“Ha!  No, nothing like that.  There aren’t enough of us for something like that to be sustainable, and while we do have something of a reputation for how we deal with...unsatisfactory companions of other species, that’s just a consequence of mating with a predatory species.  We’re far from the only group that can be associated with that practice.  Besides, as tempting as you might be, you're far too much fun to justify not keeping you around, to say nothing of what Naji would do to me.  No, I’m more referring to t-the...ah~”<br/><br/>Johan’s instincts about the sensitivity of the particular spot on her back that he’s teasing were spot on, and her voice trails off into a shuddering groan of pleasure as her entire body practically vibrates in time with his gentle stroking of her back.  It takes her almost a minute to regain her composure, and even then her breathing is noticeably faster and her voice huskier.  “Mmmph, you<span style="font-style: italic">are</span>good at this, aren’t you?  Makes me wonder just how many different species you’ve checked off the list that you no doubt have around somewhere.  But no, as I was saying, this is something more unique to my people.”<br/><br/>Still holding one end of the rope in one hand, Cyria backs up slightly until she’s standing over the coil of webbing behind her.  Slowly at first but with increasing speed, her legs start to step in and out of the pile, sliding back and forth underneath her as they carry strands of the web with them.  It’s quickly apparent that she’s weaving some sort of complicated mesh together beneath her, the strands looped around one another in an intricate pattern.  “My people normally live in the forests, and rather high above the ground at that, so we’ve come up with some more interesting ways to do certain things over the years.  Even with our ability to climb, we’d rather not risk falling at an inopportune time while we were busy enjoying someone else’s company, for example, so a clever weaver came up with this design a few years before I was born.”  Tossing the strand she had been holding over one of the rafters, followed quickly by a second from behind her, Cyria gives a yank on both of them, revealing that the two of them were now sitting inside something similar to a cross between a hammock and a net as she pulled it taut underneath them.  “Tell me, have you ever made love to someone hanging twenty feet off the ground?  Granted, it’s not quite that big in here, but it’s big enough to not feel a difference.”