The next day on campus felt like a rerun with a twist—genetics class loomed, and with it, the inevitability of running into Elena. Miko had sent me off that morning with a steamy goodbye: her body pressed against the door, tail coiling around my leg as she kissed me deeply, her rough tongue leaving me aching for more. "Think of me during those boring lectures," she'd purred, her claws grazing my chest just enough to mark her claim. It worked; every step toward the lecture hall had me replaying our couch session, the way she'd edged me to the brink without mercy.
I arrived early, claiming my back-row seat, but Elena beat me to it. She was already there, notebook open, her auburn hair tied back in a ponytail that accentuated her freckles. "Morning!" she chirped, her green eyes lighting up as I sat down. "Fancy seeing you here. Again."
"Morning," I replied, smiling despite the slight awkwardness from her texts. She didn't mention my brush-off, instead launching into small talk about the professor's latest assignment. As the lecture started—diving into gene therapy applications— she leaned over, her shoulder brushing mine. "This stuff fascinates me," she whispered. "Hits close to home."
Curiosity piqued, I nodded for her to continue after class. We ended up grabbing coffee at the campus cafe, a neutral spot amid the bustle of students. Elena stirred her latte, her expression turning thoughtful. "You asked about studying together—well, it's not just for the grades. My family's kinda wrapped up in this world."
She took a sip, glancing around before leaning in. "My dad was a researcher back in the day—worked on early CRISPR projects in the 2010s. Government-funded stuff, super secretive. He never talked details, but it changed him. Mom says he saw things that shook his ethics, like experiments on... well, boundaries between species. He quit abruptly, started a nonprofit for bioethics advocacy. Growing up, our dinner table was all debates on 'playing God.' That's why I'm majoring in biology—to understand it, maybe fix what he couldn't."
I froze mid-sip, the parallels to Miko's Project Chimera story hitting like a gut punch. Elena had no idea about hybrids, of course—it was all hypothetical to her—but her dad's involvement? Too coincidental. "Sounds intense," I said carefully. "What kind of experiments?"
She shrugged, a sad smile playing on her lips. "He hinted at genetic hybrids once, after a few drinks. Said it was about enhancing humans with animal traits for military stuff. But he burned his notes, cut ties. Died a few years ago—heart attack, they said. I think the stress got him. Anyway, that's my sob story. Makes me push harder in class, you know?"
Her vulnerability was disarming, her green eyes earnest as she reached across the table, her hand brushing mine. "Enough about me. What about you? That old house—any ghosts or secrets?"
I chuckled, pulling back gently. "Just creaky floors and a quirky roommate." We chatted more—light stuff about favorite labs, weekend plans—but her crush was evident: lingering glances, playful laughs at my jokes. As we parted, she hugged me goodbye, her body lingering a second too long. "Text me anytime," she said, winking. "For studying... or whatever."
The walk home was a mental tug-of-war. Elena was nice, genuine, but Miko? She was fire. I arrived to find her in the kitchen, humming as she prepped snacks, her tail swishing to an invisible beat. "Welcome back," she purred, turning to wrap her arms around my neck. Her kiss was possessive, deeper than usual, as if she sensed the day's vibes.
"Missed you," I murmured, hands sliding to her hips, pulling her close. She responded by hopping onto the counter, legs wrapping around me, her heat pressing against my abdomen.
"Tell me about your day," she said between kisses, her claws teasing the hem of my shirt. I mentioned class, skirting Elena at first, but Miko's enhanced senses picked up traces—Elena's perfume faint on my clothes. Her ears flattened slightly. "That girl again? Spill."
I sighed, explaining the coffee chat, including Elena's backstory. Miko's eyes widened at the hybrid mention. "Her dad... in those projects? That's no coincidence." Jealousy flickered, but curiosity won. "Be careful. She might be fishing."
To distract—or claim—she ground against me, her tank top slipping off one shoulder. "But you're mine," she whispered, nipping my neck. I lifted her, carrying her to the living room, where we tumbled onto the couch. Clothes half-off, I kissed down her body, tongue teasing her breasts as my hand dipped between her thighs, fingers stroking her wetness. She arched, moaning, her tail thrashing as I circled her clit, building her higher.
She flipped me, straddling, her hand stroking me through my boxers, slow and torturous. "Imagine her watching this," she teased wickedly, her rough tongue licking my tip through the fabric. The edge was razor-sharp, both of us panting, bodies aching for release—but we held back, savoring the build.
As we cooled down, entwined and breathless, Elena's story lingered like a shadow. Was it connected to Miko's past? The jealousy added fuel, making our connection fiercer. Tomorrow loomed, the tension coiling tighter toward that inevitable peak.