(Yeens Day 3)

.>Fuckfuckfuck
.>You're going to be late.
.>You search frantically through your apartment for your wallet, haphazardly dressed. Your morning has been nothing but trouble, and your afternoon is looking to be little better. Last night was rough; you barely got any sleep, though you're not sure why. So your morning, while starting early, wasn't nearly as productive as you'd have liked. Being at even more of an impasse than before about the case didn't help.
.>None of the yeens paid you a visit or came calling, so you're not sure if they'll be helping you. You sure as hell hope so, since you've spent the last two days trying to figure them out instead of working on material for Lyons.
.>That's what you'd been doing on and off all morning. You weren't having a good time; your legalese isn't much better than it was before, so you don't know what facts would really help your case.
.>When you finally find your wallet it's 2:40, and you don't have time to shower before going to that meeting with Lyons and Talia.
.>You give yourself a sniff as you rush out the door, pounding down the stairwell; you think you vaguely smell like yeens.
.>Fuck, you put on both stick and spray deodorant, and it's still there. Not much you can do about it now.
.>You're in the truck and on the street before the front door's finished closing, steering with your knees as you punch in the address for Lyons' building. It's downtown, near the lakefront, so traffic is going to be shit.
.>It's so shit, in fact, that you show up 10 minutes late rather than the 5 you were hoping for. When you arrive, panting, to the lawyer's modest-sized office (on the 5th floor), he and Talia are already talking and shuffling papers around. Though they of course pause to look up and give you a dirty look.
.>"Glad you could join us, Mr. Anonerson," the lion says. He's much smaller than you would've expected, just a bit bigger than Talia and nearly as lean. His mane is trimmed, nearly as dark as his suit.
.>"Traffic, sorry," you manage, catching your breath as you flop down into the other client seat. "What'd I miss?"
.>"Oh, just trying to figure out how we're gonna keep you off the assignment list," Talia growls. You can't tell how pissed she really is, with her severe RBF.
.>"We were discussing your firearms charges," Lyons says, a bit more kindly, "Ms. Grilliz gave me the information of her legal associates, and a brief eyewitness account. In short, things I probably needed more than you. I'll get that squared away after I've actually had a chance to talk to them; let's focus on the courtship charges the two of you have."
.>The two of you sigh simultaneously, and you can see Talia's tail poof slightly in your peripheral; it's pretty clear neither of you were looking forward to this.
.>"We've got 1 count perjury, 1 count of perjury while under investigation, and 1 count of harassing an officer while under investigation, all for false courtship claims," the lion reviews, counting off on his fingers before heaving out a sigh.
.>"The easiest way I see out of this is a civil union, but you've both made it fairly clear that won't be happening soon."
.>The two of you nod, again in unison. The lion nods back, leaning forward over the sea of papers on his messy desk.
.>" Then things will be difficult. The reason you're both even in this bind is that you'd be in mandatory assignment otherwise, based on your yearly check-ins. The state thinks that for whatever reason-- your age, your species, your job or your health-- you'd be better off with a mate. But they can't override cultural preservation laws, not yet, at least. Our options are to disprove their recommendation for mandatory assignment, or to prove that you two are indeed in courtship."
.>He pauses a second, looking between the two of you.
.>"...You are, correct?"
.>"Yes," Talia says, keeping her cool.
.>"Yeah," you say, hoping the tremor in your voice passes as exhaustion, "Yeah, we are."
.>Lyons seems to accept it.
.>"So how do we do either of those things?" Talia asks before he has a chance to prod.
.>"Best way to prove courtship is to finish it," the lawyer says, "But because it sounds like the two of you aren't going to be doing that anytime soon, we'd need to have evidence that establishes history for the relationship."
.>"What, like a promise ring?" you snort.
.>"That could work," he sighs. "Photos of when you got it, or old photos with it on would be better. Eyewitnesses saying 'they've been a couple for X years' won't be very effective. Anything like that come to mind?"
.>You wrack your brain: neither you nor Talia are into trinkets or things like that. Half the reason you two started this 'relationship' was to avoid the cliches of marking each other, be it with jewelry, scent, or scars.
