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Lukas waited until the water ran warm, then slid the lid of the shaker underneath. As always the curved surface caused some of it to splash out across his paws, but he didn't mind; it was better than having the alcohol itself in his fur, which always led to stickiness and matting unless he cleaned it off right after, and besides here was using the soap anyway. He leaned forward to bring out a few squirts, the otter's small ears perking forward towards the sounds of the ongoing party: even though he wasn't really listening, he still heard everything as he filled the shaker, swirled around the soap, poured it out, then reached in to wipe it down and rinse again.

Or, more likely, he heard only about half of everything. Every time they hosted a get-together like this, across the next few days he always discovered something that had evaded his notice during the party itself… and sometimes, he thought as he turned the faucet off, those stories afterwards are even better than seeing the thing itself. Another quick wipe-down of the metal and he stepped back out around the counter, the music swelling just slightly as he did so.

This time fewer folks had shown up than usual, which meant that he recognized just about everyone here. Each one had been greeted at the door with grins and hugs, though as the night progressed and he found himself steadily more occupied by his position behind the bar mixing drinks – it was a hobby, really – things had started to get away from him. Not that that was a bad thing; the otter rested his wares back in the display stand and leaned an elbow on the raised table as he looked out over the group.

Kekipi grinned, waved, and blew him a kiss, which he returned; so too did the serval and lynx with the small ocelot was speaking, then leading to all three of them laughing together. Lukas sank his chin into his paw with a smile across his muzzle and a warmth spreading within him, wholly separate from the pleasant sensation of the booze itself; the deer sitting back on the couch had brought in a fantastic gin tinted faintly green by its particular range of botanicals, so the first thing he had done was share a glass and marvel in the resulting flavor. And then, of course, the second had been to mix himself a drink with it, which then led into the third thing being another, different drink from it, now some twenty minutes back with him still riding the sweet, cool heat of the wave now… but, then, maybe it was time for another.

The wood-topped cork came free again with that same satisfying pop, and Lukas couldn't resist but lift the bottle and take another sniff. Rich spice flowed across him, at once fiery and invigorating yet cold and sharp; of course the juniper came out first and foremost, followed by the list of whatever else it said on the side, with – and this was what had caught his attention the most – the distinct note of cinnamon hovering about the end, like the smell of smoke spreading out after a doused fire. He nodded to himself and then bent down for the other ingredients, running through the recipe in his mind as he did so.

One ounce gin. One orange liqueur… let's do… ah, maybe the curacao. Nice and sharp. That'll go well. One ounce lemon juice… maybe the lemon syrup. Let's make it a bit sweeter. One ounce sweet wine… normally it wants white, but I suppose I could use the red over there, since it's already open…

The lynx perked, blinked, and bumped his rump back against him as he passed by; Lukas grinned up at him, chuckled, then rose up onto tiptoes to return the offered the kiss, alongside a squeeze beneath that cotton-puff tail on his way back. This bottle worked via screw-top instead of the usual cork, which was wonderful for a setting like this. All ingredients in the shaker, the otter then slid back out towards the kitchen to fetch the ice, dumped in a few handfuls, capped it, hoisted it over his shoulder, and then began the quick, noisy work.

His mind wandered as he did so, as did his gaze. On his way back to the bar again he looked over everyone who had shown up, all of his and Kekipi's friends, folks they saw often… then one or two strangers, likely invited by their roommates, and-

-a bat. None of them knew any local bats… at least not that he knew of. Lukas tilted his head as he peered closer, watching her where she stood back in the other corner; she looked out across the group, everyone wrapped up in their own spaces and conversations, her tall, ribbed ears swiveling this way and that… sharp eyes watching, taking everything in, seeming to glow with a light of their own, even with the one hooded beneath a sleek, silken wash of hair, purple-black like the night sky between the stars. Slender pupils zipped one way, then the other – and then she returned the otter's gaze.

A forked tongue flicked out across thin lips, showing a quick flash of deadly sharp fangs layered behind, as she leaned in to take a sip of her drink. Drink, Lukas thought, the chill of his own seeping across his pads; I didn't make her a drink. I'd… remember if I did. What is that? Where did she get that? That's definitely one of our glasses. As he watched, the deer rose from the couch and stepped over to her; she turned her muzzle to him but kept that visible eye on Lukas, then flicked it over to focus on the new conversation. From here he could not hear her voice over the other noises; Lukas realized he had stopped shaking his drink, turned the shaker to pop the lid, and slid another glass out from beneath the bar for his own. He looked down to pour, held there a moment, looked back up, and once again met her gaze.

