Content: hybrid!au, afab!reader (she/her used), lion hybrid!enjin, handjob (m receiving), cumplay, fingering, p in v, dom!reader, ruts, desperate men whining, breeding kink, overworking, love island references, kind of sugar mommy!reader, minors DNI
A/N: I can’t really decide whether I love or hate this. As per last time, if anything is OOC please don’t tell me!!! I was just having too much fun imagining Enjin w cute little ears.
Your apartment was silent, the only sound the click of the door as you push it closed behind you. Floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall reveal the city, unfurled and glittering with lights that could only be appreciated fully from high up and late at night.
Dinner had been eaten in stolen mouthfuls at your desk as you finished up editing some contracts. You’d sent them over for your paralegal to review on Monday before you’d decided you were done for the night. You’d made sure she went home on time, promising her that you’d be out just behind her - a white lie she’d tell you off for later.
Heels kicked off in the entryway, you pad over to the well-stocked wine fridge, grab a crisp, cold bottle and a glass, and sink into the plush material of your sofa. It was basically good as new with all the time you spent at home. The partners at your firm had told you time and again that really, this wasn’t the kind of company where you had to bill eighty hour weeks. You always smiled and assured them that the late nights and weekends in the office were because you loved the work, not because you felt you had to prove yourself.
But another contributing factor was that there was nothing for you at home. At least in the office you had coworkers, chats around the coffee machine, clients to soothe and arm with reams of meticulously prepared documents - things to get done.Those same people had real homes. Loved ones waiting for them, pets, housemates. It almost made you miss sharing a house. Almost.
The dim lighting in your apartment couldn’t hide the sharp lines, the minimalist aesthetic that you’d curated for yourself. Low stress, satisfyingly clean. Like a model home, unlived in, other than the bookshelves/television stand that took up the whole wall, stuffed full of well-loved volumes.
You unlock your phone with a sigh, taking a decidedly un-elegant glug of wine. Who cared, it was only you here anyway. It opened on the chat thread with your best friend, your lifeline, who’d moved to Paris last year. The link was still there - a news article.
Hybrids: The Best Option for Busy Professionals?
The headline had done nothing but make you snort in amusement when you’d received it earlier in the day, surrounded by the bustle of the office, but now that the quiet was hovering over you like a storm-cloud you couldn’t stop yourself from clicking.
The journalist listed the beneficial qualities of hybrid pets over animals - they were relatively self sufficient so didn’t need you to be home all day, they were good company, affectionate, helpful, and so on and so forth. You scrolled past pictures of grinning dog hybrids, sleek cat hybrids, and the interview with an anonymous business man and his rabbit hybrid. ‘It’s just so nice to have someone to come home to!’ He’s quoted as saying, and you find yourself shuddering in pity for the poor bunny, refusing to acknowledge your own hypocrisy.
The article went so far as to include links to adoption centres and specialist agencies across the country. You pour yourself another glass, the amount of liquid left in the bottle dwindling alarmingly quickly. The first place was just outside your city, and had a plethora of different hybrid types. A few catch your eye, and you hover your thumb over their profiles for just a moment before imagining them clawing at your meticulously pristine furniture, or twitching and drooling at your sofa. The thought alone makes you move along.
No - you had a very specific aesthetic, a powerful job, buckets of corporate money with nothing to funnel it into except for your mortgage and groceries. You could fritter away a portion of it on a hybrid that suited you, who was going to stop you?
You pour another glass, frowning when it only fills your glass halfway. You go back to the list of links, squinting to focus your eyes on the screen. T. C. Exotic Hybrids
Perfect. A glossier website than the others, precisely formulated fact files on each of the hybrids on offer. The long lashes and horns of an antelope hybrid catch your eye briefly, and then you’re distracted by the rounded chubby cheeks of a sugar glider. Before you know it, you’re at the bottom of the webpage where another link flashes at you from the screen.
Now this is what you were talking about. Striking eyes stare out at you, some revealing sharped teeth to the camera - you didn’t have any security worries in your high rise, but one can never be too safe! You’re entranced by the bulk of a bear hybrid, cooing at his cute ears, and read every word of the care description of a cheetah hybrid like you’d already paid for her.
The early morning light makes you scrunch your nose in discontent. Had you forgotten to close your curtains last night? One eye cracks open just to realise you’d never made it to bed at all - you’d passed out, still in your work clothes, in the corner of the sofa with your phone in hand. You rub at your face, picking yourself up and taking your drained wine glass to the sink.
You were in the middle of making your breakfast when your phone emits the cheerful whoosh! of an incoming email. Expecting work, you skim the subject line and stop dead.
[Subject: Hybrid Enquiry]
‘No way,’ You mutter, kicking your wine-drunk self for making decisions that you affect sober you. At least it was just an enquiry, right?
Thank you for your interest in one of our hybrids! Your initial application form has been carefully assessed by our team and we have determined that you would be a great fit for one of our predator-class hybrids. Congratulations!
In line with the availability you submitted, we have organised a meeting time. Should you choose to proceed with the adoption, your £650 application fee will go towards materials for getting your hybrid settled.
We look forward to seeing you soon!
You check the date they’d listed on the email, and then your calendar. That was today. In a few hours. ‘No way,’ You groan, louder. And you’d paid real money? Were you insane?! The email hadn’t even listed the hybrid you’d applied for - and you couldn’t find any evidence either. Maybe it was the cheetah?
A quick read of the hybrid forums emphasised the importance of wearing something that smelled like you, like a favourite hoodie, to allow them to get used to your scent. Maybe it was lucky after all that you’d slept in your clothes. Work trousers swapped for a more comfortable pair of jeans, you head out. From your car, you shoot a text to your friend to blame her for your predicament, and get only a row of laughing emojis in response.
You curse her under your breath as you park outside T. C. Exotic. Usually a drive in the car you’d spent your first big bonus on soothed you, but today it did little for your nerves. What if you’d applied for the bear? Would he even fit in the passenger seat?
The clack of your heels echoed on the polished floor, drawing the attention of the man sitting behind the reception desk. He stands, a serene smile on his face.
‘Ah, you must be my twelve o’clock,’ His voice is smooth, putting you at ease. The brass name tag pinned to his white collared shirt reads Tamsy Caines. ‘You know, I was surprised to get your application. Most women prefer prey-class hybrids.’
