Nimros feels her hand slowly pull away, the warmth of her skin, her thigh, at his fingertips. He stops a moment, in mid-chew, his green eyes glancing over to where his hand lay. Swallowing the bite of mushroom, he thinks over her words, trying to concentrate on the information she is supplying him and not the silkiness of her skin. The air has a smell to it foreign to his nose, and the feel of the room was unlike the openness of the Swanhaven or his parent's modest home. Casting a glance up at the ceiling and then again around the room, he hears the instructions of father in the back of his mind, admonishing him to ever be alert and use all his skills. Ruefully, he ignored that good advice and is...here, wherever here is. "To live underground," he muses reflectively. "Are you threatened by an enemy on the surface?"
Ilharess watches him roam his eyes about the room, taking it in, attempting to gain familiarity with it. The truth is he is a surfacer, and he is a long way from home. She manages to stifle her smirk behind a bite of meat. She leans forward to place a hand to his cheek. She feigns the desire to wipe a bit of food from his mouth as her intent. Her eyes focus on his lips as her hand moves in to his face. She leans into him a bit to reach. She didn't need to lean: she could reach him. She leans for other reasons, such as granting him the possibility of a kiss from her lips.
The touch of her hand on his cheek causes him to give a sharp intake of breath. He feels his breath quicken a little as her fingers play at the corner of his mouth, wiping something off, he thinks. Elven green eyes fasten upon her face, and he feels his heart thud painfully in his chest as her blue eyes seem to be focused upon his lips. His hand, so still on her thigh, now gives it a tentative stroke. His good sense screams at him to take heed at the way she seems to avoid questions, but his lips breathe the name she gave him, "Jabress," and his body leans toward her, his mouth brushing hers before pressing firmer in a kiss.
Her lips meet with his. Her blue eyes on his green ones the whole time, to be sure there was no foul play on his part. Drow need to procreate, so sex does have to happen. Still, each time presents risk of a dagger under the pillow, between the sheets, under the furs or in the boots. A dagger that has more than once shifted powers in the underdark with a swift entrance at a moment when guards were down. Her eyes watched carefully for it. Of course, the elf had a pure heart and offered no threat, but a Matron must watch out for dangers. Her fingers on his face trail down his neck and swirl almost absently over his chest as their lips held. She let him start the kiss, she would let him finish the kiss. Let him have a few moments to feel in control of, even if they were doled out to him like candy to children.
Although he initiated the kiss, the young elf's eyes widen as they kiss. Her lips...so warm, so soft. His eyes close, and he presses even closer, deepening the kiss. His hand on her thigh squeezing as his other hand goes up to rub her arm, the feel of her fingers on his neck, his chest, causing a unfamiliar thrill to run through him. He drank in her kisses and found himself moving both arms to pull her further into an embrace.
Being addicted to males and all that implies, she was more than experienced enough to read the cues before her. His shock, his nervousness, his eagerness. First, he is fresh fruit and ripe for the pickings. Second, he is already addicted to her. She owns him and he doesn't even realize it yet. She just needs to seal this deal. Her hand on his chest moves around him to pull him closer as her other hand moves the plate away from them and tosses it to the desk. Some food spills off, but that is all. She presses her body in and slowly begins to take the control back as her tongue takes lead, teasing against his fresh, bright lips.
> Next
Ilharess watches him roam his eyes about the room, taking it in, attempting to gain familiarity with it. The truth is he is a surfacer, and he is a long way from home. She manages to stifle her smirk behind a bite of meat. She leans forward to place a hand to his cheek. She feigns the desire to wipe a bit of food from his mouth as her intent. Her eyes focus on his lips as her hand moves in to his face. She leans into him a bit to reach. She didn't need to lean: she could reach him. She leans for other reasons, such as granting him the possibility of a kiss from her lips.
The touch of her hand on his cheek causes him to give a sharp intake of breath. He feels his breath quicken a little as her fingers play at the corner of his mouth, wiping something off, he thinks. Elven green eyes fasten upon her face, and he feels his heart thud painfully in his chest as her blue eyes seem to be focused upon his lips. His hand, so still on her thigh, now gives it a tentative stroke. His good sense screams at him to take heed at the way she seems to avoid questions, but his lips breathe the name she gave him, "Jabress," and his body leans toward her, his mouth brushing hers before pressing firmer in a kiss.
Her lips meet with his. Her blue eyes on his green ones the whole time, to be sure there was no foul play on his part. Drow need to procreate, so sex does have to happen. Still, each time presents risk of a dagger under the pillow, between the sheets, under the furs or in the boots. A dagger that has more than once shifted powers in the underdark with a swift entrance at a moment when guards were down. Her eyes watched carefully for it. Of course, the elf had a pure heart and offered no threat, but a Matron must watch out for dangers. Her fingers on his face trail down his neck and swirl almost absently over his chest as their lips held. She let him start the kiss, she would let him finish the kiss. Let him have a few moments to feel in control of, even if they were doled out to him like candy to children.
Although he initiated the kiss, the young elf's eyes widen as they kiss. Her lips...so warm, so soft. His eyes close, and he presses even closer, deepening the kiss. His hand on her thigh squeezing as his other hand goes up to rub her arm, the feel of her fingers on his neck, his chest, causing a unfamiliar thrill to run through him. He drank in her kisses and found himself moving both arms to pull her further into an embrace.
Being addicted to males and all that implies, she was more than experienced enough to read the cues before her. His shock, his nervousness, his eagerness. First, he is fresh fruit and ripe for the pickings. Second, he is already addicted to her. She owns him and he doesn't even realize it yet. She just needs to seal this deal. Her hand on his chest moves around him to pull him closer as her other hand moves the plate away from them and tosses it to the desk. Some food spills off, but that is all. She presses her body in and slowly begins to take the control back as her tongue takes lead, teasing against his fresh, bright lips.
> Next