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It seems like a strange desire, but she can feel the pull of him, even as neither one of them speaks. There's something to be said about the connection one might feel towards another when they're bound by trauma, and this appeared to be no exception. Despite all that had happened, despite everything she had seen him do, there was a restfulness in her weary bones whenever he was near. Cezra was kind — of that, she was certain. A small thrill curled up her spine whenever he sat close enough that his knee touched her leg, or when their fingers brushed when he handed her a cup of his tea. His gentleness only brought her further comfort.
It's just something about that desire for connection, that hunger to be close to another person — especially someone as soft-spoken as he was. It made her consider being bolder than she otherwise might have been. Quixina didn't mind being vulnerable because she trusted that Cezra wouldn't betray her faith in his kindness.
She presses a careful kiss to his cheek and delights in the way that his face warms slightly. He looks like he wants to ask her a question, with his brows furrowed in that cute way he so often displayed. Quixina reaches over and brushes her thumb across the swell of his jawline, affectionate, and it seems to halt his question. She doesn't touch his horns because she doesn't think he'd like her to, but it would be a lie to say that she didn't find them particularly interesting. There's a flourish of adoration that flows through her each time that Cezra found himself comfortable enough to remove his hood in her presence — this time was no different, though Cezra appeared like he didn't entirely notice that it had slipped off. Instead, he's staring at her quite seriously. For half a beat, Quixina is convinced that she had made some sort of mistake, but she's soon comforted when his smaller hand curls into hers and he shuffles closer.
She smiles down at him, soft eyes bright, and nuzzles into his forehead with her nose. She can hear his chuckle, can feel the way his hand tightens slightly in encouragement. When he looks up to her again, she lightly grasps his chin with her free hand and kisses him. It's sweet, really. There's a softness to it that makes her chest hurt a little. Quixina nuzzles his faze again before leaning back to meet his eyes. Were it not for her fur, she's certain he could have seen her blushing as well.
"That okay?" She asks, watching him carefully. Her voice is barely above a whisper, like she was desperately trying to avoid scaring him off.
"I think so," Cezra offers back. His uncertainty feels endearing, rather than like a rejection.
"Good," Quixina breathes, doing her best to avoid looking too relieved. They hadn't made any sort of attempt at naming this — whatever it was, but there wasn't anything that said they couldn't explore it. It didn't need a name. Not yet. For now, it could just be this. "You can come closer, Cezra."
It's Cezra's turn to shift slightly, but he seems to accept her offer. Their height difference was stark, but it didn't feel as significant as they were both sitting together. He's facing her as he swings one foot over to straddle one of her legs. Her hand seeks out one of his hips to steady him and remained there even after she was certain that he wasn't going to slide right off. He covers her hand with his, and not for the first time, she finds herself appreciating the warmth that his contact so often provides. Her head tilts slightly as her back bows forward; again, she kisses at his temple and relishes in the way that Cezra leans into her touch.
He shifts against her leg as Quixina's kisses travel from his temple to his cheek, and then further south to the column of his throat. She moves slowly and listens for any sounds to indicate that he didn't appreciate what she was doing — but when she stills again, Cezra presses a little harder against her thigh. His movement is slow and a little jerky as he seeks out the contact that felt good, but she recognizes the flash of heat on his features when he finds a comfortable rhythm against her.
They were both desperate for the touch, if her own reaction was any indication. Heat pools between her legs as one of Cezra's hands fists into the fabric of her tunic to keep himself anchored to her. His eyes are closed as she studies him, though she makes no effort to fight the urge to run her fingers through his hair. Slowly, gently, she pulls him forward into her chest — and she's rewarded by a ragged gasp as her encouragement brings him over the edge.
The stifled quiet is broken as he exhales wearily against the fabric of her tunic. His fingers tighten before he slowly releases her.
"That was nice," she whispers before Cezra finds his own voice. Before he might apologize for making a mess. Quixina stoops and presses a quick kiss to his temple again. "I want to go for a soak in the river. Come with me?"
Cezra shifts to stand on his own two feet, hands clasped in front of him to conceal the evidence of their time together. The gesture was endearing, if Quixina had anything to say about it. "I'd like that," he offers, a small smile on his face.
She stands, still warm from his attention, and stretches her arms out wide above her head. Helping Cezra relieve some of his tension was its own reward. Her body hummed with lazy, satiated contentment at the sight of him — of what she'd made him feel. Quixina reaches for his hand, squeezing it when he accepts her touch. Maybe he'd let her give him more soft kisses on the riverbank. She smiles at the thought.