You chuckle nervously. ‘I guess I like to stand out,’ You joke, fiddling with the strap of your handbag.
‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Tamsy smiles, taking a folder from a drawer and leading you towards a set of double doors. He tapped in a code on the keypad and held one of the doors open for you. ‘Ladies first.’
The centre looked more like an up-scale hotel than the animal shelter you were expecting. The doors were dark wood, with emblazoned symbols on them denoting the species of hybrid held within. Small tables along the hallway featured thriving houseplants, and overhead skylights bathed the corridors in natural sunlight. You pass a lively dining area, peeking into the open door for a brief moment to see a dozen hybrids chatting to one another.
‘This is the prey-class area,’ Tamsy says, pulling your attention away. ‘The predators require their own space, for obvious reasons.’ He may have caught the slightly horrified look on your face. ‘Our hybrids are highly unlikely to harm one another, or humans, but we find it’s best practice that there be some separation. It’s more soothing for everyone.’
It was far less appealing to have a hybrid that was going to go out of its way to maul anyone you pass in the park.
‘May I ask what interested you in our selection?’ Tamsy asks, tapping in another key code on a more robust set of doors.
‘I work a lot,’ You blurt out, stomach churning with nerves. ‘My friend was getting worried and sent me an article about hybrids - she thinks it’d help me to have someone around the house - and they’d recommended you.’
‘So a lucky piece of advertising?’ Tamsy quips. He stops in front of a door without an animal symbol. ‘This is one of our meeting rooms,’ He explains. ‘You make yourself comfortable in here, have a look through his information, and I’ll bring Enjin through to meet you.’ He looks at you carefully. ‘Do try not to be nervous. This is an exciting day for the two of you.’ He gives you that serene smile and hands over the file you’d seen him take out of the reception desk.
You open the door as his footsteps fade. The comfortable lounge space welcomes you in, windows flung wide and circulating fresh air and birdsong. The tension in your shoulders loosens somewhat as you take a seat, crossing your legs carefully and opening the file.
A photo of a hybrid you don’t remember seeing stares up at you, fluffy ears poking out from his tousled blond hair. The introduction page couldn’t be clearer as to what you were getting yourself in for. At the top of the page, in a font size three times bigger than the rest of the words: LION. You skim the following pages, information on feeding routines, hybrid’s history, care instructions. Your head spun. What were you supposed to do with a lion?!
The muted sound of the latch clicking into place drew your attention, and you snap the file closed. You felt like a deer in the headlights. The hybrid towered over you, looking down and pinning you in place with his golden eyes. If not for the sound of the door, you wouldn’t have known he was even there, and it seemed impossible that someone so huge could move in silence.
You squeak something that you hope sounds like ‘Hello,’ and Enjin grins, revealing lethal canines.
‘Cute,’ He says, loping across the floor with an easy grace and setting himself into the chair opposite yours. ‘Tamsy said you were wound up. No need to be scared, ma,’ He slouches back into the chair, long legs spreading wide, and you couldn’t help but notice the cute puff of fur on the tip of his tail as it swung lazily over the arm of the chair.
‘I’m not wound up,’ You huff. ‘This just isn’t where I thought I’d be today.’
‘Oh?’ His eyes sharpen with interest.
Given the opportunity to unload the horrors of your day, you jumped at it. You rub at your forehead with two manicured fingers. ‘I got home late from work late and drank a bunch of wine and somehow managed to submit an application. I didn’t even realise I’d done it and then this morning found out I’d already paid a ridiculously expensive application fee - stop laughing!’
The hybrid was shaking with barely contained laughter, his face lit up with mirth and a thousand miles from the intimidating expression he’d had when he’d first stepped into the room. ‘Sorry, that’s just so stupid.’
‘I know,’ You admit, letting your head fall to rest on the back of the chair.
‘I won’t complain though,’ He says, voice rumbling pleasantly. ‘’S not often I get requests, ‘n it gets boring in here.’
You lift your head, looking at him with surprise. ‘Really? But you’re so,’ You motion at him. ‘I would’ve thought at least some kind of security company would want someone like you.’
‘They’ve tried,’ His voice is devious. ‘But I always make them back out in the end.’
His playful tone and easy banter makes it easy to open up to him, and you chat about your diabolically poor work-life balance and the half-drunk idea that having a hybrid would mean you get home at normal hours without sacrificing your career. Ten minutes pass before you realise you hadn’t asked him anything, instead sitting and rambling about your lonely evenings.
‘How long have you been here?’ You blurt. ‘Sorry, is that rude? I don’t know the etiquette of these things.’
‘You’re good,’ Enjin waves away your worried stammering. ‘Uh… two years maybe?’
‘That’s a long time…’ You say, half to yourself.
‘I’d rather be here than working my ass off for some dude in a warehouse somewhere,’ He says sourly, and you think back to the pages of the file you’d flipped through. Lion hybrids need, on average, about fifteen hours of sleep per day. Not exactly conducive to getting a job.
‘So you want to be a housecat?’
He leans forward, elbows on his knees and fingers laced under his chin. ‘I’ll be anything you want me to be, mama.’
Filling out the forms didn’t take as long as you thought it would. Enjin perched on the counter beside you, tail flicking, as you finished all of the sections and double checked you had all your information, paying the eye-watering charge for your new… pet? Housemate?
Tamsy presented you with what he called a ‘beginner care kit’, filled with vacuum sealed packs of raw meat and the file you’d been reading earlier. He promised you that it had everything that you’d need to know. ‘But if you have any questions, you know how to get in contact with me. Good luck, you two!’ He chirps as he waves the two of you head out the door.
As soon as you’re safely back in your car, Enjin folded into the passenger seat, reality hits you. What have you done?!
You stop by a locksmith on your way back to the apartment, getting a spare key cut. Having a hybrid trapped in your house felt like you were turning into Mother Gothel.
Enjin whistled lowly when you unlocked the front door, and moved straight over to the fridge to store the bucketloads of meat you’d just been given. He stalked through the kitchen to the living room, inspecting all the corners and taking a look out of the window onto the cityscape below.
‘What do you think?’ You ask, trying not to give away how much you wanted his approval.
He turned to you with a wide smile on his handsome face. ‘I’m thinking about how great it is that you’re pretty and rich.’
