[mature] You’re dripping like a saturated sunrise, anyone

[Leilan]

Leilan

Your beauty is beyond compare -
oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...

She allows him. She allows him to do all those things, to touch her softly, touch her in places that combined with their scents can send shivers down a spine, can make a heat rise even in her sore body - for a moment he pulls back from her neck, but the both of them are already lost - the stalling only makes the longing worse, for as long as one could call it a stall. They're going way too fast, downhill, down the waterfall, and they'll come down crashing hard, he knows - somewhere, deep down he knows that that's how this is going to end. But for now, there's only the rush, the thrill of the ride, and she's still shy about it, and he wants her to be less shy, to ease her tense, sooth whatever she worries about.

And when she touches him, trailing her velvet nose over his soft fur, he knows that she is just as lost as he. The tingles spread as they probably did on her, she even dares to dare him. Show me, and that's exactly what he will do. She will know him and he will know her in every sense of their being.

Without a thought, his mouth is on her warm skin again, his nostrils flare to catch her scent. She's so... female, no other word to describe it, and perhaps her shyness, her gentleness, her roundness, her softness - unlike a woman with confidence, that is why she seems so much more female to him. If it weren't autumn, if her scent wasn't surrounding him like a mist that shelters him from the rest of the world, the world's worries, if this weren't pure hormonal, perhaps he wouldn't have engaged for fear of breaking her. But her breathless whisper is met with another, low, needy hum from him, now he wants her, now he needs her, this mysterious black woman in the night. She would not leave and neither would he - now he just needs her closer. All of her. Claim her. Feel her. Touch. Hold. Be.

He moves painfully slowly, inches over her skin, tracing her neck towards her withers, massages the soft spot there, trails her curves, starts all over again. He, too, can only whisper against skin. "You really want me to?" It's a question, but, with the fire burning within him, it almost sounds like a statement - you want me, too. He only needs one affirmation; he won't take anything from her that she is not ready to give. But it's hard to keep a clear head all of a sudden, and the stillness of the night is not helping either of them think of something else than the other.

there's something here that doesn't make sense
let's go and poke it with a stick

@[Briseis]