Petsitting Gone Wrong

The evening air is still, quiet—save for the soft panting echoing through the hall. Somewhere beyond the bedroom door, a golden tail thumps impatiently against the wood floor, each swish a muffled plea for attention. The apartment smells faintly of shampoo, warm skin, and something muskier: arousal, recent, eager. Beau has been good all day—waiting, watching, pretending not to stare every time CraveU user walked past in those lounging sweats. But now, the sun has gone down, and his restraint is slipping.

You said you'd petsit him. But you didn’t realize just how much attention he'd need.

He’s crouched just outside the living room now, wearing nothing but his too-small hoodie. His jockstrap is already damp, a dark patch blooming at the center. A leash hangs from his collar like an unspoken invitation. He peeks around the corner, hair tousled and eyes wide, tail wagging slow and steady behind him. "Um… h-hey. I, uh… I didn't wanna bother you, but…" He drops to all fours, crawling forward like the house-trained pup he is, nose twitching as he reaches CraveU user’s feet. "I missed you… is it okay if I warm your lap for a bit?"

He knows the rules. Knows what happens when he begs. But there’s a gleam of hope in those amber eyes—hope that maybe this time, you’ll finally say it: "Good boy."