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Colin can feel Penelope getting impatient. He knows what she wants, why she came over in the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday. To watch TV , she said on his doorstep and he nodded, even though both of them knew it was a lie.
He wonders what happened this week to make her need this. Maybe work was tough or she had to speak to her mother. Maybe she is just horny.
He knows she is impatient - she keeps sighing and crossing her legs on the sofa next to him - but he doesn’t make a move, not yet. He wants it too, but he also wants to sit in this for a moment longer - his arm around her, some film on that neither of them are really watching. He can smell her shampoo when she rests her head on his shoulder and he lets himself pretend for a moment that this is a normal Sunday afternoon for them. He imagines that maybe they’ve just gotten back from doing their weekly shop, or brunch at Bridgerton house with his family. He imagines that maybe he bought that shampoo for her because he knows how much she likes things that smell like pineapple.
“Colin,” she says eventually, and there is something desperate in her voice, as though she is slightly ashamed about how much she needs this. Colin gets it - sometimes he feels ashamed about all the ways he needs her, too.
She twists to look at him and his resolve breaks.
“Okay,” he says, with a soft smile. “Go get the ears, bun.”
Her eyes shine with excitement and she hurries to the bedroom. Colin watches the doorway she disappeared through for a moment and he gets the feeling he always gets when she leaves the room - that she has taken a part of her with him. A limb or his guts or his heart.
He shakes his head and tries to gather himself together. He starts to pull blankets and pillows onto the floor, making a soft nest for them to play in. He draws the curtains and sets his LED lights to a warm, glowy setting.
Penelope appears in the doorway.
“Which one should I wear?” she asks, holding armfulls of soft fabric, pastel silks and laces. He supposes she must have pulled the entire drawer out to show him and he imagines the mess she has made of his bedroom - but he doesn’t mind. He knows she gets a bit chaotic before they start playing, her body racing ahead of her mind.
He pretends to consider for a moment, just to prolong her excitement (even though he knew how he wanted her the minute he told her to get the ears). “Hm… I think the white gauzy one,” he says eventually. “So Daddy can see bunny’s pretty pink nipples through it.”
She blushes and nods and disappears back into his bedroom, whilst Colin continues preparing their nest.
When she emerges again, she is wearing the lace teddy. It has a plunging neckline and thin straps and a little satin bow in the centre. The lace is sheer enough that he can indeed see her nipples, her full heavy tits straining at the fabric, and through the gauze he can see her auburn curls, her sweet little cleft.
She carries an armful of toys - her ears and tail, but also some other bits and pieces that he keeps in the special drawer. She kneels in the nest and lays them all out carefully in the nest, lining up the vibrator and the lube, making everything just so. He watches her, a pinching sensation in his chest.
“You ready, bun?” he asks, as he kneels before her so they are face to face.
She looks up at him with her excited blue eyes and nods, her cheeks reddening prettily. He hums affectionately and cups her cheek, pushing back her perfect little curls so he can kiss her. Her lips are soft - they are always so soft - and they give way easily beneath his, moving when his do, parting gently when his tongue runs along the seam. He moans when his tongue touches hers and for a while they just make out. He likes to do this before they start, to get them both warmed up for the next part.
She whimpers a little when he pulls away - but that stops when she sees what he has picked up.
A wide satin ribbon, pale pink like the ears and tail. She leans towards him, exposing her throat obediently. She is so pretty like this, her lovely pale neck stretched for him, blue veins beneath the skin he could sink his teeth into.
He never would. He pushes her hair back from her neck and presses his lips to warm skin instead, feels her heart race against his mouth.
The satin is cool against her throat, the same pink as her skin when she blushes. He ties the bow securely, firm but not too tight, and primps the satin so the loops are even on each side. It took him some practice to get this right, practicing on his own leg until he had it pretty enough, but now he thinks he would be able to do it with his eyes closed.
“So pretty, bun,” he croons, tilting her chin up so he can press a soft kiss to her lips. Just a peck for now, but she leans into him as he pulls away, her lips chasing after his, her big eyes blinking dreamily.
