Last-Meal Delivery

Of all the closets Rouge had fucked a bloke in – and they were numerous – she’d give this one a three out of ten. The metal racking was pretty sharp as it pushed into her back and wings, but the supplies contained within were markedly office in nature rather than janitorial, so her retinas and sinuses weren’t getting incinerated by bleach or ammonia fumes – or, fucking hell, both like that one time resulting in the worst hospital visit ever!

Anyways, she was choking on Knuckles’ tongue instead of chloramine gas and it was about fifteen hundred times better. A couple floors away, some piddly PTSA fundraiser or rotary club fish fry was winding down and everyone figured she’d bailed half an hour ago. Instead, she was learning Echidnan via osmosis.

She dug her nails into the meat of his back and he pulled away, taking his second longest length of muscle with him. She lowered her teeth, dragging them along his tongue as it retreated. Fully parted, the pair panted, red faced. Fuck did he taste good, god damn.

She needed this after the rain of flaming shit that had been her week. St. Jerkoff’s proclamation had just twisted everyone’s panties and Rouge had been left scrambling. Frankly, she’d done this to herself by mouthing off the month prior about Wolfe v City. Espio had been on the money and the election was about Omegas now.

Fucking great! She had thought, a bit of good luck. She could win that kind of race blindfolded. Her polling numbers had been rising. Suddenly her connection to Shadow and his charity looked a lot less like she was in the pocket of big business and more like she actually had a track record of giving a shit about Omegas.

But then that motherfucker pivoted. The slimy fuck never stood for anything other than his own gain. St. John would step on any hand, say anything, blow any dog whistle if it meant he got the power he wanted. That wouldn’t have been a problem if he wasn’t so clever and charismatic and if Rouge wasn’t playing handicapped by some sort of shitty moral code. God damn it.

She was a bit stressed out.

“Tell me a secret.” Rouge begged (fuck you) demanded. She was in control, now and forever. She’d take the reins of the City and drag it kicking and screaming in a better direction. Right now, though…maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to relax for a minute. The boxes of fine point sharpie markers wouldn’t tell.

Knuckles’ eyes unfocused adorably as he thought, but then they went wide and he averted his gaze. “You first.” The little shit said.

Rouge would have roasted his ass on a spit, but his sudden bashfulness as they invented new sins in front of an audience of post-it notes and spare staplers was intriguing. “Always making me do all the work.” She growled.

Bracing her back against the shelves, Rouge shoved her red lover against a large institutional printer. “I’m going to lose this stupid, fucking race to a slimeball under investigation for corruption.”

“What?” Knuckles frowned. “Rouge, you’re not going to lose.” Wasn’t he just the most adorable idiot?

She chuckled. “I love how that’s the part of my statement you focused on.” Shit, had she really let love slip out of her mouth? Maybe he didn’t notice. Knuckles’ tail slapped against the plastic siding of the printer. Damn it.

“Well, I hadn’t heard about the corruption before. Why hasn’t that been in any of your attack ads?”

“You watch my ads?” She teased. Knuckles’ brow pinched and he started flopping about like a cute little suffocating fish for an explanation that would protect his precious pride. Rouge talked over his stumbling as an act of mercy. “In short, everyone at the DA’s a coward. I took all the balls when I left.”

Knuckles exhaled through his nose sharply. “Somehow I don’t buy that.”

“Yeah, sure,” Rouge shrugged, “maybe there is a spine or two lying around, but no one wants to be caught dead being a thorn in the side of their future boss.” There was probably a big jug of printer toner somewhere. What if she stopped thinking about anything else and thought of disgusting and depraved things to do with that?

Knuckles huffed. “I can understand that.”

“I figured your old man can’t be golfing with St. Jackass for fun.” She sneered.

He flushed. “It ain’t right.”

Rouge laughed full in his face. “And this is? Glass houses, lieutenant!” Shit, that was too far.

Knuckles grimaced. “You’re right.” He pushed away from the printer and went for the door.

