Chapter Text
The security system is infuriatingly sophisticated.
Of course, you would expect nothing less from a dragon shifter crime lord with apex predator paranoia and unlimited resources. Even after spending two weeks mapping the camera rotation schedule and laser grid patterns, you still move carefully through the house from one blind spot to the next.
By the time you reach the master bedroom, you’ve been inside eleven minutes. Right on schedule.
You’re tempted to stop and admire the museum-quality pieces on display in every room but the client was specific about the photos they wanted. And those pieces were in the master bedroom only.
By your calculations, Sylus should be out until at least two in the morning.
In addition to the money, you’d be lying if you said the target being Sylus didn’t add a little extra thrill to this job. Despite glimpsing him at supernatural gatherings where small shifters stay carefully in the periphery and all gossip blogs, the man is an enigma.
In the privacy of your own thoughts, you’ve wondered what it would be like to have all that power and danger focused on you instead of just being another face in the crowd.
Not that you’d ever be stupid enough to deliberately put yourself in that position. Daydreams are all well and good when you’re feeling lonely and horny but survival is your reality.
The bedroom door is slightly open, revealing the darkness beyond. Perfect.
You squeeze through the gap and immediately freeze.
The room isn’t empty.
A massive figure lies sprawled across the king-sized bed, moonlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows to highlight the planes of his back. Even in sleep, he radiates the kind of dangerous aura that makes the hair on your tail stand up. .
What the hell?
He’s not supposed to be here! He’s supposed to be at some bar right now. You had a carefully calculated plan and he is ruining it.
You should leave immediately, slip back out the way you came and cut your losses. You grimace at the thought of having to refund the client’s money. Instead, professional pride, and the fact that you’ve already spent the money getting the information needed for tonight, holds you in place. The painting is right there, visible even in the low light, frame glowing faintly on the far wall.
You’re already here. You’ve made it through the security. Just one little picture while he sleeps and your payday is secure.
You creep along the edge of the room, keeping to the shadows while also keeping an eye on every rise and fall of the body on the bed. The painting, surrounded by smaller paintings like the crown jewel it clearly is, depicts a furious wave. Even from what you could make out in the slim moonlight, the detail is extraordinary.
But it is too high for the camera around your neck to get a good angle.
Backing up slowly, you try to get the full picture into view when your back paw knocks against something metallic.
The tiny chime of a bell is thunderous in the silence.
Shit.
Crimson eyes snap open, immediately fixing on you with laser focus. No confusion, no disorientation—just instant alertness.
In a scramble of paws, you bolt for the window, the closest exit you see.
The window may be three stories up, but you can survive the fall in fox form and disappear into the city before he can follow.
You never make it.
Launching yourself toward the glass, you almost make it when a hand closes around your scruff, halting your forward momentum.
Legs scramble uselessly in the air as you’re hauled backward, every instinct screaming in fear at being caught by a predator ten times your size.
“Well, well.” His voice is a low rumble that you feel in your bones. “What do we have here?”
You twist in his grip, trying to bite the hand that is holding you, but you can’t twist far enough. Clearly, this isn’t his first time catching a shifter.
“Show me who you really are, little thief.” His other hand traces along your spine, and suddenly pressure builds behind your eyes. “Shift. Now.”
You fight it, but his will is like a crushing weight. Your bones begin to lengthen, fur retracting as your human form takes hold.
The transformation leaves you dangling naked from his grip, feet barely touching the ground. You grab his wrist with both hands, trying to take some of your weight off your neck.
“There we go.” He sets you down but doesn’t step back, caging you against the window with his body. “Much better. Now we can have a proper conversation.”
Up close, he’s even more devastating than you had imagined. At least six-foot-three of lean muscle, with the kind of predatory beauty that makes your body tingle in both fear and excitement. His skin holds a pale undertone that catches the moonlight, and his eyes are like molten rubies, almost glowing in the dim lighting.
“I can explain,” you start, trying to ignore how your body is responding to his proximity.
“I’m sure you can.” His gaze travels slowly down your body and back up, and you watch his pupils dilate slightly. The appreciation in that look makes your thighs clench in ways that have no business responding to a predator who just caught you mid-burglary.. “But first, let’s establish some ground rules. You’re in my territory, in my home, stealing from me. That makes you mine to punish until I decide otherwise.”
The threat should terrify you. Instead, it sends a thrill straight down your spine that you really hope he doesn’t notice. “I wasn’t stealing. I was just—”
“Taking pictures of my private collection to sell to the highest bidder?” He holds up your camera and you catch a glimpse of fangs.
You watch as he crushes the camera into tiny pieces in his fist. Your face goes hot. That display of strength should not have been attractive.
“Look, it’s just photos. And now that you’ve destroyed them, no harm no foul. Right?”