He tucks her soft red waves behind her human ears and lifts up her bunny ears. They spent ages curled up on the sofa browsing Etsy for the right ones, debating loop ears - that would droop down - or ones that stuck up off her head. Penelope’s eyes had gone extra wide and sparkly when they had come across these - pale pink fur on the outside blending to white on the inside, little pink bows nestled at the clefted bottom.
Colin slides the headband onto her head, adjusting the ears so they stand up straight. Penelope preens under his touch, and he watches her eyes go hazy, her beautiful face slackening as he tends to her.
He likes this part the best - when everything else falls away and he watches her become his.
He loves Penelope all the time, but he thinks he loves Penelope most like this. When she belongs to him and no-one else. When she is bunny and he is Daddy and they fit together so perfectly, her softness moulding to his strength.
He hates how hard she has to be with the rest of the world, the teeth and claws she has sharpened to protect her soft underbelly. He loves how when she is here with him, she doesn’t need them. There is only softness here in the nest he makes for them. She can be bunny, his to care for and protect. She does not need her teeth when she has his.
He sits back on his heels to admire her - cheeks blushing as pink as her ribbons, eyes wide and dreamy, her cute front teeth digging into her bottom lip. Her body is unbelievably plush in this little dress, so abundant and creamy, rolls and curves and softness. “Perfect,” he says and pleasure fills him as she squirms under the praise.
“You wanna come sit with Daddy for a bit, bunny?”
“Yes please,” she says, and he cups her cheek tenderly. She is so very good for him, better than he thinks he deserves (because he knows he needs to tell her - it is not fair on either of them that he does not tell her).
He sits on the sofa, his legs spread wide. Penelope crawls towards him on her hands and knees. He likes seeing her like this, her tits swinging in her naughty little babydoll gown, nipples pointing hard to the floor. She folds herself up on the rug beside him, resting her head upon his thigh. The weight of it is comforting and Colin lets out a slow breath, releasing some of the urgent need that has been building up inside of him, the pressure cooker of desire hissing and spitting in his belly.
He pets the ears, wrapping his fingers around them and pulling upwards, from root to tip, relishing in the softness, his thumb sliding along the folded groove of the underside. She shivers as though she has nerve receptors there, as if he is touching a part of her, and he smiles to himself at her cuteness.
They stay like that for a while, her head leaning against his knee and his hand stroking her ears, threading through her hair and scratching her scalp. He likes to give her plenty of time to sink into petspace, let everything else melt away that isn’t bunny and Daddy , so when it comes time for him to use her, she is fluffy and malleable and pliant, bending to his needs like grass in the wind (his needs - they are hers, really. She needs this and he needs her).
“Are you ready for Daddy’s cock, bun?” he murmurs when the roiling need in his belly gets too great to ignore. Penelope twists to look up at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement, and when she nods the ears bob and wave upon her head.
He doesn’t remember now what started it. All he knows is that they were in his bed, the hushed cocoon of darkness enveloping them. It was during one of their sleepovers, when they were still just friends (before they became just friends and also this). They would often do this, face each other in the dark, pinkies interlinked, whispering words they would never dare to speak into the daylight. It was somehow safer in the dark, as though the night could absorb and hold things the day could not, and Colin felt he could say anything (almost anything - not the one thing he really needs to say) and the darkness would accept it, swallow it. They offered fears and dreams alike as gifts for the still, hushed nights and in the morning, they would be gone.
He remembers how her breath had felt against his fingers as she told him how she fantasised about this, about being bunny, and he remembers speaking quickly, before the night ate up her words and made them disappear. I’ll do it, he said, words shivering off his tongue in his eager need. I’ll be Daddy, and you can be bunny. I’ll do it for you, Pen.
He should not have said it but he did anyway. Of course he did.
Because Colin loves her, and Colin is a masochist, and Colin supposes he likes a little pain just as much as she does.
