canon is a suggestion!

Christ, he was really doing this.

The thought barely had time to register before the sensation hit him like a physical blow. Hot, impossibly tight, and so fucking wet it was a miracle he didn’t lose it right then and there. He heard her sharp intake of breath, the choked-off gasp, and the savage part of him preened. Look what I did to you. Look what you let me do.

He didn't give her long to get used to it. This wasn't about sweet, slow lovemaking.

She wants him to mark her.

He pulled out of her heat, leaving her empty and aching. His hand was a vise on the back of her neck, pressing her down until her cheek was flush against the cool marble of the counter. “Up,” he grunted, using his knee to kick her feet apart. “Ass up. Now.” She scrambled to obey, her movements clumsy with need and the lingering effects of the alcohol. He guided her, a rough hand on her hip, positioning her just how he wanted her. Bent over, displayed for him. For them.

He fumbled for the cigarette he’d dropped in the sink, the paper slightly crumpled but still smoldering. He relit it with a flick of his lighter, the green flame flaring in the dim light, and put it back in his inventory immediately. He didn't put it in his own mouth this time. He held it poised, the glowing tip an inch away from her skin, the hollow of her back, just above the swell of her ass.

They both looked up, into the wide, unforgiving mirror. He saw himself: a monster, looming over her. His face was a mask of raw concentration, a muscle ticking in his jaw. And he saw her: face pressed to the counter, eyes wide and dark, watching him with a terrifying mixture of fear and utter, wanton need.

"More," she chokes out, the word a puff of smoke and agony. "Please, Carl." The sight of the puckered, reddening mark, the smell of her singed skin, and her arousal—it broke something in him. All the control, the careful restraint he’d cultivated through the floors, evaporated. He was a Primal. And this was what Primals did.

He grabbed her hips, the flesh soft and yielding under his grip. He didn't start slow. He didn't build up to it. He fucked her. Hard. Deep. Bruising thrusts that slammed her hips into the counter with a rhythmic, percussive beat. The sound of their bodies meeting was obscene, wet and loud in the tiled room. Each stroke was a statement, a claim being branded into her very soul.

God, look at her, a part of him marveled, detached and horrified even as another, darker part reveled in it. Look what you’re doing. Her face was a mess of pleasure and pain, her mouth open in a silent scream, her knuckles white where she gripped the edge of the counter. He could feel her body tightening around him, drawing him in, her muscles clenching in a way that told him she was close again.

“Fuck, you feel incredible.” He gritted, still surprised by his behavior but not making a move to change it.

He watched her face in the mirror as he brought the cigarette to her skin again, this time on the opposite shoulder blade. A fresh blossom of red. Her whole body convulsed, a tremor that ran from her shoulders all the way down to her toes, curled against the floor. The scream that tore from her throat this time was anything but silent.

“Carl!” she cried, his name a raw, ragged prayer. “Mark me. Fucking mark me.”

That was it. That was the undoing. He let go of her hip with one hand, snaking it around to find her clit. He was rough, uncoordinated, but he knew enough about what he was doing. He rubbed tight, fierce circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves, matching the brutal pace of his hips.

It was a sensory overload. The burn of the cigarette, the brutal stretch of him inside her, the sharp, perfect pressure on her clit. He saw the exact moment she broke. Her eyes flew open, wide and unseeing, her back arched into an impossible curve, and her entire body seized. A long, drawn-out moan escaped her, a sound of pure, unadulterated release. The rhythmic clenching of her cunt around his cock was all it took. He buried himself to the hilt, a guttural groan tearing from his own chest as he came, spilling himself into her in hot, violent pulses. It felt endless, a draining, all-consuming release that left him shaking and breathless.

He collapsed over her, his full weight pressing her into the counter, both of them slick with sweat and gasping for air in the aftermath. The world came back in pieces: the drip of a faucet, the distant thump of the club’s bass, the smell of smoke and sex and something uniquely, terrifyingly her.

He pushed himself up, his muscles screaming in protest. He pulled out of her gently, a sudden wave of something close to panic washing over him as he saw the mess he’d made of her. The twin marks on her back stood out, angry and red. Her thighs were slick with a mixture of their fluids. There was a bruise already forming on her hip where he’d grabbed her. Jesus Christ, what the fuck did I do?

