M--Much Ado About A Lot

Noss · 04-23-2011, 11:43 PM

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I DO LOVE THAT TABLE! < Big Grin *huggles it* And pp all you want; I actually encourage it with you, Meghann, and Marit (plus few others that I can't remember through my sugar haze) because I trust you guys inexplicably and it makes the threads more detailed Tongue

Noss's ears shot forward as the door to Strel's room opened, revealing a...very grabby Strel. Noss felt his arm constricted in those hands that often toyed with fabric and needles; felt him pulled inside forcefully as Strel murmured words to him. But honestly, Noss barely registered the words and more noticed the tone. If he wasn't turned on just from thinking about it before, he certainly was now; especially because Strel was close and seemed just deep in his emotions as he was and oh moon he smelled good. Why hadn't Noss done this the first night he had come home? He couldn't remember; he was too into how insistently Strel was bringing them close to the bed.

Determined, even then, to have the upper hand, Noss grabbed at the arm holding him with the same arm and flipped the two so that Strel landed on the mattress with Noss on top, immediately diving down for a kiss. He had missed the simple gesture; had not dared do it their first time or a few times after because it was such an intimacy that Noss counted among the few he would honor. He felt his body turn hotter and hotter as he felt Strel beneath him; felt his base inclinations rise and tighten in the pit of his stomach. Almost immediately he felt his body get over sensitized; felt Strel's breath mingling with his own, felt their fur brush together; gray and red and brown and white. It hadn't been this good the first time they did it, certainly; it meant more, now, because Noss knew Strel. Such a presumption was more or less the gray warrior's own; he knew that Strel cared about him—obviously enough to repeatedly do what they were doing—had missed him, but love? It had never been openly admitted. Noss was fine with that; he would learn to read Strel, even if it was Noss’s weakest point to read people. But those lavender eyes always spoke in volumes, and as he continued to passionately kiss Strel he kept his pale yellow eyes open, looking down into the colored irises he had missed. So quickly had Noss been riled by even the thought of being with Strel; he had the inkling that the redheaded tailor would be sore for a few days...

Warrior walks. "Warrior talks." Warrior thinks.

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