.>Talia doesn't come up with anything either; you both take a look through your phones, with Lyons patiently waiting, but your most intimate photos together still make you look like no more than friends.
.>"What about the other option," you ask, exasperated, "Delaying assignment?"
.>"That won't completely solve our issue," the lion says, "Unless we can prove the charges are bunk, you'll still be facing punishment for perjury. Probably not as severe, but still problems nonetheless."
.>"How bad?" Talia asks.
.>The lion sighs, rubbing his temple.
.>"I can't say for sure, but likely accelerated assignment, check-ins, and some mandatory classes."
.>Not a fun prospect.
.>"What about going after the investigation itself?" you ask, "We've got at least two, three witnesses who've seen how Pat's got some weird beef with us, me in particular."
.>"Slim chance," he says, "She's an apparatus of the state. This is their court: they're not going to rule that they're in the wrong unless she really screwed up royal."
.>Silence falls over the room. You're not sure what to say, if you're supposed to say anything. It's funny: this morning you were wondering if trying to get yourself in bed with the Yeens-- literally if need be-- was a bit preemptive, since you hadn't seen your lawyer yet. Now, you're thinking they may be your only shot.
.>"I can look into each of those options for the two of you," the lion finally says, "I'll send you an updated summary on each tomorrow. You can think things over in the meantime, make plans, discuss things."
.>He stands up, a sign to leave.
.>"Let me know if you come up with anything that may help. Or if you come to a decision."
.>You and Talia each shake his outstretched hand, finding his grip to be just firm enough. He sits back down and appears to get right to work when you leave; Talia does too, blocking the narrow, abandoned hallway back to the elevators.
.>"So what the hell are you doing?" she asks, "And you know you stink, right?"
.>"I've had a rough morning," you say, attempting to slide underneath her arm. She blocks you; your evening isn't looking to be much better.
.>"Look, can we discuss this in the lot?"
.>She reads your low whisper, giving you a stern look, but she nods. You wait until the cacophony of the echoey, busy underground parking structure surrounds you to speak.
.>"I'm trying to get some... outside help," you tell her, picking words carefully. She can't quite see through them, but she can smell something's off. Literally-- her lupine nose twitches.
.>"What kind of help?"
.>"Help from people that've got experience with the state."
.>It's clear you don't mean more lawyers. But any bugs they've got out here can't prove that.
.>Talia scowls. You know you don't need to give her more dots to connect; she has the idea of what you're doing.
.>"I can ask if they'll help you," you offer, but she waves you away.
.>"Leave me out of it," she says, voice low, "Whatever shit you're getting yourself into, I want nothing to do with it. I don't want you to have anything to do with it, but I'm betting it's too late for that now."
.>You nod, and she throws her hands up with a frustrated growl.
.>"Fuck, Anon," she hisses, "You're putting yourself at an even bigger risk, and you've got no guarantee. May as well go and get assigned, if you wanna get fucked that bad."
.>"That'd prove Pat right," you grunt. You're about as happy as she is; Talia recognizes that, but her flattened ears tell you she's still pretty unhappy with you.
.>"Just don't get yourself killed," she growls, before leaving you in the cool underbelly of the small skyscraper.
.>You waste no time finding the Toyota and getting out of there-- you saw a few homeless weasels and rats giving you weird looks. You turn up the radio as you pull back out into the sun, drowning out your thoughts and losing yourself in the driving.
.>Damn, you forgot to bring up a counter-sue.
.>You sigh, heading toward the nearest Pyg's Grocery: you'll give Lyons a call after you finish some errands.

.> It's getting dark out by the time you return to your apartment. You didn't realize how late it was to begin with-- and stopping for a bite to eat at Honeybee's only extended your evening. It was a little strange: all the young she-wolf and fox servers didn't get aggressive with you like they normally would. No one tried to goad you into staying a little longer to hit the next happy hour, nor offer 'alternative methods of payment.' None of the various packs of animals there for the girls' night special tried to poach you either.
.>The strangest part was that you actually missed the mess that is The Pomewater.
.>You collapse on the couch, various bags of groceries, hardware, and thrift-store buys covering the floor.
