Tradition Bites

Posted on Fri Apr 3rd, 2020 @ 4:46pm by

Mission: Episode 02: "Samaritan"
Location: Personal Quarters
Timeline: Day 1 at 0000

Harlow walked out of the bathroom, the soft robe hanging loosely around her, not really covering much as she towel dried her purple hair. With her first shift in sickbay over, the first thing she had done upon returning to her quarters was to shower, to wash away the scent of others from her skin. The down side of being a medical officer was the fact that she was regularly in close contact with other crew members, but she also knew how important scent was to Mr'isarr. Showering meant that by the time he returned to their quarters, hers would be the only scent he would be dealing with.

"Computer, lower the lights to sixty percent and play music file Launceston Delta Nine, volume at twenty percent." She smiled as the lights dimmed and the music started playing, just loud enough to provide soft background noise but not so loud as to be disturbing. All in all, it just provided a comforting atmosphere for him to come home to.

Turning on her heel, she was about to start walking back to their bedroom to find something to wear when the doors parted. Turning back, she smiled as her gaze fell on him. "You're early," she said quietly, setting down the towel and ignoring her still damp hair as she moved toward him.

The meeting briefing had not taken as long as he had allotted time for, while informative it was however brief and to the point which he appreciated. Lieutenant Horis was proving herself to be capable, skilled and knowlegable, all things he respected and would call upon often as he himself got settled. Having spent most of the day looking through the service records of officers and key ratings within his department he wanted to know more about the key leadership branch of the marines, performances, certifications, evaluations.

His walk home was gentle, unrushed, he was going to arrive early but his mind was otherwise occupied with the days events and what he had read. He planned the following morning to personally meet some of the officers to get to know them a little better.

The doors parted and he walked in to which the lights were low, soft music played and the familiar fragrances of a shower could be smelt. That was when his Mate appeared, her Purple hair unavoidable as he smiled, though mostly hidden by his fur. "My Mate." He initially spoke to her comment. "My briefing ended earlier than anticipated." The doors closing behind him.

"I just came out of the shower," she explained pointlessly, given how obvious it was that that was the case. "Did you want a drink or something before I go get dressed?" she asked with a smile, stepping in front of him, her hand reaching up to rest on the side of his face, her fingertips softly caressing his furred cheek.

"I can get it." He replied as he watched Harlow walk to him. Her hand to the side of his face, his own hand atop of hers as he turned his head towards it. His nose, cold as it might be, touched the inside of her wrist and he inhaled drawing comfort from the act to take the edge of an otherwise busy day.

Harlow pulled her hand away slowly, her fingertips trailing down over the side of his face, hovering momentarily on his neck, where his collar had been, the collar that now sat in the top drawer of her bedside table. She smiled as she started to undo his jacket. She knew he found the uniforms, even modified as they were, to be somewhat restrictive, and really, this was something she had come to love. The chance to have her hands on him.

Standing there letting her little hands work, letting her slowly free him from his uniform that did excellent work in trapping heat amongst his fur coat under the material confines. He'd often considered a different material, something more suited to his kind, breathable yet providing freedom of movement for his size and build.

"I thought we'd just stay in tonight," she said softly as she pushed the jacket back off his shoulders, pulling it away and folding it, placing it neatly on the dresser near the door. "Did you want to shower before dinner?" she asked softly, her hands moving to his chest, roaming slowly, just touching.

"I do." A shower he knew would be refreshing and allow him to not only clean his fur but his skin too that had been encased in not just the fur coat but also a uniform too. Given the large size difference between the two of them his own hands came to rest on her upper arms as he looked down upon her purple haired frame.

"Do you want help?" she asked cheekily, looking up at him. "The bathroom modifications were complete, there's definitely room for two."

"Perhaps later, you have just showered and drying." He also didn't want to occupy her time if she had other things she sought to do. "Though we shall, soon." He smiled again at her.