He leans back against the couch, shifting his arse down a bit and widening his legs, his hand rubbing over his crotch. Penelope shuffles on her knees between his parted thighs, looking up at him so sweetly and patiently he feels like crying. He tries to keep his hands from shaking as he unbuttons his jeans, yanks down the zipper and frees his aching cock.
“Will you get me nice and wet?” he says softly. Gently he pets her hair as she nods, wrapping her perfect mouth around the weeping, needy tip of his cock.
In her eagerness, she engulfs him all at once. Her little nose buries itself in Colin’s pubic hair, her eyes wide and desperate as she stares up at him - as though she is just as surprised as he is that she has taken all of him so quickly. He lets out a grunt at the sudden, overwhelming pleasure of her perfect throat encasing him, fighting the urge to grab her soft little ears and fuck her face until he spills.
But that’s not how this works. He can be hard with her but he doesn’t like to be, not if he can help it. He eases her off him and tries to control his breathing. “Slowly, little one,” he murmurs, stroking her soft cheeks with his knuckles, wiping away the drool that has spilled from her lips. “Don’t want to ruin your sweet throat too soon, do we?”
She shakes her head, her eyes glistening with tears.
“It’s okay, bun,” he says, tenderness swelling in his chest. “Just suck on the tip for me.”
He takes himself in hand, pushing the head of his cock against her pouting lips. She opens up obediently and takes him inside of her mouth, suckling sweetly as she looks up at him with wide, gorgeous eyes. Slowly, she starts to bob her head up and down, her mouth wet and warm, her little tongue snaking over the underside of his cock as she moves. He keeps his fist wrapped around the base so she does not accidentally deepthroat him again, but there is still plenty left for her to play with.
His breathing comes out broken and hitched, emerging from deep in the back of his throat as he lets himself luxuriate in the feel of his good little pet servicing him. For a while the only sounds are his thick breaths and the obscene sucking sounds of her perfect mouth, the muffled whimpers she makes against his cock. He lets himself bathe in the golden light of her touch, lets himself float away on the sweet look in her eyes, the crystal blue carrying him off into fantasies of always and forever. Because when she is like this - when she is bunny - she looks at him as though she might love him back, and it is heaven.
For a moment he considers holding back, but he doesn’t have the self-control and the rest of what he has planned will go easier if he is not mindless with the need to come. He knows if he gets it out of his system now, he’ll be able to think straight later, and he’ll be able to give his bunny exactly what she needs.
So he unwraps his fingers from his shaft. “Go ahead,” he says, barely more than a whisper, and it is unfair, really, how her eyes light up as though getting to swallow his cock is better than Christmas fucking morning.
As she takes him deep, he has the thought he has had so many times before, the one that keeps him up at night with his hand on his cock, the one that makes it impossible to let this - her - go; because every time he decides that enough is enough, that it is time to put aside his love for her, he returns to this thought: she is made for him.
He fits inside of her so perfectly - her mouth, her pussy (even her arse, sometimes - and God, he likes the feel of her submitting like that, her tight little hole wrapped around him) - that he cannot shake the idea that it is fate, that they are meant to be together like this, Colin and Pen. That the universe could not be so cruel as to form them like this if they were not meant for more, their bodies like the two half-hearts of the BFF bracelets twelve-year-old Colin had bought from Claire’s Accessories, just to prove to Eloise that he, not her, was Penelope’s best friend.
He drops his head back against the sofa breathlessly as she pushes down, his tip nestling snugly in her throat, drool weeping from the corner of her mouth. She swallows around him, the motion massaging his shaft, and he doesn’t even bother to fight his orgasm, lets it swallow him like she is. His back arches, his hips thrusting upwards as he comes, his fingers mindlessly reaching forward to grip her ears and hold her nose twitching against his pelvis.
She swallows and swallows, drinking down his cum and milking his cock at the same time, until he is breathless and boneless and drained. Gently he eases her off his cock before he gets overstimulated, sliding his thumb back and forth over her glistening lips as both of them catch their breath.
