And You Smell Like One, Too

[Q. Samus Dage]

There was a certain joy to be taken in a simple surprise. It was pure and lovely, in its entirety. He was a firm believer in surprises, which was what brought him to the door he now stood in front of.

He'd put in for time off, and taken a few transit hops with other Alliance ships until he'd gotten to Jovan. It was one of those things that just made sense to him, and while she would probably be spending this particular day in solitude after working her shift, he was determined to upend that little bit of sameness. He was almost sure that she ignored it when she was still commanding her own ship; like it was just another day.

She was on Jovan now though, and he'd called ahead so that Kes would make sure to keep her from as many duties as possible. Bare minimum, nothing frustrating for her on this day. He'd also made sure that Squirt would keep the manifest of the Nakaro from her ever-prying eyes and razor-sharp scrutiny. Last thing he needed was for her to see his name on the crew manifest.

Arriving had been easy enough; customs was navigated with ease, despite the odd looks that had been sent his way. He was normally only ever seen when the Khera'Va'ss'io pulled in to port, but it was nothing that a smile couldn't smooth over.

One hand held tight to the small duffel holding his clothes, and the other held a brown-paper-wrapped parcel, tied with rough-spun twine.

The path to the officer's level was one that he'd memorized long ago, and standing before the closed door, Samus Dage reached out while still holding the package. A single finger extended, and he depressed the chime button.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

The voice that came through the intercom sounded tired, and maybe a little distracted.

"What? Who jiss jit?"

There was a faint sound of a commotion on the other side of the door.

[Q. Samus Dage]

He didn't bother with answering. Prolonging the surprise was what made something like this so special.

Instead, Samus simply pushed the chime button again, hearing in his imagination the lyrical notes from the other side of the door as they went through their pre-programmed tone.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

The reply was a sigh.

"The vox worrks fjine, come on..."

Footfalls approached the door as a prelude. A moment later, the door opened, revealing a Cizerack in paint-covered clothes with her hair piled into a messy bun. Her ears skewed, and her eyes widened in surprise. She gasped, and shut the door again on reflex.

[Q. Samus Dage]

It wasn't entirely the reaction he had expected, but it was certainly just as funny. And endearing. And utterly adorable, he had to admit.

With a chuckle, the rangy blonde craned his neck forward slightly, giving a gentle tap-tap-tap to the door with the corner of the brown-wrapped parcel he held.

"A little kalloo-walo told me today was a special day, Kitten," he spoke just loud enough that he hoped she would be able to hear him from on the other side of the door.

Another moment passed in silence before he went on.

"You gonna let me in?"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

She opened the door almost as soon as she'd closed it. It had been a momentary burst of modesty from being thrust into view when she absolutely didn't plan on it. Now with the door open once more, T'yeellaa didn't bother hiding the mess. Her hair was tied up in what was a bun nearly in name only. The old PT clothes she wore were smeared in a half dozen colors of paint daubs which followed onto her striped skin, and what skin wasn't smeared with paint glistened with sweat.

"Gai'tou, jI wassn't expectjing jyou forr anotherr..."

Then his words caught up with her, and there was that tell-tale sign of premeditation. He'd surprised her. She hated surprises, and yet. Sighing, she grabbed a rag off an adjacent console table, wringing it tightly over her knuckles to try and tidy what she could. She tried to look irritated at Samus, but it fell apart. A smile broke her resistance, crinkling her nose slightly.

"Come jin. Watch jyourr sstep, ljike jI ssajid, jI wassn't expectjing jyou."

The common room was in a state of chaos. A wreath of incense smoke hung faintly in the recesses, seasoning the room with something spicy yet sensitive at once. The furniture had been pushed aside to surrender as much floor space as possible to a trio of roll mats, which were in turn peppered with pots of bright paint. A half dozen framed canvasses rested against the cabinets and the couch in a state of half-completion.

T'yeellaa gave Samus enough space to make his way in, finding herself in an awkward way. She wanted to give him a hug, but in her state she'd definitely ruin his smart little outfit. So instead, she just kneaded the rag she held between her fingers, not at all sure how to act.

"Do jyou want caf?" She blurted, glancing to the kitchenette. "jI have kri'achee on, but jI can make ssome jif jyou can wajit a mjinute."

