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The Abstinent Bet (Nice Version)

Content Warning : Explicit sexual content, infidelity themes, knotting, emotional intimacy, consensual seduction. 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 like a heartbeat through the floorboards of The Black Whistle, rattling the liquor shelves and coaxing sweat from furred bodies grinding under the dim, red lights. Laughter and flirting spilled like smoke 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 devilish grin curling his muzzle.

Rafael Virelli was dressed to tease. A sheer black button-down clung to his lean chest, the top few undone to reveal soft, spotted fur and the glint of a delicate gold chain nestled along his clavicle. His slacks were tight, hugging hips with casual indecency, and his tail swayed lazily off the side of the couch, twitching in time with the beat. One leg was crossed, his heeled boot bouncing rhythmically as he sipped from his Negroni and let his golden eyes rake over the crowd.

To his right, Sasha, a red vixen with a laugh like shattered glass, clinked 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 purred, swirling his drink lazily. "I'm a curator."

Across the table, Nico, a dusky jackal with more piercings than sense, snorted. "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 paw. He wasn't scrolling a phone. Wasn't chatting. Wasn't trying to be seen.

He looked... planted. Like a tree in the middle of a thunderstorm.

The cut of his frame was honest. Blue-collar. Muscular without showmanship. His flannel shirt stretched just slightly across broad shoulders, the sleeves rolled up to expose thick forearms. And then.

The ring.

Silver. Brushed. Subtle against dark fur but unmistakable. Worn on his left paw, right where it counted.

Rafa's tail froze. His pupils narrowed.

"Oh."

Nico followed his look and let out a low whistle. "Oh shit. Is that... wait, is that a wedding ring?"

Sasha tipped closer. "Engaged, maybe?"

"Could be abstinence," Rafa said, low, breath brushing the rim of his glass.

"Could just be a guy with class," Sasha said. "Or commitment issues."

"Or both," Rafa added, eyes fixed now. His voice dropped into that lower register he reserved for prey he hadn't decided what to do with yet. "He's drinking whiskey neat, sitting alone, and wearing flannel. That's a straight man trying very hard to look like he belongs."

Sasha squinted. "You don't know he's straight."

"I don't," Rafa admitted. "But he's alone. He's coiled. And he hasn't looked up once."

He had the look of a man holding a door shut with his shoulder.

"I bet you anything he doesn't leave that seat unless someone tempts him hard enough."

Nico raised an eyebrow. "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 shadows. 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 stopped, 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. No, the art of seduction, especially a delicate one like this, was more like tuning a violin than wielding a knife. It had to be slow. Subtle. Enough to make them wonder if they're chasing you, not the other way around.

He eased onto the barstool two seats down from the pit bull. Far enough to feign coincidence, close enough to be felt. The scent of his cologne, dark cedar and smoke, slipped into the air like an exhale. He didn't even glance at Jax. Not yet.

Mace, the bartender, clocked him with a look and let out a long, weary groan. The panther set a napkin down in front of him without speaking.

“Seriously?” he said, low.

Rafa smiled, all innocence and slink.

“What? I'm thirsty."

Mace poured without asking. Negroni. Red and bitter. A dried orange peel speared through the glass. As he slid it forward, he tipped his chin toward the pit bull without lowering his voice.

“He's got a ring, Rafa."

“Mmh." The feline stirred the drink leisurely. “So do I. Mine just happens to be in my nightstand."

Mace shook his head. “God help him,” he said under his breath, stepping away.

Rafa still didn't look. But he didn't need to.

What he did catch was the scent. Earthy, honest. Sawdust and clean sweat and something underneath that smelled like nervous restraint. No cologne. No pretence. Just a working man trying to keep himself contained. Rafa's whiskers jumped.

He caught the shift too, the subtle tension in the pit's shoulders, the way one thick finger flexed tighter around the glass. There was no fear in it. No alarm. Just... deliberation.

He's listening.

Rafa finally let his eyes drift sideways. Just a glance. And there it was.

A ring.

Brushed silver. Clean. Worn on the left paw.

And now, close enough, Rafa could see the word etched across the top of the band:

Purity.

His tail flicked once. Not a smirk. Not yet. He took a sip instead, letting the bitter citrus linger before cutting the silence with a voice low enough to feel in the chest.

“You've been nursing that pour for twenty minutes."

The canine turned just slightly. Their eyes met for the first time.

Dark brown. Deeper than expected. Framed with lashes, heavy with something unreadable, guarded but not hard. His voice, when it came, was low and weather-worn. Southern.

“Whiskey's meant to be sipped."

“True," Rafa replied, offering a small nod. His eyes dipped to the glass. “Though if you grip it any tighter, the ice might start crying."

A snort. Air through his nose, the kind that meant he'd heard worse and still thought it was funny.

He shifted on the stool. Didn't lean closer, but didn't angle away either.

Then his thumb brushed the ring.

Subtle. A small, circular rub across the top. Habit. Nerves. Memory.

Rafa drank again, let the moment breathe. Didn't lean in. Didn't pry.

“It's a little loud in here for someone who doesn't want to be noticed."

“Didn't come to be noticed."

“Came to drink?"

A short nod.

“You always drink alone?"

There was a pause. He didn't look over, but the silence was heavier now.

“Sometimes."

He said it the way you close a cupboard. Done.

Rafa watched him a moment longer, then glanced back toward the shelves of glowing liquor.

“Well,” he said, trailing a claw along the rim of his glass, “for what it's worth, you wear the ring well.”

That did it.

The canine turned. Fully, this time. Shoulders squared. Eyes met his again, and there was no flinch in them now—just something clouded. Not anger. Not amusement.

Something careful and something reckless, fighting for the same piece of his face.

“You know what it means?" he asked, voice quieter now. Less gravel. More question.

Rafa gave a half-smile. No teeth. Just that lazy tilt he wore like a signature.

“I know what some think it means. I've learned not to trust inscriptions."

He tapped the side of his glass, letting the sound settle like thunder.

The Negroni was nearly gone. Just blood-red melt and pulp. But Rafa didn't order another.

He shifted closer, just slightly, elbows on the bar. The kind of posture that makes people talk without realising they've started.

Rafa let the silence linger just a breath longer before offering a small, open-lipped smile.

“I'm Rafa, by the way."

He let it sit there between them like a business card on a bar top.

The canine waited. Then gave a small nod, voice low.

“Jax."

It took him a second to say it. That second said plenty.

Rafa gave a slight raise of his glass, just a breath from a toast.

“Pleasure."

And it was.

The name settled between them as easily as the hush of heat that hadn't yet become want. Jax's hand still hovered near his glass, the other resting near his thigh. Still. Watching. Letting himself be known in pieces.

Rafa let his eyes flick once more to the silver ring. That word still gleamed across the top, etched like a warning or a vow. And yet Jax hadn't moved it. Hadn't hidden it. He'd let Rafa see.

“So,” Rafa leaned in, eyes flicking back up, “who's the girl worth staying dry for?”

The bar noise filled the gap where a quick answer should have been.

Jax's jaw set. His thumb moved again over the engraved word, slow this time. Not nervous. Reflective.

“Kendra," he said eventually. No flourish. No fanfare. Just the name.

Rafa cocked his head, a smile touching one corner of his mouth. “Kendra. That's sweet. I imagined something more traditional. Sarah. Rebecca. Maybe a Meredith."

Jax huffed. Barely. But it was something.

“She'd hate that," he muttered, mouth almost curling. “Hates anything that sounds 'Pinterest white.'"

“Ah.” Rafa moved closer, voice lowering like a shared secret. “So she's got bite."

“She's got spine," Jax corrected, eyes back on his drink now. “Always did."

There was a beat. Rafa let it hang. Let the quiet stir between them like steam.

And when Jax didn't continue, Rafa nudged. Gentle. A toe against a barely-ajar door.

“Childhood sweetheart?"

Jax dipped his chin. “Met her in seventh grade. Middle school youth choir."

Rafa's ears perked. “You sang?”

“Hell no.” The pit bull's mouth finally curved into something like a smile. “But she did. I showed up with my cousin; he was the one interested. I just came for the snacks. Left with her number."

The feline's tail flicked. “So she's been yours ever since?"

Another pause, but this one was proud. Steady. Jax's voice dropped half a tone lower, more sure of itself.

"High school. College. Moved out here together. She's in nursing school now, on night shift rotations."

He finally brought the whiskey to his lips and took a slow sip.

"That's why she ain't here."

Rafa made a low sound, nodding once as he absorbed it. No sarcasm. No mocking edge. Just curiosity, blooming.

“That's a lot of time with one person."

“Yeah," Jax said, with a hint of steel. “That's the point."

The feline rolled the phrase around in his head like candy on his tongue. He liked that. The conviction. The way it didn't try to impress. It just was.

"And she gave you the ring?" Rafa asked, gesturing toward the silver circle.

Jax didn't answer right away. He looked down at the metal, at the word cut like a prayer or a brand. Purity. Still bright. Still whole.

"Yeah," he said. “Back in high school. Didn't mean much at first. Just something we did for her church. One of those promise things. But after a while..."

His voice trailed, and he swallowed the rest of his whiskey in a smooth, practised motion. When he spoke again, it was quieter.

"She kept it. Still wears hers. Said it means 'us.'"

Rafa watched him in profile, the way his eyes dropped, the way his mouth stayed a little too still. That wasn't performative loyalty. That was real. Heavy, like stone under moss. And something about it was...

Beautiful.

And utterly inconvenient.

Still, the leopard couldn't help himself. His claws traced the edge of his napkin. His voice dipped again, low and smooth.

"Must be hard. All that waiting."

Jax gave him a look then. Direct. Not hostile, but clear.

"Some things are worth it."

Rafa didn't flinch. Just met that stare, still smiling, slower now, like a candle's flicker instead of a flame.

“I don't doubt it.” The words slid out smooth. “But if that's true, why are you here alone?”

The moment held. Rafa filed "some things are worth it" away for later. The loyal ones always came with the best soundtrack.

He tapped the bar once, the gesture light and deliberate, catching Mace's eye.

“Two doubles," he said smoothly, flashing that dangerous smile, “Whiskey for him, same poison for me."

