I circled around him without lifting my palms from his body to get a good long look at his back and tight ass. His tail flicked against my legs like a gay man’s sassy fan and I snorted at his antics. He wasn’t going to distract me, not this time. I had him exactly where I wanted him.
God, and his fur? It was so damn soft, like the finest velvet, but when it was wet it was silk, real silk, the stuff you paid a fortune for. I was tired, but after running my hands all over him my libido was trying to override my exhaustion like Lust had stolen the controls from Sleep by body slamming her to the floor and was holding her down with one foot on her chest while Sleep cursed and struggled to move.
“I love when your scent turns hot and needy, Callie. It truly makes my whole day.”
How did he get his voice to do that? It got all syrupy and dark like temptation personified.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I quipped tartly, coming back around to stand in front of him with my arms crossed under my breasts. When his eyes naturally dipped to take in the bounty I smirked at him.
“I may not have your sense of smell, but I can clearly see that feral look in your eyes. Like what you see?” I asked, jiggling the girls a little and laughing at the semi mesmerized look on Rathal’s face.
He sucked his teeth and finally met my gaze. “I make no excuses, my prize. You have a beautiful body. And these?” He reached out and cupped both of my breasts in his hands,lifting and squeezing them together. “These are magical. They somehow manage to make all my good sense drain out of my body as if it never were. My kind aren’t even mammals. I did not grow up with females who lactate so you’d think I wouldn’t be so affected by a pair of mammary glands but by the Mother they are like a lust kickstarter.”
I laughed and placed my hands over his to press them more firmly against me.
“Wow, Rathal. You really know how to talk to a girl.”
He stepped in closer, dropping his hands from my breasts to encircle me in a loose hug, his quiet laughter warming me up better than the water did. He rested his chin on my head when I returned his hug and we stood like that for several long minutes before he sighed and stepped away.
“I’d better get you washed and in bed before I dishonor myself.” He reached over me and grabbed a sponge-like washing stone and masculine smelling soap and got to work. He was all business which still managed to be sensual as he washed me from the tips of my toes all the way up to my hair, where he switched to products I recognized from my own bathroom. I had to give him some direction so he did my hair right, but he was a fast learning male. I imagined in a few more showers he'd be an expert on Black hair.
Once he was done he handed me the sponge and soap with a raised eyebrow. I chuckled, took them both and did the same for him. With us washed and rinsed he turned the water off, reached out to grab two plush drying cloths from the shelves on the wall and proceeded to dry me and then bundle me up before pushing me gently out of the shower and drying himself. I was curious to see how long it took a being covered in fur to dry but I should have known better. Rathal stepped backwards just as two rings jutted out of the wall, one on the ground and the other near the ceiling. He stepped into the ring on the ground and raisedhis arms above him as they started to move towards each other, the sound of pressurized air filling the bathroom. I could feel the heat from where I was and in less than a minute the rings returned to their starting positions.
I burst out laughing as Rathal shook himself before stepping out of the ring and letting it retract into the wall again.
He was a fluffy poof ball and he glowered at me for a moment before turning to the wall to our right and pulling out hidden compartments. He removed brushes, oils, wraps, and several wide tooth bejeweled combs and brought them all to the counter, setting them out in neat rows.
“Laugh all you want, dearest, but you’re going to help me get my back. I usually have an attendant for this.”
He handed me a comb, oil, leave-in conditioner, and a purple hair wrap before taking up a bristle brush and started brushing down the fur on his head, face and neck, spraying the bristles with an oil after every few swipes to keep the fur laying down.
My grin didn’t leave my face once during my night time hair routine, and I had just finished tying the wrap on when Rathal held out the brush. He’d finished the front of his upper body, his arms, and his legs, but when he turned wordlessly to give me his back, the fur there was still standing straight up.
I started brushing, smoothing the fur down with my hand after each stroke. “Look at us, being all domestic and shit. Hard to believe I tried to blow you up like two days ago, huh?”
He shrugged, tossing a look over his shoulder at me. “I consider it foreplay, darling. No harm done.”
“That’s dysfunctional,” I said, laughing.
He snorted, crossing his arms and said in a dry tone. “It’s about as dysfunctional as blowing someone up as foreplay dear, but who am I to judge?”
“I did not! I was trying to escape!”
“Sure you were, darling. Sure you were. I do believe we’ve had this conversation before, have we not? What was it I told you?”
I glared at the back of his head. “That I liked it,” I grumbled.
“And was I right?”
I sighed, shaking my head in defeat, though a smile tugged at my mouth. “It pains me to admit, but yes. Yes you were.”
“Precisely. Hence the foreplay.”
I huffed a laugh in answer and finished brushing him and then handed the brush back for him to put away. He tidied the counter and then took our cloths to hang up to dry. He pulled out two robes and helped me into mine, tying the cord tightly around my waist before putting his own on. I again didn’t squeak when he scooped me back up into his arms to carry me to his monstrosity of a bed. It was a heavy black four poster metal thing that looked like someone had decided to take someone's idea of abstract artwork and turn it into a bed set.
There was a soft sleeping set of shorts and a tank top in a pretty cream color laid out on the fluffy orange comforter. Rathal set me down and helped me dress, smoothing the shirt down over me with a hum of approval.
“I hope you know that I enjoy dressing you and that you should resign yourself to the endless wardrobe changes in your future. Your taste in clothing is entirely too practical, darling. I consider it my life's goal to change that.”
