Familiar males in the throes of Incarnation had the ability to gift their mates with new life; they could turn back time for their mates. It was a secret they kept among themselves for obvious reasons.
Sometimes the chance for a child arose out of the escalating spiritual and physical energies. If such an occasion should develop, Salair was of the mind that it was too soon for them to go down that path. However, when he reached the final level, he knew what he really wanted to do for her. . . It would be dangerous. More so for him than her. He was confident that should it all go wrong, he could at least keep her safe.
He did not care about the risk. He was willing to sacrifice himself for this one special gift.
It was something he and he alone could do for her. A testament of his belief in her.
His complete commitment to them as mates. Salair knew he often was like a feral Familiar; his untamed essence in that regard had come across to her, he was sure. He did not envision himself staying around a hearth with her. They would have to discuss that later.
Still, she had mated with him. She had agreed to undergo Incarnation with him.
If all went well, he could bestow on her a special affirmation of his vow.
Do not let my rough ways concern you, Softcat, I will be here for you in all ways.
***
Silently, he removed her clothing and then his own. He took her hand and led her into the small pool. When he stopped in front of the waterfall, Snow felt something bounce off her shoulder. A small splash followed. Startled, she jumped, clutching Salair's arm.
"What is it?" she gulped, her imagination running to strange furry little cave dwellers.
Her mate chuckled. "It is just a
tasmin
flower, Snow. There are vines heavy with buds crossing the entire ceiling of the cavern." His teeth captured her lower lip for a fast nip. "Like you, they are quite beautiful."
Flushing from his compliment, she delicately sniffed the air.
"They are starting to open." Most strains of tasmin bloomed only when the sun went down.
"Yes, night is falling. I can see three stars in the twilight sky beyond the entrance to the cavern." Faraway sounds of animals stirring with the close of day reached both their ears. In its way, soothing.
A light breeze wafted through the cavern.
Snow smiled. "It seems you have found a lovely spot, Salair."
He raised her hand to his lips. "I could have chosen any spot, for every part of M'yan has its own beauty." His warm tongue slipped between her fingers, sliding back and forth in a playful manner that electrified her senses. It did not seem as if he were referring solely to M'yan. The male shapeshifter drew her to him; his mouth covered hers in a sizzling kiss. He stepped back, bringing them slightly under the spray of the waterfall. As the buds flowered along with nightfall, the heavy blooms dropped off the vines. Cascading blooms floated over the falls and over them.
The moist petals caressed Snow's skin with their sweet, exotic fragrance.
Yet, not as exotic as Salair's sexual fragrance. His addictive scent mingled with the heady perfume, bathing her in a multi-layered mix as enigmatic as the man who held her in his arms.
The backs of his fingers stroked up and down her naked back as he continued to kiss her languidly, dipping his tongue into her mouth over and over to sample her sweetness.
It was a perfect kiss.
A kiss of lovers on the night wind of rising passion.
His knuckles made small circles on her back; his thumbs pressing gently, then more firmly into the pliant skin. Fingertips slipped around her sides and skimmed down her waist with just a hint of nail.
Snow shivered at the pleasing sensations.
His was a light touch that evoked much impact. The male Familiar's mastery of touch, of taste, and of other, special senses exclusive to them, was making itself evident. It had been a perfect
scratch
.
Snow was hyper-sensitive to that kind of touch. Her nerve endings were acutely sharp. She was his perfect foil.
{You do that rather well, husband.}
He broke off from her lips, nuzzling his mouth along her jaw line to her ear.
She had called him husband.
"Do I,
Softcat
?" he murmured aloud.
Of course, he must know he did; it was in every caress and embrace. The man seemed to know just the exact amount of
friction
to apply to arouse. His scratches never left a raised mark! Even when he varied the intensity of the scrape of his nails against her skin.
His palms dipped under the water, and his wet fingertips meandered softly up the back of her thighs. The flittering touch made her entire body shiver with pleasure. She felt his fingers hook around the inside of her knee, grazing inside the tender crease as he seamlessly lifted her leg over his hip.
Her arms went around his neck to steady herself, her nose brushing his collarbone. She loved the strong column of his throat! So masculine.
Salair ran his thumbnail back and forth along the line of her upper thigh. With a faint smile, his mouth latched onto the curve of her throat. He suckled gently–and gently bit her–catching the skin between his teeth in a bite known as the
Kitten’s Kiss
. A tempting,
purrr
let her know he was just beginning.
It was a kindling sound, so different from her own contented purr. Familiars lived in the moment of their sensuality; reveled in their sexuality. And took their life's breath from the very act of giving and receiving pleasure. There were no other beings like them in this regard in the universe.
As Salair moved his hand lower, Snow felt the pond water gently
lap
at the area between her legs that he had widened when he positioned her. The small, cool crests were augmented with every splash, causing ripples of pleasure to wave seductively along her nether lips. She could feel her own juices begin to flow apace with the lapping water. Salair felt it as well. A long
trrrrrrr
brushed her collarbone and echoed down her spine.
Smoothly, he moved over her chest, his tongue mapping out a sensual adventure. When he reached her breast, he fastened on the taut bud and suckled, drawing with a languid pace–until she moaned at the back of her throat. His tugging actions and the single light
scratch
on the underside of the knee that wrapped at his waist, drew a direct line of vibration right to her center core. She exhaled on a long, sighing moan.
