Raphe is gone, long gone on sensation, and it is a long moment before those large green eyes slowly open and regard you like twin glowing emeralds. He blinks several times his hips still rising to meet your strokes until you pull away from him. For just a second there is a flash of fear in his eyes. You have stopped. Why? "Pardon me sir?" he asks, not fulling hearing your request since he was so lost in the sensations your thrusts were bringing him. His ears flicker back and forth, as if he is replaying the scene, then he continues, "You want... ME ... to mount... you?" he asks in a shocked whisper. Blink. Blink.

He continues to slide back, to watch your face as you come back to the moment, even though his own member aches from leaving you. He wanted to finish... but there is something he wants to experience, and he isn't sure if he will be able to after this night. Instead, Sigurd leans back in the tub, one hand taking your paw, and pulling you forward. "Yes... I very much want you to mount me. I want to feel you inside me... over me." Is that such a hard request? He doesn't think so, even as his fingers move to your face, to scritch just behind one of your ears. "I not your master, Raphe.... nor do I want to be. Enjoy each other....? Yes... I do want that." There's a pause as he admits it, even as he continues only moments later. "But... I want it. I want you."

Raphe stares at you still shocked. This is indeed something new. It doesn't feel like a trick.. He is quite sure you would not do that to him. So, with liquid grace, he curls forward, and bridges his body over yours. He nestles down between your spread, bronzed thighs. He strokes a paw hand down your toned belly, feeling the ripples of muscle beneath the taut skin as he uses his other paw to press the pointed tip of his cock to your entrance. His face is calmer now, and he briefly closes his eyes as your scritch behind his ear. He pants softly, then gives a short, quick thrust. This drives the barbed end section of his cock past your tight opening, and cause him to call out in a sharp moan. He retreats, then trusts again. If you thought he was gone before, he is in outter space now. "Mrrrrrr...." he growls then suddenly, his body lurches forward, and his mouth is on your collarbone. Tiny fang teeth bite down in a claiming bite as his hips thrust wildly, fully sheating his body into yours. The barbs on his cock are litle hard nodules of skin, but are a wild sensation to the lower intestine to say the least. It feels like a cob of corn is raking in and out of you.

Trick? Why would he sit and trick you? He could have continued on his path, using you like everyone else that you have come in contact seems to have done... but that isn't his goal. It never has been. So when you curl forward, when he can feel furred skin against his thighs, his head lolls back, body shivering as you come in contact with him. That paw causes muscles to ripple, to roll under your clawed fingers, but it doesn't help him when you thrust quickly into him. It causes a soft gasp, strained in the back of his throat as his hips lift on their own accord. That bite against his shoulder isn't even felt in that storm of wild thrusts, legs wrapping tightly about your waist. The sensation before was wonderful.... now it simply has him in bliss... and you can feel that. His empathy spreads, to bump against your mind even as you thrust within him -- to be able to share and feel those emotions, to amplify them... it can very easily push him over the edge. It doesn't take long either as he comes, calling your name as his insides contract, pulsing as he continues to cling to you.

Raphe clings to you, a beast in the middle of a mating. His passivity is lost at this point, and your body writhing under his drives him further into his animal being. When you mind opens to his, you find pure animal lust raging there. He growls with each thrust, his mouth still locked down on your shoulder tasting sweat and the tinge of slow blood. He grips his paws on your ribs, tightly. Ten little pricks from claws dig into your anew as his body moves like a pale furred wave. He thrusts madly, his barbed shaft making a rumble sensation of it's own inside of you until with a loud savage growl, he pumps his seed deep into your body. "Grrr.. grrr... grrr..." he grunts, speech is beyond him at this point.

The people who kept you are fools. At least that is what comes to Sigurd's mind at this point, near delirious from the pleasure that he finds underneath you. Moans escape, human nails dragging into the fur along your back, saving you from the scars that would normally be given to a hairless back. His whole body can't help but to shift with the lust that you seem to bring out, to try to keep up with your pace but failing -- however, it more than enough just to feel you thrust inside. The smell of his own blood, mixed with sweat and pheromones, coupled by the emotions that he finds when his empathy casts itself out... it's amazing that he can even keep sane. But he feels your seed spill inside him, and he is completely lost, clinging to you despite the grunts that denote you have gone beyond normal thought... and remains there until the last of the pulsing within him fades. Your name is whispered over and over again, even as his body begins to relax, to slouch down into the tub without a care.

Raphe, completely spent, collapses on you. His chest is heaving with the exertion, and his breath is hot puffs of air near your ear. He is still purring, but it becomes the calm purr of a pampered lap cat. His claws relax, and his mouth closes. The bite on your shoulder is now feeling different. A slow lapping with a rough tongue is bathing it. Lap, lap, lap goes the tongue over the bite mark. He pulls back his hips slightly, the slick smooth shaft with the prickly end dragging out of you ever so slowly, then with a pop, it falls free into remains of the warm water beneath the two of you. Purr, lick, purr, lick. The room is silent save for his loud purr.

Sigurd_Harcourt begins to move cramped legs and arches stiff spine, but it is when you come to rest upon him that he completely relaxes, arms wrapping about you slowly. That animalistic purring lowers, to move to something more of the domestic, if underevolved, type of your kind, and Sigurd opens that one eye slowly. Fingers brush at your hair, body only shifting slightly as that rough tongue moves across his shoulder. No words, none beyond the purring and licking, for the man leans forward to kiss at your face. It doesn't matter where, really. Chin, cheek, jaw.... each is touched with a gentle flair, fingers moving to brush your hair from your face. There is only the softest of hisses as you pull out of him, but that is brief, body still lingering against your own, unconscious of the water, or anything else at the moment.