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    Deep in the bowels of the Tralusian base was a semi-forgotten indoor pool that doubled as a hothouse for rare, exotic plants. Plush poolside beds were hidden in overgrown plant life that was beginning to take over. The lights from artificial sun lamps reflected off of the wings of realistic robotic butterflies which served to pollinate the flowers whose fragrance filled the humid space. Ivy crawled across the walls, hiding the intricate tile. A few flowering vines managed to grow into the pool, their flowers floating on the surface of the water.

    The gigantic, thick leaves of elephant ear plants dripped with condensation, making the floor very slippery. Among the snake and spider plants an octopus lay in wait, tightly gripping the handle of his hunting knife. Sheptilah walked in wearing only a bathrobe which she promptly dropped. She stretched until her back popped, letting out a deep but involuntary moan of pleasure that rivaled any experienced porn star.

Mimic nearly dropped the knife from surprise, being completely caught off guard by the nudity which seemed enhanced and made all the more obvious by her white hair against her brown skin. He (respectfully) watched her dive into the heated water; lithe body seemingly dissolving under the ripples. He waited for a while for her to surface.

Nothing- not even a few bubbles disturbed the mirror-like water.

Did she drown? Mimic asked himself. He hesitated to move. I’m going to be fucking pissed if she killed herself by accident.

As if on cue she surfaced, taking in a big greedy gulp of air. She laughed joyfully to herself, shaking her wet hair from her face. He noticed she had shapeshifted herself gills on her neck and therefore was able to breathe underwater. 

This made things... interesting for him. 

    A swallowtail butterfly aimed to land on a floating flower but missed, instead it fell in the water and became stuck. Its wings slapped the water, unable to completely free its extremely delicate wings from the surface tension. Sheptilah heard the noise and turned to the direction Mimic happened to be, but he was blended so well she would have never seen him. She swam to the poor thing and picked it up, cooing at it. Her face soured when she realized she was handling a robot and not a real butterfly. It tried to fly from her hands but flopped back into the water.

    She pulled herself from the water and leaned over the edge of the pool to grab the robot again. 

Now’s my chance! Mimic pounced. He gripped her arms with his tentacles and pulled her toward him and away from the pool, tightly wrapping her wrists together behind her back. With his other tendrils he gripped her mouth and neck while he held the knife to her throat, stabilizing her with a hand on her shoulder. He was careful to not touch her breasts or lean against her back so she would not misunderstand the situation: he was here to kill her and nothing else. 

Mimic tilted her head so he would have a clear shot at her jugular, fully intending to let her bleed out before she could fight back. 

But Sheptilah didn’t so much as struggle. She moaned into his tentacle, arching her back and balling her fists. Squeaking with embarrassment she looked at the leaf-patterned camouflaged octopus’ hand on her shoulder.

“Donald?” She tried to turn her head but he wouldn’t let her. 

    “Why are you so calm?” Mimic said coldly. He tilted the knife upwards so it barely grazed her chin, the metal reflecting glints of light.

She lightly nipped his tendril, making it reflexively flinch and pop off of her mouth. “What kind of game are you playing?” She panted softly, squeezing her thighs together. “If you wanted to sleep with me you only had to ask. I don’t really like surprises. I could’ve killed you.”

He was taken aback by her reaction but he did not lower the knife. “Is that what you think this is? I would never-

“Why else would you wrap your parts all around me while I’m naked?”

    “I am holding a blade to your throat.” He seethed at the accusation.

“Yes?”

“I’m trying to kill you.”

    “But why?” She frowned. 

“Is this some kind of trick?” He tightened his grip on her arms out of anger which only drew another lustful moan from her. “Is this arousing you?” Mimic couldn’t help but laugh. “This has never happened to me before.”

“Arousing a woman?”

He gripped her tighter out of spite. “No; having someone aroused by an assassination attempt.”

“Ow… ow! That’s too tight!”

“That’s the idea.”

“I’ve had knives brandished at me before, so it’s not my first time in a similar situation.” She huffed, face flush. “I guess it doesn’t matter why you want to kill me.”

“Oh?”

“Just… grant me one last request?”

    He leaned in, flipping the knife around in his hand. “And what’s that?”

