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 catches his wicked smirk, but doesn't get what he's implying. "How would you do that?" she asks, slightly confused.
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A flush raises through his cheeks and chest.
"Ah..." He clears his throat, having to consider just how he is going to explain this to her. "I would seek to bring you to release as I did before...but rather than with my hands..." His fingertips twitch slightly as she hits a spot on his bicep. "I would use my mouth and tongue."
Feast upon.
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She starts working on other sunburned places with careful hands. "Would it work, if I feasted upon you?" she asks, curious. "I could not fit all of you in my mouth at once, not in this shape, but I did not have my hand on all of you at once either."
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His flush deepens as her careful hands work over his forearm, as the image of her mouth and hands moving over his cock filters through his brain, and he has to cough to clear his throat, settle his...feelings.
"I would gladly, once we finish with the balm," he adds. "I...will have recovered, sufficiently."
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Most of Skellig got burned today, so she has lots of ground to cover with balm.
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Her joyful spirit and the eagerness in her soul are also helping, in an infectious sort of manner. So are her hands, working over his reddened skin, soothing the dry patches and scrapes, scuffs from the fight.
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"I don't know if it would work if you managed to find your way home, but knowledge is never wasted." She doesn't want to think about him leaving, but she has no right to try and 'trap' him here.
"Almost finished, except for your back. Your clothing protected you a bit, especially below the waist."
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"That could be useful," he admits, nodding. "I typically have to seek out places where there is joy, hope. Or create it myself, which can be...difficult, at most times, doing what it is that I do." Healing is difficult, and wearing on a soul. "I have few friends who...help."
(The haze in his brain is still clouded, and refuses to part, to reveal 'home' to him. Perhaps this is where he is now stuck in place. He is not sure.)
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She coughs slightly. "If you want a place of your own, I can help you get set up there too. Or you could stay with me." She works on applying balm to the last places. "There would be gossip, of course. Well, more gossip. For some of them, merely bringing you into my home would have left them convinced you were mounting me like a bull does a cow.
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Skellig huffs, indignant.
"Let them think what they would like, but you are far more deserving than that sort of treatment from a man. Like a bull..."
Yep, still disgusted.
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"Let them hear from my cries just how well you are treating me?" And even saying those words makes her flush so very red, imagining what he might do with her to PROVOKE that kind of noise.
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"Your voice...would carry quite easily past the wall," he comments. Innocently.
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"You wouldn't know anything about what might prompt me to be that noisy, would you?"
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Since she is finished with the balm, he shifts his body, turning back to face her on the bed. His hands fall to her thighs, to the bottom edges of that kilt, while leaning in to press his lips lightly against hers.
But he does not kiss her. Instead, he whispers.
"Skin feels much better...I thank you."
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Posture is...tricky.
He kisses her, as he considers the logistics on a bed of this size. He would like her to keep them. With a hand, he reaches up and trails his fingertips along the leading edge of one of her wings, letting her feathers glide under his touch.
"We will find ways."
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"How would you like to begin devouring me?" she asks, voice low, tinged with want.
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He presses his lips to the hollow of her throat.
"I quite enjoy it when a partner takes hold of my hair," he adds. "Guides me where they wish for my mouth to wander."
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She threads her fingers into his hair, careful, then tugs ever so slightly to the left. "Like this?" she asks.
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"My scalp is tough. You won't hurt me by pulling a bit," he adds. There are scars, hidden beneath his hair, that she may find if she allows her fingers to explore as she's working them through the strands.
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Her fingers explore as she works them through his hair, find scars that she tries to soothe with her fingers. "Your mouth feels lovely," she tells him.
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She can guide him all she wants. This is about pleasuring her, right now. His turn will come next. He does tip his head into her hand as she runs across a certain scar that was clearly at one point a split along the back of his skull.
(A bootheel, though he'll not tell this version of her that story.)
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She rubs that scar, hoping to ease it, as she guides him to the nipple of her other breast. "Wonder what would happen if you took that in your mouth and sucked," she suggests, voice breathy.
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They aren't anywhere near that point yet, but he has a suspicion that the further down her skin he sinks, the less control he may have of his impulses and fine motor skills.
But he is in no hurry, with the sounds she makes as he sucks at her breast, teasing her nipple gently with his teeth.
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The neighbors are definitely going to hear some of the sounds she's making as he teases her nipple with his teeth, the cries loud and the right pitch to carry.
Eventually, it becomes too MUCH stimulation and she has to reluctantly guide his head down to her ribs, her belly, her hip bones.
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