Forbidden Fruit

Rouge was getting a little fucking tired of Knuckles thrusting his knot into her face. The distraction complicated her current task: taking his staggeringly long dick so far down her throat that she lost her lipstick tickling his inner thigh with her nose. After all these years, he still needed to learn to keep his fucking hips still. God as her witness, if Rouge had a bruise on her lip from his incessant crushing of his throbbing, hot knot into her teeth, she was going to bite his cock off and feed it to him piecemeal.

The confined quarters exacerbated matters. The backseat of Knuckles’ squad car had born witness to just about every depravity the two could manage, but the space was picked for convenience, not comfort. Cramped and hemmed in by bullet proof glass and steel meshing, it reeked of the city’s violent, deranged, and unlucky refuse. An utterly disgusting venue, a shameful situation to find herself in. Again. And again. And again and again.

But fuck all that noise, she’d punch a constituent in the face and push a baby pram down a flight of stairs to have her idiot’s snout up her snatch. Luckily, she’d not had to go to such lengths.

Her sharpshooter’s treacherously long tongue (evolution looking out for a girl, hot damn!) hit the exact right spot(!!) and Rouge arched her back. Ah, f-fuck! She shuddered as the hot, icy sensation sliced through her, her wings slapping against the sedan roof as they flailed. His grip on her thighs held her down, forcing her to endure his ravages.

Involuntarily, she tried to gasp, and her throat tensed, his stupid hips jumping up again (the motherfucker!). Incensed, Rouge held her teeth just a little too close as she came up for air. Her throat revolted with a raw ache as air, freezing in comparison to Knuckles’ searing hot length, rushed in. The piteous whine Knuckles expelled like a deflating balloon nearly had her gobbling the whole damn thing back down.

“Stop…” She hissed between gulps of air, “fucking try to…know my goddamned mouth!” When he didn’t make any sign that he’d heard her, she clamped her thighs so tightly around his head he had three minutes before he’d drown in her cunt. That would be a fun one for the public relations team to smooth over. ‘It was a self-defense drowning. Rouge had the right to stand her ground.’ Serves him right, the asshole.

She lowered her head and looked through her pendulous breasts at his chiseled physique. Well cultivated muscles twitched and tensed under his rusty red pelt and his crescent of white fur melding so well with hers that they might be indistinguishable as two entities. If you squinted. And had an astigmatism. Fuck, what was she thinking? The lame ass romantic shit that drifted through her head in the midst of otherwise pleasant, messy, meaningless sex got annoying quick.

Knuckles large hand detached from her thigh (she whimpered huffed indignantly at the sudden dearth of claws digging into her flesh) and swung around to slap her ass, hard. Rouge yelped but held firm, even tightening her grip on his head a little. He slapped her again, harder. The blow sent an electric shudder up her spine and her breath hitched. He must have felt her thighs quake, because he took the meat of her ass in hand and gave it a tight squeeze. He then wound his hand back and gave her such an ever-loving spank that demons could hear her moan in whatever ring of hell they had pre-booked for.

Rouge released her lover, still trembling from his punishment (that would leave a welt, giving her a reminder of their encounter every time she sat down for the next few days), and shifted forward. Knuckles gasped and hacked a wet cough. “God damn it, woman! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Her vision upside down, she glared at him through the tunnel of their bodies. “Keep your fucking knot away from my mouth, that’s what.” Huh.

He grunted, “Shit, is that it?”

Rouge narrowed her eyes. “I will bite down so hard your scream will break spacetime so badly your birth certificate will claim you’re a woman.”

“Fuck, fine, I-I’ll- gah!” Knuckles choked on whatever nonsense he was about to spew as Rouge took him to the hilt in one smooth motion. “Rouge! Fuck!” Knuckles writhed, an unassociated mess of limbs and abdominal muscles, but managed to keep his pelvis still like a good little boy. As a reward, she lowered herself back down, allowing him to get back to work. This meal would not savor itself.