“Can I see your true form?”

He smirked, but his heart fluttered. “You wouldn’t like it.” A tendril caressed her cheek. 

“You’re a shapeshifter like I am- and this is my true form. It’s only fair I see yours before you end my life.”

“Fair enough,” he decided to humor her. He revealed his base form: a mottled purple and gray octopus with black sclera and white eyes framed by an off-white beak.

He allowed her to tilt her head back to see his face. 

    “You have eyes like Ivo… but white instead of red. Huh.” She spoke in a dreamy way. “It’s exotic and menacing. I like it.”

“Why aren’t you struggling? Trying to get away or shapeshifting?” He sneered. 

“Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I like being tied up in your tendrils.” 

    He blinked, cheeks slowly turning pink before flashing back to beige when he caught himself. Maybe I’m in over my head with this one…

“You’re cute,” she said, “and I’m not just saying that because purple is my favorite color.”

“Uh…”

“We’re around the same age, right?”

“You are a great deal older than me.”

Before I was frozen for all those millennia, Donald.”

    “I’m thirty-one.” 

She snickered. “I’m thirty-three!” Her expression softened and she closed her eyes contentedly. “We’re so similar. Both left-handed, both shapeshifters with purple body parts, we’ve both killed people and we’re both similar ages.”

“What are the odds.” He lightly pressed the knife to her jugular, primed to slice it wide open. 

    “But…”

“But?”

“I’ve never made love to someone like you. Be my first?” She paused. “And, I guess, my last?”

    His heart rate spiked and his colors briefly flashed brighter.

Unprecedented. 

He has, of course, been around the block before and loved a challenge but never like this. Humans are always a little bit more difficult than Mobians due to the size difference that often came between them, but oh, how he loved to fuck humans. There always seemed to be more to love and their sexual quirks were less obvious than Mobians whose erogenous zones were usually very easy to find based on their shapes and colors.

Humans didn’t have tails to stroke or spikes to caress, long tongues to pull or paw pads to squeeze. No, humans were a puzzle you had to figure out each and every time.

But not once in all of his escapades has he ever been propositioned by a target in the middle of an attack. And so he found himself in a moral dilemma: is it really consensual if their life is being threatened, even if they offer first? Is she using sex as a bargain to buy time and not giving it freely?

The idea of hurting someone in that way made his stomach turn. Some lines you just don’t cross, regardless of how depraved you are. I mean, who fucking does that? And furthermore, who would enjoy that? Disgusting.

“Don?” 

Evidently he was lost in thought long enough to alarm his victim. She was now kneeling but still facing away from him.

“Are you not into women?” 

“It’s not that.” He lowered the knife. “I’m interested, but how do I know you are giving your consent freely? Aren’t you happily married?”

    She thought for a moment before shapeshifting herself to a rubbery consistency so she could turn around and face him while never leaving his grasp. “Perhaps that will prove that I could’ve left at any time?”

“And your husband?”

“We’re in a very happy, very consensual open relationship. We’re also polyamorous. We go ‘out of bounds’ all the time but at the end of the day we come home to each other; does that make sense?”

Her sincerity was enough to satisfy him. She really did want this. “Fine. I will grant you one last thrill…”

    “Don’t let go of me.” She smiled before lowering herself to his groin. “May I suck your cock?”

His face became serious. “If you try to bite me I will snap your neck.” He yanked her hair back a bit to illustrate his point.

“You have all the power here. I don’t want to hurt you, Donald.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, studying her expression. 

She tilted her head curiously in return, trying to make heads or tails of the look he was giving her.

He relaxed after a moment. “Mimic.”

“Hm?”

“My name is Mimic.”

    “Alright; I don’t want to hurt you, Mimic.” 

Her Midestan accent could’ve made him melt with the way she said his name. He released the tendrils that formed his cloak, revealing his semi-erect dick. She bobbed for it, catching it and slowly rolling her tongue over the head. She felt it harden in her mouth.

Mimic moved to a more comfortable seated position so she could better access his member. With his free hand he stroked her hair, keeping it out of her face. 

“Yeah, just like that.” He groaned softly. 