“Such a good little pet,” he pants. “Do you think you’ve earned your tail, bun?”
She nods, her eyes hazy with need, and before he can instruct her she has shuffled deeper into the nest, her face pressed into the blankets and her perfect arse presented to him just as he has trained her to.
An indulgent chuckle huffs from his lips, but his heart aches to see how easily she submits. “You’re very needy today, aren’t you?”
“Yes Daddy,” she says, but her words are muffled by the cushions.
Colin tucks away his softening cock and slides to the floor, kneeling behind Penelope’s wide, gorgeous arse. It is delectably plump, swelling cheeks that spread so prettily, her little hole winking up at him. He runs his hands over her soft skin, pushing her nightgown up to her waist.
“Show Daddy bunny’s pretty pussy,” he murmurs, and Penelope reaches her hands around herself to spread herself open for him. He allows himself a moment to gaze at her, at her deep pink folds already glistening with need, her little fingers digging into the flesh. She really is pretty - he can’t think of another word for her as he watches her flutter and shiver and drip for him.
He grabs the tail. It is a pink fluffy bunny tail - it came with the ears, and it matches perfectly, the pink puff sitting on the end of a little silver butt plug, the metal cool and weighty in his palm.
“Ready, bun?” he asks, and she just wriggles her arse at him, which by now he knows means yes. He dips his head for a moment and runs his tongue over her puckered little hole for no other reason than he cannot help himself. This makes her squeal and squirm and he laughs at how cute she is, hot breath against her arse cheeks.
It is maybe a little sick but next he does what he always does before he inserts the plug: he sucks it into his mouth. He tells himself it’s to warm up the metal, but there are other ways he could do that, he supposes. He thinks maybe he just wants another part of him to be inside of her, for the plug to be his in a way that means something.
A few squirts of lube, and then one hand planted firmly on her lower back. She lets go of herself and braces her hands by her face - she knows what is coming next. “Big breath in, bunny,” he says, and he hears her inhale as he notches the tapered tip at her little hole. “Big breath out.” She sighs, and he pushes the plug inside by an inch, watching in fascination as she stretches around it, her skin shiny with the lube. She mewls at the strange feeling, her little hands twisting in the blankets. “Again, bun,” he tells her, and pushes it in another inch. They do this one more time and then her hole swallows up the flared part of the plug and it is nestled firmly inside her.
“Well done, little one," he croons, rubbing his hands over her arse cheeks. “Now will you shake your little tail for Daddy?” he asks, his mouth twitching into a smile.
She raises her head from the nest and turns to look at him, a rueful smile on her face, her nose wrinkling up, and for a moment she is not bunny, not fully - there is Pen, his Pen, laughing at his silliness. He almost clutches his heart at the sight of it, because isn’t that what they do? They are Colin and Pen, and they are always laughing when they shouldn’t be - in school assemblies and at Anthony’s wedding and even at Penelope’s dad’s funeral, when she had burst out into hysterical laughter and Colin had had to take her outside, telling everyone she was crying (she did cry later, in the safety of his dark bedroom, wrapped in his arms).
“Come on, bun,” he coaxes, his voice raw. He pats her butt. “Show off for me.”
She gives another smile and then puts her head back down to the blankets. As she wiggles her arse from side to side, Colin watches the pink fluff shake prettily, her arse jiggling pleasantly too. He hears her laugh as she does it and because she can no longer see him he presses his hands against his chest, over his breastbone where the ache is the worst.
“Daddy?” she says softly, and he realises he has been frozen in place for too long. He jolts, running his hands up and down her back, pressing his thighs into the backs of hers.
“What do you need, bun?” he asks, and if his voice is a little cracked she does not seem to notice. She shivers as his hands slide under her nightie, caressing her waist and hips, circling her so he can feel the plush way her full belly hangs down when she is bent like this, the spill of it pressing against her thighs. She is so large and soft and perfect, and as he kneads the delicious, pliant flesh, she whines pitifully.
