dorianredfield:
Taking Jake’s hand to shake it, Dorian smiled crookedly–because, alright, he couldn’t deny that a belly rub did feel amazing if done right. “Ah, no, school teacher. I teach the– what do you call it in America, junior high? The eleven year olds through to the thirteen year olds. There’s quite a lot of accidental shifting in class, as you can imagine.”
Realizing he’d forgotten to mention his name, Dorian continued, “Sorry, my manners are appalling. Dorian Redfield.” He hesitated briefly at the question of what type of shifter he was; it was irrational, he knew, because the shifters here didn’t seem to be like the ones back in Edinburgh. But he hesitated nonetheless, even if Jake seemed nothing but pleased to meet a fellow shifter. “It’s, er. Feline,” he finally said, a bit evasively. “And yourself?”
“You teach eleven year olds? Shit, you must have great patience. I don’t think I could deal with that.” Jake frowned at the thought. “I don’t think I could teach any grade to be honest.” He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed.
“I know you’re a feline, I can smell that much.” Jake resisted an eyeroll. “You can’t tell what I am? I’m feline, too. Jaguar to be specific.”
















