[She's mid-pout when he closes the gap again, and it's like a switch is flipped, because she reciprocates fiercely, almost enough to push back in the opposite direction. But eventually, when her back hits the bed, she lets the brewing point of contention go, her tail doing a flick under her as she falls.
Irhya was never a convincing speaker; she has ever been a woman of action first, thought later.]
Can I make it up to you?
[It's a sincere, earnest whisper against his lips when they part, perhaps surprisingly so given her usual demeanor. The tether pulses with more than just desire -- it is also a desire to please, to make peace, and the enkindled hope that she might be able to do so, if only like this.]
no subject
Irhya was never a convincing speaker; she has ever been a woman of action first, thought later.]
Can I make it up to you?
[It's a sincere, earnest whisper against his lips when they part, perhaps surprisingly so given her usual demeanor. The tether pulses with more than just desire -- it is also a desire to please, to make peace, and the enkindled hope that she might be able to do so, if only like this.]