[ He'd be hard-pressed to fit literal thousands of fantasies into one hour. ... Though perhaps not as hard as himself, pressing up against her between her thighs from where she'd ended up tugged on top of him. And if he wasn't hard yet, then certainly in the next moment when she purposefully ground her still-clothed sex against him so that he could feel the soft, inviting heat centimeters away--well. He would be.
Somewhere, distantly, there's a part of her that wonders if this is a good idea? He probably hadn't thought she'd take him up on it, however fast he switched gears. It might make parting more painful afterward. And there are a thousand things she hasn't told him yet, doesn't have the time to--but--he's kissing her again, as hungry as she is, telling her he was going to rip her clothes right off her body, and the words fill her ears like a spell that completely banishes those reasonably cautious thoughts and sends a fresh rush of heat between her legs.
Her tail lashes behind her as she parts the top of his traditional clothing with her hands so she can run access his chest and run her fingers up and down his muscles, teasing his scars as she moves her hips and knees more to jar his robes open--which is probably more provocative than productive in effect.
Her own clothes are still in danger, though. And they're a much more complicated mess. She can get them off, but not that fast. .... And although she's not actually opposed to the idea of him ripping them off her--well. She can't just allow him to think he can do whatever he wants. Right? She breaks the kiss this time, just long enough to breathily warn-- ]
Day 183, for Hak
[ He'd be hard-pressed to fit literal thousands of fantasies into one hour. ... Though perhaps not as hard as himself, pressing up against her between her thighs from where she'd ended up tugged on top of him. And if he wasn't hard yet, then certainly in the next moment when she purposefully ground her still-clothed sex against him so that he could feel the soft, inviting heat centimeters away--well. He would be.
Somewhere, distantly, there's a part of her that wonders if this is a good idea? He probably hadn't thought she'd take him up on it, however fast he switched gears. It might make parting more painful afterward. And there are a thousand things she hasn't told him yet, doesn't have the time to--but--he's kissing her again, as hungry as she is, telling her he was going to rip her clothes right off her body, and the words fill her ears like a spell that completely banishes those reasonably cautious thoughts and sends a fresh rush of heat between her legs.
Her tail lashes behind her as she parts the top of his traditional clothing with her hands so she can run access his chest and run her fingers up and down his muscles, teasing his scars as she moves her hips and knees more to jar his robes open--which is probably more provocative than productive in effect.
Her own clothes are still in danger, though. And they're a much more complicated mess. She can get them off, but not that fast. .... And although she's not actually opposed to the idea of him ripping them off her--well. She can't just allow him to think he can do whatever he wants. Right? She breaks the kiss this time, just long enough to breathily warn-- ]
I'll bite you.