“Wan’ you.”

Sharp teeth nip at the unmarked space of your collarbone, claws digging into the swell of your hip as you try to fruitlessly squirm away. The sultry scent of you has her pushing her muzzle harder against your skin, nostrils flaring against your flesh.

You agreed, long ago, that when the time came you’d help abby out with her heat—or rather, rut.

Maybe, it was a bit foolish. Maybe, you shouldn’t have taken this on. Maybe, it’s too much for you. But. . .unfortunately, it’s too late to go back on your word now. Way too late.

“Smell s’good.” she growls, tail smacking against your thigh with each desperate wag. She paws at you, pushing impossibly close until you flops onto your back—legs kicked up around her waist with the help of her muscled arms.

“.. Like fresh muffins.”