Rouge hadn’t found sex particularly compelling in her younger years. Don’t get it twisted, she’d had plenty. Like, just a disgusting amount of sex. A truly shameful amount. Her body count had hit trips by the end of law school, but no matter how hard she fucked, she was a one and done gal. No breakfast, get the fuck out, she had work to do. The world wouldn’t conquer itself. That spine-tingling, brain-melting connection she was supposed to find as an Alpha just wasn’t there for her. Betas, Omegas, men, women, all sorts of species. Nothing clicked.

Especially not Omegas. She tried. Fucking hell, she tried. Again and again, she felt nothing. Sure, she could smell them just as well as the next Alpha. It just didn’t do anything for her.

Eventually she just resigned herself to the fact that there was just something fundamentally wrong with her. Something abhorrent. An Alpha who didn’t lose their fucking mind over the smell of a random stranger off the street? Defective. Deviant. Disgraceful. She learned quick to not say a fucking thing about how utterly indifferent she was to Omegas or else she’d get that look, the one that said what’s wrong with you?

After watching Shadow go through his shit, she counted herself lucky. The whole Alpha/Omega dynamic was a fucking crap shoot, lined with every sticky substance a body could produce. Rouge might have been the only sane Alpha on the planet. That’s fine. She didn’t need a partner. She’d just rule the whole fucking world on her own. Inject some god damned justice into the malformed chimerical machine they called society.

But then she laid eyes on a young Officer Knuckles coming into the DA’s office to prep for a minor upcoming court appearance. The world fucking froze, grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. The heavens opened up and the righteous hand of god reached down to slap Rouge across the face. Look here, you stupid bitch! Ah, that’s what everyone had been creaming themselves over. Rouge didn’t consider herself sentimental, but she was instantly certain that she’d found the last face she’d ever want to sit on.

After everything was said and done, and the conference room had emptied out, she placed herself in the doorway. He knitted his brow in adorable confusion. She gave him a coy smile. “My name is Rouge Baton. Would you like me to sit on your face?”

The handsome echidna short-circuited. Utterly hung like an old computer. His eyes didn’t move, he wasn’t breathing, he lost all signs of life. Rouge was getting impatient and mildly concerned when he finally blinked, looked her in the eye, and said, “Yes, ma’am. I would very much like that.”

So, they took their business to Rouge’s office, which was a third-floor janitor’s closet in those days. She’d since moved to nicer digs but never moved on to a nicer man. Streight out of a romance novel, right there.

Rouge released the death grip she’d been maintaining on his taunt thigh and reached around to grasp the bulging, monstrous knot. She chuckled (with difficulty, mind you, but her oratory skill were developed) with satisfaction as he hissed and twitched underneath her. “F-fuck, Rouge!”

The future Mayor disgorged him and panted, blowing away a string of saliva still connecting them. She leaned her head against his bent knee and listened to his blood march to the beat of his heart. Rouge took to stroking the long, glistening length with languid fascination. Fuck, it never ceased to amaze her how big the damn thing was. How the fuck she got her nose to his knot was its own, separate, miracle.

Her impending orgasm tapped her on the shoulder, drawing her rapt attention. Knuckles made muted protesting noises as she ground her hips into his face. She grunted, clenching her insides. Sensing her approaching climax, Knuckles tightened his grip on her thighs, holding her in place as he intensified his painting efforts. The portrait was almost done, just a few more finishing flourishes.

An errant thought wormed its way through the building tension and plucked the taunt strings of her mind, sending a whole new wave of shivers to reverberate through her. Rouge worked so hard. Put up with some truly stiff competition. Burdened herself with quiet the load. She deserved a treat and, now that she thought about it, she hadn’t had a double orgasm in a long time. Too fucking long.

One of the few upsides of being a female Alpha or male Omega (take what you can get ladies and gentlemen) was the ability to orgasm with both sets of their reproductive organs simultaneously. It wasn’t easy, of course, taking and releasing at the same time. But successful execution was literally the best thing that existed in the entire universe and second place wasn’t even close. People with only one set of organs couldn’t even begin to imagine, the poor motherfuckers.

Whilst maintaining the clenching pressure inside, Rouge relaxed the front of her pelvis. Her clit slipped forward, the thin prehensile appendage unsheathing into Knuckles’ hot, wet maw.

