SMOL BABIES

Dolan can't help but laugh at how unobtrusive Luna keeps fighting to look, her eyes watching Shand and Lance fight pettily to give her something to do. Dolan doesn't make her wait much longer, scooping her up under her arms, giving her a good little tickle as he swoops her up and deposits her on his lap.

When he looks down at her, she looks like a tiny, frail little baby bird in his lap, barely anything measured against the breadth of his shoulders, and she grips the edge of the table like she's trying to stay balanced, like his lap is still even too big for her.

So Dolan keeps one arm wrapped around her and pulls her over to over leg, moving her plate with her, to keep everything spaced out and easy to access.

Before another word can be said, Shand is poking at his toast, crumbling pieces of it off, flicking some of the larger crumbs at Lance, sticking them in his hair. Lance, of course, retaliates.

Luna is trying to tell them to stop, trying to tell them how to behave at a table and how to be good, but they're not having any of it. It seems like kind of a lost cause to Dolan at this point anyway.

He's having to practically hold Luna down in his lap because the fervor with which she's pointing her finger and trying to get the boys to calm down and fly right nearly has her standing up right on his leg.

He leans his elbow against the table and thinks once again about how tired he is. Trita doesn't look much more well rested than he is, either.

"Okay, Mommy."

His voice is quiet compared the the loud roar of the kids, frazzled and definitely sleep deprived, a little desperate as he speaks out the side of his mouth, clearly just to Trita and no one else.

"What's the game plan, here?"

Trita's eyes flick up from her plate to Dolan across the table from her, chewing on a piece of toast as she does, just staring at him blankly for a moment like her mind can't process what it is he's looking for nor how she should respond.

Game plan? Ha. For what? For the three new children they have to figure out how to feed? Where they'll all sleep? How to live comfortably in this small studio apartment? How long these children will be here? The fact these children are probably actually three adults they know pretty well but somehow gone back in time and reverted? How are they going to fix that? Get all three of them back to normal and home?

He's joking, right? How do you even get a game plan for anything like that? For even one of those things? He's crazy.

Well, she supposes they can try to tackle one of the easier ones first and go from there.

"Well."

She swallows her bite, setting the rest of the slice of bread down, trying to shift Shand over so Lance's rain of break pieces doesn't hit her instead.

"We either need to figure out how to fit a king-sized bed in here, find a way to convert our closet to have three bunks, or get a bigger apartment. If we go with the apartment, you'll have to figure that one out because they don't exactly freely hand those to hybrids. I don't care which option we go with, but we cannot sleep like we did last night for who knows how long."

That clearly wasn't the game plan he was looking for and it shows all over his face, how his brow knits and he pauses from eating, but she's not exactly sure what he was expecting.

"Well... okay, yeah."

It's a lot more information than Dolan was looking for. Maybe just a one-word answer solving all of their problems would have been nice. Computing all those possible solutions to one aspect of their problem, over this picnic of a breakfast, on maybe negative sleep, is almost impossible.

"I️ meant more like right now. Like today."

Like, how are they going to survive the next hour, let alone twenty four.

"I️ mean, I️ don't know if you've forgotten, but I️ kind of have a job."

Dolan's voice gets soft at the end of that sentence, tapering into a whisper as he covers Luna's ears with both his hands as if he's said something inappropriate, or something that could traumatize her.

She keeps right on trying to beat the boys into correct behavior from across the table, and she's literally trying to do it by banging a spoon into the table top to try and get their attention.

Shand has reverted to trying to catch all the food Lance is throwing in his own mouth, dipping his crumbs in juice before launching them at Lance. The floor below the table has basically turned into a lumpy, sticky mess.

At least Dolan doesn't have to worry about claiming responsibility for the butter all over the floor. It's hardly even noticeable, now.

"And after today, how are we going to work? How are we supposed to... have kids in Pierson? What kind of survival rate are we looking at, here?"

His words make it ambiguous as to whose survival he's talking about, but the expression on his face makes it clear that he's talking about his and Trita's.

"You kind of have a job?"

Trita scoffs, brushing her hair back from her face but very casually and easily using the motion as a way to conceal her flipping him off from the children, though they probably wouldn't have noticed anyway. This food fight of theirs is an all-out war that demands their attention.

"How am I going to tell Diamond I can't come in because I'm babysitting three children that are suddenly mine to care for? God, Axel will have my head-"

Her eyes widen and all her motions and thoughts stop except for one.