[Q. Samus Dage]

She looked as though she was caught in the worst conundrum of all, and as the door hissed shut, he casually tossed the package and his duffle to the sofa. It was a murky sea of incense wisps, and Samus grinned a sly grin as he plucked the rag from her grasp and stepped into her space.

"No need for caf, Kitten," he rumbled happily, his free arm going around her to hoist her up into his arms.

"It's your birthday. Don't ask me what I want... "

The rag was dropped to the floor then.

"... tell me what you want."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Gai'tou, mjy pajint...jyourr clothess..."

She protested weakly, and smiled in spite of her concern. If she had to be honest, this was the thing she wanted the most.

"Do jyou know how old jI am?"

[Q. Samus Dage]

In the whirlwind of their coming together, and in the absence of the subject ever coming up, Samus had to admit to himself that no, he most certainly did not know how old she was.

With their noses a scant few millimeters away from each other, the rangy blonde couldn't help but give her a mischievous grin.

"Well no, but so what? It's your special day," he spun on his heel, sending the both of them into a tight spin that ended with a quick, almost dainty kiss to her forehead.

"... and that's all that matters."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"jI'm forrtjy-sseven." T'yeellaa admitted freely, no self-consciousness in her admission. She kissed Samus, and carefully disentangled from his embrace, back to the ground.

"Do jyou want to trrjy?" She gestured at the mess in the common room, striding across a few mats to remove the current canvas in its incomplete state. She pulled a fresh one from a nearby pack, offering it to Samus.

"jIt'ss Tu'aa Hyeeiaali. Mjy fatherr, err, mjy bjirrth fatherr Naantarroa taught me how to do jit. jIt'ss morre of a man'ss passttjime, but jI've alwajyss enjojyed jit. jIt'ss calmjing. Helpss jyou to fjigurre thjingss out."

[Q. Samus Dage]

He allowed her to descend once more back to the floor, but kept a hand wound into one of her own.

"I'm fine, Kitten," his smile radiated outward, and his eyes eventually tracked from her to the gift parcel he'd brought.

"I did bring you something, though. Special for today and all."

And before he could forget, he fished a much smaller item from his pocket. It was a charm of a sort. An old and spent blaster cell that had been converted into a strange sort of medallion. It was from a very long time ago, too. It was an older model of cell, from at least during the Clone Wars. And yet despite its age, there had been a lot of care given to it; as though the owner had made sure that it held a revered status and had tried to make it a sign of so much hardship, and the hope of peace that it could bring depending on who used it.

"Captain said to give you this, too. Since it was your birthday and all, she figured you'd get the sentiment."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"That'ss an old DC-17 cell."

T'yeellaa's brow furrowed slightly as she turned the keepsake over in her hand. It was one thing to know the cell's origin, and another to see how it had been repurposed.

"jI don't underrstand. Don't tell herr that, but...jit'ss loveljy, ssurre, jI jusst don't follow the meanjing. The lasst tjime jI ssaw one of thesse wass durrjing the ssjiegess when jI wass a chjild."

[Q. Samus Dage]

"That old Wolf gets notions in her head, and there's no getting them out," he reassured her, and delivering a quick kiss to her cheek.

He started that familiar trek to the bedroom, a happy grin on his features as he hitched her up further into his arms.

A conspiratorial waggle of his eyebrows, and Samus gave her a little... 'jiggle'.

"Someone's not wearing a bra."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"jI'm off dutjy, of courrsse." T'yeellaa grinned slightly at Samus's barely-feigned pretense. He had a fairly straight-forward intent, but she had other plans.

"Come on, put me down." Her tone and expression didn't throw water on Samus's obvious intent. She simply had other ideas about how to get there.

"jIt'ss mjy bjirrthdajy, sso that meanss jI get what jI want. And jI want jyou..."

Finding a semi-fresh daub of blue paint on her shoulder, T'yeellaa pressed a finger against the smear to draw a scant amount of still-viscous pigment out, and drew it in a fading line against her gai'tou's cheek.

"...to pajint wjith me."

Her lips parted slightly as she traced her tongue against her teeth.

"jI want to ssee what jyou make."

[Q. Samus Dage]

The lady would get what she wanted, and Samus slowly eased her down to the floor, mindful to crane his neck downward so that he could prolong their oral connection.

He let out a rumbling 'mmmmm' as their lips finally parted, and rising back up to stand straight, he lifted a finger to brush an errant strand of hair from her face.

