Your pounce on him surprises him. You hved transformed into the hungry fox that you had previously so controlled within you even in your most passionate kisses. He accepts your advances with a hunger of his own. The movement of your hands on his body excite you, but he takes hold of them and moves them down so that they grasp the throbbing hunger in his pants. There are no boundaries anymore. You have given him permission to touch your body as your hearts have touched, and he has given his.
With awkward desperation, you and he lock your kisses and grasp blindly at each other's gherkin and blouse. He runs his hands politely around your slender waist like a dance partner would, but then pulls the layers of silky blouse up over your head. Even while your arms are crossed over, your head and your hands still bound in the silk, he is running his hands over your breasts and stomach. When you free yourself, you feel his wolfish gaze. He is staring at your breasts. You have captivated the beast. He sees how athletic and trim you maintained yourself, your more-flat-than-not breasts are caramel, but the prominent nipples are dark brown like cacao, their auroras still fleshy and pink having not yet borne a child. He glories in your breasts, all ripe to fill full with milk to suckle his young, to let him share your essence with a babe and sustain own his desire with his own lips and tongue on you, sucking you until the milk drops and you swirl into submission. You finish pulling off his gherkin and see the glory of manhood, a broad frame with tight muscles, not so over pumped that he is a caricature of a man, but definitely strong and virile enough to be your mate. The moonlight that showed off your breasts, also shows you the fine chest of hair that was always showing itself in part on the decks, imagined in your thoughts, now complete before you, the colors of a quealtascoatl feathered dragon tattoo emblazoned on his dark skin. He mounts you and draws your hard nipples through his chest hair as he reaches his hands between your legs and touches where your excitement is building most. He is panting like that wolf when he comes up for air, arching his back to feel the excitement of the moment. He looks again at your deep brown eyes in the moonlight. You see the desire, but he holds back. Why! Kit wants to be taken, you say!! "I can't," he gasps as if the oxygen has been depleted in the bunk. He takes his palm off your vulva, and with both large hands grasp your cheeks and neck, moving his thumbs across your cheekbones. "I can't just do this without knowing." Out of breath still, he draws in a great draw of air and holds it. He kisses you lightly on the lips and looks in your eyes. "I love you, Kitsune, with my heart that climbs the mountain, with my soul that flows down the mighty river, I love you. It's all been my fault. All those loves before, I refused to love them because they weren't perfect, they weren't the one. All those heartaches I suffered, I did to myself. There is no Kiltzi that continually breaks my heart. I know. I know myself. I love all the way and never part, but I have never found anyone else who could do the same. They would have a pretty face or fine figure, but the heart,... the heart is what I want. Someone to have adventurers with, to raise children, to grow old with, to never fail to say I love you and hear it back each time. I need to know from you Kitsune. I love you."
You don't react immediately, though the sexual desire courses through your body, or perhaps because of it. Lust is the illusion of love and you know the difference too well. What he is offering is foreign to everything in your back story. You do not know love taught from early loves. Your experiences are vast compared to his, but never picturesque. You can't love him as that would make you vulnerable, subject to exploit by anyone who looks in your eye. You think to yourself, you can still tell him you love him, and get the fuck you wanted. You can say it with the precision of a thespian and the eloquence of a poet. But here, lying on top of you, is the paragon of truthfulness. What point would lying be? Tell him you will never love him, and break his heart. He admitted it himself, he was the cause of his own heart break. Do you play the charlatan the rest of your life, or do you become something else like what the higher authority gods are pushing on you? He wants you to know yourself. To find out who you really are... Wasn't that the point of this journey anyway?