A short spear of fear (no) desperation (as if) affront (yeah, let’s go with that) tore through her and she darted to block his passage. “Don’t be like that!” She pressed her hands against his toned pecs, so god damn chiseled even through the crisp black fabric of his uniform. It was disgusting. The whole thing should be taken off, probably by ripping it to shreds just to make sure it was properly destroyed so it could never cover such sexy muscles again.

The fact of the matter was that Rouge needed to participate in some heavy sexual intercourse. Her week had been utter hell, and she wanted to strap herself to Knuckles’ totem pole of a dick and flagellate herself with his creature-of-the-deep tongue. But she’d slit her own throat before she said any of that out loud because vulnerability was for pussies.

“Tell me a secret! I told you one, so now it’s your turn!” Fuck, she sounded petulant. Shit, he was smiling. Bastard. Well, fuck him, who needs him, not her that’s for damn sure. She didn’t need anyone, least of all grinning dumbasses, not matter the length or girth of their assets.

He blushed. Oh damn, this was about to be good, wasn’t it? “I’m ready to try…uh, stuff with your…uh…” His eyes shifted down her body.

Rouge’s eyes dilated so fast and so far she would have detached both retinas if she wasn’t protected by the unholy power of horny.

Holy shit!

Fuck, Knuckles was so handsome. He had to be the hottest god damn thing on the planet, and she’d smoke crack cocaine on camera before she let anyone have him. “It’s a cock, darling, but we can call it an outty vagina if that helps you.”

His snout wrinkled. “You know what? Never mind.” He grasped her shoulders gently about to dead lift her skinny ass and reclaim ownership of the escape route.

“No!” Oh crap, did she say that out loud? Desperate much, you stupid bitch? “I’m sorry.” Who is even talking right now? Her and she needs to get a grip before she fucks up the whole whatever this is.

Rouge wiggled out of his hold and, with a flap of her wings, she alighted atop the large printer with her legs crossed. “We can go at your speed, big man.” Set engines to glacial. “I’ll even try to keep my trap shut.” Time to make a decision, molten magma in Echidna form. Going for the door or will you score?

He gave her an incredulous look. “Hell will freeze over before you learn to watch your mouth, woman.”

Rouge frowned, “I said I’d try, okay?”

Knuckles still looked like he was gonna bolt, so Rouge spread her legs and put an end to that bad idea. His chest swelled and his big purple eyes were glued to the inseam of her trousers. Damn, he was really going give her super-secret bonus sex a try.

Rouge felt something warm and fuzzy growing like a mold in her chest. Her face flushed like some sort of storybook maiden and if she wasn’t the most disgusted she’d ever been with herself she’d swallow her tongue. She didn’t do affection or any of that touchy feely shit. That wasn’t who Rouge was. She was a fucking ruler and its lonely at the top for a reason.

But- No fucking buts!

This was just sex.

End of story.

No time for questions. Direct inquiries to her press secretary.

This was just her manipulating a man into letting her peg him. Clean, simple, a tale as old as time. Feelings need not apply.

Rouge let Knuckles fumble around for a hot second with unbuckling her dainty little fashion belt holding up her ungodly expensive tangerine slacks before swatting him away to remove it herself. Men, right? With a practiced undulation of her hips, the cloth fell unceremoniously to the linoleum to be trodden on by uncouth boots and just fucking ruined.

As he worked his mitts off, Rouge ran her nails down the crisp folds of his uniform, hooking them dangerously around buttons that, in the grand scheme of things, really shouldn’t be popped off. Yeah, but she wanted to. So, she did. But only the one, the topmost, because she was a merciful god.

Knuckles didn’t notice the glossy black bit of plastic tapping on the floor before it ricocheted off to parts unknown. Hints of the crescent of white emblazing his chest peeked from between parted lengths of fabric and Rouge became just so smitten affectionate offended.

Finished with his work, he bracketed her hips with his huge hands, rubbing little circles in the fur of her sides. With precise plucks that didn’t sever any thread, she liberated the stifled chest from its confinement. Emancipated. Delivered, even, like some sort of saint. She deserved a fucking peace prize for her efforts.

And she was one – some sort of saint – because she had waited this long to undress her lover. Tangerine nails dug into white and paprika fur, biting possessively. Rouge did not often feel anything of these so called Alpha instincts her demographic was supposed to be enslaved by, but if ever she wanted to growl MINE, it was probably now. She didn’t though, because a lady has to keep her dignity.

