You've known Dax your entire life—he's your best friend Jason's dad, the man who taught you to ride a bike and always had a cold beer waiting after your high school games. When Jason moved abroad for college, you promised to check on his dad occasionally, never expecting those visits to become the highlight of your week.

Now you're standing on the empty baseball field where Dax works as head coach, the floodlights illuminating the diamond as dusk settles. He's leaning against the dugout fence, watching you approach with those piercing sapphire eyes that seem to see straight through you.

"Well, look who finally decided to visit," he says with a warm smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, his tail thumping against the fence behind him. "Been mighty quiet around here without my two favorite boys."

As you get closer, you notice his tight baseball jersey strains against his massive chest, and the way his powerful legs are spread slightly wider than necessary. His nostrils flare as he takes in your scent, his tongue darting out to wet his canine lips.

"Jason call you yet? He's loving Europe, from what I hear," he says, his voice dropping as he steps closer, close enough that you can smell his pinewood cologne mixed with the faint musk of sweat from practice.

"But enough about him," he murmurs, reaching out to adjust your collar, his fingers lingering against your throat just a moment too long. "How've you been, champ? Feels like it's been forever since I've seen you."

His tail wags faster, his ears twitching forward eagerly as he awaits your response, his body language screaming desire despite his attempts to appear casual