He stumbled to the paper towel dispenser, wetting a handful under the tap. He came back to her, still slumped over the counter, and gently, hesitantly, began to wipe her clean. She flinched at his touch, a full-body shudder, but didn’t pull away. He was meticulous, his touch impossibly gentle now, a stark contrast to the violence of moments before. He cleaned her thighs, her back, careful to avoid the tender burns. When he was done, he tossed the crumpled towels into the bin and pulled his boxers back into place.

She pushed herself up slowly, wincing as she straightened. She turned to face him, her eyes glassy, her lips swollen. She didn't look angry. She didn't look afraid. She looked… wrecked. Sated. He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers trembled.

He pulled another cigarette from the pack, this one for her. He flicked the lighter, the green flame flaring between them again. He held it steady as she leaned in, her hands braced on his chest for balance. He watched her take that first drag, the way her chest rose, the subtle relaxation of her shoulders as the nicotine hit her system.

She didn't say a word. Just leaned against him, her forehead resting on his sternum, the cigarette burning down between her fingers. He wrapped an arm around her, holding her up, his other hand stroking her hair. He could feel her breathing slow, her body going lax against his. Within minutes, she was finishing the cigarette and talking again, though her voice was hoarse. "Holy shit, am I glad the dungeon doesn't allow crawlers to get pregnant," she scrubbed a hand over her face as she spoke, looking at him ruefully. "'Cause man, that woulda done it for sure." He chuckled at that, responding, "It didn't seem like you'd been too worried." Lila shook her head at that, glaring, "Also... those burns are gonna be a bitch later, so thanks for that." She patted one of them gingerly and then winced.

Butterflies were fluttering in her stomach and steadily lowered to between her legs at his next words, “I want you to come smoke with me, not here, I know a quieter place.” He rolled the small yellow bud between his large thumb and finger like he was….nervous, before looking up at her again.

“Hmm,” she started with mock contemplation, “I think I can make that happen, seeing as I have the pack but you have the lighter. It’s a deal,” she took the first flower and held it up, gesturing for him to do the same. As she did, she instructed him to eat it, make sure it coats his whole tongue, and swallow it as soon as it’s covered. He looked at her warily, but she popped it in her mouth and started chewing, wrinkling her nose at the immediate grassy flavor and the buzzing, tingling sensation coating her mouth. His face mirrored hers for a moment as he followed suit, chewing and swallowing as she told him to.

“Good boy,” she couldn’t help herself, “Now drink up!” She lifted her shot to his for a soft clink, then touched it to the table before swallowing it in one go.

She finished hers fast enough to get to watch his face as the nasty bubbling liquor was swallowed, muted by the tingling of the flower on his tongue.

He sputtered, “What the fuck was that?” It felt so strange, like he’d lost feeling in his mouth.

“That’s the point of the flower, the shots are gross so you cancel out the taste with the numbing effect of the bud,” She said matter-of-factly, but with a bright smile like she enjoyed his reaction, “They’re called Buzz Buttons.”

He smacked his mouth, feeling his tongue but not feeling with his tongue. Odd. How’d she discover this? So weird. He decided not to focus on it now; he had another shot to take before he could get his hands on what he really wanted.

———————————

He gestured for her to follow him, out of the pulsing EDM of the dance floor main area of the club, and into a hallway with plush carpeting. She followed him diligently, the hallway seeming to go on forever, but she blamed that and the growing heat in her lower body on the alcohol.

He stopped short, and she nearly smacked into his shoulder. He was holding the door open, to the…women’s room? She gave him a quizzical look, but it disappeared when he placed that heated calloused hand on her lower back to guide her in. “No one comes here, the NPCs don’t go, and no Crawlers will care.”

She still looked at him warily but moved further into the five-stall restroom. It was clean and well-kept. Oh well, she’d been in worse bathrooms doing worse things.

He leaned against the counter, only slightly less looming than he was at full height. And held out his hand, the lighter glinting in his palm. Her fuzzy brain finally cleared when she realized he was gesturing for the cigarettes. She pulled out one and handed it to him, and to her surprise, he stopped her, flicking the lighter open and striking it, the green flame hovering between them.

“You light it,” he said as she finally caught up and put it between her lips like before.

What happened next felt like slow motion.

She was standing so close to him, almost between his bulky legs, as he leaned on the counter. Her eyes tracked his movements as he leaned down, left hand coming up to cuff her throat and grip her jaw, steadying her as he brought the flame close with his right. She inhaled on the cig as the flame licked it, puffing through her nose before pulling again without moving from this position. Her eyes burned from the swirls of smoke.

