We got a little carried away writing this chapter—it leans more into intimacy and sensuality than usual. You can skip it and still follow the story just fine in the next chapter. So if this kind of scene isn't your thing, feel free to skip ahead (and please, no complaints).
But if you do enjoy it… we'd love to hear your thoughts. Let us know what you think!
Bloom Moon 16 — Evening
Somewhere in the western hills
The sky had deepened to a dusky lavender, with stars beginning to emerge between streaks of orange and rose as they ascended higher into the hills. The fields had transitioned to sloping woodland trails, the air cooler and cleaner, carrying the faint scent of pine and wet stone.
They weren't in any rush.
Not after a day like this.
Felis walked a few steps ahead, his tail swaying idly behind him, golden eyes scanning the terrain out of habit. Yet, his shoulders were relaxed, his breathing light.
Hestia followed with her sandals in hand, her bare feet brushing over mossy stones and patches of soft earth. Her dress fluttered in the evening breeze, hairpins catching the dying light like flickers of flame.
"…Do you hear that?" she said suddenly, tilting her head.
Felis paused.
A faint gurgle. Water—not a stream this time, but something slower. Deeper. He stepped off the trail, ears twitching as the sound grew clearer.
Through a copse of trees and past a jutting rock outcrop, the ground dipped into a hollow—and there it was.
A natural spring, half-hidden in the stone, steaming gently beneath the twilight sky. The pool was small, perhaps enough for three if they were close. Smooth rocks formed its edges, warm mist curling into the cooling air. Wildflowers grew nearby, and a crescent moon had begun to rise just above the ridge.
"…It's beautiful," Hestia breathed, stepping beside him.
Felis blinked, then glanced at her.
"So are you," he murmured before he could stop himself.
Her eyes widened just a fraction.
Then she smirked. "Well. If the goddess of the hearth stumbles across a hidden bath in the wilderness, it'd be a crime not to use it."
She didn't wait.
The dress came off in one smooth motion, neatly folded and placed atop a rock.
Felis turned—not too fast, not too slow—but his ears twitched, and his tail gave a single flick of barely-contained instinct. He wasn't naive. Far from it. But he was careful… to look without staring, to admire without leering.
And gods, he was admiring.
Her body was a masterpiece of curves and soft lines, the moonlight accentuating the gentle swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips. Her nipples, slightly hardened from the cool air, stood as subtle invitations to his gaze.
"Coming?" Hestia called, already halfway into the water, her skin catching the moonlight in soft, pale arcs.
"…You really don't care who might wander by?" he asked, loosening his tunic.
"I trust you to hear them first."
A quiet chuckle escaped his throat. "Fair."
By the time he stepped in, the heat had already turned his skin slick, his muscles melting into liquid comfort. He slid down beside her, back against the smoothed stone wall, arms stretched lazily across the edge.
The water came up to their chests, just enough to conceal, just enough to tease.
For a while, they sat in silence, watching the mist swirl and the sky fade to night.
"You didn't hesitate," Hestia said eventually.
"Why would I?"
"You're always so composed," she murmured, scooting a little closer. "I wonder what it takes to make your ears turn red."
"…Probably this," he replied dryly, glancing down to where her thigh now brushed against his underwater.
She gave him a very innocent smile.
He didn't pull away. Just let the contact remain—comfortable, natural, with a tension that neither of them fully acknowledged but also didn't avoid.
The gentle slosh of water echoed softly against the stone walls of the spring. Steam curled around them in lazy spirals, catching the moonlight in shifting veils. Hestia's hair floated just slightly on the surface around her, clinging to her shoulders and neck like ink on porcelain.
Felis leaned back against the smooth edge of the spring, golden eyes half-lidded, the tension in his frame all but melted away—until he felt her move.
She drifted closer—not just touching his side this time. Her hands found his shoulders, her body gliding into his lap with a fluid ease that suggested it wasn't an impulse but something she'd quietly decided on, long before this moment.
Felis blinked. His hands lifted halfway, hovering instinctively at her waist… then settling there as if they'd always belonged.
"…You sure?" he asked, voice low, almost hoarse.
Hestia didn't answer right away.
She simply curled into him, head resting against his shoulder, her breath warm against the curve of his neck.
Her body was smaller, softer. And seated like this, the difference in height let her glance up easily… and let him look down, golden eyes meeting deep ocean-blue.
"I don't want you to disappear again tomorrow," she whispered. "So let me have this. Just tonight."
He could feel her heartbeat against his chest. Steady. Unafraid.
"…I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly.
"That's not what I meant," she murmured.
Her hands slid up his chest, slow and warm, resting lightly over his heart.
"You always come back. I know that. But when you're gone… even when you're beside me, it's like some part of you is still down there. Carrying everything alone."
Her fingers curled slightly.
"I just want to be… close enough to reach the part that isn't."
The steam around them swirled like smoke. The spring's warmth wasn't just heat anymore—it was weightless, cocooning, sensual. The space between them didn't exist. Not anymore.
Felis didn't speak.
He simply leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closing for a breath.
And when they opened again, something had shifted.
Their lips were already so close.
The kiss happened without ceremony. No rush. No hunger. Just quiet gravity.
Soft. Unhurried.
Her hands trembled against his chest as his lips brushed hers, as if the moment itself might dissolve if they reached too hard for it. But it didn't dissolve.
