Archive of Our Own

It was uncanny how canine Taki looked when running on all-fours. Everyone was shocked when they first saw it, the way he pranced around the studio like a wolf pup, his hips raised high, tongue hanging out. 

“That’s…that’s really something, Taki”, Harua murmured afterwards. Taki laughed, mouth wide, teeth gleaming, not an ounce of shame, and after a lot of nagging and whining, he got Harua to do it too.

They’re all pretty good at it now, being so flexible and limber. It’s a useful skill. It adds depth and artistry to their choreography and their concept shoots, when they need to act particularly wolf-like. They do it when they have to. 

Taki does it when he wants to, which is certainly more often than anyone else in the group. He likes the way it feels, to get his hands on the ground, to stretch out his spine, to be a little wild. To make strange, dog-like sounds. Taki likes how it feels to play pretend. When he was little, his sister used to ask him for pony rides, and she would be a princess or a queen or something of the sort, and Taki would be her loyal steed, and give her rides around the living room on his back. When she got a little bigger, too big to sit on her brother’s back, but still young enough to want to play pretend games, she’d demand that he be her puppy, and she would take care of him. He liked how easy it was to make her happy, and he liked having to do nothing more than pretend to be a dog to be doted on and adored. 

Now he’s a big-time idol. He’s busy with packed schedules and diets and regimented beauty and fitness routines. His day is planned out hour by hour and he needs to be cognizant of his image at all times. He needs to deal with finances and contracts and labor laws. But because he is also an artist, a performer, an adorable mood-maker, he still gets to play pretend. He gets to be an elf in a magical forest, or an angel, a sailor, a boxer, hands all torn up and covered in bandages. Often, he gets to be a wolf-pup. And sometimes when he’s running around on all-fours, or holding his hands up like paws going woof, woof, woof, K will crouch down and reach his hand out, fingers pinched together like he’s holding something small, and touch them to Taki’s lips, saying, good boy, Taki, here’s a treat. K will ruffle his hair, and scratch behind his ears. Taki likes playing pretend. He likes being a wolf-pup. And he likes being K’s wolf-pup the best. 

~~~~

K is reading a book on the couch, some old Japanese folklore, in a rare moment of down time. He doesn’t glance up from the page when Taki patters into the living room and plops down next to him, leaving just a bit of space, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. Taki likes to sit with him in stillness, whenever they have a moment to themselves. And K knows that the space Taki leaves is just a formality. Something to be quickly done away with. K knows that Taki likes the way he stretches his long arm out to bring him in, pressing Taki right up against his side. K knows Taki likes the way he hugs him, and pets his hair and his cheeks. He knows Taki likes to feel doted on and adored. He’s not sure if Taki knows just how much he likes to dote on him, just how much he adores him. K tries to keep at least some of it to himself. 

K ruffles his hair, petting over the silken softness of it, pausing his reading to watch the way Taki’s face melts into serenity. K’s fingers slip around behind his ear, and the way Taki leans into it and sighs makes K’s fingers curl a bit tighter in his hair, wanting to hear more, to see more of Taki’s bliss. The way he touches Taki has shifted a little, recently, and Taki’s expressions are different, the pleasure different. K can tell. But Taki hasn’t said anything about it, and so neither has K, and they continue on as usual. K moves to the nape of his neck, lightly grabbing the hair there, knows what it does, knows it makes Taki’s eyes flutter shut and his mouth open, the diamond shape of it growing wide, his tongue peeking out. Like this, he looks so much like a puppy. It’s almost comical, just how animal-like he can be. 

“You’re just like a puppy, aren’t you, Taki?” 

Taki laughs, eyes still closed, leaning into it. 

“Would you ever want to get a dog, K-hyung? You’d probably be a good owner.” 

“Mm,” K murmurs, cupping his hand around Taki’s chin, holding him, watching the way Taki’s tongue pokes out further to wet his lips before he swallows, “It kinda feels like I already have one.”

Taki blinks one eye open, one side of his plush mouth lilting up into a pleased smirk. 

“Woof” 

~~~~

Taki starts sniffing at K when he passes by. It’s not really anything new, because Taki chases scents, in general, and K knows the way he smells calms him down. K finds that Taki nestles in a bit more eagerly, breathes him in a little bit deeper when he wears his muskier, woodsy scents, so K moves those to the front row of his perfume corner. He likes being able to soothe Taki without even having to say anything, without even having to touch him, and he likes the feeling of Taki’s warmth breath on his neck as he inhales and exhales all of K in. 

K doesn’t say anything about it, and no one pays it any mind, but he starts to notice the way Taki’s hands curl up like paws sometimes, and the way his tongue hangs subtly out of his mouth when he thinks no one is looking. K sometimes has the urge to poke at it, to feel the sponginess of it on the pad of his finger. He wants to get a rice cracker and stick it to the wet tip, and watch Taki curl his tongue up to bring it into his mouth. He wants to watch the way Taki will munch away happily on his special, little treat, om-nom-nomming, no other thoughts in his head. 

K starts to notice the way Taki finds opportunities to sit on his knees in front of him or get his head in his lap. Taki is so good at illustrating exactly how he feels on his face, and K is starting to learn through the minute changes in Taki’s expression what he wants. Sometimes Taki looks like he wants to be coddled and cuddled, when his gaze goes soft, and he rubs and presses his forehead into K’s chest. Sometimes Taki looks up at him with his eyes big and round, his eyebrows high, and K can tell he wants to be told he’s doing a good job. And sometimes, when Taki is running around the studio like a puppy on all-fours, yelling and whooping and barking, on days when he’s particularly hyped up, the mischievous look he throws K’s direction makes K think he wants to be told to heel. And so K keeps petting him like he always does, keeps praising him. Sometimes he reaches out to grab at the back of Taki’s shirt collar or get his hand around the back of his neck, giving him a subtle squeeze to still him. Whatever keeps Taki happy. 

~~~~

After a particularly difficult rehearsal with cuts and takes over and over and over again, they both collapse into K’s bed. This too, is nothing new. When Taki is stressed, he sleeps with K, when K has rare full-nights in. K likes feeling Taki’s warmth next to him. It’s comfortable, it’s easy. K is studying dance videos on his phone, with Taki curled up on his chest. Usually, Taki is quiet and still. But tonight, his hands are balled into fists, and he’s pawing at K like he wants something. 

“What is it, Taki? You need something?”

“Will you- will you pet my hair?” Taki whispers.

“Of course I will”, K replies softly, sweetly, holding his phone with one hand so he can use the other to run his fingers through Taki’s hair, to scratch at his scalp, from the top of his head to the base of his neck.

“Will you…pet…behind my ears?” 

K does so without thought. They lay together like that, K studying choreography, scratching at Taki behind his ears, until Taki starts to shift and squirm, starts to paw at K again.

“What now?” K laughs, “You’re seriously like a puppy, you know that?”

Taki goes still, and lets out a sound K has never heard from him before. It’s like a whimper and a whine and a woof all at once.

“Taki, what-”

Taki’s voice is a soft, soft whisper. 

“Can you…can you say it again, K-hyung?” 

K sits up a little more, to look at Taki properly, to try to read his face. Taki looks a little nervous, a little unsure. K smooths his hand once more through Taki’s hair and cups him under the chin, pressing his thumb and index finger into his soft cheeks. 

“Hm? Say what again?” 

Taki shakes K’s hand off and scoots further up to hide his face in K’s neck, and doesn’t offer anything more. But K knows Taki. Better than anyone. This shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. What had he said? You’re seriously like a puppy…and K thinks about Taki sniffing at him, cocking his head when he pets him, pawing at him. He thinks about Taki lolling his tongue out of his mouth. Opening it. Letting out a woof. He takes a calculated risk that what he is going to say is exactly what Taki wants to hear.

“You’re like a puppy- you’re my puppy, aren’t you, Taki?”

Muffled in the crook of K’s neck, Taki lets out the same whimper-whine. K feels the vibration of it melt into his skin. 

“You’re my puppy”, he whispers into the top of his head, and Taki rolls to get his body fully on top of K’s. K can feel his satisfaction, even without seeing his face. K guessed exactly right. He resumes scratching behind Taki’s ear with one hand, running the nails of the other along Taki’s spine, up and down, patting the base where a tail would be, if he had one. K can imagine him wagging it, back and forth, telling Taki softly what he wants to hear. 

“You’re my sweet puppy… you’re my good, sweet boy.” 

