Chapter Text
The door to Nick’s apartment clicked shut, sealing them in a silence that hummed. Judy’s ears were fully upright, twitching at every shift of his weight on the floorboards. She could smell his scent—damp city rain and old coffee—mixed with her own nervous energy. When his green eyes found hers, the usual sly glint was gone, replaced by a question so heavy her breath hitched. She reached out, her smaller gray paw covering his, and the world narrowed to the point of contact, skin and fur, promise and pulse.
His paw was warm. Larger. The pads were rough against her softer fur. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t move at all. He just watched her, his breath a slow, controlled rhythm she could feel through their joined hands.
“Carrots.” His voice was low. Husky. It wasn’t a nickname. It was an anchor.
“I know what I’m doing,” she said. Her own voice was steadier than she felt.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
She stepped closer. The space between them vanished. She had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze. Up close, she saw the flecks of gold in his green eyes. Saw the way his nostrils flared, taking in her scent. A predator’s instinct. It should have scared her. It made her stomach clench with a heat that was entirely new.
“Judy.” He said her real name this time. A warning. A plea.
“You’re thinking too much.” She brought her other paw up, resting it against the red fur of his chest. She felt the rapid thud of his heart. It matched hers. “Stop being Nick Wilde, ZPD’s finest. Just… be Nick.”
A shudder went through him. His free hand came up, hovering near her cheek. He didn’t touch her. Not yet. “You have no idea what you’re asking me to be.”
“I think I do.” Her amethyst eyes didn’t waver. “That day in the pit. When I played your prey.”
His breath caught. The air changed. It grew thicker, charged.
“You remember that?” he whispered.
“Every second.”
His hovering hand finally touched her. His fingers traced the line of her jaw, down the column of her neck. The touch was feather-light, but it burned. Her ears trembled. “That was a con. A performance.”
“Was it?”
His control cracked. Just for a second. His eyes darkened. The pupils widened. His fingers pressed a little harder into her fur, not hurting, but claiming. A low, involuntary rumble started in his chest. It wasn’t a growl. It was deeper. Primal.
Judy’s knees went weak. The sound vibrated through her, settling low in her belly. This was it. The hidden thing. The secret they’d both carried.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, the rumble still under his words.
“No.”
He bent his head. His muzzle brushed the space between her ears. His breath was hot on the sensitive fur. “Say it. Say ‘stop,’ Judy. Give me an out.”
She turned her head, nuzzling into the fur of his neck. She inhaled him—rain, coffee, and something wild, something uniquely fox. “I trust you,” she breathed against his skin. “I want you. All of you.”
The rumble in his chest broke into a sharp, ragged breath. His arms came around her, lifting her off her feet as if she weighed nothing. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders, holding on as he carried her through the dim apartment. Not to the bedroom. To the worn couch against the wall.
He sat, settling her in his lap, straddling him. They were eye to eye now. Her paws framed his face. His hands settled on her hips, his thumbs pressing into the dip of her waist.
“Last chance,” he murmured, his nose brushing hers.
She answered by closing the last inch between them and pressing her mouth to his.
It wasn’t a gentle first kiss. It was a spark hitting dry tinder. His lips were firm, mobile. He took control of it instantly, his mouth slanting over hers, deepening the pressure. She gasped, and he took advantage, his tongue sweeping in to taste her. He tasted like the night air and a hunger held back for years.
Her paws slid from his face into the thick fur at the nape of his neck, gripping. He groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding from her hips down to cup her backside, pulling her tighter against him. She felt the hard ridge of him through their clothes, pressed against the soft heart of her. A jolt of pure, electric need shot through her.
She broke the kiss, panting. “Nick.”
“I know.” His voice was gravel. He was looking at her mouth, swollen and wet from his. His hands flexed on her. “You’re sure?”
Instead of answering, she reached for the hem of her own shirt. She pulled it over her head, letting it fall to the floor. She wore a simple, practical sports bra. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
Nick went utterly still. His gaze traveled over her, from the twitch of her nose down to the gray fur of her shoulders, her arms. The hunger in his eyes was naked now. Reverent. “Oh, Judy.”
“Your turn,” she whispered.