.>With all the cold stuff put away and the hours dwindling, the prospect of actually reading through Lyons' post-appointment email and thinking through your legal problems stares you in the face.
.>You groan, and curl up. It can wait till after a short nap, surely.
.>You can't tell if you're imagining it, but as you drift off, you get another whiff of that yeeny smell.
.>A shower can wait too.

.>When you wake, the smell is still there. Stronger, actually.
.>That's when you realize you can't see; your breath hits something, a sack or bag or something on your head.
.>You can hear people moving, and feel familiar hands on you.
.>You let out a groan, trying to stretch and finding that you’re tied to a chair, your hands bound as well. Someone very close groans back, and the hands pull away from you.
.>"He's awake," they say, "No fair, I wanted to use my smelling salts!"
.>It's one of the yeens. You're not sure which, but it's definitely one of them-- there go any plans for a daring escape. You're about to try and reason when a voice you recognize speaks.
.>"You'll get a chance later," Jamie says, voice stern. "Now get."
.>You scarcely breathe as the yeen gives a meek grunt before walking off, their footsteps soft yet still very felt through your chair. There's the slamming of a door before things go completely silent, save your quiet, measured breaths inside the hood.
.>Someone grabs your shoulders again, and a snout presses to your ear.
.>"Don't be stupid," Jamie whispers, before taking off the rough hood.
.>The room is red. That's the first thing you see; as you blink, you realize it's red velvet. Curtains, carpets, furniture, all of it framed in dark, expensive-looking wood. If the Pomewater had an English-pub feel to it, this is the castle's royal chambers.
.>There's even a throne. And on it is the biggest hyena you've ever seen. Even bigger than Roxxi. She's got dark red hair, cascading down her shoulders; even though she looks relaxed in that throne, she still looks imposing.
.>She's not dressed quite like a queen, but her dark-colored dress seems elegant nonetheless. Her throne is behind an imposing wooden desk, and the way she's looking down at you over it makes it feel like you're in for a performance review at work rather than... whatever's about to happen.
.>"Anon, this is B," Jamie says, walking over to her boss' side, "I've told her about your requests. And she's decided to hear you out."
.>"I apologize for your current accommodations," the yeen queen says, gesturing to your chair and ropes, "But because this involves sensitive matters, I want to ensure things are secure."
.>Her tone is much like Jamie's usually is, though her voice is much deeper: stern, business-like. Not at all lusty. Unlike the little hyena, though, B doesn't sound tired or exasperated.
.>"I understand," you say, not leaving her eyes, "But... are the restraints really necessary? You could squash me with a pinky."
.>She grunts, a hint of a grin coming to her face.
.>"Flattery will get you nowhere, Anon. I'm not like the crew you played with at the bar."
.>She leans forward over the desk, clasping her hands.
.>"I'm not a fan of guns in my bar that I don't know about."
.>You gulp; her look makes it clear she's all business.
.>"Sorry," you say, "Just that your girls had a point. Walking to and from here at night isn't the best idea."
.>"Let me worry about that," she says. "Now, why don't you explain to me this legal trouble you're in."

.>You do so for what must be the fourth or fifth time in the past few days. It's an old story, and you're more interested in her than you are it. She reminds you more of Lyons than any of the other yeens: she's quiet, only stopping you for the occasional clarification, and doing so in an almost impersonal, impartial manner. It makes you curious what exactly their racket is; she seems like she could manage a whole lot more than a bar.
.>"...and that brings us to now: me asking for your help." you finish, sighing. "You mind if I have some water?"
.>"In a moment," B says, "First, what can you offer me?"
.>After a moment to marshal your thoughts, getting as comfortable as you can in the wood chair, you take your shot.
.>"I don't know what exactly you're looking for, but I'm a resourceful researcher," you say, "I managed to figure out this bar was more than a bar, after all. That's where we are, ri--?"
.>"Don't get cocky," B warns, her voice the closest to a growl you've heard all night. Then she nods a bit reluctantly.
.>"You're correct. But I don't need a jack-of-all-trades."
.>"Who do you have looking at your weapons?" you ask, "The ones you're using and the ones you're selling, I mean."
.>She snorts, this time a proper grin spreading across her lips.