"If that's what my Kitten wants, then that is what she'll have."

Somewhat disengaging then, he began to unbutton his shirt. He remembered the last time she'd tried to get him to do this, insisting on comfortable clothes. And, well, far be it for him to ignore her advice. A bare chest was revealed, lean and not without a few scars dotting the landscape.

The shirt was halfway folded over itself, and with a playful toss, he sent it at T'yeellaa.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

She caught his tossed shirt, ostensibly folding it over once more while passing it under her nose. There was the obvious vestigial scent of his body wash, but that was just the canvas for the smells of a day's work alongside his sweat and whatever else that she couldn't define but only knew as him being next to her. But that was as much attention as his shirt merited, as her eyes never parted from its owner's bare chest. She let the shirt tumble from her grasp to the floor, purposefully and carelessly at once.

"Take off jyourr sshoess."

[Q. Samus Dage]

Wordlessly he obeyed, keeping his eyes on her as he knelt down to unlace his boots. Rising once more, Samus pried each one off with the opposite foot, and it wasn't long before his socks followed.

With a coy look, he rested his hands on his hip.

"And my pants... ?"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"No."

She pursed her lips slightly, ears perked as her tail swished.

"jYou'rre gettjing ahead of jyourrsself. Ljike jI ssajid, we'rre pajintjing."

With one hand, she gestured to the calisthenics mat rolled out on the floor, waiting for him to take his place. She eased the half-finished canvas off the easel in front, replacing it with a fresh one. With that done, she joined him, taking her position behind his rangy figure. T'yeellaa placed her hands against his hips, keeping in full contact as she leaned her chest against his back.

"The fjirrsst sstep jiss to brrreathe."

The last word exited her mouth in a soft protracted exhale, her breath warm against his skin as her hands drifted from his hips to rest against his stomach, feeling the muscles tense and slacken as he took to her instruction.

[Q. Samus Dage]

He did as she said, making sure to not deviate. Her hand on his midsection was almost a distraction, but he also knew those claws of hers would make sure he didn't stray too awful much. He'd once called her K'ohta'rrou Murder-Mittens and threatened to trim her nails after a minor kitchen accident a few months back. It was all in fun though, as he would never actually lay a finger on her unless she wanted him to. Still though, the name somewhat stuck, and he would let it slip out every so often.

Feeling her body against his was something that he looked forward to during the times that he was away, and even if now they were doing her painting, he was more than happy to participate.

He took a few long, deep breaths, pull air into his lungs slowly before letting it all back out at the same measure pace.

"Ok, now what."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

She felt him draw in air, and let it out in a conscious and deep flow. There was something in Samus breathing that way that made her think of riding fathiers, and the deep drafts of breath the big racing animals would take. It was a sound of power, like an idling ship's engine.

T'yeellaa reluctantly withdrew her hands from him, and stood to his right in a stance that mirrored his own.

"jYou brreathe, jin and out ljike that, then jiiin..."

She drew in breath, arching her back slightly as her arms wound upwards, right palm overlapping left hand. She rose to the tips of her toes as her tail swept out as counterbalance.

"...and oooouuut..."

With her releasing breath, T'yeellaa bent forward in a controlled descent, while allowing her feet to supinate and carry her to rest her hands on the mat as far forward of her feet as possible, so that she formed a straight line from her hands up to her buttocks, and back down to her feet in a pyramid.

"...and brrrreathe agajin..."

[Q. Samus Dage]

Again he did as instructed, though not nearly as gracefully as she. It was, to put it lightly, a slightly flailing affair, but at least by the end he'd achieved the same pose as hers. He did his best to mimic T'y, he really did. But at least he was scraping his way through it all.

With a slight grunt, he couldn't help but ask a pressing question.

"Kitten, uh, when does the paint brush come into things?"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Ssoon, gai'tou."

Unwinding effortlessly from her pose, T'yeellaa checked on Samus's situation. He was a little shaky, and his knees weren't fully locked out.

"Keep brreathjing!" she grinned as she playfully smacked his ass with the flat of her hand. She straddled his straining thighs, cradling them with a gentle upward press from her hands from underneath.

"Don't forrce jit. Let jit happen. jIn and out."

Her supporting hands rode higher up his thighs.

"How do jyou feel?"

[Q. Samus Dage]

How did he feel?