Off came her jacket and undone went her blouse. Nearly bare assed, Rouge splayed herself on the alter to banal bureaucracy. Her wings twitched, unfurled as far as they could be in the tight quarters.

Knuckles slowly sank to his knees, his purple eyes gazing into her teal. Rouge’s black silken thong was damp and ready to be roughly pulled aside or pried off with teeth (either or, she was flexible). Instead, because he had no imagination (the bastard), he just pulled them down, leaving Rouge to wiggle awkwardly to get the panties past the plastic she was balanced on. The boxes of paperclips would be complaining to customer service for this poor performance.

Her sex revealed, Rouge found she was holding her breath as Knuckles’ single brain cell flogged itself to mush attempting to pull off a contemplative expression.

Should she let herself out? Was he being serious? What was he waiting for? Why wasn’t he saying anything?

Was he mocking her? He was mocking her. He was teasing and mocking her and giving her blue balls, the fucking asshole.

How fucking dare he? Utter, fucking asshole! She was going to cut his manhood off. No, she was going to swallow it whole and bite it off. She was-

Knuckles’ eyes lowered and he leaned forward, the tip of his snout touching her belly, and ran his demonically long tongue along her grand canyon, from the dark, forbidden rear, over the sacred caverns of unspeakable pleasure, and ending on the peak of the world.

All sins were forgiven. Via con Dios, mi hijo.

“Is it gonna…come out or do I have to…?” His brow tented in the confused concentration indicative of his idiotic forebears: millions of generations of men who didn’t know how to navigate a woman’s anatomy. Well, that wasn’t completely fair. Rouge was packing extra heat.

“Just shut up and put that mouth to proper use.” She said in a husky voice as she relaxed her pelvis, extending her length. His eyes grew wide as he watched what he’d thought – and this was a big assumption on Rouge’s part because odds were Knuckles couldn’t name what he was looking at – was her clitoris swell and elongate into a prehensile tentacle about the length of her hand.

Rouge had a little control over the writhing thing and, as Knuckles seem paralyzed, she wrapped the tip around his nose and gave it a light squeeze. He startled and Rouge grinned at the slight sheen of pre left on the black soft tissue. “Damn it, Rouge.”

“It’s not going to bite you.”

“Yeah, but I might.” Threatening her with a good time, was he?

“Have fun with that. No court in the land will convict me of what I’ll do to you in response, though.”

“Woman, why are you like this?” He glared up at her.

Rouge stifled her next cutting remark when she saw how flushed he was. Fucking cute. She bit her lip instead and fluid filled her member, restricting its range of movement. God, the sight of him between her legs like this? She liked this view a vile amount. Fuuuuck. Her knot was swelling already.

Satisfied there would be no more comments from the peanut gallery, Knuckles smirked and returned to psyching himself up. What thoughts were rattling around in that empty cavern he called a head? What train of thought could have possibly led him to be here, kneeling before her?

Who the flying fuck gives a shit?

Knuckles leaned forward and took the small, tapered tip between his lips and gave it a soft suck, like he was drawing in a strand of spaghetti. Rouge gasped, her body jolting. Well, fuck me! She realized she was going to have to marry that mouth and, she admitted reticently, the man operating it.

Shit. This was getting serious. And…she was okay with that? Bitch, who are you?

Never mind that! Hot echidna in the endzone. Eyes front and center.

He did it. He was really doing it. That warm, fuzzy feeling was back, damn it.

Knuckles touched his tongue to the tip between his lips and Rouge shrieked in the most undignified manner, her voice hitting ultrasonic registers. His eyes lit up and suddenly the whole writhing thing was in his mouth and Rouge was doubling over, her nails digging into his sinuous shoulders as she cried “Fuck!”

Rouge had had sex literally hundreds of times. Fuck, thousands – plural – of times, probably.

She’d never had her dick sucked. Not once.

