Mid At Best
Ranar
PinksPosies&Pearls: Have I told you about the Nippon Club since I joined?
It’s become the highlight of my week.
The club itself only meets twice a month, but I signed up for this special tea ceremony.
Do you drink tea?
I know we’ve already established you have a caffeine addiction,
but do you ever diversify your drug of choice?
I am a tea drinker, but I drink coffee too.
I don’t really understand the people who are either or & never the twain shall meet.
PinksPosies&Pearls: Anyway — tea ceremony.
It’s very intricate.
People study their whole lives to be able to host their own.
Because even the tiniest detail should be thought of as an art form, you know?
Little inconsequential things that are worth mastery.
But on the other hand, I wonder how many people get into something like this
and they never, ever host a tea for the people they love.
Because they’re too fixated on those little details.
PinksPosies&Pearls: I think it’s beautiful and inspiring.
It’s also probably a damaging hobby for someone who fixates & has anxiety
Perfection is not attainable!
Right now we are learning to fold a napkin.
That’s it.
Just a little napkin.
A little napkin that gets used in the ceremony.
Inconsequential, right? Silly?
Not at all.
A venerated tool, worthy of studying.
Because if something is worth doing, it’s worth doing with your whole heart.
And I really love that
I hope you’re being gentle with yourself this week, friend.
You’ve definitely earned a bit of gentleness.
“We’re going to this, right? I feel like we definitely need to go to this.”
Ranar didn’t need to turn to know what Grace was talking about.
He had been waiting for her to pounce on him with the flyer from the moment he’d arrived on site that morning.
He loved the methodical progression of a wedding job: weeks of preparation, days of work, and then seeing it tangibly come to life, one wall of roses at a time.
He was too busy for chit chat right now, placing arrangements and setting up the bridal arch, and he wasn’t at all interested in the soft pink flyer he knew she held.
He himself had rescued those flyers from a summer storm, because he truly was, proven at every turn, just a stupid, unlucky snake.
Pink Blossom - Open House
Embrace your Flower Epoch!
Join us for an evening of refreshment, flowers and prizes,
As we officially open our doors to the community. .
He had received the same flyer, along with every other business in town.
Ranar had let the pastel sheet of paper slide directly into the wastebasket, only to find it tacked on the wall later that same day, directly in his line of sight as he did billing for that weekend’s wedding.
“I found this in the trash,” his mother had pointed out cheerfully.
“I didn’t want it to be accidentally thrown away before you had a chance to record the date.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it.” He’d avoided his mother’s eye altogether, refusing to turn as he pulled the flyer from the wall, wadding it in a ball, then dropping it into the trash once more.
When he left at the end of the day, several hours after his parents, Ranar found the flyer again, smoothed out, and helpfully placed on the dashboard in his car.
And now Grace was getting in on the act.
“Why would I go? Did you ask yourself the answer to that question before those words bubbled up to the surface, Gracie? ‘Why on earth would Ranar want to attend this, when of all the things in the world he doesn’t want to go to, he doesn’t want to go to this thing the most?’ Did you ask yourself that?”
Grace only rolled her eyes.
“Actually, smart ass, I did think about the answer to that.
Perception.
Public perception is why you should go.
Do you want people to think you’ve been beaten by this?”
”I have been beaten by this.”
He felt something strike him on the back, but didn’t bother turning, too engaged in fitting together the pieces of the arch, his tail holding up the side arm.
“You have not been beaten by this.
And that’s what you want people to see.
You are unbothered.
Moisturized.
In your lane. Ready to bounce back. Like, the worst thing you can do is not go.”
“I can think of plenty of worse things.”
“No, because you’re not thinking about the fallout of not going.
Do you really want to be the source of sad gossip? Like, right now you have the benefit of sympathy on your side, Ranar.
But do you want people to think you’re pathetic? There’s a very fine line between sympathetic and pathetic, and once you cross it, there’s no going back.
You have everyone’s sympathy right now.
It’s a family business, your dad is sick, big corporate bad guy. Everyone feels for you! But if you don’t put in an appearance at her open house, that sympathy is going to turn ugly. ‘Oh, he’s probably at home. I wonder if he’s going to lose his house. He’s probably not going to be able to take care of his parents. He should have closed years ago and turned it into a barbecue joint. If it wasn’t already a failing business, she wouldn’t have shut it down so quickly. I heard he’s never even been on a date before.’ You don’t want any of that, believe me.”
