Anon Prompt: Feng and Anon's Night-In

>Neon spires pierce the endless black sky, glowing red lights flicker through the wispy grey clouds that float above the city streets like angels through the steel and glass cathedrals.
>The November air brings with the first few pangs of winter, mixing with the last few good-byes of fall to create a bitter cold chill that haunt the night streets, blowing through the asphalt veins that twist and turn throughout New Meridian. The howling screech of the wind echoes through the alleys, streets, and tunnels alongside the screech of car tires and the chorus of a million voices flowing together as one fuzzy hum.
>It’s this bitter cold snap that acts as the perfect excuse to curl up warm, bury yourself under the comforting shield of blankets and pretend the world outside doesn’t exist for a while.
>And that’s exactly what you and Feng did.
>Your place isn’t as big as hers, of course. Her place is more of a penthouse suite out alongside where the Cirque Des Cartes sets up. One of those places that feels more like a movie set, you know- chandeliers, gilded doors, big bay windows that overlook the lower skyline as it rolls down to the coastline. It’s almost a shame, you’d think, to bring a famous acrobat here, like a celebrity sitting in some dingy motel room.
>Feng doesn’t mind though- she says it’s much more private than her place. If they went over to her apartment, her roommate Cerebella would be watching them like they were some kind of reality TV couple. You don’t mind that either- maybe there’s some sort of charm to have Cerebella snap some pictures of you two curled on the couch, cooing and giggling about how cute you two are.
>Maybe Feng just wanted to have some private time with you tonight, away from prying eyes. And you didn’t mind either, especially on a cold night like this.
>The plan was catch a movie down at the Imperial, maybe grab a bite down at that little fancy place just up in Canopolis- the Gilded Vine or something- and head down to the Premier Shoppes to get some early Christmas gifts out of the way.
>But, somehow, maybe because both of you were kind of tired- Feng just finished up one of the last shows before the Cirque would close up for the winter and you just finished up a long week of work- or perhaps maybe the idea of walking anywhere in the bitter cold just for some pricey dinner and a movie didn’t sound so appealing.
>So, here you two were, on your couch, flicking through channels on your rabbit-eared TV, eating boxes of noodles and stir-fry you picked up from that Emerald Scales place down the block. The room smells like braised beef and noodle broth, the sound of flickering channels ranging from gunfire to dreamy Christmas music mingles to the ever low hum of your space heater, which gives the room a warm, inviting heat to it.
>It ain’t like this is a bad thing though. Feng loves stir-fry, and even brought some cherry rice wine her folks sent her from back home. You remember when she showed up to your place, dressed in that heavy designer jacket, carrying the bamboo-laced box that contained the wine, her face all red, crimson on her soft white skin
>And now, she’s right here, nuzzled up in your side. Her frame is small, limber, but has the hints of that delicate hourglass figure combining both the petite and the shapely. Her long sleeved shirt falls past her arms to curl around your lap, her sweatpants loose as they brush against your legs. The blanket you both wear cover you both completely, but the bitter chill still drives you both closer together.
>There’s something so adorable about her- not in the sense of talking about a little kid, but in the way that there’s just something so charming about the way she rests her head against your shoulder, how her eyes flutter half-lidded with the first throngs of comfort, how she pulls you closer when she feels cold between talking about what Beatrix was arguing about this morning.
>You listen to her voice, noting the sweet Eastern accent in how she pronounces some words, how relaxed and calm she feels resting against you, as if she feels totally at ease beside you. The way her birds “snore”-can birds snore?- tweeting in their sleep atop of her head, letting black and white strands slip down to tickle your chin.
>You two continue to talk and share stories- the circus, your job at the club downtown, the movie you’re watching- but the conversation seems to mask how close you two are getting. In between words you feel Feng’s head nuzzle closer to yours, her cheeks just inches away from brushing against yours. Your arms seemed to have subconsciously moved to wrap around her delicate frame, her legs interlock with yours…
>Maybe it’s the cherry rice wine that got you feeling like this, but what you do next both of you do with the passion of wanting to do this for a long time
>You pull each other into a deep, passionate kiss. Not just a little peck, but a deep, ravishing kiss.
>Her lips are soft and nimble, tasting the remnants of sweet cherry wine and her lipstick that gives her lips that rosy shade of red. Her perfume smells of cherry blossoms and waterlily, and her coos of bliss seem to melt against your lips, causing them to vibrate gingerly with every deep motion.
>Lost in the kiss, you move your hands up and down her form, afraid for a moment she’ll pull away, that you’ve stepped too far. She doesn’t, instead, she melts closer to you, cooing your name in between soft gasps.
>Despite not being as well-endowed as Cerebella, your hands still delight in exploring her form. Her chest still soft and ample through her shirt as your palms slip over them, or how her hips seem to take in their natural curves with such grace that your fingers shiver as they glide over the curves.
>Your hands rub at her thighs- they aren’t thick or as full as others, but they have a perfect amount of squishiness that lets your exploring fingers tease through the fabric, tracing the lines of her rather thin undergarments that sink so cozy into the flesh. With every touch, Feng moans into the kiss, her acrobatic body rubbing more against you, as her tongue licks with need at your lips.
>As your tongue bashfully rolls out to slip and entwine around hers, curling, rolling together in an almost practiced dance, your hands move to gingerly cup at her rear. It’s not big or wide, not too small or flat, but just perfectly round and ample enough to let your fingers sink softly into the plush cheeks. Your hands roll and loll around them, cupping them, weighing each one delicately by tapping your fingers against them, sometimes even squeezing them to hear Feng let out cute squeals and giggles before, suddenly, she pulls away.
>She’s not mad, nor is she upset. Her face is stained red with crimson lines and sweat, her eyes flicker with the same twinkle of flirtatiousness you’ve seen from Cerebella. Before you can say anything, her finger presses to your lips, while another hand cups your cheek, before moving down to your hips to rub just above your throbbing groin.
“So, that’s the way you want to play it, hmm, big boy~? Well, if that’s the case, why don’t we go…warm up in the bedroom~?”
>Now, with both of her hands on you, and a giddy smirk remiscent of a schoolboy learning his crush likes him back, you chuckle and kiss her lips again, taking a slight nibble to make that rosy blush get even brighter.
“Well then~…point the way, Miss Star Acrobat~. I want to see how flexible you really are~”
>At that moment, Feng smirks again and skillfully lifts her leg behind her back and contorts it to point her feet at the direction of the bedroom, before wrapping her arms and legs around you to cling to you, making you shiver at the warmth on your chest.
“Gladly~”