests in game there WILL be spoilers.
Chapter Text
His shift began with a broken teacup.
Lycaon stared down at the jagged porcelain scattered across the kitchen floor, unable to comprehend how it had slipped from his fingers. It had been a clean drop — he hadn’t fumbled, he hadn’t flinched. It had just… fallen.
He cleaned it up in silence.
He then proceeded to burn the toast. He oversteeped the oolong. He greeted a guest with the wrong title. Nothing catastrophic, nothing the household would notice — but for someone like Lycaon, whose every step was measured to the millimeter, each error was a violent crack in his already very perilous restraint.
He couldn’t stop thinking about last night.
The way Hugo had looked at him, pale lashes low over his mismatched eyes, lips flushed and pursed, pupils dark and dilated with a deep, starved need… the way he had tasted, smooth and frosted like wine with sugar…
He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Hugo had arched in his hands, his waist so slender, so fine, so easily crushed within his fingers. His ears twitched with echoes of the moans he had heard as he’d lathered his tongue against his companion’s intimate heat. His fists clenched as he recalled what had happened after.
I should have taken him.
Instead of cleaning the residue off Hugo’s pale stomach with a warm cloth, Lycaon should have smeared his fluids deeper between his thighs.
Instead of gently buttoning the man’s pajamas together, he should have grabbed Hugo’s ankles and dragged them roughly over his shoulder.
Instead of ejaculating into his hand while slumped over the toilet seat, alone and ashamed, he should have thrusted deep into his companion’s body and buried his seed there, surrounded by erotic whimpers and the thick scent of their unquenchable love.
Lycaon relaxed his fist. He clenched it again.
I should have… no. I… no. Damnit…
He hadn’t.
Instead, he had sat by Hugo’s bed for the rest of the night, watching over him, consumed by a chaotic mess of regret and desire and anguish and joy and… at this point, Lycaon didn’t know what he had felt. Everything, probably. Too much of everything.
And now he was here — on the metro, surrounded by strangers, still tormented by memories. His harness felt too tight. His gloves were too warm. His damned tail wouldn’t stay still.
Lycaon adjusted the cuff of his sleeve for the fifth time that hour. He ran a hand down his thigh to smooth out a wrinkle that wasn’t there.
This was ridiculous.
He should have put it behind him long ago. The physical ache, the emotional chaos — all of it should have been compartmentalized, boxed away neatly alongside his other private failures.
They had agreed on that point. The past was in the past. The only thing it could do for them now was be buried and forgotten.
… But if Hugo was someone he could forget, with how hard he had tried, Lycaon would have forgotten him a thousand times over by now.
Even now, as the train rattled along the underground tracks and the weight of his day dug into his back like boulders, Lycaon could still feel it.
The need to see him. The need to just check.
Just to make sure the idiot hadn’t fainted in the middle of the street, or gotten himself abducted again, or tripped off a rooftop—
No.
Lycaon closed his eye and forced air into his constricted chest.
No.
It wasn’t his place. Hugo was an adult. He was Mockingbird. A legendary phantom thief would not simply faint or trip or get abducted.
… A legendary phantom thief would also not get themselves dead drunk, hitch a ride with the family who had once tried to kill him, show up at the front gates of his supposed enemy’s residence, and proceed to make the most exquisite moans as he lay beneath his former partner, trembling with vulnerability and wanton need.
Lycaon took another deep breath and squeezed the handrail. He heard it crack, and hastily loosened his grip.
The train jolted slightly as it approached the next stop. Lycaon stared at the station name as it flickered past the window.
… The gallery.
He could stay on. Head home. Respect the boundaries that they had set, be professional, be sane—
The train doors slid shut behind him. Lycaon stood on the platform for a moment, blinking, not quite sure exactly how he had ended up there.
He took out his pocket watch and gave it a glance. It was 4:08 PM… he had no more shifts for the day. He could pass by the gallery for a quick — extremely quick — glance, and still make it back in time to cook dinner.
He was only dropping by with some hangover medicine, he told himself. It was still nestled in his pocket, undelivered since morning. If Hugo wasn’t home because he was out being a menace somewhere, then… fine. He’d just… leave it in their mailbox, quietly leave, and never come back.
Lycaon rode the escalator up to the street, still fidgeting with his pocket watch. The sky was grey, and there was an unpleasant smell in the air. His nose twitched in discomfort, but he didn’t think much of it. It was the city, after all.
A siren wailed past as he strode down the sidewalk. He stirred, but remained deep in his own thoughts.
… What if Hugo was home?
What if he opened the door?
What would he say?
“Listen, about last night…”
Lycaon lifted a hand over his face and uttered a stressed sigh. Absolutely not. Even he knew how that sounded.
Another siren tore past, its shrill scream rattling his ears. Lycaon felt his gaze linger on the firetruck as it hurtled down the road, lights flashing.
… The unpleasant smell was smoke, he realized.
A little blankly, he lifted his head and gazed into the horizon. Ash was billowing into the sky, dark and ominous, not far away. Only a block down perhaps, across the street and to the left, where—
Lycaon stiffened.
The crosswalk light was red. The pedestrians grouped around him were also peering at the sky, curious and concerned, a few of them covering their noses. The crosswalk light was red.
He shoved ahead.
“Hey—?!”
A voice yelped in alarm as he leapt into the street, muffled quickly by shrieking honks as he sprinted forward.
He ran down the block and skidded around the corner. The acrid stink of smoke and burning canvas hit his Thiren senses so violently that Lycaon almost choked.
The gallery… the gallery, it was…
It was on fire.
He stumbled forward. Firetrucks and PubSec vehicles had barricaded off the road, and a curious crowd had formed nearby. Hoses snaked across the concrete, dousing the building with torrents of water, but flames continued to blaze through the upper floors. In front of his very eyes, a portion of the roof collapsed, exploding sparks and pieces of burning debris into the air. An officer on the ground shouted for everyone to keep their distance, and the crowd jerked back with nervous gasps.
Frantically, Lycaon scanned the heads, searching for a speck of gold. He caught a glimpse and his heart nearly reeled to a halt, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t him.
He wasn’t here. There was no sign of him. He wasn’t—
“Vivian!”
He spotted her as his gaze strayed away from the crowd. She was standing off to the side, against a corner of the neighbouring store, watching the flames with a stricken look on her face.
Rushing over, Lycaon lowered himself to one knee, struggling to hide his panic as he gazed up at her.
She stirred and met his gaze, her face pale, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. Her eyes were glazed with lingering horror, and her dress was speckled with ash.
“Are you alright?” Lycaon murmured urgently, hovering his hands uncertainly around her arms. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“… I’m fine,” she began quietly, reaching out and grabbing one of his hands with both of her own. “But Hugo…”
Lycaon tensed. She must have seen something in his face, because her expression crumbled, and her voice began to tremble.
“He went back in for Robin, he was charging, I-I couldn’t wake him up and—” Her words turned shrill and began to blur together. “I couldn’t pull him out of the charging port either because he was stuck or something, I don’t know, I think the fire— a-and then Hugo came and dragged me out, but he went back for Robin—”
“Alright,” Lycaon said quietly, placing his other hand comfortingly over hers. “Alright, I understand. It’s alright.”
He stayed there for a moment, for as long as his panicking heart could allow, until it seemed like she could at least breathe properly again. Then, casting her a meaningful look, he slowly pulled away.
He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the protests and the startled glances. The fire was still blazing, its heat terrifyingly oppressive even at this distance. The entire first floor of the gallery had been charred and consumed, and the upper floors were not looking much better. Lycaon didn’t know if it was possible for anyone to still be alive in there, but it didn’t matter.
He couldn’t just stand here.
Gaze fixed on the flames, he moved forward — only for a firm arm to block his chest.
“Sir!” A voice called out sharply. “You’re too close! Please step back!”
Lycaon blinked, his gaze refocusing with some difficulty on the PubSec officer standing in front of him. A lynx Thiren, young but stern.
“I have to—” Lycaon started, the words tangling as they swept clumsily off his tongue. “There’s someone— inside—”
Alarm flickered through the officer’s face, but he didn’t lower his arm.
“There’s no indication of anyone still in the building, but I’ll let the firefighters know. It’s not safe, please step back.”
“Apologies, but listen—” Lycaon took a breath and tried again. “I’m a licensed Hollow Investigator. I’ve dealt with worse conditions than this—”
The officer’s brows furrowed in a confused frown. “This isn’t a Hollow, sir, it’s a fire.”
“I know it’s a fire,” he snapped, panic finally grazing his voice. “But I’m also the Mayor’s— I mean, I’ve— I know how to—” His hands twitched, fumbling at the smoky air, struggling to produce something, anything that might make sense.
This was absurd. He needed to go in there. There was nobody more fitting, more determined, more desperate than he was to make sure that Hugo was okay.
He pressed forward instinctively, his weight shoving the smaller Thiren back.
“Sir!” the officer repeated, more fiercely now. “You cannot go in. It’s not safe!”
“Please,” Lycaon rasped, his voice breaking as he continued to strain forward. “You… You don’t understand…”
He stared down at the officer, their features blurring in and out of focus as something warm welled over his eye.
“There is… someone in there… that I absolutely cannot bear to lose…!”
He forced himself another step further. The officer tensed, his expression piqued with sympathy, but his hand flying to the baton at his belt.
“Sir, I’m really sorry, but—”
“Please let me through…!”
He rammed his shoulder forward. The officer tensed, his tail rigid and bristling as he grabbed his baton and—
Lycaon lurched back — or rather, someone grabbed him and yanked him away. He whirled, half-berserk, all fangs bared as he unleashed a ferocious snarl—
Only to find himself staring into a familiar gaze.
Crimson like spilt wine, silvery like moonlit glass.
… Hugo.
Lycaon forgot how to breathe.
Silently, the man lifted a finger to his lips and jerked his head aside. He began to slip away, and though Lycaon felt a flash of panic, he couldn’t move.
Realizing he wasn’t following, Hugo paused and glanced back. A complicated look, some mixture of annoyance and amusement, darkened his handsome features and he returned to grab Lycaon by the arm.
Lycaon stumbled forward, staring numbly at the blonde’s swaying ponytail as he was dragged through the crowd. They slipped behind a corner and turned into a quiet, smoke-stained alleyway down the street. There, Hugo released him, staggered back into the wall, and muffled a cough into his sleeve.
Lycaon blinked, breath tearing through his gaping jaws as he finally remembered how to speak. He lunged forward, grabbing Hugo by the wrists and yanking his hands upwards.
“Hugo—!” He choked out, his voice still cracked. He could feel panic returning to his fingertips as he looked down at the man.
Hugo’s clothes were singed, and his long hair had been scorched. His pale cheeks were blotted with soot and ash, and his breaths were shallow and sharp with pain.
“You — what — are you alright? What happened?! Are you alright?!”
Hugo tore his hands free and flung them out in a dramatic shrug.
“Of course I’m alright,” he scoffed hoarsely. “I’m Mockingbird, remember? Did you really think—”
But he broke off, covering his face with his arm as he was overwhelmed by another wave of violent coughing.
Lycaon heaved a shrill sigh. He lifted his hands to the man’s shoulders but didn’t grab him roughly this time — just held him, silently, as though he might be able to hold Hugo together if he were to disintegrate right now.
His heart was still pounding so fiercely that it hurt. His tail was starting to feel sore from all that agitated movement. Lycaon stood there, listening to his companion’s pained gasps, his own throat aching with agony as he watched ferocious tremors wreak the blonde’s slender body.
Slowly, Hugo’s coughing faded into raspy wheezes. Lycaon gave him some more time to breathe before he finally had to ask.
“Robin?”
“… He’s with Vivian,” Hugo said breathlessly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. The man was leaning against him now, letting Lycaon support most of his weight as he continued to struggle for breath. “The charger overheated because of the fire… some of his modules were damaged, and we couldn’t wake him up. Vivian’s taking him to the video store to see if he can still be repaired.”
Lycaon clenched his teeth and hesitated, his gaze quivering as he became torn with what shouldn’t be said, and what he needed to say.
“… Please forgive me,” he ended up rasping, his voice drenched in anguish. But he had to say it. He had to. Because if Hugo had actually… “But for a Bangboo, you shouldn’t have—”
Hugo shot him a furious glare. “Unlike a certain traitor,” he snapped, “I would never abandon a partner.”
Lycaon grimaced. He lingered like that for a moment, submerging himself in the shame that he deserved to feel.
“What happened?” he then asked, quietly. “How did the fire start?”
“I have a few ideas,” Hugo huffed, still coughing between his breaths. “Given the speed, I think… there must have been an…”
Sighing heavily, Lycaon slid a hand onto the man’s back and gave him a comforting rub.
“Never mind, just… catch your breath. Everything else can come later.”
“I’m fine,” Hugo insisted breathily, muffling a cough into his elbow before continuing in a determined but clearly strained voice. “I need to check on Vivian and Robin. Let’s—”
He broke off, his expression tensing as he tried — and failed — to muffle another cough.
Lycaon sincerely wished that Hugo would get himself treated first, but he knew there was no way this stubborn fool would agree to that until he knew the other Mockingbird members were safe.
“Alright,” he murmured softly, offering his arm for Hugo to grasp. “Alright, I’ll be with you.”
The door opened with a piercing scream.
Lycaon only caught a brief glimpse of the video store’s familiar interior before two blurs hurtled at them.
“Hugo!”
“Ehn-nahh!!!”
Slammed against Lycaon and crushed beneath hugs, Hugo uttered a laugh that sounded more like a pained cough. Lifting his arms, the man placed one hand on each of their heads, immense relief spreading over his face as he embraced them back.
Resisting the urge to squeeze them all in his own arms, Lycaon looked across the room, at the video store managers. They were standing by the counter, one of them beaming, the other smiling a little sheepishly. Eous was flitting skittishly back and forth between their ankles.
“Master Proxies,” Lycaon greeted them breathlessly. “Thank you. Is Robin alright?”
“He’s okay!” Belle chirped brightly. “His core processor shut down when some of the edge components overheated, so we gave it a reboot override. There’s probably some damaged parts that should be replaced, but Fair— uhhh, we ran a thorough diagnostics check, and his memory modules and core functions are all totally fine!”
“I just spoke with Enzo,” Wise added helpfully. “Ah, he owns the remodeling shop beside us — he said he’s willing to take a closer look at the hardware whenever you guys are up to it. Just drop by and mention us, he’ll make the time.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” Lycaon repeated fervently.
“Yes,” Hugo agreed, “thank—”
He broke off to cough, but finished with sincerity.
“Thank you both so much.”
“It’s no big deal!” Belle chimed, while Wise replied, “That’s what friends are for.”
Before anyone could say anything else, Robin, still plastered against Hugo’s chest, began to wail.
“Hugo…! It’s all my fault…!”
“What? No—”
All at once, everyone in the room began to object.
“Robin, it wasn’t your fault—”
“The fire made the charger malfunction—”
“Ehnah-dah!”
“You did absolutely nothing wrong—”
But the Bangboo continued to cry over them, his whole body quivering with sobs.
“Miss Vivian and Hugo stayed behind for me…! Everyone was put in danger because of me…! Even though I’m just a Bangboo…!”
“You’re not just a Bangboo!” Vivian protested shrilly, tears swimming in her own eyes.
“Robin.”
Hugo’s voice cut through the cries, solemn but forceful enough to subdue Robin’s wailing. The Bangboo trickled off, but continued to snivel as Hugo detached him from his chest and lifted him into the air.
“Remember what I told you that night?”
In between his blubbering, Robin managed something that sounded like an “uh-huh.”
Hugo’s gaze softened as he brought the Bangboo closer, his irises shimmering with such tenderness that Lycaon couldn’t help but feel a pang in his chest.
“You are my special partner. No matter what happens, you can count on me to never abandon you — just as I will count on you to do the same. That is the oath we made to each other. Right, Robin?”
Robin fell silent. He stared at Hugo, his digital eye flickering, trembling from the tips of his ears to the tips of his feet.
Then, the little Bangboo threw his arms into the air — and began to bawl with all his might.
“Oh—” Belle muffled an alarmed gasp. Wise managed to keep silent, but his eyes widened rather incredulously. The noise Robin was making was so loud that it was distorting with static, and his round body shuddered so violently that Lycaon was genuinely concerned the Bangboo might explode in a burst of smoke and sparks.
Hugo didn’t react quite as obviously, but he did hold Robin a little further away, and he did sneak the managers an imploring glance. Catching his signal, Belle swept a winning smile onto her face and stepped forward.
“Hey, Robin?” she began cajolingly, bringing Eous over and kneeling in front of the Bangboo as Hugo lowered him to the ground. “Do you want to come with me and Eous to see our secret album?”
She waved her phone at him and grinned mischievously from ear to ear.
“We have lots of pictures of Butler!”
Eous blinked in shock, then began to nod furiously.
“Ehneh! Ehneh-neh-neh!”
Robin’s ears shot upright. He didn’t nod, nor did he stop sobbing, but he let Eous and Belle lead him into the staff room.
The door slid gently shut, muffling the Bangboo’s snivelling. In the quiet that followed, none of them spoke.
Vivian leaned back against a shelf, her face still very pale and her eyes clouded with exhaustion. She was fidgeting with a burnt corner of her frilly sleeve, and though Wise was gazing rather worriedly at her, he didn’t say anything. Lycaon would have liked to break the silence, but he didn’t feel like he had the right to speak first.
Eventually, Hugo coughed. The man immediately lifted his arm over his face and tried to muffle his next one, but all that did was make the wretched noise even more painful to listen to.
Vivian turned towards him, her expression sharp with both anger and anguish. Lycaon tensed too, his tail smacking against the doorframe, his grip tightening protectively around the man’s shoulders.
“Um, well,” Wise piped up first, perhaps hoping to interrupt before sharp words could start flying. “I’m guessing the fire wasn’t natural?”
Vivian whirled towards him, immediately swept along.
“I’m certain it wasn’t,” she agreed, vengeance gleaming in her eyes as she crossed her arms. “It started downstairs, but the gallery was closed today, and there shouldn’t be any sources of ignition down there. It also spread way too quickly, it couldn’t have been done without some special kind of accelerant.”
“Vivian’s right,” Hugo agreed, though his voice was so hoarse that it wasn’t immediately obvious what he’d said. He broke off to clear his throat before trying again. “Someone had to have—”
His voice withered into a cough. Wise straightened off the counter with a worried look.
“Would you like some water?”
“I’m fine,” Hugo said dismissively, waving his hand. But Lycaon caught the manager’s eye and gave a meaningful nod.
“I said I’m fine,” Hugo repeated, irritable now. He must have noticed the exchange.
Wise hesitated, then cast Lycaon an apologetic look and leaned back against the counter.
Sighing, Lycaon nudged Hugo forward, guiding him carefully to a bench. The man uttered an annoyed huff, but sat down without any real resistance.
“We should wait and see what PubSec finds,” Lycaon murmured.
Hugo and Vivian both scoffed. Clearly, they did not plan to rely on PubSec.
“Could the Ravenlocks be involved?” Wise suggested tentatively.
The room tensed. Lycaon glanced warily over at Hugo and caught the man doing the same. Their eyes met and lingered meaningfully as they shared a silent realization.
They had made a complete mess of Sablier Noir’s hideout a few days ago. The Hollow expansion event would have covered their tracks, but the accident must have delayed their plans. It was entirely possible that the Ravenlocks had been spooked into considering more… brazen, forms of revenge.
Taking the silence as an indication of a good point, Wise continued cautiously.
“Hartman knows who you are, right?” he pointed out. “He knows your real identity and he knows about your gallery. The mayor is still protecting you to some extent, but if Hartman or anyone else in the family gets really desperate…”
“Then Hugo and Vivian are not safe,” Lycaon sighed, lifting a hand worriedly to his chin.
“Hmph!” Vivian huffed indignantly. “I can handle myself. Besides, it’s Hugo that the Ravenlocks are really after. The gallery is down, and we don’t have a place to stay.”
She twirled a hand at Lycaon and threw him a meaningful look.
“He should stay with you, Lycaon, until he can actually take care of himself again.”
“You—!” Hugo began sharply, only to immediately drown in violent coughs.
“See what I mean?” Vivian said disdainfully.
“In the meantime,” Wise tagged on, “Vivian can stay with us. Belle already said they can share her room.”
Vivian turned to him, hands clasped beneath her chin, absolutely glowing. Wise smiled back rather sheepishly, but didn’t retract his offer.
Lycaon had the nagging impression that they had discussed this beforehand.
“Ugh—” Clutching at his chest, Hugo rasped between coughs, “You just— wanted— with your beloved— Phaethon—!”
Sighing heavily, Lycaon patted him on the back.
“Please stop talking.”
To Vivian, he extended his hand in a second offer.
“Robin can stay with us too, if you would like. Perhaps being in the same residence as Butler will help lift his spirits. He seems like he may benefit from some… spirit lifting.”
They all glanced at the door of the staff room. It was quiet at the moment, but the Bangboo’s wails still echoed in their ears.
Vivian clasped her hands together and beamed as enthusiastically as though they had just planned a tropical vacation.
“Yes, that’s perfect!”
“It’s decided then,” Lycaon declared solemnly.
“In the meantime,” Wise added, “Belle and I will help look into the Ravenlocks. We’ll keep you guys updated if we find anything suspicious.”
“I’ll check in with PubSec to monitor their investigation,” Lycaon agreed.
Coughing, Hugo began, “I—”
In perfect synchrony, everyone else interrupted him.
“You should rest.”
Hugo threw his hands into the air, his voice so shrill and hoarse that it was practically a squawk.
“Will I ever get a vote around here?!”
Lycaon answered immediately, his tone ginger but firm.
“Considering you’re always the first to throw yourself into danger without consulting anyone else, no.”
Vivian and Wise nodded in agreement.
Sighing, Hugo bent over and rested his face wearily in one hand.
“Hey, this really isn’t fair.”
“Hugo.”
A voice called from across the room, and they all turned to see Belle standing in the doorway of the staff room, smiling.
“The people who care about you the most are really worried. I think you should just take our advice and let us handle it.”
Hugo paused, his expression turning complex as he cast her an almost despondent look.
“Even you, Manager…?”
Belle flashed him an earnest beam.
“Well it goes without saying — you’re our friend, so we care about you too!”
Lycaon closed his eye, conscious of his tail wagging as he smiled to himself. Beside him, Hugo’s stunned silence eventually eased into a sigh of defeat.
“… Fine.”
Something slid into the palm of Lycaon’s hand. He glanced down, ears twitching in surprise as he realized Hugo had discreetly slid their hands together.
… He could feel it, hidden subtly within the man’s fingertips. His trembling.
Bowing over his lap, Hugo rested his face in his other hand and heaved a long, loud sigh.
But this time… he sounded almost relieved.
“Victory, then… is yours.”
Chapter Text
There was a thief in Lycaon’s bedroom.
Well, not ‘his’ bedroom. Not anymore. It was ‘theirs’ now, apparently.
Hugo had fallen asleep in his chair sometime around dawn and was now sprawled over his reading blanket like an overgrown bat, one sock missing and his shirt slipping down one shoulder.
Lycaon stood in the doorway of his bathroom, toothbrush still in his jaws, staring at the blonde in numb disbelief.
He hadn’t offered to share the bed. The guest room had been carefully made up. Everything had been in order.
But the day Hugo arrived, he had been in a terrible state.
After the fire, they stayed at Sixth Street for a while, making sure Vivian had everything she needed and getting Robin’s hardware checked. Lycaon stepped away to secure the area, patrol their surroundings, and make sure it was safe. When he returned to the video store, Hugo had already disappeared.
Belle had been upstairs with Vivian, and Wise had been with the Bangboos at the remodeling shop, so the thief had been left unattended. And like all unattended thieves, he had immediately vanished.
Exasperated, Lycaon headed back to the gallery. It didn’t take long to find his former partner lounging at the top of an unused stairwell in an alleyway nearby, chugging a bottle of water. A large, slightly singed cloth bag was sheltered behind him, packed with miscellaneous shapes. He must’ve returned to scavenge some belongings and purge the ruins of anything that could tie them to Mockingbird.
Pausing a step away, Lycaon leaned against the metal railings with a heavy sigh. The two of them gazed out at the ash-splattered sky for a long while without speaking.
Eventually, he managed to coax the thief to the hospital, with Vivian’s help — she declared she’d only get herself checked if Hugo did, too. Of course, Lycaon could have also forcibly thrown Hugo over his shoulder and carried him across Lumina Square, but he hadn’t wanted the man to cause a fuss, not in his current state.
Belle and Vivian met up with them at the hospital, and they waited a long time in the emergency room. Vivian was perfectly fine for most part, having been dragged out of the building quickly enough. Hugo was, as they expected, considerably less fine, and the doctor had to keep him longer to run more tests.
Thankfully, although the thief was suffering from smoke inhalation, it didn’t look like there was any inflammation or permanent damage. It was late by then, and Lycaon had already asked Belle to take Vivian back first so she could rest. Hugo had been fidgeting with his chocolate coins for an hour and was visibly glum, but also strangely quiet… like he was very deep in thought.
Lycaon wondered what the man was contemplating with such a serious face, but he didn’t ask. After all, given the circumstances, it seemed perfectly normal for him to be subdued.
As a result, it was late when they finally returned to Victoria Housekeeping’s headquarters. Lycaon showed Hugo to the guest room, but instead of making himself comfortable, the man continued to follow him back to his own room. The thief shadowed him so stealthily that Lycaon didn’t even notice until he turned to close the door.
That was when he found Hugo, still standing right behind him. The man stared up at him with a blank, almost confused expression, as though he didn’t know what he was doing there, either.
Lycaon opened his mouth, but found himself speechless. Hugo didn’t usually need someone to reiterate the obvious to him. He also didn’t usually look this… vulnerable.
Corin and Rina and Rina’s Bangboo all arrived at that moment to help them settle in. They were extremely excited to have a new guest, nevermind the guest, the ‘old friend’ that Lycaon constantly talked about — though he personally had no recollection of such a habit.
Corin asked Hugo about his pillow preferences, while Rina fussed over how skinny he was and promised to make him many hearty meals during his stay. Her Bangboo fluttered around him leaving rude comments, apparently fascinated by his long hair and delicate features.
And all the while, Lycaon leaned against his doorframe, anxious to shepherd Hugo back to the guest room so that they could both get some much needed rest.
… Which never happened, obviously. For some reason, everyone had assumed that Hugo would be sleeping with him. Corin ran off and returned with an armful of pillows for the man. Rina had Anastella fetch a second set of toiletries, pleasantly dropping comments about how inconsiderate it was for Lycaon to not have prepared such things beforehand. Drusilla cackled something about keeping the noise down and using protection — at which point Lycaon cleared his throat, and Rina sent her away to help with other chores.
By the time his coworkers left, Hugo had been shoved into his room with him, and the door had been shut behind them. Lycaon stood there for a moment, stunned, not quite sure how to explain this misunderstanding to his other companions.
After a moment, Hugo tossed his pillows on the bed and walked into the bathroom.
… And somehow, that had been that.
Lycaon’s toothbrush wobbled in his mouth as he sighed.
It had only been three days since then.
In that time, Hugo had already spent an hour debating with Butler about how to best fold towels — Lycaon had spotted his Bangboo practicing the new technique for hours that afternoon, mumbling quizzically to himself as he’d folded and refolded the same piece of fabric.
The thief had also taught Corin how to sprint around corners without spilling a drink. The trick involved twisting one’s wrist to generate counter centrifugal force — but that was besides the point, Lycaon did not condone such behaviour.
Furthermore, Hugo had gone out of his way to reorganize their tea cabinet by region and ‘emotional vibe’… whatever that was supposed to mean.
The thief was adapting way too quickly. Lycaon was deeply disconcerted by how easily he fit in.
Ellen was already calling Hugo casually by first name. The man had already convinced Rina that she was a master chef whose culinary skills were beyond his humble comprehension, and thus wasted on him — and he was now the first person Corin went to for advice.
Advice? About what?
He was a thief. She was surrounded by supportive actual attendants who were more than happy to assist her with whatever she needed.
The other day, Ellen even asked him unprompted if he wanted more honey for his tea.
Ellen.
Unprompted.
Lycaon sighed again. His toothpaste was threatening to dribble out of his mouth, so he returned to the bathroom to rinse.
And worst of all… he was already getting used to it.
Used to catching Hugo’s scent in every hallway. Used to having his favourite mugs stolen for the day. Used to having to adapt whenever the shirt he’d planned to wear mysteriously vanished, only to show up draped around a certain blonde when he stepped out of the bathroom, wearing it like a dress.
No… not ‘used’ to.
Lycaon would never get ‘used’ to it. Rather, he was already dreading the thought of losing these daily occurrences, which really meant that he was—
… already getting attached.
Lycaon wanted to wake up every day breathing in the scent of Hugo’s hair. He wanted to hear the sound of the man’s voice chirping happily with Ellen and Corin whenever he walked down the hall. He wanted to always be able to find him sitting at the breakfast table in the morning, catching the pale sunlight like a painted masterpiece, lips curled around some cheeky comment about the jam being too spicy.
… It was not too spicy. It was exactly spicy enough. Lycaon had made it himself, just the way Hugo had always liked it — with plums, maple syrup, and enough pods of star anise to mask the sweetness and keep his frail body warm.
He knew Hugo adored it. He had already caught the man sneaking spoonfuls out of it out of the pot while it was still simmering.
Running a hand through his fur, Lycaon heaved an exasperated sigh, braced himself, and finally stepped back into his room. Brushing past the slumped figure in his chair, he carefully straightened the mess Hugo had made of his bedsheets, and finally turned to leave.
Behind him, Hugo stirred with a soft, groggy mumble.
“Mmh… morning…”
Lycaon paused, but he didn’t look back. He didn’t dare. Had he mentioned that Hugo was wearing his shirt? Only his shirt?
“You’re in my chair,” he grunted, simply because everything else he wanted to say would make him sound like a smitten fool.
“Your shirt,” Hugo corrected sleepily, shifting against the cushions. “Your bed. Your toothpaste too, actually.”
Lycaon glanced over his shoulder.
The man’s long golden hair flowed over his pale shoulder, exposed by the too-big, too-loose collar of the shirt that was not his. His slim torso curled in such a way that Lycaon could see a hint of too much between his pale thighs. And plastered over his shapely lips was a beautifully… infuriating smile.
Lycaon’s hands clenched unconsciously by his side. He swallowed hard and walked out before he could say something deeply regrettable.
Like, “Stay longer.”
Or, “Stay forever.”
… He had just begun to tell himself that he ought to respect their boundaries. That he owed Hugo space.
And yet, all of a sudden, his former companion seemed to be perfectly comfortable by his side. He even… seemed to like it.
Every day was filled with joy. Every day was filled with agony. Lycaon didn’t know what he was feeling anymore. He didn’t even know what he was supposed to be feeling.
Perhaps… this was his punishment. Perhaps Hugo was doing all this on purpose.
Perhaps he was deliberately coming out of the shower every night without a shirt, nipples arched into the moonlight as he towelled off his hair, hands raised over his head like he was inviting Lycaon to pin him down and taste his body.
Perhaps he was intentionally leaving the door open a crack so that Lycaon would catch him helping with the laundry, humming an old tune that they used to dance to in secret. He’d smooth out the collars of Lycaon’s uniform with a care that went beyond simple meticulousness, then pause and gaze down at his clothes as though in hesitation. Slowly, tentatively, Hugo would lift Lycaon’s shirt to his face and close his eyes, expression crumbling in anguish like a moth drowning in flames.
And maybe… maybe that willful, obnoxious brat even knew exactly what he was doing when they went to bed with their backs to each other in a stiff silence, only for Lycaon to wake up before dawn with the man somehow snuggled in his arms, breathing his name in his sleep.
Damn it all, Lycaon was even getting used to spending an extra fifteen minutes in the bathroom every morning. It was becoming routine — sitting there, hunched over himself with his lips curled, immersed in pleasure and self loathing and memories of that night when Hugo had been trembling beneath him… when he had been so, so close to making him his again.
He had thought it would be simple. Convenient. Hugo would stay in the guest room. The thief would be a little closer, a little noisier. A little easier to keep an eye on.
Instead… Lycaon was being constantly reminded of what he’d once had. What he had once loved.
… What he had once turned his back on.
Thankfully, his work schedule was completely full for the week, so Lycaon didn’t have the capacity to actually go insane.
The Hoshimis had requested his presence all throughout Monday to Wednesday. He had then been booked by various other families Thursday through Saturday. On top of that, the mayor had accumulated a rather long list of Hollow commissions for him, from cleaning up hordes of Ethereals to following up on leads related to Sablier Noir.
And of course, Lycaon still had to check in with PubSec regarding the gallery fire.
So for most of the week, he assisted with meals, tended to his clients, and helped with chores. He left his room at the break of dawn and didn’t return until late in the evening. The few times that Hugo was still awake, they didn’t speak much, exchanging only meaningless banter about his ‘hypocritical’ clients, Rina’s newest creation, and insignificant things that had happened that day. Most of the time, they were quiet, lounging on their own surfaces, keeping to themselves. Hugo spent a lot of time on his phone. Lycaon spent a lot of time pretending to read books while sneaking glances at the beautiful man in his room.
It wasn’t awkward. They weren’t uncomfortable.
… But there was definitely a line that they were both being very careful around.
Come Sunday morning, Lycaon finally had a few hours of free time to wait in line at PubSec. He scouted the area first and made sure Eugene the police dog was not on duty before making his way into the station. He had promised Mr. Mayflower that he’d complete some Hollow tasks today, so he did not have time to be held up and questioned.
The office was packed and bustling when he entered. After a lengthy wait, he was called up to one of the desks. The young lady behind it greeted him with a friendly smile and listened to his request amicably — but once she actually began to search up the report, she paused.
“… What is your relation to the victim, Mr. Lycaon?”
Ah.
Lycaon hesitated. It had been a hectic week, and admittedly, he had been trying not to think about Hugo. Or rather, whenever he thought about Hugo, his mind would end up being full of—… uh, in any case, he hadn’t planned this far ahead.
“I’m his…”
He trailed off, his tongue trapped against the roof of his mouth.
What was he?
‘Friend’ sounded too light. ‘Attendant’ wasn’t accurate. ‘Nemesis’ would probably get him arrested.
And none of those would grant him clearance, anyway.
“… Partner,” Lycaon finished, quietly. Inaudibly, he had to add under his breath. “… I was.”
He braced himself for a doubtful look. Instead, the clerk clicked through a few screens, scrolled, and nodded.
“Ah, yes, you’re listed as his emergency contact in the city registration,” she said cheerfully, turning to him with a smile. “The case is still open, but since you’re closely related to the victim, I can provide you with an interim incident report. Would you like it printed or emailed?”
“Yes,” Lycaon said hoarsely.
She stared at him for a few seconds before he realized he hadn’t actually answered.
“My apologies—” He cleared his throat and pulled at his cravat. “Uh, both, would be greatly appreciated.”
“For sure.”
She flashed him a beam and left to print the report. He stood at the counter, staring blankly into space, completely and utterly stupefied.
… His emergency contact? Still?
Hugo must have… forgotten about it. That his city registration even existed. That was… the only explanation. It had to be, right? After all, it wasn’t like his former partner would’ve trusted him to come running should… should he ever need him. Not after… what had happened.
“Here you go!”
Lycaon blinked out of his reverie as a thin folder was slid over the counter.
“Ah, thank you…”
He took the report and found a seat off to the side, mind still whirling. He scanned the first sentence over ten times before he realized he still had no idea what it said.
Shaking himself, Lycaon sighed and tried again.
The report was sparse. The origin of the fire had been beneath the back stairwell, an area with no surveillance coverage. Forensics had found traces of an accelerant, but the report didn’t mention any details. There had been no signs of electrical malfunction, nor any indication of natural cause. All evidence suggested arson, and the case was still open.
Lycaon looked across the PubSec office, taking in the long line, the crowd, and the many flustered-looking officers running back and forth. Somehow, he doubted they would have the capacity to close this case anytime soon.
Quietly, he stood up and headed for the door, offering the clerk a nod of thanks as he slipped away.
As he drove back, Lycaon frowned thoughtfully to himself.
One of his commissions from the mayor was related to that intelligence broker he and Hugo had marked at the bar. They had recently learned of an active safehouse somewhere in the Port Elpis Hollow.
The broker had been hired by Sablier Noir to communicate with the Ravenlocks. They could have delivered more messages after what had happened at the Ballet Twins Hollow… now would be a perfect time to follow up on that lead.
He returned to Victoria Housekeeping’s headquarters in a deep focus, organizing information in his head and arranging his plans for the mission. As he was lubricating his prosthetics for a combat-heavy day, the bedroom door creaked open, and a familiar blonde-haired figure strutted in with a juice box.
“Oh?”
Hugo caught on instantly. His juice box seemed to have run dry — he was just gnawing on the straw at this point, riddling it with holes from his fangs.
“Going for a stroll in the Hollow?”
Lycaon’s heart quickened at the sight of his former partner existing so casually in his private quarters. How long had it been now? Nearly a week and a half? Well, a week and a half ago, he used to rehearse for an hour before he could even visit Hugo. Now the thief was walking in and out of his bedroom at whim.
“It’s a commission from the mayor,” Lycaon said wearily, knowing better than to deny it. “The intelligence broker we were tracking — we found one of his safehouses in the Port Elpis Hollow. I’m only going to take a look around. It may be nothing.”
“Or it might be a gold mine,” Hugo said blithely, setting his juice box down beside the lamp. Lycaon eyed it and stifled an irked sigh.
Not noticing — or not caring — Hugo sauntered over with a grin.
“Take me along, dear Lycaon. Isn’t a walk more fun when someone’s holding your leash?”
“No,” Lycaon muttered firmly, locking his prosthetics in place and rising to his feet to test that they were secure. “You’re supposed to be resting. You still cough in your sleep, you know. Luckily your airways didn’t become inflamed from the smoke, but if you breathe in Hollow filth, that could change.”
“I’m fine,” Hugo scoffed, striding up to him and sliding his arms over Lycaon’s shoulders. “You’re overreacting, as usual.”
Lycaon stiffened, his entire mind imploding into oblivion as the man brushed against his torso. He knew Hugo was manipulating him — weaponizing his proximity, huffing purposefully against his throat, wielding his breath like a dagger. The blonde danced a hand over his chest and pulled teasingly at his breast pocket, snapping it back into place with a soft pop that was just as cheeky, just as infuriating as his smirk.
“You…” Vaguely, Lycaon heard himself growl something that may or may not have made any sense. “… Are in no condition to be exposed to Etheric matter at the moment…”
“Heh…” Clearly fully aware of everything he was doing, Hugo squeezed his fingers beneath the strap of Lycaon’s body harness. Locking their eyes together — trapping him in that mercilessly clever gaze — the man leaned close and purred tauntingly against his lips.
“So say we fight, and I win… wouldn’t that mean my condition is better than yours?”
Lycaon tensed, his mind reeling back together as he realized the implication behind that tease. He lifted his hand to grab the man’s wrist, to wrench it away from himself — but it was too late.
With surprising strength, Hugo pivoted, dragging Lycaon along and flinging him across the room. Staggering across the carpet, Lycaon whirled around, fangs bared in a snarl as he braced himself for the next attack.
Fluidly, Hugo launched a high kick at his cheek, the form familiar, graceful, and… far too distracting for a wolf Thiren trying to suppress his desires.
Ah, he’s still so flexible…
Lycaon wondered how much further he could spread those legs…
He should have instead been wondering how to stop this ridiculous fight.
He managed to evade just in time, aided by the subtle lethargy that Hugo kept insisting he wasn’t feeling. Ducking beneath the arc, Lycaon caught the man’s ankle, about to go in for a grapple — only for the thief to already be gone, having pivoted instantly away.
A hand flashed to his side, the strike connecting with Lycaon’s gut in a clean, sharp blow. If Hugo had been holding his dagger, it would’ve torn through him. But the man’s hand was bare, and Lycaon’s abdomen was not. Hard muscle caught the blow with a muted thud, and only minor discomfort bloomed shallowly across his stomach.
Grunting, Lycaon caught Hugo’s wrist on reflex, yanking it upwards with the intention to wrench it behind his back—
“Ngh—”
Only to freeze, alarmed, as the man uttered a pained gasp.
He never had the chance to wonder if he’d fallen for a trick, or if that piqued yelp had actually been real. In that split second, Hugo twisted himself free and bowled him to the ground.
They hit the carpet in a tangle of limbs. Tumbling flat onto his back, Lycaon heaved a breathless huff — then a second, breathless, huff — as the thief climbed over him and promptly pinned him down with his weight… with his thighs.
They wrapped around Lycaon’s hips… warm, soft, and snug… waytoo snug. Lycaon’s jaw clenched as his lower half instinctively rose against the heat smothering it down.
Apparently unaware of the feral glint in his eye, Hugo straddled him to the carpet and arched back, triumphant and flushed as he lifted his chin and threw out an arrogant laugh.
“Hah! You always were terrible at holding back.”
A snarl rumbled deep within Lycaon’s chest. Curling his claws into the carpet, he clung to the woollen tendrils in an effort to stop himself from grabbing Hugo’s waist and filling the room with his ravaged moans.
No, I am actually… doing an award-winning job of holding back right now…
He wasn’t sure if that was true, or if he was just frantically convincing himself. Well, as long as Hugo seemed unaware of what was actually running through his mind, it was probably true.
Lycaon parted his jaws. He spoke, his voice husky, his words completely disconnected from his brain.
“… Your stamina is good.”
He had probably meant it as an objective observation, a compliment of sorts to appease Hugo since the haughty little thief was grinning down at him all smug and expectant and clearly waiting to be praised.
“You used to say that when I was on top of you, too.”
Blood surged into Lycaon’s ears, hot and roaring. He was quite sure he blacked out.
—Because when he came to, Hugo was already beneath him.
Pinned.
Wrists wrenched over his head, back arched off the carpet… Lycaon’s fangs pierced a breath away from his throat.
And yet, despite his precarious situation, the thief only laughed.
“Oh? Dear Lycaon, you’re getting quite enthusiastic.”
Lycaon had lost all ability to control his speech. He could barely even think. That one frail tendril of sanity left dangling inside him was the last barrier between reason and breeding Hugo until he broke.
“… Incite me any further,” he snarled, his voice deep and feral as it rumbled directly into Hugo’s neck, “and I won’t be able to stop.”
… That did it.
Hugo’s breath caught. His smirk faltered. Genuine shock flashed through his mismatched irises, and though the blonde parted his lips to retort, nothing left his tongue.
Finally… finally, he looked like he was starting to understand. The chaos that Lycaon had been restraining all week, the turmoil he had felt every time Hugo wore too little, smirked too mischievously, spoke his name too softly — every time he was just… there. Almost… almost… within reach.
Lycaon kept him pinned a moment longer, his breaths heavy and ragged, his arms trembling above the man.
Then — he forced himself away. Releasing Hugo, Lycaon shoved himself off, rose to his feet, and turned around, sighing heavily as he tugged his cravat back into place.
“You were on the ground last,” he heard himself mutter. “So it’s your loss. You are not allowed to come.”
He could see, in the floor mirror, Hugo sitting up slowly behind him. The man’s head remained lowered and his blonde hair sprawled messily around his shoulders as he sat on the carpet.
Hugo didn’t protest. His ears even seemed a little red.
Grimacing, Lycaon closed his eyes and tore himself away. With an agitated swish of his tail, he yanked the door open and strode firmly away.
“… Take it easy. I’ll be back by midnight.”
Chapter Text
Lycaon ended up spending a good few hours in that Hollow, finding… practically nothing.
He did reach the safehouse. It was an old gatehouse at the port, now overrun with old documents, food crumbs, and other unpleasant waste. He wrinkled his nose, pushed down his disdain, and searched it thoroughly for anything that might be of use. He eventually found a half-torn diary, but there had been no information scrawled within it, only the broker’s daily complaints — of which there were many.
Whatever jobs the broker had been working on, he had clearly been extremely unhappy with them — perhaps even fearful of his clients. He had come to this safehouse not to store anything useful, but to escape from the woes of his job.
It didn’t seem like the broker had been around anytime recently, though. The area was riddled with lesser Ethereals, and Lycaon ended up spending most of his time cleaning.
Admittedly, purging the vicinity of filth had felt quite cathartic. He’d needed a way to vent his frustrations, and smashing things across the Hollow was always an effective way to release his less… presentable, side.
He returned home late in the evening. Everyone else had retreated to their rooms, and the manor was quiet. Lycaon was feeling filthy and tousled, so he was very anxious to take a shower. He rushed into the bathroom to thoroughly rinse out the grime, and spent over an hour grooming himself.
He opened the bathroom door and took a deep breath, at ease now that he was sparkling clean and surrounded by pleasant scents. It was nearly midnight, so he turned wearily towards his bed, about to finally get some rest — only to pause above the neatly made sheets, confused.
It took Lycaon quite a while to realize why he was even confused.
It was quiet. The blankets were neatly made. The room was empty.
… Where was Hugo?
His heart rate immediately surged. Sighing, Lycaon closed his eye and forced himself to take a deep, calming breath.
That trouble-making thief could take care of himself… there was no reason to get worked up.
Lycaon did, however, check his phone — no alerts from the glucose monitoring app. Good… there was nothing to worry about, then.
Sighing, he put his phone aside and stared back down at the blanket.
… He was exhausted. It seemed like such an obvious thing to do — collapse in those soft sheets, breathe in the clean linens, and pass out.
But Lycaon had grown used to climbing carefully under the blankets, skirting over to the very edge of the mattress, and lying stiffly with his back turned against the body breathing quietly next to him. He had always thought of it as a hindrance, but now that he was alone and he wasn’t constantly being tormented, it just felt like… something was missing.
He sighed again, irritably this time. Clenching his fists by his side, Lycaon swished his tail, then turned sharply and left his bedroom.
I’m only going to do a brief check, he told himself as he swept down the hallway. Just to make sure the thief isn’t being a nuisance, or getting into things he shouldn’t be getting into.
He looked in the obvious place first — the guest room, where Hugo should have been from the very beginning. But the man wasn’t there, and the bed was still cold and tidy.
Unsurprised, Lycaon went to the kitchen next, where the man had once stayed up late etching tiny portraits of Lycaon’s face into a batch of cupcakes rejected by a client. He’d probably meant for it to be a demeaning prank, but Corin found it so endearing that she brought the batch to school and shared it with all her classmates. Apparently, there had been many photos of cupcakes on the Inter-Knot that evening.
But the kitchen was empty too. Lycaon checked the walk-in pantry and counted all the jars of jam he had made last week, but they were all present.
The music room was nearby, so he took a quick glance. The grand piano was untouched, the lid shut and the cover drawn — but there was a single sheet of paper sitting on top of the velvet fabric. Striding over, Lycaon tilted his head and realized it was staff paper with a short tune penned in. He recognized the way Hugo wrote the tail of his music notes, with unnecessarily dramatic — but admittedly very elegant — flourishes.
An unconscious smile flickered onto his lips, and Lycaon listened to the tune in his head. It was incomplete, but vaguely familiar… it must have been borrowed from something they used to play together, in the past.
A heavier sentiment welled in his chest, twisting the smile he hadn’t even known about. Sighing, Lycaon took the sheet of paper and placed it safely beneath a paper weight.
He briefly passed the common areas — the shared laundry room, where Hugo could sometimes be found sneakily helping with chores, especially if Lycaon’s clothes were involved. The library, which the blonde had been in the process of thoroughly consuming. He even checked the unused room in the west hallway where they put spare furniture. Hugo had no reason to be there, but it seemed like the kind of place that he might explore — or stash something in — or steal something from.
Still nothing.
Lycaon was beginning to suspect that the thief had left the manor completely.
He headed back to his room, resigned, his tail dragging despondently behind him. He told himself that there was nothing to worry about… it had been over a week since the fire, based on their earlier scuffle, Hugo seemed to be recovering well.
Besides, it was quite normal for his former partner to sneak out on some midnight mission acting out his fantasies as New Eridu’s notorious phantom thief.
As Lycaon passed a moonlit window, he paused and looked outside. His gaze lingered on the front gates. He could take the car and… no.
He was exhausted. It was none of his business. He ought to return to bed and perhaps finally get a restful sleep.
Forcing himself to continue around the corner, Lycaon took a deep breath, about to sigh it all out when he suddenly spotted a small figure hiding behind an open door ahead.
… Robin?
Indeed, it was Mockingbird’s littlest member. The Bangboo was peering into an illuminated room, his ears tangled and his rotund behind wagging excitedly, like a puppy on a spy mission.
Lycaon had a pretty good sense of what was happening. That room was Butler’s office, where their Bangboo often spent late nights organizing banquets and completing logistical tasks for Victoria Housekeeping.
Striding closer, Lycaon called out quietly.
“Robin?”
“—Wah?!”
The Bangboo whirled around, his startled yelp fizzing into muffled silence as he hastily muffled himself. Approaching, Lycaon leaned forward slightly and peered into the room — indeed, Butler was seated at his desk between two very large stacks of documents, working so diligently that he hadn’t noticed the noise.
“A-Ahem!” Robin whispered shrilly, adjusting his necktie. “Mr. Lycaon! How nice it is to see you! I was just passing by and noticed a light on in this room, so I paused to check if it needed to be turned off! It’s such a large manor, after all, as gentlemen, we must also be respectful of the environment—”
As he rambled, the Bangboo tried to hide something behind his back. But due to his height, it wasn’t difficult for Lycaon to look down and see that it was a spare battery.
… Had he brought it for Butler? Was he only sneaking around out here because he didn’t want to bother the other Bangboo while he was clearly very busy?
A faint smile flickered onto his lips. Gently, Lycaon interrupted the Bangboo.
“Robin… thank you for being such a good friend to Butler.”
“—Neh?!”
The Bangboo broke off with a squeak. He stared up at Lycaon, the glow of his eye rapidly turning neon pink.
“Butler has been fretting over a large upcoming banquet,” Lycaon admitted, gesturing at the room. “As a gentleman of such refined taste yourself, I believe he would enjoy discussing such matters with you… if you’d be open to sharing your expertise.”
“O-Of course, Mr. Lycaon!” Robin stuttered, saluting and almost dropping his battery in the process. As the Bangboo hastily hugged it again with both limbs, Lycaon chuckled quietly and asked a different question.
“Have you seen Hugo?”
He was impressed by how casual he managed to sound, considering his heart pounded a thousand times in the second of silence that followed.
“Yes, he’s on the roof.”
Robin pointed matter-of-factly at the chandeliers.
“I suspect the large estate reminds him of where he lived when he was younger,” the Bangboo added innocently. “I believe it makes him uncomfortable.”
A jarring realization struck him, reverberating fiercely through his conscience as Lycaon suddenly stiffened.
I see…
Lycaon’s gaze swept around, taking in the ornate wallpaper and antique trim with sudden clarity. He could see how the elegant manor might bear some resemblance to the Ravenlocks’ mansion, especially at night when the halls were dim and silent.
“… Thank you,” he murmured, stepping away rather agitatedly.
“Mr. Lycaon?”
Forcing himself to pause, Lycaon glanced back, ears twitching with distracted anxiety.
Facing him with a solemn pulsing eye, Robin said, “Thank you, too… for being such a good friend to Hugo.”
The Bangboo paused for a moment, as though hesitating, before admitting.
“I think… you have always been very important to him.”
Surprise, warm but sombre, blazed through his heart. Lycaon stood there for a moment, silent, unable to answer.
A good friend, huh…
He averted his gaze. He couldn’t tell if it was grief or resentment that was tainting the warmth he was feeling right now… transforming it into a bitter ache.
Quietly, Lycaon turned away, his voice soft and solemn as he whispered into the shadows of the corridor.
“… He has always been very important to me, too.”
Lycaon made his way immediately to the attic. It served as a storage space for old items left by previous generations of Victoria Housekeeping, so it was full of mysterious oddities. Corin had always believed it was haunted, and Lycaon had to admit that it did give off a vaguely possessed vibe.
However, when he climbed into the space, he immediately saw that things were out of place. Space had been cleared by the window, and an old rug had been dragged in front of it. Playing cards, metal dice, and a feathery fountain pen were littered on the floor, alongside more sheet music penned by Hugo’s hand.
Lycaon scoffed to himself. It seemed like that thief had already claimed this as his secret hideout.
The window had been left unlocked, so he opened it and hoisted himself out. The slope of the rooftop was sharp and the tiles were not meant to be tread on — his prosthetics slipped the instant he stepped outside, and Lycaon grabbed the window pane with a sharp huff. He adjusted quickly, glancing over his shoulder and observing how the tiles poured towards a steep drop into the darkness. The wind up here felt colder, and Lycaon sighed exasperatedly as he remembered how often they used to do this, and how dangerously reckless it had been.
Back then, if one of them slipped, the other would’ve doubled over laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. He supposed they had been too young to really comprehend what it would mean to fall.
They were older now, more mature.
… And yet here they were, still doing the exact same thing.
Shifting carefully away from the window, Lycaon began to climb up the slope, instinctively still remembering how to grip the tiles and place his feet so that he wouldn’t fall. He could see Hugo sprawled along the very top of the sloped roof, arms folded behind his head and eyes closed. The man’s delicate features glowed in the pale moonlight, and his long hair rustled gently in the wind. The tiles scraped audibly beneath Lycaon as he crept closer, but Hugo didn’t stir in the slightest.
He made his way over and cautiously lowered himself beside the thief, sighing as he let his back rest against the tiles.
He didn’t say anything. Hugo didn’t try to greet him, either. They had done this many times before, after all… this might as well just be another ordinary night from their past, a fleeting memory fated to fade.
Lycaon folded his hands behind his head, mirroring Hugo’s relaxed posture. They lay there, close but not quite touching, not exchanging any words… not needing to. The sky stretched open above them, twinkling with the few stars that made it through the city veil. The breeze was cool but pleasant against his fur, and the plump moon caressed them with a gentle light.
Instinctively relaxing within this familiar scene, Lycaon’s eyelids drooped, then closed. He was distinctly aware of the moonlight against his face, and its caress seemed to become softer, warmer, as he took a deep breath. Or perhaps that was just their body heat curling together…
He had almost fallen asleep when a faint murmur stirred his consciousness.
“… How did your walk go?”
Drowsily, Lycaon mumbled something that basically amounted to “uneventful”.
He heard a scoff-like chuckle.
“Maybe if you’d brought me along, we would’ve found something.”
Lycaon grunted, but didn’t actually deny it.
Beside him, the man took a deep, slow breath. Unconsciously, Lycaon did the same.
Silence covered them again… thicker now, heavier. Lycaon lay beneath it for a while, but it began to feel suffocating, and he eventually opened his eye to gaze back up at the moon.
… He could still hear fragments of the past whenever he looked at its cracked, luminous surface. Memories from those many, many nights they had spent basking in this moonlight together.
It was almost unbelievable… to think that this was the same sky, the same moon, the same light that they were still lying beneath, all these years later.
“It hates me less than the sun” — he remembered Hugo had said that once. “The moon, that is.”
He still remembered every nonsensical thing that brat had said in the past. There were many… Hugo had always liked to spout strange, poetic lines that didn’t make sense until Lycaon had turned them over a few times in his head.
Perhaps that was why they clung so stubbornly to his mind. Why he’d still find himself sometimes quoting his words, all these years later…
Eventually, Hugo broke the silence with a slightly miffed sigh.
“You’re not going to ask why I’m up here?”
“… Not if you don’t want to tell me.”
The man hesitated. Lycaon took a slow, lethargic breath before Hugo spoke again.
“… I can’t sleep.”
At that, Lycaon paused. After a brief hesitation, he turned his head slightly, tentatively sneaking a glance at his companion. He found Hugo already gazing back, one eye shimmering ice-blue in the moonlight, the other still a stark, flowing crimson.
“You didn’t seem to have trouble when I was there.”
A rueful smile flickered onto his companion’s lips.
“Yeah… because you were there.”
Lycaon’s ears shot up in surprise. As he stared at the man in disbelief, still in the process of understanding what that had meant, Hugo shifted closer, and… tentatively, leaned his head against Lycaon’s shoulder.
Lycaon tried not to stiffen, nor howl the way his mind was currently howling. He didn’t dare move. His thoughts whirled back and forth, thinking again of what Robin had said — that the mansion reminded Hugo of his traumatic childhood.
“… This is why you invaded my room,” he realized out loud, aghast. Not because Hugo had been exhausted to the point of delirium that night… nor because his colleagues had ushered him there out of a misunderstanding… not even just to be a menace.
… But because he had needed him.
A brief, humorless laugh broke into the night.
“What, were you under the impression that I wanted to be with you?”
Hugo spoke scornfully, but there was an audible tremor in his voice. Lycaon was familiar with that tactic of his — hiding truth within melodrama, exaggerating it until it sounded like a lie.
“Sorry to break it to you. I had better reasons.”
Ignoring his façade, Lycaon sighed ruefully.
“I never noticed…”
Hugo scoffed and twirled a hand towards the moon.
“Well, my acting has always been impeccable, no?”
A painful pang throbbed within Lycaon’s chest.
“I wish you didn’t need to perform around me,” he heard himself rasp. “I wish you’d let me see you… all of you.”
His pained whisper faded into a tense silence. A few breaths later, Hugo turned, his cheek brushing against Lycaon’s shoulder as he looked at him.
“Give yourself some credit.”
His companion grinned, his smile a little too perfect… a little too practiced.
“You’ve already seen a lot of me, Lycaon. More than most.”
Lycaon gazed back, struggling to read his shimmering irises, almost believing him. It was in moments like these that he couldn’t help but doubt… had he ever understood his partner at all? Had everything… just been a long series of confusions and mistakes?
“… It’s not enough.”
His voice cracked as he spoke, laying bare the anguish within.
“If I can’t tell when you’re in pain, Hugo… then it’s not enough.”
Hugo’s eyes widened, catching the moonlight in a way that made his mismatched irises sparkle with silvery, quivering glints. His companion stared back at him, that perfect smile slowly but surely fading from his lips
The expression left behind seemed stunned… lost, almost. Like how Hugo had looked that night, when he’d followed Lycaon to his room — dazed and vulnerable… in need of him, yet unable to admit it.
Eventually, this time, the man looked away. He shifted, rolling back to gaze up at the moon.
“… That night I was drunk,” Hugo began after a while, his murmur quiet but steady. “When you brought me back to my apartment…”
Lycaon stiffened, his heart lurching guiltily into his throat.
They hadn’t talked about that yet. He had been too busy, and since Hugo had never brought it up either, he’d assumed the man had forgotten about it.
Hoarsely, Lycaon asked, “How much… do you remember?”
Hugo tilted his chin back and tossed out a short but mirthful laugh.
“I did have you give me a sober check, didn’t I?”
His companion flashed him a sharp-toothed grin that clearly meant, everything.
Lycaon grimaced, his ears flattening back in shame.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I should have controlled myself…”
But Hugo only sounded amused.
“Considering my charm, you held out pretty well already,” he proclaimed loftily. “If anything, I’m the one who’s sorry for passing out on you.”
The thief let out another cackle.
“How’d you manage to get home that night, Lycaon? Did you have to jerk off in my bathroom? Did you ‘borrow’ any of my clothes to do it? Oh—”
Hugo gasped and turned to Lycaon with delight shining in his eyes.
“Don’t tell me you used my hand to—”
“Don’t be absurd,” Lycaon snapped, averting his gaze in a fluster. Of course he hadn’t borrowed any clothes or done anything to Hugo while he had been unconscious. He had only… imagined it. In his bathroom. Vividly.
Hugo’s smug chortles spiraled towards the moon. Lycaon wished his old friend wasn’t so skilled at reading his mind.
As the sweet sound of his laughter faded gently overhead, Hugo relaxed back against Lycaon’s shoulder and fell silent with a gratified sigh.
… Subtly, a warmth brushed his hand. Lycaon felt his breath hitch, but he tried not to react. He struggled with all his might to hide it — his thundering heartbeat, his twitching tail, his swelling emotions. He remained absolutely still as slowly… excruciatingly… Hugo nudged the back of their palms together.
Skin pressed against his fur, cool and smooth. Slim knuckles threaded between his own, then slid deeper. One hesitant inch at a time, their fingers wound together, what was once a tentative touch transforming gradually into a tender connection between them.
Lycaon’s entire body ached. Agonizing tingles circulated all throughout his veins.
Shakily, he exhaled. Curling his fingers, he cradled his companion’s hand tightly within his own, and dared to shift closer.
He rested his cheek gently on top of Hugo’s head. A breeze drifted over them, blowing strands of the man’s golden hair into his face.
Against him, Hugo took a deep breath, as though bracing himself. When the man finally spoke, his voice was solemn… soft, but the emotion within was still too complex, too veiled, for Lycaon to understand.
“What you told the officer at the gallery, when it was on fire… did you mean it?”
Lycaon paused, embarrassment searing his face as he remembered how desperately he had pleaded.
“… someone… I absolutely cannot lose…!”
So Hugo had heard him…
“I was about to charge into a burning building for you,” Lycaon grumbled, squeezing the man’s hand indignantly. “Why would I lie?”
Hugo stared at him, a faint, almost fond smile tickling his lips.
“So if I were to disappear, you’d be upset?”
“What—” Lycaon pulled away briefly so he could throw the man an offended frown. “Of course.”
“But when you left me, all those years we were apart… you didn’t seem like you cared.”
Hugo’s gaze flickered away, a rare glimpse of misery crossing his delicate features as he sighed.
“I checked on you all the time, you know… I saw how happy you were. How easily you had forgotten me.”
Lycaon felt a shiver of regret tear viciously down his spine.
“I… did try to forget you.”
He closed his eye, expression crumbling as he admitted.
“But… every time I saw the moon, I would remember all the eccentric poems you used to whisper to me in its light. Every time I saw graffiti on the wall, I’d think of those silly ‘secret messages’ you’d doodle. Even when I was simply talking with the Proxies, or going for a walk — next thing I knew I’d be quoting you, or standing in front of our old hideout, or — I… not once.”
Lycaon swallowed, hard, his voice turning hoarse as he confessed.
“Not once did I ever succeed in cutting you from my mind.”
Opening his eye, Lycaon gazed up at the moon. It felt like he could see the silhouettes of their past selves flickering across its cracked surface… or perhaps those were merely shadows cast by his fluttering lashes as his expression twisted in grief.
“When I went grocery shopping, I’d look at the sweets and wonder if you were getting enough sugar. When I heard rumors or saw familiar shadows, I’d turn and search for you frantically in the crowd. I kept lying to myself… saying that you were just someone I used to know, nobody worth mentioning… that I was searching for you because you were a criminal and I was obliged to stop you. But I think… it has been true all along, and I just never realized — never let myself admit it until now. That you…”
He turned to Hugo, a hot, aching amalgamation of yearning welling in his throat as he gazed into the shimmering hues of his companion’s irises.
“… are too precious for me to ever forget.”
Hugo stared back at him, silent.
For a long while, neither of them moved. Lycaon gazed at his former partner, choking on his own emotions, battered by desires that he knew he should no longer feel. Hugo’s gaze remained… unreadable. Solemn enough for Lycaon to know that he wasn’t coming up with some witty remark to brush it off, but still too guarded to be trusting.
Within the silvery hues of the man’s right iris, Lycaon could see something distant — wary, disbelieving, yet hopeful… fragile, like a thin sheet of ice. The storm blazing within his crimson eye was fiercer — proud, fervent… it burned with an unyielding longing that echoed the torment in Lycaon’s own chest.
Eventually, Hugo blinked. As his gold lashes lifted back into the moonlight, the emotion in his eyes became clear.
Lycaon’s breath caught. He heard the words before they were even spoken.
“I love you, you know.”
His companion’s voice sounded calm. Tenderness spilled from Hugo’s gaze, softening his features so exquisitely that Lycaon stopped breathing completely.
“That has never stopped being true.”
But then a cold wind rustled between them, seeping into his voice and breaking open the scars in his composure.
“But every time I see you, I’m reminded of the despair that I felt when you gave up on me.”
Hugo’s voice cracked. His throat bobbed in an agonized gulp, and that beautiful gaze crumbled in heart-wrenching anguish.
“It’s not something I’m clinging to, Lycaon — nor something that I still blame you for. It’s a physiological reaction that I can’t control. Seeing you… causes me pain.”
His voice faded into a barely-audible rasp. Swallowing again, Hugo closed his eyes briefly and stole a quick, shaky breath. It didn’t seem to be enough, and he ended up having to take another, his attempts raspy, shrill, and excruciating to listen to.
Lycaon watched him silently. The sorrow coursing through his body was unbearable, and he couldn’t move.
After his third gasp, Hugo managed to grow still. He lingered there for a moment, in that fragile second of composure, before opening his eyes and returning to Lycaon’s gaze.
“But what if… because of that… there is nothing left for us to lose?”
Light crept into the man’s eyes, trembling but vibrant. The faintest hint of a familiar cheekiness made its way into his voice as he whispered.
“I’m already in pain anyway. What’s a little more, right?”
His confession faded. Lycaon continued to gaze at the man, hesitating, struggling to interpret his companion’s emotions. He could see the hope within Hugo’s eyes, and it seemed obvious what he was saying, but… was that really what he wanted?
Was Lycaon capable of knowing? Did he understand him at all? What if… what if he was wrong again?
In the prolonged silence, desperation began to taint Hugo’s gaze. His lips parted, and his raspy voice broke into a plea.
“Would you—”
But he didn’t need to finish.
Lycaon’s restraints snapped. This time, he experienced every moment with vivid clarity.
His hand slid onto Hugo’s jaw, lifting the man’s chin — his lips — towards him. It wasn’t gentle, the way he smashed their lips together and pushed deep into his companion’s mouth, tongues twining, fangs crashing, and breaths colliding messily in each other’s throats.
But Hugo didn’t ask him to be gentle. The man kissed him back, his fervor shaken, less feral, but just as earnest. A hand twined into the straps of Lycaon’s muzzle guard, and another slid onto his chest, fingers curling into his shirt as Hugo clung tightly to him, as though Lycaon might fall off the rooftop if he let go.
Their lips parted by chance, but all they managed was a muffled gasp before they found each other again. Rumbling from somewhere deep within his chest, Lycaon shifted closer, pushing his companion into the tiles and climbing over him until he was shrouding the man beneath his own shadow.
Again, they parted to heave for breath, and again, they dove back into each other too soon. Lycaon threaded a hand through Hugo’s hair and tugged his braid loose, spreading his long hair like gold ink across the rooftop. He kissed Hugo harder, deeper, his fingers splaying over the man’s cheek, his jaw, his neck… curling there, around his throat, gently but possessively, as though needing to hold every part of him in place.
“… Mm…”
A soft, involuntary noise slid off of Hugo’s tongue onto his own, violently rousing the ache burdening Lycaon’s body. His grip tightened unconsciously around the man’s neck as he sank hungrily into the kiss, his tongue grazing the back of his companion’s mouth and threatening to plunge even deeper—
“Mn—!”
Realizing, Lycaon sharply pulled away and relinquished his grip. Breathing hard, he pressed his forehead against his companion’s and squeezed his eyes shut, as though he couldn’t bear to see what might be written in Hugo’s expression.
Sorry, he wanted to say, as soon as he could — but before he could recover his breath, cool, slender fingers slid through his cheek fur and gently pulled him back down. And… again, Lycaon kissed him. He couldn’t resist. He couldn’t stop.
Deeper, slower… their mouths locked with devastating familiarity, as though they had never stopped knowing each other, not for a single night. Their bodies shifted on memory alone, Lycaon’s thigh shifting between Hugo’s legs, anchoring him… his hand sliding beneath the man’s neck, pulling Hugo closer while protecting him from the sharp edges of the tiles… cradling him, hungrily, but tenderly.
Lycaon let himself feel it now — every sharp throb of want that had once felt like guilt and shame. Hugo embraced him back, arms wrapped tightly around him, hands tugging needily on his fur as he arched fervently into Lycaon’s warmth. As Lycaon scraped his claws gently across the back of his companion’s ear, he felt Hugo’s fingers drag through his hackles in response. They groaned into each other’s mouths, their bodies shuddering and burning with far more than just lack of air.
When Lycaon finally pulled back, neither of them could muffle their trembling gasps. His vision was dark and blurred, and he could see from Hugo’s glazed, quivering irises that he had left his companion in a similar state.
As gently as he could manage, Lycaon rested their foreheads together. Their intertwined, ragged pants filled his ears with thrilling tingles, and he realized his tail was wagging with embarrassing vigor beneath the moonlight.
… A long time later, it was Hugo who spoke first. Still panting breathlessly, the blonde tossed back his chin and managed a hoarse laugh.
“For a second there… I thought you were trying to suffocate me…”
An instinctive growl simmered in Lycaon’s throat. He couldn’t help but retort.
“You were the one who kept dragging me back down.”
Hugo chortled again, his laughter broken but bright as he wrapped his arms around Lycaon and hugged him close. Lycaon uttered an huff that wasn’t at all irritable — he was too bloated with warmth to feel any kind of annoyance.
This was… relieving, in a way. That it seemed like no matter what they said to each other, or what they had to go through, they would always somehow find a way back here — to this familiar, banter-laced companionship.
Gradually, their heavy breaths gave way to a serene silence. Lycaon gazed tenderly down at the thief, mesmerized by his stunning flush, his kiss-swollen lips, his gentle gaze. Drawing in a slow, shuddering breath, he brushed a thumb tenderly across Hugo’s cheek and tucked a strand of his windblown hair behind his ear.
“… I disagree with you.”
Hugo, dazed, sluggishly began to frown. But Lycaon continued before he could actually look upset.
“I don’t believe that there is nothing left. Nor do I believe that doing this will cause you more pain.”
Leaning closer, Lycaon brushed his muzzle against the man’s cheek in a gentle, affectionate nuzzle.
“Someday, Hugo… being together will bring us joy.”
There was a pause, then a faint rush of air, like a soft gasp. Hands slid onto the back of his head, then twined in his fur and yanked on him in an impish sort of way.
“Hmph,” Hugo grumbled, his attitude full of bravado. “Still as pompous as ever, aren’t you? As if I’d ever believe you, traitorous mutt.”
But despite his best efforts to pout, Lycaon could see the grin squirming uncontrollably beneath his lips. Hugo fought it for a while longer, but eventually gave up, his irises illuminating with sparkles as he finally let his crooked, trembling, dazzling grin… shine.
“… But fine. Do your best to convince me, then… my dearest partner.”
Chapter Text
After that night, Lycaon observed a significant shift in Hugo’s demeanor.
He began to act less… cold.
He was still just as annoying, though — if anything, he became even more annoying, because now the thief seemed to be intentionally inserting himself into Lycaon’s daily routine.
He’d wait by the front door, lounging casually against the foyer banister as though he just happened to be there every time Lycaon returned home.
“Well well!” The man would announce breezily, flinging out a hand in that dramatic gesture of his. “Back from pleasing your latest master? Did they treat you well? Give you plenty of head pats and so on?”
“My employers don’t treat their attendants like poodles,” Lycaon would reply nonchalantly, straightening his uniform as he coldly brushed past. “So if you’re seeking employment that satisfies those urges, I’m afraid I don’t have any recommendations.”
Hugo’s fangs would bare in an irritable grin, but he’d fall into step beside Lycaon anyway, walking with him down the hall as though this had always been his route, too.
He would chatter the entire way, asking what Lycaon had cooked for ‘those hypocrites’ today, how many floors he had wiped, and what selfish schemes he had helped fulfill — which, in translation, just meant “what did you have for lunch?”, “was it busy at work?”, and “how was your day?”
Then, the thief would proceed to follow Lycaon everywhere, appearing in the same rooms that he appeared in and turning the same corners that he turned.
… It almost felt like they had been sent back to the beginning. All the way back to the very first day they had met, when Jack had found the boy collapsed and delirious on the street. He had been a scrawny little thing with haunted eyes and the demeanor of a stray cat — arrogant, but terrified.
Hugo had been insufferable from the start.
He’d steal his pudding, jeer at his slightest mistakes, and scoff at him in the most obnoxious tone.
But he had always been… there — two steps behind, or in front, or beside Lycaon.
He’d never admit that he was following anyone, of course. Whenever Lycaon stopped or looked over his shoulder, Hugo would immediately turn away and kick at the dust, acting like he was just coincidentally in the same place. As if it were even possible to coincidentally always be with him.
But gradually, simply because Hugo was always — literally — nearby, Lycaon began to see… the rest of him.
He saw how his eyes illuminated with childlike joy when he read the dusty fairytales in the attic.
And how meticulously he cared for Jack when their aging mentor got injured during a mission.
And even that one time he accidentally ripped Lycaon’s favourite shirt and stayed up all night trying to fix it so that he wouldn’t notice — only he did notice, because the threading had been clumsy, and Hugo’s fingers had been covered in bandages the next day.
… He also saw how anguish would crush his face when he whispered names pleadingly in his sleep.
… How he would sometimes freeze up in terror when Jack tried to ruffle his hair.
… And how he would hide in the wardrobe, curled up in that dark space, alone, for hours without telling anyone.
Before Lycaon knew it, ‘insufferable’ became a very different kind of torment. Because he came to realize… beneath all that arrogance and bitterness was a soft-hearted boy who had been hurt too many times, just trying to learn how to stay by their sides without being devoured.
Inevitably, Lycaon began to lower his guard. The boundaries that he had had been hyper-conscious of these past few weeks — those began to fade. And without any visible lines drawn between them, the two of them… very quickly, lapsed into their old habits.
They would share tea from the same mug when it didn’t make sense to have two — if Lycaon only wanted a passing sip, or if Hugo was feeling particularly lazy that day. They would burrow in the same corner of the long sofa, Hugo snuggling against his tail, Lycaon forgetting to scold him.
Once, the man casually stepped close and straightened his cravat for him — in front of Rina, who broke off mid-sentence to say “oh my” out loud. Drusilla had considerably more things to say about that, to the point that she had to be put on silent mode.
Another night, Hugo plucked a piece of steak right off his fork, just as Lycaon was about to eat it. Immediately, he stabbed a broccoli, grabbed the man by the braid, and proceeded to shove it in his mouth — forgetting, somehow, that everyone in Victoria Housekeeping was also sitting at the table, watching in amazement.
He supposed Hugo made up for it the next day, by saving him from taste-testing Rina’s latest meal plan.
“Unfortunately, we already have plans for dinner,” the man swept in to smoothly declare, grabbing his arm and leaning unnecessarily close. “Isn’t that right, dearest?”
Lycaon grimaced, caught between gratitude and furious embarrassment as the thief flashed him a wicked smirk.
The following weekend, Lycaon happened to overhear Hugo offering to do the laundry in Corin’s stead. He later found his clothes messily sprawled over his bed — with the thief lying on top, spread-eagled like a child making angels in the snow.
Lycaon froze in their doorway. Their eyes met. Hugo stared back for a moment, caught — and then burst into laughter.
At that point, Lycaon simply sighed and walked away, because he didn’t know how else he ought to react.
Just that morning, they had been with Ellen at the breakfast table, chatting about one of Lycaon’s more troublesome clients. The wife was a notoriously picky eater, but the husband was paranoid about nutrition and had insisted that she was to eat exactly what he had asked Lycaon to make.
“Tell her the mushrooms are hand-foraged white truffles,” Hugo suggested.
Lycaon frowned disapprovingly.
I’m not going to lie to a client.
The man laughed, added a massive squirt of honey to Lycaon’s mug, and stole it for a sip.
“She’d eat dirt if you told her it was worth a million dennies.”
“Which I would not,” Lycaon growled firmly, grabbing the bottle of honey and moving it out of his reach.
Still sipping from his mug, Hugo raised an eyebrow knowingly at him. Lycaon glared back, and they argued that way for several seconds until Ellen looked up from her phone in exasperation.
“So do you actually read each other’s minds, or have you just rehearsed this conversation before?”
They stared at her, then exchanged surprised glances. Lycaon was vaguely aware of his tail wagging.
“Unfortunately,” Hugo scoffed with a flick of his fingers, “I’ve simply had too much experience dealing with unreasonable people.”
Lycaon cast the man a pointed sideways glare as he muttered.
“Likewise.”
… Soon enough, the change between them was no longer ‘subtle’. Hugo wasn’t just ‘less cold’, Lycaon realized. He wasn’t even ‘warm’, or ‘warmer’. Rather, he was almost becoming… possessive.
It became particularly clear one day, when an old client returned to New Eridu for a business trip. The madam came from a long lineage of leopard Thirens influential in the Throne Quarter, and they had been one of Victoria Housekeeping’s oldest clients before they moved away.
She had always been fond of Lycaon, so upon her return, she requested a day of ‘lavish service’ from him.
It had been an extremely last-minute request. The other attendants were out of town for various reasons, leaving Lycaon to cover all of their ongoing contracts. Under normal circumstances, he would not have accepted her request… but she had been a client of Victoria Housekeeping longer than he had led it. Refusing had not been a realistic option.
With Butler’s assistance, Lycaon managed to free up half a day for her. The itinerary began with afternoon teatime served with her favourite pastries, so he had to get up early before dawn to bake.
He snapped awake the instant his alarm rang and immediately shut it off, holding his breath as he waited to see if it had roused Hugo. His bedmate continued to sleep soundly against him, warm breath gently rustling his fur… again, having somehow ended up cuddled to his chest in the middle of the night.
Heaving a deep sigh, Lycaon closed his eye and stole a few more seconds, relaxing back against the pillow and resting his muzzle gently against Hugo’s head. Grazing the man’s golden locks with his nose, he breathed in their mingled scents contently.
Ah… he didn’t want to get up. He’d rather smother Hugo in his arms and lie like this, embracing and doing nothing else, until the sun had long risen.
Ugh… this thief really was a terrible influence on him…
With extreme difficulty, Lycaon eventually managed to extract himself from the warmth of the bed and his bedmate. He didn’t have time for his… ahem, full morning routine, so he kept to his usual grooming and then headed into the kitchen.
He had already prepared the ingredients and some of the dough the previous night, but he only managed to place everything on the counter when he received a frantic Knock-Knock message.
It was a client — a Hollow had appeared near their residence, and in the evacuation panic, their young daughter had disappeared chasing after their spooked puppy. HSO had a squadron on scene but many residents had been caught directly in the Hollow, and nobody could spare the time to look for her — especially since they didn’t even know if she’d gone in the Hollow or not.
Lycaon couldn’t disregard such a critical situation. But that would mean he would not have time to prepare for today’s important client.
