Work Text:
Oh, to be a lady brought to orgasm for your health, Noelle thinks.
Kris has gotten very into the role, donning what was once their prom outfit but now serves as a doctor costume of sorts.
“If we get technical, there weren’t any female doctors back then.”
“Well yes, miss Holiday, but that’s why we enjoy the luxury of being in 20XX and not the 1800s.”
“Fahah. Yeah, I’ll grant you that.”
“Miss holiday, miss holiday,” they sing-song. The pants accentuate their canting hip, smug, overconfident. “Confide me your ailment.”
Noelle wasn’t quite as much an overachiever. All she dons are silk robe PJs. It looks old-timey enough.
“Oh, doctor Dreemurr,” she says with a twinge of shame that oozes down her belly and metamorphoses into the first sparks of arousal, “I can’t shake these anxious thoughts. My sleep is poor and I look out the window wistfully, wondering if my life will ever change for the better… I talk back to my dear mother… So she told me to come here.”
“Oh my god, Noelle, we’re trying to get in the mood here. Why bring up your mom.”
“Sorry, sorry! It’s just that apparently the ladies got sent to doctors because they had ‘bad attitude’ or something? So, like, historical accuracy—“
“Let’s just not talk any more moms,” Kris hand-waves. “Ahem.”
They get back into character. Land their hands in the swell of their hip. The pants are just tight enough to accentuate their rear and Noelle eats that up. “Miss Holiday, I believe you’re being wracked by an episode of hysteria.”
“Oh, woe is me.” She lands the back of her hand against her forehead dramatically. “May there be any cure?”
Kris leans closer to her, over the edge of her bedding. It’s far from any clinical gurney, literally just her bedroom. Whatever, it’s all in the imagination.
They drag the tips of their fingers to trace the contour of her jaw and down her neck, feeling the pulse there. A pleasant shiver jolts Noelle from that alone. Their voice is sultry, salacious. “Why yes there is, miss Holiday. For you see science has reached thresholds it never did before. We can now cure your ailment through hysterical paroxism.” They straighten up a bit and furrow their brow, “that’s the name, right?”
Noelle giggles. “Yeah, you got it right.”
“Okay, cool.” They lean down again. Their hands how dance downward to her collarbone and the neckline of her PJs. “With this new, revolutionary massage technique, we will bring you to release…” They lean down further, lips nipping at Noelle’s jawline, making her back arch in delicious anticipation, “and then,” they mumble against her short, well groomed fur, “all will be well.”
“Oh, doctor,” she says, like at a mediocre school play. She can feel Kris’ breath against the divot connecting her neck and jaw and each hot exhale spurs a fire beginning to bloom in her lower abdomen. “won’t you help this poor maiden?”
“Why, that’s my responsibility!” Kris dots her neck with kisses, grazing their human fangs against the grit of the fur and making Noelle tremble. “What doctor would I be, if I did not?”
They drag their hands down flat, on their way a gentle tug of a nipple over the chemise. Yep, this was a great idea, Noelle thinks.
“Part your legs, my dear,” Kris coaxes, grip on Noelle’s hip bones, “hooves on the bedding.”
“Yes, doctor.” she can’t hide the excitement in her voice.
Kris bunches her skirts, massaging up her thighs, feeling for her buttocks and squeezing. It’s far from medical, but this is all a game, anyway. And it’s working— the taunting around sensitive areas helps her building want.
They bring a fingertip to the base of her tail, where her spine ends, and press tight circles. Noelle gasps. Their other hand flutters around the inside of her thighs, mussing the neat fur and tickling her until she can’t hold back a giggle.
“Oh, you’re a sweetheart,” Kris says, and from voice alone she can sense their desire.
They lean forward, peppering hot kisses on her belly and thighs, licking and prodding.
The furnace in her loins finally gathering heat.
She can hear the click of the lubricant bottle’s lid. It’s a cheat, of course. Kris can take her there just touching her nipples and her neck and tail, but they’re setting a scene here and it goes with that.
“This, my dear, will help ease the massage.” They slick their fingers, simultaneously warming the gel. “Take a deep breath and think of Hometown.”
She snorts at that. “Aren’t you supposed to say that if I wasn’t going to like it?”
“Hey, you were the one whining about historical accuracy,” Kris disappears beneath her skirts. With her legs spread, they make a tent of sorts and all she can see of them is their asscheeks, enhanced by the corduroy. Oh, she could grab them and squish them and spread them and eat Kris out in that suit, the pants pooled around their knees—
A lubed fingertip grazes against her clit, above the hood, teasing. She’s getting wet but not yet enough to touch directly. She jumps, a whimper coming out unwittingly.
“Pardon, my dear, I know it’s sensitive. Just relax.”
“Y-yes, doctor.” Noelle is taken aback by how much that authoritative, sanctimonious scholar tone Kris is emulating turns her on.
