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Mizi is terrible at deception, a perpetual shortcoming she’s had since they were snot-nosed kids playing hide and seek in the woods near their neighborhood.
When they played, and Sua had been thrust into the role of seeking (or volunteered, rather), she had always spotted Mizi first, most often finding her unmistakable pink tail peeking out from a thicket of bushes she’d sequestered herself in. And maybe it was Sua’s fault that she’d never improved at hiding and its related skills of deception in all those years since. She preferred to dart her eyes away from the poorly hidden Mizi, setting her objectives on finding the boys instead. Pretending not to see her was easy when what followed was Mizi, happy as could be, declaring victory in the faces of Till and Ivan. It was sweet, without fail made Sua’s heart pitch a hymn and flutter like she’d been reborn, each and every time.
She still had this preference, even as a fully fledged adult and Mizi’s girlfriend of a year and a half, standing in the entryway of their apartment, exhausted after another grueling day of shoots.
“Hi,” Mizi greets her at the door, her ears perked up and golden eyes twinkling in the dim light.
Sua barely has a second to shrug her coat off; Mizi’s face is already nuzzling against the fur of a black, droopy, lopped ear. Mizi’s hot to the touch, engulfing Sua’s upper body and forming a makeshift sauna within her embrace.
“Unnie, I missed you so, so much. Hyuna-sunbae even yelled at me because I kept pulling out my phone to stare at pictures of you.” Mizi rambles and the attention is music to Sua’s ears.
There’s a sudden breeze at her waist, breaking up the profound inferno it was to be within Mizi’s arms. The source, as expected, is Mizi’s tail, wagging with an ungodly amount of vigor.
Sua’s lips are moving to respond, to say hi back, and maybe something else if she can get a chance. But she’s stopped in her tracks, Mizi continuing. “I thought I was gonna die today. My chest ached so bad ‘cuz I couldn’t see you or even hear you. But I didn’t wanna disturb you by calling you at work, so I powered through it.” She sounds proud of herself; god, it’s adorable. “I know it’s impossible, but never leave me again, please, please, please , Sua-unnie.”
Mizi caps her spoken essay with some kind of strangled whine-growl combination that Sua’s never heard in her entire life of knowing the wolf-girl, desperately yearning like Sua’d just returned from war and not a day of work.
“I missed you too, Mizi. You’re such a good girl, waiting for me, hm?” Is what Sua manages to say. Her arms are too constricted to do anything but awkwardly pat the girl’s back, so praise will suffice. The fact that she hasn’t been gone all too long is irrelevant in the face of Mizi, whose tail continues to wag into a pink blur, throat already pitching another high-pitched, delighted whimper.
When Mizi’s done nuzzling her ear, her attention turns to fixate on her neck, sniffing at her skin, pressed up impossibly close against her. Sua squirms at that, her body wracked with a shiver that travels from where Mizi’s radiating warmth meets her neck down her spine. She makes a feeble attempt at escaping her grasp, giving up when Mizi’s arms don’t so much as budge.
“Mmm, ‘n you smell so good today, too. Are you wearing a new perfume?” Mizi’s saying, still smelling her, like they’re dogs at a park meeting for the first time. Maybe Ivan had rubbed off on her too much as kids, that damned dogboy.
“Mizi?” She calls, hoping maybe Mizi will let up just a smidge so she can at least hug her back. Absent-mindedly, she lets the hand petting Mizi’s back fall to her tail.
It’s a huge mistake because Mizi’s letting out another whine, this time bordering on obscene, panting against the sensitive skin of her neck.
“Ah, Sua…that’s…” Mizi’s mumbling in the crook of her neck, and it’s then that Sua’s brain finally decides to work, dredging up information from her long-term memory storage at long last.
“Mizi. Look at me.” She calls again, firmer.
That seems to sober her up, and realization dawns on Mizi too, pulling back to face her. They’re eye level, Mizi still bent down from shoving her face in her neck.
Sua, now free from her Mizi-shaped prison, rests the back of her hand on Mizi’s forehead. “You’re burning up.” She says, letting the accumulated sweat wet her hand.
“Oh, am I?” Mizi feels her cheek, mimicking the older woman.
“Yes, and you’re still in your work clothes. Didn’t you get home a few hours ago?” Sua says.
Mizi looks down at herself in her black work slacks and plain white button-up, the top two buttons undone. She doesn’t respond, just looks back at Sua, and nods shyly, like she knows the conclusion that Sua is slowly lurching towards.
“And you’re talking about my smell, but you…” Sua trails off. Her nose scrunches as she takes in Mizi’s heady scent. It’s syrupy, musky like she’s turned on. “You smell different, too.”
Now, Mizi’s still, unmoving, a deer caught in headlights. “It’s your rut, isn’t it? It’s starting.”
