brave_kreyu | OOM: All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness?

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.

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Beauty is timeless, and ageless - stronger and older than magic. He thinks she is beautiful, every inch of her, but if asked to name a favorite part of her - it would be her eyes. That is how he is caught, whenever he looks at her and she looks at him.

Having to restrain himself is slightly maddening, but he feels the way her body tenses around him, hears the way her breath catches in her throat, and he manages to hold his body firmly to the bed beneath him, his hands settling on her hips.

"Easy, love..." He urges. "Just...go easy, s'okay."

Edited 2024-04-01 03:12 (UTC)

She nods in understanding and takes a breath to steady herself. Then she rises again, slow, and descends only slightly faster. And again, and again, and it's a rhythm now, steady. Perhaps not as fast as he wants it, not yet, but she's riding him.

Truthfully, with as good as she feels wrapped around him - she could sit still, straddled upon him and he would find a way to satisfy his needs and wants. Anything extra is just a bonus, and one he is very grateful for.

But her moving on him, riding him, feels very good.

Where it was her who was making the majority of the noise earlier as he devoured her with his lips and tongue, it is now him who makes the noise, groaning happily as she sinks upon him, pulling in a deep breath with each shift of her hips and roll of her pelvis, praising her as she runs her hands over his stomach, bracing her weight against him. He keeps one hand on her hip to guide her rhythm (and to feel her reaction as he allows his hips to buck upwards, unable to completely hold back his wants) and trails the other to her chest, cupping one of her breasts in his palm, fingers toying with her nipple gently.

Oh, she loves the noises he makes, his praise, his bucking hips.

"Mmmm, just like that," she tells him as he cups her breast, toys with her nipple, bucks his hips in one particular way.

She speeds up their rhythm, gives him more. "Feel like I could ride you all night," she purrs. "Would you like that, me riding you until the sun comes up?" She...probably can't ACTUALLY do that, however good it feels right now.

"Would love that," he grunts, pulling in a deep breath as she sinks down and grinds against him. "I'd have you take me right here, until sunrise..."

He bites his lower lip, eyes dark with want - he knows he couldn't actually do that, but the image is still quite appealing in his mind's eye.

"Then we could hide from the sun, resting here in each other's arms...find other ways to entertain ourselves."

(He knows she has obligations, but his brain doesn't care about them right now, not with the way she's giving herself over to him.)

She moans, grinds against him. "You paint such lovely pictures in my mind, Skellig."

She speeds up a little more, goes a little harder. "One night, when I have no obligations the next day, I want to ride you just like this, but with my hands everywhere on your wings."

Her grin is wicked, hungry, "I bet they'd hear your ecstasy in Amikaya on the sea."

Skellig groans loudly at that image, obviously aroused by the thought in combination with the way she's moving against him.

"I would say...let them hear me," he laughs, low and dark. "I'd care not, what they would think of my cries."

It is for the best that for now, her fingers are out of his feathers, because she is already driving him closer and closer to his edge without even having to touch them. His breath hitches as she presses against a sensitive spot on his ribs, but it is pleasure, not pain.

"I am...I am not usually so vocal..." he stammers, though it is simply a statement, not an apology. And one that is cut off short by a loud groan that is pure pleasure and want mixed with lust, passion, and dozens of other things. She is making him feel so very good and he cannot stand it, his grasp on control slipping.

Her hips drive her down onto him, a little faster. "Come whenever you like, love, don't worry about me."

"Want to see you come apart for me."

Part of him would protest her words of don't worry about me, but he knows she is merely speaking with more logic than his brain would prefer in his moment, this space. He wants to make her come apart for him, but she is in control, riding him in such a way, giving him pleasure in a manner that he has never found with another partner (that he can remember) before.

"Won't take much--"

And it doesn't. Letting himself relax beneath her, he allows himself simply to feel her body, allows himself to listen - there are no distractions in this space, his focus entirely on her body and his body - and then he lets his control falter, slip further.

"Yours--" is all he manages to gasp out, the rest of his words lost in a pleading, desperate cry with his release, waves of pleasure overtaking him as he falls apart beneath her.