“Good girl,” they say, pushing a button they know does wonders. Their index rubs light, moderately paced ovals over her clitoral hood as they say that, “just relax for me.”
A dam breaks inside Noelle. She moans at that, at that Good girl that never fails to get under her skin in the best way and the featherlight touch. Butterflies flutter around her belly. Kris speeds up goaded by her noises, rubbing with index and middle now, quick swipes side to side, tight, fast and controlled. Noelle inhales and exhales a quick, trembling whine. Kris rewards her with a kiss to the tender flesh of her inner thigh, followed by a bite. Their teeth dig in the meat and she shivers, her spine involuntarily arching, legs folding up into herself.
Kris holds her twitchy hip with their other hand, pinning her to the bed. Their fingers crawl down to rub at the entrance, gathering her own, natural lubricant. They don’t go in just yet, but just the friction stokes the flames. Up they go again, tugging at the hood and exposing the little nub, massaging it with just enough pressure to make Noelle whine.
“Kris~”
“That’s Doctor Dreemurr for you, madam,” they answer, husky.
“Sorry, Doct— A-Aah!” Her answer is cut short by a pinch at her clit—More a punishment from the doctor for her rudeness than a tease—followed by more insistent friction.
Kris breaks character, moaning, spurred on by her, kissing her mons messily while they touch her, cherishing her hardened clit and smelling her skin and her lubricant. Her thighs are thick and toned and her pussy’s pink and cute and she’s so goddamn hot. So hot.
“Madam, sorry, but fuck it. I’m breaking protocol,” they warn, and before she can even answer they dig right in, lapping at her clit with the flat of their tongue and sharpening it to a tip to worship it and taste it. It does wonders: Noelle arches and closes her thighs around their head and pleas and gasps, thrusting toward them, throwing her head as far as her antlers will allow her.
Kris nips one of her labia minora with their lips and suckles, tugging it and going back to torment her clit, so sensitive and burning. She’s proper aroused now; when they pull away to observe their work, a dollop of clear fluid pools right by her entrance, threatening to spill. Kris’ mouth waters, and they lean down to lick it up and taste it, thick and salty-sweet and sticking to their tongue; they cherish the feel of each fold of her skin as they go up to kiss and suck on her clit, how they know she loves it.
“Oooh, Doctor,” they can hear her whine, her hands bunching the sheets. They still her twitching hips with their hands, giving her buttocks a hearty squeeze and a couple light hearted, playful smacks.
“Good girl,” They hiss, lips flush against her mons, their chin wet and all of them overwhelmed with rhe taste and scent and feel of Noelle. “Good girl. You’re doing so well. We’ll have you all patched up in no time.”
They so badly want to finger themselves— The underwear sticking uncomfortably to their skin, so flush are they with arousal— but they withhold, focusing on her first. Payback can come later.
Their middle finger teases at her entrance, rubbing in tight circles before prodding in her, wet and warm. It hooks and they probe until the pad of their fingertip hits that corrugated, textured spot. Noelle whines, a mess under their ministrations; they’ve had a lot of time to perfect which buttons to push how to make her scream, and they dive in again, licking her clit in sync with the thrust of their finger, alternating between long, deep swipes with the flat and brief, tight circles with the tip, desire frenzied by each note in her lustful little song, each moan and whimper interrupted by the sheer force of their stimulation.
They add a second finger, thrusting them energetically. Noelle so slick wet noises squish with every push.
Her moaning picks up in pitch and speed and Kris rewards her accordingly.
“Oh, doctor— something is— something’s happening,” she begs in a staccato, her scramble for words dotted by gasps and moans.
Kris releases her beautiful pink clit to speak but does not cease pistoning their fingers into her, and replaces their tongue with their thumb as to give the bud the attention it deserves, “that’s it, my dear,” their voice breathy from the effort with their arm, the springs of the bed creaking, “that’s what we look for. Tell me what you want.”
“Your tongue,” she whimpers, and who is Kris to say no? So back in they go, pulling their fingers out just to split her lips and lick the entrance and prod in with their tongue, making her scream.
“No— your hands too—“
“As you wish, my dear,” they answer, licking their lips and tasting her, then returning to their previous ministrations, middle and ring praising her g-spot while they lovingly kiss and tend to her clit.
Paroxism.
White stars burst behind Noelle’s eyelids, and she can hardly warn Kris when it comes— a burst of warmth and deep satisfaction rippling from her loins and to the sole of her hooves and the roots of her hair. Her body convulses and Kris moves their face away just in time to watch the drip of light, clear ejaculate; feel and see her walls pulse rhythmically, riding each wave of her orgasm.
Across a few seconds, Noelle comes down from the little death, sinking back from heaven into the plush of her bedding.
“Holy shit, doctor,” she gasps, airy.
Kris laughs at that. “Bit uncouth to say that, no?”