Living with another person was going to take some getting used to.
Although Enjin had a bedroom, you learned early on that he didn’t use it. One morning you were up early for work, barely conscious. You beelined for the kitchen, dreaming of pricey bag of coffee beans a client had gifted you. You flicked the switch on your espresso machine with a yawn and leant against the counter to check your emails.
‘Good morning,’ A voice purred from behind you, making you jump out of your skin.
‘Jesus, warn a girl first,’ You said, whipping around to see Enjin, stretched out on the sofa in nothing but a pair of loose basketball shorts. ‘And put on some clothes!’
‘I got too hot,’ He grumbled, his eyes raking down your body. ‘Besides, if you’re gonna complain about me you’ve gotta fix yourself first. Not that I mind the view.’
You’d gotten so used to wandering around your apartment in the vest and short-shorts you slept in that it was second nature to trot straight out of your bedroom without changing. You feel yourself flushing and march back to get dressed, trailed by Enjin’s laughing.
Your main objective for getting a hybrid was realised pretty quickly. Getting out of work on time became routine within the first week. There was never anything out of place when you got home, so it wasn’t that you were worried Enjin had destroyed anything in your absence, but just the idea of there being someone present was enough to see you leaving the office while the sun was still in the sky.
A second, unexpected benefit raised its head early on too. Enjin could, technically, survive on raw meat. But why do that when it could be cooked into a meal?
Instead of rushed microwave meals over your keyboard, your evenings were instead spent playfully bickering in your previously underused kitchen with a six-three slab of muscle listing off cheesy chat-up lines at you from your kitchen island while you cooked. He had offered to help, but backed off when you said that being in the kitchen at the same time as another person was your worst nightmare come to life.
Now, he just sat and watched you move between the stove and your prep area, making sure the music matched your vibe on whatever evening it was, and handing you utensils when you needed them. In short, he was the perfect sous chef.
You plate up the food; tonight’s menu was steaming bowls of creamy pasta, steak, and roasted broccoli. A far cry from limp microwaved carbonara. You moan to yourself in satisfaction as you make your way to the sofa, Enjin trailing after you. The next episode of the show you’d started together was already queued up on the screen, and the two of you provided a running commentary between mouthfuls of food.
‘Ben’s clearly an asshole but Harry’s not much better. He’s leading them both on.’ You wrinkle your nose in distaste.
‘Shakira could definitely do better than Harry,’ Enjin agrees, waving his fork at the screen. ‘But mark my words, they’ll be endgame.’
‘Wanna bet?’ You say, and he stretches his hand across for you to shake.
Bowls emptied and placed in the dishwasher, you curl into your corner of the sofa. You had a side now, it wasn’t just you and the infinite space of the apartment. Your eyes flitted between the screen and Enjin, who was still complaining about the pool that the show’s contestants seemed to be ignoring entirely.
‘If I had a pool like that I’d be in there twenty four seven, why are they just sitting around it?!’ He glanced over at you and caught you looking at him, flashing you a smile. ‘What?’
‘I dunno. I just started thinking about how this is what I wanted,’ You flush, tucking your chin under the collar of your jumper. ‘When my friend sent me the link I thought I’d end up with a dog or cat hybrid, but I’m glad it was you.’
‘Look at you going all soft on me,’ Enjin crooned, his smile widening. ‘I’m glad you got wine drunk and made bad decisions.’
You stretch out one leg to kick him in the thigh but he catches your ankle, stroking the skin there and moving your leg across his lap. ‘No violence, I’ll call animal welfare on you.’
Spring meant that the days were lengthening, the evening sun casting beautiful rays of light into your apartment. You stand at the window, looking over the city, hair hanging damp around your shoulders from your after-work shower.
‘I always wanted to go on a sunset walk down the river,’ You say aloud, tracing the glittering course of the water with your finger against the glass.
‘So why don’t you?’ Enjin asks from his post on the sofa, tail flicking lazily.
‘Are you kidding? I’m a girl. Walking alone as it gets dark is not as relaxing as it should be when you think there are kidnappers around every corner.’ You sigh, staring wistfully.
A prod at your cheek made you snap out of it. ‘Who said anything about being alone, mama. What’s the point of having a me around if not to scare off kidnappers?’
‘I thought you didn’t want to do security,’ You reply, batting his hand away from your face.
‘Not for a dude in a warehouse, but I’d do it for someone like you.’ Enjin starts towards the door, pulling on his trainers and a battered baseball cap, beckoning for you to join him.
In the elevator down to the ground floor you flick the brim of his cap. ‘What’s with the hat?’
‘The ears are harder to hide than the tail,’ He shrugged indifferently. ‘’M proud of what I come from, but if I’m walking with a pretty girl I want to be any other guy, y’know? Seeing ‘the king of the jungle’ in the middle of a city turns heads.’ His tattooed fingers trace quote marks into the air as he speaks.
You hum thoughtfully. ‘I get it.’ You smile up at him, straightening the hat on his head. ‘We can give you the full ‘normal guy on a sunset date’ experience.’
Enjin’s not even sure if you know what you’ve said. The elevator doors open and you practically skip out, the siren song of the riverside working its magic on you. The route takes you directly past your favourite cafe, and you nip in for a moment to order two hot chocolates. The wind by the river still holds some of the winter chill in it despite the arrival of spring.
He accepts the cup from you, his nose pink from the wind, and listens to you preaching about how this was the best hot chocolate simply because they melted down real chocolate chips for each drink. You slip your arm through his, exclaiming wordlessly at just how much prettier the view is from the ground.
Magnolia and cherry trees bloomed along the walkway, the golden hour sunlight plucking out all of the details of the individual flowers and illuminating the petals that shivered off the branches when the wind blew.
You walked for longer than you’d expected, conversation flowing easily. Your arm hooked through his becomes almost normal, like this was something you did every day. The sunset spreads across the sky, spectacularly vibrant, and then fades into the deep blue of evening. The cue to head back home. The chill became more vicious once the dark settles around you, and you shiver a little despite your jumper. Maybe checking the weather report before running out the apartment next time would be a good idea.
The shivering becoming more pronounced draws Enjin’s attention, and without missing a beat he releases his arm from yours, wrapping it instead around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.