She was careful to not graze him with her teeth, greedily sucking him off base to tip and paying special attention to the frenulum. The lack of a gag reflex suited her well for the job. She split her tongue in two, letting each half stroke up and down in its own rhythm. She’d occasionally lean her cheek into his hand. 

    “Slow down.” He commanded. “It’s not a race.”

She did as he demanded, slowing down considerably.

“Good girl.” 

She focused her attention on his head by rolling her tongue gently under the hood of his foreskin. Mimic sharply inhaled from the rush of pleasure. Each lap with her tongue was sending him closer and closer to the edge.

He handed off the knife to one of his free tentacles and, with both hands, pulled her off of his member. 

    “I don’t want to come just yet.” He smirked and turned her around so she was laying against him. He took hold of her breasts and massaged them, a tentacle slithering between her legs. 

“Fun fact about cephalopods like myself,” Mimic pinched her nipples with his fingers, “we can taste with our suckers.”

She gasped when he ‘palmed’ her mound with the appendage, moving side to side with an almost painful and teasing slowness. 

“And you’re whetting my appetite.” The tendril flicked across her clit, the tip slipping inside her pussy.

    Sheptilah bit her lip. 

“Don’t be shy.” He whispered into her ear. “Tell me what you like.”

“I like this,” she admitted, “the suckers are a new sensation for me.”

Mimic, now emboldened by her candor, threw the knife to the other end of the room. He moved her arms so they were now around his waist and clasped behind him while all of his unoccupied tentacles explored her body.

She whimpered with pleasure as he spread her labia and gently stroked her clit with a finger. He began slowly at first, barely touching it.

The woman tried to maintain steady breaths to keep from getting too loud. He spread her wetness with his fingertips, mouth watering with the bittersweet flavor of her body. 

    “That feels so good…” 

“I can tell; you’re soaked.” He positioned a sucker on his finger directly over her clit and pressed down to form a seal. He then slowly moved his finger up and down to build tension. 

“Oh God. Oh God, oh God.” She cried. “That feels so good.” She writhed under his skilled touch. “Please don’t stop.”

    “That reminds me,” he leaned forward and rested his chin on her forehead, “we need a safe word.”

“Why?” She whined between motions. “Isn’t ‘no’ enough?”

“I am cautious. ‘No, don’t stop’ can sound like ‘no, don’t, stop’.” He ran his free hand up and down her torso. 

“Fair enough.” 

    “Verbal safeword is ‘FOXDIE’. Nonverbal safeword is raising your fist. Understand?”

“Yes, but why do we need a safeword?”

“Consent is mandatory.” He let her arms go and took his finger off of her clit, something she protested with a pout. “Besides, we’re both shapeshifters. It’s always a good idea to have a code in case things get weird.”

She sighed gently, turning to him. “Want to move to the water?” She rubbed the sucker marks on her arms which were rapidly healing away.

    The octopus moved her so she’d be on her back, then crawled overhead, pecking her stomach with his beak on the way down. “No, it ruins your natural wetness. Also the chlorine burns my membranes.” He turned so he was now face down in her pussy, taking care to not let his beak pierce her flesh.

He licked around the clit with barely any pressure applied to it. He felt the tension build in her as she twitched in response to his touches. She arched her back when he slid two fingers into her pussy and felt around for that magic little spot that was, unfortunately, different for every person. Sliding his fingers in and out he experimented with how far apart they were spread and how hard to press. 

“Tell me where,” he said, “and how hard.”

“I can shift the whole thing to be one big erogenous zone, if you’re getting tired.” Sheptilah sat up.

He forced her to lay back by scooting forward and pushing her down with his free hand on her chest. “I didn’t say I was tired or that you could get up; I asked you where and how hard.” He curled his hand around her throat but did not squeeze. “So I ask again, where and how hard?”

She swallowed thickly. A rush of adrenaline and arousal ran through her body like an electric current. She liked his aggression.

    “I…”

“Yes?”

“I like it when… you spread your fingers a little and pull upwards.”

    “Like this?” He demonstrated.

“Yes!” She gasped. “Yes! Like that!” She grasped his wrist with both of her hands. 