~~~~

A few weeks pass, and they’re so busy, and Taki is a human boy. Taki is an artist. Taki is a chef. Taki is an idol. They rehearse all day and film all night, and Taki dances, and acts, and cooks, and cleans, and collapses into bed. 

Finally, finally, there’s a lull, and Taki finds K, lazily slunk down into the couch, legs up on the coffee table, zoning out in front of a variety program on TV, snacking on wasabi peas. The stress is getting to all of them. The desire to sink into a mindless state is strong. Taki plops down next to him, and K’s arm curls around his waist, like always. They sit together in silence until the program ends. 

“Taki, can you pass-”

“Hm?”

“The remote?”

“Hmm...” 

“Hm?”

Taki hums noncommittally again, from the back of his throat, almost like a growl. He looks up at K, eyes wide, expectant. He slowly sits up and rocks back, so that he’s perched on his knees. K watches as he slowly brings his hands to rest in front of his legs. K watches as his fingers slowly curl into fists, like paws. 

It clicks. K swallows hard, and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“You really like this, don’t you?” he whispers. Taki doesn’t reply, but his cheeks start to pink up as he dips the tip of his tongue out of his mouth. K thinks he might start panting, isn’t sure how he’ll handle it if he does. K studies him, considering. He’s happy to treat Taki like a dog, if that’s what he needs right now. If that’s what will make him happy. But they should talk about it, they should to figure out exactly what it will look like, what rules to set, what boundaries-

Taki leans forward and licks K’s cheek, just once, leaving a warm, wet spot, before resuming his position as a loyal dog, waiting for his owner’s command. 

K’s stomach curls.

“Taki”, he whispers, and Taki perks further to attention, one paw-hand coming to rest on the top of K’s thigh, pushing in, eager to be told what to do. K points at the remote on the coffee table in front of them. 

“Fetch.”

And that seems to be exactly what Taki wants to hear, because he lets out a little, excited yip and K watches in awe as he crawls off the couch, on his hands and knees, and stretches his jaw open wide to pick up the remote between his teeth. K makes a mental note to clean it with an alcohol wipe before they leave the living room, and plucks it from Taki’s mouth, bringing his free hand up to pet Taki gently on the head. Taki looks up at him, eyes round, waiting for something. K knows what it is. 

He reaches into the bowl next to him and plucks out a wasabi pea, holding it out to Taki on the palm of his hand. He watches Taki’s face light up, and his cheeks go darker. Another happy little yup, and his pink tongue peeks out as he licks the wasabi pea from K’s palm into his mouth. He climbs back up on the couch and nestles his head onto K’s lap, hands still in fists, tucked under his chin. K brings his hand back down to Taki’s head, gingerly petting over his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. They really should talk about this. But they’re both so exhausted, and isn’t it fine, just like this? 

“What a good boy you are,” K whispers, stroking over his head, and he watches Taki while Taki watches TV, face so serene, until he falls asleep in K’s lap.  

~~~~ 

After a particularly grueling practice, Taki wants to crawl into bed and sleep for 100 years. But when K grabs him and pulls him towards a different car, he goes willingly, doesn’t question why, or ask where they’re going. When it’s time for a car ride, dogs follow their masters without complaint, eager to feel the cool breeze on their faces. His exhaustion is clearing itself away, because staying awake means he can have more time with K. From the backseat of the van, Taki can’t roll down any windows, but he feels giddy just the same. 

He snoozes in the car, head rolling onto K’s shoulder, and blinks his eyes open as they pull up to an elegant bath-house, one open late, known for catering to celebrity clientele. Taki is wide-awake and excited. He loves the bath-house. He loves soaking in the warm, silken mineral baths and laying on the hot, hinoki bench. He loves shivering in the polar tub and sweating out his stress in the steam room. And he loves that K wants to be with him, wants to take him. He wants to go wherever K goes. 

They bathe and soak, not talking, just letting the stress of the day wash away. The bath-house is almost completely empty. It’s quiet and serene. In one of the sauna rooms, air light and fresh with the scent of eucalyptus, even in the intense, dry heat, K speaks, voice deeper, richer, inside their hot wooden room. 

“You wear that necklace a lot, huh?” 

“Ah, yea…” Taki whispers, fingering over his thick silver chain. It’s warm. He should’ve taken it off. 

“You should take it off, though. In here. I don’t want you to burn yourself.” K beckons him over, holding his hands out. 

Taki nods, scoots himself closer to K and arches his neck up, so K can remove the chain.  

"Tsk. It’s already getting pretty warm. How did you not feel this on your neck? It’d be absolutely crazy if you ended up with a burn mark like this. It’d look like a brand. Or a collar.” 

Taki hums in response as K fidgets with the necklace, finally sliding the locking clasp out with sweaty fingers. 

“This is kind of like a collar, already. Where did you get this? Did someone give it to you?” 

K peels the chain away from Taki’s skin and gets up to crack the door of the sauna, placing it in the pocket of his robe where it hangs just outside the door. 

The cold air coming in makes Taki shiver, and then relaxes him further. He grabs his small towel from the bench, placing it over his eyes, as K returns to his place beside him. 

“I bought it for myself,” Taki murmurs, “but uh, yea, I liked that about it. I liked that it looked like a collar.” 

“Hmm…that so?” K muses. “You’re a strange little puppy, you know that?” 

Eyes still covered by the warm cloth, letting all his muscles melt into the hot, smooth wood, Taki smiles. 

“Woof”

~~~~

After they exit the sauna, before redressing, Taki pulls his necklace from the pocket of K’s robe and hands it wordlessly to K. Gazing at Taki, eyes soft and understanding, K wraps it back around Taki’s neck and carefully threads the metal clasp back through the buckle. With their feet bare, K can see the way Taki’s toes curl when the necklace clicks shut, and K’s stomach curls with the pride of giving Taki exactly what he needs. 

K has been there to give Taki what he needs for 6 years. 14 year old Taki, sad and lonely and scared in a foreign country, in a thin, flimsy coat, surrounded by a language he didn’t speak, needed a guardian, and so K became that. 15 year old Taki, irritated and angry and full of growing pains, needed a mentor and confidant, and so K became that, too. 19 year old Taki, both excited and nervous to give up his youth, to finally turn 20, needed a friend. We’ll both be in our twenties, together, right, K-hyung? We’ll be closer than ever? So K became that, too. K would be his friend, his teacher, his dad, his blanket, his bed. What Taki needs has changed, over time, and K will shift to accommodate, easily, joyously. Anything Taki wants, he’s ready to give him. Taki has coped with his anxieties and his distress in many different ways, with K at the center. Now, they are busier than ever, under more pressure than ever, and the stress is mounting. Now, when Taki is having a difficult time, it’s clear he doesn’t want to be a human. He wants to be a dog. 

K is, it seems, at the center of this too.

After they finish dressing, K reaches out once more to run his fingers over the metal chain, over the warm, smooth skin of Taki’s neck, and Taki’s eyes flutter shut. He lifts his heels a little, like he’s becoming weightless, like he’s going to float away. Like he needs a leash to keep him tethered down. K hooks his index finger around the chain and gives it a small, experimental tug. The shaky moan Taki lets out surprises both of them, and K drops the chain and turns him around quickly, ushering him out the door. 

A few days later, Taki comes home to find a little gift bag on his bed. He opens it up, at a total loss of what it might be. He tries to remember if he had asked anyone to get him anything, but comes up empty. Between the folds of tissue paper is a white, unassuming box. He grips the lid carefully and pulls it off. Nestled between the folds of a silken cloth is a brown leather collar, thin and elegant, with a silver heart-shaped tag hanging from the middle of it. Taki can feel his heartbeat thump-thump-thumping in his ears as he picks it up slowly out of the box, gingerly pinching the heart pendant between his thumb and index finger. His name is inscribed in pretty script on one side. He fingers over the curly, cursive T, loves the feeling of the ridges on his fingertip. Taki’s stomach feels like it’s going to float itself up into his chest, or his heart is going to drop down and sink inside his stomach, and he gets up on shaky legs, clasping the collar tight in his hand, to see what it looks like in the mirror. As he flips it to hold it up to his neck, he notices another inscription on the inside of the collar, debossed into the rich, soft leather, next to the hole from which the pendant dangles. In the same pretty script is the single letter K. 

