Nic Fit
grayson crawford x nadine pascal-said
valesport
NSFW
that werepoodle au
except also some kind of domestic au
aka a nesting series of increasingly bizarre scenarios as an excuse for tinny to write weird filthy porn
grayson crawford x nadine pascal-said
valesport
NSFW
that werepoodle au
except also some kind of domestic au
aka a nesting series of increasingly bizarre scenarios as an excuse for tinny to write weird filthy porn
The collar was unnecessary. Absolutely, unquestionably unnecessary. Come sunrise, she'd be able to walk right out of it. If she really wanted to, Nadine could pick the lock on the thing right then and there.
She did not, because Grayson was trying to prove a point, and now so was she.
He'd bought her clothes, but she wasn't wearing them. Instead she wore a sweater, with the top button missing and a hem that fell to the middle of her thighs. Nadine was not large at the best of times, but in this particularly sweater she looked downright tiny.
She had a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to find glasses in her prescription. Which was almost cute, except he was not buying her the one thing she actually wanted.
Cigarettes. Cigarettes cigarettes cigarettes. She wanted nicotine. She tapped her nails impatiently against the white ceramic of her mug, sipping absently at her tea. His house smelled like bleach and expensive carpet shampoos. The fluffy ears resting in her mane of black curls twitched at the sound of something being thrown aggressively away upstairs. Her mind made up, she set her mug down and made her way to Grayson's office.
"I'm not taking it off," was the first thing he said when she opened his door, followed by, "get out of here, I'm working."
"I know," she said, to both or neither. "Just thought I should tell you I'm going out."
That made him stop whatever he was doing on his laptop, spinning in his chair to look at her. She may or may not have posed a little in the doorway, showing off her legs as she stretched against the frame. "Really," he said. "Going where, exactly?"
"The store," she said with a shrug.
Grayson raised a single eyebrow, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. "The store," he repeated. "I'm not giving you money for cigarettes."
"I know," she said, adjusting her sweater and very pointedly adjusting her breasts beneath it. "I'll be fine."
Grayson, slightly blurry from her perspective, narrowed his eyes. "... are you threatening to become a hooker if I don't buy you cigarettes?"
"I'm not threatening anything," she said, crossing her ankles and clasping her hands behind her back, holding her sweater down over her tail so it couldn't give her away. "I am just stating a series of facts. From which you may extrapolate what you will."
Grayson sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I will put you in jail again."
He did not actually mean for-real jail, where he might have to explain to someone why he had a half-naked woman in a collar with a tail. And where she might be able to get cigarettes. And would probably be able to walk right out the door in the morning.
What he actually meant was a large cardboard box on which he had written the words 'gay baby jail' in permanent marker, and which she was not, in her other form, large or strong enough to escape.
"Don't you dare," she said, aquiline nose crinkling with a reflexive show of teeth. Grayson put his hand over his chin to pretend that he was being thoughtful instead of amused.
"Go watch TV or something," he said, clearly dismissing the idea that she'd be going anywhere at all.
Nadine pouted. "You like me better when I'm a dog," she accused.
"Yes," he agreed immediately. Nadine huffed, tossing her hair as best she could when the curls were so short.
"I can pretend," she said suddenly, sweetly, eyes shuttered with the heavy fringe of her lashes, "if it'll make you play nice."
"Please don't," he began, but it was too late. Nadine sank to her knees with entirely too much ease, pressed her palms to the floor and stretched herself out until she was on her hands and knees. Hips high and shoulders low, she looked up at him, sweater ridden high enough that her tail had escaped.
"Better?" she asked.
Slate grey eyes tried and failed not to trace the shape of her. "Not remotely," he said after a moment's hesitation, but the lie caught in his throat.
Nadine resisted the temptation to grin, but her tail gave her away, anyway.
"What about this?" she suggested, rolling onto her back so curls cascaded near his feet, back arched and slender legs in the air like a pinup. "Is this good?" Green eyes were wide as he tried to avoid meeting them.
"Please get off the floor," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses.
Nadine rolled onto her knees, but this time launched herself forward, practically pouncing to position herself between his knees before he could figure out what she was up to and stop her. "But you don't let me sit in your lap anymore," she protested, pressing her breasts against him and her fingers into his thighs. She cocked her head to the side, one ear up and the other down, and fluttered her eyelashes.
Grayson groaned, gritting his teeth, putting his hands on her shoulders to push her away but then leaving them there instead. In an instant she'd undone another button on her sweater, let it fall from her shoulders to rest at her elbows and leave her breasts exposed. His hands slid lower, and she pressed against his palms with a pleased sigh.
