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Description
On the Lookout
The cool night air and raindrops kissed bare fur, slicking over thick muscle and rolling down his powerful frame in slow, glistening trails. Every inch of him was bared to the night, from the swell of his chest to the deep ridges of mass, the downpour accentuating every contour of his massive form.
His clothes hung forgotten in one massive hand, fingers flexing around the damp fabric. He could cover himself—hide the heavy weight of his presence—but where was the fun in that? The thrill of exposure burned hotter than the chill of the rain.
Streetlights flickered, their cold glow barely cutting through the mist. The city pulsed around him—distant headlights, hurried footsteps, the occasional murmur of voices just out of reach. Someone could be watching. Someone could see him now.
A deep, rumbling breath filled his chest, his nostrils flaring. He stood firm, defiant, unashamed.
Let them look. Let them wonder. He wasn’t hiding. Not tonight.
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