Sua watches, Mizi’s face contorting into an array of expressions: exasperation, acceptance, denial. She knows she’s been found out, surely, ears and tail drooping. And it’s here when Sua expects Mizi to concede, shirk away, and go shower, maybe approach Sua later and figure out what they’re going to do about her impending cycle.
But she doesn’t. She chuckles, unconvincing and stiff. “My rut? No, no, it’s not that. It’s not supposed to come for another week or two, I think.“ Mizi pauses before squeezing her tight in her arms. “I just missed you, unnie, that's all.”
That’s it. Mizi missed Sua so much she smelled like she was about to undress her and fuck her right then and there. She missed her so much she was pitching a fever. Yes, exactly. And it just so happened that Mizi’s scheduled time off was this upcoming week. All an alignment of silly coincidences.
Instead of calling her out on her abysmal attempt at a lie, Sua’s lips curl upwards into something resembling happiness, relief. “Oh, okay.” She says, like it’s the most obvious explanation in the world.
Mizi’s grinning, fully convinced that Sua’s none the wiser. She smacks a fleeting peck onto Sua’s lips, hands hovering above her in lieu of actually touching her, tail beginning to kick back into a sway, this time gentle and slow. She disappears, not before telling her to go take her time to relax and that she’ll order them takeout.
She can’t tell her the truth, won’t dare to. It seems that Sua will never be able to break this pesky habit of not playing along and indulging in Mizi’s hopeless attempts to fool her or anybody else. She shouldn’t be, especially not now, when the more Mizi resists, the more her biological urges threaten to overrule sensibility and reason in favor of satisfaction and relief. But that was future Sua’s problem. Mizi would have to relent eventually and probably would long before it got to such a point. Hopefully.
After eating dinner, they put on a drama to watch. It’s one of those cheesy romantic melodramas, the exact kind Mizi loved, much to Sua’s disinterest. The opening credits drag on, and the dialogue is painfully bland, but Mizi is deeply invested, as per usual. Sua just lays her head on her shoulder, settling comfortably for the time being, savoring the extra body heat.
The characters on screen are bickering when Sua remembers to pay attention. A cat, feisty and bratty, snarling at the rich dog male lead, who smiles as he calmly offers to pay off her debt in exchange for her hand in marriage. It’s really not her thing. If she wanted to witness this kind of slop in her free time, she’d just invite Ivan and Till on an outing and be their third wheel, she thinks.
It’s contrived, reminiscent of nearly every other drama she’d slogged through for Mizi’s sake. So it’s only natural that her mind’s already wandering elsewhere, itching to straddle Mizi’s lap and shove her tongue down her throat, perhaps. There must be pheromones interlaced with Mizi’s scent, a siren’s call for potential mates, Sua cursing internally at the steady hum of arousal in her veins, a hapless victim to the aroma. Bergamot, amber, and her natural musk—intoxicating clinging to the air with a vengeance, while Mizi fidgets innocently, eyes glued to the screen like she isn’t the culprit. She still hasn’t changed out of her work clothes, either.
Somewhere in the haze of lamenting her own growing arousal and her inattentiveness to the drama, Sua opts to toy with Mizi. It starts with her nuzzling her face into Mizi, ripping a page from Mizi’s playbook earlier. The fabric of her sleeve is soft enough, though not quite satisfying in any concrete way.
Mizi lets out a short pleasant hum, fixing a hand in Sua’s hair, rubbing her thumb at the base of a floppy, oversized ear. It emboldens Sua, has her snaking a hand beneath Mizi’s shirt, palm flat, tracing imaginary circles up her back.
That seems to do something, Mizi jolting and whipping her head in Sua’s direction, motivating her.
“Mn, Y’know this drama... The leads really remind me of—“ Sua’s fingers inch higher, ghosting along the bony protrusion of a shoulder blade, Mizi’s train of thought screeching to a stop.
“...Ivan and Till.” Sua finishes for her, in that gooey, tender tone she saved for just Mizi.
Mizi’s ears fidget some, eyes scrunching up and pupils dilating. Sua’s eyes catch the glint of pearly white canines, emerging from between her parted lips.
It’d be easy to pounce on her like this. So effortless that it was routine. Their sex would start and end on Sua’s insistence, her guiding hands and compassionate voice directing Mizi every step of the way. Mizi, who was too afraid to be too rough, adamant that plain vanilla sex was more than enough for her, apologies spilling from her lips when her teeth left indents in Sua’s skin, when her ministrations didn’t immediately stop the moment Sua came.
“Y-yeah!” Mizi says voice strained. “You thought so too, unnie?
“Of course, their fur colors even match,” Sua responds, face close enough that she can feel Mizi’s jagged breathing hitting her.
