Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, warm and insistent, pulling me from a deep, satisfied sleep. My body ached in the best way—muscles sore from last night's marathon, Miko's scent still clinging to my skin. The wedding had been perfect: vows by the river, dancing under the stars, toasts that got progressively sloppier. And after… well, Miko had held me to my promise, riding me until we both passed out in a tangle of sheets and sweat.
She stirred beside me, cat ears twitching, golden eyes cracking open with a lazy smile. "Morning, husband."
I kissed her forehead. "Morning, wife."
We didn't rush. The house was quiet—the twins probably still asleep after yesterday's excitement. We padded to the living room, where the gifts from our tiny guest list sat piled on the coffee table: envelopes mostly, a couple of wrapped boxes. No fancy registry; just practical stuff for our little family.
Miko tore into them with eager claws. Cash mostly—euros tucked into cards with scribbled well-wishes. Elena and Sylvia chipped in €1000 together; Boris added €500 with a note about "buying better beer"; Victor slipped in €200; Sara went big with €800. The rest from a few bar regulars who'd heard about the wedding. Total: €6000.
Miko's tail swished happily as she stacked the bills. "Enough for a real honeymoon someday. Or twin-proofing the house better."
I grinned, pulling her onto my lap. "Or spoiling you."
She nuzzled my neck, voice dropping low. "Speaking of spoiling… you promised to fuck me until we collapse. Wedding night was just round one."
Heat shot through me. Her hips rocked once, deliberate, already damp through her thin panties. "Bedroom. Now."
We didn't make it slow. Door barely shut before clothes hit the floor. Miko pushed me onto the bed, straddled my face, grinding her slick pussy against my tongue until she came with a muffled cry, claws in my hair. I flipped her, drove into her from behind—hard, deep thrusts that made her arch and moan. She flipped us again, rode me reverse, tail curling around my balls as she bounced. We switched to missionary, her legs locked around my waist, nails raking my back until I spilled inside her with a groan. Round two: her on top again, slower this time, rolling hips until we both shattered. We kept going—sweaty, breathless, laughing between gasps—until exhaustion finally won.
**Caz's POV**
Fucking hell. Again?
The moans started low, then built—Mommy's breathy cries, Daddy's grunts, the rhythmic creak of the bed through the walls. I was so tired of it. Annoying as shit. In my old life as James, I'd been the one making the noise—girlfriend's apartment, quickies before work, that rush of heat and release. Now? Stuck in this tiny body, crawling around like a helpless kit. Couldn't even jerk off for another decade at least. Whatever. Reincarnation perks: eternal youth or some bullshit. Drawbacks: blue balls for years.
I huffed and crawled out of the playpen in the living room, tail dragging. The house was quiet otherwise—post-wedding mess, gift wrappers scattered. Ava was over by the couch, doing her usual chaos: stacking cushions into a wobbly fort, knocking them down with giggles, babbling "Ava! How?" like it was the funniest thing ever. She was really just fucking around, no purpose, pure toddler energy. To be fair, she'd lied about her age when we talked yesterday—said thirty, but her voice cracked like a bad poker face. Maybe she'd been a kid in her past life. Explains the endless messing about. Whatever.
I toddled toward the kitchen, ears perked for snacks, when knocking echoed from the front door. Sharp, insistent. Grown-ups were too busy fucking to hear it—moans still going strong.
"Ava!" I whispered, voice low but clear. We could talk now, but only when no one was around. "Door. Help."
She popped her head out from her cushion pile, ears twitching. "How?"
"Get stool. I'm too short."
She nodded, toddled to the kitchen, and dragged back the little step stool we used for "helping" Mommy cook (mostly just making messes). Thankfully, the bedroom noises drowned us out—no chance of getting caught speaking full sentences yet.
I climbed up, barely reached the knob, and twisted. The door swung open.
Akira stood there, black cat ears flat from travel, duffel slung over her shoulder. Beside her: a tall woman, older, same black ears and tail, golden eyes sharp like Mommy's. Lilly. Had to be.
Akira's face lit up. "Caz? You opened the door?"
I nodded, playing dumb with a baby grin. "Hi."
She scooped me up, then grabbed Ava from behind me. Lilly followed inside, closing the door softly. We all settled on the couch—Akira with us on her lap, Lilly perched awkwardly on the edge.
"Mom and Dad still… celebrating?" Akira asked, ears flicking toward the muffled moans.
Lilly smirked faintly. "Sounds like it."
We waited, Ava babbling innocently, me just staring. Family reunion incoming.