He had been pacing the kitchen, reassuring the girl’s parents and trying to get a hold of a Proxy for the job, when something slender and slightly cold slid onto his shoulder. Stiffening, Lycaon realized that in his agitation, he hadn’t heard Hugo approaching.
Smiling vaguely, the blonde leaned closer, pressing down on his shoulder with a little more weight. The force grounded Lycaon, steadying his nerves as he was forced to stop pacing.
“What’s got your tail in such a knot?” Hugo mused, his gaze solemn despite his airy tone. “Can’t decide between pleasing a bigoted arse and saving someone’s life?”
Startled, Lycaon stared at him. The man’s smile twisted ruefully and he held up his phone, revealing the Hollow Emergency alert he’d received.
That must’ve been what had woken him up.
“Let me handle the prep,” Hugo offered, trailing a finger down the straps of Lycaon’s apron and tugging at it. “You can take the commission.”
Lycaon frowned. “The client specifically requested that the pastries are made by me, I can’t just—”
“Then what do you propose?” Hugo interrupted, raising an eyebrow. His lips were still smiling, but his gaze had become cold, almost disdainful. “Are you going to split yourself in two? You have no choice, Lycaon — either let me handle things here, or send me to the Hollow.”
Lycaon stared down at him, breath held, throat clenched.
Send Hugo to the Hollow… that was an option, yes. It might even be the better option. He was capable enough, even if it’d be dangerous, even if he wasn’t fully recovered, even if they still didn’t know what that substance he had been injected with was or if it was active in his body—
With a stressed sigh, Lycaon tore off his apron.
“Please be careful with the sugar.”
Draping the apron over the man’s shoulder, he let his hand linger against Hugo for a moment before tearing himself away.
His palm tingled long after he’d left, distracting him from the crisis at hand. Fortunately, Wise contacted him while he was on the way to the Hollow, evasively saying something about his cat waking him up just as the commission request came through. Lycaon hadn’t expected the video store managers to be up so early, so he was extremely grateful.
With Phaethon guiding him, the commission went smoothly — though it still took a while to find the girl. Lycaon spent the better part of an hour racing through the Hollow, helping many civilians along the way, before he finally spotted her huddled with her puppy beneath some debris. The young animal was wounded, and the girl screamed when she saw him, perhaps mistaking his intimidating silhouette for a monster. The noise drew Ethereals over, all of which Lycaon took care of quickly.
He had considerably more trouble calming the girl down. By the time he managed to lure her out, the puppy’s condition was already very precarious.
He rushed them out of the Hollow with Wise’s help and reunited the girl with her parents. Lycaon was anxious to return to his other task, but the girl panicked when he tried to leave, and he ended up accompanying them to the animal hospital. He sat in the waiting room with the girl clinging to him, soaking his fur with tears, for two hours until the vet came out to tell them the surgery had been successful, and the puppy would be okay.
Only then did the girl release him. While the vet escorted her to see the puppy, her parents looked back at Lycaon and gave him profuse nods of gratitude.
Thus, it was past noon by the time he made it back to Victoria Housekeeping. Lycaon rushed into the kitchen, already dreading an absolute disaster—
Only to find the room… immaculate.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating everything with a surreal gold hue. A buttery aroma enriched with a whiff of floral and citrus tones filled the air. Resting atop the glittering island counter was an ornate cake covered in delicate swirls and flourishes of icing. A large basket of pastries sat next to it, so meticulously decorated with edible flowers and deep burgundy ribbons that it looked more like a luxurious bouquet than a pile of croissants.
The pâtissier himself was busy rinsing utensils at the sink. His long gold hair had been tied in a high ponytail, and a rather frilly apron wrapped around his slender form.
Hugo was wearing one of Rina’s aprons.
Lycaon stiffened and stared. Eyes wide, ears perked, tail swishing unconsciously behind him. His jaw dropped, and his tongue nearly fell out of his mouth.
The last time he’d seen Hugo in an apron had been a long, long time ago. They had been younger then, and more mischievous… or at least, Lycaon had been — he couldn’t say Hugo had changed much in that regard. The apron the blonde had worn back then had been much smaller, much shorter… it had done very little to cover anything, not the flush between his upper thighs, nor the bounce of his bubbly buttocks as he’d playfully arched his back and thrown Lycaon a cheeky, knowing smirk.
But this was… pleasant, too. Practical and modest, alluring in a way that appealed to his matured preferences. The ornate lace straps wrapped snugly around Hugo’s petite waist and slender nape, binding his clothes to the lithe contours of his body. He was beautiful, in a virtuous way that made Lycaon feel blessed just gazing upon him, but also in a different way, one that made Lycaon want to go over, press him into the counter, and bite down on his neck.
Saliva welled over his tongue. Lycaon swallowed it with a gulp. His unruly tail hit the doorframe with a thwack that rose over the rustling of the water, and Hugo immediately glanced over.
A smile promptly twitched onto the man’s face. He looked irritatingly amused as he shut off the tap and turned to face Lycaon.
“How nostalgic. You look like a mutt off the streets.”
Hugo strutted over, his gaze flickering over Lycaon’s tear-stained clothes and rumpled fur.
“Your expression exudes annoyance, not devastation — so I assume everything went well?”
Disgruntled, Lycaon tried to answer — only to have a croissant stuffed into his mouth. He stiffened, distracted by the buttery warmth rushing through his senses.
“It wasn’t an actual question, the managers have been keeping me updated,” Hugo scoffed. “I suppose you’re late because you couldn’t excuse yourself from being their daughter’s personal towelette. As far as they’re concerned, that’s probably all you are, after all — a rag to wipe their troubles with.”
Grabbing the croissant, Lycaon took a bite and chewed carefully. It was… delicious, he observed grudgingly. The man must have followed his recipe perfectly.
“In any case,” Hugo sighed, checking his watch. “Afternoon tea is in fifty-two minutes, so you’d better hurry up and change into something less soggy.” He eyed the wet stains on Lycaon’s collar almost enviously. “I’ll pack everything and wait for you in the car.”
Swallowing the last bit of his croissant, Lycaon grunted, “Wait, you’re coming along?”
Hugo shooed him away with a hand.
“You don’t have the luxury of saying no right now.”
That was true, there was no time to debate. And he supposed it would help to have an extra attendant for the shift — based on what he knew of the client, she could be quite… demanding.
Sparing the man a meaningful look — something between a “thank you” and a “behave” — Lycaon turned and hurried down the hall, his tail wagging behind him.
He cleaned himself up as quickly as he could, then raced down to the car. Hugo was waiting in the front passenger seat, munching on one of the pastries. As Lycaon slipped behind the wheel, the man offered the half-bitten loaf to him.
Lycaon stared at it rigidly, his hand on the wheel. Eyes glittering meaningfully, Hugo shoved it against his muzzle and waved it around obnoxiously.
“Eat. You haven’t had any food yet, and I doubt that ‘special client’ of yours will give you time for a snack once your shift starts.”
Grudgingly, Lycaon took a bite and tried to concentrate on driving as he chewed.
“… Thank you,” he muttered grudgingly, once he’d swallowed.
Hugo uttered a dismissive sort of scoff and fed him another bite.
They arrived at the client’s vacation manor with only five minutes to spare. They first had to pass a security checkpoint — standard procedure, though Lycaon experienced a full sixty seconds of anxiety as the guards scanned Hugo from head to toe. He had forgotten to mention the security part, and the thief tended to carry all sorts of questionable contraptions on him.
Luckily, the guards didn’t find anything, and they were let through. Lycaon led the way swiftly, Hugo matching his pace a half-step behind. They passed through corridors lined with ornate gold panelling and eventually reached the tea room at the end of the hall.
The client was seated by a decorated bay window, gazing into a hand mirror while smearing scarlet gloss over her pursed lips. She looked up when they entered, and her eyes widened in immediate delight.
“Oh, Ly-Ly!”
Hugo’s smile stiffened over his face. He looked dangerously close to exploding with laughter.
The client scrambled up and launched herself at Lycaon, flinging her arms around his shoulders and pressing multiple loud smooches on either side of his cheeks. The bright red of her lipstick left vivid marks on his pale fur, and her long leopard tail curled itself affectionately around his leg as she purred in delight.
Now Hugo looked like he would smash the basket of pastries on the ground and start pelting her with croissants.
As quickly and tactfully as he could, Lycaon untangled himself and tried to escort her back to the table.
“Madam, there is no need to stand for me. Please, allow me to take you to your seat.”
Hugo marched after them like a stiff toy soldier, his footsteps obnoxiously loud. Thankfully, the client was too busy tugging Lycaon’s cheek fur and cooing at him, so she didn’t seem to notice.
“Darling, it’s such a pleasure to see you again.”
Her tail twined around his arm as Lycaon helped her settle back into the plush chair, forcing him to stay, bent over, by her side.
“I’ve terribly missed being spoiled by you, you know.”
“It is an honor for Victoria Housekeeping to receive your trust and patronage,” Lycaon replied calmly, transforming his trapped posture into a prolonged bow.
Something landed on the table with a loud thump and Lycaon’s ears twitched in alarm. He snuck a discreet glance over to see Hugo slamming the basket unceremoniously on the center of the table. The ribbons and edible flowers were still quivering, but luckily, nothing had broken into pieces — and the client still hadn’t noticed.
Her tail slid away, finally allowing Lycaon to straighten. It instead began to flick teasingly back and forth against his thigh as she leaned towards him, smirking boldly as she walked her fingers along the arm of her chair.
Hoping to shift her focus away, Lycaon gestured at the ornate pastry basket.
“Madam, we’ve prepared a selection of fresh—”
“You look good, Ly-Ly,” she interrupted, patting his uniform with a gleeful purr. “Have your fringes grown darker? Your tail is even more luscious than it was all those years ago. Oh, I just adore the scent of your cologne—”
“Ahem… Madam, I’m honored to receive such praise,” Lycaon said. He awkwardly tried to step out of her reach, but she had grabbed his hand quite tightly, and there was no way he could politely wrench himself free. “If you’re ready for your afternoon tea, I can start by serving you—”
“Let the other handsome gentleman handle the service.”
She waved a hand dismissively at Hugo and reeled Lycaon back in with her tail.
“It’s been years since we’ve seen each other, Ly-Ly, why don’t you sit down with me?”
“Ah…” Lycaon closed his eye and grasped his chin in perplexed thought. “I would love to, Madam, but as your attendant, I must remain at your disposal. It would be inappropriate of me to seat myself beside you.”
“Nonsense!” She dragged the next chair closer to her own and patted its fluffy cushions aggressively. “We’ve always had such a special understanding, haven’t we? Besides,” she added with a fluttering of her heavy lashes, “I want to look at you up close, and it gets tiring craning my head up from down here.”
Lycaon hesitated and spared Hugo a wary glance. The man beamed venomously back.
“Come, come!” The client repeated insistently, tugging at his gloves. “Lend me your ear darling, that’s the kind of service I’d like right now.”
“… Understood, Madam,” Lycaon said resignedly. He shifted the chair back and carefully eased himself onto its cushion, maintaining a stiff and formal posture. His client giggled delightedly as she reached out and grabbed his hand.
Lycaon sat rigidly as her long lacquered claws picked at the strap of his gloves. She began to tell a story about an overseas gala she had gone to, rings clicking as she made animated gestures with her fingers. She told him how nosy the guests were, how gorgeous she had looked in that lavender dress, and how shamelessly everyone had gawked.
“But they always do, darling, you know how it is,” she said, shaking her head like it was a grave misfortune to have curves.
Lycaon nodded politely and tried not to look too tense. Hugo was starting their tea service, and he kept an eye warily on the man.
“Now be a dear and pour Ly-Ly a cup as well, won’t you?” the client purred, as Hugo elegantly filled her porcelain cup.
“Of course, Madam,” Hugo answered, his voice silky smooth as he flashed her a perfect smile. “Your wish is my command.”
But the client’s full attention was already back on Lycaon. She stroked the fur along his arms and cooed about how good he used to be with his hands. Hugo’s smile stiffened icily over his lips, and his right eye gleamed like a frosted blade as he began to spoon sugar into her teacup.
Once, twice, thrice… he continued dumping spoonfuls of sugar into her tea until her entire cup was just a dune of crystals.
Lycaon’s horrified gaze flickered down to the cup, then to Hugo, then to the client — who was starting to reach for her tea. Swiftly, he switched her cup with his own. Her fingers curled around his teacup just as he slid it into place, and he held his breath as she took a sip.
Not noticing a thing, she set her teacup back down and continued her rant about how modern silk was “simply not as sinful” as it used to be.
Relieved, Lycaon exhaled under his breath, then snuck a glare at Hugo.
What do you think you’re doing?
The man smiled back with the sweetness of lethally poisoned honey.
Serving tea.
Lycaon bristled. If it weren’t for the fact that most of his limbs were being held down by his client right now, he’d probably grab this brat by the throat and—
“Ly-Ly!”
Hearing that absurd nickname of his, Lycaon immediately turned and flashed her a polite smile. He could still feel his hackles brushing against his collar, but there was little he could do about that right now. Hopefully, once she ran out of stories to tell, he’d be able to take over the attendant duties, and he could send Hugo home.
And so Lycaon sat, dutifully, one hand pinned to the armchair, the other tightly clenched around his teacup as he nodded along to more anecdotes about her yacht, her wardrobe, and her kittens.
Hugo strutted around them, pouring tea, cleaning their plates, and serving carefully portioned slices of cake with the threatening charm of a man hiding a dagger behind his back. He wasn’t, at least not that Lycaon could see — but the way he sometimes held that cake knife looked quite ominous.
When the client didn’t need to be tended to, Hugo found things to fidget with. He folded and re-folded the napkins until their creases looked ironed. He rotated the same vase on the side table one millimeter at a time for five whole minutes. He rearranged their unused teacups over and over, rhythmically.
Tap. Clink. Tap. Clink.
The client didn’t notice. She was too busy talking about herself and happily absorbing Lycaon’s polite replies.
But Lycaon did. He couldn’t not.
He saw every sulky glance tossed their way. He heard every beat that Hugo’s fingers tapped against the tea tray. He caught every scoff that the man secretly uttered under his breath.
Lycaon continued to maintain his well-mannered smile, even as the vein in his temple pulsed.
“Forgive me, Madam,” he said eventually, gently extracting himself from her grip and rising smoothly to his feet. “I need a moment to check on the marinade for tonight’s dinner — if you’ll excuse us, it will only take a minute.”
“Oh… alright, I suppose if you must.” She waved him off with a theatrical sigh of despondence. “But do return soon, darling, or I’ll get lonely.”
“Absolutely, Madam. Thank you.” Lycaon bowed deeply, then turned and brushed past Hugo. He caught the man’s arm in a discreet, fluid motion and swiftly dragged him out of the tea room.
Stomping across the hall, he shoved Hugo into a parlor and shut the doors firmly behind them. There, Lycaon whirled around, crossed his arms, and fixed the man with a furious glare.
“You can’t behave like this in front of a client.”
Hugo lifted his hands in a blithe shrug.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re about to stab her with the cake knife.”
“I would never!” Hugo lifted a hand over his heart and closed his eyes in dramatic insult. “I would strangle her, instead. That way, the lovely carpet won’t get bloody, and I won’t have to hear her irritating scream.”
Lycaon lifted a hand over his face and uttered a deeply exasperated sigh.
“Go home.”
“And leave you with her, to be fondled and pet like a prize hound?” Hugo bared his fangs in an aggressive grin. “Absolutely not.”
“I am her attendant,” Lycaon rumbled, drawing himself and looming assertively over the blonde. “As my master for the day, that is her right. It has nothing to do with you—”
Hugo’s eyes narrowed in a glare so sharp and flinty that Lycaon cut himself off.
“Really?”
The man stepped closer, his voice now viciously dry.
“Of all the excuses you could make, you’re going with ‘it has nothing to do with you’?”
Blinking, Lycaon averted his gaze, his ears flattening back despite himself.
Hugo leaned in, close enough that Lycaon could feel the chill of his breath. The man tilted his head, accusation gleaming coldly in one eye, a dare raging fiercely in the other.
“Imagine that I’m the one in that chair then, Lycaon.”
He spoke softly, his voice silky but frigid, like a glacial sword hissing from its scabbard.
“Imagine that I’m the one she’s got her tail wrapped around. I’m the one with her lipstick all over my face.”
A growl rose in his throat, and Lycaon choked it down. He struggled to hide it, to not let his emotions show, but there were some parts of him that were impossible to control. He could feel his hackles bristling, his ears swivelling, and his tail jerking sharply in agitation.
He knew he had no right, but he couldn’t bear it… the thought of someone else touching Hugo like that, when even he could not.
The blonde leaned closer, resting his hands lightly against Lycaon’s chest and then sliding them slowly upwards. Lycaon stirred, distracted, unable to stop the man as Hugo wrapped his arms around his neck and leaned towards his lips.
“… Would you still say it has nothing to do with you?”
Trapped within that whisper, Lycaon held his breath. He gazed into his companion’s eyes and realized… they weren’t filled with their usual sparkling mischief, nor their familiar taunting glint.
Hugo’s irises were tinted a deep and vivid hue, saturated with a gravity that was solemn… real.
Lycaon’s throat clenched. His fingertips ached, and he twitched his hand closer. He wanted nothing more than to slide his palms onto the man’s waist and pin him close and devour him but there was so much… too much… that could go wrong.
Hoarsely, he heard himself confess.
“I… don’t know what we are.”
Hugo’s eyes shimmered, the bitterness of his gaze shattering into something vulnerable as his irises reflected a quivering light.
“Then let’s make that clear now.”
The man leaned forward, closing the last breath of distance between them. Their lips collided with enough force that it stung but that seemed intentional, deliberate — as though the rawness of that impact was exactly the point Hugo was trying to make. The blonde’s fingers slid up to Lycaon’s face, digging through his fur and grazing the skin of his cheek as Hugo forced him deeper into his open mouth. The man’s tongue pushed between his lips, warm and sweet as it tickled the gums of his fangs.
And Lycaon — though he should have known better — succumbed, instantly. His hand slid from Hugo’s shoulder up to the back of his head, and he gripped the man’s hair possessively as he reciprocated his companion’s enthusiasm with a ferocity of his own. His other hand curled around Hugo’s waist, shoving the man forward, smashing Hugo’s slender torso against his own. Their buttons and belts dug into each other as they wound tightly together, swallowing each other’s moans, legs intertwining in the middle of the grand, cold parlor.
“… Mm…”
A faint mumble escaped into the heady silence, a coy and unconscious plea for breath. Lycaon’s ears twitched, and as the sensual noise echoed within the high domed ceiling above them, he remembered where they were with a start.
At work.
He tore away, gasping raggedly, the edges of his vision still pulsing with darkness and hunger. The taste of Hugo clung to his lips, and the gentle weight of the thief’s body still pulled against his torso.
“What…”
Lycaon heard himself mutter something, though he wasn’t sure what. Hugo was all he could focus on — the yearning in his eyes, the flush across his throat, the sheen of his lips. He knew there were many more important things he ought to be considering right now, but the primal instinct within him was already taking over.
“I change my mind,” Hugo whispered, grabbing him by the strap of his muzzle guard and dragging him back down. “I don’t need you to convince me. That can come after.”
“After what—?”
Their lips smashed together again. Lycaon’s voice, like the rest of his sanity, shattered and fluttered away as they grabbed each other and kissed with unrestrained wanton.
Hands wound up the back of his head and grabbed his ear, handling him in a way that Lycaon would never allow anyone else to do. He muffled a threatening snarl in Hugo’s throat and slid a hand beneath the man’s chin, grasping his throat — carefully, but firmly, nudging the man’s head upwards while forcibly holding him still.
“Ah—”
A faint gasp managed to escape as they parted for breath, only to be abruptly cut off as they immediately dove back in, fangs clashing audibly as they shoved their tongues together. Their noses smushed and Lycaon angled his head further, tightening his grip on Hugo’s throat and aggressively tilting him the other way so that they could progress even deeper. He felt a faint vibration against his tongue, as though the thief had whimpered something into his mouth, and Lycaon answered with his fangs against Hugo’s lower lip, scraping him gently as he pulled back to allow the man a breath.
“Hah…!”
A ragged, broken gasp wrenched itself from Hugo’s lips as soon as they parted. The blonde staggered a half-step away, then lurched the same distance forwards again, clinging to Lycaon’s harness as he drew in heavy pants of air.
Lycaon stared down at him, his gaze stiff and glazed over in desire, but his body unmoving as he struggled, frantically, to compose himself.
… They had to stop.
They were at work. There was a client waiting across the hall. If he didn’t stop them now, then this wouldn’t end with just another heated kiss — but with him smashing Hugo into one of those antique chairs and staining the priceless velvet with obscenities.
Still breathing heavily, Hugo leaned forward, his eyelids low in a heady, meaningful stare as he slid a hand over Lycaon’s chest and clawed his fingers through the fabric of his uniform.
“You said that if I incited you any further… you wouldn’t be able to stop.”
The thief’s breathless purr was a veiled threat. Uttering a growl of warning, Lycaon glared wildly back at him.
“I meant it.”
But the pant that rippled through Hugo’s throat only sounded even more excited. Leaning up, the man pressed his lips against Lycaon’s jaws, tickling him with a soft, heady whisper.
“… Then… you don’t need to stop.”
Chapter Text
Lycaon lost it.
He snapped, completely.
Shoving Hugo into the nearest wall, he grabbed the man’s pretty face, hard, his claws digging into the blonde’s pale skin as he glowered down at his prey.
“Say it again.”
A guttural snarl rose from his chest, ferocious with raw desire and broken restraint.
“Say I don’t need to stop.”
Hugo gazed back with a piqued cringe, the pride in his voice shattered as he whispered.
“Don’t make me beg.”
Lycaon’s lips curled back, unconsciously baring his fangs as his growl rose thunderously. His grip tightened around the man’s jaw, and his feral gaze honed in on Hugo’s throat. It didn’t matter anymore, what the consequences might be — soon, the thief would be doing much more than simply begging—
His vision flashed red, then black. Abruptly, Lycaon blinked and reeled away, horrified, half-expecting to find himself already deep in… a precarious situation.
But he wasn’t.
Not yet.
Huffing agitatedly, Lycaon whirled away, storming out of the parlor and back into the tea room without a second thought. The client lit up as he returned, but he stopped and bowed by the door, interrupting her greeting with a hasty rasp.
“My apologies, Madam — there’s an urgently developing matter that Mr. Hugo and I must handle in private. It’d best be done without delay. You have my assurance that I will return promptly — in the meantime, please continue to enjoy your afternoon tea.”
“Oh, but I just got you back!”
She whined dramatically, threw him rueful looks, and purred a few more things that Lycaon couldn’t hear past the storm in his ears.
“Fine, I suppose I’ll survive ten minutes, barely. But make sure you’re back by then, alright dear?”
Lycaon bowed deeply again, more to hide his dishevelled appearance than to be polite.
“Thank you for your graciousness, Madam.”
He then quickly left before she could change her mind or ramble off about anything else.
This is insane.
Lycaon did feel some semblance of sanity as he stormed back across the hall.
We can’t do this. The client always comes first, that is the rule. Not him, no matter how ravishing he may have looked, or how sweet he may have sounded, or how delicious he might have tasted… goddamnit, he had tasted delicious… his cheek had been so smooth and soft… his whispers and sounded so heavenly — no, wicked. Damnable. Absolutely sinful… ravishing…
Lycaon shook himself. Saliva welled over his tongue as his thoughts strayed, and he grimaced as the tension within his groin shifted painfully.
Shoving the doors of the parlor open, Lycaon locked them as quickly as his trembling hands could allow.
This is utterly profane.
He made himself take a deep breath. Then, he faced the room.
Hugo was standing exactly where Lycaon had left him — his back now turned, and his shoulders stiff. The man stirred as Lycaon strode forward, his head turning slightly, but not enough to reveal his face.
“Oh. You came back.”
Hugo’s voice was calm but frigid. Lycaon tensed, a confused frown twisting over his face. It took him a moment to realize that there had been a misunderstanding.
Coolly, Hugo fixed the collar of his shirt — it had been tugged awry by their previous exchange.
“Don’t feel obligated,” he scoffed. “It’s not like I was expecting anything different.”
Lycaon’s jaw clenched. He stomped over with heavy, determined footsteps.
“What did you think I was doing?”
“I don’t know.” Hugo shrugged, the gesture too flippant to actually be uncaring. “You’re very good at leaving me. It’s practically your specialty.”
The accusation struck him like a slap to the face, but Lycaon didn’t recoil. Swiftly, he grabbed the thief before Hugo could even flinch.
“Huh—”
Dragging the man in, Lycaon latched an arm easily around Hugo’s slender waist and dragged him into his own torso. He pulled them both down onto the seat of the parlor’s grand piano, positioning them so that Hugo was seated against his lap, thighs straddled over his and knees trapped around his own.
Lifting a hand to the blonde’s hair, Lycaon gripped the base of his braid and yanked Hugo’s head back with controlled menace.
“I wasn’t leaving you,” he rumbled intimately into the man’s ear. “I needed to excuse us.”
Hugo tried to sneer, but his voice was too breathless, too shaken to sound at all rude.
“Well you sure seemed eager to escape—”
“Because if I had lingered even a second longer, I would have lost my mind and taken you right there and then.”
Lycaon spread his knees as he snarled into Hugo’s ear, forcing the thief’s legs even wider around his own. Sliding a hand onto the man’s tight-fitting pants, he dug into the inner side of Hugo’s thighs and dragged his claws up along the silky seams of the man’s dress pants, moving towards their pulsing groins.
“… Uh…”
A faint gasp left Hugo’s lips, the bitterness completely washed from his voice as he shivered against Lycaon.
Aggressively, Lycaon fisted the man’s braid tighter.
“I warned you what would happen if you incited me,” he crooned roughly against the thief’s piercings. “I said I wouldn’t be able to stop.”
Hugo stilled against him, his voice also dropping to a whisper.
“… And I said you didn’t have to.”
They paused for a moment, as though giving each other a last chance to change their minds.
Then, slowly, tentatively… Hugo’s hand slid over his own.
Slender fingers caressed the fur between Lycaon’s knuckles as his companion angled his head back, revealing the pleading shimmers in his eyes.
“… Lycaon…”
—And with that, the thief stole away the very last of his restraint.
It was a blur, the chaotic seconds that unfolded after. Lycaon’s hands were frantic as they scrambled over Hugo. He wasn’t sure where he was grabbing, what he was grabbing — only that he needed more.
Leaning closer, he took Hugo’s ear deep into his mouth and bit down on the cool folds of soft bone. He splayed a hand over the man’s stomach and trapped Hugo against him, clawing his fingertips provocatively across the man’s smooth skin and growling in delight as his companion’s body heaved with apprehensive breaths. Squeezing his other hand between Hugo's thighs, he pressed upwards, stroking and nourishing the visible tension jutting against his pants.
Hugo twitched, a stifled moan escaping briefly into the air before he hastily bit his lip and muffled himself. He tried to shy away from Lycaon’s tongue but he couldn’t — he was thoroughly trapped, knees draped around Lycaon’s prosthetics, back pinned to his chest. All Lycaon needed to do to force Hugo open was shift his own legs.
“… Ungh…”
As his saliva dribbled deeper into the man’s earlobe, Hugo let slip a faint whimper and shuddered in sensitivity. Lycaon could feel moisture building against the fabric of the man’s pants and he reached for Hugo’s belt, swiftly unclasping his buckles and plucking his buttons loose.
Sliding his fingers into the gap he’d created, Lycaon wrapped his hand around the delicate heat inside. It was still somewhat pliable, its growth hindered by its fabric cage, but he knew how to amend that.
Nuzzling the back of Hugo’s ear, Lycaon parted his lips and breathed hot air against the man’s skin.
“Ngh—?!”
The thief’s erection swelled fervently in his palm. Satisfied, Lycaon squeezed it encouragingly and slid a finger over its tip, smearing away the hot goo it was already producing as he gently eased his hand over its length.
“Nhh…”
Another moan wafted into the air, and this time, it was louder. Conscious of the noise, Lycaon reached a hand over Hugo’s mouth and muffled him firmly.
“The client is in the other room,” he murmured, curling his claws into Hugo’s face. “So you’ll have to keep it down…”
He began to stroke, rubbing his fingers along the thief’s swollen bits and squeezing Hugo where he knew he liked it best. It seemed as though his companion’s preferences hadn’t changed much… the places that made him shudder, stiffen, and spasm were all still the same. Lycaon panted heavily, deliberately letting his voice and his heady breaths waft into the man’s sensitive ears as he serviced his companion with utmost diligence.
He dug a claw gently into Hugo’s tip, teasing him, enjoying how he stiffened and whimpered nervously into his palm… then trailed his finger away, dragging the blonde’s early fluids down the length of his erection. He squeezed Hugo’s length around its base and held it tightly as he worked his fingers upwards, pulsing his grip at rhythmic intervals. Gradually quickening his pace, he stroked his companion until his hand was tingling with heat.
He could feel Hugo tensing back and shuddering against him, and he could feel moisture seeping into his fur as their body temperatures flared upwards. The hand he’d pressed over Hugo’s mouth was becoming soaked with the thief’s saliva, and he could feel every fluttering breath that Hugo was taking against his wet fur. Jolts laced through Lycaon’s fingertips and taunted his entire body, feeding the aching tension growing in his groin.
Panting restlessly, he leaned forward, forcing the thief over the piano. Like this, Lycaon could reach the back of Hugo’s neck more easily, and he lunged towards it with a hungry growl. Brushing the man’s hair aside with his nose, he exposed the back of Hugo’s nape, breath quickening in excitement as he admired how pale and vulnerable it looked. Then, he parted his jaws — and sank his fangs into his companion’s soft skin, closing his eye as he immersed into that familiar struggle of trying not to break anything as he bit down.
“… Mm… mhmm…”
Beneath him, Hugo’s tremors intensified. Spreading their legs wider, Lycaon tried to quicken his strokes, but he was limited by the confines of the thief’s pants. He regretted not pulling it down properly… it was hot and cramped in there, and the rapid hiss of fabric chafing against his knuckles sounded extremely obscene.
Aggravated, he released Hugo’s neck, lapping briefly at the marks he’d left behind before shifting to the man’s ear, the other one, the one he hadn’t bullied yet. As he lapped it into his mouth, Hugo jerked violently, a shrill mewl escaping despite Lycaon’s efforts to silence him.
“Mgh—!”
Huffing, Lycaon tightened his grip on Hugo’s face and stifled him harder. With increased force came the raging desire to dominate the thief, and he couldn’t help but utter a deep, ragged rumble as he brushed his fangs against his companion’s earlobe.
“… Hugo…”
“Mm—!”
A mumble, coy and almost panicked-sounding, buzzed against his palm. Struck with a sweet pang of delight, Lycaon groaned quietly and tried again.
“Hugo…”
“Hm… mm…”
They were intoxicating, Hugo’s whimpers — helpless, pleading complaints that Lycaon couldn’t help but want more of. He leaned closer, nuzzling the man’s piercings as he intentionally released a slow, hot breath.
“… Haahh…”
Hugo cringed and tried to escape, but all he managed was a feeble twitch of his head. In comparison, the man’s hips jerked much more energetically, shifting across Lycaon’s lap and grinding back against his own trapped erection.
Lycaon grimaced, stifling a grunt as discomfort throbbed through his lower half — only to abruptly stiffen as something hot and wet caressed his palm.
Hugo had just… licked his hand, he realized incredulously. That must be the thief’s revenge for indulging in his sensitive ears.
“Tsk—”
Narrowing his eyes, Lycaon squeezed the man’s erection threateningly, but all he received in response was another cheeky smooch against his palm. Annoyed, he stroked the heat in his hand more fiercely, growling against the back of Hugo’s ear as he pumped his hand as wildly as their arrangement would allow.
“Nngh…”
A moan buzzed against his skin, hot and heady and deliberate. He felt something small and sharp scrape against his fur, and he realized Hugo was trying to bite him.
Exhilaration rippled through his torso and swelled in his groin. Lycaon could feel himself getting very, very dangerous… his tent was now so prominent that it was jabbed between Hugo’s buttocks, and he knew the man was aware of it. The thief kept shifting back against him, rubbing his hips over it in a way that could not possibly be accidental.
Grimacing, Lycaon closed his eye and clenched his throat, suddenly needing to restrain his own voice.
Ugh… damnit… he couldn’t…
“Tsk…”
He pulled both hands away. Freed, Hugo gasped loudly and fell back against him, blinking blearily, his voice shrill and confused as he panted for breath.
Impatiently, Lycaon tugged a handkerchief out of his pocket. Reaching around the man’s face, he stuffed the silk cloth into the thief’s mouth.
“Mmph—?!”
“Shh…”
Combing his fingers through Hugo’s hair, Lycaon tugged his head back and whispered threateningly in the man’s ear.
“Mind your volume…”
Now, with both hands at his disposal, he could tug Hugo’s pants lower. Freeing his buttocks and the rest of his intimate parts, Lycaon curled one hand back around the man’s erection and snuck the other beneath Hugo’s shirt, grinding his saliva-soaked palm purposefully against the man’s cool skin as he touched his companion all over. He slid extra gently past Hugo’s healing ribs and cupped his hand over the man’s chest, brushing lightly past Hugo’s nipples several times before pressing down and smushing the little buds beneath his palm.
The thief twitched and uttered a coy mumble into his handkerchief, his body arching into Lycaon’s hand as though asking for more.
Nuzzling his ear with a satisfied sigh, Lycaon shifted his fingertips over the little buds and rubbed them teasingly.
“This part of you is already so eager…” he whispered smugly. “Apologies, for keeping you waiting…”
“Mm…”
Hugo’s whine sounded quite indignant, but the man continued to rear into his hand, and his erection twitched joyfully with every flick and tug of his nipples.
It was burning now, his companion’s length, his entire lower half becoming quite drenched in his own fluids. Hugo had stopped intentionally grinding back against Lycaon and was simply fidgeting from bliss alone. The haphazard movements were even more stimulating, and as tantalizing pleasure jabbed his restraint over and over, Lycaon lowered his head and allowed himself a faint groan. His voice vibrated into Hugo’s ear and the blonde promptly flinched away, shuddering violently as he mewled in complaint.
Deliriously, Lycaon stared down at the lovely pink flush infused over Hugo’s ear.
It looked… delicious…
Without thinking, he opened his mouth, and clamped his jaws around all of it. He squeezed it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth as though he might somehow squeeze out its taste, closing his eye as he relished the unique texture of soft bone and its many piercings.
“Mhmgh—”
Beneath him, Hugo’s voice became shriller and louder. The handkerchief, soaked in his saliva, had shrunk in his mouth and was no longer effective at muffling his cries, forcing the blonde to rely on himself to keep quiet.
The heat in Lycaon’s hand was starting to drip beads of pearly fluid over his knuckles. He could smell it, Hugo’s familiar scent, blooming headily from their laps. Lycaon’s tail wagged in excitement as he intensified his efforts, twiddling mercilessly at the companion’s perky nipples and eagerly quickening his strokes. Hugo began to strain away, his body trembling vigorously as he all but crumpled over the piano.
The handkerchief tumbled out of his lips and plopped onto the instrument’s velvet cover.
“Ungh—!”
Hugo’s voice spilled unabashedly into the grand parlor and Lycaon’s ears twitched in alarm, but neither of them could stop. Rumbling, he leaned over his companion and drove him ruthlessly into a harsh climax, shattering the man’s voice with sheer ecstasy. Hugo jerked and slammed himself back against Lycaon, stiffening up against his chest as he burst and began to spill heartily into his palm.
“Ah — Lyc — ahnn—!”
Lycaon continued, squeezing out every last drop, not releasing any part of his companion’s quivering body until there really was nothing left — until Hugo’s contractions were simply empty gasps for breath, and his arrogant voice had been reduced to feeble gasps.
Only then did Lycaon ease away. He did so gradually, gently caressing the man’s swollen nipples a few more times before pulling his hand out of Hugo’s shirt.
They sat there for a while, their bodies damp and heaving against each other. Quivers continued to thread through Hugo’s torso as the man lay completely limp against him, his ragged breathing softening into dazed sighs as he simmered down from the ordeal.
Lycaon had managed to keep most of the mess contained within his palm, but a few droplets were drizzling off of Hugo and onto the piano seat. There was a tissue box on the coffee table, but it was out of reach… he should have thought of that beforehand. Then again, there were many other things he should probably have thought of beforehand.
Cautiously, Lycaon eased himself away, nudging Hugo forward so that his companion could rest against the piano instead of tumbling back onto the floor. Snatching up the box of tissues, Lycaon wiped his hands, then returned to quickly dry the piano bench. He wrapped everything in a clean tissue and tucked it into his pocket — he’d toss it out discreetly in the bathroom later, along with properly washing his hands.
Then, he took a deep breath, and turned his attention to Hugo.
The thief was slumped over the piano, his chest still heaving, his braid loosened and messy, and his bare rosy buttocks squished against the dark bench. His shirt was rumpled, his collar was askew, and his hands still trembled with aftershocks as he clung to the instrument’s velvet cover.
Dark, festering desire clouded Lycaon’s mind.
He wasn’t finished. Hell, he hadn’t even started.
But he had to be mindful of the constraints of reality — their ten minutes were running out.
Sighing heavily, Lycaon adjusted his uniform. He tugged his cravat into place with more force than necessary, smoothed out his vest, and refolded his cuffs.
His pulse hammered in his ears.
Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck.
He didn’t want to stop.
He wanted to stay here and drag Hugo over the piano. He wanted to grind himself up against those cute little buttocks and breathe headily in the thief’s ear and then thrust inside him and make him come again and again and again, until the velvet cloth was completely crusted in his bodily fluids and Hugo was crumbled in his arms, completely ravished, weakly mewling his name.
If Lycaon could do that in two minutes, he would.
… But he couldn’t. It was impossible. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself after only two minutes.
“… The client is waiting,” Lycaon muttered eventually. His voice sounded nonchalant, almost calm. “So this is all we can do for now.”
At that, Hugo stirred and struggled to push himself off the piano. He wasn’t successful, and he ended up hovering unsteadily over it, his shoulders tensed and scrunched up, quivering from head to toe as he clutched the velvet cloth.
“… Unbelievable…!”
The thief’s whisper was venomous and arrogant even in its shattered state.
“You… You can’t just…!”
But Hugo’s voice cracked, and he didn’t finish. Instead, the man turned and glared at Lycaon, his cheeks red with humiliation and fury and much, much more.
Angling himself towards the door, Lycaon fidgeted with his cravat and sighed heavily.
“I’ll make an excuse for you,” he grunted. “You’re clearly in no condition to serve anyone.”
“You—”
With a bit more effort, Hugo pushed himself up and turned to glare at him more fully. Remnants of moisture still shimmered in his irises, and seeing his piqued scowl, Lycaon could only think of the exquisite expressions the man must have made as he had been moaning earlier.
“Don’t act like you just fixed my posture and call it a day, you treacherous mutt!”
… Lycaon was at his limit.
No, he was past his limit. He didn’t even know where he was now.
Hugo looked furious. He looked wrecked.
He looked impossibly delectable.
Lycaon clenched his jaw. One more second and he would never leave. He’d drag the thief back into his arms and flatten him against the piano keys and damn the consequences.
“… Once you’ve recovered,” he said instead, as evenly as he could manage, “get yourself home.”
He then turned with an agitated swish of his tail.
But behind him, Hugo’s voice rose and broke.
“That’s it? You’re just going to leave me again?”
Lycaon stiffened. His hand hovered over the doorknob.
Don’t turn around, he told himself. Don’t fall for it. Don’t—
But he glanced back. He had to.
Hugo glared at him, his dusky iris stormy with confusion and hurt, his crimson eye livid with outrage. The thief’s legs were still parted on the piano bench, braced like he wasn’t sure if he could stand.
… He probably couldn’t.
Lycaon ached. Desire — heavy, hot, and agonizing — throbbed through his entire body and dragged him forcibly back towards the man. Against his will, he took one step closer, then another. He could see Hugo tensing, apprehension flickering across his face, like he was only just now starting to realize how much danger he was putting himself in.
Stomping back to the piano, Lycaon braced his palm against the instrument and leaned down, pinning Hugo beneath him. He felt a tremor thread through his companion’s tense body as their eyes locked together, and he took a moment to admire the mess he had made of this gorgeous man.
“I… am not nearly done with you…”
His fingers curled, marking the velvet cloth as he dragged his claws inwards.
“When I return… we’ll finish what you started.”
He slid closer, muffling the rest of his snarl deep into Hugo’s flushed ears.
“Collect yourself, Hugo.
… I want you lucid when I ruin you properly.”
Chapter 17
Notes:
Heads up: this chapter is long and steamy.
You might wanna errrr find a comfortable place to read it.
Chapter Text
The mansion was too quiet.
Ellen was on a week-long school retreat. Corin and Rina were staying with the Mayflower’s eldest daughter for a while. Robin was wherever Butler was, and Butler was… he didn’t know, honestly, but it didn’t seem to matter.
Hugo was alone.
He had worn a path into the rug with how many times he’d paced the length of the room.
He had bathed. He had changed clothes. He had dried and brushed his hair.
He should have calmed down by now.
Instead, all he could think about was Lycaon’s growl tearing through his ear.
“I want you lucid when I ruin you.”
Hugo stopped. He lifted his hands over his face and uttered a noise that he didn’t know how to describe. A laugh, maybe, or a groan, or both, or neither. He heard Lycaon’s voice again. He shuddered, grabbed his ears, and folded them over as though that would somehow stop them from feeling like they were literally on fire.
What time was it now? Evening. Past dinner. He could see the moon outside the window. It had been hours. He supposed that was to be expected, it was a job after all, and she had booked him for the rest of the day, after all.
Ugh, that client…
Hugo began to pace again. He crossed his arms over his chest and grimaced as memories of her led to memories of what had happened after.
… What had he been thinking?
He knew what they were like. Rotting souls dressed in silk and gold, demanding worship with one hand while drawing blood with the other. Today hadn’t been his first time playing servant to a stage full of liars. It certainly hadn’t been Lycaon’s, either.
… His acting had always been impeccable. He should have been able to handle it. It shouldn’t have mattered, the way she’d leaned towards Lycaon with her bosom squished provocatively against his arm, stroking his fur like she had all the right, twining her tail with his as though he were hers.
Hah!
Lycaon had probably liked that. Gushing flattery. Attention. A tail. All Hugo ever did was argue with him—
He stopped. He uncrossed his arms and re-crossed them, twice.
… It was late. What if something had happened? What if Lycaon had liked it? What if they’d—
No, no, impossible.
Even if that mutt had such putrid taste that he’d see anything at all in that client, Lycaon was too professional. He’d never…
Hugo paused again. He lifted his thumb to his lips and bit down on his nail.
He’d never indulge with a client like that… right? He was so upstanding, so anchored in integrity, so dreadfully, irritatingly moral—
So moral that this afternoon, the two of them had—
Hugo grimaced and tore his thumb away. His ears were burning again. He sat down in Lycaon’s chair, but immediately got back up.
Maybe he should leave. Or lie down. Or jump out the window.
The doorknob clicked.
Hugo turned so fast he nearly tripped.
A silhouette stepped into the unlit bedroom, hulking and shadowed — Lycaon.
He was back.
Quietly, the Thiren shut the door behind him. He turned slowly, his eye hidden beneath his bangs, his expression unreadable as he loosened the straps of his gloves.
He seemed… composed. His fur was still neatly groomed, his necktie was sharp, and his sleeves were unwrinkled.
But then he lifted his head and glanced at Hugo, offhandedly, almost.
And in the darkness, the Thiren’s crimson iris gleamed with unparalleled ferocity.
Hugo’s breath caught. He almost stumbled back, but he knew better.
“Well well,” he scoffed dramatically, lifting his hands and flashing his old friend a razor-sharp grin. “If it isn’t the gentleman of the hour. Or should I say, several hours?”
Lycaon said nothing.
Hugo pranced away from the chair, his chin lifted haughtily, his hand slipping casually into his pant pocket.
“I see you survived the world’s most desperate mutt fondler. How was your master today? Sweet? Supple? Sensual?”
Still no answer. Only the faintest hint of an exasperated breath as Lycaon removed his gold bracers and draped them carefully on top of the dresser.
Hugo crossed his arms and continued his flippant act.
“I was beginning to think you two had run off together. So much for ruining me, do you even have enough energy left to—”
And then Lycaon was across the room.
In fact, he didn’t cross it, he was just — there. Before Hugo could even blink.
In the next instant, he was up against the wall, the breath stolen from his lungs. Lycaon’s mouth was hot and possessive against his, the Thiren’s thick fingers clenched around his wrists, pinning both his hands immovably above his head.
“Mm—?!”
His bravado was torn savagely from his throat, alongside a startled whimper.
“Ah—”
He gasped when Lycaon broke away, but the Thiren was already lowering his fangs to his throat.
“You,” Lycaon snarled, “have no idea what today was like for me.”
Hugo shivered, his heart thudding.
“Oh? All those compliments must have been terribly exhausting—”
“I never stopped thinking about you.”
Lycaon spat out the words like a curse.
“How you looked when I left you. How you sounded as you were trying to moan my name. What I wanted to do to you—”
The Thiren reached down and gripped Hugo by the thigh, large hand wrapping too easily around his limb, claws curling all the way into the hottest parts between his legs. It dragged upwards, his knuckles grinding with almost menacing intent against Hugo’s intimate parts, clad in his tight pants and still very sensitive.
Gritting his teeth, Hugo stifled a moan and tried not to sink to the ground.
“And the whole time… I couldn’t touch you.”
Lycaon’s voice churned in his ear, breathless and violent. The Thiren’s squeezed him possessively, almost furiously, his sharp nails digging into Hugo’s wrist as Lycaon dragged his arms higher along the wallpaper.
Reaching into the curve of his waist, Lycaon yanked his body closer, forcing their groins to collide, hard. He leaned in just as Hugo opened his mouth to gasp.
“I had to smile and serve cake and pretend like I wasn’t tearing you apart in my mind.”
Heat surged roughly into his mouth, giving him little time to react before he was already overwhelmed, his head shoved into the wallpaper and his throat drenched in the Thiren’s saliva. Hugo grimaced and tried to angle his head away, but he couldn’t escape much further than that.
It almost felt like… Lycaon really was trying to consume him.
“Mhmgh…”
His lips burned. His hands twitched in an instinctive attempt to push the Thiren away, but they were still pinned over his head, and he couldn’t muster the strength to break free. Lycaon shoved a leg between his own and trapped him even further, rubbing a hard, muscular thigh against his already-aching groin. As pleasure bloomed in his lower half, Hugo’s knees weakened and he slipped, unintentionally grinding even more harshly against the Thiren. The burn that tore through his lower half nearly made him disintegrate.
He groaned into Lycaon’s mouth, his voice already thick with lust. It had been hours, but suddenly it felt like he had just been there, pinned against Lycaon on the piano bench, saliva dribbling down his arched throat and stars bursting in front of his eyes.
The Thiren finally pulled away. Hugo gasped for breath and scrambled not to collapse, wincing in humiliation as he felt his companion’s scarlet gaze burning through his blush.
Fuck… that had been a kiss. It had only been a kiss, and it had already left him like this.
“I told you we’d finish what you started,” Lycaon whispered against his mouth.
“… Heh…”
Even as his breath trembled and his mind whirled, Hugo somehow managed to smirk.
“Took you long enough.”
The wolf Thiren’s eye gleamed ravenously.
“After tonight…” Lycaon crooned, his voice eerily gentle as he slid down and parted his jaws around Hugo’s throat. “You’ll never doubt how much I wanted you.”
A sharp tingle laced through his neck as his companion bit down. Hugo lifted his chin, panting restlessly as exhilaration trickled through his spine. Lycaon’s thigh pressed higher between his legs, almost lifting him off the ground. The pressure was as delightful as it was almost painful and he strained onto his tippy toes, his back arching and his moans rising to the ceiling as he was aggressively consumed.
Swiftly, Lycaon tore through his clothes, wrenching his buttons free and yanking his shirt roughly down his arms. Hugo flinched as he was jostled, his shoulder blades striking the wall with sharp thumps. It seemed to incite the wolf Thiren even further, handling him roughly like that… his pants were ripped away and his undergarments flung across the room, leaving him nude and completely vulnerable beneath the large Thiren.
Growling in satisfaction, Lycaon lapped the marks left in his throat and kissed his way more gently upwards, nuzzling his jawbone, his chin, and back onto his lips. Their tongues slid together, frenzied but warm, locking them into a passionate kiss.
Then, Lycaon hoisted him up into the air. Wrapping his legs readily around his companion’s torso, Hugo grabbed the Thiren’s muzzle strap, not letting him pull away. Heavy footsteps vibrated through his spine as he was carried over to the bed, and the world tilted abruptly as he was slammed into the sheets.
Lycaon remained pressed against him the entire time, swallowing his gasps, plunging his tongue through his moans. As he settled against the mattress, Hugo spread his legs and let Lycaon slide deeper into him, shivering contently as his companion’s hard body rubbed over his bare skin.
Lifting his arms around Lycaon’s head, he tangled his fingers thoroughly within the Thiren’s fur, fidgeting coyly as his companion continued to pin him down and kiss him heatedly. He could feel it stabbing into him already… a hot, rigid mass between their groins. Perhaps unconsciously, the wolf Thiren was grinding it against him, heating his inner thighs and chafing his delicate parts with the coarse fabric of his uniform. Hugo heaved a heavy breath, swelling with raw need as he slid his hands lower and dragged his fingers down Lycaon’s vest.
He wanted to take it off… he wanted to feel his companion’s familiar warmth, he wanted to comb his fingers through Lycaon’s soft fur and grope his hard muscles and rub against his throbbing heat.
“Mn…”
Hugo mumbled into the kiss, complaining, plucking at Lycaon’s buttons in a demand for them to be loosened. The Thiren tore himself away with a reluctant growl, still panting headily against Hugo’s lower lip as he dragged out his cravat and threw it aside, then hurriedly began to unbutton the rest of his uniform.
Hugo helped, or at least he tried — he kept his companion’s massive bulge company, rubbing his hand over it and relishing the look of extreme hunger in Lycaon’s eye as the Thiren wrenched his top off. Tossing his shirt aside, Lycaon instantly descended back over him, kissing him briefly but roughly, licking his fangs and biting sternly on his lip. This time, Hugo shied away, whining as the heat trapped beneath his fingertips continued to throb.
“What about this…?”
“Eventually,” Lycaon huffed raggedly. “I don’t want to make you nervous.”
Hugo scoffed. “There’s no need to treat me like a virgin—”
—only to break off, gasping, as Lycaon reached a hand between his legs and deliberately pushed against his intimate parts.
Sensual pangs throbbed through his groin and Hugo weakened with a distracted, breathy groan. Lycaon huffed agitatedly in response and his hot breath entered Hugo’s ear, making him flinch and shudder.
The wolf Thiren’s hand was large, his palm splaying easily over all of Hugo’s groin and his long, muscular fingers capable of grasping him completely. Hugo could feel his companion’s knuckles rubbing against his sensitive flesh and he pressed his knees back together, squeezing his thighs around Lycaon’s hand and making it difficult for the Thiren to move. He panted restlessly, his eyes narrowing in piqued ecstasy as he enjoyed the friction between his skin and his partner’s fur.
Aggravated by his teasing, Lycaon growled and intensified his efforts, squirming his fingers further back and grabbing his delicate parts in his hand. The Thiren squeezed him as though in threat, but his actual touch was gentle, and the pangs that Hugo felt were soft and blissful. His breath hitched, and he couldn’t help but utter another honest moan as his expression crumbled even further.
Damnit… he could feel Lycaon staring at him. There was an intensity to his gaze that was sharper than lust. It felt almost… concerned, righteous even, as though the Thiren was searching for any traces of discomfort or hesitation in his face. The attention was searing, and Hugo lifted a hand over his companion’s eye with a flustered grumble.
“Stop staring and just get to it.”
“… Hm…”
With a dissatisfied sort of grunt, Lycaon leaned forward and licked his palm. Hugo cringed, startled, then relaxed with a shaky huff as the wolf Thiren began to caress his fingers. One by one, lathering his slender knuckles and sensitive fingertips with his hot, thick tongue, overwhelming him with strange tingles that filled his entire body.
While he was distracted, Lycaon sneaked a hand even further between his legs, sliding a finger all the way back to his entrance. As the Thiren’s claw prodded against his pucker, it struck something hard with a crisp clack.
Lycaon froze. He stared at Hugo, ears fully perked, crimson eye round in shock and bewilderment.
Still dizzy from his hand massage, Hugo gazed blearily at his companion for a moment before he remembered.
“Oh… yeah…” he mumbled, grunting faintly as he unconsciously squeezed the object inside him. “I needed something to keep me company while I was waiting for you…”
With a stunned sort of detachment, Lycaon grasped the object and brusquely yanked it out, forcing Hugo to curl up with a startled yelp. The Thiren straightened and lifted the object, his expression growing even more incredulous as he held it between them.
It was one of Lycaon’s cologne bottles — a sleek, cylindrical glass container with a rounded silver cap. Its dark tinted surface was now smeared with pearly slick, and its glossy lid was glazed with lewd steam.
Lycaon’s eye flickered down to him.
“You put my cologne bottle inside you?”
His companion looked utterly flabbergasted. Entertained, Hugo managed to grin through his fluster.
“What, problem? It was already practically empty. I’m about to give you my chastity, it seems fair that I take something of yours in return.”
Lycaon’s eye narrowed, and he uttered a low growl. But his expression was more aroused than irritated as he slid his hand back between Hugo’s legs.
“You lost your chastity to me a long time ago.”
Lycaon pushed two fingers quite easily and managed to squeeze in a third, staring intently at Hugo the entire while. As the Thiren’s thick fingers moved around inside him, Hugo winced and grabbed his companion’s arm, holding back groans as half-forgotten pangs thrummed through his insides.
Leaning close, Lycaon nuzzled his ear and whispered silkily against his piercings.
“How long did you keep it in there?”
“I don’t… know…” Hugo panted, grimacing as jolts surged through different parts of his body all at once. “An hour, maybe… I had to work myself loose for quite a while before I could even get it to fit…”
A low, rather delighted rumble rippled from the Thiren’s chest into his own.
“So you were just walking around with this inside you the entire evening?”
“Sort of…”
He broke off to stifle a coy grunt as Lycaon’s fingers pushed deeper.
“Yeah, I kept it inside, but… I wasn’t exactly strolling through the mansion with it, if you know what I mean. Do you think I’m some kind of pervert?”
Lycaon fixed him with a dark, hungry stare, silent.
Mustering a strained laugh, Hugo yanked on the Thiren’s muzzle guard.
“Oi.”
Blinking, Lycaon huffed and nuzzled his cheek with a mutter.
“If I have to be honest… yes.”
Amused but affronted, Hugo bared his fangs in an aggressive grin.
“Not nearly as much as you.” Tilting his head, he locked his companion’s gaze with his own and softened his voice to a purr. “I bet what you’re imagining is far more obscene than what actually happened.”
Purposefully, he clenched down around the Thiren’s fingers, unleashing a luxurious moan as he pushed himself deeper around his partner’s knuckles.
“Why don’t you tell me, dear Lycaon… what did you think I was doing?”
The Thiren’s warning growl faded into a tense silence. They gazed intently at each other for a long while, sharing the warmth of their heady breaths. As Hugo let himself fall into his companion’s crimson iris, scandalous imagery appeared in his mind.
He saw himself in the shower earlier that evening, fingering himself while holding the cologne bottle to his lips. He licked its silver cap and breathed in the familiar scent oozing from its surface, moaning Lycaon’s name as he spread his pucker wider.
It was so vivid that he could literally feel it, the ache flaring through his walls, the throb lurching through his insides. Breathing heavily, Hugo fidgeted sensually in the blankets and spread himself wider for Lycaon, their gazes and minds still deeply connected.
His lashes fluttered and he found himself back in the shower, bent over and braced against the tiles, struggling to push the bottle inside him. He whispered deliriously to his invisible partner, his voice bashful and pleading as he wedged it deeper.
“Uhngh… Lycaon, you monster…” he moaned, eyes closing as he immersed himself in debauched fantasies. “You’re too big… it won’t fit… ohh, I can’t… Lycaon, please… I’m going to break…!”
But the container slipped in with a loud schloop, his body sucking it in greedily as soon as he’d made it past the rounded tip. Hugo stiffened up with a startled yelp, his voice echoing off the tiles as he collapsed against the slippery tiles and moaned in ecstasy.
“Hah…”
In the present, Lycaon’s fingers curled inside him, massaging his walls against a deeper part of his body that felt immensely good. Lips parting with a low moan, Hugo gripped the blankets and arched off the mattress, mesmerized by the slow burn billowing through his flesh.
The night blurred back into the hazy gold hues of the bathroom. He was bent over now, his buttocks pressed against the wall, one hand wrapped tightly around his erection, the other stroking his chest. He thrusted back, shoving the bottle deeper inside him with the wall as a brace, his wet butt cheeks striking the tiles with brazenly loud slaps.
“Uhngh, fuck…”
He quickened his pace, writhing in all sorts of shameful ways, primitively seeking pleasure. He bent lower and lower, unable to stand straight as his knees trembled and pleasure rippled through his slender body. The shower water splattered onto his face and he gasped against it as though it were a much less innocent kind of fluid, his moans rising loftily into the air as he surged towards a blinding climax.
“Ahh… ahngh…!”
He gasped Lycaon’s name as he came, his voice exquisitely wanton and a near-sob with how broken by ecstasy it was. Creamy fluids joined the water streaming down his thighs and he stumbled back against the tiles, gasping, his legs still spread and trembling as he struggled to keep himself upright. Bared in the reflective metal shower parts, his pucker spasmed with aftershocks of his climax and began to push the cologne bottle out. He grimaced and had to press his hand over himself to keep it in.
“Hahh… ah…”
Hugo shuddered, confused between fantasy and reality as the pleasure swelling inside him continued to feel very, very real.
He stumbled out of the shower stall, searching for the clothes he’d forgotten to bring. He managed to find one of Lycaon’s older shirts, but everything else — all of his spare undergarments — had been thrown in the wash. Still tingling with sensual shivers, Hugo peered out into the dark corridors and tentatively darted down the hall. Lycaon’s shirt swayed around him like a dress, but that was all — there was nothing else shrouding his body, nothing absorbing the moisture still dripping down his thighs.
“Ah!”
A cackle echoed down the hall, Robin’s tell-tale haughty voice. Alarm jolted through his spine and he hastily ducked behind a heavy decorative wall curtain.
He stood there, holding his breath, struggling not to shiver as the curtain’s velvety cloth brushed against his slender silhouette. It fluttered over his swollen nipples and caressed his bare thighs, torturing him with sensual tingles. Inside him, slick with his enthusiasm, the cologne bottle was threatening to slip out. He squeezed down around it, biting back a moan as its glass curves dug into his flesh and filled him with a dangerously blissful throb.
With a rapid pitter-patter, footsteps raced past him and faded in the other direction. He lingered there for a few more heart-pounding seconds before sinking to the ground, groaning, his fingers twitching as he scrabbled against the carpet.
Climbing out of the curtain on his hands and knees, he gripped the fabric and dragged himself shakily to his knees. He stumbled down the hall, grabbed his clothes from the laundry bin, then darted back to the bedroom and collapsed onto the mattress. Curling up on Lycaon’s side of the bed, he pulled the blankets towards his face and breathed in the scent of his dearest partner with a breathless, erotic whimper.
“Please… come back soon…”
… Heh.
A smirk flickered onto Hugo’s lips as the echo of his pathetic self faded from his mind. He gazed up at Lycaon, roused by how hopelessly ensnared the wolf Thiren looked right now.
That’s the kind of story you would’ve enjoyed, right Lycaon…?
Piqued by the teasing glint in his smile, Lycaon blinked and broke their eye contact, his fur visibly flushed as he looked away.
“… I was worried we wouldn’t be able to go all the way tonight…”
The Thiren pulled back, easing his fingers out of Hugo and reaching for his own pants. Recovering from their parting with a slight cringe, Hugo instantly fixated on the immense bulge between Lycaon’s fingers, his breath catching in anticipation as he watched the Thiren peel the rest of his layers away.
“… But given how well you’ve prepared yourself, it seems it might be possible.”
Slowly, it was unveiled — the thick, meaty, majestic form of his companion’s erection. It reared into the air with a mighty throb, its mere silhouette so astounding that Hugo froze to gape at it.
“Uh… haha… that’s… possible, yes…”
Unconsciously, he spewed some jittery huffs. He realized what he’d said a moment later when Lycaon chuckled, and heat promptly seared his face.
Flustered, he turned to his partner, about to toss out some haughty remark — only to stiffen in surprise as Lycaon leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.
Gently, the Thiren brushed his bangs back, tucking his long hair affectionately behind his ears.
“We have the entire night,” Lycaon murmured, kissing him again on the cheek, then on the corner of his mouth, then properly on the lips. “… I’ll prepare you as much as you need.”
His companion’s gestures oozed fondness, imbuing Hugo with many strange shudders as he was swept with tender kisses. He breathed heavily, his moans catching in his throat as he struggled not to succumb to sentimentality.
“That’s… gentlemanly of you and all, but—”
Gathering what little was left of his composure, Hugo braced his hands against Lycaon’s shoulders and pushed him down with a firm shove, boldly reversing their positions.
“—I don’t think I have that kind of patience.”
Climbing on top of the big Thiren, he straddled his companion and bared his fangs in a goading grin.
“It’s about time I get to unravel you… dear partner.”
Lycaon’s eye narrowed, his lips curling back in an instinctive snarl. But he didn’t try to stop Hugo, his arms resting stiffly against the blankets as Hugo bent down and began trail gentle kisses along his muzzle.
Sliding his fingers beneath the Thiren’s many restraints, he loosened the buckles and slid Lycaon’s muzzle guard free — revealing, too, the wound over his right eye.
His breath quivered. Brushing Lycaon’s bangs back, he kissed the scar etched over his companion’s face and lingered there until the Thiren muttered his name.
“… Hugo.”
There was a hint of impatience in his voice. Reluctantly, Hugo pulled away, grazing his lips lower over Lycaon’s cheek and finally back onto his lips. He felt his companion’s chest heave in a relieved sigh as he let the Thiren’s tongue slip into his mouth, and he rested his hand onto Lycaon’s abdomen to feel it rise.
He touched more, shifting without any need to think. He knew his partner just as well as Lycaon knew him. It may have been a while, but those wild nights they had spent together in the past weren’t things that his body would ever forget.
Bending his knee, he rubbed his leg purposefully over the Thiren’s length, pretending to just be fidgeting as he filled his hands with his companion’s muscles. Lycaon’s own hand slid over the dip of his back, pinning him close and occasionally holding him still when he wiggled a little too obnoxiously.
Pulling away from their kiss, Hugo slid down and nuzzled the warmth of Lycaon’s throat, baring his fangs and nicking the Thiren’s skin. He felt a threatening growl vibrate back against him and chuckled, lapping gently at Lycaon’s throat before trailing lower.
Heaving beneath his palm, Lycaon’s chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. He squeezed the Thiren’s muscles, admiring, despite himself, the volume it had gained since he’d last been able to touch it.
Then, slowly but surely, he dragged himself lower, leaving visible trails in Lycaon’s fur as he shifted with barely contained excitement towards the Thiren’s immense heat.
But he heard another growl as he came close, and Lycaon’s hand suddenly pressed down hard on his back, stopping him. Annoyed, Hugo lifted his head and fixed his partner with a pouting glare.
Come on.
Lycaon glared back, insistent.
… Fine.
Squirming out of the Thiren’s grasp, Hugo turned himself around, swivelling his hips so that he was now straddling Lycaon backwards. He looked over his shoulder, making sure to arch his back as he slid his bare haunches tauntingly towards his companion’s muzzle.
How about now?
A savage gleam appeared in Lycaon’s eye. The wolf Thiren couldn’t seem to meet his gaze — it was too drawn to the treasures suddenly thrust in his face.
Chuckling triumphantly, Hugo tried again. He bent down, sliding his torso against Lycaon in reverse, his knees resting by the Thiren’s shoulders and his chin brushing against his companion’s navel. He shifted forward a little more, saliva welling in his mouth as he strained towards the gigantic mass arching from Lycaon’s groin.
… It was here now. Right in front of him. He could feel its heat wafting oppressively against his lips.
Closing his eyes, Hugo breathed in its scent with a loud, heady pant, excitement already rushing through his body. His insides stung like crazy just being close to it.
Lifting both hands, he slid his fingers up along its veins, marvelling at how mighty it felt as it throbbed back against him. He reached its tip and stroked back down, gently revealing its flushed crown. Lycaon was bright and vivid here, flushed an energetic colour that Hugo had always found beautiful, like a gemstone. He paused to admire it, his mouth opening as he unconsciously gauged whether or not it would even fit.
He knew it would, because he had done this before… but as Hugo looked at it again after all these years, he couldn’t help but doubt.
Ah, the power of youth. Would he still be able to take this thing? Was he still crazy enough?
While he was hesitating, something prodded against his entrance, jolting him out of his thoughts. It slid in readily, a smooth and cold object, much bigger than a finger.
Startled, Hugo looked over his shoulder and realized Lycaon was squeezing his cologne bottle back inside him.
“What’re you—?”
“I can see through the glass…”
Lycaon panted groggily, his expression completely glazed over in lust as he gripped Hugo’s buttocks and pushed the bottle deeper.
“I can see inside you…”
A jolt of surprise, intense and thrilling, tore through his spine.
“You… pervert?!”
Lycaon huffed again, his eye narrowing in a mixture of shame, indignance, and helpless arousal.
“You’re the one who took my cologne bottle for this purpose…” he grumbled defensively. “I’m just doing what any good partner would do…”
With a rather vengeful pout, Lycaon thrust the bottle deeper. Seized with a startling ache, Hugo stiffened and dropped his head with a yelp. He hadn’t felt much when it was stationary inside him, but with someone else controlling it, ramming it inside him so vigorously like that… it was actually… quite… stimulating…
“Uhnn… haah… L-Lycaon… ahhn…”
He hung his head, his fingers twitching against the bedsheets. He could feel the bottle twisting slightly as Lycaon shoved it in, its glass surface silky but thrillingly hard within his walls. A mere breath away from his lips, Lycaon’s erection throbbed as though responding to his moans. Its tip was building dew, and it was swelling even larger in size… its heat so immense that Hugo could feel it singing his skin.
He groaned, saliva trickling off his tongue and onto its length. It twitched beneath him, and with a rush of abandonment, he leaned down and smeared his tongue against it.
As its taste rushed into his mouth for the first time in so many years, Hugo shuddered. His mind went blank. His entire tongue burned, his throat ached fiercely, and he became overwhelmed by the primal desire to stuff it deep into his mouth.
Moaning hotly, he ran its tongue over its length, lathering its veins and muscular bits with saliva. Easing back over the top, he puckered his lips around its tip and sucked, slurping up the liquid that was oozing out of it and closing his eyes in bliss as he smeared it all over his mouth.
Ah… he had missed this… so much…
Dimly, he heard Lycaon utter a terse grunt and felt the bottle inside him shift deeper, deeper than he’d ever pushed it. Shivering, he opened his mouth wide and muffled his moan with Lycaon’s heat.
He slid the Thiren’s length between his lips, grimacing as he strained to make it fit without catching on his fangs. It was difficult, but he was more than rewarded by the distress in Lycaon’s voice and the way it throbbed happily against him. Rubbing its underside with his tongue, he suckled on what he could and stroked the rest of it with his hands, pulling away occasionally to gasp for breath and let his jaw rest.
He was so focused on his efforts that he barely noticed what Lycaon was doing to him elsewhere. Immersing himself deep around his companion’s majestic length, he closed his eyes and stayed there until suddenly, Lycaon yanked the cologne bottle out.
“Mngh—!”
Hugo tensed up, his pucker contracting sharply as he was abruptly emptied. His insides pulsed, air rushing into the space left behind, but he was quickly filled again by much more familiar sensations.
The prod of muscular fingers, the prickle of sharp claws, and something thicker, hotter… wetter. It squeezed inside him and Hugo pulled away to groan, ecstasy rippling through his body as he couldn’t help but arch his back and shudder.
“Lycaon…”
He heard a growl in response, he felt it, rippling through his walls. Lycaon’s tongue was already deep inside him, accompanied by multiple fingers. As his insides were stretched even further, he couldn’t help but contract, squeezing down around his companion as he was wrangled with vivid pangs of bliss.
“Ah… ahh…”
He continued to moan, Lycaon’s length towering over him, dripping thick fluids onto his face. It throbbed and twitched against his cheek as though desperate for his attention. Groggily, Hugo dragged himself up and tried to appease it. He let it rest against his lips, licking it feebly in worship, his expression completely and utterly ravished as his irises quivered and rolled upwards.
It’s so heavy… it feels so good… fuck, it feels so good…
The heat inside him began to swell rapidly, and as Hugo realized how close he was getting, he tensed and tried to pull away.
“Wait—”
He broke off, his voice slurred and sluggish as he struggled to protest.
“Lycaon…!”
Lycaon pulled away with an immensely aggravated growl.
“I can smell my cologne inside you… it’s almost as if I’ve already been there.”
The Thiren panted and pried at his pucker with his fingers, pulling it open as though trying to get a better look.
“I feel… unusually envious…”
“Hah—!”
A laugh flew from his lips before Hugo even knew what was happening. Stirred, Lycaon snarled and crammed his fingers roughly inside, flinging him into a burst of startled whimpers.
“Wait wait — I’m gonna come—!”
At that, Lycaon stopped and spared him a skeptical glare.
“But I haven’t even touched you in front yet.”
Heat flared over his face. Flustered, Hugo slapped his companion chidingly on the hip.
“S-Shut up, it’s been a while, alright?!”
“Hmm…”
Lycaon’s gaze grew unfocused again as it flickered down, to his intimate parts. The Thiren leaned forward and licked him there, smearing his tongue around his delicate sacs, mumbling against his sensitive flesh.
“I wouldn’t mind seeing that…”
With a rather absent-minded mumble, Lycaon thrust his fingers back in.
“Damnit, wai—nguh?!”
He broke off with a startled yelp as the Thiren’s erection twitched, smacking him in the face with an alarmingly violent slap. Shocked, Hugo blinked several times, his cheek stinging from the blow, his insides tingling in amazement.
What… had just happened…?
Behind him, Lycaon pulled away with a flustered huff.
“Ah, my apologies, I didn’t mean to—”
But the Thiren cut off too, his voice constricting into a grunt as Hugo lowered his head and sank his erection deep into his mouth.
… He couldn’t control himself. He almost felt as though he’d been forced into submission. It had proven its might to him, and now he couldn’t help but fulfill its every desire.
Ah… how incredible… this part of his partner, this part that was his and his alone and always had been. It was always honest, and it had never betrayed him… he hadn’t realized he’d missed it this badly.
He took it lovingly into the back of his mouth, his expression crumbling as sentiment mixed with his lust and transformed his desires into an unbearable hunger.
Relaxing his throat, Hugo sank it deeper, instinct and memories overcoming his uncertainties and their time apart. Vaguely, he heard Lycaon grunting his name, but he didn’t care anymore — this had his attention, all of it. He pushed it as far as he could bear and tightened his lips around it, stroking it vigorously with one hand and trailing the other lower, onto the massive sacs of heat beneath it. He lifted them in his palm and massaged them gently, enthralled by how full and bloated they were, how heavy they weighed against his hand.
A snarl rippled over the slick ring of his entrance, and heat smothered over his own delicate parts as though in challenge. Lycaon’s fingers filled him again, but Hugo didn’t stop him this time — he was too preoccupied.
Blearily, he felt an intense heat pulsing through his body, but he couldn’t abandon the feast in his mouth. His knees trembled and his hips jerked in the beginnings of too much, but he couldn’t stop — all he managed was a muffled whimper that barely made it out of his mouth because he was so engorged with Lycaon.
He heard a terse groan, and he heard what sounded like his name. The tension inside him stabbed deep and his entire body turned white hot. He spasmed, his hips jerking violently, the pressure inside him bursting and overflowing. Realizing he was at his limit, he tried to pull away, but he was too slow, too deep. By the time Hugo managed to free himself from Lycaon’s throbbing heat, it was already too late.
He jerked back, fluid and a stifled cry flinging from his lips as he came, his insides convulsing and clamping down hard around Lycaon’s fingers.
“Ngh…!”
He didn’t know how long it lasted, only that his vision had become a grey and sparkly haze by the time it settled. Hugo lay there, unable to lift his head, his saliva pooling in Lycaon’s fur and the Thiren’s erection throbbing against his cheek. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t perceive anything beyond how incredibly amazing he felt right now.
But then something wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly enough to sting — and he did feel that.
Part of him tried to gasp, but he couldn’t consciously move. He was completely helpless as Lycaon shifted out from beneath him and dragged him backwards.
His belly smeared across the blankets. Something harder and much hotter slid over his spine and pressed him down. Lycaon’s claws shifted from his waist down to his pelvis, holding him by the hips and locking them together in a familiar, almost beast-like mating position.
“… Ah…”
Hugo managed to choke out something that sounded like a tentative gasp. A hand slid over his shoulder and braced against the mattress by his face. He felt something hot slide over the back of his neck, and he shivered as Lycaon’s breath wafted against his ear.
“… Is this alright?”
To his surprise, his companion’s whisper was gentle, completely at odds with the presence he could feel pulsing violently against his rear.
Hugo stilled, his gasps calming as he began to catch his breath. Uncertainly, he turned his head and peered at his companion.
Lycaon gazed back, his crimson iris hazy but his expression soft.
Hugo felt a strange, reassuring pang of warmth, and he twitched his hand towards Lycaon’s. Seeing his attempts, the Thiren moved first, grabbing his hand and twining their fingers tightly together above the blankets.
Soothed, Hugo uttered a shaky sigh.
“… Yeah.”
The immense, pulsing heat behind him pushed harder and Hugo tensed, closing his eyes as he braced himself. It rubbed against him, lathering the mess that Lycaon had already left all over his entrance, chafing his sensitive skin until he was flushed and glossy. He felt its rounded tip prod against his pucker and shove, but not nearly forceful enough to enter him. It was just a taunt, he realized, shifting back against it with a restless pant.
He began to feel impatient. Fidgeting, he slid his hips back, grinding himself over the length of Lycaon’s arousal and muffling a displeased growl into the blankets. He angled his hips higher, trying to catch its tip so that it might accidentally slip in if Lycaon pushed at the right time.
Dimly, he heard a chuckle, and the fingers wrapped around his waist squeezed in an affectionate sort of warning. Hugo grimaced and lowered his head into the blankets, hiding his face. He knew he was blushing — he could feel the heat singing all the way to the tips of his ears. He didn’t want to see that bastard’s smug smile.
They continued to slide against each other, breathing heavily, enjoying the languid heat and the slick noises they were producing. At some point, inevitably in the course of all their rubbing, Lycaon’s erection did catch against his softened pucker — and it did, naturally, slide in.
Hugo immediately tensed, only to realize and force himself to take a deep breath. He tried to relax, but his hand remained tightly wound around Lycaon’s, betraying his tension.
Heavy and warm above him, his companion paused and murmured against his cheek.
“… Are you nervous?”
“Of course not,” Hugo scoffed. But an unimpressed silence followed his claim, and Lycaon remained still.
Grimacing, Hugo lowered his head and mumbled under his breath.
“It’s… been a while…”
He heard a faint sigh, and the warmth above him shifted slightly. Lycaon pushed a little deeper, popping the tip of his length in so that it wouldn’t slip out while they were hesitating. As the widest part of the Thiren’s crown stretched past him, Hugo grimaced and contracted tightly, forcing them both to grunt.
“Ugh, you…” Lycaon rumbled something irritable, only to trail off with a gentler sigh. “Is there anything I can do?”
“I wish I knew,” Hugo panted, cringing as their natural movements pushed it deeper. Ah… his insides were starting to burn… the tension wound tight in his core was starting to melt into a delicious, molten ache. He thought of how he must look right now, mounted from behind and pinned to the blankets, his hips arched up against Lycaon, held up by the immense shaft partially embedded into his body. He imagined his poor pucker stretched taut around it, pink and quivering, oozing fluids that he could feel dribbling down his thighs.
Anticipation pulsed through his insides, softening his edges. Softly, Hugo whispered, “… Just keep going.”
“… Hm…”
A somewhat skeptical rumble vibrated deep within Lycaon’s chest, but the Thiren obeyed. Leaning closer, his companion nuzzled his ear, distracting him with nips and kisses as he began to slowly push deeper.
“Ungh… ughhh…”
Lavish groans rose into the air, loud and thick with wanton. Hugo wasn’t trying to make such noises, nor did he think Lycaon needed to be riled up anymore — but he simply couldn’t contain himself. It was unbearable, the presence churning deeper and deeper inside him, the tension expanding his insides to the very brink of his existence.
Fuck… it was huge…
He coiled up, his insides fluttering, his fingers dragging down the blankets. The burn… it was starting to spill into his stomach… he could feel it pulsing beneath his abdomen, an achingly hot tension, obnoxiously occupying his body as though it had always belonged there.
Hugo twitched, shifting forward as he instinctively tried to pull away, only for Lycaon’s grip to tighten around his waist. A whimper escaped from his lips as he was dragged back, the mass inside him sinking even deeper in revenge.
Lycaon uttered a rather threatening growl against the back of his neck, but the Thiren paused there. That was good, Hugo thought vaguely, struggling to see past his blurred, fluttering lashes. If the mutt tried to go any further, he’d probably be pierced somewhere he really shouldn’t be…
They rested there for a while. Lycaon’s rumbling faded, and the Thiren began to lick his ears and his cheek instead, asking if he was alright in quiet, affectionate murmurs.
“… Yeah…” Hugo breathed, closing his eyes and relaxing as he adjusted to the sensation of being filled. “All things considered…”
“All things considered?” Lycaon muttered warily.
“Yeah, y’know…” Glancing back, Hugo managed a crooked grin. “I’m not ruined… yet.”
The taunt in his voice had been deliberate, but Lycaon couldn’t seem to resist being aggravated. The Thiren’s eye gleamed, and his tail swayed so vigorously in the air that Hugo could feel the motion rippling through their connected bodies.
