935/Cool Down
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| Cool Down | |
|---|---|
| Date of Scene: | 13 June 2017 |
| Location: | Unknown |
| Synopsis: | Summary needed |
| Cast of Characters: | Feral, 319
|
- Feral has posed:
Passed out, sprawled out, and dead to the world laying on her new jacket, Vanya's athletic frame has claimed the whole back bench seat of John's car as an unofficial prize for her latest fight. Her clothes are loosely folded in the well by her head and the brown-haired woman is dressed (or undressed) the same way she was for her battle. It doesn't leave much mystery about the wild-eyed fighter but there's something palpably more approachable about the heavy breaths that are cycling out her half-open mouth.
She's had enough time to stink up the car with the bare sweat of her exertion and at a glance she's not winning any beauty contests. The brawler's legs are bruised and cut in several places from Rover's punishing kicks and her arms and torso are traced with red from their final claw match. Most of the wounds bled shallowly or else have closed without a fuss but the angry ring of holes around her collar looks good from few angles. Still trickling a little blood onto the inside of John's jacket, it's already healed back from the point of gushing - no longer an immediate danger - but is a far thing from gone.
- Sebastian (319) has posed:
For her reality was most likely a blur of sensation. It was that wild cavalcade of strikes and counter-strikes between her and the weredog who had dared to raise tooth and fang against her. The riotous melange of blood and pain and exultation, thrown together into the heady feeling of victory. It had taken its toll on her, and she had paid it willingly, exacted there in the backseat of the car as her body recovers and focuses on healing itself.
She was not disturbed while she slept, though the SUV had turned over, the engine starting to begin a drive off into the night. Perhaps when she felt the car door open, jostling faintly... or when she felt the faint rasp of skin against skin as his strong arms slid under her shoulders and her knees, there might have been a stirring of awareness but most likely not enough to draw her fully out of that reverie.
But then awareness will creep into being around her, at first barely there as she perhaps realizes the subtle softness of padding beneath her, an elevated table? Of some kind? And her upon her taut abdomen with her arms gently arranged at her sides. That wound upon her shoulder might still give a faint lance of pain, enough to draw a glance and perhaps a realization that it has been tended to with a fresh bandage taped in place.
But then what may draw her further to the here and now will be that steady firm pressure of strong fingertips digging into the powerful lines of her muscular legs. She'll feel the warmth of that touch, light at times stroking along the curve of a calf, fingers and thumb digging into that well worn muscle and pressing deep to massage those damaged tissues, trying to cause that dark blood to disperse with an exploring yet tender caress. Just steady pressure, gliding along that supple curve, up towards the back of her thigh that had threatened her opponent with a shattered arm and broken bones.
It is perhaps a curious thing to awaken to, and considering how she might react... perhaps even dangerous for the masseuse.
- Feral has posed:
For her size Vanya's body proves startlingly heavy and up close, beneath touch and scrutiny uninhibited by the feral woman herself, her flesh and curtained sinew proves itself tough, thick, and firm - like hemp cords beneath smooth leather. The soft natural rhythms of her body, the little twitches and steady breathing all move with an inexorable, effortless force like a man might exhibit before a child. Even fully human, the were-woman's body simply isn't bound to their standard and the same vigour she marshalled for her fight resists in equal measure beneath the press and slide of fingertips and palms simply by its existence. Her flesh is tightened, stretched, and strained as if simply to contain a heavy pressure from the woman herself, but in kind with the rest of her it refuses to distend and sacrifice form and function for relief.
Laid on her front, the shape-shifter has also begun to snore... until the roaming, working hands make their way halfway up her thigh.
*snort--* "Huh...?" Vanya blurts blearily as she raises her head and her mind takes several seconds to catch up with her body. Her masseuse is lucky; she didn't startle.
- Sebastian (319) has posed:
"Shh," John's voice is that same calm baritone, and as she turns her head she'll see the room for what it is. Just a work out room of some sort, stone walls with a few weights and a machine against one wall, and that table supporting her is for the tending of athletic injuries most likely. There's a warm light that shines from above, shaded a touch so that it's not direct and more just an ambient feeling of yellowish colour. "You fought well,"
The compliment is offered with a calm aplomb, even as his brow furrows while he presses thumbs into the back of her thigh and then gliiiides that touch slowly along the length of her leg, spreading his fingers around her knee to press the tips into her warm flesh and drag back upwards, leaving a tingling trail of sensation as they pass. "I figured I could leave you in the back of my car to bleed, or tend your injuries. It was a close call."
She probably can't see his half-smile from her position upon the table, but she can most likely hear it in the tone of his voice. His warm hands shift to her other leg and begins to mirror the earlier touches, making sure to press thumbs along her calf and creep along the sides. "How are you feeling?"
- Feral has posed:
"Kakogo..." Vanya murmurs while her dark brown eyes squint, taking in her surroundings then finding the familiar man at her back. A wave of tension runs down her body when she tries to lift her head a little higher, turning the soft skin of her thighs into something like granite beneath his fingers... then the moment passes.
The rest of the were-woman's senses rouse and with them comes the soothing relief working its way up her legs. Vanya murmurs an inarticulate mewl and drops flat against the table again, once more going limp. "Pampered... you couldn't wait until I woke up?"
- Sebastian (319) has posed:
"Wouldn't want you to get spoiled, figure this is your due." The tall man's voice is that same deadpan delivery, but it's a good counterpoint to her own, tinged perhaps with a small touch of amusement. But then he murmurs as he leans over her, one strong hand slipping along her side to rest along her uninjured shoulder, fingers curling over the taut cord of muscle, the meat of his thumb pressing faintly into the side of her neck and then sliding downwards. His other hand presses into the small of her back and gently shifts pressure along one buttock's swell, down towards the thigh and then /reeeeaching/ to her calf, connecting the line of her spine with her limbs and causing them to ease slowly with that subtle sensation.
"Relax a moment, almost done." He tells her even as he shifts to her other leg, adjusting his grip on her other shoulder, mindful of the bandage. Then there's that pressure building at the small of her back and then like a flow of pressure, glides down along her rear and downwards.
"Enough? I should perhaps start your dinner."
- Feral has posed:
Vanya draws in a sweet breath and shuts her eyes as John's hand glides up her body, focusing on the touch and sensation. Slowly, like a stuck drawbridge going down, the were-woman on the table bends and loosens for John's hands.
A long, low groan answers his question. Something went *pop*. "Ohh god that felt good... You know what you're doing," she praises before looking back to try and find her masseuse again and show him a little smile. "I'll take some more of this later but food is even better. I could eat a horse."
- Sebastian (319) has posed:
For a moment she'll feel the brush of his breath along the supple curve of her neck, feel that faint warmth of his presence as he had leaned close to feel for that 'pop'. But then that pressure slowly releases, his hands sparing a small caress as if letting her know that he's withdrawing his touch and offering a touch farewell.
He heaves a small chuckle at the request for food and gives her a nod, "Come along then," He starts to step towards the door that's at the top of three steps from the floor, apparently they're in a sunken room of sorts and next to the door is a set of cubby hole. There's just a momentary pause as he pulls a grey t-shirt from one, and then a pair of black jersey fabric sweat shorts from another. He turns, tossing them to her and says, "Washing your clothes, feel free to use those if you like."
That having been said he pulls open the door and steps out of that workout room, turning on the light in a hallway that leads out onto a deck apparently. A deck that looks upon a wooded copse and is attached to a larger house.