Shehad done this, Ladybug realized. It was not some artificial pheromone she needed to create, some combination of herbs and musk and sweat that she needed to cook up in a cauldron. All he had needed was her. Her confidence of this last month, the anger Holt brought out in her, her arousal for Anzan. It was close to the time when his heat would come naturally, it was true, but she wondered if she would be able to coax his cock out of hiding all on her own again, in a month, in three months, in five. Would they need to wait for his seasonal heats at all? Or would their appetite for each other fill in the gaps, the way his venom filled in the gaps of her body’s ability to accommodate him?
He mounted her from behind, hissing as his cock pushed into her slowly, opening her inner walls, seating himself fully with a grunt. An equally slow pull-back, and then a solid thrust accompanied by another pleasured groan. Once, twice, hilting in her fully on each surge forward. Ladybug decided, as he moaned again, the sound ripping from his throat, that she likedthisversion of his heat best. Sating his need, giving him pleasure before it took on an edge of pain, and perhaps most intoxicating of all — the knowledge that she was the only one capable of signaling his body this way.
He had tried to explain the difference between his seasonal heat and the ruts experienced by the area’s cervitaur and dragonborn. Their cocks got hard and they needed to come, and that, he chuckled, was the extent of it. They would rut until the urge to do so passed, balls drained and heads heavy, and they would do so by any means necessary — via hand, mouth, or machine — a willing partner not necessary. His heats, by contrast, required a receptive partner, and once accepted as a mate, his heats would last only as long as she was willing to allow him to have her. If it weren’t for the market, she’d be happy to let him have his fill for as long as it took.
“I love you so much, my little Ladybug,” he groaned, thrusting forward once more.
The market could wait, she decided. Her ointment could keep for another week. In the meantime, she could use his venom in other offerings.
“Tomorrow night,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering as he pulled back once more. “You can have me until tomorrow night. Is-is that enough time?”
His mouth was at her shoulder, kissing his way over her skin, tongue flicking over the spot where he’d bitten her.
“Every moment is a gift, little bug.” His voice was a satiny hiss at her ear, and she cried out when he pressed two venom-slickened fingers to her clit. “I shall simply endeavor to make you scream for me until you need to rest.”
His hands at her hips and the venom-coated fingertips he rolled over her clit were the only things keeping her from swinging away when he began to rut into her. The underside of his shaft was ribbed, a thick band of texture that connected the descending orbs, and on every pull-back, Ladybug felt the drag of that friction, the sweat-inducing pressure that came with beingso full. Her stomach cramped as she came around him, her muscles barely having the space to contract, and her legs twitch as she was flooded with heat, Anzan spurting into her just a few moments later.
She imagined the mouth of her cervix coated in his silvery-slick semen, a growing pool within her. There was no danger of conception. Their biologies were not compatible, their anatomy only so because of his venom.That’s not the only thing making me wonder how it fits.Ladybug gasped. That day at City Hall. She hadn’t understood the joke told by one of the two women behind the partition, a joke at her expense, at Anzan’s expense.Nowthough . . . now she did.
She could use his venom to create a product that would fill in the gaps of the body’s ability, allowing species who had never before been able to mate to enjoy each other in a bacchanal worthy of the dark mother. She could sell all three of the ointments. After all, not everyone would be able to tolerate the burn of pure Araneaen venom the way she did.Some folks might prefer the little tingle. She would put a flame scale on the description, the more venom the ointment contained, the more the heat would increase in intensity, and in price point.
The pinnacle of the collection would be one of those artisan glass bottles, pure Araneaen venom, a hitherto unknown mating ability for all. She was able to see it there, see the gleam of the bottle, the cool incense smell of the shop. She could see all of it — the awnings and lettering, the display cases and spellbooks, and there on a leaded crystal plinth, a gleaming bottle of possibility. Holt would be so proud of her.
Ladybug began to laugh as Anzan pressed into her once more. She was more than a day late and several dollars short, but it turned out that the City Hall workers had, in fact, told a very funny joke.
“Hey there, Lizzie.”
Ladybug broke off, turning away from Holt at the sound of the deep voice behind her.