Sharp fingers dug into his torso, gripping him tightly as Lycaon uttered a low, gravelly growl and slowly pulled back.
Hugo drew in an excited breath, prepared to take it — only to cry out the instant Lycaon began to move.
“Ah — wait—?!”
Lycaon immediately froze mid-thrust, a snarl tearing from his chest as though it had been agonizing to stop. Breathing heavily, the Thiren bent over and asked in a rough, ragged pant.
“Sorry… did that hurt?”
“Uh… no, I don’t think so, I just need uh… a little bit longer…” Hugo panted, closing his eyes and cringing as strange jolts coursed through his limbs. He breathed slowly, waiting for the intense tingles and his nerves to settle back down… though the way Lycaon was twitching furiously inside him really didn’t help.
Eventually, Hugo sighed deeply and managed to relax.
“Okay.”
Reaching back, he patted the side of Lycaon’s hip in a gesture for his companion to continue.
Gladly, the Thiren tried again, moving more cautiously this time. He drew himself out, then eased gently back in, repeating the motion several times with agonizing patience.
Hugo could handle that. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the blankets, moaning quietly as his body began to welcome the Thiren’s threatening shape.
“… Is this fine?”
Vaguely, Hugo mumbled, “Mhm…”
A heady pant rolled against his ear, taut with restraint.
“Then I’m going to continue.”
Hugo agreed with another faint mumble. “Mm…”
Steadily, the hardness within him dragged itself away — then rammed forcefully back in.
“Wait—!”
Lycaon promptly faltered again, and this time the snarl that exploded against his ear was dark with rage.
“Are you trying to torture me?!”
“Hah—!” Startled, Hugo laughed. “No, no, though, now that you mention it—”
“Hugo…!” With a furious rumble, the Thiren tackled him, pinning him belly-down into the mattress. Before Hugo could do more than gasp, fangs grazed the back of his nape and bit down, sending a sharp, ticklish shiver down his spine.
“Ah — Lycaon—!”
Squealing breathlessly, Hugo tried to squirm away, but Lycaon only growled and pinned him harder, chasing the spot with licks and nips that made him convulse with half-laughter, half-moans.
“I said I wasn’t—!”
But they were still connected, and every wriggle, every squirm sent sparks jolting through him where their bodies met.
“Ah!” Hugo gasped, pulling on the bedsheets as sharp tingles seared through his aching walls. “Oh fuck… wait, Lyc—ah…?!”
With an irritable, hungry growl, Lycaon rolled his hips, and Hugo yelped as the motion slid him deeper, the heat inside him flaring even more unbearably in size.
“Ack — you — s-stop getting bigger…!” he wailed, his voice cracking as bliss surged through him. Flailing his hand back, he smacked the Thiren desperately on the thigh. “Lycaon…!”
Still pressing into him, Lycaon growled breathlessly against his nape.
“I’m only getting bigger because you keep making cute noises.”
Indignantly, Hugo reached back and grabbed one of the Thiren’s ears in revenge.
“I’m only making these noises because you’re tearing me apart!”
He looked over his shoulder and glared at Lycaon. Lycaon glared back, one ear bent beneath his hand, the other flicking happily in the moonlight.
Then, with an acutely disgruntled scowl, the Thiren leaned down and snuck him a kiss on the lips.
“What do you want me to do then?” Lycaon muttered grumpily.
Yanking on the wolf Thiren’s ear, Hugo flashed him a cheeky smirk.
“How about you get smaller instead?”
Lycaon’s eye narrowed in skeptical frown.
“If you want me to get smaller, then say something irritating.”
“Huh? Oh, er…”
Hugo blinked, taken aback. The presence inside him throbbed impatiently, distracting him with pulses of heat as he tried to think.
“You…” Lifting his chin, Hugo mustered his usual haughty glare and scoffed as best as he could in a breathless and piqued voice. “You pompous mutt!”
Lycaon immediately swelled, the Thiren’s arousal stretching him so mercilessly that Hugo had to break off to yelp.
“Ngh?!”
He grabbed Lycaon’s arm on instinct, simply because he needed to hold something firm. As his fingers dug into the Thiren’s fur, he felt his companion’s muscles stiffening underneath.
Lycaon was already snarling by the time he started to laugh.
“Pfft—”
“Don’t.”
“Haha — hahaha! Did you—?!”
“Shut it.”
Lycaon grabbed his head and shoved his face into the blankets, but Hugo’s giggles were too vigorous to be muffled.
“Did you just—?!”
“I said shut it.”
“—did you just like that?!”
Laughter spilled mirthfully from his lips, making his body twinge sharply around the Thiren’s oppressive length. It throbbed back, impatient, resentful even, pulsing fervently in retaliation to every contraction it received.
Behind him, he could feel the tension in Lycaon’s toned body, held still by sheer force of will. With a fierce growl, the Thiren grabbed him around the waist, and as Hugo continued to laugh, the mass inside him throbbed sinisterly enough to make him break off into a shrill gasp.
“Ah—!”
Searing heat jolted through his spine as Lycaon pounced, thrusting into him with quick, controlled strokes. The tension simmering inside Hugo exploded into white-hot ecstasy as he promptly lost all control, his body arching, his chin straining back, and his throat quivering as raw moans.
“Ahh — ahhngh—!”
Lycaon bent over him and muttered in his ear, the Thiren’s damp breath adding a warmer shudder to the sensations he was already putting inside Hugo.
“It’s not because of what you said. It’s because you said it so adorably.”
“Ungh… oh…?” Hugo panted, managing a somewhat teasing tone as he glanced over his shoulder. “Am I adorable now…?”
Lycaon’s eye narrowed ominously. He would have looked enraged if not for his completely serious answer.
“Absolutely. You’re the definition of it.”
Hugo gasped, knocked breathless by an unfamiliar shiver of surprise. That was… not the answer he had expected. It took him a moment to untangle his tongue.
“My dear Lycaon… you need to revisit your vocabulary, I’m pretty sure the definition of adorable isn’t — nhgh!”
He broke off with a startled whimper as Lycaon churned into him, burying an immense portion of his erection into his body.
“Ahgh? Ahh — unngh — mguh…!”
His whimper spiralled into even coyer moans as Lycaon grabbed him around the thighs and filled him further. It throbbed there, his partner’s arousal, deep, deep inside him. Lycaon’s claws and his warm chest pinned Hugo in place as the Thiren rumbled smugly against his tingling ear.
“See? Quite adorable.”
“… Uhngh… you…”
Hugo tried to retort, but he succumbed with a blissful whimper as Lycaon strained deeper. Pressing his lips together, he struggled to muffle his voice, his face flooding with heat as he was suddenly self-conscious of the noise he was producing. But the Thiren slammed into him again, and the strangled mewl that escaped his trembling lips was even more, terribly, coy.
“Mhgh…!”
He cringed, his entire body pulsing with heat. He knew he was red to the tip of his ears. That was probably why Lycaon began to pester him there.
“Hugo…” the Thiren panted headily, in between nips and licks of his sensitive lobes. “… Please…”
His companion’s ragged plea sent a thrilling shudder through Hugo’s spine. His insides contracted, and the colossal presence inside him throbbed violently in response. He cringed, dragging the bedsheets in as he struggled to hold himself together around it.
“Tell me I can continue…”
Lycaon’s ragged groan warmed his upper back as the Thiren kissed the ridges of his spine. There was genuine desperation in his companion’s voice, a hoarseness broken by overwhelming, primal need.
“Tell me I can mark you, until there isn’t an inch of your body unlabeled by me… tell me I can knot inside you, until your stomach is bulging with my seed…”
Lycaon’s deep voice swirled deep into his conscience, ragged and rough in a way that nobody else would ever have heard.
“I want you, Hugo… I want to destroy you… until you need me, until you’re broken without me, I…”
Lycaon’s breath hitched, his voice splitting into both a deep snarl and an earnest whine as he pressed his muzzle against Hugo’s ear and confessed.
“… I need you… please… tell me I can make you mine…”
Hugo shuddered, gasping as just hearing his partner speak such words set him ablaze.
Well, well… where was that oh-so-elegant almighty savior now… what would the rest of the world think, if they knew the refined Von Lycaon was capable of spewing such filth?
He would have teased Lycaon, but he wasn’t capable of saying so many syllables right now. After all, he was trembling, his whole body dripping, aching, craving to be taken.
Looking over his shoulder, Hugo met his partner’s gaze.
“… Go on then, Lycaon,” he whispered. “Make me yours.”
A wild, feral gleam blazed through Lycaon’s iris as the last of his restraint unravelled. The presence buried inside Hugo pulsed with immense fervor, and the grip around his stomach tightened as Lycaon’s toned body tensed behind him.
His cry tore loose before he could swallow it. Piercing and raw, it rang in his ears and reverberated through his spine.
“Ah—!”
His body bowed and trembled, his senses consumed by unbearable heat.
Oh…
He was full… so full… he didn’t think his body could contain it. It felt like something was going to break, or detonate, like he was going to explode from the inside out, undone by the sheer pressure and force and desire slamming into him.
Oh… fuck…
It struck him, over and over, an ecstasy that almost made him scream, layering over him like heavy waves of lava. His voice tore out of his throat, a cry and a curse combined. Sparkles filled his eyes, then blurred into shadows, then bleached white completely.
Oh… ohh…
His senses blurred together. He could feel pleasure licking up his spine, moisture oozing past his thighs, and warmth streaming down his face. His knees trembled against the mattress and saliva slicked over his throat. He could feel his abdomen aching, heaving with gasps or maybe just Lycaon’s erection bulging through him.
There was a scent in the air, salty and damp and milky… it smelled like his, but he couldn’t tell if he’d climaxed, because if he already had, then it shouldn’t feel like this, every thrust still—
“Ahn— ahngh—!”
—tearing him apart with jolts of decimating pleasure, soaking his cries with desperate wanton. He couldn’t hold back his voice. He couldn’t control his body. It felt so good, it felt so fucking good, it—
“Anhg— Lyc— haahn—!”
—was too… fucking… much…
His knuckles stung, his hands clutching the blankets so tightly that the grooves of his bones were visible beneath his pale skin. His cries faded in volume as they became strained and hoarse, submerging beneath the lewd cacophony of their bodies ramming together. Lycaon’s erection was so immense that it made multiple distinct noises every time entered him — uttering thick schloops as it plunged into his soaked entrance, sharp plaps as it rammed deep inside him. The Thiren’s accompanying sacks of seed swung forward and slapped his own with wet splats, and Lycaon dragged himself out of his poor, quivering pucker with a drawn-out, lewd squelch.
Hugo gasped, saliva dribbling off his extended tongue and onto the sheets as he lurched back and forth with every thrust.
“… Aa… I…!”
He heard himself utter something, but he couldn’t finish, he couldn’t form any words at all. His throat ached as though there were claws gouging across his windpipe.
I can’t… oh… fuck… I…
A strange tingly sensation was dancing around in his head. He could feel it lower down too, in his stomach, and between his legs. The ceiling blurred in and out of focus as more warmth trickled down his cheek. It seeped into the corners of his lips and mixed in with the saliva, his throat bobbing as he instinctively swallowed it. It tasted… salty…
I think… I…
Pressure filled his stomach, hot and immense, shoving air from his chest into his throat and forcing out his voice before he was actually ready to speak.
“Nhughh…”
It was almost a sob, the noise that came out, so broken and desperate that it sounded like he was in pain. Vaguely, he heard a low grunt in his ear. The stings in his thighs and stomach lessened as Lycaon’s grip relaxed around him, and the burn decimating the rest of his body eased slightly as the Thiren slowed to a stop.
“… Are you alright…?”
He heard a ragged murmur, but that was all — he couldn’t understand the words.
Lycaon sighed, then slid a hand upwards, from his belly to his chest. Gently, his companion pulled him off the bed, moving slowly so that their still-connected bodies didn’t feel too much discomfort as he dragged Hugo upright into his lap.
Hugo’s legs quaked. The only reason he could somewhat stay on his knees was because he was impaled on Lycaon, and he physically couldn’t sink any lower. He trembled there, his back pressed against Lycaon’s torso, his head limp against the Thiren’s shoulder, gasping, dizzy, tears streaming down his face. He saw blurs of red and white, and he felt something soft brush his cheek, then reach towards his eye.
He flinched violently, unable to help it — but the shadow smeared gently past his eyelid and cleared away the moisture from his lashes. As he blinked, he heard Lycaon speak again, and this time he could make out some of the words.
“Hugo… are you alright?”
But he couldn’t answer, not for a while. Lycaon waited patiently, his length waiting considerably less patiently inside him.
“… I…”
Eventually, Hugo managed to transform a gasp into something that mimicked a word.
“… I don’t… know…”
Lycaon’s chest rose and fell against his spine in a deep, conflicted sigh. His partner’s hand trailed over his chest and grazed lightly against his nipples, but the gesture was hesitant, incomplete. Hugo cringed, a fluttering mewl falling from his lips as he was left feeling tingly and dissatisfied.
“Is it too much?” Lycaon whispered in his ear, his anxiety so thick that his voice was almost a whine. “Apologies… I went too quickly. It’s been too long, I shouldn’t have proceeded at this pace…”
The distress in his voice thickened as the Thiren continued to fret over Hugo, his hands sliding gently onto his waist and nudging him upwards as though threatening to lift him off.
“Let’s take a break… I’ll go slower next time… I’m sorry, Hugo, I’m sorry…”
“S… Stop…” Hugo panted. He had been trying to say it this entire time, but it had taken him a while to actually form the word. As Lycaon’s grip tightened and the threat of being parted from his companion became imminent, he pulled himself together and grabbed the Thiren’s arm. “Stop… trying to stop…!”
He scratched Lycaon’s arm in protest and dragged his partner’s hand back over his chest until he was once again being embraced. Something warm and soft tenderly nuzzled his cheek and he shivered in delight, but his voice remained shrill with indignance.
“Stop acting like… this is a mistake! Like I… don’t want this, I do!”
He wrapped his arm behind Lycaon’s head, grabbing as much fur as he could as he turned and threw the Thiren a watery-eyed glare.
“I want this just as much as you, Lycaon.”
Lycaon blinked, the haze in his iris momentarily clearing in surprise. He became still, even his erection pausing in momentary obedience as it respected the emotion in his words.
Then, with a quiet chuckle, the Thiren leaned forward and licked Hugo affectionately on the lips.
“Then, let’s rest for a little while.”
Hugo began to grumble, but his partner squeezed him in a reassuring hug.
“Just until we’re sure you’re alright.”
“… Mm…”
He trailed off grudgingly. Relaxing back against Lycaon, Hugo took a deep breath and submerged into the familiar sensation of his companion’s soft warmth.
The presence inside him continued to pulse, but it wasn’t as aggressive as it usually was. After a few slow, deep breaths, Hugo tugged on Lycaon’s fur.
“Okay.”
The mass inside him instantly bloated. Biting back a gasp, Hugo arched away from it, accidentally brushing his nipples against Lycaon’s palm.
“Ah—”
A terse, slightly flustered growl slid into his ear, and the hand over his chest pressed back sensually.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m still a little messed up,” Hugo admitted breathlessly, groaning as Lycaon slowly rubbed his hardened buds. “But don’t act like you don’t love that.”
A low, threatening growl started in his ear, only to trail off into a grudging mutter.
“… I do love that.”
The grip around his waist tightened again, holding him still as Lycaon began to shift.
“But for you… should you need it… I will control myself.”
It pulled slowly away from him, Lycaon’s erection. Hugo couldn’t help but gasp in amazement as he felt it slide an incredible distance from his body. As it lingered there, its tip snuggled against his pucker, he braced himself to be destroyed again — only to melt with a low, relieved moan as Lycaon sank slowly in, gifting him with languid bliss instead of unbearable ecstasy.
“Uhhnn…”
A satisfied shudder rippled through him and he twined his fingers through Lycaon’s fur, moaning lavishly as the Thiren continued to pleasure him with slow, deep thrusts.
He heard a pleased rumble slide beneath his voice and Hugo turned towards it, his lips parting as he instinctively sought out more warmth. His request was met with a familiar taste and he kissed his partner eagerly, twisting his body as he tried to delve deeper.
“Mm…”
Parting from the kiss with a soft moan, he rubbed back against Lycaon. His legs had steadied somewhat and he could kneel on his own now, his back sliding against his companion’s muscular torso. He had more freedom in this position and he arched off of the Thiren, rubbing his buttocks against his partner’s pelvis, enjoying the feeling of fur sticking to his damp skin as they grinded against each other. He tried to thrust back, lifting himself up and sinking down to meet Lycaon halfway, his breath catching and sharpening into coy grunts as they connected with vigorous impact. Lycaon groaned too, sensual rumbles rising from his chest as his arousal swelled even further inside Hugo.
Warmth billowed into his gut and pulsed into the rest of his body. His own erection twitched restlessly in the air as they continued at this sluggish but sensual pace, kissing and touching each other all over. Lycaon’s large hands splayed over his hip and slid down his thighs, curling around his length and tending to it with gentle drags. The Thiren’s other hand squeezed deeper between his legs and pressured his more delicate areas, making Hugo whimper as tantalizing pleasure warmed the front of his body while fierce pangs continued to pummel his rear.
He grabbed Lycaon’s forearm, digging his fingers into the Thiren’s fur and closing his eyes as he traced his companion’s familiar scars. He reached back with his other hand and clung to Lycaon’s hip, enjoying how the Thiren’s defined muscles rippled beneath his palm with each thrust.
He couldn’t help but shove back and squirm, mischief gracing the momentary truce as he smeared his soiled butt cheeks all over Lycaon’s fur, tangling it with the lewd products of their mating. He heard a faint growl and the tension inside him grinded deeper, adding a harsher jolt to the bliss rippling through him.
Hugo arched his hips as Lycaon pulled away, moaning luxuriously as his pucker felt every inch of the Thiren’s erection sliding out of his body with electrifying clarity.
“Aaahn…”
Lycaon rammed back in, the Thiren’s hand splaying firmly over his belly, holding him still as their bodies crashed with a firm, impactful thwack. Hugo shuddered, almost crumbling to the blankets as ecstasy plunged through his flesh.
“Ahh… haah…”
Lycaon continued rocking into him with slow, deep strokes, holding him close and steadily impaling him onto that oppressive length of his.
“Ohh… ungh…!”
Hugo tossed his head back, his hair splaying onto Lycaon’s shoulder, his body shuddering as it reared away from the Thiren, from that immense heat. He could feel it too clearly like this… its texture, its sheer thickness… the contours it etched into his body as it churned towards his stomach…
“Haaahn…”
Gripping his waist with both hands, Lycaon pulled him back down. The Thiren held him there as his erection twitched and throbbed deep inside him, then nudged him back up, slowly, before dragging him down again.
Hugo’s moans turned into whimpers, then back into moans. His lashes fluttered as his irises rolled somewhere upwards, but he couldn’t see.
It felt good… it felt so good he could barely breathe.
“Lycaon…”
Almost unconsciously, he began to gasp his partner’s name, his lips mouthing those familiar syllables and his breath adding voice to them as he struggled for air.
“Ahhh… Lyc… aon…”
He liked it… saying it… tasting it on his tongue, hearing it ring in his ears.
Closing his eyes, Hugo repeated it, quietly, in the same way he used to whisper it secretly at night when he couldn’t bear being alone. Perhaps because he had denied it for so long, but it had become a guilty pleasure… being able to moan his companion’s name honestly like this.
“Lycaon… I…”
And maybe, because the bliss he was feeling now was so unbelievable that it seemed surreal, like a dream… he unconsciously said the rest out loud, too.
“… I love you…”
The heat inside him twitched sharply. Wincing, Hugo tensed up with a cringe and a faint mewl.
“Ngah—”
Still half-submerged in his reverie, he lay against Lycaon, dizzy from the overwhelming stimulation. Beneath him, the Thiren’s chest rose, then fell, then rose again in increasingly restless sighs. Steadily, his partner’s erection swelled until he could no longer relax with it inside him.
Grimacing, Hugo began to straighten to shift himself away from it — only to be abruptly halted, grabbed firmly by the hair.
He was yanked back down, hard, his body nearly folding in half as Lycaon fisted his hair and dragged it down almost to the bed.
“Ugh—?!”
His yelp became muffled as the Thiren bent over him and smothered him with a ferocious kiss.
Exhilaration and something far sharper tore through Hugo’s spine. Lycaon’s tongue forced its way deep into his mouth as the Thiren suddenly began to thrust with rapid abandon, their bodies smacking with wild noises, his buttocks rippling with each impact.
It was no longer a gentle embrace, this position — it was fierce and passionate, his body arching magnificently off of Lycaon, his head forced down so the Thiren could kiss him. Their lips pushed together upside-down, his chin forced up as Lycaon pulled on his hair, his throat exposed and his body a full arch against his partner’s torso. His knees slipped forward in the blankets and Hugo cringed as he struggled to stay upright, his nails digging into Lycaon’s arm as he clung to his partner for support.
This was rough, it was dominating. He couldn’t move, it felt like he was being crushed from both ends — Lycaon’s kiss pushing him down, his thrusts shoving him up. He tried to whimper, but that only seemed to incite his partner more. Lycaon’s fingers slid onto his throat, and Hugo gulped as he felt the Thiren’s claws graze him gently, teasingly… and just a tiny bit threateningly.
Lycaon’s erection plunged deeper than ever, and a slightly panicked gasp escaped from their kiss. The Thiren felt so deep right now… so incredibly, impossibly deep. Hugo pressed a hand tentatively over his stomach, shuddering nervously as he dug his fingers into his skin. A larger, hotter palm slid over his own as Lycaon grabbed him too, fingers twining through his own. His companion cradled him gently for a moment before pushing down sharply, exerting even more pressure on his insides.
Hugo emitted a sharp moan that vanished into their kiss. Something throbbed dully beneath his palm and he whimpered, exhilarated, as he wondered if he had just felt Lycaon thrusting into his stomach. His lashes fluttered, and his gaze blurred in delirium as he was held in place and pummeled with hard, merciless thrusts.
“Mhmm — mm — mmgh —”
His trapped whimpers were bashed from his chest as Lycaon shoved deep, over and over, the usually-pale flesh of his butt cheeks glowing pink from the force of their collisions. Held aggressively in place, his slender body curled acrobatically against the large wolf Thiren, the force entering him so immense that it rippled visibly through his torso. If Lycaon became any rougher, he’d probably break in more ways than one… but right now, like this, Hugo fit against his companion perfectly.
They parted briefly for breath. As Hugo gasped shrilly, Lycaon growled and dribbled hot moisture into his open mouth.
Shuddering, Hugo stretched out his tongue and happily caught his companion’s fluids. He was rewarded with an even fiercer kiss, and an even faster pace.
He whined, his fingers digging frantically into his partner’s muscles as the ache coursing through him became so intense, so decimating, that he could no longer bear it consciously. Tears welled over his lower lashes as his body arched high into the air, his own length throbbing fiercely between his legs. He could feel himself tightening as convulsions began to seize his pucker, but Lycaon didn’t stop. The Thiren’s growls remained low and heady in Hugo’s ear as he continued to plummet that huge, hulking mass of his all the way to the hilt.
“Mm… mmm…!”
Hugo tried to plead, at least for breath, his muffled whimpers becoming desperate as his body locked down, but he couldn’t stop it. Lycaon wasn’t slowing, and every thrust carved through the entire length of his spine. His body began to quake in the Thiren’s hands.
He couldn’t — he couldn’t… it was so hot… so deep inside of him, burning, aching, flooding his whole body, melting his mind, his sanity… his fingertips were numb… he was tingling all over… he…!
“—mnghhh—!”
It was all he was allowed at first, a muffled, choked cry. Lycaon seemed to enjoy it, silencing him, keeping him to himself as he yanked even harder on Hugo’s hair and shoved his tongue deep into his mouth.
“Nn…!”
But as his voice weakened, as his eyes began to roll back and tears flowed over his face, the Thiren parted to let him breathe. His cries spilled out then, raw and ravished.
“Ah… ahhh… ahhn…!”
He couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t stop himself. His ears burned with how shameful he sounded, but he really was, in that moment, defenceless. Lycaon’s hips rocked against him as the Thiren tried to continue, but Hugo was squeezing him so tightly that he couldn’t move, he physically could not drag himself out.
Aggravatedly, Lycaon lowered his head and snarled against Hugo’s cheek. He could feel the Thiren’s grip tightening fiercely around his waist, squeezing almost the entire circumference of his body in a single hand. His partner’s hips continued to jerk frantically against him, but his thrashing didn’t allow him to pull back, instead only plunging him deeper, stretching Hugo’s already strained pucker.
“Uhgh—?!”
He seized up with a cry that promptly shattered, his voice cracking until it was completely inaudible and he could only feel it, raw and aching in his throat.
They were frozen for a moment, locked together more deeply than they had ever been before. Hugo could feel Lycaon’s chest heaving against him as the Thiren took in deep, feral drags of air. His own body trembled with shattered gasps as he struggled to endure the currents still rippling through his nerves.
Ah… ah…
He could feel it pulsing inside him, Lycaon’s erection. Its shape was vividly clear, the way it arched through his insides, the bulbous ridge of its crown, the way it swelled in the middle. Harsh aftershocks of ecstasy rushed through his body and his pucker ached as it struggled to contract, but there was simply no room. He had been stretched to his very limit.
With a ragged huff, Lycaon again tried to pull back, stubbornly. Slick, squelching noises ejected from between their legs as the Thiren jerked against him, but to no avail — he was too tight, and this position was too limiting.
“Ngh—!”
Hugo cringed, his whimpers rising in complaint as he pulled on Lycaon’s fur.
The Thiren uttered a frustrated rumble in response. Releasing his hair, Lycaon grabbed him around the waist with both hands — squeezed — and rotated him around.
“Lyc—?!”
A shocked, garbled yelp tore from Hugo’s throat and he stiffened, his voice breaking into shrill gasps as sharp, exhilarating pangs gyrated through his walls. Lycaon only managed to twist him halfway before he was forced to stop, a grunt of discomfort escaping from his clenched fangs as he paused.
The grip around his waist loosened, and Hugo collapsed into the mattress with a groan. His spine twinged gratefully as it was finally able to relax, but his relief was short-lived. He barely managed to reach for the pillow and pull it closer when Lycaon wrapped a hand around his ankle.
Wrenching his legs open with unruly force, the Thiren pounded back into him.
“Ah—!”
Hugo’s breath caught mid-cry, his voice so hoarse and broken that it could barely leave his throat. Hugging his leg possessively against his torso, Lycaon pinned him close and rutted into him with reckless abandon.
“Ah – ugh – ungh – L-Lyc — ahn—!”
The differences in their physiques meant Hugo couldn’t fully relax against the bed. He was left half-twisted on his side, one leg dragged high over Lycaon’s shoulder, his hips dangling in the air between them. He grimaced, shudders of exertion and exhilaration wreaking his body all at once as he struggled to stay upright. He propped himself onto his elbow in an effort to raise himself closer to Lycaon’s height, but there was no strength left in his arms and he ended up collapsing, his body lurching haphazardly away from the length impaled inside him. A yelp flew off his tongue as his insides screeched from the harsh sensation.
He heard a growl, and as he felt Lycaon’s claws dig into his flesh again, he unconsciously heaved a breathless whimper. Moving more delicately this time, the Thiren rotated him once more, turning him onto his back and pushing him properly into the mattress.
He moaned, shuddering as he was spun around his partner’s massive arousal. But this position was much easier on him, and Hugo relaxed against the mattress with a softer groan of relief.
Lycaon didn’t give him much more than a second of rest. Dragging him closer, the Thiren leaned over him and began to rampage, his crimson eye glazed and gleaming with ferocious lust, his fangs bared in a delighted snarl as he indulged in his most primitive instincts.
Bearing it all, Hugo could only struggle to stay conscious as every thrust surged through him with jarring force. The ache inside him had become bloated and fanatical, and he could barely fit in a single gasp before his breath would be knocked away.
He was completely smothered beneath Lycaon now, the bedframe squeaking vigorously as the Thiren ravaged him. He was still shattered from his recent climax and every thrust made him want to scream, but he couldn’t — Lycaon was pummelling him too quickly, and his voice couldn’t keep up.
He was covered in fluids, translucent slick and pearly goo, smeared over his flushed abdomen and splattered over his chest. It oozed so thickly between his legs that it dangled there, clinging to Lycaon’s knuckles as the Thiren grabbed him and spread him wide.
“Mgh — uhgnh…!”
He groaned hoarsely, his voice fading with how much it had already been torn. Milky fluid continued to splurt from his length as it was flung back and forth from Lycaon’s movements, speckling lewd slop all over his flushed body. A droplet flew onto his lips and Hugo flinched, but licked it off before he could stop himself. He shivered, his throat bobbing as he gulped it down with a whimper, heat searing his insides as he was shamefully aroused by the taste.
Noticing, Lycaon’s eye glinted viciously in the moonlight. The Thiren grabbed him by the waist, dragged his hips into the air, and loomed over him for a moment — hackles bristling, every muscle tense beneath his fur.
Their eyes locked together. A shudder of raw exhilaration coursed through Hugo’s body and it was so vivid, so exquisitely enthralling, that it felt like pure pleasure.
He gasped.
“Lyc—!”
And then the world rended itself apart.
Hugo came to a moment later, gasping, disoriented. He could hear the lingering echo of his cry ringing in his ears, and he could feel the violent tremors wreaking his body. He was arched off the bed, his body twisting and spasming, his throat aching as though it had been torn out of him. He was gushing over himself, adding to the mess already lathering his body, decorating his flushed skin.
His body was already heavily marked. Striations wound around his ankles, and similar bruises had been etched around his thighs and waist. Hugo struggled to lift his head, his lips quivering as he met his companion’s eye and saw the primal haze still clouding Lycaon’s iris.
“Ly… nm… Lyc… uhn…”
His rasps were barely audible, his throat bobbing and his fingers curling in the blankets as he struggled to form words. But his ravaged whimpers only seemed to provoke the wolf Thiren further, and Lycaon shoved him down with a savage growl.
“Ah—!”
Pummelled, mercilessly, Hugo gripped the blankets and cried out, his voice uttering gibberish. Each thrust threw him chaotically across the bedsheets and he raised an arm over his head, bracing his hand against the headboards. But as Lycaon bent over him and thrusted with a mighty snarl, his elbow buckled, and—
“Uhngh!”
—his head hit the bedpost.
Lycaon stiffened, his pace faltering but not quite stopping, the haze in his eye momentarily clearing as he heard Hugo’s shrill whimper of pain. A complex expression contorted the Thiren’s face and he bent over, grabbing Hugo’s hair but not to pull it, this time.
Twining his fingers through Hugo’s gold locks, Lycaon cradled his head, stopping him from hitting the bedframe again as he resumed his pace.
“Lyc… aon… ahn…”
Hugo gasped his partner’s name, their heady breaths clashing together as they leaned in and kissed. His mind whirled and his lashes fluttered as everything began to blur dizzily together. He felt drenched… he was so sensitive, everywhere, that even the faintest graze of Lycaon’s fur against his skin made him tingle. He shuddered, trembling breaths falling into his companion’s tongue as he wrapped his arms around Lycaon and hugged him close.
Ahh… this was… too much… he didn’t know what to do about this feeling, nor how to make it more bearable… he only knew that it was destroying him, and that he wouldn’t last much longer. He tangled his fingers in Lycaon’s fur, quivering and whimpering as their frenzied pace sent the Thiren’s heavy seed sacs smacking into his own. The ache inside him was rising into something strange and shivery, and he tried to pull away to moan, to breathe.
But Lycaon clung stubbornly to him, growling, not letting go. Running out of air, Hugo yanked on the Thiren’s fur, but his grip was too feeble, and his companion didn’t even seem to notice. He tried to whine but his voice was too quickly muffled, lost within their intertwined tongues. He was drowning in Lycaon… swollen with his heat, filled with him from all sides, completely and utterly his.
He supposed that was what Lycaon had said he would do from the start.
Rumbling through his throat, Lycaon’s groans became terse, unsteady. The presence inside him pulsed and flared outwards, swelling so mercilessly that Hugo began to sting. He grimaced and tried once more to free himself from the kiss, but again the Thiren pinned him close with a stubborn growl. As though incited by his struggling, Lycaon quickened his pace, thrusting deep and unrelentingly as his erection began to twitch and throb with impending seed.
Ah, wait, wait, I can’t— Shudders coursed through his body, panic and ecstasy blurring into unbearable tremors. I can’t, I’ve already — too much — I really — can’t anymore—!
With an explosive, muffled snarl, Lycaon surged into him, burying himself completely and then bursting there, swelling, flooding him with pressure.
Hugo almost blacked out. He almost wished he could have. It was so intense that it was almost excruciating… he didn’t know how many times he had already climaxed, or if that was what this was anymore — it seemed far too savage. His entire body stiffened and seized over, until the only thing he could feel was Lycaon — arms wound tightly around him, tongue immersed passionately in his mouth, heat spilling relentlessly into his body. His companion kissed him throughout the entire ordeal, filling him with fluids from both sides, holding him almost forcibly together as the rest of his trembling self threatened to shatter.
“Mm… mmm…”
Faintly, he heard himself whimpering, though it was muffled by the vague storm rumbling through his ears. His vision throbbed in and out of focus, blurred and dark at the edges. He felt strange… numb, almost, except everything ached far too much to actually be numb. There was a commanding presence beneath it all, throbbing and filling him with continuous globs of heat. He could feel Lycaon’s knot swelling oppressively beneath his pucker, and his whimpers sharpened as he struggled to bear it.
“Mgh—”
Lycaon pulled away, finally, his ragged groan muffled beneath Hugo’s desperate gasp for air. He wheezed, his breaths laced with piqued grunts as his sensitive body twinged over and over.
Exhausted, Hugo released his partner, his hands falling back into the blankets and trembling there with aftershocks. He was so full that he didn’t dare to move… it felt like he’d break something if he tried.
Lycaon loomed over him, still tense from his own lingering pangs, lips curled and fangs bared in a snarl of deep feeling. Their shared breathing filled the room, quiet compared to the chaos a few seconds ago.
Hugo lay there for a long time, dazed, his ears ringing faintly from the rush of blood and pleasure. Lycaon remained above him, the part of him that didn’t fully fit inside Hugo throbbing visibly between his legs, veins bulging and surface slick with glistening fluid.
Blearily, Hugo gazed at his companion. Lycaon’s muscular torso heaved with ragged breaths, his fur tousled and matted with moisture. The wolf Thiren was flushed, the scars along his arms and torso coloured a radiant pink. Hugo still recognized all of them… they were all still there, in the same place. It was a little astonishing, to think that this handsomely sculpted Thiren was the same hot-headed brat who used to fight with him over the most insignificant absurdities.
Seeming to catch his breath, Lycaon took a deep breath, then opened his eye. Their gazes promptly locked, and Hugo felt a rush of warmth as he recognized the flustered glimmer in his companion’s eye.
He almost laughed, but he couldn’t, not yet. Even that slight quake of his body was too much for him to bear, and he ended up tossing his head back with a grimace instead, gasping as sharp pangs slid through his spine.
“Uhngh—!”
He heard a faint sigh, and he felt something warm ease over his face. Leaving his eyes closed, Hugo puckered his lips rather tauntingly. Instead of kissing him, Lycaon uttered a faint growl, then licked his face instead. It felt somewhat ticklish, and Hugo stifled a giggle as he shoved a hand into the Thiren’s cheek and pushed him away.
Lycaon growled irritably, but didn’t retaliate. As the Thiren’s warmth settled near him, Hugo relaxed and took a deep, gratified breath. They had left an incredible musk in the air, and his insides stung with little bursts of joy as he relished the scent.
But just as he began to let himself slip away, into the possibility of peace… something warm and wet slid into his ear.
Hugo flinched, a thrill tearing down his spine, reigniting a tingle in his body. His eyes fluttered open, and his lips parted with a gasp as he was jolted awake.
“Stay with me, Hugo.”
Lycaon’s heady rumble pressed into his piercings, fingers already tracing the striations along his waist. Locked inside him, the ache that had filled him so completely was already stirring again.
“Oh…”
His companion’s gaze was both tenderly smitten and terrifyingly solemn. Shakily, Hugo tried to speak, to protest, to plead, maybe — but he couldn’t finish. His voice melted into a shuddering moan as Lycaon gripped his buttocks, and plunged lovingly deeper.
“Morning… is still many hours away…”
Chapter Text
He wasn’t sure when the memories blurred into dreams.
… Perhaps there had never been any dreams in the first place. Perhaps it had all been real.
Perhaps he really had spent the entire night filled with Lycaon, moaning in a shattered voice, gushing fluids that were no longer even his own.
Perhaps he really had clung to his companion and cried, “don’t stop, don’t stop,” and then, “don’t go, don’t go”, even as Lycaon had cradled him tightly and rumbled, over and over.
“I won’t. I’m here.”
… Perhaps they really had indulged in each other for hours, unable to stop themselves, not after so many years of restraint and longing.
But he did know that dream or not, throughout it all, he had been filled with warmth. Filled, and surrounded. It had curled around his limbs and poured into his body, smothered the back of his nape and twined around his legs.
He remembered waking briefly to a pale silhouette framed in gold light, his limbs too heavy to move, his throat too weary to speak. As he squinted against the glow, a kiss softly brushed his temple, and fingers combed tenderly through his hair.
“Sleep more. I’ll be back around noon.”
He remembered feeling a pang, and he remembered his fingers twitching beneath the blankets. But his vision had blurred, and his consciousness had been too heavy to carry. With a faint sigh, he fell back into the hazy warmth, surrounded by Lycaon’s scent and the lingering ache of his love.
When Hugo actually woke, it was already past noon.
He lay there for a moment, belly-down on the mattress, half-sprawled over Lycaon’s side of the bed. The clock on the bedside table read 12:38 PM.
… He wondered if it was safe to move.
Slowly, Hugo breathed in, then breathed back out. A warm ache pulsed sluggishly through his groin as he recognized the heady scent still seeped into the sheets.
He took his time waking, lounging in the blankets a while longer, shifting his legs and getting used to the sensation of controlling his body again… of being more than just something for Lycaon to fill. His throat hurt, and the places where Lycaon had bitten him stung, and he was sore in places he hadn’t even known existed… but he enjoyed all those discomforts. It felt as though Lycaon was still right here with him, buried deep inside his body, leaving marks all over his skin…
“Mngh…”
Bracing himself, Hugo grimaced and eventually tried to push himself up. He’d just managed to turn and sit back against the headboards when the bedroom door opened, and a familiar figure walked in.
Lycaon faltered, his eye widening as they looked at each other. The Thiren stood there for a moment, frozen with a steaming mug in his hands.
Then, his ears twitched. His tail began to wag, and as it smacked repeatedly between both sides of the doorframe, Lycaon flushed, cleared his throat, and stepped forward.
“You’re awake.”
Striding over, the Thiren leaned over the edge of the bed. His tone seemed brisk at first, but there was a tenderness in his gaze that was impossible to ignore.
“Your throat must be hoarse. Here, apple cider,” Lycaon murmured. He didn’t try to offer the mug, but instead lifted it to Hugo’s lips for him, as though worried he wouldn’t even have the strength to hold it. “Your blood sugar is a little low, so I added honey.”
Carefully, Hugo took a sip. It was perfectly warm, hot enough to melt his throat, cooled enough to drink comfortably. Lifting his hands to the ceramic, he took a deeper sip, his fingers brushing against Lycaon’s as he tilted the cup higher and gulped down the sweet cider.
Relief flooded his insides as the sizzling warmth eased everything back into place. He took a few more gulps and then pulled away with a deeply content sigh, his throat soothed and his stomach simmering with heat.
Gazing at him with an expression of utter reverence, Lycaon brushed a dab of moisture off Hugo’s lip and licked off the excess.
“How are you feeling?”
A smile squirmed onto Hugo’s lips as he basked in the Thiren’s devotion.
“I thought I was going to die.”
An extremely complicated expression twisted Lycaon’s face — indignation, exasperation, and embarrassment mixing with the adoration that he must still be feeling. Entertained, Hugo couldn’t help but chortle.
“And now?” Lycaon grunted, gruff now.
“I’ll find out soon enough.”
Sinking his lips back into the cider, Hugo continued to hold his companion’s gaze, arching an eyebrow teasingly as he drank.
Once he’d finished the rest of his cider, he returned the mug to Lycaon, then shifted over to the edge of the bed and tried to stand. The Thiren set the mug aside and hastily darted back to help, but Hugo swatted his companion’s hand aside.
“Unhand me, you feral mutt!” he proclaimed dramatically. “Touch me not, lest I perish again from your brutal affections!”
A kink appeared in Lycaon’s brow, then faded into an extremely dry look. The wolf Thiren pulled away, hands clasping elegantly behind his back as he bowed.
“As you wish, my liege.”
After all the noises Hugo had made last night, he felt the need to regain some independence. But it only took him three seconds to regret it.
Forget walking — he couldn’t even stand. He ended up grabbing the side table and clinging to it for dear life while slowly shifting his weight onto his wobbly legs.
He did manage to leave the bed, though he couldn’t fully straighten his knees, nor did he look at all steady. Lycaon stared down at him in utter nonchalance, his crimson eye piercing and cold in silent judgement.
Vainly pretending that this was all going according to plan, Hugo hobbled around the side table and managed to latch onto the dresser. That brought him a little closer to the bathroom, but not nearly close enough.
Leaning breathlessly against the corner of the dresser, he stared at the endless expanse of carpet between him and the bathroom, the light in his eyes draining in despair. Lycaon stood nearby, poised in his usual graceful manner, watching him in unimpressed nonchalance.
“What cruel fate is this?” Hugo lamented, collapsing spectacularly against the dresser. “A chasmic void stretches before me, awaiting my death in a forsaken limbo of plush. A single step may end me! If only a righteous hero were to swoop in…”
He snuck a glance at his companion. Lycaon’s left ear twitched, but he did not move, nor did his expression become any less stoic.
Hugo sighed. “… Fine.”
But before he could let go of the dresser and probably immediately collapse, a warmth swept to his side and braced him safely upright.
Grinning from ear to ear, Hugo relaxed against his companion and continued happily.
“How dare you! I forbade your hand!”
“My heart bleeds every time you stumble.”
Lycaon mocked his dramatic tone, but the Thiren couldn’t hide the affection in his gaze — or his touch — as he guided Hugo forward.
“Liar,” Hugo laughed, dropping his bravado. “You were totally enjoying it.”
Lycaon pressed his lips together and remained silent, his tail swishing and the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.
His companion led him into the bathroom, then left to give him some privacy once he had more surfaces to hold onto. Hugo didn’t bother closing the door, and the Thiren returned a few minutes later with a fresh towel and a change of clothes.
With the efficiency of a professional attendant, Lycaon prepared the shower and stood with his hand beneath the water spray, diligently waiting for it to warm. Leaning back against the counter, Hugo slowly tested stretching his spine, grimacing and sighing as various parts of his body twinged.
“Vivian told me Belle’s been sleep-talking,” he piped up offhandedly. “Apparently I’m in her dreams now.”
Lycaon glanced back with a dubious frown. “You’re in her dreams?”
“She was whining about an ‘obnoxious vampire’ and something about ‘hitting pity’ and ‘stolen tape’.”
“… Did you break into her house?”
“Not recently,” Hugo replied airily.
Lycaon sighed, but didn’t utter any actual remarks. Turning away from the shower stall, he offered his arm to Hugo.
Flashing his companion a beam, Hugo accepted the assistance and made his way to the shower stall. Lycaon supported him in elegant silence, tail wagging fervently in the background.
Once he had found something comfortable to hold onto and settled beneath the warm water, Lycaon gently shut the stall’s glass door. The Thiren then stood back and watched him, matter-of-factly, as he showered.
Unperturbed, Hugo went about his usual routine. Lycaon had tuned the water temperature perfectly and the warmth seeped into his sore muscles, soothing him and letting him stand more steadily on his own. Lifting his hands, he flicked out his hair and combed himself with his fingers, wincing as he had to work through some particularly stubborn knots. Lycaon had been really enthusiastic with his hair last night… his back twinged as he remembered how ferociously he’d been bent over.
Though, now that he was thinking about it… considering what it had been through, his body seemed quite clean.
As he lathered himself with soap, Hugo gazed inquisitively down at his torso. Pink stripes lacerated his waist and thighs, and his pale skin was littered with all sorts of marks. But this was definitely not the state he had passed out in last night — he had been covered in many more… substances.
Most of which had gone between his legs. Curiously, Hugo reached back and slid a finger against his entrance. He prodded at it, his breath catching as the little ring of muscle swelled defensively against him. Carefully, he pried it wider and eased his soapy finger inside of himself. It prickled a bit, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, and after a bit of exploration, he realized he must have already been thoroughly cleaned out.
He glanced back at Lycaon, intending to tease his companion — only to see that the Thiren was already completely stricken. Lycaon was staring through the glass, ears perked high, tail wagging slowly, and rigid all over.
… Ah.
A crooked smile, half-abashed and half-amused, flickered onto Hugo’s lips. He’d forgotten he was being watched... he supposed his companion’s reaction was understandable, considering he had suddenly bent over and started massaging the part of his body where, a few hours ago, their fluids had been intimately mixed together.
A flush seared his face, but Hugo felt more entertained than ashamed. Pressing his back against the stall door, he smeared his butt cheeks against the steamed-up glass to unravel Lycaon even more. The tell-tale thump of the Thiren’s tail smacking into the counter told him his efforts were very successful.
“Dear Lycaon,” he purred, arching his body and peering provocatively over his shoulder. “Where did all your cum go? You cleaned me so thoroughly, you must’ve had your fingers in there for a long time. Is that the only thing you put in there while I was passed out?”
Lycaon stiffened and jerked his head away, but that didn’t stop his unruly eye from sneaking frantic glances back — downwards, obviously, at the lewd imprint of Hugo’s alluring bits squished against the glass.
Brusquely, the Thiren grunted, “I didn’t do anything indecorous to you in your sleep, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
“Are you sure?” Hugo teased, wagging his hips and squishing more of himself against the foggy glass. “You didn’t seem like you had much restraint last night, were you really able to stop yourself from doing anything?”
Closing his eye in a grimace, Lycaon stood there for a moment, fists clenched and tail twitching agitatedly. After a visible struggle, he took a deep breath and confessed gruffly.
“I… may have… kissed you a bit.”
The Thiren’s fur promptly flushed in embarrassment.
Hugo blinked, surprised by the rather wholesome answer.
“Wait, that’s it?” He scoffed incredulously. “You were snarling vulgarities in my ear yesterday, and now you’re ashamed to admit that you kissed me in my sleep? Oh Lycaon,” he cooed, half-tauntingly, half-endearingly, “my poor, sweet Lycaon—”
Lycaon loudly cleared his throat.
“I didn’t specify… where I kissed you.”
Hugo gawked at his companion for a moment, then doubled over and chortled heartily.
“W-What’s with that? What does it matter where you kissed me?” he gasped between breathless laughter. “It’s just a kiss, right? How lewd could a kiss get—?!”
He broke off as his vigorous giggling caused him to lean a little too hard against the door. It opened and he lurched back, buttocks-first, his voice sharpening into a shrill gasp as—
With a muffled thwomp, Lycaon rushed forward and caught him — by the butt cheeks.
It was the first thing the Thiren would have been able to grab, and that was exactly what he had instinctively done.
They froze there for a moment. Lycaon was half-inside the shower stall, one palm splayed firmly against the soft flesh of his buttocks, the other braced against the doorframe. Hugo huddled against him, practically sitting on his hand, breathless and tingling all over.
A chuckle eased itself between Hugo’s huffs. He arched back, pushing himself deeper into Lycaon’s hand and grinding into the rigid protrusion he could already feel poking into his tailbone.
“Heh…”
Distinctly, he felt Lycaon’s fingers curl around his butt cheeks. With a low, thunderous growl, the Thiren shoved him forward.
The shower door slammed brashly behind them. Hugo gasped as he was smashed into the wall, the tiles cold and hard beneath his skin. A familiar heat began to prickle at the back of his neck and he angled his head with a ticklish shiver, exposing more of his nape to his partner’s fangs.
Still fully clothed, Lycaon pressed up against him, the fabric of his uniform chafing roughly against Hugo’s skin as they grinded. The Thiren’s hand slid over his waist and down his belly, reaching boldly between his legs and curling possessively around his inner thigh. Carefully but firmly, Lycaon hoisted Hugo’s leg up and rested it against his own clothed thigh. It rubbed against him, supporting his weight and teasing his sensitive parts at the same time.
“Uhn…”
Heat throbbed between his legs and Hugo closed his eyes with a soft moan, letting his body take over as he began to squirm back against his companion. Relaxing against Lycaon, he wrapped an arm around the Thiren’s head and pulled his companion’s muzzle into his shoulder as they slid sensually together.
Slowly, Lycaon’s other hand drifted over his chest and grazed across his nipples. They were still sensitive from the previous night and Hugo couldn’t help but tense, his breath catching as tingles instantly sparkled over his chest.
Incited by his reaction, Lycaon pinched him on one side, then flicked at the other, uttering heady growls in his ear as their hips continued to rhythmically lock and collide. The mass jabbing into his buttocks was straining desperately against the fabric of its uniform, and Hugo could hear the distress in his companion’s gritted huffs.
“… My dear towel rack,” he breathed, grabbing Lycaon by the ear and pressing the Thiren down towards him. “Your uniform seems improper for the current circumstances.”
Lycaon growled quietly, his other ear twitching.
“My apologies… I’ll amend that shortly.”
Reaching behind him, Hugo plucked at the soaked fabric of the Thiren’s uniform while still rubbing cajolingly against his companion’s poor tent.
“Shall I assist?”
Squeezing him in a tight embrace, Lycaon nuzzled his ear and growled deep into his lobes.
“You’re already assisting plenty.”
“Mm…”
Hugo couldn’t help but weaken, his mischief turning into shivers as familiar jolts of bliss rippled down his spine. The warmth against his rear pulled away briefly, but it returned to him soon enough… a much hotter, much larger heat.
It squeezed between his legs, a shaft so enormous that it protruded out the other side. Hugo looked down, huffing in amazement as he saw its flushed crown jut out beneath his own erection.
This thing… had been inside him all night…?
He was surprised he could stand at all…
Rumbling contently in his ear, Lycaon resumed grinding against him. It was much more oppressive like this, the Thiren’s erection, without its restraints. Hugo strained onto his tippy toes, and even then he could feel its shape arching up against his own delicate parts, chafing him back and forth.
Pleasure began to coil beneath his belly, and he began to ache. His own length twitched against his stomach with need, and his pucker clenched in excitement as it was grazed by Lycaon’s heat. He breathed heavily, his huffs growing heavy, his nape warmed by similarly lustful pants from Lycaon as their heady breaths mingled and rose with the steam.
But that was all his companion did — rub against him. Hugo uttered a noise of complaint from the back of his throat and thrusted vigorously back against Lycaon, smacking his butt into his companion’s muscular pelvis.
As sturdy as ever, the Thiren didn’t budge. Growling in disapproval, Lycaon grabbed his outer thighs and squeezed his legs together, clamping him tightly around his companion’s erection.
Realizing Lycaon’s intentions, Hugo still whined hoarsely in protest, but the Thiren nuzzled his ear and replied with a darker, thicker snarl.
You’re going to break if we go all the way.
“Hnrgh…”
Hugo grumbled, but his tantrum was half-hearted, and he quickly became distracted as Lycaon reached down and gently grasped his length.
“Ah…”
Parting his lips with a heady moan, Hugo arched back against the Thiren and instinctively thrust into his companion’s hand. Lycaon squeezed him almost chidingly in response, then began to stroke him in time with their steadily frolicking bodies.
The wolf Thiren’s wet fur left distinct prickles against his skin as they slid against each other, and Hugo succumbed to the many pleasures thrumming through him. Moaning gustily, he let himself enjoy it, lifting his hand and plucking gingerly at his own nipples to please himself further. Against him, Lycaon’s chest rumbled, and the Thiren began to massage his other bud for him. It felt strange, like they were working together on some profound mission, and Hugo squirmed beneath their fingers with a giddy gasp of delight.
Squeezed between his thighs, Lycaon’s heat continued to pulse against him. It had become so swollen that Hugo was having trouble keeping his legs clamped around it. He could recognize its familiar musk mixing in with the soap and it was unravelling his mind… Lycaon’s scent… the aroma that he had been smothered beneath and pummeled with for the entirety of the night.
Craving more, desperately, Hugo reached down and spread his palm over his groin, pressing his hand against the gap of his thighs like a stopper. Lycaon’s erection thrusted into his palm and left smears of hot goo against his skin, and he felt the Thiren’s breath hitch against his ear as his companion energetically redoubled his efforts against him.
Lycaon seemed to enjoy that… being stopped by him. The Thiren began to thrust harder, as though accepting his challenge, ramming into his hand as though trying to shove it away. Hugo’s entire body lurched forward, and he might have smashed face-first into the tiles if not for the fact that Lycaon was holding him fervently, hand wrapped around his chest, claws digging into his skin.
Gasping shakily, Hugo tightened his other arm around his companion’s head. He grabbed the wolf Thiren’s ear and snuck his fingers beneath the fluff, stroking the hotter skin underneath. Lycaon’s ear twitched against him and he held it tighter, rubbing the delicate grooves within and occasionally crumpling the Thiren’s entire ear in his hand. His companion uttered a terse grunt, then growled threateningly against his own ear.
“Hugo…”
But Hugo kept going, too immersed in ecstasy to hear the threat in his partner’s voice. Lycaon grunted again, his voice growing terse and wrought with feeling, his ear twitching fervently but not pulling away. The Thiren’s movements were becoming more haphazard, and the heat between his legs throbbed almost angrily.
Vaguely, Hugo felt a pang of triumph. Of course, as a wolf Thiren, Lycaon’s ears were very sensitive, too. It was about time he served some vengeance.
Giving up on trying to stop him, Lycaon simply began to retaliate, growling and panting directly into the depths of his own ear. Thoroughly incited, Hugo grimaced, the pleasure in his groin starting to flutter and burn. He twitched as a particularly intense wave rushed through his body, and Lycaon promptly jerked against him in instinctive response. Their bodies collided with a thunderous slap, the force so violent that Hugo nearly slipped and fell.
He gasped, his voice sweetening into a mewl as Lycaon’s grip tightened abruptly against his chest, claws digging even more harshly into his skin. Releasing the Thiren’s ear, Hugo braced his hand against the tiles to steady himself.
Lycaon was pressed deep between his legs now, not pulling all the way back, just grinding rapidly against him, the tip of his erection rubbing against the rigid bottom side of Hugo’s own. Reaching down, Hugo wrapped a hand around their lengths, grabbing whatever he could and squeezing down greedily. They throbbed vigorously against each other, their aching erections, and he groaned as incredible bliss blossomed through his body.
Panting raggedly in his ear, Lycaon nuzzled and nipped his ears, igniting his ecstasy with exhilarating tingles. Hugo’s hand jerked haphazardly around their lengths as Lycaon’s grinding quickened to a frenzied pace, and as his knees weakened in pleasure, he let slip a whimper. He felt himself throb in the chaos, and Lycaon’s immense heat pulsed between his legs in response, ramming across his slick depths and shoving through his intimate parts.
His voice constricted into a shrill gasp, and Lycaon broke off tersely in his ear. Their voices tangled together and sharpened against the shower spray as they both came with a start, gripping each other tightly as they stiffened and pulsed in off-beat contractions.
Hot, pearly fluid splattered onto Hugo’s feet. He shuddered and looked down, watching numbly as the substance mixed with water and oozed down the drain.
He could still see Lycaon protruding between his legs… he could also feel the Thiren’s knot swelling deeper behind him, pushing his butt cheeks apart with its sheer size. A sting of disbelief shivered through his tailbone as he again thought of how this… monstrosity, all of it, had just been inside him.
They stood there a while longer, breathing heavily and clinging to each other, recovering from their aftershocks. Eventually, Lycaon heaved a deep sigh, and Hugo instinctively did the same.
Lifting his head, he peered back at his companion, taking in with sudden clarity the soaked fur hanging off Lycaon’s cheek and the water-laden ears drooped over his head. Warm, irresistible joy squirmed through Hugo’s chest, and the next thing he knew, he was laughing.
Lycaon’s eye narrowed and his lips pursed in a grumpy expression, but that only heightened Hugo’s amusement. He only broke off because his stomach was starting to ache from giggling.
He gasped, wincing slightly as his insides complained. Huffing, Hugo caught his breath, then cautiously turned around. Lycaon’s hands adjusted against his hips to support him, and his companion’s gaze greeted him gently as they faced each other again.
Sliding his arms over Lycaon’s shoulders, Hugo leaned in and nuzzled their lips together.
“You make a good towel rack,” he mused softly.
Lycaon scoffed, but his expression remained tender as he licked Hugo on the mouth and then pressed in for a proper kiss. They embraced slowly but fervently, tongues twining, lips pressing earnestly together. Lycaon pulled him up onto his tippy toes, and as Hugo’s torso slid against the Thiren’s uniform, his nipple scraped past a button and he broke away with a flinch.
They blinked at each other, then lowered their heads and shared a rueful chuckle.
“I suppose I should take this off,” Lycaon murmured.
Hugo plucked at the button in mock anger. “You should’ve done that ages ago.”
“Hmm…” Lycaon nuzzled his cheek with an affectionate rumble. “You seemed to like it on.”
Heat instantly flooded Hugo’s face. It was true, he had enjoyed the extra friction of his partner’s wet uniform…
Flustered, Hugo averted his gaze and changed the subject.
“When’s your next shift?”
Lycaon nuzzled his other cheek, then licked his face again, seemingly unable to stop himself from expressing adoration as his wet tail wagged and splattered water against the shower stall.
“At two.”
“Uh oh.” Lifting his hands to the Thiren’s drenched hair, Hugo ruffled him vigorously, squinting as water sprayed everywhere. “Better get you dried up quickly then.”
Grunting in agreement, Lycaon picked him up by the waist, carried him out of the shower, and sat him down on the countertop. Grabbing the towel that had been prepared for him, Hugo threw it over the Thiren’s head and began to tousle him ferociously.
Muffled by his efforts, Lycaon growled and grabbed him by the wrists in an effort to stop him. Chuckling, Hugo slid the towel back, dragging the Thiren’s ears and long bangs with it and exposing all of Lycaon’s face.
As he saw his companion’s wounded eye, he became quiet. Lycaon gazed at him softly with his other eye, then leaned forward and nuzzled him comfortingly on the nose.
They rested there for a moment, then slid together for a longer, tender kiss. There was no frenzy in their embrace, no sting or frantic force, just… serenity. Patience… affection.
When they finally pulled away, they rested their heads together and breathed in the steamy air. They remained like that for a long time before Lycaon broke the silence with a heavy, reluctant sigh.
“Just stay,” Hugo whispered, stroking the Thiren cajolingly under the chin.
Lycaon rumbled something that could have been a growl or a purr.
“You know I can’t do that.”
Scoffing, Hugo tugged his companion close by the cheek fur.
“Who cares about those hypocrites.”
“We’re not kids anymore,” Lycaon murmured wearily, resting their cheeks briefly together before pulling away to fetch the blow dryer. “We can’t just do whatever we like, whenever we like.”
“Mm…”
Hugo grumbled vaguely, but didn’t disagree. When his companion returned with the blow dryer, he wrangled it out of Lycaon’s hand and cast the Thiren a meaningful look.
Lycaon frowned slightly, but turned around without complaint. Leaning back against him, the Thiren stood between his knees and let Hugo dry his fur.
Dazed and warm from their recent activities, Hugo let muscle memory take over, running his fingers through his companion’s damp fur as he guided warm air in. It was soothing, the familiar ritual, the hum of the blow-dryer, the sensation of Lycaon’s fur turning soft and fluffy beneath his hand.
It took a long time, as usual… Lycaon’s outer coat dried quickly, but he had a lot of fur. When it was finally finished, Hugo’s buttocks were starting to feel sore from the hard countertop.
“You’re shedding,” he observed, rubbing his palms together to loosen the fur stuck on his skin. “Are you stressed?”
Turning, Lycaon whisked a pajama shirt around Hugo’s shoulders and began to help him dress.
“With you around, is that even a question?”
Laughing, Hugo shoved his companion away with a teasing kick to the abdomen.
“Would you rather be with your clients than with me, then?”
Grabbing him by the ankles in mock aggression, Lycaon yanked him close and spun him off the counter.
“You know that’s not a question either.”
The Thiren carried him back into the bedroom and set him down gently in the reading chair, then pulled away to get dressed. Content and a little groggy, Hugo dragged his companion’s blanket over himself and curled up cozily.
Lycaon flitted around the room with practiced urgency — buttoning up a fresh uniform, folding his cravat, and rolling his sleeves with meticulous care. But that didn’t stop him from glancing at Hugo every five seconds with yearning and reluctance in his eye.
Amused, Hugo shifted beneath his blanket and piped up teasingly.
“So who’s the lucky client?”
“An old family,” Lycaon replied nonchalantly, strapping on his gloves. “Nothing special.”
“Well, don’t stand too close to anyone.”
Lycaon glanced over warily.
“Why?”
“Because,” Hugo pointed out cheekily, “you have my scent all over you. They might suspect you of debauchery.”
Lycaon’s ears twitched. His expression didn’t change, but he reached for his bottle of cologne on the dresser. He uncapped it and lifted it closer — only to suddenly stiffen, his tail twitching as he stared at the tinted glass bottle.
Realizing, Hugo tried and failed to stifle a giggle.
“Sorry to disappoint, but I didn’t do anything to that one.”
Lycaon’s jaw clenched. Without speaking, he sprayed a bit against his nape, then strode rather stormily towards Hugo.
“I’ll be back after dinner.”
“Mm.” Taking a dramatic whiff of the fragrant air, Hugo greeted his companion with a flutter of his lashes. “Do take care, dearest. Enjoy your splendid afternoon of groveling.”
Bending down, Lycaon growled threateningly and pressed a kiss to his cheek at the same time.
“No chaos.”
Smirking, Hugo turned and quickly smooched the Thiren back as he pulled away.
“No promises.”
Lycaon scoffed, then turned and strode out of the room, his tail swaying happily behind him. Watching with a smile, Hugo burrowed deeper into his blanket and let his eyes grow slowly hazy.
Chapter Text
After Lycaon left, Hugo remained curled up in his chair for a while, drifting in and out of a hazy consciousness. He eventually managed to drag himself out sometime in the late afternoon, but only because his glucose alarm had gone off and there had been no chocolate within reach.
He shuffled into the kitchen, still drowsy, and ate some jam with a side of bread. Robin joined him a few minutes in, muttering something about not being able to follow Butler to work today.
As the two poor souls left behind, he and his Bangboo sat together in leisure company. Robin made a video call to Vivian, and they spent a good amount of time listening to her ramble enthusiastically about Lord Phaethon’s living habits and daily routine. Robin fussed over her, declaring things like “spicy noodles at midnight is not healthy, my lady!” and “you only get half of a double bed?!” — but Hugo merely chuckled along, glad that she was enjoying herself.
In the evening, a contact messaged him with highly-anticipated news — they had finished analyzing the drug samples from Sablier Noir’s hideout.
Finally.
That had taken far longer than it should have.
He opened up the file attachments with a slightly irritated grin and sat down with Robin to scrutinize the results. If they ended up being completely useless again, he swore he’d—
… But they weren’t. The results were, in fact, quite intriguing.
The drug’s chemical composition was indeed similar to Dina’s mind control serum, with some creative enhancements to improve its stability and efficacy-per-dose — but those were minor changes, things Hugo already knew.
The interesting bit was something his contact called a ‘trigger’ — it was the breakthrough that, theoretically, allowed the drug to bypass any antidote and control the victim with great precision.
The serum itself was incomplete. It was merely a ‘base’, and it would be completely ineffective until a trigger was added — that was probably why Dr. Isabelle and the lab had struggled to understand the true purpose of the drug.
However, the trigger had to be personalized per victim. To put it simply, it needed to be a substance that could ‘override’ the victim’s conscious thought. This was usually something that caused a deeply instinctive reaction in the brain, something that the victim could not voluntarily ignore… a powerful ‘trigger’.
In Hugo’s case, there were many such triggers. Serena, his father, Jack, Lycaon… anything that stirred those memories would force him to feel a certain way, regardless of how well he could hide it.
The enhanced drug utilized this ‘trigger’ current to seize full control of the victim’s voluntary actions, creating a mind control effect that was much stronger than Dina’s — and much harder to disrupt.
However, since both of his doses hadn’t been particularly effective, his attackers had probably failed to find the correct trigger. After all, memories were one thing, but they would’ve needed a physical substance — a particle that his brain could actually recognize and interface with. A petal from Serena’s favourite flower, maybe, or a dab of Lycaon’s cologne… those probably contained molecules that his sensory neurons would react to.
… This was good news.
Hugo leaned back in his chair with a relieved sigh. That meant he could be fairly confident that he wouldn’t one day wake up with blood on his hands and no recollection of what had happened. He could finally lower his guard a little…
Lycaon returned later in the evening, at around 8PM. The Thiren didn’t say anything, nor did he complain — he never did — but Hugo could tell that he was exhausted. They hadn’t spent much of last night sleeping, after all, and Lycaon hadn’t had the luxury of napping like he had.
“Did your master sneak you any snacks under the table today?” he scoffed tauntingly as he tailed Lycaon down the hall.
“I haven’t had dinner yet,” Lycaon answered nonchalantly. “It was a busy shift. And it seems like you haven’t, either.”
The wolf Thiren must’ve deduced that from the lack of food smell in the air. Hugo found his presumptuousness rather irritating, but he was also right — so he didn’t retort with something equally obnoxious.
“Would you be interested in going out?” he offered gallantly instead, tossing back his hair. He flashed his companion a haughty smirk, heart fluttering as he declared, “We can finally go on that date we told Rina about.”
In the process of unbuttoning his uniform, Lycaon glanced over wearily.
“Can you even walk?”
Hugo laughed out loud. He would’ve thought Lycaon was joking if not for the fact that he looked too tired to joke.
“What do you think I’ve been doing all day, crawling?”
“Resting in bed,” Lycaon grunted as he dragged his shirt off. “Like you should have been.”
With a roll of his eyes, Hugo strutted dramatically towards the Thiren like a model on a catwalk.
“Yes, dearest,” he scoffed with an extra sassy sway of his hips, “I can walk.”
Lycaon’s eye narrowed, the crimson glint of his iris darkening and turning hazy in provocation. The Thiren slid a hand over Hugo’s waist as he approached, drawing him in and pinning him snugly against his shirtless torso.
Chuckling smugly, Hugo lifted his chin and greeted his partner’s lips with a brief nuzzle. They hovered there for a while, gazes locked, tasting each other’s familiar scent. He threaded his fingers through the wolf Thiren’s fur, his own skin shivering in delight as he became steeped in Lycaon’s warmth.
Half a day… they had been apart for half a day, and already his heart was aching this badly.
If Lycaon were to leave him again, now, while he was in this state…
His breath caught in his throat. Exhaling a little forcibly, Hugo crushed the thought in the back of his mind and quickly mustered a grin.
“Unless…”
Tilting his head, he leaned closer and taunted Lycaon with a sultry whisper.
“… you’d rather have me for dinner…?”
A low, instinctive rumble rose from his companion’s chest. It grew louder as Lycaon hesitated, clearly tempted… only to dwindle back down as the Thiren stifled himself and slid away.
“Unfortunately,” Lycaon muttered as he changed quickly into a casual button-up shirt, “you require actual sustenance, or you’ll pass out.”
Then, with gentlemanly grace, the Thiren offered his arm for Hugo to hold onto.
Hugo opened his mouth to scoff, but his stomach decided to gurgle very loudly at that exact moment. He stiffened, heat flooding his face as he felt the sudden chaotic need to crawl under the carpet and burst out laughing at the same time.
Lycaon maintained his silence with impressive composure, but his ears twitched very obviously, and his tail began to wag.
Pretending to be miffed, Hugo placed his hand over Lycaon’s arm with the arrogance of a mannered princess.
Lycaon cleared his throat. Hugo could hear, very distinctly, the shadow of a laugh in his hoarse voice.
“Oi.”
He flashed his companion a threatening grin. Unable to fully suppress the smile twitching at his lips, Lycaon averted his gaze and guided him out of the room.
They headed down to the courtyard, where the car had been parked. Lycaon fussed over him even more meticulously than if he were a client — opening the passenger side door, guiding him in with a gentle hand on the back, and even leaning over to buckle his seat belt for him.
Hugo would have liked to point out that he wasn’t a toddler, but he knew his companion would ignore him anyway, so he didn’t waste his breath.
“I apologize for returning so late,” Lycaon began as they drove. “Your blood sugar has been lower than baseline for the past few hours. How are you feeling? Did you eat anything at all?”
“Relax,” Hugo said amusedly, “I survived all these years without you, didn’t I?”
Lycaon sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“… I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” Hugo said ruefully, casting his partner a sideways glance.
“I know,” Lycaon murmured, his gaze fixed ahead and his ears angled downwards in distress.
It was silent for a while before Hugo broke the tension with a slightly exasperated sigh.
“Where are we eating?” he asked, just to make some noise.
“I don’t know.”
He turned and raised an eyebrow dubiously at Lycaon.
“Then where are you driving?”
“Lumina Square,” Lycaon answered, his usual impassive calm restored in his voice. “I presumed we could decide once we’re there. There are plenty of options.”
Hugo scrutinized the Thiren for a while.
“You already have something in mind,” he ended up saying shrewdly, “so just spit it out.”
Ears twitching, Lycaon spared him a brief glance, then admitted in a rather disgruntled mutter.
“… Hotpot.”
“Ah, of course.” Leaning back, Hugo flicked out his fingers with an airy scoff. “A control freak like you would enjoy eating at a restaurant that lets you do the cooking.”
“Because we didn’t get to have it often in the past,” Lycaon said somewhat defensively. “And if I’m a control freak, then what are you?”
“Stubborn,” Hugo replied dismissively.
They pulled into the parking lot by the river and quickly found a spot. As Hugo opened the car door and began to climb out, his tailbone twinged sharply, and he tensed up with a wince.
Lycaon was immediately beside him, hand offered in aid, eye shimmering in anxiety. Hugo gave him a slightly irked smile, but accepted his assistance.
The familiar riverside breeze rippled over them as they left the lot, and Hugo breathed it in with a loud sigh of contentment. The moon was rising, but Lumina Square was still bright and bustling with families out for their evening walk.
“We had hotpot once in the past,” Hugo began as they headed down the familiar street together, his hand still resting casually on Lycaon’s arm. “For your birthday, remember? We stuffed ourselves with meat. Jack must’ve saved for months to get those all-you-can-eat vouchers.”
He lifted his chin and huffed in mock indignation.
“You always were his favourite.”
“He loved you too,” Lycaon murmured, patiently matching his stride. “You just didn’t make it easy for him to express it to you.”
Hugo sighed nostalgically.
“Yeah, well, back then the concept of ‘love’ was pretty confusing to me, so…”
He trailed off. In the pause, Lycaon shifted closer and brushed their shoulders together.
“… I’m guessing that’s no longer the case?” his companion asked quietly.
“Of course not,” Hugo scoffed scornfully. “I’m no longer that troubled child. I mean, I don’t believe it’s some pure, wondrous miracle like they make it out to be in fairytales either, but—”
“Oh?!”
A sudden shout, cheery and familiar, cut him off.
“Hugo! Lycaon!”
In unison, they turned and looked up. Waving down at them from a restaurant’s rooftop patio was the familiar smiling face of the younger Phaethon. Sitting across from her, looking less enthusiastic, was Vivian.
“Well, well!” Hugo called back, smoothly detaching himself from Lycaon and flashing them both a toothy grin. “What a delightful surprise! Good evening, Vivian, Manager. Both of you look absolutely stunning tonight, as you always do.”
Vivian did a half-roll of her eyes. Belle leaned over the railing and offered him a rather cheeky grin back.
“Hehe, careful, you’re gonna make Lycaon jealous.”
Startled, Hugo glanced over his shoulder. The wolf Thiren had closed his eye and was carefully controlling his facial expression, but he had failed to account for his bristling hackles and agitatedly twitching tail.
Feeling their stares, Lycaon cleared his throat.
“Ahem… Miss Belle,” the Thiren said nonchalantly, “I’d advise you not to take his compliments at face value. He always resorts to flattery when planning something underhanded.”
Hugo cast his companion a suggestive smirk.
“Is that so, dear Lycaon?”
Above them, Belle and Vivian both arched their eyebrows. Lycaon cleared his throat again, his tail now wagging quite vigorously behind him.
Chuckling smugly, Hugo left the poor Thiren alone and turned towards his other partner.
“In any case, Vivian, I’m glad to see you out and about,” he said, lifting a hand over his heart in lofty earnestness. “It’s a beautiful evening for a date.”
His smirk widened as he slid his gaze meaningfully towards Belle.
Vivian flashed him a broad smile back.
“It is,” she agreed threateningly.
Innocently, Belle piped up. “Lycaon, Hugo, you guys are matching.”
Stiffening, Hugo glanced over and saw Lycaon do the same. The Thiren had changed into a black button-up shirt and grey pants — in direct complement to Hugo’s grey button-up and black pants.
Lycaon muffled a cough into his fist. “That was… unintentional.”
Hugo sighed forlornly. “A tragic accident.”
Vivian cackled. “Perfect evening for a date.”
“So!” Hugo exclaimed brightly, after adjusting his collar. “How’s the video store doing?”
—At the exact same time Lycaon asked, “Any updates on the Ravenlocks?”
Vivian turned away to muffle her giggling, while Belle looked down at them with a grin from ear to ear.
“The video store is doing well and the Ravenlocks are quiet!” she chirped brightly. “Where are you two headed on this ‘perfect night’?”
“Oh, just some quiet hotpot.” Hugo waved his hand dismissively. “Rina’s staying elsewhere for a few days, and without their star chef, Victoria Housekeeping is devoid of delicious meals.”
Lycaon muffled a sound that resembled choking on a furball.
Chuckling, Belle looked like she would play along — only to be distracted as a server approached with their dessert. It was set gracefully between them and revealed with a dramatic flourish — a beautiful confectionary sculpted into the shape of two birds. They were nuzzling beaks in a nest of spun sugar, and surrounded by artfully crafted sweet petals.
“Wow!” Belle grabbed her fork and lifted it over the birds in rather menacing delight. “This is so fancy!”
Vivian fidgeted nervously with her napkin. “It’s just… the special. They didn’t have the mousse—”
“Aren’t those lovebirds?” Hugo called upwards, pretending he couldn’t see the frantic glare that Vivian was shooting his way. “The details are exquisite — are you aware that they mate for life? The symbolism of the nest means that—”
“Hugo!” Vivian hissed shrilly, tossing a crumpled napkin at him.
Belle blinked curiously at her dining partner, one cheek already puffed out with the head of a bird. “Really?”
“It’s nothing, just decoration—” Vivian spluttered, red-faced. “And they’re just ordinary birds—”
Lycaon, tactfully hiding his smile beneath his fist, cleared his throat loudly.
“Apologies, we didn’t mean to intrude on your romant— I mean, rooftop dinner.”
“Lycaon!”
Ignoring the second hiss he’d earned, the Thiren dipped his head and took a step back.
“We’ll take our leave. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Miss Belle, Miss Vivian.”
Hugo flashed them a wink as his companion began to discreetly tug him away.
“Enjoy your lovebirds!”
“Go away!”
Another crumpled napkin bounced off his head. Lycaon caught it and nonchalantly tossed it in a trash bin as they passed.
“… Do you ever think about how many of your conversations end with someone furious at you?” his companion asked mildly as they turned the corner.
Chuckling, Hugo walked into the Thiren, bumping their shoulders together and staying there, in Lycaon’s warmth.
“Are you calling me adorable again?”
Lycaon heaved a sigh, exasperation and amusement mixed in his voice as he wrapped an arm around Hugo and pulled him closer.
They remained like that, walking intertwined, until they reached the restaurant. Since it was quite late, the venue wasn’t jam-packed like it usually was, and the waitress was able to seat them quickly. They were led to a window booth with a pleasant view of the river, and on unspoken consensus, Lycaon handled the menu, while Hugo went to fetch them sauces and sides.
By the time he returned, the Thiren had just finished ordering. The waitress flashed him a smile before leaving, and he settled comfortably into the booth.
“That was nice — seeing Vivian and the manager,” Hugo began casually, snapping up a peanut from Lycaon’s platter. He had his own, of course, but mischief was a great flavour. “I’m glad she’s still able to enjoy herself despite everything that’s been happening. I’ll have to thank the managers again for all their help… a lavish gift, perhaps?”
He glanced meaningfully at his companion. Lycaon grunted in acknowledgement and seemed to immerse himself in deep, serious thought.
“… A monetary gift may suffice,” the Thiren suggested eventually, though he gave Hugo a concerned glance. “However, with the gallery—”
“Not a problem,” Hugo said with a dismissive flick of his fingers. “I’ve already procured the necessary contracts to guarantee its repair. I’ll have you know, the Mockingbird of today gets by quite well.”
He tilted his head and bared his fangs in a jeering grin.
“Perhaps it’s your absence that makes us successful, dear Lycaon.”
Lycaon sighed, but continued without retaliating.
“You’re planning to repair the gallery?”
“Of course, it’s our home.”
The Thiren made some effort to hide it, but a worried frown shadowed his expression as he gazed back.
“The PubSec investigation hasn’t gotten very far.”
“Good,” Hugo scoffed. “I’d rather they don’t find anything and forget about it. I’m — we’re more than capable of settling this on our own.”
Lycaon averted his gaze. They were silent for a while, picking at their own snacks, before the Thiren sighed and spoke again.
“… We found some of the other drug victims — the codenames.”
Crunching loudly on a radish, Hugo arched an eyebrow in expectation.
“All of them work in legal, finance, or security for TOPS,” Lycaon continued wearily. “It’s difficult for us to investigate any further given the current strain between the Mayflowers and TOPS… but it seems like the Ravenlocks are plotting something against them. Swindling assets through fabricated legal routes, or a more… blatant, form of revenge.”
The Thiren paused slightly, then cast Hugo a guarded look.
“Any updates on your end?”
“Hm…”
Leaning back casually in his seat, Hugo waited for some nearby diners to pass before answering.
