[ Oh, she thinks dazedly when the kiss comes, the warmth of Loki's mouth loosing a fluttery storm inside her belly. More than once, she had had kisses from Irri, but they had never tasted of passion, leaving Dany feeling even emptier than she had before. Somehow, though, she had never felt ungainly with Irri; here, some part of her fears the ground will slant precariously beneath her feet.
There are Qorral around, surely--bandits, perhaps--but in their rush, their place is private enough. Her hat, loosely-donned to begin with, slides from its perch and falls to hang by drawstring around her neck, spilling a cascade of silver across her shoulders. The height difference is not so pronounced as it is when Loki is in male form, but the goddess is still tall enough to warrant the queen rising on tiptoe in her boots, tugging Loki by the shoulders so that she's standing with her back flush against the wall for support. She feels silly and excited and unbalanced at once, her cheeks flushing in the wintry air. ]
You were quick enough, [ she tells her slyly, breaking the kiss just long enough to whisper the words into the corner of Loki's mouth. In female form, as in male form, Loki is a whirlwind, demanding and presumptuous. It is a song she knows, one that twines with her own nature, and it is only the threat of being found in the open that keeps her from hooking a boot playfully around Loki's ankle for closeness. She settles instead for tangling eager, fine-boned fingers into the hair the goddess likes to toss so much. ]
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There are Qorral around, surely--bandits, perhaps--but in their rush, their place is private enough. Her hat, loosely-donned to begin with, slides from its perch and falls to hang by drawstring around her neck, spilling a cascade of silver across her shoulders. The height difference is not so pronounced as it is when Loki is in male form, but the goddess is still tall enough to warrant the queen rising on tiptoe in her boots, tugging Loki by the shoulders so that she's standing with her back flush against the wall for support. She feels silly and excited and unbalanced at once, her cheeks flushing in the wintry air. ]
You were quick enough, [ she tells her slyly, breaking the kiss just long enough to whisper the words into the corner of Loki's mouth. In female form, as in male form, Loki is a whirlwind, demanding and presumptuous. It is a song she knows, one that twines with her own nature, and it is only the threat of being found in the open that keeps her from hooking a boot playfully around Loki's ankle for closeness. She settles instead for tangling eager, fine-boned fingers into the hair the goddess likes to toss so much. ]