Amalia
the shield of safrin
she does not know what it's like
not to have deep emotions
not to have deep emotions
A mewl of protest leaves her as he breaks off from her lips, though the ensuing separation presents the opportunity to take stock of the body she's been flush against. Never before has she allowed herself to appreciate all he has; now she takes a breathless moment, raking her burning eyes from chest down torso, following the trail of dark hair to the curls at his groin. It would be a blatant lie to say he's anything but attractive, and the heat in her belly roars and sears as she imagines him between her thighs.
Then her shirt is off, and it's her time to be scrutinized. Immediately Amalia blushes again, anxiety threatening to rise back up. She's an angular thing, all straight lines and hard edges and muscle except for the few places where she softens and curves. Yet there's something in the way he looks at her that makes her feel, well, hot- like her body might be capable of inciting his desire.
Then he's dropping down to remove her pants and she drops her hands to help, lowering her palms to the counter, raising up her hips. It's an awkward motion, and she leans into it, her tail tightening around him for balance as she arcs, a small laugh leaving her at the absurdity of this all.
Made to compensate for her natural insulation of fur, the breeches slide off without much issue, revealing a tuft of golden curls tucked between her legs. If he hadn't noted her desire earlier it will be apparent now, clear from the aroma of her lust and the moisture growing between her thighs, the way she bites down on her lip and looks at him with fevered eyes.
Then her shirt is off, and it's her time to be scrutinized. Immediately Amalia blushes again, anxiety threatening to rise back up. She's an angular thing, all straight lines and hard edges and muscle except for the few places where she softens and curves. Yet there's something in the way he looks at her that makes her feel, well, hot- like her body might be capable of inciting his desire.
Then he's dropping down to remove her pants and she drops her hands to help, lowering her palms to the counter, raising up her hips. It's an awkward motion, and she leans into it, her tail tightening around him for balance as she arcs, a small laugh leaving her at the absurdity of this all.
Made to compensate for her natural insulation of fur, the breeches slide off without much issue, revealing a tuft of golden curls tucked between her legs. If he hadn't noted her desire earlier it will be apparent now, clear from the aroma of her lust and the moisture growing between her thighs, the way she bites down on her lip and looks at him with fevered eyes.
even when she feels nothing
she feels it completely
she feels it completely
