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Thread: And You Smell Like One, Too

  1. #1
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    Closed And You Smell Like One, Too

    There was a certain joy to be taken in a simple surprise. It was pure and lovely, in its entirety. He was a firm believer in surprises, which was what brought him to the door he now stood in front of.

    He'd put in for time off, and taken a few transit hops with other Alliance ships until he'd gotten to Jovan. It was one of those things that just made sense to him, and while she would probably be spending this particular day in solitude after working her shift, he was determined to upend that little bit of sameness. He was almost sure that she ignored it when she was still commanding her own ship; like it was just another day.

    She was on Jovan now though, and he'd called ahead so that Kes would make sure to keep her from as many duties as possible. Bare minimum, nothing frustrating for her on this day. He'd also made sure that Squirt would keep the manifest of the Nakaro from her ever-prying eyes and razor-sharp scrutiny. Last thing he needed was for her to see his name on the crew manifest.

    Arriving had been easy enough; customs was navigated with ease, despite the odd looks that had been sent his way. He was normally only ever seen when the Khera'Va'ss'io pulled in to port, but it was nothing that a smile couldn't smooth over.

    One hand held tight to the small duffel holding his clothes, and the other held a brown-paper-wrapped parcel, tied with rough-spun twine.

    The path to the officer's level was one that he'd memorized long ago, and standing before the closed door, Samus Dage reached out while still holding the package. A single finger extended, and he depressed the chime button.

  2. #2
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    The voice that came through the intercom sounded tired, and maybe a little distracted.

    "What? Who jiss jit?"

    There was a faint sound of a commotion on the other side of the door.

  3. #3
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    He didn't bother with answering. Prolonging the surprise was what made something like this so special.

    Instead, Samus simply pushed the chime button again, hearing in his imagination the lyrical notes from the other side of the door as they went through their pre-programmed tone.

  4. #4
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    The reply was a sigh.

    "The vox worrks fjine, come on..."

    Footfalls approached the door as a prelude. A moment later, the door opened, revealing a Cizerack in paint-covered clothes with her hair piled into a messy bun. Her ears skewed, and her eyes widened in surprise. She gasped, and shut the door again on reflex.

  5. #5
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    It wasn't entirely the reaction he had expected, but it was certainly just as funny. And endearing. And utterly adorable, he had to admit.

    With a chuckle, the rangy blonde craned his neck forward slightly, giving a gentle tap-tap-tap to the door with the corner of the brown-wrapped parcel he held.

    "A little kalloo-walo told me today was a special day, Kitten," he spoke just loud enough that he hoped she would be able to hear him from on the other side of the door.

    Another moment passed in silence before he went on.

    "You gonna let me in?"

  6. #6
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    She opened the door almost as soon as she'd closed it. It had been a momentary burst of modesty from being thrust into view when she absolutely didn't plan on it. Now with the door open once more, T'yeellaa didn't bother hiding the mess. Her hair was tied up in what was a bun nearly in name only. The old PT clothes she wore were smeared in a half dozen colors of paint daubs which followed onto her striped skin, and what skin wasn't smeared with paint glistened with sweat.

    "Gai'tou, jI wassn't expectjing jyou forr anotherr..."

    Then his words caught up with her, and there was that tell-tale sign of premeditation. He'd surprised her. She hated surprises, and yet. Sighing, she grabbed a rag off an adjacent console table, wringing it tightly over her knuckles to try and tidy what she could. She tried to look irritated at Samus, but it fell apart. A smile broke her resistance, crinkling her nose slightly.

    "Come jin. Watch jyourr sstep, ljike jI ssajid, jI wassn't expectjing jyou."

    The common room was in a state of chaos. A wreath of incense smoke hung faintly in the recesses, seasoning the room with something spicy yet sensitive at once. The furniture had been pushed aside to surrender as much floor space as possible to a trio of roll mats, which were in turn peppered with pots of bright paint. A half dozen framed canvasses rested against the cabinets and the couch in a state of half-completion.

    T'yeellaa gave Samus enough space to make his way in, finding herself in an awkward way. She wanted to give him a hug, but in her state she'd definitely ruin his smart little outfit. So instead, she just kneaded the rag she held between her fingers, not at all sure how to act.