Taking deep breaths in to try to ground himself, toes curling and flexing, stomach clenching, Taki reaches behind himself to get the collar on, but he can’t latch it by himself, and when he turns it around to buckle it in the front, he struggles to get it tight enough around his neck that it really feels like a collar and not just a necklace. And K isn’t home to help him and won’t be home until the near break of dawn, so Taki gives up, strips down, and lays in bed, running the warm leather strap and the cool metal of the pendant across his lips and down along his throat, over and over, until he lulls himself to sleep.

Taki wakes up at 7, sends his daily good morning DM to his fans, and opens his LINE messages. He has unread messages from his sister, his mother, his managers, and the team group chat. He also has two messages from K, and he opens those first.

I’ll be home earlier tonight, at like 10?

Do you want to go to the sauna?

There is no answer Taki would ever give other than yes, but he supposes it’s important for K to put on the pretense of asking, instead of issuing Taki commands all the time, even though Taki likes it when he does. He suddenly remembers the collar, hands shooting into the bedsheets to find it, wondering if maybe it was just a dream. He smoothes his hands all over the bed and lets out a sigh of relief when he finds it tucked under his pillow. He places it carefully back in the white box, and into his sauna bag, before he makes his way to the kitchen to make himself a cup of milk tea and prepare for his long day as a human boy. 

There is not a soul in the sauna when they arrive, late into the night, and in the bathing area, they sit side by side, reheating their cold bodies. Taki lathers himself up with soap, and glances at K as he lathers his hair with shampoo. The muscles in K’s arms twitch and bend as he scrubs his scalp, and Taki always finds himself mesmerized, even though he’s seen K naked nearly nightly for 6 years. When K reaches out to grab the shower hose out of its holder, Taki can see the way his abs clench, the way his pelvic muscles flex. K’s lips are puffy as he licks over them, and Taki likes the way they almost seem to inflate and deflate when K bites into them and lets go. They’re wet, and they glisten. K’s whole body does, all the time, somehow. Watching him, Taki’s stomach flips and flops and fills with soap bubbles, and he slides himself off his bathing stool to kneel in front of K, ignoring the way the hard tile hurts his knees. K’s eyes have been shut while he rinses his shampoo out, and when he’s done, he wipes the water off his face and brings his hands down to get a pump of conditioner. Before he can reach, Taki pushes closer, nudging his hands with his chin, letting out a quiet little ruff, cognizant of the way their sounds echo in the empty space.

“What is it puppy, hmm?” K whispers to him, stroking over his hair, noticing it’s still mostly dry, “You didn’t wash your hair yet?”

Taki shakes his head no. The bubbles in his stomach expand.

“I see”, K murmurs, voice smooth and soft. “Puppies don’t give themselves baths, do they? Not with soap, anyway. Puppies need to be washed.” 

Taki nods eagerly, and the bubbles in his stomach go pop, pop, pop. 

“Sit in front of me, here, that’s a good boy”, K whispers, drawing Taki closer to him, picking the shower hose back up to wet Taki’s hair, “you’re a dog who loves his bath, aren’t you?”  

Taki nods again and whimpers a little, can’t help it, with the way K is giving him everything he wants, without even having to ask. Without having to use messy, human words. K just knows him, better than anyone ever could. Better than anyone ever will. He licks at K’s hand before it’s covered in soap once again, and shuts his eyes.

K gets his hair wet and lathers him up. Taki pokes at his toes and rubs his paw-hands along K’s calves, massaging there, just to feel how strong he is, to feel the way his muscles are packed so dense and tight.  He’s in awe of K’s legs too, of his whole body in general, and sometimes he’s achingly jealous. But he’s just a dog now, so he has no reason to be jealous of K’s perfect, human body. Instead, he’s glad that he has such a beautiful, benevolent owner, who loves him so much. 

Taki sits demurely at K’s feet while K washes his hair, massaging his scalp, running his hands and the hot water through it. When he’s done, Taki shakes his head back and forth wildly, the same way a dog would, feeling blissed out and vibrating with giddy, sated energy. K laughs and gets up to go soak in the large bath, and Taki runs like a wolf-pup after him, feeling more relaxed and free than he has in a long time. 

They go through the same routine as always, sweating and soaking, quiet and peaceful and easy, and when they’re getting ready to leave, after K has blow-dried Taki’s hair and is in the process of blow-drying his own, Taki remember what he brought, what he was given, and reaches into his bag. He pulls out the white box, sliding it wordlessly over to K. He’s trembling a little, and zips his jacket up tight. K glances down at it and back up again into the mirror, expression neutral, finishing his blow-dry, pinching his bangs to get the middle piece to hang down just right. When he’s done, he clicks it off and sets it gently back in the holder. He turns to Taki, looks him directly in the eyes, and flicks his gaze down to the floor, just for a second. Taki understands instantly, sliding off the stool and sitting once again on his knees on the floor in front of him. K opens the box and takes out the collar. Taki forgot just how pretty it was, how perfect. His mouth feels too wet inside, and he swallows hard to keep himself from drooling. The silver heart glints enticingly in the bright light of the dressing room.

“Shake”, K commands softly, holding his palm out flat. Taki lifts his hand off the floor and places it gently in K’s palm.

“Speak”, he continues, and Taki woofs softly, his stomach flipping and clenching. 

“Good boy”, he coos adoringly, and Taki’s toes curl and he squeezes his fists tight where they rest on top of his thighs. K leans forward and drags the collar against Taki’s neck, getting it around his throat, and Taki’s breath hitches with how good it feels, and his exhale comes out loud and long. K pulls back, and Taki surges forward into K’s lap. 

“Down”, he hisses, and Taki lets out a whimper, lays his head in K’s lap and rubs his cheek along K’s firm thighs. His breath is heavy. His head feels fuzzy. 

“Are you…you okay, Taki? Is this…okay?” 

Taki nods, and K pokes his cheek lightly, until he looks up. 

“Tell me, please”, K whispers. “Tell me this is okay. With words.” 

“It’s…it’s okay, K-hyung. It’s more than okay. It’s amazing. I– I love it.”

K lets out a breath Taki didn’t realize he was holding, and he feels strange, suddenly aware that he hasn’t given thought to how all of this could be affecting K. But then K is sliding the collar around his neck again, latching it shut, sliding two of his long, slim fingers under the leather to make sure it’s not too tight, that it fits just right, and all of Taki’s thoughts melt away. 

He feels it hot on his skin the whole way home, underneath his thick, winter coat. He can’t resist reaching up to unzip his jacket to get his hand on his throat, feeling over it, feeling the way it digs just slightly into the skin. It’s so smooth and warm and if Taki shuts his eyes the softness of the leather could easily be mistaken for fingers. He thinks about K’s fingers on his throat and feels himself heating up, like he’s back in the sauna and not inside a car. He opens his eyes to look out the window, to focus his attention on something outside of his own body. Out of the corner of his eye he realizes K is turned towards him, quietly watching him. He reaches out to flick the pendant and poke at Taki’s chin, smiling softly, before he leans against his window and shuts his eyes. Taki feels doted on and adored. He feels loved. His life is a dizzying parade of change and movement and fluctuations, but with K, he has somewhere to belong. He has someone to belong to. The collar around his neck exists as tangible evidence of it. Taki reaches his hand out, gripping the sleeve of K’s jacket, and while he rubs the fabric of it back and forth in his hand, he drifts off to sleep against the window. When they get back to the dorm, K walks him to his room and lets them both inside, as if the space is his. As if everything of Taki’s is his, because Taki is his. Taki is still feeling warm and fuzzy, every part of him feels like it’s made of air. Taki opens his mouth to ask him to stay, but K starts talking, softly, sweetly.  

“I have to be up early again, Taki, and I don’t want to wake you. So you’re sleeping by yourself tonight”, he murmurs, helping Taki out of his clothes, until he’s bare before him, with just the collar on, “but I’ll stay until you fall asleep, and then I’ll take the collar off, okay? I don’t want you wearing it while you sleep, just in case.” 

