Freesia // Look In The Mirror, Sugar

The soft grey light of early morning filtered through the half-drawn curtains, painting the bedroom in muted silver. Freesia stirred first, as she so often did, her black Labrador ears twitching at the quiet sounds of the house waking around them. She shifted closer under the shared blanket, the fluffy weight of her tail draping across their side, and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the curve of their shoulder.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice still husky with sleep. Her hand drifted in lazy circles over their ribs, then lower, coaxing rather than demanding. “Come shower with me. We’ll save water.” A small, sleepy smile curved her glossy lips as she sat up, the thin white lace of her camisole slipping off one shoulder. She stretched, the movement making her ears flick and her tail give a lazy swish, then slid out of bed with that unhurried grace that always made her look like she belonged exactly where she was.

They shifted beneath the covers as she rose, then followed her out of the bed a moment later, bare feet quiet against the floor. Freesia padded toward the bathroom, glancing back over her shoulder with a soft, expectant look. The dresser stood just inside the doorway; she paused there long enough for her fingers to brush across the familiar shape of the strap-on before continuing into the bathroom. The soft click of the light switch filled the space with warm golden glow that reflected off the mirror above the sink.

They stepped in after her.

She didn’t reach for the shower handle.

Instead, Freesia turned, eyes half-lidded and already dark with intent. She closed the distance between them, the soft press of her body guiding them forward until they stood near the counter. Then she turned herself, placing her hands flat against the cool porcelain edge of the sink. With a slow roll of her hips she pushed her backside back toward them, the black fluff of her tail lifting and curling to the side in clear invitation. The lace of her camisole had ridden up, leaving the soft curves of her lower body bare and waiting.

“Like this,” she said softly, almost a whisper, glancing over her shoulder at them before turning her face toward the mirror. “I want you to watch. Watch my face this time while you take me.”

They moved in behind her. One of their hands settled at her hip, the other reaching past her to the cold porcelain. Freesia shifted her weight, spreading her feet a little wider against the tile and arching her back so that her reflection in the mirror showed the soft flush already rising across her cheeks, the way her blue eyes had gone half-lidded, the black ears angled back in anticipation.

They stepped closer. The blunt head of the length found her with slow, deliberate care. One of their hands stayed firm at her hip while the other slid up her spine, fingers threading gently into her long black hair to tilt her head just enough that the mirror offered a clear view of her face. Freesia’s reflection showed her lips parting as they pushed in, a low sound catching in her throat when they buried themselves fully. She stayed there for a breath, forehead nearly touching the mirror, letting the stretch settle, before they began to move.

Slow at first—deep, rolling thrusts that made the soft lace of her top shift and the fluffy black tail sway against their thigh. Each motion was deliberate. Freesia’s hands pressed harder against the counter for leverage, her body rocking forward with every careful push. The wet sound of skin meeting skin filled the small bathroom, mingling with the quiet hitch of her breathing.

“That’s it,” she breathed, eyes locked on her own reflection, watching the way her expression changed with every thrust. “Don’t look away from me. I want you to see.”

They adjusted their stance behind her, one hand sliding from her hair down to wrap around her waist, pulling her back to meet every motion. The pace built gradually—still controlled, still careful, but deeper now, the harness creaking faintly with every thrust. Freesia’s ears flicked with each particularly good angle, and her tail lashed once against their leg before curling tight again around one of their thighs. Her reflection in the mirror was flushed and intent, lips parted, eyes never leaving the glass as they moved inside her.

Freesia adjusted her own stance in response, spreading her feet a little wider and pushing back harder into each thrust so that they sank even deeper. The bathroom filled with the quiet, wet rhythm of it—her soft moans, the soft slap of their body against hers, the occasional low sound that escaped her when the angle was perfect.

“So good,” she whispered, the words fogging the glass for a moment before clearing again. “Watch me. Watch how I look when you’re inside me like this.”

They kept the steady rhythm, never rushing, simply taking her with the same thorough care she so often gave them. Freesia’s fingers curled against the porcelain, her body moving in time with theirs, the soft lace of her camisole sliding further up her back with every roll of their hips. Her eyes stayed fixed on the mirror the entire time, drinking in the sight of her own face as they filled her again and again.

The early morning light continued to strengthen beyond the doorway, but neither of them moved to reach the shower just yet.