It deepened.
Her arms wound slowly around his neck. His fingers tightened slightly at her waist. The kiss carried on—not bold, not fierce, but intimate in a way that sent heat through his chest, even hotter than the spring.
Her body molded closer against him, and his tail curled instinctively behind them, stirring the water.
They weren't exploring.
They were remembering.
All the nights spent sleeping side by side. All the mornings she woke tangled in his arms. All the trust, the teasing, the touches too casual to be accidents and too frequent to be coincidence.
Tonight… it finally bloomed.
When they finally pulled apart—barely—her breath was short. Her eyes glassy. She stayed there, forehead resting lightly against his.
"…If I ask you to hold me like this until morning," she whispered, "you won't say no, right?"
Felis gave a slow, quiet smile.
"…You don't even have to ask
They kissed again—and again.
When their lips parted, it was only barely, breaths mingling in the heavy warmth between them. The steam around the spring curled like lazy fingers, wrapping the moment in a haze of heat and silence.
Neither moved.
And in that stillness, every point of contact ignited.
The press of her breasts against his chest, soft and full, nipples hardened from heat and friction.
Her thighs, smooth and bare, draped over his lap—warm against his skin, framing his waist like a silent invitation.
Her fingers, trembling yet firm, curled behind his neck—clinging to him as though afraid the moment might vanish if she let go.
Then he moved—not his lips, not yet.
His tail.
It slithered lower beneath the water's surface, sleek and deliberate, a sinuous caress that glided down the outside of her thigh… then slipped inward. It coiled slowly toward the softest place between her legs, brushing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh with a maddening patience.
A teasing stroke.
Circular. Featherlight. Cruel.
She gasped.
Not loud—but sharp, breathy, involuntary.
"F-Felis…"
His name came out as a whimper, caught halfway between restraint and craving. She trembled in his lap, her body clenching around him, and her breath stuttered with every flick of that velvet tail.
He said nothing. His mouth spoke for him.
He kissed her again—once on the lips, then lower, trailing molten kisses along her jaw, down the curve of her throat. His tongue flicked gently against the base of her neck, tasting the thin sheen of sweat that the hot spring pulled from her skin. His grip remained firm—one hand steady at her waist, the other slowly sliding lower along the curve of her spine.
And still, his tail stroked.
Not with force. Not even with pressure.
Just maddening softness.
Each slow, gliding motion along the crease of her thigh skirted just beside the spot she needed him most—never quite touching her clit, but close enough to set it throbbing. Her breath caught with every pass. Her legs squeezed tighter around his waist, trapping his tail between her thighs.
He used it.
A slow grind. A lazy flick.
A soft groan rumbled low in his throat—half-purr, half-growl—as he pressed his body closer, letting her feel the heat in his own core. His chest rose and fell with restrained hunger. His lips dragged lower, now over her collarbone. He kissed the tops of her breasts—exposed, glistening—and bit gently at the soft swell, a teasing scrape of teeth that made her head fall back.
Then her arm lifted—without thought, fingers threading into his hair.
And it exposed something else.
The smooth curve of her armpit.
Felis paused for only a heartbeat.
Then he leaned in.
His lips pressed against the sensitive hollow, warm and barely touched by the water. She gasped—harder this time—her back arching like she'd been struck by lightning. The skin there was delicate, clean, and untouched by intimacy… until now.
"Th-That…!" she stammered, voice cracking in disbelief.
But she didn't pull away.
Because when his tongue followed, slowly tracing the hollow of her armpit in a languid, teasing stroke, her entire body jerked against him. It was strange. Intimate. So vulnerable it made her dizzy.
Her moan came out raw—desperate.
She bit her lower lip, teeth digging deep to quiet herself, but the flush burning down her chest betrayed her. Her breasts quivered with each shaky breath, her nipples brushing his skin again and again, wet and achingly stiff.
"I want…" she breathed, voice breaking. "You…"
She didn't need to say more.
She threw herself into him, thighs clenching around his hips, arms locking around his shoulders. Their lips met with fever now—no restraint, no hesitation. Her tongue danced with his, her moans swallowed into his mouth as they lost themselves in each other.
His tail no longer teased.
It moved with purpose now—sliding up, slipping between her slick folds beneath the water. It pressed flush against her clit, slow and steady, stroking in a rhythm that made her whole body jerk with each motion. Her hips rolled helplessly, chasing the friction, grinding down against the pressure he gave.
Her moans grew higher, more frantic.
Felis shifted his hold—one hand sliding firmly down to cup her bare ass, kneading the soft flesh as he helped her rock against him. The other hand splayed across her back, drawing her close as if he could press her body into his.
Their bodies moved together—deliberate, slow, intense.
Ripples spread through the spring, and the only sounds were the soft splash of water, the breathless gasps between their kisses, and the moan she tried—and failed—to hide when his tail stroked harder.
"Hestia," he whispered, voice hoarse with restraint.
He kissed her jaw again, her shoulder, her breast—lips closing around a nipple and sucking just enough to make her cry out, the sound muffled against his neck. Her fingers dragged along his back, nails trailing lightly as her body tensed.
And then—
She shattered.
Her back arched, head thrown back as she came—silently at first, then with a broken gasp as her climax tore through her. Her thighs trembled, spasming around his hips. Her whole body shook, trembling with the release she'd been denied for so long.
