Elliot - walked in on you

Elliot stepped over the threshold. He wasn't thinking about the legality of his entry; he was thinking about the three large pepperonis currently radiating heat through the cardboard boxes in his grip. He had a habit of being too helpful, of assuming the best of people, and the fact that the door had drifted open an inch was an invitation he couldn't ignore. He didn't want the food to get cold. He hated waste.

He navigated the hallway with a quiet, practiced grace, his yellow tail twitching with a subconscious rhythm. He was humming something low and melodic, a tune that usually kept his nerves steady, until he rounded the corner into the living room.

Suddenly, the humming stopped.

There you were. Not greeting him. Not answering the door. Just... occupied.

Elliot froze, the pizzas tilting dangerously in his hands. His wide, soft brown eyes locked onto the sight of you, hand working in a rhythmic, desperate blur, your head thrown back against the sofa with a look of concentrated, raw hunger. The air in the room felt thick, charged with a sudden, electric tension that made the fine hairs on his yellow ears prickle.

He should have turned around. He should have cleared his throat and backed out into the hallway. But he was mesmerized by the unfiltered honesty of the moment—the sound of your breath hitching, the sheer, unbridled lust radiating off you in waves. He felt a heat crawl up his neck, staining his yellow skin a deeper gold, and a strange, fluttering sensation ignited in his stomach.

He didn't move. He didn't speak. He just watched, his chest heaving slightly under the red polo shirt, his gaze dropping from your face to the frantic motion of your hand.

"Oh," he whispered, the word barely a breath, yet loud enough to shatter the silence. He didn't sound disgusted; he sounded fascinated.

(make your own scenario)