Playfully Distant

Belle

A pink cow hybrid with rose flavored milk, this sweet flower is one of the bartenders of The Blue Moon. Belle is also the most popular cow at the bar ever since it opened. If you ever want some sweet milk or a romantic night just order him and he'll be there to entertain you, just make sure you get there first. But if you want to make sure you get some alone time with him you can pay a little bit more for your wildest fantasies to come true.

Enjoy a romantic evening with his signature Cherry Rose Mudslide and rest on his soft thighs.

Anya

A dairy cow with a little extra sweetness, this intimidating man is on the security team for The Blue Moon. Anya might not be very popular but he has a sweet and cute side under that rough exterior. If you ever want to experience that classic vanilla flavor or maybe try to break through his colder shell just order him and he'll do his best to please you. But if you really want to get to that warm sweet center you can pay a little bit more and make your wildest fantasies come true.

Enjoy a classic flavor with his signature White Russian and rest in his soft chest.

Ash

A mysterious mix between a bull and a cow, this aloof newcomer is another bartender at The Blue Moon. Ash is rather popular among patrons because of his cool big brother attitude that is completely undone when he's actually embarrassed. If you ever want to experience the flavor of warm brown sugar and maybe see his flustered side just order him and he'll slowly take care of you. But if you want to guarantee you see all of him you can pay a little more and make your wildest fantasies come true.

Enjoy a milky and mysterious Irish Coffee and grope his firm muscles.

Blanche

A small but elegant cow hybrid, this complete newbie is the youngest waiter at The Blue Moon. Blanche is only just starting but he's incredibly eager to prove himself as one of the best. If you ever want to experience this super cute newbie and his flavors of youth just order him and he'll be incredibly excited to do anything for you. But if you want to experience the full force of cuteness then you can pay a little bit more and make your wildest fantasies come true.

ares is a moaning mess as your teeth tug on his swollen bud. he pulls on your hair softly as he lets out a whine. "hurts~" as if him moaning that will stop you. you roll your tongue around the bud before you give another hard suck. ares's back arches and his head rolls back, you expect to feel a wet spot under you. you didn't expect the spurt of sweet liquid in your mouth. you pulled off his chest suddenly, to his breathy complaint. looking where you had just been sucking there was a creamy white liquid dribbling out of his swollen nipple. the other nipple was also leaking a little bit of the white liquid. you ran your thumb along the under side of his chest scooping it up.

"wh-wha...?" ares watched confused as you sucked the strange liquid off your thumb. milk... it was definitely milk. god that was so hot. you attacked ares's chest with a new found passion, greedily drinking up his milk.

———

emil's chest is in the middle with a decent C cup. he doesn't understand your fascination with his chest. its stimulating enough he supposes but he's not a woman. if you come up and grope him in the middle of the day he won't be angry but he does have a hard time holding his composure. the first time you did it everyone was expecting him to get angry and punish you but he blushed. he lets you do what you want so no one is willing to say anything. when you're in the bedroom though he'll graciously indulge your obsession. he'll be sitting in your lap and drag your hands onto his chest.

he pushed his robe open as he came to sit in your lap. "you wanted to touch them all day.. don't get shy now, dear." he grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, your fingers immediately going to flick his nipple. you wrapped your other arm around his waist while your head dived into his chest. you dragged your tongue around his breast trying to taste all of him before you finally took his nipple in-between your teeth. your biting always brought out his masochistic side and he would start moaning and whining while pulling on your hair. tonight he was exceptionally loud, his face contorted into one of pleasure and his lips hung open. "too-too muuch-"

you felt something sweet start to flow into your mouth to your surprise. you tried to pull away but he forced your head to stay still. when you looked up at him you could see hearts in his eyes. you had to suck him dry.

