<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">Name: Cheshire<br/>Location: The Hatter's Hovel, Exercise Room, the Boots.<br/>Tagged: Hatter<br/><br/>There was something strange about a man with no shoes, cat reflected, perhaps because now she was the one wearing the boots and boots...were made for kicking, but these wouldn't leave the floor and the girl gave a little tug to her arms with the thought and tried to wiggle her feet free to no avail.  Who would put locks on shoes?<br/><br/>So she keened to him instead, her head tilting in to better nuzzle against the softness of his fingers; a sensation even so slight as that leaving girl with her eyes all but closed as she rumbled out a heavy sigh of contentment and wrapped herself up in his voice.  That she was looking mournfully at the problem in question as he spoke seemed neither here nor there, because her lips were twitching and her tongue was inching out towards his fingers.<br/><br/>"I'll help you, Hatter," cat promised, her voice as sticky and sweet as the candies that so often lined Wonderland pockets.  "I'll do an---," anything was cut short when he spoke of beasts, which...brought a curious moment in which she wondered if he was condemning her, until she remembered the boots.  She couldn't be a beast in those boots.  And he had a treat for her.  He wasn't mad!<br/><br/>"One bite," she agreed, solemnly, giving him her very biggest eyes, "Cross my heart and hope to fight." Her bottom lip trembled too, and the promise of scotch always made her happy.  But how a bite could hurt...did that really matter when he was swooning her with such romantic nonsense? A treat just for the two of them; she couldn't have loved him more than in that moment...when she stole the entire thing from the tips of his fingers with a sweep of her tongue; using her teeth to part it in two.<br/><br/>One can see the mistake already; the fresh bloom of tears, the little tremble that runs down the entire length of her frame as her eyes go wide; that little pink tongue extended in his direction, offering up his half of the morsel from her lips which...while she'd intended it to be sweet, was only turning sour.  This was no treat at all, not at all.  But the rosy beads of her nipples still looked to be painfully hard. <br/><br/>"'<em>atter</em>," the cat whimpered, mindful not to drop his bite from the cradle of her tongue. </span>