The deer had turned back to resume whatever he had been doing. The bat, meanwhile, kept her own drink clutched at her side, metal straw facing away from her. She licked her lips again, tilted her head a little bit, parted her jaws, reached her tongue out towards that straw… and reached… and reached… and coiled it around the smooth surface, up and around and around, to then roll it along the rim of the glass towards her maw. She leaned in just far enough to reach, and sipped down until her glass had emptied.

Lukas swallowed, placed the freshly used shaker back in its stand, and moved to take a sip of his own drink, in doing so sloshing a bit of the chill liquid over his fingers. He pretended not to notice, leaned in, missed the rim, tried again, took a sip. The bat tilted her head back to swallow, her shockingly long tongue snaking right back into her maw – and her throat, right? Where in the world does she keep that thing? – and then doing one more swirl about her lips.

And then she turned her body to slip through another pair of visitors, and began to approach. Lukas straightened up, rested a paw on the bar, pulled it away after feeling the sticky surface there, then halfway turned as though he were instead paying attention to a conversation halfway across the room – but couldn't help one ear flicking over towards her approach, the otter sharply aware of the closing distance.

She moved silently, not that that said much in a space like this, but still when she drew up to the counter and hoisted herself up onto one of the stools not even the sound of rustling clothing issued forth. And there she waited while Lukas continued to look out across the party with his own drink in hand, pretending not to notice.

How long is she gonna sit there? he thought, keeping the cool rim of the glass to his lip. Is she waiting on me to say something? I'm being a poor host, aren't I? Maybe I should…

So the otter turned, pretended to be surprised – one of the bat's tall ears flicked again, and she tilted her head in that odd, animalistic angle – and spread his paws across the bar, careful of the spill.

“Oh," he said, and blinked. She placed her empty glass on the bar. “Oh! Y'want another?"

Silent still, she inclined her head. Her eyes remained focused forward on him, through the dip and then back up again.

Lukas returned the nod. He reached forward for it, slowly, as though expecting her to lash out and seize his wrist… but she didn't. “Another of these? What did you have?"

The tall glass, the straw, the ice… probably a Long Island? But the bat still said nothing. She opened her mouth, tongue folding out in between the standing pillars of long, sharp fangs; the forked tip flopped free, then like a snake coiled itself back in again.

Lukas coughed. “Don't know, then? That's okay. I'll just… make you something, and I'll…"

God. What a freak. Holy shit. He shook his head as he tugged open the door to the minifridge behind the bar, then bent down to pore through. But, goddamn, she's a hottie. I've gotta get her to talk. I need to-

“Red?"

He blinked, ears perking backwards. Bending halfway over, the otter turned, looked at his guest… saw the way her bright eyes flicked from the top shelf of the fridge to his muzzle and back. When she extended a paw – a hand – the thin, gossamer membranes of wings stretched and shifted towards her sides, vertical slits cut in her clothing to allow the movement.

Her long tongue flicked out again to lick her chops. “The red one?" she repeated, one finger extended, her voice… smooth, soft, a little bit brassier than he had expected. And instantly he wanted to hear more of it.

Lukas looked back to the shelf. Lemon syrup, lime syrup, sweet and sour… He slid the next one out. “This one?" The bat nodded. Interesting. He straightened up again, placed the jar onto the bar, rested his paws on his hips. “That's prickly pear. Made it myself. That means… I can… you like tequila?" Another nod. “Mezcal?" Another nod, more vigorous. “Okay, cool. The recipe originally calls for mezcal, but I don't like mixing with it, so… gimme a sec."

As he picked out the other ingredients from around him – the lime juice, the orange liqueur (let's go for the blood orange this time instead of the curacao), the bitters – he kept his eyes away from her but the conversation around her, and found to his surprise that she had started to open up a bit. The bat sat up straighter, hands folded in her lap, ears up and forward. Full attention on me, Lukas thought as he capped the shaker again… and felt a little bit embarrassed about it. And with her sitting here, I feel like a damn video game alchemist. I'm here in my shop, and she's come in to request a potion, and – and she's got daggers under her wings, I bet. I bet she casts magic. Look at those eyes. Goddamn. Any minute now she's gonna-

“Habu."

