OOM: All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness?

[brave_kreyu]

(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.

Comments

[27_53]

Skellig sits up slightly and then turns to shift on the bed, tucking his wings firmly to his back to allow her better access to the tops of his shoulders and the back of his neck.

"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.)

[brave_kreyu]

"Then I shall show you in the morning," she declares. "The empty house across the way would work for that. And a ward to keep out snakes and scorpions."

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.

[27_53]

"Mount you as a bull does a cow..." he utters, voice low. While she cannot see the expression that crosses his features, she will likely be able to sense the disgust and disbelief (similar to that he had when she told him what the village youths said about becoming impotent after laying with a 'witch') in his tone. "...I would not."

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.

[brave_kreyu]

She kisses the back of his neck, softly. "Perhaps you could show me what kind of treatment I deserve, hm?"

"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.

[27_53]

Skellig considers this, tipping his head slightly and listening beyond the walls of the dwelling they currently inhabit. There is very little noise pollution here, and compared to the constant sounds of a bustling city, it is practically silent to his ears, minimal feedback reaching his senses.

"Your voice...would carry quite easily past the wall," he comments. Innocently.

[brave_kreyu]

"Would be most unfortunate for my neighbors ears if I were inclined to make a great deal of noise for some reason," she comments, tone innocent but eyes sparkling with mischief.

"You wouldn't know anything about what might prompt me to be that noisy, would you?"

[27_53]

"Wouldn't know a thing." Skellig replies quickly, all-too-easily. And not at all truthful.

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."

[brave_kreyu]

"You are most welcome," she whispers back. She eyes the bed speculatively. "Is there enough room for me to keep my wings?" The bed isn't large. They both fit on it, but the space isn't exactly generous.

[27_53]

"That is up to you. I have...learned how to get creative, myself, though I have never laid with another with wings such as ours."

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."

[brave_kreyu]

She shivers as his fingertips trail along the leading edge of her wing. "I'll keep them, then."

"How would you like to begin devouring me?" she asks, voice low, tinged with want.

[27_53]

"I would have you lay back as much as you can..." Skellig shifts his body on the bed, negotiating carefully in tandem with her movements to adjust their position comfortably. Settled between her legs, he comes to rest on his knees. "And allow me to give your form the attention it warrants."

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."

[brave_kreyu]

Kreyu lays back as much as she can, lets his eyes feast upon her form.

She threads her fingers into his hair, careful, then tugs ever so slightly to the left. "Like this?" she asks.

[27_53]

"Mmm, just like that, yes." He follows her 'lead', allowing his lips to wander over her skin, seeking out her collarbones, the point of her shoulder, the swell of her breast.

"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.

[brave_kreyu]

She exhales sharply as his mouth reaches the swell of her breast. Curious, she pulls on his hair, hopefully not enough to hurt, coaxing him down toward the center of her breast.

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.

[27_53]

He moans a happy, small sound of acknowledgement - but he doesn't speak, as his mouth is otherwise occupied as he seeks out her nipple with his tongue and lips, teasing gently.

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.)

[brave_kreyu]

She moans, low, loud, when he teases her nipple with his lips and his tongue. Yes, yes, she would like him to stay here for a while, let her nipple harden under his tongue. Let him draw all kinds of noises out of her.


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.

[27_53]

"Let's find out," he replies, doing just that as instructed, while allowing one of his hands to slide up to the waistband of her kilt, working at loosening the tuck and fold that holds it to her body.

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.

[brave_kreyu]

The kilt doesn't give him too much trouble, pulls away to leave her entirely open to him to explore.

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.

[27_53]

He scatters kisses along her body as she guides him, following an invisible trail that he feels somehow he has wandered along before. There is a spot at the edge of her ribcage that causes her breath to hitch in her chest, a patch of skin on one side of her stomach that causes her to groan and arch her body towards him, and each hip bone brings different pleasures to her system, and his.

He slides his hand along the outside of her thigh, sinking deeper, tapping his fingertips lightly against her leg.

"Over my shoulder," he says, motioning for her to hook her leg up, her calf running along the top of his shoulder, her heel coming to rest against his spine near where his wing meets his body. Lightly, carefully he strokes across her clit with his fingertips first - she is clearly aroused, and wanting more from him - before he ducks his head and replaces his fingers with his lips and tongue.

Let the neighbors think what they want to think. He could care less.

[brave_kreyu]

She lifts her leg over his shoulder as instructed. And oh, OH. She can't be quiet, she can't, not when his licks and kisses feel so good between her legs.

Her hands tighten in his hair and she whimpers. "Please, please." Her hips move toward him seemingly of their own volition. So warm, so wet, so eager for him to devour her as he pleases. (Has he tasted her before? Could he ever get enough of the taste of her on his tongue, her pleasured cries?)

[27_53]

Her hands tightening in his hair elicits a reaction in the pit of his stomach, a smoldering fire sparked by a crackle of light and is stoked by the flames of want, need, and desire. Every whimper and pleasured cry that escapes her throat (though is it truly escape, if she's not holding them back?) simply serves to fan the flames, encourage him to give her what she wants.

Bringing his arm up to wrap lightly around her thigh, he grazes his nails over her hip, not hard enough to scratch (he would not mark her) but just enough to give the idea to her mind. A predator - catching, consuming his prey.

[brave_kreyu]

Her hips buck toward him when he grazes his nails over her hip. If she is prey, she will let him devour her gladly, eagerly, begging him for more with her body and her voice.

Her body quivers under his hand, his mouth, she's close. Just a little more, and she will come for him for the second time. Or, he could slow down, devour her more slowly, leisurely. Maybe make her beg some more.

[27_53]

Heart hammering in his chest, and lungs screaming, he breaks away from her with a low, possessive growl, kissing his way along the inside of her thigh as he pulls in a shaking, hungry breath of air. Her scent is intoxicating and dizzying, her energy coursing over him like a persistent ripple in an endless pool.

(Skellig may not be a 'mortal' by the common definition of the word, but he does still require oxygen on a routine basis, a fact of which his lungs tend to have to remind him of. Something in his mind tells him: breathe, my love. Her voice?)

"Never can get enough of you," he pants against her skin, blinking spots from his vision as he works his lips across everywhere he can reach on her thigh, tipping his head into her hands that are still buried in his hair. She wants more of him, and he'll give it to her...but he has to breathe. breathe "Enough of your touch. Of your taste..."

[brave_kreyu]

The growl makes her shiver delightedly, as do his words.

But the fact that's he's practically gasping for air worries her. "Did you forget to breathe?" she asks, worry and laughter fighting for dominance in her voice.

[27_53]

"Little bit."

Breathlessly (still, but improving) he laughs softly against her skin, still panting.

"Is like you're...intoxicating, to me," he adds. "Once I start, can't bring myself to stop." Which may explain why even as his lungs expand in his chest, his body pulling itself back into some form of 'order', he's still planting kisses on her skin, licking the sweat (their sweat) from her body, tasting whatever he can reach.