"I'm tying you up next time," he said, but the threat didn't have much bite.
"Promise?" she asked, fingers finding their way to the fly of his jeans. He did not so much groan as growl, but as her tongue found his shaft the sound died. He released her to fall back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, watching the eager way she licked at his cock. Her lips wrapped around him, and her head bobbed in his lap, the tip of his cock pressing against the back of her throat each time.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, twining through curls. When they curled against her scalp, some brushed against an incongruous ear, and Nadine made a small sound of surprise muffled by his skin.
That was interesting.
He waited a moment for her to resume her ministrations, her expert tongue and the slick friction of her lips. Then he rubbed his fingertips very deliberately at the base of her ear. Her perfectly practiced blowjob came to a halt, a high-pitched gasp against his cock replacing it. Immediately he began using both hands to massage her ears between his fingers, soft and silky and apparently very sensitive. Despite a valiant attempt to resume what she'd been doing, she was soon not so much sucking as panting, tiny whines muffled and utterly unlike her usual husky confidence.
Holding her still as his fingers rubbed circles in her skin, he slid his cock from her mouth to hear what she sounded like without it. Wanting little moans, almost needy, leaning herself into his touch. He rubbed the head of his cock over her open mouth, smearing precum over her lips, watched the almost-absent way she licked at it.
Experimentation gave way to desire, complete control for as long as it took her to wrest it back. He thrust into her mouth, into helpless and breathless cries, against her throat until he triggered a long-dormant gag reflex. She winced, and he realized he'd started holding her ears too hard. He took her by the hair, instead, and though he kept thrusting she relaxed. She looked up at him, and as green eyes met grey he came, cock twitching on her tongue.
When he let her go she leaned back off of her knees, sitting on the floor at his feet. She swallowed and she licked her lips, running fingers over her chin to make sure she didn't look a mess. She reminded him more of a cat than a dog, pretending to be nonchalant as she adjusted her hair and gently rubbed the ears he'd so recently abused.
She'd made no move to cover her breasts, and Grayson leaned forward to trace circles around tight nipples. "You're cute when you can't talk," he said, and while most people would have been referring to her mouth being full, he preferred that moment of incoherence.
Nadine rolled her eyes, but Grayson hooked a finger in the collar around her neck, using it to pull her forward and upright. Closer and higher, until he'd draped her over him, used his hands on her thighs to position her straddling him. "I would have been better off hitchhiking to a smoke shop," she said, "and leaving you out of it entirely."
Instead of replying, he bent his head to press his lips to her breast, holding her nipple between his teeth and sucking. She braced her hands against his shoulders, and he put his hands on her waist. He took his time before switching to the other, suckling at her until she was squirming in his lap. Sensitive almost to the point of being sore, he tested it by cupping her breasts and running the pads of his thumbs over her nipples. Her face gave away nothing, but her ear twitched, and he tried not to grin.
Holding her collar again, he slid his other hand beneath her sweater, between her legs to find her unsurprisingly soaked. He was hard again, and he pulled her closer; she pressed herself down, and in an instant he was buried in her, her hips rocking.
"That didn't take long," she purred, pleased.
"I wasn't done," he said, and he pulled her face closer to his by the collar so he could kiss her. She still tasted like him, a mouth he'd taken even though she tried to give it, her body a tight sheath on his cock though her thighs were splayed wide over his.
He released the leather around her neck so that he could hold her by the hips, pulling her down as he thrust upward. Breasts and curls bounced, and she expressed her pleasure in a low hum. They rocked against each other, settling into a rhythm; her mouth couldn't seem to stay away from his, her fingers tracing the shape of his jaw and and the curve of his ear, digging into his shoulders only to return.
Turning the chair, and both of them with it, he used one hand to carefully slide the contents of his desk to one side. His minimalist tendencies helped, since there wasn't a great deal to get out of the way. He pulled out of her, and Nadine pouted.
"Done already?" she asked, feigning innocence.
"It'd serve you right if I was," he said, setting her on the emptied space of his desk. "Turn over," he ordered, and Nadine raised an eyebrow.
"The legs of this desk aren't as tall as yours," she pointed out, prodding him in the knee with her toe.
"So keep your knees on the desk," he suggested. Nadine rolled her eyes, but did so, spreading her legs as Grayson adjusted the height of her hips. There weren't a lot of comfortable positions at her disposal, all told, so she rested her head on her forearms while she waited for him to get situated. Her sweater had bunched up near her shoulderblades, the heavy knit sleeves pulled up over her hands as she gripped the edge of his desk.
"That seems a bit too low," she observed, trying to look up over her shoulder at him.