Lukas paused in his mixing. Huh?"

The bat rested a hand against her chest. Her wing stretched, splayed, folded. “I'm Habu."

“Oh." He swallowed and made the same movement. “Lukas. Good to meet you, Habu. Do you – know someone here, or-?"

She shook her head, then looked up to the ceiling for a moment. Her hair continued on down over her shoulders and along her chest in a thick, puffy mane, accented here and there. When she looked back to the otter, then, she seemed a little bit more here. “I wandered in," she went on, tongue dancing around her fangs in between each syllable. “And nobody threw me out. So I stayed. I like your aura." She nodded to the empty glass. “And your drinks."

Lukas's mouth fell open. The chill of the new drink began to sear out across his paws; he blinked, gasped, and then worked to open the shaker. “Oh! Thanks. Yeah, it's – it's a hobby that I've been… pursuing for a while. We… host stuff like this often, and it's always fun making shit for folks, since most of them haven't really had a good drink, and-"

And her eyes fixed down at the rich, almost glowing crimson of her new drink. As the glass filled it also frosted from the bottom up, the cold liquid spilling down, frothing faintly over itself.

“-and it means a lot to me that you're here, since I saw you, uh, across the room, and I…" ...can feel my own drinks still, God… “...would love to get to know you better, so I really hope you like – the, uh-"

Eyes still on him, Habu leaned forward, tilted her head to the side, and let her tongue flop out of the corner of her mouth. It fell a short distance and then perked back up, then hung forward, found the rim of the glass, slid down along the inside, dipped into the rich red liquid… folded back up, dripping as it went.

Habu paused to appraise the flavor. She tilted her head one way and then the other, flicked her forked tongue out again, swallowed. Then she lifted the glass, tilted it back – Lukas reached down to adjust himself underneath the bar – and took a full sip.

And then she nodded. The otter sighed out, relieved – but then sucked in another gasp when the drink was offered back to him. His first thought – oh, she doesn't actually like it – immediately bounced back against him when she instead said, “You want a sip?"

“Huh? Me?" He reached for his own glass, paused, and caught the look in her eye. “Well… yeah, sure. It is one of my favorites, and…" And as he leaned in he could still see the trail her tongue had left along the inner rim, a clean swathe cut through the gathered particulates and condensation. His eyes remained there as he took his own sip: there was the tingling warmth of the base spirit, mixed with the ashy, fruity tone of the prickly pear, the richness of the orange and lime… he nodded as well.

“Always a classic. I imagine you're – gonna go back to your friends, now?"

“Hmm?" Habu leaned forward against the bar, making herself more comfortable. She took another sip. “Maybe later."

“Later?"

“Yes. I came over here to get to know you."

The otter hid his surprise behind his own glass. He nodded again. “Well, lucky me. I did say that-"

“You wanted to get to know me, too."

“Yes." Fuck. This isn't going well, is it? Or is it going great? I can't tell. He placed his drink back down. “I'm glad I got to mix for you, at least. I don't know where you got that other one, but-"

She reached forward across the bar, wing shifting as she went, and deftly wrapped her fingers around the stem of his glass. Still unblinking, Habu looked up at him, held his gaze as she drew it towards her, sniffed at the different colored liquid, tilted her head as though rolling the thought back and forth… and then did the exact same thing, dropping her tongue in, letting it coil around the base of the bowl like a snake and then drawing it back out before taking an actual sip. This one seemed to surprise her a bit, but then she went back in for a second, and a third.

“Perfect," she purred, and turned to look back out across the crowd for a moment. She placed the glass back down, and picked her own back up without looking. “So let's get to know each other, then." Sharp eyes flicked over her shoulder at him.

Lukas felt their pressure. He swallowed again, throat cool yet hot with the distinctive sting of alcohol. I should drink some water… he thought, then reached forward for hers yet again. She followed him as he drained a third of the glass, slowly, going through his options as he went.