Mace didn't move at first. He just stared at Rafa flatly, the unamused look of someone who'd seen this particular game played one too many times. Finally, he let out a long breath, muttering loud enough to be heard, "It's going on your tab, sinner."

Jax let out a surprised bark of laughter, low and husky. It cracked the tension, just a little, and he shook his head, a smirk creeping into his otherwise steady expression.

“Sinner, huh?"

“It's a title of respect,” Rafa replied, grinning as he settled back on his stool with theatrical pride. “I worked very hard for it."

The pit shook his head, amused despite himself. His hand rested near his glass again, thumb brushing the condensation.

“You really didn't have to order me another."

“And yet…" Rafa gestured toward the bar, where Mace was already pouring amber over ice with a resigned sigh. “It's too late to undo. What's poured is poured."

“I told myself just one,” Jax said, tone firm but fading. “Just the one and home."

“And I told myself I wouldn't flirt tonight." Rafa sipped from his nearly empty glass with a smirk. “Yet here we are. Shared lapses in judgement, how romantic."

The pit bull looked at him sidelong, snorted again, soft this time, and exhaled through his nose. His eyes dropped to his glass, still nearly full. He looked at it a moment longer, like he was trying to remember why he'd been holding onto it so carefully in the first place.

Then, with a quiet breath, he brought it to his lips and knocked the rest back in one long swallow.

Rafa's brows lifted, impressed. “Well damn."

Jax set the glass down with a thunk, licking a stray drop from the corner of his mouth. “Don't make me regret that."

“I'd rather make you forget it,” Rafa said, smooth, then caught himself at the look Jax shot him.

“Kidding," he added lightly, raising both hands as Mace slid the two doubles down the bar. The glasses clinked with finality as they arrived: cool, golden, generous.

The bartender bent over the bar as he passed, resting his elbow near Rafa and muttering low under his breath, "He seems nice. Please don't corrupt him."

Rafa's grin widened, slow and dangerous. "No promises."

Mace rolled his eyes and walked off with a muttered, “Sinner," again, like it was both a curse and a benediction.

Jax chuckled, paw curling around the new drink with a shake of his head. “You two always like that?"

“He pretends to hate me. Secretly he wants to be me."

“Not so secret," Mace called from the other end of the bar without turning around.

Jax laughed again, and this time it was real. Warm. Full-bodied. Something about it made Rafa's tail curl around the foot of his stool, slow and pleased.

Progress. Just a little chip in the surface. One sip at a time.

---

Chapter 2: Erosion

The second drink glowed gold in their hands, dim light kissing the curves of the glasses like a secret. Rafa watched as Jax took the first sip, not a gulp this time, but something more deliberate. The pit's lips barely touched the rim, and yet his throat moved with slow intention, like a man trying to savor what he was sure he shouldn't enjoy.

Rafa mirrored him, lifting his glass but not drinking right away. He watched. Measured.

“You know," he said after a moment, voice quieter now, like they'd drifted into their own little bubble away from the rest of the world, “I don't usually approach guys like you."

Jax raised an eyebrow. ”Straight?”

“Committed.” Rafa's eyes found the ring again. “That's rare in this place.”

Jax gave a short laugh, eyes dipping to his glass. “That supposed to be a compliment?"

Rafa shrugged, turning his glass. “Just an observation.”

Jax's forehead creased slightly at that. He didn't respond right away, his eyes dropping, maybe toward the ring again, or the memory of her. When he spoke, his voice was softer.

“We've been through a lot. You stay with someone that long, it ain't just about love. It's…" He hesitated. “It's choosing them. Over and over. Even when it gets hard."

Rafa's claw stopped tracing the napkin edge.

“Sounds exhausting," the leopard said, a flicker of something nostalgic brushing his voice.

“Sometimes,” Jax admitted, taking another sip. “But it's good. Real. She makes the bad days better. And I...” He stopped, licked his lips, ”I never had family growing up that stayed. She's my family now.”

That stopped Rafa for a beat.

He took his drink finally, longer this time, letting the bitterness of the Negroni coat his tongue and sting the back of his throat. The silence stretched, and when he set the glass down, something softer stayed in his eyes.

“That's...” He almost said 'beautiful.' Caught himself. Set the glass down instead. “Yeah. That's something.”

Jax turned his head slightly. ”You saying you do?”

Rafa's smile curved slow and sad, not quite bitter. “I did. Once."

Jax blinked. Sat up a little. “Yeah?"

Rafa gave a short tilt of his head, settling back. His eyes drifted not to the crowd, but above them, to nothing in particular. “We were together for four years. His name was Elias. He was... steady. Not flashy. Not dramatic. Just this quiet kind of constant. The kind that made you feel like you weren't drifting anymore."

He let the memory bloom before cutting the stem.

“He left for Berlin. Career move. Said we could try long distance, but…" He exhaled slowly. “I didn't. I let him go. Thought I needed to be untethered to do what I wanted."

Another sip. A brief laugh without humour.

“Turns out I was just scared."

Jax didn't speak right away. The way his eyes watched Rafa now had changed—less like he was wary of a flirt, and more like he saw the shape of a person under the performance. A quiet shared space between them now.

“That why you come here?" he asked finally. “Trying to forget?"

Rafa glanced at him sidelong, half-smile curling on his lips again. “Maybe. Or maybe a club full of strangers is easier than an empty apartment.”

Jax took another sip. Slow. Thoughtful.

“Even if it's the wrong one?"

“Especially then."

Rafa lingered in that rare stillness, unguarded, reflective, but only for a moment. A slow breath, a last flick of his tongue along the rim of his glass, and just like that, the mood shifted. His mask returned with a glimmer, the tilt of his head playful again, that ever-simmering mischief curling back into his smile.

"But enough about me," he said, tone lighter now as he straightened in his stool, “I'd hate to get too self-indulgent and steal the spotlight."

Then, with zero warning and absolutely no shame, he dipped into a horrible, drawling parody of a Southern accent, half syrup, half caricature, like a city boy trying to order grits at a Cracker Barrel.

"So I hear y'all are from Miss'ippi," he drawled with a lopsided grin, “Bless your heart, sugar. Must be all church bells and muddy boots and... what, wranglin' cattle on Sundays after choir practice?”

Jax looked at him. Silent. A single brow slowly arched above one unimpressed eye.

"That might be the worst thing I've ever heard."

"That hurts, Jax," Rafa said, hand pressed to his chest like he'd been shot. “I practised that for at least... thirty seconds."

The pit couldn't help it. He laughed through his nose, shaking his head, and rested back against the bar.

"Yeah, I'm from Mississippi," he said, the twang in his voice natural and grounded. "Tiny place about twenty miles out from Laurel. Don't even show up on most maps anymore."

"Ooh, off the grid," Rafa mused. "Sounds mysterious."

"More like the ghost of a Walmart that never came." Jax grinned into his glass. "One gas station. No stoplight. Two churches: Baptist and Baptist-but-louder. Didn't even have real cell service until after I graduated."

Rafa nearly choked on his drink. "Good lord. What a savage, prehistoric land."

"Might as well've been." The pit's voice softened with something like nostalgia. "Closest thing to nightlife was football Fridays and a gravel lot full of trucks."

"So what got you out?" Rafa asked, quieter now.

Jax shrugged. "Scholarship. Trade school. Found out I was decent with my hands: carpentry, framing, site work. Ended up on a few crews out here. Stayed."

“What about Kendra? She come with?"

"Yeah." His voice went quieter. “We talked about it all through senior year. We both wanted out. She's tougher than me, in a lot of ways. She didn't even blink when we left."

Rafa took a drink. Tilted his head. “But you miss it?"

Jax went quiet. Rolled the thought over like a stone in his palm.

"Sometimes," he said. “The quiet. The space. The feeling like you knew everyone, even if that wasn't always a good thing.”

He laughed softly, eyes distant. “Here, I don't even know my neighbours. But back home? Hell, if I farted in gym class, my mama heard about it by lunch."

Rafa grinned, ears perked. “Small-town gossip. The most efficient surveillance network on the planet.”

“Ain't wrong."

Rafa let the chuckle simmer between them, but he didn't reach for another joke. Not yet. There was a current in Jax's words, soft but pulling, one Rafa knew too well. The ache of a place you ran from and still carried like a bruise under your ribs. The feline's smile dimmed into something gentler, just for a breath, as he rested his cheek on his knuckles and regarded the pit with a more careful eye.

"You know," he said, “you talk about it like it's still home."

Jax's eyes flicked over, steady. “It was. For a long time."

“But not anymore?"

A beat. Then the shrug. Quiet. “Not mine now. Doesn't fit."

“You out?"

“Yeah.” He took a breath. “Officially? No. Didn't announce it or nothin'. Just… stopped pretending. I don't go back unless it's a funeral. Folks figured it out. A few still check in. Most don't."

Rafa tapped a claw softly against his glass, the sound quiet and rhythmic, like a ticking clock.

"Does she know?"

"Kendra?" Jax looked away, toward the shelf of dusty bourbon bottles behind the bar. “Yeah. She always did. Even before I did."

That caught Rafa mid-sip. His brows lifted. “And she stayed?"

"She never asked me to be something I wasn't."

He said it the way he'd say the sky was blue. Nothing to prove.

“That's rare,” Rafa said, quieter than he meant to.

Jax said nothing. He knew. Because he did.

They lapsed into silence. The comfortable kind, where neither person is thinking about what to say next.

Still, Rafa wasn't made for stillness. He could sit in it, yes. He could appreciate it. But the dance would always call him back.

He straightened slowly, rolled his shoulders, and let that sly glint return to his eyes as he turned toward the pit.

“You know,” he grinned, “I pictured you more as a 'truck bed and starlight' kind of guy. Maybe a little lake-dipping. Definitely some illegal bonfires."

Jax half-smiled. “You're not wrong.”

“Was it ever with a guy?" Rafa asked, tone light, but the question was real, laced with curiosity and caution.

Jax looked at him then. Not offended. Not bristling. Just still. Like a tree deciding whether to bend or not.

“No," he said after a long pause. “Not really."

“Not really?" Rafa echoed, eyes sharpening slightly.