‘C’mere, ma.’ Respite from the wind combined with his insane body heat offered you instant relief, and you relax into his body. ‘Wear a coat next time, we don’t want the breadwinner getting sick.’
‘You just want me for my money,’ You laugh, and he leans down to rest his cheek against the top of your head for a moment.
‘Hey, I like your cooking too.’
He won’t let you go even in the elevator back up to the apartment, hand rubbing your upper arm to fight the cold.
‘Who knew walking without fearing for your life would be so nice?’ You joke as you push the door of the apartment open, toeing off your shoes. You turn to your companion, noticing for a moment the sliver of skin between his t-shirt and jeans that appears when he reaches up to put his hat back on the shelf. ‘How was your normal guy time?’
‘Couldn’t have asked for better.’
‘Oh! I almost forgot.’ You grab the front of his shirt, using it as leverage to pull him down to your level to press a quick kiss to his cheek. ‘Any good normal guy date ends with a kiss goodnight. I’ve got to be up early tomorrow for a meeting. I’ll be home about six-ish.’
Your chatter distracts you from noticing the fact that Enjin had turned into a man-shaped statue in the doorway, only moving a muscle once you’d disappeared into your bedroom with a distant ‘night!’
Frustration coiled in him, low in his belly. Your soft touches, the press of your lips, your body against his. The fact that he was just your pet. He’d never be able to sleep like this - even though you’d warned him about late night showers and losing your vital hours of sleep, he thought you’d understand. Stupid expensive apartment and its stupid massaging showerhead.
The water beat down on his shoulders, doing its best to relieve the tension that had his muscles bunched as if he was about to pounce. The noise was enough to mask the muffled groans that managed to escape the mean way that he bit down on his lip as he fisted his cock, thinking of how your chest had pressed up against him while you’d walked, how pretty your mouth would look around him -
He jolts as he cums, legs barely holding him upright as he leans on the tiled wall, letting it sap the heat from his skin.
At first you think the noise is some sort of power drill the upstairs neighbours are running. A low rumbling, finding its way over the noise of your morning shower. You turn off the water, stepping out and into one of your fluffy towels.
There’s a knock on the front door, and you dry yourself haphazardly. Enjin had been napping in his room so he wouldn’t have heard the door, and you were certain the parcel your friend had sent you from Paris was supposed to arrive today. Towel secured around you and modesty (mostly) intact you hurry down the hall, droplets of water hitting the polished floorboards in your wake.
You jump when upon reaching the living room - Enjin was sat on the sofa, eyes fixed on the front door and his tail lashing irritably, the dark fur on the tip puffed up in agitation. What you’d thought was a power drill was actually a growl rumbling from his chest.
‘Heard of answering the door?’ You ask, heading over to the entryway.
‘Are you insane?!’ He all but yells from behind you, launching himself off the sofa and past you to the door in a few steps. He opens the door a fraction of an inch, staring down the poor mailman.
‘Parcel for 801?’ The mailman manages, and Enjin sticks his hand through the minute gap that he’d allowed. ‘Have a good day, sir!’
He closes the door before the man had even finished speaking. Enjin turns, holding out your parcel.
‘What was that about? Please don’t kill the postman,’ You laugh, the amusement fading when you process his blown out pupils. ‘You okay?’
His eyes on you make you very aware that you’re only in a towel. A droplet of water traces its way down your chest and disappears into your cleavage. One tawny ear flicks, and he averts his eyes.
‘He came too close,’ Enjin grumbles, nearly too quietly for you to hear. ‘’N then I thought he was gonna see you like that.’
The agitated movement of his tail drew your attention. Lions were territorial, right? This must be one of those instinctual behaviours that hybrids have programmed into them. You give him a soft smile that you hope is reassuring. ‘Why don’t you go sit down, Jin? I’ll get dressed ‘n maybe we can watch a movie or something.’ You step forward, raising a hand carefully to the top of his head, scratching the back of one of his ears gently. ‘You did a good job protecting us.’ His ear twitches again as you step back and head to your room.
‘Literally what are you saying to my face right now,’ You’re stunned, remote in hand, out of your towel and into your favourite lazy Saturday outfit. ‘How can you have never seen the Lion King?!’
Enjin is still sulking, his mood lightening ever so slightly under your attention. ‘Why would I watch a movie for kids?’
‘You were a kid once, though!’
He shrugs. ‘We were a no-TV household.’
‘We’re watching it,’ You decide, hitting play and grabbing your iced coffee from the side table. ‘And you’d better pay attention.’
You surprised yourself by still remembering all the words to the songs, belting out how you just can’t wait to be king!with the TV remote acting as a microphone. Enjin’s attention was split between you and the screen, an amused smirk replacing the frown that had been there since the postman incident.
After half an hour Enjin had ended up lying with his head in your lap, your fingers carding through his hair absentmindedly. He had become completely absorbed in the film, eyes wide and pupils pinprick-small with focus. It was the most catlike you’d seen him.
A rumbling hum sounds over the film as your nails graze the back of the lion hybrid’s ear, and Enjin’s cheeks pink.
‘What was that?’ You ask, a laugh bubbling behind your words.
‘Nothing, don’t worry about it.’ He grumbles. ‘Watch your movie.’
You do - for a moment - until you repeat your actions, just to check. The fur on the back of his ear is downy and soft, and you scratch ever-so-lightly at its base, once again drawing that rumbling noise from your poor hybrid.
This time, despite the embarrassed look on his face, Enjin leans back into your touch. You can feel the vibration of his vocalising through your fingertips, moving to massage the rounded tips of his ears.
You watch his face as Scar tricks Simba into going into the gorge. At the moment that Simba’s ears pin back against his head when the wildebeest are stampeding Enjin’s do the same, as if in solidarity. A tiny line appears between the hybrid’s brows, and you feel him tensing.
‘Long live the King,’ Scar hisses from the screen. Enjin bolts up from your lap, turning to you with anguish.
‘Sorry babe,’ You smile sheepishly.
He drops back into his spot, grabbing your wrist and placing your hand back onto his head. ‘Simba better get revenge.’
Forty minutes later, he’s on his feet and yelling at the TV. Your phone’s camera is centred on him, capturing the moment. For blackmail purposes.
‘That’s my boy! That’s my fuckin’ boy! Ay, stop recording me!’