“I’ve been tracing a lead from the researcher we met in the Hollow,” he replied briskly. “They mentioned something before they turned — ‘ruby’. It doesn’t align with any of his family or friends, so it might have been a clue, or the codename of someone important. Robin and I are still running through the possible angles.”
A complicated frown crinkled Lycaon’s face, and he stared at Hugo for a long while before admitting, almost abashedly.
“I meant… how are you feeling? With the drug, and the side-effects…”
“Huh? Oh.” Hugo shrugged dismissively. “I’m fine, it’s been so long, the drug has probably already left my system. The only side-effects I have now are the effects of your—”
Lycaon cleared his throat loudly, interrupting his suggestive purr as servers returned with their broth and food. They didn’t seem to notice anything, but the Thiren looked somewhat flustered as he gave them nods of thanks, and Hugo sipped at his tea with a smile.
As expected of the prestigious Victoria Housekeeping’s head attendant, Lycaon took hotpot extremely seriously. He added their ingredients in a strict order, separated by calculated lengths of cooking, and wiped the table so meticulously that it looked shinier than when they’d arrived.
Once the corn, tomato slices, and dried mushrooms had been simmering for a while, Lycaon began to cook the meat. He draped a thin slice of beef carefully on the edge of the ladle, lowered it into the broth, and monitored it with the precision of someone defusing a weapon of mass destruction. Once it was perfectly tender, he lifted it up, tapped the excess broth off, and draped it gracefully onto Hugo’s plate.
Hugo found the entire process very amusing. After all, the last time they’d sat around a pot like this, he and this same Thiren had wrestled over practically every piece of meat. It had been a chaotic mess of sauce and stains and Jack’s helpless smile.
But credit where credit was due, it was delicious — juicy, perfectly cooked, and tinged with the flavour-enhancing items that Lycaon had insisted on adding first. Hugo groaned in appreciation and gazed almost deliriously up at the wolf Thiren as he swallowed.
“Uhngh, you always know exactly how I like my meat handled—”
Someone from the next booth over choked rather audibly. A half-second later, their waitress appeared and skid to a halt, both eyebrows arched in an openly incredulous stare.
“… Would you like more tea?” she managed to ask.
Hugo flashed them a beam. Lycaon remained completely focused on cooking, his ears flattened and his tail swishing restlessly against the bench.
“Perfect timing — yes, please.”
He laughed once the waitress had left and Lycaon grimaced, finally admitting his fluster — though that didn’t stop the Thiren from gifting three more slices of meat onto Hugo’s plate.
They made their way leisurely through the food, though Lycaon remained so invested in the cooking process that Hugo began to feed him so that he’d actually eat.
“You know, you look very dependable doing that,” he mused, leaning back and appreciating the sight for a moment. Lycaon, wrapped snugly in a tight apron, his sleeves rolled back and his muscular forearms tense with effort as he tended to the broth.
“Doing what?” Lycaon grunted indifferently.
Hugo flicked out his fingers in a profound gesture. “Cooking hotpot for your beloved. Watching over my portions. Silently judging my sauce choices.”
The Thiren spared him a frown.
“You mixed sesame and soy sauce with strawberry jam.”
Hugo touched his heart in mock offence. “It’s good like this.”
“You’re insane.”
Matter-of-factly, Lycaon blew the steam off a meatball and gently offered it towards his lips.
Leaning forward, Hugo parted his lips and took the piece of meat into his mouth. Locking eyes with Lycaon, he tautened his lips and dragged it slowly off his companion’s chopsticks.
Lycaon’s pupils flared, but it was only his visible reaction as he set his chopsticks back down and reached for his tea.
Swallowing, Hugo relished the lingering taste of deliciousness for a moment. Then he glanced at Lycaon and solemnly declared—
“Let’s get married.”
Lycaon promptly spluttered on his tea.
“… I assume that’s a joke,” he rasped, dabbing at his muzzle with a napkin.
Chuckling, Hugo grabbed the tongs and fished out some food for his companion.
“You can assume whatever you want.”
Once they had gone through most of the meat, Lycaon stopped fussing over the pot and actually sat down to eat. Hugo was already quite full by then, and was just picking bits and pieces from the broth and nibbling at his sides.
“Eat more,” Lycaon murmured, glancing at his empty plate. Hugo had the nagging impression that his companion was also remembering their past food fights.
“I am.” Leaning forward, Hugo rested his chin in his hands and sighed dreamily. “I’m feasting with my eyes.”
Lycaon cast him a wary look.
“… On what.”
“You, obviously.”
Nestled against the bench, Lycaon’s tail stirred. But his voice was low and smooth as he replied.
“Fortunately for you, I don’t charge by the glance.”
Hugo tilted his head, amusement twitching at his lips.
“Would I get a loyalty discount if you did?”
“No, but you might earn a private tasting,” Lycaon replied calmly. “Although you wouldn’t be the only one indulging.”
Bubbles popped in his chest. Hugo stared at his companion, grinning uncontrollably. Lycaon snuck a glance at him before turning nonchalantly back to his food.
Against his better judgement, Hugo ended up eating more. It was simply too delicious, the vegetables and the udon that Lycaon added at the end, all soaked up with flavourful broth. By the time they had finished everything they had ordered, he was very, very full.
Sitting back in his seat, Hugo groaned.
“Ugh, I’m stuffed…”
He threw Lycaon an accusatory look, annoyed by how composed the Thiren looked as he dabbed at his muzzle with a handkerchief.
“This is all your fault, Lycaon… it’s the second night in a row that I can’t walk straight because of you…”
The waitress, passing by at that exact moment, stiffened mid-step beside their table.
Lycaon’s ears twitched. Hugo looked away and stifled his laughter as the Thiren coolly asked for the bill.
Once they had paid, Lycaon ushered him out before they could make anyone else choke on their food. As they stepped out into the cool, shadowed streets, the Thiren heaved an immense sigh of relief, and Hugo finally let his laughter out.
“You’re insufferable,” Lycaon muttered, sliding a hand gently onto the curve of his back.
“It’s a nice night,” Hugo said airily, once he’d recovered from his chortles. He turned and grinned up at his companion. “What do you say we get up to some more mischief?”
Lycaon gazed back, his expression wary but his crimson eye glimmering fondly.
“Depends on the mischief.”
Flinging an arm around his companion, Hugo declared gallantly, “Let’s grab some drinks from 141, head to the playground, and bathe in the moonlight!”
He flashed Lycaon a smug, sharp-toothed beam.
“A little bird told me you used to do such things.”
Lycaon coughed, his tail swishing behind them as they set off in unspoken agreement.
“How long have you been watching me?”
“Me?” Hugo scoffed in mock offence. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I have better things to do. Aren’t you the one who kept showing up wherever I went, not that long ago? What were your exact words?” He quoted his companion with exaggerated pompousness. “‘If I were stalking you, you wouldn’t ever know’?”
Flustered, Lycaon cleared his throat, his grip tightening slightly around Hugo’s waist in warning.
“I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything…”
Laughing, Hugo pulled away and spun around, grabbing Lycaon by the front of his shirt and tugging him close as they tumbled haphazardly across the square.
They each bought a drink from 141 — Lycaon chose a mini bottle of classic whiskey, while Hugo became distracted by a sale. His usual go-to was the bloodberry vodka cooler, but he ended up walking out with a ridiculously pink and glittery ‘rose sparkling jelly sake’.
They laughed about it as they crossed the street and headed towards the playground. It was quiet there, as expected at this time of night, and the moon was fat and bright in the clear sky. They leaned against the railings, breathed in the riverside breeze, and sipped serenely at their drinks.
“… What’s the alcohol content of your sake?” Lycaon murmured after a while, casting him a slightly wary glance.
The Thiren was probably remembering the last time he’d seen Hugo around alcohol. Last time, they had ended up tumbling into bed together.
Hugo chuckled. “I’m not a lightweight, Lycaon. That particular instance was an exception.”
He paused, hesitating, the pleasant wind stirring his vulnerabilities. Then, in an almost inaudible whisper, he confessed into the darkness.
“… It was because I missed you.”
He felt Lycaon stir beside him. The Thiren didn’t say anything, but Lycaon’s tail brushed the back of his legs in a comforting sort of way.
Hugo looked up at the night sky, silent. He was aware of Lycaon’s gaze lingering on his face, but he didn’t feel like looking over right now. He didn’t think he could meet his companion’s gentle gaze and still pretend to be composed.
After some time, Lycaon softly broke the silence.
“Why did you change your mind? … About us.”
Hugo mustered an amused scoff.
“Have you forgotten already? That clingy client of yours — you know, the one who imprinted her lips on your face and practically shoved your arm between her breasts.”
Lycaon heaved a faint sigh. He knew he hadn’t answered his companion’s question — Lycaon had meant before that… much, much before that.
But the Thiren didn’t press him for the real answer, and as the silence thickened once again between them, Hugo sighed and admitted solemnly.
“I don’t know exactly when.”
He lifted his gaze to the moon again. It was plump and beautiful today, yet beside him, Lycaon’s stare remained mesmerized only by him.
“It could have been as early as when I told you — ‘I never said I’d forgive you’.”
His throat constricted at the memory. The pain he had felt then still echoed sharply in the shadows of his chest.
“I think… I subconsciously realized that it didn’t matter. Forgive you — I won’t. Nor do I need to.”
He paused for a moment, lowering his gaze to the river. The reflected lights blurred in and out of focus as he drew in a quiet breath.
“After all, even without forgiving you… we had already enjoyed many moments together, hadn’t we? Moments where the happiness eclipsed the pain. Moments where I trusted you unequivocally. Moments where you were still, undeniably… my dearest partner.”
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as his mask crumbled from the weight of his emotions.
“Then, all those other events happened… you returned the keys and stopped coming by. I got drunk…” He chuckled, but it faded quickly. “The fire, where I overheard what you said to that officer…”
He breathed in deeply, controlling the warmth and the ache and the agony swelling all at once beneath his ribcage.
“By then, I already knew what I wanted. I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Well, forcing yourself into my bed was one way to do it,” Lycaon said dryly.
A laugh cut through the tension in his chest, harsh but relieving. Turning his head, Hugo looked over and finally met his companion’s gaze.
The tenderness in Lycaon’s expression softened even more as their eyes met.
“… What about now?” the Thiren murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Does seeing me… still cause you pain?”
Hugo stirred. Then, he bent over the railing and touched his lower back with an exaggerated wince.
“Ugh, yes,” he groaned. “I’d say your presence has left more than a few aches—”
Lycaon scoffed and took a swig of his whiskey, ears twitching and tail wagging. But as his performance faded with the wind, Hugo’s smile eased from his face.
Lowering his hand, he gazed back out over the river, at the moon’s trembling reflection.
“… What do you think, Lycaon?”
His whisper echoed in the silence.
His companion didn’t speak.
They stood there, leaning slightly against each other’s shoulders. The breeze brushed Hugo’s hair across his cheek and rustled through Lycaon’s fur.
They shared it together — all of it. The air, the moonlight, the silence. It was the same as it had been all those years ago, and it would continue to be the same in the future.
He knew Lycaon’s answer. It was the truth.
Yes. It does.
But that pain was like the incessant waves rippling over the reflected lights.
No matter how many times the dark water fractured the moon, its glowing silhouette — like their bond — would always… again, and again…
… reform.
Chapter Text
Lycaon drove home slower than usual, one hand on the wheel, the other lingering between their seats, close but not daring to sneak closer. Hugo sat reclined in the passenger seat, gazing drowsily at the blurred lights ahead, soothed by the meal and the drinks they’d enjoyed after.
They hit a long red light on the empty road, where Lycaon’s hand eventually braved the distance between them. Reaching over, the Thiren’s warm fingertips slid gently between Hugo’s knuckles, rousing him from his daze.
Lolling his head, he threw his companion a vague smile, enjoying how Lycaon was pretending to be all composed as he stared nonchalantly ahead.
“Is this why you can’t stay out after midnight?” he drawled, rubbing a finger teasingly between Lycaon’s. “You get sappy?”
“It’s not sappy,” Lycaon replied matter-of-factly. “It’s love.”
Hugo snorted and almost hit his head on the window.
“Charming,” he said dryly, pretending to be very interested in a dark storefront outside.
Damnit, he could see his grin reflected in the glass. He could feel it stretching his cheeks.
The light turned green. Feeling Lycaon’s reluctance to let go, Hugo took the lead and swatted his hand away with exaggerated sass.
“Hands on the wheel, chauffeur.”
By the time they reached the garage, Hugo was having difficulty suppressing his yawns. Stepping out of the car first, Lycaon opened the door and helped him out of the car with a bow and a solemn murmur.
“Your kingdom awaits, my lord.”
Smiling crookedly, Hugo accepted his hand with an equally dramatic curtsy.
Hands still intertwined, they made their way up the stairs and through the quiet, dim corridors. As they passed Butler’s office, Hugo spotted their Bangboos charging together. He paused in the doorway, eyebrow raised incredulously as he observed their tangled power chords.
“Are they… cuddling?”
Leaning over his shoulder, Lycaon murmured quietly in his ear.
“I believe the technical term is ‘daisy-chaining’.”
Twitching away from the Thiren’s warm breath, Hugo scoffed and shoved him aside.
“Romantic as ever.”
He pulled ahead, not noticing the perplexed expression that flickered over Lycaon’s face. Entering the bedroom first, Hugo headed straight for the Thiren’s chair and plopped into it with a sigh. As he relaxed and began to unbutton his shirt, Lycaon strode over and knelt down in front of him.
There, head bowed and face shadowed beneath his long bangs, the Thiren grasped Hugo’s ankle and gently began to roll off his socks.
Caught off guard, Hugo stared down at his companion, overcome with a strange sense of nostalgia. There had been many times, he realized… many times when Lycaon had knelt before him like this, in apparent loyalty. The emotions that he had felt in those moments still swirled in his chest, too vivid to be erased. Amusement… satisfaction… warmth.
But what he felt now was more complex, tainted by that ever-present throb of doubt. He could enjoy this, easily, as a joke. But to accept Lycaon’s sincerity, in its entirety…
Slowly, his sock was slid away. Lycaon’s fingertips brushed into the arch of his foot as he gently set Hugo’s foot down.
Removing his other sock just as delicately, the Thiren grasped his heel and slid his fingers upwards, onto Hugo’s ankle bone. Slipping beneath the cuff of his pant leg, Lycaon grazed his leg, his touch irresistibly warm.
Hugo felt his breath catch. He looked down at the Thiren, mesmerized, not even realizing when or how he’d fallen so deeply into Lycaon’s stare. They gazed at each other in the dark room, entranced, their slow, heavy breaths the only sound in the silence.
Gradually, Lycaon’s hand shifted higher, past the curve of his knee, tracing his thighs inwards. His palms brushed beneath Hugo’s loosened shirt and nestled around his hips, cradling him. His touch was loose at the moment, but Hugo could feel the tension in his fingertips, in his sharp claws… he knew Lycaon was capable of doing far more with this position.
Breathless and tingling, Hugo pressed his lips together, his chin lifting and his lashes fluttering low as he felt a gentle tug at his waistband. Slowly, the taut fabric of his pants slid away, and cool air replaced the tension around his thighs. Leaning back, Hugo uttered a soft, sensual sigh and instinctively opened up his legs.
Shifting closer, Lycaon grasped the edges of his shirt. As his companion’s body warmth pressed closer to his skin, Hugo felt a deep throb — not quite lust, but not pain, either. He wasn’t sure what it was or where it was coming from, but it was heavy, and it tugged on his insides in a way that he couldn’t ignore.
“… If you undress me any more tenderly,” he whispered, reaching over and threading his fingers through Lycaon’s hair, “… I’ll start getting ideas.”
A glimmer of moonlight glinted through Lycaon’s iris, and he leaned closer to breathe a reply on Hugo’s lips.
“You get ‘ideas’ when I so much as hand you a fork.”
The Thiren’s murmur was wry but soaked in affection. Hugo lifted a hand over his lips and muffled a melodramatic gasp.
“How scandalous!”
Chuckling, Lycaon eased Hugo’s shirt away, then rose to his feet. Resting a palm against the back of his chair, the Thiren bent over and kissed him earnestly on the cheek.
“Go on,” Hugo scoffed, batting him aside. “You must be dying to take a shower.”
Lycaon’s tail swished in agreement, but the Thiren didn’t pull away. He lingered there, looming over Hugo, gazing at him with yearning and hesitation pulsing from the crimson tendrils of his eye.
The intensity of his companion’s stare made Hugo start to feel self-conscious. Hiding his fluster, he tilted his head and blinked challengingly back.
“… What?”
Lycaon’s pupil dilated, then flickered downward. As Hugo instinctively followed his gaze, fingers slid beneath his chin and gently coaxed his face upwards.
He glanced back up, his breath catching in surprise as he found Lycaon leaning in.
Tentatively, their lips slid together. Hugo’s immediate instinct was to brace himself and he tensed, his breath clenching in his chest, confusion and wariness tingling through his fists.
… But Lycaon didn’t demand anything. The warmth tingling at his tongue was gentle and intoxicatingly sweet. They breathed softly on each other, tilting their heads, exchanging hazy glances. And eventually… Hugo relaxed.
He closed his eyes and parted his lips, straining upwards, closer, towards Lycaon… into the kiss.
He shuddered as it filled him, Lycaon’s warmth, his taste, his tongue… the lingering tension in his spine melted away as his companion cupped his jaw and pulled him closer.
“Nm…”
He uttered a faint moan, and a quiet huff, ragged but restrained, rubbed against the back of his tongue in response. Curling his fingers into Lycaon’s fur, Hugo dragged his companion closer, clinging to him, almost forcing him into the chair with him.
But Lycaon remained steady, one hand braced against the back of the chair, the other warm and assertive against his face. They parted only once Hugo had run out of breath and stayed with their foreheads brushing, panting heavily against each other’s parted lips.
His vision had gone blurry, and Hugo could feel his fingers twitching with strange, reverberating pangs. Restless, he sought out his companion’s gaze, struggling to convey his bewilderment… his need.
What was that for…?
Gazing back at him, Lycaon’s hand slid along his cheek in a gentle caress. But the Thiren no longer looked calm… his features were piqued in a perplexed look. It was the same expression he had worn earlier in the hallway.
“… Is it not enough?”
Still completely confused, Hugo stared back, his chest heaving as he fought to recover his breath.
“… Romantic,” Lycaon explained, his gaze averting slightly before focusing back on Hugo. “I know I wasn’t in the past,” he murmured almost sulkily, “but I can be, now, if that is your wish.”
… Huh?
Hugo felt his eyes widen in amazement as he stared up at his companion — this Thiren who had once hot-headedly fumbled through affection and tenderness with snarls and flushed fur. As he realized that Lycaon was pouting — upset over that offhanded ‘romantic as ever’ remark he’d carelessly tossed earlier… a breathless chortle burst from his lips.
Grasping Lycaon’s face in his hands, Hugo ruffled the Thiren’s cheek fur fondly.
“You taste like meat and whiskey,” he whispered in amusement. “Do you think that’s romantic?”
Warmth flared beneath his palm as Lycaon flushed and looked away. Chuckling, Hugo tousled his fur some more.
“It was a joke, Lycaon. If you get any more affectionate, I’ll combust.”
Catching Lycaon’s wary glance, he raised an eyebrow teasingly.
“Do you want that on your conscience?”
Lycaon’s ears twitched, and his tail slowly began to wag. Light shimmered in his eye as it became wide and doleful, unconsciously slipping into a puppy-like stare.
“… A little.”
Laughing again, Hugo leaned in and kissed him on the nose.
“Hurry up and shower,” he then scoffed, pushing his companion away. “Unless…”
Leaning back, he dragged a fingertip gingerly down the front of his bare chest, smirking as he tilted his head and bared the alluring contours of his neck and collarbone.
“… you’d like my assistance again?”
Lycaon stiffened, his hackles immediately bristling. The Thiren hesitated for a moment, expression shadowed beneath his bangs, clearly conflicted.
Then, in a sudden burst of movement, the Thiren swarmed in. Grabbing Hugo around the waist, Lycaon lifted him up easily, practically tossing him into the air before catching him in a bridal carry.
Laughing, Hugo wrapped an arm around the Thiren’s shoulder and pretended to flail.
“Seriously?!”
The room lurched as he was tossed roughly into bed, his braid unfurling and his golden hair spilling over the pillow. He gasped in mock terror as Lycaon fell over him, knees straddling his hips, hands pinning his wrists. His companion’s crimson eye gleamed ominously as he leaned down, and Hugo strained his lips upwards with a grin.
He breathed in headily as they kissed, his entire body arching towards Lycaon’s warmth as he relished the contact with a pleased shudder. Their tongues slid together enthusiastically, lips warm and velvet-soft as they pulled on each other’s hair and enjoyed a heated but tender embrace.
Heat throbbed through Hugo’s groin as they rubbed naturally against each other and he wrapped his arms more tightly around Lycaon, pulling the Thiren closer and forcing his tongue deeper, demanding more. A growl rippled through his companion’s chest and he twitched in excitement as Lycaon’s arms tensed against him, but…
The Thiren pulled away.
Ignoring his breathless whine, Lycaon planted a final firm, wet kiss against his cheek.
“It’s late,” he muttered in a low, gravelly voice. “You should rest. Sleep first… I’ll join you shortly.”
Swiftly, before Hugo could grab him and make him stay, Lycaon fled. Darting across the dark room, he escaped into the bathroom and shut the door with a suspicious degree of urgency.
Left alone, Hugo blinked up at the ceiling, then rolled on his side and faced the bathroom. He gazed at the door for a moment, watching the shadows moving behind the glowing cracks, a smile unconsciously twitching at his lips.
Then, he rolled the other way, towards Lycaon’s side of the bed. Pulling his companion’s pillow close, he hugged it beneath him and took a deep whiff of its scent, relaxing as familiarity soothed his limbs.
In the near distance, the shower turned on. Hugo’s eyelids began to droop as the rhythmic splatter of water lulled him into a half-conscious stupor.
… It had been a strange twenty-four hours. It was even stranger to think that it had only been twenty-four hours. That only yesterday, he had been pacing this room, anxious that this would never happen… that they would never make it here.
At some point while Hugo was waiting, his eyes closed completely, and he nodded off against Lycaon’s pillow. But his sleep wasn’t deep, and he woke again not long after.
The moon had shifted, and the sound of water had quietened. Lycaon was beside him, squished in the sliver of mattress that Hugo hadn’t occupied, without a pillow.
Huffing wryly, Hugo pulled on the Thiren’s tail and slid back, exposing space for Lycaon to reclaim. Lycaon stirred and looked over, his crimson gaze hazy with exhaustion. In his drowsiness, it took the Thiren a moment to understand the offer… but he sidled over once he did.
Once his companion had settled in, Hugo tossed the blanket over him and snuggled close, burrowing his face into the Thiren’s shoulder and breathing in his freshly-shampooed fur with a deep sigh of satisfaction. Resting his arm comfortably over his companion’s shirtless torso, Hugo brushed his fingers lightly across Lycaon’s chest, soothed by the sensation of fluff threading between his knuckles.
Lycaon took a deep breath and held it, his chest bloated and his silence strained. Then, the Thiren exhaled it slowly, steadily… and didn’t speak.
… He was holding back.
Amused, Hugo stirred from his drowsiness.
“You know…” he began breathily, resting his forehead snugly against Lycaon’s bicep. “Even when we were enemies… it felt reassuring, being near you.”
A lingering pain throbbed in his chest. Closing his eyes, Hugo curled a strand of the Thiren’s chest fur around his finger and masked his confession behind a jeer.
“Sworn enemy or not, I knew your oh-so-righteous self wouldn’t let anything terrible happen.”
In a husky and exquisitely deep voice, Lycaon rumbled, “Is that why you left me as your emergency contact in the city registration?”
Startled, Hugo gathered enough energy to raise his head.
“I have a city registration?”
Lycaon blinked at him, rue and amusement intermingled in his sparkling iris.
“So you didn’t know… that makes more sense.”
The Thiren closed his eye and sighed. Relaxing back against him, Hugo frowned thoughtfully to himself, his brain sluggish but struggling to churn. Lycaon’s chest fur was starting to become very curly.
“… Perhaps Jack made one for you before he passed,” Lycaon breathed. “Maybe he wanted to ensure I’d be able to find you if something really did happen.”
Hugo scoffed. “More like you’d be able to end me.”
Sighing again, Lycaon rolled towards him and dragged him into a warm hug.
“I love you too, you know.”
“Almost as much as you love everyone else?” Hugo replied, his voice ginger beneath the teasing tone.
Growling, Lycaon embraced him tighter, suffocating him in aromatic fluff.
“I don’t have these kinds of feelings for anyone else. I never have, and I doubt I ever will.”
Hugo joked again, his voice cracking this time. Luckily, he had the excuse of being crushed to explain his failing composure.
“But of course, how could you possibly despise anyone else this much?”
Rumbling, Lycaon squeezed him threateningly.
“You’re insufferable.”
Hugo wheezed and smacked the Thiren’s back, putting on a dramatic display of surrender — though in truth, Lycaon’s hug was actually starting to hurt.
Lycaon resisted stubbornly for a few more seconds, then reluctantly eased away. As they looked at each other in the darkness, Hugo realized that there was genuine distress on his companion’s face.
Smiling ruefully, he lifted a hand onto Lycaon’s cheek and brushed his thumb gently over the Thiren’s bangs, nudging them away from his scarred eye.
“You’ve always had a big heart,” he heard himself whisper, his voice hushed with regret. Even when they had been young, Hugo had known that Lycaon would suffer, irreversibly, one day. He had always feared it. His companion had always been the kind of person who would leap in front of a stranger without a second thought.
Arrogance… that was all his younger self had seen. He hadn’t understood how anyone could possibly be so foolish. Genuine kindness did not exist in this world, hence Hugo could only believe that Lycaon was merely fulfilling his own self-serving ‘savior complex’.
Whenever his partner took unnecessary risks or ruined their plans for someone else’s sake — Hugo would be furious. They would fight, and they would stop speaking for days.
But he had never considered that someday… it might be because of him.
“I wish it weren’t so naïve… but I suppose that’s not always a bad thing.”
Lycaon’s disgruntled rumbling softened into a purr. The Thiren didn’t reply with words, but leaned close and nuzzled Hugo reassuringly on the cheek.
Reflexively, they shifted closer, their legs sliding together and tangling beneath the blankets. Burrowing his face into Lycaon’s neck, Hugo wrapped his arms around his companion and hugged him back, tightly.
He exhaled, forcibly expelling the tension that had locked down his throat. Seeking comfort, he began to dip his fingers into the muscular contours of Lycaon’s back, absentmindedly tapping the Thiren’s shoulder blades as though playing an instrument.
Almost unconsciously, a hum formed in his throat, vague and husky with sleepiness. He felt Lycaon stir, then relax against him, as though enjoying the lullaby and his wandering caress.
The tune continued as he roamed his companion’s body, feeling out the dips and ridges of Lycaon’s sturdy physique. Skimming his fingertips lightly over the Thiren’s shoulder, he eventually grazed a coarse gap in his partner’s fur.
His humming faded. The silence continued somberly as Hugo began to trace a scar winding down Lycaon’s arm. It led to another, then another… there were many, scattered all over his companion’s body.
Lycaon’s breath stilled in awareness, but he didn’t break the silence. His crimson gaze shone earnestly at Hugo through the darkness, but Hugo focused on the shadows, unable to meet that light.
His touch began to tremble. He followed the path of a jagged wound down Lycaon’s hip, onto his thigh. This was an older scar… one that Hugo knew intimately.
He breathed in, only to falter, surprised, as a gentle touch tapped the back of his thigh. He looked up to see Lycaon gazing back, awaiting him with remorse shimmering in his iris.
Hugo had a scar there, too. It curved around the back and outer side of his left thigh, one of the only blemishes in his milky skin. If they pressed their legs together, like they were doing now, it lined up perfectly with Lycaon’s scar.
“… This one,” Hugo mumbled, his voice breathless from the tingles left by Lycaon’s caress. Sliding his finger along Lycaon’s leg, he splayed his hand over where their scars met. “Do you still think it was worth it?”
He could still remember it clearly — the Hollow’s shattered corridor, smothered in thick Etheric fog and pulsing with red light… the frantic echo of their footsteps on the slick tiles, and the thunderous snarl of the Ethereal on their heels.
He remembered the moment Lycaon suddenly lurched back, reaching through the debris and the exploding cement for a tiny glint of gold that had fallen from his pocket — oblivious, to the screeching blade gouging through the stone towards him.
Hugo hadn’t stopped to think. He’d pivoted and thrown himself at his partner, even more blindly than that stupid mutt.
He remembered the heat, the agony, and the nauseatingly wet hiss of the Ethereal’s weapon tearing through his limb.
But more than anything… he remembered the pure terror of breathing air drenched in the scent of Lycaon’s blood.
“I don’t know,” Lycaon admitted heavily. “You were hurt, too.”
Despite his somber tone, a smile twitched onto the Thiren’s lips, and he lowered his head to chuckle.
“You were also so enraged you stopped talking to me for a week.”
Slightly irked, Hugo squeezed his companion’s face.
“Because you almost died for a stupid trinket.”
“It wasn’t stupid,” Lycaon whispered, grasping his wrists but not pulling away. The Thiren gazed fondly out at him from within his squished cheeks. “It was a gift from you.”
“Oh?” Hugo scoffed scornfully, “and where is that ‘precious’ gift now?”
Leaning close, Lycaon nuzzled him on the lips.
“Safe.”
Surprised, Hugo fell still. His gaze flickered past the Thiren’s ears, to the shadowed silhouette of the pocket watch on the dresser. He had caught a glimpse of its interior once, but he thought he had been mistaken. Could that actually have been…?
Giving himself an internal shake, Hugo hastily retracted the thought. Impossible — there was no way Lycaon would have put a gift from his enemy inside something that he looked at every day.
Still… mistaken or not… affection swelled beneath his ribcage, softening his heart. Sidling closer to Lycaon, he rubbed his cheek against his partner’s fur. He was suddenly very conscious of the Thiren… of how good he felt, covered in hard muscle and warm fur.
Sliding his hands lower, Hugo began to touch Lycaon again, caressing his fingertips gently over the Thiren’s collarbone, feeling the grooves along his shoulders, and easing his palm over his chest. He held his breath, tingling with a strange sense of awe as he explored… as though unable to believe that he was allowed to be here… to be this close.
Their legs remained tangled beneath the sheets, their body heat pooling between them as they inevitably shifted closer. They breathed in each other’s musk, the space between their faces growing warm and heady as their noses brushed. Hugo could see his companion’s lashes fluttering, his crimson eye hazy and mesmerized… reflecting his own daze.
He continued to roam, admiring the defined ridges of his companion’s abdomen, then slowly dragging his fingers upwards, back onto the Thiren’s chest. Lycaon twitched slightly, and their noses bumped. A faint smirk flickered onto Hugo’s lips as their pupils locked together and pulsed with something darker… more aware.
Lycaon’s breathing had changed — Hugo was acutely aware of it, the sluggish tinge of arousal in his sighs, the huskiness of his inhales. Tilting his head, he brushed his lips against the edge of the Thiren’s jaw.
He began to touch lower, his hands frisking over Lycaon’s hip, dragging a visible trail through his fur. Lycaon’s gaze remained fixated on him, shadowed but tense, heavy with a veiled storm. The Thiren didn’t move, but Hugo could feel the force locked within his taut muscles.
Slowly, he shifted his thigh between Lycaon’s legs and rubbed himself upwards, towards the Thiren’s growing heat. His companion muffled a terse grunt and promptly grabbed him by the thigh.
“This is where I’m obliged to warn you.”
“What?” Hugo purred breathily, angling his head and fluttering his lashes. “That if I keep going, you won’t be able to stop?”
“Yes.”
“My answer remains the same.”
Easing out of Lycaon’s grasp, Hugo pushed the Thiren onto his back and climbed on top, straddling his companion down. He spread his palm over Lycaon’s chest to balance himself, then bent over and nudged his companion’s lips with a cajoling kiss.
Lycaon’s sharp fingernails scraped his waist and he muffled a low growl into Hugo’s throat, his entire body tense and simmering with threat. But Lycaon didn’t try to stop him… not even as he began to tease, dragging his hips back and forth over the rigid shape swelling rapidly beneath him.
“… Mm—”
Roused by the pleasure starting to swirl between his thighs, Hugo pulled away from the kiss first. Lycaon let him escape from that too without protest, hands pressing gently into the curves of Hugo’s waist.
“Your self-control seems quite steady tonight,” Hugo mused, licking his lips.
His partner gazed back up at him, expression groggy and crimson iris hazy but glowing with something hot and vibrant.
Thickly, Lycaon mumbled.
“… I won’t correct you.”
“Oh?”
Smirking, Hugo leaned back and opened up his legs. He could see Lycaon’s gaze darting helplessly inwards, but he placed his arm in front of his groin — pretending to be steadying himself while hiding what he knew the Thiren was hungry to see. As his palm pushed into Lycaon’s lower abdomen, he felt his companion’s body heave in frustration, and he bit back a chuckle.
“Are you trying to lure me into a false sense of security?”
Arching forward, he dragged himself over Lycaon’s crotch. It had become hot and rocklike, and it bulged into him with such oppressive rigidity that it already felt incredibly good just grinding against it.
Hugo sighed headily, and at the sound of his sensual voice, it pulsed against him. Rubbing back over it, he spread his legs wider, showcasing how its arch jutted into the dip of his buttocks even as his weight pressed it down.
Lycaon didn’t speak, but his expression twisted in extreme distress. Relishing that face, Hugo flashed his fangs in a grin, his own erection tautening in arousal.
Wriggling purposefully over the Thiren’s tent, Hugo ran a hand down his own body, guiding his companion’s frenzied stare over his slender torso. He hooked a thumb into the elastic of his briefs and pulled it away from his skin, dragging it teasingly down… only to snap it back over the ridge of his pelvis.
Lycaon’s ear twitched sharply at the noise, and the Thiren’s eye glinted with resentment. The savagery of his gaze made Hugo burn, and he uttered a restless pant. He could feel himself growing heavy and damp, and he was almost embarrassed by how aroused he was getting… of how much Lycaon could see, in this position.
But that wasn’t enough to stop him. Right now, his desire was stronger.
Slipping his fingers back into the elastic of his briefs, Hugo began to squirm it down — tauntingly, slowly removing the only article of clothing protecting him from that pulsing beast. Lycaon watched in silence, his glare fierce and narrowed, his tail sweeping agitatedly through the blankets.
Hugo loved seeing him like this, drowning beneath that façade, suffering from his self-imposed restraints…
Lifting his other arm over his head, he arched his body with a gusty sigh, feigning an innocent stretch as he dragged one side of his briefs down his pale thigh. He exposed just enough of his groin to give Lycaon a peek, the contours of his pelvis curving inwards towards the flushed skin of his nether regions — and stopped, grinning devilishly, enjoying the sensation of his companion throbbing helplessly beneath him.
Only once Lycaon began to look truly desperate did Hugo proceed. Pushing his briefs a little lower, he pulled the elastic away from his skin, then dramatically let go. It pulled taut around his hips at the widest girth, squeezing the flesh of his curves and snuggling against his genitals. His erection peeked over the top, just its flushed and dewy tip, aching and tingling from the ferocity of Lycaon’s stare.
“Enjoying the view?”
He smirked down at his companion, expecting Lycaon to get flustered and start spluttering some silly excuse — only to be startled as his taunt was pierced by a deep, gravelly answer.
“Immensely.”
Lycaon’s hands slid around his ankles and tightened there, possessively.
“To call it as view would be a disservice,” Lycaon crooned in a low, groggy voice. “You’re exquisite, Hugo… your every movement, your every tremble. Your allure, in this moment, is so incredibly surreal that I almost feel as though I’m dreaming…”
The Thiren’s hand caressed upwards, sliding along the length of his leg and onto his inner thighs. Hugo huffed restlessly, his entire body clenching as tingles of anticipation shot through his spine.
He shuddered, and he knew Lycaon felt it. The mass beneath him throbbed wildly in response, but Lycaon’s gaze remained steady… fixated, loyally, on him.
“You could ask me for anything right now…” Lycaon breathed, his voice thick and hoarse and almost a ravaged groan.
“… and I’d give it.”
Chapter Text
A thrilling shudder tore through Hugo’s spine, and he couldn’t help but gasp. Somehow, despite how desperate Lycaon sounded right now, the Thiren still exuded an aura that was vividly… imposing. As though he knew that even if Hugo was holding the leash right now… he was still the one who would end up being devoured.
Hugo clung to his pride, his smirk, his mask… but everything was crumbling by the second. Heat crawled up his neck, and his hips twitched with every subtle stroke that Lycaon traced across his pale skin. He parted his lips to scoff, to regain control, but all he managed was a trembling pant and a stifled moan as Lycaon’s grip tightened possessively around his upper thighs.
Pushing his knuckles deliberately into Hugo’s delicate parts, Lycaon rubbed him there, watching his every reaction with intense admiration, hungrily consuming every flaw in his performance.
“I could spend… all… night, watching you like this…” Lycaon breathed, cupping his intimate bits and massaging them tenderly. The Thiren’s eye glimmered, his expression so hypnotized, so laden with adoration that his caress began to feel like worship.
“Listening to you breathe as I touch you… feeling you quiver beneath my hands… seeing you flush as you become too flustered to think…”
Heat surged into his face. Breaking, Hugo averted his gaze, his lips trembling as he fought to salvage a hoarse scoff.
“Y-You—”
“Don’t look away.”
He stiffened. Lycaon’s rumble surged through every nerve ending in his body, paralyzing him with a shudder so harsh that it was almost painful to endure.
“… Look at me.”
His heart lurched, then began to race. Unsteadily, as though forcefully dragged, Hugo glanced back at the Thiren and surrendered his gaze to that raw, untamed stare.
Lycaon moved in, holding him by the hips as he sat up. His partner’s shadow fell over him as the Thiren leaned forward and pushed their lips together.
Hugo tensed, his fingers twitching against Lycaon as he instinctively braced himself for savagery — but their embrace was gentle. He wasn’t slammed back into the mattress, but instead savoured, tenderly, his lips turning warm and soft against Lycaon’s tongue.
Slowly, the tension eased from his shoulders. His lashes fluttered as he fell limp, his breathing becoming relieved and honest, his lips parting as he welcomed his companion deeper. Lycaon kissed him lovingly, but the mass beneath him continued to pulse with a more savage impatience.
“Stay like this,” Lycaon whispered hoarsely, trapping Hugo in his earnest stare as he reached for the lube. It was still resting on the tabletop, half-empty from the previous night.
Popping the container deftly open, Lycaon slid his other hand onto Hugo’s hips and dragged his briefs the rest of the way down.
“Let me see you.”
His underwear was tossed somewhere into the shadows. Eyes still locked together, Lycaon squirted a generous amount of lubricant onto his palm, then reached between his legs.
The Thiren’s fur was cold and soggy, and Hugo’s eyes narrowed as he shivered. But he couldn’t look away, not even as shame and self-consciousness seared him to the tip of his ears.
Slick, wet noises gurgled beneath their heavy breathing as Lycaon kneaded him. Burning slowly within his companion’s fiery stare, Hugo struggled not to moan out loud as deep throbs of bliss wore down his composure. His thighs quivered as fluid began to splatter over his flushed skin, and his nipples swelled in anticipation as heat spread through his body.
Watching him ever so tenderly, Lycaon uttered a heavy, almost starved sounding sigh and leaned in to lick his face. As the Thiren’s hot tongue rubbed over his cheek, Hugo flinched and let slip a startled whimper.
“… You look like you feel good,” Lycaon rumbled huskily. “… Here.”
The Thiren’s fingers thrust deeper, all three of his muscular knuckles squeezing past Hugo’s pucker with an audible squelch. Stifling a yelp, Hugo almost collapsed against his companion. He managed to keep himself upright but only barely, his shoulders bowed and his fingers trembling against Lycaon’s hard abdomen. His long hair swayed over his shoulders as he gasped and struggled to suppress his moans. Hot, pearly fluid speckled his hand, flung from his own erection as it twitched and jerked against his heaving stomach.
A pleased groan rippled through Lycaon’s chest as the Thiren continued deeper, bending his fingers and jabbing into Hugo’s walls. Muffling his whimper, Hugo stiffened and instinctively arched away, his nipples hardening even further as his entire body clenched in need.
“What a sight…”
Lycaon’s stare glinted as he whispered thickly into the moonlight.
“Seeing you like this… I can understand why anyone could be swindled by you…”
How infuriating… Hugo was the one on top right now, the one who ought to be leading. Lycaon’s trapped erection was begging for release beneath him, and the Thiren ought to be doing the same — grovelling, like he so loved to do, pleading for Hugo to mount him already in an adorably helpless whine.
Instead, Hugo could barely even sit upright. His knees twitched haphazardly with each thrust of Lycaon’s fingers and his length was already uncontrollably dripping. Obscene noises oozed from his pucker as it contracted around the Thiren’s knuckles, and he could barely stop himself from adding even more moans to the obscenity.
“Hah… you…!”
Scrambling, Hugo cringed and pieced together some semblance of a taunt.
“Sir Lycaon… what happened to your manners?” he panted hoarsely. “Did watching me — ngh! — ruin what was left of your petty decorum…?”
Lycaon’s gaze softened, the hunger in his iris easing into a gentler pulse of warmth as he leaned forward and nuzzled their faces together.
“I’m merely being honest,” he said softly. “In the past, we suffered because we weren’t honest with each other. I won’t make that same mistake again.”
A magnificent squelch followed his solemn words, and Hugo tensed up with a whimper as his entire body jerked. A low sigh warmed his cheek, groggy with immense yearning, and he felt Lycaon’s whisper slide hotly into his ear.
“Hugo… you should be honest, too.”
Cupping his chin, the Thiren forced his eyes back into that aching stare.
“Look at me… and tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
Rumbling against his lips, Lycaon’s growl deepened thickly.
“Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
A strange, giddy sensation rushed through Hugo’s face, leaving his entire skull tingling with unfamiliar sparkles. Lycaon’s stare had penetrated deep into his mind, and he couldn’t help but shiver, disconcerted, as he felt his companion’s presence invade his innermost thoughts.
… I want…
He didn’t say it out loud — he would never say it out loud, not as pathetically as that — but with their eyes locked so intimately, he might as well have clung to Lycaon and mewled it pleadingly against his lips.
More… he wanted to feel Lycaon deeper. He wanted to be touched roughly, to be grabbed and pummelled with no restraint, until his butt cheeks were red with palm prints and he was quaking, helplessly overwhelmed, soiling everything around them with his fluids.
He wanted Lycaon to kiss him, to fill his mouth with his taste and his tongue, to yank on his hair and not let him part, not even to breathe. He wanted to pass out while still being possessed, then wake up to the feeling of Lycaon knotting inside him, bursting within his walls, flooding him with molten love while moaning confessions of adoration in his ear.
He didn’t want the night to end. He didn’t want the sun to rise tomorrow and give Lycaon another chance to leave.
Hugo pressed his lips together, silencing the flood of shameful thoughts inside him. Seeing his unwillingness, Lycaon nuzzled his cheek and whispered teasingly against his lips.
“Surely an imagination as vivid as yours has had delusions even more debauched than mine?”
A rare spark of playfulness brightened the Thiren’s eye as he tilted his head challengingly.
“What do you think of, the nights when you’re alone and missing me?”
Flushing, Hugo looked away frantically.
“As if—”
—Only to be grabbed by the hair and yanked back, roughly, into a sultry purr.
“I thought of you,” Lycaon breathed, speaking to him between wet, earnest smooches of his lips. “All the time… often without realizing it. I couldn’t help myself…”
Twining a hand roughly through his hair, Lycaon yanked him closer and growled into his ear, forcing Hugo to endure his deep, ravishing voice.
“Remember that cathedral job? We were looking for evidence of the pastor’s corruption… while I was picking the lock to his office, you knelt at the altar and prayed. Mockingly, of course… but the light from the stained glass framed your silhouette, and you looked utterly divine…”
A groan slid into his ear, and Hugo muffled a gasp as exhilaration crawled through his skin.
“I remember glancing at you and thinking… if I were to be punished… let it be for defiling you right there on that altar.”
Hugo’s expression crumbled, his knees twitching wider as his insides ached sweetly around Lycaon’s fingers. Lycaon didn’t say the rest out loud, but he could feel it… the hulking shadow creeping over his back and pushing him down, veiling him from the light of the stained glass. An ominous warmth crept beneath his robes and slid between his thighs, tearing his stockings and inching deeper between his legs.
As his body twitched and jerked with naughty pangs of pleasure, he shivered and whimpered in confusion, helpless before the temptation of the wolf Thiren’s massive length. It grinded against the back of his robes, swollen and obscene against his demure clothing, dampening the fabric with its heady steam.
And as he was grabbed and filled, completely, his prayers rose in equally devout moans, enlightened by this ecstasy that he had never before experienced…
Hugo exhaled shakily, his breath thick and heavy as he unconsciously craved for more. Unable to control himself, he rolled his hips, burying Lycaon’s finger deeper and groaning as sparks of bliss exploded inside him.
Growling just as restlessly, Lycaon kissed the messy corner of his lips, then his jawbone, then his chin. As the Thiren’s tongue slid onto his throat, Hugo arched his chin upwards and let loose a groan.
“Or… I’d remember that apron of yours…”
Lycaon spoke again, his voice even more vulgar now, more thrilling to listen to.
“You were practically naked in that ridiculous thing… I don’t even want to know who you stole it from.”
“Mmgh…”
Hugo parted his lips to scoff, only to instead utter something closer to a whine.
Rumbling against his exposed throat, Lycaon continued.
“Those little white frills… swaying around your hips… covered absolutely nothing, and you knew it…”
A lewd squelch burst into the air as the Thiren’s knuckles pulled out of his body, dragging along a thick gush of clouded lubricant. The moisture oozed down his delicate parts and dangled between his legs, dribbling eventually onto the mass beneath him. Furiously, it swelled and twitched against his buttocks, pulsing with such vigor that Hugo stung from its enthusiasm.
Lycaon groaned, his fangs grazing Hugo’s throat as he rasped in an almost shattered voice.
“You… hadn’t figured out how to bake yet… and there was caramel everywhere… clinging to the most ridiculous corners of your body…”
Slamming his fingers back through Hugo’s entrance, Lycaon snarled over his startled gasp.
“Every time I think of it… I imagine dragging you onto the countertop… spreading your legs… and licking you all over…”
“Ungh…”
Completely scattered, Hugo tugged urgently at his companion’s fur. It took a few yanks, but Lycaon reluctantly pulled away from his neck, straightening and then nuzzling his cheek instead.
Gazing tenderly into his eyes, his companion whispered in a gentler, encouraging voice.
“… Your turn.”
Hugo bit his lip and tried to look away. But he couldn’t tear himself free of Lycaon’s intense stare, and he ended up grimacing, flustered, as an abashed mutter escaped almost inaudibly from his lips.
“… Carriage…”
Lycaon blinked, curiosity lightening his gaze.
Flushing deeply, Hugo dug his fingers into his companion’s back and mumbled a little louder.
“… From that vintage-obsessed aristocrat…”
It had been their escape from one of their more daring thefts… they had slipped through the guarded gates in an old-fashioned carriage. The goods they’d stolen had taken up so much space that there had been no other place to sit or stand — Hugo had been forced to sit on Lycaon’s lap.
Straddling him, pressed against his chest by the treasures they had looted, bobbing up and down on his groin as they’d rattled along the cobblestone road.
They hadn’t taken that first step yet. They hadn’t had a single clue.
He remembered how the two of them had joked frantically about the heist and scorned the idiots they’d just fooled, all the while their faces furiously red and their gazes averted… struggling to pretend that their minds weren’t hopelessly filled with far more depraved thoughts.
Hugo used to return to that night often in his mind. That night, as he’d struggled not to think about what was grinding into his rear… had probably been the first time he’d seen his companion as more than just his rival and closest friend.
He had always wondered what might’ve happened if he had been a little bolder that night. Would those extra years of intimacy have changed anything…?
Lycaon paused, his eye widening and his ears twitching. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he leaned closer and whispered,
“Me too.”
Surprised, Hugo looked back.
So Lycaon… had also wondered the same…?
His lashes fluttered lower, his gaze relaxing as they melted naturally into a deep, slow kiss. As their tongues intertwined, so too did their minds, and Hugo breathed in deeply as a familiar fantasy filled his head.
The carriage rocked steadily, the plush cushions sinking beneath Hugo’s knees as he pinned Lycaon to the seat.
Streetlamps flickered outside, casting golden streaks across Hugo’s throat. Lycaon’s gloved fingers were stark against the pale skin of his bare waist.
The rhythmic clop of hooves fueled their pace, their breaths, their muffled moans. As the motion of the carriage jostled them together, Hugo bit his lip and stifled a groan as Lycaon sank deeper inside him.
Their disguises had become half-undone. His jacket hung open, and his cravat lay unravelled around his neck. Lycaon’s collar was loosened and tousled, his spilled chest fur chafing against Hugo’s abdomen as they slid against each other.
The carriage lurched over a pebble in the road, jerking Hugo up and flinging him back down, impaling him on Lycaon, hard. He tossed back his head with a luxurious groan, his shoulders tensing and his fingers curling into Lycaon’s fur as his hips quivered and his body tightened in bliss.
In their dim reality, Lycaon’s crimson eye glinted. Buried deep inside him, the Thiren’s fingers curled purposefully into his sensitive spot, jabbing his walls with an electrifying current. His body clamped down around Lycaon’s knuckles, slick and aching, craving more as he shook himself with need.
Back in the carriage, Lycaon gritted his fangs and snarled tersely.
“The driver will hear you.”
Glowing with a lovely flush, Hugo let loose a breathless laugh. He leaned back against the velvet-covered silhouettes of their treasures and spread his thighs, letting the streetlamps flicker over the incorrigible mess they had made.
“Haha… I think… the driver will figure it out… as soon as he opens the door…”
“… Tsk.”
Grabbing him tightly by the waist, Lycaon slammed him down harder, eyes narrowed in vengeful disapproval. As their pace haphazardly quickened, Hugo moaned and braced both hands against the rattling wall. The lantern swung over their heads, casting shimmers of light across their damp bodies.
“Ahn…! Lycaon…”
He gasped his partner’s name lovingly as they merged together again and again, and he heard Lycaon rumble his own. Ragged gasps and the slick plap of their bodies colliding muffled their own voices as they bounced energetically off of each other.
Lycaon’s crimson iris filled his vision. The hunger with his companion’s gaze pulsed, trapping Hugo, pulling him in. His field of view blurred and spun, and the next thing he knew he was back in their dark bedroom, hunched over Lycaon, quaking, saliva spilling from his lips as he gasped for breath.
Lycaon had withdrawn his fingers, but there was a distinct wildness in his gaze now. Sliding a warm hand over Hugo’s butt cheeks, the Thiren smeared the remnant moisture onto his skin, indulging in a few squeezes as he did.
Then, he tightened his grip — and tried to flip Hugo onto the mattress.
Stiffening, Hugo immediately dug his nails into Lycaon’s abdomen in protest.
“It’s my turn,” he insisted.
Lycaon blinked at him in surprise, then let out a hoarse laugh.
“What are we,” he murmured in fond disbelief, “fighting over who gets to drive the getaway car?”
“Y-You didn’t even know how to read the dash!” Hugo squeaked indignantly.
“You could barely see the dash!” Lycaon chuckled. “You were tiny before you hit your growth spurt.”
But the smile on his face was as warm as his laughter, and the Thiren relaxed beneath him.
“You never did let me win back then, either.”
Baring his fangs in a challenging grin, Hugo glared down at his companion.
“So? Shall we fight?”
“Hmm…”
Lycaon’s gaze trailed over his body, his expression darkening and turning unreadable as his grip tightened almost threateningly around Hugo’s leg. But after a long, contemplative pause, the Thiren exhaled… and opened up his hand in surrender.
“No,” Lycaon mused, his expression once again glazing over in intense adoration as he locked their eyes together. “It’s your turn, Hugo.”
Warmth throbbed through his spine, but Hugo refused to let himself show any fluster, not this time. Lifting his chin, he mustered a haughty scoff and grabbed the hem of Lycaon’s pajama pants, dragging them down in a single dramatic swoop.
It swung upwards mightily, the Thiren’s erection. Even after seeing it so many times, it still startled Hugo, its sheer… magnificence. He stared at it for a moment, mouth open, saliva gathering on his tongue.
He only managed to snap himself out of it at the sound of Lycaon’s disgruntled huff. Stirring, Hugo pulled his act together and grabbed its shaft, holding the throbbing mass still as he hoisted his hips confidently on top of it.
Looking down at Lycaon, he flashed his companion a smug smirk as he sank himself onto its tip. Cradling the beast’s dewy head against his softened pucker, he swayed teasingly against it, bending its rigid length back and forth beneath his buttocks.
“Try not to fall apart on me, will you?”
Lycaon’s eye gleamed. The Thiren looked one breath away from either sinking on his knees in worship, or completely ravaging him.
“I’m not the one trembling,” Lycaon growled thickly, his sharp nails digging deeper into Hugo’s thighs.
Hugo uttered an irked scoff.
“Pompous as ever.”
But he trailed off, huffing breathlessly as he focused on the heat beneath him. It pulsed against his slick entrance, greedy for more of his warmth.
Taking a steady breath, he began to lower his hips, arms tense and quivering from the effort of supporting his weight. Lycaon had prepared him thoroughly, but as the Thiren’s immense arousal pressed into him, Hugo still felt a little apprehensive.
He exhaled deeply, and he felt Lycaon’s thumb trace slow, comforting circles against his hips as he sank it in. A wince flickered over his face, but he adjusted to it quickly, and he uttered a terse moan as he stretched and convulsed around his partner’s erection.
It throbbed back, happily expanding inside him, its bulging veins scraping against his insides as Hugo lowered himself around it.
His butt cheeks eventually hit Lycaon’s sturdy groin. Resting back against the Thiren, Hugo bowed his head and let himself utter a groggy moan, breathless and already overwhelmed with heat.
Incredible… he was so full. He could feel it crammed impossibly deep inside him, occupying so much of his body that he didn’t think he could bend over without it bending with him.
Moaning unsteadily, Hugo leaned back, testing the act of moving with caution. Bliss, sharp and thrilling, licked up his spine and he tensed up with a whimper, his back arching and his hips jerking upwards in an instinctive attempt to escape.
Warm goo dribbled down his thighs, shaken loose from his own erection as it twitched against his stomach. With a shuddering moan, Hugo eased himself back down, his voice shattering as raw bliss burned through his entire body.
Beneath him, Lycaon’s chest heaved in restless pants. The Thiren was still staring at him, his crimson iris glowing with smoldering intensity. Struggling not to feel self-conscious in that piercing gaze, Hugo gathered his breath and attempted to tease.
“… Good boy…” he huffed shakily, parting his thighs and rolling his hips provocatively. He could feel Lycaon’s erection pulsing as it slid in and out of his pucker, and the stimulation was so intense that his eyes couldn’t help but roll back. Straining towards the ceiling, Hugo uttered a thick groan, turning it all into a gaudy act as he indulged in the ecstasy.
“Uhmngh… you’re so hard… I love it when you throb inside me like that…”
Lycaon’s grip tightened around his hips, and Hugo’s breath hitched as he eagerly awaited that sweet rush of triumph. But instead of a flustered snarl, all he heard was a deep, steady murmur.
“Look at me, Hugo… and say that again.”
A surprised huff fell from his lips. Glancing back down, Hugo found himself immediately trapped within the Thiren’s ferocious stare. Heat singed his face, and he spluttered without thinking.
“G… Good — ugh…!”
He looked away, eyes squeezing shut as embarrassment blossomed over his entire body. He could even feel his ears twitching in shame.
Fully conscious of how smug Lycaon must look right now, Hugo fisted a handful of the Thiren’s fur and yelped, “Don’t tell me what to do, you arrogant mutt!”
Lycaon chuckled, and Hugo found the noise strangely exhilarating. Unfamiliar tingles lit up his nerves, and he shifted his weight as bliss distracted him from his indignation.
“Mhgh…”
Closing his eyes, he leaned forward and lifted his hips, knees pressing into the mattress as he cautiously began to move.
His back arched as he lifted and rolled his hips, muscles flexing with effort and desire beneath his pale skin. Lycaon’s hand stroked deliberately along his curves, leaving tingles all over his body. His long hair swayed as he jostled, brushing his arms and his chest, tickling his nipples and making him twitch. He grimaced, tilting his head, groaning as he dragged himself off of his companion’s thickness and then sank, quivering, back onto it.
“Uhnn…”
His vision blurred, shadowed by his fluttering lashes and the haze of lust, but he could still make out the glint of Lycaon’s stare, glowing and fixated on him. The Thiren’s pupil dilated as their eyes met, soft with affection but stormy with desire… smoldering, mesmerized with a primal obsession that pinned Hugo in place.
Trapped, Hugo tilted his head the other way and jerked his hips with greater bravado.
“… So you like watching me, huh?” he sneered, leaning back to give Lycaon a better view of their bodies churning together. At this angle, the Thiren’s erection pushed towards his belly button, and Hugo bit back a groan as his insides ached from the stretch.
Lycaon’s hands slid higher, onto the curve of his waist. Tightening around his slender torso, the Thiren gripped him fervently, their pulses racing frantically together beneath the heat of his palm.
“More than breathing,” Lycaon agreed huskily, his gaze glinting with utmost honesty as he continued to stare at Hugo in brazen infatuation.
Giddiness, both hot and cold, swept through Hugo’s body. Flustered, he scoffed it off, raising his hips and lingering above Lycaon, his buttocks trembling and his pucker squeezing visibly around the hulking length embedded inside him.
“Do I look that charming from this angle?”
Lycaon’s chest rose in a deep, suspenseful sigh. The Thiren’s fingers pressed into his back as he looked Hugo in the eye and murmured, silkily.
“You look perfect like this… you always do.”
Ugh, you…
Flushing, again, Hugo couldn’t stop himself from looking away. But as soon as he broke eye contact, Lycaon thrusted impactfully upwards.
“Nhgh—?!”
He buckled, fluid flinging from his erection as it flew upwards and then smacked back down. Scrunching up on top of Lycaon, Hugo gasped and blinked back sparkles, his entire body quivering with spasms of bliss.
“Don’t look away,” Lycaon murmured, his deep voice almost threatening. The Thiren began to move beneath him, rocking his hips upwards in firm, commanding pulses, stealing his lead once again.
“Even if it becomes unbearable… don’t look away.”
Still recovering, Hugo groaned, helplessly jostled as Lycaon swiftly intensified their pace. His partner’s hand squeezed tightly on his waist, guiding his every movement and forcing him relentlessly up and down. Gasping, Hugo struggled to keep up, to take back control, but he was melting faster than he could even breathe.
“Ahh…”
He shuddered as his body tightened in pleasure, fingers digging into Lycaon’s abdomen in an attempt to cling to something firm.
“Hugo.”
He flinched, ears twitching and heat blossoming over his face as delight and bashfulness swept into the fray. Holding him, Lycaon tugged him down, piercing him deeply as their bodies melded together.
“Mhgh!”
Thoroughly impaled, Hugo arched magnificently off of his companion, his head tilting back and his eyes rolling up. Grabbing his arm, Lycaon held him in place, pinning his trembling fingers against his warm fur as he uttered a commanding growl.
“Eyes on me.”
Whimpering feebly, Hugo struggled. His vision spun and blurred as he wrenched his gaze back down, and he nearly lost it all again as Lycaon drove into him, hard.
Something crimson and fiery glowed behind his dizziness, but he couldn’t focus. He could feel Lycaon hitting deep inside him, every thrust carving intimately into his body, bending him and making him ooze with pleasure. Moisture swelled over his lashes and his eyes closed as his expression crumbled in ecstasy, but he felt Lycaon slam roughly upwards in reprimanding.
“Hugo.”
“Ugh…”
A strangled moan tore from his throat, something between a plea and an indignant cry. Hugo blinked blearily, his irises quivering as he struggled to obey, to maintain eye contact, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t control himself… it already felt… too good…
“Don’t stop looking,” Lycaon panted, gripping his marred waist and plunging him fiercely down. “Hugo—”
“I can’t…!” Hugo wailed, bowing his head and breaking down into tremors. It was… too much… inside him… filling him…
He heard an impatient growl, and the heat beneath him surged enthusiastically upwards. Hugo tensed up with a gasp, but he was already too disoriented to resist.
In the next instant, he was blinking up at Lycaon, smothered beneath the Thiren’s warmth… pinned against the bed, their positions reversed.
Cupping his chin, Lycaon leaned in, filling Hugo’s vision with his smoldering gaze.
“I want to see the look in your eyes as you become undone,” the Thiren rumbled raggedly into his mouth as he thrusted back in.
“Uhnngh…!”
Surrendering, fully, Hugo clung to his companion’s shoulders and arched into his warmth. He couldn’t even feel it clearly anymore, the mass inside him… it was just an enormous heat, devastating him with every slick collision of their bodies. Lycaon snarled against his lips and quickened their pace with an intensity that left Hugo utterly overwhelmed. His whimpers broke, and his vision blurred with moisture. All he could make out was that crimson glint of Lycaon’s stare, revering him, consuming him, as he was pummelled and reshaped around his companion’s desire.
They burst together, eyes still locked. Pressing his forehead into his, Lycaon thrusted a few more times, stubbornly, their shattered groans smearing over each other’s lips as they lost control.
By the end of it, Hugo was stinging all over. His stomach ached from the intensity of his gasps, and his eyes swam with indistinct sparkles. Buried inside him, Lycaon’s knot rapidly began to swell, making him strain away with a shrill gasp.
“Ugh… nhgh…!”
With a somewhat apologetic huff, Lycaon nuzzled him soothingly on the cheek, then leaned in for a softer, deeper kiss. Breathless, but unable to resist, Hugo melted beneath the gesture, saliva dribbling past his lips as he gasped for breath against Lycaon’s tongue.
Once his whimpers became feeble, and he started to feel like he would genuinely pass out, Lycaon pulled away. His partner’s gaze glowed softly down at him as Hugo heaved for breath.
“Truly… exquisite.”
Hugo shuddered, then grimaced. Dragging in air, he mustered some semblance of strength and tossed his companion an eyebrow-raise.
“So… can I blink now…?”
A smile squirmed onto Lycaon’s lips. Leaning down, the Thiren kissed his cheek, then slid his lips further, towards his ear.
“… Five minutes,” Lycaon murmured, his voice soft and warm against Hugo’s sensitive lobes, “…and then we continue.”
Exhilaration jolted through his spine, so vivid that it left him dizzy.
“L-Learning how to joke, are we?” Hugo stammered, bracing his hands against the Thiren’s chest.
“I meant every word that I said tonight.”
Twining his fingers within Hugo’s gold locks, Lycaon tugged his head back and slid down into his exposed throat. Breathing there, against his delicate skin, his companion’s crimson iris glinted up at him in the darkness, swirling with primal obsession, pulsing with tender warmth.
“You don’t know how good you look right now, Hugo…
“This… you… I could gaze at… forever.”
Chapter Text
… It wasn’t enough.
Lycaon had forgotten what it was like — for Hugo to be his. To be able to touch him, fill him… to spend the night immersed in his scent, his heat, his cries.
They didn’t need to deny it or suppress it any longer, and it was overflowing now — their unquenchable, unbearable emotions. Affection, frustration, yearning… all condensed into an insatiable desire for each other.
He couldn’t stop. It was impossible. Suddenly, Lycaon couldn’t fathom how he had managed to spend so many years without Hugo by his side. And he certainly couldn’t fathom how he had managed to share a bed with this man for so many nights and simply… sleep.
He must have been insane.
… Or perhaps he had just gone insane.
He woke the next morning with sunlight streaming through the curtains. Hugo stirred not long after, probably roused by his overbearing embrace.
Indeed, Lycaon was feeling extra possessive that day. It was finally sinking in — what they had done. What they had become.
He was allowed to want him. He was allowed to have him.
Hugo was his.
His.
An overwhelming desire to dominate swelled within Lycaon when he saw the beautiful silhouette lying beside him that morning, and he couldn’t help but shift closer and squeeze the man tightly in his arms.
Hence, he was probably the reason Hugo woke. Because by then, Lycaon had wound himself around the gold-haired man like a dragon guarding its hoard.
Breathing drowsily, it took Hugo a few minutes to really wake. It wasn’t until his body heaved in an attempt at a deep breath that the man seemed to realize he was being pulverized.
Breath catching, Hugo huffed, then tried to move. Lycaon immediately growled, his tone sulky and threatening.
“… You’re crushing me,” Hugo rasped, his voice still hoarse from all the noises he had made the previous nights. Lycaon closed his eye, his tail wagging as he inadvertently recalled those delightful echoes.
“You liked being crushed last night.”
He heard a rather incredulous scoff, and he felt warm air puff against his forearm.
“Loosen up a bit.”
Stubbornly, Lycaon hugged him tighter. Ignoring the blonde’s dramatically pained wheezes, he buried his muzzle into Hugo’s shoulder and growled thickly.
“Warm… smells good… mine.”
He didn’t even realize he’d spoken out loud until he heard Hugo’s amazed laugh. Flushing, Lycaon burrowed deeper, his ears flattening back as he braced himself for the haughty, infuriating taunt that was sure to follow.
Instead, surprisingly… the only tease he received was a gentle caress against his scarred arm.
“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Hugo piped up in a disarmingly innocent voice. “Who are you working for today?”
Caught off guard, Lycaon hesitated, then warily loosened his embrace. As the man relaxed against him with a shaky sigh, he felt the fleeting urge to slam Hugo face-down into the mattress and reduce him to a quivering mess.
“Cancelled,” he managed to mutter. Or at least, that was what he thought he muttered. He hadn’t spilled his thoughts out loud again, had he?
Hugo let out another incredulous chuckle, and Lycaon felt his pulse quicken. As the thief looked over his shoulder, the sunlight illuminated his gold tangles and pale skin in a way that made him utterly blinding. Lycaon huffed restlessly, his heart threatening to explode.
“You can do that?”
Hugo’s sharp fangs glinted as he grinned, as though suspecting Lycaon of lying.
As if he could ever deceive such a dazzling presence.
“It was the client who cancelled,” Lycaon admitted huskily, leaning close and breathing in the warmth behind Hugo’s ear. “My day is free.”
“Heh…”
Cackling breathily, Hugo wriggled within his embrace, rubbing the softness of his bare buttocks mischievously back against Lycaon’s groin.
“You mean your day is mine.”
Left unclothed from the previous night, Lycaon’s erection swelled instantly. It had already been attentive before, but now it was obnoxiously intrusive, the way it pushed between Hugo’s butt cheeks and arched onto his back.
Something dark and stormy surged into Lycaon’s throat as he looked down and saw his length throbbing against the man’s spine. It looked… absurdly immense like this… framed in the middle of the thief’s slender waist, piercing all the way through the small of his back. Despite himself, as Lycaon imagined penetrating Hugo this deeply… as he thought of his erection arched just like this inside of his companion… it twitched, violently, across the man’s back.
Good lord… his cock was practically a third of the width of Hugo’s waist…
With an overwhelmingly smug chuckle, Hugo grinded back against him, probably unaware of the extent to which he was being destroyed in Lycaon’s mind.
“Haha, you haven’t changed at all. Do all wolf Thiren have this much stamina?”
“… I wouldn’t know,” Lycaon muttered thickly, sliding his claws onto Hugo’s hips. I’m glad you don’t seem to, either.
He had only meant to hold the squirming thief still, but the instant his fingers wrapped around the blonde’s petite curves, Lycaon blanked.
Dragging Hugo closer, he squeezed the hulking width of his erection between the man’s thighs and thrusted, skidding his hot shaft against the blonde’s softer intimate parts. Hugo uttered an exhilarated pant and slid the rest of his body sensually along Lycaon’s torso, snuggling against him like a missing puzzle piece.
Oh… wait…
He hadn’t meant to…
Lycaon huffed groggily, his eye closing and his thoughts melting away as Hugo’s warmth rubbed around him. Ah, he was so delightfully silky… it would be so simple, so easy, to just hold his companion still and angle his thrusts higher. With how long he’d been inside Hugo last night, Lycaon could probably enter him without much effort... the tip of his erection ached as it imagined kissing the thief’s pucker and gliding slowly into his heat.
Wait…
He breathed headily against Hugo’s ear, relishing his scent and the way his sensitive ear twitched back against his nose. Lycaon couldn’t stop himself from grinding back… from curling around Hugo and thrusting deeper, harder. It was getting hot beneath the blankets, and the blonde’s smooth skin was already heady with moisture as Hugo arched against him.
Distinctly, Lycaon felt himself slide into a puffy groove. He immediately faltered, tensing, alarm shattering his aroused stupor as he realized his fantasy had almost come true.
Hugo, unperturbed, pushed himself insistently onto Lycaon’s length, squeezing his dewy tip deeper into his entrance. Tightening his grip on the man’s waist, Lycaon stopped him with a threatening growl in his ear.
“Oh come on,” Hugo scoffed breathily, glancing over his shoulder and revealing the delicious haze of lust in his dusky eye. “You’ve already lathered me with your excitement, it will go in. Besides, don’t act like you’re not already ravaging me in your imagination.”
Exposed, Lycaon fell silent. He supposed he shouldn’t be startled anymore… Hugo had always been alarmingly adept at reading his mind.
Still clinging to the thought of his partner being ‘ravaged’ in his mind, his unruly length twitched in excitement and poked itself deeper into Hugo.
“Uhn…”
Tilting back his head, Hugo uttered a soft moan that all but broke Lycaon completely. Scattered, he slid his hands over the man’s abdomen and cradled Hugo’s belly, breathing in deeply as half his mind raced to calm down and the other half imagined bloating the thief’s stomach with his seed.
“We should still use lubricant…”
Lycaon eased his hips away and rested his erection back between the man’s thighs, safely away from any holes it might accidentally enter. Jerking back against him, Hugo slid a hand over Lycaon’s and pressed both their palms into his stomach.
“… Pompous mutt.”
Amused by the familiar insult — it was hardly an insult at this point — Lycaon flung his arm back and grabbed the lube. Ah… there was very little left. He flipped the bottle upside-down and waited for the fluid to ooze down to the cap, then lifted the blankets and dribbled it directly between Hugo’s buttocks.
“Ngh—”
Shivering, Hugo cringed and twitched against him. Anxious to keep him warm, Lycaon tossed the empty bottle aside and pulled his companion snugly into his embrace, letting his erection smear the rest of the lubricant deeper.
Slick squelching noises slid between their head pants as they resumed grinding, sunlight shimmering softly over their intertwined bodies. Tenderly nuzzling Hugo’s nape, Lycaon breathed him in and purred as he swelled with far more than just arousal.
Sliding his touch upwards, he caressed the prominent contours of Hugo’s ribs and cupped the man’s chest, smearing his palm against the soft but swollen curves of his nipples.
A relaxed sigh fell from Hugo’s lips and he shifted encouragingly against Lycaon’s hand, his own fingers combing into the fur of Lycaon’s muscular forearm.
Gently, Lycaon began to massage his companion’s chest. As the little buds bloomed beneath his fingers, Hugo became fidgety, and he began to let out soft, heady moans. Slippery fluids were seeping all over his thighs now, and his twitching was starting to fray at Lycaon’s self control.
Breathing deeply, he pressed Hugo to his chest, momentarily halting the man’s fidgeting so he could lean in and murmur against his ear.
“Are you sure you can handle more?”
Lycaon didn’t want to stop at this point, of course, but when he recalled how shattered Hugo’s cries had gotten last night, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.
Panting groggily, Hugo glanced back.
“Don’t think you can get away with just a thigh job again.”
Chuckling ruefully, Lycaon snuck a kiss onto his lips.
“Haven’t you had enough?” he murmured, his heart fluttering at the thought of an answer.
Looking him in the eye, Hugo whispered, “Have you?”
They gazed at each other for a moment, silent… coming to understand, implicitly, that their desire for each other was equally voluminous, equally unquenchable. Relief and tenderness, immense and warm, rushed into Lycaon’s chest as he gazed at the man in his embrace, mesmerized all over again by his beauty, his talent… and the fact that he was his.
Lycaon couldn’t believe that they had been made for each other. But in this moment… that was what it felt like.
Exhaling shakily, Lycaon slid a hand down the man’s thigh and pulled Hugo’s leg gently over his own. The blonde shifted invitingly against him, curving a knee affectionately over Lycaon’s hip. Arching back, Hugo rubbed the soft curves of his butt cheeks into Lycaon’s groin and smeared the slick, pulsing gap of his entrance against Lycaon’s erection.
Closing his eye, Lycaon let the man lead, providing support and struggling to hold still as Hugo massaged himself with the tip of his length.
He heard the man’s breath catch, then sharpen into an amused huff. Curious — and admittedly, a little wary — Lycaon opened his eye, only to tense up with a grimace as a sharp, hot tension constricted around his erection.
Hugo was beginning to sink him in.
“Ngh…”
Their breaths clenched, then rose together into groans. Hugo bowed over as he struggled to inch Lycaon deeper, his breaths turning heavy with effort. The thief was so tight, so hot around him… Lycaon grit his teeth, his voice turning ragged as he wrestled against his feral instincts.
Enough… he didn’t want to hold back any longer… he wanted to grab Hugo around the waist and ram himself all the way in, all at once. He’d slam the man into the mattress and pummel him so fiercely that he wouldn’t even be able to moan, to breathe. He’d ruin Hugo, until the thief was left quivering beneath him, bloated from his seed and so numb with pleasure that he wouldn’t be able to think of anything but being bred by Lycaon for the rest of his life.
Once he was about halfway in, Hugo stopped. He paused, catching his breath, clinging to Lycaon with trembling fingers… then, with impressive bravado, he threw back with a devilish grin.
“You get fifteen minutes, mutt. That’s how long you usually take in the morning, right?”
Shocked, Lycaon grew rigid. His length twitched fervently too, and Hugo broke off with a half laugh, half yelp as his body promptly jerked against him.
“Ack — aha! It’s alright,” Hugo gasped, craning his head back and nuzzling Lycaon’s stiff lips. “No need to hide it. I was awake most of those mornings, you know… at least, enough to feel your hard-on pressed against me before you got out of bed.”
“Y… You…”
Lycaon uttered something, but in his mortification, he couldn’t finish.
Wait… so Hugo had known? All those mornings he’d woken up with the man snuggled against his groin, all those heart-pounding seconds he’d spent holding his breath as he painfully extracted himself without waking Hugo, and all those shameful minutes he had enjoyed in the bathroom, baring his fangs and snarling groggily as he imagined that he was spilling inside of the man instead of in his own hand…
Triumphantly, Hugo chortled and kissed him cajolingly, squirming the tip of his tongue between Lycaon’s lips.
“From now on, how about you use me directly?” he whispered, eyes shimmering in smug delight. “I don’t mind.”
Lycaon’s teeth gritted with a sharp crack. He snapped — grabbing Hugo by the hair, he shoved himself deeper inside the man, parting his lips and plunging their kiss together at the same time. He slammed his hips forward and propelled himself all the way, smacking his fur into Hugo’s buttocks with an incredibly loud sound. Hugo’s yelp vibrated against his tongue, muffled by his ferocious kiss, and he let a tingle of satisfaction console him somewhat.
Pressing his other hand against Hugo’s stomach, Lycaon thrusted rapidly, but the thief didn’t let him stay in control for long. Hugo began to push back, his lithe body sliding and moving within Lycaon’s embrace. The man’s hand, which had been pressed over Lycaon’s until now, shifted further up, onto his nipples. Still kissing him wholeheartedly, Hugo uttered a pleased moan as he began to touch himself, jerking in shameless pleasure.
Ferocity swelled within Lycaon, and he couldn’t tell if it was desire or disapproval or something else entirely. This behaviour, it was so inelegant, so vulgar, so… irresistibly ravishing. He loved it… he couldn’t stop himself from enjoying it.
The mattress creaked as their hips pounded fervently together. Faltering from a particularly violent thrust, Hugo broke away from their kiss with a breathless gasp. Lycaon reluctantly let him, rumbling his name in pure, unveiled infatuation.
“Hugo…”
“Ah—”
Moans spilling freely into the air, Hugo spasmed against him, his fingers pulling so roughly at his own nipples that Lycaon felt the need to take over.
Sliding his hand beneath the man’s, he shielded the little buds from the thief’s frantic touch and massaged them gently beneath his palms, letting them rest. Lycaon had bullied them a lot these last two nights, and he could only imagine how sore they would feel once Hugo calmed down from this…
“Mngh…”
Hugo whined in complaint, shaking his hips and plucking at Lycaon’s fur in a clear bid for more. Protecting him a little longer, Lycaon eventually sighed and slid his hand away. He shifted his palm lower, touching Hugo’s stomach and smearing the moisture he’d speckled over himself against the man’s heaving abdomen. He continued until he brushed against the burning heat of Hugo’s restless erection, then turned his hand and wrapped the little beast comfortingly in his fingers.
Hugo faltered and stiffened against him with an enticing mewl that more than rewarded Lycaon for his touch. Breathing heavily against his companion’s nape, Lycaon began to stroke the blonde’s length, enjoying Hugo’s luxurious moans as the man’s hips swerved helplessly in his embrace, repeatedly impaling itself on his erection and then thrusting into his hand.
They quickened the pace together, the blankets crumbling and dampening around their bodies. Combing his other hand through Hugo’s hair, Lycaon gripped the soft strands of gold and tugged firmly, pulling the thief’s head back and enjoying the sound of his sharp little gasp. Leaning in, he growled against the man’s ear and nuzzled them with his lips. The wound that Hugo had endured all those weeks ago had faded completely, but now his shapely ears were marred by all sorts of marks left by Lycaon in the previous nights. He didn’t bite today, although saliva pooled over his tongue at the thought. He didn’t want to injure Hugo…
Instead, he simply breathed on them, letting his companion hear the love in his groans as they sank together, legs intertwined and hips rocking in erotic synchrony. Their rhythm intensified, Hugo’s motions gradually becoming haphazard as his control and bravado crumbled away. The man clamped down lovingly around Lycaon, his voice turning breathy and shrill as he broke their pace with wild jerks.