Ranar did turn, finally.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with any of that, Grace.
With friends like these —“
She threw another roll of tape at him, this one bouncing off the front of his shoulder.
“No, don’t give me that.
You know I’m right.
The people of this community love nothing more than talking shit about each other.
Don’t give them ammunition. You haven’t been beaten by this. You are going to clean up really nice, you’re going to slither into her shop, drink her free champagne, take one of her little flower seed packets or whatever the hell she’s giving away, and your going to laugh and smile and look like you’re having a grand old time without a care in the world. You let everyone see that you’re the bigger person and keep their sympathy.”
He hated admitting that she might be right.
Gossip was the lifeblood of this community, and Ranar didn’t want to find himself on the wrong side of it.
Ruma was overjoyed that he was going out, even though it was decided that she would stay home.
He had considered bringing her along.
Even Grace had to give it serious thought, admitting there was no better way to engender sympathy than showing off his adorable, bubbly daughter, reminding the whole town that he was a single father being put out of business.
“I don’t know, I feel like it punches the wrong button.
It would be different if your ex was dead.”
“Grace, for fuck’s sake!”
“I’m just saying! Everyone loves a widower! Widowers are hot, we would be beating women off of you with a stick.
But a divorcé? Ehhhh, what’s wrong with him? That’s what they’re going to think.”
“What’s wrong with me right now is that I am friends with you.
You’re acting like I’m brand new to the town and everyone is forming their first impression of me just this week.”
She shrugged, giving him an unsympathetic look.
“In a way you are, Ranar.
First impression after tragedy.
You’ve been here your whole life, but that means you sort of become part of the town, like a light fixture.
But now you’ve been the source of hot gossip these last few months, and you’re coming out the other side of it not the victor. People will be forming their first impressions all over again.”
“You know what I think? You spend too much time with Tris.”
Ruma would be staying home for the event, removing the buffer of her youth and charm, which he had no problem admitting that he had been planning on using as a security blanket.
She had still been excited that he was going out, and Ranar suspected that was the most damning indictment of his social life possible.
“You need to mog every other guy there, got it? Let me see what you’re wearing.”
He admitted he hadn’t given it any thought at that point.
Ruma had dropped her head back, arms opening wide, as if she were silently imploring the heavens for an answer on what she had done to deserve him.
“Daddy, it’s a theme.
You can’t go not dressed to the theme!”
She had bitterly lamented his lack of a baby pink dress shirt, fighting a war with herself over whether or not he ought to wear the very light purple or the soft dove grey she had decided were a satisfactory showing of being in his flower epoch, in lieu of the pink.
When Grace showed up to collect him, Ruma had still been giving him a critical once over.
“What’s the verdict, little miss?”
“I did the best I could.
He wasn’t even going to follow the theme! Look at Grace! She understands!”
Grace wore a billowing pastel floral dress with huge puffed sleeves, the skirt an avalanche of organza ruffles.
Her mountain of blonde curls spilled over her shoulders, pinned back from her face, and she carried a shiny, beaded clutch.
“Are we going to a flower shop open house or the prom?!”
“Calm down.
You heard her, it’s the theme.
We’re in our flower epoch!” She twirled, letting the skirt of her dress swing.
“Do nagas even go to prom?”
“They do when they go to high school a mile down the road.
I don’t know what the two of you are so worried about,” Ranar added testily.
“My plant friend told me I’m sigma.
I thought that was good.”
“That’s the best,” Ruma promised, accepting his forehead kiss.
“Is she going to be at the party? Don’t forget! Gag her with rizz!”
“This kid has made it her life’s ambition to set me up,” he grumbled once they left his parents’ house, his mother and Ruma both waving from the window.
“Look at the two of them.
Conspiring against me.
You should hear them.
They think I need to ask Sumi out, forgive her for everything. They’re practically planning our future together now.”
“Well, I think they’re right,” Grace laughed.
“If you remember, I was in favor of meeting you here, specifically to facilitate you getting laid tonight.
You are your own biggest enemy, babe.”
The shop was beautiful, as he knew it would be.