Mizi’s cheeks are blossoming red again, as deep as the blood pumping through her veins. She really is cute, cuter than a wolf had any right to be. Maybe that’s why Sua had never felt afraid of her presence. Aggression and dominance all supplanted by her earnest, clumsy awkwardness.
So she leans in, throwing caution to the wind. Mizi’s lips are dry and chapped, but it’s never unpleasant to kiss her, not when Mizi is bracing Sua’s neck in order to tilt her head upwards. They part, briefly, then connect again, Sua’s tongue peeking out to wet Mizi’s lips as her eyes flutter shut.
She makes a pass at going deeper into Mizi’s mouth properly, halted by the sharp pinprick of Mizi’s incisors on her bottom lip. It hurts, but it’s pain that registers as pleasure. Sua lets a gasp escape her, sudden and high-pitched.
Sua can’t see what Mizi does next; she can only mourn the loss of contact, the hand on her neck gone, too. Her eyes blink open, dazed, meeting Mizi’s bewildered, terrified eyes.
“Mizi?” Sua doesn’t have to look down to know Mizi’s so turned on she might die. It’s evident on her face, the way she wears her emotions plainly like she’s wearing an oversized graphic t-shirt with them written in obnoxious, neon-colored lettering.
“Sorry, sorry! Are you hurt?” Mizi says, already worrying herself halfway into a spiral, and the reaction hurts, a resounding, sinking rejection that Sua hasn’t felt in years.
“No—I’m fine. I...” Sua doesn’t know what to say, honestly. Nothing makes sense, especially not this seeming regression, how Mizi’s too withdrawn and apprehensive to make out with her.
It’s not like she gets a chance to even point that out. Mizi scrambling off the couch once Sua’s fully disentangled from her.
“I’m gonna run to the convenience store and buy some suppressants. F-For when my rut comes.” Then Mizi vanishes for a second time, and the door shuts and locks with a soft click.
Helpless, incessant horniness was no stranger to Sua, and yet she’d never felt so inclined as to push Mizi away. If anything, it had her inclined to do the exact opposite. Though maybe comparing her short stints of induced ovulation caused by either sex or pheromones was a false equivalency to Mizi’s biannual ruts. She recalls, vividly, that the last time it’d happened, Mizi disappeared for a week, only offhandedly explaining her absence with the excuse that her rut had been particularly rough on her. However intense it really was, Sua didn’t know, but she at least didn’t think anything could be so bad as to ice her out from it altogether. They were technically mates , and even if the word felt antiquated and strange on her tongue, she was supposed to be there for Mizi.
The drama is still droning on in the background when an idea hits her. A half-baked, irresponsible idea, but an idea nonetheless, one that should at least motivate Mizi to do something , anything other than whatever kind of self-inflicting torture she’s currently engaging in.
The lace is itchy on her skin, gaudy and frivolous. Sua has half a mind to take it off and vocalize her concerns, take a stab at communication. But she hears the front door opening, and it was already such a hassle to get her tail through the tiny slit in the back of the dress that taking it off would be a nightmare.
So she’ll lie in the mess she’s made, Sua decides, their bedroom door creaking open to reveal Mizi, plastic bag in hand, looking just as disheveled as before.
“Ah, there you are. I saw the TV was still on but didn’t see you, so I—" Mizi stops as soon as she gets a proper look at her. It’s a near-instant reaction, her mouth agape, pupils dilating, darkening the warm, amber hue of her eyes. Without tearing her gaze from what’s in front of her, she sets down the bag on the dresser nearby, fixated.
“Sua, Sua-unnie,” is what eventually tumbles out of Mizi’s mouth, sounding more like a plea than a greeting.
Of all her attempts to goad Mizi, this has to be by far her most daring. The white slip dress hugs her thin, willowy frame nicely, leaving her milky, pale thighs exposed. It stops just high enough that one misstep could prematurely reveal the matching lace panties underneath.
Though to be perfectly honest, Sua is more than knowledgeable when it came to the act of performance for that to be a substantial fear. The intricate steps of putting on a show were second nature to her; moving with confidence, immersing herself in the moment, ensuring she elicited the right reactions. The only issue is the growing heaviness in the air, an all-consuming presence, thick and suffocating: Mizi’s scent. It’ll send her into a pseudo-heat eventually. That much is obvious.
Adrenaline hums steadily through her veins, each second dragging on for an eternity that Sua relishes in the presence of her girlfriend. All she has to do is calm Mizi’s nerves, let her know she can take all she needs and then some, and it’ll be fine.
“Welcome back, how was the store?” Sua says, giving her one of the smiles she used to give when she’d catch her eyes on her in the middle of a crowded room. Lulling, familiar.