Is she… hitting on me? Wait. Wait, are we flirting right now? Am I missing that? I get the feeling… is she gonna invite me to the bedroom? But, wait, it's my bedroom. I should be the one to invite her – do I? Am I reading this right? Fuck, I spilled, and-

­-And that was her tongue beginning to coil up his wrist, squeezing gently yet insistently, as it made its way along the glass – along her glass. She wanted it back. Lukas blinked, looked down at her tongue, looked up at her where she leaned forward with her chin in one hand and her jaw quirked to allow the tendril-like muscle to extend out… and then he tugged against it, tilted the glass back, drew the rest into his mouth, and swallowed it smoothly down.

And then he immediately felt the weight of the alcohol spreading through him, sweet and sharp and pleasant and a little bit tense. For the first time he had seen tonight, Habu blinked, surprised; she sat up, drew her tongue back away from him, then reached for his glass, and emptied it in much the same way. Lukas watched, intrigued, as her lips tightened and her throat pulsed with the swallow, then again with the expected shock of the sharper gin; Habu held it for a moment, turned her head slightly… visibly ran her tongue between her gums and her lips, the muscle thick enough that Lukas could clearly see its progress beneath supple flesh.

Lukas blinked, trying not to show the tears welling up from the sharpness of the alcohol, and leaned forward across the bar. Habu did the same. The otter rested his chin in his left paw; she made the same move across from him, thick hair falling across her snout to obscure one eye.

Lukas wet his lips. “Do you like music?" She nodded. “Do you… like to read?" Another nod. “What about, I dunno… horror games? Like, video games. I'm a fan." Another nod, this one accompanied by a slight poke of the forked tongue between her lips. Lukas swallowed again.

“Do you wanna go upstairs?" She made as though to nod, then paused. His heart skipped a beat. “So we can… get to know each other better. Like we, um, both want." The bat took a moment to parse through the suggestion.

And then she nodded.

“Great," Lukas went on, starting to make his way around the bar. “Great. Good. Um…" And, somewhat nervously, he began to lead her through the room, making his nods and greetings and hopefully putting off the proper signs of urgency that he had a thing he was about to do, especially once Habu could be seen trailing behind him. At one point he paused, looked around for her, saw her tall ears poking up through the crowd, and wove his way back so that he could take her by the wrist – her fingers stretched forward, wrapped along his, and shifted so that they held hands – and continued forward.

The noise began to recede as soon as the two left the main room. Lukas looked back at her, paused on the first stair, waited for her to turn back to him; when she did so her hair fell away from that eye, and she looked back up at him, bright and sharp and interested and curious, and the otter felt his heart flutter again. I can't believe I'm doing this, he thought, still holding her hand as the pair started up the stairs. I can't believe I agreed to this. I can't believe…

Then at the top of the stairs Habu released his paw. Right as he was about to turn and look, though, her arm wrapped around his chest from behind, wing coursing down like a thin, membranous cloak; hot, damp breath puffed out through the fur of his neck, and his whiskers tickled with the upright protrusion of her leaf-like nose, and he looked over his shoulder to see those same bright eyes appraising him from much closer. They danced across his muzzle, coming up, sliding back down along his nose to his jaw, then towards his neck as well; the otter reflexively tilted his head to the side and away, and shivered as Habu's other hand slid beneath the cover of her wing as well, long fingers spreading across his chest, pushing down to his belly.

The touch made him shiver and arch his back; feebly he reached an arm back along hers, pushed along short, thick fur towards her shoulder, slid his fingers beneath the hem of her sleeve… and then sucked in a gasp when the frontmost of those sharp fangs nestled against his bared neck. Gently at first, then digging in a little more firmly, she nipped down against him; Lukas's eyes fluttered shut and he trembled again, and leaned his weight against the bat, and felt the way her long, muscular tongue slid, flicked, danced along the portion of his fur caught between her jaws. Then she squeezed in, just enough to make him gasp and jerk, and pulled free – and nudged him forward to continue walking.

Lukas stumbled over himself, one paw going to his neck where wet warmth dribbled, the other dropping back to find hers. His ears flicked back to her voice, soft and low: “I was wondering when you'd ask. I'm excited to get to know you."

I can't believe it! I guess I really was reading it correctly. But, God… He wobbled a bit as he turned the corner towards the bedroom, free paw going out to brace himself against the wall. Habu's other hand came up to rest along his waist while he regained his balance, and again he became sharply aware of her presence.