.>"I can see why Roxxi was cautious about you."
.>Her words hang in the air for a moment, letting you squirm a little in the chair as an ache runs through your throat.
.>"Go on, tell me what it is you know about guns."
.>"I'm a collector," you say, "I've only got prewar pieces, but I've got resources and knowledge for a whole lot more than that. I couldn't tell you how much something's worth exactly, not until I know what market you’re using, but I can help you get there. Whether it's broken or not, if it's rare or the accessories are rare. If it's a fake or not."
.>Her expression is neutral once more-- you're not sure if that's good or bad.
.>"And, uh, if you don't mind me saying, your crew could use a little training with them. I'd be happy to provide it."
.>B grins slowly, then begins to laugh. It's deep, and soon turns into the distorted yips her species is known for. Jamie joins in, and you swear you can hear it from beyond the walls, surrounding you. Apprehension grips your heart, and you're not sure if you'll be dead when it ends.
.>When it finally does, she looks at you, still grinning.
.>"I can think of a few uses for you," she says, making a subtle hand motion to Jamie; the little yeen comes over to you and begins to undo your ropes.
.>"I can't guarantee what exactly will happen with your case, but I can tell you this: the Bad Apples have each other’s backs."
.>You let out a sigh of relief, and not just because your rough bindings have been undone: you're with them now. You’ve got a chance, and all it seems to have cost you are a few bruises and a sore back.
.>Jamie stands you up, a firm hand on your shoulder, and turns you around at another signal from her leader.
.>"Oh, and Anon?"
.>"Yes... Ma'am?" you say, Jamie letting you turn and look at B. She's smirking.
.>"You might not be so enthusiastic about training my girls after initiation."
.>"I-initiation?"
.>"And, Jamie, don't be soft on him,” B says as the little hyena pulls you toward a door, "Let the girls really test him. They need the fun."
.>"T-test me?"
.>"You wanted to be part of the crew," your escort says, voice low as she brings you out into a familiar, blank hallway, "There's stuff you have to do."
.>"Like what?" you ask, doing your best to control the tremor in your voice as you think back to some of the more brutal gang initiations you've heard stories about. Ones that a human like yourself might not handle so well.
.>"You'll see."
.>She leads you down a set of stairs, and you recognize the spot where Roxxi held you up. Jamie continues on; she seems to notice your growing apprehension.
.>"They're not going to give you the normal orientation," she whispers as you reach another stairway down, the yeen smell getting stronger, "You're, well, the first guy to join. And the first human. A bunch of them wanted to make it special."
.>She sighs, as do you, staring down the dimly lit stairwell with you, where an old, ominous door sits. The silence here is strange, the only sound faint sirens from elsewhere in New Apple.

.>"Hold up," she says, catching your arm when you try and step down, "They wanted you in some... special attire."
.>Jamie holds up a black sleeping mask, the word 'Bitch' embroidered onto it.
.>"That, and your skivvies."
.>You slowly take the mask from her, trying to figure out if she's serious about the second part. Her nod tells you that she is. You try to keep from blushing too hard as you strip down in the hallway beside her; the little yeen looks on without a hint of emotion. It's not hard to see why she holds a position close to B's.
.>She breaks her stoic facade for a moment when you're finished, though. She puts a hand on your shoulder, her other holding all your clothes aside from the boxers.
.>"Try not to be too much of a dumbass, okay?" she says, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You nod, and she pulls the mask down, steering you to the stairs. You feel her walk away, where to you're not sure.
.>All you know is that you're alone, practically naked, and in the back rooms of a seedy yeen bar.
.>Just where your mother imagined you'd end up when you said you were moving to New Apple.
.>You take the stairs slowly, feeling old as you grip the handrail. The way they creak makes you jump; you can't blame them, though. The old boards are rough beneath your feet, probably never meant to see repeated use by hulking hyenas.
.>The door is similarly old, similarly rough. You grab the handle and hesitate. There's still no sound.
.>Just do the same thing you did at the range... grit your teeth, grip the handle and head in. Act harder than you feel.
.>Though that's a little difficult with a 'bitch' blindfold on your face.
