brave_kreyu (
brave_kreyu) wrote2024-03-19 08:36 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
OOM: All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness?
(OOC: Warning for explicit adult content, mention of noncon/rape, slavery)
Is it a dream? A glimpse of a universe that might have been? A story untold?
Something called Skellig out here, to a road scratched in the earth between the desert and the land irrigated by the river. The sun overhead is like a hammer, the heat murderous. His coat...he can't remember WHAT happened to his coat. In this heat the coat would be as strange as his wings to human eyes in any case.
There are two small mud-brick houses up ahead, then more road, and a mud-brick wall encircling a small village of mud-brick houses.
He needs a drink, desperately.
He hears footsteps coming toward him, the heat haze breaks to reveal a woman. (Except she can't be a woman, no one human has that much Light inside them, that much power.)
"Even one touched by the gods should not be walking about this time of day," her voice is all concern, all worry. She's wearing a white linen kilt around her waist, and nothing at all above it except a necklace of blue clay beads. She's lovely. (And she feels familiar? Why?)
She offers a hand to him, seemingly not concerned in the slightest about his wings.
Is it a dream? A glimpse of a universe that might have been? A story untold?
Something called Skellig out here, to a road scratched in the earth between the desert and the land irrigated by the river. The sun overhead is like a hammer, the heat murderous. His coat...he can't remember WHAT happened to his coat. In this heat the coat would be as strange as his wings to human eyes in any case.
There are two small mud-brick houses up ahead, then more road, and a mud-brick wall encircling a small village of mud-brick houses.
He needs a drink, desperately.
He hears footsteps coming toward him, the heat haze breaks to reveal a woman. (Except she can't be a woman, no one human has that much Light inside them, that much power.)
"Even one touched by the gods should not be walking about this time of day," her voice is all concern, all worry. She's wearing a white linen kilt around her waist, and nothing at all above it except a necklace of blue clay beads. She's lovely. (And she feels familiar? Why?)
She offers a hand to him, seemingly not concerned in the slightest about his wings.
no subject
And then she speaks. And he has to take a brief moment, a heartbeat, to consider her words and just how she has spoken them to him.
"I would gladly teach you," he says honestly, motioning to her to come closer; when she does, he pulls her to him, guiding her to sit on his lap. His hand settles at her hip. "But to start...I have no doubt in your ability to satisfy me. Men...we are much more...straightforward."
To say the least.
"I would ask that I be taught how to best please you."
no subject
"Really?" Men being more straightforward is definitely news to her. "I am glad of a bit of straightforwardness here, I think."
She flushes at his question, heat and want stirring at the idea of him pleasing her. "I, I don't know if I can teach you that, as I don't know it myself," she admits after a moment of thought. "I've tried touching myself before, but it only made the wanting stronger and it was never ENOUGH."
no subject
His hand on her hip remains in place, though he begins to draw slow circles against her skin with his thumb, the contrast of the woven linen and her bare flesh helping to keep his focus in this moment.
"And I will teach you what brings mine."
A pause.
"You must promise me, this...if at any point, anything that I do is unpleasant, or makes you unsettled...you will speak up. I do not think that will be a concern...but if it is, I would stop, without argument."
no subject
She shivers at the feeling of his thumb drawing circles on her hip. It's a pleasant feeling.
no subject
With that issue settled, and with her already shivering under his touch, he uses his other hand to brush her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
"If you will allow it, I would kiss you?"
no subject
His lap is solid, warm, beneath her, and moving into a kissing position rather presses her breasts against his chest.
She's very careful at first, but her confidence grows over time, makes her a little bolder.
no subject
It is fun, and he quite enjoys it.
As she grows bolder, he deepens the kiss, and slides one hand up to cup her breast in his palm, massaging gently as she leans into his touch, thumb grazing her nipple slowly.
(Those idiot village boys have no idea what they're missing out on.)
no subject
She deepens their kiss, reaches out to touch his chest, explore, fingers light against his skin.
[They have no idea, but that just means he has her all to himself.]
no subject
When her touch hits his collarbones, she is rewarded, a low groan escaping his throat as he breaks the kiss briefly to pull in a shuddering breath.
"More of that, please."
no subject
She is VERY pleased with herself at coaxing such a thing from him, and applies a hand to each of his collarbones, the touch firmer, more lingering.
"Like your hand on my breast," she breathes against his lips during a short break for air. There's also a bit of vicious satisfaction that she's giving Skellig what those young men wanted for THEIR pleasure and will never have.
no subject
"I am happy to give you what you find enjoyable."
