(--)
Myrika is by me!
Her mind was blissfully blank, free of wandering and apprehensive thoughts. Perhaps that was why she liked Vesper so -- no one before had ever been able to quiet the cacophony of her brain quite so effectively before. While Thamur had taught her exactly how to listen, even then her mind was prone to meandering off the present subject and into memory and contemplative thought until the old coyote had rapped his knuckles against the wall of their cabin.
There was no daydreaming, no conscious contemplation, though, with her body squeezed up against Vesper's. The redhead did not realize the tightness of her grip until the tawny-hued woman withdrew. Vesper's hand was against her cheek, and Myrika pressed her face into it almost forcefully, going so far as to set her teeth into the fleshy part of the pale white hand. There was no pressure to the bite, however, and she only nibbled a moment before she released the hand and pressed her mouth into the kiss.
Her hands set on the gentle curve of flesh between Vesper's neck and shoulder on either side of her head. One slid southward and the back of it brushed -- accidentally, or at least close enough to look accidentally, it was not entirely clear -- against Vesper's breast, though Myrika did not linger in the least. Instead, she slid this hand to Vesper's back so she might press their bodies together more closely and drowned in the overwhelming rush of elation that chased all rational thought from her mind and made the tips of her fingers, toes, and tail tingle with delight.
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