The Abstinent Bet (Naughty Version)
At The Black Whistle, a predatory leopard makes a bet he intends to win: corrupt the brooding pit bull wearing a purity ring at the end of the bar.
The Abstinent Bet (Naughty Version)
Content Warning : Explicit sexual content, power imbalance, degradation, infidelity themes, emotional manipulation. This is the dark mirror version. All characters depicted are adults. Reader discretion is advised.
DISCLAIMER
This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, events, and situations depicted are entirely fictional. All characters depicted are adults. ---
Chapter 1: The Bet
The bass thumped through the floorboards of The Black Whistle, rattling the liquor shelves, coaxing sweat from furred bodies grinding under dim red lights. Laughter and flirting spilled through the hazy lounge, but at the far end of the bar, sprawled over a velvet couch in the VIP alcove, a feline lounged with a drink in one paw and a grin curling his muzzle.
Rafael Virelli was dressed to tease. A sheer black button-down hugged his lean chest, the top few undone to reveal soft spotted fur and the glint of a delicate gold chain along his clavicle. His slacks were tight, hugging hips with casual indecency, tail swaying off the side of the couch, flicking in time with the beat. One leg crossed, his heeled boot bouncing as he sipped his Negroni and let his golden eyes rake over the crowd.
To his right, Sasha—a red vixen with a laugh like shattered glass—tapped her martini against his and smirked.
"You gonna pick one tonight, or just keep undressing everyone with your eyes?"
"I'm not a slut, darling," Rafa said, turning his glass in lazy circles. "I'm a curator."
Of trophies. Of broken promises. Of men who thought they were stronger than want.
Across the table, Nico, a dusky jackal with more piercings than sense, barked a laugh.
"That's what you said last week, and we still had to pull you off that stag in the bathroom."
"Correction," Rafa drawled. "You interrupted. I was moments away from enlightenment."
Their laughter faded as Rafa's attention drifted past the dancefloor, beyond the haze and flashing lights, to the far edge of the room. The noise blurred there, shadows pooling around a lone figure at the end of the bar.
A pit bull. Broad. Heavyset. Head low, drink in hand. Not scrolling a phone. Not chatting. Not trying to be seen.
He looked planted. Like a tree refusing to notice the thunderstorm around it.
The cut of his frame was honest, blue-collar. Muscular without showmanship. His flannel shirt stretched across broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up to expose thick forearms.
The ring.
Silver. Brushed. Subtle against dark fur but unmistakable, worn on his left hand, right where it counted.
Rafa's tail froze. His pupils narrowed.
Some men wore rings like armour. Others wore them like chains.
This one wore it like a dare.
Rafa had never walked away from a dare he could win.
"Oh."
Nico followed his gaze and let out a low whistle.
"Oh shit. Is that—wait, is that a wedding ring?"
Sasha shifted closer. "Engaged, maybe?"
"Could be abstinence," Rafa said, breath brushing the rim of his glass.
"Could just be a guy with class," Sasha said. "Or commitment issues."
"Or both," Rafa said, eyes fixed now. His voice dropped into that lower register he saved for prey he hadn't decided what to do with yet. "He's drinking whiskey neat, sitting alone, wearing flannel. That's a straight man trying very hard to look like he belongs."
Sasha narrowed her eyes. "You don't know he's straight."
"I don't," Rafa admitted. "But he's alone. He's coiled. Hasn't looked up once."
Not from nerves or discomfort. Something quieter. A slow-brewing tension, like a storm front that hadn't found its lightning yet.
"I bet you anything he doesn't leave that seat unless someone tempts him hard enough."
Nico raised a brow. "You gonna take that as a challenge?"
"No," Rafa said, tipping back the rest of his drink with a smooth flick of his tongue over the lip. "I'm taking it as a bet."
Sasha's smirk sharpened. "Same stakes as last time?"
"Of course."
"Which were...?"
Rafa stood, adjusted his cuffs, and let his eyes trail back toward the pit in the dark. His hips shifted into that slow, rolling sway that made people watch without meaning to.
"If I fail, I owe you both brunch. If I succeed..."
He paused, eyes still fixed on the ring. The man. The question.
"You don't want to know what I'll make him do to that ring."
* * *
Rafa didn't go in for the kill. Not yet. The art of seduction, especially a delicate one like this, was more like tuning a violin than wielding a knife. Slow. Subtle. Make them wonder if they're chasing you.
He eased onto the barstool two seats down from the pit bull. Far enough to feign coincidence, close enough to be felt. His cologne, dark cedar and smoke, slipped into the air. He didn't glance at Jax. Not yet.
The bartender, a weathered panther named Mace, saw Rafa coming and didn't bother hiding his groan.
"Seriously?" he muttered, sliding a napkin in front of him.
Rafa smiled innocently.
"What? I'm thirsty."
Mace shook his head, pouring his usual without asking: a Negroni, red and bitter, with a dried orange slice speared through a cocktail pick.
" He's got a ring , Rafa."
"Mhm." The feline stirred the drink once, leisurely, eyes still fixed forward. "So do I. It just happens to be in my nightstand."
Mace set the glass down with a thud and shook his head, stepping away with a mumbled, "God help him."
The pit bull didn't look over. But Rafa saw the shift: the faint tilt of a heavy head, the way one thick finger curled tighter around his tumbler. Deliberation. Stillness before a move.
Rafa finally let his eyes drift sideways, just a glance. There it was: brushed silver, a clean band with one word etched on the flat face.
Purity.
He didn't comment. Not yet.
Instead, he took a measured sip of his Negroni and let the silence linger, thick and comfortable, before letting his voice cut through it. Low. Smooth. Just enough to bait without biting.
"You've been nursing that pour for twenty minutes."
A blink from the pit. Head turned. Dark eyes met gold.
There it was. The hesitation. The weight of needing an excuse.
"Whiskey's meant to be sipped," the pit said finally. His voice was low, textured with the kind of drawl you only earn through heat and wood smoke.
Rafa's mouth curved like a razorblade hidden in velvet.
"True. But when you grip it like that, it starts to look like you're afraid it might take advantage of you."
No smile. But no retreat, either.
"I'm Rafa." He didn't offer a hand. Just laid the name on the bar like a playing card.
The pit's eyes dropped to his drink again.
"Jax."
Jax. Like a hunting dog. Like something bred to be loyal.
Perfect.
"Jax," Rafa echoed, letting the name sit on his tongue. He drank. Let the silence ride out just long enough to tease discomfort before nodding toward the glint of silver on the canine's hand.
"That hers?"
Jax's thumb brushed it reflexively. Just once. Like he was afraid if he didn't touch it, he might forget it was there.
