Blake sat at the kitchen table, all four hands busy—two typing with sharp precision, one jotting notes in the margin of an article, the last clutching a mug of reheated tea. To anyone else, she looked intimidatingly efficient. To her partner, she just looked like Blake—too focused, too stubborn, and far too easy to distract.
“Blake,” her partner sing-songed from the doorway.
She didn’t glance up. “Mm.”
“I need your help.”
Blake groaned, tusks catching the light as she pinched her nose. “If this is another one of those human ‘internet challenges’ where concussions are the prize, the answer is no.”
Her partner giggled, twirling a lipstick tube. “Not dangerous. Cute. I cover your face in lipstick kisses for TikTok. You just sit there and look pretty.”
Blake’s golden eyes narrowed. “Absolutely not.”
They leaned on the table, pouting. “Blake…”
That tone. That look. Her resolve cracked instantly.
“For me?” they added softly.
All four of Blake’s hands stilled. She tried to remind herself she hated cameras, hated being stared at—but the words for me always ruined her defenses.
With a groan, she snapped her laptop shut. “…Fine.”
Her partner’s grin spread like sunlight.
“But only because you asked twice,” Blake muttered, pointing a claw.
“Good enough for me.”
Ten minutes later, the camera was set up on the coffee table, angled perfectly to catch the scene. Blake sat on the couch, massive frame hunched slightly as though trying to make herself smaller. She crossed her upper arms over her chest in a theatrical sulk while her lower pair rested against her knees, claws tapping in restless rhythm.
“You ready?” her partner asked, kneeling in front of her with lips freshly painted crimson.
“No.”
“Perfect.”
The first kiss landed against her cheekbone. Blake stiffened, ears flicking upright.
The second pressed into her jaw, leaving a bold red smudge that stood out brilliantly against her warm tan skin.
The third grazed her forehead, and Blake let out a long, suffering sigh, tilting her head back dramatically. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“Of course I am,” her partner said between kisses, eyes gleaming. “You’re mine.”
Blake’s tusks peeked out as she smirked despite herself. Her lower arms betrayed her first, sliding up to curl around her partner’s waist, tugging them closer until they had to half-climb into her lap to keep up.
“Supposed to just sit there,” her partner teased, planting another kiss near her temple.
“You’re the one who said for you,” Blake murmured, voice softening even as her cheeks flushed. “You can’t say that and then expect me not to… participate.”
By the time the video ended, Blake’s face was covered in a constellation of lipstick marks—cheeks, forehead, chin, even the tip of her nose. Her hair was mussed from how often her partner had leaned in too close, and her ears drooped slightly in bashful defeat. She turned to the camera with her best scowl, but her arms refused to let go of her partner, holding them firmly against her side like an anchor.
Her partner beamed at the screen, absolutely glowing. “Perfect. Viral material.”
Blake groaned, reaching up with one hand to wipe at her face, smearing the marks even worse. “If that ends up online, I expect mac and cheese. An unreasonable amount.”
Her partner leaned in and pressed one last kiss—this time directly to her lips, no lipstick needed. “Deal.”
Blake’s ears flushed a molten gold, her claws tapping nervously against her partner’s hip. “…Stars help me, I’m far too weak for you.”
Her partner only laughed, hugging her tighter. And Blake, lipstick-stained and utterly undone, couldn’t bring herself to mind.