You catch the bone between two fingers and flick it into the fire, making ninja noises: "Whoosh, hoyaah! Knife Wolf's kung fu is strong!" You suck your fingers clean and tuck back into your feast. "If anyone would piss on Knife Wolf's tent, Erskin, it's you. You're pugnacious. It's kind of great."
"Well it's extremely great from where I'm sitting," you tell him. "But right now Knife Wolf's most fearsome foe just wants to finish his lunch and have a lie down. Did you bring along a mattress? We could test the mattress out. For cohabitation purposes."
"I would love to test the mattress out," you grin. "More bread?" When you're done sopping up gravy and glugging tea, you wash your hands and face with a handkerchief dipped in the still-warm water kettle, then get to work setting up bedding. You've got two foam pads, so that you can set them one on top of another in case of cold, damp, or rocky ground. This time, you set them side by side instead, and open your sleeping bag out flat on top of that. With two of you, and the wool blanket, you doubt you'll miss being inside the bag.
You wiggle past him into the tent, and turn around a few times on your hands and knees to survey the space. "Very nice," you approve. "Cozy." Then you flop over on your side, closing your eyes. "Well, goodnight!" You give it a good second, then open your eyes and say, brightly, "Just kidding! Come here," and grab at the neckline of his shirt. He seems startled to be pulled down and kissed, but recovers quickly.
Oh, good, you hoped that was what he was proposing, but he had you doubting for a moment there. You relax into the kiss, unhurried but intent; he has your full attention. Lazy afternoon makeouts are something you could develop a taste for.
You hum with enjoyment and roll over for him, flat on your back, let him lean over you and press down. It's lazy and sweet and warm and you like it— like him— a lot. You run your fingers through his hair, a human gesture, possessive.
Sighing happily, you make the occasional detour to nibble his ears and kiss his neck before returning to his addictive lips. Your hands explore his skin, and every so often one of you will discard an item of clothing, but there's no hurry. A cool breeze from the open tent door washes pleasantly across your heated bodies from time to time. It's heaven.
Eventually, as nice as everything is, you get a little bored. You pinch his ass to see if he'll squeak.
You chuckle softly. That's a suggestion to move along to the next bit, you're pretty sure. You start laying a deliberate trail of kisses down the center of his chest. The idea of his junk being slightly unfresh bothers you less in a tent than a motel room, for some reason. And he blew you so nicely yesterday, you really want to return the favor.
"Oh, I, er, I, yes, alright, ahh," you babble, twitching at each increasingly sensitive kiss, and when he reaches the soft skin of your belly it pulls a shakey little whimper from you. You've gone almost painfully hard, and when he palms you through your pants you grab his hair again, sharply, and gasp, "Yes please!"
That is so cute, and so hot, you swallow a moan yourself as you unzip his fly. You mouth him through his underwear to make him squirm, loving the noises he makes. His hair-pulling gets more insistent until you give in, pull his shorts down and swallow him whole.
You shout, arch up against him-- into-- his mouth's so warm, so astonishingly good, and when he laughs and swallows you shudder with the pleasure of it. You praise him, pet at him, irrationally worried he'll change his mind and stop. "You're good, so good, more, please," you gasp.
In so far as you'd had a plan, it had been to draw it out, tease him, try some tricks you've read about or seen on videos but never had a chance to use. His begging, though, is very persuasive. You alternate suction and tongue swirling until he cries out and spills into your mouth, and swallow every bitter, meat-eater-tasting drop.
You lie there and twitch for awhile, patting his head aimlessly while you come back to yourself. "Right, goodnight, then," you finally say, grinning at him, then pull a pillow over your head and make loud snore noises.
This gets an actual squeal-giggle out of you. You are now on an urgent mission to noozle and nibble him all over. He's just so squirmy.
A very important wrestling match follows: he's got the advantage due to size, strength, and familiarity with the human body. You have the advantage because you bite him a lot and also he's got a hell of an erection. It's not hard to get the upper hand after you've grabbed his cock and pumped it a few times. You roll him on to his back, sit on his legs, and then put your fists triumphantly in the air. "I win!"
"Good job, winner, here's your prize," you laugh, trying to pull him back down. "Quit teasing, c'mon."
"This feels like your prize," you protest, but it's not so bad to curl down over him, kiss him breathless. He's strong enough that even with you pinning his legs down you still get jostled around when he squirms. You laugh breathlessly and nearly tip off onto the mattress, which would be unfortunate for your grip on his sensitive parts. "Hold still," you scold, and move down his body till you can lick his cock. He is not very obliging.