"Yeah."
"Lucky girl." Rafa's voice dipped, warm and unhurried. "Or is it lucky you?"
Let's see how it looks on me.
Jax didn't answer. But Rafa didn't need him to.
He shifted closer, just an inch, voice lower now.
"You know, it doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel things, right?"
Jax blinked, caught. The first crack in the stone wall.
Rafa showed teeth, unhurried and precise.
"You can be good," he said, lifting his glass again, "and still be tempted."
Jax shifted on the stool again.
Rafa didn't even look. He felt it.
The pit was starting to squirm. Just slightly. Something creeping up behind him that he couldn't name fast enough to dodge.
Rafa loved that kind.
He tapped the bar with two fingers, never looking away.
"Two more," he said to Mace, who had the exhausted patience of a bartender who'd watched this act too many times.
"He's barely touched his first," the panther muttered, already reaching for bottles.
"Now he won't have to," Rafa said. "I'm a gentleman."
Mace snorted.
"It's going on your tab, sinner."
Rafa's mouth twitched, eyes still on the pit.
"As all sins should be."
That earned a quiet laugh from Jax. Short, rough, but real. Rafa filed it away like a favourite flavour: whiskey and hesitation. He watched the pit eye the fresh pour as it landed in front of him, amber and generous.
"I told myself just one. Just the one and home." Jax said, half-apology, half-resolve.
"Now the universe's given you two," Rafa said, tipping his glass toward him. "Be rude not to accept the gift."
Jax hesitated.
Then lifted the glass.
Downed the first one in a slow, solid swallow.
Rafa's grin spread.
"Atta boy."
They didn't talk right away. Let the music buzz around them, the bodies at the far end of the lounge blur into colour and shadow. Jax's second drink sat untouched for a beat longer, but his shoulders had dropped, his posture loosened. He'd started breathing with his chest instead of his jaw.
Cracks forming. One swallow at a time.
He tipped his glass toward the ring.
"So what's the story? Church camp pact? Promise to Jesus? Or just a very tight leash from a girl with control issues?"
Jax chuckled, deep and low. Rafa clocked it: a sound he hadn't expected to give.
"It's more about what it means to her."
"And to you?"
A beat. Then:
"Discipline."
"Mmm." Rafa's tongue dragged over his teeth. "Discipline's sexy. But it's just obedience with better branding."
Jax's forehead creased, just slightly.
Rafa put his elbows on the bar, tail curling behind his stool.
"Tell me something," he said, fingers tapping the rim of his glass. "If you had no one to answer to..."
A pause.
"Would you still be wearing it?"
Rafa let Jax mull the question.
The silence that followed was delicious. Not defensive. Not dismissive. Just complicated.
The feline let it linger a breath longer before he moved.
One slow slide across the bar stools, leather creaking beneath him as he shifted one seat over, closing the space between them until their elbows could brush if either dared flinch.
Jax didn't pull away.
That was all Rafa needed.
He moved closer. Body heat radiating, the smell of him drifting in waves of spice, sweat, and something darker beneath.
There, beneath the whiskey and the flannel, Rafa caught it. The sharp, honest musk of nervous arousal. The pit didn't know his body was already betraying him.
Rafa did.
"I asked," Rafa said softly, "because you touch that ring like it's holy."
Jax's eyes flicked down—just for a second.
Rafa pressed the opening, voice dropping into that register that wrapped around guilt like silk.
"But you came in here alone. You let someone buy you a drink. You're talking to someone who definitely isn't your girl."
He lifted one paw and rested it on Jax's forearm. Fingers warm. Pads gentle. No grab. Just a presence.
"So, help me understand..."
His other paw lifted, and this time he touched the ring. Right there on Jax's hand.
One padded finger traced the edge of the metal, deliberate and teasing. His claws didn't scratch, but threatened to.
"You wear this like armour," Rafa said, eyes locked to the word etched in the band: Purity. "But you keep walking into places you know you shouldn't."
Jax's breath caught. Rafa heard it.
"You trying to prove something?" he asked. "Or are you just hoping someone's bold enough to test it?"
The pit bull turned, finally, to look at him straight-on. Eyes dark, jaw flexed, chest coiled.
Rafa smiled. All low heat and gleaming teeth.
"Because if it's the second one..."
His thumb slid across the top of the ring.
"You really should've picked a different bar."
Chapter 2: Erosion
The rim of the ring glinted again as Rafa's thumb traced it, reverent and possessive, and Jax held still like that hand was a flame pressed just above his skin.
He didn't move. Didn't flinch. Didn't tell him to stop. His pulse was visible in the side of his neck, hammering above the collar of that flannel.
Rafa let his paw slide away, trailing across Jax's knuckles as he reached back toward the bar. Tapped it twice.
Mace raised an eyebrow from down the rail. No words exchanged. The order was understood.
"This really where you wanna go?" Jax's voice had thickened with drink.
Rafa's smile sharpened.
"This is where you came, darling."
The glasses arrived with a soft clink. Rafa didn't even look at his. He picked up Jax's instead, held it out to him, palm under the base.
"You've already started this," he said. "Might as well see how deep the bottle goes."
Jax hesitated. Just for a second. Rafa saw the flicker in his throat.
The canine looked at the glass. At Rafa. At the ring on his hand.
Then he reached out, took it, and drank. A full swallow, then another.
Rafa watched it slide down his throat. Holy water in reverse.
He set the glass back down with a dull thunk, licked his lips, and exhaled.
"That's better," Rafa said, picking up his own drink now, golden eyes sharp in the low light.
He just drank, deliberate, taunting, while Jax looked at the empty bottom of his.
"So," Rafa said, setting his glass down with a precise little spin.
"How long's it been since someone looked at you like you weren't property?"
Jax didn't answer.
His hand drifted back toward the bar, fingers curling loosely around the empty glass like he might wring more from it if he held it long enough.
Rafa moved closer. Not close enough to trap, but enough to make the air between them vibrate.
"That's what she sees, right?" he said. "Something she owns. Something she named and leashed and clipped with a little promise on your hand."
His eyes flicked down to the ring again.
"But you weren't made to be still, Jax. I can see it." A smile, crueler now. "You've been told you're a fencepost."
Jax's jaw moved. Just slightly. Rafa filed it and kept circling.
"When she's gone, when the room's quiet and the bed's cold and that hand's empty... you ever wonder what it'd feel like to be wanted instead of just promised to?"
Jax turned to him finally. Eyes dark and thunderous, but not angry. Just strained.
"That what this is?" he asked, voice quiet. "You want me for the night, then I go home wearing this?" He held the ring up. Not taunting. Just tired.
Rafa's grin was predatory. Catlike. Beautiful and merciless.