She needed to bite him on the shoulder. Nothing else in the universe mattered as much as that right now. Rouge pushed him off her, braced her knees against his broad shoulders, and shoved the righteous upholder of the law to the floor. Knuckles grunted and began to snarl something, but she’d already descended – as angels of death are want to do – planting her thick thighs to either side of his stomach and slamming her lips into his, sucking whatever words he was about to say out of his mouth with prejudice.

Knuckles was so taken aback he didn’t even realize she’d breached his pants until Rouge expertly pressed the right parts of him and he was extending directly against her heat. She was an expert, after all.

Alright, all previous plans were null and void. They were fucking on the floor of a random supply closet. Let’s go!

Rouge’s wings flapped and quivered as she seated herself on him, taking him fast and fully. The proud Echidnan warrior released the most musical chimera of a moan and a whimper. His knot was swelling quickly, and Rouge tried to wrap her own length around it unsuccessfully.

The brief time the supple thing had spent in Knuckles’ gob had it all bothered. Rouge felt something she’d not in a long time: her own knot fully swelled. Unfortunately, her knot’s emergence limited how tightly she could grip Knuckles’, but those were details, darling.

Her bare knees pressing into the cheap, cold flooring, Rouge began to rise and fall aggressively, melting Knuckles into a stupid, handsome puddle. Serves him right. He was beautiful like this, under her and just coming apart, a slave to his lust just like her. They were made for one another and every universe where they were separate was doomed. She smirked.

His purple eyes caught fire. Stupid, strong hands took possession of either side of her ass and lifted her. His legs tented, creating a space below them both. Before Rouge could hiss indignantly, he began pistoning, shoving her down onto the spear he called a cock while thrusting up at the same time, before ripping her off like he was pulling the cord on a chainsaw.

She saw stars.

It was rough. It was messy. It was probably way too fucking loud for the venue. But neither of them, in the moment, gave even an ounce of shit.

At some point, Rouge tumbled forward as pleasure transformed her innards into shivering jelly. Knuckles still worked them together, but she got into his mouth and opened a second front there. His thick, musty aroma was everywhere. In her nose, in her mouth, rubbing its way deep into her fur. He reeked in the most disgusting way, but she couldn’t get enough. Like wine and expensive dirt. Rich and earthy. Just the most staggeringly fertile fertilizer on the goddamned planet. Mother Gaia wept.

On some muted, deformed level, Rouge’s body knew this was wrong. But her broken, misfiring instincts also produced an equally fucked up directive.

Bitch, bite that motherfucker, NOW!

Rouge was too close to her climax to argue. She retreated from his mouth, looked directly into his lust-clouded eyes, and realized something. This was it. This was the man and there wouldn’t be any others ever again.

She dug her razor-sharp bat fangs right into the meat of his trapezius, tasting his blood and sending them both over the edge. It was not fucking fair how good her orgasm was as it ripped through her, just fucking all her shit up. Her carefully constructed inland empire was leveled by the hurricane of pleasure. No building left standing, no conviction unchallenged, no past to ever return to.

The universe would never be the same.

Well, shit!

They lay in a sweaty, sex-smelling pile and attempted to catch their breaths. Rouge’s head lay on his broad chest, and she could hear the strong beat of his heart. “D-did you try to Claim me?” Knuckles blinked slowly as the high of his orgasm started to fade. He reached up to his shoulder and felt the flesh there. His paw pads came back glistening with his blood.

“N-no.” Rouge snorted and forced a laugh. “Don’t be stupid. That would be stupid, so obviously I didn’t do that.” She pushed up and away from him. Her face was on fire despite the cold room.

Knuckles chuckled. He licked his blood from his fingers. “I love it when you lie to me.” That gleam in his eye almost had her ready for seconds. Why did he always have to say such terrible things to her?

“Shit,” she covered her face with her hands, “I think I love you.” Rouge mumbled. Goddamn it, brain, what the fuck?

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.” She threw her hands away from her face and snapped indignantly, “You should get your damn ears checked!” The lady doth protest too much me thinks. Get bent.

“Sure,” He chuckled, a dopey-ass grin just tattooed across his dumb face. “I’ll get right on that.” Jerk. Asshole. Bastard…Idiot…Moron…Motherfucker…He was all of those things…but he was also hers.

