03 - Rimming | Voyeurism/Exhibitionism | Anal Sex | Bodyswap
About two hours later, he stirred. And blinked slowly.
Before he simply clambered off to the table and started to grab all items of food he could find. And stuffed them in his mouth.
Kitty… blinked at the textbook example of the munchies and pouted a little bit. No guilty angel. Just a hungry one.
Not much one could do about it.
Except, well…
With a smirk, she scooted a bit forward… and ran the blunt side of her fingernails down his spine.
She could swear she saw the shudder come out from deeply within the guy, sitting up perfectly straight from it.
Then he turned around, almost spitting out the food, but minding his manners, chewed, swallowed and said: “This is my sensitive back!”
Which… obviously confirmed he really overestimated his tolerance for opiates, since he was still high as a kite.
“I see!”
He stared for a moment longer, then nodded and returned to the table, munching away.
Kitty got to her knees and leaned with her whole body against his back, fingers still scraping over his neck.
It caused the same shudder he showed before, so she wriggled against him.
“Ah-HAaaaaahhh~,” there was an actual full-body-shudder.
“That sensitive, huh?” She whispered into his ear, still not moving away him.
“There are wings there,” he stared in the distance for a moment, “… I can tell you that, right?”
He looked adorably confused, but she nodded with a laugh: “Yeah, I knew that much”
“Ah, good. Nnh… still sensitive?” He tried to wriggle to get her off and at the same time not cause any friction. It was as strange an attempt as one can imagine.
“It’s less bad if you take them out, really” the wriggle-attempts were further sabotaged by her.
“Set them free?”
“They are wings, they should set you free” she poked his back again.
“Mnnnnh” There was a moment of silence. “Fine”
Her eyes grew wide. “What. Really?”
But he already stretched himself and waved her a little away.
There were… wings.
The thing was just… it… was a lot more than expected.
And a lot bigger than expected. And…
She swallowed and averted her eyes. For a moment. It… it was a bit indecent.
Meanwhile, he even flexed and stretched them. The room was barely big enough.
Kitty… averted her eyes, only looking over every few seconds to… check.
“Mmmmh! Didn’t have them out for quite some time”
“As… as long as it feels good!” She was not sure what to say.
“Certainly helps a little. There are just so many”
“I… err… I can see that” It was at least five pairs. Five pairs. People shouldn’t have more than one. Maybe two.
Same goes for that wingspan.
“I’ll… I’ll leave you with a grooming kit, then, alright?” She slid it over discreetly.
“Mmmmh… could you help me with that?” He asked, eyes all innocent and nice.
For a shocked second, she stared at him. And then, blushing, she left the room: “Maybe next time!”
It had been a terrifying few minutes with the man, but Mazin had shown her an impressive collection of knives and had twirled one in his hands the whole time Samil had been there.
Judging from the moment of pause seeing Mazin gave him, it was an actual point.
It was still terrifying, the way he held himself, the way his eyes weren’t entirely human, the way he walked like a predator, even in his human form. And also like someone to be respected. To be feared, even. The heavy coat did not help.
He was calm. Calm and collected when he greeted her. Calm and collected and entirely focused on her. And then reminded her of her promise. Offspring.
After he had sniffed, he proclaimed that it obviously had not taken yet, hence his visit. There were to be cubs. For their continued support of her own, foreign one.
Certainly not by him. Was her answer. One he merely sneered at.
Fine. But it will happen soon. Or resources will be too precious.
The whole meeting played back in her mind. He had left after that. And her body untensed.
She had been sure she was fine the whole time, but she apparently hadn’t. Because now she was shaking slightly. Felt cold.
He had not even threatened her. Just came into the room she called now ‘home’ while she sat on a chair, said his piece and walked out again.
He had felt more like a wolf than even Mazin with his ears and tail and fur. He was distinctly less… human.
And Mazin put a blanket over her shoulders: “…dickhead,”, he squatted in front of the chair: “He really didn’t need to be so ominous about it”
The knives had vanished. And the slinky wolf looked… a little worried.
Gabrielle did feel a little shaken as well, but still said: “Well, he can be as ominous as he wants. He can’t force me to do anything”
Mazin… tilted his head: “… well. You do look very composed. Did when he was there as well. But we can smell fear”
She scrunched up her nose at that.
