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Somehow people aren't nearly as eager to cuddle a snake; she's come around to a certain appreciation for scales but they're not nearly as inviting as warm fluff, especially when the chill of outdoors still clings to her.

"Not bad. I guess I'm finally used to all this." One of her hands gestures vaguely to the pile of coils she's using in lieu of a chair, the end of her tail spilling under the table, probably over his forepaws. It's always odd seeing people when she's like this-- when they're not themselves. Familiar and unfamiliar at once. For once she doesn't feel the least bit self-conscious, though.

"It's not quite as nice as staying the week on the beach, but the cold isn't as bad as I'd worried." Hashtag cold blooded problems, man.

He finally takes a moment to give her a proper once-over, taking in the coiled-up tail, the extra set of arms, and the scales with interest. "This is a new look for you, right? I like it. Extra arms, very useful."

His wings flutter a bit as he settles a bit more on his hind legs, one of his huge paws flexing comfortably against her coiled tail beneath the table.

"Mm, I can see how that might be a concern. Thankfully they seem to have cozy down to a science here." David arches an inquisitive eyebrow at her. "Here by yourself?"

"Only new since I got here; I'm like this most months. The first time I spent the whole week hiding-- but the arms always come in handy." She's not sorry for the pun. Utterly shameless and straight-faced.

"Just me here. All twenty feet of me, but." She shrugs, which is an inherently interesting motion when there are so many shoulders involved in it, and her slit-pupiled gaze roams over him.

"Is this your usual? It's very... majestic."

"Mmm, I guess I've never seen you during the most magical week of the month." He says this very dryly, of course, folding his sweater-clad arms over the tabletop as he takes a sip from his highball glass. A smile works its way onto his face when Scully compliments his own monster self.

"Yeah, this is what I've been every month except for one." Which was a very strange week, spent as a disembodied, floating tentacle-head that scared the shit out of everyone who beheld him. He's not keen to ever repeat it. "I'm honestly a fan, except for the fact that everyone wants to pet the kitty," he adds with an irritated lash of his tail.

"Consistency makes it a little easier, I think." At least there's that, the smallest of saving graces. "I was a selkie once, that wasn't so bad."

One of the nicer monster weeks, really; that, and spending it on the beach over the summer.

"But-- you do look very soft, I can't entirely blame them."

"Okay, cute? I'm sad I missed that," David admits. "You have to send me a selfie next time." A pause, and then he adds, delighted, "Selkie selfie."

With a soft whump, his giant tail flops over beside her, under the table. "Go ahead. You have my permission to touch."

"If it happens, I will. That was when that carnival was in town."

A great stroke of luck; she can't imagine she could've piled twenty extra feet of snake into a Ferris wheel car, much less had room for someone else in it.

His invitation, though, gets a pleased little grin out of her; she moves with alacrity that suggests she was just waiting for permission, the two hands closer to him reaching out, one to bury itself in feathers, the other in fur. He is, in fact, very soft and noticeably warm, which is basically irresistible to her right now.

She makes a vague, pleased noise, stroking a wing.

Her movements are quicker than he expected; David blinks and she's moved closer, her fingers moving to touch fur and feathers alike. His hide ripples a little in surprise beneath her hand, but settles quickly; his wings make a similar motion. Meanwhile, he just takes a moment to smirk down at her, a knowing expression painted across his face.

He leans in a little to murmur, "It's nice, right? Finally a guilt-free way to wear fur."

What can she say; she gets a little impulsive, now and then, and snakes strike swiftly. He can smirk all he wants, she seems thoroughly pleased with herself, and disinclined to back off.

“I never thought of myself as the snakeskin type,” she muses, long coils of her shifting aimlessly under the table. “You might have gotten the better deal.”

"I don't know, snakeskin has its own appeal," David muses idly, his feathers fluffing up behind him. "My mom had a $14,000 snakeskin bag she was obsessed with..."

He pauses, and seems to remember that he's said something rude. "Sorry. No offense. It's really beautiful though." He gestures to her tail with sharp-clawed fingers. And he's had enough of those warm, spicy cocktails they're serving up at the bar to lower his voice to a volume only Dana can hear.