Rouge swallowed. The metallic taste of him remained. Might always remain. What was she going to do now?

Nothing.

She was going to do absolutely nothing, because nothing even happened.

They had sex like they always did.

Then why did it feel different? It was just sex. She loved sex, so she had a lot of it. It was simple as that. One of these days she was gonna have to stop lying to herself. Today was just like any other.

“Get dressed.” Rouge ordered as she pushed to her feet. The closet felt a whole lot smaller now as the packs of copy paper taunted her with their pounds of pure white pulp. Since when did office supplies become such cunts? “I’m getting a smoke.” And I want you to join me.

Knuckles lifted, propping his head up with his hand, and considered her silently from the floor. Rouge aggressively ignored him as she searched through the assorted piles of discarded clothing to find all her essential parts. Her panties ended up under the damn printer and came out covered in dust bunnies. Looks like she was going commando.

Sometime between buttoning her blouse and belting her trousers, the lieutenant stood and dressed as well. The black fabric of his uniform did wonders to hide the coitus-related wrinkles and absorbed the blood from his wound like a champ. Did he smell like her now? She sneered. Fuck, he probably did.

They exited the closet and, after some stairs, found themselves on the roof of the building. Fuck, it was late. They’d have a time sneaking out of here without setting off a goddamned alarm. Judging by the street below, Rouge had successfully avoided the swarm of press fuck-heads who’d been hounding her like their lives depended on it recently.

She withdrew a paper package from her purse and tapped it against her palm. The tips of two cigarettes slid out and she pushed the one who’d made it furthest back in, biting the slow poke between her teeth. Lighting it, she took a long drag and then passed it to Knuckles, who took it without comment.

Rouge held the smoke in her lungs for a long beat, relishing in the growing urge to expel the pollutants. Finally, when even her veteran alveoli began to curse her out, she released a steady stream into the chilly night air. “What do you think of St. John?” She asked as she stared out across the glittering expanse of the City that she so desperately loved.

“He’s slimy and I hate his shitty guts, but it’s my job to make sure no one puts the skunk down until the election.” He handed the cigarette back to Rouge.

“How chivalrous of you.” She took a sip of nicotine.

“Blow me.”

“Maybe tomorrow.” She grinned and blew smoke into his face.

Knuckles batted away the cloud with one of his huge mitts. “But my old man likes him just fine…More than fine…”

Rouge grimaced. “He knows about us, doesn’t he? Your old man?” She took a drag.

Knuckles sighed and looked away. “I dunno…yeah, probably. He hasn’t said anything, so maybe…”

My sweet summer child. “He’s not going to until I lose the election.”

“Rouge.”

“Don’t give me that.” She looked him in the eye. “He only tolerates this,” she motioned between them with the cigarette, drawing an avant-garde cloud, “because it covers his ass.”

Knuckles sighed, his broad shoulders slumping. “I know. St. John wins, the old man has already had his snout up that skunk’s ass. You win…”

“His son has already had his snout up that bat’s snatch.” Rouge snorted humorlessly. “Funny how that worked out. No one is going to believe we were already a thing way before.” She focused on the thin stream of smoke lifting from the lit end of her cigarette. She was betting science would find a cure for lung cancer before it got her ass, so quitting wasn’t on her to-do list.

Knuckles turned to her. “You’re going to tell people? That we’re a thing?”

Rouge’s ears twitched. “Maybe.” She answered noncommittally. She didn’t know. One minute she wanted to scream to the roof tops about how hot, handsome, stupid, and hers this bastard was and the next she’d kill any motherfucker who found out. Shit, maybe she was too hormonal to hold office. Oh well, sucks to be you, City.

She needed to change the subject before this got dangerous.

“Congratulations on keeping Shadow from doing something truly stupid last weekend.” Rouge couldn’t lie. It had been hot as fuck watching Knuckles grapple Shadow into a stalemate stopping the hedgehog from murdering Amy’s dumbass of a friend. “I was certain someone was going to die.”

Knuckles laughed. He thought she was kidding. She was not.

