My, my, what a development.
Qaerris had not expected the woman leaning into his kiss, but was he wrong not to? Qaerris knew that Elyna had been attracted to him, and in his moment seeking to distract her, he'd used his appeal to do so. It was the only response, one devoid of reason and instead focused inwardly towards distraction and pleasure. For the Mortalborn, it was a means of removing the misery from his opposite's expression, Qaerris' reassurances with words and his ability to cope with others lacking in that regard. If Elyna was keen to take the distraction he offered to her, he was not going to rebuff and go back on that invitation.
A hand rose to take to Elyna's waist as he furthered their kiss, the Mortalborn intent on pulling the woman closer to him. He'd, after a moment, pull away, rising from his chair and taking hold of Elyna's hand, intent on pulling the woman to her feet. Should she take his invitation, he'd lead her forward, intent on pressing the woman against the adjacent, stone wall of his Midtown cottage. Hands moved next to press to Elyna's waist, Qaerris' body moving forward to set against hers. As his torso pressed to the woman's, his lips played at hers, intent on parting them as his tongue began to flick at and caress hers. To let her drown in the pleasure that was Qaerris' to offer was his intention.
Several moments into his ministrations, Qaerris pulled away from their kiss, his lips trailing along the flesh of Elyna's jaw, seeking to move lower. The Mortalborn would feel the delicate pulse beating from the woman's neck as his lips continued to trail, hands at her waist slowly, almost stealthily, hiking up the fabric of her shirt as he sought to see just how far this woman was willing to go. This game, however, felt distinct from his usual teasing of women, for unlike his many excursions as a harlot, this was a genuine desire, a need to pull this particular woman away from the fears and sensations that plagued her, to replace them instead with the lies of intimacy and the pleasures that the Mortalborn could offer her.
In that moment, there were no words that Qaerris needed to speak, nor would any seek to emerge, for this conversation and Qaerris' hospitality had long moved past the need for the sympathetic lies that was all that he could offer her.
Qaerris had not expected the woman leaning into his kiss, but was he wrong not to? Qaerris knew that Elyna had been attracted to him, and in his moment seeking to distract her, he'd used his appeal to do so. It was the only response, one devoid of reason and instead focused inwardly towards distraction and pleasure. For the Mortalborn, it was a means of removing the misery from his opposite's expression, Qaerris' reassurances with words and his ability to cope with others lacking in that regard. If Elyna was keen to take the distraction he offered to her, he was not going to rebuff and go back on that invitation.
A hand rose to take to Elyna's waist as he furthered their kiss, the Mortalborn intent on pulling the woman closer to him. He'd, after a moment, pull away, rising from his chair and taking hold of Elyna's hand, intent on pulling the woman to her feet. Should she take his invitation, he'd lead her forward, intent on pressing the woman against the adjacent, stone wall of his Midtown cottage. Hands moved next to press to Elyna's waist, Qaerris' body moving forward to set against hers. As his torso pressed to the woman's, his lips played at hers, intent on parting them as his tongue began to flick at and caress hers. To let her drown in the pleasure that was Qaerris' to offer was his intention.
Several moments into his ministrations, Qaerris pulled away from their kiss, his lips trailing along the flesh of Elyna's jaw, seeking to move lower. The Mortalborn would feel the delicate pulse beating from the woman's neck as his lips continued to trail, hands at her waist slowly, almost stealthily, hiking up the fabric of her shirt as he sought to see just how far this woman was willing to go. This game, however, felt distinct from his usual teasing of women, for unlike his many excursions as a harlot, this was a genuine desire, a need to pull this particular woman away from the fears and sensations that plagued her, to replace them instead with the lies of intimacy and the pleasures that the Mortalborn could offer her.
In that moment, there were no words that Qaerris needed to speak, nor would any seek to emerge, for this conversation and Qaerris' hospitality had long moved past the need for the sympathetic lies that was all that he could offer her.