"Axel."

This time she mouths his name silently, letting the feel of it pull a small smile to the corner of her lips. That's right, he knows these children's adult selves, he can help babysit, he knows that Nameless could and would do something like this. They're not completely alone right now.

But she shrugs that thought off for something they'll get to after breakfast, going back to working with her toast.

"Survivability is thirty-percent assuming this all goes well."

She moves Shand's cup away from him to cut his access to juice for the bread, which makes him whine at first but he forgets it between Lance still throwing things at him and Luna still demanding they behave.

"This may be the hardest mission we ever take. Not really sure I'm ready for this. Motherhood was never really on my life goals list, and now I'm suddenly sitting at a table with three kids all calling me Mommy. I think we're in over our heads- But back to the topic of sleep, does that mean you have a plan for tonight because I would really like to get more than a full hour."

"I️ mean, I️ did have plans for tonight, yeah."

Dolan shoots her an unappreciative look, clearly with different plans in mind than the kind she's referring to. The end of that sentence gets stuck in his throat as he starts to wonder how long these kids are gonna, well, stay kids. And be here. Sleeping between them in their bed. Cramming the apartment. Always, always watching and listening.

"Why don't we just, I️ don't know, buy sleeping bags in bulk or something."

Dolan rubs his eyes hard, but cuts the action short when Luna nearly jumps across the table to try and confiscate the fork that Shand is waving nonchalantly around, as if he's using it as some kind of microphone to make some sort of dramatic speech.

He wraps his arm firmly around Luna's middle, and with her anchored in his lap, she's not struggling outright, but she wiggles with some anticipation every time one of the boys does something especially bad. Like when Shand pokes Lance in the side of the face with his fork.

"Shand, please. You haven't changed a damn bit."

Dolan sighs and covers the bottom half of his face with his hand. This is going to take a lot of getting use to on all counts.

"Damn. Damn. Damn!"

Shand is yelling it into his microphone fork and Trita is slightly scowling.

"I️ could have said a lot worse, and you know it."

Dolan is trying to defend himself now, but he knows it's a frail defense and God, they're both ridiculously tired and it's only been how many hours? They need backup, and fast.

Trita sighs, rubbing her forehead, pinning her ears back at how loud everything is getting. Each moment the volume gets worse and worse but she's not sure they can do anything to fix it now.

"I'll call Axel after breakfast and see if he can come over so you and I can-"

Her eyes flick to Luna still trying to straighten the boys out. She's not going to like the idea of the two of them leaving, especially not the idea of Dolan leaving. Instead of say it, Trita opts to mouth it.

So we can leave and go figure out the doable stuff, like beds or whatever plans you had in mind for tonight.

She throws in an extra added wink for good measure before she can't take it anymore and has to work with the boys. Grabbing Shand's little hands in hers, she takes them and presses them to his own lap with hers over his so he can't move them and she rests her chin on his shoulder to further get his attention, though it's nice to rest her head in any capacity right now.

"What did Daddy say about being quiet? Remember? Mommy's ears hear really, really well and it hurts when you're that loud. And Lance-"

The little boy sits straight up when she says his name, looking around Shand's face to see him.

"You just won for making the smallest mess during your race. Do I need to take your candy away since you're throwing food now?"

His gray eyes go wide, immediately shaking his head.

"No, ma'am!"

It's a little amazing considering Trita hasn't even told him what candy he's getting but she feels the need for it to be good since he's listening because of it now. She'll have to figure that out when she leaves with Dolan for a bit.

The boys in place, Luna settles back down onto Dolan's lap without fighting much against him. Everything seems peaceful and Trita is now starting to learn that peace isn't a guaranteed thing with children... Maybe she should take advantage of this moment.

Flipping out her phone from her robe pocket, she quickly dials a number, a familiar voice greeting her gruffly.

"Hey, Axel-"

Where are you? You know we have work-

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but something... Came up for Dolan and I. Do you think you can come over to the apartment?"

This better be important, Makun has been looking for you all day. He needs your approval on the new cybersecurity plan or whatever it is he does. He's been hella annoying.

"Tell him to send it to me and I'll look it over. That good enough for you?"

Yeah, sure, whatever. I'll be right over.

As annoyed as he sounds when he hangs up the phone, Trita catches herself smiling because, irritated or not, she knows he'll be over. He's nothing if not a man of his word, much to his own displeasure.