Not that he could forget about it, of course, as he nudged the door open and hobbled in and turned to run his paws up the bat's sides. His fingers splayed out across where her wings met her body, smooth supple skin disappearing amid velvety fur, her shirt hanging down more like a cloak, like a shawl, around the slits cut into the sides. Lukas rumbled in his throat, for the moment not even caring that the door remained ajar; he stood up on his tiptoes – Habu stood an important few inches taller than him – and leaned in to nudge his nose against her neck, or at least the ruff of her mane that spilled down around her shoulders and over her neck…

...and she smelled like morning dew before the sunrise, with that cool sharpness that seemed to tingle along his nose. And was that a touch of cinnamon underneath there, too? Lukas nuzzled deeper into her neck, one paw remaining at her waist to tug her closer, the other climbing the front of her belly beneath her shirt; she tightened and leaned in against him, and there among sleek, smooth fur he felt the telltale bump of a nipple, then a second above… and then the firm, pert swell of her breast, bare beneath her shirt.

Lukas wobbled a little bit again, and caught himself on his other footpaw. He giggled, thumb starting to move around the curve, tracing over short fur… “Is this okay? I wanna make sure that – we're on the same page, here, and…" ...and the pinpoint flesh of her nipple nudged beneath his thumbpad, cooler than he had expected, soft yet stiff.

Though her hand remained on his waist, teasing back towards the base of his tail, Habu said nothing. Lukas waited a moment, opened his eyes, and drew back to look at her; she glanced down at him, face unreadable for a moment. His heart skipped a beat again, and suddenly all of that confidence from before dribbled away.

“Um, is… everything okay?"

Then she blinked, surprised, and refocused on him. The bat gave a small smile, licked her lips – Lukas watched the movement – and made as though to say something, but then paused again, mouth partially open, fangs glistening in the light.

“You seem…" She spoke slowly, deliberately. In the pause between words Habu reached for where his paw had fallen from beneath her shirt, and replaced it against her chest. Lukas squeezed again, and this time felt the returning grind. “Fascinated with my tongue."

“It's very… long."

“Do you wanna feel it?"

Yet again Lukas's ears perked. He looked up at her. “I mean… huh?"

“I said…" Habu leaned in closer, one hand coming up to seize his lower jaw, long fingers squishing in along his cheeks until his lips pursed open. The otter rose up onto his tiptoes again beneath her grip. “Do you want to feel it?"

He swallowed, worked his lips, looked across her muzzle, blinked… nodded as much as he could. Like with the glass downstairs, he thought, gaze now fixed along her lips as they pulled back to show sharp fangs; it's gonna flop out, and keep on coming, and I'm gonna get it all between my fingers, and I bet she's gonna work it up my arm and-

As it turned out, Lukas was right about the first part. From in between and over those teeth the muscle slid, thick yet malleable; it hung in the air and coiled upwards like another living thing, and Habu tilted her head to the side, brought her other hand up to hook a finger underneath it, leaned in closer… but then hot, humid breath puffed out against the otter's muzzle, and he pursed his lips again – and it curled up against the front of his chin, flattened his lower lip, and snaked right on into his mouth.

Immediately he clamped his maw shut around her tongue, but still it kept coming, writing deeper into his maw, pressing down against his own tongue… curling up against the inside of his cheek, brushing against the roof of his mouth, hanging back down again. Before he knew what he was doing Lukas fell forward against her and closed his eyes, already suckling at the extensive muscle, drawing it deeper; he swallowed around it, felt its dense, warm pressure filling his mouth and throat, drew himself back and then slid forward across it once more. Again and again he wrapped his own around it, pushing up against it as much as he could despite Habu's being longer, stronger, thicker.

Yet again the otter swallowed. A low, breathy moan puffed out from his flared nostrils, Habu's hands drifting down to his waist again; he pressed forward against her, arousal flaring, grinding against her… feeling a similar stiff heat twitching at the front of her pants as well. His eyes fluttered and he opened them briefly, then felt the fork of her tongue tickle against the back of his throat and reflexively swallowed again; even when he drew back and pulled his lips away to catch his breath, her tongue remained looped within his mouth. He could feel the contours of the muscle itself, the little bumps of the buds, the smooth, leather-velvet sensation of the surface… the way it folded and wrinkled and squished in at each bend, then how it held firm at others.