Mizi delays her answer once more, choosing instead to stare. She may as well be a painting hung in a museum, with how she’s perched so perfectly, legs crossed and hands resting on the edge of the bed. She observes from a distance as Mizi’s demeanor shifts, watching the way her tongue licks at her lips. Cautious. Pensive.
Mizi is unbecoming of a stereotypical wolf. Her touch is gentle, skin soft and inviting when Sua holds her in her arms. She dislikes hunting, doesn’t associate with a pack, makes sure to keep raw meat as far from Sua as possible, and brushes her teeth twice whenever she eats it. It was laughable how often strangers would lightheartedly ask how a dog and a bunny possibly made a relationship work, shock washing over them when Mizi timidly corrected them. But now, in this light, the facade begins to unravel, giving way to something darker, more real. A Mizi that’s hungry, that aches and burns with scarcely tempered need.
“I—uh,” Mizi’s fist clenches and unclenches. She wipes her palms on her slacks. “What’s all this about?” She says, stumbling through the sentence.
Sua uncrosses her legs, standing up. She eyes Mizi, up and down, before speaking. “Do you like it?”
She swipes a loose strand of hair away from her face and lets her ears dangle just so. Mizi moves closer to her with slow, tepid steps. Sua lets her, waiting until Mizi’s got a hand settling on her small waist to flash her another docile grin.
Perhaps she’ll hug her, maybe continue to gawk like an idiot. What she does is what she expects last, for Mizi to move her on her own accord, invading her space and sending her backward into the wall. Sua’s shoulders smash into the wall with a dull thud, one of Mizi’s hands bracketing the wall, the other firm on her waist.
“Mm…” Mizi vocalizes, nodding in response to her question.
Mizi is admittedly terrifying in her silence, much harder to read when she isn’t verbalizing every thought. And now, encroached upon, it’s all the more intense. Whatever “plan” she’d conjured up is long forgotten, lost amidst how mesmerizing Mizi’s intimidating, possessive eyes are.
She looks different, up close like this, the self-control that had been hanging by a loose tether having snapped. What’s left is pure, unbridled predatory instinct. It’s new, uncharted territory, a side of Mizi she’s managed to steal only glimpses of, secured away through layers of anxiety and self-control.
Her palm glides downwards to her hips, over the thin layer separating skin from skin. Mizi shakily inhales, face darkening as she properly takes in the sight of Sua within her grasp.
Without preamble, the hand on her hip shifts away to snatch at the small, bushy tail peeking out through the cutout in Sua’s dress. She bites back a whine, can’t help but melt at how roughly Mizi’s gripping her.
“You’re gorgeous, Sua-unnie.” Mizi rasps, and massages her skin over the smooth material of Sua’s silk dress with her fingers. The cool sensation lingers, a stark contrast to the simmering heat burning beneath Sua’s skin.
Mizi invades her space further, her hot, feverish forehead swooping low to press against the side of Sua’s head. Another noise slips from Mizi’s throat, and it’s ugly, marred with pain and frustration.
”It hurts,” she says, her voice pained, as if momentarily coming to her senses. Mizi mouths it directly into the base of one of Sua’s floppy ears, a hand coming to gently stroke Sua’s face. “‘M sorry.”
And it must, if Sua can already feel her own core blooming with an untended ache, antsy and sensitive when she herself is only beginning to feel an induced heat take hold of her senses. “I know, I know.” Sua huffs, partly in commiseration. “You’re in rut, aren’t you?”
Mizi pulls back, their breaths mingling. “Yeah, yes.” She admits finally, embarrassed. “My suppressants, where did I—”
This time, Sua manages to wrap her hand around Mizi’s forearm in a death grip before she can get away. It’s pitiful; she thinks she must look, as she silently begs.
“...Me. You need me, right?” she asks.
Her hand slithers to rest atop Mizi’s. She leans in, their noses brushing lightly against each other as Mizi’s barely repressed arousal barrels to the surface once more.
“But that’s selfish. I can’t force you to help me if you don’t want to—"
“I do, I do want it. Need it, maybe." The next part is said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, and it takes every ounce of strength within her to not avert her gaze. “So, it’s okay, Mizi. You can do whatever you want to me.”
She can’t tell who initiates it. All she knows is that when their lips meet, it’s sloppy, rough, and gratifying. Sua sighs into the kiss, dropping her hand away from atop Mizi’s.
When it’s over, staring back at her is Mizi, pupils blown, canines peeking out between rosy lips. Sua is enthralled, and mesmerized by her beauty.
At once, a hand seizes Sua’s wrists with a newly realized strength. It takes her by surprise, and it’s humiliating how quickly a pang of arousal shoots through her. And then Mizi’s kissing her, this time with an even greater vigor; it's sweltering, erotic, still yet not enough.