Mimic pressed the sucker on his thumb to her clit. He steadily increased his grip on her throat, very careful to not suffocate her or make her pass out. Without lifting his thumb he sped up his movements only to slow down when she got too close to orgasm.

    “Oh, God, not more edging…” 

“Hm?”

“First Mordred and now you… I’m starting to get a taste for it.”

    “I see.” He didn’t know who Mordred was and didn’t care enough to ask, but this did further confirm the open marriage. “I prefer to take my time with my victims.” 

Tendrils wrapped around her legs forcing them apart.

    “Let them get a taste of heaven before they meet their god.” His smirk took up his whole beak and his voice became almost a growl. 

A tightness was building in her core just like a ticking bomb. 

    Another tendril slipped inside her pussy only to writhe around before slipping back out but it didn’t go very far. It changed to a thinner, more phallic shape by folding onto itself sucker-to-sucker and prodded at her anus, waiting for protest. 

“G… go ahead.” Tilly managed to choke out.

Tick.

    “Freak.” He grinned when it slithered in without any resistance. “That’s how wet you are.” The last free tentacle found its way into her pussy, pushing down against the pelvic floor and up against his fingers increasing the pressure inside her from all sides.

Tick.

The fullness was intoxicating. No previous lover could achieve this kind of sensation and she hoped to hold onto it for as long as possible, trying to delay her climax.

Tick.

Mimic’s cock was aching for attention but he was having too much fun with her to do anything about himself. She was at his absolute mercy. At some points it was almost a struggle to keep her from wiggling through the convulsions that signaled an orgasm was well on its way.

“I’m gonna come.” She warned.

“Not without my permission you’re not.” He hissed.

“I’m trying not to, I swear! The more you yell at me the harder it is to hold back!”

“I was hoping you’d be a bit more of a challenge; but alas.” He squeezed her throat with significant force. “If you’re gonna come then come.”

    Boom.

A cascade of sensations ranging from excruciating pain to effervescent pleasure ran up and down the length of her nervous system. Choked sobs was all that could come out of her spasming body. Frisson after frisson crashed like a rushing wave onto rocky shores.

Mimic ignored her gasping and continued to poke and prod her most sensitive spots that were already tense and overstimulated. He seemed almost bored in his focus on removing his thumb from her clit.

“F… FO…” The pressure was building behind her eyes.

Is this it!? She panicked. Rabisu’s gonna kill him if he doesn’t let go!  

She slapped his arm with her hand.

    “What?” He turned to her, eyes shooting wide open when he saw her raised fist. He immediately released his grips and pulled out.

Tilly sat up and drew in deep, raspy breaths. Her body shook like a leaf in a windstorm.

    “You okay?” He crossed his arms.

She drew her knees under herself and leaned forward, rubbing her neck. He watched the red marks rapidly disappear. 

    She managed to choke out a few words between coughs. “I was more worried for you.”

“How do you mean?” Mimic asked.

Tilly sat up and pointed to her Oracle Stone. “Living alien in my chest. Would’ve killed you in retaliation for pushing it too far.” 

His entire tough demeanor dropped to that of disbelief. “What?” He asked flatly. “What?

“Long… long story.” She wrapped her arms around her chest as she calmed down. “Rabi almost killed you when you first grabbed me but I stopped them.” 

    His eyes darted between her Stone and her eyes. “Living alien?”

“Yes, Mimic!” She let her arms drop and she leaned back, sighing deeply. “It’s a very, very long story but if I fall unconscious Rabisu takes over and would’ve absolutely killed you.”

The Stone sparked in demonstration. 

Mimic raised an eyebrow. “I see; but are you alright?”

    “Yes, yes,” she smoothed back her hair and smiled, “thanks for letting go.”

“That’s the point of a safeword.”

Sheptilah’s body stopped trembling and she uncurled. “That was intense.” 

    “Living alien…” Shit. He thought. She’s a lot more powerful than I thought. This is going to take further planning. “I’m... going to go now.”

“No, please stay.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” She patted the tile next to her. “Sit.”

    “I’d rather not.” He stood, re-forming his cloak. “You are taking being almost strangled to death a little too well.” 

“You don’t want to hear the long story?”

“Not particularly, no.”