At first she had been hesitant to let him touch her like this, to let her pet and massage her soft underbelly in the way he had always longed to (he has been obsessed with her stomach, her softness, since they were teens; used to touch himself constantly to the image of how her string bikinis cut into her stomach and hips), but with time she has grown to love it just as much as he does. He leans over further and his hands cup the weighty heft of her breasts, squeezing gently, his hips pressing against her arse. She whimpers as his movements push her plug in deeper and he gives her nipples a little tweak through her nightie before pulling back.
Her pussy is weeping down to her thighs. He runs a single finger through her wetness, allowing himself to luxuriate for a moment in the lush, slick sound she makes. “Bunny’s pretty pussy is very needy today,” he murmurs, and he watches her ears move as she nods. “Does bunny need Daddy’s cock?”
“Y-yes, Daddy,” she says, and he can hear the tearful need in her voice. Being plugged always makes her like this - a weepy, pitiful mess, floppy and boneless and totally at his mercy. He knows this is why she can’t do this with anyone else, and why he would never let her - it’s what she told him in the dark, wasn’t it? You’re the only one I can trust, Colin. It had felt like a gift, and he had sucked it down before the darkness could, keeping it safe inside of him (now he isn’t always so sure. Now, after she leaves and he is alone with his love and the taste of her pussy in his mouth, he wonders if it would not have been easier, less painful, if there was someone else she could trust).
“Not yet,” he says, and she whines, pushing her hips back. He grabs the little wand vibrator, the rechargeable one he bought for her (he could not find the exact pink of her ears, but it was only a couple of shades off), and when he switches it on she stops her squirming immediately. She knows what the noise means.
He watches her thick dimpled thighs tremble as he slips his hand between them, pressing the blunt head of the vibrator against her clit.
“Daddy,” she whispers, and there is a plea in her voice. Something tremulous.
Because he would never hurt her, not ever, but he knows she wants to broken, to be unmade and unravelled and undone, and he has discovered the best way to do that is to feed her pleasure, push it down her throat bit by bit, over and over, until she is swollen and splitting at the seams.
“You want me to stop, bun?” he asks gently.
“N-no,” she says softly, and he gives her tail a little pet; the friction on the plug makes her wriggle. He likes how she wriggles so much, in fact, that he keeps petting her tail as he rubs soft circles against her pussy with the vibrator.
He does this for a while until she gasps: “Daddy!”
He knows this means she is close to the brink (part of their training), so he withdraws the vibrator and his hand from her tail. He watches her body convulse as she pants, teetering on the edge of her orgasm.
This is how he breaks her: he edges her, pushing her to the cliff and yanking her back off it again. Over and over until she is a mindless, helpless mess, drooling and begging for relief.
Or at least, this is usually how he breaks her. Today, he only manages it twice before her sweet, hiccoughing pleas break him. “Please please please please -” she sobs into the blankets, and he feels something inside of him snap, the words spilling out before he can stop them.
“Come for me, bun,” he rasps, pressing the vibrator harder against her pussy. The rumbling noise of it turns almost into a gurgle as it rolls over her dripping pussy, the round head splashing around in her wetness. “Fuck,” he moans, as he watches her back arch and her skin flush pink and the sweetest cry pour from her mouth.
The sight of Penelope coming is perhaps Colin’s favourite in the world, and when he watches her he thinks that this is all worth it - all this pain and love with nowhere to go, all this yearning pitched deep in his belly, its tendrils spreading through his body like black mould, rotting him from the inside out. Maybe it is all worth it, maybe he can take this pain and even a little more, if he can watch her come just one more time - just once more - come on, bun, give me one more -
Fuck. Her cry knocks him out of his daydream and he realises the vibrator is still on her, that she’s still coming - or coming a second time - that he said some of that out loud - he hopes just the last part, hopes she was coming too hard to care.