And frankly, what he also finds enjoyable - her body is a well-built form, and one that should be appreciated. His kiss shifts to her throat, mapping her curves with his mouth and tongue.
no subject
One of her hands exploring his collarbones brushes a nipple more by accident than design.
no subject
It is as if he knows how to allow his hands to slide over her body, as if he has already done this dozens of times, her form so very familiar to his muscle memory.
One of his hands shifts to her knee, sliding under the linen of her kilt to trace patterns on the top of her thigh as he moves his mouth back to meet hers.
no subject
She moans into his mouth as his hand slides under her kilt, traces patterns on her thigh. Her hips shift toward his hand, instinct or some echo of memory prompting a desire for more of his hand there.
Her kiss is hungry now, more daring, teasing with her tongue.
no subject
But at the same time, with her hips shifting towards his hand, there also also things he wishes to take control of.
Like his fingertips on her thigh, callouses brushing her smooth, delicate skin as he allows his touch to slide higher, to the curve of her body, to where she is practically begging for him to touch her without having to say a word. His own arousal stirs beneath his wrist, beneath his kilt as she shifts her body weight over him.
Tentatively, ever so cautiously (seeking permission without speaking, as his mouth is otherwise busy) he strokes his fingers over her, touching her in a manner that he somehow knows she desires to be touched.
no subject
"Please, please," she begs, her body aching with want. She can't get more words to cooperate right now, so she hopes he understands that she wants his hands there, wants more.
no subject
He fully understands, and her arousal and the waves of energy she is putting off as she begs for him is enough to make him feel as if he has just had several shots of strong liquor.
(In his mind, it is familiar, but only in the way that the roles are somehow reversed - as if she should be the one telling him to breathe.)
With his own focus growing stronger, he pulls in a deep breath, holds it briefly, wordlessly trying to coax her to mimic him - before he exhales. With his other hand, he obliges her want, her ache, sliding his fingers inside of her, setting a rhythm with his touch that matches the way her hips desperately move against his hand.
no subject
It takes a few tries before she manages to breathe with him, deep breaths held briefly followed by an exhale.
His fingers stretch her, but it doesn't hurt, feels so good as he starts to move them that she whimpers in pleasure. She's getting wetter, more aroused, with every motion of his hand.
no subject
Coaxing her to shift against him, he increases his pace slightly, allowing his body to rock slightly in time with his fingers, his chest pressing to meet hers.
my dragon
His mouth wanders to the top of her shoulder, and he traces an invisible line (there is a memory in that space, a trail he knows to follow even though there are no marks on her skin, no scars) with his tongue. Every sound she makes sense a ripple of pleasure down his spine, entices him to up the ante, increase the stimulation, give her what she wants.
no subject
The pleasure winds tighter and tighter and his tongue is tracing that trail on her shoulder when the first release she's ever had takes her. She makes a surprised inhalation, her muscles quivering, tightening around his fingers as they move inside of her.
no subject
It takes him a fair bit of self-control to refrain from pushing her further off the edge of her release, but he manages to refrain, somewhat. He can't help himself from continuing to work his fingers inside her, his pace slowing - not wanting to overstimulate her - but still gently coaxing her as she comes down from her climax.
He allows his lips to press lightly to her throat, before he leans back and tries to catch her gaze with his eyes.
no subject
And she really should have noticed Skellig's reaction to her earlier, but she was QUITE distracted. "Oh. I, what should I do for you?" she asks.
no subject
"You are welcome - and yes, it is quite pleasurable," he agrees, before he contemplates just how to best explain what he'd like her to do for him. He suspects that once she starts touching him, he will lose his ability to speak clear sentences as the ache grows in the pit of his belly. "Here...I will show you."
Reaching for her hand, he wraps his fingers around hers and then brings them up under his kilt, pushing the fabric aside before he places her hand to rest against his inner thigh. "It would please me to be touched, by you..."
And the most straightforward way to explain just how, is to demonstrate. With his hand, he lightly strokes his fingers over his cock, a shiver running down his spine as he touches himself. He wants his hand to be replaced with hers, but that will happen momentarily - after a brief moment of 'demonstration' of what he likes best, he reaches for her hand on his thigh, bringing their hands together to stroke over his length.
no subject
Her whole being is intent on what he's doing as he demonstrates, her hand resting on his thigh. She strokes over his length, guided by his hand. She's grinning already, pleased at the idea of pleasing him. "I like how you feel, under my hand," she tells him. "That you're like this because of ME."
no subject
Even though he is the far more experienced partner in this situation, there are still some things a novice can do that will drive the other wild.
"Clearly those fools have other issues that cause their weaknesses."
Impotence is not an issue, for one who chooses to lay with a 'witch' like Kreyu. Quite the opposite. But Skellig is content to let them harbor their beliefs - more for him to enjoy on his own.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...