A wash of dusty pink and grey-backed lavender swirled the walls, with bunches of flowers tied and suspended from the ceiling.
a long wall of cooler cases, shelving holding bases and small planters, and there in the corner, lit with twinkling lights, stood a strangely majestic tree.
It looked like something from an old growth forest, and Ranar wondered how much they spent on its care and transport in the delivery to its new home here.
An obscene amount of corporate money, just for effect.
He couldn’t hold back a somewhat disgusted snort of laughter at the social media ready backdrop, complete with a neon logo, just at the front door. Ridiculous.
Although, he couldn’t help noting there was a line before it.
Obviously this flyer had gone out to more than just the other local businesses, for the coltish young women lining up to pose together before the wall of greenery in short, voluminous floral dresses certainly weren’t any owners he recognized.
Selkies and shifters, kitsune and a beautiful cervitaur, harpies and mothwomen.
Everyone, it seemed, understood what the flower epoch theme entailed.
These young women had gone all out dressing for a flower shop open house, and were posing as if it were the social event of the season.
“Oh, she’s good, Ranar.
She’s really fuckin’ good.”
Grace nodded her chin in the direction of the work counter, which was serving as the bar for the evening.
Signature cocktails, three to choose from, all pink in color with different flowers floating on their surfaces.
Beside the work counter, several dozen tiny, iridescent gift bags waited, and in front of that, several trays of hors d’oeuvres and crudités.
“This is how you throw a work event.
Get it online.
She knows exactly who she’s marketing to .
.
. She might have put you out of business even without the corporate money.”
He turned sharply, giving Grace a poisonous look.
Somehow she had already acquired a cocktail, holding a self-defensive hand up, blue eyes sparkling as she sipped it.
“Oh, this is divine.
I’m going to have at least four of these.
You don’t need to worry about me getting home, I already told Merrick I would probably be calling him.
So you’re off the hook as the official DD.
Have a drink, loosen up. Go find her. And maybe give her your own big double-D tonight.”
He had already spotted her, his eyes scanning the crowd for her as soon as they stepped in the packed space.
She looked as beautiful as she ever did, even more so in her airy floral dress, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright.
Grace is right.
Go over, say hello.
Be pleasant.
Let people see you saying hello and being pleasant.
We’re all friends here, one big happy community. Ranar shifted. He was keeping himself tightly coiled, not wanting to take up any more space that he absolutely required, which was still more than the average bipedal citizen. There was Xenna, standing beside Sumi, he could say hello to her as well. The sister of the ogre who did his taxes was talking, and all three women laughed.
He was just about to make his move, when Sumi turned, her smile wide as Kenta’s sister introduced her to Sandi Hemming, who had also apparently understood the dress code.
He watched as she and the werewolf leaned in, air kissing on each cheek, the whole floofy, floral group laughing together at something that was said.
This was her place, in the community now, with friends.
She looked happy.
In her element. This was her night, her moment. And he had no desire to detract from that.
Ranar knew that he would be an uncomfortable pause, an awkward silence, and once he quickly took his leave, a fucking yikes, as Pinky would say.
Grace had miscalculated.
He should have stayed away.
He was carefully navigating his way through the packed press of bodies, trying not to inadvertently trip one of the giggling young women waiting in line for the photo op and was nearly to the door, when he heard his name.
She had even ruined that, for his name would never again sound right to his ears, coming from anyone else’s mouth.
“I’m so glad you came.
I had wondered if you would and I-I was worried you weren’t going to.”
He turned as much as the tight space permitted, coiling back on his tail.
She was right there, standing very close, gazing up sparkling eyes.
“Everything looks beautiful.
It’s a gorgeous shop.
Congratulations.” He hated himself for being the reason why the light in her eyes dimmed, each of his short utterances making her wince ever-so-slightly.
“Really,” he added in a gentle tone.
“It’s beautiful. All of it. It suits you.” His eyes were locked on her lips, and he watched almost as if in slow motion as her lip caught behind her teeth. “This, I mean. This is all perfect. You’re going to be very successful, Sumi.”
He turned, uncoiling enough to push himself forward towards the door, when she caught his wrist.
Once more, her fingertips pressed into his skin like a brand, searing him.
“Please don’t leave.”
Ranar turned back slightly, just enough to see her eyes, which looked glossy with unshed tears.