His movements were deliberate. He pulled his own shirt off, revealing the lean, muscled planes of his chest, the reddish-gold fur that tapered down his stomach. He was beautiful. Wild. Her predator.
She leaned in, pressing her face to his chest. She rubbed her cheek against the fur, scent-marking him. The rumble started in his chest again, louder now, a continuous purr of possession. His hands came up, claws carefully sheathed, and he found the clasp of her bra. It came undone with a soft click.
He peeled the fabric away. Her breasts were small, pert. The fur there was softer, a lighter gray. Her nipples were tight, dark peaks.
Nick’s purr hitched. He just looked, for a long, aching moment. Then he lowered his head and took one into his mouth.
Judy cried out. The heat of his mouth, the rough velvet of his tongue—it was too much and not enough. His teeth grazed her, a fox’s careful bite, and she arched against him, a shudder wracking her whole body. One of his hands came up to cradle her other breast, his thumb rubbing circles over the peak.
“You taste,” he murmured against her skin, switching to the other side, “like sunshine. And courage.”
She was dissolving. Melting into a pool of sensation centered where his mouth and hands worshipped her. Her own hands were everywhere—in his fur, scraping gently down his back, learning the shape of him. She could feel the tension coiled in his shoulders, the immense control he was exerting to be this gentle.
She wanted to break it. Wanted the wild thing she’d glimpsed.
She shifted in his lap, grinding down against the hard length straining behind his zipper. He snarled, a sharp, feral sound. His head jerked up. His eyes were pure, undiluted predator.
“Judy.” It was a growl.
“I’m not made of glass,” she breathed, holding his gaze. “I’m your bunny. Show me.”
Something snapped. The last thread of his restraint. In one smooth, powerful motion, he reversed their positions, laying her back against the cushions of the couch. He loomed over her, a red shadow between her and the light. His paws pinned her wrists beside her head. His weight settled over her, pressing her down into the soft fabric. She was completely surrounded by him, by his heat, his scent, his power.
And she had never felt safer.
He lowered his head, his muzzle nuzzling along her throat. “Mine,” he breathed, the word a hot promise against her pulse.
“Yes,” she sighed, offering her throat in a gesture of pure submission that made his entire body tremble.
His mouth traveled lower, down the center of her torso. His claws, still sheathed, hooked into the waistband of her leggings and her underwear. He looked up at her, a question in his eyes even now.
She lifted her hips. A silent plea.
He pulled them down, off, tossing them aside. The cool air of the apartment hit her exposed skin, followed immediately by the scorching heat of his gaze. He knelt between her legs, looking his fill. Her gray fur, the soft, pink flesh now exposed, already glistening with her need for him.
Nick’s breath left him in a rush. “Look at you,” he whispered, awe stripping his voice bare. “So perfect. So wet for me.”
He didn’t touch her there. Not yet. He leaned down, his nose skimming the inside of her thigh. He inhaled deeply, a long, shuddering drag of scent. A low, desperate whine escaped him. “Judy… your smell. It’s driving me crazy.”
“Please,” was all she could manage.
He finally touched her. A single finger, tracing her slick folds. She jerked, a gasp tearing from her. He did it again, slower, learning her shape. He found her entrance, circled it, pressed just inside. The stretch was exquisite. She was so tight.
“You’re so small,” he murmured, his voice thick with a mix of lust and concern. He added a second finger, stretching her gently, watching her face. “Okay?”
She nodded, words beyond her. Her world had narrowed to the feeling of his fingers inside her, the rough pad of his thumb finding the sensitive nub above. He stroked, a slow, maddening rhythm. Heat coiled in her belly, tight and urgent.
His mouth followed his fingers. He replaced them with his tongue.
Judy’s back arched off the couch. A sharp, broken cry echoed in the quiet room. His tongue was broad, hot, relentless. He licked into her, tasting her deeply, then focused on that one perfect spot, lapping and sucking with a predator’s precision. The coil inside her wound tighter, tighter. Her paws fisted in the cushions, her ears flat back.
“Nick—I’m—!”
He growled against her, the vibration pushing her over the edge. The orgasm ripped through her, blinding and seismic. She shook with it, crying out his name, her body clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.