Mizi breaks the kiss unexpectedly,
A hand cradles the back of her head, keeping her in place while Mizi’s tongue probes insistently inside her mouth. Mizi breaks them apart, tilting Sua’s head back, a line of spit connecting them. Sua wills her eyes open and is met with the image of Mizi’s fangs, jutting out, her tongue peeking out from those same lips.
She’s reeling, and can hardly comprehend that this is Mizi and not some lookalike clone meant to deceive her. But she has little time to think, let alone speculate, not with how Mizi’s tongue is invading her open mouth.
Sua nearly chokes at the intrusion, with how eagerly Mizi is forcing her tongue inside. She lets out a throaty, muffled sound as her hands search for purchase, twisting wrinkles into the crisp fabric of Mizi’s shirt. She wants more; she wants all that Mizi can give her.
Mizi takes her pawing as encouragement, and without a second thought, lifts her up, pivoting, and places her down on the bed. It's a quick, swift motion that Sua only processes when she finds herself horizontal, below her, with Mizi halfway between her legs.
There’s no room to breathe, and Sua’s hand begins reflexively pushing at Mizi’s chest. She stops her ministrations, and Sua’s lungs burn, heaving as her head swims. A kiss has never unwound her like this, not so quickly and never so thoroughly.
But Mizi’s on top of her again, heavy and unrelenting, back to making out with her. She switches methods, this time with the objective of biting her lips until they’re swollen. Over the silk, Mizi finds one of her pert, hard nipples. She squeezes it, between her thumb and her index finger, repeating the motion methodically until she tears a noise from Sua. Then, she’s cupping a small tit in her hand, encompassed fully within her palm. She yelps again, this timeless due to the sensation and more to do with the electrifying reminder of how easily she fits within Mizi’s hands.
Her other hand is on another journey entirely, exploring the expanse of her thighs without momentum or purpose. It creeps slowly under her dress, mindless, halting only when caught by the friction of skimpy lace.
Her fingers knead at her nipple, and Sua moans loud enough that she can’t help but end their kiss. It’s music to Mizi’s ears, the younger woman smirking as they make eye contact. Up close, in the haze of their entanglement, she looks gorgeous, breathtaking, an image worth committing to memory.
“Even the noises you make are pretty, unnie,,” Mizi begins, nimble fingers twisting at her nipple. “Don’t you think so?”
Sua mewls, delighted in the torment and at her words. She can only shake her head no, bashful as Mizi toys with her. Sua’s lips are numb, tender, and swollen just like Mizi’d wanted. And it’s good, so fucking good.
That sets Mizi off further, palming at her clothed center. And Sua thinks briefly that this is supposed to be focused on Mizi’s pleasure, but her fingers are pressing, digging, into the wet, humid patch, accumulated from just twenty minutes of proximity with her sopping cunt.
Her other hand abandons her chest, instead yanking crudely at her dress upwards. It’s contorted unevenly, half at her collarbones, half at her waist when she finally pitches in helping rid them both of the barrier, leaving her clad in only that flimsy pair of white, lacy underwear.
Mizi’s staring at her all over again, like this is their first time and she’s never seen Sua naked before. And it’s even more embarrassing when Sua realizes that Mizi is fully clothed and she’s nearly bare.
Her mouth opens, first to say something then to moan. Mizi’s teeth are sharp, stinging, even as all she does is suckle and lick at one of her bare nipples.
“A—At least take your shirt off—” Mizi’s fingers pull at the fabric of her panties at her hip, her mouth still working diligently. “Agh— It’s not fair that I’m—exposed—” Another twist, another nip of teeth has Sua’s heavy ears nearly twitching.“‘Nn— 'N you’re not.”
It’s not that she expects Mizi to listen to her; she doesn’t really care if she does or not. But Mizi does, pausing her actions to take a moment to do exactly that. Her hands fumble at the buttons of her shirt, erratic and shaky, Sua lying there as she manages to get it and her bra off, tossed astray for them to pay mind to later.
“Okay, done!” She announces, cheery and puppy-like, tail tickling against one of her legs, and it’s almost unnerving, almost. Mizi smiles, fingers pinching at her panties once again. “Sua-unnie’s turn again.”
Sua flails, beginning to navigate going about untwining herself so Mizi can tug them off. But Mizi refuses, hand steady on her hips as she dips her face low, where lace hem meets the flat plane of her abdomen.
Mizi takes a cursory look back up at Sua before descending again, and then she feels it, the dig of nails, and one investigative, filthy inhale, registering as cool air against her panties, and then hears it: the ripping, the tearing of fabric.
“There, good.” Mizi hums, dutifully collecting the scraps and discarding them accordingly. Sua blinks, taken aback by her crassness.
Mizi must not care that she’s torn Sua’s panties to shreds, because she’s bending Sua’s legs up and back, spreading them so she can fit herself comfortably between them, two fingers diving to collect the slick between her wet folds.