Taki nods, pushing his disappointment down. He needs to be grateful, because he’s gotten so much of K already, even though he always wants more. He crawls into bed, the sheets cool and refreshing against his hot skin. K eases in next to him, petting over his hair and his ears until Taki’s breathing becomes slow and deep. 

This becomes a part of their routine. K will put the collar on him when they have time to themselves, and Taki will wear it and be K’s puppy until K takes it off, after Taki falls asleep. With K’s collar on, wrapped in his adoration and his affection, being told what to do, being pet, being fed, Taki goes to a place in his head that feels easy and free. Taki can touch K and lick his hands and his cheeks and his neck because he’s just a puppy, and that’s what puppies do. Taki doesn’t have to speak, and he doesn’t have to act cute, because puppies naturally are. Taki doesn’t need to think about the next day, or the next month, or how busy they’ll be, or how often K might have to go away for work, because puppies don’t think that far ahead. 

Taki never asks for the collar directly, but K always brings it with him when they spend time together, and when Taki starts to sniff and whine and loll his tongue out of his mouth, K will pull it carefully from his pocket and wrap it around Taki’s neck, and the initial feeling of K moving the leather over his skin starts to make Taki feel like he’s flying, more and more each time. They pass the time with K reading or writing or watching something, with Taki curled up in his lap, melting in his bliss, feeling a tantalizing combination of both owned and free. And after Taki sleeps, K removes the collar and brings it back to his room. It moves from Taki’s space into K’s, back and forth, a sacred object for just the two of them to share.

~~~~

It starts to get weird when K forgets to take the collar off.

Taki wakes just before sunrise, finds K asleep next to him, still in his clothes from the night before. Taki surmises he must have fallen asleep as he was putting Taki to bed, and Taki shakes him gently awake.

“K-hyung, what time do you start today?”

“Ngh, late today. Not until 11”, he husks, his voice always so deep and throaty when he first wakes up. It makes sense now that K let himself relax enough to fall asleep next to Taki, when he finally has a rare morning to sleep in. 

“Go back to sleep, then”, Taki whispers to him, “It’s only 6. I’ll come wake you in a little bit.” 

K murmurs affirmatively and scoots to take up more space in Taki’s bed, falling right back to sleep, and Taki throws on a big T-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs, and leaves his room, shutting the door quietly behind him and pattering down the hallway towards the kitchen. When he gets there, Maki is sitting at the table, drinking a smoothie.

“That’s cool, Taki”, Maki nods at him, “The dog collar, is it from one of the stylists?”

Taki goes wide-eyed, lifting his hand to his neck, mouth agape.

“Wha- what is it? Did you forget to take it off, or something?” 

“I…yea, I…forgot,” he replies slowly, unsure of what he wants to do, whether he should stay in the kitchen or retreat to his room to tuck the collar away. But he can’t get it off by himself, and K is sleeping, and Taki feels a sudden lurching of his stomach at the thought of having to wake him up, of K knowing that someone else saw him in his collar. 

“Oh shit, I hope they’re not looking for it. Just give it back tomorrow?” Maki suggests. 

Taki clamps his lips together. He can feel his cheeks getting hot, knows he’s going beet-red. He’s usually a much better actor than this. But he’s caught off-guard, and he’s still waking up, and it feels too strange to be standing in the kitchen, preparing to make a meal, preparing to be grown-up, human Taki, while wearing a collar. While wearing K’s collar. 

“It’s mine…” he whispers, and keeps talking, doesn’t really know why, can’t stop his mouth from moving, “K-hyung gave it to me.” 

“Oh. Uh. Okay”, Maki lets out, slowly, calmly, but the widening of his eyes betrays his feigned nonchalance.  

“It’s not- it’s not anything weird”, Taki blurts out, feeling like maybe it is. Maybe it is something weird. He feels an itch building where the collar buckle rests on the back of his neck, but he doesn’t want to reach up and touch it, doesn’t want to draw any more attention to it than he already has.

“So, uh, why did K-hyung give you a collar?” Maki asks, keeping his same cool, unassuming tone. Taki feels like his heart is going to come up out of his mouth and fall to the floor with a wet plop. 

“I…I wanted it”, Taki whispers. His voice doesn’t feel like his own. He wants to stop talking. He wants to sink to the floor. He wants to crawl back into his room and curl up next to K. He wants to be a puppy, now more than ever.

“Isn’t that…isn’t it like…a sex thing?” Maki asks quietly, and Taki's eyes go wide.

“Wha- no. What do you mean, a sex thing?” 

“I mean…I think it is, sometimes? Collaring. I don’t know that much about it. I guess it could also not be?” Maki tilts his head, looking up, considering. He seems genuinely unperturbed, only curious. Bless him, for his open mind, for his weird, chronically online understanding of the world. Nothing ever fazed him. He continues, not a hint of judgement in his voice. 

“How did…how did you ask him for it? Like, what did you say?”

Taki doesn’t know how to respond. He shrugs and grabs a bottle of coke from the fridge, hastily twisting the lid off and drinking the whole thing down, so he doesn’t have to speak. Because Taki never asked him at all. K read his mind, like he does sometimes. He understood what Taki wanted without Taki having to put it into words. Because K understands what Taki needs, even when he doesn’t have words to speak. Even when he’s a dog, and all he can do is bark and whine. And Taki had naively assumed it would stay that way, that K would just know how all of this would work. Because Taki always assumes K knows everything. 

~~~~

After that, Taki tries to hold back a little. And K’s schedule gets busier, so there’s less opportunity for Taki to be K’s dog. K is separated from them for different schedules, more often than not, and try as he might to stay awake until K gets home, Taki falls asleep alone with the collar gripped in his fist.

But the harder work gets, the further Taki sinks. The build-up before a comeback is brutal, and Taki is balancing more than he ever has before. It starts to leak out, even when they’re working. Miraculously, their fans eat it up, love puppy Taki, ask for more and more. He gets a cover magazine shoot for a dog magazine, of all things, and while shooting, Taki studies the way the dog moves, the sounds she makes, the way she cocks her head left and right. The way she gingerly places her paw in Taki’s hand. The way she sniffs for treats. Taki is enamored with her. How sweet she is. How good. He wants to be just as sweet, just as good. He wants to give paw and get treats, too. And he finds himself wishing desperately that he could switch places with her, for even just an hour, to feel what it’s like to be a real dog. To be just as perfect. A perfect dog for a perfect owner. To be able to fit entirely into K’s lap. To have soft fur for K to pet over, to warm his bed at night and lick his cheeks to wake him in the morning. She looks at him like she understands how he feels, and squeezing her little face and her fat cheeks makes Taki feel like he’s walking on clouds. Is this how K feels, then, when he touches Taki? When the shoot is finished, the photographer comments on how remarkable it is how much Taki resembles the sweet Shiba in his arms. But Taki isn’t a real dog, and he isn’t as soft, and he isn’t as cute. He wants to be, desperately. And he doesn’t want to leave her. 

Taki feels irritable after the shoot, for reasons he can’t quite place.  He hates putting on his winter coat and his scarf and his hat and his gloves, and thinks bitterly how much easier it would be if he had his own warm coat of fur. He feels heavy and foggy and his body is achy and tired from holding poses, from sitting on the hard ground, from waiting around. He bets the dog isn’t tired, not at all. She got to play and get treats and be happy, and now she gets to go home with her owner to be doted on and adored even more. Taki will go home and he will be alone, because his owner is still working. Taki is exhausted and sad and lonely. He misses K. He misses being collared. He misses the feeling of being all his. It feels so messy to be human. Because to be K’s dog lets him be K’s in a way that feels safe and good instead of in ways he’s too scared to name. He keeps thinking about Maki’s question, and his stomach clenches up tight every time, and he tries to shake it out of his head. He knows these are his messy, human thoughts, and when he’s a puppy, he doesn’t have to think about any of these things. He can just be.

His phone buzzes, and K is texting him, like he knows, like he knows Taki needs him. Like he needs Taki, just the same. Like maybe to K, Taki really is just like the puppy from the photoshoot. Like maybe he’s just as sweet and just as good, but Taki isn’t sure it can stay that way, because of his messy human thoughts. Taki opens the text.

I’m going to make it home in time to have dinner with you, tonight. We can cook together.

