Cyrus was on the bed, laying flat on his back, arm draped over his eyes. He looked oddly peaceful despite Paradox knowing this Lycanthrope could easily kill him. Paradox tried to not make any noises as he hovered awkwardly near the doorway, eyeing Cyrus. He began scanning the room, noticing how dimmed the room was and how there were long claw marks that tore through the drywall.

Paradox held his breath as he stepped in, wincing as the hardwood floor barely creaked underneath him. He flinched when Cyrus went stiff, a low growl in his throat. Paradox stepped back, ready to flee, but the Lycanthrope said, “Come in, boy. Stop playing games. I already heard you from the doorway. Your heartbeat is awfully loud.”

His heartbeat? The Lycanthrope could hear his heartbeat? Was that how Lycanthropes could catch their prey? Easily hunt them down by zeroing in on the prey’s quick heartbeat amongst millions of buzzing sounds?

“I’m not stopping you,” Cyrus said in his low voice. “If you turn around, I won’t get angry or attack you. It’s your free will, and I will not prevent that.” Cyrus sat upright, looking at Paradox with his heterochromia eyes. “So what do you say?”

“If I—” began Paradox, but Cyrus interrupted him:

“If at any given point you wish to stop, pause, or leave, I will respect your choice. Like I said, I’m not a monster.” Cyrus flashed Paradox a grin. “But before that, do introduce yourself. I hate not knowing the name of the one I spend time with. I already introduced myself to you— Cyrus Daemin.”

“Paradox Feign,” Paradox said shortly, watching Cyrus’s movement closely. The Lycanthrope was at ease, muscles relaxed, eyes locked with Paradox’s; he was listening intently, making sure to not miss a word Paradox said.

“Paradox. Fitting name for a mysterious boy like you,” Cyrus said.

Paradox tried to focus his gaze on the wall behind the bed, ignoring the fact that the Lycanthrope had stood up from the bed, waiting, watching. Cyrus’s heterochromia eyes were glowing despite the dim lights—like wolf’s eyes glowing when they caught a glimpse of light in the dark. It disturbed Paradox. It made him feel uneasy to know that in front of him was a Lycanthrope male, not a human. A beast with supernatural strength and abilities, possessing fangs and claw-like nails. A beast that lusted for blood and illicit sex. A monster from a different world.

Despite the natural instinct of wanting to flee, the Lycanthrope’s intoxicating pheromone was luring Paradox closer. Like rain in a pine forest, the musky scent was burning the back of Paradox’s throat; it made his head feel murky. He hated it. But when he looked at Cyrus, he noticed that the Lycanthrope was watching him with a guarded look, a look of caution and alert. His icy blue and dark gold eyes were trained on Paradox’s face; Cyrus’s eyes were impossible to read.

“S-so,” Paradox stuttered. He flinched at how loud his voice sounded in the strained silence.

“So,” Cyrus said. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What would you like me to do? Or what would you like to do?”

“Isn’t this illegal?” Paradox asked.

Cyrus had a small smile on his lips. “Illegal?” he mused. “No… You humans think it is illegal when it isn’t. At least, in Byd Cyntaf, it isn’t. See, we’re not all that different. We can just take an animal form, therefore having animal traits. We’re still human as much as we are animals. Sure, some are more dangerous than others, but most of us aren’t. It’s those tall tales you heard when you were a kid and then implemented it in real life. I promise you, kid, your human world is a hell lot more terrifying than Byd Cyntaf.”

Paradox grounded his jaw, unsure how to respond to Cyrus’s words. True, all the tales he heard were from his childhood, and he never went to Byd Cyntaf, only once two weeks ago. This was the first time he talked to a Lycanthrope, and just because he heard bad stuff about Lycanthropes didn’t mean it applied to Cyrus.

Right?

“So what do you wish to do, Mr. Feign?” Cyrus asked, now leaning against the wall, head tilted to the side. “Or do you have more questions?”

“Are you… Is it true that… What exactly… Do Alphas and Omegas exist?” Paradox asked, stumbling over his question.

“Yes, it exists. Though many don’t know of it. How do you know?” Cyrus asked, standing straight, brows furrowed.

“Uh. A-a book I found.” Paradox said.

Cyrus looked intrigued. “And what do you know?”