She looks at Dolan across the table who is watching her intently, giving him a quick nod.

"He'll be over in a bit."

"A bit?"

Dolan asks with a bit of apprehension, the terrified variety, in his voice, eyes wide.

"What's 'a bit'?"

Before Trita can answer, Shand scoots himself right off her lap, slipping underneath her arms like the little con artist prison escapee that he is- or will be? Or something- and starts running around the kitchen.

"I'm done! I'm done! I️ ate it all!"

Lance starts to protest that Shand didn't eat it all, he just threw most of it in Lance's face and in his juice. Shand takes a momentary pause from his energized laps around the apartment to shrug disinterestedly in Lance's direction before he takes off again.

"I️ can't believe I'm going to say this, but I️ actually forgot what a handful he was. Is. Ugh."

Dolan starts to lean forward to lay his face down on the table but Luna's little hands stop him, hold him up with her palms right against his nose. Apparently, she's afraid he's going to lay his head in his plate.

He'd like to pretend something like that would never happen to him, but he was headed right for it, so he leans back and sighs, lets Luna sit contentedly in his lap as she watches Shand running, crawling over the bed and jumping off, crawling under the table. Nothing proves too big an obstacle in what appears to be some imaginary race.

"Trita, we need him now. Like, immediately."

Dolan holds Luna off as far away from his face as possible, and she seems a little miffed at first, but is distracted when Shand breezes by her, running his own constant commentary to himself about how fast he's going and how he's in first place.

Dolan mouths to Trita, We need Axel, and if he takes too much longer, I'm going to need liquor, too.

Trita scowls at him, firmly shaking her head at the liquor comment, not about to let his own resolve slip because there’s children now. Though... She could definitely go for a few shots of something strong and hard, she’s not the one trying to get clean or anything.

Luckily, they don’t have to wait too long. Axel is a man of his word and punctual.

There’s a knock on the door in a very particular pattern that has Trita up off the kitchen floor from cleaning in a heartbeat, running and undoing the several various locks in record time even for her.

“Hey-“

“Get in here.”

She yanks the front of his shirt and nearly throws the poor wolf into the apartment, slamming and closing the door up again.

“What- What the hell-“

At least he can now see what’s going on, that Trita and Dolan weren’t skipping for no reason, though she wishes their house wasn’t such a mess. Axel stands in the small hall staring out over the war zone, watching two little boys farting around chasing each other. Lance collides right into him and suddenly Shand is the least of his concerns.

“Whoa- You have ears like Mommy!”

“Mommy?!”

He cuts his eyes back at Trita then down at the small boy again.

Across the room, Luna is hiding behind Dolan, pulling at his shirt to get his attention, waiting until he leans down to her to speak.

“Daddy, he said a bad word.”

“D-Daddy?!”

Unfortunately, the quiet comment doesn’t slip past Axel’s ears and when Luna realizes that, she presses her face into Dolan’s leg completely embarrassed.

Axel doesn’t miss a beat though. He points a finger at Luna and, though she isn’t looking, she flinches like she can sense it somehow.

“Is that- Is that Luna? Like LUNA? Purple-haired, fire throwing Luna ESTENOR?”

His icy eyes sweep to the other children, taking in details about them to try to piece the rest of it together.

“Christ, is this Lance AND Shand, too?! And why are they calling you their parents?! What the hell?!”

In a fit, Trita flings herself at Axel, throwing her hands over his mouth from behind, hissing at him.

“Stop. Saying. That. Please.”

Sent from Topic'it App

"It's been the death of free speech in this house this morning."

Dolan shoots Axel a tight lipped, ironic smile, glorying a little in sharing the burden of the suffering with yet another unsuspecting person.

Shand shuffles right up to Axel, kicks the toe of his shoe with his own little foot, and then tilts his head way back to stare right up at him.

"Hey Mister, are you a werewolf? Are you gonna bite us and turn us into werewolves too? I️ wanna be one, so you can bite me first if you want."

"Don't go around asking people to bite you, Shand. God knows that's not a habit you need to develop."

Dolan sighs deeply and rolls his eyes. Will they remember all this later, when this is all over? Could they potentially screw these kids up even worse now? Or... will it even all be over... ever?

That sends a shiver down his spine that he doesn't want to address right in this instant, only several hours into this ordeal. It has to have an end date, an expiration date, a termination. Everything ends, right?

Right, just like his sanity if this keeps on.