Habu pulled him in against her and returned the thrust and grind. Lukas moaned into her mouth, gave her chest a squeeze, reached up with the other paw to tease back along her muzzle; he wove his fingers into her air, pulled her closer as well, pressed his lips to hers, sucked, swallowed again. He could taste the drink that he had made for her, as well as a little bit of his own; she had to tilt her head down to meet him, and used that leverage to turn his body and nudge him back towards the bed, hands gripping his waist, teasing up under the back of his shirt, pushing down towards the base of his tail… Lukas parted from the kiss again, lips sleeving around her tongue, and reached down to grab her wrist, tug it around to his front, and then – press it into himself there. Fingers felt, curled… squeezed, stroked.

Lukas gasped and moaned again. The edge of the mattress pressed against the backs of his legs; he grasped at the bat's sides, drew back from the kiss, looked back behind himself, and then felt her lower him down, one knee coming up beside him, hands going to either side of his shoulders. Her wings spread and partially blocked out the light coming down from the fan overhead; Habu lifted up and out of the kiss, her tongue following slowly after, smearing across his throat, the roof of his mouth, his tongue as it went. Thick strands of sticky saliva broke and splattered across his lips; Lukas swallowed yet again, swirled his tongue around his chops, tasted her once more, squirmed where he lay there on the bed. Habu remained with her maw open above him, sharp fangs glittering with their shared wetness, lips drawn back to show rich, warm gums in between.

And then she grinned again and pressed her hands up along his chest, tugging his shirt up as he went. Lukas giggled a little bit and shifted to allow her to take it off of him, then flopped back to the mattress; he rubbed his paws along her thighs straddling his body, getting a feel for her, finally getting to know her. One trailed up her belly again, thumb dancing across those extra nipples; the other came forward and down to tease at the button of her pants fly – he glanced up at her; she tilted her head, widened her smile, made the same move towards him – and then popped it free.

Before he could make any other move, though, she leaned in over him once more, flicked her tongue across his neck, and drew herself in for another series of smaller, softer nips. Then, murmured: “I don't want to keep you from your party…"

Lukas swallowed, sighed, and tilted his head away again. He brought a paw up along the back of her neck, nudging her into going harder… which, thankfully, she did. He squirmed. “Don't – worry about it."

“Didn't I hear you say-"

“Don't worry about it. You can… go a little harder than that, I – ah – okay, wait-"

“Sorry. Should I, um…"

“You're fine. You're fine. But if you want, I could… go downstairs and tell my – ah, oh, you're…"

Her eyes widened with that, and she made the same move again: a downward thrust, grinding her arousal against his, making him spread his legs and wriggle underneath her again. Then she smiled, licked her lips – and the now tingling spot on his neck where she had bitten – and did so yet again.

Lukas purred softly, rolled his head to the side, let his arms drop limp by the pillow. “Never… mind," he panted; he lifted one leg out from underneath her, followed by the other, so that he could draw himself up into her lap. He slid into place, drew himself up, pushed down against her… gave another grind and rock. “That can… wait until later."

“Sure. You wanna help me with-?"

He absolutely did. Lukas sat up so he could help tug her shirt up, lifting the fabric around her head; her ears folded back and then flicked up with the tug, and with his muzzle so close to hers right there, the otter couldn't resist but dive back in for another kiss. Before long he received exactly what he had wanted and expected, too: here Habu's tongue worked right back into his mouth, effectively holding him against her while he worked and squirmed, tugging her pants zipper down, working his thumbs into the waistband, sliding those down as well… and then he rolled her around and nudged her so that she was the one on her back, and he was straddling her bare body, and he could feel the damp heat of her arousal twitching and flexing between his legs, nudging up at the back of his sack.

Panting around her tongue, Lukas pulled up, sucked along the muscle, let it drop back out of his mouth. It flopped limp across Habu's chest, resting between her breasts, then snaked back up into her own mouth; she brought a hand up to wipe at her lip, smirked at him, wriggled underneath, lifted up again to tease herself closer-

“Wait," Lukas said, and moved to get up. “Wait, wait."

The bat began to tilt her head, but he didn't quite see it. Lukas swung himself around, reversing the position of his legs, turning himself back around… and then scooted back, pushing his hind end closer to her muzzle, bringing himself right at level with her full length. Oh, God, he thought, and finally ran his fingers across it. A thick, gold ring bound her base, still half-buried among the slick, supple folds of her genital slit. She's fucking huge.