As Snow noted, he was in no hurry. His steady ministrations were built one upon the other. Neither ceasing, nor augmenting. Just driving her mad with want.
She caressed his shoulders and ran her own nails down his taut chest in an attempt to move him along. Salair would neither be sped up, nor slowed down. In his own time, he deviated to her other breast–in much the same manner. Which made Snow clutch his head to her in perfect frustration.
Her hands sank into the luxurious strands of his dampened hair. The wet-tipped locks clung like lovers to her forearms. She tugged at the vibrant hanks by yanking her arms towards herself.
Salair’s lashes swept against her cheeks as he blinked.
Just once
. She had surprised him. She was rewarded with a rather sexy
hiss
.
"You wish to lead this Incarnation?" he drawled in sexual challenge. Clearly, he was not amused.
"I do not see why not," she quipped, irrationally annoyed at the painstaking pleasure he insisted on giving her. "If it will move you along, I would be glad to. I never knew a man could be so slow!"
A sensual laugh was his first response. "The Incarnation is nine tiers. The expertise in the act is to pace oneself. But do not fret overly much,
Softcat
. I assure you, I will more than make up for it in the end."
Instantly, she felt his silken lips kissing and suckling down the centerline of her torso. His tongue teasingly dipped into her navel to swirl one way, then counter. Each tingling sweep left a path of humming nerve-endings in its wake.
And then, he went lower still. . .
Unhurried, Salair casually dangled her leg over his shoulder as he dipped into the water that lapped at her juncture. One of his hands clasped her inner thigh. He used his other hand to spread her nether lips.
It took a moment for Snow to realize that he had completely opened her up to him. Her breath exited her mouth in a short burst as she discerned what he was about to do. Was this really part of the Incarnation? As before, he waited for just the right moment. Until the cool water rose up and lapped against the tender lips.
Exciting the delicate tissue.
Only when the water started to ebb did he replace it with the hot lap of his mouth.
Snow cried out at the incredible contrast of sensation. He licked the length of her opening, over and over, with long, dewy swipes of his tongue–Pausing occasionally to ever so gently
scratch
the delicate rim with his thumb nails.
The reaction was so intense, Snow did not know whether to squirm out of his embrace or dive into it. She suspected she was kind of. . .
mewing
. Salair's tongue curled around a hardened bud–which thus far, she had not even known she possessed–exactly as his thumbnails rasped the
inner
edge of her nether lips. The sharp point of his eye tooth
grazed
over the swollen nub. Snow jolted in his arms; a choking cry escaped her lips. Salair whispered something against her, and built upon his admirable technique by inserting a tapered finger into the slick canal. As he continued his method of long laps amid specialized scratches, he slightly curled his finger inside her and rubbed along the inner passage at a spot that immediately made Snow heartily peak with a scream. The undulating tremors traveled down the length of his finger and right though Salair's own body. He groaned aloud.
The bulbous tip of his member jutted against her leg. Still, he did not change his methods.
He simply began on her anew. Only this time, he pressed the flat of his hand down on her stomach while his finger tapped inside and pressed upward. All the while his mouth worked on her,
licking up
every drop of her dewy moisture. The cool water also lapped her in gradual waves–a torturous counterpoint to his hot deeds.
"I-I do not think I can take much more, Salair," she whimpered, clutching at his broad shoulders. His husky voice vibrated against the tender skin. "Yet, I am only beginning,
Softcat
. Mayhap I am not
fast
enough for you. . ." He gently bit her.
Snow gave a little shriek. Only a Familiar would dare bite a woman
there–
and so perfectly.
She knew Salair was goading her for her earlier comment; she felt him grin against her mons.
"Somehow, you will have to bear my
unfocused
technique." Whereupon, he set about his task with a renewed fervor, if that was possible. Snow became rather loud.
Just when she was close to–to–almost–He suddenly veered his attention to a vulnerable spot on her inner thigh, running his satiny lips over the sensitive area.
His finger still worked inside her
. The throbbing was almost pain! She begged,
begged
him for release.
Salair paused, ceasing all motion.
Snow sobbed; her bunched fists pounded his shoulder.
"Why do you stop?" she cried. "The Incarnation will soon be over!"
A deep chuckle resonated against her thigh.
{We have not even started the Incarnation, Snow.}
He had just considered this preliminary love play; he was preparing her for what was to come.
"What?!"
Snow tried to gather her thoughts. It was not easy, considering.
"I vow it is true." He had the nerve to grin against her leg.
Then he made her wait several moments more.
Until she almost screamed from frustration.
But, he was waiting until the water lapped against her; cool and wet. Whereupon, he slowly, slowly leaned in and blew
hot
breath against her core.
She tumbled over the edge immediately into a multi cascading release. Snow literally sagged into his arms as he lifted her out of the water–And right
onto
him.
Bracing his forearms under her legs, he impaled her full and hard. He had positioned them directly under the waterfall. Her arms naturally slid around his neck. Their mouths joined in a feverish kiss.
His first penetration was strong.
"
Now
it begins,
Softcat
. . ."
With those words, he began the first tier of Incarnation, the depth of his strokes varying in an ancient incremental pattern.
Eight shallow, one deep.
The movements were highly stimulating. Snow's instincts took over as she fell naturally into the age-old rhythm. She could feel her tight inner walls hugging him with each thrust. Reluctant to release him. Hesitant to take him in entirely. It was an erotic muscular reflex of the stroking pattern, seemingly designed to drive the male mad.