(He has the enough presence of mind to quickly bring his one of his hands up to his torso, covering one of hers that she has firmly braced against him. Tangling their fingers together, grasping for something solid to hold - something to keep him here.)

Your mate.

Edited 2024-04-01 04:28 (UTC)

The look on her face is very satisfied when he comes apart for her. She doesn't come with him, but she can feel that she's close.

She keeps their fingers intertwined, leans down to kiss him. She's sure she could make herself come quite easily, as worked up as she is, with the sight of him thoroughly fallen apart from pleasure underneath her. But she decides to forgo that, for now.

He works to return the kiss when she leans in close to him, but his 'effort' is much more lazy than his usual intensity, muted by the haze of the afterglow and endorphins that are pulsing through his veins.

(If he sounds a little drunk when he speaks, it's just the Karma and Light talking.)

"You--" he lightly squeezes her hand. "Are incredible."

Kreyu laughs softly. "And you are incredibly biased," she replies.

She curls up with him, her heart and her body still thrumming with arousal. She's in no hurry to satisfy herself though, not right now. There is a certain pleasure in delaying gratification. (And if he is too tired to be able to give her another release, perhaps he might like to watch her give herself one? Time will tell.)

"This helped...kept me from wandering off," he says as he lightly taps his chest with their still-joined hands, over his heart. "Will have to remember that for next time."

Because there will most definitely be a next time.
And a time after that.

Skellig sighs happily as she curls up against him, though the fact that her body is still wanting is not lost upon him.

"I'm glad," Kreyu replies. She kisses him on the cheek. "There is more power in touch, in holding hands, than I would ever have guessed."

"Your heartbeat is strong for me to focus on." He smiles when she presses her lips to his cheek. "I've gotten good at finding it with my ears, but having it beneath my fingertips is less effort."

"You can pick out my heartbeat specifically?" She's curious.

Even with the low level of light in the room (the fire has been long-starved of fuel) she may be able to see - or at least feel - the flush rising to his face.

"I...I can," he admits, sounding a bit sheepish. "It is the rhythm that drives your life, and I found it comforting last night, when I was still feeling...lost, not knowing where I had found myself, if this was real or simply the afterlife..."

"I'm glad it gave you comfort," she replies. "I just didn't know my heartbeat was specific enough that it COULD be picked out so readily."

He's still mildly embarrassed with his next admission:

"Well, it takes...some practice," he admits. "But I was listening, as I worked to pleasure you, and I could hear...your heart's response to my actions, and it allowed me to focus closer on it, commit it to memory."

A pause.

"And I don't always listen, but when I did tonight...I used it to better pleasure you."

(Is that cheating? He's not entirely sure.)

Skellig swallows and looks over at her.

"I can tell you're still...wanting."

"Oh, I wondered how you read me so well." Some of the mystery is revealed!

"It's alright, Skellig," she reassures him. "We don't have to do anything, if you don't want to. WANTING is hardly going to kill me."

She flushes. "And I have other options, if I'm desperate. I'm relatively sure I could please myself, now that you've taught me so much about what pleases me." She glances away. "You could even watch, if you wanted to." She's gone as red as her complexion will allow.

Edited 2024-04-02 00:02 (UTC)

"It's not that I don't want to do..."

And then he trails off, momentarily distracted by the image she has just put into his mind. He's forced to clear his throat to snap himself back into focus. That is something that he actually had not considered as an option, with her.

Raising one eyebrow playfully, he keeps his voice at a low grumble.

"...just how lucky would I have to be for you to be really desperate?"

"If you WANT to watch me pleasure myself, not very lucky at all." She's flushing so dark. "I didn't think you'd want to look and not touch."

"Honestly? Neither did I, until you put the image in my head, and now I can't get rid of it."

It is obvious that he is NOT complaining. He does 'touch' however, by drawing his hand up the curve of her hip, settling his fingers against the small of her back.

She laughs. "I'm glad I can give you new ideas."

She leans into his touch, trails the fingers of her hand that isn't holding his over her chest. "Should I stay right here or position myself so you have a better view?"

His contemplation is brief, but his answer is clear - as he untangles his fingers from hers, releasing her hand from his grasp.

"Better view," he says. "If I want you closer again, I'll ask...I'll tell you."

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