hell_in_highheels | [oom] Coming Home

Richard slips back into canine to say, Love my love, mine, my love. It leaves his mouth free to mark her throat, leaving deep red dents in her skin.

He keeps pushing into her, shoving her backside up against the warm slate in his eagerness.

She rocks against him, ascending with each bite, each thrust driving her up into that halo of sensation. The stone against her back has no give, and she feels every ounce of his power as he pounds into her.

She holds tight, hearing her own voice rise in a keening cry as her orgasm washes over her. Time slows. She feels the pleasure twisting and rolling through her body in long, hard pulses in synch with his motions.

Richard's voice rises to match hers in a deep and sonorous howl. He's panting with effort when it ends, heart racing, arms straining but still holding her steadily.

"Love you," he murmurs gently over her throat, tongue gently tending to the marks he's left.

Her breath is ragged, and a joyous laugh bubbles up in her throat. The warm water beats on her skin, and she brushes her hand over his cheek, drawing his eyes back to her face. "I love you, wolf."

Somehow, even as she's situated, she manages a fairly intelligible snippet of canine.

My mate.

My mate, he agrees with a happy, proud grin and gives her a sloppy kiss.

"Breakfast?" He inquires hopefully. All this excitement has made him rather ravenous.

"Soap first," she laughs. "And then breakfast."

She nuzzles his cheek as he lets her down, and then reaches for a cloth and the soap dispenser. Don't worry, she's quick about it, and with all that hot water, soon they're both squeaky clean.

She tells the shower to shut down and finds a thick terry cloth towel for the both of them.

Mmm, soft.

He keeps bumping into her, little touches to let him know she's there, gentle shoulderbumps to remind her of the same. It's been quite some time since he was this happy without any magical influence.

"You said Deitmar stopped by?" He asks, slighly muffled because he's towelling his hair.

She echoes those same touches and shoulder bumps, so very glad he is home safe.

She winds her own hair in a towel and twists it on top of her head. "Yes. Interesting young man. Cellular biologist? Said you made him destroy all the samples."

Her hands reach out to touch his skin, stroking down his back.

He leans into her hand for as long as it's there.

"I didn't know him as well then as I do now," he says a bit wryly, passing her his towel.

He'd probably still make him destroy the samples. Deitmar can be...opportunistic.

She hangs up his towel, and then her own, before moving back into his arms. She steals a kiss, tender and gentle, leading him into the bedroom.

She opens the wardrobe and hands him a green silk robe before slipping into a dove grey one herself.

She cocks an eyebrow at him. "He also told me about Suzi and his meeting with your wolf self."

Richard cocks an eyebrow right back at her as he slides into his robe.

"Something which I highly disapprove of and have asked them not to do again. TO the best of my knowledge, they've complied." He stalks over to knot her robe for her.

"I'm not the only werewolf out there, you know," he says with a frown.

She leans into him, rubbing her chin against his scruff. "And I'm not helpless," she answers, her tone adamant.

"Regardless, he mentioned it. And he implied that your 'state' as he called it -- the fact that you're deceased -- might impact your ability to transmit the lycanthropy. But," she holds up a finger, "he said we have no way of knowing for sure."

"I know," he says quietly, holding and supporting her. "But it's not the sort of thing one tests lightly."

That applies to both statements as far as he's concerned.

There is a powerful wash of love in her scent as she holds him. "Do I seem to be the kind of person who does anything lightly?"

"Now, c'mon. Let me see if I can't find something for you to eat." She gives him a wink.

"Well, you didn't seem too serious when you asked me out to dinner..." he says teasingly, following her to the kitchen.

Damocles is happily curled up on a couch with one of his chew toys when they come out. Ryan frowns. "Do you want him on the furniture?" Brand new leather and all.

"Up to you," she smirks. "I don't mind either way."

"And I confess, I make a habit of picking the most dangerous man in the room and asking him to dinner. It's a hobby of mine." She shoots him a look as she moves into the kitchen.

Ryan shrugs. The dog's already allowed on the bed, it'd only be a matter of time till he claimed the couches too.

He steps behind her into the small space, still not sure which of them is going to do the cooking. "I suppose I'll just have to work at being the most dangerous man in the room, then."

He's not entirely joking there.

That observation earns him a broad grin. "You know, I find that possessive streak incredibly sexy."

She shoos him out of the kitchen with another flurry of touches and a kiss.

"Bar, feed this insufferable man, would you?"

His usual mess order appears on the counter and she brings it to the table, before moving off to put the kettle on.

"Good," he answers as he's shooed. "Because it's not going away any time soon." Or ever, really.

He stares at the food set down in front of him for a moment. "She can do that?" He asks, obviously surprised, before he snags a piece of bacon and scarfs it down.

Over on the couch, Damocles head perks up at the sudden delicious smells.

"Yes, but only if we wash our own dishes." Kettle on, she feeds Damocles and then preps the teapot and sundries.

Another plate appears on the counter top, eggs and bacon, toast and jam.

"Yes, yes, all right." She brings it to the table, cautious to sit on his right side. She is rather hungry now that she thinks about it.

Aww, he wanted bacon. Can't I have bacon?

Don't let your mother see, Ryan says without thinking, sliding a piece to him when River's back is turned.

He's innocently nomming on his eggs when she sits down at the table.

She smirks at Dam sitting quiet and attentive at Richard's elbow, ignoring the bowl full of kibble. "You two really need to work on your act. You couldn't fool a blind man, really."

"And when you're done, I'll show you the research terminal in the office."

She tucks in, smiling at both of them.

"I don't know what you're on about," Richard states plainly, continuing to eat. Dam, go eat your kibble. You're being obvious.

But it doesn't taste like bacon! Ryan turns his head to meet the dog's eyes. Yes, sir. Stupid dry biscuits, not tasting like bacon.

Richard rolls his eyes. Such a teenager. "What's this about a research terminal?"

River laughs under her breath. She's picking up a word or two of canine, here and there. It's easier now that she knows what to look for.

"Well, if I'm going to be working off my tab, I thought I'd offer my services to Bar as a research associate. And to do that, I need a terminal. This one is configured like the system I used back in the Library, but it's attached to Bar's library and feeds instead."

Richard frowns thoughtfully, shovelling eggs on his fork before he looks up. "What would you be researching?"

After which the eggs are promptly consumed.

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