Later, in bed, you scroll through the search results for can lions purr? The general consensus was no, they don’t have the anatomy for purring - but when they feel safe, relaxed, or affectionate they will chuff. You click on a YouTube link, watching a lioness rub the top of her head into a person’s palm and making the same rumbling that Enjin had made at your ministrations earlier. Cute.
It had been over a month since you’d spent a weekend in the office. At first you’d been worried that there would be comments about your lack of output, a pile-up of emails on Monday morning, angry clients and disappointed partners. In reality, your regular clients had commented on how happy you looked. Other associates were asking if you had started seeing someone new. Your paralegal, the only person other than your managing partner that knew about Enjin, would ask strategically worded questions about your ‘pet’ with a coy smile.
That’s why, instead of being neck deep in unfair dismissal claims, you were stretching your way languidly out of bed at ten in the morning. Enjin was already in the kitchen, as usual. The little green light on your espresso machine was already lit, and you shoot him a fond glance.
‘Trying to get me caffeinated already?’ You ask, opening the fridge and assessing its bare shelves.
‘I heard you moving around all night,’ He says by way of explanation. ‘Don’t want to deal with you being annoyed all day just ‘cause you didn’t sleep.’
You shut the fridge firmly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up. There’s a couple of deadlines coming up that I couldn’t stop thinking about,’ Your voice trails off as your mind becomes a list of tasks and spreadsheets. ‘Anyway! We don’t have any food. Get dressed, we’re going out.’
Walking past one of the big reflective windows on your way to a brunch spot your paralegal had recommended months ago, you take the chance to appreciate Enjin’s side profile. He really was handsome, you mused. Even a month after bringing him home you weren’t quite used to how good-looking he was. The slouchy, oversized jumper and loose jeans he’d ordered online with your card gave him that effortlessly cool look that had made you stare when he’d shown off his purchases to you last week. Your outfit, which you’d put on in the optimistic hope that you’d go to Pilates for the first time in eons after breakfast, made you looked like polar opposites.
‘No cap today?’ You noticed.
‘No one’s gonna be looking at me when you’re right there,’ He replies, making you shove him playfully - which, of course, doesn’t move him an inch.
Your destination was tucked into the older quarter of the city centre, with a rooftop patio to allow you to enjoy the views of the historic architecture. The coffee was just as good as your paralegal had assured you - they’d had bags of their specialty roast on the counter that you were nearly tempted to take home - and the menu claimed to have been formulated by a Michelin-star chef.
Enjin chucked the menu on the table in front of him, giving up on the wordy descriptions. ‘What happened to normal breakfast?’ He complained. You hushed him, eyes flicking over to the waitress clearing a table nearby. ‘I bet they’re all teeny tiny portions too,’ His tone is mocking, and although the portions that you’ve seen being brought out look generous by normal standards, they won’t be enough to satisfy your hybrid’s seemingly bottomless stomach.
‘Get two then,’ You say simply. ‘I’m paying anyway.’
When the waitress returns, he picks not one but three dishes. You’d brought this upon yourself, you supposed. The food was delicious, and even Enjin had stopped complaining about the portions and the pricing to tuck in.
You finish well before him, fiddling with your napkin as you watch him eat. ‘Enjin?’
‘Yeah?’ He manages around a mouthful of breakfast burger.
‘You don’t regret coming back with me, right?’
‘Why would I regret that?’
’I don’t know… I just started worrying on my way home from work the other day,’ You say shakily, shredding the napkin between your fingers into increasingly tiny pieces. ‘I go out every day ‘n leave you all by yourself, and when we do things it’s always what I want. I don’t want you to feel, like, unenriched or something.’
He snorts at that. ‘I’m not a zoo animal, I can enrich myself just fine.’ Leaning across the table, he stills your frantic hands, forcing you to look up at him. ‘If I wasn’t happy, trust me, angel, you’d know about it. Being with you is the best thing I could’ve imagined out of that place.’
‘So you don’t wish you’d gone with someone else?’
‘No way. They only saw the hybrid type and wanted to use that to their own means. Sure, your motivation was self-serving, but you came in and saw me. Besides, none of those guys would have let me nap on their couch, and they weren’t half as nice to look at.’
You sag back into your seat. ‘Thank goodness.’
The city had well and truly woken up by the time you were back out on the pavement, weaving your way towards your normal Pilates studio. Enjin trailed after you, the crowds parting for him in a way you envied.
The glass front of the studio gleamed in the light. Tucking into the open doorway to escape the foot traffic, you turn to Enjin.
‘My class is only an hour, so I can give you my card and you can come back when I’m done,’ You say, digging through your tote to find your wallet.
‘I can’t stay with you?’ The pout is tangible in his voice.
‘It won’t be very interesting,’ You reply, rolling your eyes. ‘You’ll have way more fun exploring or something.’
He grumbles something under his breath as you press your wallet into his hand.
The ponytailed receptionist behind the desk chirps. ‘We do have a hybrid-friendly policy!’
‘You hear that?’ Enjin says, pointing in her direction. ‘Hybrid friendly.’
‘I can’t stop you,’ You relent, throwing your hands up in surrender.
‘Great!’ The receptionist’s bright tone makes you wonder instantly if you should have shoved him out the door. ‘You’re welcome to participate, or you can sit in on the session,’ She says to Enjin, her smile particularly friendly as she takes him in fully. She turns to you. ‘It’ll be an extra fee on your membership.’
‘Great,’ You mutter, stalking through to your usual room as Enjin makes sure to give the receptionist an extra ‘thanks’ in his warmest tone.
You unfurl your mat, greeting the instructor and explaining the presence of your hybrid. He stretches out on the floor beside your mat, supporting his head with one tattooed hand. He looks his most leonine like this, you muse. Like the lions in those nature documentaries, lazing in the sun. Utterly relaxed. Irritatingly so.
He joins in with infuriating ease, barely needing to put any effort in at all. Instead, he spends the session watching you - the stretch of your muscles, the exerted flush of your cheeks, the cute noise you make when you nearly lose your balance. He’s so distracting that you put more effort into ignoring him than into your workout.
And he did the whole thing in jeans.
It was the most torturous hour of your life.
‘I’m never bringing you here ever again,’ You mutter furiously as you walk past the desk, Enjin returning the receptionist’s enthusiastic wave.
‘I had fun,’ He shrugs, the cocky smirk on his face making you groan.
