Like most of the roads in the area, this one is comprised of flat space and some asphalted gravel. The lowlands are taking back their own space: trees, shrubs, and weeds are dutifully cracking what little pavement there is left. Unlike the road south of town, this by-way is nearly unused and thus, is nearly unusable. Certainly an automobile would never make it through here, although a horsecart might -- and evidently has, to judge by the ruts. Some homesteads and small farms lurk along this road, hiding in the shadows of the forests. Ancient shacks, part of some long-gone resort or campground, huddle here and there under the assault of nature. Just visible through the trees to the west is the vast Lake Millinockett, a vista that opens up at the northernmost extreme of the road, where a dilapidated bridge crosses the Mud River just below its emergence from the lake.
On the far side of the bridge, the road peters out into a dirt trail, the pavement vanishing at last.
Did someone call for 'tall, dark, and handsome'? Well, dark's fairly well covered, at least. Jet-black hair's pulled into a long, loose tail at the nape of his neck, a few stray strands about the face occasionally drifting into his almost equally dark eyes, the irises of which are a brown deep enough that one needs to look closely to find the pupil. Nut-brown skin that sets off the white of his teeth and eyes -- it could just barely be mistaken for a very deep tan, if one really tried. Tall is a miss; he's still several inches off six feet, and he probably won't ever get there. Handsome... well, not a classic beauty, to be sure, but well-proportioned, with a stunning, frequent grin and deeply expressive features. Slim, but in perfectly good shape.
He's clad in... well, black leather pants. Somewhat faded, well broken in, but nicely cut and really =quite= nicely fitted. A simple cream shirt is tucked into them at the waist; the collar of it's left mostly unlaced, the ends of the cord hanging down. Over that, he wears a decidedly well-worn old black trenchcoat, almost too big for him -- the cuffs hang down half-over his hands, when he lets them, and the hem hangs perilously close to his heels. Scuffed black leather boots with worn soles adorn his feet; there's a seemingly random collection of bracelets, all on one wrist, and several piercings along the upper section of each ear -- little silver hoops.
Sir only-sort-of-appearing-in-this-log, apparently.
Unruly black hair, long enough to nearly reach the girl's waist, falls in tangles around a gypsy's face. Both the shade of the girl's skin and the cast of her features speak of a Mediterranean heritage: her nose is a little long, her cheekbones high, her complexion a mild olivine tan. Her eyes are not dark, but a peculiar shade of hazel-green. She is of a middling height for a woman, perhaps five and a half feet, lithe and lean, all whipcord muscle with barely an ounce of softness.
She wears a simple tunic of undyed, soft-tanned deerskin: a single hide with a hole in the center for the neck, belted at the waist with some sort of woven fiber; it hangs in a ragged, uneven fall that barely covers her thighs.
The two of them are plainly visible on the trail ahead, locked in an urgent kiss. Safi has a hand between them, the caress invisible but obviously aimed where it will do the most good; Jack has a hand up under her tunic, lifting the suede almost to her waist and exposing the smooth curve of thigh and buttock, his fingers pale against her darker skin. They are not likely to notice if a herd of elephants rumbles by, to judge by the depth and intensity of that embrace.
Serendipity strides along the trail, humming softly to himself -- half under his breath. He looks lost in thought -- at least, he does until the scene ahead catches his eye. He smirks, with a silent laugh, and shifts his trajectory a bit -- no longer right along the path, on a collision course, but off slightly to one side, toward a large rock perhaps twenty feet from the pair.
The kiss breaks, and the two lovers seem lost in touching--Safi tips her head back, and Jack rains down kisses on her throat. Jack's murmuring voice is faintly audible, though Safi's whisper is not. The young man dips his head to the angle of her neck again, and bites it before speaking to her again softly. From the different angle, Ren catches sight of her arm, between them--wrist disappearing past the waist of Jack's loose, unfastened trousers, her hand stroking him.
Safi drops slowly to her knees, her touch lingering, hand flipping over to lie flat on the joint of his hip. She closes her eyes and takes him into her mouth, without a moment's hesitation.
Serendipity arches a brow and gets comfy, crosslegged on the rock, elbow on his knee, chin on his hand, watching the unexpected show. The other arm drapes lazily across his other thigh, and he proves that, contrary to popular belief, he =can= sit quiet and still when he wants to.
Jack's mouth drops open in an almost disbelieving smile, and he tightens his hands around her, as she moves over his body and then descends on his sex. "Oh, you... oh. You beautiful girl..." he mumbles, closing his eyes and shifting his fingers through her hair.
Eyes closed, Safi loses herself in it, both hands caressing his hips and occasionally drifting down to his thighs.
Jack starts to rock his hips gently, unable to help himself. His fingers grip in her hair, unknowingly tight, and he tilts his head back, lips parted, his breathing a mist in the air.