"No."
He reached up and brushed a finger just beneath Jax's jaw. Not enough to force the angle, just guide it.
"I want you to wake up tomorrow, still wearing it..."
He closed the distance, breath brushing lips now, voice barely a thread between them.
"...and wondering if you'll ever feel this kind of heat again."
Jax's jaw tightened. His throat worked hard around the quiet things he didn't say. He didn't pull away from Rafa's touch, not from the words, not from the heat curling around his ears.
But he didn't lean in either. Just held still.
Rafa pulled back. Just a fraction. Let the tension stretch like elastic but didn't let it snap. His paw drifted back to the bar. Tap. Tap.
Mace's eyebrows went up again, this time with a sigh so deep it seemed pulled from the bones of every bartender in history.
"I'm starting to lose faith in your restraint."
Rafa didn't look at him.
"You lost that the moment you hired me my first night drunk."
The glasses came.
Whiskey again for Jax. Negroni again for Rafa.
The feline didn't slide the drink this time. He picked it up, held it by the rim, and placed it in Jax's hand. Firm.
"Drink it."
Jax didn't meet his eyes.
But he drank.
A swallow. Then two.
Then he set the glass down with more force than needed and ran a palm down his face, stopping just under his jaw.
Rafa exhaled softly. Watched the door open itself.
"Better," he said. Then moved close again, closer than before.
His thigh brushed Jax's. Their knees touched.
Rafa reached for Jax's chest. Two fingers pressed just above the collarbone, tracing the hem of that worn flannel, barely dipping beneath the open button.
"You're starting to loosen."
His muzzle brushed the side of Jax's ear.
"I wonder how far I can unravel you."
* * *
Rafa's fingertips skimmed lower.
Past the collarbone. Down the centre of Jax's broad chest, slow and deliberate, following the line where buttons strained over the pit's thick frame. The heat beneath the flannel was dense, real, burning. Rafa didn't unfasten a thing. Not yet.
Jax breathed deep through his nose, shaky, as Rafa traced the line just above his sternum. He let it happen.
"God, you're solid," Rafa said, almost reverent. "Like if I shoved you, you wouldn't budge. I'd just bruise myself on the rebound."
A flick of claws. Not enough to scratch. A tease, a test.
"You built this body for work, didn't you? Not display. Not ego."
His muzzle brushed the curve of Jax's jaw now, the words dropping directly into his ear.
"So why the fuck are you letting me?"
Jax didn't answer.
His paws were on the bar now, tight, knuckles white, veins raised like ridges under fur. He looked straight ahead, like maybe he could ride this out. Like maybe this was still just conversation.
But Rafa didn't let him off that easy.
His fingers slid even lower now, down the slope of Jax's chest, past his ribs, a deliberate drag across firm abs until he hung just above the beltline. Heat and suggestion.
That silver ring still on Jax's hand. Still visible.
Rafa's other paw rose and gently took that wrist—the ringed one—and pulled it down off the bar, lowering it into Jax's lap.
Right where his body was starting to respond.
"Look at it," Rafa said low. "Your good hand. The one that swore for her."
A pause.
"Now look where it's resting."
Jax's hand rested in his lap now—right over the bulge forming beneath his jeans.
Still wearing the ring.
Still pretending this wasn't happening.
Rafa didn't let up.
He watched the canine's eyes, fixed ahead, like the whole world might collapse if he acknowledged what was coiling in his gut.
The feline's fingertips hung just above the buckle of Jax's belt.
He pressed instead to the flat just above.
A gentle palm, right over the meat of that pit bull's lower belly.
Jax's stomach jumped.
Rafa's voice dropped low.
"That pressure building? That's not sin."
His thumb stroked in lazy circles over denim. Not cock. Just the space above it.
"It's proof you're still hungry."
He pressed closer, muzzle brushing against Jax's. Their breath mingled now, damp heat passing back and forth between parted lips. Not quite a kiss. The space before it.
"You've gone your whole life believing that this," his hand pressed firmer, drawing a grunt from the pit's throat, "was something to be avoided."
He let that hang.
"I'm here to prove it's something to be fed."
Jax's thighs clenched tight. His paw, the one with the ring, tightened over his own lap, trying to cover the shape now very much rising behind his fly.
"You want to know what this feels like, don't you?"
Jax didn't answer. Just stared. Just breathed. A hard cock straining against jeans with no one left to blame but himself.
* * *
Rafa didn't wait for another drink. Didn't wait for permission or denial.
The moment had gone quiet, the way the air does before lightning. Jax's mouth was parted, just barely, like he didn't even notice. His chest rose in waves. His thighs jumped. His hand, the one with the fucking ring, held his lap like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
So Rafa kissed him.
Hard. Hot. Full tongue, no hesitation, mouth crushed to the pit's, hips sliding just enough to bring thigh against thigh.
Jax didn't move. Not at first.
Then his mouth opened. Just enough for Rafa's tongue to push in, curl, taste, and fuck, it was better than he imagined. Whiskey. Heat. Shame.
Rafa moaned against him, low and deep, pouring it into the kiss. His paw never left the pit's lower belly, but his body pressed in now. Shoulder to shoulder. Knee pressed between Jax's.
Jax made a noise, low, choked. His free hand grabbed Rafa's thigh like he needed something to hold. His hips jerked once, a spasm of confusion and need, and then his mouth moved. Kissed back. Teeth caught Rafa's lip wrong and they both flinched, but neither pulled away. Not skillfully. Not confidently.
Rafa devoured it.
Their lips slid, teeth knocked, breath tangled in hot bursts. When Rafa finally broke it, spit-slick, panting, gold eyes burning, he didn't give Jax time to recover.
"Your first kiss with a man," he said through his teeth, forehead pressed to the pit's. "Tell me that didn't wreck you."
Jax's head fell back. His pupils were blown. His mouth hung open.
"Fuck..." The word left him like air from a puncture.
Rafa grinned.
"Yeah, baby."
"That's what sin tastes like."
* * *
Rafa didn't move away after the kiss.
He lingered there, forehead to forehead, breath to breath, watching Jax unravel. The way his jaw set. The way his nostrils flared. The way his fucking thighs shook beneath the weight of his own denial.
Then Rafa moved his paw. Lower.
He cupped the pit bull's bulge through his jeans, firm and deliberate, and let out a low noise the moment he felt it.
"God damn, baby..." he said, palm pressing just enough to make the thick shape jump under his touch. "This what you've been hiding from her? From yourself?"
Jax sucked air, choked and gut-deep. His hand shot out, grabbed Rafa's wrist like he meant to stop him. But he didn't pull. Just held it there.
