Tarrok met her kiss with his own, caught up in the romance of the moment. He slipped his tongue in, wanting the most of what he had. Everything about her seemed wholly sublime in this moment. Every sound, every breath and every bead of sweat. This was the sort of thing that inspired poets, or drove painters to create masterpieces.<br/><br/>He had to change it in some small way, though. Didn't want this to get too monotonous, emotional prose be damned. She still seemed to have some strength left in her, this time. Counted out all the "lay back and I'll do the work" positions.<br/><br/>Wrapping his arms snugly around her again, he lifted her almost porcelain fine body up. Just far enough she was sitting up atop him, without much lean back in case her grip failed her. Steady and sure, he began his rhythm anew. Tarroks hips rolled back, not even enough to pull against her heels, before pushing back inside.<br/><br/>While this happened, the hand on her bottom decided to be a little adventurous. Gently, he took hold of the base of her tail and began groping it. Pulling, kneading and rubbing back and forth down its immediate length. While he had no idea how it worked for her, he knew from experience more than a few saiyans got off on tail play. Tarrok was curious if she did, too.