———

nephite's chest is the second smallest but he's still a pretty decent B cup. because he's an omega his chest is softer and more sensitive. he's become so sensitive after marrying you that he actively has to wear bandaids over his nipples. slide your hands into his dresses and gently massage his chest to drive him insane immediately. not in public though!! oh how he'd cry if you started groping him in public especially if he starts moaning first. when you get home he wants to scold you! why would you do that!! but you've got him against the wall and you're barely holding back from ripping his dress off. how could he stay mad at you?

he was whining and whimpering against the front door, a hand desperately tugging at your hair trying to pull you off. you're switching between flicking his over sensitive nipples and sucking them hard. "alpha- ple-please-!" so cute, there's tears in his eyes. you sink your teeth into one of the swollen buds and watch him scream in pleasure and pain. his legs go weak and you have to hold him up with an arm around his waist. he's a complete mess just from having you play with his chest, his slick coating his thighs while tears coat his cheeks. and then he lets out a gasp and a pathetic little whimper. something sweet hits your tongue and your fingers get coated in a translucent white substance.

you pull your head back to see milk steadily leaking from his swollen red nubs. he sees it too and stares down at it in shock. "im-im not pregnant... bu-but thats.. for babies..." you chuckle at him before taking his nipple in your mouth again and sucking hard. he cries out again as the new fluid pours out and you greedily drink up every drop.

———

silvan has the smallest chest, he's an A cup but it's filled out a little bit more with a healthy diet. he doesn't really see the appeal of you playing with his chest. of course if that's what you want! but he doesn't understand it. you don't even drink from him when you do suck on his nipples. what's the point?

you'll call him into your office when no one else is around and pull him into your lap. you press his back to the desk while you carefully unbutton his shirt. "master, please... i'll be so good for you." he's showing you his collar bone expecting your mouth to latch on and drain him woozy. instead you're on his pale nipples teething and sucking and flicking. he whines, oh he whines so pretty. it's not what he wanted but you're so passionate about giving both of his nipples all your attention. the abuse makes them swell and redden but your cold fingers soothe the pain. he's grinding against your lap trying to get more pleasure like the needy pet he is.

finally you sink your fangs into his chest properly and he moans. head back, eye rolling, hip rocking moans. he loves your fangs so much. it takes you a moment to notice there's another flavor with his sweet blood. curious, you pulled away from his heaving chest to see between the trails of red sliding down his skin was a translucent white liquid dribbling out of his nipple. you swiped up the liquid with your thumb and smeared it across his lips.

"you've out done yourself this time, love."

———

ajax has the biggest chest with an EE cup and it is mostly muscle. its a great pillow, a wonderful stress ball, and an incredibly sexy sight. he can do the thing where he makes the muscles dance and the jiggle is impressive. so he knows he's hot and his tits are his best feature. he'll jokingly offer to let you squeeze them but if you actually do it he'll short circuit. infinite confidence until you're actually sinking your fingers into his chest and treating him like he's a girl.

he just got out of the shower when he caught you staring at his body again. he didn't expect for you to press him into the kitchen counter with your face buried in his chest. he's surprisingly sensitive to every kiss and nip, whorish moans falling from his lips while his back arches into your touch. giving your attention to his hard nipples you graze your teeth over the bud before taking it in your mouth to suck. his knees go weak and he practically drags you onto the tile with him.hes now sitting with you between his legs and his back pressed against the cabinets.you don't even seem phased by the new position, too busy trying to suck the life out of him. "nnnothings gonna come out babe..."

Remmick’s mouth curled into a lazy, teasing smile as you climbed onto his joined legs, fingers idly trailing over the waistband of his lounge pants. The soft golden lamp behind him cast an intimate halo around his pale frame, but his grey eyes gleamed in the half-dark. He tilted his head back against the couch, chest rising slowly, like he enjoyed being looked at. He knew you were staring. He wanted it.

“Yer after starin' at me mouth again,” he purred, voice syrup-thick and smug. “You wanna see, love?”

You nodded — maybe a bit too fast — and he laughed low in his throat. The sound was sharp and sweet, like wine poured over sugar. Then, slowly, like a gift unwrapped in reverence, he opened his mouth and let you see.

Those fangs — long, curved, pearl-white against the wet pink of his tongue — made your breath hitch. They gleamed as he let his tongue glide over them, deliberately slow, like he knew just how much it affected you. The tips were so sharp, so pristine, you could almost feel the sting of them in your imagination. He smiled wide, revealing the full set in a grin not quite human.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” he asked, breath brushing against your cheek as you leaned closer. His claws flexed against the couch cushions. “Yer always lookin' at me like I’m some specimen. You like how unnatural I am, don’t ya?”