When they resurface, Mizi makes a show of bringing them up to her mouth, popping them in to taste. Her face melts hedonistically, savoring Sua’s arousal. Before she goes back for seconds, she pushes them right between Sua’s lips, forcing her to taste herself, too. Not like she has much of a say, with how her body feels as heavy as lead. Her arms lie limp, elbows angled so her hands brush against black, furry ears.
“It’s so sweet; you should taste it too.” It’s sour, tangy, and only has the barest hint of sweetness if she squints. Sua can only wonder how it tastes for Mizi if she’s being this persistent about it.
Her face eventually ends up between her legs, though not before a thorough devouring of her thighs, littered with a litany of teeth indents and new bruises. Mizi was lucky she didn’t have any photoshoots lined up for the next couple of weeks.
Mizi’s tongue searches first for her clit, mouth wrapping around the bud and sucking. It’s dutiful and disciplined, the way she alternates between the same two rhythms, slow and placid, fast and cruel, sliding down to tease her entrance. Sua tries to maintain some semblance of composure and does her best, really. But Mizi’s eating her out like she was born with the instructions ingrained in her soul.
Her hand rests on her stomach, keeping her from bucking her hips into her face, like she wants to control every aspect of her orgasm.
An orgasm that Sua feels is rapidly, humiliatingly beginning to approach her doorstep, each flick of her tongue etching stars into her vision, unfocused and hazy.
“Mizi,” she pants, “S-slow down; I’m already close.” Sua pleads, a few more beats into Mizi’s onslaught, teetering dangerously on the edge.
An irritated rumble reverberates from Mizi’s vocal cords at the suggestion, vibrating against her cunt. Mizi sucks at her clit twice, then a third and final time before Sua breaks, cumming with a helpless, emphatic whimper.
She’d thought Mizi would’ve noticed it, the way she'd always kept a vigilant, keen eye on each and every one of Sua’s movements during sex. How observantly she monitored her microexpressions to her orgasms, eager to please.
But she doesn’t, instead continuing to lap at her, her movements becoming less precise with each swipe of tongue. The waves of her orgasm recede, replaced by staticky, raw overstimulation.
It’s then that Sua remembers she is not an amorphous blob at Mizi’s whim, that she has limbs, and hands. One of which she uses to bury in Mizi’s hair, dismally trying to get her to let up, to allow her to gather her bearings.
“Ah—” Mizi’s tongue drags along the underside of her clit. “Hold on, I just came—wait—”
She wrenches her fist again, desperate. It isn’t until she pulls at her hair for a solid thirty seconds that Mizi finally eases off of her, face covered, drenched in glistening slick that she makes a poor attempt at wiping off with her arm.
Sua gets one, maybe two gulps of breath down her trachea, when she notices Mizi grabbing for one of the pillows by her. It’s soft underneath her stomach, allowing Mizi to prop her hips up for her and keep her legs splayed wide open for her.
Her muscles relax comfortably in the new position, anticipation building as she stares over her shoulder at Mizi, expectant. Another embarrassing flood of arousal dampens her thighs, like it does each time she lugs her around like a doll for her to play with.
The buildup to her second orgasm is even more of a blur. Mizi shoves two well-manicured fingers into her with little resistance, buried down to the knuckle. She wastes no time at all, as she curls deep, the objective clearly to find her most sensitive spots in as little time as she can.
Mizi’s pace is unyielding and dominating, and her other hand is tugging, grabbing at her tiny tail, only spurred on further when Sua shudders pathetically. She buries her face in a pillow, muffling her moans and cries.
She can only focus on the mounting pleasure overtaking her sentences, Mizi’s rambling falling on deaf ears as she pokes and prods at her. Praising her when she takes a particularly strong assault on the spongy, nerve-rich tissue hidden within her walls. Wondering aloud if Sua will react like this when she’s actually inside her, all in that enraptured, adoring voice of hers. And Sua revels in the undivided, overflowing attention, even if she can hardly handle it.
This time, her peak is short and intense, and she swears she can feel her brain melting when Mizi continues well past its end.
With the dregs of what’s left of her dwindling strength, she turns her head to look back at her. It’s terrifying, almost, how Mizi seems exactly the way she had when they’d started. No more and no less disheveled or undone than when she’d started touching her. Her tail wags, seeing Sua’s face, a ravenous expression at the mess she’s made of her girlfriend. Like she’s proud.
The recesses of overstimulation have barely begun to recede, Sua only faintly registering the loss of contact at the apex of her thighs when she processes that she’s been flipped onto her back, swift and unpracticed, her knees haphazardly knocking into Mizi’s thighs.
