Wait a while

You're not sure, really. Instinct tells you to kill her, but some niggling feeling in the back of your brain tells you that this is an opportunity you can't pass up. Instead of being paralyzed by indecision until the cultists make their rounds, you decide to deliberately wait until the cultists make their rounds, and in the meantime see if you can get your clothes back.

...That doesn't go so well, unfortunately. With as much as she's damaged them just trying to put them on, and how tightly they're clinging to her, your shoes are about the only thing you don't manage to clumsily shred with your claws, and you can't bend far enough over to put them back on, anyway, leaving your belt the only scrap of cloth left between you.

With that a loss, you while away the next several minutes enjoying the warmth of the elf cleric's body, and by 'enjoying the warmth' you mean 'molesting her thoroughly'. With your body lush with chi as it is, you get some feeling through your skin, and she's just so tantalizingly smooth and soft! It starts out with you just feeling her up, but you quickly find yourself getting hooked on the sensations, and you end up just splayed out all over her, rubbing your bodies together with reckless abandon in an uncharacteristically unladylike fashion.

She even, as you discover inadvertently, tastes good! It's an exotic sweet-and-salty taste you're not familiar with, but she seems to be secreting it all over as she shudders and squirms under you, so you explore her body anew with your tongue and renewed vigor; you've been paying special attention to her breasts, but when you reach her hairless groin, she seems to have begun secreting some other form of ambrosia from her swollen lips. You're beginning to feel some strange, unfamiliar sensations from the same areas on your own body...

It only takes a few moments of your viciously attacking her pussy with your tongue for her to reflexively buck her hips into you with a strength you didn't know she had in her, spraying that delightful nectar all over your face. She might even be better than fresh meat! Unfortunately (unfortunately?), you hear the familiar sounds of the cultists' swamp boat approaching just then, and scramble to haul yourself to your feet, simultaneously ecstatic and frustratingly unsatisfied.

As the robed duo run up towards you, you try, largely in vain, to lower your arms enough to protect your modesty, smiling sheepishly at them.