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@kalaisgreen, for Evette
The orchestrion thrummed, an ambient bass line serving the undertone for drinks that were had. The pungent cinders of smoldering dreamweed left the air a mess of smoke and clouds of the mind-liquefying spice, but nothing that would take away from the night of indulgence and reprieve that had begun as business. It was the eve of another long week, the calm before the churning storm which only encouraged two weathered bodies to seal their deals and arrangements with a hot crest of a lazy afternoon. Arozand had spent the day at Evette’s place, aged sunlight filtering through her windows to selectively warm whatever they deigned to fall upon.The woman of the house meandered in a loose robe, no pants, because who needs pants? She cast her shadow over the man occupying her couch, his bronze skin and mottled black scales soaking up all the warmth he could while she approached his reclined form. Dainty strides of bare feet guided her over, a wholesome silhouette obstructing the golden rays he bathed in - but he would never complain, especially not while she crept up and climbed atop him only to lay her pretty head onto the chiseled plateau of his chest.
Sable hair and one pointed ear splayed over his bare skin, the Xaela’s own tired eyes lilting slightly at the mere prospect of the nap she was so inclined to take. For all the papers pushed, for all the words scrawled, for all the ink spilled and every ounce of effort sponged up into the growing seeds of their collaborative labor, a nap sounded like a damn fine thing. Rough fingers thumped the book he held shut, the other set circling over the wrinkles of her robe and the arch of her back as he leaned his head back and held her there. The woman was hugged around his neck, her sumptuous body left hanging against him with one leg hooked up around his thigh by the knee while the other pressed parallel to his with her toes curled along the scales of his ankle.
With a grunt, he shifted under her and pulled his enormous tail out from the cramped space beneath them until he could let it loose within the space of their legs and curl its end around her calf in a slick embrace while she drifted to slumber on her living Xaela bed. While Arozand held her under the crook of one arm and idly played his fingers along the patch of vulnerable skin under the displaced hem of her robe, he curled his other sturdy limb around the back of his head and left a long, relaxed sigh of rumbling breath tumble out from his lips. This was a fine thing, the simplicity of sleep turned into an earthly pleasure. The innocence of it all begged for purity, but they both knew this was merely the momentary slumbering of their ragged and flawed souls.