He slid his cock between her legs, then brought it higher, pressed the now-slick tip against her ass. "Does it?"
"Oh! Hm." She hadn't thought him the type, but she made that mistake about a lot of people. "I suppose," she said, and his hands gripped her hips as he slowly pushed inside of her. Her breath caught when the head entered her, and a gentle rocking accompanied his pushing deeper.
Experimenting again, he ran his hand along her spine, then rubbed his fingertips at the spot where what should have been her tailbone turned instead into a tail. Immediately her back arched, and with the same tiny cry from before she pushed against him. She had none of his concern about hurting her, though that may have been his fault. Buried inside her now, he slid his hand along her back, giving her a second to catch her breath.
"Does that actually feel good?" he asked, because while it seemed like it did, he couldn't actually tell.
"Yes," she said immediately. "Fuck me, that is – that is so fucking unfair." She rubbed a hand over her hair and her ears with a low whine. "It doesn't work when I do it! God damn it."
He rubbed his fingertips at the base of her spine again, and immediately her complaining stopped.
That was going to be extremely useful.
With a hand at her spine to rub his thumb against her tail, his other hand grabbed her by the hair, barely touching her ears. As he started to thrust, her pleased panting rose and fell in pitch. Because he only had two hands, he decided to keep the one in her hair where it was, holding her down while his other arm wrapped around her. Two fingers slid inside her, slick and hot, thumb pressing against her clit while his cock continued pumping in her ass.
She was a squirming, whimpering mess beneath him, unable to decide which particular stimulation she most wanted to intensify. He pulled her hair to turn her face so he could see it better, ramming hard into her as he did it. She crested, tightening around his cock and his fingers, a ragged scream of satisfaction; he kept going, even as she went all limp, until he'd cum inside her a second time.
It took him a minute to get his bearings, leaving her on his desk as he sat back down. He found a tissue to wipe off his hands, tried and failed to fix his glasses and his hair. He was almost definitely going to need to shower, now. "Now will you get out of my office?" he grumbled.
Nadine slid off his desk to collapse onto his floor, not at all concerned with the mess he'd made of her. "Are you going to buy me cigarettes?" she asked back, making a half-assed attempt to get her sweater over her chest before giving up on the whole endeavor. Sitting flushed and rumpled at his feet, a sheen of sweat on her skin and his collar around her neck, she almost looked cute. On a whim, he grabbed his camera from the far side of his desk; she didn't object when he took a picture of her, remaining still and letting him pretend it was candid.
He had no idea what he'd do with it, but hell. Might as well.
"No," he said flatly, setting his camera back down, and she kicked at one of his ankles. "And I'm buying you a leash."
She did not, because Grayson was trying to prove a point, and now so was she.
He'd bought her clothes, but she wasn't wearing them. Instead she wore a sweater, with the top button missing and a hem that fell to the middle of her thighs. Nadine was not large at the best of times, but in this particularly sweater she looked downright tiny.
She had a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to find glasses in her prescription. Which was almost cute, except he was not buying her the one thing she actually wanted.
Cigarettes. Cigarettes cigarettes cigarettes. She wanted nicotine. She tapped her nails impatiently against the white ceramic of her mug, sipping absently at her tea. His house smelled like bleach and expensive carpet shampoos. The fluffy ears resting in her mane of black curls twitched at the sound of something being thrown aggressively away upstairs. Her mind made up, she set her mug down and made her way to Grayson's office.
"I'm not taking it off," was the first thing he said when she opened his door, followed by, "get out of here, I'm working."
"I know," she said, to both or neither. "Just thought I should tell you I'm going out."
That made him stop whatever he was doing on his laptop, spinning in his chair to look at her. She may or may not have posed a little in the doorway, showing off her legs as she stretched against the frame. "Really," he said. "Going where, exactly?"
"The store," she said with a shrug.
Grayson raised a single eyebrow, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. "The store," he repeated. "I'm not giving you money for cigarettes."
"I know," she said, adjusting her sweater and very pointedly adjusting her breasts beneath it. "I'll be fine."
Grayson, slightly blurry from her perspective, narrowed his eyes. "... are you threatening to become a hooker if I don't buy you cigarettes?"
"I'm not threatening anything," she said, crossing her ankles and clasping her hands behind her back, holding her sweater down over her tail so it couldn't give her away. "I am just stating a series of facts. From which you may extrapolate what you will."
Grayson sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I will put you in jail again."
He did not actually mean for-real jail, where he might have to explain to someone why he had a half-naked woman in a collar with a tail. And where she might be able to get cigarettes. And would probably be able to walk right out the door in the morning.