    "Do jyou want caf?" She blurted, glancing to the kitchenette. "jI have kri'achee on, but jI can make ssome jif jyou can wajit a mjinute."

  7. #7
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    She looked as though she was caught in the worst conundrum of all, and as the door hissed shut, he casually tossed the package and his duffle to the sofa. It was a murky sea of incense wisps, and Samus grinned a sly grin as he plucked the rag from her grasp and stepped into her space.

    "No need for caf, Kitten," he rumbled happily, his free arm going around her to hoist her up into his arms.

    "It's your birthday. Don't ask me what I want... "

    The rag was dropped to the floor then.

    "... tell me what you want."

  8. #8
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    "Gai'tou, mjy pajint...jyourr clothess..."

    She protested weakly, and smiled in spite of her concern. If she had to be honest, this was the thing she wanted the most.

    "Do jyou know how old jI am?"

  9. #9
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    In the whirlwind of their coming together, and in the absence of the subject ever coming up, Samus had to admit to himself that no, he most certainly did not know how old she was.

    With their noses a scant few millimeters away from each other, the rangy blonde couldn't help but give her a mischievous grin.

    "Well no, but so what? It's your special day," he spun on his heel, sending the both of them into a tight spin that ended with a quick, almost dainty kiss to her forehead.

    "... and that's all that matters."

  10. #10
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    "jI'm forrtjy-sseven." T'yeellaa admitted freely, no self-consciousness in her admission. She kissed Samus, and carefully disentangled from his embrace, back to the ground.

    "Do jyou want to trrjy?" She gestured at the mess in the common room, striding across a few mats to remove the current canvas in its incomplete state. She pulled a fresh one from a nearby pack, offering it to Samus.

    "jIt'ss Tu'aa Hyeeiaali. Mjy fatherr, err, mjy bjirrth fatherr Naantarroa taught me how to do jit. jIt'ss morre of a man'ss passttjime, but jI've alwajyss enjojyed jit. jIt'ss calmjing. Helpss jyou to fjigurre thjingss out."

  11. #11
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    He allowed her to descend once more back to the floor, but kept a hand wound into one of her own.

    "I'm fine, Kitten," his smile radiated outward, and his eyes eventually tracked from her to the gift parcel he'd brought.

    "I did bring you something, though. Special for today and all."

    And before he could forget, he fished a much smaller item from his pocket. It was a charm of a sort. An old and spent blaster cell that had been converted into a strange sort of medallion. It was from a very long time ago, too. It was an older model of cell, from at least during the Clone Wars. And yet despite its age, there had been a lot of care given to it; as though the owner had made sure that it held a revered status and had tried to make it a sign of so much hardship, and the hope of peace that it could bring depending on who used it.

    "Captain said to give you this, too. Since it was your birthday and all, she figured you'd get the sentiment."

  12. #12
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    "That'ss an old DC-17 cell."

    T'yeellaa's brow furrowed slightly as she turned the keepsake over in her hand. It was one thing to know the cell's origin, and another to see how it had been repurposed.

    "jI don't underrstand. Don't tell herr that, but...jit'ss loveljy, ssurre, jI jusst don't follow the meanjing. The lasst tjime jI ssaw one of thesse wass durrjing the ssjiegess when jI wass a chjild."

  13. #13
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    "That old Wolf gets notions in her head, and there's no getting them out," he reassured her, and delivering a quick kiss to her cheek.

    He started that familiar trek to the bedroom, a happy grin on his features as he hitched her up further into his arms.

    A conspiratorial waggle of his eyebrows, and Samus gave her a little... 'jiggle'.

    "Someone's not wearing a bra."

  14. #14
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    "jI'm off dutjy, of courrsse." T'yeellaa grinned slightly at Samus's barely-feigned pretense. He had a fairly straight-forward intent, but she had other plans.

    "Come on, put me down." Her tone and expression didn't throw water on Samus's obvious intent. She simply had other ideas about how to get there.

    "jIt'ss mjy bjirrthdajy, sso that meanss jI get what jI want. And jI want jyou..."