“Thought about it,” Jax admitted, eyes steady. “Had moments. Glances. Hell, even a few dreams that made Sunday morning church feel like punishment."

That earned a soft, sympathetic laugh from Rafa. “The Lord works in mysterious, and frustrating, ways.”

Jax gave him a look. “You're not making it easier."

“No,” Rafa said, rolling the last of his drink. “I'm really not.”

Jax exhaled, slow and deep. He wasn't blushing. He wasn't squirming. But something in his posture had shifted—a weight leaning ever so slightly closer, not to Rafa, but to the edge of something.

“Ain't cheating if I don't act on it," he murmured.

"No," Rafa agreed. He let that word sit for a second before adding, "Gets louder though, doesn't it. Every time you don't."

Jax's jaw worked. He looked at Rafa for a long time without saying anything, and Rafa let him.

He lifted his glass instead, amber liquid catching the light, and gave a soft clink of nail to rim before raising it slightly toward the pit.

“Then let's drink,” he said, “to getting through the night.”

Jax huffed a breath, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh, and lifted his own glass.

"To getting through the night without fucking up," he said with a dry smirk.

“Good Lord, how Southern of you."

They touched glasses with a soft ring and downed the rest. Rafa tipped his head back, throat rippling as the burn slid smooth down. Jax followed suit, slower, but no less committed. His brow creased slightly at the strength of it, but he set the glass down with the calm of a man bracing himself for waves.

Before he could even finish exhaling, Rafa tapped the bar again—two fingers, light but commanding.

Mace approached like a man attending his own funeral. “You trying to test his limits or your tab?"

“Both," Rafa said with a wink. “Another round."

“I'm serious, you're going to have to tithe by morning."

“A worthy cause."

“Mmm." Mace turned to pour again, muttering under his breath about lost souls and leopard-shaped devils.

Jax shook his head, trying to suppress the grin rising to his lips. “You really got no shame, do you?"

“None. Shame is for people with fewer options."

The glasses slid toward them again, fuller than before. Jax looked at his like it had just dared him to reconsider everything.

He didn't move to drink. His hand just sat there, fingers resting on the condensation, quiet and still.

Rafa shifted closer, just enough for the edge of his knee to brush against Jax's.

“You know," he said casually, as if they were talking about the weather, “you can say no."

Jax looked at him. Straight on. No embarrassment now, just that slow-burning heat building behind those dark eyes.

“I've noticed,” he said, and lifted the glass anyway.

They drank.

The second double slid down his throat, and Jax's shoulders dropped just a touch more. His thumb stopped fidgeting with the ring. His knee stayed where it was, pressed to Rafa's.

The tension didn't vanish. It thickened into something warm.

Rafa let the silence curl around them again, but this time he didn't need to poke it. He just watched the pit out of the corner of his eye, licking a drop of bitters from the corner of his lip. Close enough now that their arms brushed when they moved. Close enough that Jax didn't pull away.

The warm haze of the second double settled low in their bellies, slow and amber, blurring edges and loosening tension like silk pulled across skin. The pit bull's jaw had relaxed, just a touch. The lines around his eyes eased. The silence wasn't awkward anymore. It was soaked in something heavier. Warmer.

Rafa didn't ask. He moved.

One slow shift across the worn leather of the barstool, hips angling, thigh brushing thigh. Rafa let the contact linger, shoulder bumping lightly against Jax's arm. He didn't look over. Just let the closeness settle, casual as a hand resting on a familiar fencepost.

"Can I see it?" he asked, quiet but inviting.

Jax turned his head. Confused, until he saw where Rafa's eyes had dropped. Not to the glass, but to his paw.

To the ring.

“The famous 'purity' seal,” Rafa said, like it was something mythic.

Jax hesitated. His fingers jumped, reflexive, as if instinct told him to protect it. But then, with a quiet breath, he let his hand turn outward, palm up, resting in the space between them.

“It's not that interesting," he said, the words slurred slightly by warmth. “Just old."

“You wear it like it still matters."

Rafa reached out, careful and slow. Pads pressed against knuckles, fingers ghosting down until they met cool metal. The band was smooth, well-worn, understated, but the word on top glinted beneath the bar lights, silver catching fire in its edges.

Purity.

Rafa said it aloud, barely above a breath, like reading the name of a ghost. His thumb dragged across the lettering slowly, feeling the groove like Braille.

“Classic. Understated. And just a little kinky."

Jax huffed a laugh, short and breathy but real. He didn't pull away, even when Rafa's fingers stayed, even when they curled a little more around his own.

“It was symbolic," Jax said, watching their hands now. “Back in high school. Something her church did. Meant nothing then."

He let it sit. The ring gleamed in the space between their joined hands.

“Now it's more like…"

“A habit?"

“A reminder."

“Of what?"

Rafa looked up then, close enough for their breath to meet in the hush between beats of the bass.

Jax looked back. Their knees still touched. The pit's paw remained open in Rafa's, fingers large and calloused, curling slightly into Rafa's own like muscle memory he didn't know he had.

“That not every temptation's a trap.”

Rafa's smile curled slow. Wicked, but softer now.

“And yet some traps,” he said, leaning a fraction closer, “are designed so well.”

Jax exhaled. He turned his paw, slowly, fully, letting Rafa's fingers wrap around the back of his hand. Their palms met and pressed. Soft to rough, lean to strong.

It shouldn't have worked. But it did.

Around them, the bar kept moving: bodies laughing, glass clinking, music thrumming like a second pulse. None of it touched them.

Rafa traced the ring once more. A single drag of thumb over silver. Then he let go.

His paw retreated to his own lap, twirling his glass, pretending at nonchalance. The closeness didn't vanish, though. Their legs still touched.

Jax didn't move away. If anything, he shifted closer. Just slightly. The buzz that burned low in his chest was no longer from the alcohol alone.

---

Chapter 3: The Edge

Across the lounge, deep in the velvet dark of their booth, Sasha and Nico watched like gossip-gods on their thrones. A fresh round sat untouched in front of them, more interested in drama than drink, and their eyes hadn't left the bar since Rafa made his move.

Nico moved closer, nose twitching. “I swear to God, he's gonna break the poor guy's brain."

Sasha cocked her head, eyes sharp like a sniper sighting prey. “Look at that lean. Look at the hand-holding."

“He's playing it slow," Nico said, almost impressed. “That's not his usual."

“No," Sasha said, “this one's different. That pit's not a notch. He's a challenge."

They watched as Rafa laughed—softly, eyes lowered, close enough to touch the pit's breath—and Jax tipped his glass back again, the third or fourth now, judging by the count Sasha was quietly keeping on her phone like a fantasy football draft.

Nico scoffed. ”He's letting the guy out-drink him.”

Sasha didn't smile. Not yet. “He's controlling the tempo. Slower sips, more talking. That's Rafa's real talent. Everyone thinks the flirting's the hook. It's not."

“What is it, then?"

She took a long, slow sip of her martini before answering.

”He makes you want to confess. Makes you feel safe just long enough to forget your lines.”

Back at the bar, time had gone loose like butter in a warm room. The air between them had changed, heavy with heat now instead of tension. Easy. Close. The kind of drunk that didn't slur, just smoothed.

Jax's shirt had stretched ever so slightly where he'd settled back. His breath had that looser rhythm, and though his fingers still brushed the base of his glass, he hadn't lifted it in a minute. His words, when they came, were more relaxed. Less filtered.

"You really always do this?" he asked, words a little slower now, that slight Mississippi weight dragging across his vowels.

Rafa looked at him sidelong, one elbow on the bar, chin resting on the back of his wrist. He hadn't finished his last drink yet, maybe two-thirds, left to swirl in lazy circles while his free paw draped along his thigh, fingers idly tapping the beat of the music.

“Do what?"

“Pick someone. Work 'em like this. Whisper them outta their pants."

Rafa gave a soft laugh. “Only when they're worth the effort."

Jax laughed, shaking his head, eyes half-lidded now as he let himself rest against the bar more openly. “Here I thought I was the one doing the resisting."

“You are." Rafa's voice dipped, smooth as honey. “I'm just… making it interesting."

The pit huffed, but the way his stare slid over Rafa now suggested he'd noticed that little trick. He knew he'd had more to drink. He knew Rafa had kept himself just behind him, steady and clear-eyed while Jax's own edges went slack.

It didn't offend him. It fascinated him. His jaw worked once, and he looked away, but not before something in his expression cracked open.

There was a lull, something slower than the music, quieter than the room around them. The kind of pause where nothing had to be said, because too much already had been. Rafa let it settle in his chest like warm smoke, head tilted, eyes half-lidded as he watched the pit bull beside him trace a finger slowly around the edge of his empty glass.

The ring still glinted on his hand, defiant in its simplicity. The longer Rafa looked, the less it resembled a lock and more like a thread, thin and silver, holding Jax to something far away.

He didn't want to break it. He wanted to touch it. Wanted to show Jax that a man could feel everything and still be whole afterward.

For once, Rafa didn't want to win. He wanted to give something away.

He turned his glass slowly, watching the way light played through the amber. The usual buzz of ego was still there, of course it was. He was still a feline, still gorgeous, still dangerous. But beneath it, there was something Rafa hadn't felt in a long time. A pull that had nothing to do with wanting to be wanted.

That rare pull in the chest when someone doesn't just react to your charm—they resist it with substance. With stories. With strength wrapped in restraint. The way Jax spoke about Kendra, with tenderness and grit. The way he nursed that first drink because it meant something. The way he talked about small towns with equal parts affection and ache.

Rafa had hunted dozens of types in his time. The eager, the closeted, the curious, the reckless. Jax was none of them. Jax was real, fully formed, and maybe he deserved more than to be conquered.

Maybe he deserved to be offered something without strings. A moment, a taste, a memory that would hum in his bones long after the ring was back on tight and the night was just fog in his rearview.

“You really love her," Rafa said at last. His voice was low, stripped of its usual edge.

Jax dipped his chin, slow. ”Yeah. I do.”

“But you're lonely."

That pause was longer. The air stilled between them.

Jax's voice came rough and low. "Sometimes."

Rafa turned to face him more directly now, legs brushing, shoulder against shoulder. His voice dropped further, intimate in the din.