“Soooo… ah… while you are right in assuming we will make sure no harm comes to you… it still begs the question: Do you want to stick with us and get taken care of for the price of… well… sleeping with one of us… or do you want to live away from us again? I admit you – and your daughter – took the whole thing rather well. Everyone is used to you by now and it would work out fine. But… yeah…” Mazin scratched his nose.
“… I have to give birth to… baby werewolves”
“Jupp, pretty much!”
She frowned at him again. And pulled the blanket closer. Let me think about it. And you stop being an ass, too,” she poked him with her foot and he made a roll backwards, standing up.
“I’ll try. I’ll occupy Matia and Ludovico a little, still. Rolling up in a ball is easier alone. I’ll bring snacks!”
Alice was asleep, sprawled over the top of her comforter, collapsed with just taking off her scrub bottoms. Sloane picked up a fleece throw and spread it over her friend’s sleeping body. The house didn’t get cold, unless the air conditioning was on, but Sloane valued the weight of blankets. She then looked around for the Shadow Book, glossing over it on Alice’s desk, then doubling back to it. Sloane hasted a scribbled note in its place, but bent towards Alice’s face before leaving.
“Duck,” she said in a hushed voice, “I’m gonna take the book from the ghost-house, is that okay? Duck?”
Alice blinked, then settled again, having seemingly confirmed it was Sloane and not a dream.
“S’fine. No raising the dead, hen.”
“You’re not my mom,” Sloane replied and kissed Alice on the temple. “Love you, sleep good.”
Sloane’s starting to get a tinny handle on her witching, but it feels more like a fluke than anything else.
Can we have some first date cute- or sexyness with the Surgeon and the Reverend?
At least the WAY to the first date, alright? ;P
He’d held sermons in the hospital.Multiple ones. He’d even gathered new members for his cmmunity thatway. Aphan and Quph – apparently married - happily gave directions,too. It was a good, prosperous thing to do. Spreading the word, likea missionary.
That they always talked before andafter the sermon didn’t necessarily need to mean anything. ButRaphael now knew that Reverend Loew was apparently a hobby cook. Anddidn’t like empty houses, but lived alone. He liked gardening,actually had developed a liking for mustard-plants. He’d had a timewhen he saw religious texts as a pragmatic guide.
Otherwise, free time was limited. Withan immersive community such as his own, he was mostly going around inthe name of the community. Or trained to play the organ, since thechurch services needed music as well.
The moment Raphael stepped into churchand it had been filled with music, he’d seen the sense in that. Thebuilding and it’s intended hoiness became real with the added sound.
So… yes, he had attended sermons aswell. In the Reverend’s church. Two times he’d had toleave since he’dbeen paged, but… the homily itself was well thought out andactually current. The words stayed with the audience. Even with adoctor such as himself.
All in all, the time spend with theReverend was thoroughly enjoyable. Even if it was just a few momentsbefore and after official times.
He’d also made use of the pastoral carehours. Talking about his own problems and the stress of being a man‘doing god’s work’. Deciding over life or death like that. There hadbeen support and gentle smiles and the reverend had put his hand onRaphael’s.
… this should be the time to mentionthat NONE of this helped with this silly, impossible crush of his. Atall.
After they had separated their handsfrom one another again – the nice contrast didn’t convince him thatthe priest was no the right choice of partner either – ReverendLoew moved his shoulder in a somewhat awkward manner.
That was the moment his brain decidedto not consult itself and a sentence tumbled out of his mouth: „Mmh.This looks like you are quite tensed. It could be an aftereffect ofthe operation… I almost feel like it’s my responsibility to remedythat“
„Mh? Oh, it’s nothing, just a littlestiff…“, he’d stopped mid-motion and looked down at the -nowalready dissolved – stitches with a bit of worry. But he smiledagain – this smile convinced Raphael’s brain it had done well.
So the following happened: „Oh, but Iinsist, Reverend. How about on thursday at my place, around fivethirty? I know you have free, and we could finish our little plan ona flower-clock?“
And, like miracles sometimes do, onehappened. He said yes. With a laugh and a comment about huge flowerclocks.
…and this is how their first date wasappointed.