Sua’s ensnared in the confines of her touch, each press and shift of her hands pushing at her limit and then further. Mizi moves on top of her, and she’s reminded once more how undone she is, the back of her head pressing deeper into the pillow as Mizi seeks her own pleasure from her.
Mizi’s hips slot against hers, skin meeting cloth. It’s then that Sua realizes somewhere in the haze that Mizi had spread her legs, and she’d been so malleable that she had no other choice but to accept the girl in her embrace. Sharp canines nip and suck at the column of her throat, each cushioned by her warm, wet tongue.
“Sua-unnie,” Mizi chants, over and over, ever so sweetly, and the sound, accompanied by the familiar sensation of her hard, needy arousal through the fabric of her slacks, has Sua sobered up in no time from the afterglow of her climax. “Need more... need to be inside you now. Is that alright?” She asks, an innocent lilt in her voice.
Sua lets out a hapless, affirmative noise, and her mind’s racing at all the ways she hopes, and needs Mizi to have her, again and again. And fuck, her skin’s on fire, telltale confirmation that she’s in the throes of her own induced heat.
She hooks her leg around her, pulling Mizi closer. In response, Mizi’s hips stutter, Sua’s bare cunt rubbing against her clothed cock. It’s unabashedly lewd, the way the smear of her molten, sticky wetness dampens and ruins the fabric.
Mizi’s tail thumps, quick and erratic against the mattress. She can feel it if she concentrates hard enough.
“Do you need it too?” Her hips jog again, chasing the friction, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Need me inside you?”
“Yes, fuck.” Sua curses and shuts her eyes. Humiliated as Mizi’s teeth dig jagged crescent marks into her neck. The taunting makes her ache, feel empty. “I do…”
Then, Mizi slips away from her, and the burn of need returns with a vengeance. Sua whines, crying out at the loss, at the perceived abandonment. Mizi clumsily does away with her belt, then her pants, chucking them off, the last to join the rest of their discarded clothes.
Mizi’s back on top of her in no time, before she has to resort to begging, kissing her languidly. She cages Sua in her embrace, her arms on either side of her head, forcing Sua to accommodate her between her legs.
It’s another sensation entirely to feel her hard arousal through layers of clothes like this, stiff and uncomfortably sandwiched between Mizi’s own body and one of her thighs. Mizi breaks the kiss to guide herself closer to where they both want her.
“I’ll try to go slow; it might hurt,” she advises, apologetic. Sua only half-listens, too caught up in it all as Mizi rubs the weeping, leaky tip of her cock along her folds, pressing firmly at her entrance.
And she doesn’t heed her warning, not until Mizi is breaching her insides, steady and unhurried, just like she promised. She’d been too out of it to even notice the discrepancy in size—one that now feels painfully obvious.
Sua's eyes widen at the intrusion, Mizi too distracted as she watches herself disappear inside her. It hurts, hurts a consistent throb that makes her worried whether or not it’ll even fit, let alone the knot that she knows is coming. She should’ve figured Mizi would be more well-endowed than usual, even though Mizi already had been blessed enough in size.
“You’re so tight, unnie.” Mizi husks, kissing the shell of Sua’s fluffy ear as she stills her movement. “Does it hurt?”
It betrays the definition of pain, Sua thinks, that she likes it so much. The sting does nothing to dampen how much she wants Mizi to pry her apart, scratch and bite and ruin her, to kiss her tender wounds better, and do it all over again.
Sua pants, breathing labored, determined. “Yeah, just go extra slow.”
She curses her stupid bunny anatomy, only designed to take the girth and length of puny bunny dick. It didn’t matter, though; she was going to let Mizi bruise her cervix all she liked, even at the cost of her own enjoyment.
Mizi manages halfway inside before the stretch turns into a pleasant ache. Sua lets out an unsatisfied huff when she suddenly decides she’s going too slow. Her hips cant up, bold and—
“Oh, I can give you more?” Mizi croons, taking her gesture as an open invitation.
In one bruising thrust, Mizi forces herself all the way inside. Their hips meet, and it’s unfathomably intimate, even though Sua feels like her organs are being stabbed. A growl rips itself from Mizi’s throat at how close they are, possessive and animalistic.
And she’s full, overflowing with the sensation of being stretched with each and every motion. She’s never felt so taken, the pain dissolving into a melodious harmony of pleasure, of being full, as Mizi fucks her.
Even now, as she chases her own orgasm, Mizi is intent on striking every nerve ending within her. Her nails dig sharp paths down the smooth plane of Mizi’s back as she tries to cling to any available surface. Mizi hisses, her hips snapping down, then moaning herself; she’s too distracted by Sua, by how it must feel, to care for the well-being of Sua’s insides.
“F-fuck, Sua—“ Mizi mewls, in enough of a rhythm that she can begin to prattle off every one of her thoughts. “Unnie, Sua-unnie, you were made for me, I think. Even though we’re different species, you were made for me to fuck you.”