Felis held her.
Close. Firm.
As if he'd catch every piece of her that came undone.
He kissed her cheek, her forehead, her lips again—and pressed his cheek to her damp hair, breathing in her scent like it was the only thing anchoring him.
He wasn't just making love to her.
He was worshipping her.
Every inch.
Every sound.
Every raw, beautiful tremble she gave him.
---
Her climax hadn't even faded, and yet she clung to him like she needed more—like her body had only just remembered what it truly wanted. Her arms remained locked around his neck, trembling, breath still uneven against his ear.
Felis felt it.
The way her chest pressed to his, still heaving.
The flutter of her thighs as they stayed hooked around him.
The slick, searing heat that now coated his tail—every stroke having drawn her closer to the edge until she'd fallen completely.
But it wasn't enough.
Not for her.
Not for him.
Her lips found his again—desperate now, panting into his mouth, tasting her own pleasure on his tongue. He caught her in that kiss, drinking her in as if she were air and he'd been holding his breath for months.
And beneath the water, his body responded.
She felt it.
The hardness pressing against her—thick, eager, restrained only by the final sliver of patience clinging to him. Her hips shifted instinctively, grinding along the length of it beneath the surface, moaning into his mouth as it slid hot and rigid between her slick folds.
Her eyes fluttered open.
"Felis…" she whispered, voice thick with want.
He pulled back just enough to see her face. Her lips were flushed, slightly parted. Her cheeks were bright red, damp hair plastered to her temples. And her eyes—they were pleading.
Not just for release.
For everything.
"Are you sure?" he asked, voice rough, low—almost a growl.
She nodded.
But then, she spoke, trembling fingers brushing his jaw.
"I've never wanted anything more."
His control broke.
With a low groan, he shifted his hips, guiding himself with one hand, his tip brushing against her entrance beneath the water. Her whole body tensed, gasping at the contact—at the thick pressure poised right there, so close, waiting for her final invitation.
She didn't hesitate.
Her hand slid down between them under the surface, fingers wrapping around him—not shy, not hesitant. She guided him to her entrance, and then she rolled her hips forward, slow but certain.
The moment he slipped inside, they both froze.
A soft gasp escaped her lips—part pain, part wonder.
Felis's jaw clenched, his arms tightening around her. Her walls squeezed him, hot and impossibly tight, her body struggling to adjust around the stretch.
"Hestia…" he breathed, forehead pressing to hers.
He didn't move.
Not yet.
Instead, he kissed her—gently, deeply—as if to anchor them both while her body learned the shape of him.
She whimpered into his mouth, not from pain, but from being so full, so completely taken. Her nails dug into his shoulders, body trembling with every inch he pushed deeper, until he was fully sheathed inside her.
A moment passed.
Then she moved—just a little.
A tentative roll of her hips.
It was all he needed.
He began to thrust—slowly at first, shallow strokes that let her adjust. Each movement sent ripples through the spring, each wet sound muffled by the closeness of their bodies. Her moans grew louder, breathier, eyes fluttering closed as her body melted against him.
"More," she begged softly, voice raw. "Please, more…"
He gave it to her.
His hips moved deeper, stronger. The water sloshed softly around them, steam rising in thick curls as he buried himself again and again. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, slick against his chest, nipples grazing his skin. Her moans filled the air—no longer soft, no longer restrained.
She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, using him for leverage as she met his rhythm, hips grinding with hungry abandon.
Her body took him greedily.
Again and again.
Her armpits glistened, chest flushed red, every breath hitching in time with the wet sounds of their union. His tail wrapped around her waist now, holding her closer, anchoring her as he thrust harder, deeper—striking the sweet spot inside her that made her cry out with each stroke.
Her voice broke into high-pitched gasps.
Her hands clawed into his back.
She was close again.
So was he.
He grunted softly, jaw clenched as her walls clamped down around him—tighter, wetter, pulsing with need. He kissed her neck, her breasts, even her armpit again, tongue flicking over that sensitive spot just to feel her jerk and moan with helpless abandon.
Then her body shook.
She came again—harder than before.
Her cry was sharp, raw, and unfiltered, echoing through the steam as her inner walls convulsed around him. Felis barely held back—but he couldn't last. Not with the way she felt. Not with the way she moaned his name like it was a prayer.
He thrust deep one last time—and spilled into her.
A low groan tore from his throat as he pulsed inside her, hips grinding forward as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through him. His entire body shuddered, arms locked around her as if he could fuse them together.
They stayed like that.
Locked in heat.
He held her through it—through the trembling aftershocks, through the panting breaths and softened moans. His head dropped to her shoulder, her fingers running lazily through his hair, legs still hooked around him beneath the water.
And when their heartbeats finally slowed—
He kissed her again.
Softly.
Like the storm had passed.
But the love remained.
---
The night air kissed their skin as they stepped from the water, steam clinging to their bodies like a lover unwilling to part. Moonlight spilled over Hestia's curves, every droplet gleaming as it traced the arc of her breasts, the gentle slope of her belly, the softness of her thighs. Her breath was still shaky, chest rising and falling in the aftermath of pleasure.
Felis couldn't look away.