He hoists Luna up into his arms, even though she's still acting shy and a little hesitant. He walks closer to Axel slowly, facing Luna out so she doesn't have the option of hiding her face in his shoulder or his shirt.

"Guys, this is our friend, Axel- Uncle Axel."

Axel gives him a strange look at that, but Dolan doesn't even stop to explain. There's no real point, and frankly, do they even have the time?

"He's gonna hang out with you guys for a bit, and you can get to know each other and make a new friend. How's that sound? Pretty good, right?"

"Excuse me-"

Axel looks like he's about ready to fight Dolan right there in the middle of their kitchen but is only hesitating, not because children can see, but because Dolan happens to be holding one of the said children.

"Axel, please, they showed up at like... What was it? Three in the morning? We're dead tired, we just want a break. We can try to explain more when we get back."

Trita is all but begging the poor man suddenly thrust into this situation just as abruptly as she and Dolan were, though he seems a little more hesitant to accept it than they were.

His eyes travel from child to child, taking each one and their tiny details in, second-guessing who they are, accepting who he concludes them to be, then starting the cycle all over again when his brain tells him the entire situation doesn't make sense.

"... You guys owe me. Big."

Despite all the internal debate, he slumps his shoulders and sighs, mumbling under his breath, so low that he's not sure Dolan was able to hear it but he's sure Trita did. As long as one of them caught it and knows there's going to be some sort of debt between them and him after this, then that's all that matters.

He spends an extra moment preparing himself before he finds it in him to lift his head, instantly reaching out for Luna first, figuring he'll have to separate her from Dolan before the two can go anywhere. She hesitates to reach back out to him, fidgeting against Dolan's grasp that makes her face the stranger, though she can only get it enough so she can look back at him.

"You're going to come back, right?"

There's a high level of panic in her voice that even the most oblivious of people could hear and Dolan seems to suddenly look stumped by it, like a very small piece of his resolve is slipping, but a piece sure enough.

Trita decides to step in before further damage can be done, peeking out around Axel at the little girl.

"Yes, sweetie. We'll be back. Mommy and Daddy just want to go buy some presents for all of you. If Mommy sees a pretty dress, I'll make sure to buy it for you, okay?"

Luna pouts a little but reluctantly nods and reaches back over to Axel. The wolf very, overly, gingerly takes her and stands awkwardly, unsure of what to really do now that he's holding a child but he seems to relax a bit at a time the more Luna cuddles up to him.

Well, with one child distracted, it's on to the other two. He turns to Shand with a lopsided grin.

"I could be a werewolf, I could not be. Either way, I know a lot about them. Like I know what their favorite food is, come here-"

He motions the two boys to come closer and they quietly shuffle over, listening intently for some secret they think is about to be shared.

"Werewolves looooove to eat little boys!"

Lance and Shand take off in two different directions, shrieking and laughing all the while. Trita uses this as the perfect time to slip out of the apartment, quickly shutting and locking the door behind Dolan after he's followed her into the hall.

"Oh, God."

Dolan leans back against the wall in the hallway like now that they have freedom, his body is demanding all the sleep he lost immediately. But despite what Trita told Axel, despite what she told the kids, despite what she may or may not be thinking, that is definitely not the reason Dolan was looking for a break.

Nevertheless, he takes a moment against the wall to catch his breath, to appreciate the quiet, and to watch her. Her arms are folded and she has a bit of a mischievous look in her eyes, even though she too looks a little tired.

"How long do you think it would take him to notice that we skipped town?"

Before Trita can even start to shoot him a disapproving look or smack his stomach or anything, he starts shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. God, who knows, maybe we're scarring them for life right now. Do you think we're warping some time space continuum thing and when they turn back into themselves, they'll be different cause of all this? Like do we have a chance to fix them?"

Dolan takes a long second to rub his forehead, hard. God, he hopes he sleeps tonight. He already sounds like he needs to be committed.

"Never mind, don't answer that. Let's talk about where we wanna go instead..."

He lets his eyes catch hers for a second before he roves them down over her, then back up again, bites his lip, tilts his head just a bit.

"Lucky's still not open for the day, huh?"

"Oh, I think Lucky could open for a special occasion."

Trita smirks at him, shifting her hips to let him have some movement to see with the obviously hungry way he looks at her, not even trying to hide her amusement at how easily he seems to want her.

She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel the same way as she crosses the space between them, throwing one arm up around his neck, letting their fonts press together oh-so teasingly.