What he actually meant was a large cardboard box on which he had written the words 'gay baby jail' in permanent marker, and which she was not, in her other form, large or strong enough to escape.
"Don't you dare," she said, aquiline nose crinkling with a reflexive show of teeth. Grayson put his hand over his chin to pretend that he was being thoughtful instead of amused.
"Go watch TV or something," he said, clearly dismissing the idea that she'd be going anywhere at all.
Nadine pouted. "You like me better when I'm a dog," she accused.
"Yes," he agreed immediately. Nadine huffed, tossing her hair as best she could when the curls were so short.
"I can pretend," she said suddenly, sweetly, eyes shuttered with the heavy fringe of her lashes, "if it'll make you play nice."
"Please don't," he began, but it was too late. Nadine sank to her knees with entirely too much ease, pressed her palms to the floor and stretched herself out until she was on her hands and knees. Hips high and shoulders low, she looked up at him, sweater ridden high enough that her tail had escaped.
"Better?" she asked.
Slate grey eyes tried and failed not to trace the shape of her. "Not remotely," he said after a moment's hesitation, but the lie caught in his throat.
Nadine resisted the temptation to grin, but her tail gave her away, anyway.
"What about this?" she suggested, rolling onto her back so curls cascaded near his feet, back arched and slender legs in the air like a pinup. "Is this good?" Green eyes were wide as he tried to avoid meeting them.
"Please get off the floor," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses.
Nadine rolled onto her knees, but this time launched herself forward, practically pouncing to position herself between his knees before he could figure out what she was up to and stop her. "But you don't let me sit in your lap anymore," she protested, pressing her breasts against him and her fingers into his thighs. She cocked her head to the side, one ear up and the other down, and fluttered her eyelashes.
Grayson groaned, gritting his teeth, putting his hands on her shoulders to push her away but then leaving them there instead. In an instant she'd undone another button on her sweater, let it fall from her shoulders to rest at her elbows and leave her breasts exposed. His hands slid lower, and she pressed against his palms with a pleased sigh.
"I'm tying you up next time," he said, but the threat didn't have much bite.
"Promise?" she asked, fingers finding their way to the fly of his jeans. He did not so much groan as growl, but as her tongue found his shaft the sound died. He released her to fall back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, watching the eager way she licked at his cock. Her lips wrapped around him, and her head bobbed in his lap, the tip of his cock pressing against the back of her throat each time.
He tangled his fingers in her hair, twining through curls. When they curled against her scalp, some brushed against an incongruous ear, and Nadine made a small sound of surprise muffled by his skin.
That was interesting.
He waited a moment for her to resume her ministrations, her expert tongue and the slick friction of her lips. Then he rubbed his fingertips very deliberately at the base of her ear. Her perfectly practiced blowjob came to a halt, a high-pitched gasp against his cock replacing it. Immediately he began using both hands to massage her ears between his fingers, soft and silky and apparently very sensitive. Despite a valiant attempt to resume what she'd been doing, she was soon not so much sucking as panting, tiny whines muffled and utterly unlike her usual husky confidence.
Holding her still as his fingers rubbed circles in her skin, he slid his cock from her mouth to hear what she sounded like without it. Wanting little moans, almost needy, leaning herself into his touch. He rubbed the head of his cock over her open mouth, smearing precum over her lips, watched the almost-absent way she licked at it.
Experimentation gave way to desire, complete control for as long as it took her to wrest it back. He thrust into her mouth, into helpless and breathless cries, against her throat until he triggered a long-dormant gag reflex. She winced, and he realized he'd started holding her ears too hard. He took her by the hair, instead, and though he kept thrusting she relaxed. She looked up at him, and as green eyes met grey he came, cock twitching on her tongue.
When he let her go she leaned back off of her knees, sitting on the floor at his feet. She swallowed and she licked her lips, running fingers over her chin to make sure she didn't look a mess. She reminded him more of a cat than a dog, pretending to be nonchalant as she adjusted her hair and gently rubbed the ears he'd so recently abused.
She'd made no move to cover her breasts, and Grayson leaned forward to trace circles around tight nipples. "You're cute when you can't talk," he said, and while most people would have been referring to her mouth being full, he preferred that moment of incoherence.
Nadine rolled her eyes, but Grayson hooked a finger in the collar around her neck, using it to pull her forward and upright. Closer and higher, until he'd draped her over him, used his hands on her thighs to position her straddling him. "I would have been better off hitchhiking to a smoke shop," she said, "and leaving you out of it entirely."