“Good try.” He reaches past you to close the curtains, arm momentarily brushing against your shoulder. The contact sends electricity racing across your skin. “Tell me, little fox, do you know what I do to thieves who try to profit from my property?”
You swallow hard. “Give them a stern talking-to?”
His laugh is like dark honey, and you feel it rumble through his chest where it’s nearly pressed against yours. “You have spirit. I appreciate that in prey.” The word comes out with just enough edge to remind you exactly how precarious your situation is, even as your pulse jumps, and not from fear. “But spirit won’t save you from the consequences of your choices.”
“What consequences?”
Instead of answering, he moves to a chair near the bed and sits down, gesturing for you to come closer. When you hesitate, he raises a brow in skepticism. “I won’t ask twice.”
Your legs move of their own accord towards him until you are standing between his knees, acutely aware of your nakedness versus his clothed state of black silk pajama pants that do nothing to hide the impressive outline beneath.
“Better.” His hands settle on your hips, thumbs stroking against your hipbones, and you have to bite back a shiver at the contact. “Now, let’s discuss your options. Option one: I call pack security, they haul you off to a cage, and you spend the next decade working off your debt in whatever capacity they see fit.”
You blanche. Shifter justice isn’t known for its mercy.
“What’s option two?” Surely anything was better than pack justice.
“You tell me who hired you, what they wanted, and why they thought stealing from me was a good idea. In exchange, I might be persuaded to find…another way for you to work off your debt.”
His hands have drifted higher, nearly spanning your waist, and the heat of his touch is making it hard to think straight.
“How about I tell you everything I know and then you let me go?”
“You’re hardly in a position to negotiate terms..”
It was worth a try. “I don’t actually know who hired me,” you say honestly. “It was arranged through intermediaries. Some collector who wanted documentation of your Lumerian pieces.”
“Mmm.” One hand slides up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple with casual possession. “And how much were they paying you for this documentation?”
You have to bite back a moan before you can answer. “Fifty thousand. Half in advance, half on delivery.”
“Fifty thousand for photographs.” His other hand joins the first, mapping your curves with deliberate thoroughness. “Someone values my collection very highly indeed.”
You arch into his touch. The smug satisfaction in his eyes suggests he’s very aware of exactly how you’re responding.
“I’m suppose to contact the intermediary when I have the photos. I can give you the name and number,” you say breathlessly.
His smile reveals those sharp canines fully. “Very good. For your cooperation, you will remain here as my personal guest until I can determine who’s been targeting my collection.”
“And what would being your personal guest entail?”
His hands slide down to grip your ass, pulling you closer until you’re practically straddling his lap. “Whatever I decide it entails.” The friction when he shifts beneath you is not helping you think clearly. “I might want you to help me track down whoever hired you. I might want you to use those skills of yours for more legitimate purposes. Or I might just want to keep you here because I find you… entertaining.”
The bulge pressing against your core suggests exactly how entertaining he finds you. You can’t help rocking against him slightly. His eyes darken at the movement.
“So what’s it going to be?” he asks, voice dropping lower. “Prison, or my guest?”
Prison is the safe choice, a known quantity. It would be long and harsh, but you know what to expect and you would stay alive. But Sylus was offering you an opportunity you’d never expected. The chance to find out whether sex with a dragon would be as intense as you’ve heard. Whether the reality of being with him could possibly match the fantasy of your imagination.
You’ve never been particularly good at playing it safe.
You lean forward deliberately, hands bracing on his shoulders. “Let’s see what you’ve got, dragon,” you whisper, and his triumphant smile is absolutely wicked. “Good choice. Now let me show you what that means.”
Immediately, his hand fists in your hair, pulling you down into a kiss that is pure claiming. No gentleness, no hesitation, just raw dominance that makes your knees weak. His tongue invades your mouth with the same authority he used to force your shift, exploring every inch as if owning it, tasting you deeply. You match his aggression, your tongue battling his, hands tangling in his hair to pull him closer.
When he finally pulls back, you’re both gasping, lips swollen and slick. His eyes have changed, the crimson now molten and swirling with gold. The pupils have elongated further, reptilian, and the temperature of his skin has noticeably increased, radiating heat like a furnace against your bare body.
“I see the dragon has come out to play,” you breathe, running your hands up his chest to feel the heat radiating from his skin, tracing the hard ridges of muscle that tense under your touch.
“Careful what you ask for,” he warns approvingly, his voice a husky rasp that vibrates through you.
He stands in one fluid motion, taking you with him. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, feeling the hard length of his cock press against your core through the silk of his pants. The friction makes you gasp, and his answering growl vibrates through his chest into yours, sending shivers down your spine as you grind against him shamelessly, seeking more of that delicious pressure.
He deposits you in the center of the mattress, and you barely have time to catch your breath before he’s on you. His weight presses you into soft silk sheets and the contrast between the coolness at your back and the heat at your front makes your head spin.