Look -- it's a statue of a Coyotekin. Well, except for the breathing. Which, admittedly, is a touch more pronounced than it might usually be. Ren's attention is well-caught.
It does not take long--though an effort is clear in the tightening of Jack's expression, as he tries to hold back. Safi moves faster, the particulars of her attention concealed by the angle and the fall of her hair--though he catches a glimpse of her hand, tightening on the curve of Jack's hip and then roaming in an aimless caress. A soft, muffled whimpering might reach the eavesdropper--an animal sound, rhythmic and faint. By the time his climax comes, Jack has a visible sheen of sweat beading his forehead, evaporating fast in the frozen dryness of winter. His eyes open wide, unfocused.
Safi shudders, and her nails claw into the bare skin of his thigh.
They are frozen for a moment, both shivering; then Jack lets out a low, contented sound, as his body relaxes in the afterglow. He runs his fingers through the girl's hair, picking apart tangles and taking out bits of leaf and pine when he finds them.
Carefully, Safi releases him and draws his trousers up again, tying them in a bow. Her eyes are large, liquid, as she looks up into his face; the line of her throat shifts as she swallows.
"My sweet girl," Jack murmurs, looking down at her with eyes at once intense and vulnerable.
Movement then, but just a little one -- the pink tip of a tongue flicking out to moisten dry lips. Otherwise, Serendipity's still unmoving, still silent -- if there's any temptation to interrupt, it goes unfulfilled for the time being.
Safi wets her lips, and rises to her feet, a smooth, graceful movement, though she has been kneeling for a good ten or fifteen minutes. She kisses his cheek, one corner of her mouth tugging upward in a smile as Jack's arms slide around her.
The Garou holds her tight, ducking his head to her shoulder for the space of a long breath. Then he releases her, and turns to stride away quickly, northward.
Safi watches him go, with a glow still in her eyes, a soft smile touching her lips.
Serendipity does shift position now, quietly -- sprawling lazily on his side on the rock in a position that would probably have been rather uncomfortable to remain in as long as he's been there, but looks properly casual and cinematic. He makes it look comfortable enough, too -- for now. He lets Safi gaze off for what he judges a fair time -- nearly a minute -- before his voice breaks the silent, light and amused. "Evening, beautiful."
Safi glances to the ground. "Hello," she murmurs. There is no sign of startlement; after a moment she turns to look over to him. There is a slight flush on her cheeks, one that can't quite be attributed to the late-afternoon sun.
Serendipity flashes her that brilliant grin of his, and glances off in the direction in which her lover's disappeared. "So that'd be the fabled Jack, huh?" he inquires, thoughtfully, "Still don't see why you'd wanna let him cage you up..." but after a moment's consideration, winks at her. "Not bad, though. I'd do 'im." He stretches like a cat in a sunbeam, and sits up on the rock.
Safi does her best to adopt a haughty expression, despite the fact that she is flushed and perhaps a little angry. The result is almost comical. "You should leave," she says. "Jack said if anyone saw, they would leave."
Serendipity smirks a little, and shrugs, reaching up absently to release his hair from the ponytail and comb it out with his fingers. "Yeah, well, gimme a while, and eventually he'll be right. Didn't say =when= they'd leave, did he?" Eyebrows arching just the tiniest bit, he adds innocently, "Or maybe, he was just plain wrong."
Safi purses her lips slightly, and crosses her arms. "I am going, then. Before he comes to look. I do not want him to see you."
"Why?" Ren teases, shaking out his hair, then pulling it back into place again, apparently satisfied with it, "...Worried I'll steal your boyfriend?" Another grin, and he rises nonchalantly. "So where're you goin', then?"
Safi's eyes narrow and she scowls darkly. "No. Worried that he will hurt you, for touching me. Or for... looking." There is a strange twist of pain and anger written across her features, as she steps back away from him.
Serendipity goes suddenly and sincerely serious, lifting his hands spread open toward her, showing them empty and observable. "Hey, I promised I wasn't gonna touch you. No touchy. You don't hafta go stand in Europe." He drops his hands, slipping them into his pockets, and tosses his head insouciantly. "And if he's got problems bein' the Sunday matinee, he oughta watch where he performs. Not =my= fault." A sidelong glance, then, with a sly half-smile, "...nice t' know you care 'bout my well-being, though."
Safi wets her lips, and backs off another step. "I do not want for anyone to be hurt, because of me," she says quietly. "I make enough hurting wis' people already." Without another word--not even a goodbye--she turns and begins walking, up the slope, toward the mountain.
Serendipity watches a moment, considering, and then calls cheerfully, "Knew you liked me. G'night, beautiful." With that, he turns and heads the other way, singing something to himself.