A warm meal and a quiet night

chulane

He is persistent, the swell of his emotions like a tide that has been rising with the deepening of the evening, pulsing towards her like waves upon the sand. Sharpened vision watches her steps falter, a sense of triumph rises within him - and amusement as she slid and skittered along the ice and snow. He did too, though it was fated that his missteps would still allow him to keep up with her.

His paw managed to connect, he successfully disrupted her stride, caused her to tumble in the snow with an indignant rumble that he just couldn't help laughing at, sending warm pulses of amusement through the bond, as well as hint of smugness that his plan worked. He settled atop her, matching her purrs, flicking his tongue out to lick at her nose after she gives him an affectionate.

'Hmm,' he hummed along with his purrs in response to her words, leaning in close to her again, breathing in her scent, revelling in the nearness of her. 'Let's get inside,' He finally said, aiming another quick lick to the tip of her nose again before getting up and shifting back to human form, dusting the snow off his overcoat, before reaching a hand out to Kia, to assist her.

He pulled her close in to him again, but the cold was biting, so he didn't dawdle the final few steps to the front door - but once inside, he also barely slowed down as he led her to his room, grateful that the rest of the house was already abed or otherwise occupied, giving them no further delays of having to give polite greetings to souls he really wasn't interested in focussing in this moment - his attention was very much occupied by her.

.

KIADA curl your hands into fists, and sharpen your nails. His tongue darts out to brush against her nose, and she can feel the coarseness of it as her question rumbles up toward him — her iceberg gaze taking in all the spots and whiskers, his far more boxier head than she bears in this form. His head nears hers and she brushes her own against his, tufted ears flickering against him as if she’s batting him as he hums through the attuned bond. And then the pressure and weight of him is lifted, shifting to move toward the door as he shifts into himself and she does the same, taking a second to straighten the furs that line her body. His hand is extended and she takes it, gracefully slipping over to his side, embracing the closeness of him as she offers him a brighter grin. She knows where his room is, and she’s already thankful for the way a majority of the other patrons that live here are already squirreled away in their rooms. It gives her the time to focus on him too. Reluctantly she lets his hand go as they reach his door, and she leans against the doorframe partially as she focuses on him to unlock it, half tempted to make it more difficult in pulling him in for another kiss. But she doesn’t, not until the room is open and they can be by themselves. Still, however, her gaze is shadowed and sultry, a pinpointed sharpness as she keeps them trained on him. the next time a man tells you to smile, show him bloodstained teeth.

CHULANE like a river flows surely to the sea He does his best to focus on the immediate task at hand - getting the fucking bedroom door open. It was difficult, for a number of reasons - the damn thing had decided that tonight, of all nights, it was going to be bitch to open, and also: her. She didn't have to put effort into, didn't have to pull him in for a kiss - he was so hyperaware of her, so entranced, so engaged that it wasn't until he had unlocked, re-locked and unlocked the door again that he realised just how much of an effect she was having on him. But open it he did, finally, and after taking both her hands in his they made their way inside, somehow managing to shut the door behind them before.. He looked at her, really looked. The intensity of his stare was greater than all other times before - he saw her. The room was relatively tidy, a pile of papers the only 'mess' on a small desk in the corner. He didn't have many belongings aside from the wintry clothes on his back the night he had arrived, and had only accumulated a few more local designs since then. The bed was comfortable, layered with blankets and pillows, and a small fireplace that was perpetually lit offered warmth against the frigid climes outside. Not that he needed much help keeping warm, at the moment. There was no public bar around them now, only them, in this moment, together. A hand reached to feel her form beneath her outermost cloak, to hold her waist, while the other moved along the back of her neck; He leaned in towards her, his lips seeking hers. some things are meant to be

KIADA curl your hands into fists, and sharpen your nails. He fiddles with the door, and she watches while he does — some flicker of amusement shifting over toward him as she casually distracts him. And when he finally gets it open, she slips inside and looks around briefly, spying the slight mess of papers on the desk and traveling toward the fireplace and then the bed. But her new inspection doesn’t last long as the door is locked and she’s focusing on him again. Her head tilts up toward him as he slips into her space, and she takes a moment to pull her cloak off, to slip out of the little sweater she wore beneath it, until all she’s left in is a pale undershirt. She looks at him with a sultry dark look to her gaze, her hand moving toward his hip, the other slipping up around his neck, pressing herself against him as she gives into the kiss, her hand moving around his neck and her other to his hip. the next time a man tells you to smile, show him bloodstained teeth.