“Oh my god, Kris.” She wants to say more but there is not much more to say.
Seeing her draped lazily, pijamas all rustled, her inner thighs wet, her sex slick from the recent orgasm— Kris craves, furiously, just pulling their own pants off and scissoring her until neither of them can think straight.
“All better from the hysteria?”
“You have no idea, doctor Dreemurr.”
They leave their post between her legs and crawl up between them to kiss her, leaving her own taste around.
The contact tantalising, making them shiver.
Suit clinging uncomfortably to their skin, heat suffocating.
“Sheesh, you’re all pent up,” Noelle notes, feeling them gather their breath. “Can I pay you back, doctor?”
“I mean, you up for it? You just came.”
“And it was awesome,” Noelle taps their nose and kisses the corner of their lip, “but you’re supposed to have a good time too.”
“I’d honestly kill for some scissors,” Kris admits. Visions of Noelle squirming, her pussy kissing theirs, borderline asphyxiating. “But I dunno if you’re up for that.”
“Maybe not yet,” she admits with slight disappointment, “but in a bit. You can do my leg for now though.” she wriggles her thigh between Kris’ spindly legs, rubbing the seam of their crotch.
“Wait, lemme get rid of these.”
They squirm out of the corduroy pants, having to jump a bit to shuffle them out. Maybe it’s time to buy a new suit. Seems they had some growth spurt left in them after the prom.
“C’mere,” Noelle says, beckoning with her hands.
Kris doesn’t even bother removing the top of the suit, and the look of the button up and vest above and being ass-naked below is honestly comical, but they’re too swamped in horniness to even give a shit.
They fall in Noelle’s warm embrace and she wriggles her leg between theirs, rolling her body so it presses against their crotch.
The scratch of pubic hair against her thigh feels a little funny, but then Kris goes to town, and her mind wanders other places, watching the wavy motions of their hips as they desperately hump against her, whispering expletives and moaning her name.
Given all that, it doesn’t take her long to recuperate from the refractory period, lurid daydreams and the warm feel of Kris’ core and their chest pressed against her side and they don’t ever wear a bra except for their sports bra so she can feel their breast—
“Wait,” she says, taken aback by her own eagerness.
Kris was seemingly close to finishing, cause they actually whine in complaint at her withdrawing the precious friction.
“I think I’m up for scissors now.” She giggles.
Kris’ red irises actually lighten up, horny bastard. And she so loves them for it.
“For real?”
“What can I say, doctor Dreemurr, you’re hot and get me going.”
Kris actually looks like she just sucked the air out of them. “I fuckin’ love you.”
“I love you too.” She supports herself on her elbow to give them a pert, quick kiss. “Now come fuck me.”
“Yes madam,” they quickly salute and take position, crisscrossing their legs with hers.
Though her thigh felt good, all soft and with the velvety fur tickling their clit, it pales against her pussy; something explodes at the back of Kris’ head and in a second they find leverage, knees supported on the bed, and start thrusting wantonly against her, their clit grinding against Noelle’s, heavenly slick and warm. She’s so wet and her skin is so soft and her clit rubs theirs so deliciously and Kris was so needy, so mussed and aroused, that the feel of it wets their lashes with tears. They groan and whimper and cry Noelle’s name, fucking her desperately and bringing forth some more of her own cute squeaky noises.
It all builds too quickly, she feels too good, and Kris could edge themself but doesn’t really want to, the need too suffocating to delay or deny it. Coming back to the plateau makes Noelle return swiftly to just before the cusp, like them; she too whimpers and pushes against them, deepening the heavenly, gooey friction.
“I’m too close,” Kris whines, their face scrunched, overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure, not willing ot wanting to stop.
“Please,” Noelle begs, thrusting against them, her hands, hot and kinda clammy with sweat, reaching for their thighs desperately.
Kris whines a cuss and sudden, explosive, their orgasm washes over them, near overpowering. Their arm falters, they fall to the bed; knees and hips weak from the sheer burst of pleasure. “Oh my god, Ellie,” they whimper, their usual dull, lazy voice shattered; they know they’ve squirted cause some of it now runs down their thigh and dampens the thick brush of dark brown hair between their legs, drops of it pooling in little pearls. Beneath them, they feel Noelle shiver, overstimulated from a second wave of ecstasy, singing her own “Krissy” to match them.
Their strength faltering, they’re only human, Kris flops atop the bed, the vest and shirt now actually kind of gross from their sweat, copious enough to dampen their hair near the roots.
Noelle circles them with an arm, dragging them into a hug, their face snug in the dip of her neck. She kisses their temple, chaste and loving.
“Holy crap, I can’t wait,” she says, cupping Kris’ hip and dragging her thumb on it lazily, “until my next fit of hysteria.”
At that, Kris laughs, dragging themselves closer and resting in bliss, pressed to her chest.