"So I admit, I'm a little curious."

Under the circumstances the thought is, maybe, a bit morbid; fortunately for everyone Scully has a high tolerance for that.

But his shift in tone piques her curiosity in turn.

“About what?”

David leans in a little closer, his breath warm against her ear as he answers, one hand steadying itself on her shoulder.

"About whether or not you've ever gotten busy during Monster Week."

He certainly has, and he's not really fussed about admitting it, but he knows not everyone is as eager to get into the really freaky monster shit.

That earns a soft laugh, a little bit sheepish; her cheeks flush pink, making the scales that freckle them here and there stand out more.

"It took me ages to get the hint that anyone did," she admits, leaning in conspiratorially. But for all the hints of shyness, she hasn't moved her hands.

"So... I haven't, no. I mean. Not yet."

Her flushed cheeks are cute; the fact that she hasn't let go of his fur and feathers is even better. He lets his lips brush just barely across her cheek, over skin and scale alike.

"Not yet," he repeats. "Well, if you want to give it a whirl, I've got a room down the street." David leans back to his upright position, giving her some of her personal space back. "Just saying."

Most of the time, she greatly values personal space. Right now it’s the last thing she thinks she needs. When he pulls back, her eyes look nearly normal, pupils wide and round.

Half-instinctively her tongue darts out to taste the air.

“Then maybe we should head out.”

It’s not where she’d planned on this evening ending up, but the idea is too intriguing to let go of.

David from a little over a year ago would have seen that flickering tongue and found it strange. Off-putting. Now, after a year of freaky monster sex and general weirdness, his brain has been rewired to find it enticing. Fuck. His own pupils, cat-like slits in huge, green sclera, grow large and dark, mirroring Scully's.

"Yeah. Mmhmm, yes."

He drains the rest of his drink in one long pull, and then pushes himself to all four feet. His wings fold neatly against his long, sleek back, and he holds out a sweater-clad arm to Dana. "Right this way."

Out the door, down the street through blustery weather, but thankfully it's a short walk to David's hotel, and before long they're in the elevator up to his floor. They might be pushing the weight limit a little bit, but that doesn't stop him from pressing Scully right up against the wall, his hands warm on her hips.

The first time she changed, she’d spent the week nearly in hiding. She couldn’t have imagined being comfortable being seen, then, much less touched; much less wanting to be touched and seen and more. There’s no even dividing line; no moment where she decided this body was hers in spite of its shape, when she’d stopped perceiving the transformations as an unnerving phenomenon to investigate. She couldn’t say whether she’s been changed by experience, or if it’s something insidious, atmospheric; the stone sunk into her body shifting her values the longer it stays.

Who knows. Who gives a damn, really?

She loops two arms through his as they walk, smoothly gliding alongside him, reveling in the warmth of his body, made all the more striking by the delicious chill in the air.

With a soft laugh of delight, she loops two arms over his shoulder, the other set around his waist; a stretch ripples through the length of her body, scaled coils of her pressed loosely against his legs and side.

She shifts to stand a little taller—- easier like this, than if tiptoes were her only option—- and gives him a light, teasing kiss.

“Impatient,” she murmurs approvingly.

His fingers rub softly over the scales at her hips, getting a feeling for the unfamiliar texture. They're nice to touch, warming beneath his fingertips, smooth and sleek. A rumbling purr starts up low in his cat-chest, which he's still sort of embarrassed about when it happens, but he does a decent job of hiding it.

"Mm," he hums, already leaning back in to steal another kiss. "I don't hear you complaining, though."

A shiver works its way through her body as his fingers skim over her, the soft transition from warm skin to smooth scales. Truthfully she’s fascinated by the shifting sensations. Skin in scales, scales on fur.

“I’m not.”

She slides the end of her tail over his hips- or shoulders?- to feel the rumble of his purr, the tip trailing down along his foreleg.

“Just trying not to get too wrapped up.”

She’s not sorry for the bad joke. Or the way she’s coiled around him.

David can't help the giggle, surprised and a little ticklish, that wrests from his throat as he feels those coils snaking up and around his lower half. "That feels contradictory," he murmurs, and then the elevator judders to a stop, the doors gliding open behind him. Reluctantly, he peels himself away from Scully, all four legs moving to back quickly out of the elevator and tug her right along with him.