She stood before him—bare, beautiful, and glowing. Her dark hair clung to her damp shoulders, and her lips were parted just enough to let the next soft moan escape as he stepped closer, eyes half-lidded, golden gaze burning.
He dropped to his knees before her like a man in worship.
His lips found her again—first her stomach, then the delicate underside of her breast, trailing lower and lower until he reached the valley between her thighs. But he didn't linger there long. Not yet. Not until she said it.
Instead, he rose with feline grace, towering above her, and when she reached up—tiny hands tracing over his chest, his sides, then curling into his hair—he pulled her close again. Their bodies met in full, no longer muted by the water. Skin to skin. Breath to breath. Every inch of contact seared like fire.
His mouth found her nipple, lips parting to draw it in with slow, unhurried hunger. He sucked, then licked, then sucked again, and her knees nearly buckled.
"F-Felis…" she breathed, voice already trembling.
But he wasn't done. Not even close.
She raised her arms to clutch his shoulders—and instinctively, the soft hollow of her armpit was bared to him again. He leaned in, kissing it with a low hum. She gasped. Then whimpered as his tongue flicked, slow and deliberate, across the sensitive skin.
Her legs trembled.
"It feels like…" she murmured, voice barely a whisper between shaky breaths, "we've been holding back for too long…"
Her eyes met his—dazed, wild, utterly undone.
"You can do anything… you know."
Those words were a spark to dry grass.
He growled low, almost purring as he turned her around, hands guiding her gently but firmly. She leaned forward, bracing her hands against a smooth boulder warmed by lingering steam. Her back arched instinctively, the curve of her hips pushing out—an invitation, a plea.
He stepped behind her, his hand sliding from her waist to her hip, then down to cup the soft curve of her rear. His other hand steadied her shoulder, fingers flexing with restraint.
And his tail—
That velvet appendage slithered between her thighs, curling up from behind until the tip brushed the hood of her clit. A soft gasp tore from her lips as it flicked, slow and teasing, then circled with agonizing care.
Then—
He entered her in one slow, controlled thrust. The difference in their heights meant he had to bend slightly, his hips angled downward to fit against her smaller frame—but it didn't matter. The moment they connected, all thought dissolved into sensation.
Her moan was raw, wordless. Her hands fisted on the stone.
He stayed still for a heartbeat—savoring her heat, the tightness that welcomed him. Then he moved. Gentle at first, each motion accompanied by the rhythmic, teasing strokes of his tail as it continued brushing her clit, matching the tempo of their union.
Her voice was a song of rising desperation, hips pushing back against him in time with each thrust. The soft slap of skin, the wet sounds of their connection, the ragged breaths—it all filled the night like music.
And Felis… he was completely lost in her.
Every part of him moved with purpose. His hips, his hands, his tail, his lips—kissing the back of her neck, whispering her name like it was sacred. The tension built with every motion, her body tightening around him as the pleasure spiraled again—higher, deeper.
When she came, it wasn't quiet.
It was a cry that shattered into the night air, her body jerking, spasming around him, her knees nearly giving out as she clung to the rock for support.
And Felis followed—his grip tightening, hips slamming deep one final time as he groaned against her shoulder, the heat between them reaching its blinding peak.
They stayed like that—tangled, breathless, trembling—while the world slowly spun back into place.
She turned to look at him over her shoulder, cheeks flushed, eyes shining, lips curved into something soft and knowing.
"I missed you," she whispered.
He leaned forward, brushing his lips against her temple.
"I never stopped wanting you."
---
The world felt quieter now.
Not because the sounds had faded—but because everything else seemed to hush in reverence to the warmth between them. Their breaths mingled in the cool night air, fogging in the moonlight. Hestia leaned into Felis' chest, her skin flushed, her heart still fluttering like it hadn't quite caught up to her body.
He wrapped his arms around her from behind, chest to her back, his height allowing him to drape over her protectively. His lips brushed her shoulder—soft, lingering kisses that made her shiver anew, not from cold, but from the tenderness he wove into each one.
His tail had settled now, curling gently around her thigh like it couldn't bear to let her go.
She reached down to touch it, fingers brushing over the soft fur, and he let out a low hum—a quiet purr against her skin.
"Felis…" she whispered, glancing back at him, her voice breathless but full of emotion.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he nuzzled her neck, inhaling the scent of her hair damp from the springs, kissed the space just beneath her ear, then murmured against her skin.
"I love this," he said. "Not just your body… but this. Us. Everything you give me, even without knowing it."
Her fingers tightened on his, her smaller hand clasped over his wrist as if to hold the moment in place.
"I know," she said. "And you always make me feel it."
They stayed like that a little longer, pressed close, heat soaking into heat, silence wrapped around them like a second skin. Then, with a soft tug of her hand, she turned in his arms—facing him, eyes wide and vulnerable.
Her fingers slid up to his cheeks. "Come lie with me," she said softly.
He nodded.
They didn't return to the water. Instead, they found a patch of soft grass nearby, still warm from the earlier sun and shielded from the wind by the surrounding rocks. Felis lay down first, his long frame stretching out, and Hestia climbed over him—straddling his waist, her palms pressed to his chest.
The moonlight painted her like a goddess reborn. Her bare skin gleamed silver, and when she leaned down to kiss him again—slow, deep, without urgency—it was like time bent for them.
