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This cat is really tempted to turn human again. But that would lead to awkward questions if anyone saw them back here.

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Explaining why she is gleefully snuggling a cat would also lead to awkward questions, most likely. She sneaks them both the rest of the way upstairs and barricades her door. If asked she will claim she heard the toll and assumed raiders had reached the town; it's either that or come investigate and pretend to be sad he's dead and she can't do that yet.

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Well, now he can totally turn human again.

He grins at her.

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"You did it," she says gleefully. "What'd you do to the other one?"

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"Messed up her liver. If she doesn't get sick and die soon I can do something else."

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"Brilliant."

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She takes about five seconds to weigh her options.

He's very willing to kill people, and the look on his face when she said about the soldiers--but there are soldiers about, she is not safe just because the immediate, familiar threats are dead--and he may have done this for amusement, but if she doesn't give him reason to want to protect her--and he wants her, that's really obvious--and he's incredibly gorgeous--

Yeah, fuck it.

She kisses him.

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He kisses back, aggressively.

He does not quite mean to share his emotions, but he does anyway: lust and possessiveness (and a buried, unacknowledged compassion) and triumph and joy and the unnameable glory of feeling someone burn to death and knowing he did that.

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She moans and folds into it, going pliant in his arms, she wants it, she wants him, wants him to take control and do whatever he wants to her (although she doesn't really have a full understanding of what he might want and there's a lot of it that she wouldn't actually like).

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Well that's incredibly fucking hot.

Serafin has a pretty clear idea of what he wants to do to her. It involves ripping all her clothes off and pinning her to her bed. He manages to mostly avoid doing actual damage to the clothes, and any incidental damage to Anisirieva heals near-instantly.

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She completely fucking melts under him. "Please," she murmurs.

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Even if it somehow wasn't obvious enough from circumstantial evidence, the feelings he involuntarily sends her make it extremely clear just how much he enjoys her reaction.

 

A little while later, he curls up and wraps his arms around her and presses his face to the side of her neck, sending satisfaction and warm contentment over a background hum of mine.

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He can have lots of warm fuzzy affectionate feelings back (and a little subconscious chiming chord of yes, yours).

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Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Yes. Good. Perfect.

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They can pretty much keep snuggling until someone starts pounding on her door. She makes a face and wriggles closer for a minute, but when the voice on the other side explains that it was a kitchen accident and not raiders and now something's wrong with your foster mother too, no surprise, what a terrible shock, she has to get up and put on clothes and unbar the door.

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A perfectly innocent tabby cat sprawls on her pillow.

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She pets the cat a few times before she actually opens the door. The person on the other side doesn't actually see him.

She's gone for a few hours.

When she gets back, she closes the door behind her with slightly more force than necessary, and leans on it in relief.

"Well, she's not quite dead yet, but it won't be long," she says after a long moment.

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He un-cats and stands up and hugs her.

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Huglean. "People're gonna want me to take over, with them gone."

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"Is that what you wanna do?"

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"I dunno. It wouldn't be terrible. I don't have any better prospects, really."

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"No?"

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"What'm I gonna do, start an apprenticeship at sixteen? Marry someone?"

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(mine)

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