Instead of allowing Rouge to wrap her tip around his uvula, the fool started choking and shoved her off. Rouge squeaked as she lost her balance and fell into the footwell. “Fucking hell!” Knuckles snarled as he shot up, his purple eyes burning with disgust. “What the fuck, Rouge?!” He whipped furiously at his soaked mug and stuck out his tongue as if he wasn’t just reveling in the taste of her.

Her head (both of them) throbbing from the sudden, involuntary edging, Rouge scrambled to right herself and return to the seat. “Oh, you get all my holes, and I get jack shit, is that it?”

“You can’t just shove your Alpha cock in my mouth, Rouge! I’m not- I can’t- It’s just not-” He stammered, his chest heaving, and his member still very present and accounted for.

Kunckles’ shame stoked a sudden rage in her. “If you didn’t want dick, you shouldn’t be fucking with me, Knuckles.” It wasn’t an entirely fair statement. Knuckles (who’s fist sized knot left no room for interpretation) hadn’t known Rouge’s second gender until probably twentieth (thirtieth? she wasn’t counting in those days) time, but at the end of that first month Knuckles had the ridiculous and ill-conceived idea of expressing how he’d caught feelings for her Beta charms.

Rouge had been startled to realize they were on completely different pages. Here she’d thought she’d found another busted Alpha, just like her, with the perverted attraction to the same second-sex. She hadn’t had the courage time to correct him for a few more months, because she was so afraid scared terrified anxious busy. So what if he rejected her, she didn’t care, fuck ‘em. If he looked at her with revulsion, whatever his loss she didn’t need his handsome gob at all anyway. He was dumb and stupid and she didn’t care like at all.

Unfortunately, once their entanglements hit trips about six months in, the ‘misunderstanding’ was probably starting to ripen into (alleged) ‘dishonesty’. Rouge figured he’d get mad and storm out and that would be the end of it. Instead, he squinted at her, confused. “No, you’re not.” When she confirmed that, no, she was not shitting him, Knuckles just got more confused. “But…that’s wrong. How would that even work?”

Rouge had shrugged. All she knew was that she still wanted the garden hose he called a dick. Befuddled, but very, very horny, Knuckles had agreed to ‘one last time’ for the road. After thirty to forty ‘last times’, even the thick-headed officer of the law couldn’t quite reconcile the clash between his thoughts and actions. They were two Alphas into each other in a way that flew in the face of god and biology. Oh well, they had fun with it.

Until they fucking didn’t!

Knuckles sat up and Rouge sat beside him. She crossed her legs, giving her spurned member some consolation pressure. “Look,” She started, “We’ve been doing this for like, fuck, I don’t know, like seven years at this point-“

“Seven years and three months.”

“Whatever, like seven years. I want to fuck you crossed-eyed until one of us in the motherfucking ground, but I also got needs. We’re getting on. I’m not going to role-play a Beta for you for the rest of my life.” She huffed and looked away. The windows were fogged over, the rest of the world locked out. “If you can’t handle all of me, well, then it’s just not working for me anymore.” She turned and looked at him, eyes stinging from holding back tears with irritation at herself for putting up with this shit for so long.

Knuckles his hands, laying palm up in his lap (where she should be right goddamn it!). “I love you, Rouge.” He said, like it was easy and not a phrase that couldn’t be ripped from her throat by wild horses. She looked away just as he tried to look into her eyes.

Her fucking cheeks! Why was it so hot in here? She was going to melt with how insufferably hot it was. His voice was low and serious. Fuck. It was the feelings voice. “But you can’t go jumping that sort of thing on me…I just can’t- You can’t expect me to-“ He sighed. Knuckles was so cute when that little head of his was beating its single brain cell like a rented mule to come up with a coherent thought. She couldn’t stand it.

Rouge rolled her eyes. “Fuck a duck, yes. You’re right. I’m sorry. But that’s like the only way I get any action outside of my own fist.” He growled, low in his chest. Crap, shit, she was being an inconsiderate cunt. It happened. On occasion. Rarely. Rouge took a breath and sighed. “I’m…really sorry, Knux. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.” Her teal eyes found his purple.