He held her hips gently, thumbs tracing circles into the softness there. And she rolled her body against his, their motions slower now, not driven by fire but by something deeper. Every brush of skin, every kiss, every sound was a continuation—not just of desire, but of connection.
The grass beneath them was soft, a quiet cradle for the warmth they shared. Above, the stars blinked like a thousand blessings, watching over two hearts tangled together in something deeper than mere desire.
Hestia sat atop him, knees tucked beside his hips, her body silhouetted in silver moonlight. Her breath came slowly now—no longer ragged, but steady, content. She leaned over him, palms pressed to the solid warmth of his chest, feeling the quiet thrum of his heartbeat beneath her touch.
Felis' golden eyes never left her.
His hands rested lightly on her thighs, thumbs tracing reverent arcs across her skin. There was awe in his expression, quiet and unguarded. "You're so beautiful," he said, voice low, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. "But it's not just how you look—it's how you are. Every time you move… I swear, you undo me."
A soft blush bloomed on Hestia's cheeks, but she didn't shy away from his gaze. She tilted her hips just a little, drawing a sharp breath from him—then smiled, slow and knowing.
"Is that so?" she whispered, her tone teasing but tender.
His hands slid higher, fingertips brushing her waist, the curve of her back. "It's the way you fit against me… the way you tremble when I kiss your neck. The way your eyes flutter when you whisper my name…" He trailed off, then chuckled under his breath. "You make me feel like I'm losing control—and I like it."
She leaned down, her hair cascading around them like a curtain, and pressed a kiss to his lips—deep, molten, full of affection that burned as brightly as the fire they'd just shared.
"You're allowed to lose control," she murmured. "I'm yours."
His fingers tightened slightly on her hips. "Then take me," he breathed. "Do what you want. I'll follow wherever you lead."
And she did.
With slow, undulating movements, Hestia began to move again—rising and sinking, guiding the rhythm between them like a song only they knew. Felis lay beneath her, utterly captivated, letting her set the pace, his hands roaming up her sides to cradle her breasts, to feel every shift of her body as she moved in the moonlight.
She was divine. Not in name alone—but in presence, in touch, in the way she made every moment feel sacred.
He kissed her wherever he could reach—her wrists, her ribs, the valley between her breasts—whispering her name between each one, a litany of longing and devotion.
And when her voice trembled again, when her hands clutched at his shoulders and her movements grew more urgent—he rose to meet her, hips lifting in time, breath catching as pleasure built again in a crescendo of fire and sweetness.
Her breath hitched as she rocked against him, but it was Felis who moved next—golden eyes gleaming, the wildness behind them no longer caged.
He sat up without warning, hands sliding beneath her thighs to lift her with effortless strength. A soft gasp escaped her as her body pressed flush to his chest, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Her hands tangled in his hair, holding on as he rose to his feet—slow and sure, like a predator carrying something precious.
Still joined, still deep inside her.
Her heart thundered in her chest. "F-Felis…?"
His answer was a low purr, deep and possessive in his throat. "My turn to lead."
He turned, taking her a few steps toward a nearby stone outcrop smoothed by time and warmth, then knelt carefully. She straddled him again, back arched slightly, but now he moved—not with haste, but with purposeful, rolling motion, hips circling beneath her in a steady rhythm that made her moan into his shoulder.
Every movement was deliberate.
He angled his thrusts just right, seeking the spot that made her cry out the first time, and when he found it again—he didn't let go. Again and again, he struck deep, tilting his hips to maximize every inch of contact, each thrust drawing out her breath in choked syllables of pleasure.
She clung to him.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, her lips brushing his jaw, her body trembling. "F-Felis, I can't—if you keep doing that—!"
He growled softly, nipping at her ear. "Yes, you can. You're already there, Hestia. You're already mine."
He tightened his grip, rocking into her harder now, faster—no longer holding back. The wet sounds of their bodies meeting echoed through the night, joined by gasps, moans, the occasional stammered plea.
And then she shattered—again.
Crying out his name, legs trembling around him, her body convulsing in his arms as she reached another peak. Felis grunted, the pressure inside him finally cresting as her warmth and tightness pushed him over the edge. He buried himself deep, groaning low against her neck as release claimed him.
They collapsed together—he lying back, cradling her atop his chest as she panted against him, completely spent.
For a long moment, neither moved.
Only their joined bodies, their tangled limbs, and the sound of their hearts racing together under the stars.
---
The stars above blurred slightly in Hestia's eyes—though it had nothing to do with the sky and everything to do with the slow, curling aftershocks still fluttering through her body. She lay sprawled across Felis' chest, her breath coming in soft, uneven puffs, her cheeks glowing with heat and moonlight.
But Felis… he was purring.
A real, unmistakable purr, deep in his throat and vibrating through his chest like a satisfied cat who had just found his favorite warm lap—and then claimed it.
"…You're purring?" she murmured, barely lifting her head.
"Mmm. Of course." His golden eyes gleamed down at her, wickedly amused. "How could I not? I just had the most divine little goddess riding me until she screamed my name like a hymn."
"Felis!" she squeaked, hiding her face in his neck.
His arms curled around her tighter, tail lazily swaying behind him as he nuzzled her hair, voice low and teasing. "What? It's true. You were glorious. Especially when you tightened around me right at the end… gods, Hestia, I almost lost control."