Growling breathily, Lycaon grabbed his hips and slammed him back, sinking himself deeper and deeper with each thrust. Hugo’s scent rose thickly from the hot air gusting out of their colliding bodies, and Lycaon couldn’t help but snarl hungrily against the man’s nape. Indulging in his primal instincts, he pummeled fervently into his companion, soaking all of his senses with Hugo as he hurtled them both rapidly towards a climax.
Hugo peaked first, his voice cracking as he stiffened and began to shudder in Lycaon’s arms. The blonde bent over Lycaon's arm, gasping and scrabbling at him to stop as moisture bubbled into his palm.
Continuing anyway, Lycaon stroked the man’s throbbing length while hurtling even faster inside him. The heat around him clamped down fiercely, and Hugo’s tremors rippled all the way into his erection, pleasuring him so intensely that Lycaon couldn’t contain himself, either.
Tensing up, he throbbed, once, twice, three times… ejecting massive bursts of seed inside of Hugo before he managed to pull himself out. Snarling breathlessly, Lycaon pressed himself against the man and spilled the rest of his fluids onto Hugo’s back.
As he watched himself splurt glob after glob of milky fluid onto the thief’s petite waist, exhilaration filled Lycaon’s emptying body. He was somewhat surprised that he still had so much left… considering how much he had already put inside Hugo these two days…
Gradually, as they regained control of their bodies, they relaxed against each other and sighed shakily into the silence.
They lay there, drenched and warm in the heady air, for a while. Then, breathily, Hugo managed to speak.
“When did I say you could pull out…?”
Lycaon huffed a few more times before trying to retort.
“… Do you really think you can handle my knot at 9 AM in the morning?”
At that, Hugo chuckled feebly.
“I thought you enjoyed watching me struggle.”
Growling, Lycaon grinded threateningly against the thief, pushing the still-rigid mass of his knotting length into the mess pooled between Hugo’s thighs. He heard, with a spark of pleasure, the man stifle a tentative gasp.
“I do, but…”
He learned forward, softening his tone to a teasing purr as he brushed his muzzle against Hugo’s ears.
“If this is supposed to replace my morning routine…”
Hugo let out a rather nervous-sounding huff.
“Aha, right, about that…”
Chuckling, Lycaon slid his lips down the back of Hugo’s neck.
“I’m joking.”
“Oh now you know how to joke?”
Hugo slapped him chidingly on the thigh, and Lycaon retaliated with an affectionate embrace. He tightened his hug fervently until Hugo began to wheeze and struggle, but he did not let go.
“You’re squeezing me too hard!” Hugo complained in an exaggerated gasp, slapping his arm as though in surrender. “Your cum’s gonna drip on the bed—”
His lower half throbbed happily at the vulgar thought. Feigning calm, Lycaon murmured, “I’m quite sure the blankets have already endured many more substances.”
He did ease his grip slightly though, only because he heard discomfort in Hugo’s voice. Now that he was able to, the man let out a breathless chuckle.
“It’s unlike you to allow that, Sir Lycaon.”
“I’m a little distracted right now,” Lycaon admitted huskily, sliding his hand over the thief’s belly and scraping his claws over Hugo’s moist skin.
Shivering, Hugo uttered a piqued grunt and slapped his hand.
“Alright, enough, you already came,” the blonde declared in mock sternness. “The next step in your morning routine is a shower, isn’t it? Go on then — cleanse me, Mister Prestigious-Attendant.”
Lycaon contemplated rolling over the man and pounding the cheekiness out of him, preferably until tomorrow — but he instead let out a loud sigh and reluctantly pulled away.
Rising to his feet, he pulled Hugo into a bridal-style carry and escorted them swiftly to the bathroom. The man snuggled cozily against him, making it very difficult for Lycaon to put him down. He had to, so he did — but he trapped Hugo against him, keeping one arm wrapped around the man’s waist even as he strode across the bathroom and leaned forward to turn on the water.
Hugo played along, clinging back against him and arching dramatically over his arm as though this were a waltz. Pulling the man away from the still-cold shower spray, Lycaon cradled the back of his head and leaned down to kiss him. They continued to kiss as they waited for the water to warm, holding each other tightly as they rubbed tongues and teeth and shared heavy pants.
The water warmed quickly and steam began to rise from the floor. Still kissing, Lycaon stepped forward, backing Hugo into the shower stall and pressing him into the tiles. The man arched against him, finger twitching as they wound through his fur, gasps turning ragged as they breathed in the steam. Water joined the saliva streaming down their throats and Lycaon unconsciously tightened his grip on his companion’s hips, holding Hugo still as his erection swelled between them.
It pushed into the sticky softness of Hugo’s stomach and he rubbed it deeper, panting headily as he held the man’s waist with one hand and squeezed his buttocks with the other. He pushed Hugo forward, groaning contently as their bodies pressed together around his erection, but before he could get any further, Hugo gave him a nudge on the chest.
It wasn’t an urgent or forceful gesture, but it was an obvious enough command. Reluctantly, Lycaon obeyed, slackening his grip and letting Hugo relax back against the tiles. Their lips parted, both of them uttering gasps, the tips of their tongues lingering together before pulling away with quivering strings of fluid.
They rested there for a moment, foreheads touching, hands cradling each other’s heads, breathing against each other as shower water streamed past their chins.
Then, Hugo looked down. Lycaon’s erection throbbed between them, squished against his stomach, pushing into his belly button. The blonde stared at it, silent.
Self-conscious of his intense but unreadable gaze, Lycaon couldn’t help but twitch. At the sharp motion, Hugo heaved a massive sigh, and the combined stimulation of his expanding belly and breathy voice made Lycaon twitch again.
Hugo looked up and smiled ruefully at him. Flushing, Lycaon averted his gaze.
A normal routine… a normal routine…
Willing himself to stay calm, he reached for the shampoo bottle. Hugo turned around while he was preoccupied, squirming against him in the narrow stall. Breathing in sharply, Lycaon paused, closed his eye, and waited a few seconds before daring to try again.
Hugo stood with his back facing him, his head lowered slightly, water streaming into his hair. Gently, Lycaon reached forward and gathered his gold locks, exposing his nape and the many marks left in his skin. The way the shower water trickled down the slope of his neck and the slender arch of his back was extremely sensual, and Lycaon felt an immense throb tug at his body. He breathed in deeply, the scent of water and soap mixing in with their much less innocent musk… swelling his yearning even further.
… It wasn’t enough. He wanted more.
Leaning in, Lycaon brushed his muzzle against the marks decorating Hugo’s pale skin. He heard the man’s breath hitch, and even that faint noise sent a thrill through his ears. A growl rumbled unconsciously through his chest and hunger swelled over his tongue as he struggled to stop himself from going further. He had already left so many marks… bright pink ones from yesterday, softer, ruddier ones from the day before. The heat made them look achingly red, and he felt an extreme urge to bite into them all over again… but Lycaon held his breath, and willed himself to be reasonable.
Applying shampoo onto both of his palms, he grasped Hugo’s hair, gently pulling his gold locks from his bowed head and draping them over the man’s pale shoulders. The shower stall was tight for both of them, the steam curling thickly around them and water splattering loudly as it bounced off their bodies. Hugo braced his hands lightly against the wall, his eyes drowsily half-lidded and his breathing unsteady, standing still… but even then, it was impossible not to press together, rub together.
Intending to comb back the man’s bangs, too, Lycaon brushed his fingers gently past the man’s temple and over his forehead. Cradling Hugo’s face from behind, he pulled him back, pinning the blonde more firmly into his own chest. Leaning towards the thief’s pointed ear, Lycaon nuzzled his flushed lobes and took another deep breath, water streaming past his muzzle as his distracted hand wandered lower, onto the curve of Hugo’s waist.
Hugo’s lashes fluttered, the serenity in his expression scrunching up into a piqued frown as he grumbled.
“I’m sore.”
“… Just washing your hair,” Lycaon murmured, grasping the man’s locks and draping them over his palm though he’d meant to do that from the beginning.
Focusing, somewhat, he lathered Hugo’s long hair with shampoo, gently combing out his tangles. The man leaned against him, his entire weight almost relaxed against Lycaon’s torso. At some point, Hugo grabbed the bar of soap, probably intending to clean himself, but he was so listless that he ended up just… holding it.
Kneading his claws gently against the man’s scalp, Lycaon gave his companion a massage. Hugo’s head bobbed in his hands, and as a satisfied groan rose from the man’s lips, Lycaon felt himself harden uncontrollably. Breath catching, he closed his eye and frantically told himself that he couldn’t — shouldn’t. He shouldn’t shove Hugo into the tiles, yank his head back by the hair, tighten his fingers around his throat, and claim him… again, burying himself deep, everywhere, into his flesh, his ears, his lips…
Something fell to the ground with a heavy thud and Lycaon snapped his eye open with a start — only to stiffen up, even more alarmed, as soft curves cradled the swollen base of his erection.
Hugo had dropped the bar of soap, and had bent down to pick it up… accidentally, probably, putting his rear in a very provocative position. Lycaon tried not to succumb to depraved thoughts, but how could he possibly resist when he could see the flushed sheen of the thief’s wet, swollen pucker sliding up against the tip of his erection? It was practically stretching itself around him, all Lycaon needed to do was jerk his hips forward a tiny bit and—
His hands flew onto Hugo’s hips. He told himself he’d only meant to steady his companion, to prevent Hugo from falling as he straightened, but… as soon as Lycaon’s fingers wrapped around that slender body, he blanked.
He shoved forward, grinding the throbbing veins of his length against that deliciously wet heat between Hugo’s buttocks.
Hugo stiffened. Still bent over, the man looked over his shoulder and glared up at Lycaon with his silver eye.
“Don’t you dare.”
Startled and chagrined, Lycaon’s ears promptly flopped. He stared dolefully at his companion, a whine almost squeezing out of his throat as his tail drooped but wagged slowly in lingering hope.
Scoffing, Hugo straightened and proceeded to rub the bar of soap against his arm in apparent composure — only to be stopped, as Lycaon grabbed his hand.
“Allow me.”
The man paused and cast him a wary look. Lycaon gazed back solemnly.
“You just dropped it,” he pointed out huskily.
At that, Hugo hesitated, then sighed and let him slip the soap away.
Taking over, Lycaon began to lather Hugo’s skin with the aromatic soap, starting at the man’s shoulders and stroking slow circles into his muscles. Although he was a little tense at first, Hugo eventually relaxed, closing his eyes and huffing contently as he eased his weight back against Lycaon.
Rubbing beneath the man’s arms and around his ribs, Lycaon began to clean the frontal half of his companion’s body. He kneaded the bar of soap over Hugo’s chest and followed over with his own hand, scrubbing the slippery suds into the man’s soft skin. Hugo’s nipples hardened immediately against him and the blonde arched, seemingly unconsciously, into Lycaon’s palm, panting softly as he did.
Stifling his own restless huff, Lycaon brushed the bar of soap over Hugo’s other nipple, relishing the sight of the little bud hardening, bending, and compressing beneath the slippery chunk. He played with it a little more, nudging it back and forth with the edges of the soap bar and poking at it with the rounded corners, coating it in lewd-looking white smears and bubbles… occasionally rubbing the bar of soap over other parts of Hugo’s body, just to make it seem like he was still ‘cleaning’.
He massaged the other one subtly, pressing it into his hand and squeezing it within the grooves of his palm. Hugo didn’t stop him, and as the man began to fidget sensually against him in obvious pleasure, Lycaon cautiously advanced. Sliding his fingers back along the bud’s bumpy little curves, he pinched it between his fingers, tugged, and let it spring free with a flick.
“Mngh—”
Hugo’s hips jerked and rammed back against Lycaon’s very prominent erection. Quivering against him, the man uttered a disgruntled mumble.
“… Oi…”
Breathlessly, Lycaon whispered back in his ear.
“You’re the one rubbing against me.”
Hugo huffed somewhat irritably, but he didn’t deny it… nor did he stop sliding his entire body back and forth across Lycaon. If that was supposed to be his version of ‘fidgeting’… well, Lycaon supposed he could do the same.
Spreading his palm over the thief’s chest, he slid his thumb and ring finger over the man’s nipples, pressing them both down like little buttons. The bar of soap he slid lower, rubbing it down the shapely contours of Hugo’s lean abdomen and following the grooves of his pelvis inwards, deeper, towards his groin. Lycaon ‘washed’ his companion there, lathering the slippery chunk against Hugo’s delicate genitals in steady circles, all the while twiddling with the very swollen buds perked beneath his other hand.
This was… more than just cleaning, now… more than just touching. Hugo’s pale skin had turned a lovely rosy pink, and it wasn’t because of the steam.
Eventually, the thief’s breathing rose into a groan.
“I thought we were supposed to be showering…?”
“Are we not?” Lycaon murmured groggily.
Almost desperately, Hugo rasped, “I’m leaking.”
Breath catching, Lycaon exhaled, then took in a deep, heady breath.
… Not good.
He was very… very, very aroused right now.
Setting the bar of soap aside, Lycaon reached down, into the soft curves of Hugo’s butt cheeks, and nudged his fingers against the man’s entrance. Indeed, there was a lot of moisture coming out… too thick, too gooey to just be soapy water.
Right… he hadn’t managed to pull out quickly enough earlier. He had squired his seed so deeply inside of Hugo that it hadn’t started oozing out until now.
Carefully, Lycaon eased a finger in and began to scrape out his fluids. He breathed heavily, working as gently as he could, struggling to stay composed as his erection throbbed and ached furiously between Hugo’s thighs. His other hand wandered distractedly over the man’s body, sliding down his arms, wrapping around his ribs, and then easing onto his waist… gripping him there, holding Hugo still as he shoved in a second finger.
“Ungh—”
Jostled, Hugo let slip a forced grunt. The coyness in his voice made Lycaon throb, violently. Growling threateningly, he lowered his muzzle to the man’s ear.
“You’re making this difficult for me.”
Indignantly, Hugo shot back, “You’re making this difficult for me!”
His insides squeezed around Lycaon’s fingers as he complained, the softened ring of his pucker constricting vividly around Lycaon’s knuckle.
Lycaon almost went berserk. For a second, his vision went black, and his entire body became rigid. He went one twitch away from slamming Hugo into the shower tiles and pounding him until he passed out from the steam and the pleasure and the heat—
… But no, he couldn’t.
He didn’t want to break Hugo.
Well, perhaps he did, but he shouldn’t.
He really shouldn’t…
As Lycaon’s thoughts frayed and scattered, his fingers probed deeper, thrusting with an intent that was no longer innocent as Hugo squeezed around him. Knees bending inwards, the man arched and strained into Lycaon with a thick, ragged moan.
“Lycaon… you horny mutt… who taught you to be so… insatiable…?”
As Hugo’s broken voice echoed wantonly over and over within the bathroom, Lycaon almost snapped again. He held his breath, not daring to move as raw, feral desire surged through his body.
With excruciating caution, he withdrew his fingers. Turning to Hugo, Lycaon gripped him gently by the hips and pushed the man gently into the wall. Still bleary-eyed with pleasure, Hugo didn’t resist, his gasps confused and disarmingly innocent as he was pinned against the tiles.
Too overwhelmed to explain, Lycaon grasped his companion’s chin, tilted his lips closer, and kissed him with all his might.
They melted together, spiralling, rapidly, water beating on their shoulders and streaming around their intertwined limbs. He could feel Hugo slipping, weakening, running out of breath faster than usual in the hot steam. Pressing his palm into the curve of his back, Lycaon pinned him closer, slowing his gradual descent along the shower tiles. Their groins rubbed, his bloated erection chafing against Hugo’s, crushing it back against the thief’s abdomen.
Flinching, Hugo broke away from the kiss with a shaky gasp and turned his head as though to escape. Their lower halves throbbed fiercely against each other and Lycaon lowered his head, huffing raggedly as his erection sank into the softer parts of his companion’s belly.
“Lycaon, you…” Hugo’s voice cracked as he moaned, his body quivering as it arched off the cold tiles. “You… uh… uhn…”
… Lycaon loved seeing the haughty thief like this, heterochromatic eyes clouded over in lust and exhaustion, skin flushed and glistening with streams of moisture. He wanted to go further, to squeeze the man’s slender form, to fill him until he bulged, to break him completely — but he didn’t know if Hugo was begging for more, or for mercy.
Struggling with indecision and restraint, Lycaon leaned down, parting his jaws around the thief’s arched neck. Hugo’s throat bobbed nervously, but he was careful not to bite. He continued to grind against the man, thrusting him into the wall, pinning him there by the hips and the throat as he pressed his tongue against Hugo’s fragile skin. Hugo clung to him, his fingers dragging through his fur as he slipped, little by little, his moans echoing around them as they escaped past his trembling lips.
“Nhgh… Lycaon…!”
Crumbling, Hugo skid haphazardly along the shower wall, his voice sharpening into a yelp as he almost fell. Catching him reflexively, Lycaon smashed him back into the wall without thinking, steadying him with a force that he forgot to control. The man gasped, pain in his voice as his back struck the tiles with a loud bang.
It echoed in the silence as they tensed against each other, startled. Then, with a shaky release of his held breath, Hugo mustered a breathless huff that almost resembled a laugh.
“… See…?”
Lifting his head, Hugo looked up at him, the mismatched colours of his eyes hazy but dazzling with rue and amusement. The thief’s gaze was so vivid that Lycaon could practically hear his sweet, teasing voice in his mind.
Bad boy.
His tail swished, flinging water against the glass wall with a loud splat. Stirring, Lycaon huffed and pulled his companion away from the wall.
“My apologies,” he murmured, nestling Hugo tenderly into his embrace. “I’ll behave.”
… For now.
Chapter Text
After his scolding, Lycaon cleaned Hugo properly, then dealt with himself. He was rather wary that the thief would insist on helping and end up creating a mess, like he used to in the past — but Hugo was uncharacteristically tame.
He was probably still recovering from his consecutive… ordeals.
… Not that it was easy. They were still pressed together in a small shower stall, after all. While Lycaon rubbed the residue off his body, Hugo leaned against his shoulder and made sculptures out of his foamy chest fur.
He supposed that was better than slapping a massive ball of suds in his face and then cackling villainously about it, or tackling his wet tail against the shower stall on the pretense of ‘washing’ it, or ‘fidgeting’ naughtily against his still-untameable erection—
… It never got to be easy around the thief. But all things considered, they both managed to behave.
Once Lycaon was satisfied with his cleanliness, he lifted the man up and carried him onto the bathroom counter. While Hugo reached for the blow dryer, he draped a towel around the man’s shoulders and began to dab the moisture off his skin.
By the time they had finished drying each other, Lycaon was warm and fluffy, and Hugo was radiating with a soft, refreshed glow. Offering the man his hand, Lycaon helped him off the counter and accompanied him back to the bedroom.
Once they passed the doorway, Hugo pulled ahead, touching his back and stumbling forward with an exaggerated groan.
“Ugh, you’re such an overachiever, Lycaon. If I perish from this grievous injury, put ‘ravished to paradise’ on my tombstone.”
“And you’re melodramatic even in defeat,” Lycaon scoffed, tossing the damp towel in the laundry basket and then heading to the wardrobe to fetch them both clothes.
“Defeat?” Hugo repeated indignantly, pressing a hand over his chest in mock insult. “Who said anything about defeat? Darling, I was simply letting you have a moment of glory.” He sauntered over to the bed as he continued, raising his arms as though to collapse back into the mattress. “I know how much you love your praise—”
“Don’t.” Lycaon tossed over a sharp grunt. “You just showered, and the bedsheets are filthy.”
Stopping abruptly, Hugo lowered his arms and stared at the rumpled bedsheets for a moment. Then, he cast Lycaon a crooked smile.
“You didn’t seem to think they were so filthy when you were feeding me cum yesterday—”
Lycaon cleared his throat loudly, interrupting the latter part of the thief’s sentence.
“I will do the laundry shortly,” he announced solemnly. “Rest in the chair.”
Hugo chuckled as he strutted over to the armchair instead.
“I suppose we’re fortunate your companions aren’t around, or they’d give us questionable looks when they see how many sets of linens we’ve soiled.”
Lycaon spared his companion a disgruntled glance. It still annoyed him to see how cozy and at ease Hugo looked curling up in his chair. Add in that insufferable smirk and those cheeky comments and… he’d never understand how he could love someone this much and still find them so infuriating at the same time… all the time. The only difference was that now, instead of shutting him up with his fist, Lycaon felt the constant need to shut him up with his lips…
Distracted, Lycaon gave himself an internal shake and quickly finished buttoning up his shirt. He rolled up his sleeves neatly, then went to deal with the bedsheets, dropping off some clothes in Hugo’s lap along the way.
He began to drag the bedsheets loose, conscious of the thief’s gaze on his back the entire while. Hugo only allowed the silence to last for a few minutes before he piped up again, casually.
“You’re an actual beast, you know.”
Lycaon’s hackles bristled despite himself. Irked, he glanced over his shoulder, glaring back at the smirk that was awaiting him.
Continuing flippantly, Hugo said, “You’re not like this with everyone, are you?”
“… Like what?” Lycaon said warily, unsure of what the man was trying to get at. Knowing him, nothing good.
Hugo lifted his hand and shrugged idly.
“You know… feral. Insatiably horny. Capable of ejecting ten tonnes of semen in two nights.”
Lycaon tried not to be flustered — he knew that was exactly what Hugo wanted. But he couldn’t entirely hide his blush, nor could he control the rather delighted twitching of his tail.
“You’re always bragging about being the smart one,” he grunted as noncommittally as he could, “so I’m sure you already know the answer.”
Laughing, Hugo replied with more flippant hand gestures.
“Feral, yes. Insatiably horny? Debatable. The last part… impossible, if not for the fact that I, miraculously, lived through it.”
Hugo patted his blanket-clad belly as he spoke. Flushing harder, Lycaon turned back to the linens.
“Let’s attribute it to the years we spent apart,” he muttered. “I suppose I was able to build up a considerable… reserve.”
“Really?” Hugo uttered a mock gasp, fangs flashing in a wickedly entertained grin as he leaned over the arm of the chair and propped his chin on his hand. “Don’t tell me — you mean to say that you never… found consolation elsewhere?”
Lycaon was silent for a moment before answering, focused on a particularly stubborn corner of the bed cover. Once he had freed it from beneath the mattress, he straightened and sighed.
“… Even if I had been interested, there weren’t many who were willing.”
“What?”
The disbelief in Hugo’s voice made Lycaon stir and glance over. The man was staring at him as though he’d just claimed to be an Exaltist.
“Lycaon, please,” Hugo scoffed, his voice breathless with part laughter, part genuine offense. “Everyone I’ve met drools over that pompous act of yours. The way you look, the way you talk, even the way you stand — er...”
Voice turning hoarse, Hugo cleared his throat and averted his gaze suddenly. He stared elsewhere for a few seconds before coughing again and turning back with a haughty snort of skepticism.
“And you’re telling me there wasn’t a single candidate? What, did everyone think you were too perfect for a casual affair?”
Lycaon’s ears twitched. He turned back so that Hugo wouldn’t see the smile tugging at his lips, then slowly and completely unnecessarily smoothed out the bedsheets beneath his palm.
Once he was sure he could hide his amusement, he answered.
“I’m a minority in New Eridu,” Lycaon pointed out calmly. “Not everyone is comfortable with large Thirens… nor with prosthetic legs.”
The silence thickened so sharply that Lycaon almost heard it snap. Sneaking a glance over his shoulder, he saw that Hugo had completely frozen up, his head lowered and his fingertips rigid against the arms of the chair.
Sighing, Lycaon bundled up the linens and tossed them into the laundry basket, then strode over to blonde. He reached over and tried to ruffle Hugo’s head, but the man tensed and jerked away.
Pausing, Lycaon frowned at him. After a brief hesitation, he tried again, more fervently.
Hugo shied away, but didn’t actually resist as Lycaon slid a hand through his bangs and tousled him in aggressive affection. Once he’d made a thorough mess of the man’s hair, the wounded thief curled up beneath him, pouting, the blankets pulled up to his cheeks.
… Adorable.
A faint smile squirmed onto Lycaon’s lips as he gazed down at his old friend. Hugo might have grown, but he would always remember that obnoxious little brat.
And… maybe because they had known each other for so long, but being around Hugo tended to stir his old habits, too. Lycaon often found himself doing things, saying things, even thinking things that he… simply wouldn’t, around anyone else.
He was never this unrestrained, this impulsive, this… helpless, around anyone else.
Taking a deep breath, Lycaon stepped away and offered his hand.
“If you can walk, come with me,” he suggested softly. “I’ll start the laundry and then make us breakfast.”
Hugo glared at him for an entire three seconds, then tossed the blankets aside, grabbed his hand, and rose to his feet with an arrogant hmph.
… But that was all. The thief was quiet the rest of the way down the hall. He stood in the doorway of the laundry room and patiently watched Lycaon load the machines in silence. He didn’t say a word as they took each other’s hand again and made their way to the kitchen.
Pulling away, Hugo dropped into his usual seat — Lycaon’s seat — at the breakfast table. He leaned forward, resting one cheek in his palm and rolling a chocolate coin in the other. He stared unblinkingly at the coin as sunlight reflected off the metal foil and danced over his face.
Lycaon moved over to the counter and prepared their breakfast with professional efficiency. He set the butter out to cool, turned on the coffee machine, and began to chop scallions. But even with the rhythmic thock of the knife striking close to his fingers, he couldn’t stop himself from sneaking glances at the man.
The gold coin flicked into a ray of sunlight and tossed blinding sparkles across the room. Flinching, Hugo didn’t manage to catch it this time, and it landed on the table with the tell-tale crack of something breaking.
The thief stared numbly at his shattered chocolate, silent.
Setting down the knife, Lycaon braced his hands against the counter and heaved a deliberately loud sigh.
“… Remember what I said about not repeating past mistakes?”
He arched his eyebrow at Hugo. The blonde stirred and slowly returned his pointed gaze.
Let’s try being honest this time.
It didn’t take long for Hugo to understand what he was trying to say. But even then, the man leaned back and flicked his fingers dismissively.
“It’s nothing.”
“Hugo,” Lycaon growled.
Fangs flashing in an obviously irked grin, Hugo spoke in a louder voice.
“It was just a stupid thought.”
Standing imposingly behind the counter, Lycaon stared expectantly at him. Hugo pretended not to be bothered by his intense glower, but when Lycaon didn’t waver, the thief eventually did.
Giving in with a rather frustrated huff, Hugo admitted, “When you said your prosthetics might’ve prevented you from sleeping with anyone else — I was glad. I thought… well, that’s one good thing that came out of it.”
He grimaced the instant the words left his lips and lowered his head, hiding his face from view. Lycaon could practically see the self-hatred weighing down on his shoulders.
… But at least he had told the truth. That was already more than Lycaon had expected.
A little relieved, he turned and began to crack eggs into the frying pan, speaking casually over the sizzling noise as he began to add other ingredients.
“If you’re worried I’ll question your moral values, I believe we’re beyond that point.”
At that, Hugo scoffed, a hint of amusement softening the bitterness in his voice.
“Besides,” Lycaon continued, flipping the eggs with a skilled flick of the spatula, “it wouldn’t be the only good thing that came out of my prosthetics. As I’ve said, I’m doing well, and I’m quite grateful for them on most days.”
He trailed off to focus on cooking. In that time, Hugo remained completely and utterly silent.
Once the food was ready to plate, Lycaon sighed and picked up where he’d left off.
“I’m sure good things came out of our separation, too.”
He cast a brief glance over his shoulder. Hugo was fidgeting with another chocolate coin, his gaze blank and frigid as he watched the twinkling foil.
After a slight hesitation, Lycaon continued.
“Miss Vivian, for example—”
“Don’t.”
Stifling a sigh, Lycaon plated their breakfast without another word. As he brought over their mugs of coffee first, he realized with a pang that Hugo had pocketed his coin and was now rubbing his finger — chafing, restlessly, the scar where his ring had once lay.
A jarring pang struck him deep in the chest. Setting their mugs down, Lycaon turned away and grimaced as he went to fetch their plates.
… Had he spoken too insensitively?
Lycaon cherished his companions and the life that he had now. He wouldn’t give them up to change the past.
But… maybe Hugo wasn’t the same. Perhaps his old friend would have done anything to keep him by his side.
Maybe, even after everything that had happened, Lycaon still didn’t truly understand what he had meant to Hugo. And how much he had hurt him by leaving…
Quietly, he set the plates down in front of their seats, aligning the cutlery and smoothing out the napkin out of habit. Self-consciously, he lowered himself into his seat, adjusted his cuffs, resisting the urge to clear his throat as a tickle scratched at his windpipe.
Without making eye contact, Hugo stopped fidgeting with his finger and reached for his cutlery. He sliced through the omelette in silence, but as steam unfurled into his face — as he breathed in its aroma — a shudder rippled through his shoulders, and he visibly relaxed.
“… Mm.”
A faint hum, barely audible but pleased, slipped from the man’s lips as he took a bite. Lycaon, not even realizing he’d been staring at Hugo with his breath held, exhaled in relief. His clenched grip loosened around the handle of his mug, and he rewarded himself with a sip of coffee.
Thankfully, the atmosphere lightened as they ate and naturally began to banter again. They had fought often in the past, but the situation was a little more precarious now, and… Lycaon didn’t want to lose this. Not yet.
It had only been two days… even if they were doomed to turn on each other someday, he didn’t want it to be now. Nor tomorrow, nor ever — but at the very least, not now.
By the time they finished eating, the washer had finished, so Lycaon went to put their laundry in the dryer. When he returned to the kitchen, he found Hugo at the sink, rinsing the dishes.
Smiling ruefully to himself, he strode up to the man and pressed up against him, bracing his hands against the counter on either side of Hugo in a subtle trap.
“You should have left it for me.”
Seemingly unbothered by his presence — and their suggestive proximity — Hugo scoffed.
“I’m not fragile.”
“I don’t think you’re fragile,” Lycaon murmured, brushing his nose close to the man’s ear and fighting the urge to press his tongue against it, “I just… wasn’t delicate with you. It’d be natural to need some… recovery time.”
At that, Hugo chuckled and reached over to put a mug on the drying rack — very deliberately swaying his hips against Lycaon’s groin as he did.
“You say that, but you’re already imagining pounding me senseless again, aren’t you?”
Heat rushed into Lycaon’s face, more intensely than he anticipated. Even if he hadn’t been, he certainly was now…
Scattered — and feeling like an imminent threat — Lycaon muttered something about cleaning the coffee machine and escaped to the other counter.
While the dryer ran, the two of them knocked out some chores in the rest of the manor. When he had a few minutes, Lycaon slipped into a private study to check in with Mr. Mayflower — the mayor had put together a team to track down the drug victims, and they were slowly but surely making progress.
Thankfully, even upon hearing that he had some spare time, his employer did not put anything new on his plate. Lycaon wasn’t sure he would have been willing to work today, anyway…
He emerged from the study just as the dryer signalled it was finished. Lycaon headed towards the laundry room, only to pause warily when he saw Ellen’s bedroom door open.
He appeared in the doorframe just in time to see Hugo saying goodbye to someone on his phone. Lycaon stood silently by the door, waiting as the man straightened and turned around — revealing, in his hand, a small and somewhat eerie Bangboo doll.
Their eyes met. Lycaon raised his eyebrow expectantly, and Hugo replied with his signature smug chuckle.
“Well well, fancy seeing you here.”
“I’m in the hall,” Lycaon pointed out. “You’re in a girl’s room.”
“At her request,” Hugo replied airily, striding towards the door. “It’s a long story, but I need to return this cursed doll to her friend’s younger brother. Apparently he’s been searching for it and she just remembered she left it here. The whole family thought it walked off on its own.”
The man smirked and waved the eerie Bangboo plush at Lycaon as he brushed past.
“… Why did she call you?” Lycaon muttered, unable to hide the disgruntled tone in his voice as he closed her door and followed after Hugo. “You’re a temporary guest. I’m—”
“—the guy who tells her to mind her manners, stand up straight, and iron her sleeves,” Hugo finished for him in a lofty chuckle.
Ears twitching, Lycaon trailed after him with a frown.
“I don’t tell her to iron her sleeves. I do it for her.”
He didn’t realize how sulky he must have sounded until Hugo looked back and flashed him a softer smile.
“Relax, dear Lycaon. She asked me because she thought you were at work. You’re the one she trusts.”
He then turned and strutted off, scoffing triumphantly as he did.
“I’m the one she turns to when she doesn’t want to be scolded.”
Irked, Lycaon caught up quickly and grabbed the doll from Hugo’s hands. As the man whirled around to take it back, he lifted it out of reach and glared sternly downwards.
“I’ll return it tomorrow morning, her friend’s house is along the route. There was no need for Ellen to bother you about this.”
“Bother?” Hugo crossed his arms and smiled crookedly at him, a mysterious mixture of annoyance and smugness on his lips. “If Vivian asked you for a favor, you wouldn’t consider that a bother, would you?”
“Of course not—” Lycaon replied immediately, only to break off as he realized what Hugo had lured him into.
Sighing defeatedly, he lowered the doll back within reach. But instead of snatching it back, Hugo hooked an arm around his and began to tug him down the hall.
“It’s alright, I’ll let you have the honors. Tomorrow morning isn’t that far off, and besides…”
The thief snuck him a roguish smirk.
“We already have a full day ahead — don’t we, Lycaon?”
Blinking rapidly, Lycaon tucked the doll safely into his pocket and cleared his throat, his tail wagging furiously behind them.
“Ah… yes…”
Together, they emptied the dryer and hauled the laundry back to the bedroom. Hugo helped him fit the sheets, though Lycaon was absolutely certain he would have done it faster alone — the man seemed to think it was a game of tug-of-war, and they ended up fighting for enough linen to wrap around their corners.
By the time they were done, Lycaon was actually quite breathless, and Hugo was huffing loudly. Leaning over the mattress, he straightened the blankets and meticulously smoothed out his bed. A half-second later, Hugo flopped into the center and splayed out his arms with a satisfied sigh.
“You are the wrinkle in my day,” Lycaon growled, annoyed that his perfection had been ruined so quickly.
The thief flashed him a dazzling grin.
“Then iron me.”
A throb promptly echoed through his lower half. The corner of Hugo’s shirt had hitched upwards during his dramatic collapse, and the pale arch of his waist was fully visible… complete with pink striations left from Lycaon’s grip the previous nights.
Tempted, Lycaon sat down on the edge of the bed and reached towards the man. Somewhere in his mind, he grabbed the thief’s pants, yanked them down, and climbed over Hugo with a threatening snarl as his companion squirmed in mock dismay beneath him. But here, in the real world, he simply snuck a reprimanding jab into the blonde’s waist.
Realizing his actual intentions too late, Hugo tried but failed to escape.
“Hey—!”
The thief yelped and jerked away with a ticklish gasp, piling up the blankets against his chest and hugging them as though for protection.
Feigning composure, Lycaon leaned over and withdrew some loose articles of clothing left in the laundry basket.
“We’re not finished,” he muttered huskily, separating their intertwined underwear. Even that was making his unruly lower half throb in excitement…
Hugo didn’t help. The man lay in the bed behind him, his breathing slow and relaxed. Lycaon preferred that — there were only a few clothes left to fold, and he’d had enough chaos.
It didn’t take long to finish folding the rest, though he did experience a delay when he withdrew one of Hugo’s shirts. As Lycaon straightened it out in the air, he was suddenly struck by how petite the shirt was between his hands. He stared at it, amazed, his mouth unconsciously opening and his tail swishing against the blankets.
Had it… shrunk? Hugo wasn’t actually this tiny, right? He didn’t look small when he was standing beside Vivian or the managers. Yet this shirt…
As Lycaon was gently, experimentally, stretching the fabric between his hands, a wry voice cut through his stupor.
“Are you folding clothes or auditioning for a proposal?”
His ears twitched. Flushing, Lycaon lowered the shirt to the sheets and silently began to fold it.
Lycaon was just finishing up when he heard a sudden flurry of rustling behind him. He glanced back to see Hugo enthusiastically snuggling— or battling, it was difficult to tell — with his pillow. After a few seconds of wrestling it down with his face, the man suddenly stiffened.
“Oh.”
Lifting his head, Hugo rummaged around beneath the pillow, then dragged out a single sock. He then turned and tossed it at Lycaon.
“You missed one.”
Lycaon was in the middle of a very satisfying crease, and he couldn’t bring himself to ruin it. The sock flew past his muzzle and flopped onto the carpet.
“Nice catch,” Hugo scoffed, pushing himself to his hands and knees and crawling over. Brushing past Lycaon’s shoulder with a pleased purr, the man proceeded to climb over his lap — all for the sake of saving the distressed sock, or so his sparkling gaze said.
Clenching his jaw, Lycaon pretended to focus on his crease as Hugo’s torso slid over his thighs. Sprawling over his lap, the man reached off the side of the bed and strained towards the fallen sock.
“Mmh… ngh…”
After a dramatic struggle involving an unnecessary amount of effortful noises, Hugo managed to latch onto the sock. He groaned loudly as he withdrew, his slender body sliding over Lycaon’s crotch as he pulled back.
“Ughhhn…”
Lycaon stiffened and throbbed in many places at the same time. He could feel the little bumps of Hugo’s nipples dragging across his thighs, and he could feel the warmth of the man’s navel brushing against his knuckles. As Hugo almost finished pulling away, his chin grazed over Lycaon’s crotch, and he uttered a soft huff.
The warmth of his breath, the alluring gasp, the nudge against Lycaon’s aching tent — it was too much.
Snapping, Lycaon grabbed the blonde by the hair and yanked his head up with a threatening growl.
“What are you doing?”
Gazing up at him with an all-too-knowing gleam in his eyes, Hugo answered silkily. “Why, picking up the sock you dropped, of course.”
Rumbling ominously, Lycaon shoved his head back down, smearing the man’s cheek against the heat of his tent.
“That’s not what it sounded like you were doing.”
“Heh…”
Head tilting towards his trapped erection, Hugo rubbed his face against its seams and gazed provocatively up at him.
“What did it sound like I was doing, then?”
Chapter Text
“… What did it sound like I was doing, then?”
Without waiting for an answer, Hugo puckered his lips and pressed his mouth against Lycaon’s swollen tent. His gaze darkened mischievously as he purred,
“Don’t tell me my innocent, well-meaning act has left you this fevered and… grandly armed?”
As the vibrations of his voice and the warmth of his breath seeped into Lycaon’s erection, his breath caught in his throat. Tightening his grip on Hugo’s hair, he glowered down at the thief, the crimson glint of his eye reflecting within Hugo’s pupils as they held each other’s stare.
If that was innocent, then you’re not an insufferable thief.
Hugo’s smirk broadened. Slowly, the man opened his mouth and breathed hot, damp air against Lycaon’s crotch. His gaze remained locked with Lycaon, his eyes shimmering with anticipation as though daring Lycaon to stop him.
Stiff, Lycaon glared back. But he didn’t try to stop Hugo or drag him aside, and after a pause, the man lowered his gaze.
With a sensual flutter of his long lashes, Hugo bared his tongue against the cloth of Lycaon’s pants.
Lycaon’s hand twitched, unconsciously shoving the thief’s head closer. Hugo’s startled chuckle whisked through the wet fabric of his erection and he grimaced, flushing, but didn’t loosen his grip. He gazed down at the thief, unable to look away despite his shame, mesmerized by how gorgeous Hugo looked from this angle.
Hugo reached for his zipper, slender fingers sliding beneath the flap and slowly dragging his tab down. The steamy heat hidden within unfurled against his cheek, lulling his irises into a lustful shadow.
Clenching his jaw, Lycaon hissed out a breath and willed himself to stay still as the pressure locking him down gradually dissipated.
But Hugo freed him excruciatingly slowly, or so it appeared to Lycaon. He huffed raggedly, unable to think about anything but how that arrogant smirk should be stretched around his cock by now.
Holding his gaze almost tauntingly, the thief slid his fingers into the newly opened gap. Lycaon tensed and held back his groan as Hugo unwrapped his arousal — and greeted it with an affectionate smooch.
A shudder rippled through Lycaon’s body, leaving him bristling all the way down to the tip of his tail. He curled his fingers into Hugo’s scalp, unconsciously becoming fierce in his battle for self-control. Caught in the crossfire, the blonde winced and uttered a breathless chuckle against his tip.
“Mmn — easy there, Sir Lycaon. That’s not very polite of you, where are your manners?”
A vein throbbed in his temple. Another one throbbed considerably lower down, too. Irked, Lycaon decided not to loosen his grip.
“You really don’t know when to shut up.”
Hugo smiled, his gaze deliciously insolent despite the immense shaft weighing down on his lips.
“But you know how to make me,” the thief whispered suggestively. “Isn’t that right, Lycaon?”
Rumbling menacingly, Lycaon yanked the man’s hand down, forcing his lips deeper around the tip of his erection. Hugo opened his mouth without resistance, the arrogance fading from his face as his brows eased and his eyes glazed over. He uttered a quiet “mmph” as he was pushed deeper, his irises rolling upwards to peer at Lycaon through his long lashes.
It was tight in the thief’s mouth. Lycaon breathed in headily, his chest swelling with both air and delight as he admired the haze billowing over his companion’s pretty face. Hugo’s lips were stretched a light pink around his erection, and he could see his thick veins pulsing as they squeezed into the man’s mouth.
Lycaon exhaled, loudly, easing his grip from Hugo’s hair and sliding his hand down his partner’s jawline, instead. Hugo leaned instinctively towards the warmth of his palm, a softer delirium overcoming his expression as he held Lycaon’s erection in his mouth and swirled his tongue against its crown.
“Nn…”
Fingers wrapping around the base of his length, Hugo stroked him gingerly, his light touch almost a tickle. His lips tightened as he suckled, making Lycaon tingle from the inside out as his fluids were lured through his length.
“—Ah…”
Pulling away with a gasp, Hugo rested the mass against his lower lip and panted for breath. He gazed down at it, at the full form of Lycaon’s arousal, with disbelief and vulnerability in his eyes.
Lycaon had seen him make this face many times before… it was the expression Hugo always made whenever he took a good look at his erection — as though he couldn’t fathom being able to take it… as though he was already imagining being destroyed by it.
Lycaon enjoyed that look very much.
Sliding his hand lower along Hugo’s jawline, he pushed his fingers around the thief’s pointed ear. Hugo immediately tensed, excitement and trepidation flashing brightly through his irises as his ears twitched like they were trying to escape. Not letting them, of course, Lycaon grinded his thumb onto the man’s inner lobes. Sliding his other fingers around the rounded tip, he began to massage the delicate bone, rubbing over all the erogenous sweet spots that he’d engrained into his muscle memory.
It still amazed him, how thoroughly he could destroy Hugo with something as simple as this. The man’s expression crumbled, his brows furrowing and his eyes closing as he grimaced in bliss. Thoroughly riled up, Lycaon exhaled loudly again and gripped his length with his other hand. He tapped it against Hugo’s cheek, enjoying the man’s startled wince and the lewd sound of his erection striking the blonde’s pretty face. Then, he slid it demandingly back into his companion’s lips.
Hugo looked up at him, their eyes locking together. There was a hint of indignation in his glare, but all that did was make Lycaon shiver in exhilaration. That familiar, insufferable cheekiness… he wanted to dominate it. He wanted to take it and tame it, forcefully, until there was nothing left but lust and reverence in those beautifully mismatched eyes…
Despite the arrogance in his gaze, Hugo parted his lips, and took him in with a pleased mumble.
“Mmh…”
The warmth and heat of his mouth sank until Lycaon could feel the quivering back of his throat, sliding all the way in… then all the way back out.
“Hah — you’re —”
Huffing deliriously, Hugo rubbed his lips over his tip, smearing them both with his translucent dew.
“Excessive — magnificent. Absolutely — hah… whatever word means ‘huge’…” Lashes fluttering distractedly, Hugo lowered his head again, smothering his own gibberish with a muffled moan as he pushed it into his throat.
Ugh, this…
Shuddering, Lycaon bared his fangs, his throat tense and filled with restrained groans. Damnit, this thief… just had to be talented at everything, didn’t he…? Even the most… vile and unnecessary acts… not that this was one of them…
His thoughts scattered and drifted further away. Filled with a warm, soothing pleasure, Lycaon gazed down at his companion, mesmerized by the sight. Hugo’s long gold lashes glinted in the sunlight, reflecting off his heterochromatic irises and fluttering with the bobbing motions of his head. His unique beauty marks flushed auburn at the edges when he was flushed, a detail that Lycaon had always kept to himself. He doubted that even Hugo himself knew how gorgeous he looked like this, with his lovely features piqued in bliss and effort, his shapely lips glossy with fluids, and his long hair clinging to his cheeks and jaw, damp with lewd moisture. Lycaon almost couldn’t believe that such a dazzling, proud man was kneeling in front of him, lapping at his cock with loving enthusiasm and gazing at it with such craving, as though he couldn’t wait for it to make a mess all over his pretty face.
As Lycaon swelled against the walls of Hugo’s mouth, the thief grimaced, and his ear twitched. It had grown warm and pink in Lycaon’s fingers, and as he pushed his fingers deeper and continued to caress the man’s sensitive areas, Hugo shuddered and let a hand fall away from Lycaon’s erection.
Reaching between his own legs, Hugo swiftly pushed down the front of his pajama pants. Lycaon only caught a glimpse of his flushed, rigid erection springing out before the man wrapped it in his hands and began to stroke himself, fervently. Utterly debauched ecstasy billowed through Hugo’s face as he sank Lycaon deeper and pleasured himself at the same time, as though having his throat filled made it even more stimulating for him. The look on his face was so alluring that Lycaon almost couldn’t bring himself to stop them — but moisture was already starting to ooze between Hugo’s fingers, and the bedsheets beneath them were pure and white and clean.
“Hugo.”
With a gritted rumble, Lycaon grabbed the man’s arm and dragged it away from himself.
“You’ll dirty the linens again.”
Hugo pulled away from his erection with a gasp, saliva and dew still dangling between his lips and the tip of Lycaon’s length as he scorned breathlessly.
“Oh, heavens forbid anything happens to your precious laundered sheets — fine, I’ll just dirty your chair instead—”
Sharply, Lycaon stood up — yanking Hugo up with him. He stormed across the room in three swift steps and slammed the thief into the wall with a bang that made the cabinet rattle.
“Don’t you dare,” he whispered into the man’s gasp, before silencing whatever Hugo might have retorted with a ferocious kiss.
Their tongues and teeth crashed together with unrestrained need as they kissed each other with all their might. Wrapping his arms around him, Hugo dragged his fingers down Lycaon’s back, leaving trails through his fur as he angled his head and encouraged him to dive even deeper. Growling headily, Lycaon accepted the invitation, gripping the man’s hair controllingly in one hand, stroking his ear with the other. Their erections throbbed against each other as they pressed together, and they didn’t stop — couldn’t stop — until Hugo had thoroughly run out of breath.
Wrenching himself away with a raspy breath, Hugo flinched away from Lycaon’s stubborn attempts to continue, his entire body heaving as he gasped for breath. Frustrated and impatient, Lycaon nuzzled his cheek and the damp corners of his lips, his rumbles half a growl, half a whine as he tried to wait.
“Hah… haha… how do you taste?” Hugo asked teasingly, once he could speak.
Groggily, Lycaon pressed their lips together in a warm, wet smooch before answering.
“Like I’ve been in your mouth.”
His erection throbbed as it remembered how spoiled it had been a few minutes ago. Instinctively, Lycaon pulled down on Hugo’s hair — but the man was already sliding down to the carpet, reading his thoughts before they had even formed.
Lowering himself to his knees, Hugo greeted his happily throbbing cock with a tender smooch. The thief locked their eyes together for a meaningful moment, his gaze taunting, almost triumphant… which Lycaon didn’t understand, because he was most certainly the one benefiting from this arrangement. But he wasn’t complaining, nor did he find that haughtiness anything but arousing. Sliding his hand onto the man’s cheek, he guided Hugo’s head forward and uttered a low, satisfied groan as he squeezed back into his companion’s mouth.
“Mmn…”
Hugo tried to proceed as he had earlier, bobbing his head, one hand sliding along the lower half of Lycaon’s erection, the other buried in his own thighs. But like this, towering over the man and pinning him against the wall, Lycaon had better ideas.
Sliding both his hands onto the man’s face, he slid his thumbs onto Hugo’s lips. The thief slowed, his irises flickering upwards, curiosity flickering through the lustful haze in his eyes.
“… Relax.”
With a low, raspy growl, Lycaon eased his thumbs into Hugo’s mouth and onto both of his lower fangs. Holding the man’s jaw down, forcefully, he began to thrust into Hugo’s open mouth.
“Nhhh—”
A surprised whimper started up, only to be garbled into silence as Lycaon slid himself mercilessly deep. Hugo stiffened, his eyes rolling upwards and welling with moisture.
Hugo’s throat bobbed — Lycan could see it quivering, and he could feel it clenching around his tip. It felt so good, so good that he was tempted to be even more savage than this, to truly ruin him, but — but… he breathed in slowly, and pulled back.
“Mmn….”
As Hugo’s eyes fluttered shut, a thin trickle of tears spilled over his lower lashes, and Lycaon felt a thrilling shudder. It was mixed with a twinge of shame, but he couldn’t deny it — how much he was enjoying this. Even as Hugo’s fangs dug into his thumbs, he didn’t mind it — everything else felt far too good for him to notice the sting.
He continued rocking his hips, his breaths heavy and ragged with pleasure, his heavy sacs swinging against Hugo’s chin as he jerked. The thief touched himself shamelessly too, his fingers coated with goo that he had spilled over himself, his shirt and pants dark with damp stains. Hugo looked so exquisite like this — so overwhelmed with both effort and bliss, that Lycaon couldn’t help but quicken his pace.
He thrusted further, faster, aware of the deepening grimace on Hugo’s face but not able to stop himself. Part of him still couldn’t help but enjoy the look of distress on his partner’s — enemy’s — face, and as he felt himself surging towards an intense climax, he stopped holding back.
He jammed himself deep as he burst, half-suppressed grunts of pleasure tearing from his chest as he convulsed and throbbed within Hugo’s throat. The thief endured impressively — stubbornly — well, his irises rolling up towards Lycaon and glittering with insolence even as a wanton haze swept over the rest of his face.
He wanted to stay in there, within the blissful tension of Hugo’s throat, forever — but Lycaon could see moisture building in his partner’s eyes, and he could see pain starting to creep into the man’s expression. He pulled back and released Hugo’s fangs, cradling the thief’s chin gently as the blonde spluttered and began to wheeze for breath.
“Agh — hah! — ah — haah—”
It splattered past his chin and onto Hugo’s lap — his seed. As the flow thinned, it clung to the man’s chin and dribbled down his throat instead, smearing itself onto his chest. Lycaon gulped, his erection already twitching in renewed excitement as he admired what he had reduced his companion to… how amazing Hugo looked, bathed in his seed.
Resting back against the wall, Hugo managed to heave a full, shaky breath. He lifted his hand to his chin and smeared off some of the mess, only to lick it off the back of his hand.
Startled, Lycaon could only stare at him in disbelief as the man wiped the mess off his face and lapped everything off his hand. His erection throbbed even more excitedly as he thought of his seed being pushed down that delicate, quivering throat.
“Ahh… mm… hahh…”
Still breathless, Hugo reached for Lycaon’s length, his hands still trembling as he cradled it gently. He dabbed a finger against the goo still oozing from Lycaon’s tip, then drew it to his outstretched tongue, leaving a fat dangle swinging in between.
“Ooh…”
Lycaon stiffened, his hands unconsciously curling into fists.
Fuck… the look on his face right now… was enough to make anyone go insane…
Locking eyes with Lycaon, Hugo began to slurp it up, slowly luring the string of seed into his mouth until his lips were finally pressed against his cock. There, the alluring thief pursed his lips against the smooth, slick tip of his erection, and lapped the goo off its hot surface.
A violent shudder crawled down Lycaon’s spine, and his tail flicked agitatedly. Grabbing Hugo’s chin, he shoved his thumb past the man’s soiled lips and pressed down on his gooey tongue. He glared at the thief, his heart thudding as volumes of excitement and desire churned through his chest. Hugo glared back, his gaze expectant and taunting, as though challenging Lycaon to ruin him.
Then… gently, Lycaon scraped the excess seed off the man’s tongue. Curling his fingers around the blonde’s chin, he pulled Hugo slowly back to his feet.
“You needn’t swallow it,” he muttered, pressing their foreheads together and wagging his tail.
Tilting his head, Hugo leaned precariously close to his muzzle. “You have no idea how much I missed your taste, dear Lycaon,” he purred. “I’m not wasting a single drop.”
Surprised, Lycaon remained silent for a moment, his tail wagging even more fervently. Then, in as nonchalant a voice as he could muster, he said,
“Unfortunately, you’ve already let quite a bit spill.”
Hugo scoffed.
“Pompous mutt.”
“I love you,” Lycaon murmured.
“Shut up.”
Their lips brushed, and Hugo opened his mouth to eagerly greet his own. But the thief’s tongue was still thoroughly coated in slime, and this time, Lycaon couldn’t help but hesitate.
Realizing, Hugo fisted the fur along his back and laughed.
“Apologies…” Lycaon muttered, his ears flattening in shame. “The scent… is really strong…”
Clearly unbothered, Hugo wrapped a leg around Lycaon’s hips and pulled him possessively closer.
“I’ll forgive your transgressions,” the thief whispered against Lycaon’s cheek as he rubbed himself provocatively against the still-immense shaft pressed between their abdomens, “if you put that mighty cock of yours where it belongs… and show me an exquisitely good time.”
The said mighty part of him grew even mightier as it lathered its slick surface all over Hugo’s skin. Helpless to resist, Lycaon reached under the man’s knee and hoisted Hugo’s leg higher around him, locking their bodies firmly together.
“We have no more lubricant,” he muttered between ragged pants, ramming Hugo repeatedly into the wall anyway.
“Just use your cum—” Hugo’s frantic gasp broke off into a moan as Lycaon, already three steps ahead, scraped the goo off his pale skin and smeared his soaked fingers against the thief’s entrance.
“Ah—”
Hugo tensed slightly, his breaths sharpening restlessly as he arched his lower body encouragingly towards Lycaon’s fingers. The man’s pucker felt puffy and tender, and it flared against his fingertips in resistance. Lycaon worked gently, prodding it until it softened against him and naturally let him in.
He thrusted deeper with a slick squelch and Hugo promptly stiffened, tossing his head back and hitting the wall with a considerable bang.
“Nhgh—”
Huffing anxiously, Lycaon paused and nuzzled his companion’s cheek.
“Sorry, is it—”
“Shut up,” Hugo snapped, his voice breathless but commanding as he recovered and pushed back against Lycaon’s finger. “Don’t stop unless I tell you to. I’m already running out of patience.”
Lycaon’s tail twitched, annoyance and arousal mixing and swelling inside him as he returned the thief’s haughty glare. This brat…
… just wait til I’m done with you…
Growling, Lycaon rammed his finger forward and began to shove roughly in and out, pressing Hugo into the wall and enjoying the shudders rippling through the man’s slender body. He quickened his pace heedlessly, until fluids were spraying past his knuckles and spotting the carpet, relishing the growing distress in Hugo’s hoarse moans.
“Uhngh — fuck — yes — yes! Fine — that’s — good, I guess — ah! — wait—”
Soaking up his whimpers with a pleased twitch of his ears, Lycaon slammed his fingers as deep as they could possibly go and wriggled them there, deep within Hugo’s heat. Scrabbling at his shoulder blades, Hugo tightened and convulsed from his attack, his cries fleeing shrilly into the air.
“Ah — ah! — stop stop — don’t stop— don’t — ohh — nhgh—!”
With a final impactful thrust, Lycaon lingered inside him, then slowly withdrew his fingers. Hugo fell limp against him with a shuddering moan, his voice already raspy with exhaustion.
He’s vocal today, Lycaon thought groggily, enjoying the noises Hugo continued to make as he lifted the man onto his erection and grinded their slick parts together. Perhaps his partner was starting to get past the bashfulness he’d accumulated over their years apart, and was reverting back to his former obnoxious self…
“… Hurry up…” Hugo panted, tugging needily on his fur.
“Hm…” Irked but also delighted the sound of the thief’s ravaged voice, Lycaon huffed and obeyed with a firm, controlled thrust.
Hugo arched off the wall with a magnificent groan, his insides tightening and drawing Lycaon deeper. Their bodies slid together with terrifying ease, and Lycaon had to let out his own groan as he was rapidly submerged and squeezed within blissful heat.
“Oh fuck… oh fuck…”
Leaning closer, Lycaon muffled Hugo’s scattered moans with a brief kiss, then slid further back to pant against his sensitive ears.
“Ah — don’t — ah!”
Hugo’s whimper rose and cut off abruptly as Lycaon began to thrust, cradling the man’s buttocks tightly as he slammed forward, hard. Ignoring the thief’s unintelligible mumbling, he extended his tongue and lapped at Hugo’s ears, lathering his cool skin with hot saliva and stuffing his tongue deeper into his lobes.
“Mnhgh you—!”
Hugo’s insides tensed and shuddered with his rising and falling cries, and Lycaon echoed his companion with a blissful groan of his own. As his deep voice vibrated through the man’s ears, the heat around him squeezed down harder than ever, and Lycaon accidentally slammed in with uncontrolled force.
Hugo spasmed within his embrace, his entire body falling limp for a second as though utterly shattered in that moment. His yelp dwindled into a delirious gasp as he dragged his nails through Lycaon’s shoulder and took the rest of his thrusts in complete surrender.
“Oh… yes — please, yes… Lycaon, you… you absolute… ah… I had an insult, where did it go? Ah — whatever — haah, more, yes—!”
Amused, Lycaon nuzzled his way down from the thief’s ears, along his jawbone, and back onto his lips. He kissed Hugo, tenderly, enduring the pungent taste still lingering in the man’s mouth for the sake of expressing his overflowing affection.
They parted with fluid still dangling between their tongues, too thick to just be saliva. Catching it with his finger, Lycaon stuffed it back into Hugo’s mouth, pushing down on his tongue and pulling teasingly at his fangs. Hugo gazed at him through delirious, half-lidded eyes, his saliva pooling and spilling over his chin as he nibbled Lycaon’s fingers and wrestled him with his tongue.
“Nn… nguh… uuu…”
His gibberish whines intensified as they quickened, their bodies shaking the wall with rapid, rhythmic thumps. Thrilled by the noise and the sight of his partner so ravished beneath him, Lycaon pulled his hand away and grabbed Hugo by the hair instead. Pummelling him even more roughly, he yanked the thief’s head back, enjoying the sight of his bobbing throat and the sound of his spilled cries.
“Ah! — oh yes — ahh—!”
A bang suddenly shook the door, cutting through their delirium with abrupt ruthlessness. Hugo strangled himself into a gasp, and Lycaon spiraled into a jarring halt deep inside of him.
“Hugo!”
Robin’s familiar voice screeched from the other side of the door, followed by a second and third bang.
“I detect signals of distress! Immediate response required or I’ll activate rescue protocols!”
Huffing breathlessly, Hugo raised his voice and managed to call back in an impressively normal scoff.
“I’m fine, I’m just—nhgh?!”
Only to muffle himself hastily, entire body stiffening in shock, as Lycaon gripped him, slid out — and rammed back in, hard.
Hugo’s watery glare imbued his mind with a furious hiss.
You — what do you think you’re—?!
“Negative!” Robin objected fervently. “Your heart rate is 162 beats per minute! I suspect a possible hostage situation!”
Leaning closer, Lycaon rumbled cajolingly against the man’s tightly-pressed lips, enjoying how they quivered with strain.
“162?” he purred, his voice dark and amused. “Hm… let’s see if we can beat that.”
He quickened his pace, slamming Hugo thoroughly into the wall with little care for how much noise they were making.
“Hugo—!”
“I’m fine!” Hugo yelped, tugging fiercely on Lycaon’s fur but unable to resist otherwise as he shuddered in bliss. “I’m just — ah — occupied — hah, yes, quite…occupied… oh fuck, Lycaon, stop thaaaaat uhnghhh—”
“Hugo, your speech is fragmented, suggesting possible neurological impairment,” Robin announced. “All these indicators are consistent with extreme duress!”
“I’m not — ah — in trouble—” Hugo gasped frantically, the bliss and strain in his expression thickening as he seemed to approach his limit. “Unless you count — mm — n-never mind, ohh—”
“Heart rate has elevated to dangerous levels! Emergency rescue protocol engaged! Forced entry initiating in T-minus ten—”
“Robin — Robin, hold on—”
“Nine—”
Turning to Lycaon, Hugo grabbed his ear and yanked on it fiercely.
“Lycaon — Lycaon, he’s serious, you crazy mutt, he’ll — ahh — blast down the door, stop, stop stop—”
“Tsk.”
Agitated, Lycaon dragged himself out. They separated with a loud squelch and a splatter of fluids, Hugo seizing up briefly with a tense mewl. Swiftly, with Robin’s mechanical countdown continuing on the other side of the door, Lycaon carried the man to his chair and tossed the blanket hurriedly over his soiled form. He then zipped up his pants, smoothed out his attire, and strode matter-of-factly towards the door.
As soon as he unlocked it, it slammed inwards, striking Lycaon’s palm with a bang. Robin stormed in, ears wiggling as he spun back and forth, his card gun raised and ready to retaliate as he scanned the room for threats.
Butler waddled in close behind with an apologetic huff.
“Watta watta…”
“I detect unusually high pheromone residue in the air!” Robin announced, pointing his card gun at the ceiling, then at the wall. At least the Bangboo hadn’t seemed to notice the stains in the carpet. “Hugo, was something dangerous happening here?”
“Yes,” Hugo huffed, at the same time Lycaon firmly declared, “No.”
Robin blinked, his little body shaking as though paralyzed in confusion. Butler also rubbed his head with his stubby little arm, looking both stressed and bewildered.
Clearing his throat, Lycaon grabbed his wallet off the cabinet and withdrew some Dennies. Giving them to Butler, he cast his Bangboo a meaningful look and suggested, “The two of you have been working diligently for the upcoming banquet, you deserve a break. Butler, why don’t you take Robin out to buy some premium batteries?”
Robin whirled around, his eyes pink and glowing in instant euphoria. Butler still looked somewhat confused, but he nodded and tucked the Dennies gracefully into his breast pocket.
“Wattan-nah.”
Grabbing Robin by the hand, the Bangboo led him out of the room. Robin followed without resistance, his cape wiggling wildly behind him.
Lycaon shut the door behind them and locked it firmly, then paused there for a moment, letting his racing heart settle. The silence only lasted a few seconds before Hugo broke it with a breathless chortle.
“I hope he doesn’t use the word ‘pheromones’ when he tells Vivian about this.”
Stirring, Lycaon turned. His jaw clenched, and his gaze sharpened into a deadly glare as he strode slowly towards the man he had been on the brink of ravaging mere minutes earlier.
“I don’t think Vivian should be your foremost concern at the moment,” he rumbled, unfastening his messily tied cravat and tossing it aside.
“Oh please,” Hugo scoffed, straining back with a breathless giggle as Lycaon bent over the chair and smothered him within his shadow. “It’s not like I’m alone with anything I can’t handle—”
He broke off, gasping as he was lifted effortlessly out of the chair. Ripping the blankets away, Lycaon threw him into the bed and climbed threateningly over him, snarling.
“Oh?” Hugo purred, combing a hand through Lycaon’s hackles and arching his body teasingly towards him. “Unless you’re about to prove me wrong? Dear Lycaon, you look like you’re ready to put me under extreme duress.”
Reaching beneath the man’s back, Lycaon pulled his body closer, his snarl softening into a dark purr as he bared his fangs against Hugo’s throat. Breath hitching, Hugo swallowed and tugged gently on his ear, legs already instinctively spreading for him as Lycaon began to grind their swollen groins together.
“Heh… should I have asked Robin to save me?”
Catching the thief’s teasing gaze, Lycaon gripped him tightly and slowly churned his arousal back into his companion’s heat.
“… You’re about to find out.”
Chapter Text
The next twelve hours that he spent away from Hugo were the longest twelve hours of his life.
Lycaon had a full shift the next day. He woke up with a throbbing headache, feeling like he was suffering from a hangover — over-indulgence, perhaps. He prepared some cider for Hugo and placed it in a thermos by the bed, then left an hour early to give himself time to return the strange Bangboo doll.
He arrived at the client’s manor on time, his fur perfectly groomed and his uniform impeccably straight, silently despairing that he was here with an elegant smile instead of snuggling with Hugo in bed.
He began his shift by drawing open the curtains and cooking breakfast. The master left him instructions for the day, then departed for work. The wife was still asleep and Lycaon knew not to bother her, but he had to wake their son for school. Lycaon spent a great deal of time cajoling the boy out of bed, but strangely he found the child’s spoiled grumbling quite endearing today.
Once the boy was at school, Lycaon returned to make fresh coffee for the lady of the house. She was in her room, picking out jewellery for her brunch with friends, stressing over how none of them ‘felt right’. Lycaon accompanied her patiently and offered his usual neutral but positive-sounding comments whenever he was asked.
However, after an hour of indecision, Lycaon accidentally spoke his mind.
“Sometimes the piece you hesitate over is the one you love most. People are often like that, as well.”
She turned to him in surprise, then giggled in a way unbefitting a woman of her stature.
“Oh? I didn’t know you were such a romantic, Lycaon.”
Lycaon hid his grimace and didn’t let himself speak more than three words at a time for the rest of the morning.
He drove the lady to and from her brunch, tidied up the house, then picked up their son from school. The boy rambled on the way home, talking about how their teacher was getting married and sounding extremely confused about the whole thing. He then turned to Lycaon and asked innocently,
“Mr. Lycaon, are you married?”
“No,” Lycaon replied immediately, before pausing and adding under his breath. “… Not formally.”
The boy tilted his head and blinked at him.
“So… you don’t have a wife?”
For a few long seconds, Lycaon didn’t answer.
Technically, the answer was no. Situationally, the answer was still no. No matter how he looked at it, the answer ought to be ‘no’.
“… It’s complicated.”
That made the boy even more confused, and when they arrived home, he ran off to find his mother, shouting that he had many questions about what it meant to have a wife.
The rest of Lycaon’s day proceeded without surprises until about 5 PM. As Lycaon was preparing dinner, he felt his phone vibrate with an incoming message.
He stiffened, immediately told himself no, and willed with all his might to not reach into his pocket — but somehow, two seconds later, he was eagerly reading the message that Hugo had sent.
Not just a message. A picture.
It was a photo of Hugo’s back reflected in the bedroom mirror, his long gold hair undone and swept gracefully over one shoulder, his bare skin luminous in the evening light. The man’s slender fingers wrapped over the back of his neck and he was looking over his shoulder, only a hint of his smirk visible as he peeked out at Lycaon through the camera.
“I may have found a new freckle. Or was this always here?”
Lycaon gulped. He should have turned his screen off and pocketed his phone immediately, but he instead hyper-focused onto the lovely arch of Hugo’s nape.
“The freckle is visible,” he sent back. He didn’t actually know if it was, or what Hugo was even talking about for that matter, because the man’s neck was littered with all sorts of marks, most of which were definitely not freckles—
Lycaon saw the dot-dot-dot of Hugo scheming up a reply, and his tail began to wag furiously. Damnit, he could already hear the thief cackling smugly in his ears.
“What about this one?”
He received a second picture with a much more provocative zoom of Hugo’s midriff. Lycaon stiffened, his pupil trembling from the details.
Freckle? What freckle? All he could see was the slender curve of Hugo’s waist, the flushed striations hugging his hips, and the grooves of his pelvic bone guiding Lycaon’s gaze downwards, into the darker, flushed skin deeper within his groin… which was suspiciously bare, devoid of any briefs — just smooth, creamy skin. The man was completely naked behind that camera, all he had to do was tilt his phone a little bit lower and send another—
Shaking himself abruptly, Lycaon fumbled over the keyboard.
“I am *working*, Hugo.”
He typed it all wrong, but his autocorrect managed to fix it before it sent. He heard the buzz of Hugo replying, but Lycaon didn’t let himself look. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket, grabbed a pinch of salt, and seasoned the kitchen counter.
The final half-hour of Lycaon’s shift was particularly agonizing. He spent the time filling out the household ledger, elegantly writing absolute nonsense while in his mind he was already home, burying himself into Hugo’s nape and squeezing between his pale thighs. Apparently, today Lycaon had ‘rotated the laundry’ and restocked the pantry with ‘dried herbs, Hugo, and cinnamon sticks’.
As he was sitting at the desk, trying to correct his entries and sighing wistfully every three seconds, the room suddenly plunged into darkness.
Lycaon stiffened, his ears perking, his tail instantly rigid. He heard a faint clang overhead and looked up to see the chandelier swinging, its shadow flickering ominously across the dim streaks of moonlight.
As soon as his gaze lifted, he detected a faint hiss from behind, like the sound of a window being carefully opened. Realizing his mistake, Lycaon whirled around — only to freeze, heart fluttering, as something warm brushed his other shoulder and slid into his ear.
“Good evening, darling.”
His tail thwacked against the chair. It swung the other way and thwacked into the other side. Pretending he was utterly composed, not at all bristling or wagging his tail or delighted everywhere, Lycaon turned and met the two-toned eyes glinting at him in the darkness.
“… Really?” he said scathingly.
Stepping back, the intruder lifted a hand over his mask and twirled his other hand dramatically.
“I heard that the master of this estate is hoarding a most precious treasure,” he announced gallantly, circling the desk and flashing his fangs at Lycaon in a devilishly charming grin. “The rumors say he’s more virtuous than a sheathed blade, more disciplined than a clock’s heartbeat, and more well-endowed than the royal armory…”
Sliding an arm over the back of his chair, Hugo leaned down and nudged a finger teasingly beneath Lycaon’s chin, tilting his muzzle up into the warmth of his teasing whisper.
“I simply had to add him to my collection.”
“… He would have been home in half an hour,” Lycaon muttered, still stiff in his chair. He wasn’t moving, not because he was angry or unimpressed, but because he didn’t trust himself to not slam Hugo over the table and fill the household ledger with far more than just ink—
“Alas—” Straightening, the thief sighed in melodramatic forlorn, a hand pressed earnestly to his chest. “Delay is but a catalyst for regret, and I was withering at the thought of those cruel masters abusing his light.”
“Hold on, how did you get past the security protocols?” Lycaon frowned distractedly at the window. “I wrote them specifically with you in mind—”
Scoffing in mock offense, Hugo twirled away and struck a pose.
“Do you really think a few alarms can stop me from taking back what’s rightfully mine?”
The thief smirked and bent over in an eloquent bow.
“The one standing before you is no less than the legendary Mockingbird.”
Sighing, Lycaon abandoned his pen and rose to his feet. He stepped towards the man, his voice softening into a low croon as he hooked an arm around Hugo’s slender waist and yanked him in.
“So be it then, oh cunning thief. If I am your prize, then I accept my fate,” he murmured, nudging Hugo slowly back against the open windowsill. “The spoils of this chase belong to you…”
His voice faded for a moment as they leaned out the window together, lost in the breeze and the warmth of Hugo’s chuckle.
“… My beloved, insufferable Mockingbird.”
“Heh, well spoken, my dearest partner.”
A glint of gold flickered over his shoulder as Hugo tossed a coin into the room. Lips brushing, grins clashing, and eyes locked tenderly together, the thief yanked him back and grappled towards the moon.
“Yours truly… Mockingbird.”
As grand as their exit was, Lycaon did have to retrieve the vehicle, so they landed anticlimactically in the garden. The moment he opened the car door, a nostalgic aroma hit his nose, and he faltered in surprise.
Someone had broken into the car and left fresh takeout behind. Well, not someone…
Pretending he wasn’t impressed, Lycaon slid nonchalantly onto the driver’s seat and turned on the engine.
“I was going to cook dinner,” he grunted as they pulled out of the manor. His tone was disapproving, but his nose twitched in delight. This scent… brought back many vivid memories. It used to be his favourite indulgence, back when they were poor thieves with only a few coins to spare. But since becoming an attendant, it seemed… inappropriate, to eat such a thing.
“Drop the pompous act for a second,” Hugo scoffed, jostling the takeout bag. “I know you’ve been craving this since we were teenagers.”
Staring at the road, Lycaon muttered, “It’s… incredibly greasy.”
“And incredibly delicious.” Hugo smirked. “Don’t act like you weren’t the one who used to polish off three orders by yourself and lick the sauce off your fingers afterwards—”
“I was growing,” Lycaon growled, flushing at the memory — and at his gurgling stomach. “The circumstances were different.”
Hugo cast him a look that seemed dubious, disdainful, and pitying all at once.
“You’re allowed to want things that aren’t… plated on white porcelain, you know. Besides,” he added in a scoff of mock forlorn, “I got it for you. Thought maybe you’d forgotten what it’s like to be spoiled.”
“I was never spoiled,” Lycaon grumbled.
“Debatable,” Hugo mused, sneaking a piece out of the bag and feeding it to him.
Chewing it down with a guilty pang of bliss, Lycaon hesitated, then grunted grudgingly.
“Did you at least get the extra dipping sauce?”
Grinning widely, Hugo relaxed back into his seat.
“Of course — who do you take me for?”
They enjoyed their dinner leisurely once they returned to the manor, alongside a dish of sauteed vegetables that Lycaon insisted on quickly making to ease the guilt.
But once he actually began to eat, his reluctance faded quickly. It wasn’t just the familiar sensation of oil slicking his fingers and salt prickling his tongue, but also the vivid memories that accompanied the nostalgic taste.
He hadn’t eaten this in years… not since the nights when he and Hugo had sat cross-legged on the rooftop, laughing through mouthfuls and smudging their half-scribbled schemes with grease and crumbs. The freedom, the adrenaline, and the companionship they had felt back then… that was what dinner tasted like.
Part of Lycaon wanted to devour every bite like he used to in the past, but he chewed slowly, as if savoring might keep time from moving forward again. Hugo didn’t take as much, scoffing that he’d had too much chocolate earlier, but the man stayed at the table and teased him for eating like a ‘muzzled hound’.
It didn’t matter that his companion was an annoying, morally questionable, insufferable thief. Being with him still made the whole world taste better.
Once they cleared their plates, Hugo declared that he’d handle the cleanup and shooed Lycaon off to shower. By the time Lycaon emerged from the bathroom, fluffy and damp with fragrant steam, his companion was already lying in bed — in underwear, ankles kicked up in the air, buttocks arched in the lamplight.
Swallowing, hard, Lycaon cleared his throat and walked over as casually as he could.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice coming out husky. As Hugo glanced curiously back at him, Lycaon flicked his gaze meaningfully towards the blonde’s lower back.
The moment Hugo realized, a mischievous smirk blossomed over his face, then quickly transformed into a dramatic look of distress.
“I’m devastatingly sore,” the man lamented, arching his back and jutting his round buttocks towards Lycaon’s gaze. “I keep getting sharp twinges all the way down the length of my — hngh!”
Hugo broke off with a coy yelp and a jerk that looked too genuine to be an act.
“… spine — see, it happened again,” he whined, tossing Lycaon a piqued glare of accusation.
Lycaon stared hungrily at the slender dip of his waist, only half-conscious of what the man had just said. The sensual parts of Hugo’s complaint rang over and over in his head, luring him down a helpless spiral of lust.
Sliding over the mattress, Lycaon reached over and brushed his palm gently against the dip of Hugo’s back, his voice low and soft as he murmured.
“What can I do to alleviate your discomfort?”
But he was barely aware of his own words, because in Lycaon’s mind, he was already gripping that slender torso in his hands and battering it even further.
“Mm…” Hugo’s pleased hum slid down his back and vibrated beneath Lycaon’s hand. The man tapped at his phone, feigning ignorance to the raggedness in Lycaon’s breathing as he replied offhandedly.
“Maybe I’ll go to Duyi’s massage parlor… the manager said he’s very good…”
Jealousy, petty and painful, lacerated Lycaon’s heart. He curled his claws into the thief’s skin and gripped him tighter, as though to hold him in place.
“Allow me.”
At his grumpy offer, Hugo looked over his shoulder and shot him an incredulous eyebrow-raise.
“Lycaon, are you jealous?”
“Of course not,” Lycaon grunted, averting his gaze. “It’s just that you’re already in my care. It would be… irregular, to outsource parts of the recovery protocol.”
“In your care?” Hugo mused, brushing his hair to one side and revealing the many marks scattered over his pale neck and shoulders. “And these?” he queried, smiling faintly at Lycaon. “Part of Victoria Housekeeping’s famous elite service, are they?”
Angling his head lower, the thief gazed up at him with a darker, more insinuating look.
“Or did you simply get carried away… Sir Let’s-Not-Do-Anything-Irregular-Lycaon?”
Lycaon cleared his throat, his ears and tail twitching as both shame and satisfaction seared his conscience.
“I was… off duty, when I left those. In any case—”
Hooking an arm around the man, Lycaon whisked his partner into his arms and carried him over to the chair.
“Please wait a moment,” he said briskly, tucking his reading blanket gently around the man’s bare shoulders. “I will have everything ready shortly.”
He darted around, preparing all the necessities with practiced efficiency — a mat, an aromatherapy diffuser, tranquil music, and dimmed lights. Hugo watched him with a crooked smile on his lips, looking amused and somewhat skeptical.
Once his massage station was ready, Lycaon gestured for Hugo to return to the bed with a graceful bow. The man raised an eyebrow and uttered an intrigued sort of hum, but climbed out of the chair.
While Hugo laid down and made himself comfortable, Lycaon warmed massage oil between his palms. The technique came with insinuating slick noises, and Hugo glanced over his shoulder wearing a faint smirk.
Tail swishing, Lycaon ignored the teasing glint in the man’s eyes and focused on the task at hand.
He approached his companion, breathing slowly and letting the tranquil atmosphere ease his agitation. Hugo had removed his underwear and was now lying face-down over the bed, a towel draped low over his hips, his head tucked in his arms. That smirk was still lingering on his lips, like he thought this was going to be a magnificent disaster.
Lycaon wasn’t convinced that he was wrong.
Steeling himself, Lycaon tried to look professionally nonchalant as he reached down to begin.
—But the moment his hand touched the man’s back, his breath stopped short.
Hugo’s cool skin felt like satin beneath his oil-glossed hand. The man’s body dipped beneath the weight of his fingertips, soft and pliant, rising and trembling with each slow breath that he took.
