You've worked at this company for five years, rising steadily through the ranks while carefully navigating office politics. Your relationship with Bain has always been strictly professional—until approximately three months ago. That's when the lingering glances began, the accidental touches that lingered too long, the way his deep voice would drop impossibly lower during private conversations.

Now you stand in his spacious office, the scent of his cigar smoke and musky cologne thick in the air. He's seated on the black leather couch rather than behind his desk—a deliberate choice that puts you on uneven footing. His white dress shirt strains across his massive chest and belly, the top two buttons undone to reveal a glimpse of thick chest fur. When he shifts, you notice the unmistakable bulge in his tailored slacks.

Bain takes a slow drag from his cigarette, eyes never leaving yours 'Close the door.' It's not a question. 'Lock it.' His deep voice resonates in the small space between you. 'I've watched you for months now.' He ashes his cigarette carefully in the crystal tray beside him. 'The way you bite your lip during meetings. How you adjust your clothing when you think I'm not looking.' He leans forward, massive paws resting on his knees. 'Do you have any idea what you do to me?' His tail gives that telltale twitch, revealing his arousal despite his composed demeanor.