‘I bet you did. The receptionist and the instructor were making eyes at you the whole time we were in there,’ You say, marching back towards your apartment block. ‘She was my favourite one!’
‘Jealous?’ His tone is laced with amusement.
‘Don’t worry, ma, I’ve only got eyes for you. Your form was perfect, in case you were wondering.’
Your least favourite part of having anxiety was waking up like you were being drowned at three in the morning. It was always worse when you had impending deadlines, and those contracts you had yet to finish were looming large in your mind.
The alarm clock on the bedside table flashed the time at you as if mocking your predicament. 02:59. Right on cue.
The adrenaline of waking up so suddenly begins to drain, and you start your usual routine of tuning into your senses to try and lull yourself back into sleep. I can hear breathing, and the fridge running in the kitchen. I can feel the bed below me, and the blanket, and an arm…
Hesitantly you feel your way down the duvet to where an arm is slung over your waist. Presumably, an arm connected to a person. You flick on your lamp and turn to see Enjin blinking in the light.
‘Some of us are trying to sleep,’ He rasps, the sleep still heavy in his voice.
‘Yeah, me,’ You bite. ‘What are you doing in my bed?’
He leans over you, reaching for the lamp and plunging the room back into darkness. His arm tightens around your middle, pulling your back into his front. ‘’M s’posed to be sleeping with my pride, ma. This is natural behaviour. I’m being enriched. Now shhhh, you have work tomorrow.’
‘We’re so talking about this in the morning,’ You hiss, nestling into the blankets. The warmth emanating from him and seeping into your skin was nice. Before you can return to your mindfulness routine, you’re already drifting back into slumber.
Your alarm hadn’t even gone off yet when you wake up for the second time that morning. Carefully slipping out from under his arm, you glance back at the bed as you tiptoe out the bedroom. Enjin lay flat on his stomach, the contours of his back revealed by the soft, early morning light creeping around the corners of your curtains.
Your heart thumps against your ribs and you tear your eyes away, gently closing the door so as not to disturb his sleep. That was just a feeling of affection for your friend/pet/housemate, you reassured yourself as you brush your teeth.
Never before had you been so glad to have had slept (almost) through the night. As soon as you set foot into the office there were a dozen tiny fires that needed to be put out - details that your client had picked out of what you’d hoped was the final draft of the contracts you’d prepared, calls from panicking executives, a meeting with the partners that you hadto attend, and on top of all that your laptop stopped working, meaning a stop by IT.
By five o’clock you felt like a wreck. You’d hoped to be leaving the office by now, the thought of picking up dinner on the way home and a couple of episodes of Love Island on the couch with Enjin sounding more and more dreamy. Alas, the deadlines you’d been dreading had crept up on you despite your anxieties, and thanks to all the disasters of the day you still had a few more things to tweak before you could go.
‘Is there anything else I can do to help?’ Your paralegal’s head pops over the divider between your desks. You smile up at her.
‘Don’t worry about it - you head home. I don’t have much left to do here, and everything else can be finished in the morning.’
She stares you down. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Okay - maybe I have a lot more to do. But once I get that done, the rest can be finished tomorrow.’
‘And there’s nothing you need from me?’
‘Maybe a decaf coffee from the machine? For moral support?’
She sighs at your obstinance, bringing you a steaming mug topped with the chocolate powder she knew you liked.
‘See you tomorrow, boss,’ She says lightly, setting the mug on your desk. ‘Don’t stay too late!’
The elevator dings! and then you’re alone. Just you and your legal jargon. The edits that your client had requested didn’t require any negotiation, thank goodness, but they were fiddly, and you checked and re-checked the details that you’d inputted so that when you sent the final documents over there was absolutely nothing that they could complain about.
You finish up the last couple of tweaks, making sure the file is saved on your laptop and your backup drive. You can feel your spine complain as you stretch in your seat, blue light glasses slipping down your nose. Time lost all meaning when you were deep in the weeds of your work, and you glanced at your watch. Nearly nine o’clock. No time for Love Island when you get home, then. Might as well check your inbox before you head off.
The cheery ding! of the elevator breaks the silence of the floor. You shout out a greeting without looking up, assuming it’s the cleaners hired by the building. You knew most of them thanks to your habitual late nights.
‘What are you still doing here?’ Maybe it wasn’t the cleaners. You glance up at Enjin. ‘I thought you got abducted on your way home or somethin’.’
You fumble for your phone, checking your text thread with your hybrid. The text that you’d written telling him you’d be home late still sat in the text bar, unsent. ‘Sorry…’ You turn the phone so he can see your error for himself. ‘I thought I’d told you. I’m finished now though,’ You promise, making a show of logging off and shutting down your computer.
The office was miles away from home. ‘How did you get here?’ You ask.
‘You ran?’ Unbelievable. He still looked perfectly composed, not a hair out of place, the only indication of his emotions that tell-tale flick of his ear.
His eyes slide away from you, chin jutting up. ‘I was worried.’
Now you really do feel bad. The thought of Enjin at home, pacing the floor and checking the clock springs to your mind unbidden. You were usually home by six, seven-thirty at the latest.
‘I’m sorry for scaring you,’ You say, starting to sling your bag over your shoulder when he takes it from you and, instead, slips his hand into yours.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ He says, shoulders unwinding at the contact. ‘Let’s get home, angel.’
By the time you’re back into your apartment, the exhaustion of the day is hitting you like a wave. The heat of your shower and the feeling of fresh, comfortable clothes makes your eyelids feel heavy. Enjin hands you a warm bowl of food, insisting that you need to eat before you go to bed, and you barely remember eating before you’re curled into the couch cushions drifting between consciousness and sleep.
You’re not sure whether you’re dreaming when you feel arms gently winding round you, lifting you with ease against a broad chest. The rocking movement must be steps, you decide, and the pine and smoke smell of your dreamed-up person made you think of crooked smiles and safety. The plush sheets of your bed welcome you readily, the arms shifting from under you. This was a good dream, you decide blearily, and you didn’t want it to end.
You grab for their hand sleepily, pulling them in. ‘Don’t leave,’ You whisper, words coming out slurred. You would have heard the huff of a laugh if you hadn’t fallen asleep immediately, felt the bed dip beside you, felt the press of lips against your cheek, forehead, shoulder. Instead, you sink into a dream of pine forests.