CHULANE like a river flows surely to the sea Layers peel off, clothes fall to the ground - mostly hers, as he has apparently forgotten that particular step in his hurry to be near her, to taste her, to feel her. She reaches for him, her hand finding his hip, the other his neck, and they are entwined in a kiss deeper than the one shared at the Kraai. His hand runs down her side, towards her hips, his fingers exploring her form in a way they have craved to do longer than he is happy to openly admit to her, or himself. Finally the kiss breaks, and his breathing is far deeper than before. He shrugs his way out of his cloak and jacket, a linen shirt left covering his broad chest. It had been a while. He had been camping on the most remote place on Earth before being brought here, there wasn't exactly a lot of time or places for that sort of action amongst the scientists. Needless to say; He was nervous. Still, he pulled her towards him in a tight embrace, leaning his frame into her as much as she did to him, angling his head to kiss her along her cheekbone, towards her ear. "Tell me," he whispered against her, his voice deep and not quite as steady as before. He pressed another kiss on her before continuing, "what would you like for dessert?" some things are meant to be

KIADA curl your hands into fists, and sharpen your nails. She shivers under his touch, feeling his hands trail along her side and settle at her hips. And she presses into him, letting him explore and take his time, not one to rush him right in this very instance. She could stay melting in his arms forever if she wanted to, if it were possible. But the kiss breaks, far sooner than she wants, but as it leads to his own shedding of clothes? She deals with it. She deals with it even more as she presses in toward him again, letting her hands trail along him and the warmth that radiates from him mimicked back in the flush along her neck, along cheeks as she’s pulled into him and melting more and more. Her head tilts away from his a bit, giving him room to press those kisses to her cheek, to her ear – his voice resounding a shiver along her spine, a quiet sound coloring the air just for him. And really? Aside from Korbin, it’s been awhile for her too. And all she wants right now is just him, however way he wanted to give himself to her. So she pulls on him a bit, guiding him with her toward the bed, perhaps walking a bit on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his collarbone and his neck, tender gentle kisses that couldn’t at all explain the electric feeling of butterflies swirling in her stomach. “You.” She replies quietly, pulling away when the backs of her legs brush up against the edge of the bed. “All of you.” Her gaze flickers up to meet his, her hands trailing down his sides once more to the waistband of his pants, trailing even lower to run along the outsides of his thighs as she feels her heartbeat thundering in her chest. She hopes she can convey the feeling that she doesn't care how they give into one another - only that they melt completely with each other after so long of a careful dance, unsure which way it could go, to end up here and already tangled up with one another. the next time a man tells you to smile, show him bloodstained teeth.

CHULANE like a river flows surely to the sea Small sounds of pleasure tickle his ears, though the hammering of his own heart thrums along there too, drums beating a rhythm that tried to drown out everything else. Oh but he feels her still, her reciprocating, her guiding him - he follows with ease, utterly entranced, completely giving in to his yearning, his desire - their desire. A low groan echoes from somewhere in his chest as her lips dance across his frame, as if every touch lit a new fire within him. Her hands explore him as his explore hers, but at her answer, or rather, the distance that suddenly appears between them, he feels momentarily lost, adrift. But then she speaks again, and reaches for his pants, where a definite bulge is clearly growing, wanting to participate in this dance that has brought them here. A shy smile curves his lips, but he deftly and swiftly works at the belt buckle and sheds those as well - only loose cotton trunks remain down there now, and he didn't think they were going to last much longer. "That can be arranged," he purred as he reached for her once more, more sure of himself as he sought to cup her butt upper thighs and hoist her up against him, so that he might take the last few steps onto the bed for the both of them, seeking yet more kisses from her lips as this action would bring them on par for height for a time. some things are meant to be

KIADA curl your hands into fists, and sharpen your nails. The low groan that slips from him as her lips are pressed against his skin ignites more of a fire within her, and she slowly becomes some sort of malleable putty in his hands, prepared to move here or wherever he wants her to. But she’s also determined. It’s evident in the way her hands trail, even if her thoughts drift between wanting absolutely nothing separating them, and wanting to take her time. She can’t entirely decide, but she’s thankful when she doesn’t have to, as he’s removing the belt and his pants slip from his hips and she’s pressing in against him again – pressing her chest against his, trying to make that connection and feel every part of him just as she hopes he can feel every part of her. And when his hands travel and trail along her after her request is uttered, again she becomes putty as he lifts her against him. The harpy would be lying if she said she didn’t purposefully roll her hips against his in this makeshift embrace, wrapping her legs around him and draping her forearms along his shoulders, giving into the kiss that he seeks, a playful teasing tug on his lower lip, her tongue darting out to trail along it ever so slightly now that they’re even, letting him place her wherever and however he wanted to, so long as she had him there with her. the next time a man tells you to smile, show him bloodstained teeth.

