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This story was written for Serling as part of my themed Patreon request day for March 2019. This month's theme was "Getting Lucky" and the story contains M/F sex between consenting adults. :3

Lucky for Some

Almost as soon as Rocky got to the bar, he regretted it. Sure he was amongst friends, but he was amongst a lot of strangers too. And a lot of strangers on this day in particular, on St Patrick's day, was not something which the rabbit enjoyed the idea of facing. Sure enough, barely five minutes passed before he saw someone give him the look. The quick succession of a passing glance, then a double take, then a triple take, and finally a grin which Rocky did his very best to ignore. Only a couple of minutes later, he heard the question be asked for the first time. God, he hadn't even gotten a drink yet. The bar was packed, and they were still queuing up for their first round when the bunny heard a somewhat tipsy, not very subtly whispered voice address one of his friends.

"Hey. Hey, your mate there. Did he paint that on, coz, that's some hot shit!"

He couldn't hear his friend's response over the din of the bar, but clearly she answered as just a few more seconds later the louder, drunken voice rang out yet again.

"Seriously? It's real? Wait... what? You're screwing with me. It isn't. No shit? Oh fuck, that's too good!"

And then, even louder still being yelled at full volume across the bar.

"Hey guys! Guys!! It's fucking real, and you'll never guess what his name is. Rocky. Get it? Short for Shamrock!"

The rabbit groaned, and turned with a glare to the red panda responsible for outing him to that one individual, and by proxy the rest of the bar. If it wouldn't have looked suspect as shit he would have pulled his hood up right then and there and left it up all night. But realistically speaking he never even had that opportunity, because a moment later the first well-wisher walked up to him. She was a springer spaniel. Cute, very cute actually, and in that moment for all his embarrassment and frustration Rocky couldn't remember in the slightest what it was he had been so ready to complain about.

"Excuse me, are you..."

She touched his hand ever so lightly, and as he turned, she gasped and giggled.

"Oh my gosh, it really does look like one. And... it's actually real?"

She reached out without asking, no-one ever did, and touched Rocky's face. Touched the pattern of caramel fur upon his otherwise snow white features which formed not something close to or sort of resembling a four leafed clover, but a fur-etched marking that was and always had been a to-the-hair perfect outline of a four leafed shamrock. Gently, the rabbit nodded. The spaniel giggled, eyes wide as she stared at the bunny's birthmark, then asked the question that Rocky had both dreaded and hoped was coming.

"Can I kiss you on the cheek? On the clover, f-for good luck, I mean?"

Rocky swallowed. He smiled at the very cute, very pretty lady, and nodded again. Ever so gently, ever so delicately, she leaned forward and pecked him square on the cheek. Once more she giggled as she drew back, her own face glowing red beneath her creamy fur, framed by gorgeous brown, fluffy ears. For a moment or two she shuffled on the spot, then seemed to draw herself up, gathering her courage, and began to ask Rocky the question he had hoped would follow her kiss.

"I... I don't have a birthmark, not there I mean, but... if you want, for luck? You could kiss me t-..."

Before she could finish that thought though, another voice, a far louder, older and whisky-breathed voice cut in from close by.

"Giving out kisses for luck, eh? Shove over then missy, age before beauty and all that bullshit."

Rocky whimpered softly, and the rabbit's eyes stared sorrowfully, ruefully at the spaniel as she was pushed away, then out of sight as a rounded badger's face with pursed, heavily lipsticked lips shoved itself between them. So began the reason why Rocky had fought so hard against his friends for so many days as they tried to coax him to go out with them on this particular weekend. The reason why the last three St Patrick's day weekends of his college life had been hell, and why right up until last night when his friends had promised him that they would keep it from happening again, he had resolved to simply stay home and work on a paper due the following weekend. After the first older woman gave him a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek, another woman wanted in on her share of his luck. Then another. Then a guy, and another after that. Before long the queue to kiss the lucky bunny was as long as the queue for the bar, and as Rocky was used as the punchline of a dozen jokes, people spouting one liners about how they wanted to be as lucky in love as he was right then or just howling with laughter at the heteronormative absurdity of a bunch of straight dudes kissing a random guy at a bar, he just sat there blankly and took it, no-one seeming to notice or to care that he wasn't laughing or enjoying the attention in the slightest.