She had never gone by Lizzie a single day in the entirety of her existence, but that had not prevented Trapp Hemming from deciding sometime in the fifth grade that it was the name he was going to call her for the rest of their lives. She turned with a grin. Sure enough, the handsome werewolf stood on the other side of her table, towering over her and Holt, beaming down.
“This is a fantastic display,” he said seriously as she came around the table, allowing herself to be enveloped in a giant hug. “Have you been doing well here?”
“It’s only been a few weeks,” she explained. “But so far, so good! Last week was a big hit especially, I sold out before it was even over.”
Last week had been the first launch of the new Araneaen product line. Holt had surprised her and Anzan both with labels he had made, featuring a silvery web and spindly lettering, drawing attention to the products’ unique ingredients. Her ointment had, regrettably, not been ready, but she had made do with several tonics and attractants, all featuring the prized Araneaen venom. The trolls had been back, as had the beautiful elf, and it seemed that word was beginning to spread. Holt had been the one who’d saved the day, after the second customer came to the table demanding the spider venom.
“We have a strawberry lemon tonic here, ladies, carbonated with natural effervescence and charged with pink quartz. Each bottle contains more Araneaen venom than you’ll be able to find from any other retailer, I can promise you that. Because our stock is limited, these bottles can only be purchased with a minimum table purchase of at least thirty dollars today. Given the extremely rare nature and highly potent quality of our ingredients, I’m certain you’ll understand.”
Her mouth had dropped in horror as he’d spoken, but it hadn’t mattered. The goblins and trolls had scooped up her soaps and tinctures, lip bombs and body butters, clambering for a bottle of the sparkling tonic.
“That’s awesome,” Trapp enthused. “I’m so happy for you. We, uh, saw you the other night. Out walking. You and —“
“Anzan,” she supplied. Ladybug wasn’t sure if it was because they were talking about Anzan or because she was talking to Trapp — who’d always been friendly, always kind, always treating her with respect — but her voice was clear and firm, with no hint of a waver or stammer to be found.
Trapp grinned. “Anzan. My girlfriend and I had just left the coffee shop, we were taking a walk by the falls. Dad was thrilled when I told him.”
She felt that little frisson of adrenaline shiver up her back, the desire tofight, nodding again. “I–I have an appointment with your brother. In two weeks. To discuss what our next steps will be.”
If she had thought her success at the Makers’ Mart was going to mean the end of the whispers amongst her neighbors, she would’ve been disappointed. Although, when Ladybug really thought about it, she wasn’t all that surprised. Her Oldetowne neighbors were not the ones coming to her table, after all.
These shoppers represented the rest of Cambric Creek — mothers and students, nurses and teachers and librarians. Dutiful minotaurs and mothmen shopping with their wives and girlfriends, folks from the developments, from the new side of town, the younger side of town, the University and the apartments and condos. They were the part of Cambric Creek not steeped in the history of the community and they didn’t pull the same weight at City Hall, buttheywere the majority, she thought determinedly. They were the majority, and the thought of Anzan living there didn’t seem to bother them in the slightest.
She reminded herself of what Holt had told them in her kitchen.If it goes to a vote, I don’t think it will pass. She’d been silent and stunned when she’d been cast out of the coven, too humiliated and mortified to speak in her own defense, but she wasn’t going to let that happen again. Not to him. She was terrible at small talk, stammered and blushed and let her anxiety get the better of her, but she only had the platform of this table once a week to win hearts and change minds. Ladybug vowed she was going to do her best.
Trapp nodded again, his easy smile faltering. “Yeah, I know.” He gave a swift look around, his dark eyebrows coming together in consternation. “Look, regardless of what happens, you know you have our support, Lizzie. You and I have been friends for what, twenty years? Your mom and your aunt and my dad . . . Our family isn’t turning their backs on you. If you have to fight this, we’ll fight it together. I will deny this if it gets back to them, but there is literally nothing Jackson and Gray can’t do when they are united, and theyareunited on this. I promise.“ His smile returned, a bit wider than before. “Actually, I think Grayson is looking forward to suing the city, especially if you all win while Jackson is on the clock. That would be like his birthday and Christmas wrapped up together.”
She laughed weakly, not liking how that boded for her meeting, but Trapp had moved his gaze beyond her, noticing Holt for the first time.