CHULANE like a river flows surely to the sea Time was playing tricks on him, making some moments feel like an eternity and others slip by with barely a chance to relish in the experiences they brought. He didn't want to rush this, didn't want to ruin the night by having it end so soon - but then, whoever said it had to end? Why was he so afraid for this first night to end, when it had the potential now to lead to the rest of his life, with her in it? They meld against each other, their skin feverish, another groan rumbling through him as her hips press against his, as he barely contains the pressure building up - but he does, and he keeps kissing her, drinking her in, tongue dancing with hers. Gods, but he was simultaneously lost with her and yet he had never felt so perfectly found before as well. Carefully, he gets them to the bed, lowering her down, coming with her, pulling back only slightly to just look at her again. He brought a hand up to run through her hair, to play with the ever-present braid she wore, smiling a lazy, satisfied smile down at her. The pause was temporary, his admiration of her would have other times to manifest. He leaned in to kiss her again, his hand moving down her neckline and along her collarbone. But there was still a shirt impeding further exploration - hers and his own. Lifting himself up on an elbow he worked to lift his off, and help Kia with hers, beholding her breasts for the first time with a satisfied growl that definitely called to the leopard shift within him. And he leaned down against her again, a hand cupping a breast, the other entangled somewhere in her hair, as his hips (not entirely in his control) bucked up against the sensation of having her pressed so near, though still separated by the material of his shorts and her pants. His mouth leaned down not to her mouth, but to her neck, then her collarbone, kissing a trail along the bony curves, seeking to explore every angle of her. some things are meant to be

KIADA curl your hands into fists, and sharpen your nails. Her arms drape about his shoulders, pressing and fitting herself against him wherever she can. He’s all she can focus on, all she wants to focus on. Forget the tragedy that has struck and envelope herself in some form of happiness. And for once? For once she is happy, as she settles where he holds her, focusing on the taste and heat of him, the way he reacts to her as he guides her to lay her along the bed. Her back hits the furs, and she hums appreciatively to him, sprawling perhaps a bit quite catlike as she nearly shivers under the intensity of his matching gaze. But she remains, opening herself up for him to look and see, all the scars and everything along her porcelain skin. He fiddles with the braid and she reaches up to untie it, to let the dark hair fall free to give him room to run his hands wherever he wished. But he distracts her with his lips and she arches her back ever so slightly into him as his hand travels, and it’s only until he reaches the undershirt she still wears, as her own hands find the hem of his shirt, do things begin to shift. She wiggles out of her shirt, helps him out of his, and the growl she receives from him has her head tilting up a small amount, eyes half lidded as she smirks up at him and runs her nails along his skin, leaving small marks in their wake. His hand finds her breast then, and she arches her back to fill his hand more, to angle her head with the other hand that tangles in the dark hair, while her own tangles in his dark curls. A soft chime of a moan slips from her as his hips roll into hers, blocked and dissatisfying, but only making the wait all that much more tantalizing. One hand trails away from him as he begins to explore her skin with his lips, trying her best to keep her heartbeat from roaring in her ears as she finds her own pants, moving to slide them down and kick them off, before they find his hips again. The heat of the room paired with the heat of him has a light sheen to her skin, but she tries to press herself against him more and more, legs lifting to hook around him. the next time a man tells you to smile, show him bloodstained teeth.

CHULANE like a river flows surely to the sea Nails trail along his skin, drawing paths of ecstasy that has him groaning, moaning against her, as his hand explores her breast, roving over the nipple, ever so tenderly circling her areola with his thumb. Another moan, this time hers, as they both find the presence of clothes quite dissatisfying. As she wriggles and manoeuvres herself out of her own, he helps, his hand trailing down from her breast along her waist, to her hips and tugging at the clothing. Still, he is leaned over her, kissing her, consuming all that she is, his mouth tasting her sweat, her heat, her. But then she is closer to him than ever - naked, her legs hooking him, pressing herself against him and he wants nothing more than to give into her - but there was a matter of clothes still in place. So he sits back up into a kneel, pulling his head away from her with a hint of a growl rumbling somewhere within him, taking her hands in his as he removes those pesky shorts, his manhood already risen, hard, warm, ready. He had been a bit embarrassed when he first arrived at the lodge to find the protection they kept in almost every bedside table, but he was grateful for it now. Slipping it on, he was quick to lean back towards her, to have a hand return to her hip, to have it run along her hot skin and seek out her bush, and the treasures within. He wanted to know if she was ready - to make sure she was, so they could enjoy this moment together. His thumb found the folds, the wetness inside, the clit, and he applied pressure and circular motion to it, ready to receive her reaction to guide him how near or far they both were from the climax of the evening. some things are meant to be