“Look at you.” His free hand traces the contour of your body, palming your breasts roughly, thumbs circling your nipples until they harden into aching peaks. He pinches one sharply, drawing a moan from your lips, then soothes it with his tongue, swirling around the sensitive bud before sucking it into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to send jolts of pleasure-pain straight to your core. “I knew you were going to be a handful. You’re so responsive. Your body knows what it wants.
“I could say the same for you.” You slide your free hand down between your bodies to palm his cock through the silk, squeezing just enough to make his breath hitch, feeling the thick shaft twitch eagerly in your grip. “Question is whether you can actually deliver.”
His eyes flash with amusement and pride. “Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe.” You stroke him again, feeling him throb against your palm, the silk growing damp with his precum. “I’ve heard things about dragons. Let’s see if they’re true or just all myth and ego.”
“Reckless creature, aren’t you?” His mouth descends on your throat, teeth scraping over your pulse point, nipping and sucking marks into your skin that will bloom into bruises by morning.
You arch into the contact, but your hands don’t stop their exploration. You work his pants down enough to free his cock, and when your fingers wrap around bare skin for the first time, you both groan. He’s hot to the touch, almost fever-warm, and bigger than you expected even after seeing the outline through silk—velvet steel, ridged faintly with subtle scales that hint at his draconic nature, the head flared and glistening with arousal.
“This might be a problem,” you say, stroking him base to tip and watching his eyes nearly roll back, your thumb circling the sensitive underside, spreading the slickness over his length.
“You can take it.” His words are strangled, hips bucking into your hand. “I’ll make sure of it. I’ll stretch you open until you’re begging for every inch.”
He captures your wrists in one large hand, pinning them above your head while his other hand slides down your body, caressing every curve until his fingers finally brush between your thighs. You’re already soaked, have been since he first caught you, slick dripping down your inner thighs, but the confirmation makes him smile sharp and satisfied.
“So wet already,” he murmurs, parting your folds with two fingers, dipping into your heat before circling your clit with practiced precision, rubbing in tight, firm circles that make your hips jerk up toward him. “Tell me, is this what you imagined when you snuck into my home? Being pinned down, spread open for me like this?”
“I was expecting you to not be here at all,” you make out between pants, your body arching as he teases your entrance. “You’re supposed to be out right now. And then coming back being none the wiser.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice in knowing when I’m being watched.” When he slides one finger inside you, curling it to hit that perfect spot, you clench around the intrusion reflexively, a whimper escaping your lips.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” His voice has dropped an octave and the rumbling only winds you tighter, his finger pumping in and out slowly, building the ache.
“It’s been a while.”
He adds a second finger, stretching you, and the slight burn mixes with pleasure in ways that make you see stars. He scissors them inside you, twisting and curling, his thumb pressing firmly on your clit, rolling it in time with his thrusts. “Going to feel amazing wrapped around my cock, aren’t you?”
He adds a third finger, stretching you wider, and his thumb finds your clit with devastating accuracy, flicking and rubbing until your thighs tremble. The dual stimulation has you climbing fast, your body responding to everything—his heat, his dominance, the reality of finally having his hands on you after months of wondering. Your free hand claws at his back, nails digging in as the pressure builds, coiling tight in your belly.
“That’s it,” he encourages, working you higher, his fingers thrusting deeper, harder, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the room. “Let me feel you come apart. Soak my fingers, little fox—show me how badly you need this.”
You come with a cry, your body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crash through you, your release gushing over his hand, leaving you trembling and breathless. He works you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping until you're whimpering from overstimulation.
You watch through half-lidded eyes as he strips off his pants, and your mouth goes dry. He’s proportional to his human form—which means impressively, almost intimidatingly large. The head of his cock is flushed dark, already leaking, and you can see the pulse in the thick vein running along his length, the subtle ridges promising to drag against your walls in ways that make your core clench in anticipation.
“See something you like?” He strokes himself once, twice, watching your reaction, his fist pumping slowly from base to tip, a bead of precum dripping from the slit.
“Not yet.” It’s a complete lie and you both know it, but his eyes ignite at the challenge. “You said you’d show me what a dragon can do. So far I’m not impressed.
“Not impressed?” He laughs, releasing your wrists. “Then let me try harder.” The head of his cock nudges against your entrance, rubbing through your slick folds, coating himself in your release, and even prepared you can tell this is going to be a tight fit.
“Last chance to take that back,” he warns, his tip pressing just inside, stretching you already.
“Make me.”
He pushes in slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size, inch by thick inch splitting you open. You dig your nails into his shoulders, gasping as he works deeper, the burn of the stretch bordering on pain but melting into exquisite fullness. His ridges catch on your inner walls, sending sparks of pleasure with every shallow thrust forward.