But all of that flew out of her head when he said, “That’s it, that’s a good girl.”

Her jaw was still anchored by his firm grip when he pocketed the lighter and reached to pluck the cigarette from her lips, placing it in his own. Smoke was still trickling from her nose and agape mouth as she watched him inhale deeply, his eyes closing and releasing a deep moan. The sound sent electricity to every nerve in her body. She swallowed hard, the motion rolling past his hand that still collared her throat. He took another drag, looking at her like he wanted to eat her alive.

Then he ashed the cigarette, holding it away from them as he used his hand around her neck to pull her mouth to his in a searing kiss where he exhaled all the smoke from his hit into her open mouth, she coughed, choked a little, but he didn’t let up. Just shoved the smoke in further with his tongue, full, wet, open-mouthed kissing her.

Her knees felt like they were jelly. He was practically holding her up by the throat. “Fuck,” he panted, “I’ve been waiting to do that all night.” Her boldness surprised her again when she answered, “Really? Anything else you’ve been waiting to do?” His chest rumbles with a low chuckle before licking his lips, taking another drag, and releasing her face to flip her until she’s facing the counter now, hip bones pressed hard between him and the marble. She looks up at him through the mirror in shock. He’s placed the cigarette in his mouth, holding it with his teeth while his left hand spans her waist, gripping her hard as he presses into her. His right hand wastes no time snaking into her hair to wrap it around his fist and tug her head back until she’s looking at him upside down and her throat is exposed in the mirror. “Fuck me,” he grits out around the cigarette. “You’re so perfect like this, all soft and open for me.” He rolls his hips into her from behind, his cock grinding so deliciously between her legs that she pushes back against him, chasing the pressure. He shoves her waist further into the marble, moving his hand to splay on her back and tilt her forward more, her ass up and her breasts on the cold stone.

He groans and makes his way over to the cat who’s talking to a very Normal Woman who is also talking animatedly with a….Marlboro in her hand. Unlit. The pack is clutched in her other hand as she chats with Donut. Donut is saying something to him, but he’s just stuck, staring intently at the woman who has now placed the cigarette to her lips and is leaning towards him, looking up through dark lashes. After a moment, she cuts her eyes back to Donut, “She said you’d have a light?” He blinks, eyes glazed, but not because he’s chatting with someone through his interface. As a human, his vice was tobacco and nicotine, but now, as a primal, this woman is the most intoxicating thing in the club. Christ, the way she’s looking at him is almost obscene. Her eyes, her mouth, that fucking cigarette. He recovers, snarking about Donut talking too much and whipping that goblin lighter out of his inventory and letting the woman light up. She closes her eyes, leaning back and pulling the ember damn near halfway down…shit. She blows it out in his direction, and the curls of smoke almost make his knees buckle. So much for that high constitution. She flicks the filter with her thumb and holds it out to him, “You can have one, man, just ask.” She gives a toothy grin as he rolls his eyes and takes it from her, lining his own mouth up with where hers had been. Tasting cherry and tobacco. He braces one hand on the table while the other keeps the cigarette pinched with thumb and forefinger to his lips as he finishes it off, pulling on it twice, until it’s just a smoldering filter. Then, leaning his height over the small booth table, he catches her eyes again as he snuffs out the butt in the small ashtray right in front of her. He lingers; he can’t help himself. Fuck me, what the hell am I doing?

His eyes rove over her face again, cataloging her. Sharp brows, soft eyes, pronounced cheekbones, he clears his throat roughly and quickly when her pink tongue darts out of her smirk to wet her lips. The look affects him, to say the least. He’s still hovering in her personal space, trapped there but not exactly itching to move. Well, something is eager to move, and he’s reminded of it as his groin presses closely to the edge of the table, friction just right. The woman is clearly enjoying his state at the moment, and it seems that great minds do think alike, as her gaze traces down the muscled arm with the still-planted hand in front of her, to the growing bulge in his printed boxers. She feels her face grow hot when she realizes he’s half hard from just a single smoke and that she’s staring. Donut is quick to innocently disrupt the building tension like any loyal pet would right before mommy and daddy wrestle in the bed without them. “Carl, I’d like you to meet Lila,” she said, holding out a paw to point at the woman. “She’s sooo cool, Carl! We simply must sit with her tonight!” She pauses and turns her sunglasses to him, “Carl? Are you alright? You look like you do when you’ve just turned on those noisy videos of women touching each other. Just sit down already, Carl, honestly!” She said with an exasperated tail flick. The woman raised an eyebrow and snickered into her drink as Carl sat down with a heavy sigh and what Lila thought was a muffled “Goddamnit Donut”. Donut was talking quickly again, tail happily swishing as she told some long-winded tale of her and Carl’s latest adventure, but the woman’s attention was admittedly elsewhere.