Taki is torn between his desperation to see K and a desire to lock himself up in his room until he can get his feelings under control. He almost hopes K texts back to tell him nevermind, his shoot is delayed, he won’t make it, even though Taki knows he will, because K always keeps his word, and K never cancels their plans. But to cook, Taki has to be human, and the idea of being human around K is increasingly more daunting the more aware of his feelings he becomes. 

K is already in the kitchen when he gets home, apron on, hugging Taki so close and tight to his chest, welcoming him back. K is so, so good to him. He wants to be good for K, so badly. And he’s frustrated that he’s so much better at being a puppy than he is at being a human boy. But Taki tries to swallow it all down, and whatever can’t be swallowed is forced into the cutting board as he slices onions and garlic. The sting of the onion in his eyes is a welcome distraction. 

“You’ve gotten so much faster with that. Like, almost to a professional level. You’re really amazing, you know that?” K murmurs in awe next to him while he peels and cleans shrimp for their scampi. 

Taki whispers a thank you, licking his lips, like he can lick K’s words up and keep them in his stomach. The compliment tastes sweet on his tongue. 

As Taki eases into the methodical rhythm of slicing, pouring, stirring, focusing on the movements of his hands, the smell of garlic as it crisps, the sizzling, bubbling sounds, he starts to feel better, less in his head and more present. He’s grateful for this moment for them to be together, to create together, to satiate themselves together. They eat across from each other, K musing about their comeback production and choreography techniques he’s learning and Taki listening with rapt attention. K always teaches him so much. The conversation eventually lulls, and they eat in comfortable silence. As Taki is getting the last of his spaghetti swirled around his fork, K clears his throat, and Taki glances up as he takes his bite. 

“You did a great job cooking, Taki.” 

“You helped a lot, though?” Taki mumbles around his bite. 

“That doesn’t negate that you did great, does it?” K says softly, smiling, resting his chin on his hand and cocking his head. Taki can feel his face heating up at the praise, at the adoring gaze. He puts his fork down and brings his hands to the tops of his thighs, squeezing at the fabric of his shorts. His mouth feels twitchy. He licks his lips. He bites his tongue, lets it poke out of his mouth.

“I knew you’d do good”, K whispers, “so I got you a treat. Do you want to know what it is?” 

Taki nods fervently, gripping his shorts harder to try to keep his stomach from clenching. It doesn’t work, and he swears he can feel the spaghetti mushing around inside him. 

“You want to know?” K asks again, and Taki nods once more, confused, until K leans himself on his other hand, eyes glinting, lips curling up in a tiny smirk. 

“Speak.” 

Immediately, instinctively, Taki barks, and K laughs, delighted, and Taki is embarrassed at how quickly he jumped to follow that command, how easy it was, how badly he had been waiting to let it out. And Taki, too, is delighted, to make K laugh. To do what he wants. To be a dog again. To be K’s in the surest, safest way he knows how. K gets up from the table and grabs a white dessert box from off the countertop, opening it up. He pulls out a white macaron, shiny and perfectly round. 

“Do you want this, Taki?” K whispers, holding it up carefully, pinched between his thumb and index finger. Taki wants it. Taki wants to take it from the palm of his hand. His stomach clenches and flops harder and his toes curl in his socks. Taki barks again, softly, just once. His chest feels hot, and he wants to take off his jacket. He thinks about how silly it is to be a dog wearing clothes. 

“Come, Taki”, K commands gently, voice so sweet and so warm, and Taki slides out of the chair so he can crawl on all-fours over to K’s side of the table. He rests his chin on K’s lap, where his shorts have ridden up. K’s thighs are the color of milk tea. Taki wonders if they’d taste as sweet if he licked them. 

“Shake”, K whispers, holding out his empty hand, and Taki gingerly places his there, just like the sweet puppy from earlier did for him.

“Good boy”, K coos, “you’re such a good dog, aren’t you? How’d I end up with the best dog in the world, hm?” and K pops the macaron into his mouth. Taki’s cheeks go hot as he chews, swallowing down K’s praise with the sweet, soft cookie. Taki thinks about his earlier jealousy, towards the Shiba, how it’s dissipated completely, because there’s no way her owners are better than K. No one is better than K. Taki is the luckiest dog in the whole world. 

“Do you want to watch something? We can sit on the couch”, K suggests while he watches Taki chew and swallow, and Taki glances up wearily at the countertop, where the dirty pans rest. K reads him instantly. 

“Don’t worry about all that. I’ll clean up later. Puppies can’t clean a kitchen. Puppies just keep their owners company, when they want to relax. Can you do that for me? Can you be good?” 

Taki doesn’t really want to watch anything, head too fuzzy to focus on television, but he wants to be with K, so he nods, and K gets up and moves the dirty dishes into the sink before he walks over to the couch, keeping his eye on Taki, behind him, a knowing smile twitching onto his lips. Taki follows after him, hips high, the stretch in his thighs and arms feeling so good. When they get to the couch, Taki thinks about how good it felt to have his head on the soft skin of K’s legs. He so rarely wears shorts, and Taki wants to rub his cheeks all over the tops of K’s knees. He’s so warm and his skin is so soft and as he rocks back and forth on his knees, calves twitching, he’s once again reminded of sweet milk tea, and he can’t resist licking over K’s knee. K reacts with nothing but a soft hum, and so Taki licks at him again. And again, and again, loving the way K’s skin feels smooth on his tongue. He starts to squirm a little, unable to settle. 

K tsks lovingly, threading his hand into Taki’s hair and around the curve of his neck, squeezing at the skin just beneath his shirt. Taki lets out a whimper and a tiny growl through his square teeth, leaning forward to nip gently at the thick meat of K’s thigh. 

“Easy, puppy.  You’re so restless tonight. I thought you were going to be good for me, hm?” 

K is smiling encouragingly, and Taki finds the confidence to sink further this new development in his role, of being a little bit naughty, of needing to be guided lovingly towards obedience. 

Taki keeps biting at K’s leg, feeling the way his muscles clench and twitch when his tongue runs over the fold of skin held between his teeth, and K grips the hair at his nape and pulls it tight in warning. Taki feels too full of energy, has a twitchy desire to run circles around the room, to make K chase him. He pictures himself on a leash, K holding him tightly to his side, commanding him to heel as he firmly pulls to keep Taki close. It makes sense, because Taki’s just a puppy, so he doesn’t know how to behave, yet. He needs K to teach him, to guide him, as his trusted owner. His stern but loving master. 

Even with K’s tight grip on his hair, he’s still pulling forward, licking and nipping along K’s leg at the seam of his shorts, lost in his thoughts, lost in the satisfying feeling of being K’s dog again after he had to work so hard all day being human. As he licks, he slides K’s shorts further up with his nose and drags his teeth along K’s inner thigh, and K lets out a shaky, surprised moan. The sound of it cuts through the fog, and Taki is suddenly aware of the arousal pooling in his stomach, rapidly sinking lower. He’s suddenly aware of his desire to get his teeth and his tongue further up K’s thigh, to get his clothes off, to lick at him, all over, to take him into his mouth and suck on him, to pleasure him. Before he can get a hold of his thoughts, shame effuses through his whole body and Taki bites hard on the meat of K’s thigh, trying to stop his strange fantasy. K hisses and yanks his head back, chastising, “bad dog, Taki”, and the sound of K’s reprimand hits him like a slap. He’s bad.

“N-no…” he blurts out, quickly bringing his hands to cover his mouth, to prevent more words from coming out, to not burden K with his messy, human desire and confusion. Taki feels strange seeing all 10 of his wobbly fingers, quickly curls them back into fists, pressing them hard into his teeth, biting at his knuckles. This was supposed to be sweet, and easy, and it was, until Taki’s thoughts got in the way, the thoughts he tries so hard to quell. And now he’s ruining it. The shame grows. But K is so gentle, so benevolent, so caring, softening his eyes and his grip instantly to a tender, grounding hold on the back of Taki’s head, reaching out for one of Taki’s paw-hands, to guide him up onto the couch. 

“Taki…” he whispers, so adoringly, and Taki shuts his eyes tight, nudging his head into the warm crook of K’s neck. K keeps petting his head, easing Taki onto his lap, and Taki lets out a shuddering breath. 