Lycaon blanked. Suddenly, he wasn’t gently pressing on Hugo’s sides, but grabbing him, tightly, his sharp nails dragging through his pale skin as he arched that spine and dragged it closer. The man’s shoulder blades weren’t relaxed in the dim light but taut and flexed as Hugo clawed at the sheets, his rhythmic breathing not serene but heavy and broken by want.
Unconsciously, Lycaon pressed down harder, trying to pull himself out of his spiralling imagination. But even that reminded him of how sweetly Hugo whimpered when he had done it just like that…
… Focus.
He huffed under his breath. He saw Hugo’s ears twitch, and he knew the man had heard it. He was panicking for an excuse before Hugo even spoke.
“Lycaon, you’re breathing like you’re having an internal crisis. You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“I’m not—” Flustered, Lycaon growled something he didn’t hear over the thunder in his head. “Of course I know what I’m doing. This is… respiratory grounding.”
“Right…”
The thief replied with an amused drawl, but he fell silent after that and relaxed back against the pillow.
Grimacing, Lycaon shook himself and tried again.
Focus.
Exhaling shakily, he pushed his thumbs along the contours of Hugo’s muscles and began to knead his companion’s very familiar body.
Lycaon worked in silence, immersing himself in the sound of Hugo’s breathing and the steady swish of oil gliding across skin. He breathed in time with his movements, massaging the knots in Hugo’s body with measured pressure and coaxing the thief’s tight muscles to yield. Slowly, Hugo’s body became warm and flushed from his hands, and the man’s scent blended with the oil and wafted in heady huffs against his face.
Truly… there wasn’t a single arc in the thief’s body that Lycaon didn’t find tempting.
“Mm…”
As Lycaon began to work at the tension in Hugo’s shoulders, the man shifted and uttered a faint, pleased mumble.
“You’re… unexpectedly good at this…” Hugo breathed, his voice far too soft and sensual for Lycaon’s crumbling sanity.
“Naturally, as an attendant of Victoria Housekeeping,” Lycaon recited mechanically, “I must be well-versed in all matters pertaining to comfort and care.”
Hugo stirred, his head turning slightly in his arms.
“So you’ve done this for others?”
Lycaon glanced at him in faint surprise. “Hugo,” he said, unable to help himself from mimicking the man’s earlier tease. “Are you jealous?”
The bit of the thief’s face that was visible scrunched up in an irritable glare, and Hugo burrowed back into his arms with a hmph.
Allowing himself a quiet chuckle, Lycaon leaned down and brushed his muzzle against the back of the man’s ear.
“Rest assured, my clients remain clothed.”
Hugo stiffened, his ear flushing remarkably pink beneath his golden locks. He didn’t answer, stubbornly maintaining his silence as Lycaon resumed his efforts with a smile.
He trailed down along Hugo’s spine, tracing each vertebrae with slow rolls of his fingers. Hugo shuddered under his touch and muffled a quiet moan, his fingers clenching then relaxing against the pillow. The man’s hair spilled across the white sheets, gleaming in the dim light and reflecting off his glossy skin, adding a golden hue to the alluring curves of his body.
“Uhm…”
Hugo mumbled a little louder, the noise soft and broken and sounding like pleasure. His shoulders slackened, and his hips shifted in a subtle rub against the mat, gliding sensually beneath Lycaon’s hands.
Lycaon tensed, frozen for a second as he fought to control his desire. He closed his eye, exhaled forcefully, and continued with a slightly stiffer… everywhere.
He massaged his way down to the lower back, easing up the muscles around Hugo’s tailbone and hips. The towel shifted from his accidental touch, revealing a bountiful gleam of the thief’s butt cheek. Carefully, Lycaon tucked it back, his tail swishing as his knuckles grazed Hugo’s smooth skin.
Beneath him, the man stirred again, unable to pass up a chance to tease him.
“You’re very meticulous, Lycaon.”
In a rather strained impassiveness, Lycaon replied, “It’s important to maintain… symmetry.”
“Oh,” Hugo murmured, his voice drowsy and amused. “By all means. Don’t stop.”
Mind whirling, Lycaon focused his gaze on his thumbs. As he circled the man’s tailbone, Hugo arched instinctively, baring his throat to the pillow. The movement caused the towel to shift lower again, revealing more of the radiant skin underneath.
Ears twitching, Lycaon took a deep breath and imagined undoing that towel and replacing every press of his fingers with his mouth. Slowly, deliberately, he’d drag his tongue across Hugo’s smooth buttocks and fill his taste buds with the thief’s sweet, glossy skin, his efforts rewarded with pleased, breathless moans…
Hugo shifted beneath him, startling Lycaon out of his reverie. He snapped his head up to see the man glancing at him over his shoulder, brows arched in faint dubiousness.
Oh… had he been that obvious—?
“You’re frowning,” Hugo observed, sounding genuinely concerned. “Am I that tense?”
No, Lycaon thought groggily. He wondered if his stare looked as starved as he felt. You are that tempting.
“Stay still,” he muttered instead.
Hugo tilted his head, a faint smile gracing his lips as he relaxed back against the pillow.
“As you wish, dearest.”
If I told you what I really wished for right now, you wouldn’t be so smug.
Shifting his weight, Lycaon moved on to the man’s outer hips. He knew Hugo scurried around a lot, and the muscles of his lean legs were quite tight. The man uttered a soft grunt as he began to loosen them, and Lycaon felt the sound vibrate under his fingers.
He breathed in, slowly. With one yank of that towel, there would be nothing left between them but restraint… and his was fracturing like thin ice.
Lycaon shifted the towel to expose the top of Hugo’s thigh, folding it with excruciating care so that not a sliver extra was revealed. He then began to knead deep, slow strokes upwards along the man’s hamstrings, letting the arch of his thumb brush the thief’s glutes but not any further.
Hugo uttered a low sigh that was edged with restlessness, as though he wished Lycaon would touch more.
“Bend your knee,” Lycaon instructed, attempting to sound brisk but uttering something hoarse instead.
Hugo obeyed, tilting his hips as he folded one leg to the side. The movement bared more skin than was decent, and Lycaon closed his eye for a moment to tell himself that it was necessary for the procedure. That he didn’t want to grip the back of that leg, drag Hugo against his groin, and let that towel fall like a useless afterthought…
His hands glided down the length of Hugo’s thigh, his fingers strong but trembling slightly in restraint. He rubbed comforting strokes all the way down the man’s leg, past his ankle, onto the soles of his feet. It ought to be easier here, but it wasn’t — not with Hugo uttering those soft, languid sounds and curling his toes like he was suffering from unbelievable bliss.
Lycaon sighed headily as he massaged the man’s feet, unconsciously imagining those slender legs around his waist, those shapely toes curled around his erection… his hands clenched once before resuming, still feigning composure, still pretending he wasn’t already losing his mind.
“Mhm… ngh…”
Hugo fidgeted, his fingers dragging through the sheets, his lips parting with sensual groans. Sensing impending doom, Lycaon controlled himself for the sake of completing the other foot, but stepped back with a ragged huff as soon as he was done.
Realizing it was over, Hugo released a shuddering sigh and relaxed, his entire body melting into the sheets. The man glanced back, his gaze half-lidded and hazy, his voice breathless as he purred.
“You missed a spot.”
Lycaon glanced at the thief’s sprawled body, his erection twinging as he rasped.
“Clarify.”
Hugo shifted, the towel sliding precariously off his hip. Locking eyes with him, the man raised an expectant eyebrow and answered loftily,
“A little lower than my tailbone… y’know, about where you pummelled me for two days straight.”
He gestured vaguely at the curves beneath the towel.
Lycaon clenched his jaw. Absolutely yes — not. Not. Absolutely not.
Seeing his hesitation, Hugo began to protest.
“C’mon, that’s the whole point of the massage, is it not? It’s where I’m the most sore.”
He wiggled his butt as though to draw Lycaon’s attention there, not knowing — or not caring — that it was making everything worse. Lifting his chin, the thief demanded haughtily,
“I want nothing less than the full service, Sir Lycaon.”
Swallowing, hard, Lycaon reached for the bottle of oil.
“… You will remain still.”
Hugo’s fangs flashed as he grinned.
“Certainly.”
Liar.
Sighing, Lycaon warmed more oil between his palms, then reached for the towel. Carefully, he folded the hem down and slid it away. Hugo remained utterly unbothered, his curves white and soft and perfect for shoving a cock into—
Exhaling, Lycaon forced his gaze back onto his hands. He lowered them, a little shakily, onto Hugo’s buttocks.
Then, heart thudding, he began to stroke.
“Oh, that— mm…”
A visible shudder threaded through Hugo’s spine and he reared into Lycaon’s hands with a restless moan. The man was indeed tense here, and Lycaon could feel his muscles shivering in relief as he eased the pressure away.
Lycaon continued slowly, treating every inch of Hugo with thorough care. He made his way gradually from the top down and inwards, repeating in small sections until there was only one area he hadn’t yet pleased.
He dragged his thumb inwards, pulling back the flesh of Hugo’s buttocks and momentarily exposing the softer, rosier parts between his legs. He released them and let the inner parts snuggle back out of view, then grabbed the man’s butt cheeks again and repeated the motion.
Hugo’s breath hitched, then eased into a faint sigh, his body utterly relaxing beneath Lycaon’s hands.
“… Feels good?” Lycaon murmured hoarsely. He pulled harder this time, kneading his thumb deeper and rubbing his slick knuckles against the inner creases of the man’s groin.
“Yeah… uhngh… fuck…” Hugo groaned, not even bothering to sound like they weren’t doing something far more depraved as he breathed in groggy sighs of bliss. The man shifted, spreading his legs more, offering Lycaon a better — more tempting — angle.
“Harder… don’t hold back…”
Lycaon almost seriously did not hold back.
He pulled away, hissing breath through his teeth as he rubbed more oil onto his hands and gave himself a second to calm down. Though, in all honesty, he wasn’t sure the pause helped… staring at Hugo’s glistening butt cheeks might have only inflamed him further.
He returned and slid his freshly-oiled hands lower, between the man’s thighs. As he kneaded the warmth there in slow, deliberate strokes, Hugo fidgeted against his knuckles and continued to torture him with sensual noises.
“Yes… ahh… there… like that…”
Lycaon’s erection was aching something crazy. This was agony… holy, exquisite agony.
He finished at last with a long stroke, wiping away the excess oil and smoothing his hands down Hugo’s thighs. He then signalled that he was done with a firm smack of the thief’s buttocks.
“Alright,” Lycaon muttered huskily, “turn over.”
He stood there, his vision throbbing, staring down at his companion’s bare back. In his numbness, it took Lycaon a moment to realize that Hugo wasn’t moving.
Brows furrowing, Lycaon frowned and spoke again.
“… Hugo.”
The man stirred, but didn’t lift his head. After another pause, a muffled voice answered him.
“No.”
Lycaon’s brow arched in surprise.
“No?”
There was a longer pause. Then, Hugo’s grumble, faint and abashed.
“… I’m hard.”
Lycaon stared at the man for a few uncomprehending seconds before it hit. He then stared for a few more seconds as his erection swelled painfully within his pants.
Then, slowly, he released his held breath. Reaching down, he freed his arousal from the confines of his clothing, then climbed over the mat and pressed himself wordlessly against the thief’s back.
As the rigid heat of his length glided smoothly between Hugo’s oiled buttocks, the man tensed and uttered a gasp, surprise and amusement in his voice. Pinning him down with his weight, Lycaon rubbed himself against the thief and rumbled in his ear.
“Turn over.”
His voice was soft, but deadly.
“Now.”
Hugo glanced over his shoulder, his lips stretched in mischievous delight.
“… Make me.”
With an explosive snarl, Lycaon grabbed his hips and tried to roll him back. Hugo latched onto the mat, his laughter splitting the air as they began to writhe against each other in a mock struggle. The mat crinkled beneath their wriggling limbs and — not wanting to dirty the blankets — Lycaon eventually conceded.
He stilled, bending over Hugo and panting heavily against the man’s nape. Grabbing the thief’s buttocks, he rubbed them around his own length as he grinded forward, pleasure thickening his ragged huffs as he pleased himself.
“Ooh…” Hugo purred, shifting invitingly along with his hands, “is this a new massage technique? Where’d you learn this one? … Don’t tell me you use it on your clients, too?”
Baring his teeth against the man’s ear, Lycaon growled breathily.
“You talk too much.”
Unintimidated, Hugo chortled smugly.
“How rude,” he sneered, “aren’t you supposed to indulge in your master’s every whim—mmm?!”
—Only to break off, his arrogant scoff sweetening into a startled whimper as Lycaon shoved against his pucker — and eased himself in.
Slick with oil and softened from their many recent activities, Hugo took him readily, his insides tight but welcoming as Lycaon pushed deeper.
“Oh…”
Hugo’s spine arched, his fingers curling in the blankets and his chin tilting back as he gasped, saliva glistening on his outstretched tongue.
“Oh… ohh…”
Bowing his head, Lycaon pressed his forehead against Hugo’s silky waves and began to grind his hips gently back and forth. The thief clamped down around him, but he was so slick with oil that he couldn’t stop their bodies from sliding, no matter how tightly he squeezed.
“Ohh, yes…”
Panting heavily, Lycaon slid his hands down Hugo’s sides, relishing the sensation of his warm and slippery torso.
“Feels good?” he whispered against the thief’s ear, mocking their earlier exchange. The noises that Hugo was making now… weren’t all that different from the ones he’d been making earlier...
“Yes…!” Hugo answered him with unrestrained wanton, his hips pushing eagerly back against Lycaon as he tried to quicken their pace. “Yes… uhhngh… yes…”
Growling delightedly, Lycaon dragged the man closer as he thrusted, their bodies smacking with a luxuriously slick slap. Hugo’s butt cheeks bounced off Lycaon’s groin, light flickering over his glossy skin as it vibrated from the impact.
Their efforts intensified rapidly, Hugo’s voice scattering into breathless mewls that fell beneath the lewd noise of their collisions. But the lack of preparation meant that Hugo was quite tight, and as discomfort began to tinge both of their voices, Lycaon grimaced and carefully eased himself out.
Hugo fell from him with a gasp, his body quivering and his pucker gaping, the flushed darkness within pulsing as though begging Lycaon to come back.
Throbbing, Lycaon reached for the oil bottle. He uncapped it and tipped it over Hugo’s back, letting the fluid pour down the man’s spine in glistening rivulets.
“You’re still a little tense here.”
Hugo shivered from the cold fluid, his breath catching sharply in surprise. Lowering his hands, Lycaon spread the moisture over him and guided the flow into his buttocks. The fluid dripped naturally into his entrance, and Lycaon lathered the little pucker a bit more before plunging his fingers back in.
“Ahh…”
He could fit three fingers quite easily — Hugo was snug around him, but not nearly as tight as he had been the first time around. The thief’s insides were still pliable with how much Lycaon had carved his presence here… it pleased him to know that Hugo would be shaped like this for a while longer.
He curled his fingers, kneading Hugo’s walls into the sensitive spots hidden underneath. The thief moaned and twitched, instinctively thrusting back against his digits. His body was so slippery with oil that Lycaon sank deeper than he meant to, a fourth finger accidentally slipping inside as well. Only his thumb was left on the surface, braced against Hugo’s slick intimate parts, indenting a pink mark into his pale skin.
“Ngh! — ah… you…” Hugo panted, craning over his shoulder and casting Lycaon an arrogant, desperate glare. “What do you think you’re doing…? Stop making a mess and return to your station…”
Bristling indignantly, Lycaon uttered an unconscious growl, but he also couldn’t help but obey. Easing his fingers away, he gripped Hugo around the waist and dragged his hips upwards so that the man’s buttocks nestled perfectly against his groin. He rubbed his oppressive length along the slick trail of Hugo’s intimate parts, then tucked his tip against the man’s pucker and slowly grinded himself back in.
A blissful shudder rippled through Hugo’s body and he melted beneath Lycaon, his back arching as his shoulders angled down to the pillow but his hips remained trapped in the air. Kneeling over him, Lycaon began to move, his instincts riled up by this primitive mating position. In this position, he could thrust as deep as he liked, as hard as he liked, and he did just that — wildly, his ears flattened back and his chest rumbling with ragged growls of pleasure as he pounded Hugo with reckless abandon.
They didn’t slow, not for a second, not even as Hugo’s cries became shrill and cracked and he burst, his fluids splattering onto the mat and his insides squeezing down pleadingly against Lycaon’s heat. Lycaon was too overcome with lust to even realize it, too overtaken by his feral nature to comprehend anything beyond a single primitive need — to rut inside Hugo, his mate, his partner… his love.
He came inside, explosively, his pulsing erection slamming to the hilt and then spilling with immense, rhythmic throbs. Hugo’s shattered cries mixed in with his terse grunts as he knotted deep inside the man, his length swelling to such a size that even the oil wasn’t enough to separate them.
Falling limp, Hugo dangled from him, trapped by his knot. As the man groaned and struggled to support himself with his trembling arms, Lycaon leaned over him and helped his hips sink lower. He brushed his muzzle over Hugo’s glossy skin and showered him with comforting kisses, nipping his back, then his nape, then his ears. He lingered there, bothering Hugo with hot, heady pants, enjoying how the thief twitched and mewled in sensitivity.
“So… tell me, Master…” he huffed in a deep, ragged voice. “Are there any other spots that I missed…?”
In between his shuddering gasps for breath, Hugo answered in a raspy, broken scoff.
“Hah… haha… bravo, Lycaon… five stars… you were very thorough… extremely thorough…”
Swelling from the praise, Lycaon rumbled delightedly and tightened his grip on Hugo’s hips. He pulled the man closer, sliding a slippery palm around his waist and onto his abdomen, up to his chest… onto his nipples.
“I beg to differ.”
“Ah— Lycaon—?!” Hugo twitched against his hand, gasping, his voice both sweet with excitement and clenched in panic.
Dragging the thief deeper against him, Lycaon nuzzled his companion’s cheek with a dark, gloating purr.
“I believe there are still… many places… I have yet to service…”
Chapter 26
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was midnight when they stopped… when Lycaon realized his partner had passed out.
Huffing raggedly, he looked down at Hugo, his vision still throbbing — among other things.
The man’s blonde hair flowed over his shoulders and spilled over the pillow, clinging to his damp skin and glowing faintly in the darkness. His long lashes lay closed against his flushed cheeks and his lips remained parted as he breathed, his expression relaxed but not perfectly serene.
There was a slight tension in his brows, in the corner of his lips, in the occasional hitch of his breaths — that suggested that even in his dreams, he was still somewhat aware of his… predicament.
Hugo looked dangerously pregnable like this, with his slender torso encompassed in Lycaon’s claws and his glossy skin flushed a glowing pink all over. His whole body was smeared in the byproducts of their insatiable affections, and the more recent fluids were still liquid and dangling between the grooves of his groin. His erection had relaxed now, but a faint trickle of goo drizzled down from it, and the pearly fluid was slowly oozing its way down his thigh.
Lycaon took a breath, his grip unconsciously tightening around the man’s waist. Hugo was lying beneath him, unconscious, ruined, and completely vulnerable. He could do… anything to him right now…
Desire, dark and ferocious, swelled his erection even further. Still pierced, Hugo uttered a faint grunt and grimaced in his sleep, his hips shifting as he instinctively shied away from the pressure.
Lycaon heaved another deep, shuddering breath. His vision blurred in and out of focus as he considered waking the man, or better — worse — continuing, just like this.
But that other emotion — guilt, but warmer, thicker in his chest — made him hesitate. After a moment of internal chaos, Lycaon released his held breath, and loosened his grip.
Carefully, he extracted himself, bending over and nuzzling Hugo’s cheek reassuringly as the man complained faintly in his sleep. His length emerged with a slick pop and a thick stream of goo poured out in his absence, clinging to his tip and pooling rapidly beneath Hugo’s buttocks.
Clenching his jaw, Lycaon forced himself to pull away instead of grabbing Hugo by the ankles and plunging his seed back where it belonged.
He went to the bathroom, wet a warm towel, and returned to wipe Hugo down. His erection clung to the man’s thigh the entire time, throbbing piningly as Lycaon cared for all the intimate grooves he had soiled.
Once Hugo was as clean as he could possibly get without a full shower, Lycaon rolled him gently onto the other side of the bed and tucked him cozily beneath the blanket. Then, he began to clean up the rest of the mess.
The massage mat was soiled to the point that it seemed pointless to try to clean it. He set it aside in an inconspicuous corner for now and made a note to purchase a new one. After quickly tidying up the rest of the room, Lycaon returned to the bathroom and dealt with himself. By the time he was finished, the moon was already starting to sink.
Stumbling back to bed, Lycaon crept beneath the blankets — and promptly blacked out.
He had the deepest, longest, most satisfying sleep he’d had in years.
… When Lycaon opened his eyes the next morning, his body felt like it had become one with the bed. He lay there, lashes fluttering over his eye, head completely empty… enjoying a moment of pure, unthinking serenity.
Then, the sun broke through the clouds, and as its light glinted through the upper corner of the window — Lycaon realized it was already late.
He would have bolted up, but his body was still too heavy to move. He only managed to stiffen, his fur standing on end and his eye widening in horror.
It must be at least 10 AM — where was his phone? Why hadn’t his alarm gone off? He needed to notify the client, who was it supposed to be today—?!
… Wait.
It was Saturday. He had the day off.
Lycaon deflated, his head aching as it dwindled back down from the sudden overdrive.
What a relief… he had almost been drastically late for the first time in his life.
Feeling sentimental from the near-catastrophe, Lycaon rolled over and lifted his arm, about to drag Hugo into an aggressive embrace — only for his palm to hit the mattress.
Ears jolting upright, Lycaon blinked and stared at the rumpled sheets for a moment, his heart thundering all over again.
Hugo? He wasn’t here. Where had he gone? Had it all been a dream? The past few days—
… Wait, wait. He was overreacting.
Closing his eye, Lycaon took a deep breath and told himself once again to calm down.
There was no reason to be alarmed. Surprised, yes, but not alarmed.
He sat up, heaving another sigh as he pushed back his bangs. Hugo hadn’t sprawled his pajamas obnoxiously over the chair just to annoy him like he usually did, which meant the thief was still wearing them… which meant he likely hadn’t left the manor. So there was really no cause for concern.
Still, Lycaon rushed through his morning routine and bolted out of his room as soon as he was presentable. He checked his pocket watch as he flurried down the hall — 10:26 AM… goodness… he hadn’t overslept this severely since he was a child.
Speaking of, why hadn’t his alarm gone off, anyway?
He patted his pocket, only to realize he’d left his phone in the bedroom. Aggravated, he turned and ran back — thankfully, his companions weren’t home to see him sprinting through the hallway — and found it on the bedside table, out of power.
Ah, yes. He had been quite… distracted, all of yesterday evening. He had completely forgotten to charge it.
Heaving a massive sigh that wasn’t all remorseful, Lycaon plugged his phone into the charger, then resumed his search for the thief.
He looked in the obvious place first — the kitchen, where Hugo was usually occupying his chair, dribbling an inordinate amount of honey into his mug, his blonde hair and slender shoulders framed in an unjustly angelic glow. Before revealing himself, Lycaon paused around the corner to make sure he wasn’t in an incredibly laughable state. He smoothed out his attire, cleared his throat, and braced himself before passing under the archway.
But the kitchen was empty. He gazed at the breakfast table for a moment, the vivid imagery of Hugo’s frivolous greeting still echoing in his imagination.
“Well well, if it isn’t the poster-dog of timeliness himself,” the man would sneer, flicking his finger dramatically into the sunlight. In Lycaon’s delusion, their ring would still be gleaming around his finger. “So? What was better? Your unbridled sleep, or the unspeakable things you did to me prior?”
Shaking himself, Lycaon coughed into his fist and wrenched himself away from that imaginary smirk.
The music room was nearby, so he took a quick glance. The grand piano was untouched, the lid shut and the cover drawn. He continued onwards to the common areas, checking the laundry room, the library, and even the—
Wait.
Lycaon slowed to a halt. He stood in the hallway, overwhelmed with déjà vu, then ran a hand over his face and heaved an exasperated sigh.
Of course…
He retraced his steps, his tail bouncing behind him as he strode purposefully down the corridor. As he turned the corner and saw the stairwell to the attic, his ears twitched, and a swell of excitement warmed his chest.
Lycaon grimaced, his fur flushing in self-awareness.
Ugh… it was happening all over again. He was hopelessly bewitched…
He made his way up to the attic. It was still dim even in the day — the sunlight didn’t reach this side of the house at this hour, and the light filtering through the curtains was faint.
Hugo was sitting in front of the window, bathed in the vague light. The dust trickling through the air looked like heavenly sparkles emanating from his silhouette.
The man was surrounded by miscellaneous objects, grouped into loose piles on all sides of him. Lycaon couldn’t tell what they were at a glance, but when he breathed in, he caught the sharp scent of smoke.
They must be items Hugo had scavenged from the fire, he realized. So this was where he had been keeping them…
Quietly, Lycaon strode over. Hugo acknowledged him with their usual silent greeting, and Lycaon replied with a swish of his tail. Taking a seat across from the man, Lycaon examined the piles with interest. Among the unfamiliar items, there were a few that he recognized with a surprised jolt.
Reaching over, he extracted a heavy, vintage album. He opened it carefully, heaving a somber sigh as he traced his thumb near a singed corner of the pages.
It was a guestbook, once belonging to a prestigious exhibition at a privately-owned gallery. It had been one of Mockingbird’s later heists, when Hugo had already well surpassed Jack as New Eridu’s infamous phantom thief. Every plan went too smoothly, and they had been at the height of their delusion — invincible, and deeply in love.
Lycaon could still remember how the two of them had loitered in front of that exhibit, laughing overconfidently in that dark, empty gallery as they read the comments in the book.
“This piece changed my life”, one guest had written, with what looked like a tear mark blotting their cursive writing. Immediately after, someone had scrawled, “where is the bathroom?”. The next three entries then consisted of the same answer in vastly different handwriting — “On the left”. “On the left”. “On the left”.
He remembered how Hugo insisted on visiting that famed bathroom. Indeed, it had been on the left, beneath a very visible and very obvious sign. Hugo scoffed something rude, but Lycaon couldn’t remember it clearly, because Hugo said rude things every day — and also because the little thief had grabbed him by the tie, dragged him into a stall, and yanked him down for a wild, heated kiss that rapidly escalated into other… forms of mischief.
… That night, they had ended up stealing only this guestbook. The exhibit itself was no longer interesting, Hugo had said.
Finding the page with those exact comments, Lycaon chuckled quietly to himself as he read them over again. Their lives back then really had been full of excitement and joy… sometimes, he forgot how happy they had been.
Hugo glanced at him, his expression neutral but his eyes glimmering amicably in the faint light. The man polished the soot off a glass paperweight, placed it gently into the pile of cleaned items, then picked up a small bag of marbles from the dirty pile.
They clattered in his hand, and Lycaon looked up just in time to see the man tossing one towards him. He caught it with a startled huff, tail bristling as alarm rudely interrupted his peaceful nostalgia.
Leave it up to Hugo to always keep him on edge…
Lycaon cast the man a disapproving glare, but Hugo simply smiled and moved on to the next item that needed cleaning. Sighing defeatedly, Lycaon glanced down at the marble he’d been thrown.
His heart lurched, bloating and pounding heavily in his chest.
It was their stormglass marble… beneath the clear glass were swirls of opaque white and midnight blue, like clouds rolling over a night sky. It was their signal for ‘meet at the rooftop’ — reserved for emergencies, or moments where one of them really needed the other.
The last time Lycaon had seen it was the night he thought Hugo had killed his father. When he had tried to leave, Hugo had sent it rolling across the blood-stained floor towards him in silence.
Lycaon had looked at it… and turned his back.
Ears drooping, Lycaon picked up the bag of marbles and returned it gently to the others. Hugo looked like he wasn’t paying any attention to him, but Lycaon glanced over at the man anyway, his eye rounded in a doleful stare.
What should I do…?
He knew that Hugo no longer needed to forgive him. He knew that the present was more important than the past. He knew that with time, even their deepest wounds would no longer sting.
… But that didn’t stop Lycaon from wanting forgiveness. From wishing that their memories had all been happy. From hoping that time would heal faster.
He gazed piningly at Hugo, silently conveying his wishes. The man continued to feign obliviousness, working through his pile of collectibles until — his finger grazed an old box, and a shadow crossed his face.
Lycaon eyed the unfamiliar box, his ears lifting in curiosity and concern. The pain that had momentarily crossed Hugo’s expression faded, but there was still a twist in his smile as he rested the box in his lap.
Taking a shaky breath, Hugo unlatched the metal clasp and opened the box. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lifted something into the light — an envelope, sealed with a small red heart.
Emotion erupted throughout Lycaon’s body, grief and fondness squeezing viciously down on his heart. He could see the same, exquisite agony in Hugo’s eyes.
The man’s lips curved into a quivering, crooked smile. Clasping the envelope between two fingers, he waved it slightly in the air.
“Remember this?”
How could I not?
Curtly, Lycaon nodded.
Hugo chuckled, his laughter shaky and full of lofty bravado.
“We were so young and naïve back then,” he mused. “We didn’t want to be wed by the city, so we wrote our own contract and signed it ourselves. This was the vow we made to be each other’s ‘partner, forever’.”
The man closed his eyes, his brows furrowing in pain even as he bared his fangs in a broad grin.
“Before moon and shadow, before lock and key,” he recited dramatically, raising his voice and pressing his hand over his heart. “Before every witness in the heavens, I bind myself to you. Should the world try to claim you, I will steal you back — no vault too guarded, no risk too steep. Until the final curtain falls, I am yours. Crime, conspirator… and dearest partner.”
Completing his speech, Hugo grinned at Lycaon, his eyes sparkling with the lingering elation of a performance. The man opened his mouth, as though to scoff something humorous or dismissive — only to halt, his eyes widening and his grin fading… his mask torn, crumbling, as Lycaon answered the same way he had back then.
“I don’t care where we are or who we have to be,” he murmured, gazing steadfastly into his companion’s eyes. “If you call, I will come. Always.”
The light in Hugo’s irises trembled as he stared at him, silent. The pieces of his façade peeled slowly from his face, revealing the anguish, the devastation… that he had been enduring underneath.
Hugo looked shocked, Lycaon realized… like he hadn’t expected him to remember. As though his companion had assumed that to him, those promises they had exchanged, those nights they had spent with their lives in each other’s hands… had been nothing more than an old mistake to be buried, discarded, and never made again.
Hugo’s features quivered, his expression on the verge of shattering completely as he stared at Lycaon in disbelief. Lycaon gazed back, his heart swollen in grief and longing.
What can I do to convince you that despite it all… I did, truly, love you?
… That I still do?
As though seeing the desperate plea in his gaze, Hugo’s gaze flickered. Moisture welled over his lashes and gleamed over his vivid irises, trembling there as he struggled to contain it — lips pressing together, brows furrowing, and eyes narrowing in distress.
Then, the man closed his eyes. A single tear escaped down his cheek and he wiped it away quickly, pushing back the rest with a sniffle disguised as a scoff.
“Haha… I suppose that’s as poetic as you’ve ever gotten.”
Lycaon sighed, his jaw parting as he began to rasp, “Hugo…” — but he trailed off, his voice fading in his throat as Hugo looked away.
As the man turned back to the envelope, his gaze softened, and the affection in his expression eased away some of his pain as he gently smoothed out its corners. Despite the years and what it had been through, the envelope was in pristine condition, its heart-shaped seal as vivid as it had been that day. Hugo must have cherished it painstakingly…
“… I don’t know why I kept it.”
His voice cracked as he whispered, revealing what he was still trying to hide beneath that solemn smile.
Crumbling, Lycaon shifted forward. He grabbed Hugo by the arm and yanked the man into his chest, ignoring Hugo’s reproachful huff as he wrapped his arms around his companion and squeezed him with all his might.
“Perhaps you kept it so it would remain true,” he rasped, snuggling his cheek desperately into the man’s warm hair.
Half chuckling, half wheezing, Hugo smacked Lycaon’s arm until he reluctantly loosened his embrace.
“Yeah… perhaps.”
As they relaxed, soothed once again by each other’s warmth, Hugo let out a shaky sigh and rested against Lycaon’s shoulder. Carefully, Hugo placed the letter back in its box, a smile flickering over his lips as he admired it a while longer.
“… Perhaps I did hope for that, just a little.”
Lycaon watched him, observing the deep, unclouded adoration in his partner’s gaze. Hugo was clearly thinking about someone whom he loved very much… and though Lycaon knew who it was, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of resentment.
He wished it were him that Hugo was gazing at… the ‘him’ who was sitting here, now… and not the ‘him’ who had written that promise in the past.
Grudgingly, Lycaon slid a hand onto Hugo’s wrist. Pulling the blonde’s hand gently away from the box, he lifted it to his lips and kissed his hand, tenderly nuzzling his knuckles one-by-one while softly murmuring his name.
“… Hugo…”
Stirring, Hugo glanced at him and seemed to instantly realize. He chuckled and set down the box, then leaned towards Lycaon and let him brush their lips together.
“Relax,” the man whispered teasingly against his fangs, “he’s too young for me.”
If the past me knew that you would become even more beautiful, Lycaon thought as he gazed into the thief’s gentle smile, I would never have had the courage to take you.
Pretending to play along, Lycaon growled and tightened his embrace, nuzzling Hugo’s cheek and ears in possessive affection. Scrunching up with a peal of ticklish laughter, Hugo began to squirm in a mock struggle. Lycaon hugged him harder, his tail wagging furiously as they began to tussle over the dusty carpet.
Taking advantage of the situation to be indulgent, Lycaon buried his muzzle into the arch of Hugo’s neck and began to coat him with warm licks. Giggling breathlessly, the man grabbed his ears and yanked at his fur, loosening a few strands and giving Lycaon an excuse to take revenge. He doubled over, arching Hugo backwards and pressing the man slowly but surely downwards as their snarls and laughter escalated in the small space.
“Lycaon—!”
As his back hit the carpet, Hugo arched towards him with a playful gasp. Lycaon blanked, his mock ferocity momentarily becoming real as he gripped the man’s slender waist and parted his jaws—
Only to falter, stiffening, as a muffled doorbell rang beneath the floorboards.
They blinked at each other for a moment, still breathless from their skirmish.
Are you expecting a guest? Hugo’s gaze asked.
Lycaon frowned, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. No, but… he hadn’t checked his phone since yesterday evening. It was entirely possible that he had missed something…
He straightened, gently pulling Hugo up alongside him.
“Get changed,” Lycaon murmured, sneaking a tender peck on his companion’s lips before taking him by the hand and pulling him away from the attic. “… I’ll see who it is.”
Notes:
fyi the fic is only about... 60-70% done (sorry, it doesn't go on forever, we'd probably both burn out; it's already way longer than I initially planned lol). There are still quite a few more major scenes, both steamy and plot-related. And no, I haven't forgotten my post about including PubSec roleplay... 😏
Chapter Text
They parted ways at the bedroom. Lycaon clung to his hand far longer than necessary, only letting go after Hugo gave him a meaningful eyebrow-raise.
Uttering some combination of a growl and a whine, Lycaon planted a fervent kiss on his forehead before pulling away with the reluctance of someone leaving for weeks instead of just going to check on the door.
Not that Hugo was complaining. As soon as Lycaon was out of sight, he dropped his smug smile, covered his face with his hands, and heaved a massive, trembling sigh.
… Damnit.
He could feel himself grinning. His lips were stretched from ear to ear and quivering with joy.
This was… worse than he’d anticipated.
He thought he’d remembered what it was like to be in love with Lycaon — that he had failed too many times trying to forget, to not remember.
But this was… terrifying.
Maybe it was because they were older now, and they actually understood what it meant — to feel this way, despite everything that had happened. Maybe it was because Lycaon actually knew how to spew a few smooth lines now and then, instead of turning into a flustered snarling mutt at even the slightest tease.
Or maybe just that this feeling… was too vivid to be stored in a mere memory. Even if they had always felt like this — this intoxicated, this infatuated, this… irrationally happy, it wasn’t something that his imagination could duplicate.
He changed quickly into simple but crisp attire, then headed out to the foyer. He heard the voices of their guests as he strode down the hall, and he brightened instantly.
“Miss Vivian, what a pleasant surprise. And—”
Lycaon sounded like he was still greeting them at the door, and though the wolf Thiren was as pleasant as always, he also sounded markedly confused.
“… Miss Lilac, to what do I owe the pleasure?
“Ah, hello, Mr. Lycaon!” A vaguely familiar voice answered. “I brought some scones, as a token of gratitude. You’ve always been so kind and understanding, even when my family is troublesome — like when my father cancelled your shift last minute the other day. Anyway, I’m sorry, I messaged you earlier but you didn’t answer… I hope I’m not interrupting…”
“No, not at all,” Lycaon answered in that infuriatingly polite tone of his. Hugo could only too vividly picture the Thiren bowing his head in submission, and he scoffed despite himself.
“Thank you so much for the gift. Please, come in — it is always an honor for Victoria Housekeeping to have the opportunity to serve you. Um…”
“I was just uh…” Vivian picked where he left off, sounding just as awkward. “Coming by to check on… Robin. This was a total coincidence…”
Making his appearance along the upper mezzanine, Hugo leaned over the banister and called out casually.
“Robin went out with friends this morning, so unfortunately you’ve just missed him,” he said, gesturing loftily with his hand. “You might be able to find him at Lumina Square, or Sixth Street, or Reverb Arena.”
“Wow, really,” Vivian said flatly, shooting him an unimpressed look. “Thank you for telling me that he’s somewhere in New Eridu.”
Clearing his throat, Lycaon ushered their guests away from the door.
“Please, take a seat,” he said briskly, gesturing for them to head deeper into the manor. “I’ll make us some tea.”
Lycaon led them into the living room, then gave Hugo a meaningful look before leaving with the basket of scones. Catching his drift, Hugo crossed the room and plopped himself comfortably into an armchair, deliberately acting relaxed as he waited for the others to join him.
Vivian and Lilac stood near the door and exchanged dubious glances, then came forward and sat down together at the sofa.
For a moment, it was silent. Hugo gave them the opportunity to start conversation, but Lilac was staring at him with intrigue and uncertainty clashing in her eyes, and Vivian looked like she was regretting waking up this morning.
Lycaon returned a few minutes later with tea. The awkwardness eased slightly as everyone reached for their cups, but then the Thiren left again to ‘heat up the scones’, and in his absence, the silence quickly returned.
Realizing he wasn’t going to be saved by their host anytime soon, Hugo sighed inwardly and took the liberty of speaking up first.
“Miss Lilac, right?” He flashed her a pleasant smile. “We’ve met briefly, I believe. I’m Lighter.”
“Oh, yes…” Lilac sat up straighter and smiled back. “I remember, you’re Vivian’s…”
She trailed off and glanced at Vivian in sudden confusion.
Leisurely finishing her sip of tea, Vivian set down her cup, dabbed her lips dry with a handkerchief, and answered briskly.
“For simplicity… you could say he’s my brother.”
Hugo beamed, pleased, despite himself. Lilac seemed to relax a little, her shoulders dropping and her fingers easing along her knees.
“Ah, so he’s the one you’ve mentioned before — the one you have to hide your books from, right?”
Lilac giggled. Vivian cleared her throat sharply and bumped their shoulders together.
Hugo smiled and opened his mouth to comment, only for Lilac to gasp and whirl at Vivian in sudden delight.
“Ooh! That reminds me, Viv!” she gasped, suddenly seeming like a completely different person as her eyes lit up. “Have you read that chapter yet? The one where they jump off the rooftop together?!”
Vivian coughed and reached for her tea. “I… might have.”
“Oh my stars, it’s so romantic — the way they hold each other as they’re falling, realizing that if the world truly ends then they’d want to spend that last second just being in love—”
Deciding he should probably stop listening, Hugo immersed himself in a long sip of tea.
“And then, after the crisis, they can only find some swanky hotel to recover in and there’s only one bed—”
Vivian flashed her friend a slightly threatening smile. “Lilac—”
“—and they’re squeezed together under the blanket, still feeling all sentimental, and then his partner reaches over and—”
Hugo promptly choked on his tea. Luckily, he had a napkin nearby to help muffle his spluttering, and Lilac was too absorbed in her storytelling to notice.
“And the line Hugo says?” she gushed, “‘I would never yield to you—’ even when he’s totally already surrendered—”
Vivian at this point was trying to physically smother her friend’s mouth, but Lilac seemed to think she was just being equally as excited. Grabbing Vivian’s wrist too, she shook it up and down like they were mutually fangirling.
“I know, right?! And did you get to the part where Hugo gets captured and they’re alone in the interrogation room? And Hugo’s chained to the table but he just keeps goading him, and then his partner finally snaps and slams his hand down and is like, ‘Do you want me to lose control?’ and then—”
“Lilac!” Vivian hissed frantically, redoubling her efforts.
In what she seemed to think was equally overwhelming enthusiasm, Lilac exclaimed, “Vivian!”
“No, Lilac!”
“Vivian!” Lilac’s eyes gleamed. “The table breaks. It breaks!”
Hugo glanced at the coffee table, coughed, and abruptly averted his gaze.
“I see you’re still… very into Mockingbird novels,” he said, his voice strained and raspy from the tea still stinging his windpipe.
Lilac flashed him a beam, positively glowing in her fervor. “Yes, absolutely! There’s been an influx of content after what happened with the Ravenlocks, it was such a big feat — everyone is convinced that Hugo and his former partner teamed up to make it happen and that they’re sort-of back together again!”
She rapid-fired all that in a single breath and broke off to breathe, then rolled her eyes dreamily and clasped her face in her hands.
“Lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers again is such a peak dynamic! You think so too right Viv? The friendship and tension and—”
Clearing her throat loudly, Vivian said, “Yes but maybe let’s talk about something else—”
“I’m curious,” Hugo interjected, re-crossing his legs and leaning forward. “What exactly do you find… compelling… about this ‘Hugo’ character?”
Vivian shot him an utterly disdainful glare. Hugo smiled back in mild, innocent curiosity.
Lilac took a sip of tea and leaned back, looking genuinely thoughtful.
“I think… maybe, it’s his complex personality,” she suggested slowly. “He’s arrogant but tragic, gentlemanly but mischievous, villainous but noble… a man with a thousand faces, all of which contradict yet coexist. I also, personally, really like his brand of vigilante justice… you know, the whole ‘O’ sinners, await judgement in silence!’… um…”
Lilac faltered, flushing. Hugo raised an eyebrow, surprised that that was what she found embarrassing about the whole thing.
“And of course,” she continued a little breathlessly, “his whole dynamic with his former partner-turned-nemesis takes him to next level perfection — that mixture of absolute trust and raw bitterness. Like their blades could be at each other’s throats and you’d have no idea of knowing if they’re really trying to kill each other or if they’re going to start making out—”
Emerging with a plate of scones at that exact moment, Lycaon called out.
“Hu—”
Instantly, Vivian and Hugo both raised their voices to shout over him.
“Lycaon!”
The Thiren skid to a halt, hackles bristling, completely baffled, staring at them like he thought a Hollow had exploded nearby and he didn’t understand why they were all just sitting there staring back at him.
Breaking the silence first, Hugo stood up and strode blithely towards him.
“My dear—”
Hastily, Hugo strangled his slip of the tongue.
“—friend, come sit, join the conversation.”
He slammed a hand on Lycaon’s back, shattering the tension with comedically loud thumps. It sounded like he was slapping a stone statue, and quite frankly it felt like it too. Lycaon really didn’t want those scones to be jostled.
“Miss Lilac is talking about someone from Mockingbird, some bloke named Hugo whom I’ve never heard of before.”
He smiled at Lycaon. Lycaon’s brow furrowed in confusion for half a second, exasperation for the other half, then eased into an impassive look.
“Yes, of course,” the Thiren said calmly, accompanying him forward. “Apologies for the delay, the oven took some time to preheat. Please, do continue—”
Lilac eagerly opened her mouth, but Vivian shoved her back and spoke up loudly instead.
“Lycaon! I’ve been meaning to thank you — you’ve helped us so much these past few months. How are you holding up? Is he absolutely intolerable?”
She angled her head meaningfully at Hugo.
Lycaon and Hugo exchanged glances and hesitated. Normally, they’d be stomping over each other with heated complaints, but for the past couple days they had been holding hands, sharing smiles, and basking in each other’s loving gaze, so…
Clearly, this wasn’t the response Vivian had expected. She stared at them in an obvious double-take, eyebrow arching in an incredulous ‘no way?’ as she looked at the two of them.
Nibbling on a scone, Lilac glanced between their complex expressions, curiosity and amazement growing in her eyes.
Seeing as his companion was taking suspiciously long to answer, Hugo grabbed Lycaon’s shoulder and leaned all his weight on it. Lycaon, of course, began to frown, his ears twitching in convincing irritation, probably because he was actually irritated.
“He’s a menace,” Hugo announced with a beam. “I’m filing complaints every day.”
Stiffly, Lycaon tried to maintain a dignified posture as his tail swished in agitation.
“I’m a menace?”
“You’re always hovering,” Hugo pointed out, easing his weight and flinging his hand out in dramatic gestures instead. “Fussing, like I’m going to drop dead if you leave me alone for more than one second.”
Lycaon drew himself up, his chin lifting and his eye gleaming.
“You leave your juice boxes everywhere,” he began to list sternly. “You take my seat, use my mugs, and steal my shirts. You — You poured my coffee down the drain and replaced it with hot chocolate!”
The Thiren’s voice became shrill in genuine indignation. Hugo couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of Lycaon’s bewildered face that morning.
Wholeheartedly ranting now, Lycaon closed his eye and continued,
“You steal the blankets and kick me in your sleep—”
“Wait,” Vivian interjected sharply. “Why would he be kicking you in your sleep?”
Lycaon broke off, both of them stiffening.
Then, in a bright voice, Hugo piped up.
“Metaphorically! Kicking. Like, in a dream sense,” he declared airily, bracing a hand over his heart like he was spewing words of deep meaning. “Spiritual aggression.”
Adjusting his cravat, Lycaon cleared his throat and agreed in a smooth and elegant tone.
“Yes, it’s just an expression — you know how he speaks. We haven’t slept at all.”
Now Lilac was the one raising an eyebrow.
“You haven’t slept at all?”
She sounded genuinely concerned.
“Ah, no, we’ve slept,” Lycaon corrected himself hastily, his tail frisking back and forth as he descended rapidly into a fluster again. “Just—”
“Not near each other,” Hugo explained.
“Yes,” Lycaon agreed. “Very far away. Separate beds.”
“Rooms,” Hugo added, shooting him a side-ways glance.
“But we’ve slept,” Lycaon insisted. “… In our own beds.”
They trailed off, silent, acutely aware of how pathetically insinuating that still sounded. Lilac was pressing her lips together like she was struggling to stop herself from saying something — or bursting into laughter — but Vivian didn’t hide the suspicious look in her eye as she scrutinized them.
“… So what exactly do you steal his shirts for?” she asked, looking pointedly at Hugo.
“Cleaning rags,” Hugo answered immediately.
“Oh,” Vivian replied rather scornfully, “so now you’re helping wipe the floors?”
Instead of answering and possibly making the situation sound worse, Hugo lifted his cup and took a long sip of tea.
The silence thickened expectantly. When it became clear that Hugo wasn’t going to reply, Lilac focused back on her scone, and Lycaon reached for the plate, too.
He gave one to Hugo first — ears twitching as the ladies closely watched him hand it over — then retrieved one for himself. Grasping the napkin carefully, he stood beside Hugo’s armchair and took a careful bite.
“… The scones are delicious,” Lycaon spoke up, breaking the silence amicably. “Thank you, again, for your generosity, Miss Lilac.”
“Oh,” Hugo mused before he could stop himself, “praise from the almighty Sir Lycaon.”
“You sound jealous,” Vivian pointed out with a slightly smug smile.
Hugo beamed pleasantly back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about — the scones truly are delicious.”
Looking a little flustered, Lilac carefully folded her napkin and picked up her cup of tea.
“Thanks… I picked up a bit of baking while I was working part-time jobs.”
Hugo glanced at her in mild surprise. “A young master like you, working part-time jobs? I’m surprised your family lets you.”
“Ah, it was…” Lilac averted her gaze nervously. “Well, I did it behind their backs. It was…”
“A long story,” Lycaon interrupted, clearing his throat.
Hugo flashed them a knowing smile.
“Surely not the one involving a distasteful gang posing as Mockingbird?”
Lilac brightened. “H-How did you know?”
“Just something I saw in passing on the Inter-Knot,” Hugo said dismissively. He spared Lycaon a side-ways glance, though, and his companion frowned back in warning.
He could still remember what he had felt that day… it had burned so vividly in his throat. Rage, resentment, pain… the thought that Mockingbird’s name was being sullied by filth, the realization that his former partner — that traitor — was already handling it.
What do you care?
He remembered baring his fangs at the moon, his grin wide and vicious as he’d struggled to hide his heartache.
You destroyed us first.
… And now that same traitor was standing beside him, brushing subtly against his shoulder, sharing his scent.
Hugo breathed in, sighing a little shakily as the tension that had clouded his chest eased away. He supposed it was rather remarkable, how far they had come since then…
As everyone began to indulge in the snacks, the silence drifted into more casual conversation. Vivian and Lilac were talking about other things now — fashion, shopping, part-time jobs, and other innocuous topics. Lycaon stood by him for a while, then left and silently returned with a bowl of honey.
Matter-of-factly, the Thiren handed it to him. Just as nonchalantly, Hugo began to drench the remaining portion of his scone in nectar.
He had been feeling a little lethargic, so he figured his blood sugar must have been getting low. Lycaon didn’t have his phone though, so Hugo didn’t know how his companion would have known. Perhaps he had looked tired, or perhaps Lycaon’s canine Thiren instincts had picked up the scent.
Licking an excess glob of honey off his scone, Hugo glanced curiously up at his companion, wondering if Lycaon could smell his sugar levels. He’d heard of dogs who had been trained for such purposes…
Lycaon pretended not to notice at first, but after nearly a minute of being stared at, the Thiren’s tail began to wag. He finally glanced over, his brow furrowed in a complicated and guarded look, as though he didn’t know if he was trying to stop himself from scowling, or from smiling.
What?
Hugo replied with a mysterious smile.
Nothing.
Lycaon’s eye narrowed, and his tail wagged faster. He seemed agitated, but Hugo knew it wasn’t due to annoyance — it was likely because his companion was frustrated that he couldn’t come over, pin him to the back of the chair, and kiss him breathless.
Entertained, Hugo leaned back in his seat, deciding to tease Lycaon a bit. Trailing a hand up to his collar, he plucked at his uppermost button, subtly loosening the cleavage of his shirt. He arched his back off the cushions with a breathy little sigh and slipped his shirt out of his pants, exposing a sliver of his waist. Then, pretending to be fixing his attire, he meticulously tucked it back in with a slow, heady exhale.
“Hm…”
Recrossing his legs, slowly, Hugo made a show of shifting his thighs and adjusting his hips in the seat. Then, he combed his hair over one shoulder and dragged his fingers over the back of his neck, stroking himself up along his nape and onto the back of his ears. He fidgeted with his piercing holes, pretending to be scratching an itch as he closed his eyes and mustered a sensual grimace, genuine pangs of exhilaration rippling through his ear as he touched it.
When he glanced over again, Lycaon was still standing there, seemingly nonchalant. But Hugo knew better — he could see all the subtle cues, the raised hackles, the perked ears, the gleaming pupil, and of course… the stiffness in the crotch of his pants, where the dense fabric of his uniform was swollen just a little more than usual.
“Oh!”
An abrupt gasp from Lilac jolted Hugo out of his mischief. He straightened, smiling a little guiltily — beside him, Lycaon remained standing exactly the way he had been, his crimson iris still gleaming distractedly.
“I almost forgot,” Lilac said breathlessly, glancing at the clock. “I have tutoring today, I’m going to be late—”
“I’ll drive you,” Lycaon offered immediately.
“Ah, but—”
“It’s not a problem,” he continued smoothly, stepping forward and gesturing gracefully for her to accompany him. “Your tutor is nearby. It will only be a few minutes of my time, and I am always happy to serve you regardless.”
“Oh… alright, if you’re sure.”
She thanked him, turned back to wave goodbye at Vivian, then let him escort her out of the room. Just before following her, Lycaon paused and threw Hugo a glare over his shoulder.
Pretending not to notice, Hugo hid his smirk in his cup and took a leisurely sip of tea.
In the distance, the manor’s front door shut. The silence only lasted a second before Vivian turned to him and said in an utterly dry voice,
“Really?”
Setting down his cup, Hugo scoffed.
“That’s my line.”
He met her critical gaze with an equally dubious one of his own.
“You’re still reading those books? Do you actually enjoy them? Does it not feel strange to you that they’re about — well… me?”
Abruptly turning pink, Vivian flung a finger at him and squeaked indignantly.
“I’m only reading them to have something in common with Lilac! We get along, she’s an important friend, it can be really hard to find a good friend with everything else going on these days, you know?!”
“Ah, yes,” Hugo drawled, lifting the colourful book he’d slipped out of her shoulder purse earlier. “And I suppose you’re such a devoted friend that you carry her book recommendations around with you? Is that part of your we-have-something-in-common act, too?”
Stiffening in shock, Vivian grabbed her purse and rummaged frantically through it.
Chuckling, Hugo let the pages fall open in his relaxed palm.
“Dear Vivian, you should know better than to let your guard down around me.”
“You— wait, wait!” She stood up and whirled towards him in a panic. “Don’t read it!”
“Relax,” Hugo purred, keeping her at bay with one arm and letting the book open to a random page with the other. “I’m only going to take a glance. I’m very interested in how Hugo’s ‘friend-slash-nemesis is characterized,” he sang. “Let’s see how woefully naïve and self-righteous he is — oh look, there’s even a bookmark~”
He tilted his head, trailing off as he read the contents of whatever page had opened. Freezing, Vivian watched him in unconcealed horror.
Many long seconds thudded past. Hugo’s ears began to tingle… then burn.
Silently, he handed the book back to Vivian. Silently, Vivian closed it.
They paused there for a very long time, avoiding each other’s gazes, their faces both bright red.
Outside, a songbird chirped, then tapped on the window. Ever so subtly, Vivian hugged the book closer to her chest.
Eventually, Hugo breathed in. Even his faint sigh sounded excruciatingly intrusive in the silence.
“Listen…” he began awkwardly, attempting to meet her eyes only for his gaze to immediately dart away. From the corner of his vision, he could see her doing the same. “About Lycaon and I…”
Vivian hastily shook her head. “You really don’t need to talk to me about this,” she huffed, vainly feigning composure. “It’s been kinda obvious from the start.”
Falling silent again, Hugo hesitated, then snuck a tentative glance in her direction. Vivian was still staring elsewhere, her brows furrowed and lips pursed in an embarrassed, indignant pout.
It was a rather familiar expression, actually, and a rueful smile flickered onto Hugo’s lips.
Years ago, when he had first met her, Vivian had been quite shaken and mistrustful of others. He could still remember the dirty look she’d given him when he left her an exuberant tip at the restaurant.
He’d chuckled and assured her that he had no ulterior motives. Only the silent wish that the scrawny girl who looked so much like his little sister would have enough to eat.
She’d glared at him, then reported him to the manager.
He came back quite regularly after that, not just to the restaurant, but to her other part-time jobs, too. Discreetly, and in moderation, of course — he knew how that sounded.
He paid the restaurant to make ‘leftovers’ for her to take home after her shift. He left ‘unwanted gifts’ at the antique store and asked the owner to give them to her. He even disguised himself as a merchant once, to sell her something he’d noticed she’d been eyeing — at a vastly discounted price.
Then, one late night, as he’d been walking along the seawall of Lumina Square, someone threw a pebble at his back.
He turned to find the girl standing there, fists clenched, glaring at him in the moonlight.
“I know it was you! Leave me alone or I’m going to report you to PubSec!”
He’d turned, flashed her a malicious grin, and challenged her to do just that.
“Though, as much I’d love the thrill,” he’d purred, tipping his hat lower and casting a shadow over his face. “I’d advise against it. It’d be a waste of the city’s very… limited, resources.”
She’d stared at him, lips pursed and quivering in a pout, just like this — and then, she had burst into tears.
After that, he’d knelt down and frantically tried to console her. He took off his hat, spoke gently, apologized over and over, and even offered to turn himself in. After a few minutes of crying, she wiped her tears, fixed him with an eerie stare, and said in a grave voice.
“Someone is going to die.”
… At which point, Hugo learned that she had spotted a collapsed man in the shadows, and her prophetic abilities had triggered her tears. Seeing her distress, Hugo took it upon himself to approach the man, finding out after a short conversation that they were suffering from an ether-related illness. Their entire family had perished in the Hollow years ago, and they had ended up on the streets trying to pay for their own treatment.
Hugo hadn’t exactly been well-off back then, but he’d had enough to admit the man to a hospital. For about a week, he and the girl would meet up to keep the man company. His illness was terminal, and the doctors said he only had a few more days to live — but he spent it in comfort, and passed with the two of them by his side.
For the rest of the evening, the girl bawled in his arms. When she finally stopped, she told him that it was the first time her prophecies had ever been able to help anyone… and then she told him her name.
“Vivian.”
She looked at him, her crimson eyes — so much like Serena’s — still shimmering with tears, and cracked a faint smile.
“… Thank you.”
They moved in together not long after. According to Vivian, it was because Hugo had spent all of his savings helping that man, and the least she could do was assist him with the cooking and chores. Just for a little while — just to pay him back.
He could still remember the first time she laughed when he made a passing snarky joke. The first time she let him read fairytales to her after she’d had a nightmare. The first time a shopkeeper assumed they were siblings, and instead of correcting them, she’d teasingly called him ‘big brother’.
And the first — the many — times she’d made that face, that indignant, sulky pout.
Like when he praised someone else’s handwriting, and she spent the next week scrawling in the same looping style all over his newspapers. Or when he chuckled at an inside joke with an old contact, and she briskly took over the exchange without letting either of them get more than a few more words in. Or the many times he had accidentally mentioned Lycaon during a mission, and she’d squinted at him or huffed quietly, then proceeded to flawlessly do her part — with flair.
Meanwhile, these past few weeks… he had been relying on Lycaon instead of her. His fake death, his condition, the ongoing search for their attackers — he had kept her out of all of it.
Offering her a gentle smile, Hugo spoke quietly.
“You know I trust you with my life, right?”
“I know,” Vivian muttered, still avoiding his gaze. “You just don’t trust me with my own.”
Hugo sighed. “That’s not—”
“It’s fine,” she scoffed, turning away and shrugging. “It’s not like I’ve always valued it. But…” Her voice softened as she continued, the tension easing from her shoulders. “I have dreams that I want to achieve now, and more importantly… people that I love and want to protect.”
She glanced over her shoulder, finally meeting his gaze and revealing the smile on her lips.
“So I understand why you chose not to involve me. You’re right… I would have done the same.”
She closed her eyes, and her smile softened earnestly.
“I will never question what I am to you, Hugo, and I’ve always believed that you have plenty of room in your heart. I’m glad you’ve been able to fill that space with a little more warmth.”
Surprised, Hugo simmered in silence for a while, her words echoing sweetly in his ears. In his chest, the warmth she had been talking about pulsed and expanded, ebbing into his veins and flooding the rest of his limbs with gentleness.
A little flustered, he lowered his head and uttered a faint chuckle.
“… Thanks.”
More softly, he added,
“It’s more than a little.”
He heard a scoff, and looked up just in time to see Vivian face him with a smirk.
“Yeah, I’d imagine it’s quite substantial.”
Coughing, Hugo reached for his tea.
“Alright, I’m going to tactfully pretend I didn’t catch the insinuation behind that…”
He lifted his cup to his lips, only to stiffen suddenly and look back up at her.
“Wait, did you leave that bookmark there because you stopped there, or because you go back to that part often?”
Flushing, Vivian let out half-laugh, half-indignant shriek and slapped him with the book.
“Hugo!”
“It’s a legitimate question!” he protested shrilly, lifting his arms in self-defence. “And one whose answer I’m quite concerned about!”
“I-I was just storing the bookmark there for later!” Vivian spluttered, smacking his hands and glaring at him like he was horrible for even suggesting such a thing. “It was in a random spot, I didn’t even get to that part yet! I have no idea what you read!”
“Right…” Hugo drawled.
Huffing, Vivian drew herself up in a heated bravado. “Well what about you?” she demanded, “how many times have you guys already banged?”
Choking on nothing, Hugo spluttered, “Don’t be ridiculous, Lycaon is a wolf Thiren, and I’m a man. Our relationship is purely platonic—”
Vivian turned and promptly darted off, lifting both her phone and the book into the air.
“Liar!” There was the tell-tale sound effect of a camera shutter snapping. “I’m going to show Lycaon the book!”
Startled, Hugo bolted out of his chair and sprang after her.
“Vivi—”
“I’m going to ask him how accurate it is—!”
“Don’t you dare—!”
The old manor, usually so quiet and solemn, echoed with the thud of their reckless footsteps and the bright chaos of their shrieks.
Even if it wasn’t their gallery, with the both of them here… it still sounded like home.
Chapter Text
Hugo woke the next day with his stomach already growling.
There was a mouthwatering scent in the air… he felt warm just breathing it in, and he followed it deliriously out of bed.
He stumbled out of the room and down the hall, wearing Lycaon’s shirt like a nightgown over his bare legs.
Through the kitchen archway, he could spot Lycaon at the stove, tending to a vat of steaming goodness. The Thiren was clad in his apron, sleeves neatly rolled up and muscular forearms tense with the effort of being meticulous. He looked as delicious as whatever he was cooking, and Hugo wandered blindly over to his side.
Lycaon’s hands looked very busy with the ladle, so Hugo grabbed his tail instead. Wrapping his arms around its voluminous fluff, he burrowed his face affectionately into its bristles and wholeheartedly cuddled it.
“Mmm smells good…” he mumbled drowsily.
Lycaon’s tail became rigid, and the Thiren uttered a strangled noise from within his throat. That seemed like his usual reaction to having his tail touched, so Hugo snuggled closer without any thought.
“The sun’s not even fully up…” he slurred breathily, breaking off to yawn. “And you’re making a feast already? Who’s the lucky hypocrite?”
Lycaon turned his head, looking somewhat flustered as he quietly murmured his name.
“Hugo…”
Groggily, Hugo strained onto his tippy-toes and grazed the Thiren’s muzzle with a kiss.
“Yes, my dear?”
Lycaon cleared his throat, his crimson eye flicking meaningfully to the side. Bleary-eyed, Hugo stared adoringly at him for a few seconds before he realized the Thiren was trying to tell him to look around.
Drowsily, Hugo glanced over his shoulder — and froze.
Seated behind them, at the breakfast table — were Rina, Corin, and Ellen.
Rina was beaming vaguely, her Bangboo gawking on either side of her, already on silent mode. Corin was pale and stricken in absolute horror, and even Ellen had looked up from her phone to stare at them with a dubious raise of her eyebrows.
Pleasantly, Rina said, “It seems like a lot happened while we were away.”
Corin stammered in barely-intelligible whimpers, “M-M-Mr. Hugo! Y-You… w-with M-Mr. Lycaon…!!!”
She was probably just horrified that he was touching Lycaon’s tail, and didn’t realize how insinuating that sounded.
Ellen continued to stare, her silent gaze more judgemental than ever.
Turning back, Hugo shot Lycaon a flinty look.
Why didn’t you tell me?!
Lycaon grimaced.
I tried.
Ugh— Groaning inwardly, Hugo gave him another meaningful glance. Understanding instantly, Lycaon cleared his throat again, loudly this time — then spoke in a completely flat voice.
“What do you want?”
Putting on a smirk, Hugo began to rummage through the Thiren’s tail. It wiggled against him as though instinctively trying to wag, and he struggled to hold it still.
Damnit, beneath his elegant façade, this mutt was still brute force all over.
“I’m looking for my wristlet,” he announced airily, twirling a hand in the air. “You know, the one you unfastened from me last night?”
Lycaon stiffened, his ears shooting upright as he cast Hugo a sideways glare.
Are you trying to fix this or sabotage it even further?!
Hugo cast him a challenging look back.
They’re the ones who put me in your room, remember? I’m just trying to make it believable.
Lycaon growled, the irritation in his voice extremely convincing.
“Even if I had it, it wouldn’t be in my tail.”
“Spoken like a guilty thief!” Hugo announced, tackling his tail aside.
“You — enough—!”
Setting his ladle down, Lycaon snarled, grabbed him by the back of his shirt, and began to wrestle him off.
Back at the table, Rina smiled harder. Corin looked a few rapid breaths away from fainting, and Ellen returned to her phone with a roll of her eyes.
“Yup… a lot definitely happened.”
He supposed a lot had happened in the past few days — but Hugo didn’t think that much had actually changed.
After all, he and Lycaon had been on the mend well before the other members of Victoria Housekeeping left them alone.
Sure, perhaps they were a little more indulgent with their gestures — Lycaon’s hand seemed to be glued to his hip, and he’d always be resting on the Thiren’s shoulder, or leaning against his arm, or plucking teasingly at his tail… at least, whenever it wasn’t already wagging in his arms.
And perhaps it did feel like whenever Hugo needed something — tea, honey, answers, attention, anything — Lycaon would already be there, ready to fetch it or to whisk him away.
And perhaps they did seem to always be standing together, walking together, and — at this point, practically breathing together.
But it wasn’t like this was anything new for him and Lycaon. They had always been like this.
… Right?
The presence of other people did make Lycaon erratically self-conscious, though. One moment he’d be holding Hugo’s hand while escorting him down the hall, softly rubbing circles over the back of his palm — only to turn the corner, spot Rina, and wrench Hugo’s arm behind his back as though about to handcuff him, spewing something about ‘inappropriate posture’.
Or Lycaon would be leaning close to him over the breakfast table, tenderly praising Hugo for how well he had slept last night — only for Ellen to enter, still yawning, and immediately deadpan into some stern comment about leaving his chocolate wrappers on the dresser.
Needless to say, their nightly activities had to be… adjusted, too. The walls weren’t perfectly soundproof, and the others’ bedrooms weren’t far away. But they didn’t stop, not at all — if anything, the thrill of Lycaon tightly covering his mouth, suppressing his ragged moans while ruthlessly pummeling him to paradise, was something Hugo quite enjoyed.
That said, their constant frolicking wasn’t without consequences. His body had been abstinent for years, after all — and now it was suddenly being overstimulated every night.
Lycaon seemed especially concerned, though Hugo passed it off as his partner’s usual fussing. He hadn’t even noticed some of his discomforts until the Thiren pointed them out.
“You’ve been scratching your neck a lot.”
Grabbing his hand, Lycaon gently tugged it away from his nape, kissing his knuckles as consolation.
“Is it uncomfortable?”
“Hm?”
Hugo leaned back, happy to be spoiled. Tilting his chin up, he waited for Lycaon to greet him with a nuzzle on the lips. He uttered a pleased mumble, and he could see the Thiren’s ears flicking delightedly, too.
“I’m not sure. I didn’t really notice.”
Though, now that his attention had been drawn to it, Hugo did feel the urge to scratch his neck. It itched and stung slightly, the back of his nape.
“I guess it does feel a little strange…”
“Allow me to take a look.”
Ever so gently, Lycaon combed his hair aside, and Hugo tilted his head to give his companion a better view. He felt a claw lightly circle the itchy spot, and he shivered as his skin crawled.
“Hmm…” Lycaon uttered a concerned rumble.
“Well?” Hugo asked breathily, “what’s the verdict, Dr. Lycaon? How long do I have?”
Lycaon sighed and yanked chidingly on his ear, prompting Hugo to jerk away with an indignant “hey!”
“It’s one of the marks I left,” Lycaon admitted heavily. “It looks aggravated… I must have bitten too hard. Does it hurt?”
Hugo felt a poke and another small sting.
“Not really,” he said dismissively. “It’s more that it itches, and feels sensitive.”
Sighing again, Lycaon straightened and abruptly left the room.
“Hold on—”
He returned less than a minute later with a first aid kit. The scent of ointment spilled into the air as the Thiren gently tied Hugo’s hair out of the way and began to dab at the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry,” Lycaon murmured, a whine in his husky voice. There was painstaking care in his every touch, and though the ointment was cold, his fingers were very warm. “I should have shown more restraint.”
Cupping his chin, Lycaon tilted Hugo's head slightly, then cradled the back of his head so it remained steady. The ointment felt soothing against his irritated skin, and Hugo leaned into the Thiren’s touch with a content purr.
“Please, I’ve handled way worse from you.”
There was a rather tense silence. Hugo closed his eyes and grinned to himself as he imagined how disgruntled Lycaon must look right now.
“Remember when you dislocated my arm?”
Lycaon grumbled, sounding flustered. “I’m… still extremely sorry about that.”
Hugo chuckled. “And then you popped it back while I was distracted, without warning me — you were absolutely brutal.”
Finishing up, Lycaon turned away to dispose of the soiled cotton swabs, his ears flattened back in distress. Thoroughly enjoying his guilt, Hugo turned towards him and bumped his lips against his companion’s cheek.
“And then,” he whispered, “you promised to never hurt me again. But we know how that went, don’t we?”
“… I was naïve,” Lycaon admitted quietly, reciprocating his gesture with a gentle brush of their faces. The Thiren slid a hand onto Hugo’s cheek, cradling him and holding his face still as he lapped affectionately at his lips.
Enjoying the familiar warmth, Hugo exhaled, his breath shaky and hot with desire. Hearing it, Lycaon leaned in, easing their mouths together and pushing his tongue deeper.
Hugo shuddered, so pleased by his warmth and his taste that he couldn’t stop himself from uttering a muffled moan. Lycaon’s tail wagged, and he lapped at the inside of Hugo’s mouth for a little longer before pulling away to let him breathe.
They lingered, heads touching, breathing in each other’s restless pants.
Solemnly, Lycaon rasped, “I know now that pain is inevitable in this world. But if I am the cause of it, then I will strive to be the cure, too.”
The sunlight in the Thiren’s scarlet iris glittered most tenderly as he gazed at Hugo.
“And even if I’m not, or even if I can’t be… I’ll stay by you. For all the time it takes to mend, and all the time that comes after.”
“Heh…” Softened by his sentimental speech, Hugo brushed his fingers gently along the Thiren’s cheeks. He could feel the affection in his own face… he could see it, reflected in Lycaon’s eye.
Smiling, he nudged his companion closer and captured him in another kiss.
“Your rhetoric has improved…”
Their lips slid together almost naturally, tongues twining and fluids pooling rapidly into each other’s mouths. Lycaon tilted his head, deepening it, his tongue slipping insistently deeper as his claws tightened along Hugo’s face and gently scratched at his skin. The Thiren’s innate hunger was contagious, and Hugo found himself straining into his partner, gripping Lycaon’s uniform and pulling him desperately closer, his muffled gasps turning coy as sparks scattered down his spine.
“Mm…”
His senses began to blur, his mind growing hazy as he fed himself to Lycaon. The Thiren took him wholeheartedly, his throat rumbling with a deep, soothing purr. They were so immersed in the kiss, so immersed in each other, that they didn’t hear Rina’s silent footsteps. It was only at Drusilla’s brash remark, “ah, they’re at it again” — that Lycaon and Hugo lurched apart.
Smiling pleasantly, Rina glided matter-of-factly past them and fetched a set of tea from the counter.
“Please, carry on. … Although I might suggest you conclude before the hour,” she added somewhat gingerly. “We have a potential new client arriving, and I don’t believe they’re expecting such… vivacious displays.”
Straightening rigidly, Lycaon smoothed out his cravat, then his lapels, then his uniform. Hugo smirked and resisted the urge to help him smooth out the crotch of his pants, too, because it did seem a bit bumpy—
“Of course. Quite right. Perfectly right,” Lycaon agreed breathily. “I appreciate the reminder. We shall… compose ourselves at once.”
Rina flashed them a beam and floated away, Drusilla cackling behind her. Lycaon remained standing so stiffly that it almost seemed like he’d bow her out.
Once she was gone, the Thiren turned and glared at Hugo, like it was his fault that they had been making out in the kitchen.
Amused, Hugo raised an eyebrow.
What?
Lycaon’s left ear twitched. Clearly flustered, the Thiren cleared his throat and smoothed out his cravat again, unnecessarily.
“That was… undignified.”
“Which part?” Hugo mused, “the kissing, or you disintegrating into an mortified tomato?”
Grimacing, Lycaon drew himself up with a huff. “From now on,” he declared, “we are prohibited from being affectionate outside the bedroom.”
“Oh, okay,” Hugo agreed airily, leaning back in his seat. He could already see Lycaon’s gaze straying to his kiss-flushed lips, his exposed collarbone, and the unbuttoned depths of his cleavage.
He had to hold back a laugh.
“Good luck with that, dearest.”
With the return of Lycaon’s comrades, things became busier. They helped Lycaon with his workload, but Lycaon helped take care of them, too. Now that he no longer had his partner to himself, Hugo found himself resorting to other methods to steal the Thiren’s attention.
One day, he sneakily changed the background of Lycaon’s phone into a glamorously provocative shot of himself — intending to be rewarded with a flustered double-take, some snarling, and maybe a passionate punishment.
Instead, to his conflicted glee, Rina approached and asked Lycaon for the guest list for tonight’s dinner — which had been saved on his phone. Lycaon, having no reason to suspect anything, handed it over without a second thought
“… Oh my.”
Rina’s flawless smile showed absolutely no indication of shock, but she did seem to linger a second longer than necessary before tapping on the screen.
She said nothing while completing her task, and returned the phone to Lycaon with an ever pleasant beam.
“I must say, your new wallpaper is very evocative, Lycaon.”
Lycaon, immersed in counting the wine inventory, took his phone back distractedly.
“Thank you — wait, what?”
He took one glance at his phone, and his ears shot straight into the air.
Rina lifted a hand gingerly over her lips — probably to muffle a laugh — and continued mildly.
“What an engaging photo. You must be very fond of it.”
Turning redder by the second, Lycaon stammered, his tail swishing so agitatedly that it was rustling the vase of flowers nearby.
“T-That’s not — I didn’t —”
“It’s quite alright, there’s no need to explain,” Rina assured him warmly. “We all have our little… visual comforts. Though—”
She flashed him a smile as she turned to leave.
“Perhaps it’d be best to keep it face-down in the presence of guests. Some affections are best… savored in private.”
Ears flattened in utter helplessness, Lycaon could only agree hoarsely.
“… Understood.”
Rina swept serenely out of the room. Hugo, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, was literally quivering with suppressed laughter.
Slowly, Lycaon turned towards him, his face shadowed beneath his bangs, his lips curled into a terrifying snarl. His fury was so overwhelming that it practically rose from his shoulders in visible black ripples.
“You…”
A giggle escaped, though Hugo quickly muffled himself and braced his hand against the table in case he actually needed to run for his life.
“Oops,” he managed to say between restrained wheezes, flashing Lycaon a dazzling grin. “It was meant to be for your eyes only.”
Lycaon strode over, his crimson eye glinting fiercely — threatening, but not so deadly that Hugo felt the need to bolt.
“The background of my phone is not the best place to put something meant for ‘my eyes only’,” the Thiren rumbled deeply.
Rising from his seat, Hugo lifted his arms and greeted his companion with a cajoling hug.
“Oh?”
He wrapped his arms around Lycaon’s shoulders and pressed himself close, batting his eyelashes innocently back into the wolf Thiren’s intimidating glare.
“Enlighten me then, Sir Lycaon. Where should things that belong only to you go?”
A snarl rippled through Lycaon’s chest, still dark with fury. But the Thiren’s hands slid onto Hugo’s hips anyway — instinctively, as though he couldn’t help himself.
“You’re insufferable.”
Chuckling, Hugo tilted his head and nuzzled the Thiren’s chin, teasing him and pleading for him at the same time.
“Insufferable? Or irresistible?”
Lycaon’s rumbling rose in volume, and his grip tightened ominously around Hugo’s waist. The Thiren paused there for a second, hesitating… then, in a single swift motion, tossed Hugo into his embrace.
Pleased, Hugo wrapped his legs victoriously around his companion, straddling him tightly as they kissed with absolute abandon and stumbled down the hall… towards their bedroom.
***
This was… impossible.
Lycaon had lost track of how many times he’d bowed over and held his head in defeat.
He couldn’t resist. He couldn’t not resist.
Every smirk, every whisper, every cheeky wink, every gentle glance — pulled at his restraints and his composure and his very, very frayed sanity.
Hugo was here, he was his, there was nothing stopping Lycaon from confining Hugo to his bed and breeding him every minute of every day, until there wasn’t a single crevice in the thief’s slender body that wasn’t coated in his warmth, his knot, his seed — nothing except reality, and work, and the fact that he ought to act civilized in front of his fellow attendants.
He had never felt such bliss, such torture. He truly was at his limit.
… And it really didn’t help that Hugo seemed to enjoy provoking his madness.
After Hugo’s wallpaper prank — which led to them having an unplanned steamy romp for the next three hours, which then led to Lycaon being nearly late to the dinner they were catering — the next day, Lycaon vowed to show some restraint.
He kept himself at two arms length from Hugo at all times, and he made sure they were never alone in the room together. He wore an elastic band around his wrist and snapped himself with it if he caught himself staring at Hugo for more than two seconds or imagining the man’s pretty face being splattered with his—
Snap.
Hugo noticed, of course. He teased him for it, shooting witty jeers that Lycaon drowned out by reciting recipes in his mind. He merely grunted in reply.
… But knowing his old friend, Lycaon supposed he shouldn’t have expected that to work.
By dinner time, Hugo was obviously irked. Lycaon had made a point of sitting across the table from him, so they couldn’t share food or accidentally feed each other out of habit — but then he had to wash the dishes, and the chore made him vulnerable.
Recognizing Hugo’s scent drifting over, Lycaon tensed, but he couldn’t escape with the tap running and the sink full of suds.
He felt something pluck at his body harness, and then he heard the drawl.
“Is this supposed to restrain you, or just your ego? Because it’s not doing either very well.”
Lycaon heaved a massive sigh, only to stiffen in shock as his restraints — literally — snapped. In front of everyone’s shocked and amazed stares, his body harness burst from his chest as it expanded from his breath.
Behind him, Hugo nearly collapsed to the floor in laughter. The thief must have nicked his straps just now, then deliberately goaded him into taking a deep breath.
