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Cat's Eyes Ch.1 3/5
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Cat's-eyes
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© 1994 Tenebra
Part 3.
"Good evening, Kirrriel." He draws out the trill mhaurri seem to think
is an 'r' sound.
"Amber, what are you doing.... How did you get in here?"
"Come join me?" he says, as if he hasn't heard me at all. He stands
up, stretches languorously.
I'm only human. Watching the effects of that stretch, even in the poor
light, or maybe especially in the moonlight would be more accurate, makes
my breath catch. He turns to face me, and for a long moment I'm completely
distracted looking at him. I'm used to big rough human fighters; Amber is
utterly unlike them, but no less *male*. Certainly quite male enough to
cause a familiar clenching in my guts that I haven't felt in some time.
It occurs to me that the last time was a few days ago, when I first saw
this cat-child.
"Kirrriel?" he purrs. He comes towards me, two smooth strides and he's
right in front of me. Quite naked, very beautiful. He runs one finger
down my body, from the hollow of my throat to my belt, his smile is pure
invitation. "Let's get rid of all these clothes, hrrm? I saw you
fighting. I thought you'd like a bath." He nods towards the tub. Only
then do I notice that it's full.
"How did you get in here?" is all I can think to repeat. Finding an
extremely sexy cat waiting naked for one can have something of an ill
effect on logic.
He smiles. "My secret." He starts on my belt, gets it undone swiftly,
and I can't gather my thoughts enough to do anything but let him.
Briefly, he pauses, takes the dagger from my hand and resheathes it and
lays the whole, belt and knife, aside. He drops to one knee, removes my
boots for me, gently, then straightens. Quick light hands unfasten my
pants, slide them down over my hips. I'm too tall for him to really
help with my shirt, I collect my wits enough to pull it over my head
and drop it with the rest. My underclothes soon follow.
"Bath?" he reminds me.
Obediently, I step into the deliciously hot water, slowly settle into
it. Amber disappears, leaving me to soak in heat and moonlight, and try
to get my internal balance back. I close my eyes, relax. My instincts
are good, Amber means no harm. And I'm finding myself suddenly very
curious about mhaurri ideas of pleasure. All that silky-looking tawny
fur, those deft gentle hands that could probably pick a pocket with no
one the wiser....
I only realize he's back when he purrs my name again. I open my eyes,
realize I've been absently stroking myself between my legs, matching my
fantasy. He smiles, I could almost think there's something smug in it,
and reaches across me for the soap. Without a word, he dips it in the
water, gets both hands thoroughly lathered, and puts the soap back in
its place. He starts on my nearer arm, missing not a single inch,
taking his time, then the other arm, then back, across my chest. He
doesn't linger any longer over my breasts than anywhere else, just
finishes and rinses the soap off with water cupped in his hands. Then
he has me lean forward, while he gives my back the same treatment.
I'm beginning to understand the reason some highborn keep servants to
tend them in the bath. Amber's hands feel *very* good, methodically
cleaning away the sweat.
He tells me to raise each leg for him, one at a time, so he can see to
them as well, from toes to upper thigh. With soapy hands he caresses my
stomach under the water, and slides one of them between my legs, runs it
upward with enough pressure to make me shiver as my body responds.
"All clean," he purrs, satisfied. He reaches for a towel, waits for me
to stand up so he can wrap it around me. A second on the floor, for me
to step out onto, while he lets the water begin draining. In a
heartbeat, he's in front of me again, this time towelling me dry with
infinite care for overworked muscles. What can I do but let him? What
can I *want* to do but enjoy the attention?
Once the towels are hung to dry, he looks up at me with a mischievous
smile, laces the fingers of one hand through mine, and tugs me towards
the other room. The bed, more precisely.
"Lie down, Kirrriel. On your front."
A little puzzled, I obey.
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End of Part 3.
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