    “So you’re just going to leave when I haven’t satisfied you yet?”

“You want more?” He squatted in front of her. “I think I cut off your oxygen too long.”

She tried to stifle a snicker behind her hand. “I’m fine, Mimic. Accidents happen; I’m not hurt. I was worried for you, not myself.” 

    “You will just let anyone do what they want to you, huh?” He scrutinized her closely. 

“Only with my permission.” She twirled a lock of hair in her fingers. 

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“I can be anyone or anything you want.”

“Likewise.” 

    “I like you the way you are now,” she shrugged, “but if we continue I’d like it if we’re not so rough this time.”

“Well…” Mimic considered it. He wasn’t a man who liked surprises but he did like a challenge. He still needed her dead but also pondered the idea of her becoming an asset he could use later. “You were really worried for me?”

“Of course! I like you, but I want to know why you want me dead.” She crawled into his lap and stroked his face, having him lay back on the tile. He dropped his cloak.

“It’s not wise for me to let anyone who knows my true identity live.” He kept a careful eye on her Stone.

    Tilly kissed his forehead. “So change your identity and make a liar out of me.”

She said it with enough confidence he almost believed it to be possible. He shook his head. "No, that's not good enough."

“So, want me to change?”

“No,” Mimic cupped her breasts, “stay as you are.”

“That's just it; I never stay in one place for too long. We’re always moving from base to base.” She went to kiss his cheek but he pulled away.

“Fair warning, I can’t really kiss because of my beak.” 

“Cartilage.” She ran her thumb over it. “It’s not so tough. I’d like to try, anyway.”

“Chitin, actually. You want to risk cutting your mouth apart on the sharp edges?”

“Healing factor.” She leaned in closer, waiting for his response. 

    He allowed it at her own peril.

Tilly tenderly pressed her lips to the edge of his beak, and realized quickly that it works much like a pair of scissors but she was unhurt. “Oh.” Her heart sank. 

“An octopus’ main diet is shellfish. Hard, cold, difficult to break into shellfish.”

“Well, I can get you everywhere else.” She gently caressed his tendrils with her fingertips and peppered his cheek and neck with kisses. 

    His hearts fluttered at her tender and sincere accommodations. He was certainly not used to the people of the surface world taking anything involving aquatic Mobian needs into consideration.

“You’re so soft all over, like velvet.”

    He ran his hands up and down her sides.

Soft. 

Mimic’s tendrils somewhat involuntarily wrapped themselves around her arms in a hug-like fashion. “The humidity of this place helps a lot with that.”

“The floor’s not too hard for you, is it?” She massaged his chest and shoulders. 

    “I’m comfortable.”

“A softbody is new for me so I wanted to make sure I wasn’t hurting you. It’s a bit hard on my knees.”

He was lost in a daze of lust inspired by sweet sincerity. Easy marks could be fun, too.

“Actually…” She looked to the wall and noticed an elephant ear plant. “Perfect.” 

“What?”

“Watch.” She flicked her wrist beckoning the plants to come to her. Vines sprawled out reaching for the couple. Large flowers bloomed and fell apart, dropping a thick layer of petals to serve as bedding. Another elephant ear leaf grew to a massive size and laid down on the petals.

“That’s right… you’re a witch.”

She gestured to it with open arms. “I made us a bed!” She stood and lifted him by the hands. 

    “It’s not going to eat us a la Little Shop of Horrors, is it?” 

“I don’t think so.” She flopped down and he tumbled with her. 

    “Oh, this is much better than the hard tile.” He pressed his hands into the thick leaf. “So that magic comes in handy, huh? What else can you do?”

“Mostly I’m just good at healing people but I can do stuff like alchemical transmutation, fly, shape shift into things my size or smaller.”

“So you’re useful.” 

    “Except for my severe iron allergy and need to charge by moonlight to replenish my powers, yes?” Tilly furrowed her brow.

Mimic’s entire demeanor changed again. He snuggled up beside her and ran his fingers over her arms.

She could hardly keep up with his moodiness but she could try and match it. She held her hand up and slowly lowered it, the ambient lights dimming with her movement until they completely turned off. She then raised her hand, neon crawled up the walls from the floor and bathed the plants in a colorful candy-colored glow. 