Paradox shook his head. “I don’t…Are you an Alpha?”

The Lycanthrope grinned at Paradox. “A dominant Alpha. But hey. If that makes you uncomfortable–”

“Okay. So now, what do I do?” Paradox said, cutting Cyrus off.

The Lycanthrope’s grin grew. “Not a virgin, hm? Must be eager.” Cyrus approached Paradox, and Paradox felt his heart quicken in his throat when the Lycanthrope had Paradox against the wall, his arm up against the wall beside Paradox’s shoulder. “Normally, it’d be a quick get-down- to-business, yet with you… Something tells me it should...be special. And like I said,” Cyrus murmured, his other hand cupping Paradox’s chin, “I am not a bad person. Or Lycan. Or beast. Or whatever you want to call me. Because of that, I am asking you, can I kiss you?”

This alarmed Paradox. He hadn’t imagined kissing the Lycanthrope, but then again, he hadn’t imagined he’d be trying to hook up with a Lycanthrope.

Paradox hadn’t kissed anyone before, but he had seen others, such as Caravel, kiss their partner. He knew it was an intimate thing, a passionate thing, but it always somewhat grossed him out. The idea of kissing someone with their tongue didn’t make sense to him, and he believed he wouldn’t enjoy it. But then again, he wasn’t sure.

Paradox looked at Cyrus, who was waiting for an answer, icy blue and dark gold eyes a pool of patient desire.

It was just one night. He could do this. Then he could go back to the normal world, the human world, and forget Byd Cyntaf like a childish dream.

Paradox gave a short nod, and Cyrus kissed him.

It was just lips to lips, nothing much, but Paradox’s heart was thundering in his chest, leaving him wondering if the Lycanthrope could hear his heartbeat. Paradox had his eyes wide open, arms awkwardly by his sides, unsure and completely inexperienced.

Cyrus then let his tongue touch Paradox’s lips, causing Paradox to jolt in alarm. Cyrus paused, pulling away. He said, “No?” to which Paradox replied shakily, “I-it’s fine.”

“If you’re not ready,” started Cyrus.

“I-I am. Just…nervous.” Paradox admitted weakly.

Cyrus gave a short nod, then said, “Understandable. How ’bout this: close your eyes. Go on, close them.”

Paradox hesitated before giving in.

“Relax your jaw,” Cyrus murmured, running a knuckle on Paradox’s jaw.

Paradox tried to unground his teeth. His heart was now pounding in his throat.

Cyrus dragged the pad of his thumb on Paradox’s lower lip. “If you say stop, I’ll stop,” Cyrus said, then his lips were against Paradox’s.

This time, Paradox let Cyrus’s tongue slip past his mouth and collide with his own. Paradox felt his body stiffening, hand fisting Cyrus’s shirt, a low whimpering protest escaping his throat. Cyrus’s tongue was gentle against Paradox’s; it was nothing Paradox had imagined a kiss would be, let alone a first kiss. Cyrus’s hands were above Paradox’s hips, pulling him off the wall, right up against him.

Paradox didn’t know if he was doing anything right. His body was rigid, his hands were fisting the Lycanthrope’s shirt, and his tongue was still in his mouth as he let Cyrus take the lead in the messy kiss. When Cyrus let his tongue slip under Paradox’s, Paradox felt a shiver crawl up his spine, and he withdrew from the kiss. Paradox was alarmed to find out that his lips were wet from Cyrus’s and his saliva, and he wanted to drag his hand against his lips but didn’t when Cyrus kissed him, drawing all the air out of Paradox’s lungs.

“Do you want to take this to the bed?” Cyrus said against Paradox’s lips.

“T-the door?” Paradox gasped out.

Cyrus pulled away from Paradox and went to the door. He closed the door and locked it. Once the lock clicked into place, Cyrus turned around, facing Paradox. “Last chance. Are you ready?”

Paradox swallowed hard, cheeks flushed from the heated kiss, body now shaking from this newfound feeling that made his head feel buzzy. He gave a short nod.

Cyrus grinned, his grin a white knife in the dimly lit room. He went to Paradox and grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the bed. Once they approached the bed, Cyrus immediately removed his shoes and undid Paradox’s. He then proceeded to easily lift Paradox up before setting him on the bed with such gentleness.

