brave_kreyu (
brave_kreyu) wrote2024-03-19 08:36 pm
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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.
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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."
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"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.
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"Want to see you come apart for me."
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"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.
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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.
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(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."
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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.)
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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.
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"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..."
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"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."
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"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.
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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?"
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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.
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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?"
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"Better view," he says. "If I want you closer again, I'll ask...I'll tell you."
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She settles down at the other end of the bed,facing him, with her wings spread for balance. Her legs are open wide, her body on display, Her eyes half close as she cups her breasts with both hands. "Good enough view?" she asks, voice low and breathy.
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"Perfect." His smile is honest and encouraging, but his eyes are dark with want. "Better already, than the vision in my head."
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"Mhm, Skellig," she moans. "Like your hands on my breasts" She gently 'pinches' her nipples between her fingers and twists them a touch. It DOES feel good, imagining that he's touching her. Her breath catches in her throat for a moment as she rubs a nipple. "Just like that, darling."
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Laying back on his elbows isn't good enough; he moves to sit up - moving slightly further from her, but it is a better 'perch' for him, drawing his legs up so that he can wrap his arms around them, elbows resting on the outside of his knees and chin resting on his folded hands.
It also allows his wings to be free, as he watches her. Studies her every movement, every motion. Making note of what brings her the greatest pleasure.
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She accidentally brushes a finger across a nipple, makes a small sound of pleased surprise. "Yes. oh yes."
One hand drags down her stomach, slow and teasing while the other keeps stimulating her breast.
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