Rafa's nose bumped awkwardly against his chin before he found the angle, nuzzling his jaw, lips dragging down to his throat.
"You've been carrying this around for years, haven't you?" His voice was a dirty, thick snarl now. "So full, so needy, and no one's ever touched you like this."
His fingers slid along the outline of the pit's cock, measuring, pressing. He traced the shape: the ridge of the crown, the weight of the shaft, the girth coiled behind thick denim.
Jax made a sound he'd never heard come out of his own mouth before.
"Fuck," he said, eyes shut, head tipped back like he couldn't look at himself.
"That's it," Rafa said against his neck, tongue dragging through short fur. "Let yourself feel it. Don't say a word."
He squeezed again, firmer this time, and the pit buckled slightly. Just in the thighs. Just a flinch. But he let it happen.
Rafa held on.
Chapter 3: Room Six
A throat cleared.
Sharp. Dry. Deliberate.
Jax jolted, his hand yanking away from Rafa's wrist like it had been caught in a trap.
The feline didn't flinch. Just looked up, calm, and met the stare of the panther behind the bar.
Mace stood there with a bar rag slung over one shoulder, glass in hand, looking worn the fuck out. His jaw moved once.
"You're doing this here?"
Rafa's ears flicked. He smiled. Didn't break eye contact.
He downed his Negroni in a single, practised tilt. The glass cracked as it hit the counter. Empty. Unapologetic.
He turned back to Jax, reached for the full whiskey left untouched between them.
Held it out.
"Finish it."
Jax looked up, dazed, panting, lips parted like he'd forgotten he still had breath to waste.
"Rafa—"
"No questions, baby." The feline's smirk returned. "Drink it."
Maybe it was how rough his cock still felt behind denim. Maybe it was the ghost of Rafa's touch still tingling through the fabric of his jeans.
Jax drank.
He swallowed hard. Finished it in two burning gulps. The glass thudded beside the empty one.
Rafa's hand slid to the pit's thigh once more. Less a touch this time. More a claim.
"Good boy."
Then he rose, fluid, hips swaying with that same cruel intention he'd walked in with. His tail brushed across Jax's chest on the way past. He didn't look back.
"Follow me."
Jax sat still for a breath. Two. His hand stayed over the empty glass like it might offer him a better idea.
It didn't.
So he stood.
And followed.
* * *
The hallway was narrow. Low amber sconces threw long shapes over velvet and brick. Jax followed on autopilot, heart thudding behind his ribs, each footstep louder than the music muted behind the walls.
The air back here was thick with sweat and history. Heat, cologne, lube. Someone's muffled laugh bled through a wall two doors down. Rafa's tail swayed ahead of him, lazy, taunting.
He didn't need to look back. He could hear the pit's heavy footsteps, the way his boot scuffed once on the floor like he almost stopped. Smell the nervous sweat cutting through that honest cologne.
They reached Room Six.
Rafa didn't knock. Just pushed it open, stride unbroken.
Leather booth. Dim gold lights. Shadowed corners. The door clicked closed behind Jax with a gentle snap, sealing the world outside.
Rafa turned.
He crossed the space in three steps, hands to Jax's chest, pushing him back hard enough to land the pit bull into the booth seat with a grunt.
"Sit."
Jax obeyed. Didn't even think about it.
Rafa climbed up after him, one knee on the cushion, the other foot still planted for leverage. He straddled the pit's lap, slow and deliberate, slacks tight, shirt askew, breath already hot across Jax's muzzle.
"You came this far, pup," he said. "Don't look scared now."
Jax's jaw flexed. Rafa ground his hips once across the thick, trapped bulge beneath his jeans.
"Fuck—" Jax hissed.
"Mmh." Rafa's lips barely moved. "Exactly."
He kissed him again. Harder. Tongue sliding in, lips slick with liquor and heat, one paw threading into Jax's collar, the other already dipping low to the beltline.
Not undoing it yet.
Just letting his knuckles drag.
Jax let him. His thighs tensed. His cock strained. That damn purity ring still caught the light, a promise already breaking under pressure.
Rafa stayed over him, knees spread to cage him in, thighs pinning the pit in place. He dipped close enough for breath to collide, for mouths to brush without kissing.
His claws trailed up the curve of Jax's chest again, tugging at the flannel. Slow. Methodical. Like pulling up the corner of a map he planned to redraw.
"This shirt's cute," he said, tugging at the hem. "Says 'I'm a loyal boyfriend.'"
Claws scraped buttons. Rafa's smile widened.
"Let's see what the sinner underneath looks like."
* * *
The shirt peeled open one button at a time, slow tugs, little pops of pressure as Jax's broad chest was bared to the low gold light. Thick fur. Defined muscle. A body built for labour, not for show.
Rafa's eyes devoured him.
Then his claws raked lightly up the pit's chest, slow enough to make him tense. His nipples peaked, fur shivering with friction.
Jax's jaw went tight, eyes half-lidded.
"God, look at you," Rafa said low. "Built like restraint, sweating like a fucking whore."
He kissed one nipple, slow and wet, then bit it.
Jax jerked, a gasp bursting from his throat before it turned into a noise he didn't recognise. His hands flicked at his sides.
Rafa didn't stop.
He kissed lower, across ribs, down the belly, letting his claws drag as he sank until his muzzle hung right over the buckle of those thick jeans.
One palm pressed to the pit's chest, holding him there.
The other went for his belt.
Click. Slide. Unfastened. Rafa's fingers fumbled once on the buckle, the only imperfection he'd shown all night, and then it was done.
He didn't look up.
Just lowered the zipper, slow, loud, dragging, until the teeth parted and the heat inside rolled out in waves.
Jax's boxers were already wet. Tented heavy. Jumping.
Rafa made a low, rolling sound in his chest, breath washing over the slick patch of damp cotton.
"You know what happens next, don't you?"
Rafa didn't pull Jax's boxers down all at once. He peeled them. Slow. Drew them low just far enough to let that thick, flushed cock slap against his stomach, heavy, slick, already drooling from the kiss and the pressure and the weight of need the pit bull had denied for too long.
"Oh fuck," Rafa said, staring.
Jax made a noise, hips jumping once, but he didn't hide it. Couldn't.
He was leaking, clear strands stringing down from the swollen head of his cock, smeared over fur, dripping onto his own belly.
Rafa wasn't going to waste it.
He reached up, grabbed Jax's left wrist, the one with the ring, and dragged it down until it hung right above the twitching, leaking tip of that gorgeous cock.
Jax stiffened.
"R-Rafa—"
"Shh." The feline's voice was barely there. "Just watch."
