"Gwen." She said it. Her voice had actual alarm in it now, different from the flustered undignified sounds from before—real. "Gwen is downstairs. She will hear."
Viktor looked at her.
Those dark eyes, close and steady, carrying the particular expression of a man who had already calculated this and arrived at an answer she wasn't going to like.
"Then," he said simply, "be quiet."
"That is not—"
He pressed the head of his cock against her entrance.
'Oh.'
'That is not the tail. That is— I can feel the width of it already and he hasn't even— oh that is entirely, categorically, undeniably not the tail—'
"HNGH—"
The sound hit the back of her teeth and she bit down on it, hard, eyes going wide, fingers clutching his shoulders hard enough to leave white moons in skin.
He was thick. Thick and blunt and the stretch of the first push burned through every wall she had left—her body opening for him inch by inch, accommodating something the tail had not, could not have, prepared her for.
