I take no responsibiloty for the title of this chapter. Blame my beta misreading "Title WIP".

Also, there's heavily suggestive scenes but no actual lemon. Not sure if thats SFW or not.

Enjoy.

TITTLE WHIP

Expensive coffee machines hiss whilst hipster human baristas flit about them, clammy with steam and clothing saturated with the scent of toasted coffee grounds. In the kitchen beyond, it is even more unbearable as delicate pastries are baked to tempt those that pass through for a caffeine fix to purchase something extortionately priced, marketed as an indulgent offset to the bitterness of their expertly prepared beverages.

The cafe is bustling with business as the morning crash drags on to eleven, blood sugars dropping rapidly as customers wait impatiently in the queue. Even beyond the complaining of entitled individuals of all species, the establishment is loud; women having dropped children at school meet with friends to gossip, students of the First Mobian-Human Collaborative College take up entire sections to discuss classes or copy notes, and shift workers looking for a pick-me-up fold in on themselves in darkened corners, clinging to the lifeblood in their insulated cups.

In an airier corner near the entrance, Rouge smiles and laughs at her companion's jokes, barely looking away from his face as they exchange small talk.

The man is human but well kept; his beard is trimmed neatly to his chin and jaw, a small line of fuzz joining it to a thin moustache below a long and slightly hooked nose. His nails are professionally manicured, his clothing casual but expensive, shoes easily worth a hundred dollars a pair (roughly twelve hundred mobiums). His teeth shine when he smiles, though a golden cap betrays a chip in a lower molar.

Despite his style, his character is rough. A common accent slips out as he banters, betraying his more modest roots, and when speaking of those he dislikes his jaw tightens, bearing his lower teeth as they bite into the thin upper lip, a dangerous glint in his eye as he travels down memory lane unwittingly.

Yes, from what she's learned of him so far, Jimmy "Jimbo" Cruz is exactly as Rouge expected.

She leans across the table to put a hand to his cheek, eyes half-lidded and voice sultry as she strokes the surprisingly strong jaw bone there. "I was nervous about dating a human… I imagine someone twice my size could split me in two. But you… you're perfect."

He grins, exposing those lower teeth again in an almost amused grimace. He places a hand over hers and interlocks their fingers, bringing the fist it creates to his lips to peck her bare fur. "Well darlin', no one said I still couldn't split yer." She presses her lips together and looks away bashfully as he peppers her hand with kisses. His stiff facial hair prickles her skin with every contact, sending a shiver down her spine she allows to echo in her hand. "I've... business to attend to in a few hours, but if you got a pad nearby I can give yer a demonstration…"

The man is barely five feet tall even with the raised heels of his italian loafers, something laughably easy to be impressed by when you're a Mobian of three and a half feet. He pulls his chair closer to hers and lightly brushes a wing with his free hand, a shuddering breath that escapes as his fingers stroke across leathery skin grazes her ear before he whispers. "Fuck, I want you so bad."

"Then let's get out of here." Her own breathy whisper sends a shudder through him. He clasps her hand more tightly as he leans in and greedily inhales her scent. "I've a place down in the Mobian Sector, a little apartment above a nightclub."

Jimbo smiles into her neck - she can feel the toothy grin split his face as he presses a kiss to the delicate skin there - and pulls his hand away. It caresses her leathery wing slowly as it retracts, drawing out the contact as long as possible as he speaks low and husky. "Sounds good, sweet'eart. You want ter finish that cup of Joe first, or are yer too hot around the collar..?"

She turns her head slightly to study him through heavy lids. Dark brown irises burn with desire, the smirk she felt morph his face now evident as a tongue moistens his lower lip. "It's already gone cold… and I don't know about you," her voice is low and loaded with lust as it tickles his ear in return. "But I prefer something stiffer than caffeine and sugar…"

In a second he's on his feet and offering a hand, jacket folded over his other arm and his grin turning appreciative. "I've always said whiskey's a better pick-me-up than that brown sludge." Rouge takes the offered hand with a smile and allows him to help her up. "A dame with a body like yers and a preference fer real drink… I sure got lucky meetin' you three weeks ago."

