About

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He catches your eyes because he's already on his knees, his own dark eyes cast downwards as you edge near.

He's strangely striking - for reasons unbeknownst to yourself, you don't look away as quickly as you might from others. Feeling it safe since his gaze is averted, you regard him with interest. His hair is long, probably to the middle of his back, and perfectly straight. It is pulled up into a messy ponytail, keeping it out of his face aside from the rogue strands that fall forward, obscuring his boyish features. The colour is unusual, strands that vary from a soft vermillion to a deep scarlet colour, contrasting with his fur, which fades from the colour of pure onyx to a dusty charcoal and finally a silvery shimmer on his chest. His muzzle is curled into a shy, cautious smile that isn't directed at you, but rather at the cold floor beneath him. As young as he seems by his quiet nature, the build of his wiry muscles, bared under a simple leather harness, betrays at least twenty years put behind him.

Piercing eyes that flash the colour of fresh blood flicker up at you and catch you off guard. You begin to take a hurried step back, tongue tripping and stumbling over an apology that never comes. Without warning, you find yourself frozen in place, but not by fear. It's literal, and as you realise it you begin to panic, limbs unable to move, head unable to turn, chest unable to heave as your breathing quickens and turns erratic and shallow. You let a whimper escape as the young fox, who appeared so submissive and harmless earlier, rises to his feet with a dark grin. His eyes glow slightly as his fur raises, a deep growl rumbling deep within his throat. Sharp fangs are bared. Eyes narrow evilly. Ears pin back. He holds his open paws to his waist, pads turned skyward, and blazing fire engulfs them with a roar that vibrates the air around your paralyzed body, the world around you spinning and throbbing with confusion and fear. A dark laugh mocks you through the haze and smoke, echoing off of the walls until it softens to a sheepish giggle.

"Sorry, sometimes I can't help it."

With those words, you have the ability to move, and the smoke clears to reveal the same enigmatic fox, first submissive and then so clearly demonic, now fanning the air with both paws, grinning crookedly in a way that makes you have to follow suit. His eyes are shining with mirth, everything about his posture having changed completely. He now seems comfortable and playful, shifting his weight from foot to foot, tail swishing back and forth. You take the time to actually look at him, now that the air has cleared and the ice has broken. His apparel is foreign to you, the leather straps of the harness worn to a faded slate grey colour that stands out against his fur, accented by a polished silver ring at his sternum. Now that he is standing closer, and now that you are no longer drowning in your own fear, you see a collar circling his slender neck. It is black with a shining hematite inset, into which is crudely etched the name 'Kyler.'

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Haaai!! My name is Kyler, I'm a pansexual boi from Kansas. I'm 20 years old, I will not date or do the dirty with anyone on this website, so don't bother asking. Most of you are too young to understand the dirty anyway.