“Bunny,” he whispered, pressing his face into the soft bundle of fabric. “Fuck, you smell good.”

Shamelessly, he huffed against the underwear in his palm, the slick sound of his hand working his shaft filling the space around him. He felt one of his hare ears twitch, his eyes falling shut when he envisioned you fondling his dick instead. He burrowed his nose into the cloth of your panties, moaning as your damp, earthen scent washed over him.

Knowing that the expedition might end up spanning months, or possibly even years, Lohen had made one request of you: when he packed his clothes, he wanted a few of yours as well. But he didn’t want them freshly laundered. He wanted the ones you wore on those nights where he made you so wet, they were practically ruined. He wanted them potent, so strong with the smell of you, that he could at least get a few days out of them. Even if the smell faded and the allure of your scent was lost with it, the sight and feel of them alone would provide him with a sense of comfort.

Still, he appreciated the fact that he could smell you so vividly now.

“Nn,” he grunted, stroking himself faster. “Wish I was fucking…you, Bun…”

You were the tightest, wettest thing he had ever stuck his dick in. Sure, the only other thing had been his trusty right hand, but that still counted for something.

“Where’s the Vice Captain?” someone asked. “Is he planting traps around base again?”

“I hope not…maybe he’s patrolling the perimeter.”

His brows furrowed, his hare tail thumping against the floor of his tent. Of course, he couldn’t expect to have much privacy in a camp full of knights, but he still despised that those men’s voices cut over the memory of your skin. Forcing himself to ignore them, he instead focused on the texture of your panties against his face, envisioning you and the adorable little moans you made whenever he stuck his tongue in you. The way you quivered, the way the warm fat of your thighs pressed into his ears, the way you grabbed his hair in that pretty fist of yours and cried—he missed it all, terribly.

“Fuck,” he sighed into the damp linen. “I want her to cum in my mouth. Smear her fuckin’ pussy all over me.”

That was too pretty of a picture. Too vivid of a memory. As Lohen’s fist continued to work himself, dizzingly fast, he groaned aloud. He wanted to be stained with the smell of you, intoxicated with the taste of you. He’d pull away right when you were close, and make you stomp your foot into the bed until you cried for him like he was the only Archon you believed in.

“You’re so pretty, Bun,” he whimpered. “You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

You’re tight and wet and soft and beautiful.

“Nn,” he groaned, his eyes rolling backwards. “I’m gonna cum for you, Bun.”

Knowing you, you’d be on your hands and knees, waiting with your mouth open, those soft bunny ears of yours framing your angelic face.

Lohen hissed into the thick air, laden with musk. Digging his teeth into the crotch of your panties, he sharply thrust his hips into his palm, muffling his growls as his tip spewed hot, sticky cum in pulsating, intermittent bursts. He could picture you so clearly, catching as much of it as you could on your tongue like a good girl, scooping it off your cheeks with your fingers, making sure you swallowed all of it. And at the end of it all, you’d smile and say, I love you, Lohen.

Fuck, did he miss you.

With a ragged pant, he released his teeth from your moist undergarment. He lowered it to his dick, wrapping it around himself as he cleansed away the evidence of his actions. Your smell merged with his, and with a happy flop onto his belly, he stuck his face right into those soiled panties again. It was comforting, to smell his own cum mixed into yours. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine that meant you had cum too.

He hoped you were taking care of yourself. You were always shy about toys, but he saw no better way for you to satisfy yourself in his absence. Where he was afflicted with an insatiable desire to breed, you were no different. It wouldn’t do much for you to get off without penetration when you were in heat, so he had gotten you something long and hard, seeped in his scent. When he envisioned you holding that silicone dick to your dripping hole, rubbing it up and down your folds like he did when he teased you, whimpering his name—it could almost get him hard again.

He rolled onto his back, panties clutched to his chest. His tail twitched under him, like it wanted to thump. Brows furrowed, Lohen frowned.

Suddenly, the picture of you fucking yourself without him wasn’t so hot anymore. It was starting to irritate him more than anything.

He sighed, pressing his palm to his eyes.

“...I’m jealous of a fuckin’ dildo.”

Well. Some next couple of years this would be.