It had been a couple of months of quietly enjoying your newfound companionship. With the biggest of the year’s deadlines behind you work had been quiet, summer was in full swing and you were able to enjoy it for the first time in years. You’d explored parts of the city you’d never been to before, gone swimming in a mountain lake just an hour’s drive away - you’d been living. And you’d done everything with Enjin by your side, with his presence stopping you from letting time slip through your fingers while sitting at a desk.
Since the day that he’d come to pick you up from work things had changed between you ever so subtly. He could pick up on your stress before you’d even processed it, would do tiny things to make your life a little easier. Coldbrew already in the fridge, or dinner made when you got home on the days you worked late.
He’d also started sleeping in your bed most nights. You tried to rationalise this. It’s just like having a cat sleep on the end of the bed! If the cat was over six feet tall with a raspy morning voice and kissed the crook of your neck in the mornings when it thought you were still asleep.
The fact that Enjin could sense your stress made you worried about what else he could sense. Like when your dreams got too intense and you woke up flushed and breathless, or the thump of your heart when he came out of the shower with his hair all wet and messy around his face instead of slicked back like he preferred.
You’d turn your phone away from him to Google things like human hybrid dating and is dating your hybrid unethical, reading through stories of perfectly happy hybrid couples, and then the responses from online commentators shouting about how it was completely morally bankrupt. Those tabs would be closed just as quickly as they were opened. Morality aside, you didn’t ever want Enjin to think you were using him to fill the void of a relationship, or scare him off.
In the last week, though, he’d been acting strange. Instead of his usual, laid-back self, he’d seemed so tightly wound he was going to snap at any moment. It was a rare moment that you’d have any time to yourself at all - if you didn’t lock the door to the bathroom you had no doubt he’d follow you in. After showering you’d find him on the floor of the hallway waiting for you to return, golden eyes gleaming in the low light.
He’d taken to wrapping his tail around your leg while you sat in the living room in the evenings, the fur tickling at your skin, or rubbing his cheek and purring against your shoulder when you were laying in bed together, scrolling through TikTok. And you’d nearly screamed when he told you he wanted to ‘try something’ and then licked a wet stripe with his tongue up the column of your neck. You’d shied away from close contact for a day after that, the look in his face giving you not one shadow of a doubt that he’d do it again just to watch you squirm.
One thought rung through your mind for days. Did he know? Had he seen your search history somehow, or was there some pheromone that he could sense and you couldn’t?
The answer hit you like a train one evening, phone pressed close to your face so Enjin, lying across your lap like a housecat, couldn’t see the screen. A cutesy pink sparkly Instagram post pops up on your feed. Hybrid How To: Ruts! No amount of bubble fonts and emojis could dull the impact of reality crashing down on your head.
Enjin grumbles wordlessly as you shift him off your lap and scurry over to the drawer of forgotten documents that you’d crammed in there over a matter of months. It takes a moment to find the cream coloured folder that Tamsy had handed to you all those months ago.
You flick past pages of feeding routines, activity recommendations, until you find the right page.
‘Are you comin’ back?’ Enjin calls from the couch, nearly making you drop the paper.
‘Yeah - yeah, sorry. Give me a second.’
Males of this hybrid type prefer to stay in their ‘territory’ (usually their home and the surrounding area) and, if paired, will spend this time caring for their cubs. Females have instinctual patterns of venturing out of the territory to bring home food and supplies for their ‘pride’.
Periods of high reproductive desire (‘ruts’) can be predicted through a variety of natural behaviours: males will have a desire to be within 1 and 3 metres of their chosen partner, scenting and resting alongside them in order to bond before the rut arrives. Doses of suppressing hormones can be delivered during this period in order to prevent rut from occurring if the hybrid is not part of a desired bonded pair.
You stuff the file back into the drawer and contemplate whether it’s too late to text Tamsy. Did you even want to admit that you’d completely ignored his carefully-compiled instructions?
Carefully, you slink back to the sofa. Enjin didn’t look any different to usual.
‘What’s up?’ He asks, watching you with amusement as you lean over him and place your hand on his forehead. Was that a shiver, or were you just imagining things in your panic?
‘Do you feel warm at all?’
He smiles, sharp canines flashing. ‘Why, you think I’m hot?’
‘Something like that,’ Your laugh sounds strained, even to you.
‘I’m fine, ma. Stop stressing.’
You knew you shouldn’t have trusted his easy confidence. Just like normal, he’d found his way into your bedroom once you were comfortable, taking his place in the bed and wrapping himself around you. Falling asleep was easy with him - you felt safe, and it was rare for your anxiety to wake you up now.
Except for tonight, apparently. Your phone informs you that it’s past midnight. You feel around on the bed behind you, to no avail. Enjin is gone.
You pad out of the room into the dark apartment. He’s not in the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room - he can’t have left the apartment. For a moment, with the amount of time he’d spent in your room, you’d forgot about his bedroom.
You rap at his door gently, even that tiny noise feeling like firecrackers going off in the silence. Leaning closer, you hear from inside the shuffle of sheets, his distinctive chuff, and something else - a rhythmic smack of skin. You jolt away, cheeks burning, ready to make yourself scarce so he can have some privacy.
Too late. He called your name from behind the door, voice strangled and wavering. ‘’S that you, ma?’
‘Uh - yeah,’ You reply. ‘You disappeared. Just wanted to check that you’re okay.’
You hear him bark out a laugh. ‘’M very not okay.’ The door shifts, a crack of space opening, letting you see Enjin’s darkened, glossy eyes and bare chest, glistening with sweat in the low light. You - your scent, maybe, or just the sight of you - made him visibly shudder, his head falling with a thunk against the doorframe.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ Your mouth feels suddenly dry, nerves making your knees weak. ‘To… help?’
He lets out a shaky breath, unblinkingly taking in your form. ‘If you come in here I don’t think I can let you go,’ He admits, the gravel in his tone shooting through you.
‘I don’t want you to be hurting.’ You reach out, push the door fully open and confirm what you’d already suspected. Enjin wore only a pair of boxers, the fabric straining, his skin damp and flushed with heat. Stepping into the bedroom was like stepping into a sauna, a pile of tissues thrown to the floor and revealing the extent of his issue. His skin burns against yours when **he pulls you into his arms to press his face into the crook of your neck.
