brave_kreyu (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
brave_kreyu) wrote2024-03-19 08:36 pm
brave_kreyu) wrote2024-03-19 08:36 pm
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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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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She may not be touching him, but she's still turning him on, adding to his desire and want with every movement of her hand and fingers over her body. He is torn between focusing his gaze on the hand she has at her breast versus the one she is trailing down over her stomach, because he knows where that one is headed.
He huffs, a pleased sound, smirk growing on his lips.
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Her breath comes faster and she makes little whimpering noises of pleasure as her thumb circles her clit. She tilts her head back, as if to offer more of her neck to someone standing behind her.
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Shifting his jaw, he allows his chin to fall to rest on his knees, one hand sliding between his legs to touch his cock, stroking lightly - while he said he was simply going to watch her, he never made any claims about not touching himself.
"Love touching you," he mutters, voice thick. "Love feeling the way your skin jumps under my fingertips."
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Then she sees him touching himself and her breath catches in her throat.
She adds another finger to the one circling her clit. "So wet already," she exhales a deep breath.
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(It's mingled statement; a question, a suggestion, a promise, all mixed together.)
"Or do you need more?" Now he's teasing her, with his voice. "Do you want me to touch you until you're right at the brink of release, then take you as my own? Lay claim to my dragon?"
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"I want you ready for me," he says. "I want you so very close, so very wet--" He moans, a little breathless, before he shifts his body forward, moving onto his hands and knees now in front of her. Stalking. Waiting to pounce. "You've already made me come twice. Do you think you can make me come a third time?"
That might be a challenge.
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She adjusts her gaze to meet his and her eyes are violet again. He can hear all the little noises her fingers make as they slide in and out of her, the little gasps, the breaths that catch, her thundering heart.
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(It's close at one point, but he doubts either of them would care if they hit the floor.)
And his mouth is on hers, hard, possessive as he pins her underneath his weight, sliding his hand between their bodies, his fingers replacing hers inside her, stroking eagerly.
She wanted more?
She's going to get it.
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The noises she's making as she kisses him are obscene, full of want and need. The fingers that she had inside of her, still wet with her arousal, find his cock, stroke him. If he wants to come a third time, she's determined to give it to him.
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The only time he stops kissing her is when his lungs scream for air; he breaks away (mildly frustrated at himself) and presses his mouth to the side of her neck beneath her ear, nipping with his teeth hard - enough to leave a faint mark without actually breaking skin.
(She'll be able to hide it with her hair, if she so chooses to do so.)
"My mate."
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"Want you," she gasps. Her strokes on his cock become quite insistent, as do her movements against his hand.
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(Her neighbors have no idea how lucky they are that she warded the walls against sound escaping, because neither of them are bothering to even attempt to stay quiet.)
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She does want more soon enough, violet eyes wild and dark with want. She shifts her body to coax him to thrust in and out of her, to give them both what they want so much.
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His kiss, his touch, his rhythm one that matches what she is asking him for.
All he wants from her is for her to find her release, her pleasure, wants to feel her come beneath him and around him.
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The violet starts to fade from her eyes again as she comes down, as she clings to him.
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(While his 'stamina' may be better than that of a standard human, he is still subject to the limits of his body, and he is completely and utterly worn out - in a very, very good way.)
He likes the way she clings to him, and he doesn't bother to change that as he settles on the bed with her - though this time, he is doing a bit more of the 'sprawl', content with his treasure, his prize.
"...don't think I'm gonna be up for a fourth anytime soon," he teases quietly, pressing light kisses to her shoulder.
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"Might just fall asleep on top of you."
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A low laugh.
"Unless of course, you are in your dragon shape...but then I still do not think I would be in any shape to complain in that instance either."
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She snuggles closer, feeling so very sleepy and sated.
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"I do not fear you," he reiterates, pressing his lips to her skin once more, before sighing. He is already drowsy and so very comfortable. Sleep will not be difficult to find, in this state.