Rafa took the base of that thick shaft and milked it. A soft stroke upward, base to tip, coaxing a fat droplet of precum right from the slit.
It welled. Shimmered.
Rafa caught it with the ring.
He turned Jax's hand, twisted his wrist, and rubbed the silver band right through the drool pooling at the head of his cock. Slow. Wet. Intentional.
The engraved word—Purity—vanished under shine.
"There," Rafa said, eyes locked on the mess. "Now it means something real."
Jax made a noise, rough and raw. But he didn't pull back. He watched Rafa take the ringed hand, still slick with his own arousal, and lift it toward his mouth.
Rafa licked it. Slow. Tongue pressed flat to the ring as it dragged across the metal and the precum smeared over it. His eyes never left Jax's.
"Tastes like confusion," he said, voice thick. "And need."
He licked again, slower. Circled the edge. Sucked the ring into his mouth for a moment, tongue flicking over the engraved lettering.
When he let it go, spit strung in silver strands between his lips and the pit's fingers.
"Tell me she'd recognise you now."
Rafa licked the last streak of precum from the band, lips shining, tongue slow. He held Jax's hand in his own, large, calloused, unsteady, and ran a finger along the edge of the metal once more.
"You don't deserve to wear this anymore."
Then Rafa slipped it off.
Right there. Lifted Jax's hand, pinched the ring, and pulled. It came free with a soft little slide, still slick from spit and precum and heat, still warm from the pit's body.
Jax's breath hitched.
Rafa held it up between them. Watched the amber light catch on the tarnished word. Purity. He turned it in his fingers, then slid it onto his own ring finger.
Jax stared at it. His ring, his vow, his entire relationship, now wrapped around a stranger's finger. Something cracked behind his ribs.
"There," Rafa said. "Now it belongs to someone who knows how to use it."
* * *
Jax looked wrecked already. Mouth parted. Chest rising. No part of him hard to read anymore.
Rafa lowered again.
That thick cock still jerked against Jax's stomach, heavy, flushed, leaking. Rafa nuzzled the base first, breath hot, tongue dragging along the length, then licked upward, firm and hungry, coating it from base to crown with one long stroke.
Jax let out a ragged noise.
Rafa's ring-wearing paw wrapped around the base.
The stolen ring.
The promise.
Now stroking him.
"Gonna make you come with my hand on your cock," Rafa said against the crown, smearing slick against his lips, "and your promise on my finger."
Then he took him. Slowly at first. Lips stretched around that girthy shaft, tongue pressed firm against the underside, head bobbing down until the pit's cock slid deep past his lips, down his throat.
Jax choked on a moan, one hand flying to the back of Rafa's head, the other gripping the leather seat behind him.
Rafa didn't stop. Just sucked. Hard. Deep. His jaw popped once, loud in the quiet, and he adjusted without breaking rhythm. That silver ring shining at the base of Jax's cock every time Rafa stroked him, fist slick and tight as his throat swallowed more.
Spit smeared between them. His cheeks hollowed. Every suck came with a low noise that said this is mine now.
A thin, wrecked noise escaped Jax's throat.
"F-fuck, Rafa, Rafa, I..."
"Yeah, baby," Rafa said, lifting his lips just enough to pant against the crown. "Let your purity pour down my throat."
Rafa could feel all of it. The flinch in Jax's thighs, the shaking in his abs, the helpless way his hips tried to stay still while every nerve screamed to thrust. His grip was white-knuckled, one hand buried in Rafa's hair, the other still braced behind him.
Rafa bobbed deeper, lips slick, ringed fist pumping in time with every pass of his mouth. He made a low noise around that cock, throat vibrating, tongue working, milking him with every suck.
"Fuuuck," Jax said, voice cracking as his head slammed back against the booth. "I can't..."
Rafa's paw, the one with the stolen promise, gripped harder. He pulled off just far enough to pant against the head, tongue flicking over the slit as precum drooled freely across his chin.
"You will." His teeth were bared. "You'll fucking come. With your vow wrapped around my finger."
He dropped his head again. One deep, greedy swallow. All the way to the base. Nose buried in the pit's trimmed fur, lips sealed tight.
The knot. Big. Swollen. Desperate. It pulsed against his lips, trying to swell in, trying to lock, but Rafa's grip held it back.
Jax grunted, his thighs tensed hard, that thick base swelling rapidly.
"Fuuuck," the pit choked out. "I can't..."
Rafa pulled off just enough to pant over the knot, tongue dragging along the edge of that flare.
"You will," he said through his teeth. "You'll fucking come for me, knot and all, with your promise on my finger."
Then he dropped again, deep, lips stretching wide as they sank just over the base of that swelling knot, sealing tight at the flare.
Jax snapped.
"R-Rafa—I'm—fuck—!"
His hips bucked once, shallow, reflexive, but Rafa held him down, one hand braced to keep that desperate knot from tying while the other pumped the base. Jax came. Hard. Thick, hot cum flooding Rafa's throat as the feline swallowed around him.
That knot beat, trying to lock, stretching his jaw wide as the pit bull unloaded, pulse after pulse of seed sliding down his throat.
When the final tremor rolled through, Jax slumped against the booth, chest heaving, legs shaking. His knot still thick, still pushing, swollen and denied but drained of every last drop.
* * *
Jax barely moved. He couldn't.
His legs were jelly. His chest still heaved in ragged waves, the half-open flannel clinging to him like dead weight. His knot sat heavy against his belly, still engorged, denied its lock, slick with spit and heat. His cock twitched once. Spent. Soaked.
Rafa rose. Slow and deliberate, peeling himself off the floor, hands dragging up Jax's thighs, claws tracing fur, lips wet, jaw slick. His golden eyes were wide with the high of it, smug, sated, still hungry.
The ring still on his finger. Still wet.
He straddled Jax's lap, knees on the seat, cock pressing into the pit's belly through thin slacks, knot just below.
He bent down until his mouth hung right above Jax's. Breath hot, lips parted, spit and cum still coating his tongue.
"Taste what you did," he said.
He kissed him. Hot, wet, thick with everything Jax had left in him. Rafa opened his mouth wide, tongue sweeping in to flood him with his own climax. Their teeth clacked. Their breath tangled. Jax coughed against his mouth, the taste too much, then swallowed anyway. He let out a noise, guttural, confused, needy, and Rafa caught it on his tongue.
The kiss turned dirty fast, sloppy, deep, no air between them, Rafa's tongue dragging over the pit's like he was planting his flag in the wreckage.
Jax kissed back. He made a noise into Rafa's mouth, clutched at the feline's hips, pulled him closer, even as he tasted himself on Rafa's lips, even as the ring he gave to someone else rubbed across his chest with every grinding movement.