The gentle scrape of his canines made you squeak. They already looked sharp in his mouth - against your fluttering pulse they felt dangerous.
‘Hah— smell so good, angel,’ He pants into you, unconsciously grinding against your thigh in his need.
‘Gonna let me help you, Jinnie?’ You ask, pushing him backwards to the bed. He was pliant, allowing you to dip your hand into his boxers and touch him. He was so hard it must have been painful, soft skin scorching your palm. The size of him makes you shiver; your fingertips barely meet around his girth.
The sound of his breath trembling at your touch brings you back into the present, the shuddering of your hybrid trying not to rut up into your touch like a desperate virgin. You free his cock from his boxers, giving it a few experimental pumps that made him writhe.
Your other hand comes up to cup his cheek, stroking him tenderly with your thumb. He shudders, pushing his face against your palm.
‘Fuck,’ He hisses, and a moment later you feel the warmth of his cum running down your wrist. You stand in shock for a brief moment - you’d only just touched the guy. Was he that pent up? He smiles bashfully, the expression bizarrely cute for the situation. ‘My scent gland,’ His voice is hoarse and a little embarrassed. ‘’S sensitive.’
You bring your hand up to your mouth, licking up the trail of cum that painted your skin. He growls lowly, fingers digging into your hips. Fingers cleaned, you bring his face to yours, pushing the taste of him into his mouth with your tongue. He moans into you, the vibration sending shockwaves to your core.
‘Let me touch you, please,’ He breathes, a string of spit connecting his lips to yours. A blend of nerves and excitement course under your skin like an electric current.
Your sleep shorts are off in an instant, and Enjin groans. He already sounds gone, the feeling of your wetness like a dream. ‘Not even touched you yet, ‘n you’re already this wet.’ He’s nearly inaudible with awe, pads of his fingers ghosting over your clit and making you writhe. ‘Gotta stretch you out ‘fore you can take me.’
One thick finger pushes into you and you whine at the feeling of him prodding at your walls, the stretch from just one of his digits more satisfying than anything you could do to yourself.
‘Feel that?’ He teases. There’s the Enjin you’re used to.
‘I would if you’d move,’ You rasp, and he grins. Another finger sinks into you, scissoring your walls open and making you bite down on your lip to stifle a moan.
He leans down, staring directly at where his fingers are working their way in and out of you. You try to close your thighs, embarrassed by the heat of his gaze, but he stops you with his free hand.
‘Lemme look at you, ma.’ His cheeks are flushed with his rut, eyes glassy and hypnotised by the sheen of slick you’re leaving on his digits. ‘So fucking pretty.’
‘Jinnie,’ You keen, hips bucking up into his hand.
’Sorry, baby,’ He doesn’t sound sorry at all. ‘Need to be inside you.’
Despite his careful preparation and just how soaked **you are, the bullying press of his cock against your entrance feels daunting. Enjin buries his face into the crook of your neck, teeth rasping against your skin.
‘You can take it, angel, c’mon,’ He babbles against your skin, his voice making you clench around him, working his cock torturously slowly into you. ‘Doin’ so good, pretty girl, feel made for me.’
‘More, Jin, please,’ You whine, his grip on your hips stopping you from bucking up into him. His careful movements are infuriating - you feel like you’re melting with how much you want him and he’s treating you like you’re made of glass*.*
You wrap your legs around his narrow hips and pull, making Enjin sink into you all at once. Your back arches at the sudden fullness, the relief, eyes rolling back in your head. It feels as though he’s in your stomach, the overstimulated twitching of his length reminding you just how big he is.
Grabbing his face in one hand, nails digging into his cheeks, you make him look at you. His golden eyes are gleaming and glossy, his lips bitten raw.
In an instant he has your legs over his shoulders, somehow even deeper inside you like this, and finally he starts to move inside you. The sound of your wetness fills the room, the schlik of Enjin pulling almost entirely out of your pussy before slamming back into you. You grab for purchase on his forearms, leaving scratches in your wake that make him snarl in pleasure.
It’s almost too much, the overwhelming feeling of him, and unconsciously you move up the bed away from his vicious thrusts. He yanks you back down, grip firm around the plush of your thighs.
‘No way, mama. You can’t beg for this ‘n then try to leave.’ His voice is little more than a growl. ‘Shit, you feel too good.’ You feel like you’re about to snap, the pressure building to a fever pitch. The clench of your body around him makes him curse, pushing you even further into the mating press to lock his mouth onto yours, swallowing all the cute little noises that escaped you.
‘Jin, ‘m close,’ You manage.
‘Can I?’ He asks, desperate.
Your mind spins, dizzy with desire. ‘Wha—?’
He doesn’t wait for you to speak. ‘Can I cum in you?’ The whine in his voice makes you squeeeze and his hips stutter. ‘Need to fill you up, angel. Make you all pretty and round - fuck!’
You nod wordlessly, and your affirmation wrecks him. His thrusts get sloppy, hips slamming against yours. In that moment he moves his thumb over your clit and draws the messiest hearts over the nerves, sending electricity arcing up your spine. Light flashes across your vision as your climax consumes you. The feeling of your fluttering walls makes Enjin spill into you, cum painting your pussy in thick ropes. He keeps moving, making sure it reaches your cervix, fucking you through the rippling aftershocks.
Carefully releasing your legs from his shoulders without pulling out, Enjin collapses onto you. The weight of him stops you from floating off to the ceiling in your blissful state. He presses gentle kisses over your face, the humming purr from his chest making you laugh breathlessly.
‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’ He asks quietly, his eyes clearer.
‘No,’ You whisper, coming your hands through his hair. ‘The uh - breeding was a surprise, though.’
He whines, head dropping to rest on your chest. ‘Sorry. It’s the hormones.’
’I think we’d have a cute baby,’ You muse, imagining a mini Enjin with your eyes and cute pudgy cheeks. You feel his tail flick against your calf.
‘You can’t say things like that,’ He groans, and his cock twitches inside you.
‘D’you think they’d have your ears?’ You ask, tweaking at the tip of his ear as you speak, purposely ignoring the way that he grinds his hips against you, and the sticky feeling of the cum that had escaped you despite his best efforts.
You have to call out of work the next day, and then two months after that you put in your request for maternity leave.