.>You push open the door, and step in, onto shag carpet. The yeen smell hits you like a fist; you're able to hear them now, some breathing heavily, a few suppressing giggles while someone gives them a light, quiet hit. You can't tell where they are, though, and after a moment of hesitation in the doorway, you take some slow, shuffling steps, waiting for something to happen.
.>"A’right," Roxxi says, making you jump as her arms wrap around you, "Let's get this show on the road."
.>There's a cacophony of noise from the other yeens as she picks you up and carries you somewhere, her sisters sounding somewhat more enthusiastic than her. You're set down onto what feels like a wood block or box; the pack surrounds you. Their heat, their scent-- you can just tell.
.>"B may‘a accepted you, twerp," someone says-- Kris, maybe--? "But we haven't yet."
.>"We jus wanna see what you’re made of," someone else says.
.>That's when hands start grabbing you. Big hands, small hands. Gentle ones, rough ones. They feel your muscles, your hair, your fat and your flinches when they near your nethers.
.>"Not in too bad a shape," one hums; "The meat's in the right places," another replies, and you feel one of them cup your butt.
.>"He's twitchy," one says, "You afraid, Anon?"
.>"N-no," you manage, voice strained as someone breathes on your face. There's a mixed reaction of laughs, grunts, and rumbles, the hands continuing to trail all over you. They start getting more forceful, intrusive: your limbs are made to move and bend, to stretch, to hold weight, and fingers pull at your lips, the contents of your boxers. A tongue runs lightly over your face with a puff of hot breath, and you hear a smack.
.>"Later," someone growls. Someone else whines.
.>You can't tell how long it goes on, but your restlessness finally reaches a peak.
.>"W-well? Am I up to snuff?" you ask, trying to **** your voice steady. You don't think you did very well.

.>There's a familiar, disjointed laughter around you, the hands squeezing you and pulling away.
.>"Makin' demands again!"
.>That one was Shay, you're pretty sure.
.>"You might, be, humie," Roxxi says-- though you’re not sure if she's the one that just tilted your chin up, or the one that just slapped your ass-- "But you a bit uppity."
.>You can feel her maw near your face, heat pressing against the side of it as she rasps "I’d know,” into your ear. She pulls away, and you feel the rest do the same, the hands vanishing.
.>"Walk forward," she commands. No mistake: it's a command. You do so, stepping off from whatever little pedestal you were on and back onto shag. After only a few steps, you nearly stub your toe on some piece of furniture; before you can cuss, another command comes.
.>"Bend over it."
.>Oh god
.>Images rush through your mind of strapons, dildo-poles, things even worse.
.>But you do it. You lay your upper half on the plush armrest, feeling yourself sink in a little.
.>Someone lumbers close, getting near your ear.
.>"Do we need to pin your arms down?" they growl softly.
.>You gulp, and shake your head.
.>"Good," they growl, standing up. There's a shuffle behind you, and you hear the sound of fingers on wood.
.>"We got a system here, Anon," a voice says-- Aja?-- "An’ you needa learn your place in it. You know where that is?"
.>"No?" you whimper after a moment, unsure if you're meant to speak.
.>"The bottom, bitch boy!"
.>There's a loud smack of wood on flesh before you actually feel the pain on your backside, spreading across it like fire; you stifle a yelp, jumping slightly. This is of course met with more distorted laughter.
.>"Where's your place, bitch boy?" a new voice asks.
.>"The bottom!" you say, and are rewarded with another swing of the paddle.
.>"Where's your place, bitch boy?" another new voice says.
.>You say the line, and are again rewarded with a stinging pain on the cheeks. You lose count how many times it happens, but your somewhat sure each of the girls has their turn.
.>"You know your place now, bitch boy?" the last one asks, tapping your tender tush with the edge of the paddle, the pack snickering at your wincing.
.>"Yes," you groan, "the bottom."
.>Someone very large and very soft picks you up, and you're fairly certain it's Rae. She lays you down on something soft, a bed or a couch, as you hear and feel the shuffle of her sisters, your ass sore even against the yielding surface.
.>"Now, Anon," Rae says, that saccharine voice unmistakable, "Even if you're on bottom, it's still important... like, what's on the bottom of pizza?"