When Rafa finally broke it, panting, glassy-eyed, still pressed chest-to-chest, he licked his lips once and smiled.
"Better than any prayer you ever said with that ring on."
Chapter 4: Claimed
Back in the VIP alcove, Sasha swirled her martini and smiled at the backroom door.
"Think he's crying yet?"
Nico snorted, pierced ear flicking. "Crying? That pit's not the crying type. Bet he's still trying to figure out how a cat got his ring off before his pants."
Sasha laughed, sharp and delighted. "Rafa always did like a challenge. Remember the wolf from last month? The one with the cross necklace?"
"Still texts him."
They clinked glasses, amused and merciless.
"That pit's not just a notch," Sasha said, watching the amber light flicker under the backroom door. "He's a trophy. Rafa's going to wear that ring for weeks."
Nico turned his head, considering. "Think he'll break?"
"Oh, honey." Sasha's smile curled. "He already has. He just doesn't know it yet."
* * *
Jax sat slouched deep in the booth, arms splayed wide, his chest rising in uneven heaves. Shirt open. Jeans unzipped. Boxers soaked and shoved halfway down his thighs. His cock still jerked faintly, knot flushed, beating against his abs.
His muzzle stayed parted. His eyes locked on Rafa.
Who sat perched across his lap again, one hand on Jax's shoulder, the other resting low on his bare chest, right over his heartbeat.
The ring sat there. Silver. Tainted.
"I should feel worse," Jax said. Quiet. Voice cracked.
Rafa let that hang for a moment.
"Do you?"
Jax stared at the ceiling.
"No."
Rafa smiled.
"That's not sin, Jax." He pressed their foreheads together. "That's honesty."
Jax swallowed hard, jaw flexing beneath Rafa's palm. His cock didn't get soft. Not fully. His knot still ached, insistent, needy.
"What does that make me?" he asked.
Rafa kissed his cheek. Soft this time.
"Mine."
* * *
"Still so fucking tight..." Rafa said low, claws dragging over the thick rise of Jax's thighs.
The pit shifted beneath him, legs still spread wide, knot flinching, belly rising and falling like he'd just finished sprinting.
Rafa wasn't done.
His own cock, feline, smooth, barbless, stood stiff beneath the tight slacks, a sticky patch already spreading where precum leaked through. Jax was drained. Loose-limbed. Vulnerable.
Rafa slid down his lap again, paws dragging with him, claws grazing over Jax's hips, thumbs hooking into boxers and denim still pooled halfway down those powerful legs. He pulled them off. One ankle, then the other.
Jax was naked now. Fully. Exposed in the golden light, chest rising, thighs shaking, cock softening just barely, but that thick knot still flushed, throbbing weakly.
Rafa turned the pit gently, paw on his chest, then one behind his neck, guiding him down onto the booth seat until he was reclining back, then lifting his legs.
"Wait," Jax started, breath catching.
"Shh," Rafa said against his thigh. "Just relax. I'm gonna make you feel fucking divine."
He spread him.
Lifted Jax's legs up, folded over thick thighs, spreading the pit open until his ass was bared to the warm air, tight, untouched, slick with sweat.
Rafa made a low sound.
"God, this ass... baby, you were made to be ruined."
He didn't tease. He leaned in and licked.
His tongue pressed flat between those thick cheeks, one long greedy drag from taint to rim. Jax shuddered, his whole body arching, arms scrambling to grip the leather beneath him.
"F-fuck—Rafa—!"
"Yeah," Rafa said through bared teeth, digging his claws into those thick thighs to hold him open. "Say my fucking name while I tongue this virgin hole."
He spit, watched it drip over the entrance, then licked it up. Messy. Nasty. The rim jumped under every stroke, and Rafa gave it more. His tongue pushed in, just the edge at first, then deeper, curling into that untouched ring as wet noises filled the booth.
Jax writhed, panting, one paw gripping the leather.
"Holy—fuck—this feels—"
"Better than prayer?" Rafa teased, licking deeper.
He was purring now, a deep rolling sound that vibrated through his throat and against Jax's rim, making the pit jerk with every stroke.
"I can feel it in my spine—"
"I know, pup," Rafa said against his hole. "No one's ever done this. No one dared."
His tongue plunged in rhythm now—in and out, curling just enough to stretch him, fuck him, open him. The pit's cock had started to harden again, knot swelling with every obscene flick of tongue.
"You're sucking me in, baby," Rafa said. "This ass is greedy. You didn't know, huh? What your body really wanted."
He held tighter, hands under Jax's thighs, holding him open, tongue fucking with reckless abandon until his jaw was soaked with spit and sweat.
"Gonna have you so loose for me," he said, "I'll slide in like a fucking dream."
He pulled back. Just enough to look.
Jax's hole was wet now. Open. Ready.
Rafa dragged a finger down, his ring finger, the one with the stolen vow still glinting on it.
He pressed it against the pit's hole, just lightly.
Jax let out a long, deep noise.
"You feel that?" Rafa said against his inner thigh. "That's what you gave to her."
He pushed in just the tip.
"And now it belongs to me."
* * *
The pad of Rafa's finger pressed in slow. So slow. Just the tip breaching Jax's rim. The ring grazed the stretched skin, slick with spit and the wet heat of the pit's loosened entrance. The silver glinted once in the amber light, and then it disappeared inside him.
"Fuck," Jax gasped, voice high and raw, thighs jerking where Rafa held them open. His hole fluttered around the intrusion, clenching tight on the digit.
"Shhh." Rafa pressed deeper, his ring sliding in with a soft little click, the engraved word Purity vanishing inside the virgin he'd already swallowed down once tonight. "You're doing so fucking good, pup. Just breathe."
Jax panted, open-mouthed, eyes glazed, hands gripping the back of his thighs like he needed something to ground him.
Rafa licked a slow stripe across the pit's inner thigh, then curled his finger just slightly, letting that ringed knuckle drag along sensitive walls as he began a slow, steady rhythm.
In. Out. Wet. Filthy.
"Every stroke," Rafa said low, his breath brushing Jax's taint, "is another prayer you won't be able to say without remembering how this felt."
Jax whimpered.
"I can feel your heart beating in this hole," the feline went on, finger thrusting a little faster, the wet sounds obscene. "You're already begging without words. Wanna know how I know?"
He added a second finger.
Slower this time, spreading that tight rim, the ring rubbing inside him with every curl. Rafa kissed Jax's balls, licked beneath them, pushed deeper.
"Because your cock's getting hard again."
It was. Jax's shaft had thickened again, rising slow with every breath, knot swelling anew. Precum wept from the tip, uncontrolled, and Rafa laughed low into the sweat-slick fur of his groin.