When he'd sent her door chime to ring, Samus hadn't quite expected to be pulled into T'y's stretchy-painting, but here he was and truthfully, he wouldn't want to be anywhere but here, no matter what.

"I feel like I should be in a workout class, surrounded by a bunch of women in workout lycras," he answered truthfully.

As well, her touch was making The Chancellor begin diplomatic proceedings a bit early.

He gave another deep breath. Then another. A third.

He was committed, and would do his damndest to not let the eagerness for 'diplomacy' to get the better of him.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Oh, a whole classs, jyeah?"

She could feel his relaxation taking hold, even as something predictable began to stir. T'yeellaa eased off the accelerator as she took her place at his side again.

"jI thjink jyou've got jyourr handss full wjith tjiss classs of one. Letss ssee what jyou can do. Drraw jyourr kneess to yourr chesst. Keep jyourr back and arrmss sstrrajight and jyourr head down. Ssee?"

T'yeellaa provided an example, kneeling fully low on both legs while splaying her hands as far forward as possible.

"Head down, touch jyourr forrehead to the mat, keep jit therre, and...contjinue...to brreathe..."

She provided a cadence, drawing breath softly and audibly in a long laconic meter, interlaced with a completely relaxed purr as the tuft of her tail lethargically switched behind her.

[Q. Samus Dage]

Again he obeyed, and thankfully for the sake of her desire to continue this strange ritual of painting, she paused in her closeness enough to demonstrate for him what she wanted him to do.

Samus did his best, but it was nowhere near as polished as her showing. He barely maintained his balance.

"I feel like I'm seven years old again, trying to beat my sister at that old game Cyclone."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"Well let that memorrjy fall awajy. Rrelax jyourr mjind ljike jyou arre rrelaxjing jyourr bodjy. Don't focuss on anjythjing but now. Focuss on brreathjing, jin and out. Ssmoothljy."

Samus couldn't see T'yeellaa from his current pose, but he felt a shifting of weight on the mat, then heard soft footfalls against the mat. There were some other soft sounds, and then a another shifting of weight, this time in front of him.

"When jyou'rre totalljy rrelaxed and at easse, jI want jyou to sslowljy rrjisse frrom prrosstrrate."

[Q. Samus Dage]

"Kitten."

There was no relaxing, no matter how much she tried to impress it upon him.

"Don't tell me to relax when you're in the same room."

He'd at least not moved, and instead kept the pose that she had most recently told him to keep. If nothing else, he was an obedient follower. And yet... he couldn't help but at least take a tiny little peek.

In front of him was a tray of paints. It was enough to make him furrow his eyebrows in mild concentration, but when his eyes switched to the side...

That was it.

She could wax poetical about finding her center while painting and smooth strokes and measured breathing, but when she was right there, without a stitch of clothing, Quentin Samus Dage was so far beside himself that he couldn't even exist in the same plane of existence.

"Kitten," he practically whimpered.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

She kneaded her fingers into his hair, allowing her claw tips to slightly extend so as to add to the tactile stimulation and nothing more.

"jIt'ss mjy bjirrthdajy..." she replied laconically, a small delight on her features at his predicament, "...and jI get what jI want."

[Q. Samus Dage]

He leaned into her touch, eyes closing once more as he felt her claws rake gently across his scalp.

"It's torture you want then, isn't it."

His tone had gone low, almost to a growl that seemed to begin in his belly and travel upward.

She had wanted him to, once he was fully relaxed, to rise up from his position.

And when he finally did, his spine was not the only part of his body that rose. Unfortunately for his situation southward, his trousers hindered - if not uncomfortably - the act.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

If she was upset by his state of arousal, there was no indication of it. T'yeellaa arched her back slightly in her kneeling state, leaning back slightly to allow her to prop up by her fingertips at each side. Her tail looped behind in a tight crook back and forth as a sign of her own state of pique, though the K'ohta'rrou kept an expertly-straight face at the moment.

"The next parrt jiss jimporrtant. When jyourr mjind jiss clearr, jyou follow the djirrectjion of jyourr next thought orr emotjion. jYou gjive jit sshape, and jyou gjive jit colorr."

At this, she leaned upwards, the muscles in her abdomen contracting to bring her back closer into his orbit. T'yeellaa placed her hands over Samus's own, fingertips kneading against him without claws as she breathed into his ear.