Hoisting his coil up, he twisted fully to face her again.
“Don’t.
Don’t do that.” He was only vaguely aware that it was his hand cupping her jaw, thumb smoothing over the apple of her cheek.
“Put all that away. This is the fake it till you fucking make it crowd. This is your night. Everyone is here to see you. Go show them that you know how to throw a party.”
“I don’t want you to leave.” Her hand was still locked around his wrist, and he couldn’t tell if it was his imagination, but Ranar was positive she had tilted her head slightly, pressing to his hand.
“I kind of need to.
It’s tight in here and my tail is very in the way.
I’m gonna wind up tripping that cervitaur, she’s gonna fall through the cooler, and you’re gonna have a lawsuit on your hands.“ He grinned.
“Actually, now that I’ve said it out loud, it seems like a pretty good plan.”
“This is the only part I was allowed to show anyone.” The brightness had returned to her eyes, her rose-pink lips turning up.
“The sweatshop is in the back.
Promise me you’ll come back and I’ll show it to you.
I’m throwing everyone out at eight, come back then.
I have something for you.”
Cambric Creek seemed designed for couples after dark.
Ranar didn’t know why he was making circles around the streets instead of going home.
Instead, he was shifting from the grass sidewalks to the pavement, cutting up alleys and through parking lots in an effort to continue moving downhill, knowing if he kept shifting at a diagonal, he would never need to traverse any of the steeper streets.
There were couples holding hands on the towpath beside the waterfall, couples walking in groups on Main Street.
Couples standing outside one of the pubs, obliging him to sidewind across the street to move around their laughter, a solitary figure, uncertain in what he was doing or what he was waiting for.
Why are you going back? Just because she asked doesn’t mean you need to listen to her.
He didn’t, but neither did he have a good reason to just go home.
After all, he’d already made plans for Ruma to spend the night with her grandparents, having no idea what time Grace was planning on keeping him out until the first place.
They hadn’t arrived right at six, deciding fashionably late was the best entrance to make, and so he didn’t have terribly long to wait before he was making his way back downhill, tracing the path they had taken that day in the rain, until he arrived at that tiny back lot where she and her staff parked.
Ranar waited.
Most of the attendees who had dropped into her open house were gone at that point, and he watched as the mobile bartender wheeled out the back door, packing up his truck before pulling out.
One by one, each of her employees came out the back door, full of adrenaline and good cheer from their successful night.
Sumi held the door open, talking to a tall troll as she stepped out, the last car in the lot aside from her own.
He saw the moment she stared past the troll, spotting him there on the other side of the street in the shadows. Without breaking her conversation, she made a small motion with her index finger, motioning him to go around to the front.
You should leave.
You should just leave now, what the fuck are you doing? What are you thinking? None of this is smart.
Your life is in disarray because of this woman.
And here you are, letting her lead you by the nose, still.
It didn’t prevent him from doing as he was bid, pushing forward, moving downhill in long glides, turning the corner until he waited before her windows.
When she appeared at the back of the shop, Sumi beamed at the sight of him.
Just a stupid snake.
She hurried to the front, moving as fast as she could at her towering heels, throwing the door open for him.
“Oh, good.
I was worried you weren’t going to come back.”
Ranar slid through the doorway, slithering past her as she relocked the door.
He wanted to ask why she was so worried about him coming back, why she had wanted him there in the first place.
“It’s a very pretty shop,” was what he said, instead.
“I’m assuming they built up around the tree?”
She nodded.
“That’s one of the first things they do.
They bore down and make the hole and then they bring the tree in on this huge truck.
Everything else gets done from there, the flooring, the walls.
None of the steel beams were even put in on the front of the building until they finished with that piece of it.”
He nodded.
Frivolous corporate money.
“Come on, let me give you the tour.
I didn’t understand why the square footage of the storefront was so small during the construction phase.
I questioned it a few different times.
Now I get it.” He followed her around her back counter, down a short utility hallway, a door leading to the same small lot he had just stood watching, and on the opposite side, an open doorway that led to the design room.
“Here we are. Sweatshop central.”
He couldn’t hold in a short burst of laughter.
Her design room was nearly double the size of her sales floor, with two long centralized work cables, a perimeter counter, the utility sink with cabinets, a half-size refrigerator, and a mobile flower cooler.