"As the owner, I kind of get to do whatever the hell I want. So I say it's open just for our party of two."

Her whisper brushes up against his jaw and his neck while she takes two fingers and walks them down, starting from the collar of his shirt where they play along his clavicle, down the front of him, fingertips stopping right at his belt. His eyes are roaming all over her face, stopping at her mouth often but, when she gets there, they flick to her own eyes, staring deeply into them, the shade of blue getting darker just like they always do when there's some sort of spark of something deeper, darker, more lustful brewing behind them.

It makes her bite her own lip now just watching him but they can't stop out here to get going. Instead, she presses her lips to his quickly, forcefully, sucking at his bottom lip for the shortest of moments before she pulls away, twirling off to the side as she takes his hand and begins to lead him towards the elevator.

Thankfully, the ride down doesn't take that long, though there are a few well-placed gropes along the way, but they're both quickly out the building at their motorcycles, opting to let Dolan drive his for today. It's fine by her because she presses up close behind him and lets herself distract him as he drives by already playing with his shirt.

Every stoplight they get to with a red light, she unbuttons one button of his shirt and, by the time they're just one away from Lucky, his shirt is completely open to the oncoming air as well as her hand freely and openly gripping at his muscles and chest.

By the time they pull up to Lucky, Dolan thinks he's probably crashed them almost eight times because his focus isn't what it could be, but he really doesn't care in this moment.

He practically throws the bike down in the crunched up cement outside the place, spinning immediately to finally get his hands on her like he's been wanting to the whole ride.

It's not fair that she's had a head start, the benefit of unbuttoning his shirt. And he feels like there's no time to waste, maybe an unforeseen consequence of the new visitors they have.

He starts in on her neck right away, pulling her hair back to give him better access and letting his teeth glide, pinch across the thin skin. She seems to be amused at his fervency, trying half-heartedly to push him away so they can get inside.

He lets her start to move toward the door, but he'll be damned if he's taking his hands off her now. She's trying to unlock the door while he's trying to press her against it, and his mouth at her neck is making her attempts at the lock a little shaky, especially when he reaches around and starts pulling at her tail.

If there's anyone in the street right now, they're certainly giving them a show, but neither one of them has ever been shy in that, or any, sense. She pulls away and turns from him toward the door so she can work on unlocking it with her full attention, but he takes advantage of her movement, too.

He presses his front into her back, leaning over her, wrapping his arms around her and puling at her chest, pressing their bodies together so she can feel how quickly he needs her to get that door open, despite how hard he's making it for her to do so.

She's nearly convinced he's about ready to completely lean her over right here on the street and start the show in the middle of the day. Though she's not one to mind the open display of lust and obvious groping, she can think of a few ways that someone seeing them would be bad. One is that a hybrid sees and thinks he's making unwanted advances on hers then calls in the entire brigade to take him down. The next is that some very particular humans see and act out in rage, jealousy, disgust, what have you.

No, they need to get inside but damn if he isn't making that near impossible. By some miracle, she gets the door and flings it open desperately, still having to pause to shift against him with a little moan as his hand slips under the collar of her shirt to her chest. It makes her freeze and wonder if they can even make it inside. Yes, the door's open, but what if they collapse and just go at it right here in the threshold? Can't be that bad of an option.

Trita leans her head back against his shoulder and lets him work over her neck, giving up hope on anything to do with decency for a brief moment until a small spark of resolve finds her and she manages to squirm out of his hands and duck inside. Of course he quickly chases after her, slamming the door closed behind him.

And she lets him chase, mostly because she hasn't decided where exactly she'd like to spend some time yet. They've done a booth, that's old news. The bar is always fun, especially for tying someone down. The back office is a throwback to their speakeasy days, so it's special in its own way. There's also always the storage closet where they had one of their first awkward encounters of this world.

As she weaves around tables to force him to follow after her to catch up, she tries to watch his eyes, see where they flick to decide what he's thinking. He takes stock of the bar. Like she said: It's a classic. Then his eyes shift to the closet. With the way he was pressing up behind her, she's not sure there's really room for her to bend over like he was wanting her to if they go into the closet.

They can start at the bar then go to the closet if that's what he wants. It's not like they haven't explored various options before.

Just as he's about to catch her, she ducks and bolts for the bar, leaping up onto it with her signature little smirk, letting her legs straddle the sides of it to spread her thighs apart for a suggestive view, reaching down into a drawer on the server's side and pulling out a piece of spare rope from some package that she saved probably for this exact purpose.

