[ Ciri may have forgotten about her clothing, and his tugging at her trousers suddenly reminds her she's still partially trapped by them. It's only a few moments to help him peel them the rest of the way down her legs, where he'll have to do a little more tugging and fenagling to get them untucked from her boots, which she doesn't bother kicking off. Ciri scoots up a bit further on the bed, letting her legs continue to dangle off the side but giving him more room. Spreading her thighs with a shiver of anticipation to let him get between them.
It's a little cold -- it is still winter, even in the desert -- but despite the goosebumps prickling her thighs, she doesn't seem to notice. It might be more excitement than the chill. Almost certainly is, when his lips touch the inside of her thigh, and she shivers again, entranced by the feeling.
Her face, at least, is hot enough. Probably, it's a good thing they're being pushed along at least a little, even if she hasn't fully realized the effects -- or the feeling of being suddenly so bare like this, somewhere entirely strange, would be a little more alarming. As it is, she can't find the will to care more than a mild flutter of embarrassment, the sort that's on the same side as excitement more than shame. ]
Mm-hm. That... feels good. [ Ciri mumbles, encouraging, without demanding more yet.
Her legs splay wider, knees lifted, and she balances the heels of her boots on the very edge of the mattress.
Sephiroth will find her thighs and lower legs slashed with old scars, and perhaps a few newer ones. Long stripes from blades, in various severity. Jagged, raised marks from claws and teeth.
And high on the inside of her left thigh, a tattoo of a single red rose. ]
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It's a little cold -- it is still winter, even in the desert -- but despite the goosebumps prickling her thighs, she doesn't seem to notice. It might be more excitement than the chill. Almost certainly is, when his lips touch the inside of her thigh, and she shivers again, entranced by the feeling.
Her face, at least, is hot enough. Probably, it's a good thing they're being pushed along at least a little, even if she hasn't fully realized the effects -- or the feeling of being suddenly so bare like this, somewhere entirely strange, would be a little more alarming. As it is, she can't find the will to care more than a mild flutter of embarrassment, the sort that's on the same side as excitement more than shame. ]
Mm-hm. That... feels good. [ Ciri mumbles, encouraging, without demanding more yet.
Her legs splay wider, knees lifted, and she balances the heels of her boots on the very edge of the mattress.
Sephiroth will find her thighs and lower legs slashed with old scars, and perhaps a few newer ones. Long stripes from blades, in various severity. Jagged, raised marks from claws and teeth.
And high on the inside of her left thigh, a tattoo of a single red rose. ]