KIADA curl your hands into fists, and sharpen your nails. He could take however long he wants to explore her. It still doesn’t stop the hitch of her breath in a moan when his hand roams along her breast, running along a quite perked nipple. But he abandons it as soon as she’s moving, trying her best to find the easiest way to slip out of her pants and undergarments to toss them to the floor — a flame burning within her with no way out, not yet at least. Not as she hooks her legs around him, hands roaming and slightly fiddling with the cloth that blocks him from her too. And when he sits up, sheds the last bit of cloth and she can finally take all of him in, too, she feels her heartbeat thunder in her chest, pulsing hard against her neck, legs shifting a bit to give him all the room he needs. But she’d be lying if she didn’t crave him, not when her fingers find his hair again, silently thankful for the quick thinking on his part — gods she doesn’t want to have to explain that to Deimos. But Chulane is hovering over her again, her fingers tightening in his hair, one roaming down his spine as his hand trails down along her and leaves goosebumps in his wake. She shivers, shudders under the attention, torn between wanting to capture his lips in a sharp and biting kiss and settling to wait and see just how sweet this dessert truly can be. Her breath hitches again, and her fingers tighten in his hair even more, trying to pull him to her lips for an engulfing kiss, a lilting moan slipping from her as her hips roll into his hand, into the ministrations of his thumb and that pressure already building, a sharp want and need that she shoots down the bond. She wants to prolong this, to sit in this euphoric feeling forever, another thought that she sends straight to him. She knows she can’t stay like this; but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t try, as her lips aim to run along his jawbone, seeking his neck and shoulder, anywhere she can reach really. Trailing and trailing with all of her focus, all of her sounds, just for him alone. the next time a man tells you to smile, show him bloodstained teeth.

CHULANE like a river flows surely to the sea Hitching breaths and mumbled moans drive him insane with desire, as he uses them as a roadmap to learn about her - where does she require his attention, how much pressure should he apply with his careful ministrations, how fast should he move. She's an open book to him, and though the pressure within him is building, threateningly so, he holds it back with grunted effort, to continue exploring her, pleasuring her. That wasn't to say he didn't the whole exercise pleasurable too - he was lost with her, abandoning any thoughts that weren't here and now, hypersensitive to her every touch, her every whim, falling towards her lips for that all-consuming kiss, far deeper than any they had shared before. But there was a desperation behind it too, as his fingers found that spot, as her euphoria pulsed towards him - causing the heat in his loins to decidedly rise as well, as again, quite involuntarily his hips bucked, bringing him closer again to her. His length was pressed against her inner thigh, his thumb dancing and caressing, stroking and darting every now and again towards her opening, wanting this sensation to last as well, wanting to prolong it, string it out for all eternity - but then, had he not had this argument with himself already? So as her feelings and wetness increase in intensity, he guides himself closer to her, raising his head slightly to meet her eyes as his tip pauses, pressed against her entrance. Silently his eyes seem to say, tell me, and only when she did, would he take the first slow, deliberate plunge into her warm depths. some things are meant to be

KIADA curl your hands into fists, and sharpen your nails. She can feel him against her, taut like a string just as she is, burning and warm and flushed everywhere because of what he is doing to her. And she can’t help the slight shudder, the hum that accompanies it as she sends more of those feelings down the bond, letting him understand just how much she is enjoying this game. His thumb continues it’s light stroking, her back arching with it to press herself even further against him, and when she feels his cock pressed against her thigh, she almost zeroes in on him completely. Almost — because then he’s toying with her a small amount, a quiet growl slipping from her lips, all a part of the dance they’re partaking in. She’s slick, especially as he dares to slip that finger into her, her own hips moving on their own accord as if she’s to beg him for it without words, but there’s a better result waiting. Better, as he lines himself up and she shifts her legs a small amount, spreading them wide to make room for all of him. And she can feel him, toying her again — when had she started breathing so fast? — but she meets his gaze regardless, chest rising and falling with her sharpened breaths, breasts brushing against his chest with every movement. She finds his gaze, her own shadowed with lust and desire and almost a primal need as she settles back a bit. And then a thought hits her, something impulsive and roguish, shifting her hips a bit to better align herself to take all of him, and when she’s done with that, she pairs her movements with her mental voice. Please? It’s a cross between a prayer, a plea, a beg as she grinds her hips into his, hoping to sink him deep into her warmth, both her attuned voice and physical voice moaning out for him with the sensation. the next time a man tells you to smile, show him bloodstained teeth.