Dolan is groaning at the view alone, letting his head fall backwards, seeing more than he can take. But he recovers quickly, pulling her closer to the far right side of the bar where he is. The counter squeaks against her and the sound makes him bite his lip even harder.

"Damn, woman."

The whole thing feels fervent, desperate, and they haven't even gotten started yet. Is this what kids do to you? Maybe it's worth the sleep deprivation.

He doesn't waste any time with her pants, pulling her from her suggestive position momentarily to undo the button, the zipper, pull one leg out and then the other, all the while kissing her like he's decided he wants her lips more than he wants breathing.

Once he's got her back in her original spot, he can admire her even more, lets his fingers trail up her thighs lightly, enough to leave some goosebumps in his wake.

He toys with her over her underwear, feeling her quiver a little bit at how his touch shifts from delicate and feathery to sudden and aggressive in the blink of an eye.

His tongue is pushing into her mouth when he grabs the hip seams of her underwear and rips down them forcefully, pulling the fabric away from her and watching with a lustful smile as the counter gets a little wet under her already.

"I️ know those weren't your favorite anyway."

His voice is hot against her neck, where he keeps biting and nipping and sucking while he works on getting her shirt up and over her head.

"You're sure damn lucky I've learned to keep an extra pair in my office."

She's made undressing him halfway easy for herself, all his buttons already undone on his shirt, all she has to do is shrug him out of it and all that's left are his pants already. That gets an annoyed groan out of him, amused and irritated at how prepared she is.

To make things more even, she lifts her arms and lets him rip her shirt up off over her head, giving him a lead now that only her bra remains. He always struggles with it so she's not too worried about falling far behind.

Instead of getting right to the point, she runs the cut and frayed end of the rope in a circle on his side, playfully teasing him before really getting to work. She flicks and rubs the coarse material all along his chest, rolling it into his muscles, leaving nice small little burn marks as she goes, gripping his chin in her free hand to push his head back and let her admire how the rope seems to etch a pattern into his skin as it goes.

Rather than leave the burns be, she moves the rope to a new spot, pressing her mouth to the old one, sucking the skin up between her teeth, mouthing at the pinches of skin that get trapped between her lips, adding a whole new shade of red to the already forming marks. He's moaning under her lips and she needs to hear more of that now.

Trita takes her hand from his chin and quickly rips his belt away, hearing it snag and rip one of the belt loops clear off his pants.

"I know those weren't your favorite anyway."

She glances up at him coyly, moving her tongue over his skin so he can see it glisten when he glances down, see her tongue move flat against him as his pants and all drop to the floor by his ankles.

He doesn't even try to hinder how his breaths come out in hot, forceful bursts against her skin, against her clavicle where he's sucking red welts and then up her neck as he goes.

There's a split second where the sudden rush of air makes him cold, makes him shiver, but then again, that may owe more to the sensations, to the way she's teasing his skin.

It takes him longer to work her bra clasp because he's kissing along her jawline, his tongue and his lips working together to leave the skin wet and red. He finally does pop the closure open without breaking anything else, and after he shrugs the bra off her, flicks it to the floor behind them, he really gets to work.

He grabs the soft parts of her hips, where his fingers can really dig into her and grasp her, and pulls her across the counter in closer to him. Her skin it wet, hot, and it squeaks across the counter, leaving parts of it a little fogged, parts of it slightly glistening.

With his fingers pushing into her skin, massaging around the muscles, he leans over so his mouth can occupy itself with her nipples, nipping and lapping and sucking until her head is thrown back at how overwhelming the sensations are.

Once he's paid them both equal attention, he starts biting at the rest of her breasts, taking the full, round, soft parts between his teeth, tugging a little, making pointed eye contact as he licks over the skin he's just bruised almost like a soft, teasing apology.

Its amazing how, on one hand, she’s exhausted, beyond just simply being tired, wishing she could go to sleep for an entire day just to catch up from the sleep she lacks and to stockpile a few hours she knows she’ll need to make it through another day back at the apartment.

Then, on the other, she’s wide awake now. The backs of her thighs burn from being pulled against the bar counter about as much as her hips ache from the pressure of his thumbs and fingers or how her breasts sting under the wild hunger of his mouth. They’re on the same page at least.