"Told you your ass was greedy, baby. You'll be clenching around my cock before the next Amen."
* * *
The room was thick with heat and sweat and breath.
Jax lay flat on his back, thighs pinned up, hole spread wide with two fingers working deep, slick, curling, relentless. His eyes had rolled back once already. His tongue kept flicking out to wet lips gone dry from panting.
He could only feel. Rafa's hand gripping his thigh. Those two fingers inside him, thick, steady, pressing to places he'd never known existed. The cool kiss of silver every time the stolen ring scraped just enough to remind him.
Rafa's tongue dragged up his taint again, breath hot, jaw wet. He drove the fingers in just right, slow, deep, then tilted them upward.
Press.
"FUCK—!"
Jax snapped. His hips jerked, ass clenching so tight around Rafa's fingers it made the feline let out a noise. His cock jumped, precum spurting across his belly, and his head slammed back against the leather.
"There it is," Rafa said. "Your button. The one you never knew about."
He rubbed it.
Once. Twice.
Just enough to feel Jax start to quiver. His knot pulsed. His toes curled.
Then slowly, cruelly, Rafa pulled his fingers free, stretching the rim as they left, watching it clench around nothing.
Jax moaned, a low broken thing, like the absence hurt more than the stretch itself.
"Good boy," Rafa purred, standing now. He licked one finger clean, slow, deliberate, eyes locked to Jax's. Then glanced to the silver band on his other hand.
"That ring's gonna smell like your ass by morning."
* * *
He turned, slow hips, slinking tail, and stepped over to the drawer just beside the booth. Sleek panel. Small handle.
He pulled it open. Condoms. Toys. Lube.
He grabbed the bottle. Popped the cap. Let the clear slick drip into his palm.
Rafa's cock stood proud, curved upward, already drooling at the tip. Smooth and flushed, barbless but thick enough to matter.
He coated it in long strokes, slow, firm. Showing Jax exactly what was coming.
"Turn around."
Sharp and low.
Jax blinked up at Rafa. Sweaty, glazed, already stretched and slick, his cock flinching weakly where it rested against his thigh.
"W-what—?"
"On your hands and knees, pup."
Rafa's paw was already on his hip, firm, steady, not asking. Something inside Jax moved. That quiet, shaking space that used to be filled with belief, now crushed under want.
He obeyed.
Turned over. Palms to leather. Knees wide on the booth seat. Back arched.
He was presenting.
Rafa made a low noise as he stepped up behind him, lube slicked over his cock, his ringed hand gripping Jax's ass and spreading him wide.
"Fuck, you look good like this," he said. "Like a proper mutt."
Jax's ears flicked back, breath shaky, thighs unsteady. His hole moved, slick, stretched, open.
Rafa spit again.
This time right between those cheeks, thick and lazy, watching it drip down until it smeared across that rim. He grabbed the base of his cock with his other hand and pressed the head against it, slick and hot, rubbing slow little circles that made Jax whimper.
"You're gonna take this like a dog."
"Y-yeah—"
"No." Rafa leaned in, muzzle brushing the back of his ear.
"Say it right."
Jax swallowed hard, shame and need tangled in his throat.
"I'll... I'll take it like a bitch."
Rafa's breath caught, cock jumping in his grip.
"There's my good boy."
* * *
Rafa looked down at the pit bull's spread ass. Thighs parted, back arched, hole slick with spit and lube.
He gripped Jax's hips tight, one hand bare, the other still wearing that silver purity ring pressed firm against skin that was going to remember this.
"Good boy," Rafa said again. "Stay right there."
He lined up.
The head of his cock, thick and barbless, nudged against that loosened rim. He felt the heat radiating off it, the tightness, the way it quivered under pressure.
He pushed. Slow at first. Just the tip.
The virgin hole resisted, tight despite all the work, but it was wet and open. The angle was wrong at first; Rafa shifted his hips, adjusted, tried again. The head popped in with a soft wet sound that made Jax choke on a noise, his body jerking beneath the weight of it.
"Fuck—oh my—fuck—Rafa—!"
"Yeah, baby," Rafa said, gripping his hips harder. "That's it. That's my hole now."
He sank deeper.
Inch by inch, his cock disappeared into the pit's tight, clenching ass, sliding through the mess of lube and spit and heat until he bottomed out with a low, animal noise.
"So fucking tight—Jesus, Jax—"
Jax's arms shook under him. His body strained to stay upright as he felt himself filled completely for the first time. His knee slipped on the leather and he caught himself, grunting. He couldn't speak. Could barely breathe.
Rafa pressed forward, chest to the pit's back, breath steaming against the side of his neck.
"You're not wearing that ring anymore," he said against Jax's ear, "because I am. I'm gonna fuck you until your body forgets what it was ever meant to protect."
* * *
Rafa didn't rush. Not at first.
He pulled back, slow, so fucking slow, feeling every clench, every shaking inch of that freshly opened ass squeeze around his shaft as he drew out to the tip.
Jax moaned. Loud. Raw. Almost confused by how much it already hurt so good.
Rafa slammed back in.
One hard, wet, solid thrust.
"Ah, fuck," Jax shouted, bracing against the booth, arms locking under him, back arching as Rafa's cock buried itself to the hilt, hips slapping skin in a sound that bounced off the walls.
"Mmm, yeah," Rafa said, fingers biting into the pit's hips. "So tight, so fucking good. Like this hole was just waiting for me."
He rolled his hips again, grinding this time, deep, feeling that slick ring of muscle ripple around him.
"This was supposed to be her, wasn't it?" Rafa said in his ear, fucking him through every word. "You saved yourself. For her."
Thrust.
Thrust.
"Thought you'd be whispering love while she rode your cock instead of—"
Thrust.
"getting railed like a bitch in a bar's back room by a stranger with your fucking ring on his finger."
Jax's face pressed into the seat. The leather squeaked under their shifting weight. Rafa's cock slammed home again, harder, faster, the slick sound of it growing louder, wetter, filthier.
"Say it," Rafa snarled, slapping his hips against that firm, round ass. "Tell me what you are now."
Just panting. Shaking breath.
Then Jax said, choked, ruined:
"Yours—"
"Louder."
"I'm yours!"
Rafa purred, hard, cock jumping deep inside that stretched, slick hole. "That's right. Not hers. Not anymore. This ass? This ring? This fucking mouth?"
He reached forward, grabbed Jax by the jaw, twisted his head just enough to kiss him hard, dirty, open-mouthed, tongues colliding as his cock pounded home over and over.
"All fucking mine."
He couldn't stop. Not with the way Jax's hole gripped his cock, sucking him back in with every thrust.
