Sanya leaned back in the chaise, one leg crossed over the other, fully aware that this posture made the gossamer wisps of her dress draw back along her smooth, carefully maintained fur – but to her dismay and slight annoyance, the alchemist across the room maintained her air of quiet dignity, the lioness keeping her eyes downcast and her focus on the mixture she worked in the pestle. The pleasant scent of cool herbs and warm incense swirled about the dim space, the clear, sharp light of the desert sun slanting in through thick curtains drawn to just the right spot for the caracal in the lounge seat to look down across her own bare footpaws.

And she licked her chops, pursed her lips, smiled… spread her toes, rolled one of the rings around a toe, nudged one of the fine chains back into its proper place along the top of one footpaw, tilted her other so that the lacquer along her claws caught that light and glittered with the same rich, metallic gold. She slid her tongue across a sharp fang, tilted her head the other way, paused in thought, then glanced up to the alchemist again.

“Samira."

“Yes, my queen?"

“Will this take much longer?"

“No, my queen. In fact, the salve is nearly complete." There was the distinctive clink and tump of stone first on stone, then on smooth wood. “All that remains is activation, and then… oh, five minutes, and I will no longer occupy your time."

“Mm." Sanya tilted her head back and now shifted, reaching one leg out towards the edge of the chaise. “And how was it you said that works?"

Samira hesitated. “I must… chew the mixture, as the active compounds in saliva serve to-"

“Activate it. Yes."

“Unless you would prefer to do it yourself, my queen?"

“Oh, no." More jingling of delicate jewelry as she waved a paw. “I could not deprive you of your duty, Samira. I do… so ache, and seek this relief…" For show she stretched out her pawpads again, toes stretching apart.

The lioness's green eyes, seeming to glow on their own in the dimness, flashed down to the tender pads and then up again. She scooped the medicinal mix out of the pestle, bunched it into a ball, then nestled it into one of her cheeks and began chewing. Even from here the queen could smell the cool, sweet herbal aroma, mint and rosemary and a little bit of anise, and then that touch of alcohol and oil… Samira rolled it to the other side of her mouth.

“Would you prefer the willow or the birch, for the application?"

“Mm." The queen licked her lips again. “Apply it manually."

“My queen?"

“It's already in your mouth." She stretched her toes again. “Use your tongue. And your lips. Everything you need to ensure full coverage. I trust you, Samira."

A brief pause in the chewing – and then the lioness dipped her head again, stepped around the counter, and approached the caracal queen. She hesitated for barely a moment before then dropping down at the foot of the chaise, one paw coming forward to lift Sanya's footpaw by the ankle; the queen purred softly in her throat and leaned into the motion, pushing downwards, stretching her toes apart.

“Don't be shy, now…" And she lifted herself up a bit to get a better angle. Samira, still chewing, knelt down at her feet, paused to lift her hood back – sleek, silken fur glittered in the shaft of sunlight – then paused again as she shifted the activated mixture to the front of her mouth.

Then another moment in spreading it across her tongue, and she opened her mouth, draped the tender pink muscle out, glanced up at her queen once more, and then with one paw gently clutching the royal footpaw, leaned in. First her nose nestled between spread toepads; Sanya thought she felt the slight of soft inhalations, gentle breath tickling at the sensitive fur in between, and then the lioness's sandpaper tongue came in and pressed against her footpad – and she couldn't help but roll her head back on her shoulders and sigh out in sweet relief.

Another breath puffed between her toes; she realized that, on the first contact of the cooling mixture to her sore paws, she had squeezed her footpaw against the lioness's muzzle – and as such the queen pressed down against her a little bit more firmly, grinding in against Samira's chin, pinching around her nose. The lioness brought her other paw up to better support the queen's footpaw while she worked, tongue dragging across plush, supple pads to smear the mixture into place, then dipping back into her mouth to both rehydrate and to prepare the next portion.

As she moved away from the main pad of the caracal's footpaw, firm yet surprisingly gentle fingers came up to massage the mixture better into place, squishing and squeezing at the soft flesh. Samira sighed out, her breath warm and humid against the cooling sensation of the medicine; green eyes briefly focused in along metallic jewelry, studded bands, hanging chains, and lacquered claws, and then she swiftly and decisively drew one of Sanya's toes into her mouth, subsuming the digit in sweet, delicious damp warmth. The queen covered her mouth with one paw, eyes closed, breath catching in her throat: this time that deft tongue danced all around instead of just across the pad, rolling that ring back into its initial orientation and then even slipping underneath, tugging it briefly upwards.

Sanya couldn't help but curl her toes downwards, digging that lacquered claw against the flat of Samira's tongue. The alchemist swallowed around her toe, held there for a moment, and then drew back, letting her tongue fold around the claw as it went. Green eyes glittered again; Samira straightened up, tilted her head to find the next bunch of mixture, and then leaned back in to continue.

She's used too much, Sanya thought, somewhat breathless as she watched. She stretched her toes apart. She'll have to prepare more. Does she know that she-

Then another drag of sweet, cool sandpaper tongue, this time between her toes as well as across the pads, and the queen's head rolled back on her shoulders with a soft purr rumbling in her throat.