After a moment of hanging her head back, letting it roll slowly from side to side in time with the moans vibrating through her chest under his mouth, she manages to lift her head up and hunch herself over to let her own mouth find him, the most she’s able to reach being his ear and where his jaw meets it. Not that it matters because she makes quick work of nipping the outer edge of his ear, biting along down to his jaw, then letting her tongue trace back up the red path she made, flipping and flicking along some of the inner ridges, giving him a warning before she grinds those between her teeth too.

He’s still too far for her liking and she fixed this by taking the rope in both her hands, rolling it up and down his back a few times before pausing on his peer back, yanking and jerking him so his hips smack up against the edge of the bar with a loud crack. She smirks against his ear between her hot quick breaths at the groan he makes, working the rope up again, letting him feel as the rough texture scratches all the way to the back of his neck. The motion is swift and smooth, like she’s helping him fix a tie to finish off some formal suit, winding the rope around his neck and slipping a knot in the front for her hand to grip and tighten at will.

With this new leverage, she jerks his head up, giving a little gasp as his teeth pull and pinch her skin with him until it can’t stretch with him anymore. But now that he’s looking at her, she doesn’t even hide her lopsided smile nor how she looks him over openly, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth with her tongue and biting it, clearly liking what she sees. Her lips find his throat and pinch, pull, bite, and grind his skin with enough force to be payback and more for what he did to her chest.

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She's got him trembling a bit now, the rough sting of the rope and the pinch of her teeth, the heat of her tongue, all of it piling one sensation on top of the other and threatening to make him lose his mind.

It's a dark, lustful groan that grows into a desperate hiss between his teeth as she works over his skin, keeping his head at the angle she wants and not giving him any wiggle room for what he wants.

Well, at least, just not with his mouth. He pulls his hands from her hips after one last squeeze, drags his fingernails up the sensitive skin along the sides of her body, nicking her here and there with a slight pinch just to keep her attention.

He makes his way up to her breasts, and he pulls, tugs her toward him, pinches her nipples and rolls them between his fingers, making sure to touch back over all the spots his teeth had left. It doesn't seem to spur her as much as he'd wanted, and he figures if he leads with teeth, his hands didn't have much of a fighting chance anyway.

So in between his own moans and hisses drawn by her mouth on his neck, his hands wander back down her body, taking in every inch of her smooth skin, drawing soft circles on it one moment, pinching it between his fingernails in the next, making every move a guessing game until his hands are pulling her inner thighs further apart, drawing circles in the slick wetness coating her skin, and her hips start to wriggle a bit.

That pulls a lustful chuckle from him, and she yanks back on the rope just enough to choke the laugh out of him, but not enough to stop him in his tracks. First he flicks at the sensitive skin between her legs, and by the way she jumps, she either hadn't seen it coming, or the skin is already far more sensitive than normal, far more ready.

Probably a good combination of both.

She starts to pay him back with the pace of her mouth, her teeth on his skin, but this is the game they like to play. He slips two fingers inside her right off the bat, and she's so wet that they glide into her with little resistance. He hums a little right into her ear as her mouth goes a bit slack.

Looks like he's winning for now.

He starts to pull his fingers in and out, bend them and push them further, rubbing into warm, wet places and prodding and pinching where he can and he can feel her breath hitching against his skin, enough of a confirmation that he's in the lead.

Watching how easily his fingers slip into her, how her muscles clench down on them desperately, how her hips want to rock already to mimic that rhythm into his hand, it makes him ache and it makes his own hips feel tight and jittery, and for just a moment he hates that he'd started out teasing with fingers instead of jumping right in.

Still, he can't see much of her face, but from the noises she's making and the coordination she's losing at his neck, it's worth it.

Trita has to pull her mouth from his neck for a moment, rest her forehead under his chin, to catch her breath, to catch up with her hips that jerk all on their own against his hand and fingers. She basically pumping him in and out of her by moving, sliding her skin against the counter to pull from him then meet him...

Damn, and this is just his fingers. Just his fingers and she's already this worked up and desperate.

Her mouth becomes bored but she can't focus on where she's biting so she just ends up biting the rope around his neck, tugging it with nearly more force than her hand, listening to the choked little noise he gives that sends a chill down her spine. God, he's so perfect.

So perfect she can't take much more of this. To his quick groan, she forces herself back from him, leaning backward on the bar, pulling him so he has to lean with her, so much that he's having to climb on top of the bar himself to keep up with her as her mouth pulls him by his new leash and collar.