.>"D-dough?" you say, thoroughly confused.
.>"Right. And it supports everything else. Ya can't have a good pizza without it, right?"
.>You shake your head.
.>"And we needa figure out if you can do that," Roxxi says, her voice close.
.>You feel a warmth on your face before what they said clicks, and hundreds of pounds of hyena flop on top of you.
.>You quickly learn that the two of them-- Roxxi and Rae-- completely cover you, your thrashing limbs barely moving inches. By some miracle, you manage to snag some extra breath as they bounce to a stop before your face is again submerged in fur full of yeen-musk. The bed beneath you is soft and yielding, and you can feel yourself sinking down further as more weight is piled on, the impacts of the sisters pilling dulled by the two largest ones. You can hear nothing but their laughter, feel nothing but their bouncing weight and pressure, and smell nothing but their smell. Fur becomes your world, your tomb. You can hear some muted discussion and jeers, feel teasing bounces that make you worry something inside you will burst.

.>You don't know how long it is you're under there, all you know is that you're not dead when they get off of you.
.>In those first moments when you can breathe again, see again, bathed in musk, you can't help but feel a little reborn, spluttering and gasping as the sisters all coo, yip, and laugh around you. You're able to make out some scantily clad, fuzzy figures before someone slips the bitch mask back in place.
.>"Didn't think you were gonna make it, lil' humie!" someone says as you lay there in the crater, just panting.
.>"Get up," one says, and as you do, another tugs the mask off again.
.>"He don't need that for this part," they say, and there's a brief argument as you blink and rub your eyes, making sure there's no permanent damage from the dogpile. A pair of hands slide the mask over your head just as things start to come into focus, and it ends up around your neck. Bitch-side out, you assume. The pack surrounds you, dressed similarly to you, minus the degrading eyewear. You're not sure if that makes things better or worse.
.>"That a fair compromise?" Aja asks, looking up to Roxxi. The big yeen grunts, arms crossed, but nods.
.>"Get on your knees," she says; you do, and now even Margo seems to tower above you. You can't help but think of YEEN'D videos, and pray there's not a camera hidden somewhere.
.>"You up to snuff, and you know where you belong," Aja says, moving to the front of you, hands on her hips, "Now we wanna hear whose you are."
.>She steps forward, grabbing the back of your head and shoving your face into the front of her deep purple panties.
.>"Smell," she commands, and you do, your head full of her musk. "Whose are you?"
.>"Yours," you grunt into the warm fabric. She hums in satisfaction, holding your head there a little longer before pulling it away, lifting you up by the shoulders. Her purple eyes draw you in, so much that you don't notice how close she pulls you until her teeth are already in your flesh. You yelp as she bites down on the side of your neck, not tearing, not crushing, just putting on pressure.
.>Aja pulls back with a smile, letting you drop back to the floor, your knees almost folding. But another pair of hands hold you up, claws again finding the back of your head and pulling your face into fragrant panties, with some kind of cute cat pattern on them. You inhale without being prompted this time, and you hear Rae coo.
.>"Whose are you?" she asks.
.>Your response is muffled to near-nothing by her immense thighs, but she laughs and lets you up anyway, biting you in the same spot. Gentler, with a hum in her throat.
.>Margo grabs you next, grinding you in, her voice strained as she asks the question, trembling as you breathe her in. She lets out a little squeal when you answer, and keeps you down there a bit longer until someone hits her; she pulls you up the, giving you her bite before handing you off to Kris.
.>"Whose are you, bitch boy?" she snarls, pressing your face into undergarments that match the neon in her hair.
.>"Yours," you say, just glad to breathe.
.>"You bet you are, punk-ass lil' humie..."
.>You hear another smack: she brings you up, her lips drawn back from a snarl at someone else before she gives you a sharp bite on the shoulder, breaking new ground.
.>Shay grabs you next; she draws her panties aside with fingers so deft you barely have time to see it before your face is in it.
.>"Whose are you?" she purrs, letting the fabric cover the back of your head under her hand. She shudders a little as you smell her, tasting her a little too as you say "Yours."
.>There's another smack, and she winces as she pulls your head from her underwear, lifting you up to give you a quick nibble on the neck.
