"And if something comes up," I add, "if I’m not home when I say I will be, I need you both to not panic. I can’t always explain it in the moment, but I’ll always come back."
"You better," Lyra says, and there’s an edge under the words that isn’t quite a joke.
"I will."
Cherry’s horns twitch again, and this time it isn’t embarrassment. It’s something softer. She doesn’t say anything else, just nods, and that’s apparently the end of the negotiation, because Lyra stands up and stretches and gives me a look that means the talking part of the evening is over.
"Bedroom," she says. Her eyes drop to the ground. "Please."
Cherry makes a small noise that might be a squeak. I don’t even get a chance to make a joke about it before Lyra’s already walking off, and honestly, arguing with that tone has never once worked out in my favor.
The bedroom door barely gets closed before Lyra’s hands are on my scales, fingers pressing into the ridges along my side like she’s checking I’m real. She’s still got that patrol-tired energy buzzing under her skin, the kind that needs to burn off somehow, and I know exactly what somehow means by now.
"Rough day?" I rumble, pressing my head to her neck.
"Don’t talk," she says. "Just-" She doesn’t finish the sentence, just pulls at my coils until I’m wrapped around her, tight enough that she gasps, and that’s answer enough.
I hold her there with my coils for a second, feeling her heartbeat through my scales, and my brain just runs through everything she’s done for me lately. Running the casino floor practically by herself. Handling the paperwork I never asked her to touch. Keeping the books straight while I’m off getting my ass kicked in the sewers for fun. And she just... kept going. Never a complaint, never a break. Like it was nothing.
We haven’t really had a slow night in weeks. No wonder she’s about ready to fall apart the second the bedroom door shuts.
She’s already peeling her own shirt off before I can even get a word out, hands sliding up under my jaw like she’s trying to pull me closer even though there’s nowhere closer to go. The look in her eyes isn’t the soft, blushing thing I usually get either. It’s hungry. Like she wants me to bend her over every surface in this apartment and not stop until the sun comes up.
Which, don’t get me wrong, I am extremely down for. But there’s something about the desperate edge in her grip that tells me this isn’t just about wanting it. This is her tank running low. Old mate did warn me about this, something about the bond needing regular top-ups or she starts getting twitchy. Guess this is what that looks like in the wild.
"Hey," I say, low, using the tip of my tail to lift her chin so she’s looking at me instead of just grabbing. "You’ve been such a good girl lately, you know that?"
She makes this small broken sound at that, and her hips twitch against me like the words themselves did something to her.
I drag the tip of my tail in slow little circles against her stomach, feeling her muscles jump under the touch. "You running low, love? You out of me already? Need a top up?"
A shudder runs through her. She doesn’t answer right away, just presses her thighs together and rubs herself against my side, her body already answering for her.
"Use your words," I tell her, gentle but not backing off. "I know you can do it."
It takes her a second, cheeks going darker, ears flushing that deep red they do when she’s really far gone. "Want you to fuck me like you mean it," she finally says, barely above a whisper.
That one lands somewhere deep in my coils. "Lyra, my love. I always mean it."
I start working her bra off with the end of my tail, slow, deliberate, feeling the clasp give way under a bit of careful pressure. Her panties go next, sliding down her thighs while she just stands there and lets me, breathing hard.
The second the fabric’s gone and my tail brushes bare skin, her whole body jerks with a needy little "haah- ahhh" that goes straight through me.
"We’re just getting started, love," I hiss, and I can’t help the pleased rumble in the sound.
I coil around her waist, guide her back toward the bed. "Let me take care of you, yeah? I’ll do all the work tonight."
She nods, quick, eager, and lets herself fall back onto the mattress. Her tits bounce with the movement, and I just stop for a second and look at her, hair spread out silver against the sheets, ears still glowing red, that stupid gorgeous body laid out for me like a present. This woman runs half my business, faces down monsters with a badge and an attitude, and right now she’s soft and open and completely mine.
I flick my tongue out, tasting the air, and the scent of her arousal hits me sharp and sweet. "My God," I mutter. "You’re so fucking gorgeous like this."
"Mine," I add, mostly to myself, coiling closer. "All mine."
She squirms under my gaze, thighs pressing together like she’s trying to get some friction, some relief.
I use the end of my tail to trace slow circles around her breasts, giving them a little shake just to hear the noise she makes.
"Ah- ahh," she moans, her back arching slightly off the bed.
"You drive me insane," I tell her, voice dropping lower. "You don’t even know."
"Where do you want me to touch you, love?"
She doesn’t answer with words this time, just tilts her head back, exposing the long line of her throat, her pointed ear twitching like it’s begging for attention.
I take the hint, lowering my head to drag my long forked tongue slow along her collarbone, up the side of her neck, then find that ear and nibble it as gently as I can manage with a mouth built for things that aren’t gentle.
"Ma-a-tt," she whines, squirming under me, hips rolling up like she’s chasing something. "Please."
"Please what?" I murmur against her ear. "Gotta tell me, love."
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