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Reynaldo beckoned to her. She got up and walked over to him. “How do you want me?”
Syar laughed.
He growled. “Just sit across my thighs and remove your jacket.”
She tensed and then took her jacket off. He made a surprised sound, and she settled lightly in his lap. She bent her head and felt him inhale. He licked twice against the base of her neck, and then she felt the slow drag that cut through her surface skin in four straight lines. The light tease of Reynaldo’s emotions flickered when he did a second slow drag. His rough tongue scraped over the graze, and when he lifted his head, she got up and went back to her seat, putting her jacket on.
“How far do your markings extend?” Reynaldo asked it softly.
“Hands, feet, forehead, shoulders, and spine.”
Syar smiled. “Can I see?”
“Uh, not in the freaking plane. No. If I wear shorts and a crop top, you will see more than you like.”
“That isn’t really standard clothing around the place. It is an island, you know.” Syar smiled.
“So, what do you wear?”
Reynaldo growled. “As little as possible.”
Syar nodded eagerly. “Yup. It’s hot as balls most of the time.”
“Unless there is a storm.” Reynaldo had a slight quirk on his lips. “Then it is hot and wet as balls.”
“Well, now I am worried about hygiene.” She smiled.
Syar flipped up the seat arms between them and patted his lap. She moved slowly but settled against him, and he pulled her in close and just breathed her in. “You know, I could make this more convenient and just sweat in a gym and give you the clothes.”
Syar chuckled. “If you can’t be with me, we will look into that. You feel so soft.”
He stroked her arms and slid his hand along her collarbone. “You feel like a kitten.”
“So my sister says.”
“Do you feel like this all over?” He moved his hand to tug at her shirt.
“Hey!” She slapped at his hand.
Reynaldo sat up and growled.
Ven looked at him. “Are you going to growl at me the whole time he treats me as a giant dolly? Asshole.”
Reynaldo pulled back in surprise.
Syar was chuckling.
She whirled and looked at Syar. “And you... you have cuddle rights, but if you want to do something like that... ask.”
He blinked. “Can I feel your stomach?”
“Fine, but there is a lot of scar tissue. It wrecks the fuzzy softness.” She untucked her shirt, grabbed his hand, and slapped it against her skin.
Syar blinked. “What the hell made that?”
“Most of it was an electrical cable when I was six.”
Syar was appalled. “Who did that?”