It could be seen as something of anot-date, still, but at least… it was in neither of theirworkplaces. So… thursday. Five thirty. Yes.
Jasper Torres is the engineer / mechanic aboard the Serendipity. If it's broken, chances are that he's the one who fixes it. He is really quite good at what he does, though the Serendipity, being of the Rogue class of transport ships, doesn't need a whole lot of babying - which is part of why he constitutes the entire engineering division.
Jasper prefers going by the name "Jazz", as he thinks it sounds cool. To help establish it as a permanent nickname, he's taken up playing the saxophone, at which he is actually quite accomplished. Others on the ship have also been known to play instruments, as it is a nice, cheap way to while away the time between landfalls.
Jazz is one of the few crew members who was actually born out on the frontier, and as such he occasionally acted as a local guide when the crew first got together. Over the years, though, he's been called on to do this less and less, as the rest of the crew have assimilated quite a bit.
Jazz is quite young for such a responsible position on a ship - only 25 years old, where most of the crew is in their mid to late thirties. The age difference isn't brought up much, but it does occasionally lead to him having a slightly more idealistic approach to some of the societal and legal issues the crew finds themselves faced with. If he had his way, they would spend all of their time stealing from the rich to give to the poor and would be working to bring down the "evil" Alliance single-handedly. Intellectually he knows that this is probably not possible, nor necessarily even desirable, but in his heart he still wants it. The fact that his home planet of Meriba was somewhat ill-treated by the Alliance when they came through and claimed sovereignty over it makes it hard for him to approach such issues completely rationally.
The specialty that he brings to the crew's clandestine activities is mostly in the form of being able to hack his way around various security measures. While Dr. Beth is the one who actually picks locks and safes, Jazz is the one who figures out how to get around the laser curtain or reprograms the cameras to replay old clips rather than updating live. He's also often left on the ship to make sure that, when they need to get away in a hurry, Serendipity is able to pour on the speed. He, along with Dei-Oh Gi, have made considerable modifications to Serendipity, the primary one being that she can accelerate faster than most transport ships. Not fast enough to outrun a cruiser or an enforcement ship, but enough to take them surprise them if they've been distracted by something else and make it to some hidey hole. The modifications that Dei-Oh Gi demanded were some hidden weapons that have been mounted to the outside hull. Most transports don't have any weapons, so the presence of some can take adversaries by surprise, even if they are terribly under powered for normal ship to ship combat.
Art plays a large part in making our life infinitely rich. Life without art is unimaginable or even more impossible. Or as how they define it, life without art is full of despair. Art is also our expression of who we are, it is what makes us what we are right now, it takes us into the depths of our imagination. According to an article I read online(http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20120313065413AAGCkay), “Art is the essence of what life is, and of what life can be. It is a reflection of who we are, and who we strive to be. Art reflects truth, imagination, our frailty and our endeavors. It shows us the true nature of ourselves; world we live, and work in. It speaks from the heart, and stirs the Soul. It pushes us to reach the impossible and realize the improbable. When artists look at something that they think is beautiful, like maybe a sunset, it can inspire them to want to paint it and capture the beauty that they are enjoying. Of course different people see different things as beautiful. If you go to an art gallery some will find that some of the paintings they will fall in love with and others might wonder what the artist was thinking because some won’t like them at all!
A man’s mind is rich with imagination when it comes to observing nature and its surroundings. A man does what he sees and so the world around us plays a huge role in our everyday life. Art reflects man’s desire to explain the world around him by giving man an outlet of expression. Expressing his emotions or what he feels about the things he encounters in his everyday life. Expressing what we feel through art condenses the experience we have as human beings. Art, by its nature is new and a surprise to the artist. It did not exist before and now here it is, sitting in front of you, inviting reaction and response. Via art (and all self-expression), the artist continually renews self-identity, continually makes sense of who he/she is in 'the world". This is why creativity is both playful and meaningful and why art keeps stretching the boundaries.
Man portrays human potential through art by taking man, and putting him in a certain place, scenario, or situation normally considered unimaginable, challenging the creativity of the viewers, and pushing their limits and boundaries outside the norms of society. In this case, man’s creative juices are expected to flow to a whole new level because he is in a position where it is unfamiliar to him.