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reach out?

[A lash of heat surges at the base of her spine at the subharmonic sound of his appreciation. It's followed quickly by a self-satisfied chuckle, something that smooths out into an encouraging hum as his hands explore and find themselves in bolder places. The nip of teeth at her neck draws a shiver from her spine, easily felt as she lets him lead her towards the bed.

The question isn't answered immediately, as first she has to realize it was asked, and then she actually has to think about it, a process made obvious by the focused squint of her eyes.] Uh...

[What doesn't she like? This is very difficult to think about while being summarily freed from her bra, but after a beat of consideration, she continues with some humor.] I know we've got animal traits or whatever now, but I'd rather not talk about mating, I suppose.

[Otherwise, though...] You can touch whatever you want, and try whatever else you'd like. I'm adventurous and sturdy!

[She probably doesn't need to wink as she's backed up against the edge of the mattress, but it's in her tone of voice as much as her cheeky expression.]

[He briefly draws back slightly but only to start undoing the buttons of his shirt. Rather than along the center of his shirt, they line the side, making the whole front of the shirt more of a chest flap. He's found any form of button-down in general much easier to get over the wings, with carefully tailored holes in the back. Pullover shirts are a nightmare.]

[That means she gets to see his briefly horrified and disgusted look at mention of mating, making it clear that'd be an extreme turn off on his end too.]

Oh dear. I'd never dream of it. I much prefer emphasis on recreation over the prospect of procreation.

[Even just the mental prospect of having children is one of his nightmares. Ew.]

Speaking of which, I have implants that should prevent any...surprises.

[He manages to get the shirt off, over his wings, revealing a body that's very lean and beanpole skinny but fit. What is there is all lean muscle. And a contrasting expanse of scales and brown skin and short golden fur. It's slightly mismatched and in patches, with most of his lower abdomen covered in snake skin. But even that's not just one color; there are bands of brown and tan. Soft downy feathers line his fore-arms.]

[He tries his best to ignore his self-consciousness over the changes.]

[And he smiles at her, taking in the sight of her, breath catching in his chest and warmth building low in his stomach, his cock well past twitching to attention and already hard.]

You look like a Renaissance painting.

[Be it fur or feathers, Kalmiya doesn't mind; she watches with hungry interest as he deftly pops open the buttons of his shirt, only distracted momentarily by her own burst of laughter at his answering disgust. Though—] Oh!

[Right, that whole procreation thing usually is an issue. Breezily,] I'm pretty certain we can't anyway. [Actually something she had been meaning to bring up to him, as the medical implications of whatever stymied the reproductive capabilities of Vessels was probably fascinating. And worth professional investigation. She doesn't want babies, but it is strange that they can't have them while the Hosts seemingly can.

Regardless, that's a matter for Doctor Bashir. For the moment, all her focus is on Julian. There's something a little nostalgic, a little homesick, about seeing those golden-blonde stripes of fur against the warm brown of his skin, but it dissipates as her eyes find the smooth scales at his abdomen and track the trail of them down to his waistband. The urge to tug his pants down is arrested only by his breathless compliment (wherein it takes her an extra beat to register the Earth term Renaissance.)]

You think? [Jubilant, curious. And a little silly, as she lifts the back of her wrist to her forehead and gives an exaggerated swoon, like one might find from some beautifully-posed subject of historical art. She grins brightly.] I'm better than a painting, though.

[The way she straightens up from her dramatic pose is slow, smooth, as tempting as the serpent so often depicted in art of that age. A tilt of the head, a roll of the shoulders, as she steals a curious brush of fingertips over one of his pectorals. Her voice dips low when she leans closer, from playful to sensuous in a matter of seconds.] Since you aren't supposed to touch paintings.

[Every one of her touches is electric, especially with the first stirrings of a Tether, driving even more heat downwards. But he's patient. He still hasn't even bothered with his own trousers yet.]

[Then she drops the line, a picture of temptation, and he decides...okay, he isn't that patient. The trousers still stay on but after grinning at her joke, he practically throws himself at her, kisses hungry, tongue slipping past her lips to flick lightly against her tongue - an advertisement of his future intentions for other parts of her body. He keeps pressing kisses, moving down down down, mouth and hands exploring.]

[He presses full, wet kisses to her breasts, briefly sucking on the skin and flicking his tongue against each of her nipples, kisses his way down a soft stomach until he has to drop to his knees. Peppers more wet kisses against thick thighs.]

[His fingers reach up under the hem of her panties, briefly enjoying the warmth of the skin underneath before he starts to pull them down, fingers of one hand briefly carding through the fur of one of her tails as he slips them past.]

[After a brief nip to a hip, careful not to break skin with his fangs, he wraps both his arms around her legs, pulling her close, pressing some kisses into the soft folds of her, flicking his tongue, once, twice, three times. Not starting anything yet, though.]

[Just another promise.]

[Then he leans back, looking up at her like she's an absolute vision, and nods towards the bed.]

Sit down. Let me take care of you. [A pause.] But could you avoid lying back? I'd like to see your face.

[It's only partly for selfish reasons. The other reason is the Tether isn't strong enough yet, and might not give him enough to work with, when it comes to chasing her pleasure. He tries to be as observant as possible to know when to adjust his tactics.]

[Her satisfied laugh is muffled at first by his fervent kisses, but the weaving thread between them trembles gleefully, small bells and motes of light beckoning from the forest within. She watches as he works his way down her chest, humming appreciatively at the flick of his tongue, shoulders pulling back to arch her body ever so slightly closer to him, more than receptive to his attention.

Though he takes great care not to abrade her skin, the hint of teeth seems to be more enticing to her than dangerous, eliciting a shiver and a hint of sound on the exhale that follows. Even as he descends, she holds onto him; shoulders, then arms, then the nape of his neck, and finally his hair as he pulls her close and stops between her legs.

The backwards tip of her chin exposes the length of her neck as his tongue teases feather-light from his exploration. Another sigh—deeper, more indulgent—accompanies the reflexive curl of her digits, toes and fingers both tensing in anticipation. When she lifts her head once more, she finds he's already looking at her. There's a wonder in his eyes that's hard to wrap her head around, particularly in this dreamy, wanting state.

Let me take care of you. An undertow of hesitation, slowing the current of lust that rushes atop it, for reasons she cares naught for in this moment. They are far less important than this beat of warm consideration he gives her, where the desirous haze in her eyes clears up just enough to complement the mirthful quirk of her smile.] No promises, if your talents are as you've said. But I'll give it my best.

[That said, she rolls first along the balls and then the heels of her feet until her weight shifts down and back towards the bed. With a soft, downy thmp, she lands on the mattress, letting go of Julian for the moment until he settles in. Which should be fairly easy with the generous part of her legs, even taking the width of her thighs into account.

If she has any question as to why he wants to be able to look at her while he works, she doesn't voice it. She is a vision, after all. Who wouldn't want a look?]

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