    Finding a semi-fresh daub of blue paint on her shoulder, T'yeellaa pressed a finger against the smear to draw a scant amount of still-viscous pigment out, and drew it in a fading line against her gai'tou's cheek.

    "...to pajint wjith me."

    Her lips parted slightly as she traced her tongue against her teeth.

    "jI want to ssee what jyou make."

  15. #15
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    The lady would get what she wanted, and Samus slowly eased her down to the floor, mindful to crane his neck downward so that he could prolong their oral connection.

    He let out a rumbling 'mmmmm' as their lips finally parted, and rising back up to stand straight, he lifted a finger to brush an errant strand of hair from her face.

    "If that's what my Kitten wants, then that is what she'll have."

    Somewhat disengaging then, he began to unbutton his shirt. He remembered the last time she'd tried to get him to do this, insisting on comfortable clothes. And, well, far be it for him to ignore her advice. A bare chest was revealed, lean and not without a few scars dotting the landscape.

    The shirt was halfway folded over itself, and with a playful toss, he sent it at T'yeellaa.

  16. #16
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    She caught his tossed shirt, ostensibly folding it over once more while passing it under her nose. There was the obvious vestigial scent of his body wash, but that was just the canvas for the smells of a day's work alongside his sweat and whatever else that she couldn't define but only knew as him being next to her. But that was as much attention as his shirt merited, as her eyes never parted from its owner's bare chest. She let the shirt tumble from her grasp to the floor, purposefully and carelessly at once.

    "Take off jyourr sshoess."

  17. #17
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    Wordlessly he obeyed, keeping his eyes on her as he knelt down to unlace his boots. Rising once more, Samus pried each one off with the opposite foot, and it wasn't long before his socks followed.

    With a coy look, he rested his hands on his hip.

    "And my pants... ?"

  18. #18
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    "No."

    She pursed her lips slightly, ears perked as her tail swished.

    "jYou'rre gettjing ahead of jyourrsself. Ljike jI ssajid, we'rre pajintjing."

    With one hand, she gestured to the calisthenics mat rolled out on the floor, waiting for him to take his place. She eased the half-finished canvas off the easel in front, replacing it with a fresh one. With that done, she joined him, taking her position behind his rangy figure. T'yeellaa placed her hands against his hips, keeping in full contact as she leaned her chest against his back.

    "The fjirrsst sstep jiss to brrreathe."

    The last word exited her mouth in a soft protracted exhale, her breath warm against his skin as her hands drifted from his hips to rest against his stomach, feeling the muscles tense and slacken as he took to her instruction.

  19. #19
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    He did as she said, making sure to not deviate. Her hand on his midsection was almost a distraction, but he also knew those claws of hers would make sure he didn't stray too awful much. He'd once called her K'ohta'rrou Murder-Mittens and threatened to trim her nails after a minor kitchen accident a few months back. It was all in fun though, as he would never actually lay a finger on her unless she wanted him to. Still though, the name somewhat stuck, and he would let it slip out every so often.

    Feeling her body against his was something that he looked forward to during the times that he was away, and even if now they were doing her painting, he was more than happy to participate.

    He took a few long, deep breaths, pull air into his lungs slowly before letting it all back out at the same measure pace.

    "Ok, now what."

  20. #20
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    She felt him draw in air, and let it out in a conscious and deep flow. There was something in Samus breathing that way that made her think of riding fathiers, and the deep drafts of breath the big racing animals would take. It was a sound of power, like an idling ship's engine.

    T'yeellaa reluctantly withdrew her hands from him, and stood to his right in a stance that mirrored his own.

    "jYou brreathe, jin and out ljike that, then jiiin..."

    She drew in breath, arching her back slightly as her arms wound upwards, right palm overlapping left hand. She rose to the tips of her toes as her tail swept out as counterbalance.

    "...and oooouuut..."

    With her releasing breath, T'yeellaa bent forward in a controlled descent, while allowing her feet to supinate and carry her to rest her hands on the mat as far forward of her feet as possible, so that she formed a straight line from her hands up to her buttocks, and back down to her feet in a pyramid.

    "...and brrrreathe agajin..."

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