“Easy, you’re okay…”, he continues, and Taki knows K can feel that he’s trembling, “You’re not…you’re not a bad dog”, he affirms, and Taki takes another big shuddering breath in, lets it out hot onto K’s skin. For a few minutes, K holds him there, one hand still cupping the back of his head, the other soft on the small of Taki’s back, his thumb moving back and forth in a soothing metronome over the ridge of Taki’s spine. Eventually, K sighs.

“We’re gonna go to my room, okay? I’ll carry you”, he says softly, and Taki nods into his neck, wanting nothing more than to be carried in K’s arms. He doesn’t feel like he can walk on four legs anymore today, and he doesn’t feel ready to walk on two. K continues, gently, “we’ll sit on my bed together, and I’ll squeeze your cheeks”, Taki smiles a little at that, letting out another shaky breath, “…and I’ll scratch behind your ears, and under your chin…” K squeezes around his waist, getting ready to lift them both up from the couch, and when he’s standing with Taki held tight in his arms like a big lap dog, he continues, “and then…you’re going to be human again, and we’re going to talk about what’s happening between us.” 

~~~

K sets Taki gently on his bed and crawls on after him, getting himself propped up by the pillows, before turning Taki to face him. Taki sits up on his calves, fists pressed tight into the tops of his legs. K reaches out to rub over the tops of his knuckles, so gently, and Taki relaxes slightly. For a while, K does as he said he would, and squeezes Taki’s cheeks and scratches behind Taki’s ears, and Taki goes boneless, closing his eyes, and forgets about the fact that they need to talk, and gets lost in being K’s dog again. When K scratches underneath his chin, tickling over his throat, Taki whimpers, and K stops his hands and brings them back over Taki’s where they have rested unmoving on the tops of his thighs. Taki pops his eyes back open, and K’s gaze is soft and contemplative.

“We probably should’ve talked about this before. Way before. That’s my fault, I’m sorry”, K murmurs, and Taki shakes his head no. K huffs out a small laugh and continues, “Yes, but that’s okay. We can talk now. There’s something I want to know, Taki, but it might be hard for you to answer. What does it mean for you to be a dog? To be my dog?”

Taki squirms, flexing his calves to get blood flowing through them, pressing his legs out a little, in a narrow W, to get more comfortable. He thinks.

“It means…I get to feel doted on, and adored. By you. I like that feeling", Taki gets out, and K hums in response. “And I don’t have to think about my responsibilities. I can just relax.” There’s so much more to it, so much he isn’t saying, is scared to say. K is looking at him like he knows that, like he’s waiting for Taki to say more. Taki deflects.

“What about you, K-hyung?” he asks, thinking that K will be able to voice his thoughts better, because K isn’t currently battling between being a dog and being a human in his own head. 

“What does…all of this mean, for you?”

“Hmm…well, the same. I want to dote on you. I like doing that. I like making you happy, Taki, and this seems to be a way to do that.” Taki considers his response. He feels like there are things K isn’t saying, too.

“So…is it just for my benefit? Just to make me happy?”

“No, it’s…definitely not. It’s not just for you”, K affirms, “I like it too. I love it, actually. I love taking care of you in this way. I like feeling like…I’m the only one who can.”

That sinks into Taki’s stomach and all through his legs, making him twitch. Making his toes curl up again. Taki feels a little braver, wants to say a little more.

“I like how it feels when you take care of me. You…do it the best. You know what I need better than anyone. I’m not a kid anymore, so I can’t expect you to take care of me like you always have. But…but if I’m a puppy…” Taki pauses, swallows, his mouth feeling too dry, and keeps going. 

“If I’m a puppy, if I’m a dog, then you’ll just adore me forever. No matter how much I change. No matter how big I get.” 

“I’m going to adore you forever no matter what, Taki.”

“Even if-”

“No matter what.” 

“Don’t- you can’t say things like that”, Taki whispers, feeling so unusually shy. Feeling strange. Feeling heat pooling in his stomach and down below, again. K laughs.

“Why?”

“Because I feel…” Taki looks down and away, unsure of how to finish his thought. Unsure if he wants to. He rubs circles into the tops of his own knees again, pressing gently. He looks back up at K, and the way K is gazing at him, so adoringly, makes him feel like maybe he can let just a tiny bit of his messiness out. He breathes deep and decides to make a confession.

“Before, on the couch. When I was, uh, biting your leg. I was getting…I was, uh…”

K nods, eyes soft as always, encouraging him wordlessly, sliding his hand back into Taki’s hair, scratching a little, pulling Taki just a bit closer, and Taki’s pelvis is pressed right up against the outside of his thigh.

“I was getting aroused”, Taki whispers, “like, uh, physically.”

“I see”, K murmurs, as sweet as ever, continuing his rhythmic scratching of Taki’s nape, “Isn’t it normal, though? For puppies to get aroused sometimes, when they’re excited. You’re not really thinking, right, when you’re a puppy? You’re just feeling. You’re just…in your body. So it’s normal. It doesn’t have to mean anything, Taki. It’s just your body recognizing that it feels good.”

Taki considers K’s response, and shakes his head no, fidgeting, shifting. Pressing his hips minutely into K’s thigh, before realizing what he’s doing, and pulling sharply away.

“What is it?” K whispers, hand coming to rest on Taki’s hip, preventing him from moving back any further. Carefully, tenderly, pulling him forward again, more, so that he’s half in K’s lap. “Am I wrong?” He looks incredulous, because he’s not used to being wrong, especially when it comes to Taki. 

With K’s hand anchoring him down, Taki’s groin is pressed into K’s thigh. He shifts a little, and tries not to think about how good it feels.

“Uh, you’re not wrong, entirely. I mean, that’s usually the case. I’m usually just feeling good, and my head feels empty. But tonight there were a lot of thoughts. I wasn’t really aware of them? Until I was…and then I was overwhelmed by them.” Taki goes red, lowers his gaze, a bit of shame shimmying its way back into his chest, “That’s when I bit you. I’m sorry I bit you, K-hyung.” 

“I don’t mind”, K murmurs, twisting Taki’s hair a bit in his fingers, “You can bite me more, if you want to.”

“You’re teasing me”, Taki mutters, and K laughs. 

“You’re worrying over nothing, Taki.”

“I’m worrying over you!” 

“Why?” K laughs again, reaching up to squeeze his cheek. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m doing what I want to. You can do what you want to, too.” Taki pouts, cheeks puffing up in K’s fingers.

“I don’t think I can do what I want to. I don’t think I should.” 

“Why?” 

“Because…”, Taki starts, nervous to let it all out, “I’m not a real dog. I can’t just do what I want. I’m a human, and I’m messy, and it’s…a lot. It’s just a lot, K-hyung. It’s too much.” 

“What’s too much?” 

“All of it.” 

K sighs and pinches Taki’s cheek, a little harder than usual, the way he does when he wants Taki to focus. To be present. To clear his head. 

“Taki, I know words are hard for you, when you’re like this, but you’re going to have to be a bit clearer than that.”

Taki heaves a big sigh, focuses on the feeling of K pinching and kneading his cheek. Focuses on the warmth of him, on the sound of his breathing, of his musky, citrus smell. He looks over the softness of K’s lips and his jaw and his throat. He watches K blink, and he blinks. He watches K breathe, and he breathes. He watches K swallow, and he swallows. He readies himself to be brave, eloquent, and human. He decides to ask another question, something dogs can’t do.   

“Do you know why else I like being a dog, K-hyung?” 

“Well, from what I understand of you, Taki, and my understanding of…this kind of thing, it’s to relieve stress. It’s because it feels relaxing, freeing in some way? It makes you feel at ease, to pretend to be a puppy?”

Taki breathes in again, before letting his words out in a whoosh. “It makes me feel at ease to pretend to be your puppy, K-hyung. It’s…I mean yea, it’s all of that, but it’s…it’s being yours. When I’m a dog, I get to be yours.”

K smiles softly, tilting his head, softening his hand, rubbing it along Taki’s cheek to cup his chin, tilting it up. 

“You’re mine either way, Taki.”

Taki sucks in his breath and his toes curl. K’s hand moves from his chin back to his cheek, thumb brushing across his bottom lip.

“You know that, don’t you?” K whispers. Taki says nothing. He rubs his toes together, wiggling them. He feels himself start to tremble a little. He pushes his groin into K’s thigh again, can’t help it. He feels himself start to firm up. 