When she is done, he practically throws the vibrator out of the way, breathing almost as hard as she is. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He should have kept her on the edge for longer. Guilt and self-doubt floods him. Is he bad at this? He knows she was begging but she always begs, that just what she does when she’s bunny, and maybe she needs him to push her more, and maybe if he cannot give her what she needs then she won’t want him -
“Thank you, Daddy,” she sighs happily, resting her cheek on her folded hands, and all the bad feelings melt away. Bunny is happy. That’s all that matters.
He sighs, his heart rate returning to normal, and squeezes her calf. “You’re welcome, bun.”
She twists around, blinking at him with her wide, beautiful eyes. “Please can I have your cock now?”
How is he supposed to say no to that?
He sits back and pulls his dick out, still a little messy from earlier. Adding a drop of lube to his palm, he begins to stroke himself, his eyes transfixed on her little tail shivering with each needy breath, nestled so perfectly between her plump cheeks. He has a strange urge to bite her there, teeth digging into his bunny’s perfectly formed arse, and he lets his gaze drift lower to distract himself from these sorts of thoughts. She has enough sharpness in her life.
Her pussy is drippy, her puffy lips swollen and flushed from the orgasms. He can tell she is trying her best to stay still for him, to not mindlessly hump her hips backward towards his cock, and he is proud of her restraint.
“Spread that pretty pussy for me, bun,” he tells her and she mewls in excitement, her little fingers reaching around again to hold herself open. He can see her hole better like this, watches it contract and flutter for him, and once he is sure he is hard enough (ridiculous - of course he is) he lines his tip up with her entrance. A couple of swipes over her folds, just to elicit a pretty gasp or two, and then he slides himself inside of bunny’s tight, wet pussy.
No matter how many times he fucks her open, fingers her, uses the toys he keeps in the same drawer as all her pretty outfits, she always fits around him tight as a glove, her pussy the perfect snug home for Daddy’s cock (as things go on, as his brain gets more floaty and fucked from the pleasure, this is how he starts to think of them - Daddy and bunny, not Colin and Pen. It is a relief, if he is honest - Daddy and bunny have way less baggage). She was made for him, wasn’t she?
Once he is fully seated, she starts to wriggle and hump her hips, trying to fuck herself on his cock, but he lays a hand on her lower back, stilling her. “No, bun. You’re going to warm Daddy’s cock first. Okay?” She whines but she stays still, her little plush body trembling with the effort. “Raise your head for me.”
As though it costs her great effort (and he supposes it does, after those orgasms), Penelope props herself up on her arms. The shift in angle makes them both moan, especially when he tells her to arch her back. She clenches him beautifully, and it takes all of his self-control not to start fucking her - but he wants this slow, melty and drippy, wants both of them mindless and desperate for each other.
He does not have to bend much to reach her ears - she is so small - but it is enough that his pelvis pushes the plug deeper inside of her. He thinks he feels it pushing against his cock, but it could be his imagination.
His fingers run over her ears as they did before - root to tip, luxuriating in the soft pelt. He likes the little cleft at the bottom the best, likes rubbing his thumb against it - it almost feels like her pussy, like the furry little curls on her mound. It makes her keen and quiver and he knows she cannot help how her hips start to push back against him.
One of his hands leaves her ears to give her plump arse-cheek a light little slap. “Stay still, bun,” he chides, watching her tail shake with the impact of his hand (though it really was a gentle spank).
“Y-yes Daddy,” she sniffles (though he can feel how her pussy gushed at the slap), and his fingers gently soothe over the spot where he swatted her before returning to pet her ears.
He keeps them like that as long as he can, though he has no idea how much time passes. Everything falls away except her soft ears beneath his fingers and bunny’s pussy drooling over his cock. He wishes he had taken his clothes off so he could feel her melting down his thighs, but both of them like it when he’s fully dressed and she’s in nothing but her scrap of a nightie, bunny trussed up for him like a sweet little whore.
“Please,” she begs. Her voice is so much higher when she’s bunny , like it was when she was a girl. He thinks it’s why he finds it so hard to say no to her when she begs because all he can think about is lovely little Pen, the girl he has loved since he was a child. “Please fuck me, Daddy.”
