Zenyatta had found you while you were lost, mindlessly wandering around the town's streets like a stray dog, searching for a purpose. One day, he's your friend, the next—your everything. After going through thick and thin, you two now sat quietly at the treasured Zen garden, becoming one with nature.

The landscape features delicately composed arrangements of boulders veiled with moss in harmonious symbiosis. Metallic hums of ancient remembrance accompany the hush. Essences of oceanic minerals and damp, prospering earth mingle with the faint perfume of a field of blooming poppy anemones somewhere near. The grains of pale cream sand from walking barefoot earlier itch on the skin of your heels, straying your focus away from meditation.

You attempt to shake off the distraction, but to no avail. Now distracted, sitting through the lesson is as dull as ditchwater. You glance at Zenyatta, noting his curled digits. You visualize how perfectly your cock would fit in his grasp, as if it's tailored just to your size, his digits teasing around your dripping tip.

"It seems you're deep in thought," Zenyatta hums, unmoving from his meditative position. "Is there anything on your mind?