“Let me ask you something."

Jax looked over. Met his eyes.

“If someone could show you something," Rafa said slowly, “not to take you away from any of that. Just to let you feel what it's like when somebody actually sees you. Would you want that?"

Jax didn't answer right away. His breathing had slowed. His eyes dipped to Rafa's lips, flicked away, returned. His fingers moved, just barely, along the edge of the bar. Still anchored. Still wearing the ring.

But something had shifted.

The question hung between them like heat between bodies: palpable, beating, and just out of reach. The noise of the bar dulled, dampened by the weight of the moment and the hum in Jax's head. The alcohol coiled low in his belly, warmth moving through his limbs, loosening the sharp lines of his certainty.

Any other night, hell, any minute before this, he would've laughed it off. Straightened his back. Said something simple and solid like “no" or “I've got someone" or “I don't need that."

He had a ring. He had a girl waiting for him to come home. He had promises and lines and boundaries and the kind of self-discipline that only comes from loving something with your whole damn soul.

But tonight was different.

Tonight he'd been heard. His name, his stories, his goddamn town mattered to someone outside that old zip code. Someone who hadn't laughed at it. Someone who hadn't turned every question into bait. Someone who asked why he was alone, not why he was taken.

Yeah. The liquor helped. The third drink buzzed behind his eyes now, dulled the edges of his resolve just enough to hear past the bark of doubt. But it wasn't just that.

It was Rafa's voice, soft now instead of smug. The hand that had touched his ring like it meant something. The way the cat sat close but didn't pull.

Jax breathed in slow. Let it rattle around his lungs before exhaling through his nose.

His eyes fell shut. His shoulders rose and dropped, and something in his chest went loose, like a knot he'd been holding with his teeth.

“Show me."

Just that. Soft and thick with conflict, the kind of hunger that wasn't about sex at all.

His eyes opened, and for the first time that night they weren't guarded. They were bare, and they were on Rafa.

Rafa didn't answer with words. He didn't smirk, didn't tease, didn't push. He just looked, eyes locked to Jax's, something careful blooming behind the gold. That rare, raw quiet when desire met permission, and neither of them flinched.

He reached out again, slower this time, and his paw closed gently over Jax's. Fingers warm, firm, holding but not pulling. One last out. One last breath.

Jax didn't take it.

His thick fingers curled just barely into Rafa's, and that was enough.

The feline stood with an effortless grace, letting his body rise into shadow and red light. The bar faded behind him, and when Jax followed a heartbeat later, he moved the way a man moves when he stops fighting the current.

The air shifted around them, less bar noise now, more heartbeat. Jax moved like a man who didn't yet know if he was falling… or finally standing up straight.

Mace caught Rafa's eye as they passed. The panther shook his head once, resigned but not cold. Rafa offered a small nod back, and for once there was no performance in it.

They moved through the crush of bodies, Rafa leading, Jax following, though it hardly felt that way anymore. The buzz of the bar dimmed with each step, the world narrowing as the bass thinned into a slow, second pulse under his skin.

Jax's mind churned as they walked. He thought of Kendra's face when she'd given him the ring. Fourteen years old, standing in the church parking lot, her fingers small and certain around his. He thought of his mama's kitchen, the way she'd look at him across the table like she already knew everything he'd never told her. He thought of every Sunday sermon about temptation, about sin, about the flesh being weak.

But when he looked at the back of Rafa's head, at the way his shoulders moved, relaxed and unhurried, none of that felt true anymore. This wasn't weakness. This was something he didn't have a name for. Something that had been locked inside him so long he'd forgotten it had a key.

A hallway opened to the left, red and gold light flickering across velvet walls.

Private rooms. Things that didn't have names until they were already happening.

They reached Room Six.

Rafa didn't look back. He just eased the door open and stepped inside, silent as sin.

---

Chapter 4: Devotion

The door clicked behind them, and Rafa turned.

He didn't speak right away. He just looked, really looked, like he was reading Jax again but slower this time. The hunger was still there, but it was warmer now, tempered by something he hadn't planned on feeling.

“Sit," he said, the word a breath. “Let me show you just how good it feels to be seen."

And Jax... sat.

He didn't remember deciding to. His body just moved, limbs heavy with heat and alcohol and whatever had unraveled inside him in the last ten minutes. He dropped onto the booth seat like a man laying down armour he hadn't realised he'd been wearing for years.

The leather was warm. His hands twitched at his thighs, unsure where to rest. His breath dragged in deep, tried to steady itself. He could still feel Rafa's eyes on him, though. That pull. Steady and unhurried.

The ring still pressed cold against the base of his finger. He turned it once, thumb dragging over the word engraved on top like a question he didn't know how to answer anymore.

Purity.

What would Kendra think if she saw him here? If she saw this man, this feline, with his soft voice and sharp eyes and body that moved like water poured over flame?

But that was the thing. She wouldn't be angry.

She'd be sad, because of what he must've been hiding to want it so badly.

The ring wasn't shame. It wasn't guilt. It was her faith in him. Her trust.

So why wasn't he running?

Because Rafa hadn't mocked it. Hadn't tried to slip it off or press past it. He'd touched it like it mattered, like it was part of Jax, something to understand rather than tear down.

Right now, for the first time in years, Jax felt understood.

Rafa approached slowly. One knee on the booth beside Jax's thigh, his other leg still grounded. A paw braced lightly behind the pit's head on the top of the booth, the other spread wide over his chest—fingers resting against the muscle, not kneading, just present.

Jax felt that paw like heat radiating through his ribs. His heart was hammering under it, and he knew Rafa could feel every beat. Still, he didn't pull away.

He couldn't.

The feline bent forward until their foreheads touched—fur against fur, breath shared, quiet.

Something strange happened.

Rafa felt it, a flicker of fear. What would it mean if this actually mattered? If this pit bull with his silver ring and his Southern vowels and his quiet, impossible dignity was more than a conquest, more than a night? Elias's face surfaced unbidden, steady and kind, the one who'd stayed until Rafa pushed him away. For a heartbeat, Rafa understood exactly what he was risking here.

His heart.

He pushed the thought down. Breathed through it. And when he spoke, his voice was soft and unshaking.

"This ain't about proving anything." He meant it. "Not to anybody."

Jax swallowed hard.

He didn't answer, but he didn't need to. When Rafa's paw slid lower, down across his chest, the curve of his stomach, Jax didn't stop him. When Rafa's lips ghosted along his neck, warm and deliberate, he let them. When the cat settled his weight, finally, fully, into Jax's lap, thighs snug around his own...

The ring stayed on.

Jax stayed still. His hands opened at his sides, palms up, and his breath came shallow and fast.

Rafa's weight settled just right, grounding rather than heavy. Jax felt it in his thighs, in the slow grind of denim against denim, in the heat of the feline's inner thighs snug to either side of his hips. His stomach knotted. He was hard. Already. It felt impossible and undeniable all at once.

But more than the pressure between his legs, it was the calm that undid him. The way Rafa didn't rush. Didn't yank. Didn't make a move to tear him open. Just sat there, curled over him like a question he wasn't afraid to answer.

The feline's paw moved slowly now—down the broad plane of Jax's chest, dragging fingers through thick fabric until they found the first button of his flannel. He paused.

Looked up.

Jax said yeah. Barely a sound.

That small motion carried more weight than a hundred words. Rafa began to undo the buttons. One. Two. Then a pause to press his mouth to the exposed fur beneath—warm, short, dark—and Jax shuddered.

Kendra had touched him there once. A long time ago. In the front seat of his truck with the heater blasting and nerves skating up his spine. It had felt good, then. Safe. But not like this.

This wasn't safety. This was exposure, and fuck, it felt holy.

Rafa's mouth moved again, dragging soft, open lips down to the centre of his chest. His tongue flicked out, catching the swell of a pec, and Jax swore under his breath. His head dropped back against the booth with a dull thud, lips parted, breath coming faster as the cat's tongue flicked again. This time over his nipple.

“F-fuck,” Jax said through his teeth, the curse half-lost in the sound. His fingers dug into Rafa's waist, catching the soft hem of his shirt like a man trying to hold onto gravity.

Rafa didn't stop. Just smiled against his chest and suckled slow—deep, wet pressure curling around that tight nub as one hand stroked soothingly along Jax's ribs. The sound that slipped from the pit's throat was involuntary—more vibration than word, a low rumble that spilled into Rafa's mouth like it belonged there.

The feline's thighs flexed slightly, hips rolling just enough to press his own arousal closer. Jax felt it now—clearly, through those tight slacks. It didn't feel threatening. It felt... mutual.

His cock strained hard beneath the denim, tight with the kind of tension that didn't come from just physical need. It came from years. From denial. From holding it all so fucking tight that he'd forgotten what it meant to let anyone in.

He'd never let Kendra see him like this. With her, he was the protector, the steady one, the man who made sure everything was okay. Here, under Rafa's touch, he wasn't being asked to carry anything. Just to feel.

Rafa kissed higher again, tongue dragging up to the hollow of Jax's throat, then back to his lips. But he didn't rush the kiss. He lingered there, eyes half-lidded, one hand still at Jax's side, the other brushing along the waistband of his jeans now, thumb slipping just beneath.

Jax opened his eyes. Met Rafa's.

For a moment there was no bar, no booth, no ring, no girl waiting back at home.

There was only this man, this wild, steady, soft-voiced fucking miracle of a man. Jax let himself want him.

“You taste like restraint," Rafa said against his collarbone,“God, it's intoxicating."

Jax let out a low, wrecked sound deep in his chest. His hips lifted, just slightly, and Rafa's thigh slid in to meet them, brushing against that thick, aching bulge with wicked precision.

He sucked air. Couldn't help it. His hand reached up again, not to stop Rafa, but to keep him there. Clutching now at the cat's back, dragging claws down over sweat-damp fur.

This wasn't the kind of lust that pushed past guilt. It was a hunger that didn't need to be hidden, a craving that, just maybe, was allowed.

Their mouths met again, and this time it was a claim.

Rafa kissed him deep, tongue sliding in with a heat that made Jax's whole spine arch. The pit's paw curled tight into Rafa's back, the other gripping the soft scruff behind the feline's neck, pulling him closer, urgent but not rough. Like if he didn't hold on, he might unravel.

