Her wiggling is fantastic, the best approval he could ask for. Macaque frees up both hands to pet her everywhere he can reach from his current position, buried in glorious, wriggling fur.
"I forgot that word has a casual definition in Britain. But yes, not that one. The one where I adore you and I'm committed to you, and you to me. The one where my nest becomes our nest whenever you're in it."
He has other mates, true, and he can imagine she'll still want to stay out in the wild sometimes, so it'll work out fine. The point is, she has an open invitation to stay as often as she likes.
"Being beneath you is an extremely pleasant experience, by the bye."
The more he pets her, the more he speaks, the more joyously wiggly she becomes. Also the more pancaked. There's no danger of him being crushed, but he is being extremely thoroughly squished.
She trills happily, momentarily setting aside the clumsiness of words in favour of song; here chirruping like a songbird, and there slipping into snippets of true song — warmth and delight and desire, the comfort of flopping into a welcome nest after a long day; the simple thrill of taking flight for no other reason than the joy of sharing it with a partner (a partner, a mate) she adores.
She nuzzles him, scattering cute lick-y kisses across his face, neck, and ears. Gently, of course, mindful as she always is of his sensitivity. "Hm? Ooh. You like it."
Good, because she has no plans to move or stop purring anytime soon. "You should tell me what else you like." Miyuni nudges his head to one side and focuses her attention on those pretty, pretty ears of his, tracing the shells with her tongue softly enough to tease.
All of her reactions are so good. A combination of sweet and silly and wonderful and musical that he can't deny makes him want to fawn. Instead he scritches her snoot and sighs into the licking.
...Sighs a little more heavily when she focuses on his ears.
"I like that," he breathes. "If you'll keep it up, you'll have me eating out of your hand in a minute." AKA if you don't want him real turned on, maybe don't. But if she does, he's all for it. It's not like it takes much from her.
"Can't think of anything I'd like better," she informs him, pleased as punch. "You sound like a dream. Always do, 'course, in all the best ways."
She'll take her time wrecking him. … Or maybe, she thinks — as she treats his gorgeous ears to fluttering flicks of her tongue here, and longer, slower drags there—she'll wreck him fast and take her time keeping him there. One or the other, or maybe both.
A brush of fang follows, deliberate, firm enough to tantalise yet gentle enough to avoid pain.
Macaque only notices the thumping tail because his ears are hyperfixated on everything she's doing, in every way that it's possible for ears to be. Her words, her heartbeat, her breathing, her tongue and her teeth.
His fingers curl in her fur as he less grooms than holds on, releasing a sigh that quickly turns into a moan. Melting into whatever sort of puddle she cares to form him into at an alarming rate.
(Why does everyone always go for his ears? It's the only shared habit that his mates have.) (Mate, she's his mate now. He can hardly believe his good fortune.)
"If I sound like a dream," he starts, having to pause after those words for some heavy breaths, "it's because you make me think I've wandered into one."
Let it never be said that he can't be a charming motherfucker even when he's underneath someone at at her mercy.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Re: September 29 - discussion of NSFW
"I forgot that word has a casual definition in Britain. But yes, not that one. The one where I adore you and I'm committed to you, and you to me. The one where my nest becomes our nest whenever you're in it."
He has other mates, true, and he can imagine she'll still want to stay out in the wild sometimes, so it'll work out fine. The point is, she has an open invitation to stay as often as she likes.
"Being beneath you is an extremely pleasant experience, by the bye."
Re: September 29 - discussion of NSFW
She trills happily, momentarily setting aside the clumsiness of words in favour of song; here chirruping like a songbird, and there slipping into snippets of true song — warmth and delight and desire, the comfort of flopping into a welcome nest after a long day; the simple thrill of taking flight for no other reason than the joy of sharing it with a partner (a partner, a mate) she adores.
She nuzzles him, scattering cute lick-y kisses across his face, neck, and ears. Gently, of course, mindful as she always is of his sensitivity. "Hm? Ooh. You like it."
Good, because she has no plans to move or stop purring anytime soon. "You should tell me what else you like." Miyuni nudges his head to one side and focuses her attention on those pretty, pretty ears of his, tracing the shells with her tongue softly enough to tease.
Re: September 29 - discussion of NSFW
...Sighs a little more heavily when she focuses on his ears.
"I like that," he breathes. "If you'll keep it up, you'll have me eating out of your hand in a minute." AKA if you don't want him real turned on, maybe don't. But if she does, he's all for it. It's not like it takes much from her.
Re: September 29 - discussion of NSFW
"Can't think of anything I'd like better," she informs him, pleased as punch. "You sound like a dream. Always do, 'course, in all the best ways."
She'll take her time wrecking him. … Or maybe, she thinks — as she treats his gorgeous ears to fluttering flicks of her tongue here, and longer, slower drags there—she'll wreck him fast and take her time keeping him there. One or the other, or maybe both.
A brush of fang follows, deliberate, firm enough to tantalise yet gentle enough to avoid pain.
Re: September 29 - discussion of NSFW
His fingers curl in her fur as he less grooms than holds on, releasing a sigh that quickly turns into a moan. Melting into whatever sort of puddle she cares to form him into at an alarming rate.
(Why does everyone always go for his ears? It's the only shared habit that his mates have.) (Mate, she's his mate now. He can hardly believe his good fortune.)
"If I sound like a dream," he starts, having to pause after those words for some heavy breaths, "it's because you make me think I've wandered into one."
Let it never be said that he can't be a charming motherfucker even when he's underneath someone at at her mercy.