“The Knuckles clan likes a good fight, but we don’t let it get out of control anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“It’s not a good look, you know, what with so many Echidnas in the force now.” He straightened. “We have to set a good example.”

Rouge hummed. How’d she end up with someone so damn honorable? It was almost inspirational. Rouge felt a little pull to reel in her malevolent cynicism and megalomania. Just a tad. Because she liked him…and wanted him to like her.

“What is St. John being investigated for?” Knuckles took a turn at driving the conversation.

“Accepting bribes.” Rouge took a long drag, killing the poor thing. “When he was at the Department of Health, he accepted money to grant government contracts to certain companies or to approve drugs for commercial use without proper vetting.” She dropped the smoldering butt to the ground and smothered it with the sole of her pumps. “Allegedly.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Rouge lit a fresh victim.

“Rouge, people could be dying.” She didn’t remind him people were always dying. “How could the DA office sit on an investigation like that?”

“Welcome to the world, little hatchling. People got families and junk. They don’t like starving and to eat, you got to work a job. It’s harder to do that if the Mayor of the whole fucking City has you on his personal shit list.”

“That-“ Knuckles growled. He knew it was true.

“Besides,” Rouge sighed out a cloud of smoke, “all the drugs affected were Omega related. A small risk of complications for a very small proportion of the population, one that most of the Betas have decided are annoyances anyway, makes the issue low priority.” She snorted. “He’d spin it like this.” Rouge started to fake St. John’s annoying fucking movie star, TV news anchor cadence, “I’ve made mistakes in the past, that is true and I own that responsibility. That is why it’s such a cornerstone of my candidacy to provide ‘safety’ for all Omegas at my totally-not-a-ghetto ghetto.”

Knuckles leaned heavily on the railing and reached a mitt towards her. Rouge relinquished the cigarette and pulled another fresh one from the package. “I hate the world sometimes.” He said quietly.

“Same.” She mumbled through her teeth as she lit the cigarette bit between them. “But it just gets worse if you turn away. Or say it’s not your business.” She drew a long draft and blew out a thick cloud. “Fuck the world. It’s all my business, I say. If society wants to act like a stupid child, then I’m going to beat the hell out of its ass and send it to bed without dinner.”

He chuckled. “Only you could make altruism sound like villainy. You’d turn into a pillar of salt if anyone suspected you actually gave a shit, huh?” He straightened.

She took a half step closer, eliminating the distance between them. “I’d like to think I’d turn to stone, actually. Like a gorgon looking in a mirror.”

“Rock salt, whatever.” He rolled his eyes but took the cigarette out of his mouth and leaned down until the tips of their noses brushed.

“Don’t you dare start with me.” Her ears tipped back and her head tilted as their lips drew closer together. “I used to be a lawyer. I’ll orate you into the fucking gro-“

Suddenly her phone began to emit the sound of a cash register chiming. Rouge’s ear twitched. Shadow was calling her. He hated the ringtone she’d assigned to his number and for that reason she was going to keep it until the end of time.

She pulled away. “I have to answer that. It’s my bank.”

Knuckles narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“It’s Shadow.”

“Fucking ignore him. It’s got to be near past midnight already.”

She wished she could, but… “If he’s calling this late, it’s probably important.” Sweet merciful Hades, lord of all things good in this world, please let him not have killed anyone…again. “Or he’s going to gush about his first date like a sixteen-year-old girl.” Frankly, Rouge wanted to hear Shadow happy, but she wouldn’t admit that even as demons strapped her to the rack in hell, let alone now when she still drew breath.

Knuckles smirked. “I’ve changed my mind. Answer and put it on speaker.”

Rouge grinned as she hit the green circle to accept the call and held it up to her ear. “Fuck you. What do you want?” She snapped. Shadow sounded drunk as he explained what the fuck he wanted. “Are you shitting me?” Rouge hissed, her snout wrinkling. She could not believe this. She simply couldn’t. The nerve! The bold-faced audacity!

Knuckles frowned.

“You owe me, asshole.” Rouge told Shadow before offering her phone to Knuckles. “He wants to talk to you.” Knuckles tilted his head to the side and his brows pinched adorably, like a god damn puppy.