Mazikeen doesn’t know why she is so determined to answer his question despite the way Firion isn’t exactly just standing still and listening. She assumes he had really wanted to know the answer right this moment. And though it is hard to string together coherent words, nevermind complete sentences, with the way his his muzzle moves against her jaw, she resolves not to be distracted.
Until he laughs, until he tells her that he does not want to hear about her dad right now. Confusion crowds in as she looks at him, at first stupidly not understanding the contrast between her story of family and that wicked gleam in the golden eyes that meet hers. “Oh.” And then a second later that syllable is repeated as her mind finally catches up as his smoky laugh seems to roll across her skin and leave goosebumps in its wake. “Oh.” And then she laughs too but it is a soft, embarrassed noise. She wins against the urge to turn her head away but even still she can feel some of her defenses begin to grow upwards again as she remains flustered over how she hadn’t caught on sooner. How she’d stood there rambling about her past thinking about the words rather than what else was going on.
She really was terrible at this, wasn’t she?
That thought inspires her desire to run from this embarrassment, that instinct taking over just enough for her to take a single step before reason settles back in. She uses that small bit of space to move so that when she reaches for him again, her muzzle brushes against golden skin on the opposite side of his neck from where she had been standing a moment ago.
As if it had just been her intention to face him more directly, pivoted towards him - her orange eyes illuminated by his glow but bright with something even more as her flustered thoughts shifting to the back of her mind.
The grumble that comes next is half-hearted, and the effect further minimized by the way the words are spoken so her lips just brush against an ink-dark rosette, paired with a gentle nip as punctuation. “It really is your fault for asking.”
Even Mazikeen cannot quite twist her way into understanding her worries because she knows they’re absolutely out of place here. Even Firion’s shadows have stopped inspiring fear in her, and she enjoys the way they close in around them - the way they cool her over-warm skin (flushed with more than self-loathing and embarrassment) combined with the glow he casts makes her feel safe.
Feeling safe is important, but at this moment it is not exactly the thing that’s on the top of her mind as she focuses her attention on him (where it should've been all along). Repaying each touch he had given her, answering that question of his and meeting his heat with her own. She is not good at this, but as with all things with Firion - she does not hesitate to try. So her next words are as teasing as her touch. “If there’s something you’d prefer to hear right now, I’m open to suggestions.”
@firion