"jYou fjill the canvass wjith jyourr prressence. Whateverr can't be sspoken orr explajined, jyou defjine jin a decjissjive sstrroke of pajint, and jyou neverr explajin the meanjing to anjyone elsse. jIf jyou do, jyou brreak the magjic."

She withdrew, but not before catching his earlobe with the tip of her rough tongue. Her hands guided Samus's to rest next to the pots of paint before she separated, and returned to her arched-back repose, waiting for him.

[Q. Samus Dage]

Follow the direction of your next thought. Your next emotion. Fill the canvas.

Her guiding hand was enough to cause his fingers to close around a paintbrush, and Samus eyed the paints set out before him. Some were colors he could easily pick out. Others... looked the same.

The brush was lifted then, and he chose a deep, almost burnt yellow color. It was vibrant and bright, and he let the soft bristles of the brush swirl languidly through the colorful liquid. Slowly he lifted it back out, studying it and the way the paint streamed from the brush back into the well before slowing to a rapid drip at first, then a more steady affair.

He waited until it was mostly done dripping, and looked to T'yeellaa.

And, extending the brush, he methodically drew a fiery orange line across one breast, down into the valley between, and then back up to crest the perky peak of the other.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

Not wasting a moment of introspection to find out what the pattern and the color meant, T'yeellaa fell upon him with pent-up intent, pressing her lips to his as she greedily met his tongue with her own. At the same time, she carefully began to negotiate the fraught row of buttons along her gai'tou's shirt, not wanting to needlessly ruin him. Besides, the ritual denial in the time it took to remove his shirt only increased her want, and the fabric she parted with each loosed button she gathered into clenching fingers as she continued to press her mouth to his.

The orange of the paint glistened against her chest, a trap to ensnare their passion. T'yeellaa held him at a scant distance as she worked greedily to disrobe him, all the while the tuft of her tail tracked against his backside, working up against the small of his back.

[Q. Samus Dage]

Her instant reciprocation was met with an eager acceptance, and Samus let his body almost collapse. No longer did he need to hold himself up in some bizarre fashion for body-twisting painting. No, now he had instantly found himself thrust into a familiar element.

Taking T'yeellaa into a firm embrace, the rangy blonde rolled the both of them over - he was on his back, with her hands moving swiftly to undo the buttons of his shirt. And then he sent them rolling once more so that she was now beneath him. Their lips pulled apart then, and he let out a long, rattling exhale as he let his eyes move from her eyes downward.

A final hesitation as his gaze swept below her neck, and he went in to the side of her neck. There was a cluster of nerves, just behind her ear, and he latched on like a mynock feeding off the energy conduits of a freighter.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

The cadence of her purr shifted the moment his lips met that particular erogenous intersection, culminating in a softly-released sigh. She pressed her tail up along the inside of Samus's right leg, pressing upwards so the point of contact encroached towards the impatient bulge in his pants. Her toes curled in appreciation, but T'yeellaa didn't fully allow herself to surrender to the moment. She reached her left hand just beyond, fingertips finding purchase on the nearest paint pot. Not bothering to break the moment to see what color she'd chanced upon, T'yeella dipped two fingers in deeply, and returned to caress Samus's hair with paint-slick fingers. A daub of rich green smeared into his sideburns and thinned as she traced her hands down his jawline, giving her purchase to turn his busy lips back to her eager ones. With a grunt, her other hand negotiated down below, finding the clasp at Samus's belt. With a little effort, she freed the catch, then torqued the synthetic leather strap a few difficult inches before it could be drawn free with a sudden dramatic motion.

"jI'm rreadjy to unwrrap mjy prressent..." she whispered in a husky tone as paint-wet fingertips began to walk down his chest.

[Q. Samus Dage]

The Chancellor was happy to be let out, and there was a familiarity to the motions of her fingers as they unclasped the front of his trousers. It was comfortable and known, and Samus grinned as he both pressed into her and crushed her body against his.

He gave a rumbling growl of eagerness as he pitched to the side, bringing her with him and rolling to the floor. He didn't care about the paints, he didn't care about the canvas. He only cared about her.

What else was there but her? What else was there to do but to please her? To hear her whimper and purr and moan as he fed her insatiable appetite? But there was more to it than that, and he would happily satisfy every other desire of hers the morning after.