Rouge retrieves her own jacket and, hooking it on two fingers of her free hand, drapes it over a shoulder with a girly giggle. "So did I! And never in my wildest dreams did I think my next guy would be furless." He leads her outside, their hands parting as he wraps his arm around her waist, though she attempts to remove it as she speaks softly. "Cool it, Jimmy. You know how people think about… cross relationships…"

He smirks a flash of golden molar cap and reaffirms his grip instead, chuckling at the squeak a squeeze of her hip elicits from her. "Don't that make it more enticin'? When yer think of the gut-wrenchin' disgust it would rouse in those who aren't into it, yet we find intoxicatin', doesn't that get yer even more in the mood?"

"Sure, but that doesn't mean I want to flaunt it. I don't want to lose my job!" She looks about nervously but, when no one pays them any mind as they enter the Mobian sector, she begins to relax some. "My species aren't so prejudiced, but for me to actively court a Human in the city centre where our bosses might see? That's idiotic!"

The human snickers at this as they walk through the streets, eyes wandering whenever he gets a hint of any activity that might be Heat-driven. "My boss don't care, darlin'. He likes a bit of tail more than the average man, so ain't gunna fire no one for bein' the same as him."

He pauses in the mouth if an alley to observe a pair of rabbits frantically making out, surrounded by forgotten groceries, entranced by animalistic need overcoming inhibitions. He remains there until Rouge actively pulls him away, hooking an arm through his and talking to draw his attention back to her. "So what do you do, that you have such a progressive boss?"

"Asset management an' transportation." The golden cap flashes once more as the smile cracks his lips, and he puffs out his chest in confidence. "I make sure the drop-offs happen at the right time an' place for the big man 'imself! Pretty sweet, eh? So what line of work you in that you can doll yourself up so nice for a weekday date?"

Since GUN didn't pay in diamonds and precious stones (and she'd been told in so uncertain terms she'd never get one of the five Chaos Emeralds they held on site), Rouge had found herself having to invest in gold and diamond expeditions instead. The payouts for successes were lucrative, and provided another wealthy income with which to improve other facets of her life, such as her wardrobe.

Much like Jimmy, her clothing was casual but expensive, fine fabrics and accessories from a wide variety of boutiques across Station Square. Even being intended for the Mobian market wasn't essential; she had a great tailor to bring anything she loved down to size, and human clothes allowing more room for her ample measurements in a finished product.

Today's ensemble is comprised of tailored items. The jacket and shoes are recycled from yesterday's date with her echidnan suitor. Tight jeans have been swapped for tight white suit pants, while the plunging shirt has been replaced with a more modest blouse - though open to show some cleavage - atop a spaghetti-strap white slip to keep some of her modesty intact; an outfit suitable for her appointment at GUN in four hours.

This thought reminds her to text Shadow to request a ride. She does so as she replies, ending with a touch of sarcasm. "Clerical work, mostly, though I do some on-site training of newbies too. I just had to be good at my job." Given the vagueness of his own answer, it seems an appropriate response, and the laugh she gets for her trouble definitely reassures her of that. "Just texting a colleague for a ride later, so we don't have to break up the party early…"

Jimbo snorts. "Desk jobs fuckin' suck. Yer way too pretty to be stuck in an office all day, darlin'. Give 'em the finger an' find somethin' better."

"Why, you hiring?" She means the question to be a joke, but her tone seems to fluster him instead, insinuating she'd asked that a tad too huskily. She can feel desire burning inside her as they near Rouge's, and blames her arousal for the mistaken tone as she grabs his hand to lead him down an alley nearby with a teasing smile. "I hope you don't mind taking the back entrance…"

The bulge in the human's tight pants is evident as she drags him towards her apartment door, bare cheeks flushing a slight red. "You keep sayin' stuff like that, I'm not gunna make it to yer pad." She lets go to retrieve her key, only to have both her hips squeezed as he presses his clothed erection into the small of her back. He nuzzles into her neck fur for another deep inhale. "Fuck, I'll take you any way you want… I just need that furry body clamped around my rock hard dick, I don't care which hole…"

Click. Door open, the pair stumble inside and almost forget to close it again behind them. Furious kisses are exchanged as they slowly traverse the staircase, pausing no less than five times when Jimbo pins her to the wall to ravage her neck and lips. By the time they reach the landing and a privacy door to the living space, her shirt is unbuttoned entirely and his hand has shoved its way beneath the thin shift to caress her breast over her bra.