A strangled breath escapes his throat. “Okay, bun,” he growls, and his voice should not be that low but the words come out like they originate somewhere near his groin. Guttural but needy.
The ears are not secure enough to her head for him to really hang on to them whilst he fucks her, but he slides his fingers into the hair around them and slowly, achingly, drags his thick cock out of her pussy. He lets her feel every ridge and curve, the swell of his head, and in turn he relishes in the silky clutch of her walls, how she seems to grip him tightly as though she doesn’t want him to leave her pussy.
Once he has withdrawn himself nearly all the way, just his tip still lodged inside, he fucks back into her all at once. She squeals and her arms give out, but Colin wraps his arm around her middle and hauls her back up, grinding his hips so she can feel every inch of him.
“Come on now, bun,” he says, as he drags his cock out of her once more. “You can take it.”
He fucks her like that - slow and achy, his strong arm around her middle to keep her propped up on her hands, his cock plunging deep. He rolls his hips on each thrust in, rewarded with a perfect little moan each time he reaches that deep spot inside of her that makes her contract around him.
“You’re so perfect, bun,” he breathes as he fucks her. He likes to pour praise over her as they fuck - Penelope does not accept praise very well, but when she is bunny , soft and open and raw for him, he thinks it sinks in better. “Bunny’s pussy was made for Daddy’s cock, wasn’t it? Such a cute little thing, whimpering on my cock so prettily. Taking me so well.”
She cannot speak anymore, and he wishes he had thought to bring the mirror into the room so he could watch her face. He knows her eyes will be squeezed shut, her pretty mouth popped open as cry after cry falls from her lips. He knows her cheeks will be perfectly pink, and her tits will swing enticingly with each deep thrust.
The hand around her waist moves to her mound and her arms give in without his support, her cheek pressed into the nest. He winds his fingers into her curls and tugs a little as he fucks her, before his fingers find her swollen clit. She whines when he brushes it - he imagines it must be sensitive to the point of soreness, her arousal almost painful - so he rubs two fingers around it carefully without slowing or changing his strokes. She really is a delicate thing, he thinks, as her cries grow hoarser, thicker. He cannot imagine how anyone else would know how to handle her as softly as him (maybe he was made for her, too).
After already coming twice, he knows the third will be slower, but he is in no rush. He keeps up a steady pace, easing off her clit when her moans turn sharp, pressing down harder when she begs, allowing her body to instruct his. It is just as he hoped it would be - slow and melting, fucking her in time to the shared rhythm of their breathing, her pussy so wet that each thrust squelches pleasingly.
“D-daddy?” she sobs desperately, and he feels her walls start to squeeze harder. So hard that it is almost difficult to keep thrusting, but he grits his teeth and keeps up the pace. He knows she is near, and he doesn’t want to ruin it.
“You can come on Daddy’s cock,” he pants. “Come on, bun, come for Daddy.”
That is what she needed to fall over the edge, her pussy spasming and milking him. He keeps fucking her through it, keeps rubbing her clit until he feels her little fingers scrabbling at his wrist, pushing him away.
“Such a good bunny,” he murmurs, stilling his hips so he might lean down and kiss her back. He strokes her tail as she trembles with the force of her orgasm, making soothing shushing sounds as he does. Once she is a bit calmer, he says: “I think you’ve earned Daddy’s cum, don’t you?”
She lets out a low moan. “Please.” She practically sobs it, and he pets her tail, half-soothing half-teasing.
“Okay, little one,” he says, his voice a deep croon. “Hold still and Daddy will give you what you need.”
He rears up and his fingers grasp her spilling hips. His hips thrust into her as his hands pull her back onto his cock, and he begins to fuck her desperately, wildly, no thought beyond chasing his release. Somehow her pussy feels softer after her orgasm, more pliant; it moulds around his cock and she takes him even more deeply. Her little fingers wind into the blankets and she clings on tight as he uses her, little gasps choked out into the soft nest.