“It’s okay if it…excites you, being mine”, K continues, pushing Taki’s bottom lip down just a little, running his fingernail along Taki’s teeth.

“But it’s- it feels messy, K-hyung,” Taki whines, reaching up to pull K’s finger away from his mouth so he can keep talking. K acquiesces with a sheepish smile and moves his hand back to Taki’s cheek, rubbing it, rolling it. Taki takes another deep breath and continues. 

“We’re so many different things to each other. We’re…wrapped up in each other, in so many different ways. This felt…I thought this was easier, because…dogs are just…like you said. Dogs just feel. They don’t have to think. They want what they want, and they don’t have to think about it.”

“You can want what you want, Taki. It’s okay”, K soothes, rubbing his finger across Taki’s lips again. Taki wants to pucker up and kiss his fingertip, wants to lick and nip at it. Puppy Taki would. But human Taki is anxious. K doesn’t know what Taki really wants. K says it’s okay, because K doesn’t know how deep it goes. How wild Taki’s thoughts get. 

“I’m a lot of different things for you. I know”, K continues, “That must feel a little overwhelming, hm?” 

Taki nods, moving his hands from the tops of his thighs along the muscled ridges of K’s arms up to his shoulders, wanting to touch him. He lets his hands rest there, and curls his fingers back into fists, back into paws. K brings his other hand up, and both are cupping Taki’s cheeks, squeezing at them, pulling them a little, the same way Taki did to the sweet dog in his photoshoot. The way K always does for him. Maybe Taki has been K’s puppy this entire time, for years. 

“I like…being what you want me to be”, K murmurs, “I like filling all of these roles for you. Because”, he stops squeezing and cups Taki’s face firmly, “Listen to me, Taki. When I take on all of these roles, it feels safe for me, to want so much of you, in so many different ways.”  

Taki can feel K’s words ricocheting around in his head, but he can’t quite comprehend what they mean. K’s eyes are glassy in their intensity, and Taki can feel his heartbeat in his ears. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing is coming out. K blinks slowly. He swallows, and Taki swallows. 

“It’s okay for you to want what you want, Taki”, he repeats, “I want what you want. All of it. Whatever it is. I want it. I promise.” 

“I don’t- You don’t know-” Taki starts, and K shushes him to ask a question.

“What do you want, Taki, right now? What do you want?” 

Taki thinks, even though he doesn’t want to think. That’s what he wants. He wants to not think. He wants to just feel. He wants to be a puppy. He wants to be K’s. 

“I want to be a puppy-“, he whispers in response, “Your puppy. I want– I want you to collar me.” 

“Ah, that’s right. You don’t have your collar on, do you?” K smiles, dragging one hand down Taki’s back, patting the dip of his tailbone, where a tail would be. Taki almost feels one there, like a phantom limb. “I forgot to put it on. No wonder you were so wild earlier.”

K lowers his arm and shifts underneath him to pull the collar out from his shorts pocket, and Taki’s throat feels hot and tight immediately. 

“It’s silly, isn’t it, to be a dog wearing clothes?” K muses, “When your collar is all you need?” 

Taki nods rapidly, lets out a little woof, can’t help it, the delicious electric feeling of K’s complete understanding of Taki, surging around inside his body like he’s filled with live wires. K reaches for the zipper of his jacket and slides it all the way down, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric on Taki’s shoulders to slide it off. Taki helps, shaking it, but he doesn’t use his hands. Dogs don’t have opposable thumbs, so he lets K undress him. K shimmies his fingers under Taki’s shirt and pulls it up over his head, tossing it to the side and smoothing Taki’s hair down. They look at each other. K looks pleased, which makes Taki flush. He likes feeling like he’s doing something right. Like he’s being good. K holds up the collar. 

“You want it, Taki?” 

“Woof”

K slides his large palm up Taki’s throat, like he always does before he puts the collar on, but it’s a little different, movements more expansive, he’s touching Taki’s chest and smoothing his hand down the plane of Taki’s belly. He’s gliding his hand across Taki’s hip, up over the swath of his back, and back around to his throat, making him squirm and his stomach clench and heat up again.

“K-hyung”, he gasps out, “I’m getting…again…I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry”, K soothes, stretching the collar around Taki’s neck and pressing it there firmly, threading the loose end through the buckle to secure it, two fingers threaded under to check the fit, like always. He flicks the pendant, back and forth. 

“You’re just a puppy, Taki. Puppies have trouble controlling themselves, you know.” 

“Y-yea, but-”

“It’s okay, Taki. If you want to be a puppy, then be a puppy. Be my puppy. I want you to be.” 

Taki whimpers a little, opens his mouth to let more of his insecurities out, but K pushes gently against Taki’s throat, pressing the pendant into his skin.

“Did you forget?” K asks, gaze sinking into Taki’s throat and chest and belly, making him want to pant. “Puppies don’t speak in words, do they? Puppies don’t think, not like humans do. Puppies just feel. They like feeling good. They chase it. You’ve been chasing it, Taki, this whole time, and I’m telling you you can have it, because you’re a very good dog, aren’t you? Good dogs get rewards.”

K’s voice is pulsing through him, molten, and Taki is sinking into it, deeper than he ever has before. He’s K’s dog, his puppy, and he’s so adored. He loves his owner, his beautiful, enticing master. He’s aroused by how much he loves him, and puppies can’t control their arousal at all. It's normal, expected, for Taki to lose control. For Taki to give in to his impulses. For Taki to chase what he wants. And K says he can have it. 

“Go on, puppy”, K whispers, flicking at the silver pendant on his collar once more, rubbing his finger along the leather, tracing it, the other hand squeezing at his thigh again, before gliding up to Taki’s hip and squeezing there too, “Let yourself have it. Let yourself feel.”

Warm arousal floods him completely, and he starts to sweat, feeling hot and twitchy. He’s throbbing all throughout his chest and his gut, and he whines high in his throat, and he can’t tell if he’s pushing himself forward, or if K is pulling him, or both, but he’s adjusting his legs and pressing tight against K’s pelvis, straddling him fully. He listens to K’s command and gives himself permission, lets the full weight of his hips sit heavy on K’s thighs, and he sinks down, down into being a puppy, whose only goal is to be good, to feel good. He wants to be praised, to be doted on and adored. He wants to be K’s good dog. He chases the promise of pleasure, and rocks his hips forward with a rough, feral “woof.”

“F-fuck”, K groans sharply, and suddenly Taki is aware of the intensity of K’s arousal, of how completely it mirrors his own. K’s face is red and his eyes are heavy and dark. He looks like he’s going to melt, any minute, and Taki is realizing how desperately K needs him to let go, so he can let go too. K is soothing him, guiding him, like always, even though K is wound up just as tight. But they can let go. It’s okay. Taki rocks forward again, and again, gasping, and K squeezes his hip tight, lets out a heavy breath, bringing his hand from his cheek to cup over his ear, to tug at his hair. It’s good, it’s so good.

“Good boy, Taki, ah, that’s— that’s my good boy,” K rasps, voice low and shaky and husky, like when he just wakes up. Taki loves when he sounds like this, because Taki’s the only one who can crawl into K’s bed in the morning to wake him up to hear it, so Taki’s the only one who knows. Taki is his sweet puppy, and K is going to take such good care of him, like always. His kind, angelic master. Taki is the luckiest dog in the world.

Taki’s groin is throbbing and his body is telling him to move, so he tries to quiet his thoughts and listen to his body, and starts to properly chase it, the bubbling, twitching, boiling sensation in between his legs, starts to rub himself rhythmically along K’s body. He’s heavy and hard in his underwear, because that’s what happens when dogs get excited. When all animals do. And humans are animals too, aren’t they? So human or dog, it’s okay, isn’t it? It’s okay for Taki to chase this. K is nodding at him like he’s reading his mind, and Taki ruts himself against K a little faster. Less thinking, more feeling. His mouth is achy, like it’s too empty, and he lolls his head forward onto K’s shoulder so he can get his jaw around the meat of it and bite.

“Ah, god, Taki– easy, puppy”, K groans out, cupping the back of his head, rubbing soothingly while the hand on his hip returns to the base of his spine and he pushes Taki forward. Taki growls against his shoulder, his mind loosening, melting, dripping down through his neck and spine, pooling itself into the small of his back, all feeling centering itself into his hips as he thrusts forward more.