Once he's there and they're both on their knees, legs pressed into the leftover wetness on the once polished surface, she finally legs go of him with her mouth, her hands finding his, spreading his arms out so she has room to turn around in front of him and back herself up against him. The soft fur of her tail brushes right up against him, tickling against and along the length of him, a sharp contrast to how hard he is now, the fur covering and whipping side-to-side to make sure every angle gets a good feel.

As she works over him like this, she takes one of his hands and presses his palm just below her chest, her fingers locked between his, and then starts leading him lower and lower, down back between her open thighs to give him a good grip of her again. Her other hand leads his remaining one up her body, past her chest, right to her neck at about the same place she has the rope on his, cupping his hand around her.

When he gets the idea, letting his hand grip around her, fingers pressing into her neck and throat, she moans, rolling her head back to his shoulder behind her, but she takes the hand that lead him there, the other still holding his between her legs, and reaches back around for the rope, giving it a good tug to force his head down onto her again, while also giving her a new spot and angle to attack the transition between his own neck and shoulder.

They're both moaning together now and they haven't even don't too much of anything, but it seems to be enough to get her hips jolting back into him demandingly.

His fingers are trembling when he pushes them back into her, his hand jerking the more she grinds herself back against him, pushing her tail into him, supplying hard pressure and that light, tickling softness all at once. It's got his teeth grinding and moans slipping out of him more wantonly than he's trying to go for.

So he tries to slow her hips by hooking his fingers inside her, trying to keep her still, but she just jerks back with even more strength, pulling on the rope around his neck as she goes, which doesn't help with all the noise he's already making.

It's like a tug of war, a back and forth, this game they each know by heart. She pulls him by the neck and he grips hers a little tighter, letting fingers push into all the most sensitive spots, pulse spots, artery spots, spots that could render her unconscious with just the right amount of pressure.

Spots she knows, too. Spots that have her grinding harder back into him the more pressure he puts on them. Give and take, tug of war.

His skin is swarming with heat, with fire from her lips and normally he's up to tease, to be teased all day long. To play the game through to the end, see who will win and who will lose. But today, he wants what he wants.

He removes his grip from around the front of her neck and presses it into the back instead, pushing until the side of her face is pressed into the bar top, her tail sticking up high in the air, her body a series of graceful arches and dips, a delicious looking work of art.

He drapes his body over hers now, helped by the little tug she still gives to the rope around his neck, despite how his weight bears into her, keeps her down.

He toys with her ear a bit, biting it, licking around the outer parts of it.

"I'm not feeling very patient today."

With his breath hot against her ear and her tail twitching high in the air, he starts working his fingers in and out of her, deep and smooth, pulling in and out and picking up the pace until he can see the wetness dripping from pink, flushed skin, rolling down the inside of her thighs, splattering on the bar below her.

"Someone else isn't either, huh?"

"What gave you that idea? When I ripped your shirt open before we got here?"

Damn. She is trying to ignore his fingers, not give him the satisfaction of acknowledging that how slick she feels right now is what he was referring to about patience, but she can't stop her muscles from tightening around his fingers immediately after each push, pull, and tug he gives her.

The worst of it is when he hooks his fingers up against where her muscles are tensing for him and he works to control the jerking of her hips. That little powerplay work has her mouth slack, breath huffing against the counter and fogging it up by her lips.

But he can't completely win, not yet, so she jerks her hips back against him, feeling him press up against her, nearly slipping into her already from how ready they both seem to be, it makes them both moan, though he tries to fight it for a second longer by shifting, moving himself up away, but making sure to drag against her and tease her. Her tail doesn't let him get away with that, it presses down, meeting him, pressing against his sensitive skin again, acting like a barrier to keep him from moving away, fluttering and sweeping against him so he can't even have the smallest second to forget her and the sensation.

From keeping her head pressed down, his thumb his near her mouth so she takes the moment of distraction, the moment he has to hunch over her and moan, knit his brow, looking beyond gone on this high already, to turn her face slightly and take his thumb between her teeth, grinding into his skin, keeping her mouth slightly open for him to see how the tip of her tongue flicks against him.

He's right, though, she's not feeling patient and her hips start to rock back and forth against his fingers desperately, begging either for him to lose whatever little patience he has left or for his hand to give her more, demanding it right out of him, trying to fight how he tries to take control. Which of course makes him more forceful which, of course, gets her eyes rolling back at the sensation of him trying to keep her pinned and in line with his motions.