Kael: Maybe I just like hearing your voice when you type.
I pause, fingers hovering over the keyboard. I imagine Sean saying that line, tempting me, raising an eyebrow. My heart climbs into my throat.
“Careful,” I type, voice soft, almost a whisper. “You’re dangerously charming for a rogue.”
Kael: Charming? Maybe. Dangerous… absolutely. But only for you.
I bite my lip, leaning closer to the monitor. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
Kael: Maybe both. But you’d have to survive long enough to find out.
I chuckle to myself, muttering, “Survive? In a game, or in my head?” The thought of Sean sitting across from me, mischievous and sharp, makes my cock pulse with longing.
I pause the game and roll my chair back. The screen dims, casting long shadows across the apartment. I exhaleslowly, letting the quiet fill the space. Kael has always been… appealing. Clever, alluring, impossible to ignore—but he’s not real. Just strings of code meant to feel alive. He’s fantasy, not flesh.
Sean Rivers is real.
The thought hits me harder than I expect. Real. Tangible. Unpredictable. That blond sweep of hair and irresistible tummy. Those few freckles below his bright blue eyes. The way he smiles when he thinks no one’s watching. The way he excites and challenges me in the best possible way. My mate.
I pick up my phone, thumb hovering over the messages, and reread our texts. The flirting. The curiosity. That filament between us that makes my pulse stutter and my stomach twist. Heat gathers in my groin, low and insistent, drumming with a rhythm I can’t ignore.
I lean back, letting my head fall against the chair’s headrest. My pulse races, thoughts spinning between Kael’s mischievous lines and Sean’s sharp, real-world smirk. The fantasy of Kael feels hollow now, a placeholder for something I actually want. Something I can touch beyond the keyboard.
The intensity between my legs becomes impossible to ignore, a live wire tracing down my spine. I glance at the screen, then at my phone, then back at the empty apartment around me. No distractions, no interruptions—just me and the mounting, undeniable pull of desire.
I undo my pants, letting my hands move with purpose. Every nerve ending seems alive, every thought of Sean, every imagined glance and tease, sending sparksstraight to my core. I murmur—a low, breathless sound—imagining Sean at my desk, eyebrow raised, smirk baiting. Video game fantasy has nothing on this.
The heat and longing pull my focus. The thought of him drives me higher, faster, until there’s nothing left but the rhythm of my strokes and the release waiting just beyond reach.
I grip myself, eyes tracing over my cock, imagining what Sean might think. I’ve seen enough porn to know I’m… different. Bigger. Much bigger. Greener. And then there’s my horn—well, we’ve always called it that. The sac holding my balls, vaguely horn-shaped, highly sensitive, yes, but meant for a partner’s pleasure.
Not that I’ve had many partners. One sort-of-boyfriend in college. A few hookups after that taught me they’re not for me. I want a connection. Someone I truly desire, inside and out.
My joggers and briefs are pooled around my ankles. Head tilted back, I picture his face. That mouth. That perfect “O” he made when he tasted one of the Splatters I’d given him. What it might be like to touch him. Kiss him. Hold him in my lap. To see his lips stretched around my long, fat dick, taking as much as he can while I tell him how handsome he is. Feel his skin. His ass. Have him touch my skin. My cock. My butt.
“Fuuuck.”
Heat coils deep inside me, and my horn tightens, a familiar sign of what’s coming. And because of my DNA, it’s a lot.
I pause, weighing my options. Stay in the chair, shirton, pants around my ankles, and deal with the aftermath of a massive cleanup, or… I stand, head for the bathroom, strip, and plant my ass on the seat in the shower. Easier. Cleaner. Smoother.
Eyes closed, I picture him again—my mate. The faint freckles dusting his cheeks. That first morning in the breakroom, I barely noticed them, but once I looked closer, really studied his face, they stayed with me. Tiny stars scattered across his skin, impossible to forget.
My hands work in tandem now, slick with my spit, guiding my cock in and out with every stroke. I shimmy back and forth, spreading my ass until the cool tile of the seat hits my hole, making my dick even harder. I’m not even sure what I’d do with Sean—only that I’d give him whatever he wanted. I’d love to explore him, touch him, taste him. Play with his cock, his plump ass. Have him return the favor if he wants. He’s so damn small, but we’d figure it out.
My hands pick up speed, instinct guiding me. Every thought circles back to him—his freckles, his quiet focus, the way his laugh feels like it was meant just for me. The need to be near him, to protect him, to see him smile again, builds until it’s almost too much.
When my release comes, it’s not just about the heat or the pleasure—it’s about him. Sean. About the bond threading between us, invisible but real. When my cum erupts, hard and fast, I do my best to point my dick away from me, but the sensation overwhelms me, and I end up letting go. My cock, free from the steering of my hands, blasts over my torso and face until I’m utterly drenched.Sticky and glistening, glazed from head to toe like an oversized donut. My breath slows, my pulse steadies, and I lean back against the cool tile, letting the warmth fade.
It’s been ages since I’ve come like that. Always plenty, yes, but this… thinking of him has made every nerve feel alive, every pulse of pleasure more intense than I remember. And in the quiet that follows, the truth settles in, heavy and certain—Sean Rivers is my mate.
I shower, towel dry, and catch my reflection in the mirror. My ears tinge pink, my tusks gleam, and I look like someone with a heart that’s already too full.
“Yeah,” I mutter to my reflection, shaking my head. “You’ve got it bad, Greg.”
5
REBOOT REQUIRED
