brave_kreyu | OOM: All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness? -Part Two

OOM: All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness? -Part Two

Kreyu intended to dance in the sky with Skellig the very next day, but events have conspired to prevent that from occurring. A raid on the village by former soldiers meant many wounded to heal and much damage to fix. Akatan's sister, Neferet, has a definite crush, an infatuation, with Skellig. She hasn't done anything but look and exchange some friendly words, but it still makes her brother FURIOUS.

For all that Euripedes was from a different time and place, a line he had Medea speak in the play of the same name still rings true: "I would rather stand three times in the line of battle than once bear a child." Even with Kreyu's magic, with Taweret's skill, childbirth is incredibly dangerous. There are reasons why Taweret's goddess image of She Who Is Great has elements of the hippo, the lion, and the crocodile, a fearsome appearance to drive off the many threats facing a woman giving birth. The second birth in a week began this morning and was still going on when the sun began to set. Not a good sign.

Skellig, trying to burn off nervous energy while Kreyu was working, happened across a few of the village men drinking. They said things about Kreyu they should not have said. That he was FEEDING on Kreyu, drinking her blood. There...may have been a fight. At least they don't think he's a demon anymore, you can't give a demon a black eye in a brawl with your fists!

It is truly night now, and Skellig can hear Kreyu's tired footsteps on the road...

(OOC: Warning for explicit adult content starting around tag 194.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The pleading look DOES have an effect, though she would have kissed him without it.

She steps up to him, puts a hand on his face, claims his mouth with a kiss. She's careful at first, soft, but the kiss grows more intense, HUNGRY, as time goes on. He wanted a kiss, so by the gods she's going to give him a TOE-CURLING kiss!

The hand she places over his heart while she kisses him is partly for balance, partly because she knows he likes it when she touches him there.

Edited 2024-04-09 00:29 (UTC)

The kiss starts soft, and he matches it equally with intensity - a little surprised when she pushes it further, then further still - he realizes then that he likes this side of her, this part of the dragon that she's letting rise to the surface.

(And his toes do actually curl a little, gripping the blanket.)

Wrapping one arm around her back, he pulls her closer to him, not breaking the kiss. Eventually he takes a step back, goes down onto the blanket - how exactly it doesn't matter, physics and reason are out the 'window' when you're dealing with a dragon and an owl and two pairs of wings. He's on his back, she's straddled across his stomach, his arm still tightly around her, her lips on his and her hand pressed firmly against his heart.

She's content enough to straddle his stomach for a while, but she can only maintain the intensity and the kiss itself so long. Even dragons have to breathe!

"I couldn't resist that pleading look in your eyes," she tells him, gasping a bit for air. Her grin turns slightly wicked. "Was it good enough to make you ready for me?" Her tone with the last question is slightly teasing.

Skellig is more out of breath than she is when they break apart, the stars in his vision not entirely the ones that light the sky above her, brief flashes and crackles in the corners of the darkness.

"Yeah...yeah it was." He's laughing breathlessly, a little delirious, his energy intoxicated with her Karma.

To prove it (as if she wouldn't believe him?) he shifts his hands to her hips, pressing her back slightly - his cock brushing up against the curve of her ass. The look in his eyes is definitely less innocent, now.

"More than ready."

Her grin is wicked, hungry, when she feels his cock brushing up against her ass. "Certainly feels that way."

She shifts her position, touches his cock lightly to confirm that he's slick with her oil. Then she takes his cock in hand and slides herself onto him, slowly and completely, without ever breaking eye contact.

She lets out a satisfied sigh. "You fill me up just right, Skellig. Think I'll just keep myself wrapped around your cock until I make you come." She leans forward, shifting him ever so slightly inside of her, to breathe her words against his lips. "Or maybe you'll convince me that you NEED to be ridden before that happens, hm?"

Even on his back, he's still able to flare his wings out enough to give her full access to the most sensitive spots that are closest to his body on the 'underside' - and he certainly paints a picture of the 'fallen angel', splayed out beneath her just-so.

Her whisper against his lips is enough to cause his eyes to force themselves shut, blocking out the 'visual' in an effort to regain a bit of control.

"Being ridden," he pulls in a shallow breath as she shifts against him. "Sounds very good. I...I'll convince you of that. But first I want...want you to start slow."

He reopens his eyes, looking at her. "Just touch me."

He looks so lovely, so tempting, from her current position.

The wildness in her energy decreases when he asks her to start slow, the violet in her eyes less intense. "Of course, love." She cups his face with both hands, then lightly explores with her fingers as if she's trying to learn his face by touch. Two fingers rest lightly on his face, just touching his lips, while her other hand explores his neck, his throat.

She dances the fingers of both hands across his chest, teasing, exploring, brushing against his collarbones, his nipples, but never for very long.

His breathing settles as she starts to move her hands and fingers over his skin, the sparks clearing from the corners of his vision, his focus returning to the feelings her touches bring to his body.

