“What? Calling it quits already?” Sevika snickers, falling on her rump with an audible grunt that puts your little huffs and puffs to shame. Her tail sways gently in the artificial breeze your fan creates, ears perked in attention at the sound of your shortened breaths.

The mocking lilt in her voice makes you want to curl in on yourself—hide away from that smoldering gaze for all of eternity. But, you know, you can’t.

Oh, rather, she won’t let you.

“Want me to go easier on you?” she suggests, pushing onto all fours and crawling over your exhausted figure. Lying almost motionless on the bedroom carpet, a thin sheen of sweat already beginning to form on your forehead.

Maybe, just maybe, she should’ve. But, it’s not like you told her explicitly to turn it down. She’s not a mind reader.

“Damn. Did I really tire you out?”