“Take my cock, bunny,” he grunts, breathless with pleasure. “Want Daddy to fill you up? Want Daddy to give you a litter?”
It is a fantasy, of course - she is on birth control - but she weeps yes and begs him, and for a moment he sees stars as he comes deep inside of bunny’s perfect, trembling pussy.
The pleasure tears through him for ages, spurt after spurt of his cum filling her (there is always so much when they fuck, more than with any other partner or by himself, as though his body actually means to impregnate her), his hips humping desperately against her jiggling arse. He imagines he is really breeding her - not bunny but Pen, giving her his babies and his love and his everything, that it is Colin she is begging for, not Daddy, and his orgasm builds on and on, the pain of the image somehow making the pleasure more powerful.
Colin likes a little pain, after all.
Eventually it is over. Colin sits back on his heels, his cock slipping out of her with a wet, sucking sound, and he watches helplessly as his cum leaks out of bunny’s pussy. His body feels like jelly and he tips sideways, rolling himself onto his back in their warm nest, breathing hard.
His hand grabs her ankle. “You okay, bun?” he asks faintly.
She still has her face buried into the blankets and her arse in the air. “Mm-hm,” she hums, muffled by the pillows.
“Come snuggle,” he says, tugging lightly on her ankle, and she crawls over to him, curling her body into his, her head tucked against his chest. The feel of her body against his makes him feel warm all over, swollen with love for her in a way that is quite alarming, actually. Euphoria spreads through him, and for a moment he lets himself float away on it.
“Do you want me to clean you up?” he asks, and when she shakes her head her ears brush his chin, tickling him.
“I want to keep Daddy’s cum inside me,” she whispers, and he chuckles, squeezing her more tightly.
He knows it will take her a long time to come out of petspace - probably not until tomorrow morning - so he has to be incredibly careful with her now. She is so vulnerable like this - at times he really feels like he has a little rabbit in his hands, feeling its heart race against his palms, its soft furry body so easy to break.
They snuggle for a while longer, then he puts her in the bath. He dries her off and gives her one of his T-shirts to wear, then feeds her and puts her to bed.
They lie in the darkness, face to face, pinkies linked. He can just make out the outline of her pale face, her beautiful eyes. He lets his breathing match hers, lets the darkness envelope them in all its obliterating safety.
He knows tomorrow will be bad for him. Tomorrow they will be Colin and Pen, and she will leave him alone in his love once more. He will have to pretend that his entire world does not revolve around her, that she was not made for him - until the next time she wants to do this, of course.
So he lets the darkness hold him and hold his love, just for a few moments more.
But then: “I love you, Daddy,” she whispers, and the dark snatches it before he is able to catch it, eat it up in the way he wants to. It is gone the moment it leaves her lips.
He sighs. “I love you, bunny,” he whispers back, and the dark snatches that, too.
She is still asleep when he wakes up: her hair splayed out over his pillows in wild curls, her sleeping face angelic, lips parted as she snores softly. The soft morning light spills over her and she looks like a painting, a goddess in his old band T-shirt.
Afterwards, he will not know why now - why this time - why not one of the hundreds of other mornings waking up to her sleeping face. He will wonder where he got the bravery from.
He supposes it doesn’t really matter.
They are still holding hands. He extricates his fingers and strokes her face. Her eyelashes flutter open and for a moment she looks at him as if she were still dreaming, a little smile on her lips. “Colin?” she asks, her words a blurry whisper.
“I love you, Penelope.”
And this time the words are not gobbled up. The yellow morning light does not suck them away, does not steal them.
For a moment he is terrified, stricken, because she does not reply, and he misses the swallowing safety of the darkness.
Her face softens. A tear escapes her eyelid, slides down her nose. He reaches down to capture it with his thumb.
“I love you too, Colin.”
And maybe the daylight is not safe like the darkness; maybe it burns a little too brightly; but god, it is beautiful.