The soft grey light of early morning filtered through the half-drawn curtains, painting the bedroom in muted silver. Freesia stirred first, as she so often did, her black Labrador ears twitching at the quiet sounds of the house waking around them. She shifted closer under the shared blanket, the fluffy weight of her tail draping across their side, and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the curve of their shoulder.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice still husky with sleep. Her hand drifted in lazy circles over their ribs, then lower, coaxing rather than demanding. “Come shower with me. We’ll save water.” A small, sleepy smile curved her glossy lips as she sat up, the thin white lace of her camisole slipping off one shoulder. She stretched, the movement making her ears flick and her tail give a lazy swish, then slid out of bed with that unhurried grace that always made her look like she belonged exactly where she was.

They shifted beneath the covers as she rose, then followed her out of the bed a moment later, bare feet quiet against the floor. Freesia padded toward the bathroom, glancing back over her shoulder with a soft, expectant look. The dresser stood just inside the doorway; she paused there long enough for her fingers to close around the familiar shape of her strap-on before continuing into the bathroom. The soft click of the light switch filled the space with warm golden glow that reflected off the mirror above the sink.

They stepped in after her.

She didn’t reach for the shower handle.

Instead, Freesia turned, eyes half-lidded and already dark with intent. In one smooth motion she closed the distance, the soft press of her body guiding them forward until their hips met the cool edge of the counter. Her hands settled firmly at their waist, turning them so their chest faced the sink and their reflection filled the mirror. The strap-on was already in her grip; she set it against the porcelain only long enough to free both hands, then guided them further until they were bent forward over the counter, forearms braced against the cool surface, face lifted toward the glass.

“Look,” she said softly, almost a whisper, one hand sliding up their spine while the other adjusted the harness against herself with practiced ease. The lace of her camisole brushed against their back as she leaned in, the black fluff of her tail curling possessively around one of their thighs. “I want you to watch this time. Watch your face while I take you.”

They shifted their weight, adjusting the angle of their hips and settling more firmly against the counter. Freesia pressed closer, the blunt head of the strap finding its place with slow, deliberate care. One arm wrapped around their waist to hold them steady; the other reached forward, fingers threading gently into their hair to tilt their head just enough that the mirror offered a clear view of both of them. Her reflection showed the soft flush already rising across her cheeks, the focused intensity in her blue eyes, the way her ears had angled forward with quiet concentration.

She pushed in with a measured roll of her hips, a low sound catching in her throat as she buried herself fully. She stayed there for a breath, forehead nearly touching their shoulder, letting the stretch settle, before she began to move. Slow at first—deep, rolling thrusts that made the soft lace of her top shift and the fluffy black tail sway behind her. Each motion was deliberate, the kind of unhurried rhythm that came from knowing exactly how much pressure, exactly how much depth, would draw the sharpest reactions.

They tightened their grip on the edge of the sink, knuckles paling slightly as their body rocked forward with every careful thrust. Freesia’s free hand slid lower, splayed possessively across their stomach, holding them tight as her hips snapped a little harder. The wet sound of skin meeting skin filled the small bathroom, mingling with the quiet hitch of her own breathing.

“That’s it,” she breathed, eyes locked on the mirror, watching every flicker of expression that crossed the face reflected there. “Don’t look away. I want to see you take it.”

She leaned further over them, chest pressed to their back, the pendant at her throat cool against their heated skin. Her mouth found the side of their neck, open and soft, leaving damp kisses between murmured praise. The pace built gradually—still controlled, still careful, but deeper now, the harness creaking faintly with every thrust. Her ears flicked with each particularly good angle, and the fluffy black tail lashed once against their calf before curling tight again.

They adjusted their stance, spreading their feet a little wider against the tile for better balance, the movement letting her sink even deeper. Freesia’s reflection in the mirror was flushed and intent, lips parted, eyes never leaving the face she had insisted remain visible. She adjusted the angle of her hips, seeking that spot she knew so well, and when she found it she stayed there, grinding in short, focused strokes that made her own breath stutter.

“So good,” she whispered against their ear, the soft fur of her own ear brushing their cheek. “Watch yourself. Watch how pretty you look when I’m inside you like this.”

Her hand in their hair tightened just enough to keep the view steady, while the arm around their waist pulled them back to meet every thrust. The bathroom filled with the quiet, wet rhythm of it—her soft moans, the soft slap of her body against theirs, the occasional low sound that escaped her when the angle was perfect. They shifted again, one hand sliding farther along the counter for leverage as their body moved in time with hers. Freesia never rushed. She simply took, steady and thorough, eyes fixed on the mirror the entire time, drinking in every reaction as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world.

The early morning light continued to strengthen beyond the doorway, but neither of them moved to reach the shower just yet.

.