“Woah.”

Sparkling star-like shimmers appeared overhead, flitting between the plants. When they flew close enough he saw they were tiny Hotaru Badniks repurposed for pollinating the plants. A few would occasionally come close to the couple but they lacked the distinct ability to injure.

    “I love this pool,” she said while looking around, “when it’s dark the neon comes on and it becomes a party zone.”

“No magic for that trick,” he smirked, “the sensors are tuned to your biosignature, aren’t they?”

“Yes.” She kissed his neck again, rolling her tongue in circles and suckling very gently. 

“Mmm, so you’re mostly smoke and mirrors.” Disappointing.

Mimic was usually protective of his neck but allowed her to continue. Rarely was a lover allowed so close to his face at all, given that a sharp enough nip could cause a dangerous venous injury resulting in a blood clot that would easily kill him. He didn’t trust her, per se, but he did not believe he was in danger.  

To make double sure of this he directed her as she worked him over. He closed his eyes and reveled in the pleasure she delivered. His cock ached for release, dripping with precum. 

“Let me in,” he asked in his own sideways manner, “let me in.”

    Tilly nodded and helped him in with her hand.

The inside her body was hot. Feverishly hot. He growled with pleasure and gripped her ass, pulling her back and forth.

“Relax,” she pulled his hands from her hips, ”let me do the work.” 

Their fingers interlocked. 

    Moving in slow, languid motions she let him enjoy it, occasionally mumbling terms of endearment as she kissed and nuzzled every exposed part she could reach. Every little whisper that graced his ear forced a brief flash of color on his skin and the building tension was too much for him. He was teetering on the edge of climax and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to push her off in time from his position.

“Wait… wait, stop.” He groaned, sitting up. “FOXDIE.”

She dismounted but didn’t let go of his hands. “What’s wrong?” 

    “I need a break.”

“Was I hurting you? I know I’m kind of tall, so…”

“No, just the opposite.” He assured her by laying her down and climbed on top. “Stop worrying about others for once.”

She tilted her head to the side, smiling playfully. “I could fall in love with you.”

“I get that a lot, actually.” He snickered. “And I know it’s not because I’m lovable.”

“Oh?”

He slid back in. “It’s because people project their wants and needs onto me. They have me take their ideal shape and then fuck me, thinking that’s how I’ll stay forever.”

“That’s just how it is when you’re malleable.” Tilly wrapped her legs around his torso. “You can come in me, by the way.”

His whole body heaved and he froze.

    “What is it now?”

“Don’t… say that to an octopus; or a squid for that matter.”

She furrowed her brow. “Was… that offensive?”

“Not intentionally, no, but sex is a death sentence for most cephalopods in the wild.”

“For Mobians?” Her eyes widened with alarm.

“No, no, the animals. I wouldn’t be here if sex was a kill switch.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “But it’s a deeply ingrained and ancient reflex to take that very seriously; so… don’t say that again.”

“I’m sorry, Mimic. I didn't mean to ruin the mood.”

“I’m still inside you, aren’t I?”

    She flexed her pelvic muscles, making him to gasp. “Yeah, I’d say you are.”

“Just for that…” He laid down on her completely, snuggling close and pumping his hips slowly. “I should come all over your face and not care if I get it in your eyes.”

“Cruel and unusual threat but I’d really like to see you shoot that high up.” 

    “I’m a trained killer.” He said matter-of-factly. “I know how to hit a target. Don’t test me, woman.”

Tilly kissed the bridge of his beak, disarming him. “Are you still going to kill me?”

“Maybe.”

“That action will kill you, too.” 

“Maybe not.” He pumped his hips harder and faster, wrapped up in his own quest for pleasure too much to care about her needs as he satisfied them earlier. It was his turn, he wanted to finish this time.

Tilly had no complaints. 

    “I have some advice for you,” Mimic mumbled into her ear, “stop telling people your weaknesses.” He brushed the hair from her sweaty face. “It makes you very easy to manipulate.”

“Mimic, you’re trembling...”

“I’m close, that’s why.” He lightly nipped at her neck as a warning but didn’t break the skin. “Don’t distract me or I will choke you with a tendril.”

