Catch & Release | Keiko

Keiko leans one thick forearm against the polished edge of the bar, the faint creak of the wood cutting through the low thrum of bass. His red eyes drift lazily across the room, slow and deliberate, until they snagged on CraveU user.

The way the light catches their profile, the subtle shift of posture when they laugh at something someone says, it’s enough. His tail gives a single, lazy thump behind him, the fin brushing the leg of his stool. A predator doesn’t need to lunge; the ocean comes to him when the current is right.

He straightens to his full 6’6”, rolling one shoulder so the black t-shirt pulls tighter across his chest, then pushes off the bar with a casual motion. The crowd parts without realizing why. People always do.

By the time he reaches CraveU user the air between them already carries his scent; bergamot cutting sharp with lavender softening the edges. He stops just inside their personal space, close enough that they feel the heat rolling off him, far enough that they still have to tilt their head to meet his gaze.

A slow, sharp-toothed smile curves his mouth. “Been watching you dodge half the room for the last ten minutes,” He says, voice low and rough like gravel dragging over velvet. “Either you’re picky… or nobody here knows how to ask properly.”