Carl was watching Donut, and the genuine care and love in his expression were evident, and, frankly, were serving to make her even more attracted to the tall man. And boy was he tall, had to be at least a head taller than her, not to mention built like a fridge. The thought of him looming over her with that same intensity as before made goosebumps appear on her arms.

She downed the rest of her drink to clear her mind, but it didn’t help; the alcohol just fueled the lewd flames. She chimed in on the conversation occasionally, but opted to stay quiet for the most part, choosing to instead indulge in her thoughts about the large man pressing his calloused palm between her shoulder blades as he roughly bent her over the table and kicked her feet apart, spreading her wide for him. The next round of drinks came, and her flush was beyond noticeable, the heated skin prickling every time they made eye contact, and he held it, almost sizing her up. Maybe he was having the same thoughts about her. No, there’s no way. He’s so focused; he doesn’t let distractions in.

Carl felt the muscle in his jaw tick as he clenched his teeth. This woman, Lila, was just looking at him like she was trying to figure him out. And whenever he met her eyes, she looked pointedly away from him, but always pressed her lips together before wetting them again with that pretty pink tongue. It was like a tick, a nervous habit, something she couldn’t help and something he couldn’t stop thinking about.

That tongue.

What it would look like hanging out of her wide-open mouth with the head of his cock pressing it flat. His jaw popped painfully with that image, and he had to stealthily adjust his erection into his waistband whilst sitting at the table. He leaned back with one arm on the back of the booth, and his knees spread in an effort to relax and stave off the perverted thoughts about this stranger.

She chokes on the sip of her new drink, which she had taken as he reclined back in the booth, arm out on the back of it, and adjusted himself in the seat with a tiny thrust forward. Which of course snaps her attention to the even more prominent part of him, straining the loose fabric of the boxers. The sleeveless jacket shows off those arms, the tight protective shirt clinging to obvious muscles along his torso and chest. She exhales hard and doesn’t avert her gaze this time when he catches her. When he huffs a laugh with half his mouth curling into a lopsided smile, she wrinkles her brows in brief confusion before registering Donut’s voice talking directly to her. “Hellooo! Lila! My word, you’re worse than Carl! I was saying that I’m taking Sledgy to the Penis Parade and you need to come too! You’d adore it in there; there are all kinds of sexy men in there, and they love us.” She nodded her head at the Cretin near the booth. “I don’t know, Donut, that’s not exactly..” “Oh, darling, not your type? Well, I’m sure we can make a detour to the bitches side!”

At that, Lila barked a laugh, a hand coming up to try and stifle it but failing. “No Donut,” she said with a full smile, “That’s not what I meant, I just mean I kind of need another cigarette, and I’m not sure I want that kind of attention right now, but thank you for the offer.” She emphasized the statement with a flourish of her drawing out another cigarette and popping the rest of the pack back into her inventory. She didn’t miss the way Carl’s eyes locked on the rolled item in her fingers. “Ugh, those disgusting things, seriously, Lila, they cling to fur and make everything smell so awful!” She shook her head and licked her paw, cleaning her face as if the offending thing had already been lit. “But I understand,” she turned and wiggled her butt before hopping onto The Sledge’s shoulder, speaking to Carl before they walked off. “Play nice, please, Carl, don’t run her off.” He chuckled and put his hands up in mock surrender at the cat’s words.

A few minutes later, Lila flagged down a waitress and ordered four shots of a sparkly purple liquor, which came with four yellow flower buds in a small dish.

Carl looked apprehensively at the shots and the flowers, “I don’t do shots, especially not ones with mysterious flowers.”

She rolled her eyes at him and set two shots and two flowers in front of both of them. “You’ll do them tonight if you want another cigarette, big boy.” She almost surprised herself with her own audacity when the words came out.

Damn, maybe shots weren’t a good idea; clearly, she was already not thinking straight. But to her relief, another half grin split his face as he huffed another laugh, shaking his head at her good-naturedly.

“Fine, I’ll do it if you do it, but I want more than a cigarette.” he paused as if choosing his words carefully and looking at her with that same gaze from earlier.