Instead of replying, he bent his head to press his lips to her breast, holding her nipple between his teeth and sucking. She braced her hands against his shoulders, and he put his hands on her waist. He took his time before switching to the other, suckling at her until she was squirming in his lap. Sensitive almost to the point of being sore, he tested it by cupping her breasts and running the pads of his thumbs over her nipples. Her face gave away nothing, but her ear twitched, and he tried not to grin.
Holding her collar again, he slid his other hand beneath her sweater, between her legs to find her unsurprisingly soaked. He was hard again, and he pulled her closer; she pressed herself down, and in an instant he was buried in her, her hips rocking.
"That didn't take long," she purred, pleased.
"I wasn't done," he said, and he pulled her face closer to his by the collar so he could kiss her. She still tasted like him, a mouth he'd taken even though she tried to give it, her body a tight sheath on his cock though her thighs were splayed wide over his.
He released the leather around her neck so that he could hold her by the hips, pulling her down as he thrust upward. Breasts and curls bounced, and she expressed her pleasure in a low hum. They rocked against each other, settling into a rhythm; her mouth couldn't seem to stay away from his, her fingers tracing the shape of his jaw and and the curve of his ear, digging into his shoulders only to return.
Turning the chair, and both of them with it, he used one hand to carefully slide the contents of his desk to one side. His minimalist tendencies helped, since there wasn't a great deal to get out of the way. He pulled out of her, and Nadine pouted.
"Done already?" she asked, feigning innocence.
"It'd serve you right if I was," he said, setting her on the emptied space of his desk. "Turn over," he ordered, and Nadine raised an eyebrow.
"The legs of this desk aren't as tall as yours," she pointed out, prodding him in the knee with her toe.
"So keep your knees on the desk," he suggested. Nadine rolled her eyes, but did so, spreading her legs as Grayson adjusted the height of her hips. There weren't a lot of comfortable positions at her disposal, all told, so she rested her head on her forearms while she waited for him to get situated. Her sweater had bunched up near her shoulderblades, the heavy knit sleeves pulled up over her hands as she gripped the edge of his desk.
"That seems a bit too low," she observed, trying to look up over her shoulder at him.
He slid his cock between her legs, then brought it higher, pressed the now-slick tip against her ass. "Does it?"
"Oh! Hm." She hadn't thought him the type, but she made that mistake about a lot of people. "I suppose," she said, and his hands gripped her hips as he slowly pushed inside of her. Her breath caught when the head entered her, and a gentle rocking accompanied his pushing deeper.
Experimenting again, he ran his hand along her spine, then rubbed his fingertips at the spot where what should have been her tailbone turned instead into a tail. Immediately her back arched, and with the same tiny cry from before she pushed against him. She had none of his concern about hurting her, though that may have been his fault. Buried inside her now, he slid his hand along her back, giving her a second to catch her breath.
"Does that actually feel good?" he asked, because while it seemed like it did, he couldn't actually tell.
"Yes," she said immediately. "Fuck me, that is – that is so fucking unfair." She rubbed a hand over her hair and her ears with a low whine. "It doesn't work when I do it! God damn it."
He rubbed his fingertips at the base of her spine again, and immediately her complaining stopped.
That was going to be extremely useful.
With a hand at her spine to rub his thumb against her tail, his other hand grabbed her by the hair, barely touching her ears. As he started to thrust, her pleased panting rose and fell in pitch. Because he only had two hands, he decided to keep the one in her hair where it was, holding her down while his other arm wrapped around her. Two fingers slid inside her, slick and hot, thumb pressing against her clit while his cock continued pumping in her ass.
She was a squirming, whimpering mess beneath him, unable to decide which particular stimulation she most wanted to intensify. He pulled her hair to turn her face so he could see it better, ramming hard into her as he did it. She crested, tightening around his cock and his fingers, a ragged scream of satisfaction; he kept going, even as she went all limp, until he'd cum inside her a second time.
It took him a minute to get his bearings, leaving her on his desk as he sat back down. He found a tissue to wipe off his hands, tried and failed to fix his glasses and his hair. He was almost definitely going to need to shower, now. "Now will you get out of my office?" he grumbled.
Nadine slid off his desk to collapse onto his floor, not at all concerned with the mess he'd made of her. "Are you going to buy me cigarettes?" she asked back, making a half-assed attempt to get her sweater over her chest before giving up on the whole endeavor. Sitting flushed and rumpled at his feet, a sheen of sweat on her skin and his collar around her neck, she almost looked cute. On a whim, he grabbed his camera from the far side of his desk; she didn't object when he took a picture of her, remaining still and letting him pretend it was candid.
He had no idea what he'd do with it, but hell. Might as well.
"No," he said flatly, setting his camera back down, and she kicked at one of his ankles. "And I'm buying you a leash."
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