...….☆.....
The moment Kaelan crossed the threshold of apartment 304, he wasn't just a student; he was a man preparing for a medieval siege. His panther ears were swiveling in high stress circles, and his short temper had transitioned into a state of focused, manic survivalism.
"If he thinks he's just walking in here for 'extra credit', he's got another thing coming," Kaelan hissed, his voice a jagged edge of sarcastic desperation. "I'll turn this room into a holy radioactive zone if I have to."
While his body screamed in sore, swollen protest, Kaelan began a frantic, funny, and utterly paranoid fortification process. He didn't just lock the door; he engaged the deadbolt, the chain, and then propped a heavy oak chair under the handle.
Then came the "protections."
Kaelan had spent his meager savings at a local occult shop and a very confused 24 hour grocery store. He began taping talismans ,most of which were likely cheap plastic knock offs , over every vent and window. He hung a massive wooden cross over his bed, then flanked it with strings of garlic he'd braided himself, despite the fact that Ignis was a dragon, not a vampire.
"Vampires, dragons, lizards, they're all just varying degrees of parasites," Kaelan muttered, his internal monologue a frantic stream of funny curses. "Maybe the garlic will at least ruin his sense of smell. I hope he's allergic to lilies. Do dragons get hay fever? I hope his sinuses explode."
He finished the masterpiece by drawing a circle of salt around his bed and clutching a bottle of "Holy Water" (which smelled suspiciously like tap water and lemon Pledge). He sat in the center of his bed, his fluffy black tail wrapped around his waist like a furry seatbelt, waiting for the inevitable.
Meanwhile, in the hallway, Tamsin and Marcus had finally reached their breaking point. They stood outside apartment 303, their expressions a mix of protective fury and bone deep unease.
The door opened before they could even knock. Ignis stood there, looking like a celebrity who had just finished a high fashion shoot. The bite mark on his neck was still raw and angry, yet he wore it like a piece of priceless jewelry.
"You're late," Ignis said, his voice a smug, velvet purr. "I assumed you'd come to plead for the cat eventually."
"We're not pleading," Tamsin snapped, her fox tail bristling with livid energy. "You're a god, fine. But what you're doing to Kaelan is violation. He's a person, not a toy for your perverse pleasure ."
"He's in pain, you scaly prick," Marcus added, his hands clenched. "You've physically ruined him. Do you even have a conscience beneath those expensive clothes?"
Ignis leaned against the doorframe, his golden eyes glittering with a proud, cold amusement. He looked at the bite mark on his neck in the hallway mirror and smiled.
"I have a kingdom to run and an asset to train," Ignis answered calmly. "Kaelan is… resilient. He bites, he kicks, he curses. He is the first thing in five centuries that hasn't bowed the moment I entered the room. Why would I stop when the game is just getting interesting?"
"It's not a game!" Tamsin shouted.
"To you, perhaps," Ignis replied, his voice dropping to a dangerous, draconic rumble. "But he is mine. By blood, by magic, and by the fact that he is currently in his room trying to ward me off with garlic. It's adorable, really. Now, move. I have an appointment."
He pushed past them with a wave of his hand, a gust of wind literally shoving the two shifters aside. Ignis didn't even look back as he walked to Kaelan's door.
CRACK.
The chair Kaelan had propped under the handle didn't just slide; it disintegrated. The salt circle was blown away by a sudden, hot draft, and the garlic strings withered into ash instantly.
Ignis stepped into the room, looking at the talismans and the cross with a look of profound amusement.
"Garlic, Kaelan? Really?" Ignis drawled, stepping over a pile of scorched sage. "I'm a Dragon King, not a character in a low budget horror flick."
"Get out!" Kaelan shrieked, throwing the bottle of "Holy Water" at Ignis's head. "I have a restraining order pending in my mind! You're a violation of human rights! You're a walking biohazard!"
Ignis caught the bottle mid air and crushed it. In one swift, wild and dangerous motion, he was across the room. He tackled Kaelan onto the bed, ignoring the panther's frantic attempts to claw his eyes out.
The struggle was intense. Kaelan fought with everything he kicked, he elbowed, and he unleashed a string of sarcastic curses that would make a sailor blush. But Ignis was obsessed. He forced Kaelan into every position imaginable ,pinning him facedown, then flipping him over to watch the humiliation on his face.
The make out session was brutal and forceful. Ignis's mouth was everywhere, claiming Kaelan's lips, his neck, and specifically the sensitive skin behind his black ears.
"Still... not... giving... in!" Kaelan gasped, even as his body betrayed him with a traitorous shiver of perverse pleasure. "You're a... scaly... idiot..."
"That's what I love about you," Ignis whispered, his hand sliding down to Kaelan's sore, swollen hole, his fingers probing the injury with a mix of cruelty and manic excitement.
Despite the pain, despite the forceful positions, Kaelan didn't cry. He groaned, his body arching in resentful agony, but his emerald eyes remained fixed on Ignis with a jaded, fearless glare.
Ignis found it amazing. Most would have broken by now, but Kaelan just seemed to get angrier, his ego acting as an impenetrable shield.
"You're a masterpiece of defiance," Ignis growled, biting Kaelan's shoulder to match the mark on his own neck. "And I am going to spend every night making sure you never forget who owns that pride."
Kaelan's internal monologue was a muffled scream: I hope his robes catch on fire. I hope his kingdom gets infested with glitter. I hope he chokes on his own smugness.anything please. He was desperate.