01-06-2025, 02:41 AM
==Late? I’ll showya late!==
This was the kind of kiss that lead to more, and when they broke to actually talk to each other, Art had to admit she was saddened at the break. But when he spoke, they weren’t just words for her ears to hear, they were for her soul. And it was a surprise to her body that they were still on the floor, reminding Art that there were still parts of her body twinging in pain. Peter helped her to her feet when he was righted, and the half-Klingon woman winced as her left foot sparkled with faint pain.
“I am yours,” he said, his voice quiet and firm with passion. “For life. And afterwards, let's kick Sto'vo'kor doors in together as well.”
So help her, she grinned. She felt her heart quicken and her body warm; hopefully Peter knew what was involved in making such an admission to a Klingon. Art grabbed his wrist, and was almost panting as she inhaled his scent as deeply as she could, committing it to her body’s passive memory. Without looking, she grabbed his other wrist, and dug her fingernails into his wrist until she could feel the small, warm trickles of blood.
Then, she brought her mouth to his neck, and gently bit down on the meat. Art let out a soft growl, breathing hard and pressing her body against his. She murmured something in Klingon, which was muffled, but with an educated guess could be translated as something along the lines of, “And I will be yours.”
This was the kind of kiss that lead to more, and when they broke to actually talk to each other, Art had to admit she was saddened at the break. But when he spoke, they weren’t just words for her ears to hear, they were for her soul. And it was a surprise to her body that they were still on the floor, reminding Art that there were still parts of her body twinging in pain. Peter helped her to her feet when he was righted, and the half-Klingon woman winced as her left foot sparkled with faint pain.
“I am yours,” he said, his voice quiet and firm with passion. “For life. And afterwards, let's kick Sto'vo'kor doors in together as well.”
So help her, she grinned. She felt her heart quicken and her body warm; hopefully Peter knew what was involved in making such an admission to a Klingon. Art grabbed his wrist, and was almost panting as she inhaled his scent as deeply as she could, committing it to her body’s passive memory. Without looking, she grabbed his other wrist, and dug her fingernails into his wrist until she could feel the small, warm trickles of blood.
Then, she brought her mouth to his neck, and gently bit down on the meat. Art let out a soft growl, breathing hard and pressing her body against his. She murmured something in Klingon, which was muffled, but with an educated guess could be translated as something along the lines of, “And I will be yours.”