Almost an hour passed before finally, finally Rocky had enough, when he heard two bros betting about whether one of them could get away with making out with him, just for the banter of course. Without a word, without so much as a glare at his supposed friends who were... well, honestly god only knew where, they seemed to have simply left him to it without the slightest attempt at rescuing him. Regardless of them or anything else though, Rocky pulled himself off his seat, shoved rather roughly past the three or four people who put arms out asking with a mix of degrees of humour and genuine bullshit entitlement where he was going and why they didn't get a kiss when everyone else had, and bolted from the bar.

He didn't just walk. He ran. He ran a good two blocks through the dark, cold March streets, and didn't stop until he was back on part of the university campus; a quiet, out of the way park attached to one of the science buildings which he often used to walk around and de-stress when something got him frustrated and anxious.

On this particular night though, he had barely been walking for two minutes before he saw another person up ahead. A person sitting on a bench in the dark, phone in hand illuminating their face, which registered obvious shock and slight worry at seeing someone else here, looming up out of the darkness towards them.

The spaniel's eyes widened however when she saw who the approaching man was, and Rocky's eyes did the same.

His muzzle opened, but he didn't know what to say. She seemed to, though.

"I... feel bad, for kissing you at the bar. For starting something just because my friends put me up to it. You really were cute, and you seemed sweet, and, before we were interrupted I... b-but, if I hadn't started it..."

Rocky shook his head as her voice trailed off.

"If you hadn't, someone else would have. I'm just sorry we were interrupted. I... it's not that I hated that you did it. You seemed very nice. It's just... it's happened so many times before. People look at me and see a gimmick. A joke. It happens all year round. This weekend is just the worst.

The spaniel nodded. She looked up through the darkness at the rabbit for a moment or two more, then shuffled over on the bench, and patted it with her hand. Rocky blushed, and shook his head.

"Oh, I wasn't trying to get sympathy. This isn't a line, I swear. You don't have to..."

It was his turn to trail off, and the spaniel's to pick up in his wake.

"I know I don't. But, I am. Please, i-if you want, take a seat. I promise, I'm not doing it because of your clover."

Slowly, awkwardly, the rabbit nodded and took a seat next to the pretty woman. He frowned as he internally though about her as the pretty woman, and was about to ask her name when she beat him to it.

"I... I heard them say your name."

He winced, preparing to hear her attempt at speaking his full name without smirking.

"Rocky, right? I'm Samantha."

She extended a hand. Feeling guilty for his presumption, he reached out and took it. She shook his paw. Squeezed it, and then... then she simply didn't let go, and the rabbit blushed as they realised that they were now just sitting there together in the dark, holding hands.

They sat there for maybe five minutes. At first their hands were hovering awkwardly at the height they'd stood when shaking. Then they dropped down between their bodies. Then Samantha shuffled a little closer, and they were resting between their thighs. Before Rocky knew it, her head was resting on his shoulder, and it felt so... so... easy.

So right. So simple. And, as her head shifted to look at him while still at rest on his shoulder, and she blushed when she saw him looking at her with such awe and wonder, she turned her face again and nuzzled gently, tenderly at his neck before pulling her head up once again.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Samantha murmured softly, blushing a little, shifting in her seat as the rabbit nodded.

"Do you believe in luck?"

Rocky snorted, but shrugged as he gave it at least momentary consideration.

"I mean, maybe. Do I have to believe in bad and good luck, because... I definitely feel like I have lots of evidence for the existence of one."

The spaniel whined softly, and Rocky immediately felt bad for saying that. She clearly didn't take it personally though, for the look on her face wasn't one of personal hurt. It was one of empathy, and sorrow on his behalf. Just like hours ago at the bar though, she gathered herself. She took a deep breath, steadied her nerve, and spoke up again with no-one else present to interrupt her this time.

"Well... I... I kissed a man with a lucky clover on his face earlier tonight, and I think it's going to bring me luck. It brought him back to me, even though we never got the chance to share numbers or even our names the first time around. And... t-the more I spend time with that man with the clover, the more I think I might understand why he doesn't feel lucky. It's because people are always taking the luck out of his cheek... but no-one takes the time to give it back."