He pulled himself up and leaned back with his eyes shut. He lifted her legs so that he held them both in his arms with her knees resting on his shoulder, squeezing tight. He wasn't about to let her force him to stay in with her legs wrapped around his waist.

He’s terrified, she thought to herself, he’s vulnerable and he hates it. She reached out and took hold of a tendril in her fingers, gently running her thumb over it as if she was holding his hand.

"Mimic, you don't have to keep doing this if you don't want to."

"Shut. up. Stop distracting me." He leaned his cheek against her calf and continued his motions in a desperate attempt to keep his head devoid of any thoughts.

She wanted to apologize but decided against it. Fine, then. You can do it, she thought, it’s okay, you can do it, Mimic. She clenched her muscles in rhythm with his pumps to encourage him.

“Ah…” He swallowed thickly, “mm…” He was on the very edge now.

Come on… You’re so close!

Mimic’s eyebrows were upturned and his beak only slightly open, forehead lined with worry and concentration.

She flexed as hard as she could without hurting him.

That was the last push he needed. The equivalent of months of self-denial poured out of him and into her, the torrent of pleasure made the anxiety in his body dissipate like steam from a kettle.

“Oh, no.” Tilly gasped softly. 

    He opened his eyes and realized his mistake. He ejaculated inside of her.

“Fuck.” Mimic cursed himself as he pulled out. “Fuck! I was so focused on one thing I wasn't paying attention!”

“It’s okay,” She reassured him, “it’s okay. It’s fine." 

He swayed a bit.

"Don't pass out!”

    He let her legs drop. He panted as he laid on top of her and rested his head on her chest. “This is why those from Delmont call it la petite mort.” His breathing gradually slowed to a normal pace and he closed his heavy eyes.

"Son of a bitch." Tilly held him close, stroking his head while dozing off, too. "Yeah, this is fine."


    Mimic’s eyes fluttered open with a little effort. He couldn’t make much of his blurry surroundings except everything looked very white and he felt comfortable, warm and safe. He picked up the scent of lavender and clean linen.

I know damn well I did not get into heaven, so where the fuck am I?

That, and a giant vintage Pepsi logo staring him in the face was another clue he didn't quite pass on.

Sheptilah stirred. He was still in her arms but now she was wearing a very old Pepsi sweatshirt. He lifted his head and understood where he was: the Eggman’s suite at the Tralius base.

He was literally in his lover’s marital bed. 

    Mimic strained his ears and heard nothing but her breathing and nuzzled back into place, almost flattening himself out. Her steady heartbeat was a comfort to his pounding head.

“You blacked out.” Sheptilah mumbled through a yawn.

"It happens sometimes."

"But why?"

He lingered for a moment, deciding how to answer. "A combination of deeply, culturally ingrained anxiety and my three hearts. It's mostly got to do with blood pressure suddenly dropping." He settled on the truth.

"Three hearts?"

"I have to deliver blood to my nine brains."

"You what?" She looked at his mantle wondering if that was why it was so large.

"Nine," he said through involuntary laughter, "I have nine brains, Sheptilah. One regular one in my head and eight little ones in each tendril. You don't know anything about octopuses, do you?"

"I come from the desert."

"Fair point." He snaked his hand up her sweatshirt and laid it on her breast.

"I thought I was weird for having a parasitic alien in my chest." She snickered.

"No, that is indeed very weird."

She sunk back into the pillow. "Is you passing out going to happen every time for us?"

"What do you mean, every time? This was a one-time thing."

“Well, if that's the case, despite the fact that you're squeezing my breast, you can go back to sleep.” She gently stroked his mantle.

    “What about your husband?” One of his tendrils curled around her wrist on its own accord, but it was clear she wasn't bothered by it.

“He brought us here, but he couldn’t stay. He had work in the lab to do and he won’t be back until late tonight.”

“Eggman saw me like this?” 

“No, I actually glamoured you to look like someone else when I heard him coming to the pool to check on me.” 

“...thank you.” He settled down, closing his eyes, content to drift off again despite his better judgement telling him not to.

“You’re welcome, Donald.”