“Look…I need a minute to think.”

Rouge frowned. “Go for it, hun.” She leaned her head back onto the incredibly uncomfortable head rest.

Knuckles crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his head, eyes closed. It wasn’t fair that he was cute doing the stoic monk act too. It had been some strange gift (or curse, jury was still out) that Lieutenant Knuckles had been placed in charge of managing the security and oversight of the special election. The threat of scandal was not lost on Rouge, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

Rouge moved forward and treaded her hand through the small gap in the plexiglass that separated the front from back seats. With effort, she grabbed her purse and pulled it through. Putting it on the floor, she fished out her pack of smokes and a lighter.

“Don’t smoke in my service vehicle.” Knux growled as she lit one up. Rouge took a long drag and then offered it to her lover. Knuckles took the tiny cigarette with his big hands and put it between his lips. Rouge lit a second for herself.

The silence drug on, floating in perfect coexistence with the gathering haze of smoke. Rouge looked through her email on her phone. Espio wanted to start debate prep the next day. Amy was super duper sorry but she wouldn’t have review shots ready until the next day. Strangely, Shadow hadn’t replied to her text of ‘this one’ and a link to a vintage eighteen-karat gold pen nib with a floral design she liked. She sent ‘im waiting’.

Now that they weren’t tussling, Rouge was starting to get a little cold, bare-ass naked as she was and the autumn chill running rampant outside. And she was getting to the end of her second cigarette and that was her third for the day, which was too many if she didn’t want to end up eating it to throat cancer like her mother. She glanced at Knuckles.

The burly red echidna remained still. Arms cross, eyes closed. The urge to say something snarky and shitty was maturing at the tip of her tongue, like an insufferable teenager. I know you’ve got to asexually breed your last brain cell to get enough to form a thought, but this is stretching things. You’re really making me concerned that you’re allowed to carry a firearm with a reaction time like this. You stupid motherfucking coward, just say you don’t want a cock in your mouth already so I can move on with my life.

“So, do I need to call a cab?” She asked, settling on literally the nicest statement she could think of in the moment.

“I’m not ready.”

Rouge sighed and pulled up her Unter app to check pick-up times.

“But,” Knuckles continued. “I might could be in the future.” He turned to her and she lowered her phone, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I promise I’ll try, Rouge. I love you and I want all of you…but I’m going to need some time. I don’t know if it’ll be a month or year, but I promise I’ll try. Is that…is that okay with you?”

Was it okay with her? Rouge found herself at a rare loss for words. He…he said it like he wasn’t fucking with her. Like he meant it. She looked down at her phone. God damn she was a stupid bitch to try to force this issue now. What had she been thinking? There was simply too much shit going on. Why’d she have to get all relationshipy all of a sudden?

Now it was Rouge’s turn to not say a fucking thing for a minute like some kind of hypocrite.

“Tell me a secret.” Knuckles asked, pulling Rouge out of her reverie. She blinked, taking the out and shelving the whole issue.

Fuck, she loved and hated the secrets game. It was their stupid little thing from back when they’d just got together. Rouge though speed dating questions were fucking terrible, but she wanted the blast past the empty and boring conversations of the first dozen or so dates. She had the brilliant idea of exchanging secrets. Build a little trust and speedrun emotional intimacy. What could go wrong?

They started out with small stupid things. I once stole a candy bar. I know where the best Shamanese food is. Then things started to get a little more colorful. I know who is sleeping with the Mayor’s husband. I know who to bribe to fake a police report. Then it got serious. I know a murderer. I don’t feel anything when someone dies in my arms anymore.

Now they were so entangled she really didn’t know she ended, and he began on occasion.

“My best friend fucked my photographer last night.”

“I’m sorry?” Knuckles’ voice lilted up at the end.

“That’s not the secret.” Rouge tossed her phone into the hungry maw of her purse. “The secret is that I’m actually thrilled for both of them.” Fucking Shadow. The universe buried that asshole in wins and he still had the gall to bitch about it half the time. And Amy…well, all the kudos. She could certainly do worse. Rouge hoped Amy would eat his heart…once, you know, when he showed her where he buried it.