He gentled his mouth, licking her through the tremors until she was a boneless, panting heap on his couch. He moved up her body, his own breathing ragged. He nuzzled her cheek, licking away a tear she hadn’t realized she’d shed.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “You are so beautiful like this.”
She opened her eyes. He was braced above her, his green eyes blazing with emotion. His own need was a palpable force. The front of his pants was strained, a dark patch of dampness at the tip. She reached for his belt.
Her paws were clumsy. He covered them with his own, stilling her. “Let me.”
He undid his belt, his button, his zipper. He shoved his pants and briefs down just enough to free himself.
Judy’s breath caught. He was… magnificent. Thick, veined, the tip flushed a deep red. A bead of moisture welled at the slit. He was fully, achingly erect. A fox’s cock, for his bunny.
The secret fetish, the hidden hunger—it stared back at her, undeniable. And she wanted it. Wanted him.
He positioned himself at her entrance. The broad, hot head nudged against her slickness. He was so much bigger than his fingers. The reality of it, the sheer physical difference between them, hung in the air.
Nick was trembling. Sweat beaded in the fur at his temples. He looked into her eyes, his own wide with a vulnerability she’d never seen. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, his voice raw. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer. An invitation. A demand.
He pushed forward.
The stretch was intense, a burning fullness that stole her breath. She gasped, her claws digging into his shoulders. He froze, buried just an inch inside her.
“Judy?” Panic edged his voice.
“Don’t stop,” she managed. The burn was already fading, transforming into a deep, aching need for more. “Please, Nick. Don’t stop.”
He lowered his forehead to hers, his eyes squeezed shut. With a painstaking slowness that spoke of monumental control, he pushed deeper. She felt her body give way, accepting him, sheathing him. He sank into her until he was fully seated, until their bodies were joined completely, fox and rabbit, predator and prey, in the most fundamental way.
He was inside her. He was her first.
They stayed like that, locked together, breathing the same air. Judy felt full in a way she’d never imagined. Stretched. Claimed. A perfect, impossible fit. The low, continuous rumble in his chest vibrated through her very core.
He opened his eyes. They were wet. “Judy Hopps,” he whispered, his voice breaking on her name.
She cupped his cheek. She smiled, a soft, trusting curve of her lips. “Hi.”
A choked sound, half-laugh, half-sob, escaped him. He began to move.
The first slow drag of him pulling back was a revelation.
Judy’s entire body clenched around him, a reflexive, desperate grip. A sharp, punched-out sound escaped her—not pain, but shock at the sensation of him moving within her. The stretch was still there, a deep, burning fullness, but it was layered now with a slick, shocking friction that sparked directly up her spine.
Nick’s eyes were locked on hers, his pupils blown wide, swallowing the green. The low rumble in his chest wasn’t a purr. It was a growl. Predatory. Possessive. It vibrated through where they were joined, and Judy felt an answering clench deep inside, a primal, terrified thrill.
He pushed back in, just as slow, just as deliberate. His hips met hers with a soft, solid press of fur and skin. “Mine,” he breathed, the word a hot gust against her lips. It wasn’t a question. It was a claim, feral and absolute.
Her mind, usually racing, went blank and white. All that existed was the rhythm he set: a torturous, perfect withdrawal followed by that claiming return. Each stroke brushed a spot inside her that made her toes curl, made her claws dig crescent moons into the firm muscle of his back. She was making sounds she didn’t recognize—little whimpers, choked gasps.
“Look at me,” he growled, his voice rough, stripped of all its usual sly charm.
Her eyes, which had fluttered shut, snapped open. His gaze was intense, hungry. He was watching her, studying every twitch of her ears, every flutter of her nostrils, every helpless contraction of her body around his cock. He was hunting her reactions. Prey.
The thought should have terrified her. It ignited her.
She arched into his next thrust, meeting him. A sharper gasp. His eyes flashed, a spark of surprise and dark approval. The pace remained slow, but the power behind it increased. The couch cushions squeaked in protest with every deep, rolling push of his hips.
His mouth found the side of her neck, just below her jaw. He didn’t kiss. He nuzzled, inhaling deeply, his nose cold against her hot skin. Then his teeth grazed the sensitive spot where her pulse hammered.