"Slither right this way, please," he teases as he gets himself turned the right way around, leading her down the hall and unlocking the room. There's a fire roaring in the fireplace, and a huge bed— he always makes sure to get the biggest they offer when it's monster week. His powerful tail thwaps the door shut behind him as soon as the last of Dana has made its way inside.

All she can do is offer a sharp grin, before they’ve stopped and she needs to untangle herself so they can move.

The way she moves is oddly elegant, her path always curved slightly side to side, hips swaying and her tail tracing the line behind. She isn’t shy about entering his space— partly that’s just practical, if she wants to get the end of her long body through the door. But she glides her way right onto the edge of his bed, her tail spilling off the edge and looping in a lazy curve across the floor, scales glimmering in the flickering light.

With the sort of ease that only comes from practice, she peels off her four-armed sweater, setting it beside her; the button-down underneath should be a bit less complicated to get out of. And of course, most of her is clad in nothing but scales; pale, wide scutes down her underbelly, brilliant bands of color ringing the rest.

The end of her tail twines around a foreleg, and she tugs lightly, playfully.

“Come warm me up.” Again, her tongue flicks out.

She makes it look so easy, moving around all that bulk, her movements sinuous and elegant. David's own tail lashes with apparent interest as he stalks after her once the door's locked behind them. His forepaws prop him up on the edge of the mattress so his torso can stretch out along hers; the bed creaks beneath their combined weight, but it's sturdy. He lets himself be tugged closer by her tail, his hands skimming up her sides until he reaches the lower set of arms.

"My pleasure," he murmurs, letting the friction of his palms run up and down her arms. "So, never having gotten busy with a snake person before, you're going to have to tell me what feels good."

It still strikes her as oddly ironic to be so long when she's usually the shortest in any given room. But most of that added length is pure muscle; she shifts and coils on herself, the end of her tail sliding up over his back.

"I think we're both figuring it out as we go," she murmurs, her cheeks flushed, her other hands sliding up his chest, toward his shoulders. Truthfully, they're off to a good start; the heat of his body, the novelty of sensation against her scales. She's in no hurry, and greedy to explore, to run her hands over his fur and feathers, to curl around him.

"Ah-- I'm a little worried about getting carried away and biting." Probably good to get that out of the way. (Or maybe he'd be into it? Some people seem to be into that.) "It's not dangerous, just-- honestly, I think it might get you a little high."

David nods, his lantern-like green eyes trained on her as their bodies instinctively gravitate toward the other. The feeling of her tail, those powerful muscles, sliding over his back, undulating slowly, is like nothing else he's ever felt. "Yeah," he agrees softly, letting one hand press up beneath the hem of her top, his claws retracted so they can skim but not scratch over skin and scale.

Biting brings him back into sharp focus, though, and his gaze darts from her abdomen back up to her face, eyebrows raising in clear interest. "Oh, yeah?" He licks his lips, moving in close again to press warm, open-mouthed kisses against her neck. "I've never been opposed to getting a little high. Sounds fun. You have my permission to bite me, if the mood strikes."

Biting isn't her usual fare; objectively it surprises her a little, that she finds the idea such a turn-on, but it makes a strange sort of sense, that she'd want to like this. It's something to dig into at a later date; for now she hums a pleased acknowledgement and turns to kiss his jaw, her hands splaying out aimlessly across his body in every direction, even as her lower half continues to coil around him, slow and lithe.

Her eyes flutter shut, and she arches against him with a satisfied sigh at the feel of his hand on her; the texture of her torso, she knows, is unfamiliar in this form, her smooth skin dotted here and there with stray scales, slightly rougher to the touch. The friction against the smooth hardness of his claws is another spot of unanticipated novelty, and she delights in it.

"What do you like?"

Curious and intrigued, the tip of her tail slides up his side to ruffle his feathers lihtly.

ic inbox | noctium

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i'm so sorry this is disgustingly late

nonsense, there's no bad time for monsterfucking <3

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/strolls in late with Starbuck