The third time he elbows her in the face is also the hardest. She doesn't manage to laugh it off in time, and his face twists and he flings himself off her so hard he slips over the edge of the bed. He thumps to the ground in a meaty, resonant way that makes her think he landed smack on his chest. She hurries to the end of the mattress, a hand on her face -- yeah, there'll be a hella nice black eye there in another half hour.
"MT? Mituna, honey--"
He contorts on the floor like a cut worm so he can look up at her, and she can feel her bulge retract. He's about to cry, eyes overbright.
"I'm so sorry, I'm a bulge, not even a bulge, bulges are cool as fuckhell, shit, shit--"
If she lets him keep yelling at himself he will be calling himself names and then he'll be depressed for days, and then she won't get laid. She doesn't even think before she rolls over the edge and lands on him.
"Yo. S'obvious our previous tricks aren't gonna work the same anymore, so let's open the floor to suggestions."
He blinks up at her for a second, and then he cracks a smile, damp eyes and crooked fangs and all. She kisses the tip of his nose.
Then she wriggles a bit to make herself comfortable, and also to keep the level of interest up, because dude. Failure is no kind of option.
"Okay, so. Problem: fine motor control ain't a thing at the moment. Solution? If you've got a kink or a position you always wanted to try but we never did before that'd be the time to bring it up."
Mituna doesn't even pause to blink. "Ride my face. Hellsucking yeah. Splash all over, like, give me a teal eye. Teal nose holes. Nostritils. Everything."
Latula can't help it, she bursts out laughing, body shaking on top of his. "Paint the town!"
"Fuck yeth. I am the party town. The party town is me. Where's my blinky lights."
His hands are on her thighs, cautiously caressing, not quite in sync with each other, and sometimes his fingers twitch and she feels the tip of his claws.
Which isn't a bad thing, but right now, being unable to dose appropriately, if he bleeds her even a little bit he will freak again.
Plus she totally has kinks of her own, okay.
"You could tie me to the headboard," he adds, cautious and almost shy, and her nook clenches on nothing with a wet, hungry spasm, and she smiles and says, "Nah, not today."
If she fucks him tied down today he'll start to think it's the only way it can work, with him unable to move at all so he can't accidentally hurt her again. She wants him to enjoy being tied down, and she's glad he wants to try; she doesn't want him to think it's the default security measure, like that helmet. That ain't sexy.
Once they've proven it does work fine without the ropes, though, wooha.
"Howzabout I bend you over?" she asks, and leans down to kiss his nose, shifts back to grind against his sheath, long and slow.
His eyes have gone wide. (His hands have reached her ass, are kneading away; she's not sure he notices.) "Oh my fuck. Pillow biting ass-slam. Yes. Fuck. Shit. Yes."
He's stirring again against her sheath. She grins down at him, wide and full of teeth. "You mind if I yank on your horns, bro?"
The dazed whimper he gives her in response makes even the pulsing black eye on her face feel good and hot and bright.
She pushes herself up on all fours over him and lets him tug her up to his whimpering mouth.