A bit off teasing!

'Markus,' she replied, her voice soft and a little slurred, lifting her glass in a mock toast. She looked ****, lips parted slightly, that confident tease from before softened by whatever was weighing on her. It pulled at something protective in me, mingling with the raw attraction I'd been fighting.

I headed to the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge, the cold bottle grounding me. Popping it open, I leaned against the counter, watching her. 'Drinking alone? Rough day?'

She sighed, swirling the wine in her glass, her blouse slipping a fraction more as she leaned forward. The fabric gaped, revealing the edge of a lacy bra and—fuck—the faint ridge of her futanari trait shifting beneath her pants, more pronounced now as if she was half-hard just from the atmosphere.

My pulse quickened, imagining the weight of it, warm and thick in my hand, but I shoved the thought down, focusing on her face. Sadness etched lines around her eyes, making her seem younger, more real.

'Yeah, something like that.' She patted the couch beside her. 'Sit. Keep me company? Unless you're too tired from your big important job.'