Maybe he already was.

The kiss broke with a wet gasp, Rafa pulling back just enough to press their foreheads together again, breath hot and ragged. His voice came rough and possessive.

“Say my name."

Jax's throat worked. He swallowed. Licked his lips.

His voice cracked as it came.

“…Rafa."

Rafa moaned at the sound of it, hips shifting forward, thigh grinding up against Jax's cock just enough to make him jolt. Then, slow and deliberate, the feline began to move.

He peeled down Jax's frame like a prayer, kiss by kiss, touch by touch, his mouth trailing fire down exposed fur, licking slow over muscle, tongue dragging through heat as his paws slid lower. One braced on the pit's waist, the other dipped between his thighs: spreading, asking, offering.

Jax let him.

Legs parted. Back sank deeper into the booth. One paw clutched the cushion like it was the last thing keeping him tethered; the other buried into Rafa's hair, shaking fingers tangled behind his ears.

He didn't say stop.

Didn't even think it.

Rafa's breath danced down his belly, his muzzle lowering with purpose until he reached the fly. He paused. Looked up.

Their eyes locked, and Jax gave no sign of stopping.

Rafa undid the belt with deliberate grace. The zipper followed, a slow metallic sigh. The feline hummed low as the pit's cock surged forward, still caged by cotton briefs but straining now, thick, the tip already soaking through the fabric.

Jax's head tipped back. His mouth parted.

But Rafa didn't pull them down. Not yet.

Instead, he bent in and mouthed at the bulge through the cotton, wet heat pressing through fabric, tongue dragging along the outline of that trapped cock. Jax choked out a sound, hips jerking involuntarily, and Rafa smiled against him.

"Easy," he said, breath hot through the thin material. "I've got you."

He pressed into the heat of him, inhaling deep. Musk and want and something desperately restrained. His hand cupped the bulge, palm grinding slow while his mouth worked the head through the fabric, tongue flicking at the wet spot spreading there.

Jax made a sound. Actually made a sound like that. His thighs shook on either side of Rafa's shoulders.

"F-fuck—Rafa—"

The feline hummed in response, fingers tracing the shape of him through the cotton—up the shaft, down again, teasing the sensitive underside until Jax was squirming beneath him. Only then, when the pit was panting and flushed and half out of his mind, did Rafa slip his fingers beneath the waistband.

Slowly, carefully, he peeled the fabric down.

Jax's cock sprang free, thick, heavy, flushed dark with need. Rafa's lips parted. His fingers tightened on Jax's hips. The whole of him, finally bare.

"Fuck," he said, hand curling gently around the shaft. "You've been holding out on the world, haven't you?"

Jax made a sound, more breath than word, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips jerked at the contact. His voice came wrecked and barely there.

“I—I didn't know it could feel like this."

Rafa's thumb traced up the shaft, slow.

"That's 'cause nobody ever took their time with you, did they?"

Then he bent and licked.

From base to tip, slow and deliberate, tongue dragging up the shaft with intent, tracing the thick vein on the underside, swirling around the sensitive head. Jax's thighs went weak on either side of him, a broken sound escaping his throat.

Jax choked on air, loud and raw, his whole body jerking beneath the attention, legs spreading wider without thought, hole clenching on instinct he couldn't name. The pleasure hit him so hard his vision blurred.

Kendra had touched him, yes. They'd explored, awkward and young. She'd kissed him. Stroked him. Held him.

But nothing like this.

No one had ever taken him apart like this. No one had even tried. He was finding out what it meant to be wanted so badly it hurt, to be unmade by someone else's mouth.

Rafa kissed his way back down, tongue tracing every twitch of the pit's cock like a path home. He worked the shaft with his mouth—licking, kissing, dragging his tongue along sensitive skin. Then lower still, nuzzling into the warm, heavy weight of Jax's balls. He mouthed at them gently, tongue laving over the furred sac, rolling one against his lips before sucking it into his mouth with a soft, wet sound.

Jax's whole body jerked. A strangled noise escaped him, something between a moan and a sob.

"Oh fuck—oh god—"

Rafa vibrated against him, letting the vibration travel through sensitive skin before releasing him with a slick pop. He licked his way back up the shaft, and by the time his lips circled the thick, leaking head, Jax was shaking so hard the booth creaked beneath him.

Then he took him. Not all at once.

Rafa's mouth opened wide, his tongue flattening as he eased forward, inch by inch, letting the thick shaft stretch his throat, every vein pressing hot and full against his tongue. The pit bull moaned, guttural and wild, his paw clenching hard in Rafa's fur. But Rafa held, hands steady, guiding Jax's hips as he slid deeper.

Down. Further. Until that swollen knot pressed against his lips, too thick to pass yet, but firm enough to nudge, to remind, to promise. Rafa made a sound around it, his throat fluttering tight as he held the full weight of that cock inside his mouth.

“God, fuck, Rafa...” Jax's voice cracked as his hips jerked once, instinct tugging him forward before Rafa pinned him down with a low, commanding purr.

Not yet. But close.

Rafa sucked slowly, pressure building in waves as his tongue curled under the shaft, lavishing attention near the flare. His throat worked, tight and practised, but never rushed. His hands squeezed gently at Jax's thighs, grounding him, holding him in the here and now while the rest of the world blurred.

“Fuck, you've been holding this in too long," Rafa rasped between licks when he pulled off briefly, spit webbing between his lips and the glistening shaft.

Jax couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. His head fell back, jaw slack, chest heaving as the pressure crested inside him, thick and burning, too much too fast, but he didn't want to stop it. Couldn't. Not now.

Rafa wrapped his lips around the tip again and swallowed, slow and deep.

The moment Jax felt that warmth engulf him again, felt Rafa's throat squeeze tight around his shaft, slick and hot, his knot pulsed, swelling tight against Rafa's chin.

That did it.

He came.

With a shattered, ragged moan, Jax's whole body snapped. His cock pulsed once—twice—then erupted, thick ropes of virgin cum spilling hot down Rafa's throat, flooding him with a volume that only years of denial could build.

“F-fuck, I... shit... God...” Jax choked out, hips jerking, paws fisting helplessly in Rafa's fur, thighs shaking as the knot flared fully, swollen and desperate for more. But Rafa held steady.

He took it all—every pulse, every drop—drinking him down with slow gulps until Jax's body finally began to still. The pit bull's voice had gone wrecked, nothing but panting groans and broken curses as the final waves rolled through him.

Rafa pulled back slow, a slick trail hanging between his lips and the softening shaft. He licked it up without thinking, eyes half-lidded, no trace of teasing in his expression—just something close to pride.

“Mmm... sweet boy," he purred, licking his lips, voice thick. “You were so full for me…"

Jax could barely move.

His chest rose and fell in deep, uneven waves, lungs dragging in air like his body had forgotten how. His hands, one still twisted in Rafa's hair, the other limp at his side, shook. His thighs jumped where they lay spread wide, still parted from the way Rafa had opened him. And his cock…

It beat faintly against his stomach, twitching with every echo of the climax that had just ripped through him. His knot, still swollen, still flushed, buzzed with stubborn afterheat.

He'd never felt more exposed, and he'd never felt more whole.

Then Rafa came back, like gravity, like something inevitable.

The feline rose from between his legs, slow and liquid, his mouth slick, chin damp, eyes glowing in that low, amber light. He didn't speak. Just settled into Jax's lap again like he belonged there—thighs parting naturally around the pit's broad hips, arms easing over thick shoulders, and one paw bracing gently against Jax's chest.

Then he kissed him. Full and warm and deep.

It wasn't just lips. It was sharing, giving, letting Jax taste himself hot and salt-sweet on the feline's tongue. The kiss was intimate, soft, almost tender, with just the edge of hunger curling around it like the first embers of a new fire.

Jax made a noise into it. Couldn't help it. The sound was low, rough, but it made Rafa hum in approval. The pit's paws moved without permission—one settling at Rafa's hip, the other curling around his back, pulling him closer like a tide.

The kiss deepened.

Rafa's tongue dragged against his again, wet and slow, coaxing him back from the edge of bliss into something raw and real. Fuck, Jax responded. Even wrecked, even twitching and oversensitive, he felt the spark flare again at the base of his spine. The heat didn't leave. It just curled tighter now, warmer, a coil drawing itself back in to spring.

He was still hard.

Still hungry.

Rafa could feel it. He rocked forward once, letting the press of that tender cock nudge up against his own clothed heat. He smiled into the kiss, slow, deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was waking up again.

“Still with me?" he whispered against Jax's lips, voice barely there.

Jax exhaled hard, chest heaving beneath him.

"I don't even know what the fuck just happened," he said, voice rough.

Rafa chuckled, forehead resting against his.

"You let go." His thumb brushed Jax's cheekbone. "Christ, that was something."

Jax let out a shaky breath. "Fuck. I thought I had more self-control than that."

"Darling," Rafa said, something like affection in his voice, "you held out longer than anyone I've ever met. That wasn't weakness."

His thumb traced Jax's jaw, gentle now, no longer teasing.

"Besides," he added, a hint of his usual wit creeping back, "if that's you losing control, I'd hate to see you actually try."

They sat like that for a long breath. Rafa's weight pressed against him, thighs straddling, lips brushing just over his, noses bumping, foreheads pressed close. Their bodies were slick with sweat and breathless heat, but it wasn't tension now.

It was connection.

---

Chapter 5: Communion

Back in the booth, Sasha had stopped pretending not to watch the hallway.

"It's been forty minutes," she said, turning the dregs of her martini.

Nico laughed. "That's either very good or very bad."

"For Rafa? Could be either." She went quiet, something thoughtful crossing her face. "Did you see the way he looked at that guy? At the bar?"

"Like dinner?"

"No." She shook her head slowly. "Like... something else. I don't know. He seemed different tonight."

Nico rolled his eyes. "Rafa's always 'different' when there's a new challenge."

"Maybe." But Sasha didn't sound convinced. She'd known Rafa for three years now. She'd seen him charm his way through half the bars in the city, seen him walk away from a dozen men without a backward glance. But tonight...