K spreads his legs a little, adjusting, and one of Taki’s legs falls into the newly formed space, so that he’s straddled across one of K’s thighs now, the perfect width to squeeze his legs around, to rut against. K brings his hands back to Taki’s hips and shifts him back, and the angle is perfect, and Taki lets out a shaky whimper and a moan. He brings his hips forward again. He’s going to hump K’s thigh, like an overexcited dog would do, and the thought of it has his brain feeling like hot soup in his ears.

“This is what puppies do, isn’t it?” K whispers, “When they get excited?” He’s nuzzling against Taki’s cheek, brushing his nose up into Taki’s hair, exhaling shakily into his ear, repeats his unending, loving affirmation.

“You’re my good boy, Taki. I want you to feel good.”

Taki lets it all go. He growls again, licking at K’s shoulder, kissing up his throat, bringing his arms around his neck as he finds a satisfying rhythm with his hips, pushing and pulling. K’s slipping one hand into the back of his underwear, squeezing the very top of one tensed cheek, pushing the fabric down. Taki hates wearing anything, and he’s getting hot and sweaty and sticky in his underwear, but even though dogs don’t wear clothes, he’s hesitant to remove them, so he shakes his head against the pit of K’s neck. K stops pushing and just squeezes at his skin. K understands him, understands everything, and Taki melts into him further, whining and rutting. K rubs his lips across Taki’s jaw up to the lobe of his ear and licks over it, bites down and pulls it into his mouth and Taki groans, squeezing his arms around K’s strong, graceful neck, licking at his cheek and his jaw. 

“How do you feel?” K asks, whispering into his ear, and Taki shudders and whines again as K gently commands, “Tell me. In words.”

“Good, so good, K-hyung, so, so, so good…it’s, ah, it’s perfect, you’re perfect–”, Taki cuts off with a shaky whimper as K sucks hard on his earlobe, before he pulls back to speak again,

“G-good boy”, he gets out, stuttering a little, “I'm glad…You deserve it, Taki…my good boy…” he trails off, twisting a little, pulling at Taki so that Taki’s hips are higher on K’s body, and Taki groans at the feeling of K’s hard cock lined up right next to his own. He pushes his hips forward harder, humping him faster, chasing the throbbing, bubbling feeling in his thighs and his balls and his groin. K squeezes at his ass and brings one hand up to hold his throat, right over the collar, pressing the pendant into his skin. Taki thinks about the little engraved K on the inside of the leather, and wonders if K can press hard enough that it’ll indent into his skin. He growls more, biting into K’s shoulder again, overwhelmed with how it feels to be loved, to be owned. He’s going to come, and K’s asking, “you’re close?” into his ear like he already knows. Of course he knows, because he knows Taki better than anyone.

“K- K-hyung”, he gets out, balls squeezing up tight and cock throbbing as he pushes himself against K’s body, but he can’t let go, he’s nervous, he needs- 

"You are, I can feel it, sweet thing", K coos, licking a hot stripe up his throat, dragging his teeth lightly along his jaw.

“Taki, come.” 

Yes, yes, that’s what he needs, the perfect command, and Taki pushes his face into K’s neck and keens high in his throat as he tenses up, hips moving wildly, humping down hard as the pressure builds and squeezes and finally snaps, and he’s moaning and drooling all over K’s neck as he comes inside his underwear, sound whooshing through his ears and his heart pounding in his chest as he pants and slumps into K’s chest.

“Good boy, Taki, fuck, you’re so good”, K rasps, and Taki can feel where he’s so hard against him, still, and Taki reaches down to paw at him. K brings his hand up to push it against Taki’s throat, lifting his chin so he can lick up Taki’s neck again, licking over the silver pendant, sucking it into his mouth, kissing it. Taki whimpers and squeezes K’s thickness in his hand.

“You still want to play, puppy?” K groans out, “Hm?" and Taki nods frantically as best he can with K holding his chin up. K pulls him forward to lick over his lips and slide his tongue into Taki’s mouth, kissing him wet and sloppy as he reaches his other hand down over Taki’s, moving it gently so he can get his hand on the waistband of his shorts. He shakes and shimmies his hips so he can get his pants off and tosses them beside him on the bed. He pulls Taki back gently so he can look at his face.

“You’re perfect”, K murmurs, “doing exactly what you want to do. Getting everything you deserve”.

Taki whines high, shaking his head, then nodding it, feeling so much all at once. K holds him by the back of the neck and Taki looks down, watching the way K’s cock slides through his hand where he’s gripping it tight, twisting his fist around it. Puppies don’t have hands, but Taki’s special, and he does, so he wraps one fist around K’s, and K groans, adjusting so that Taki’s hand is pressed hot against the skin of his cock and K’s hand is wrapped securely on top, moving them, twisting and squeezing.

“You’re so good for me, fuck”, K gasps out, “Gonna make me come”, and Taki’s practically drooling with arousal, knows that if he opens his mouth it’ll come pouring out.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he asks, and Taki nods. 

“Tell me”, he urges, moving their hands faster, squeezing tighter. Taki can't talk, because if he tries, he's going to drool all over K's chest, so he lets go of K's cock and pushes against K’s hand so he can brings his palm up, letting the drool drip out and pool in the middle, wetting it up before he wraps it against K again, stroking and squeezing him. K moans loud and long.

“I’m yours, K-hyung. Yours- your good boy…” he husks out, cheeks going red, and K’s pulling Taki’s mouth down so he can slot their lips together and suck on Taki’s tongue. Taki licks at the inside of his mouth and brings his other hand up to feel over the strong ridge of his throat, and he feels the vibration of K’s pleasure as he groans deep in his throat and shudders and comes in Taki’s hand. Taki feels like he’s soaring and sinking all at once. He's panting and K's panting. They're hot and sweaty and shuddering. Taking deep breaths together. He reaches around for K’s pants and wipes his hand on them, then reaches between them to finally slide his sticky, wet underwear off, and then he’s slumping down onto the hard, warm plane of K’s body. K is still breathing heavy, laughing, sounding a little wild, a little uncontained, murmuring, you’re such a good boy, Taki, good dog, the best, perfect, and Taki shakes his hips a little and woofs into his chest, sinking fully into his bliss. K slides down the bed, shimmying the covers out and pulling the blankets over them both. K stretches his arm out to switch off his lamp, swathing them in comfortable darkness. 

Sleep pulls at him, right there on K’s chest, unraveling the tethers of his thoughts, when Taki suddenly remembers. 

“Oh shit”, he whispers, “I told Maki it wasn’t a sex thing.”

“Hn?  What?” K slurs groggily, “You what?”

“Nn…it totally…is, though,” Taki mumbles, sleep taking him under, the pull stronger, too hard to fight. K flops an arm over his face to weakly poke his cheek. 

“Taki, what-?” 

“Nn, forget it, K-hyung”, Taki whines, rolling off of him to curl up against his side, “…in the morning…” and he’s unable to fight his euphoric exhaustion, unable to keep his eyes open, feeling more sated than he ever thought possible. He slides off the edge of consciousness into a deep, blissful sleep. 

~~~~

Taki is dreaming. He’s in a lush field of grass, and the sun is warm on his fur, heating him. He’s chasing something, what? A ball, a big, sparkly ball, shiny and so enticing. It’s the most beautiful, coveted ball to ever exist, and it's just for him, because his owner loves him so much, and will give him anything and everything he wants. K is watching him as he runs after the rolling ball, and he speeds up, wanting to catch it, wanting to please. He lunges, and the ball is between his teeth. He clamps his jaw around it, and it’s his, all his, no one else can have it. No one else will be given a ball as wonderful as this. No one else has an owner as wonderful as his.

He plops down into the grass, holding the ball tightly between his paws. K walks over, crouching down, petting over the top of his head and his ears, murmuring to him, praising him adoringly, as Taki licks over his ball. It tastes like his master’s hands, spicy and musky and sweet. It tastes better than anything he’s ever tasted. It smells better than anything he’s ever smelled. And it’s all his, all his, all his. He’ll be doted on and adored, safe and loved, with K, forever. He’ll never ever have to let it go.