It was gray and sterile, like an operating room, utterly joyless.
It bore no resemblance to the front of the store, of which the fanciful feminine color scape matched so well with its owner.
Nor did it resemble the work room in his own shop, the doorway of which was notched with his and his sister’s heights, as well as Ruma’s.
Their work room had a wall of windows and was always full of sunshine, or else the gray patter of the rain outside, running in rivulets that they could see.
Ranar could tell her employees would work beneath the fluorescent hum of the overhead lights, with no clue of what the weather or time of day might be outside their gray cinder block prison.
There was nothing personal here, nothing colorful or bright, nothing but a reminder of what they were.
A soulless corporate sweatshop, rolling over the same businesses that had trusted them for decades.
“This is more like it,” he laughed again.
“Yeah, this is exactly what I was expecting.
You threw me with all of the cotton candy fluff out there.”
“The cotton candy fluff is who I am,“ she said pointedly with a laugh.
“This is .
.
.
yeah. Exactly what you said. Nothing has been what I expected.”
Her voice trailed off slightly, her eyes dropping to the floor.
“The front is beautiful,” he heard himself saying, unsure why he was trying to make her feel better, “and your coolers are full.”
“Yeah, that’s all for tomorrow.
Two of the girls are assigned to work on replenishing the cooler, that’s what they do every afternoon.
They just make everything to the general spec and we go from there.”
“Two of the girls.
How many employees do you have?”
“Seven.
Although, two of those are drivers.
I might have to bring on a counter person if we ever pick up in the front, but as of now it’s not necessary.”
Ranar chuckled to himself.
Seven employees, and she’d barely been open for three months.
He supposed it wasn’t fair to compare that piece of his business to hers.
Mira was his only employee, but he and his parents could do the work of five floral designers with their eyes closed.
Still. Seven!
“Well, it sounds to me like you’re crushing it.
Yeah, it’s pretty fucking ugly back here.”
Sumi laughed, taking a tiny step closer as she did so.
“But you’re doing great.
Honest.
It might not be exactly what you envisioned, but .
.
.” He trailed off, motioning vaguely to the room. Motioning vaguely at his life, for a decade ago, he’d never would have guessed that he’d be starting over again at this point. “They rarely turn out the way we expect.”
She kissed him.
That was what he would cling to, after.
He glanced back down to her, after his hand dropped, and suddenly there she was, catching his lips with her own.
She was taller in her heels and gripped the front of his shirt for leverage, catching him unexpectedly in a kiss, soft and tentative.
That he kissed her back, he would simply have to live with.
Not only kissed her back, but deepened the kiss immediately, his hand dropping to her hip to hold her close, angling his mouth to slot against hers fully.
She was warm and her lips were sweet, tasting of the sugared rims of her fancy cocktail glasses, whimpering into his mouth as one of his fangs caught in her lip.
When she dropped down from her toes, Ranar was breathing hard.
Her mouth was still open, lips parted and plump, her eyes wide, as if she couldn’t believe her own audacity .
.
.
When he closed the distance and kissed her again. Another little kitten whimper, her un-sharp teeth taking its turn to graze his lip, before her tongue slid against his. She sent a shock down his spine when her hand pushed into his hair, her long nails scraping against his scalp.
Sweet like candy, he thought as she dropped down again, mouths parting.
When she took a tottering step back, Ranar forced himself to swallow.
“I-I have something for you.”
She turned from him, carefully crossing to the side counter before rooting through a large, pink floral tote bag on one of the countertops.
“I brought this for your mom.
I started going through some stuff at the house and I found all these pictures.
I thought this was a nice one.”
It was a photo in an intricate, gold wrought frame, one of his mother and her late friend from some years back, who was evidently Sumi’s great aunt.
Both women were smiling, holding teacups, with their heads together.
“I was going to bring it to her, but .
.
.” She trailed off, an adorable flush moving up her neck.
“Well, I wasn’t sure how serious you are about me staying away.
I didn’t want the police to be called.”
Ranar laughed again, forcing his blood to cool.
That’s that.
And it was a mistake in the first place.
“Are you kidding? All I’ve heard for the last week and a half is how she’s having you over for tea and the two of you are going to have a grand old time, and she’s going to take your flower arranging class at the Japanese club.