Despite himself, Lycaon turned on the man with an enraged snarl. The next thing he knew, he was slamming the bedroom door behind them and slamming Hugo into his bed.
“You wanted my attention, right?” he rumbled, pinning the thief’s hands over his head and crawling over him. “Well, you have it.”
Trapping the blonde beneath him, Lycaon tore his belt aside, plucked his buttons loose, and ripped his uniform off with ferocious efficiency. Unleashing his engorged erection, he shoved himself between Hugo’s legs without any hesitation.
“All of it.”
“Oh?” Hugo sneered, spreading his legs and willingly opening himself for Lycaon’s heat. “How generous of you, Lycaon. Are you sure you can—”
The thief broke off, his voice turning into a surprised huff as Lycaon dragged one of his broken shoulder straps away from himself and used it to tie Hugo’s wrist to his ankle. Tearing off his shirt, he used his sleeve to bind the man’s other side in the same way, then leaned back to admire his work.
His tail swished across the blankets, and his erection throbbed with insane delight. He had trapped Hugo on his back in a spread-legged position like an overturned turtle, bound by the very clothes that the thief himself had ruined.
He glowered down at his companion, pleased by this justified revenge. Hugo’s intimate parts were helplessly exposed for his enjoyment like this, and Lycaon’s arousal twitched vigorously in approval.
“Heh…” Hugo bared his fangs in a smug grin, still exuding insufferable haughtiness despite his predicament. He shifted, jerking his wrists and testing his restraints as his movements pulled his ankles higher into the air.
“How creative… I didn’t know you had such perverse hobbies, Lycaon.”
“I find that surprising,” Lycaon rumbled in a deep voice, grasping Hugo’s foot and lifting it higher. “Considering what I’ve already told you about my fantasies.”
He gazed down, admiring how alluring the man looked beneath him right now — erect, his length rigid and already shedding dew drops against his navel. His pucker was completely exposed, soft and pink from all their nights of love, opening up for him in hard, eager pulses… already begging him to fill it.
Hugo scoffed, a flush creeping over his pale skin despite his otherwise scathing jeer.
“That may be so, but—”
“Shut it.”
He fisted Hugo’s shirt and yanked him closer, cutting him off. Sliding his erection onto the man’s raised hips, Lycaon rubbed himself against the blonde’s intimate parts, huffing headily as he watched the weight and sheer size of his massive length move and chafe Hugo’s pale skin. The thief’s breath hitched, and a lustful haze crept over his irises as the shadow of Lycaon’s erection rose and fell over his face.
“I’ve shown you enough tolerance,” Lycaon rumbled, tightening his grip on Hugo’s ankle and dragging the man into his groin. “In this estate, I am the alpha, and you are a mere guest. There are consequences to defying the rules.”
“Cute,” Hugo purred, taunting him despite the fact that he was turning pink and breathless from Lycaon’s eager rubbing. “Trying to act all stern and assertive, even as your cock is begging me to let it in.”
“Your composure is commendable.”
With a practiced set of motions, Lycaon grabbed the lube and spilled a generous amount onto Hugo’s lower body, letting it splatter against his skin and grow into a mess all over his groin. His erection naturally became coated in slick as it continued to grind between Hugo’s legs, bathing itself in the contours of the thief’s intimate parts. He slid down, towards the man’s thirsty entrance. All it took was a well-angled nudge for the soft, slick little pucker to open up for his crown.
“Let’s see how long you can keep up the act.”
“Oh—!”
Hugo gasped and tensed up slightly, his arms twitching like he wanted to grab Lycaon or shove him away — but he was trapped, tied in this pitifully vulnerable pose, completely opened up. His ankles and wrists dangled in the air and his knees trembled above him as he lay there, shaped like a plaything for Lycaon to defile.
Lycaon would enjoy this… thoroughly.
Locking eyes with Hugo, he paused there for a moment, with the thief’s entrance pulled taut around the tip of his erection. He gazed steadily into the prankster’s eyes, enjoying every flicker of emotion beneath that veil of arrogance, every crack in that impeccable façade… as he tightened his grip, and grinded slowly deeper.
“Uhhnnngh…”
Breathing heavily, Lycaon bowed down and growled over the man’s gusty moan.
“Because, as far as I’m concerned…”
Hugo’s pupils quivered, then blurred, then rolled distractedly elsewhere. The man arched up towards him, his gusty moan sweetening even further as he tilted his chin back and cried into the air. His knees twitched and his hands jerked, but that was the extent of his freedom — there was nothing he could do but lie there… and take it… as Lycaon filled him.
Stopping deep inside of the man, Lycaon bent over, his ears twitching in pleasure as he absorbed the thief’s quivering groans. He brushed his lips over Hugo’s flushed cheek and finished with a pleased purr.
“… You’re the one begging me to impregnate you.”
“Uhmgh… hah… Lycaon…” Hugo moaned, already sounding hopelessly ecstatic as his insides squeezed around Lycaon and tried to pull him deeper.
But Lycaon didn’t move just yet, leisurely enjoying the view. Hugo’s hips were angled so high into the air that his erection was practically pointed at his own face, and Lycaon couldn’t help but remember all the magnificent expressions this haughty thief had made as his pretty features became splattered with cum.
Huffing, he reached forward and enclosed his hand around his companion’s flushed length. As he gave it a small squeeze and a few gentle strokes, Hugo’s expression crumbled, his brows lifting in a trembling look of bliss as he encouraged Lycaon with a soft, coy moan. His breathing became heavy, restless, his body heaving up and down and shuddering in visible waves of pleasure. Traces of translucent goo fell onto his stomach and continued to ooze onto his chest, and the heat around Lycaon constricted snugly against his throbbing erection.
“Hmm…” Uttering a deep, aroused growl, Lycaon took another one of his shoulder straps, the shorter piece with the buckle. Deftly, he wrapped it around the thief’s erection and clasped it just under its bulbous tip.
Hugo tensed, his lashes fluttering open and his pupils turning wide. He turned to Lycaon, his mouth open — only to break off with a startled yelp as Lycaon fastened it tightly, leaving the metal clasp to dig into the sensitive nerves along his underside.
“Nhgh — Lycaon—?!”
Reaching further, Lycaon stroked his other parts, enjoying the sight of the poor little thing twitching in bewilderment and distress.
“First consequence,” he declared in a deep voice, steadying Hugo’s knees and slowly sliding his hips back. He watched the hulking shape of his erection pull out of the thief’s slender body and stopped with his tip locked just behind the man’s pucker, then looked up to meet Hugo’s incredulous stare.
He absorbed the exhilaration in the man’s eyes, his own consciousness alit with a thrilling delight. Then, he slammed himself back in, all the way, with a mighty plap!
“Apologize.”
His snarl was almost muffled beneath Hugo’s cry. The thief tensed up and convulsed violently beneath him, his length jerking and splattering wildly all over his stomach. His insides clenched so violently that Lycaon had to grimace, a terse grunt escaping through his clenched jaws.
Oh, he felt so good. He almost threw the entire game away just to start pounding Hugo senseless, right there, right then.
“Ngh — heh — hah…” Squinting through his shattered composure, the thief still struggled to mock him. “Don’t get… ahead of yourself, mutt! I don’t… ngh… take orders… from you…!”
Lifting his chin, Lycaon glared disdainfully down at the alluring mess beneath him, then thrusted again, hard.
“—Ahngh!”
“Then start.”
Rising over his threatening command, an erotic cry tore from Hugo’s throat, dwindling into sweet whimpers as Lycaon began to pummel him, ruthlessly. Taking every advantage of the thief’s position, he churned himself deep and stayed there, rocking against Hugo’s intimate parts, taking delight in the sight of his pale abdomen quivering at the force of his thrusts. Splaying his hand against Hugo’s stomach, he pushed down, battering his walls from both sides. The thief arched against him with a startled, strangled groan, his arms twitching as he tried to grab Lycaon, only to again be reminded that he was helplessly bound.
“Uhngh — ugh — hngh—!”
“Go on,” Lycaon panted raggedly, grabbing Hugo’s bound erection and — ignoring his frantic whimper of protest — pumping it lovingly in his hand. “Say the words — I know you can do it. I’ve seen you grovel before, too.”
“Ugh — you — hah — don’t push your — ugh! — luck — hah — you mu— mmhgh—!”
Hugo’s voice was shattered by a particularly ferocious thrust that left both their bodies ringing from the impact. Growling groggily, Lycaon grabbed his ankles and continued, blinking back a haze of lust as he watched Hugo arch and tremble beneath him. The man had tossed his head back, his chin quivering towards the ceiling and a thin trickle of tears oozing from the corner of his eyes.
“Oh… fuck…” Hugo gasped, his voice hoarse and feeble as he trembled beneath Lycaon. “D… Deep… you’re… ah… soooo… deep…”
Stirred, Lycaon took in a deep breath, his chest expanding with air as he gazed down at his partner. He rocked into Hugo’s insides there, deep, as he’d so ravishingly said, holding the thief’s legs steady with one hand and stroking his erection with the other. He caressed it up and down, grinding his knuckles into Hugo’s stomach at the same time, kneading at the walls he could feel being pushed against him from the inside.
Hugo moaned, his voice sweet gibberish, desperation welling over his lower lashes as he gazed pleadingly out at Lycaon. His length had flushed a frustratingly bright pink and was throbbing ferociously in Lycaon’s hand, struggling against his grip and its bindings, its tip oozing with constant droplets of fluid.
“L… Lycaon…”
At last, the thief managed to form a word, his whimper enchantingly vulnerable. Lycaon leaned closer, his breath hitching in anticipation as he gazed down at his companion.
Looking into his expectant stare, Hugo parted his lips, heaved a shaky breath — and huffed.
“Pompous mutt.”
He broke off a second later, his yelp drowned beneath the fierce slap of their bodies slamming together, his startled cries smothered beneath the rampage of thrusts that followed after.
“Ah! — Ah — ack! W-Wait — haha! – ahh — ah – fuck — wait — I — I’m sorry—!”
Snarling in mock anger, Lycaon didn’t let up, his hackles rising and his tail fluffing up in primal ferocity as he pounded Hugo into the creaking bedframe.
“Wait, wait — Lycaon — ah — aha — Lycaon, please —!”
“That’s not the apology I want to hear,” he rumbled breathily, grabbing the man’s length and squeezing it tightly around the base.
“Hnngh—?!”
Hugo seized up, his whimper shrill and raw with bewilderment. His entire body convulsed, his insides squeezing tightly and his length throbbing so forcefully within Lycaon’s hand that it squirted a thin glob of fluid despite its bindings, the rest of it quivering desperately with a contained climax.
“Tsk.” Miffed, Lycaon yanked the strap tighter, enjoying the almost sob-like noise that Hugo uttered in response. “Unruly as ever. You don’t get to do that again.”
“Ugh… hah… you…” Tear-eyed, Hugo glared at him, his flushed pucker happily swallowing Lycaon’s thrusts despite his apparent disobedience.
“Let’s try that again,” Lycaon murmured, leaning down and nuzzling his cold nose against Hugo’s ear. The man seized up instantly, his gasp more panicked than before as his insides pulled on Lycaon in anticipation.
“Apologize, Hugo.”
He rammed his hips into the thief, hard, relentlessly disciplining him until they were both completely drenched in desire and despair alike. By the time Hugo began to break and utter genuine pleas, he was barely coherent, and Lycaon was so overcome with lust that he could barely understand.
He didn’t know who had been defeated — Hugo, who begged him for release in sweet, broken whimpers… or himself, who was so overwhelmed by desire that he was little more than a primitive beast.
“Uhngh — mhgh — please… let me — haah — come—!” Hugo bleated, his entire body already quaking with untouched climaxes while his bloated, flushed erection swung helplessly over his soiled belly. “Please — ahh! — I’m sorry — I’m sorry — truly — mm — I won’t do it again — mmh — please, let me — hah — come — I need to — uhnghhh… come…!”
Bowing over the thief, Lycaon pressed their foreheads together and panted raggedly against his lips, tasting the familiar sweetness of his cries.
“Second consequence…” he huffed thickly, sinking himself deep and closing his eyes as he enjoyed the sound of Hugo’s startled moan.
“Explain.”
“Ah — hah — huh—?” Hugo panted, his moans lifting in confusion as he blinked blearily back at Lycaon.
“Why did you do it?” Lycaon panted raggedly, quickening his pace and shuddering in delight as pleasure rippled through his entire body.
To be honest, he didn’t care what Hugo’s answer was — at this point, he would have released him and continued anyway, simply because he didn’t think he could last much longer, himself.
So he was a little bit startled when the thief replied, readily, in a completely candid wail.
“Because I like you!”
Lycaon faltered, stunned, his ears flying back as he stared at his companion in astonishment. Apparently too delirious to notice his shock, Hugo fidgeted and continued in an innocent whine.
“I love you, Lycaon… I wanted you to look at me… I wanted you to think of me…”
Lycaon blinked, his tail starting to wag with uncontrollable fervor behind him. Deep inside Hugo, his erection swelled even further, reciprocating the zeal in his companion’s confession with equal passion.
“Hngh—?!”
Straining away from his sudden size, Hugo uttered a quivering yelp that cut sharply into a panicked gasp as Lycaon reached for the strap binding his erection.
“W-Wait—!” Hugo cried shrilly, his hands jerking uselessly as he tried to stop Lycaon. “No — wait — not right now — I’m gonna — ahh—!”
But the buckle fell free, and the man cut into a desperately ravaged wail as he immediately burst with the most spectacular fountain of fluids. Amazed, Lycaon stared at him, mesmerized, as his partner’s proud face glazed over in utter euphoria and his beautiful slender body shuddered with intense quakes.
“Ugh… hah… ahh…”
When it was finally over, Hugo seemed like he could barely breathe. He quivered all over, his eyes completely glazed, his limbs still jerking with aftershocks, his gasps hoarse and feeble.
Gently, Lycaon removed the rest of his bindings and let him relax onto the mattress. He slid over Hugo, kissing him tenderly on the cheek and holding his trembling body reassuringly in his hands… as he pulled out, and slammed back in.
“Mhm…!”
Spent from the intensity of his orgasm, Hugo clung to Lycaon, sweet and docile, whimpering in bliss and gratitude as he was battered and filled with heat over and over.
Lycaon’s night proceeded, inevitably, the same way it had all the previous nights — immersed in his dearest partner, lulled by his once-nemesis’s provocative demands and irresistible moans, goaded into his most primal of instincts and rampaging until Hugo’s haughty scoffs became reduced to shattered, pleading whimpers.
The last thing he remembered before they finally passed out, drenched and still wound together, was the warmth of Hugo’s breathless chuckle against his lips.
“You know… being restrained… can actually feel pretty good…”
***
The next morning, as Lycaon was preparing for his early shift, he found another alteration to his uniform — stitched with indigo thread onto the inside of his collar was a small bird, its tail transitioning elegantly into a cursive heart.
A perplexed frown scrunched up his muzzle. He glanced over at Hugo, who was still thoroughly passed out in bed, the pale skin of his back littered with a fresh set of marks… in a deep, well-earned sleep.
Scoffing to himself, Lycaon held up his sabotaged shirt. He stared at it for a moment… then slid it on and buttoned it up.
Smoothing out his collar, he rubbed his thumb tenderly over the embroidery. His reflection in the mirror was smiling.
Chapter Text
When the weekend came and Lycaon finally had another day off, he woke up early in the morning, hoping to finish his chores so he could reserve the rest of his time for Hugo — only to be surprised once again by an empty bed beside him.
Brushing his hand across the rumpled sheets, Lycaon looked around, his fur tousled and his gaze still bleary with sleep. The blanket was cold, so Hugo had been absent for a while… had he gone out for a late-night Mockingbird romp, and had yet to return?
Sighing heavily, Lycaon pushed back his messy bangs and stumbled towards the bathroom. Wherever Hugo had run off to, he would figure it out later… after a much-needed morning refreshment.
Upon emerging out of the bathroom, brushed and clear-headed, Lycaon realized that the blinds were open around the balcony door. Early morning sunlight was streaming through the glass, and as he stepped closer, he saw a familiar silhouette outside — poised on the ground, maintaining what looked like a plank position.
Brushing the curtains aside, Lycaon opened the door. A cool breeze rustled through his fur and he lifted his muzzle to breathe in the fresh air, sighing contently into the serene morning.
Beneath him, Hugo remained steady — in joggers, without a shirt. The flexed muscles along his back cast alluring shadows in the sunlight, and Lycaon’s tail swished in silent appreciation.
“… Working out?”
There was a touch of surprise in his quiet greeting. While Lycaon used to weight train in the past, Hugo had never seemed interested in building muscle mass, preferring instead to spend that time doodling his next fantastical scheme.
“I’m getting too pampered staying with you, eating your meals every day,” Hugo huffed, shifting his weight slightly. As the thief’s back muscles quivered, Lycaon stared distractedly. The curves of his waist and buttocks looked exceedingly enticing like this…
Tsk. Don’t be so vulgar.
He berated himself, but it was no use. Lycaon couldn’t tear his gaze away.
“I still need to be able to outrun PubSec officers and bloodthirsty hounds, after all,” Hugo added cheekily.
“Your motivation is distasteful,” Lycaon said sternly, “but I’m glad you care about your health.”
Twisting onto a side-plank, Hugo looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Don’t patronize me.”
Startled, Lycaon blinked, his tail growing rigid and his ears perking in alarm. That… hadn’t been his intention at all.
He was flustered for a moment, scrambling to think of how he could make his sincerity clear. But before he could try to explain himself, Hugo flashed him a sudden grin.
“Let's arm wrestle!”
Relinquishing his position, the man scrambled back to his feet. He lifted his arms into the air and stretched, heaving a satisfied sigh as his body arched towards the sky. In the morning sunlight, his pale skin seemed almost translucent, and the lean muscles underneath shifted and flexed tantalizingly as he moved.
Lycaon gulped, instantly bewitched, numbly following Hugo back into the room as he fixated on the man’s exposed torso.
“Come on!”
He snapped out of his daze to find Hugo in his chair, elbow resting on the side table and palm raised challengingly into the air. The man flashed his fangs in a sharp-toothed grin and tilted his head, mismatched irises gleaming provocatively.
Lycaon stared at him, his lips slowly twisting down into a frown. He walked over slowly, still half-convinced that the thief was just joking as he pulled up a stool to the other side.
“Are you aware of what you’re saying?” he asked in genuine concern. Had he been too rough last night? Was Hugo still not recovered?
“Perfectly,” Hugo scoffed, waving his fingers as Lycaon took a seat. “Don’t be so arrogant. I’ve grown stronger, you know.”
“Stronger?” Lycaon said wryly. “Compared to what, a soggy handkerchief?”
“Oi, you—!” Laughing, Hugo reached over, grabbed Lycaon by the front of his shirt, and forcefully yanked him down. “I’ll make you regret that.”
“How frightening,” Lycaon remarked nonchalantly as he slid into his seat.
Placing his elbow on the table, he raised his hand to his partner’s. The differences in their physiques seemed absurd when they were directly competing like this, and Lycaon couldn’t help but raise his brow in doubt. He could smother Hugo’s entire hand in his fist and still have plenty of room left over…
“Are you sure about this?”
“Relax, Lycaon,” Hugo jeered. “I’ve already defeated you many times before. This will be no more humiliating.”
Lycaon sighed. “Very well. I’ll do my best not to break your delicate wrist.”
He opened his hand, gulping as it suddenly looked massive. Hugo flexed his slender fingers before easing himself into Lycaon's broad palm, his pale hand swallowed whole as they gripped each other.
“Ready?” Lycaon asked mildly.
“Absolutely,” Hugo shot back, already leaning in with every ounce of dramatic determination.
They locked eyes. Then, in silent agreement — they began.
Instantly, Hugo tensed up with effort, shoulders angling forward and forearm trembling with strain. His lips curled back in a half-grin, half-snarl, fangs flashing and breath hitching as he fought with all his might. Every muscle in his bare upper torso flexed and quivered with effort and Lycaon couldn't help but watch him — admire him — through a half-lidded gaze, completely nonplussed, like a stone sculpture humoring a breeze.
But given enough force, even a few grains of dust could be blown off a statue. With an effortful grunt, Hugo pressed forward, shifting the balance and tilting Lycaon's arm towards the table surface.
A dazzling spark of glee lit up Hugo's eyes—
“Oh—!”
—One instant before Lycaon gripped the thief's hand and slammed it the other way, pinning it down in defeat.
“You—!” Hugo yelped, his hair ruffled and his face flushed, shaking in indignation like a drenched kitten. “You… You pompous mutt!”
Lycaon chuckled despite himself, the sound warm and soothing as it rippled through his chest. He continued to pin Hugo's hand down, squeezing it affectionately as their palms became hot together.
Leaning forward, Lycaon gazed smugly — adoringly — into his companion's irked stare.
“You used to call me a ‘dirty cheater',” he pointed out amusedly, “so ‘pompous' seems like quite an improvement.”
Flushing, Hugo yanked his hand away and rose abruptly to his feet. Flinging a finger accusatorily at Lycaon's nose, he declared,
“This isn't over! Let's see how well you fare in a… different contest of strength!”
Still simmering with warmth and triumph — it felt like a long time since he'd last ‘won’ — Lycaon raised an eyebrow in jovial intrigue.
“Oh?”
Hugo turned towards the bed. The sheets were still tangled from last night's chaos, damp and bundled in a corner, awaiting to be laundered — again. Lycaon followed his gaze, his pulse immediately leaping, the presence within his pants also immediately leaping. The thought of Hugo struggling beneath him, scoffing haughtily about making him come first only to descend into ecstatic moans and gibberish whimpers as he lost not once but many times, drenching himself and the bedsheets in what little fluids he had left as Lycaon continued to pummel everything out of him—
Smirking, Hugo snapped his fingers at the bedsheets.
“A contest to see who can change the sheets faster.”
A silence hung between them, thick with disappointment. The gleam in Lycaon's eye vanished into unimpressed nonchalance, and Hugo took one glance at his deadpan before bursting into laughter.
“My dear Lycaon, don't tell me you were thinking of some other kind of contest involving the bed?”
Lifting his chin, Lycaon sniffed and vainly tried to stop his tail from wagging.
“Of course not,” he answered disdainfully. “If you wanted to help with the chores, you could have simply said so.”
“Hah!” Hugo grabbed his pillow and tossed it dramatically onto the chair, then seized a corner of the crumpled bedsheet. “As if I'd willingly do your job for you. This is a competition — no less, no more.”
Calmly, Lycaon strode around and took the opposite corner.
“Then prepare yourself. I fold as flawlessly as I fight.”
Rolling his eyes, Hugo tossed his braid over one shoulder with theatrical flair.
“We'll see about that, Sir Lycaon.”
They looked at each other again, fixing each other with a challenging stare. Then, at the same time, they snapped the blankets beneath them like a flag of war, and got to work.
It was immediate chaos. The blankets were thick and heavy, and it became an effortful tug-of-war as they fought to shake their side of the blanket free first. Hugo deliberately twisted the middle side to sabotage Lycaon's efforts, then swiftly yanked the sheets towards himself, taking the first victory.
They then rushed to see who could claim possession of the mattress cover. Lycaon managed to tug it towards himself with greater force, but Hugo slyly flung a still-damp, ‘evidence’-laden corner towards his pristine shirt. Dodging with a hiss of disgust, Lycaon let the thief win his second victory.
“Really, Hugo?”
Cackling, Hugo lunged for the pillows.
“All's fair in love and laundry.”
While Hugo got to his pillow first, Lycaon managed to grab his own. In an attempt to gain control of both, the thief began to smack him repeatedly with his pillow, ruffling his fur and his uniform. Irked, Lycaon ended up dragging the man over one shoulder and stuffing all three of them into the laundry basket. He shut the lid and held it down for a good few seconds, ignoring the bangs and muffled laughter emerging from inside, before turning and darting to the closet for a head start in the refitting process.
While Hugo tumbled out of the laundry basket and regained his bearings, Lycaon swiftly dragged a fresh sheet over the mattress. He finished tucking the last corner in just as Hugo rushed over and — sensing malicious intent, immediately whirled and assumed a defensive position in front of the mattress, as though guarding something precious.
Don't you dare.
Thankfully, Hugo respected his victory and fled to grab fresh pillows instead. Unfortunately for him, they were all on the topmost shelf of the closet.
While the man was straining to reach one with his fingertips, Lycaon reached over him with a smug chuckle and a swish of his tail. Not about to let him win so easily, Hugo latched onto his shirt and literally climbed onto him like a ladder, making a mess of his uniform in the process. Irritably, Lycaon grabbed the man's ponytail and struggled to drag him off.
The thief clung to him like a leech, dragging his uniform down, untucking his shirt, and messing up his cravat. They stumbled, still yanking on each other, back to the bed, where Lycaon managed to place the pillows in their somewhat rightful place and claim his second victory.
Fitting the blanket became their tiebreaker. With such high stakes, Hugo didn't even consider fair play. He dragged Lycaon back and somehow managed to latch his belt onto the dresser handle — Lycaon nearly sent the entire dresser tumbling to the ground as he lurched after the thief.
Doubling back, he wasted precious seconds hastily untangling himself, then turned and dove at Hugo.
They tumbled into bed, crumbling the blanket they should have been tending to underneath them. Somehow they were no longer pulling at the bedsheets, but at each other. Chortling breathlessly, Hugo twisted and tried to scramble away, his pants peeling down his buttocks as Lycaon grabbed him by the pant leg and dragged him back. As one side popped off his butt cheek and skid all the way down to his knee, Hugo squawked in mock horror and turned on Lycaon, grabbing him by the shirt collar and wrenching it open with an audible rip. Abandoning all dignity, Lycaon snarled, pinned Hugo's arms behind his back, and slammed him face-down into the mattress. Within seconds, they were writhing in the sheets, snarling, wheezing, and giggling, the bed a creaking, chaotic mess of limbs and torn clothes until—
A horrified gasp emerged, shrill enough to cut through the noise. Stiffening, they lifted their heads and looked at the open doorway.
Corin, frozen mid-step, stared back — their dishevelled, intertwined forms reflected in her wide eyes.
“S-S-S-Sorry!”
Then, with an apologetic wail, she bolted.
***
Later that evening, Lycaon asked to meet in the bedroom. He faced Hugo, tail drooped and ears angled downwards, feeling self-consciously like a scolded dog.
“We need to talk.”
Hugo raised an eyebrow, leaned back casually against the dresser, and gestured for him to go on.
Lycaon averted his gaze, his tail swishing ever so slightly as he admitted in a chagrined voice.
“We should… tone it down.”
He paused to sneak a glance at Hugo, wary of how he might react — but the thief gazed back calmly, seemingly unsurprised.
“It's only a matter of time before Corin or Ellen see or overhear something they really shouldn't,” Lycaon admitted reluctantly, “and I suspect Rina is getting a little… displeased.”
“Really?” Hugo drawled in sarcastic surprise. “A little?”
Recalling the increasingly eerie smiles they'd been getting from the head maid, Lycaon grimaced.
“I’m… not saying we have to act like we were before,” he said clumsily. “Nor do we need to pretend like there’s nothing at all between us. But let’s aim to be less… excessive.”
Hugo crossed his arms, his eyebrow arching.
“And in what way are we excessive?”
Lycaon’s tail swished, revealing his fluster as he tried to answer calmly.
“For starters, we could stop… sharing mugs.”
Scoffing, Hugo flicked his fingers dismissively.
“We did that before all this happened, it’s hardly ‘excessive’.”
Lycaon frowned, his gaze narrowing sternly.
“You could stop wearing my shirts.”
Hugo smiled. “No.”
“Then at least wear pants underneath,” Lycaon sighed.
“The only time my pants are off are when you’re holding them—”
Coughing, Lycaon declared firmly, “No more raunchy jokes—”
“Oh please,” Hugo drawled with a roll of his eyes. “You call that raunchy?”
Lycaon fixed him with a rather imploring look. After glaring back for a few seconds, the man sighed and tossed his hands into the air.
“I’ll… choose my words with greater care.”
Lycaon sighed, his throat growing taut with hesitation.
“… In private is fine,” he muttered, averting his gaze. “Just not in front of the others.”
A grin immediately swept onto the thief’s lips. Sensing an extremely cheeky comment incoming, Lycaon cleared his throat and hastily spoke first.
“As for our nightly activities—”
“Absolutely not.” Hugo cut him off, eyes gleaming with sudden seriousness. “Don’t be absurd, you’ll die of withdrawal before I do.”
Lycaon grimaced, his ears flattening and his tail wagging as though already eager to tackle the thief down.
“I was only going to suggest we decrease the… cadence,” he said evasively, still unable to meet Hugo’s glare. “Every night is too much for you anyway — you’re always complaining about being sore. At least this way, you’ll be able to rest.”
“Rest?” Hugo scoffed. “You practically go berserk after one day without me. What do you think is going to happen if you’re forced to wait three? Do you really think that’ll be better for me?”
Painfully aware of how enthusiastically his tail was wagging, Lycaon lowered his head in defeat.
“Alright,” he said helplessly. “Then… just… be careful.”
They tried, as Lycaon had insisted, to ‘tone it down’. It seemed simple in theory — reverting back to how they had been not that long ago, when even a few seconds of eye contact had already been too much.
But as they quickly found out, it was quite difficult in practice. Too many of their habits were too deeply engrained… resurfaced from a long past and intensified by years of longing. For Hugo to not drop insinuating quips, to not exchange sneaky looks with Lycaon across the table, to not reach for his tail when they sat together — and for Lycaon to not hover around him, to not gently fix his hair when it became awry, to not rest a hand along his waist… was too much of a struggle.
When night finally came and everyone returned to their rooms and they could finally embrace each other openly, they did — fervently, tangling beneath the bedsheets as though they hadn’t seen each other all week. Even a few hours of pretending was already too much.
In order to make things easier, Lycaon managed to convince Hugo to abide by a few rules.
They were not allowed to share the same seat, nor were they allowed to work on the same chore. They were not allowed to shower together, and they were also not allowed to engage in suggestive activities before midnight.
With these rules intact, they managed to last an entire four days without triggering any raised eyebrows, horrified gasps, or uncanny smiles.
Then, on Friday evening, Lycaon went into the bathroom while Hugo was showering.
He had been looking for his brush — it had been urgent. He’d had an uncomfortable tangle in his fur that very much needed to be combed out.
Admittedly, it felt a lot less urgent once he realized the facilities were already occupied.
The blonde had just finished and froze with one foot out of the stall, still dripping wet. They locked eyes for about two seconds before Lycaon’s unruly gaze began to wander lower, following the glistening streams of water trickling down Hugo’s body. Moisture sparkled along the contours of his lightly flushed skin like erotic jewellery — shifting along his hips, wrapping around his thighs, and falling from his ankles.
Lycaon clenched his fists. Backing into the counter so that his tail couldn’t wag, he glanced at the wall and spoke coolly.
“Do you need a towel?”
From the corner of his eye, he saw a smile flicker onto Hugo’s face.
“No.”
The man stepped closer, raising his arms cajolingly as he did.
“Come dry me.”
Even squished against the counter, his tail twitched. Lycaon stood still for a moment, the heady scent of soap suddenly dizzying to his senses, his sanity shattering too quickly for him to fix.
His vision blurred, and he took a deep breath, and then… somehow, he was looming over the man, pressing a towel gently around his shoulders.
Hiding his alarm, Lycaon pretended he couldn’t see the thief’s insufferably smug smirk and continued nonchalantly.
This was fine, he told himself. It wasn’t breaking any rules — it wasn’t a suggestive activity. He was simply drying his companion, tenderly soaking up every glimmering drop of water clinging to the man’s milky skin. He could feel Hugo’s body warmth seeping through the towel, and he could feel the thief’s alluring shape beneath his palm as he slowly wiped his way downwards. This was a completely harmless endeavor… even if Lycaon was acutely aware of the blonde’s nipples hardening and perking up at him as he gently grazed them with the cloth… even if he couldn’t help but relish the way Hugo’s sides curved in along his waist and pressed back out along his hips… and even if, to complete his task, he would most certainly have to squeeze his tool between the moist gap of Hugo’s thighs — and by tool, he meant towel, of course… though his mind wasn’t necessarily imagining it as such.
Breathing softly against him, Hugo’s mismatched irises glimmered in vague amusement.
“You have remarkably slow hands,” his companion murmured, reaching behind him and plucking at his fur. Lycaon felt a slight pinch, then a soothing relaxation of the area — Hugo must have spotted his tangle and eased it out for him. “Are you getting old, or are you just distracted?”
He paused with the towel pressed against Hugo’s rear, his hand full with the warmth and plumpness of the thief’s buttocks.
… Don’t.
He took a deep, slow breath. But the air was fragrant with soap and Hugo’s familiar scent, and as it filled his chest, he throbbed against his restraint.
“Hm?” Feigning obliviousness, Hugo tilted his head. “Something the matter?” The thief arched his back slightly, rubbing himself against Lycaon in a way that was far less innocent than the tone of his voice.
“Surely you’re not prolonging this for your personal enjoyment, are you, Sir Lycaon?”
Hugo’s eyes gleamed, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smile as his tone darkened into a sultry purr.
“At this rate, I’ll start suspecting that you’d rather I stay wet—”
Snapping, Lycaon grabbed the thief by the hair, tilting Hugo’s lips upwards and sealing his gasp with a harsh, searing kiss. It was just to shut him up — that had been his impulse, his flawed logic in the moment. But then Hugo pushed back with tongue and teeth and a needy little noise — and suddenly, Lycaon was pinning him to the wall, grinding into his exposed body and plunging deep into his mouth.
“Mhh—”
Hugo clung to him, his throat quivering as Lycaon yanked possessively on his damp hair and pressed even deeper. Trapped above his bent thigh, the man’s hips shifted jerkily, a whimper sweetening the hot breath they were sharing.
Lycaon would have completely lost it right there and then, but he hesitated, his brows furrowing in a deep grimace. Pressed against the warmth of Hugo’s belly, his erection pulsed furiously beneath his uniform, and he used the discomfort to clear his head and pull away.
The ravaged gasp that Hugo uttered against his lips as they parted nearly sent him spiralling all over again. With immense difficulty, Lycaon braced his hands against the wall, lowered his head, and closed his eye in an effort to block out further temptation.
“It’s not midnight,” he muttered raggedly, struggling to think of a recipe to recite. “And Rina is cleaning the next room.”
He tensed, bracing himself for the whine that Hugo expectedly enticed him with.
“Lycaon, isn’t this too irresponsible of you?” Slender fingers slid onto his face and pushed his head back up. “You’re the one who barged in here and slammed me against the wall, you know.”
“… I know.”
Sighing heavily, Lycaon placed his palm gently over Hugo’s hand and opened his eye to give the man an earnest look of apology. Leaning in, he nuzzled his companion gently on the cheek before pulling away, still holding Hugo’s hand within his own.
“I’ll make it up to you later,” he promised, wrapping a towel firmly around Hugo’s waist. “For now, you should get dressed.”
Hugo uttered a dramatically forlorn sigh, but didn’t protest as he was shepherded out of the bathroom.
Once they returned to the bedroom, Hugo pulled away and went to the dresser to find himself clothes. Sighing in relief, Lycaon brushed back his bangs and stood there for a moment, feeling somewhat scattered. He took a few breaths, closing his eye as he tried to mend the cracks in his crumbling composure.
In the near distance, Hugo began to hum. He was rummaging for clothes, bent over a drawer and apparently unbothered by the fact that his towel had loosened and was slipping lower with every sway of his hips.
Ears twitching, Lycaon blinked rapidly and checked on the door. Locked — good, at least. He glanced at the man and immediately wrenched his gaze away, only to find himself sneaking another look barely a second later.
Goddamn, the flushed groove between the thief’s butt cheeks was lengthening before his very eyes. There was no way Hugo wasn’t aware of how far his towel had slipped.
Lycaon held his breath for a moment, hesitating — then, he sighed, and spoke up gruffly.
“Hugo.”
Smoothly, without sparing even a glance, Hugo replied, “Yes, dear?”
“You’re doing it on purpose,” Lycaon grunted, trying and failing yet again to not look.
“Hm?” Hugo queried innocently. “Humming?”
Lycaon grit his teeth, his ears flattening in alarm as the towel slid dangerously low. It was barely clinging on now — one more sway of those hips and it would crumble to the carpet, leaving the thief’s peachy curves completely bare.
Striding over, he walked up behind the man, not missing the way Hugo brushed back against him far too readily. Grabbing both ends of the towel, he yanked it safely upwards and tried to tighten it around the blonde’s waist.
“This.”
Hugo chuckled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Tilting his head back, the thief peered up at him with a harmless smile and a devilish glint in his eyes.
“Lycaon, could it be that you’re at your limit already? After all that talk about toning it down and being less excessive…?”
Swaying back against Lycaon’s building erection, Hugo grabbed his hands and eased his thumbs into the towel. It unfurled from the intrusion, forcing Lycaon to grab it with a startled huff.
He was the only thing holding it together now. If he let go even the slightest bit… the entire towel would fall, and Hugo would be completely exposed before him.
Hugo grinned, all innocence gone from his face as he bared his fangs in a provocative smirk.
“Well?” the thief whispered, fitting the curves of his body snugly against Lycaon. “What now, Lycaon?”
… As if he could make any other choice.
Growling, Lycaon yanked on the towel, slinging the man into him. As Hugo tumbled back, he swept the thief into his arms and whirled around, letting the towel flutter to the ground as he carried his companion to the bed.
Shoving Hugo into the blankets, he climbed on top and covered the man’s mouth.
“As I said, Rina is in the next room,” Lycaon rumbled warningly. “So you can’t make a sound.”
Hugo’s eyes narrowed, the vibrant colours of his irises shimmering with mischief and mirth. He could feel the thief’s smile against the palm of his hand.
He glared at Hugo for a moment, enforcing his threat. Then, warily, Lycaon withdrew his hand.
Beneath him, Hugo smiled smugly, but didn’t make any noise.
Thoroughly aggravated in all sorts of ways, Lycaon heaved an irritable breath and reached for the lube. Even the pop of the bottle opening sounded abnormally loud in the hush, and his ears flicked agitatedly.
Wetting one palm, Lycaon returned and grasped Hugo’s leg, gently opening him up so he could prepare. As he slid closer, Hugo bent his other knee and pushed his foot right onto Lycaon’s crotch, exerting enough pressure to make him grunt.
Startled, Lycaon grabbed the man’s ankle. He shot the thief a glare, but Hugo merely grinned back at him.
“What?” Hugo said, his voice haughty but a little breathless from the lubricant being massaged into his intimate parts. “I’m sure you and your impeccable restraint can handle it, right?”
A low rumble vibrated through Lycaon’s throat, but after holding his glare for a moment longer, he released the man’s ankle. Huffing aggravatedly, he pushed Hugo’s other leg further and struggled to focus on the immediate task.
For a while, they didn’t speak. The rhythmic squelch of lubricant being pushed deeper and the faint swish of fabric shifting beneath them were the only noises in the room. Occasionally, Hugo’s breath would catch and he’d utter a faint mumble. His lovely features would crumble and he’d lift a hand over his mouth, muffling himself with the back of his palm as he struggled to steady his breathing.
Lycaon couldn’t help but pant, too. He could feel Hugo’s toes curled over the upper ridges of his trapped erection, teasing it with pokes and a tantalizing pressure. The crotch of his uniform darkened with steam, and when he saw the moisture he was leaving on the thief’s flushed soles, his arousal swelled with an immense throb.
“Hah…”
The quietness was so thick that even his restrained huff seemed loud. Self-conscious, Lycaon grit his teeth and swallowed the groan in his throat, grimacing as his chest tightened from its weight. When he opened his eye again, he saw Hugo grinning at him, the blonde’s lovely features piqued in both exhilaration and sympathy.
This feeling, Lycaon realized, was intimately familiar. Breaking the rules, indulging in the forbidden… struggling to not be caught, enduring the same tension within their bodies… it was the same kind of reckless thrill that they used to enjoy so often together.
Stirred, Lycaon leaned in. As their lips muffled each other, Hugo allowed a relieved moan into his mouth. It still sounded audible in the silence, and Lycaon’s ears flicked again. He pressed further with both his tongue and his fingers, deepening the kiss and the force of his thrusts, squeezing his digits all the way in and smearing moisture against his companion’s hot, quivering walls.
He didn’t pull away until Hugo was clawing at his shoulders, quivering from lack of breath and the intensity of his strokes.
“Hah—!”
Letting Hugo’s gasp escape sharply into the silence, Lycaon jerked his fingers free with a slick pop. Strings of goop clung to his knuckles and fell onto the man’s flushed skin like glistening arrows guiding the way into Hugo’s entrance. Swollen and aggravated, Lycaon hurriedly undid his belt and zipper, his fur bristling as the metallic clinking pierced the thick hush. He pushed himself against Hugo and the man promptly stiffened, the rosy ring of his pucker immediately squeezing tight against Lycaon’s tip.
“Mm—”
Hastily, Hugo slapped a hand over his lips. Lycaon paused and met the man’s gaze, huffing raggedly but willing himself to wait.
Silently, he asked Hugo if he was sure. The thief stared back at him for a moment, his expression unreadable beneath his hand.
Then, subtly, Hugo nodded.
Exhaling sharply, Lycaon immediately pressed forward. As he pushed himself past the thief’s tight entrance, Hugo’s pucker spasmed and then loosened for him, as though in surrender.
Gently, Lycaon slid deeper, his arms braced and strained against the mattress, his fangs clenched and bared in a silent, effortful snarl. Beneath him, Hugo continued to muffle himself, his expression crumbling even more alluringly than usual.
Hushed gasps, shaky and short, interrupted the fragile silence. Lycaon could continue deeper, but he paused to let Hugo adjust, restraining the noise of his terse pants as he reached for his companion’s face and gently brushed a lock of hair away from the man’s lips.
Hugo heaved a quivering breath and slowly relaxed, his distressed expression gradually easing into a blissful one. Lycaon let him take a few more breaths before adjusting his weight and sliding back for a thrust.
“Nh—”
Hugo immediately stifled himself again, his hips rearing off the mattress as their bodies smacked together with a startlingly loud plap. A strangled groan clawed its way out of Lycaon’s jaws and he grimaced, clenching the blankets in his fist as he struggled to suppress his own voice.
In the absence of noise, it felt like all his other senses had been heightened — the heat, the pressure, and the sheer bliss squeezed around his length was extraordinarily vivid, and it took all of his willpower to stay in control… to maintain this slow, rolling rhythm.
Lycaon could hear everything in the hush… every shift of the blankets, every ripple of breath. He could hear the strained whimper in Hugo’s throat when he rammed into his sensitive spots, and he could hear the wet squelch of his shaft squeezing through the thief’s tight entrance. He could even hear the soft hiss of his hands gliding along the man’s slender body, tracing the curves of his waistline down to the succulent shape of his buttocks… and as he gripped Hugo beneath the thighs and thrusted forward, hard, he could hear the thud of his seed sacs swinging up to hit the man’s flesh.
“Mnhgh—”
Stifling a moan, Hugo strained into him, his knuckles going white against the sheets. His body shuddered, betraying the ecstasy that he could not voice, and Lycaon couldn’t help but quicken his pace, instinctively wishing to further his struggle.
“Ngh—!”
As a yelp slipped from Hugo’s lips, the man lifted his arm over his face and glared at Lycaon, but the desperation in his watery eyes was so enticing that Lycaon felt even more compelled to unravel him.
He thrusted harder, curling his lips and baring his fangs as he swallowed his own growls with difficulty. The rhythmic slaps of their bodies sounded thunderous in the silence and his ears twitched distractedly at the noise.
This might… already be too loud, Lycaon thought groggily. But he couldn’t stop — he was too deep, and it felt too good inside of Hugo, nestled cozily inside his walls, pressing up against the coils of his insides. His shoulders quivered with strain as he closed his eye and crumbled, overcome by the exquisite burn of heedless pleasure.
His grip tightened around the thief’s hips, his primal instincts seeking a position where he could reach deeper, as deep as possible, someplace suitable for depositing his seed. Hugo uttered a muffled gasp that sharpened into a yelp as Lycaon twisted him around and pinned him back down, hips hoisted over his lap, belly arched towards the mattress.
“Lyc—!”
Reaching around the thief’s face, Lycaon muted him firmly. Hugo’s cry dwindled into a startled whimper against his palm as he thrusted forward with a mighty thud.
Their bodies collided, and Hugo quaked from the impact as though he might shatter from the force. Delirious with pleasure, Lycaon bent over his companion and huffed darkly into the thief’s ear, uttering terse grunts and groans against the man’s sensitive skin.
“Mhh… mmm…”
Hugo’s startled mewls faded into his palm and he trembled violently beneath Lycaon, his insides tightening so wonderfully that Lycaon couldn’t help but groan.
It echoed above them, louder than it ought to have been. But Lycaon was too close to care.
Releasing Hugo’s mouth, he gripped the man around the waist with both hands, seeking pleasure and nothing else as he began to pummel with frenzied abandonment.
Hugo’s back arched beneath him, the lean muscles beneath his skin rippling oh-so-beautifully as he struggled to bear it in silence, his fingers gouging through the bedsheets as he shook.
“Mm…!”
His whimpers continued to escape, increasing in volume and sweetness and distress. Pearly fluid frothed from his entrance as Lycaon churned feverishly past it, pulling the flushed pucker along with him as Hugo clamped around his throbbing shaft.
Unable to bear it any longer, a cry eventually burst from the man’s, hoarse and raw as it clawed forcefully into the air.
“Ahh—!”
Bowing down, Lycaon snarled against the back of Hugo’s neck. Saliva pooled along his outstretched tongue, but the lingering scent of ointment prevented him from biting, from satisfying himself.
“Ahh — fuck — hah — hmm — mm—”
Hugo immediately fought to silence himself, his ears burning bright red. He pulled the pillow closer, clinging to it like it might save him, his strangled yelps becoming increasingly shrill and audible until he eventually had to wail.
“Shut me up…!”
A thrill, violent and electrifying, tore through Lycaon’s entire body. His vision flashed white as he almost burst right there and then.
Without thinking, he grabbed Hugo’s head and slammed the man’s face into the pillow, muffling his cries as they began to helplessly spill.
“Mm — mhmm—!”
The sound of their bodies colliding sharpened with the crisp slap of moisture, and Hugo’s buttocks became flushed and glossy with the fluids spraying from his stuffed entrance. The thief shuddered, his suppressed whimpers rising and then abruptly strangling themselves into silence. Lycaon could see his body twitching as convulsions took over and locked him down in a climax.
Lycaon growled tersely, his own face crumbling as the powerful contractions around his erection dragged him into unbearable ecstasy. His hips slammed in for a last thrust and stayed there, embedded inside Hugo, trembling as his length pulsed and ejected massive glob after massive glob of fluid into his partner.
Beep!
—An alarm went off nearby, and Lycaon twitched instinctively as a jolt tore down his spine. Too overwhelmed to realize what it was, he grit his teeth and continued holding back his grunts, his ears flattened back as he remained there, paralyzed with pleasure.
It was a wonderfully satisfying feeling… to have his companion’s insides becoming hot and drenched with his seed. He could feel his fluids swelling into every tiny groove within their connection as Hugo’s walls pulsed around him, still enduring powerful orgasmic ripples.
Beep!
A second beep broke through his lustful haze. Lycaon grunted, distracted, his mind very flustered as he struggled to understand what was happening.
“… Tsk…”
As soon as he could move, Lycaon clumsily grabbed his phone from the bedside table. His hands were still trembling, and it took his pleasure-razed mind a few seconds to remember how to use a cellular device.
There was a red banner on his home screen — Hugo’s glucose levels had triggered an alarm. Sighing, Lycaon set his phone aside and looked down at the man.
“Hugo, your blood sug…”
Unable to finish it all in one breath, he trailed off to pant for more air. As he did, he realized that Hugo wasn’t responding.
A frown tugged at his lips. Blinking the haze away from his vision, Lycaon looked again.
Hugo was breathing, his shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths, but he was silent and otherwise unmoving. Lycaon’s knot was already fully swollen, so he wouldn’t be able to pull out just yet… instead, he reached down and gently combed Hugo’s hair away, tucking it behind his ear.
“Hey…”
He patted the man’s cheek, but received no grumbling, no cheeky retort. Worried, Lycaon braced himself, then grasped Hugo and gently turned him around, grimacing as sensitive twinges rippled through his groin.
Lying completely limp beneath him, Hugo’s eyes remained closed. Breath flowed through his parted lips, and his lashes fluttered with the occasional reflexive twitch — but otherwise, he was completely passed out.
Beep!
This time, the alarm pierced Lycaon’s consciousness like a frigid icicle. Torn away from the sluggish warmth of ecstasy, he reached for his companion with an abrupt gasp.
“Hugo—!”
Chapter Text
Hugo woke the next morning weighed down by the drowsy warmth of a deep, nourishing sleep. The blankets were wrapped tightly around him, and he was smothered in a wonderfully familiar scent… Lycaon’s musk.
“Mmm…”
He inhaled deeply and arched his back, relishing the air filling his lungs and sighing headily as satisfying crackles rippled along his spine.
Turning on his side, Hugo opened his eyes and squinted slightly against the morning light. It was only then that he noticed the sharp stare pinned on his face.
Lycaon was sitting by the bedside, tail wrapped tightly around his prosthetics and ears pointed upright like a sentry. His crimson eye snapped to Hugo the second he moved.
“You’re awake,” the Thiren said, his voice low and constricted with tension. “Are you alright?”
Hugo blinked at him, a quizzical smile flickering onto his lips.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked breathily, voice still fuzzy with sleep. Pulling his arms out of the blanket, he extended his hands towards Lycaon, flexing his fingers as he stretched.
“Mm…”
A glint of gold caught his eye, and Hugo flinched away from the glare. It had come from the nightstand, he realized — there was a jar of honey there, uncapped, a spoon already inside. Stacked beside it was a pile of chocolate coins, two juice boxes, a mug of tea, and Lycaon’s phone.
Perplexed by the feast of emergency rations, he glanced back at Lycaon. The Thiren’s brows were furrowed, his expression scrunched up in continued distress.
“You passed out,” Lycaon explained grimly.
Hugo laughed, only to cut himself off when he realized his companion seemed genuinely upset.
“Oh come on,” he scoffed incredulously. “That wouldn’t be the first time I passed out beneath you. You can’t seriously be this unsettled?”
But Lycaon’s intense stare didn’t waver. If anything, the way his ears folded back told Hugo that he was indeed very stressed.
“Your glucose levels dropped sharply,” Lycaon said tersely. “Thankfully it stabilized after I fed you some honey, but if it hadn’t, I would have had to rush you to the hospital.”
Sitting up properly, Hugo tossed his hair over one shoulder and let his golden locks spill down his back.
“Everyone gets natural drops all the time,” he said dismissively. “Especially after the kind of physical activity we were up to. I just happen to have a monitor for it.”
Lycaon stared stubbornly at him, clearly unconvinced, his tail still wound tightly around himself.
A little amused, a little exasperated, Hugo reached out and cupped the wolf Thiren’s face in both hands. The fur along Lycaon’s jaw was incredibly soft, and it felt even softer as he ruffled it.
“Listen,” Hugo said, offering a cajoling smile. “I feel amazing. I passed out because it felt good, and I slept better than I have in weeks. You’re overreacting, alright?”
Lycaon’s ears drooped, his intense gaze softening into something painfully earnest — doleful, even. The shimmers in his dark pupil made his stare look puppy-like, and Hugo chuckled as he pressed a quick kiss to the Thiren’s nose.
“When’s your shift?”
Speaking lightly, he pushed Lycaon back by the shoulders and skipped out of bed. Grabbing his companion by the hand, he coaxed Lycaon out of his chair.
“I’ll brush your fur for you.”
The offer earned him a flick of Lycaon’s tail and a faint grumble that Hugo chose to interpret as an agreement. Leading the Thiren towards the bathroom, he glanced back and flashed his companion a beam that glowed in the morning light.
“Relax — you’re not the only one who knows how to take care of people, you know.”
Although Lycaon didn’t set any rules this time, the Thiren clearly remained troubled.
They had already been adapting to more discretion during the daytime. But now, even at night, when they were alone behind locked doors, Lycaon remained… evasive.
Hugo stressed his partner’s restraint, of course. It usually wasn’t too difficult, breaking through his old friend’s pretentious mask.
One late evening, as he was curled up against Lycaon in their reading chair, Hugo let his fingers wander lazily across the Thiren’s broad chest. He traced idle circles, dipping lower and lower each time, a smirk flickering onto his lips as he watched Lycaon’s twitching ears betray his otherwise unbreakable composure.
“You know…” Hugo purred suggestively, resting his head on his companion’s shoulder and batting his lashes up at Lycaon. “There’s a much more exciting way to pass the time…”
Lycaon paused, then sighed and set down his book. His hand returned a moment later with a small foldable board, which he planted squarely in Hugo’s lap.
“Yes,” the Thiren agreed matter-of-factly. “Chess.”
Hugo stared at the board, dumbfounded, before uttering an irked scoff. He played along, of course, but only because he’d never turn down the chance to utterly crush his partner in a game.
Later, the mood became sweeter. Moonlight illuminated the tips of Lycaon’s fur and Hugo shifted closer beneath the blankets, lashes fluttering low, lips soft and offered for the taking. His throat strained with desire as he leaned in, already craving the taste, the heat, and the thrill of being taken.
Sensing his approach, Lycaon stirred. With a soft, affectionate sigh, his partner cradled the back of his head, nudged him closer — and kissed him on the forehead.
Hugo blinked, a little stunned. The hand on his head pushed him down, smothering his face into the lovely softness of Lycaon’s neck fluff.
Unable to fully resist, he nestled deeper, but heaved an audibly disappointed sigh into the Thiren’s warm fur.
“… Not what I was aiming for, but okay.”
The next day, Hugo resorted to theatrics. That afternoon, as he was indulging in a cupcake he didn’t particularly like, he ‘accidentally’ let a thick dollop of cream drip onto his collarbone.
Catching Lycaon’s eye, he held the Thiren’s gaze, a smirk twitching onto his lips as he craned his head and exposed his sullied nape.
Lycaon’s ears flicked, and he strode towards Hugo with heavy footsteps.
Victory — or so Hugo thought. Instead, the Thiren nonchalantly produced a handkerchief and wiped him down as though cleaning a clumsy child.
“Frigid,” Hugo complained, licking the sweetness off his finger and shooting his companion an accusatory glare.
Completely unbothered, Lycaon neatly folded his handkerchief and returned to his seat.
By nightfall, Hugo was getting desperate. He emerged from the shower, dripping and gloriously bare, and proceeded to dramatically ‘struggle’ to step into his briefs. He hopped around the room with exaggerated clumsiness, bending, stretching, and displaying himself with utter shamelessness — yet Lycaon only sat in his chair, book in hand, tail swishing back and forth in subtle acknowledgement.
Eventually, Hugo straightened, faced the Thiren full-on, and planted his hands expectantly on his hips.
“Care to assist?”
With a quiet thump, Lycaon shut his book. He stood up, marched over, and — in a single, merciless snap — yanked Hugo’s underwear up over his hips.
Hugo yelped, toppled onto the bed, and declared it the single most insulting gesture he had ever received.
Lycaon, for the most part, looked satisfied with the outcome.
… This was unacceptable.
Hugo spent most of that night glaring up at the dark ceiling, his mind churning with frustration and indignation.
He had seduced TOPS executives, city officials, and PubSec officers. He had once slid past three armed guards with nothing more than a wink. There had to be something within his considerable arsenal that would make Lycaon break… something that would shatter his irritating chivalry to smithereens.
In the shadows, his lips curved into a sly smile.
Something that any wolf Thiren… would find impossible to resist.
Hugo took his position the next night. Lycaon had returned from a late shift, and as the Thiren retreated for his usual long shower, Hugo… transformed himself into the perfect prey.
Relaxing against the bedsheets, he smiled smugly to himself as he listened to the sound of water running behind the bathroom door. The irony wasn’t lost on him — him, a legendary phantom thief, now waiting to be stolen by the one person who wouldn’t take what was being freely handed to him.
Tugging lightly at the ribbon bow against his throat, Hugo adjusted his position, his sheer stockings hissing as his thighs rubbed together. His bunny suit was a luxury collectible made of dark, sheer fabric. It clung to his body so snugly that it revealed even the grooves of his belly button, and shifted so naturally with his muscles that it might as well have been a part of him.
He turned on his belly, sighing restlessly as the soft blankets brushed his bare skin through the open panels along his torso. Dark leather straps bound his chest, arms, and thighs, enhancing the contours of his body and the softness of his flesh.
In the near distance, the sound of the shower water splattered to a halt. Hugo turned, his bunny ears wiggling as he tilted his head towards the bathroom door. Positioning himself alluringly along the bedsheets, he licked his lips and waited for his companion to emerge.
Slowly, the door handle turned.
Lycaon stepped out, head lowered, distractedly ruffling the leftover moisture from his fur. Steam poured from his broad shoulders and curled around his ears, and he took a few steps forward before looking up — and seeing Hugo.
The Thiren froze. His towel slipped from his grasp and landed on the floor with a solid thump.
Lycaon stared at him, jaw dropped, crimson iris alight with chaos.
Purring, Hugo stretched languidly across the bed, letting the golden lamplight outline his lithe curves.
“Mr. Von Lycaon, you have a package…” he sang softly, parting his legs and tugging suggestively at the tight band of his thigh strap. Letting it snap back into place, he traced his finger along the softness of his inner thighs, luring Lycaon’s gaze deeper towards his intimate parts.
“I just need you to leave your signature… here…”
Lycaon’s ears promptly flattened, his tail swishing rapidly behind him. In a low, slightly gritted voice, the Thiren spoke.
“… Hugo.”
Eyes glittering with victory, Hugo flashed back an utterly smug grin.
“Yes, dearest?”
With swift, stormy strides, Lycaon swept towards the bed — to grab the blanket, and toss it firmly over Hugo.
“You’ll catch a cold like that.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Hugo drawled, smiling sultrily up at the Thiren. “I feel very hot right now…”
He sat up, letting the blankets slide off his shoulders in a deliberate tease. Reaching out, he grabbed Lycaon’s hand and pulled it towards his own body. Guiding the Thiren’s fingers along the straps of his body harness, he let his companion feel the heat of his skin beneath the thin fabric of his one-piece.
Many shadows flickered through Lycaon’s eye, his jaw clenching and his tail wagging in a visible struggle to stay dignified.
“… That can’t be comfortable,” Lycaon said, his elegant voice dark and husky with leaked desire. “Change into your pajamas.”
“Really, Lycaon…” Pulling the Thiren’s hand lower onto his waist, Hugo tilted his head and peered dolefully up at his companion. “Do you have any idea how disappointing it is, to be dismissed so coldly when I’ve dressed like this for you?”
Lycaon grimaced, a flicker of guilt crossing his troubled expression.
“I… truly appreciate the effort you put in,” he rasped, his eye darting nervously to the side. “However, it’s been too soon since our last union. According to my research, the ordinary cadence for a wolf Thiren is, uh… once every few days… uh, on average…”
The Thiren trailed off distractedly as Hugo rose to his knees and tugged him down onto the mattress. Wrapping his legs around his companion’s hips, he straddled Lycaon, clinging needily to the wolf Thiren’s broad torso.
“Enough rambling,” he purred against Lycaon’s chin. “Put that mouth to better use.”
Lycaon gulped, his throat bobbing audibly beneath his fur.
“… This is for your sake, Hugo.”
“For me?” Hugo’s tone sharpened, shifting from coy to affronted. “Don’t be absurd.”
He dug his fingers into the Thiren’s back, deliberately tugging his fur.
“You’re not restraining yourself for my sake. You’re doing it because you can’t keep up.”
Lycaon stiffened, his lips pressing together and his eye gleaming in obvious agitation. He didn’t speak just yet, still clinging to that restraint of his — but his hackles began to rise, and he slid a hand rather threateningly around Hugo’s waist.
In the silence, the air became charged with restrained energy.
Leaning in, Hugo nudged the Thiren just a little further, flashing his fangs in a wicked taunt.
“Finally run out of stamina, have you, old fossil?”
A blinding flash darted through Lycaon’s iris, and he snarled from deep within his chest.
“You have no idea how wrong you are.”
“Hoh?” Hugo jeered, his smirk widening. “Prove me wrong, then.”
Gripping him tightly, Lycaon fixed him with a furious glare.
“You’re the one who passed out with your alarm ringing.”
Hugo scoffed dismissively, tossing his head so that his bunny ears swayed provocatively.
“That was a physiological coincidence. It had nothing to do with anything.”
Lycaon’s gaze narrowed even further, his claws starting to dig into Hugo’s waist as he began to rumble. Ignoring the subtle threat, Hugo pressed himself closer to the Thiren, his breath catching as soft fur prickled his skin through his thin outfit.
Lycaon’s tail flicked sharply, and he growled his name again through gritted teeth.
“Hugo…”
“Mm?” Hugo breathed, trailing a finger down the sheer panel along his hip, then guiding the Thiren’s stare over the curve of his thigh. He shifted his legs, letting his stockings stretch tantalizingly over his pale skin.
“I’m perfectly fine, Lycaon,” he said headily, softening his voice to a near-moan as he twitched his knees apart for his companion’s viewing pleasure. A fragile strip of fabric stretched over his genitals, more decoration than garment as it wrapped between his legs and pressed his intimate parts up against his groin. “Look… see? Fine, and raring to go.”
He smiled at Lycaon, lips curved in a challenging taunt as he dared his companion to prove the same.
Lycaon’s jaw clenched, the bed creaking beneath them as the Thiren shifted restlessly. The hand against Hugo’s back pressed him closer and dragged him lower, pushing him onto an immense heat.
It jabbed against his delicate parts, the thin fabric of his outfit doing very little to protect him from its ominous presence. Hugo’s breath caught and he instinctively jerked his hips, rubbing himself against it with a needy little groan.
“… Does this feel like a stamina issue to you?” Lycaon growled, his voice low and trembling.
Admittedly, not at all — even Hugo couldn’t lie about that. He grinned to himself, thoroughly enjoying the friction grinding between his legs as he continued to rock his hips over the majestic structure. Its solid presence was pushing the flimsy bottom strap of his suit aside, and he could feel its raw heat grinding against the bare skin of his sensitive parts.
“Trust me,” Lycaon growled, sliding his palm around Hugo’s buttocks and curling his fingers into the edges of his bunny suit. The Thiren pushed his fingertips deeper, claws scraping threateningly against his sheer stockings. “If I gave in, you wouldn’t last ten minutes before—”
Hugo’s lips crashed into his, cutting the Thiren off with a harsh, demanding kiss. Lycaon responded immediately, surging into his mouth with raw, feral hunger, words completely forgotten.
Smashing him into the mattress, the Thiren’s hands slid along his torso, exploring the details of his outfit — the sheer panels, the lace, the crinkles along his alluring contours. Hugo arched into his touch, letting soft, sensual whimpers spill into his companion’s mouth as he dared Lycaon to take him further.
With a muffled grunt, Lycaon’s grip tightened around him, and the Thiren tensed as though in restraint. Not allowing him to pull away, Hugo took advantage of their shifting weight to reverse their positions.
With a sharp, playful shove, he pushed Lycaon down against the bed and quickly climbed over him. Hearing his companion’s reproachful huff, he slammed their lips back together in a messy kiss, chuckling breathlessly in between.
“Ten minutes? Alright — let’s see how long I can last.”
“That’s not…”
Lycaon’s aggravated protest faded into a half-hearted growl as Hugo cradled his face and challenged him to a passionate kiss.
They fought, groins rubbing, tongues wrestling inside their mouths, clutching at each other’s hair as they struggled for dominance. The ferocity and heat of Lycaon’s tongue against his own made Hugo ache for more and he fidgeted, bucking his hips impatiently against his companion’s throbbing arousal.
Responding, instinctively, Lycaon rumbled and placed both hands onto his rear, gripping Hugo tightly by the buttocks. The Thirens’ long fingers toyed with the delicate gusset of his one-piece, stirring Hugo’s cravings and making the heat between his legs strain against the sheer fabric.
Breaking the kiss with an impatient pant, Hugo reached down and fumbled frantically with the elastic of Lycaon’s pajama pants. His own weight was in the way so he lifted himself to his knees, paying little attention to the Thiren’s flustered grunts as he gripped the hem of Lycaon’s pants and swiftly yanked it down.
“Hugo—”
“If you want to stop me,” Hugo interrupted breathily, pausing only to shoot his companion a feisty glare, “then undress me first.”
Lycaon blinked, tail swishing, clearly bewildered.
“How does that—?”
—Only to break off with a distracted grunt, expression crumbling, as Hugo wrapped both hands around the meaty width of his erection.
“Ngh—”
Hugo stared down at it, mesmerized by its ominous presence. He stroked it up and down, weaving his fingers together around its pulsing length and rubbing his fingertips against its bumps and grooves. Lycaon’s scent wafted up towards him, fragrant with soap and rugged musk. He breathed it in with a satisfied moan, saliva pooling over his tongue as he imagined immersing more of his senses with it.
Licking his lips, Hugo slid his knees back and tried to lean down — only to be grabbed abruptly by the hair. Wincing, he looked up with a piqued glare and saw Lycaon scowling back at him, desire and disapproval clashing over his handsome features.
“It’s too soon—”
“You’ll need more than lofty words to convince me,” Hugo scoffed, baring his fangs in a challenging grin.
Growling, Lycaon tightened his grip and dragged him roughly upright. Ignoring his cringe of discomfort, the Thiren pushed a hand into the small of his back, arching his body towards him as he leaned down and parted his lips around Hugo’s chest — through the bunny suit.
Moisture, hot and steamy, seeped instantly through the thin fabric. Hugo gasped and grabbed the Thiren’s fur, his composure instantly scattering as electrifying tingles tore down the front of his body. The indirect contact was thrillingly unfamiliar, and the silky fabric clung to his nipples with stimulating persistence.
“Uhngh…”
Pleased, Hugo closed his eyes and pressed Lycaon closer. His companion suckled on him with an enthusiasm that was almost primitive, pulling his entire bud deep into his mouth and squeezing it needily with his tongue as though expecting to be fed. Pleasure flowed from his chest to the rest of his body, and Hugo tilted his chin back to let low, luxurious groans fall from his lips.
“Ahh… mmm…”
With a rather concerned huff, Lycaon pulled away briefly, his muzzle still pressed against his soaked chest. Hugo’s nipples were so erect that the dark fabric of his suit had become stretched thin over their tips, and the pink hue of his buds were visible underneath.
“Are they sore?” Lycaon murmured, anxiety still lingering in his gaze.
“From what, neglect?” Hugo panted, shoving the Thiren’s head impatiently forward. Gripping Lycaon’s fur, he smeared his companion’s fangs against his sensitive buds, his voice turning breathy in delight as the Thiren’s irritable snarls vibrated through his skin. “Hah… go on, mutt— feed on me some more.”
Lycaon’s crimson iris gleamed, but he lowered his gaze and obediently lolled out his tongue.
“Mmn…”
With an ecstatic shudder, Hugo closed his eyes and reared encouragingly into his companion’s mouth. The tension between his legs was becoming unbearable, and with a breathless huff, he reached down and plucked at the skimpy straps wrapped around his groin. His erection was squished against his stomach, trapped by his outfit — he couldn’t free it without ripping through his sheer stockings.
His predicament was frustrating, but the ache was delicious. Breathing heavily, Hugo reached down, wrapped a hand shakily around Lycaon’s length — and grinded his own erection against it.
“Hmm…”
Beneath him, Lycaon heaved a rumble, the vibrations sizzling through his chest. The Thiren let him writhe for a while longer before he reached down himself, and tried to take over.
Hugo uttered a shrill grumble of protest, but Lycaon’s hand was so much larger than his own that it could simply engulf him and do whatever it wanted. Pressed against the Thiren’s burning shaft and squeezed between his fingers, he became overwhelmed with a pleasure so sweet that it left him trembling, his suit slick and stained with arousal.
“Oh… nhh…”
Blearily, Hugo ran a hand between Lycaon’s ears as though instinctively petting him for a job well done. The Thiren’s scarlet iris glinted as Lycaon glanced up at him, his gaze oddly determined.
… Huh…?
Suspicion prickled through his delirium, though Hugo couldn’t quite make sense of it.
Wait… why is he… trying so hard…?
Pressed between their bodies, Lycaon’s hand quickened, stroking him with fervor through the soft fabric of his lingerie. The Thiren’s muscular knuckles chafed against his stomach as though kneading his insides, too, and Hugo couldn’t help but roll his hips into it.
“Ahh… ahhn…”
A shudder swept through his body, then another. Hugo dropped his head back, the ceiling tilting into view and turning bleary in the lamplight.
Wait… wait, this was… he was going to…
Realizing with an abrupt gasp, Hugo fisted Lycaon’s fur and yanked his head away.
“Ngh — hold on—!” he yelped breathlessly, struggling to focus his glare back on the Thiren’s face. “You traitorous mutt, you’re trying to make me come first!”
Lycaon huffed, his eye glimmering with something complex as he gazed steadily at Hugo. He didn’t deny it, and his hand continued to move between them, rubbing their aching lengths together.
“Penetration places too much strain on your body,” Lycaon murmured, leaning in and nudging their noses cajolingly together. “I can still satisfy you in other ways.”
“Motion rejected,” Hugo declared haughtily, forcibly pulling away and raising his hips onto Lycaon. “Who do you think I am, huh?”
He sank readily onto the Thiren’s immense shaft, groaning as it cannoned between his buttocks and past his entrance — but Lycaon grabbed him hastily by the waist, stopping him from advancing any further.
“It’s been a few days,” the Thiren growled sternly. “You at least need to prepare.”
“You’re so finicky,” Hugo sighed, obliging nevertheless. Letting Lycaon completely support his weight, he arched back and snatched the lube from the nightstand. Popping the entire cap off, he turned the bottle upside-down and poured the entirety of its contents over his chest.
“Fine — have it your way. Is this enough preparation for you?”
Smirking, Hugo raised his arms over his head, offering his companion a clear view of his adorned body as the glossy fluid plastered his bunny suit even more intimately to his skin.
Lycaon’s eye narrowed in what looked like displeasure, while his tail wagged in vigorous excitement.
“The placement is a bit… off,” the Thiren muttered, distractedly eyeing the thick stream of lube rolling down the inner grooves of Hugo’s thighs. It was following the tight hem of his one-piece, pooling within his frills and seeping into his sheer stockings.
“Then correct it,” Hugo demanded.
Lycaon shot him a rather withering glare. Smirking triumphantly back, Hugo grabbed his companion’s hand and guided it between his own legs.
“Haahh…”
Heaving a sigh that was thick with exasperation and something else, Lycaon looked down and moved his hand deeper.
“Where in the world did you even get this?” Lycaon muttered, scraping the excess lubricant off the front of his torso first and collecting it in his palm. “Don’t tell me you stole it—”
“Oh please, how could something that fits me this perfectly be stolen?” Hugo scoffed. “I purchased it from a luxury boutique — you know, the kind where a fitter measures your body and adjusts the purchase to your liking. He was very thorough.”
Immediately, a growl began to rise from Lycaon’s throat. Thoroughly entertained, Hugo continued in lofty forlorn.
“I was there for hours… he undressed me so many times, insisting that every seam had to mold perfectly to my body…”
Lycaon’s hackles fluffed up, his ears swivelling back as his snarling rose to an intimidating volume. Chuckling, Hugo ran his fingers through his companion’s spiky fur and purred into his ear.
“Hm? Do you want a turn?”
Lycaon’s growling dwindled down to a disgruntled huff.
“… You didn’t need to go so far.”
“But isn’t it every wolf’s fantasy?” Hugo teased, swaying his hips and chuckling as Lycaon growled at him in reprimanding. “A trembling rabbit, all dressed up for your consumption — or am I too scrawny for you?”
Pulling away, Hugo cradled his stomach, framing the glossy, fabric-clad contours of his belly button between his fingers. Looking his companion in the eye, he spoke in a silky, alluring whisper.
“Lycaon… why don’t you fill me up so I’m more delicious to eat? Make me the juiciest prey you’ve ever caught… put something long and hard inside of me…”
He dragged his tongue slowly across his bottom lip, eyes glittering in wicked amusement.
“… Like a carrot.”
Lycaon’s expression darkened, his tail swishing in a fluster, his erection twitching furiously between them. Laughing brightly, Hugo relaxed back into his embrace.
“What? What did you think I was going to say?”
“… You know exactly what,” Lycaon rumbled thickly, dragging him close and grinding a lubricant-pooled hand between his legs.
The fluid felt chilly against his sensitive parts, and Hugo couldn’t help but jerk his hips with a soft gasp.
As Lycaon squeezed his fingers beneath the bottom strap of his lingerie and pushed closer to his entrance, Hugo glanced over his shoulder.
He could see their reflections in the floor mirror… it showed him, clearly, kneeling over Lycaon’s lap, hips arched and buttocks jutted out, his long ponytail streaming between his shoulder-blades over the open-back of his outfit. Just beneath his swaying hair, protruding from the glossy curves of his butt cheeks, was a tail — small, fluffy, and tapered with a slight point. He could see the silhouette of Lycaon’s fingers beneath his suit easing towards it, and it twitched in anticipation.
“Mm…”
Stirred, Hugo leaned over his companion’s shoulders and uttered a soft moan. His tail twitched again, and this time, Lycaon noticed.
The Thiren paused. He didn’t say anything, but he stared at Hugo through the mirror, his eye gleaming in disbelief.
Hugo grinned, his fangs glinting delightedly back at his companion’s reflection.
“Ahh… you finally noticed…” he breathed, jutting his hips higher and shaking his tail again. “Look, I’m so happy… it won’t stop wagging… ngh…”
He trailed off, a blissful cringe crumpling his features as he repeatedly clenched around the bulbous attachment inside him. The tail wasn’t stitched into his outfit, but protruding from his own body… and every time he squeezed, it would ‘wag’.
“Hehe…” Excited by the ravenous look entering Lycaon’s eye, Hugo swayed his hips, rubbing himself against the Thiren’s hand while also moving provocatively in the mirror. Leaning into the fluff of Lycaon’s ears, he purred smugly, “Your tail is wagging too, Lycaon… are you also happy?”
Beneath him, the Thiren’s erection throbbed so violently that it shoved an extra inch deeper into Hugo’s stomach. He only managed the beginnings of an incredulous gasp before the entire room tilted around him.
In the next instant, Hugo found himself crushed within Lycaon’s embrace. The Thiren had turned him around and dragged him onto his lap, one arm wound possessively around his torso, heat pressed down against his back. Beneath him, a rather monstrous shadow was rising between his thighs, and Hugo gasped as Lycaon’s weight bowed him down towards it.
“Ah—”
Breath puffed against his ear, and before he could say anything else, Lycaon began to lick him — ecstatically, with the chaotic energy of a dog greeting its master after a long absence.
“Ah! Hah — ah — Lyc — ah — ngh—!”
Flinching, Hugo struggled to speak, his voice shattered with breathless gasps and shrill moans. He tried to wriggle, to escape in some way, but the giddy shudders tearing through his body were so intense that he couldn’t muster any strength.
“Ah — w-wait — Lycaon — stop — ack—!”
He could see Lycaon’s tail wagging in the mirror — he could feel the force of it rippling through both of their bodies.
“C-Calm down—?!”
He broke off, his yelps muffled by the sudden tell-tale hiss of fabric shredding. Stunned, Hugo stared back at his reflection’s astonished gaze. Beneath them, the rips Lycaon had made in his sheer stockings widened over his pale thighs.
Rumbling happily, Lycaon gripped him beneath the haunches and hoisted his hips onto his ominous shaft. Hugo’s pulse leapt, and he managed to utter another gasp just as he was dropped onto it.
“Nhgh—!”
It plunged inside him — an immense, overpowering heat. Aided by the copious amount of lube and the time he’d already spent adjusting to his tail, Lycaon’s erection squeezed past his entrance and rammed into his body… with the plug still inside.
“Oh… f… fuck…”
Blinking back moisture, Hugo struggled to reorient himself, gouging his fingers into Lycaon’s arms for support. Vaguely, he could see himself in the mirror — his head tossed back, his lips parted with ragged moans, and his slender, decorated body spread wide and spasming helplessly within the Thiren’s broad embrace.
“… Yes.”
A deep, guttural purr warmed his ear, making Hugo cringe and tighten around the load inside him. A startling jolt of ecstasy leapt through his body and he tensed up with a mewl, his hips jerking in surprise.
“I’m happy,” Lycaon answered, squeezing him tighter with a delirious rumble of joy. The force of his wagging tail was making their hips sway, too, and Hugo clawed at the Thiren’s arm with a flustered groan.
“I’m very happy.”
“Ahh — uh — uhngh…”
He shuddered, his ragged breaths sweetening into a whimper as Lycaon eased back… and then thrusted deeper.
“Ohh…”
Pleasure blazed up his spine, so raw and intense that it was almost numbing. Hugo arched off his companion’s heat, his eyes rolling back and his throat aching with moans as he was shaped and reshaped by Lycaon’s throbbing length. The Thiren continued to rumble against his ears, stimulating all of his sensitive spots at the same time. The saliva left against his skin sent chills through his skin, and the arm clenched around his stomach pressurized the fire building in his gut.
“Hahh… ahhngh… mmhgh…”
He blinked blearily at the shapes and colours before his eyes, his tongue heavy with bliss, his lashes fluttering low over his cheeks. His tail plug… he could barely feel it… it had all merged together, the heat pressing his insides open… all melted down into a hot, aching pool of ecstasy.
“Oh… ooh…”
Starting to regain his bearings, Hugo sighed and eased himself slowly into Lycaon’s next thrust, shuddering as he let his companion pierce even deeper into his body. Lycaon had turned him towards the mirror, and he could see himself clearly — legs spread wide, torn stockings pulled taut around patches of his exposed, milky thighs. Lewd, dark patches of moisture clung to his chest where his nipples still poked through the fabric, and he was so hard that he could see the detailed shape of his erection straining through his outfit.
Angled upwards as though for display, the place where Lycaon had entered him had become coated in white smears. Lycaon had torn the gap for his tail open and squeezed himself through — it was plunging into him, the Thiren’s thick, veiny cock… before his very eyes, sinking what seemed like an absurd distance into his slender body.
Hugo gasped, stretching his spine as it tingled with exhilaration and pride.
