I woke to sunlight streaming through the bare windows of our new bedroom, the Struma River glinting in the distance like it was winking at me. My body ached in the best way—every muscle sore from last night, when Miko and I had christened the house properly, fucking in every room like we were marking territory. Kitchen counter, living room wall, even the empty nursery-to-be. She'd been insatiable, her pregnancy hormones turning her into a wildfire, and I'd matched her thrust for thrust until we collapsed in bed, spent and tangled.
But today was back to reality. Miko had work at the store, and as I lay there staring at the ceiling, the thought hit me: I should get a job too. Savings were holding, but with a baby coming and the house finally ours, I couldn't just coast. Back in the US, I'd started a biology course—dreamed of med school, maybe—but never finished. Dropped out when life went sideways. High school diploma was all I had officially. Here? Maybe I could train as a nurse, or if luck struck, push toward doctor. Hybrids weren't barred from that stuff in Bulgaria, from what I'd heard. Something to look into.
Miko stirred beside me, her tail flicking lazily before she rolled over, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She leaned in, nibbling on my earlobe with those sharp fangs, just hard enough to send a jolt straight south. "Morning," she purred, her breath hot against my skin. "You look like you could use round... whatever number we're on."
I groaned, pulling her closer for a quick kiss, but she laughed and slipped away, getting up to dress. "Can't—work calls. But save that energy for tonight." She winked, tail swishing as she threw on her clothes and headed out, leaving me with a lingering hardness and a grin.
Once she was gone, I showered, dressed, and hit the town. Job hunting in Zemen wasn't glamorous—mostly flyers in windows or word-of-mouth. I checked clinics first, dreaming big: nurse training programs? Doctor paths for outsiders? But language barriers and my lack of credentials shut doors fast. Markets, construction sites, shops—no luck. My broken Bulgarian didn't help; I'd mangle a sentence and get polite nods that meant "no."
Wandering the cobblestone streets, frustrated, I spotted a bar in the square with a "Help Wanted" sign—hybrids welcome, from the icons. Why not? I'd bartended odd jobs back home; pouring drinks was universal. I pushed inside. The place was dim and cozy, wooden counters polished, a few locals nursing beers. The owner, a grizzled human with a fox-eared waitress chatting him up, was behind the bar himself—clearly short-handed, juggling orders solo.
I approached, heart pounding, and launched into my rehearsed spiel. "Zdrasti... az... tursya rabota?" Hello... I... looking for job? It came out mangled, gestures filling the gaps as I pointed to the sign and mimed pouring a drink.
He chuckled, wiping a glass, and switched to slow Bulgarian with some English thrown in. "You strong? Speak little? Okay—you job. But memorize menu. Drinks. All in Bulgarian. Names, ingredients. Fast."
I nodded eagerly, agreeing immediately. "Da! Yes! Memorize. No problem." We shook on it—start Monday, a few days away. Pay decent, tips better. Just like that, I had a job. Relief washed over me as I stepped out; one step toward stability.
Before heading home, I detoured to Elena and Sylvia's hotel room—soon to be former, hopefully. Knocked, and Elena answered, looking brighter. "Got work," she said, pulling me in for a quick hug. "Market stall—selling produce. Starts tomorrow." Sylvia was out interviewing, but Elena said she'd landed something at a cafe too. Good—they were pulling their weight now.
A few hours later, I returned to our house, arms full of takeout dinner from a spot near the hotel. Miko was already there, kicking off her shoes with a tired but happy sigh. "Missed you," she said, hugging me tight.
We ate on the new couch—simple stew and bread—talking about her day, my new gig. Her eyes lit up when I told her about the bar. "That's perfect! You'll charm everyone."
Dinner cleared, the air shifted. Miko's gaze turned hungry, her tail brushing my leg. "Now... about that energy you saved." She straddled me on the couch, claws lightly raking my shirt as she kissed me deep, tongue demanding.
I gripped her hips, flipping us so she was beneath me, stripping her top to expose her breasts. I sucked one nipple hard, teasing the other with fingers, her moans filling the room as she arched. Her hands fumbled with my pants, freeing me, stroking firmly until I throbbed in her grip.
"Inside," she begged, guiding me between her thighs. She was soaked already, and I thrust in deep, the couch cushions sinking under us. She wrapped her legs around my waist, claws digging into my back as I pounded into her, rhythmic and hard, her walls clenching tight. "Yes—harder," she gasped, tail thrashing.
I obliged, angling to hit that spot, one hand rubbing her clit in circles. She came first, shuddering around me, milking me until I followed, spilling deep with a groan. We shifted lazily—she on top now, riding slow and grinding, drawing out aftershocks until we were both spent.
Exhausted, we didn't move. Miko lay on me fully, her head on my chest, tail draped over us, breathing syncing as sleep pulled us under right there on the couch. The house felt even more like home—jobs, baby, us. War shadows lingered in the back of my mind, but for now, this was enough.