“Breathe,” he commands, and you realize you’ve been holding your breath. “Relax for me. Let me in—fuck, you’re gripping me so tight.”
You force yourself to breathe, to relax into the invasion. He slides deeper, and the burn shifts into fullness, pressure, pleasure building at the edge of too much. When he finally bottoms out, hips flush against yours, you feel impossibly full, stretched around him in ways that border on too much, his cock pressing against your cervix.
“Almost there.” He’s trembling with restraint, forehead pressed to yours. “You’re doing so well, taking me so perfectly. So deep inside you—feel that? That’s me owning every part of you.”
The final thrust seats him fully inside you, and you moan loudly, your walls fluttering around him. He holds still for a moment, letting you adjust, but then he pulls back and thrusts in again, setting a rhythm that’s controlled at first but quickly dissolves into something more primal as the dragon in him takes over. He fucks you with single-minded intensity, each powerful snap of his hips driving him deeper, his cock dragging along your sensitive spots, the ridges stimulating you in ways that make your toes curl.
You meet him thrust for thrust, refusing to be passive even when the intensity makes your vision blur. Your hands roam his back, his shoulders, anywhere you can reach, exploring muscle and leaving scratches with each thrust. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your moans mixing with his guttural growls, the wet slide of him moving inside you.
“Harder,” you demand, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper, and his answering growl is pure satisfaction.
“Greedy little fox.” But he complies, pounding into you with the kind of intensity you’d hoped for, his cock slamming into you relentlessly, hitting that perfect spot over and over until you're sobbing his name. “Is this what you wanted? What you fantasized about? Being taken apart so completely?”
“Yes.” No point lying at this point. “Wanted to know if you’d be as good as—fuck—”
He’s found an angle that hits something devastating inside you, and your words dissolve into incoherent sounds. His hand fists in your hair again, pulling your head back to expose your throat, his hips pistoning faster, harder.
“As good as what?” he prompts, teeth scraping over your pulse, nipping at the skin.
“As good as I imagined,” you gasp out, your nails raking down his back hard enough to draw blood. “Better. You’re better—god, don’t stop.”
“Good answer.” He bites down on your throat, hard enough to break skin this time. The sharp pain mixes with overwhelming pleasure as he continues driving into you, and you feel yourself climbing toward orgasm, your body tightening like a bowstring.
“Mine,” he growls against your throat, licking the blood from the bite mark, the coppery taste seeming to spur him on. “Say it.”
“Yours.” You roll your hips to take him deeper, grinding your clit against his pubic bone with each thrust. “For tonight, at least.”
“We’ll see about that.”
His free hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit and circling it with devastating precision, pinching and rolling it between his fingers. The added stimulation combined with his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you pushes you over the edge. You come with a scream, your body clenching around him like a vice, waves of pleasure rolling through you so intensely you see stars, your release soaking the sheets beneath you.
“That’s it,” he encourages, working you through it, his thrusts growing erratic. “Let me feel it—milk my cock, just like that.”
He follows you over moments later, his cock pulsing inside you as he comes with a roar, flooding you with hot spurts of his releasel. You feel the heat of it deep inside, marking you from within, and the satisfied growl that rumbles through his chest makes aftershocks roll through your oversensitive body.
You stay locked together as you both catch your breath, his weight pressing you into the mattress and making you feel oddly secure. Your hands stroke down his back, gentler now, feeling the way his skin is slowly cooling back to normal temperature, the scratches you left already healing under your fingertips.
“Well?” he asks eventually, still not pulling out, his cock softening but still twitching inside you. “Did reality match fantasy?”
“Guess the stories didn’t exaggerate.”
“Good.” He shifts slightly, making you gasp as the movement sends sparks through your oversensitive nerves. “Because that was just round one.”
“Round one?” You laugh breathlessly. “Ambitious.”
“You challenged a dragon.” His smile is wicked as he finally withdraws, making you whimper at the loss, a trickle of his cum leaking out of you. “Did you really think I’d be satisfied with only once?”
He gently tucks you into his side. “I know you have questions.” He tends to the bite mark on your throat with careful licks that make you shiver. “I will answer them in the morning.”
You hate that he has a point. Right now, you are too sated to think clearly. “Just tonight.” Once you’ve satisfied your curiosity, you’ll have to sneak out.
“So soon?” His hand strokes down your spine in soothing repetition. “I’ll have to take that as a challenge to keep you interested.”
“You can try.” You find yourself relaxing into his warmth, exhaustion pulling you under.
His answering laugh vibrates through his chest. “Sleep while you can. You’re going to need your strength.”
The last thing you remember is the rumbling purr that vibrates through his chest and the heat of his body against yours.
You’ll worry about what this all means in the morning. For now, you’re spending the night in the arms of a predator, in his bed, surrounded by his scent.