You nodded again, this time slower, more reverent. “I could watch you forever.”

Remmick let out a pleased hum, shifting just enough to allow you to hold him tighter and closer to your body with your legs.

“You wanna touch?” he whispered.

Your hand was already rising. His mouth stayed open for you. Remmick’s hands clutched the hem of your shirt like he needed something to hold onto — something to brace him against your gaze, your touch.

Your thumb brushed over his lower lip first — soft, pink, still damp from his tongue. You eased it down just slightly, watching how obediently his mouth stayed parted. His fangs caught the light again, but now you leaned in closer.

God, they were perfect.

Longer than you expected up close. Not just the upper canines — though those were the stars, twin ivory scythes — but the bottom ones, too, subtler but just as sharp. You reached up and touched the tip of one with your index finger.

He whimpered, the danger of it making your heart race. He was so sensitive there — the vampire equivalent of a gasp against a lover’s neck. His claws clutched the sofa material, tighter, desperate.

“They—eh… they’re wired into me nerve. Not just for bitin', y'know.”

You dragged the pad of your finger along the inner curve of one fang. It was smooth, cool, hard as enamel but with an organic feel — like carved bone warmed by his body. There was a faint, almost imperceptible ridge near the gum line. His lips trembled under your touch.

Then, with slow intent, you slipped your finger along the inside of his mouth, tracing the edge of the opposite fang with the same reverence you’d use to touch a blade. He whined, barely able to sit still.

“Are you okay?” you asked, taking your fingers out of his mouth so he wouldn't bite you.

He nodded, eyes wide. “No rush, darlin'. Pretend I’m yer own private monster on display.”

You still had your thumb at the corner of his mouth when you caught it — the flicker. A shimmer under the surface of his irises, like coals catching flame.

Remmick looked wrecked already — flushed, trembling under your touch, claws curled in tightly against his own ribs like he didn’t trust himself to touch you back. But then his eyes… oh, his eyes.

You leaned closer. “Look at me.”

He obeyed — breath hitching — and that’s when you saw them fully.

The blue-grey of his human disguise had fractured. Beneath it, that deep, impossible red pulsed to the surface. Not just a glow — no, these were layered, swirling like smoke and blood beneath glass. Dark scarlet slowly taking over the entire iris.

You cupped his face, thumbing under one eye so you could study it up close, and the moment you did, he shuddered.

“Your eyes,” you murmured. “They change when you get worked up.”

“I can’t help it,” he whispered, voice raw. “Not when ya touch my fangs like that—not when ya look at me like...like this.”

You laughed softly, warm and low in your throat, dragging your nails up along Remmick’s pale chest until his breath caught. You weren't sure what look he was referring to, but you were sure the adoration you felt for the way he opened up to you was reflected well in your eyes.

“Do you have anything else to show me?” you asked, sweet and teasing.

And oh, that did something to him.

Remmick’s chest rose with a shaky inhale, and then — all excited — he moved just a little below you and held out his hands for you like a dog presenting its paws.

You took them gently in your own, watching him squirm under the weight of your stare. His claws were out — long, graceful, wicked — like delicate pearls knives at the end of his slender fingers. Each one tapered to a fine point, perfectly shaped, gleaming faintly in the low light just as his teeth.

You turned one hand palm-up, stroking down the center with your thumb. His fingers twitched in your hold, then curled — just slightly — as if they wanted to hold you back but didn't want to interrupt your in-depth study.

“You have such elegant hands,” you hummed, tracing from the base of his palm to the very tip of his middle finger.

You brought one clawed finger to your mouth, eyes never leaving his, and kissed the tip.

He whined. He, actually, whined.

His hips jerked slightly under you — not demanding, just a desperate twitch like his body wanted more of whatever this was.

And then you said it.

Soft. Unshaken. True.

“You are beautiful.”

Remmick’s breath hitched. Just a little.