Tonight, she'd seen him listen. Actually listen.

"What if he actually likes this one?" she said.

Nico barked a laugh. "Rafa doesn't do 'like.' He does conquest and exit."

Sasha didn't argue. But she kept watching the hallway.

——————

Back in Room Six, Jax felt it. Still.

The ring.

Pressed tight at the base of his finger, colder now than it should've been. He couldn't tell if his hands were shaking from what they'd done or what they hadn't done yet. The ring hadn't come off. Rafa hadn't even asked.

Kendra's face flickered in his thoughts. She had that look, the one she wore when he told her he wasn't sure what he liked. Same look she'd had when she gave him the ring in the first place.

"This ain't about stopping you," she'd said, her fingers curled over his. "It's about you choosing when you're ready. That's all."

He hadn't thought about that line in years.

Tonight, he was choosing.

Rafa moved slightly, just enough to roll his hips forward, letting the soft brush of fabric slide against Jax's still-twitching cock. The pressure made him inhale sharply, and he felt Rafa smile at the sound.

“You okay?” the feline said, quiet.

Jax started to nod, then caught himself. Swallowed. Spoke instead.

“Yeah… I—yeah."

A beat.

Then he looked at him. Really looked.

Rafa was flushed. Fur damp at the temples. Lips still wet. Those eyes, gold, cat-slit, burning low like coals under a long fire. Waiting for him to bolt or to stay.

Jax stayed.

He lifted one paw—hesitant at first, thick fingers uncertain, like they didn't know what they were reaching for—then let them brush gently along Rafa's waist. The fabric of his shirt was damp and clingy, nearly see-through, sticking to the curve of his ribs and the tight roll of his abs.

Rafa's stomach went tight under his palm.

“You want to?" he asked, softer now.

Jax nodded.

His hand was already moving.

His paw rose higher, brushing over the slick sheen of fabric across Rafa's chest. The cat's breath hitched as Jax's thumb dragged along the dip between his pecs, where buttons had already loosened.

Then.

He undid one.

Then another.

Slow. Clumsy, maybe. But intentional.

The shirt parted, revealing spotted fur beneath: dark rosettes scattered across soft, short cream, rising and falling with each breath. Jax couldn't look away. His thumb had gone still on the last button, stuck there like he'd forgotten what hands were for.

He dragged his paw along Rafa's chest, fingers splayed. Felt the heat there. The softness. The twitch of a nipple beneath his pads. Rafa exhaled slowly, shivering under the touch.

“Mmm… careful, baby,” he said, barely audible. “You touch me like that, I'm gonna think you mean it.”

Jax looked up. Dead-on.

“I do."

For once, Rafa didn't have a quip ready.

Didn't smirk. Didn't arch his back or roll his hips. He just sat there, mouth half-open, looking younger than he had all night.

The pit's paw slid lower, dragging along the flat of Rafa's belly, rough pads catching on damp fur. He moved slowly. His fingers shook once and he made a fist to stop it, then spread them wide again.

Rafa's abs flicked under the touch, his breath hitching again, this time higher. A noise caught in his throat, a soft, needy little sound that Jax had never imagined could come from a cat so confident.

Fuck.

His other paw rose, settling at Rafa's back, pulling him forward until their chests pressed again, bare to bare. His heart hammered against the feline's ribs. He could feel Rafa's hammering back.

His lips parted.

He kissed him.

Tongue sliding against tongue, mouths open, breath shared. Their teeth knocked once and neither pulled back. Rafa broke into it, soft and wrecked, one paw bracing against Jax's chest while the other gripped the edge of the booth behind them.

Jax felt the feline's cock grind forward against his stomach, hot and leaking through those slacks. His knot swelled in response, thick and still firm at the base.

He broke the kiss with a shaky breath, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown wide. His voice came thick and rough in his throat.

“Take it off."

Rafa looked at him, dazed.

“Wha...”

Jax's paw rose, fingertips brushing Rafa's chest, then sliding up to his shoulder. He tugged lightly at the open shirt.

“I wanna see you. All of you."

Rafa exhaled through a crooked smile. His ears flattened, then righted themselves. He looked caught off guard for the first time all night.

He gave a short tilt of his head.

“Okay.”

Rafa didn't speak right away. He looked at Jax, and his tail had gone still for the first time all night, the usual restless sway of it dead calm.

Slowly, he slid off the pit's lap. Just far enough to stand at the edge of the booth. The air hit the damp spots where their bodies had pressed, and they both shivered.

Jax sat back against the leather, shirt still open, cock resting against his stomach, knot flushed and full. One paw on his thigh. The ring caught the light as his fingers curled, silver still on, and he saw Rafa clock it. Neither of them mentioned it.

Rafa exhaled once, then reached for the first button at his cuffs.

Slow.

He unfastened each one with practised fingers, but there was no show in it. The second cuff button stuck and he fumbled with it, cursing under his breath, and that small clumsiness did more for Jax than any performance could have.

The sheer black shirt slid from his shoulders. He peeled it down slowly, letting the fabric glide over fur, arms, wrists, until it hung from one hand. He let it drop to the seat.

Jax's jaw went slack.

Rafa was beautiful in that dangerous, impossible way leopards so often were. But what got him was how natural the cat looked in half-light: rosette-dappled fur catching low amber glow, torso lean but solid, arms crossed loosely at his sides like he didn't know what to do with them.

Jax's paw lifted, slow, until it touched Rafa's stomach.

Warmth first. Then fur. Then the twitch of muscle beneath the skin.

Rafa's eyes fluttered.

“Gods…” Jax said, more breath than word.

He let his hand wander—up across Rafa's side, fingers pressing lightly between ribs, then higher, over the slope of his chest. His thumb brushed a nipple, and Rafa made a sharp noise, a breathy, delicate sound, nothing like the confident purrs he gave before.

Jax moved in. His mouth brushed against Rafa's collarbone.

He kissed it.

Soft.

Then lower.

Lower still.

His lips found Rafa's nipple. He kissed it, tongue flicking, clumsy at first, then again with more intent, suckling slow, feeling the cat's muscles cord tight under his mouth.

Rafa whimpered.

Barely there, but Jax felt it against his lips, against the heartbeat below. He kissed his way across Rafa's chest, tasting salt and damp fur, the feline's pulse jumping under his tongue.

Rafa's paws hung in the air, unsure where to go. He'd had men on their knees before, plenty of them, but they'd been performing. Jax was just doing what his hands told him to.

He let them settle gently, one on Jax's shoulder, the other on the edge of the booth for balance. His knees weakened as Jax's tongue flicked again, then dragged upward toward the swell of his throat.

“You're—" Rafa tried, voice cracked, “You're not what I expected."

Jax looked up, meeting his eyes with something low and aching in his chest.

“Yeah,” he said, voice quiet, “me neither.”

A long breath passed between them.

Then Jax's hands moved lower.

To Rafa's belt.

His fingers found the buckle and worked it open. Metal clicked. Leather slid. The feline's pants hung lower on his hips, and Jax followed with his touch, thumbs catching the waistband, tugging gently.

He looked up again.

Asked without words.

Rafa's breath caught. Yes.

Down they went.

Fabric eased over lean hips, down slender thighs, catching only briefly at that high, firm ass before slipping lower. Jax helped him step free, one leg, then the other, until the pants pooled to the side, joined by the discarded shirt.

Rafa stood in nothing but a pair of dark briefs—silk by the look of them. They held to his body like they were designed for sin: low-slung, curve-hugging, wet at the front with a growing, obvious swell.

Jax swallowed.

Hard.

Rafa's cock pressed forward, tenting the silk, the shape of the head outlined in damp fabric, a dark patch spreading low where precum had soaked through. The scent hit Jax: warm, musky, feline, sharper now.

He sat there, still bare, still spent, cock resting soft but knot still firm, ring catching silver at the base of his paw as he reached forward again.

He cupped Rafa's hip.

Then slid his palm around, fingertips pressing into the curve of his ass, pulling him closer. Rafa's hips moved as he stepped forward, now between Jax's thighs, close enough that heat rolled off him in waves.

Jax tipped his head back. Looked up.

“You're gorgeous," he said. Flat. Honest.

Rafa didn't laugh.

He just shivered.

Rafa was shaking. Standing there between Jax's spread thighs, barely clothed, hard and leaking, and he was shaking. His claws clicked against each other where his paws hung at his sides. Jax could hear it, that tiny nervous sound, and it undid him worse than any moan had.

Jax raised his paw.

Ring and all.

The metal caught the light as his fingers brushed the waistband of Rafa's briefs. Silver against dark silk, cold against warm skin.

Rafa hissed through his teeth, soft, surprised. His abs locked, muscles flexing as that cold metal traced along his skin.

“Fuck…”

Jax looked up.

“Still want me to?"

Rafa let out a breathless, shattered laugh.

“If you stop now, I'm throwing myself out that door."

That earned a grin, small, rough, but real, from the pit bull, who hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to pull.

Slow.

The silk caught for a heartbeat, kissed the curve of Rafa's cock, dragged across the heavy weight of his balls, before slipping down. Jax peeled it gently, easing it over thighs and to the floor, where Rafa stepped free without grace, only need.

Bare. The overhead light caught a scar along Rafa's hip that Jax hadn't noticed before, a thin white line disappearing into the fur. He didn't ask about it. Just filed it away.

Rafa's cock stood firm and curved, already glistening at the tip, flushed dark with need. Beneath it, his sac hung heavy, tight, twitching with each breath. His thighs were sleek and strong, fur damp where heat had pooled, his tail swaying behind him in slow, needy arcs. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, self-conscious in a way that looked foreign on him.

He bent forward. One paw rose again, ring glinting, and wrapped gently around the base of Rafa's cock. The feline's gasp cracked in his chest like lightning. Jax stroked him once, thumb brushing the thick vein along the underside, then dragged upward, slow, until his thumb swiped precum from the tip.

He looked at it.

Then licked it.

Rafa made a sound like he'd been punched.

Jax pressed in again, kissing Rafa's cock. Lips soft against the tip, then down along the shaft. He kissed it again. Licked lower. Tentative, he dipped his muzzle beneath, nuzzling into the warm weight of Rafa's balls.