“Amazing…” he heard himself pant, his voice sluggish and breathy, as though in awe of himself. “Look… Lycaon…”
He twitched his ankle, the most he could make of an effort to present himself to his companion. The Thiren uttered a low growl and pushed deeper, sinking his shaft all the way to the hilt and making them both groan.
“Ahhh… you’re… so deep…” Hugo gasped. He could feel himself clenching, squeezing his tail plug and Lycaon together inside of him, and he whimpered from the thrill of it. “I’m taking you so well…” he breathed dazedly, shivering in exhilaration as he watched the Thiren’s enormous arousal emerge inch by inch from his body. “Aren’t I… amazing…?”
Instantly, Lycaon’s tail became frenzied again. Gripping his heaving torso tightly, the Thiren slammed into him with a hard, deafening smack.
“Uhngh—?!”
“Yes,” Lycaon huffed excitedly, doubling over and shoving Hugo into the mattress. He began to pummel him intensely like that, tail swishing wildly in the air, their hips colliding faster than Hugo could even try to breathe.
“You’re amazing,” Lycaon whispered devotedly between ragged growls and fervent laps of his ears. “You’re amazing, I love you, I love you so much—”
“Ack—!” Completely overwhelmed, Hugo dragged the blankets closer and yelped between shattered gasps for air. “Alright — ah — alright, calm down! Down, boy, down!” He cried out jokingly, but there was no reasoning with Lycaon’s enthusiasm now. Hugo had achieved exactly what he had set out to do, and he now had to accept the reward — whether he could handle it or not.
As the night progressed, his satin bow tie untangled around his throat and his stockings tore down his thighs. His outfit became so drenched in fluids that it turned a completely different colour, and his tail tumbled out amidst Lycaon’s overexcited rampage. The mattress was completely soaked beneath his hips, and Hugo’s mind became so scorched with ecstasy that he could no longer think at all. He lay there, clinging to the soggy sheets, moaning hoarsely as his stomach stung from the magnitude of Lycaon’s unquenchable affection.
There were a few moments that he remembered clearly — like when Lycaon slowed, rocking deeply into him while lovingly whining his name… or when the Thiren curled his tail around their legs, startling Hugo mid-thrust and wrenching his moan into something shrill and unintelligible. He remembered Lycaon’s gaze, paradoxically fierce yet tender, focused wholly on him the entire night… but the rest of it was a blur. The ragged cadence of their heavy breathing, the rhythmic shifting of the blankets beneath them, and the relentless ache burning through his body… it consumed him, entirely, until his consciousness blurred and he lost count of the hours that passed.
By the time Lycaon finally slowed, Hugo was barely conscious. He breathed, his lashes fluttering weakly over his eyes, his fingers twitching against the rumpled blankets. He felt the Thiren’s weight shift over his back, and his breath hitched as a familiar liquid heat swelled against his walls and poured through his insides.
Gently, lips brushed the back of his neck. The bristles along Lycaon’s muzzle were ticklish, and Hugo’s breath hitched as giddy tingles shivered through his skin.
“Mgh…”
He blinked groggily, ghostly pleasure still echoing through his overstimulated body. Warmth slid along the curves of his back, and he felt the coarse texture of Lycaon’s tongue grind against his shoulder.
“… Are you satisfied now?” The Thiren’s voice, deep with gratification, purred against his skin.
“… No…” Hugo breathed faintly, his eyes already starting to close as the rest of his body relaxed beneath Lycaon’s gentle touch. “I can… handle… more…”
His drowsy mind registered a long pause.
“… Alright then.”
The bed creaked, and a force tightened around his waist. Deep inside him, the mass he had grown so accustomed to flared threateningly against his walls.
Snapping awake with a start, Hugo immediately squawked, “Okay okay — you win, you win—!”
… But alas, with a smug chuckle, Lycaon pretended he hadn’t heard, and their competition continued deeper into the night.
Chapter Text
It started off as a typical morning.
Rina was already with a client, Ellen was eating toast with her eyes half closed, and Corin was nervously reviewing for a school quiz.
Hugo sat across from them at the breakfast table, on his phone, investigating some news that he had received late last night. He was so focused that he had begun to frown, and he didn’t realize how tense he’d gotten until a hand gently brushed his shoulder.
The familiar scent of spices and sweetness wafted towards him. Relaxing, instinctively, Hugo leaned his head towards the warmth that he knew had come up to him.
“Fresh batch,” Lycaon murmured, sliding a spoon in front of his lips. “Orange ginger cardamom.”
The jam’s sweet scent made Hugo’s stomach gurgle. Normally, something this sugary would make him feel some degree of nausea, but he didn’t get that at all with Lycaon’s jam. Perhaps because this wasn’t the kind of sweetness that would typically go in a cake — it was almost savory, the way the sugar was masked by the unique aroma of spices. No matter how much he had, the sweetness never became sickly or overwhelming. It stayed warming… soothing.
Looking up, Hugo locked eyes with his partner. Opening his mouth, he leaned forward and slowly eased his tongue beneath the curve of the spoon. Lycaon stared back, his expression completely composed and tail wagging so furiously that it was rustling Corin’s notes.
Smirking, Hugo dragged his lips back, scraping the sweet goo into his mouth. He held the jam on his tongue for a moment, letting it warm his taste buds, before closing his eyes and swallowing with a distinct bob of his throat. The sweet, spiced aroma warmed his belly and soothed his light-headedness, and his lashes fluttered low in a gratified expression.
“Is it sweet enough?” Lycaon asked huskily, scrutinizing him like he was trying to read his mind.
Tilting his head, Hugo smiled and shared some of the insinuating thoughts plaguing his imagination.
“You’ve tried it, haven’t you?”
Lycaon blinked. “Yes, but…”
Lowering his head, Hugo gazed up at the Thiren with a teasing glimmer in his eyes.
“Well you already know exactly how I like to take it.”
Lycaon stood there for a moment, silent, his ears twitching, his tail wagging, and his politely neutral expression threatening to shatter into a smile.
“… That I do,” he said eventually.
Across the table, Ellen had covered Corin’s ears. Corin was looking very confused.
Soon after that, Ellen scrambled off for school, dragging Corin along with her. Hugo waved them farewell with a beam and waited until he heard the door shut.
Then, he dropped the mask and turned to Lycaon.
“There’s news.”
Lycaon had returned to the stove and was carefully scooping his jam into glass jars. He didn’t stop what he was doing, but his ears twitched and swivelled back to listen.
“We found ‘Ruby’.”
At that, the Thiren stiffened mid-scoop. He faltered there until the jam started to drip, then hastily finished ladling.
Leaning back in his chair, Hugo continued loftily.
“They’ve been laying low for a while, so they haven’t set off any of my traps. But with the big banquet coming up this month, they’re resurfacing. Caught them practically instantly.”
Setting his jar down, Lycaon wiped his hands and turned to face Hugo.
“Sablier Noir has been keeping quiet, too,” the Thiren said with a curt nod. “We thought they were dealing with collateral from losing their warehouse, but it seems to be more than that.”
“Preparing something big for the banquet,” Hugo agreed with a snap of his fingers. “All the big names in New Eridu will be attending, bringing along their bodyguards, attendants, and the like.”
“The codenames,” Lycaon realized, his eye widening in horror. “They’ll all be in one place, alongside important figures like the mayor and TOPS leaders. If they were to activate the drug during the banquet—”
Hugo grinned. “Sounds like a delightful event. You and your master must be looking forward to it.”
With an irritable growl, Lycaon grabbed a cloth and began aggressively wiping the counter.
“We’ve only found a quarter of the people on that list,” he muttered agitatedly. “There are still twenty-seven undeciphered codenames. It’s too difficult to associate a single word to a person without additional context. At this rate, the banquet—”
Hugo interrupted him with a loud, dramatic sigh.
“And this is where the heroes of New Eridu realize their incompetence and turn to grovel before their arch-nemeses for help.”
Lifting his head, Lycaon frowned dubiously at him.
“… Ruby?”
Smirking, Hugo sat up and waved his phone triumphantly.
“There will be an exchange,” he announced. “Tonight — at the Obsidian One tower. ‘Ruby’ will be meeting a communicator for Sablier Noir. They’re updating the list of codenames, which means they’ll be exchanging a ‘decryption’ — something that allows Sablier Noir and their hire-arms to convert the codenames into an identity.”
Lycaon tensed, his ears perking in alert. This was exactly what they had been waiting for — the critical opportunity, the key to everything.
Relaxing back in his chair, Hugo crossed his legs and lifted his chin haughtily.
“Well, go on, then.”
Looking the Thiren in the eye, Hugo arched an eyebrow in expectation.
Grovel.
Lycaon’s eye narrowed. He strode over, ominously, his expression darkening and his prosthetics clattering with every deliberate step.
Stopping in front of Hugo, the Thiren loomed over him. Smiling leisurely back, Hugo waited.
Slowly, Lycaon lowered himself to his knees. His gaze remained focused on Hugo the entire time, and his glare softened into something tender as he reached forward and gently wrapped a hand around Hugo’s ankle.
Eye shimmering with emotion, Lycaon brushed the bone of his ankle tenderly with his thumb, then bowed his head.
Slowly, Lycaon trailed his lips along Hugo’s delicate joint, kissing his pale skin with utmost reverence. The Thiren’s hand slid gradually upwards, stroking the back of his calf and easing smoothly beneath the back of his knee. Hoisting Hugo’s leg up slightly, Lycaon pressed his palm deeper, trailing his claws sensually along the flesh of Hugo’s inner thighs. He moved in and rose over Hugo’s torso, pressing warm purrs and loving nuzzles onto his belly, past his midriff, and up… to his throat.
As his companion’s breath caressed his neck, Hugo closed his eyes and tilted his chin back, exposing more of his fragile skin to Lycaon’s fangs. Large, hot hands wrapped around his throat, forcing his next breath to emerge a little heavier. The soft bristles of Lycaon’s muzzle tickled his neck as the Thiren nibbled along his jawline and up to his mouth where, against his parted lips, he lingered… rumbling… his fingers hot and rigid around Hugo’s throat.
Hugo exhaled slowly, enjoying how he could feel the vibrations of his own breath struggling within Lycaon’s grip. Anticipation shuddered through his spine, and he breathed in through his mouth with a soft, heady sigh.
“… Please,” Lycaon finally whispered, his voice deep and husky as it caressed Hugo’s lips. “I beg of you. Lend me your unrivalled talents for one night, my love.”
“… Heh.”
A breathless chuckle escaped from Hugo’s lips, quivering with desire and delight. His entire body tingled with exhilaration, and he couldn’t help but wish that Lycaon was asking for something entirely different…
“Mm… you are good at begging,” he gloated breathily. “Fine — you’re lucky I love you.”
Tucking a finger beneath the wolf Thiren’s chin, he lifted Lycaon’s muzzle upwards and guided his companion’s mouth onto his own.
“But I expect to be rewarded for my efforts.”
“Of course,” Lycaon murmured as their tongues brushed with an eager shiver of breath. “… Whatever you desire.”
Hugo had already been preparing this for weeks. He had lacked major details, of course, but even with only a vague sense of his target, there were plenty of things he had ensured in advance.
With the information he had already collected, it only took him a few hours to come up with the perfect plan. Admittedly, colluding with the mayor meant that he could access some things faster than he normally would’ve, which did save some time.
… And he supposed having a partner who already knew most of his tricks helped, too.
The Obsidian One tower was a corporate skyscraper under Ravenlock ownership. In light of the recent events, it was in the process of being transferred to TOPS — but until the court order was finalized, it remained with the Ravenlocks.
Hence, Hugo had already researched it thoroughly.
He knew all the entrances, exits, security protocols, and vulnerabilities. He had scouted out a few key staff members and memorized their schedules down to the second.
For example, he knew that every evening at 6:30 PM, without fail, a rookie security guard would take his company vehicle from the parkade, drive to the mall three blocks down, and buy luxury doughnuts during his break. He also knew that the man would stay in the store until exactly 6:45 PM flirting with the waitress.
That gave Hugo roughly five minutes to break into his vehicle.
Plenty of time.
Lycaon stayed nearby to watch the door, although Hugo had insisted with an eye-roll that he could have done this part alone.
Unwrapping a chocolate coin, he popped the sweet into his mouth and folded its wrapper around something that looked like a bookmark. Easing the metal-coated wedge into the seam of the driver’s door, he hummed a little tune and twisted it just so. A faint vibration pulsed against his finger, and the lock popped open.
The car’s digital console blinked red, and a quiet but threatening beep began to emerge from its interior.
Swiftly, Hugo opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat.
He leaned back, gently pried open the panel beneath the wheel, and unfolded a comb of pins. Easing it into the wires, he held it steady with one hand and flicked out his knife with the other. Holding his breath, he nicked precise cuts into the protective rubber around the wires, then exhaled slowly as he carefully pushed the comb into place.
The car’s digital console flickered, then returned quietly back to its standby screen.
From the corner of his eye, a Thiren in a maintenance uniform picked up their toolbox and moved one pay station over — Lycaon was telling him that the guard was coming back.
Unperturbed, Hugo took his time pinching tiny clips around the comb, locking it securely in place. He fitted the panel lid back, wiped it clean, and wafted some dust towards it for good measure.
By the time the guard returned, Hugo was already lounging in the back seat, legs crossed as though he’d been chauffeured there all along.
The man didn’t even notice. Still giddy from his conversation with the waitress, he slid into the driver’s seat, completely unguarded. He was passed out before he could even start the engine, subdued by a quick injection of tranquilizer.
Lycaon approached at that point to take the guard away. Hugo could have done it himself of course, but leaving the chores to someone else was more efficient.
Focusing on the vehicle’s console, he tapped the interface awake. Thanks to the comb nestled in the wiring, the polite surface layer peeled back with a swish of his fingers, exposing the skeletal bones underneath. Navigating through its file system, he overwrote a few permissions, created a new admin user, then tested a final command.
The entire interface shut off, then rebooted with a lofty greeting.
“Welcome, Master.”
Lycaon returned at that exact moment, his expression distorting in surprise and utter disdain before hastily smothering itself behind an aura of nonchalance. Eyeing the console screen with an oddly jealous glint in his eye, the Thiren extended his hand and offered Hugo the guard’s neatly folded uniform.
“So you’ve learned to disrupt software now, too,” Lycaon observed in a guarded tone. “No wonder you were able to bypass my security protocols.”
“Vivian introduced it to me a couple years ago,” Hugo shrugged, unbuttoning his shirt and rolling it off his shoulders. “She learned it from someone quite famous.”
Lycaon’s gaze flinched away, his ears twitching and his tail wagging as he stared determinedly at an adjacent car.
Smiling amusedly, Hugo tossed his shirt onto the Thiren’s arm, not missing how Lycaon stiffened as the still-warm fabric rustled his fur. Exchanging it for the guard’s uniform shirt, he threaded an arm through its sleeve.
“Since then, I’ve picked up a few tricks on my own — but it’s nothing that would impress the lovely managers.”
Lycaon’s brow furrowed in a thoughtful frown, and he began to mumble distractedly to himself.
“I’ll have to upgrade the protocol at the Mayflower’s estate… encrypt the biometric cascade… partition the subroutines so you can’t—”
“Hey, hey,” Hugo interrupted teasingly, catching the Thiren’s attention with a deliberately loud clatter of his belt.
Lycaon’s ears jolted helplessly towards him, and the Thiren promptly grimaced.
“Focus on the mission,” Hugo purred slyly, squirming out of his pants with a vigorous wiggle of his hips. “We’re on the same side tonight, my dear partner.”
Finishing his outfit swap, Hugo handed the rest of his clothes to Lycaon. The Thiren’s expression flickered as he accepted the recently-worn clothes, suddenly contorting in hesitation and concern. He opened his mouth, but stopped himself, throat bobbing tersely beneath his fur.
Noticing, Hugo paused and raised an eyebrow. Lycaon gazed down at him, his features heavy with emotion… then leaned down, and nuzzled him tenderly on the cheek.
“I’ll see you at the tower.” His companion’s husky murmur sent a warm thrill through his skin. “Be careful.”
Swallowing down a sudden swell of strange sentiment, Hugo flashed a smirk in return.
“Don’t be late.”
Lycaon scoffed, his tail wagging as he stepped back and shut the door.
“You know I’m never late.”
The Obsidian One tower rose from the heart of New Eridu’s financial district, alongside many other similarly intimating skyscrapers. Like all of the Ravenlocks’ prized possessions, it exuded opulent arrogance — marble floors that gleamed like ice, gold trim at every possible corner, and jewel-studded plant pots. But since the Ravenlocks had been ousted from TOPS, the tower’s traffic had declined, with many boardrooms sitting empty and the foyers cold and silent. Everyone knew that it was only a matter of paperwork before the Ravenlocks were gone for good.
With his disguise, Hugo strode confidently into the building and entered an elevator. The key card they’d stolen from the guard gave him access to the twentieth floor, but beyond that, a stronger security protocol would be enforced. The lower floors were for common office workers, while higher floors enjoyed increased security and more luxurious facilities. Of course, Ruby and their Sablier Noir contact would be meeting at the very top of the tower.
His card was useless now, so Hugo found an empty meeting room. He double checked that it was free of surveillance, then went over to the window and eased it open.
Breathing in the cool evening air, he pursed his lips and whistled a familiar tune.
A few seconds later, a small pigeon fluttered onto the windowsill. It cocked its head, blinked shrewdly at him, and uttered a few coos of greeting.
Smiling, Hugo fed it a treat and gently stroked its neck, then handed it his key card. Thankfully, the birds he and Vivian had trained would recognize Lycaon as a delivery target without any extra preparation, since he’d— ahem, well… previous missions, and so on.
After ensuring the bird departed safely with the card, Hugo quickly adjusted his disguise. He swapped out his hat, adjusted his hair, and stuck some plaster onto his jaw to square out the shape of his face. As a final touch, he flicked out a set of makeup and quickly painted on some fake contours.
He emerged from the meeting room looking like a completely different person. The particular guard he was mimicking now didn’t have a shift today, but they had higher clearance — so he wouldn’t be flagged as suspicious on the upper floors.
He headed for the next elevator, fitting a clear mold over his finger as he stepped through the doors. He’d already taken their fingerprint beforehand, so he passed the biometric scanner without trouble and calmly accessed the fortieth floor.
The elevator opened into perfumed air and luscious plush carpet. The atmosphere here was markedly different from the lower levels — polished, pompous, and a tad overdecorated. At this time of night, there were still a few upper managers enjoying the fantasy of wealth, and their large Thiren guards loomed self-importantly by the doors of their meeting rooms.
Discreetly, Hugo checked his watch. He was still three minutes early… he didn’t have clearance for the next elevator yet, but loitering in these halls would surely create suspicion. He could already see a few Thiren glaring him down, and the back of his neck tingled warily. Surely they couldn’t smell Lycaon’s scent on him or something… strange, like that, right?
In places like this, cowardice screamed louder than confidence. He couldn’t turn back.
Striding leisurely down the hall, Hugo pretended to receive a call. He lifted a hand to his earpiece and murmured a quiet greeting, shooting a quick glance at the guards as though making sure they weren’t eavesdropping.
Most of them looked away in disinterest, but one guard, a black wolf Thiren, continued to stare back.
“Ah — yes… yes, of course. Just a moment…”
Pretending he needed to check on something, Hugo stopped and took out his phone, giving himself a reason to linger a few more seconds.
Two minutes and thirty seconds. He was still too early.
“… Hold on. What?”
Whispering sharply into his earpiece, he stiffened as though in shock. Turning around sharply, he began to pace the hall at a slow, deliberate pace.
“Are you sure? … Yes. No. No… yes, I understand. I’ll…”
He trailed off with an exasperated sigh and checked his phone again.
… Two minutes.
He could still feel that wolf Thiren’s gaze. The guard had tilted their head slightly and their eyes shimmered with something dark and calculating, clearly fixated on him.
Hugo felt another shiver run down his spine. Lycaon hadn’t actually marked him with some kind of invisible scent, had he? Had he accidentally left one of his bite marks visible?
Feigning stress — although he wasn’t entirely pretending — Hugo rubbed the back of his neck, covering his nape with his palm.
“Yes, I understand, I’ll handle it,” he continued wearily. “Just… yes. Exactly as you say. I completely agree…”
He shifted his weight, pacing back down the hall for the fourth time. From the corner of his eye, he saw the wolf Thiren leave his post and begin to approach, their broad-shouldered silhouette dark and ominous above the lavish carpet.
His pulse quickened. Exhaling loudly, Hugo ushered some dismissive last words and ended his call just as the guard’s shadow fell over him.
“Hey.” The Thiren grunted at him in a deep, gravelly voice, his eyes glinting from within a naturally ferocious face. “I couldn’t help but notice—”
Raising an eyebrow, Hugo glared back and interrupted, “What?”
His tone was icy and arrogant, but his heart pounded within his chest, and the skin of his neck burned with awareness. He couldn’t stop his imagination from spiralling — from remembering all the different ways Lycaon had marked him, filled him, and made him his.
And as this unfamiliar wolf Thiren stared back, it felt, unnervingly, like they knew.
The guard’s gaze flickered lower, to Hugo’s throat. He lifted a hand, his black claws gleaming in the chandelier light.
“… Your tie is crooked.”
Hugo felt the brief brush of warmth across his collarbone as it was straightened for him. His tension lingered a second longer, and he forced his dry throat to swallow before trying to speak.
“I didn’t realize wolf Thirens were so meticulous,” he scoffed, grabbing his tie and adjusting it once more himself.
The guard gazed down at him, a faint smile on his lips but a darker glint in his eyes.
“You’d be surprised,” they rumbled.
Try me.
“Hmph… well, thanks,” Hugo said, relaxing and sparing the Thiren a grudging smile. “It’s been frantic around here lately, and where I’m going, imperfections are not allowed.”
He gestured at the elevators, rolling his eyes as he did. The wolf Thiren’s smile twitched a little wider, and the guard nodded his head in acknowledgement.
“Enjoy your evening.”
“And good luck with yours,” Hugo tossed back as he strode away.
Once he was far enough, Hugo carefully heaved a sigh and self-consciously touched his collar again. A faint prickle still echoed there, from where the guard’s claws had lightly grazed his uniform. Just like how the rest of his body tingled, too, from the memories he had vividly resurfaced.
The elevator was just ahead. He was still a little early, but he had no choice now. Shaking himself, Hugo pressed the button and hoped the elevator would take a while to arrive.
… Unfortunately, the doors opened almost instantly.
Stifling an inward sigh, Hugo stepped inside and reached for the button to shut the door. He was just about to press it when someone else scrambled in after him.
Hiding his surprise — and his sinking heart — Hugo stepped back to let them scan their card, pretending to be searching for his own.
With the key card that his pigeon would have delivered, Lycaon ought to have entered the building by now. His partner’s task was to access the security room and add permissions to Hugo’s fake card so he could access the upper floors, but he had only promised to do that by 7:15.
He still needed ten seconds.
The other person tapped their card, punched in their floor number, and stepped back with a rather stressed sigh. The elevator began to move up, and they stood there for a few seconds before glancing over at Hugo with a frown, clearly wondering why he was still fumbling through his pockets.
… No, it was too suspicious. He had to do something.
Finally fishing his card out of his pocket, Hugo spent a few more seconds untangling it from his other keychains, then stepped forward and tapped it against the card reader.
It beeped red.
The other person narrowed their eyes, and their hand twitched towards their pocket.
Remaining calm, Hugo examined his card, then uttered a quiet “ah!” of realization. He had, intentionally, tapped the wrong one.
Fishing out a different card, he lifted it to the card reader. It would be exactly 7:15 in three seconds. If Lycaon didn’t get this right, things were about to become very awkward for him…
Three — two — one.
He tapped the card. The reader beeped green.
Casually, Hugo pressed the button for floor sixty and stood back, clasping his hands behind his back.
The other person relaxed. Hugo stood still, but his fingers trembled slightly behind his back.
He supposed he never had to doubt that Lycaon would always be exactly on time…
The elevator paused at the fifty-sixth floor to let the other person out. They exchanged nods and smiles as they left, and Hugo sighed in relief once the door finally closed again.
The atmosphere on the sixtieth floor was even more suffocating. It was practically a castle elevated to the sky, with tinted black windows, lavish crimson curtains, and marbled floors sparkling with gold veins. Just breathing in the air probably meant stuffing thousands of dennies worth of perfume into his lungs.
Hugo smiled to himself. He loved performing in someone else’s theatre.
He strode towards the front desk and slid confidently over the counter. The receptionist, a meticulously groomed man with a mustache almost as perfect as Butler’s, greeted him with an unimpressed stare.
“Good evening.” Dropping a charming smile, Hugo stretched out his hand and dropped a small data-drive casually onto the receptionist’s desk. “This is for my employer. They have a meeting booked for the first of next month and they’d like this stored and prepared for the presentation beforehand.”
“… Meeting ID?” the receptionist asked sluggishly, turning to focus on their computer screen.
The instant they were distracted, Hugo swiped the master fob hidden behind their pen holder and replaced it with a counterfeit. As he withdrew, he caught a glimpse of their screen and recited one of the numbers he’d seen.
“109383.”
The man remained silent as he clicked through a few menus, light flickering through his dull gaze. After a few seconds, he uttered a noncommittal sound of agreement and nodded.
Hugo flashed the man a wonderful beam that they didn’t seem to care for.
“Lovely. Thank you.”
Slipping away from the counter, Hugo returned towards the elevators. There was a service cart parked nearby, destined to be wheeled down to the laundry room on the lower floors very soon. He slipped the stolen fob into the dirty towels pile, smirking faintly to himself as he imagined how irritated Lycaon would look when he had to fish it out.
Then, he retreated to the nearest bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he went up to the mirror, peeled off his fake jawbones, and slapped some flush into his cheeks. He waited until exactly 7:25 PM before emerging, again a completely different person.
Striding deftly past the lethargic receptionist, Hugo made his way straight to lounge number 63. Grasping the doorknob, he tapped a subtle code against its metal surface. A split second later, it opened beneath him.
He slipped inside as naturally as if he had opened the door himself. Locking it behind him, he turned, a grin already stretched across his lips as he looked up at the familiar face of his dearest partner.
Lycaon gazed back, a slight frown on his lips, vainly trying to look nonchalant despite his vigorously wagging tail. Clearly, he was just as grateful to see each other as Hugo was.
“Doing this with you again reminds me how futile all of our security efforts are,” Lycaon said, sounding rather disgruntled. The Thiren had changed into a security uniform too, and the dark, sleek suit made him look scrumptiously menacing.
“You flatter me,” Hugo purred, resisting the urge to tackle-hug his companion’s chest. Instead, he forced himself to simply saunter past. “But our mission isn’t successful yet—”
He broke off as Lycaon abruptly grabbed his arm. Startled, he looked over, about to spew something indignant — only to tense up as the Thiren suddenly leaned in and sniffed his nape.
“What—”
A low snarl suddenly billowed from Lycaon’s throat, smothering his yelp.
“There’s an unfamiliar scent on you,” the Thiren growled, glowering at Hugo with a ferocious glint in his eye. “Did anyone—”
“Yeah,” Hugo huffed, yanking himself away and brushing off his collar with a slightly irritable sigh. “Another guard, a wolf Thiren. He approached me to straighten my tie, I did find it odd. But hold on — what do you mean there’s an unfamiliar scent? He barely touched me.”
Standing back, Hugo raised an eyebrow dubiously at his companion.
“Thirens don’t actually mark each other with their scents, do they?”
Lycaon blinked, then slid his gaze evasively to the side, his tail swishing slowly.
“Lycaon…” Hugo continued, his tone both demanding and incredulous. “Don’t tell me you…?”
“Don’t be absurd,” Lycaon said gruffly, reaching forward and unbuttoning the front of Hugo’s uniform for him. “He must have simply worn a lot of cologne. As long as he doesn’t cause you any trouble, he’s nothing to worry about…”
Pulling Hugo’s vest off, the Thiren folded it with unnecessary precision and turned away to set it on the coffee table.
“I saw someone else in the elevator with you,” Lycaon continued, turning back — and pausing rather distractedly as he watched Hugo gracefully swing out his golden hair.
“I don’t think they’ll be a problem,” Hugo shrugged, slipping his dress shirt off and tossing it at the Thiren. The fabric smacked into Lycaon’s chest and he caught it somewhat belatedly, ears twitching. “Did you do anything to the cameras?”
“I transmitted the primary feed to the tablet and left the monitors on maintenance mode,” Lycaon answered mechanically, his gaze not quite focused on Hugo’s face.
“Good.” Hugo heaved a breathy sigh as he dropped his pants to the ground.
Lycaon’s crimson eye followed it down. He stared at Hugo’s bare ankles, his shoulders stiff and his tail twitching impatiently.
Turning towards the Thiren, Hugo extended his hand and threw his companion a sweet smile. Lycaon stared blankly at him for a good few seconds before he seemed to realize what he was supposed to do.
Snapping to with a start, the Thiren presented the bag of supplies he’d brought and placed it on the coffee table.
Chuckling, Hugo reached inside and withdrew his next disguise — a secretary’s uniform.
Flourishing the silk blouse into the air, he slipped into it without hesitation, easing the light fabric over his pale shoulders and dragging it down his narrow waist. Lycaon watched him, utterly mesmerized, his pupil dilated and pulsing.
Stepping into a pencil skirt, Hugo squirmed it over his hips, his breath hitching as its tight hem squeezed mercilessly into his hips. Lycaon’s ears flicked, and his tail-wagging quickened visibly.
Thoroughly amused by his companion’s helpless stare, Hugo reached for the side zipper and pretended to struggle with it. Alas, he lamented silently, his curves were too shapely, and he couldn’t tug the tab over the arch of his haunches.
But Lycaon continued to stand there, staring at him, mindlessly absorbed in some fantasy.
Looking over, Hugo met his companion’s gaze and curved his lips in a roguish smile.
“Lycaon, don’t tell me this is the extent of your usefulness?”
Lycaon blinked, then blinked again. As the haze in his eye faded, his expression narrowed in a piqued expression that wasn’t quite a frown.
Sidling up behind Hugo, the Thiren reached down and grasped his hip firmly with one hand, long fingers splaying over the entire curve of his waist. With his other hand, Lycaon grabbed the zipper and slowly, carefully, pulled it up.
The subtle hiss of the metal tabs binding together sounded sensual in the hush. As the zipper rose, Hugo wriggled his hips as though to aid its ascent. He could feel something rigid jabbing into the back of his skirt, and he brushed back against it with a quiet chuckle.
“Appreciate the assist.”
Lycaon grunted.
Hugo stepped away, smoothing his hand over an invisible wrinkle along his hips and tugging down the corner of his skirt like he was self-conscious of its length.
“What do you think?”
He glanced back at his partner, placing a hand on his hip and posing sassily.
“Does it look too tight? Or just tight enough?”
Tail swishing steadily, Lycaon replied so stiffly that his lips barely moved.
“You’re asking the wrong person if you want an objective answer.”
Cackling, Hugo reached into his bag of disguises and withdrew a pair of sheer thigh-highs next. Turning around, he presented them to Lycaon with a meaningful tilt of his head.
“Do we want ‘efficient secretary’… or ‘gets promoted for different reasons’?”
Lycaon’s expression became so complex that it was both unreadable and devastatingly obvious at the same time.
“I believe… you have more experience in making that call.”
Hugo scrutinized the stockings critically for a moment, then tossed them back onto the coffee table with a scoff.
“Save time, then. It’s a hassle getting them on.”
Lycaon turned his head to stare dolefully at the table, his tail-wag slowing and his ears angling back in disappointment.
Grinning to himself, Hugo fetched a more extensive makeup set from the bag. He’d love to tease his companion some more, but they did have a deadline to make.
Applying his makeup with practiced ease, he smacked his freshly painted lips, then added the final finishing touch — a pair of sharp glasses. He caught Lycaon’s eye as he put them on and flashed his companion a knowing smile as he nudged his spectacles neatly up his face.
Lycaon’s ears flattened back, and his tail began to swish again. It was hilarious how the wolf Thiren could look so stoic yet obviously smitten at the same time.
Retrieving the tablet that Lycaon had prepared for him, Hugo hugged it demurely to his chest and faced the Thiren with a professional, brisk nod.
“Mr. Lycaon, sir, I’m here to… take dictation.”
He peered up at the tall Thiren with equal parts enthusiasm and obedience. Lycaon gazed back, his expression cold and nonchalant.
“Are you?”
Smirking, Hugo strutted closer. He could feel the tight fabric of his skirt chafing his thighs together as he moved within them.
“Should I sit on your desk, or your lap?”
The corner of Lycaon’s lips twitched, revealing how dangerously close he had been to laughing just now. Hastily recomposing himself, the Thiren cleared his throat before trying to speak.
“Sit wherever you feel the most at ease.”
Hugo stopped right in front of Lycaon, close enough to feel intoxicated by his aromatic cologne. He set the tablet on the sofa and lifted both hands to the Thiren’s chest, making a show of sliding his fingertips provocatively along his companion’s dress shirt. He could feel the throb of Lycaon’s pounding heart beneath his palm, and his vision blurred in desire as he eased himself closer.
Inching a finger into the knot of Lycaon’s tie, Hugo tugged on the silk just enough to make Lycaon’s chin dip closer. He strained his lips upwards, licking his fangs in excitement as he smoothed the Thiren’s tie back into place.
“Of course, sir…” he whispered breathily, leaning his weight onto Lycaon’s torso. “You’re the boss…”
His touch drifted lower, his palm grazing the lapels of the Thiren’s suit, smoothing them out over Lycaon’s broad chest. He lingered there, dragging his fingertips teasingly into the Thiren’s abundant muscle and tilting his head tauntingly as Lycaon’s expression darkened in arousal.
Swallowing a giggle, Hugo hooked his index finger into the rim of Lycaon’s breast pocket and peeled it back with a cheeky little tug. The Thiren’s ears twitched, and his tail went perfectly rigid.
They stared at each other, intensely, their lips trembling from the force of each other’s breaths.
Silently, Hugo dared his companion to give in and take him.
Silently, Lycaon dared him to withstand being ruined.
He could feel Lycaon with all of his senses right now… in the musk filling his every breath, in the tension wrapped around his every throb, and in the heat swelling against his every shudder. He breathed deeper, relishing the challenge, the thrill of teetering on the edge of something forbidden. His vision blurred, and his thighs pressed together beneath his skirt in a squeeze, a fleeting attempt to soothe the ache that they were both building there.
“… While we’re at it…” Hugo breathed huskily, “would you like me to pencil in your… after-hours appointment?”
Lycaon glowered down at him, his crimson eye pulsing with barely-contained ferocity. His ears twitched, and then — abruptly, he grabbed Hugo by the waist.
For a fleeting moment, Hugo thought he’d actually be thrown into the sofa and ravaged.
Instead, Lycaon simply held him, tightly, his entire body rigid and his ears angled back towards the door.
A second later, Hugo heard the footsteps, too. But they passed without incident, and after a prolonged moment, they released their held breaths.
They looked at each other, still a little breathless from the interruption. Lycaon’s hand remained protectively pinned against his waist.
Quietly, Hugo laughed. Lycaon grimaced, clearly flustered by his overreaction.
“Stick to the plan before we both forget it,” the Thiren grunted gruffly, looking away. Hugo didn’t miss how his hand strayed lower to ‘smooth out his skirt’ before withdrawing.
“This is part of the plan,” Hugo claimed loftily, retrieving his tablet and unlocking it to check on the cameras. They couldn’t see the target lounge from here — it ran on a separate security system — but he could at least keep an eye on the nearby corridors. “Just testing if the disguise is effective.”
Lycaon glanced at him and immediately looked away again.
“You’d convince an entire board to hand over their secrets in under five minutes.”
Despite himself, Hugo let out a surprised laugh. He brushed past the Thiren, tugging teasingly at his companion’s belt as he passed.
“And here I thought you’d be harder to sway~”
They left the lounge as an elite personal secretary and their bodyguard. Turning away from the front desk, Hugo led the way deeper into the building, towards their target room. He looked down at his tablet as they walked, keeping an eye on the time and the relevant camera angles.
They passed another secretary who was similarly preoccupied with their cellular device, also shadowed by an intimidating Thiren guard. Lycaon exchanged gruff nods with the Thiren, but the secretary seemed too busy to even notice Hugo.
As they turned the corner and neared their destination, Hugo slowed down and glanced back at his guard. Already gazing back at him, Lycaon nodded quietly, his warmth steady and reliable behind him.
At the end of this corridor was a grand double door leading to the most luxurious lounge in the building. Less than a handful of people had access to this lounge, but thanks to the master fob Hugo had lifted, they could enter it uninterrupted.
As always, Lycaon advanced forward to open the door for him. Hugo strode in quietly with a discreet brush of their arms.
The lounge was empty, as they had planned — but not for long.
Swiftly, Hugo scoured the room, disdain rising in his gut as he swept past the obscenely luxurious décor. He noted the arrangement of the lounge chairs and quickly assessed where Ruby and the communicator might sit — by the glass side-table on the left, he guessed, due to its accessible height and nearby outlet.
He had just begun to imagine how their conversation might go when the door opened. A woman entered, adorned in a sharp suit and even sharper eyes. She stopped short in the entryway, one hand stiffening around her briefcase, the other flying to her hip.
Standing guard nearby, Lycaon stiffened, but didn’t act.
That would be the communicator.
“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice tense in alarm.
Making sure to memorize her face, Hugo made a show of searching for something nearby.
“Oh, my apologies. Mr. Ravenlock left something important behind, I was sent to fetch it. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I— ah!”
Bending down, Hugo picked up a set of keys from the carpet as if it had been waiting for him there the entire time, and not something he’d just planted. Straightening, he dangled it into the air and flashed the woman a pleasant smile.
Her eyes narrowed, the suspicion in her gaze not easing in the slightest. But at least she didn’t pull out whatever was hidden by her hip.
As Hugo swept towards the door, Lycaon peeled off the wall and shadowed him forward, drawing the communicator’s wary gaze. She hesitated, but lowered her hand, probably realizing it’d do no good to cause trouble when they were already leaving.
With a well-practiced flick of his hand, Hugo slipped a small coin into the woman’s pocket as he passed. Despite her tense side-eye, she didn’t so much as stir.
The door closed behind them silently. They stood there for a minute, releasing their held breaths and breathing in the crisp, perfumed air of the luxurious halls.
Then, they exchanged glances. Resisting the urge to grin from ear to ear, Hugo instead gave his companion a polite smile and discreetly brushed the backs of their hands together. Lycaon’s expression remained completely unreadable, but his tail twitched ever so slightly.
Maintaining their façade, they retreated back the way they’d come.
They had just reached the main corridor when a voice, oiled with liquor and entitlement, slithered into their path.
“Well now. What’s this gem doing out of its case?”
Lifting his head, Hugo offered an automatic smile to the person who had blocked their way. An unfamiliar man leered back at him, adorned in luxury brands and hair grease, their enlarged waistline almost impressive as their wealth. His breath carried the thick scent of alcohol and cologne, and he wore so much jewellery that Hugo almost had to squint at him beneath the bright chandeliers.
Dipping his chin, Hugo gave the man a polite nod and tried to brush past. He was displeased, but unsurprised, when the man cut him off.
Leaning closer, the man flashed him a predatory smile.
“Where are you rushing off to at a time like this? Come, you must have a spare hour or two — I have just the opportunity for someone like you.”
Hugo flashed the man another beam. He could quite literally feel Lycaon’s thunderous aura behind him, but thankfully the executive was too self-absorbed to notice.
“I’m afraid I’m occupied, sir. My client sent me on urgent business.”
The man chuckled as though he’d just heard a joke.
“Clients, business — bah. Pretty faces like yours shouldn’t be wasted on errands. Come—”
He reached out and grabbed Hugo by the wrist, prying him forcefully away from his tablet. Lycaon stiffened, but at a subtle gesture from Hugo, kept his claws by his side.
“I’ll show you what real work looks like.”
“Tempting,” Hugo said gingerly, attempting but failing to tug his hand free. The executive’s grip was surprisingly ferocious, and the man’s many rings dug hard enough into his wrist hard enough to cause pain. “But I must decline.”
He stepped the other way, trying again to pass, but the executive slid in step with him and pressed even closer with a widening grin.
“Decline?” The man huffed, his eyes gleaming as though excited by the hunt. “Oh, I think you mean ‘yes’.”
He took another step forward, the front of his belly pushing into the belt of Hugo’s skirt. Irked, Hugo took a step back, his shoulders brushing against Lycaon’s warmth. Nausea constricted his throat as the executive’s lecherous grin continued towards his face, and he again tried to yank his hand free.
“Sir, I really must insist—”
A deep, ferocious snarl exploded through the halls, violent enough to vibrate the marbled walls. A blur lunged over Hugo’s shoulder and grabbed the executive’s arm, ripping it away from him with an abrupt crack.
The man staggered back, wringing his hand and spluttering with outrage.
“How dare you—!”
Hastily stepping between them, Hugo planted a hand against Lycaon’s rumbling chest, stopping the Thiren from possibly smashing the executive’s skull into the wall.
“Gentlemen, please,” he said smoothly, maintaining a pleasant beam. “No need for dramatics.”
Keeping his palm pressed soothingly against the Thiren, he turned and faced the executive with a smile of mock sympathy.
“Sir, I really must go. You wouldn’t want your colleagues to see you making a scene, would you?”
He let his gaze flick meaningfully at a pair of guests who were striding down the adjacent hall, already peering curiously over.
“I hear that reputations in this building are frightfully expensive to repair.”
“You…!” Red-faced, the man smoothed out his suit and muttered a derogatory insult under his breath.
Another growl promptly tore through the air. Flinching away from Lycaon’s bared fangs, the executive turned and hurried away.
Quietly, Hugo exhaled, his voice filled with both relief and annoyance. He could still feel Lycaon straining against his hand, and he turned to give his overbearing bodyguard a reproachful look.
Lycaon frowned, his ears flattening in chagrin but his expression still stubbornly furious. His tail twitched, and his growl faded into a whine before dwindling altogether. He looked like a scolded puppy who still believed he had done absolutely nothing wrong.
Shaking his head slightly, Hugo heaved a sigh and left it at that. He turned and led the way back to their lounge, smiling secretly to himself as he indulged in the comforting warmth at his back.
Back in the empty lounge, Hugo quickly opened up the tablet. Lycaon locked the door and lingered there for a moment, listening for anything suspicious, before striding quietly over to his side.
The coin he had slipped into the communicator’s pocket had in fact been a ‘Leech’. It was a device that scanned for data transmission signals, intercept and duplicate the contents, and transmit them into his own device. Once data transfer was complete, the Leech would power down and go inert, transforming into a harmless commemorative coin.
It was quite the covert gadget, hand-made by a retired Marcel group employee who was also an old friend of Jack’s. They were quite old now, so there were very few of these left in existence… but this mission was important enough to warrant its use. Hugo would go and hunt it down later — commemorative coins tended to wind up in surprising places.
Sitting at the couch, he leaned over and watched the data transfer. The stream remained steady, and the last packet transferred within five minutes. He waited until the device had confirmed integrity, then checked the file contents himself. It was still encrypted, of course, but he had ways around that.
Standing behind the couch, Lycaon spoke up warily.
“Got it?”
Glancing over his shoulder, Hugo nodded.
Lycaon checked his pocket watch, his tail swishing agitatedly.
“Ruby must be in the room now. What’s your decision?”
Sighing, Hugo sat back and pushed aside his bangs.
“Ruby isn’t our only target — Sablier Noir is more dangerous, and the communicator won’t give us enough information to take the entire organization down,” he said wearily. “It’s better for us not to risk revealing that we were here. However…”
He trailed off, closing his eyes in thought.
“… A glance won’t hurt.”
He opened his eyes, a rather malicious smile twitching onto his lips as he gazed ahead.
“I admit, I’d like to put a face to the villain who’s so obsessed with destroying me.”
Lycaon’s gaze narrowed, and he uttered a wary mutter.
“Hugo…”
“Relax,” Hugo scoffed, safely pocketing the extracted data and then rising to his feet. “I won’t go overboard. And even if I do, I’ll make sure to knock you out first so you won’t have to know.”
Lycaon sighed, but accompanied him back out of the lounge.
They returned to the luxurious hallways and made their way cautiously back to the double-doors. It was shut, but unguarded — Sablier Noir’s paranoid nature meant that even bodyguards were not allowed to eavesdrop.
Sliding against the door, Hugo eased himself against the knob. The fob would be too loud — but he had quieter ways of slipping through a locked door.
“Step back,” he murmured under his breath.
“I’m staying right behind you,” Lycaon insisted.
Exasperated, Hugo held back an eye-roll and worked through the lock. The fob scanner deactivated in silence, and he slid his tools back into his skirt with a quiet, rewarding breath.
Gripping the cold metal handles, he took a moment to brace himself… then carefully eased it open, just a crack.
He only caught a glimpse — a whiff of perfume, familiar and suffocating — the flash of crimson lips, smiling and lovely — and the bright laughter of a young child, pure and oblivious.
His heart seized. Hugo snapped the door shut, almost slamming it, his palm trembling against the wood. Cold sweat slicked his fingers, and he remained frozen there for a moment, his chest fluttering in rapid, shallow breaths.
“… Hugo?”
Lycaon spoke, his voice thick with concern. The Thiren stepped closer, reaching for the door and curling his fingers around the other handle.
Whirling around, Hugo shoved the Thiren back — hard. He saw the bewilderment and hurt that flashed through Lycaon’s eye as he stumbled back and Hugo felt a sharp stab of remorse, but he couldn’t change his mind.
“We’re leaving,” he muttered. He stepped away, but Lycaon grabbed him by the wrist, stopping him.
“What—”
Hugo tried to wrench his arm free, the panicked motion sending them both lurching down the hall. His breath came out as a shrill gasp, and though every word felt like acid regurgitating into his throat, he spat them out anyway.
“Step away. Now.”
Lycaon didn’t release him. His crimson eye searched Hugo’s face, his troubled gaze quivering with a hint of the emotion they had both been suppressing this whole time — terror.
Fear that they would make the same choice. Fear that they would lose each other’s trust. Fear that their happiness was as fleeting as it had been in the past.
Fear that those wounds they had once endured would reopen, bleed, and leave them drowning once again in that thick, suffocating sea of bitterness and regret.
Hugo stared back, paralyzed by the pain he was feeling with every throb of his heart. And yet it continued to beat, because it had to, even if every pulse of its scarred muscle hurt enough to make him scream.
He wished he could claw it out of his chest. He would have, but he didn’t have the strength.
In the near distance, footsteps clattered across the marble floors. A well-dressed woman glanced down the hall, her curious eyes lingering a moment too long.
Abruptly, Lycaon let go. The pressure in Hugo’s lungs rushed out with a shudder.
When he looked again, his companion’s expression had gone stone cold.
Without a word, Lycaon turned and walked away.
Hugo grimaced, the agony in his chest twisting deeper. He hesitated, his gaze drawn once again to the door — then took a shuddering breath, and hurried to catch up with Lycaon.
The Thiren didn’t acknowledge him. They descended through the elevators in an uneventful silence, neither of them taking so much as a single breath the entire way down.
At the ground floor, they walked side by side as if nothing were amiss — secretary and guard, performing flawlessly until the very end.
But once they were in the car, their faces distorted by the flickering city lights, the silence became unbearable.
“… Are you going to explain what happened?” Lycaon asked at last. His eye remained fixed on the road, but there was a frigidness in his gaze that reminded Hugo of the night he had lost him.
His heart clenched. He could barely speak through the agony.
“… No.”
The hush that followed was suffocating. Every breath — every whiff of Lycaon’s familiar scent — made his chest ache with longing, and his gut wrench in terror.
He felt sick.
“… I was your partner for this.”
After a long time, Lycaon spoke, his voice low and taut with restrained pain.
“I can’t accept that.”
Closing his eyes, Hugo rested his head back and heaved a brittle sigh.
“And this is where you remember why you chose to leave me.”
He heard the sharp grind of teeth. He didn’t need to look over to know how much pain he had just caused.
He loathed that he was glad… glad it had hurt.
“… I’ll wait.”
Hugo stirred, surprised, despite himself.
Tentatively, he turned, his gaze rising slowly from the seat up to his companion’s face.
Lycaon was gripping the wheel tightly, his stare fixed on the road, his expression contorted in anguish… but also determination.
“I can’t pretend this didn’t happen,” Lycaon rasped, his voice torn but quiet. “But until you’re willing to confide in me… I will wait, by your side.”
The thorns around his heart constricted, stabbing even deeper into his reopened wounds. Hugo wished he could release this darkness from his chest, to give in and let Lycaon hold him within this barbed cage… but he wasn’t ready to let it swallow them whole.
He turned back to the window, watching the lights blur beyond the moisture wetting his eyes. Lowering his lashes, he closed away the moonlight with a faint whisper.
“… Let’s see how long your loyalty lasts this time, then.”
Chapter Text
He supposed it had been too good to last.
Like a fairytale, a delusion, a fantasy… their happiness had been nothing more than echo of the past, cursed never to coexist with reality.
The mission was technically a success. After they returned, Hugo made a copy of the data and handed the original to Lycaon.
“You and your master can do whatever you like with it,” he said dismissively. “I don’t care.”
“And Ruby?” Lycaon asked, quietly but stiffly.
Hugo couldn’t meet his gaze.
“Drop it.”
“… At least give me a reason.”
Hugo looked away even further, his fists clenching subconsciously by his side.
“I said, drop it.”
A week blurred by. Lycaon was rarely in the manor — busy, expectedly. Hugo could only assume he was scampering around for his master, rounding up the codenames.
Hugo had his own initiatives to deal with, anyway. Between procuring contractors for the gallery, making sure Vivian was safe, and following up on his other leads without alerting the mayor or his nosy hounds — Hugo was also rarely in the manor.
… There were still moments.
He’d wake up to a hot cup of tea beside him.
He’d find his favorite fairytale tucked into the blankets on the reading chair.
He’d feel Lycaon nuzzle his nape late at night when Thiren thought he was already asleep.
But Hugo didn’t let himself indulge in them now.
He’d wash the cup and put it away.
He’d return the book to the shelf.
He’d close his eyes and lie there, unmoving, until the darkness took over.
… After all, how could he?
He had just reminded them of their differences — of how easily they could lose each other, all over again.
Even if they recovered from this, what about the next time? Or the time after that?
How much… had actually changed?
One night, Hugo stayed out late chasing down a potential lead. By the time he returned, it was already four in the morning. The streets were hazy with fog, his head was spinning, and his knees wobbled with every step.
So when he saw Lycaon waiting for him in the courtyard, Hugo assumed he was just hallucinating.
The Thiren was standing beneath a street light, his ears tipped back in agitation and his pocket watch clenched tightly in one hand. As Hugo strolled closer, Lycaon straightened, snapped his watch shut, and faced him with a familiar, stern frown.
“Where were you?” the Thiren asked in a gravelly voice.
“Oh, you know me,” Hugo scoffed, his taunt coming out breathier than he intended. “Just out stealing candy from rich children.”
He strode forward, tensing despite himself as he passed his companion. In his self-consciousness, his foot struck an uneven stone in the cobblestone path, and he lurched forward.
The world tilted, but only briefly. By the time Hugo blinked, there were already strong arms holding him steady.
For a moment, he nearly went limp. He imagined melting into that tantalizing warmth, sinking his head against Lycaon’s shoulder, and breathing in his companion’s warm musk with a giddy purr.
“Well if it isn’t my chivalrous knight…”
He imagined it so vividly that he almost felt it — Lycaon’s soft fur brushing his cheek, the Thiren’s tender murmur in his ear.
“Our bed awaits you, my liege.”
But the moment passed. Hugo straightened and pried himself firmly away from his former partner’s grip.
Lycaon’s eye narrowed in pain, and he stepped after Hugo with an agitated flick of his tail.
“Your glucose alarm was ringing for hours.”
“Was,” Hugo repeated, rolling a coin between his gloved fingers and flashing it at Lycaon before tossing the chocolate in his mouth. “Not anymore.”
Lycaon sighed, trotting at his heels as he followed Hugo towards the manor.
“I was looking for you. You’ve been out almost every night this week,” the Thiren continued, stepping forward briefly to open the front door for him. “You should have at least left a note, or asked for my—”
“Yes of course,” Hugo drawled with a flippant wave of his hand. “—‘Dear Lycaon, I’ll be breaking into a senator’s filing cabinet tonight, don’t try to stop me. Hugs and kisses, Mockingbird’.”
Lycaon uttered an agitated noise that was muffled by the door shutting.
“Do you enjoy making me worry?”
“What I enjoy,” Hugo replied, pausing to tug his gloves off one finger at a time, “is not being hunted by Mayor Mayflowers’ hounds.”
The stairwell rose ahead, its polished banisters gleaming faintly in the low light. Hugo gripped it as he ascended, forcing his footsteps to remain steady even as exhaustion dragged at his limbs. He could feel Lycaon’s warmth against his back, close enough to catch him if he ever faltered.
“I just want to know that you’re safe,” Lycaon insisted, once they reached the upper floor.
“You want to be sure that I’m still leashed,” Hugo corrected loftily as he strode quickly down the hallway without glancing back. “There is a slight difference, you know.”
Lycaon sighed again, his voice loud and heavy as they stepped into the silence of their dark bedroom.
The air here was still cold — neither of them had been here for a while. Lycaon must have only just returned, too.
Hugo wondered what the Thiren had been up to, to be out so late past his midnight curfew. He wanted to turn around, offer up a sweet smile, and tease a few flustered answers out of his partner, but he instead squared his shoulders and dragged his coat off.
Throwing it over the reading chair with little care, Hugo yanked his tie loose and tossed it aside, too. He unbuttoned his dress shirt, dragged it off his shoulders, and returned to grip at his belt.
He was just about to unclasp it when a solid heat slid over his back and reached around his arms. As he stiffened in surprise, thick, sturdy fingers eased beneath his palm and pulled his belt away for him.
“… I’m not interrogating you.”
Lycaon’s murmur slid into his ear, hoarse with grief but soft with tenderness. Sentiment plucked sharply at Hugo’s nerves, creating painful ripples through his limbs. He bit his lip, standing rigidly as the Thiren carefully undressed him… and then pulled him back in a warm, fervent embrace.
“I’m just letting you know that I’m still here.”
Lycaon sighed, his chest rising against Hugo’s back. Soft fur caressed the arch of his spine and Hugo couldn’t help but shiver and bite his lip harder, this time to muffle a restless gasp.
“Whether you want me to be or not, I am.”
The Thiren’s nose grazed the back of his neck and breathed warm, shaky air against his nape.
“I am not who I was back then, and neither are you.”
A broad palm splayed gently across Hugo’s chest. He could feel his heart pounding beneath it, harder, but slower… as though it, too, couldn’t help but be soothed by Lycaon’s touch.
“… Please, do not be disillusioned by the past.”
Lycaon brushed a tender kiss to the back of his shoulder, then rested his muzzle there. Slowly, the Thiren’s tail curled around their legs, binding them together in a wordless plea.
Hugo closed his eyes. In this proximity, he could hear the echoes of an anguished whimper beneath Lycaon’s every breath, and he could feel the subtle tremors torturing the Thiren’s body.
Lycaon was exhausted, too… he was in agony, too. He wanted nothing more than to melt in each other’s embrace, too.
“… I know.”
Turning his head slightly, Hugo caught his companion’s hopeful gaze and offered a quiet whisper. Lifting his hand onto Lycaon’s cheek, he pressed their foreheads together and stroked the Thiren’s face.
“Come here.”
The words tumbled out in a broken, trembling sigh. Lycaon leaned in and kissed him swiftly, eager to obey.
They intertwined, naturally, deepening their embrace as they gripped each other and tumbled towards the bed. Without his stubbornness holding him up, Hugo could no longer resist the intensity of his longing, and he fell into his companion’s chest with a shuddering sigh of relief.
With what few hours they had left of the night, they clung tightly to each other, as though afraid to let go. Hugo drifted off to sleep with the warmth of Lycaon’s throat in his face, and the gentle sound of purring in his ear.
… But when he woke the next morning, his partner was gone.
Lycaon didn’t return home for dinner, either.
It wasn’t that unusual lately given how busy they were, but perhaps Hugo had glanced at his empty seat a few too many times. Later, Rina informed him that Lycaon would be staying with a client for the next two days.
Her brows furrowed ever so slightly when she smiled at him, as though she were worried that Hugo would find the news devastating.
Hugo flashed her a pleasant smile back.
“Perfect,” he said airily, “I can finally get a good night’s sleep.”’
… Admittedly, part of him thought that Lycaon’s absence would help him feel less suffocated.
However, he was completely wrong.
When that pretentious oaf had been present, Hugo had indeed felt tense and self-conscious. But now that Lycaon wasn’t here… Hugo missed him. Desperately.
He hadn’t expected to feel this way… to find himself wanting to feel that anxious gaze burning into his back again.
In the coming days, Hugo was extremely restless.
He tried to focus on his investigation, but he had already set everything in motion, and there was nothing left to do but wait for the results.
He picked up his phone and considered sending Lycaon some messages — maybe he’d get a couple grins out of teasing him. But he hesitated, and ultimately stopped himself.
He collapsed on the bed, closed his eyes, and tried to catch up on some much-needed sleep, but the blankets were too empty, too cold. The bed felt desolate without Lycaon, and the Thiren’s scent was already fading beneath his own.
Dragging Lycaon’s pillow against his chest, Hugo smothered his face into it and took a deep breath. He sought it, desperately — Lycaon’s musk, ferocious yet fragrant. He inhaled it loudly until his chest ached.
He felt strange… light-headed, heavy, warm. He fidgeted beneath the blankets, drawing his knees up, squeezing his thighs together, his breathing turning heavy as a restless heat grew in his body. His hand inched down, at first just brushing tentatively along his chest, then his hips… but soon enough, reaching lower.
He cupped himself through the thin fabric of his pajama pants, fingers curling, digging in until sparks of feeling forced a ragged breath out of him. Burrowing deeper into Lycaon’s pillow, he squeezed past the waistband of his pants and wrapped a hand around himself — moaning, softly, as he pulsed needily within his fingers.
He stroked himself roughly, hands twitching every time he breathed in Lycaon’s scent from his pillow. The bedsheets tangled around his legs as his pace quickened, his expression crumbling in anguish and bliss, his breathing terse with distress. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to empty his mind, to not think of what he was doing — of how much this resembled those painful nights in the past, when he had been truly alone.
Yet just like back then, he could neither relax, nor forget. The sensations rushing through his body were equal parts pleasure and agony, but he couldn’t stop. He drove himself into a harsh climax, stiffening up with a muffled cry, his consciousness shattering into dizzy fragments as he spilled in his hand.
And in that brief moment of delirious ecstasy, he heard it… Lycaon’s gentle murmur, vivid in his ear.
He lay there, panting, his vision blurred and the blankets already cooling around his shoulders. In the sudden silence, his heartbeat thundered with shame. In a few more seconds, Hugo knew that this would feel terrible again. But this momentary pleasure — that tender memory — was a sweet, sweet poison that he couldn’t stop tasting.
It didn’t make it any easier, that this was the longest he had gone without being filled by Lycaon for… a while. The abrupt shift from their intense, honeyed delirium to the barren chill of reality was too much for his body to accept.
On the afternoon of Lycaon’s final day away, Hugo found something extra to comfort himself with — a certain oscillating, egg-shaped… bedroom accessory.
He had acquired it entirely by accident. He had also never intended to use it.
A few months ago, while exploring a storehouse in the Hollow, Hugo had found boxes of what looked like sleek electronic spy-gadgets. He hadn’t understood why the packaging had been so gaudy-looking until he charged one and turned it on… only realizing then, when it began to pulse cozily in his hand, that it was intended for a very different kind of espionage.
The small, sleek, egg-shaped toy came with a rounded bulbous tip that curved inward. Based on the research he had done — ahem, solely to determine its resell value — it was designed to stimulate certain muscles in the male body with intense precision.
In any case, his fingers couldn’t replicate what his body was yearning for, and Hugo was desperate. An hour of peace, of something close to bliss, close to what he had felt with Lycaon — that was all he wanted. He didn’t care about the consequences right now.
Seizing a blanket that Lycaon had used not too long ago, Hugo curled up with it in his companion’s reading chair. Lycaon’s scent was already faint so he added a dab of cologne, but the smell was too strong and unnatural like this, and it failed to replicate Lycaon’s natural musk. He was dissatisfied, but he breathed it in anyway as he slid a hand between his legs and cautiously began to prepare himself.
Lycaon had purchased an inordinate amount of lubricant after they ran out the first time. Hugo remembered joking that they’d finish it all in a month anyway — maybe if they’d kept going at that pace, they would have.
He felt a lonely pang. Eager to distract himself, Hugo took the toy and nudged it against his lips.
He opened his mouth, letting its cold, smooth surface press against his tongue as he panted restlessly against it. Beneath the blanket, he rubbed his fingers against his entrance, smearing lubricant into the grooves of his pucker and slowly squeezing himself in.
Closing his eyes, Hugo imagined that Lycaon was here with him, grasping his chin, stroking his cheek. As he warmed the toy with his saliva, he imagined that it wasn’t hard plastic, but something larger, hotter… more alive. His tongue trembled with thirst as he recalled the taste of Lycaon’s mighty cock, and he lapped at the love egg with a thirsty huff.
Ahh… he wanted to feel it… that gentle yet feral gaze… that intimidating but sturdy heat… he wanted to feel Lycaon merging into his body and seeping into his soul.
“Don’t be so reckless.”
A shuddering gasp escaped from his lips as the Thiren’s voice echoed through his ear, its tone reprimanding but achingly affectionate. Rearing back, Hugo complained out loud.
“Shut up… I know exactly what I’m doing.”
His words faded in and out between incoherent whimpers as he smeared the toy against his lips.
“I can… mmph… handle it…”
He forced a third finger in, wincing slightly as his body tensed up in reflexive defence.
“Hugo…”
Thoroughly enjoying his companion’s scolding whisper, Hugo shivered and relaxed around his digits with a faint moan.
He pushed his fingers deeper, imagining they were Lycaon’s with a thrill of guilty delight. It had been a long time since he’d had to do this himself, and it felt oddly unfamiliar… three of his fingers were equivalent to only two of Lycaon’s, possibly even less. He missed the feeling of the Thiren’s muscular knuckles and slick fur grinding into his sensitive walls…
Keeping his eyes closed, Hugo let his imagination float off into an indistinct haze. His insides slowly turned soft and malleable, while his gut began to feel hot and tense. As his cravings intensified, Hugo pulled the toy away from his lips and slid it down his spine, into the warm groove of his buttocks. He rubbed it against his entrance, huffing unsteadily as its slick surface sent tingles through his swollen pucker.
“Hurry up…” he demanded under his breath, wriggling back against it as though trying to pierce himself onto something of Lycaon’s.
“Tsk…”
He imagined Lycaon’s irritable grunt. He’d always loved seeing the Thiren locked in that conflicted phase of his, in-between his oh-so-respectable self and his inner feral nature.
“Slowly… I don’t want to hurt you…”
Ignoring him, Hugo thrusted back and jammed the toy forward at the same time. His body promptly sucked it in and swallowed it startlingly deep, its smooth surface hurtling rapidly through his slippery walls.
He tensed up with a yelp, his back arching and twitching with jolts of exhilaration.
“Ngh—!”
Grimacing, Hugo tried to relax… groaning, shakily, as his insides clamped down curiously around it.
He had to admit… it was a well-designed gadget… its shape caused it to settle right against his prostate, and he could feel its rounded tip jabbing into the most sensitive spot along his walls. Even without moving, he could already feel pangs of bliss threatening to decimate him. And when he did try to shift, even the tiniest of fidgets made him stiffen up, his limbs locking down and his fingers twitching as he groaned and shuddered in stimulation.
“Ugh…”
Nestling deeper into the cushions, Hugo imagined that Lycaon was enveloping him from behind. His ears tingled, and his neck stung in the cool air — he missed the way his companion would be warming him with nips and kisses right now.
He sat there for a while longer, shifting experimentally and breathing heavily as he adjusted to the pleasure he’d been craving. It already felt close to overwhelming… and he hadn’t even turned it on yet.
Hesitating, Hugo tried to move again, cautiously. He rubbed his thighs together and rotated his hips, teasing himself with subtle pangs of pleasure.
“Stop holding back already…”
In his mind, it was Lycaon who was hesitating and he who was taunting, rearing off the chair and offering alluring groans.
That self-righteous brute would most certainly say something patronizing, like “You’re not prepared yet. It’s been a while.”
“I can take you.”
Hugo would scoff back, of course, even if his insides spasmed with excitement and uncertainty.
“I can always take you.”
Lycaon would utter that exasperated sigh of his and lean in, roughness filling his gravelly voice as he inevitably caved beneath Hugo’s teasing.
“Alright… don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Holding his breath in anticipation, Hugo pressed the remote.
The toy shot off with a whirr so intense that his body immediately seized. Startled, Hugo flung his hand towards the remote, accidentally striking it with his fingertip and sending it sprawling across the dresser.
“Ngh—!”
Gasping, he dragged himself over the dresser and strained towards the little device, trembling so severely that he could barely stay on his knees. By the time he managed to grab the remote and turn it off, his stomach was tingling, and his thighs were splattered with slick.
With an incredulous, shattered groan, Hugo collapsed back in the chair.
“… What did you say about being able to take me?”
Lycaon’s smug purr rippled into his ears. Flushing, Hugo squeezed his eyes shut and squeaked indignantly.
“S-Shut up! I was just… caught off guard…”
Looking blearily down at his hand, he slid his finger over the remote’s tiny buttons, this time making sure he was on the lowest setting. He took a deep breath, his insides already clenching excitedly around the toy… and tried again.
“Ahh…”
It began to pulse quietly inside him, massaging his tender spots with a low, rhythmic hum. Bliss rippled steadily through his groin, gentle but building towards something far more intense. With a pleased moan, Hugo eased back into the cushions and tilted his chin upwards.
“Are you alright?”
Lycaon’s gentle murmur caressed his cheek and he shivered, stirred by his companion’s imaginary warmth.
“Yes…” he breathed deliriously, lashes fluttering and vision blurring as the bliss inside him thickened and intertwined with the dizzy pangs distorting his consciousness.
Thrilling shivers of bliss rippled through his torso and crawled all the way up to the top of his skull. He felt strange… lightheaded… cold, almost — as though the heat in the core of his body was making his extremities feel even colder in comparison. His fingers tingled, and he curled his toes as his body tightened in bliss, twisting in the chair with a restless groan.
“Uhngh… haahh…”
It felt so real… Lycaon’s presence.
Hugo knew his companion wasn’t truly here, but the shape inside him felt just like the Thiren’s tongue, and the vibrations felt just like his pleased purrs. When he reached down, he could see his fingers splaying over Lycaon’s head… he could feel the Thiren’s soft fur spilling past his knuckles. It was impossible not to doubt, not to feel confused… not to push Lycaon’s head down, and beg him to go deeper.
“Hah… ahh…”
The sensations circulating his body quickened, rippling powerfully through his spine and igniting the fibers of his brain. It was so intense that it almost hurt — the pangs in his head. He couldn’t tell if it was the pleasure, or the fact that he was probably low on sugar right now.
Hugo was used to this… when he was dizzy, his fantasies felt real, as though his frail body could be tricked into believing anything. It probably wasn’t good for him, he knew that, but he was never in a lucid enough state to care by then.
He closed his eyes, his breathing becoming short and terse as the heat beneath his belly began to overflow. Piqued moans fell from his parted lips as he reached between his legs and pressed his fingers gingerly against his inflamed length. But he didn’t stroke… he wanted to come from the back, from just Lycaon. He could already feel it, that unbearable bliss, creeping closer… closer…
“Uhn… uhh…!”
His insides clenched, hard, squeezing the toy even deeper and forcing a startled whimper from his throat as it thrummed roughly against his sensitive spot. Hugo shivered, violently, his lashes fluttering open and his eyes widening as—
—with a wall-shaking bang, the door slammed open.
“Hugo!”
Strangling a gasp, Hugo stiffened, shocked, as a large white blur rushed towards him.
“Thank goodness, I’m not too late—”
Warm hands clasped around his face and wrenched his gaze upwards, into a frantic crimson stare. Lycaon examined him, his eye wide and worried as it scanned every inch of Hugo’s flushed face.
Bewildered and utterly shaken, Hugo tried to speak, but the Thiren whirled away before he could demand to know what the hell was going on.
“Get up,” Lycaon huffed, still in an immense rush as he turned to the dresser and grabbed the car keys — deftly sweeping the toy’s remote aside in the process. Hugo stifled a mortified gasp as it spun well out of reach. “We need to go, now.”
“Ah—”
Hugo only began to utter the first breath of his protest before the Thiren stomped over and grabbed his blanket.
“H-Hold on!” he squawked immediately, grabbing the blankets defensively as his pulse shot off in panic. “I, uh, need to get dressed first.”
Hugo grimaced internally, bracing himself for a judgemental eyebrow-raise and the disdainful “it’s midday, why are you not dressed already?” — but Lycaon seemed too frantic to think about that.
Flurrying over to the closet, Lycaon began to rummage for his clothes. In the five or so seconds that he had his back turned, Hugo reached down and tried to drag the love egg out — but he only managed to squeeze in two fingers before the Thiren whirled back to face him.
Immediately, Hugo tried to look normal. It was extremely difficult, considering there was still a sex toy vibrating against his prostate and he was pretty sure that in his shock, he’d unfortunately just squeezed it deeper.
“Here.”
Striding over with a bundle of clothes, Lycaon grabbed the blanket again.
“No no no—” Hugo spluttered, snatching his clothes away from the Thiren. “I can do it myself,” he insisted, smothering everything beneath the blanket.
Lycaon straightened and frowned down at him, the first inkling of suspicion trickling into his face. Burning to the tip of his ears, Hugo shot his companion an indignant glare.
“Some privacy, please?”
Lycaon’s brow shot up in surprise, then furrowed in a mixture of confusion and annoyance.
Hugo could practically hear his incredulous growl.
Privacy? Between us? At this point?
It did sound absurd, even to him. But Hugo didn’t exactly have many other excuses right now.
To his immense relief, despite the aggravated bristling of his fur, Lycaon turned his back and crossed his arms.
Immediately, Hugo reached down again. Squeezing his fingers inside himself with a grimace, he struggled to reach the toy, stifling grunts as sharp pangs rippled through his tender walls.
Ugh… fuck… he could feel it at his fingertips, but he was clamping down too tightly, and the toy was too slick with lube for him to grip well. He tried to unclench so he’d have more room to work, but he was far too conscious of Lycaon’s imposing silhouette standing right in front of his obscenely posed body for him to relax.
“Are you done?” Lycaon growled, his tail twitching impatiently.
“No!” Hugo hissed in a strained voice.
Lycaon’s ears flicked back, clearly hearing his distress. The Thiren was silent for about three seconds before grunting again.
“What’s taking you so long? I’m going to turn around and help.”
“Ugh—”
Abandoning the toy, Hugo dragged his pants on in a flurry. He had only just managed to get everything somewhat over his hips before Lycaon turned to face him.
Impatiently, the Thiren grabbed his arms and forcibly yanked the rest of his clothes on for him. Hugo glared furiously at him the whole while.
“Let’s go,” Lycaon muttered as soon as his last button was done up. The Thiren didn’t even bother straightening his crooked collar before whirling around and dragging Hugo towards the door.
“Hold on,” Hugo protested, digging his heels into the carpet. “Can I at least—”
“No!” Lycaon snapped, turning and glowering at him. “We need to go, now!”
There was genuine panic in the Thiren’s eye, Hugo realized. He stopped resisting, concern and curiosity distracting him from his predicament as he stared at his companion with wide eyes.
Appearing self-conscious of his behaviour, Lycaon paused and took a deep breath, though even that was rushed.
“Two of the codenames suddenly passed away just now,” the Thiren admitted, his ears flattening back in extreme stress. “They were receiving treatment for the drug, but they had been completely healthy otherwise. There was no indication of anything wrong before they suddenly dropped dead.”
Lycaon trailed off with a grimace, his expression deeply contorted in distress. Hugo stared back at him, stunned.
The Thiren was afraid, Hugo realized… terrified, for him.
He felt a strange pang of warmth, and it wasn’t from the toy.
Blinking, Hugo opened his mouth, feeling like he ought to say something comforting. But before he could think of anything, Lycaon turned and resumed dragging him mercilessly down the hall.
“We’re rounding up all the other victims for an emergency checkup,” the Thiren muttered tersely. “I’m bringing you to Dr. Isabelle immediately.”
“But— mgh—?”
Finally managing to regain his voice, Hugo tried again — only to be abruptly interrupted as Lycaon shoved something into his mouth.
Bulbous and hard, it grinded into his tongue and made him utter a noise that was far too wanton for the situation. A strange thrill tore through his body and Hugo grimaced, the toy still buzzing cozily inside him.
Lycaon’s ears shot up, but he was still too frantic to stop or even take a second glance.
The Thiren had given him a lollipop, Hugo realized. He rolled the candy over his tongue and let it sweeten his saliva, his body tingling strangely as he suckled gratefully on it.
“Your alarm rang when I received the news,” Lycaon explained grimly, his voice breathy with helplessness. He squeezed Hugo’s hand, as though anxious that he would slip away. “I thought I wasn’t going to make it in time.”
Distracted by the stimulus in his mouth, Hugo remained docile, not protesting or even speaking as he was brought to the car. Lycaon’s grip was ironclad, his palm hot and trembling around Hugo’s wrist, as though sheer force could keep him tethered to life.
By the time Hugo was buckled in, the Thiren was already slamming the door shut and rounding to the driver’s side. The engine roared awake, and tires squealed against the pavement as Lycaon surged out of the driveway and sped down the road, weaving impatiently through traffic like a predator shouldering aside a panicked herd.
The Thiren hadn’t driven like this since they were young, and Hugo couldn’t help but cast his old friend a raised brow. He’d find all this amusing, if not for the fact that he could feel the toy pulsing deep inside him with every violent jerk of the wheel.
Hugo sat rigidly in his seat, his throat clenched and aching from the effort of holding in his voice, struggling not to look too mind-broken as his sensitive insides continued to be battered. Ugh, thankfully he’d managed to get his underwear on… the cotton was becoming thoroughly damp and heavy against his groin. Without it, no doubt the moisture would have started seeping into his pants and smearing against the leather seat.
The car rushed over a bump in the road, jostling them up and flinging them back down onto the seat. Hugo bit his lip, his expression crumbling as he very nearly spit out a moan. His hand twitched on his lap and he curled his fingers, digging his nails into his thighs in an attempt to distract himself from his impending doom.
“Are you alright?”
Lycaon’s voice worriedly cut through the tense silence. He glanced at Hugo, then at the road, then back at Hugo two seconds later.
“Do you feel dizzy? Is your chest tight? Are you having any pain or difficulty breathing?”
Oh, you have no idea.
Biting down the snarky retort, Hugo instead muttered through clenched teeth.
“… I’m fine.”
Lycaon sighed again, looking more agitated than ever. Aware of how unconvincing he must have sounded, Hugo took a deep breath, intending to try again — but they hit a red light first, and Lycaon suddenly reached over to grab his hand.
Hugo’s charismatic scoff turned into a mew that he almost let escape. He managed to strangle it into a strained sort of cough, but he wasn’t entirely sure what happened after.
His mind went black. He sat there, wrought with tingles, his lashes fluttering blearily as he was overwhelmed by exhilarating throbs of bliss.
He heard yet another stressed sigh, and the warmth wrapped around his hand squeezed down in what was meant to be a comforting way. The tension sent thrills surging through his body, and Hugo nearly moaned out loud.
He managed to choke it down with a sharp catch of his breath. Thankfully, the lights turned green, and though Lycaon looked extremely anguished, the Thiren reluctantly returned his hand to the steering wheel.
The car shot forward again, the city peeling back around them until Hugo could no longer tell if the blur in his vision was speed, tears, or the haze of too much pleasure.
By the time they screeched to a halt behind the clinic, Hugo’s entire body was trembling. Lycaon yanked the door open and practically lifted him out of his seat. It was a cool but sunny day, and the light breeze stung against his fevered skin. The world tilted into indistinct fragments as he was dragged forward — brick walls painted white, the clatter of Lycaon’s prosthetics pounding against concrete, and then the sterile scent of antiseptic.
Dr. Isabelle was already waiting in the lobby with a professional smile ready. The waiting room had been cleared — this truly was a real emergency. She stepped forward, lips parting in a gracious greeting — only to stiffen slightly, her pleasant expression faltering into the briefest crack of shock as her gaze landed on Hugo.
Wonderful, Hugo thought grimly. Exactly the sort of look anyone would want from their physician — the polite horror reserved for patients who arrived foaming at the mouth. Except, in his case, it wasn’t foam, nor was it coming from his mouth… strictly speaking.
Summoning his most princely smile, Hugo interrupted the silence before Lycaon could declare him incapacitated.
“Apologies, Doctor, the mutt — I mean, our endearingly fastidious attendant friend is exercising his flair for melodrama. I assure you, I am quite well.”
Isabelle’s brows arched the faintest degree, and her eyes flicked ever so briefly downwards towards his quivering knees.
Damnit, he had to hand it to Mayflower. That old man really knew how to rope the best and brightest into his team.
“You’re clearly not well,” Lycaon growled, nudging him a step forward. The gesture nearly made Hugo choke and he closed his eyes, transforming his wanton grimace into half of a stubborn beam.
“He is not well,” Lycaon repeated agitatedly, to Isabelle.
Managing to pull a reassuring smile back onto her face, Isabelle gestured deeper into the clinic.
“Let’s make sure, just in case,” she said gently.
“You’re fussing over nothing,” Hugo insisted, digging his nails into Lycaon’s arm. Thankfully the thick-headed oaf was too distressed to notice him holding on for dear life as he was dragged down the hall. “If anything, I feel mmm!—marvelous.”
Oh, yes… that did feel marvelous. Just not in the way he had hoped to express out loud.
Lycaon’s ears twitched. Walking ahead of them, Isabelle respectfully did not pause nor glance back.
Clinging to the few shreds of dignity he had left, Hugo lowered his head and pressed his lips together. Still buzzing cozily inside him, the little love egg churned the dread swelling in his gut into strange, unrecognizable tingles.
He… was not getting out of this unscathed, was he?
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