She shivered against him, her body still hypersensitive. And yet—
"You're still hard," she whispered, startled.
"Feline stamina," he said with a shameless grin, hips subtly shifting beneath her to prove it. "We don't exactly go down easy."
She blinked, slowly lifting her head.
"…Are you planning to use that again?"
He gave her a look that could only be described as devouringly amused.
"Oh, little flame, I haven't even started teasing you properly yet."
Before she could reply, his tail slipped between her legs again—this time slow, a feather-light brush that dragged against her overstimulated folds, flicking against her swollen clit. Her breath hitched, hips twitching without meaning to.
"I love how responsive you are," he murmured, almost reverently. "The way your body sings for me… You tighten every time I speak close to your ear like this, did you know that?" His voice dropped to a whisper, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
She whimpered.
He chuckled, the sound pure velvet.
"And I can still feel your heartbeat. Right here." One hand slid up to cup her breast, palm warm and gentle—but his thumb found her nipple and gave it a slow, teasing flick.
Hestia arched with a strangled gasp.
"Still so sensitive…" he purred, then added with mock innocence, "Should I give you time to rest? Or should I flip us over and show you what feral devotion really means?"
Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and helpless—but she didn't say no.
He grinned.
And in the next breath, he rolled her gently onto her back, leaning over her like a shadow of heat and hunger, tail curling possessively around her thigh once more.
---
Felis leaned over her slowly, golden eyes smoldering—not with aggression, but with that aching devotion he never truly put into words. His fingertips traced the curve of her cheek, then slid down her jaw, reverent and maddeningly light.
"Gods, Hestia," he whispered, voice thick and husky, "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"
His tail curled behind him, swaying lazily like a cat watching its favorite thing in the world. She was flushed beneath him, eyes still wide, lips kiss-bitten, hair wild and fanned out like a crown. And for a long moment, he just… looked at her.
Then he bent down, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Then another. And another. Each one lower. Slower. His lips painted a trail across her chest as his hands glided along her hips like he was rediscovering sacred ground.
Hestia shivered, her thighs instinctively drawing around his waist. "You're staring again…"
"I always stare," he murmured, brushing his nose against her skin. "Because this—all of you—drives me mad. The way your skin warms under my hands… the way you arch into me like you're meant to be there…"
He chuckled softly, nuzzling into the dip of her stomach. His voice dropped to a murmur. "Two months of holding back. Two months of pretending every look didn't make me want to lay you down and worship you…"
She gasped as he kissed lower, then moved back up, hovering just above her lips, a smug little gleam in his eyes.
"Hope you're ready," he whispered. "Because I'm not letting you out of my arms until I've burned this into your soul."
And then he kissed her. Deep. Unhurried. Pouring everything into it—months of restraint, nights of longing, mornings waking up beside her and pretending it didn't hurt not to touch.
He eased into her again—not in a rush, not driven by lust alone—but in slow, rolling waves that made her whimper against his mouth. His body rocked with hers, a rhythm as natural as breath, as sacred as prayer.
Hestia clung to him, nails sinking into his back, not to urge him on—but to hold herself together.
Because he wasn't just moving inside her. He was moving through her.
"Felis…" she gasped.
He smiled, lips brushing her temple. "I know."
His tail wrapped around her leg again, not possessive—just needing to touch her. His hands cradled her face like she might disappear, and his pace—steady, relentless, loving—never faltered.
And when they reached the peak together this time, it wasn't frantic. It was slow, devastating, whole. A soft cry in the night. A name whispered against skin. A kiss through the tears.
And Felis held her after, arms wrapped tight around her, tail curled at their side.
"I waited because I wanted it to be right," he whispered. "And gods… this? This is everything."
---
The night had softened again.
Not with silence, but with the quiet symphony of their hearts calming in rhythm, bodies still tangled together, breath brushing skin like the gentlest wind.
Felis didn't move from her—not entirely. He shifted only enough to cradle her against his chest, still sheathed within her, reluctant to break the connection. His hand moved to her back, slow strokes—up and down, again and again—soothing her, worshipping her.
Hestia rested her forehead against his collarbone, body still trembling faintly. Her hair spilled over his skin like strands of starlight, damp with heat and spring steam, glowing under the moon.
Then she felt it.
A gentle flick of his tongue—right at the curve of her neck.
She twitched slightly. "Felis?"
He only purred softly in response, golden eyes half-lidded and warm with that lazy, possessive contentment found only in feline creatures after a long, thorough claiming.
He licked her again—higher this time, right beneath her ear—slow, languid, tender.
"You taste like warmth," he murmured against her skin. "And spring… and moonlight."
Her cheeks flushed deep crimson. "That's not how people usually—mnn… Felis…"
"I'm not people," he grinned, and licked again—soft and slow, tracing the curve of her shoulder, then peppered it with little kisses in between. "I'm yours."
His tail swayed lazily, brushing over her leg as if mimicking his tongue's path. His ears twitched in pleasure every time she gasped or squirmed beneath his care.
It wasn't meant to tease—not anymore.
He was grooming her the way a cat would its mate. Thorough. Reverent. Every inch he cleaned with tongue or lips was followed by a kiss—like sealing in his affection. Her chest. Her collarbone. The inside of her wrist. Even the side of her ribs, where his hand had gripped too tight in the heat of passion.