The feline's thigh jerked against his ear.

Jax explored with his tongue, lapping gently at the furred sac, cupping it with one broad palm while his mouth worked. He'd never done this—never even imagined it—but something about the way Rafa shuddered above him, the way those thighs shook against his shoulders, made him want more. He sucked gently, rolling one ball against his tongue, feeling the weight of it, the heat.

"Jesus Christ," Rafa choked out, claws digging into Jax's shoulder, legs threatening to give out. "Where the fuck did you learn—"

Jax pulled back with a wet sound, chin slick, looking up.

"Just now," he said, voice rough.

He buried his face between Rafa's thighs, warm breath spilling across sensitive skin, and licked again. Upward, base to tip, slow and steady.

Rafa's knees buckled.

“Okay, fuck, stop... stop or I'm gonna come just like this,” he choked, eyes wide, flushed from ears to chest.

Jax smirked.

“You said don't stop."

“Not there."

Jax rose.

Slowly.

He pressed his mouth back to Rafa's, hot and wet and full of the taste of him. Rafa made a sound at his own flavour on Jax's tongue.

When he pulled back, their foreheads stayed pressed.

Their cocks pressed hot between them.

Jax's voice came deep in his chest:

“C'mon now… ride me."

Rafa's hips rocked forward before the rest of him caught up.

“Yeah,” he said. His voice cracked on it. “Yeah, okay.”

For a beat they stood there, both breathing hard, both sticky, both a wreck. Rafa's cock jumped against Jax's stomach and left a wet streak on the fur there. Neither of them laughed, but a sound came out of Rafa that was close, something between a gasp and a huff of disbelief.

He moved first.

He stepped back just enough to reach for the side of the booth, opening the narrow drawer hidden just beneath the lip. Lube. Small foil packet. Condoms untouched. He didn't offer them.

Jax said nothing when Rafa cracked the cap. His jaw worked once, like he was swallowing a question, but he let it go.

The feline squirted a ribbon into his paw and winced at the cold. Then he dropped to his knees between Jax's legs, eyes locked to his as he reached out.

“Okay?"

Jax swallowed. His voice, when it came, was low.

“Yeah."

Rafa wrapped one paw around that thick, waiting cock again—Jax's hips jerking at the touch, and began to slick him slowly, carefully, working the lube down from the swollen head to the base, over the knot, which beat beneath his palm.

“Fuck,” Rafa said, thumbing over the crown. “Still so hard.”

“Still want you," Jax replied.

That stopped Rafa for a beat. His eyes rose. Met his.

He turned, straddled, slid up onto the booth with his knees framing Jax's hips. His movements had lost the coy edge from before. Just purpose now, and the faint tremor of wanting something too badly to be smooth about it.

He reached back between them, lifted his tail, and slicked his own entrance—brief, careful, practised but not rushed. Then one paw held the base of Jax's cock, holding it steady, pressing the flared head just beneath his tail.

Jax groaned.

Rafa lowered. Slow. His body resisted, just for a moment, then relented, the tight ring of muscle parting around the blunt, slick crown. His mouth fell open. No sound came out. His thighs trembled as the head popped through.

“Oh f-fuck...”

Jax's paw flew to Rafa's hip, thumb stroking there, a steadying pressure that said stay, go slow.

“You okay?"

Rafa's teeth grit, voice strangled.

“Better than okay."

He slid lower.

Another inch. Then another. The stretch was slow, steady, merciless. His body quaked as the thick shaft opened him, nerves alight with sensation, lube easing but not disguising the raw size of it.

The knot. Jax wasn't even in fully and Rafa could feel it, that swollen pressure waiting below like a fist he'd asked for. His thighs shook. His claws pricked Jax's shoulders.

“You're so deep...” he choked, hips rolling. “Shit, I can feel your pulse in me...”

“Don't rush,” Jax said, both paws now on Rafa's hips, fingers digging in just hard enough to leave marks.

Rafa laughed, breathy, weak.

“I couldn't if I tried."

He dropped another inch. Another. His breathing went ragged and ugly, open-mouthed and wet.

Jax's cock was almost fully seated, thick shaft buried up to the knot, stretching walls that had never held anything so wide. Rafa's whole body shook.

Then he stopped.

Panting. Forehead against Jax's shoulder. Arms wrapped around his neck. He held on.

Jax held him right back.

For a long moment they didn't move. The knot nestled low against the rim, hot and swollen, pressing but not forcing. Rafa's face was buried against his neck. His breath came in hot, shaking waves against the pit's collarbone, each exhale wet and loud in the small room.

Jax's paws sat heavy at his hips.

"Take your time," he said, voice cracked. "Don't gotta rush."

Rafa said nothing. Then lifted.

Just an inch.

Jax felt it: the way Rafa's walls gripped him, the slick drag as his cock eased out of that tight heat. Rafa made a high, broken sound and stopped at the midpoint, thighs quivering.

Then down again.

Slow.

Controlled.

Jax groaned, deep and low, his head tipping back against the booth as the feline's weight slid down around him again, that thick heat squeezing tight around his cock like it was built to hold him.

“Shit…” the pit managed. “You feel so good.”

Rafa made a noise, claws digging into Jax's shoulders, and started to ride.

Lift. Drop. Lift. Drop. Each motion drawing out a wet, obscene sound that would've embarrassed them both under any other circumstance. Slick walls clenching with every pass, friction dragging over the pit's shaft. The knot beat at the base, still outside, grinding against the rim with every downstroke.

Close. Both of them.

“F-fuck, you're thick, so full...” Rafa gasped, voice cracking as his hips circled once, drawing that cock against his inner walls in a slow grind that had Jax shuddering.

"That's it, darlin'... takin' all of me," Jax growled, voice rougher now, hands tightening at Rafa's hips. "Shit, baby, look at you..."

Rafa did.

Lifted his face from the pit's shoulder, eyes wild and wet, golden irises shining under the haze of sweat and want.

“You feel so fucking deep, Jax,” he said, barely getting the words out. “Like you're still going. Like I'm gonna break if you move again.”

“Then hold on."

He thrust. Once.

A firm, upward grind that drove his cock deep, slamming right before the knot, grinding slow. Rafa cried out, body clenching down, thighs shaking violently against Jax's ribs.

“Fuck, Jax!”

“That's it,” the pit said, rough. “Ride it.”

Rafa did. Hips rising and falling, driving himself down over and over, each pass tighter, wetter, harder. His ass clapped against Jax's thighs. His moans had gone shapeless. His cock bobbed between them, flushed and leaking over the pit's belly with every grind.

Jax's hands roamed. One at Rafa's hip, the other sliding up his back, pulling him close. They kissed again, sloppy, open, and Rafa bit his lip hard enough to taste copper. Neither flinched.

The knot. Swelling bigger with every thrust, grinding harder against the rim, catching, almost, almost, slipping back. Rafa's entrance clutched at the edge each time. Close. So close it hurt.

Wet thighs slapping. The pit's cock disappearing into him again and again, and still Rafa took it.

He rode like a man possessed. Hips lifting, slamming down, claws digging into Jax's chest now as his cock drooled thick onto fur. His moans had lost shape, slurred from pleasure, throat gone raw from panting.

Somewhere in the back of Jax's mind, Kendra's face flickered. He shoved it down. It came back. He shoved it down harder, and this time it stayed, and the guilt of that settled in his stomach like a stone he'd deal with later. Or never.

"Fuck, Jax, fuck, I can't... I'm gonna..."

He never finished the sentence.

Because Jax growled, low and dangerous, and grabbed him.

Both massive paws slammed down on the feline's hips, gripping, holding him down. Rafa yelled, the sound cracking into something between a sob and a laugh as Jax's strength surged up beneath him.

One thrust.

Hard.

“F-fuck, JAX...”

Another.

Deeper.

“Oh, God...”

Then the pit pounded him. Thrust after thrust, full force, arms flexing, hauling Rafa down as his hips slammed up. The feline couldn't move. The booth creaked under them. Leather squeaked against sweat-slicked skin. Rafa screamed.

“JAX, oh my fucking god, JAX!”

The knot slammed harder now, battering his rim, stretching him wide, but not quite fitting. Not yet. The pressure grew unbearable. Rafa's thighs went unsteady, abs locking, voice cracking with every brutal, beautiful slam.

Jax snarled, mouth at his ear now, growling into sweat-slick fur:

“You're takin' it, baby. You're takin' all of me. Look at you. Look how fuckin' full you are.”

Rafa came.

His cock jerked, cum shot from him in thick ropes, splattering both their bellies, staining fur, painting the pit's chest. His whole body convulsed, clenching down on that knot, milking Jax with desperate, rhythmic heat. His voice went, just gone, nothing but choked sounds and gasping. One of his legs kicked out sideways, involuntary, his heel catching the edge of the booth with a dull thud that neither of them registered.

“Jax, I... I'm... I'm cumming, oh fuck, I'm... fuuuck...”

Jax didn't stop.

He thrust through it—riding Rafa's orgasm, feeling every squeeze, every pulse, until finally.

The knot slipped in.

Popped through that swollen rim with a wet, brutal snap, stretching Rafa wide and locking him down.

Rafa screamed. His claws scratched down Jax's back, legs locking tight around the pit's hips, head thrown back. His body went still, shaking, clenching, caught. Tied.

“God, fuck, yes...”

Jax buried himself to the base, knot pulsing, cock twitching deep inside that molten heat. He let out a sound into Rafa's shoulder, raw and guttural, his whole frame locked.

“You're mine now,” he growled. “Fuck, tied you so good, baby. So tight.”

Locked. Knot sunk deep, seated snugly in Rafa's twitching rim. The feline held on, legs wrapped tight, arms around his shoulders, shaking in the aftershock.

Jax was shaking too. The way Rafa clenched around him, the wet heat squeezing along his shaft. Every flutter of the feline's walls pulled him closer to the edge.

“Rafa,” he said, barely above a breath.

The cat nuzzled into his neck, lips brushing his ear.

“Do it."

A pause.

“Give it to me."

His cock jerked hard inside the feline, every vein bulging, knot swelling tighter, and then he came.

