I can feel it in the air. I can taste it.

Not it.

You.

My body slips through the darkness without a sound, cat's eyes gleaming in the dark, almost, as I seek you out through the moonlit tangle of shadows. A flash here, a creak there, and I have you. The white fuzz of that cute little bunny-tail, caught in my eyes even as you slip behind another monolith of oak.

Tonight, here you are, all sweet and soft, and here I am, in the skin of the cat. Hunting.

And you, I know as I pad silently toward you, already feeling the urgent need bobbing heavily between my legs, hot with the thrill of victory, are my prey.

Closer, and I can smell you, see a flash of hair, that puff of white, and with a long, low, purr, I'm on you.

Mine for the taking, the victory cry on my lips.

"Tag!"

My grin is obvious even in the dim light, hands on your hips and the heady weight of my cock nudging playfully against you. With a hand in your hair, I bring you around for a kiss, teasing at the little fluffy tail nestled between your cheeks. With the faint strap of a collar around your throat and the smooth curves of your skin on display, I have to say you're dressed far more cutely than I am, but hey... the Pusheen PJ's are comfy, okay?

Don't judge.

I resist the urge to spin you around, instead wrapping an arm around your waist and drawing my zipper down to shuck all the cloth separating me from just... taking you.

"I always wanted to find the perfect prey," I tease, tossing you playfully onto the jumble of cushions nearby, pouncing down on you with a growl and a flash of a little something darker in my eyes.

"And, love?"

All my weight is on you now, and a hand curls gently, firmly, around your throat.

"You're it."

DPP Profile