Panther Park [m] The only time I'd ever call you mine

Hunst's gaze lingered, searching her face, his own breath coming hard, sharp in the quiet. From here, he could do it. She was still, open, pinned, her struggles weakening with each passing second under the weight of his hold. He could feel her rapid pulse, the tension trembling through her as though something inside her was breaking.

He dipped his head close to her ear, his voice a low rumble, roughened with a quiet intensity. Ye know, from here, I could end it. One move, he whispered, his breath brushing her fur, cold yet oddly gentle. But ye’re not helpless.

Slowly, he loosened his grip, showing her the angles, guiding her wrist where it could slip free. Shift yer shoulder. Pull this way. He moved with her, careful, steady, so she could feel it, understand where her power lay even from beneath him. Push up hard with yer back leg — throw me off balance.

He met her gaze, something raw flickering in his eyes as he studied her, seeing both her struggle and something fragile, like a bird with broken wings. Beautiful, he thought, though he barely understood why, or how the feeling lodged itself there, unsettling.

There ye go. Now do it, he murmured, inviting her to throw him, to rise from her own vulnerability, as if that would set her free.