Judy froze. A bolt of pure, electric instinct shot through her. Every muscle in her body locked. Run. Flee. Prey.
Nick went utterly still above her, inside her. He lifted his head. His expression was shattered—lust warring with horror at his own instinct. The growl cut off. “Judy—God, I’m—”
“Do it.” The words were out before she could think, raw and desperate.
He stared, uncomprehending.
Her paws came up to frame his face, forcing his wild eyes to focus on hers. Her heart was a frantic drum against her ribs. “I’m not scared of you.” She pressed her body up against his, sheathing him even deeper, a deliberate surrender. “I trust you. Do it.”
A shudder wracked his frame. The conflict in his eyes was a storm. The civilized fox, her partner, her friend, wrestled with the primal thing beneath. The thing that wanted to bite, to claim, to dominate his bunny.
The predator won.
With a ragged groan that was pure surrender, he buried his face back in her neck. This time, his teeth pressed down. Not breaking skin, but a firm, unmistakable pressure. A holding bite. The promise of a predator who has caught his quarry and will not let go.
Judy cried out, a sharp, keening sound. The sensation was overwhelming—the pinch of his teeth, the thick fullness of him inside her, the terrifying, exhilarating knowledge that she was completely at his mercy. Her body convulsed, not with orgasm, but with a wave of intense, shocking arousal that left her dripping around him.
He felt it. He moaned against her throat, the vibration mingling with the pressure of his teeth. “So good,” he slurred, his hips beginning to move again. “So perfect. Taking me so well, bunny.”
The pace was no longer slow. It was deep, relentless, driving. Each thrust rocked her body up the cushions. The wet, rhythmic sound of their joining filled the dim room. His grip on her tightened, one paw tangling in the fur at the back of her head, the other splayed possessively across her hip, holding her in place for his thrusts.
Judy was unraveling. The coil of heat was back, tighter and hotter than before, fed by the sheer taboo of it. The size of him, the species difference, the teeth at her throat—it was the secret fantasy she’d buried for years, given life and breath and brutal, beautiful friction. She chanted his name, a broken litany against his ear. “Nick. Nick. Nick.”
He released her neck, panting. His mouth found hers in a searing, messy kiss. He tasted of her, of salt, of wildness. “Come for me,” he demanded against her lips, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, aimed directly at that devastating spot inside her. “Let me feel you. Now, Judy.”
The command shattered her. The orgasm tore through her without warning, violent and consuming. Her world dissolved into blinding white sensation. Her back arched violently off the couch, a silent scream on her lips as her body clamped down on his in rhythmic, pulsing waves.
Nick shouted, a raw, guttural sound. Her tight, fluttering grip was too much. His control snapped. His thrusts lost all rhythm, becoming frantic, desperate plunges. He buried himself to the hilt and held there, his body bowing over hers as his own release hit. She felt the hot, sudden rush of him deep inside, the throbbing pulse of his cock, the full-body shudder that racked his frame.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, the smell of sex and sweat and fur heavy in the air.
Slowly, carefully, Nick collapsed onto her, his weight a warm, comforting press. He was still inside her, softening. He turned his head, his muzzle buried in the fur of her shoulder. His breath was hot and uneven.
Judy’s limbs felt like water. Her mind was slowly drifting back into her body, piece by piece. She became aware of the ache between her legs, a pleasant, used soreness. The damp patch of fur on her neck where his teeth had been. The weight of him, a fox, on top of her, a rabbit.
He stirred first. With a tenderness that contrasted violently with the ferocity of moments before, he slipped out of her. She winced at the sudden emptiness, a faint, slick ache. He gathered her against him, turning them onto their sides so they faced each other on the narrow couch. His green eyes searched hers, wide and vulnerable again, the predator gone.
“Judy,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He touched her neck, his thumb brushing over the spot his teeth had marked. “Did I…?”
She caught his paw, brought it to her lips, and kissed his knuckles. “You didn’t hurt me.”
A tremor went through him. He pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin. His heart hammered against her ear. They lay tangled in the silence, in the aftermath. The streetlamp light painted stripes across their bodies, a fox and his bunny, bound by something far more complex and fragile than friendship, and far more dangerous.