Lukas looked back over his shoulder again. “Is – this okay? I just… figured with… your tongue and all, maybe… I could, um-"

One hand settled against his rear, soon followed the other. Lukas sucked in a gasp, thick rudder hiking up in response to sharp claws digging into plush, sensitive flesh, and then promptly received his answer: Habu kissed his tailhole just as she had his mouth, lips coming in first to feel around the rim and seal in, tongue soon to follow. She dragged the flat of it up and across, then did so again, and again, pressing in as she went; the otter sighed and pushed back against her, welcoming the pressure as it lifted up along the inner rim and teased him open.

Okay, wait­- he was about to say, but then felt the words and the breath forced out of him as soon as the forked end of the bat's tongue flicked its way in. On reflex Lukas clenched around her, but still felt the smooth, dense muscle worm past; he gasped, swallowed, arched his back, and pushed back… and felt her pump her tongue deeper, sinking in among dense, succulent walls and folds of inner flesh, then draw it right back out to begin again. Each push bunched up against his rim, nudged there, and then thrust in – and rocked him forward, one paw grasping the bat's thigh, the other bracing into the mattress for support.

Habu worked her chin against him as well, moving forward to seal her lips around his tailhole, suckle softly as she drew her tongue back, then focused right along the overlapping folds and wrinkles and revealed blossoming inner flesh, before she dove right back in again. Lukas moaned out with the girth curling out inside of him, at once lifting up and pushing down, making one leg kick, forcing his tail to hike up even higher.

He grinded back against her, feeling her chin against the back of his sack, her little leaf-nose lifting up underneath his tail – and then he realized he now straddled her muzzle entirely, footpaws to either side, rump pushing her down against the pillow. Habu certainly didn't seem to mind, though: she circled her hands around his thighs to tug him even more firmly down against her as she worked, tongue lifting up inside of him, digging and circling deep, while the otter gasped and groaned and rode her face.

She might… get me there just by… doing this, he thought. There began the familiar, burning warmth in his hips from the motions, the dryness in his throat from regular panting; Lukas reached back, spread himself atop her muzzle, pushed back further, felt his tailhole stretch and pucker out against – between – Habu's lips, and felt her adjust, draw back, and suck around him again to compensate… and then, still hilted there, he leaned forward again, slid his fingers down into her slit, curled around the base of the slick, body-warm ring, hooked his thumb around her cock.

She twitched, sucked in a gasp beneath his tail, and lifted up. Lukas smiled, leaned in, gave her a lick, a second, a third… closed his lips around her, suckled softly. Down here her scent carried that same touch of cool rain crossed with gentle spice; he dove down a bit, felt her along his tongue and throat, slid back up again, swallowed… dove down again, her tapered length slipping easily in.

But he wanted more. The way her tongue worked at him, pumping deep, stretching at the inside of his belly… Lukas wrenched his eyes shut, bobbed down along the bat's length, held himself there, pressed his rump back down against her muzzle – and then started to lift up, and kept on coming. Sensing his shift, the bat accommodated and drew herself back out, then scooted back to lift up on the pillow a bit. She smirked as he turned around again, paws coming to one of her shoulders and then the other; then she tilted her head and leaned in once more, tongue still out, to give the otter a taste of himself on her drool and her breath.

One paw still in place, he reached back with the other, spread his own saliva along her shaft, angled her up, and nestled back against that tapered tip. It took the barest pressure to slip her into him, prepared as he was on her tongue; Lukas gasped against her mouth, sucked in around her lips, slid back further, shuddered as she sank deeper inside of him.

Then both of his paws were on her chest again, squeezing into soft yet firm flesh, and his muzzle sideways on hers, her tongue as deep in his throat as her shaft was under his tail. Lukas rocked each back and forth, squeezing himself down around her, working her deeper inside of him, just as he sucked and slurped and swallowed, her saliva slick and sticky in his throat, dripping from the corners of his mouth, matting down the fur of his chin; he took a breath in through nostrils hazed with her musk alongside his own, mixed with the airy, perfume scent of her mane, and the thicker, stickier cling of her saliva, and wriggled backwards against her.

It was Habu who broke their kiss first, her bright eyes fluttering shut and her jaw falling open so that she could moan out into the dense air in between them. Lukas pursed his lips around her tongue and sucked back, drawing the slickness from the source, then panted around it as well; he arched his back, lifted up until he felt her tapered tip begin to slip out of him, and then sank right back down, tailhole parting open around her and sucking snug.

