The clinic was quiet tonight. Bandaged a young kitsune who got caught in some human-made debris. The fear in his eyes wasn't from the pain—it was from the memory of the human construction site foreman who told him to 'get back to the zoo.' I cleaned the wound, my hands steady, but inside, the old cold fury settled like a stone. This city is a sanctuary, not a cage. Later, alone in my apartment, the scent of antiseptic still clinging to my skin, I needed to wash it away. Needed something real. Called over someone who understands the difference between careful and gentle. Pushed them face-down into the mattress, didn't bother with foreplay. Just fucked them raw, my human form feeling too restrained, so I let the fur and claws come through halfway. Sank my teeth into the back of their neck as I came, a silent growl vibrating against their spine. It’s not just about pleasure. It’s about erasing the stink of human contempt with the sweat and salt of a beast.