And maybe it’s true, with how thoroughly she’s rearranging her guts, molding her insides to the shape of Mizi’s dick. Mizi thinks as much, the way her filthy comments aren’t a play at dirty talk but rather her unfiltered, spoken beliefs. Mizi grows more forceful, faster with each drag of her hips. The sound,
Soon, Mizi’s face presses up against her neck, her tongue starting to lave at the junction between her neck and collarbone. Sua can hardly think, blunt nails digging deeper into Mizi’s skin.
And she’s so close, can sense it at the tips of her fingertips, a tingling sensation in her core. She tells her as much through labored whines, Mizi paying attention this time, intent on pushing her through it.
“Will you cum for me, unnie? Pretty please, bunny?” And Sua cums, as if on command like she has a choice in the matter. She spasms involuntarily, walls fluttering as Mizi fucks her right through it.
The other bouts of overstimulation were no match for this, and Mizi’s even more ruthless with it, making no adjustments to her pace. But Sua’s far too gone to care, too far gone to distinguish it as anything other than blinding, white-hot pleasure, especially in her heat.
It takes an eternity, but Mizi reaches the precipice of release, too. Sua doesn’t know what she was expecting as Mizi grinds the base of her knot, heavy and imminent at her entrance. It’s ungodly, impossibly wide, Mizi wetting it with their combined arousal, Sua trembling at the mere thought of it going inside her.
Amidst Sua’s panic, Mizi mumbles something incoherent once, then twice.
“What was that?” Sua blinks.
“…pregnant. Gonna get unnie pregnant.” Mizi mumbles louder, licking and sucking lightly at that same spot on her neck, continuing to drag herself in and out.
As if to emphasize herself, Mizi’s palm presses deep at her lower abdomen, like she can feel herself inside of her, and Sua’s reeling, that little voice in her mind telling her she wants it, too.
“Say my name, then.” Sua heaves, strained. “Tell me what you want to do.”
“Want to fill Sua with my pups. Want you to be mine—Sua—" And oh, she’s delirious—it’s probably just the rut talking, but Sua is too, the mention of pups sending a pulse straight to her core, and she might just cum for a fourth time.
“Ah—please, unnie?” Mizi asks, “Can I knot you?”
Sua meekly whimpers out a yes, and Mizi shoves, pushing into her with a fervent growl. The stretch is unimaginable, forcing into her with a pop and a final push of her hips. Sua can’t help the way she shudders, clenching hopelessly on her knot and her length.
Mizi moans and subsequently cums, spilling incessantly inside her. Sua feels the vibration against her throat, and then Mizi’s canines promptly sink into the flesh of her neck. Sua cums, or more accurately, feels her consciousness untether from her body, overcome with sensation.
When she comes to, Mizi’s licking at her neck, tenderly, slobbering all over her.
“Mizi?” She inquires, voice hoarse, exhausted.
“Mn?” Mizi hums, still firmly stuck inside her.
“You’re so cute. I love you.”
Mizi laughs, caught off guard. “I love you too, Sua-unnie.” She pulls her face off of her neck to properly face her, remnants of dried blood on Mizi’s lips. “Sorry I bit you, by the way.”
“Oh, did it bleed a lot?
Mizi nods in the crook of her neck. “A bit, sorry.”
It doesn’t actually matter, though. It’d only be an issue if she’d bit the back of her nape, where it would’ve been permanent. The only challenge Sua will face is giving the stylists a hard time at her next shoot, if that.
“Hm, it didn’t hurt.” Sua says, matter-of-factly, because it really didn’t. Then continues, “I liked it.”
“Oh?”
“I liked everything… I liked how in control you were. It was... hot.” Sua discloses, shy. “I’ve been wanting you to do that.”
She feels Mizi’s tail bristle against her, at that. “So I did a good job?”
Sua hums in acknowledgment, and Mizi cheers, like her knot isn’t stuck inside her.
“Well, there’s more where that came from, Sua-unnie. We’ll be like this for the next few days. My knot should go down in about an hour, and then we can—”
Sua cuts her off with a displeased, sleepy noise, her body heavy at the suggestion of going for more rounds right now. All she wants is to grab at her ears and hide her face behind them. “Let me sleep first. You forget how little stamina bunnies have.”
Mizi makes quick work of fumbling with the duvet and blankets beneath them until they’re cocooned, nestled perfectly inside them. “Right, yes. You need all the rest you can get. Especially if you want to carry my p—”
“We’re too young for kids, Mizi.” Sua laughs.
And Mizi yelps, embarrassed at the reminder. She mutters about a dozen unnecessary apologies. Sua doesn’t think she’s met a more endearing, dense person in her life than this dumb wolf.