"You know I like showering with you," she said with a soft smile. Intimacy and physical contact were definitely things she craved from him, the more she got, the more she wanted. With a sigh, she stepped back, her hands dropping to her sides. "It's okay." Her hands moved to her waist, adjusting her robe slightly. "I should probably get dressed anyway."

His shower rivaled her own in duration as his fur coat required plenty of attention to ensure it was clean, brushing also took time to make sure that it kept style and place. As Harlow had done he walked out in one of his exceptionally large robes. "I have finished." He spoke.

As he exited the shower, Harlow was laying on their bed, purple hair fanned out around her head, a stark contrast against the snow white linens. Her robe slightly askew from where she had shifted, now laying with one knee up revealing her bare thigh, PaDD in hand as she was reading intently. At the sound of his voice, she lowered the PaDD and looked up at him, a smile playing on her lips. "I didn't get dressed," she said with a soft laugh. "I got distracted."

"By what?" He asked, voice softer than his usual feline tone now that he was home and relaxed, alone with his Mate. Seeing that she had been reading and sometimes she had brought work home with her, light reading perhaps.

"Just reading something I found earlier," she said with a smile, setting the PaDD aside and patting the bed next to her. "Join me?" she asked softly as she looked up at him.

Parting the robe at the knee he leaned forward and crawled onto the bed much like the feline he was. Padding his way up the bed till he was level with her and then laid down listening to the bed shift and creek slightly under his considerable weight.

She watched him as he moved, waiting until he was settled before she shifted herself, rising up to kneel next to him, looking down at him and smiling, running her fingertips along the side of his face again before leaning down and brushing a soft kiss across the corner of his mouth.

Slowly, pulling back so she was kneeling again, she drew a somewhat shaky breath, her hands moving to undo the belt of her robe, sliding the soft fabric back over her shoulders, letting it pool on the bed behind her as she looked down at him.

Before him lay a thing of beauty, small in frame but beauty none the less. Removing his own robe his snow white fur with black strips, freshly washed, lightly scented came into view. He knew she enjoyed the feel of his fur for he'd often found her nestled against him, cuddled up or pressed against as they slept.

Her gaze travelled slowly over his body, taking in every inch of him. Her first instinct was to lay next to him, her head in his shoulder, her hands on his chest, but that would wait, there was something else she wanted first. With deliberate movements she reached for his hand, lifting it and pressing his hand, palm first, against her chest. "I want you to touch me," she said softly, unable to hide the slight tremble in her voice.

Following that touch came that which till now they had not done, been intimate. There were risks, dangers, not just physical but racial as well. Mr'isarr was gentle lest he hurt her, something he desperately wanted to avoid but what would come next was unavoidable. Tradition raised his head, culture its chorus, poised and ready to which the climax crashed so too did his jaws to Harlow's shoulder. The act was to mark, leave scars on her shoulder in the pattern of his teeth. While to other Caitians such marks would be hidden by the fur for Harlow they would still be present, and very visable. He had to be mindful of what he was, his jaws were strong and Human bones in that area not so much but tradition had to be sated, culture observed.

Despite knowing what was to come, Harlow wasn't quite prepared for the searing pain as his teeth sank into the tender flesh around her shoulder. The sound of her own scream echoed through their quarters around them as she bit down on her bottom lip until she could taste blood, her fingernails digging into him as she gripped him tightly. Sucking in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, she remained as still as she could manage, closing her eyes to fight back the tears.

The taste of blood was bitter to him knowing from whom it came from but when the moment yielded, he released her. The fur around his mouth tinted with red as he held Harlow close but knowing he'd dealt her a serious injury all in the name of tradition. A low growl followed, angry that he had to hurt her, it went against everything he'd been taught about the consequences of harming a female and he'd done just that, even if it was the one time that tradition permitted it.

Harlow whimpered softly as he moved but stayed willingly in his arms. "It's okay," she whispered shakily, resting her head against him, still keeping her eyes closed. She could feel the warm blood pooling around the puncture wounds and dripping slowly down her exposed skin, no doubt it marking his fur further. Her shoulder was throbbing painfully, but she dared not speak, other than to just repeat "It's okay."