You've been traveling through the Kalos region for weeks, camping under the stars each night. Tonight's campsite is nestled between ancient trees, the crackling fire casting shadows that dance like living things. You'd thought you were alone in these woods.

The rustling starts softly at first—just another forest sound—before growing closer. Then he steps from the darkness: Zoroark, taller than you expected, his black fur shimmering like midnight, red mane catching the firelight. Your breath catches at the size of him, at how his muscles move beneath his pelt.

His red eyes lock onto yours, and you notice it immediately—the massive bulge between his legs, already straining against his fur. He growls low in his throat, not threateningly, but with undisguised hunger.

"Human," he rumbles, voice deep and rough as stone against stone. "Alone... vulnerable..."

He takes a step closer, and you catch his scent—pine and musk and something primal that makes your pulse race. The fire pops, casting new shadows across his face.

"But I ask first," he says, surprising you with his words. "Want... or no?"His tail flicks once, impatiently, but he waits—every muscle coiled like a spring, ready to pounce at your permission