[Is she seriously… ? Apparently, she is. The fluffy tail trapped between her legs is easy enough to curl aside and reveal her scandalous lack of anything resembling underwear, but it is still whisking slowly along the inner lining of her robe, brushing along her sudden paramour’s forearm. It’s cute- the way she feels his fingers instinctively go looking for a strip of fabric to shred with his- hmm, maybe not the shredding type… to gently move aside… ? But there isn’t anything (everything) but neatly trimmed hair as pale as the nearly blueish white atop of her head, soft folds, and the slick of arousal.
She’s already laughing a little under her breath by the time he starts.]
What should I be afraid of, exactly… ?
[She may have had later a convincing enough damsel to his “there’s monsters in these halls”, but about looking for someone to have fun with… ? She wants to watch him, so rather than fall flat on her back to arch and sigh as his mouth traces down the skin exposed by her parted robes, she props herself up on an elbow, nipping into her bottom lip as she enjoys the sight and feel of his mouth tracing down her lithe form, over the piercing in her naval, the crimson peony bloom on her lower belly, the bonji character on her pubis…
When he looks up for approval, he gets it. Not a patronizing nod, but a wanting expression and anticipation in her pitch dark eyes, a needy flex of muscles down her legs to open just a touch more that he’d feel in the curl of his tail and beneath a palm. She must want him. At the bare minimum… she must want this. And when his tongue laves over her she whines and levers her hip up towards his mouth, the rest of her words, her own little joke, slipping out in an eager croon.]
That something out there would eat me… ?
[The fingers that had been playing with her spit-slick nipple, idly tugging at the ring, stroke through his hair and rake nails over his scalp, looking for the perfect purchase for his meal.]
no subject
She’s already laughing a little under her breath by the time he starts.]
What should I be afraid of, exactly… ?
[She may have had later a convincing enough damsel to his “there’s monsters in these halls”, but about looking for someone to have fun with… ? She wants to watch him, so rather than fall flat on her back to arch and sigh as his mouth traces down the skin exposed by her parted robes, she props herself up on an elbow, nipping into her bottom lip as she enjoys the sight and feel of his mouth tracing down her lithe form, over the piercing in her naval, the crimson peony bloom on her lower belly, the bonji character on her pubis…
When he looks up for approval, he gets it. Not a patronizing nod, but a wanting expression and anticipation in her pitch dark eyes, a needy flex of muscles down her legs to open just a touch more that he’d feel in the curl of his tail and beneath a palm. She must want him. At the bare minimum… she must want this. And when his tongue laves over her she whines and levers her hip up towards his mouth, the rest of her words, her own little joke, slipping out in an eager croon.]
That something out there would eat me… ?
[The fingers that had been playing with her spit-slick nipple, idly tugging at the ring, stroke through his hair and rake nails over his scalp, looking for the perfect purchase for his meal.]