His whole body seized. Arms crushed Rafa tight to his chest, hips locked as the first wave spilled from him, thick and hot and endless. Rafa whined as he felt it flood his insides. Another pulse. Another. The knot sealed it all in, nowhere to go.

Jax made a raw noise, primal, body shuddering with every last spill. Rafa took it all. His belly grew warm, stuffed so deep he could feel it moving inside him. He moaned, voice shattered.

“F-fuck, you're filling me, Jax, you're... god... you're cumming so much...”

“I can't stop,” the pit snarled, jaw clenched, muscles tight. ”Fuck, baby, I'm sorry, I...”

“Don't apologise,” Rafa choked, clutching tighter. “Don't you fucking dare."

The pulses came shorter now, weaker, but still warm. Until finally Jax collapsed, spent and empty, knot locked, cock twitching. His arms went slack around Rafa's waist. His chin dropped to the feline's shoulder.

Rafa, full. He shook in Jax's arms, whole body soaked, walls still fluttering gently around the knot. Neither spoke. A bead of sweat rolled from Jax's temple to Rafa's shoulder, and the cat watched it track a slow line through his fur.

They stayed locked for minutes. Maybe more.

The booth was silent. Muffled bass from the club still thumped through the walls, the same beat that had been there the whole time, though neither of them had heard it for the last twenty minutes. Jax's knot remained snug, seated deep.

Rafa lay against the pit's chest, cheek pressed to sweat-slick fur, breathing shallow but calm. His thighs quivered faintly where they cradled Jax's hips, spent and slick and stuffed. The warmth inside him still spread, thick and slow, like candle wax against his belly. He could feel every drop Jax had given him.

His ears were ringing. He didn't mind.

Jax's arms stayed wrapped around the feline. Tight, unmoving. His muzzle rested on Rafa's shoulder, the tip of his nose buried just beneath the cat's jaw, where he could feel his pulse, fast but fading.

Then Rafa sniffed. Quiet, broken. One tear rolled down his cheek, catching in the fur at his jawline. He didn't try to hide it.

Jax felt it land wet against his collarbone. His throat tightened, and a tear of his own fell into the ruff of Rafa's neck. He didn't know what it was for. Didn't need to.

Jax nuzzled into Rafa's neck, breathing deep. Earthy canine sweat mingled with feline musk, cologne long since sweated away. He rumbled low in his chest, a sound that was all instinct and no thought.

Rafa stayed. Every feline instinct told him to pull away, reclaim his space, and he stayed anyway. Let himself be held.

His claws flexed once against Jax's shoulder, kneading, involuntary, and he realised with a start what he was doing. He stopped, embarrassed.

Jax just pulled him closer.

Then Jax moved. His right paw, the one still wearing the ring, unclenched from Rafa's hip. It shook as he dragged his fingers down the leopard's back, past the curve of his spine, until his palm cupped the feline's ass. Still twitching. Still sore.

He pressed slightly, feeling the stretch there. How tight he still was around the knot. How full.

Rafa moaned softly, a high, sleepy sound, and didn't resist.

His fingers dragged lower, along the inside of a thigh, brushing through the wet slick of their mixed heat. A trickle of white, sticky, feline, left behind on Rafa's fur.

He scooped a drop up with one thick finger. Looked at it in the low golden light.

He looked at Rafa. Then brought it to his mouth, and tasted.

Rafa pulled back just far enough to see the pit's face: lips parted, tongue flicking over the digit, expression completely open.

“You…” Rafa said, voice hoarse.

Jax's chest rose, slow and wide.

“I wanted to know what you tasted like on me.”

Rafa's mouth worked. Nothing came out. He pressed his face back into Jax's neck and his shoulders hitched once, twice, and then he was laughing or crying or both, a wet ugly sound muffled against fur.

Their breath slowed. Eventually Rafa shifted. A gentle twitch of his hips, a quiet hum in his throat.

“Still locked?” The words barely carried.

Jax's arms flexed around him just slightly.

“Mmh."

The feline exhaled, forehead pressing back to the pit's damp shoulder. He could still feel the stretch, the fullness, the slow dull ache of being opened and filled. It would hurt tomorrow. He looked forward to it.

A few more minutes passed. The knot pulsed once, ached, then slowly began to shrink.

Rafa winced, more from tenderness than surprise, as the seal finally gave way. A quiet, wet slip. The cock inside him went soft, tugging gently free, dragging warm slick in its wake. He drew a sharp breath as Jax pulled back.

A sound left him, raw and involuntary.

Jax looked down as the knot slipped free. It eased out, wet and unsteady. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, deep red, slick, still twitching.

The mess between them was impossible to ignore. His lap, soaked through with sweat and cum. Rafa's thighs, slick, shaking, split wide where they'd held him, where they'd taken everything.

The booth was ruined. Cushions sticky, the air thick with the smell of sex and sweat. Somewhere outside, a glass broke and someone laughed, and the world kept going like nothing had changed.

Jax's paw lifted and cupped Rafa's face. His thumb swept along one unsteady cheek where a tear had caught in the fur.

“Hey,” Jax said. His voice was wrecked.

Rafa blinked, slow. “Hey.”

Eventually, they moved. Rafa slid from Jax's lap with a hiss, the air hitting his sensitive skin. His legs didn't hold him right away. They folded, knees knocking, and he caught himself on the edge of the table with a clumsy grab that rattled the empty glasses. He rested back against the velvet wall, panting, leaking. He didn't reach for clothes. His tail hung limp behind him, too spent for even that habitual sway.

Jax tucked himself back in, slow and quiet. Adjusted his jeans, rolled his hips once to settle the ache, then rested back into the curve of the booth. His hands shook when he tried the button. He had to try twice.

His fingers rested at the base of his shaft for a moment longer, then slid up to the ring.

Still tight. Still gleaming. He twisted it once and let out a long breath.

“You alright?” Rafa asked, his voice lower now. Hoarse, earnest.

Jax looked up. Those dark, steady eyes.

“Yeah.” A breath. “I am.”

Rafa's mouth twitched. For a second he looked like he wanted to say something clever, something to cover the crack in his chest, but the words didn't come. He just dipped his chin.

“Good.”

He stepped forward on bare feet, still naked, and kissed him. Dry this time. Brief. When he pulled back, their foreheads stayed close, and the silence between them was full of things they'd figure out later or never.

Jax's paw caught his wrist as Rafa turned.

"Wait, Rafa…"

The feline turned. Jax was still sitting there, chest bare, jeans hanging loose, working his right hand over to his left. To the ring.

Rafa went still.

Jax worked the band off his finger. It came slowly, catching slightly on the knuckle before sliding free. He held it there for a moment, silver gleaming dully in the low light, that word, Purity_, still etched across its face._

The pit bull looked at it. Then up at Rafa.

"This ain't me leavin' her," he said, voice rough. "I ain't breakin' nothing. You hear me?"

Rafa swallowed, throat tight.

"I just..." Jax stopped. Tried again. "I don't know what I am. But I know I wanted this." He turned the ring between his fingers. "That's gotta count for somethin'."

He held the ring out.

"Take it."

Rafa stared at the offered band. His paw shook as he reached for it, fingers brushing Jax's palm as he lifted it away. The metal was still warm from the pit's skin. He could smell them both on it, faint but there, musk worked into the silver from everything that hand had done tonight.

"Jax, I..." His voice cracked. He tried again. "I don't know what to say."

The pit bull's mouth curved. Just barely. That same small, honest expression Rafa had seen at the bar.

"Don't gotta say anything." He settled back. "Just hold onto it."

Rafa closed his fingers around the ring. It pressed cool and solid against his palm. He'd collected trophies before: phone numbers, gasps, notches carved into bedposts he'd long since forgotten. This felt nothing like those. It felt heavy, and complicated, and like something he'd have to be careful with.

"Okay," he said.

Jax said nothing more. Reached for his flannel and shrugged it on, buttoning it wrong, not noticing.

"Go on," he said, jerking his chin toward the door. "Your friends are probably wonderin' if you got yourself killed."

Rafa laughed, short, wet, surprised. "They're probably taking bets on which position."

"Tell 'em it was all of them."

Another laugh. Rafa slipped the ring into his pocket. It sat against his thigh, heavier than silver should be.

He stopped at the door. Looked back.

"Will I see you again?"

Jax's eyes met his. Dark, steady.

"Maybe." A beat. "If you're lucky."

Rafa smiled. The real one. The one that made him look his age.

"Yeah. Maybe."

He slipped out. The door clicked shut behind him, and Jax sat alone in Room Six, staring at the bare finger on his left hand. The tan line was already visible where the ring had been. He pressed his thumb against the groove and held it there, like testing a bruise to see if it still hurt.

It did.

---

Chapter 6: He Chose Me

The club had shifted now.

Lights dimmer, bodies thinner on the floor, last-call songs bleeding through the air like sweat-soaked lullabies. At the far end of the VIP alcove, Sasha nursed what remained of her third martini while Nico sprawled lazily across the booth, paw twirling an olive spear between his fingers.

“They've been gone a while," the jackal muttered, eyes flicking toward the hallway Rafa had disappeared into.

Sasha didn't look up.

“Mmm. Could be crying in the bathroom."

Nico scoffed. “Could be sobbing with a dick in his mouth."

Sasha grinned.

“Either way, I win."

Footsteps. Both looked up.

Rafa appeared from the hallway, shirt draped over one arm, hair a fucking mess, pants clinging wrong like they'd been hastily pulled back on. He was walking carefully, like his legs weren't entirely his yet.

Sasha's brows shot up.

Nico howled with laughter.

“Oh my God...”

“Shut up," Rafa croaked, voice shredded raw, but with the tiniest smug smile curling the edge of his muzzle.

Sasha rested forward, chin in palm.

“So. Did you sin?"

Rafa took a second.

Then reached into his pocket.

Tossed something on the table with a clink.

A ring.

Silver. Inscribed.

Purity.

Sasha's jaw dropped.

Nico damn near fell off the booth.

Rafa ran a paw through his ruined hair. He looked at the ring on the table, and something crossed his face that Sasha had never seen before. It wasn't triumph. It looked closer to fear.

“I didn't seduce him,” he said.

He picked the ring back up. Held it in his fist.

“He chose me.”