His eyes flicked up to her, mischief dancing in them. "You're marked here," he whispered, brushing the forming bruise with the tip of his tongue. "Let me make it feel better."
And he did—soft sucks and feather-light licks, trailing into kisses that made her whimper and giggle all at once.
"Felis," she murmured, eyes fluttering as her hand cradled the back of his head, fingers combing through his dark hair, "You're acting like a giant cat…"
He looked up, ears flicking. "Am I not?"
She tried to pout. It barely held for a second before it melted into a helpless smile.
"...Then don't stop," she whispered, pulling him back in.
And he didn't.
The curve of her raised arm, resting near his head… exposing that delicate hollow he loved.
He nuzzled into it with a soft, almost reverent hum.
Hestia blinked, startled by the sudden warmth of his breath brushing that spot. "F-Felis?"
A mischievous glint lit his eyes, but his voice remained low, affectionate. "Mmm… you always forget how sensitive you are here." He dragged his nose along her skin, slow and savoring. "But I never do."
Then came the brush of his tongue—warm, wet, purposeful. He licked the tender skin beneath her arm in slow strokes, not to tease her into a frenzy, but to claim, to adore. Like a big cat cleaning the place no one else would dare to touch.
Hestia let out a soft whimper, her body tensing, breath catching.
"That tickles," she whispered, cheeks aflame.
"That's the point," he murmured, licking again, longer this time, then pressing a kiss into the hollow like sealing a secret. "It's one of the most honest parts of you. Bare. Sensitive. Yours."
His tail slid in a lazy circle around her leg, curling tighter with every flick of his tongue. Her scent, her sweat, her warmth—he drank it in like sacred nectar.
Hestia buried her face in his neck, trying to hide her embarrassed giggles, but he could feel her smile against his skin.
"You're terrible," she murmured.
"I'm thorough," he corrected, licking her once more for good measure. "And absolutely addicted to every inch of you."
Then, as her breath hitched again, he eased back—pressing one final kiss to that sweet spot beneath her arm before pulling her fully against his chest.
"And if you let me," he whispered, brushing his lips to her temple, "I'll keep worshipping you like this… for the rest of our lives."
She didn't answer with words.
By the time they lay back down fully, with her curled to his chest and his chin resting atop her head, Hestia was glowing—not from what they'd done, but from how loved she felt in the aftermath.
And Felis?
He just kept purring, stroking her back with one hand, tail wrapped protectively around her thigh like he'd never let go.
Because he wouldn't.
---
The stars above shimmered like candlelight scattered across a velvet sea. Crickets whispered in the background, the wind a gentle hush weaving between the stones. Felis reached into the picnic basket they'd brought—meant for a lazy afternoon, not this. His fingers brushed the soft roll of the mattress tucked at the bottom.
He blinked, lips curving. "Well… might as well make use of it."
Without saying more, he unrolled the mattress beside the spring, the gentle weight of moonlight catching on his bare shoulders. The sound of the fabric unfurling didn't break the spell—it deepened it. Hestia watched him, her damp hair cascading down her back, eyes gleaming soft and unreadable.
He offered his hand.
She took it.
They lowered themselves together onto the mattress, limbs finding each other in instinct rather than thought. There was no plan in this. No orchestration. Only the quiet pull of atmosphere—the scent of warm water on skin, the cool kiss of air on flushed cheeks, the nearness of hearts that hadn't stopped racing since they'd touched.
Felis curled behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, bare chest pressed to her back. His tail looped lazily around her thigh again, possessive in a sleepy way.
"You always smell like starlight," he murmured, nuzzling the crown of her head.
"That doesn't make any sense," she whispered, smiling into the night.
"It does to me." He nuzzled lower, slow and languid like a cat grooming its mate—pressing a kiss to her shoulder, then lower, letting his tongue trace a slow line beneath her arm, just along the arch of her exposed underarm. Reverent. Focused. It was feline instinct, pure and gentle—tasting, cherishing, marking her in ways beyond sight.
She gasped softly, her fingers twitching against the mattress.
"You always go there…" she murmured, breath catching.
He hummed, brushing his cheek along her ribs. "It's my favorite. Softest part of you, and always hidden. I like having something sacred."
Her hands reached back, finding his hair, stroking through the damp strands slowly. "You're impossible."
"You picked me." His voice had the edge of a purr. "Divinely speaking, you made a reckless choice."
"No," she said, quieter now. "I made the right one."
Her words settled between them like a weightless truth.
And then her hand drifted downward again, as if guided by emotion rather than thought, fingers curling softly around him. Warm. Intimate. Completely unhurried.
Felis exhaled against her skin, voice low and rough with pleasure. "Can you not say something that heartwarming without keeping your hand in check?"
Hestia's shoulders trembled with a quiet laugh. "But you like it," she whispered, her tone teasing, honeyed. "Don't you?"
He didn't answer with words.
Instead, he leaned in once more—pressing slow, reverent kisses along the delicate curve beneath her arm. It was a place he'd returned to over and over tonight, not out of lust, but devotion. Worship. His tongue flicked gently, then lingered, then pressed deeper. Every lap was deliberate, catlike—tasting, savoring, claiming. His breath rolled over her skin like steam, and the soft suction made her thighs tremble.
