Niklaus was laughing inside, even as they took to the dance floor, their bodies close, as they moved to the pulsing, pounding rhythms. Myths, she thought the Gods and Goddesses a myth. Oh would she learn different before the night was out. He wondered, in some recess in the back of his mind, what she would think, if she knew she was almost grinding against one of those myths, right now. It almost would have been worth it, if he had the ability to alter his form back, to see her face.<br/><br/>But those thoughts were far from the ones the Satyr was acting on. They were far deeper, primal ones. His own passion and desires glowed in his eyes, matching the heat in Lyn’s gaze, as she smiled up at him, her hand on his hip. He matched every one of her movements with a smoothness, as if they had always danced together, keeping that teasing fraction of space between them, to heighten the anticipation, of what was to come. Each touch from her tail however, brought him closer, until there was barely any air between their bodies.<br/><br/>The song changed, the bass booming and the beat almost the wild, crazed ecstasy of Motarr’s rites. In one smooth motion, he grasped her waist and pulled her against him. As their hips pushed together, he leaned down, catching her lips with his, in a deep, hungry kiss. Grinding against her, his hands slid around to the small of her back, exploring lower, fingertips teasing the hem of her blouse, looking for the skin beneath or pondering if he could get away with going lower.