I hope you have a sweet tooth, because she’s going to ply you with desserts until you have rose water and coconut coming out of your pores.”
Sumi laughed, delighted.
“I am so looking forward to it.
I had a rosewater dessert for the very first time just a few weeks ago.
Strawberry Rose daifuku.
Maybe I’ll try making some for her to try. Your family is Indian?”
Ranar smiled wryly.
It was hardly the first time he’d heard a variation of so where are you from.
“I’m from Cambric Creek.
I was born at Healers’, just a few miles away, over by the university.
As I said once before, I’ve lived here my whole life. But my family is Tamil.”
The flush had spread up to her ears.
“You just need to be aware now that I’m going to ask so many silly questions.
Because not only was I raised very human, I was raised almost painfully white.”
Ranar chuckled.
“I’ll let mom know to use a light hand with the spices.”
She teetered on her heels as she laughed again, burying her face in her hands.
“Okay, wait.
I have something else.
This is for Ruma.
Well, she gets a bag too, you both do. But this is especially for her.”
She pulled two of the iridescent little gift bags from the shelf.
A frequent shopper punch card, a voucher for a free single rose, a five dollar off code, various gourmet candies, a tea candle, organza wrapped and smelling of gardenia, and a pothos clipping, secured in a water tube.
“Grace is gonna love this.”
“Are you together?” Sumi asked the question suddenly, whirling around to face him, grabbing the counter for balance as she did so.
“I – I mean, you came together tonight.
And that day at your shop —“
“Grace is the event planner over at Saddlethorne.
She sends a lot of her brides to me for their wedding flowers, and she does my fruit baskets.
Well.
She did.
But no. We’re not together. Not like that. Her boyfriend is a mothman, he works over at the University. If you ever need to know anything about moths or bats or hummingbirds, I suggest you look it up yourself or ask literally anyone else, because you will never escape the conversation with him. That is how you will die.”
She was laughing again as she pulled a small pot from the same tote bag.
“Okay, good to know.
This is for Ruma.”
Ranar examined the small plant, feeling his heart do an odd somersault that was surely not normal.
This was more than a clipping.
This had started as a clipping and had been nurtured to its current state, which would continue to grow into a full size plant, if nurtured.
The pink princess philodendron wasn’t an especially difficult or needy plant, but it had a cult-like status online, thanks to its splashy pink and green variegated leaves.
This was Pinky’s namesake. His stomach swooped, and Ranar couldn’t tell if what he was feeling at that moment was guilt or not. How can you be guilty? You’ve never met her. You’ve never made plans to meet her. You can’t cheat on someone you’ve never even met, right?
“I know she’s a pinky girl.
I wanted to make sure I got it to you before she leaves.
I figure her visit is probably winding down, right?”
“How do you know that?” His voice was a hair sharper than he intended, Sumi’s eyes going wide.
He had been lamenting earlier that same week to Pinky, his heart already feeling a bit heavier, knowing Ruma would be leaving soon.
“Oh, um, she – she mentioned something about it the last time I was in the shop.
You know, when you yelled at me outside my car.
And told me never to come back.”
He let out the breath that had been building in his chest.
“Right, of course.
Well, she’ll love this.
It’s funny, I .
. . I have a friend who cultivates philodendron. This variety is one of her prized possessions.”
“It’s a real beauty,” Sumi agreed, humming lightly.
“Well, again.
I didn’t want to make it burst a blood vessel in your eye or anything, so.”
He laughed again at her audacity.
“Don’t worry, my mother and daughter are completely enamored of you, I hope you’ll be happy to hear.
They’ll be over the moon to know that I came tonight, and they received gifts.”
She made her way back to him slowly, carefully.
His stomach muscles jumped when she gripped a handful of his shirt, tip of his tail thrashing from its coil.
“Well, I have something very different in mind for you.”
This time, Ranar was ready.
His arm came around her as their mouths met, groaning when she scraped the back of his neck.
Her giant, soulless flower factory assembly line was so well provisioned, that he had his choice in which way to turn, twisting on his coil as he gripped her, lifting her easily to sit atop one of the work tables.
He wanted to taste that spot on her neck, that enticing, kissable spot that her earrings drew his eye to like a beacon.