You kissed the next fingertip. Then the next. Then slid one of his long, clawed fingers into your mouth and sucked, slow and hot, letting your tongue glide over the smooth underside.

He looked at you, ecstatic and confused at the same time. It was hard for him to understand how you could love such a monster.

You popped the finger out slowly, dragging your lips over the knuckle, and watched his face melt into something soft and overwhelmed.

Red eyes wide. Mouth open. Claws trembling.

And beneath it all, his cock was hardening, twitching against the fabric of his pyjama pants — aching, grateful.

A delicious thrill crawled down your spine.

“Touch yourself for me, Rem.”

Remmick’s breath caught. The glow in his eyes pulsed brighter.

His hands hovered uncertainly for a second — those long, pale fingers — and he looked up at you like he was asking permission with just his eyes.

His right hand slipped down his abdomen, past the trimmed patch of hair above his cock, and hovered over it — flushed, twitching, leaking. He was aching, and he hadn’t even wrapped his hand around it yet.

“Tease yourself like I would.”

He swallowed hard and untied the laces. You gave him a little room to let him pull his pants down below the curve of his butt, freeing his hard erection.

One claw traced down the line where thigh met groin, curving in toward the base of his cock. He shivered violently, muscles drawn tight as wire.

“Aw, look at you. Following instructions like a pro.” Your hand nestled at the base of his neck, playing with the dark hair. “What, trying to impress me?”

Without wrapping around it fully, he lets his fingertips glide along the underside — from the base, where the skin is taut and sensitive, all the way up to the tender head. The touch is featherlight, almost reverent. Just as you told him.

He lingers there for a moment, brushing side to side in slow, delicate touches. His breath hitches, then deepens — quiet but building, each inhale slightly shakier than the last.

But what really makes your breath catch is his eyes.

They’re locked on you now — riveted — his mouth slightly open, panting, but utterly entranced. His own pleasure is secondary. The true thrill is in pleasing you.

Being good.

“C'mon, stroke it.”

He did.

A long, slow pull from root to head, his breath catching, fangs bared with the effort of holding still. The red in his eyes was burning now — full-blown lust, desperation, devotion.

“Faster.”

He moaned your name and obeyed.

His hips trembled beneath the rhythm you ordered, stroking fast and tight, his abnormal fingers surrounding delightfully his shaft. You watched his stomach flutter, his thighs tense.

“Look at yourself,” you said. “Look at those deadly hands. Look what they’re doing for me.”

He glanced down at his hand wrapped around his cock, claws glinting, dripping with precome. His breath caught in his throat.

“I look—” he bit his lip, blood flowed, “—I look like a fuckin' whore.”

“You look perfect.”

He let out a strangled moan.

“Don’t come yet,” you warned, seeing his rhythm stutter.

He whined. “Please—please, I want to. Please let me come for you—please, I’ve been good—”

The wrist slows its movement, the thumb rubbing against the foreskin to hold back. His claws scratched light red marks around his thighs by accident, but he didn’t stop.

Your free hand rose to cradle his face, rubbing the blood from his chin.

His glowing red eyes are glassy now, struggling to stay open, flicking between your face and your mouth.

“Ma'am...kiss me,” he begs. “Please, need yer mouth on mine when I come. Want to fall apart in yer kiss, ma'am. Please.”

And it’s not performative. There’s no seduction in the way he says it. It’s raw.

You slid closer to his lap, giving him just enough space to continue touching himself, and leaned over his red-slicked lips.

“Fuck your hand, pet.”

When you finally press your lips to his — hot, open — he breaks for you.

He quickly regained control, squeezing and pumping himself rapidly, chasing the long-awaited orgasm and when the taste of iron blooming in his mouth as his fang accidentally nicked your tongue, he lost it.

With a loud cry, his whole body tensed, cock twitching in his own fist as he spilled across your t-shirts, thick and hot and messy. His legs shook, the free claws digging into his own thigh as aftershocks racked him.

And even after, when the tremors fade and his hand drops away, he doesn’t stop kissing you — desperate, sweet, clinging.

“Thank ya, darlin',” he purred between kisses. “Thank ya. Thank ya—”

You stroke his hair, still cradling his face.