eatsthecanary | continuations

[ lick lick licking. Lucifel is salty and that tastes good and it both helps and , doesn't help with the hunger, the desire to eat, head nudging forward into his touch ]

[ on one hand he doesn't want to be eaten but on the other hand he loves the attention

rolling onto his back with some effort, offering both hands up in the air with a mumble ]

Come here . . .

[ works, most of his way on the bed, though he's still quite large. trying to settle some of his weight on him as he licks ]

[ immediately settling both his hands on whisky's ears, arms essentially dead weight on him except for his fingers working against his fur ]

. . . I thought that a monster might be scary, mm . . . but Whisky-san is Whisky-san after all . . .

[ a little growl out, but it's not entirely aggressive sounding, shifting to be on his side some, occupying more room on the bed that's off Lucifel. ish. to not squish him ]

[ with a little huff, leaning in to kiss his nose ]

[ nuzzles lightly back and --

finally, he's steadily de-morphing, mouth still partially against him as his form shrinks and de-furrifies; until it's just regular ol cannibal Whisky with his lynx ears laying next to him ]

[ oh good I know how to hug you like this

Kissing him again, stretching his arms out a bit more ]

[ tips his head up to kiss him more properly, on the mouth, shifting to lay on him ]

[ taste . . . .

dragging his fingertips heavily against whisky's back, less forceful and more dead weight, and he mumbles against his lips ]

I - mm, love you. Whisky-san - was that enough?

Mm.

[ quietly, affirmative. it seems his stamina hasn't carried over to his human form at least; he seems content ish except for the gnawing hunger that's leaving a deep-seated craving and he really could just bite down, right now

huffs out a tired breath and pulls back some, smoothing his dishevelled hair back into place ]

[ you could just eat right now, and then he would be a cube, and then where would we be

closing his eyes, honestly. it . . . hurts . . . it still feels good, the endorphins are still high, but he can feel the edges starting to wear away, soreness returning, and when he tries to shift his legs there's pain that makes him wince - stretching out the tightly wound muscle is just a little painful, in that it makes the pain from the tightness more obvious

deliberating for a moment or two more before he starts stroking his face, under his chin, with his eyes closing ]

[ thankfully do to not being the one fucked he doesn't really have to deal with as much of that soreness; just a more generalized ache
he does tilt his head without thinking about it, into the touch, cat like, without really processing his own movements. ]

[ genuinely just too tired to make any expressions, just sort of curling up closer to him - the movement continues, just for a little longer, before his hand falls, as if he's fallen asleep ]

continuations

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]

Re: [ day 50 before sunrise ]