Ranar tried to pay close attention to her every response as their mouths moved over each other.
Her fluttering intakes of breath, her soundless little whimpers, the thrum of her pulse beneath his lips as he kissed over her jaw and down the delicate column of her neck, his tongue finding that spot just beneath her ear, gratified when she shivered against him.
He wasn’t sure when she had begun unbuttoning his shirt, only realizing she had done so when it was parted, and then her hot hands were everywhere, her nails scraping over his stomach, catching on a pebbled nipple, her palm flat against his heartbeat.
She had her legs open, straddling his thick trunk, her ankles hooked behind him, rubbing against his scales.
Ranar could feel his core beginning to heat, his cocks vibrating within their sheath, begging to come out.
No.
That’s not what this is.
Not until she makes it that. The tip of his tail wrapped around her ankle, and was stroking her leg with a slight pressure when she pulled back, gasping.
“Is – is that your tail?”
He didn’t know how to answer, his mouth hanging open from where she had pulled back, nodding.
“What else can it do?”
She had him at an unfair advantage, he thought, returning his mouth to her throat, sucking her pulse point as her head dropped back to give him better exposure, as if he were a vampire.
He wanted to kiss down her chest, bury his face in the soft mounds of her breasts, suck her nipples to hardness and not worry if his cocks slid free… But he would have to make do with his tail for the time being, for this was no place to undress her, here in her gray cinder block sweatshop.
Sumi whimpered as his tail moved up her leg, slipping beneath her dress.
This woman had ruined his life, he reminded himself as the pointed tip of his tail stroked against her inner thighs, seeking entrance.
She was his enemy, that hissing little voice on his shoulder rejoined, as he learned the feeling of her silky panties, tracing against their front, back and forth, and down until she whimpered into his hair.
She was careless and hadn’t thought beyond her own ambitions, he couldn’t help but remember as he began to stroke in the spot that made her jerk against him.
He would hate himself in the morning, a likely reality as his tail found its way beneath the hem, dragging through her slickness.
Sumi’s mouth was open, her breath thready as he kissed his way back up her throat, scraping his fangs on her jaw, that’s the tip of his tail moved in circles around her clit.
It was ironic, he thought, following her subtle little cues, the way she trembled, the way she gasped, tickling over the exposed pearl and making her jump, before resuming his tight circles around her, pressing into the side of her hood.
She claimed this was something she had in mind for him, and now her head was thrown back, both hands over his shoulders, gripping him tightly, her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open, as he teased her ever closer to coming against his tail.
“A little faster.
Right…right there.
Fuck, right there.
Just against the underside.”
She now had her arms looped around his neck, the pretense of her doing anything other than enjoying herself gone.
He chuffed about a soundless laugh against her hair, grateful for the instruction.
Ranar continued to kiss her neck and her shoulders, hating himself as he loved the feel of her in his arms and the way she trembled against him.
He felt the moment when her orgasm hit, her hips bucking slightly against the counter, panting against his bare neck.
When it was clear she had already tipped over the edge, he moved his tail, removing the pressure from her spasming clit, pressing into her heat to feel the rhythmic squeeze of her muscles.
Sumi moaned against his skin, her thighs trembling.
When she slumped against him, her muscles going slack, he just held her for a long moment, rubbing her back as his tail withdrew.
“That was amazing.” Her voice came out a laugh, shoulders shaking against him as she sat up slowly, taking his face in her hands.
“I’m sorry, Ranar.
For all of it.
I hope someday you can forgive me.”
He didn’t fight her when she pulled his face to hers, meeting her lips and another soft, sugar edged kiss.
When her hand moved down his chest, he expected her to begin buttoning his shirt.
He wasn’t as ready for the hand that slid down, past his skin and into his scales.
They always stopped just a few inches short, he thought, taking her wrist and moving her hand to the right spot, knowing she could already feel the swell of him just inside.
The end of his tail came up over his shoulder, allowing him to suck the tip clean, his first taste of her, but hopefully not the only one.
“Okay, that’s like, stupid hot.
I need you to understand,” she murmured gently, scratching behind his ear with the hand still cupping his jaw, “that I’m going to fuck you unconscious tonight.
Okay? I hope you’re ready.
Your place or mine?”