Door slamming behind them, he takes his hand from her breast and lifts her with both hand by ample buttocks, carrying her towards the arm of the nearest sofa. A soft groan escapes his lips as thick thighs wrap around his waist, mouths connected in lustful desire as he places her with little care on the chair and leans into her.

She manages to push him away to breathe before he levers her onto the sofa, pressing a finger to his lips as he tries to re-initiate the kiss just a moment later. Both of them are breathing hard and fast, the red of her cheeks blatantly obvious under white fur. "I need to freshen up and grab that drink before we get down and dirty, handsome. Care for a glass?"

Beady human eyes blink at her in disbelief before he leans away slightly. "Serious? Yer killin' the mood." He squeezes her thighs and starts to lean in again, hot breath brushing her lips as he whispers low and deep. "Jus' wait 'til after. The hard stuff tastes amazin' when yer in the afterglow. Surely you know that."

Rouge dodges the kiss he tries to plant on her lips and pushes him back again, meeting his scowl with a smile, half-lidded eyes and a sultry tone. "You want me to stay as long as possible, right? Then I need to be work-ready when the time comes to leave. The earlier I get my buzz and redo my makeup, the longer your demonstration gets to go on…"

Obviously annoyed, the Human tuts and pulls back, waving her away. "Go on, then. Go get your face on or whatever." She pulls herself from the chair, presses a kiss to his cheek and saunters towards the mirror opposite. Below it is a large cabinet, upon which she keeps her makeup. "An' don't forget that drink. You got whiskey up here somewhere?"

"Ah, a man of my own heart." She bends over unnecessarily low to give him a wonderful view of her ass in tight linen. After retrieving her decanter of whiskey and two glasses, she straightens to place them on the cabinet to pour out measures, not bothering to return the decanter just yet as she turns with glasses in hand. With a simmering smile she walks back to him with a sway in her hips and subtly offers him the left one.

His eyes narrow slightly before he instead reaches for the glass on the right, holding it but not sipping as he waits for her to drink. She does so almost immediately, downing half the glass in one gulp as she turns back to the cabinet and her mirror. Glass clinks softly on the worn wood before she opens her vanity bag and rummages around for her eyeliner, speaking while she watches his reflection in the mirror. "It's vintage. Expensive, but worth the money. Got a body I've not tasted in other varieties."

While he still doesn't look entirely certain, Jimbo finally takes a drink from his own glass; a small sip to taste the age, followed by a large mouthful that almost empties the Mobain-sized tumbler of its amber contents. He stares at what's left with approval. "Yer right, that's some real shit. Never felt a burn like that down me gullet before."

A smile graces her muzzle as she focuses on her eyeliner. "You can take a bottle when you wake up, if you want." She thoroughly enjoys the wild array of emotions that cross the man's face in the next few seconds, but she keeps her voice level and composes her features once more before continuing. "Take a few bottles. One for your boss, too. Might sweeten him up when you're late."

Fabric rustles and metal clicks, the latter a sure sign he's pulled the firearm she felt press into her back from his waistband. A glance to the side confirms his reflection to have a pistol aimed at the back of her head. Unimpressed, she rolls her eyes and begins to apply eyeshadow. "Oh, so you weren't just pleased to see me. That's a shame…"

"Cut the shit, bat." Her eyes narrow at being called by her species, a faux pas only Shadow was allowed to commit without having his spleen forcefully extracted for the slight, and notes him drawing nearer. "I know exactly who yer are. Ain't many winged albino mammals who hang about Station Square besides you, Rouge." He taps the side of his head with the gun. In any other situation, the hollow clunk it makes against his skull would've had her in stitches, even without the follow-up: "Yer apartment's even above the club with yer name on! How thick d'yer think I am?!"

Numbness begins to creep through Rouge's left wing as he rants. Right on cue. She nonchalantly continues to touch up her makeup as he continues. "I was gunna make use of that slutty body of yours, then drag you back to the boss for leverage against GUN gettin' too nosy around our operation. And while the plan ain't changed, yer gunna have to put out with a gun to yer head now. I hope that ain't too much of a turn off or nothin'."