Rocky chuckled softly, but dryly.

"I'm sorry, Samantha. But... people always love to tell me stories about my cheek. But, it's just a birthmark. Just a random convergence of genetics that happens to look like a clover. No-one's ever been able to prove otherwise, at least."

Samantha's cheeks reddened. She nodded again in understanding and sympathy, and began to reach up towards Rocky's cheek, but stopped half way.

"Sorry. Um, can I? Touch you?"

The rabbit blinked, so unaccustomed to having anyone ask that question, even if it was only on the second time around for her.

"Sure."

He murmured, as much out of curiosity to see where this was leading as anything else. Sure enough, she cupped his cheek, and stroked her fingers over his clover-shaped fur.

"I can prove that there's luck from your cheek still on my lips. Empirically prove it, because you'll be able to feel the luck too. The good kind of luck. All you have to do... is close your eyes, a-and... and promise not to open them again until you feel lucky. The good kind of lucky. Okay?"

Her eyes peered longingly, pleadingly into his. Rocky sighed, trembled slightly as her hand pressed more firmly and tenderly still to his cheek, and nodded. He didn't know why he nodded, or what he hoped to get out of this situation, or what she hoped to get from it either, unless this was all just about pity. But... god, she was sweet, and she seemed to mean well, and he still couldn't get over just how impossibly pretty the spaniel's face was, whether in the neon lights of a bar or the gloom of a park at night. He took one last look at her beautiful, now nervously smiling, rosily blushing face, and closed his eyes.

A moment later, he felt her shift; moving position, leaving the bench beside him. He felt her fingers guide his head to face forwards once again, then let him go. For a few seconds he felt nothing, and feared that he had been tricked. That right now she was running away, or taking a picture of him sitting there with his lips not daring to purse in the hopes of a kiss to show to all her friends. But, a pang of guilt surged through him as he thought that. That didn't sound like Samantha, what little he knew of her. In fact, he honestly didn't know enough about the spaniel yet to guess much of anything about her. So, all he could do was sit there and...

His eyes almost sprang open, and he gasped as he felt something he couldn't possibly have just felt. Instinctively he leaned forward, only to feel a pair of hands pushing gently on his flanks to lean him back again. He groaned, he gasped, but he did so, and sure enough within moments he felt the hands moving again. Back to his trousers. Unfastening his belt. Teasing open the front of his jeans, and coaxing down the front of his boxer shorts.

He wasn't ready. Wasn't prepared. Hadn't had the slightest awareness that this was where Samantha was intending to go. What she was intending to do.

And yet, as he felt her lips brush against him, his body reacting eagerly, hungrily to her first gentle kiss, he couldn't deny that she had been absolutely right.

His eyes fluttered open, and as he looked down at the spaniel kissing and nuzzling at his crotch, she looked back up at him, face crimson, eyes wide and eager.

"So... do you feel lucky now? Is this proof enough, that when you let the right person kiss your cheek, good things can happen if they share that luck with you in return?"

She whispered, a moment before leaning forward and kissing him again precisely where she had kissed before, following it up with a gentle stroke from her tongue. The rabbit groaned and nodded feverishly. She giggled, and kissed his crotch once again as it responded eagerly and swiftly to her every touch.

"Good. Then, let's keep on testing."

Another kiss.

"Let's find out just how long your cheek's luck on my lips lasts."

Another, though to call it a kiss was really stretching the definition of the word now.

"And... after that, maybe we can go back to my place, and we can see if the luck on my lips has transferred back to you."

The gap between those words and the next was filled with one long, deep kiss which stripped the rabbit of all his doubts and frustrations, and left only one coherent word, Samantha's name, ready to trip off his tongue in excitement at any moment. Before he could gasp or moan to the spaniel as she teased, kissed and suckled on his by now rock hard member though, she drew back with a longing, bashful moan, and whispered huskily to him once more.

"We can see whether the good luck stays where my lips are putting it now, and whether from there... if we're lucky, maybe you can figure out some way to transfer it right back to me, again."

By Jeeves

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