She squirmed in his hold, flushed and breathless. "Felis… you're insatiable…"
"Mmm," he murmured against her, voice purring. "You're the one who smells like moonlight and cinnamon. Don't blame me."
Her body arched involuntarily as he continued, his fingers tracing slow circles along her waist, his tail curling tightly around her thigh again like it couldn't decide whether to tease or protect.
He didn't rush. He didn't need to. This wasn't about hunger anymore. It was about having. About being close enough to memorize every detail—every breath, every heartbeat, every soft sound she made when he touched her just right.
Her hand moved in rhythm with him, faltering only when her breath did.
"Felis—!" she gasped, nearly whimpering as his tongue dragged across that same spot again, then latched on with a gentle suck. Her grip on him tightened. Her hips shifted. The sensations were overwhelming, pleasure and affection blending into something weightless, dizzying, and warm.
And then—with a sudden, hushed groan—his body tensed against hers. He shuddered, low and deep, lips still pressed to the hollow of her arm as he spilled into her touch, his final breath catching like wind through leaves.
He stayed like that, unmoving, face tucked against her as if her skin could shelter him from the whole world.
For a moment, the world paused.
Even the wind seemed to still. Only their heartbeats remained, pounding together like a joined rhythm meant for no one else to hear.
She glanced down at him, breathless but smiling. Her hand slid to the back of his head, fingers curling in his sweat-dampened hair.
"So you still ended up under my arm," she murmured, half-laughing.
He groaned against her skin, not moving.
"Despite all your teasing…"
"Best place to die," he muttered, muffled. "Keep me here forever."
She laughed again—soft and disbelieving, eyes glinting with something too deep to name. "You're such a handful."
"And you love it."
"…I really do."
The words were simple, but they hit harder than any spell, more precise than any blade. They lingered. They sank.
She shifted slightly, enough to roll onto her side, bringing him with her. Still entangled, still connected. The mattress cradled their weight, the stars above bearing silent witness. Their fingers intertwined now, resting over her heart.
"Hey," she whispered after a while. "Tonight… it wasn't planned. But it felt right, didn't it?"
Felis smiled into her shoulder. "The best things in life never are."
They lay there for a long time. The moon passed overhead. The springs hissed quietly behind them. Crickets sang.
And with the night wrapped around their bodies, limbs tangled and hearts finally quiet.
---
Dawn whispered across the stones.
The light touched everything with a gentle hand—the glistening surface of the hot spring, the scattered remains of their picnic, the soft rise and fall of the mattress where two forms lay entangled in the hush after fire.
Felis had barely moved.
He lay curled behind Hestia, chest to her back, the steady rhythm of her breath anchoring him. Their bodies were bare, but the cold didn't matter—the air still held the memory of steam and skin, and between them, there was more than enough warmth.
She stirred slightly, nuzzling deeper into his arm.
"…I don't want to move," she whispered, half-asleep, the words drifting out like a sigh.
Felis smiled, golden eyes half-lidded as he gazed down at her. "Then don't," he murmured, brushing his nose against the side of her neck. "I've got you."
But after a moment, he shifted—rising slowly, then turning to scoop her into his arms.
She made a sleepy noise of protest, but didn't resist. Her arms looped around his neck, and she peeked up at him through tousled hair. "What are you doing?"
"Taking care of you." His voice was soft, playful. "You're all sore and sticky, aren't you? Can't have my goddess all messy like that."
She flushed but didn't argue.
The warmth of the hot spring rose to meet them again as he stepped carefully into the water. Hestia curled into him with a sigh, her cheek resting against his shoulder. The steam danced around them, carrying away the remnants of their earlier passion like petals on the breeze.
Felis knelt gently, cradling her in his lap as he let the spring wash over her. With slow, reverent hands, he cupped water and smoothed it over her skin—over her back, her arms, the dip of her waist. Not hurried. Not impersonal. But intimate in a way that felt like worship.
"You're glowing," he whispered, watching how the light shimmered along her collarbone.
She peeked one eye open at him. "That's probably just because you're staring so much."
"I can't help it," he purred, leaning in to nuzzle under her chin like a cat grooming its mate. "You're divine. You ruin all my self-control."
Her laugh was breathy and real, tinged with color. "You don't have that much to begin with."
"I'm feline," he said, faux wounded. "We're built for mischief."
And still, his hands moved over her—gentle, cleansing, careful. When she finally let out a content hum and melted against him, Felis leaned forward and kissed her temple.
Then, with a graceful motion, he carried her from the water.
He set her down beside the mattress and reached for the clothes they'd set aside earlier. She didn't move to dress herself, only watched him with that same dreamy look as he knelt and gently helped her slip back into her underdress, smoothing the wrinkles with careful fingers. His golden eyes never strayed, but there was no heat in them now—only affection. Reverence. A quiet adoration that spoke more loudly than any vow.
When he fastened the final tie behind her back, he kissed the back of her hand.
"See?" he said softly, looking up at her. "Still your gentleman."
Hestia reached for his cheek, her thumb brushing across it like a blessing. "Still my Felis."
And as the sun began its slow climb over the trees, they sat together on the edge of the springs—clothed once more, though something between them had shed its veil forever. The mattress was damp, the picnic half-forgotten, but none of it mattered.
They'd brought something else back from the water.
Something not planned. Not written.
Only felt.
And it was theirs.
---