I wake up and shift my hand from its *dangerous place* between my thighs and carefully lick my lips. The taste of the last of the bone broth is still there because, a few hours before, I'd woken up from a dead sleep and… chose to raid the fridge instead of anything else.
Because that damned set of orange eyes attached to that body were in my head. Making me want to do things that I've held back from doing in this body so far, to be respectful of the original Helene.
"Other than washing up in the water, which really does not count. The intent behind cleaning oneself is not sexy at all."
Vrika sends impressions of agreement at first, starting to think about grooming each other as a social necessity… until a large white wolf joins its thoughts. It tries to hide its sentiment, but the fact that it quickly pivots toward a feeling that I *should* go groom Kyrie because it is 'no big deal'... says everything.
