[ Just a cat, Wise tells himself, but he doesn't feel wholly reassured by that discovery. He's shocked to find himself so tense and jumpy. Even though he knows that Lycaon has to be somewhere behind him — even though what they're doing has been pre-arranged in advance — he still feels exactly the way he would if he didn't know exactly who the beast in the night was. He feels like prey.
When will Lycaon come for him? When is he going to feel the intoxicating fear and pleasure of being taken by force?
Not knowing is going to be the death of him. When they planned this together, Wise forgot about one thing: he hates not knowing when something will come, and they never made plans about when Lycaon would strike. The more tense he feels, the more the arousal builds inside of him, too — sour and sweet, all at once. There's a part of him that wants Lycaon to pounce out of the darkness and simply ravage him on the stone tiles by the reception desk.
(A dirty-minded fantasy seizes him; he shivers involuntarily at the flavor of it. He wants to feel Lycaon's massive cock plunge into him, wants to lose himself in the pleasure of being claimed. When, when, when...)
Regardless. The lobby of the hotel is not the right place to be settling down for this. With a nervous jitter in his limbs, Wise grabs the keycard with half a thought about whether or not he'll find that cat in the building before the night is over, and then makes his way to the room that Victoria Housekeeping set aside for them — 204.
It's only one floor up, so he takes the stairs. Still grand even in darkened splendor; Rina only left enough lights on to ensure that Wise can get around comfortably, but it's mostly dark in the hotel hallways, and Wise finds himself swallowing on a dry throat as he starts thinking that every imagined flicker of movement in the dark is his Lycaon.
He presses the keycard to the reader outside of the door. The lock clicks open. He pulls the door open, steps inside, looking briefly at the dimly-lit bed and accompanying furnishings, while the door stands ajar behind him — ]
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When will Lycaon come for him? When is he going to feel the intoxicating fear and pleasure of being taken by force?
Not knowing is going to be the death of him. When they planned this together, Wise forgot about one thing: he hates not knowing when something will come, and they never made plans about when Lycaon would strike. The more tense he feels, the more the arousal builds inside of him, too — sour and sweet, all at once. There's a part of him that wants Lycaon to pounce out of the darkness and simply ravage him on the stone tiles by the reception desk.
(A dirty-minded fantasy seizes him; he shivers involuntarily at the flavor of it. He wants to feel Lycaon's massive cock plunge into him, wants to lose himself in the pleasure of being claimed. When, when, when...)
Regardless. The lobby of the hotel is not the right place to be settling down for this. With a nervous jitter in his limbs, Wise grabs the keycard with half a thought about whether or not he'll find that cat in the building before the night is over, and then makes his way to the room that Victoria Housekeeping set aside for them — 204.
It's only one floor up, so he takes the stairs. Still grand even in darkened splendor; Rina only left enough lights on to ensure that Wise can get around comfortably, but it's mostly dark in the hotel hallways, and Wise finds himself swallowing on a dry throat as he starts thinking that every imagined flicker of movement in the dark is his Lycaon.
He presses the keycard to the reader outside of the door. The lock clicks open. He pulls the door open, steps inside, looking briefly at the dimly-lit bed and accompanying furnishings, while the door stands ajar behind him — ]