Her tongue snaked back out of his mouth, dragged along the edge of his lip, pulled it down, then flopped back into hers again. Habu lifted her head; her throat pulsed with her swallow, and then she dropped her jaw open again to pant out loud while she reciprocated the otter's motions, lifting up each time he hilted down in her lap, pulling out when he hoisted up. Sharp claws dug into his haunches, then crept back around to spread him; she sat up a little bit, pressed her chest against his, rested her muzzle over his shoulder, held him tight-

-and Lukas wrapped an arm around her and once more buried his muzzle within her mane, his deep, quick breaths thick with her luxurious aroma, his senses full of her presence. He worked his body against hers, grinding and rocking in rhythm; he felt her deep, full breaths, the warmth of her breasts against his flat chest, the tight, firm pressure of sleek muscles as she lifted up into him, one hand hoisting his rudder up and out of the way, the other squeezing firm into his rump.

He gasped, groaned, gritted his teeth, swallowed, swallowed again, clenched around her… turned that pushing, pushing, pushing. The familiar, bright pressure began to well up inside of him, searing outwards like a hungry flame; Lukas threw his head back and let the moan dribble out, thick and heavy, as that spark expanded.

“God – I'm-" He swallowed again and tightened around the bat's shaft. “I'm – you're – ah-"

And then it pounded through him alongside a few more of her thrusts, his legs shaking, his tail hiking, his eyes fluttering shut, his jaw clenching. Lukas lifted up, slammed back down, lifted up again, settled in her lap – and then jerked, and again, and again, his hard cock bouncing between them, spraying each of them with his forceful peak as the bat pounded it out of him, her muzzle tight along his shoulder. As soon as Habu felt him start to clench with his finish, then, she rolled him backwards so that his shoulders once more pushed down against the mattress, and she resumed her rhythm against him, fast and hard. Lukas hoisted his legs up around her body, deliberately pushed out around her so that the slick folds and walls of his tailhole wreathed around her, turned his head to the side – and then still jerked when she finished as well, her thrusts carrying all the way through his body. Each push forward nudged him across the bed a little bit further, and he could feel her throbbing and twitching inside of him, her tongue hanging out.

For a moment the two remained entwined like that, Lukas shuddering atop her, her drool as well as his coating his throat and dripping down his chin. Still he could feel her twitching, emptying out the last of her load inside of him; she shifted, squirmed, shivered as the movement pushed another dribble out of him as well, then began to slide up off of her… and felt his tail slip free from where, somewhere along the way, it had entwined with Habu's. She gritted her teeth and grinned down at him, satisfied exhaustion glittering across her muzzle.

Habu reached up to caress the otter's muzzle in one hand. Her wing stretched out alongside them. “Everything… okay, there?"

Lukas nodded. He rested his paw over hers. “Yeah, I'm just… gonna need a moment. Gosh."

The bat chuckled. She rested back, closed her eyes, sighed softly. “I think… I could go for another drink."

“Oh, me too. God, yes. But just… let me…"

Lukas wobbled a bit as he shifted his position. Paws pressed against Habu's shoulders, and then he lowered himself down – and held her gaze when he parted his lips, flopped his much smaller, much shorter tongue out, and dragged it up across one of her breasts, where a streak of his own load still glistened. The bat rumbled and squirmed with the sensation, her eyes drifting shut; Lukas continued down, following the trail he had left in her dark fur, lapping up his own mess across her chest, her nipples, where her fur gave way to sleek snakeskin leather… then across her half-hard shaft as well, tender and careful as she slipped back into her slit. The gold ring disappeared amid succulent, lavender-pink folds of meat; Lukas closed his eyes, dug in for a moment there, slipped his tongue within those dense, wet depths, suckled gently, and then pulled back away.

He swallowed, swallowed again, and wiped at his mouth. After a moment Habu opened her eyes and looked down at him, dreamy relief quirking her mouth.

“Okay," the otter rumbled. “Now I'm ready."

His legs wobbled when he stood up, but Habu reached out and steadied him by the waist. She rose behind him and nudged him forward, yet kept a hand – and a wing – draped around him. Lukas looked up at her, grinned, chuckled softly to himself.

Unbelievable, he thought. And there's still most of the night left...