Paradox’s back was now on the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as Cyrus went above him, hovering. Cyrus laid his hand on Paradox’s cheek before kissing Paradox’s forehead. “Hey. You’re breathing too fast. I don’t want you to faint on me.”

“I—” Paradox stammered, voice stuck in his throat. He hesitated before saying, “I just…this… what if…”

“Kid. If it’s your first time, just say so. And if you want to stop—”

“No,” Paradox said firmly despite his thundering heart, which felt like it would burst out of his chest at any given moment.

Cyrus canted his head before shaking his head, amused. He then put his head against Paradox’s neck, and Paradox froze, wondering if Cyrus was going to Mark him. He didn’t want that. Before Paradox could speak, Cyrus pressed a biting kiss on the base of Paradox’s neck, and his body jolted, surprised that it sent an electric shock down his spine, a gasping cry escaping his throat.

Horrified and embarrassed, Paradox slapped a hand to his mouth. Cyrus smirked at him and moved his hand away. “What, that turned you on? Don’t cover your mouth. That is an order. I want to hear every gasp, every moan, every scream that rips out of your throat.”

Paradox found himself complying with Cyrus’s order, which startled him.

A low growl rumbled in Cyrus’s throat as he slid his hand under Paradox’s shirt, hand skating on the plane of Paradox’s flat stomach and chest. Paradox’s breath hitched when Cyrus’s hand glided over the strain in his jeans, and a muffled cry burst out of Paradox’s lips when Cyrus cupped him, hand fondling, hand teasing; the Lycanthrope’s bicolored eyes flamed with lustful pleasure.

Cyrus’s lips were cool against Paradox’s heated flesh; his lips against Paradox’s neck, his chest, his stomach, lower.

“Fuck,” Paradox choked out, hands fisting the silky sheets underneath him when Cyrus undid the button of Paradox’s jeans, fingers nimble as they pulled the zipper down. Paradox hated that his body was responding to this exhilarating excitement. His hormones were raging, body reacting in ways it had never done before. His breathing became more laborious as Cyrus continued stripping Paradox of his clothing before turning to his own.

Then, it got to the point where both Paradox and Cyrus were bare of their clothes, and Paradox became very aware of the situation. He was flat on his back on a bed. A Lycanthrope male was above him, heterochromia eyes dark with want. Paradox knew he was turned on and had the urge to cover his body, but Cyrus and his inebriating pheromones were blocking all common sense in Paradox’s mind.

“Breathe,” Cyrus whispered to Paradox, and then his finger breached him.

White-hot pain followed by drunken pleasure ruptured throughout Paradox’s body as his body arched, hands frantically gripping the silken sheets, trying to find a steady ground. A choking moan left Paradox’s throat as he struggled to silence his panting, high-pitched, desperate cries, body twitching and spasming under Cyrus’s touch.

A second digit painstakingly entered Paradox, and his vision went white with torturous pleasuring pain, throat raw from his gulping sobs and heaving pants. Paradox couldn’t stop his tears, whimpering pathetically as Cyrus’s fingers tormented him, sliding in deeper before leaving his body.

“Breathe,” Cyrus reiterated, and—

“AH! F-FUCK!” Paradox yelled, hands going to Cyrus’s back, nails digging into the Lycanthrope’s back.

Paradox was unable to mute his voice. His screams echoed in the enclosed room, his moans drowned out by the sound of skin against skin. Tears blurred Paradox’s vision as his body arched against Cyrus, frantically trying to find some sort of relief.

Cyrus had his mouth latched against Paradox’s neck, his fangs sinking into the soft flesh. Paradox felt the stabbing pain of Cyrus’s fangs against his neck, could feel the blood welling up there, could feel Cyrus lapping up the blood. But Paradox was focused on Cyrus in him, could feel his hips against his, the collision of skin.

Paradox then went tense as his body reached its climax, a sharp noise of alarm emitting from his throat, but before he could say anything, everything came to an end. Cyrus withdrew, panting, grinning. Cyrus used his hand to brush the damp hair out of Paradox’s forehead.

“Now rest,” Cyrus said, pressing his forehead against Paradox’s.

Even though Paradox wanted to protest, he felt his body relax, his vision blurring away into darkness, and he slipped into a dreamless world.