She runs the lipstick over her lips, puckers them to spread it, then places it back in her bag. "Well, we're at an impasse then, because I was going to fuck you senseless, get you to spill where the next drop of Mobians would be, go to the drop myself, arrest your boss and free a half-dozen citizens before they get trafficked off continent into the flesh trade. Looks like we both lose."

Jimbo laughs heartily at that. "As if I'd tell you where the drop is! Besides, tonight's not a cargo drop, you dipshit. It's cargo info, and you ain't gettin' it. Now put yer hands where I can see 'em and get on yer knees. It'll make fucking that tight ass easier before we…" He trails off, blinking heavily and swaying slightly on the spot, the firearm lowering of its own accord. "The fuck…"

Well, I didn't know what tonight's drop was already, I sure as hell do now… Arrogant bastard. "That'll be the paralytic in the whiskey kicking in." She watches him attempt to raise the gun again and instead drop it to the floor with a clatter. "You know, Thistelia? The one Mobians are basically immune to? I was sure that, working in the Mobian Skin Trade, you'd know of it."

His reflection tries to lurch at her and fails miserably, catching himself on the back of a chair. His words slur as he tries to take control of his legs, which are failing him at an alarming rate. "Yer bistch…"

"If I hadn't offered you my whiskey, I'd agree with you, but surely that's fair compensation for four hours out cold." She continues to watch him struggle in the mirror as she buttons her shirt again, her other wing now going numb while the left one is already hanging uselessly, its tip touching the floor. "Bats aren't completely immune, though. Means my wings won't work for a few hours either. That's why I need a ride to work later... Oh well, easy come, easy go. Speaking of going, try not to-"

Jimbo passes out, and Rouge pauses on the last button, eyes closing and jaw getting tight at the resounding crash as his arm goes through the glass top of her coffee table. She takes a few deep breaths before opening them again and turns to look at the carnage. His tumbler has also shattered onto the white rug beneath it, remnants of her expensive whiskey permanently staining it amber.

She stomps over to his limp form and hauls him out of the shattered glass, careful to avoid the glistening, sharp dust that rains from him as she deposits him roughly into the nearest chair and entirely missing the gold cap amongst the debris as she checks his pockets. Sure enough, she finds a memory stick, likely filled with the next few outgoing shipments for their 'stock' within an inside jacket pocket.

"Thanks, Jimbo." The statement is sardonic and offhand as she heads for her desk to plug the thumb drive in, steal any data for storehouses or local transports planned, subtly alter any dates and times for outgoing shipments to allow the coordination of ambush teams to free their Mobian captives, and save both the edited dates and the originals so the transporter ships can be impounded and their crew tried for their crimes.

The whole job takes less than twenty minutes. Once complete, she sits back with a sigh and surveys the wreckage that is her living room. Thanks to the Commander and his stupid ideas, this is the third time in as many months her coffee table has been shattered, and now the rug would need replacing as well, possibly the entire sofa suite.

That's it. It's all going on my expenses this month, Chaos-damnit. She shuts the laptop down and closes its lid much harder than necessary. Anger still not sated, she replaces the memory stick and hauls Jimbo back down the stairs by his collar (entirely uncaring if she knocks a few brain cells out in the process) before tossing him into the nearest dumpster. Missing an hour of memory before the event, he will be even more confused waking up there, but it serves him right for trashing the place. He won't risk exposing his inadvertent betrayal either way, his boss is far too unforgiving.

Finally, Rouge heads into her own bar for another stiff drink - this time one that'll only numb her mind rather than appendages - while she awaits Shadow's arrival.

oOoOo

Jasmine rumbles into the Rouge's car park exactly an hour before the meeting is due to start, plenty of time to collect Rouge, navigate the traffic to Highway 57 and finally, arrive at GUN. The club is due to open in two hours, so no bouncers are present yet, the doors still locked as the bar staff set up for a busy night and car park almost empty.

His former partner prefers to fly to work, that Shadow knows; she likes to feel the fresh air on her face and to exercise her wings. With that in mind, he can only assume she's been on mission and had to consume that damn sedative again whilst fooling a human target into knocking themselves out.

Thankfully, he'd realised this as soon as the text came through hours earlier, and as such has come prepared. He cuts the engine, content in the knowledge Rouge would be looking out for him as she always did when requesting a lift, and dismounts to access Jasmine's saddle bags.

