You got it, Maxo!
It’s slow, first, the brush of lips against skin, a cautious, halted breath exhaled across bare skin. Say’ri freezes, bites her lip. In the dark, she can’t see Tiki, but she can discern her movements - the places where the shadow bends, where the darkness shimmers faintly. Her scales reflect what little light creeps through the window, absorbing it like a sponge. Tiki kisses her again, and Say’ri knows for certain that it happened. Her lips are rough against Say’ri’s bare shoulder, and then her neck, and Say’ri shudders under Tiki’s fingertips.
She hears the motion of Tiki’s shifting, and pressure against her legs as Tiki presses their bodies closer. She is more certain than Say’ri will ever be.
But Say’ri tries. With a deep breath she plunges forward, softly, slowly, shyly. Her lips glance off Tiki’s cheek and there’s a giggle in the dark, and then hands against her chin, guiding her lips. Tiki tastes warm and feels soft against Say’ri’s lips, but it’s just a taste - Say’ri dips her head, knowing that Tiki must feel the heat of her cheeks in the dark.
“Is something the matter?” Tiki’s voice is too close, and chased by lips against Say’ri’s ears.
Say’ri steels herself. “No, my lady.”
She kisses her again, with more courage. Lips against Tiki’s eyelashes, tracing down her cheek, before she bows again, unwilling to press lips to a god.
Tiki laughs and tips her chin up again, and even in the dark Say’ri can see her eyes sparkly. Tiki kisses her, hard and tense, and Say’ri melts under her touch. Maybe, for now, it is best for the god to take charge.