.>Kandra steps in, guiding your face slowly down to her dark undergarments. Unlike the others, though, she doesn't **** your face in them, holding your head a few inches away.
.>"Whose are you?" she asks, then quieter, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

.>You're not sure what it is that makes you do it-- lust, a head full of musk, or the rare show of consideration-- but you shove your nose between Kandra's legs with a drawn-out sniff, grabbing the backs of her muscular thighs as you say "Yours."
.>She chuckles, picking you up in a hug rather than lifting you by the shoulders. It's all great until she bites, her mouth covering your entire left shoulder. She bites hard, enough that you scream a little.
.>She pulls back with a horrified expression, genuine worry on her face as her grip on you loosens. There's a growl from behind her as you suck in a breath through your teeth, and she reluctantly sets you down, asking if you're okay as she pokes at the red marks forming on your joint.
.>"He'll be fine," Vivi says, shoving her sister aside and grabbing your head, "You just got a lil’ excited. Now, whose are you, little man?"
.>"Yours," you say, and she quickly yanks you up to her level like you weighed nothing, barely giving you time to smell her.
.>Her bite around your throat is firm, but not worryingly so. She ruffles your hair before setting you down, letting slender Sammi come up to you next.
.>"Whose are you?" she asks, shoving you into her striped strip, making sure you sniff her.
.>"Yours," you say; when she lifts you up, a miracle given her wiry limbs, you can't help but stare at the ominous figure behind her as she nips your virgin shoulder quickly before dropping you to the floor, skittering out of the way.
.>Above you stands Roxxi, a scowl on her face, clad in the smallest spandex shorts and bra you've ever seen; you swear her ears are scraping the ceiling.
.>But not for long.
.>She plants her feet on either side of you and bends down, palming the back of your head and lifting you up, up, up. Her thighs squeeze around your head, her clawed hand forcing you further into her scent. You can barely hear her growl "Whose are you?"
.>You answer, your words muffled the same way with Rae; unlike her sister, though, Roxxi squeezes her thighs tighter, asking you again whose you are as you scrabble at her thighs, her ass, trying to get another breath of air. She lets up just enough for you to gasp, the air around your face loaded with her musk.
.>"Whose are you?" she asks, fingers running through your hair in an oddly gentle way.
.>"Yours," you manage.
.>She uncrosses her legs, air rushing back into your lungs as your ears readjust to the lack of pressure. She lifts you off the ground with ease, her soft features making the bear-hug slightly less threatening. She looks down at you in her grasp, that snarl still on her face as you lock eyes.
.>"Damn right you are."
.>Roxxi slowly leans down to you, making you wait as she stretches her jaw wide and puts it over your face. Her tongue covers you nearly as well as her breath as she sets her teeth into each side of your head, biting down enough to make you wince before pulling away. She stares at you for a moment as you stay frozen in her embrace, her expression unreadable.
.>Then her ears prick slightly, and you see her eyes change as she goes back to scowling.
.>"All finished," she says, before dropping you without a hint of grace. You can scarcely sit up before she's crouched down over you, face pressed up against yours.
.>"You pull a gun on me again, and I'll make sure to take things slower than last time. Got me?"
.>"Got it..."
.>She pulls away, satisfied, and walks off toward the door you came from. The rest of the pack eyes you up, as you lie there like a wounded and tired animal, but with a single growl, Roxxi calls them all to her. They file out and up the stairs, leaving you panting there on the shag floor, the only thing on your mind being rest.
.>You close your eyes. Just for a moment.

.>Someone lifts you up, and you hear the sound of paws on wood as you go upstairs.
.>You don't make a sound, don't open your eyes. You don't care what’s going on, as long as you get to rest.
.>You're laid down again, the bed soft, the sheets cool. Someone moves about quietly.
.>The mattress sinks slightly as someone shares it with you, pulling you into a warm embrace from behind. A wet nose sniffs at your hair, and the bitch mask is removed from around your neck. A small hand strokes your chest.
.>You turn around; you have to. Jamie lets you, not saying a word as you curl into her embrace, drifting off.
.>That smell is in your nose, but you don't mind it now.