Who else is there

Ethan lay back, chest heaving, sweat plastering his shirt to his skin. His glasses were fogged, the sheets a sticky mess. His brain buzzed from Velma’s mouth still fresh on him, but underneath that glow something gnawed at him.

The emerald.

he’d propped it against the glossy Wonder Woman statue. Then he’d knocked it over again in his half-sleep, and never saw where it landed, but it was clear an old scooby do VHS.

His gut twisted.

“Wait,” Ethan muttered, pushing himself upright. “Velma… I didn’t put the stone on you.”

Velma pushed her glasses back up her nose with one finger, smirk curling her lips. “Oh, I know. You didn’t. Which is why you should probably meet the other half of this case.”

Ethan’s blood froze. “Other… half?”

“She got pulled in too.” Velma brushed crumbs off her sweater like this was casual. “And they've been waiting their turn.”

Ethan’s stomach dropped. His voice cracked. “Oh my god. Its the dog isn't it, isn’t it? Fuck. No. No way—”

Panic filmed him, the though of a massive talking horny dog having its way with terrified him

The door creaked.

Not a dog.

A girl.

She stepped inside like she owned the place long legs, smooth, tan, the purple skirt hugging her hips. Bright headband holding back a sheet of red hair. And her eyes, big, green, hungry.

Daphne Blake.

Ethan’s jaw went slack. His cock twitched, traitorous.

Her perfume hit him next, thick and sweet, like candy mixed with flowers, slicing through the reek of his soda cans and dirty laundry. Velma leaned back on her haunches, smug.

“See?” Velma said. “Told you they wanted you.”

Daphne’s gaze crawled over him like hands, up and down, slow, deliberate. Then to Velma. Then back again. Her smile sharpened. “So this is him?” Her voice was deeper, huskier than Velma’s nasally chirp. “You’ve been keeping him all to yourself?”

Velma adjusted her glasses, tone clipped. “Purely research.”

“Research, huh?” Daphne’s smirk deepened as she circled the bed, her skirt swishing. “Guess I’ll need to do a little… peer review.”

She leaned over him, hair spilling across his face. Lavender shampoo, sharp, intoxicating, too close. Ethan’s head spun. Her breath was hot at his ear.

“Well,” she whispered, voice low, “I think it’s my turn to investigate.”

Velma snorted, climbing onto the mattress beside him. “Teamwork, Daphne. That’s how you crack a case.”

The two girls shared a look, conspiratorial, hungry. Ethan’s throat dried out. His brain screamed run, but his cock swelled, pressing painfully against his boxers.

Daphne dropped onto the bed, thigh brushing his arm. Her skin was warm, smooth, smelling faintly of lotion. Velma pressed up against his other side, sweater brushing his arm, carrying the faint musty scent of old paper and dust. He was boxed in, prey between predators, every nerve screaming.

Velma leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You’re not in control, Ethan. We are. And you’re going to sit there… and watch.”

Daphne laughed, low and dirty. “And trust me, dork. We put on one hell of a show.”

The air in the room thickened, heavy, sweaty, charged. Ethan’s heart hammered in his ribs. His brain screamed that this was insane.