Beneath the warm cover of spun wool, their bodies are cocooned into a blissful little pocket of warmth, one that Fallon's keen elven vision allows her to enjoy in more ways than one, for Senna's ivory skin glints in the low light like some exquisite porcelain, the contours of her youthful form that melt so wonderfully along Fallon's palms and fingers flicker and shine as if reflecting the paladin's admiration.  But when Senna's mouth seeks her throat-- sensitive skin, tender threads of living flesh beneath-- she doesn't see anymore.  She can barely hold her eyes open as she lets out a long, soft moan of satisfaction, the last note of that vocalized pleasure lilting into a higher register to hint at piqued, not sated, desire.  Now only her body is drinking Senna's form in-- only the contact of skin to skin.<br/><br/>The girl terribly excites her... her flippant tongue, her seemingly innate connection to what is made and what is born of this world... Fallon feels like a sprig of new plant stretching to the sun to receive such a gaze with admiration.  She wants to absorb that affection and return it ten times over, and free what she had sensed in Senna's gaze and her posturing-- to free that hungering aspect of the girl, that pacing, impatient animal that is as much a part of her as the breasts that Fallon's hands begin to knead tenderly, massaging them against the girl's ribcage with smooth, insistent circles.  As much a part as the determined appraisal with which Senna'd graced her before fleeing to her duties so soon in their pasts.<br/><br/>Thinking on how she'd felt when Senna had left to her work, Fallon felt a tinge of guilt... the girl hadn't rejected or refused her, really, she'd just been<i>busy</i>.  People's passions aren't always physical... though that was hard to compare to the heated throbbing that was building deep in Fallon's lower belly.  Oh, hell... if she'd had a moment more, she'd have snared the pretty little thing up that night and devoured her on the spot, heedless of outside observance or not.  But by the Lady, it was worth the wait--<br/><br/>--and waiting no more, she lets the energy coiled in her hard, toned form begin to flow.  She can't contain it, and feels it in the electricity of her skin, the opening of her pores, the flow of her desires' precipitation in her lower body, the readiness of her skin to receive those hungry kisses from the silvery-haired girl-- fire and silver... lovely combination--<br/><br/>She wants no harm to the girl, and does not act in malice.  No, she's merely determined, resolute that this is what should happen.  So she grips the girl's wrists in her hands and spreads them apart, pinning her onto the whispering cotton and flaxen stuffing of the bedroll.  Remarkably strong, the paladin's body presses her down, knees lifting and parting Senna's thighs like the gentle insistence of a thrush's beak into the parting petals of a seed tree's bloom.  Wordlessly she responds to Senna with the intent to show her that world of what lurks beyond the ego's contemplations in the place where blushes and damp dreams live...<br/><br/>Hoisting Senna's arms over her head, Fallon crosses the girl's wrists and grips them together, her mouth covering the half-elf's like a delicate trap.  Her kiss is fiery, fierce-- her mouth works over Senna's and her full, pouting lips are wet when she suckles the younger woman's lower lip between her teeth and tugs gently, then twists her head and kisses her whole mouth again.  Her tongue is inviting, urging her on, destroying like a determined army every last brick of defensiveness or self-conscious reservations that she may be hiding.<br/><br/>The kiss again becomes tender, as if the reigns of her passion are in the hands of a mad and drunk charioteer.  Her eyes open and she drinks in the sight of the girl under her.  Fallon pants softly, each exhale mingling with Senna's breath, and glides her fingers down the girl's wrists and inner arms with a painter's slow precision.  She cups her breasts again, scoops her hands under their subtle swells and then, with a soft moan like one succumbing to some great weight, she falls upon them with her mouth, working tenderly at the flesh and works from one to the next.  Her kisses and the wet swath of her tongue follow a pattern like the rune for infinity, over and under each peak, working toward the sensitive crests in slowly-tightening spirals.  "Show me everything you've hidden, everything you've denied," she murmurs breathlessly before she kisses her once more, then starts to delve lower, and lower.  "What kind is the animal in your need, Senna?"