Within one is the annotated contract and cadet files, bound together with numerous elastic bands - Amy's idea, and one he was glad to see had succeeded in keeping the documents neat. The other is empty except for one thing: a large bar of Rouge's favourite brand of luxury milk chocolate. He extracts it just as the main entrance of the bar closes with a bang behind him.

"I swear to Chaos, if you say one thing about my wings, I'll-" He turns to regard her and notes she's had to tuck said appendages under her jacket and into the waist of her pants, likely to keep them from dragging on the ground as they have done previously. The resulting lump bulges out behind her like a hunch, one he might find amusing if he weren't concerned for the future of his spleen, while her eyes are firmly focused on what he's holding to his chest.

He looks down, scowls at himself and wordlessly holds out the treat he momentarily forgot about. She snatches the bar so fast, he's almost worried she took his fingers with it. After a glance down to confirm they're all still present, he looks up in time to see her rip into the packaging and take a large bite out of a few squares at once.

He raises an eyebrow as her eyes close and a soft moan seeps from her lips. With a gentle snort, he shakes his head slightly and sets his expression back to neutral before mounting his bike once more.

Rouge swallows with a soft sigh, savouring the taste, but then it's her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Huh. So you remember what my favourite brand of chocolate is, even though you've never bought me any before." He sighs and rolls his eyes, but nods very subtly in admittance, causing her to smile slyly. "Aww, that's sweet. And I can't even entirely blame Amy for it, because we haven't spoken properly in six months. Does that mean-"

A quick kick-start and Jasmine roars into life, drowning out the rest of her sentence. "Shut up and get on." Shadow grunts over the engine, ignoring the knowing smirk on her face and willing the slight burn in his cheeks to go away.

Of course he remembered; she used to binge eat the stuff whenever she got stressed. There'd even been a stash of seven bars under her bed the last time they'd slept together, one of which they'd eaten afterwards to satiate afterglow hunger pangs. It was likely the source of his infatuation with chocolate as of late, though he found darker, richer varieties more to his taste.

If only she hadn't already been dating Knuckles. With that revelation, their relationship had crumbled, both physically and emotionally. Despite becoming more outgoing in her presence, he had gladly withdrawn back into himself after her betrayal, content to simply survive the rest of his life under GUN surveillance instead of risk another heartbreak akin to Maria's demise.

Then Amy had been dropped on his doorstep. Suddenly, he found himself vulnerable again, only this time his concern was not just for himself but that of his mate. He'd allowed someone else into his life and found it difficult to remain nonchalant as he usually did. He's worried for her future, their future together, and future of their unborn urchin.

My urchin. My… son or daughter. Amy had explained why it was most likely his that afternoon. As he suspected, Mobians were mostly only fertile in heat. Amy had informed him they were more fertile from the seventh day of their Heat until the very last day and, while outlier pregnancies did happen, they were rare.

As Sonic had slept with her on day three, Tails day four and Knuckles day five, they were unlikely to have impregnated her. Meanwhile, they had copulated on days six and seven, and her pheromones had already begun to be less potent to him before he marked her - an early sign of fertilisation.

He was definitely the father. That meant he needed to protect his family from threats. Ones like Towers, and the scientists at GUN who thought running painful tests on him when he was just days old was a good idea. He had no doubts they were interested in the child, both during development and once it was born, yet he had no plans to allow any of those from the establishment to even see the kid, let alone touch them.

The clunk of chocolate being dropped into a saddle bag brings him out of his thoughts. He takes a deep breath and centres himself as Rouge mounts the saddle behind him, hands coming to hold his leather jacket at the waist. "Ready when you are, hon." The familiar voice is enough to cement him in the present. He revs the engine and they take off into the city, headed for Highway 57 as fast as legally possible.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Shadow understands Sonic's conviction to protect those around him. He had felt it with Maria, but that bond had been special, forged in the depths of pain and despair against a world stacked against them. They bonded from similarity; of a total dependence on people they mostly resented, in fear they could not control.

With Amy, this drive comes from elsewhere, from a place he cannot pinpoint. The care he feels for her is deeper than a solidarity from common affliction, an affection so strong he feels capable of tearing the world apart if t were required to keep her from harm.

Amy and his child would be safe, he would make sure of that, and this meeting would be the first step