“Huh.” He huffed. “Good for them, I guess. But you’re going to make them suffer?”

“Of course. How fucking dare they?” She rolled her head along her shoulders and smiled at him in the dim lighting. He, stone-faced, stared back.

Then they both erupted into a fit of snickers. Rouge laughed until she felt tears forming. From how funny what she’d said had been. Not from the release of tension from something that wasn’t important at all.

Rouge wiped her eyes. Knuckles smiled at her. His hand traveled over the bench and touched hers. She lifted her fingers and allowed their digits to interlace. “Alright, alright. Your turn, big guy. Tell me a secret.”

“This fucker in vice lost his service weapon because he wouldn’t stop demanding freebies from street ladies in because was looking the other way for their shitty, abusive pimps. News 7 got sent a shot of him with his pecker down some poor woman’s throat behind a run-down bodega off Ninth. The Chief quashed it, but he might not be able to turn a blind eye once it gets around the fucker’s gun’s gone.”

Rouge snorted. “Don’t worry, hun. Your father will find a new way to fail the city, I’m sure.”

“Thanks, Rouge.” Knuckles grunted, flatly. “That’s not the secret.”

“Oooh?”

“The secret is I took that jackoff’s gun.” He grinned at her with stupid handsome mug that was really begging for a-

She leaned over and kissed him. A short peck. But he pursued her when she retreated and the next moment her fingers were lacing through his quills while their tongues fought. He twisted and she pushed him over and clamored on top. The wings were a good excuse to always be on top where she liked it.

Rouge drug her pelvis along his pouch, one long, wet motion, magically summoning Knuckles’ smarter head like some sort of sexy snake charmer. She could taste herself in him, that complex flavor of impending rut and departing ovulation. She slid far forward to get above the erect length. Old hat as she was, Rouge could line up flawlessly backward, forwards, upside down, or underwater without assistance, so her hands ran through the short-trimmed white hairs on his chest.

Poised to settle into the saddle, she hissed, “You knot me and I’m going to pry you out with a rusty screwdriver.” And then she slammed herself down before he could form a coherent rebuttal other than screaming her name.

When she was seated on his knot and his eyes returning from their trip to the inside of his skull, he had the audacity to jeer at her and say, “Tell me more.”

Rouge narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. His purple eyes twinkled in anticipation of whatever disgusting diatribe she was about to unload upon him. Instead, Rouge released her flexible length and wrapped it around his knot. Knuckles’ eyes flew wide, but before he could say something ridiculous, she squeezed his knot with all her might.

Knuckles fucking howled and bucked so fiercely her head cracked against the roof. “Shit!” She snapped and then slapped him across the face.

“My god Rouge, wha-“ Rouge smirked, reveling in how his eyes glazed over. She kept her lifts short to maintain her grip. A downside of their pairing was neither had knotted in over seven years. Rouge didn’t give two shits, but Knuckles clearly forgot what he’d been missing. He was basically a knot virgin again and he sure was babbling like one. Downright adorable. She drank up every lite utterance.

“See what happens when you experiment?” She chided him, though he was pretty sure he couldn’t understand spoken language at the moment. “You might find something new to love.” Rouge leaned down and ran a nail around his lips. “Or you might learn something new about herself. Maybe you’d love sucking me off?” Knuckles’ eye darkened and he shot up and took her throat between his teeth. “You don’t have the balls.” She hissed, unable to funny hide her ecstatic smile.

His huge hands cupped her ass cheeks, and he took control, lifting her up and slamming her down. Rouge moaned, her voice moving strangely through her constricted airway. “Balls enough to fill you up.” He murmured into her flesh. She felt his hot breath and could feel his racing pulse through the slight movements of his fangs pressing into her esophagus. Fuck that was hot.

Rouge ran her fingers through his quills and dug her claws in as deep as they would go, relishing the wild, savagery in his eyes. Her animal. Her absolute beast. She’d goad him until they were a hot, sticky mass of lust, aggression, bone-rattling pleasure. Fuck you, kill me, coward.

Raw and panting, Rouge rode her man into the night.