Neit gritted her teeth ferociously, looking back at Lunaris over her shoulder as he held her against the table. She shook her head at him and grumbled,

“Even you don’t have the bare bundle to pull a stunt like this, Lunaris.” She held her head up with a confident grin to the considerably larger wolf behind her. He folded his ears back and gave a deadpan expression back to the smaller thief.

“You might have just had your backside bared and a swift slap or three without that remark, Neit.” He stated in a grave tone. Her eyes widened, seeing that darker expression, her own smaller ears pinning back as well.

“Shit...wait, I-“ She didn't get a chance to interject further, hauled up not to the table but to the bar itself. She didn't get dropped onto her back, she was pushed up on her chest but her bare ass was hefted upwards, high over the bar. She put her hands down to try to push away, but Lunaris put his weight behind her and pinned her in such an odd position. At first, she thought he was about to recklessly throw her over the bar, but suddenly she felt hot muscle pressed bare to the puffy mound of her honeypot.

His hot tongue began furiously stroking her in a fashion that was just maddening to her senses. It took everything she had not to just moan out in liquid pleasure at it. His oral piston spread her slick flesh obscenely around it as it dipped hard and barely impeded into her tangy-sweet depths, his hot saliva slicking inside and outside. His powerful breaths, heavier from the exertion of pinning and restraining her, huffed over her short lupine tail which hung between her shoulders. Knowing that her muzzle had to be noticeably scarlet, she looked over her shoulder at him, seeing a calm, determined face, those yellow eyes staring right down her body as he tongued her sex in front of the pub's current patrons.

The bartender backed away, actually retreating into the kitchen. The other guard, Leal, pulled a chair up and sat down, perfectly happy to get a good view. He laughed a bit at the girl’s predicament and stated jovially,

“Seems you're outmatched at tongue-wagging, thief. Best to let him finish what he’s got to say, trust me.” He took a long, sunny draw of his ale. The other fellow, a random patron for all she knew, seemed happy to remain standing close, but he didn’t dare spoil his view by raising his mug to drink; he lopped at it noisily from the tankard and grinned shamelessly at the show.