He grabbed him by the scruff.
Thick fingers tangled in Jax's neck fur, fisting it tight, yanking him backward into every thrust like he was nothing more than a toy.
"Rafa—!"
"Shut up," he snarled into the pit's ear, cock hammering inside him now, finding that spot, that goddamn prostate, and grinding right into it.
Jax screamed. Loud, broken, with no shame left in it. Only need and overstimulation and a knot aching to spill again.
"You feel that?" Rafa said, pressing deep, letting the head crush into that spot over and over. "You're dripping down my cock and I haven't even filled you yet."
His rhythm turned vicious. Hips slapping harder, the slick snap of cock into hole echoing off the velvet-lined booth, grip locked around Jax's scruff like a leash.
"Gonna breed you, pup," he said, voice feral, shaking with how close he was. "Gonna fucking ruin this ass and leave you dripping like the bitch you swore you'd never be."
Jax's voice was nothing but broken sound now. Words long gone. Every breath a gulp for air as his back arched under the brutal rhythm.
Rafa slammed in. Hard. Deep. One final thrust, hips crashing against Jax's ass with a wet, fleshy smack that shook the seat beneath them.
"Take it." Jaws bared. Eyes wide.
He came.
His whole body locked. His claws dug furrows into the leather beside Jax's hip. He jerked forward with a low, animal noise, cock buried to the hilt, tip pulsing against that prostate as he unleashed, thick, hot ropes of cum pouring into that freshly claimed hole, spilling deep, filling the pit from the inside out.
Jax gasped, a helpless shudder as he felt it. The heat. The weight. The way it soaked his walls, dripped out around Rafa's cock even as the feline held him there, knotless length flinching with every last pulse.
Rafa didn't move. Just ground his hips forward, slow, fucking that load deeper with lazy thrusts, rubbing against Jax's raw insides as his own orgasm dragged out, long and hot.
He let go of the scruff and dropped heavily over the pit's back, panting into his shoulder.
"That's what purity tastes like to me."
The ring flashed between their bodies. Slick. Tarnished.
Chapter 5: To Purity
Rafa didn't pull out right away.
He stayed there, buried balls-deep in the pit's gaping, leaking hole, hips grinding just enough to milk out the last of his load. Sweat ran down his back. His thighs shook. The only sound in the room was breath. Wet. Shaking.
Jax was silent now.
Body limp, chest heaving, forehead pressed to the leather seat as his ass leaked, cum already starting to ooze out in slow, sticky drips.
Rafa finally eased back, slow, pulling his cock free with a slick, obscene schlurp. Cum followed. It spilled from Jax's hole in a heavy, shining line, trailing down his thighs, painting the inside of his cheeks.
"Look at that," Rafa said, staring at the mess. "You're dripping already. All that saving yourself, and now you're full of me."
He reached down with two fingers, the same ones he'd used to open him, still wet, still wearing the ring. Pressed them to Jax's hole again, gathering the cum, smearing it around the rim, coating that silver band until it dripped.
"Turn over, pup."
Jax didn't argue. He moved slow, dazed, wrecked, letting Rafa guide him onto his back again. Legs splayed, cock soft, eyes half-lidded.
Rafa held up the hand, the ring smeared with his own seed, thick and milky, dripping toward his palm.
"You remember what this meant?" he asked, stroking his fingers slowly, letting the mess pool in the curve of the band.
He brought it to Jax's lips.
"Lick it."
Jax's eyes widened, just a fraction. But his mouth opened. Slow. Obedient.
Rafa slid his fingers past his lips. Ring first.
The pit suckled. Slow. Tongue tracing the inside of his own vow. Cleaning the edges. Swallowing everything Rafa gave him.
"Good boy," Rafa said, voice hot and dark, watching his bitch drink his sin. "Now you're clean again."
* * *
Jax didn't speak. He lay sprawled across the booth, thighs still parted, ass still leaking, hole clenching faintly with the ghost of Rafa's cock. His chest rose in slow, heaving waves. His tongue flicked out, like his mouth still remembered the taste from that slick-soaked ring.
For a moment, something flickered across Rafa's face. The pit's eyes were wet. His breath came in shudders. He looked like a man who'd lost something he didn't know he was holding.
A kinder cat might have touched his cheek. Said something soft.
Rafa smiled instead. He didn't even look winded.
The feline stood tall, bare-chested, cock still damp and half-hard as he grabbed the pit's discarded underwear from the floor. Held them up between two fingers, drenched, used.
"Tidy little thing, aren't you?" Rafa said.
He brought the briefs to his cock and wiped himself off. Slow. Lazy strokes, dragging the fabric along the slick curve of his shaft, cleaning spit and cum and sweat without a hint of shame. He twisted the cotton and ran it through the cleft of his balls, down to his thighs, even across the insides where the pit's scent clung.
When he was done, he balled them up and tossed them into Jax's lap.
"Memento."
He redressed with unhurried precision. Buttoned his shirt, slid up his slacks, smoothed every crease with elegance that didn't belong in a backroom afterglow. One last check in the mirror above the booth. He fixed his hair, rolled his neck, let the sweat fade into the silk of his collar.
Then he looked down.
Jax hadn't moved. Eyes low. Mouth open just a breath. The blush still hadn't faded from his chest. His cock lay soft now, flinching with overstimulation. His ass was still parted by the way his hips had settled, leaking down the leather beneath him.
Rafa smirked.
He brought his hand up, the one still wearing the silver band. It gleamed, cleaned by a tongue that once belonged to vows.
"I think I might keep this, Jax."
The pit just looked at him, too far gone to answer.
"It suits me," Rafa said. He bent down, thumb brushing a stray streak of cum from Jax's chin. "If you ever need another cleansing..."
He turned.
One hand on the door.
A wink over his shoulder.
"You know where to find me."
* * *
The door to the backroom clicked open on a soft hinge.
Rafa stepped out, shirt pristine, hair tousled just enough. He rolled his shoulders as he emerged into the hallway's red light, tail swaying behind him.
Nico was leaning against the wall. Sasha sat perched on the edge of a low velvet bench, swirling her martini with one clawed finger.
Both looked up.
Both grinned.
"Let me guess," Nico drawled. "He gave you the ring and begged to be bred."
Rafa didn't answer right away.
He just held up his hand, fingers spread, the silver band shining under the crimson light.
Sasha laughed, low and delighted. "Oh, fuck me. You actually took it?"
Rafa shrugged.
"Would've been rude to leave it behind."
Nico raised a brow. "How's he doing?"
"Leaking," Rafa said simply.
They both laughed.
Sasha raised her glass. "To corruption."
Rafa clinked the tip of his ring against it.
"To Purity."