(It is her fingertips lightly on his face as she traces over his features that he finds the most erotic, for reasons he isn't entirely certain - perhaps it is in part because he feels as if with her, he does not have to hide his reactions, does not have to shift his expressions to fit a certain 'mold' or 'status quo'. He is free to simply be himself.)

This is not frantic, this is not frenzied. (Not that there is anything about frantic or frenzied sex that he dislikes - there is a time and place for it. But this is different, and he likes it very much.) This is calculated and precise, detail-oriented. Subtle shifts of his hips beneath her body, his back lifting off the blanket as she grazes her fingertips over his collarbones.

His own hands seek to trace patterns on her wrists and forearms, not interrupting her actions, just adding to them if she'll allow it.

She can tell that he really likes her gentle touches on his face, so one hand keeps doing that when she isn't running those fingers through his hair.

Her breath catches when he traces patterns on her wrists and forearms. "Feels good," she tells him. She digs the fingers of her other hand into the downy feathers on the inside of his right wing, just leaves them there for a bit.

Edited 2024-04-09 03:10 (UTC)

He shifts his right wing slightly as her fingers dig into his feathers, allowing them to settle around her touch, relishing in the way the contact feels. Others have touched his wings before (this he remembers) in ways that were not meant to hurt him, but the inside of his wings...that is different. Very few have gotten this close to him.

For many reasons.

"So does that," he says. Tipping his head into her hand as she cards her fingers through his hair, he nuzzles lightly at her wrist, kissing at her palm.

The feathers settling around her touch, the nuzzling at her wrist, the kissing at her palm feel erotic, potent, in ways she can't explain. They make her breath catch, make her shiver with pleasure.

She laughs softly. "I've got your cock inside of me to the hilt, and yet the feel of your feathers settling, the nuzzling and kissing you're doing, feel so very intimate, so erotic." There's wonder in her eyes, joy. "Am I just crazy?"

Skellig considers her question for a moment, and then he shakes his head, sighing as he realizes...

"No, you're not crazy. This...this is a different kind of..." He ponders how to explain it. "Sex does not always have to be this...this wild, hard, crazy experience." (Like every go of it that they've had together previously.) "Men will speak of it like it is some passionate...conquest, that is to be had with vigor and vitality. Strong and ruthless."

Pressing his lips again to her hand, her wrist, he smiles against her skin.

"But it can be like this, also. It is good like this - tender, and soft, and full of detail. I cannot put into words what it feels like, when your fingers run across my face...it is special. Private, intimate...it does not have to be shouted to carry across the waves or over walls...this is a different sort of passion...this is love. You are not crazy."

"Oh," she flushes, but there is understanding in her eyes. "Thank you, for explaining."

"May I kiss you, or would that be too much?"

"It would not be too much," he reassures her, voice quiet (but still wanting, very much so) as he smiles. "I would like that."

Leaning his body up a bit to meet hers, he shudders as their bodies shift where they are joined, a deep-seated pleasure still burning in his chest and torso. He allows his fingertips to graze her cheek, cupping her face in his hand as he rests his forehead against hers.

"You will find there are many ways you can bring a man to ecstasy," he whispers. "And while I am less...less experienced, in this sort, I am glad to get to explore it with you. We will learn together, what makes the other wild with pleasure...I would desire it with no other than you."

And then he kisses her, slow and gentle - still eager, still so very hungry and wanting with desire. But intimate and private, at the same time.

She shudders too, feeling him shift inside of her. The fire of her pleasure still burning strong.

There is more brown in her eyes now, mingling with the violet. This is bringing out a gentler side of herself, a softer aspect of her being. More human, perhaps, though that's a treacherous phrase at the best of times.

"I would be glad to learn this together with you even if you had no experience at all," she assures him. She wonders, idly, who the people who gave Skellig this kind of experience were. (If only to make a mental note not to punch them in the face should she run across them.)

She returns his kiss, matching him. Slow, gentle, eager, hungry, wanting, intimate and private. When they break apart to breathe, she's smiling. "This reminds me of my first time. You were so very gentle, so careful, so patient, with me, despite my being in your lap on a chair."

In terms of DAYS, that wasn't all that long ago. It likely FEELS longer, given the events of the past few days.

"That..." he allows his mind to slip back to that moment, her pressing her body against his touch so very eagerly, her excitement and his nerves mixing together to bring them both a great deal of pleasure. "That was very enjoyable."

He smiles, laughing under his breath.

"My body appreciates better being beneath you on this blanket," he admits. "But at the time, I was not going to suggest your bed so soon. It seemed it would have been too forward of me."

It feels much further back in their past than it truly is - but she has grown, they have both grown so much. Grown as individuals, and as partners.

"Yes, yes it was," she agrees. "Something to revisit one day, perhaps."

She laughs. "I can tell. I like it too, can feel so much more of you this way."

She kisses his neck softly, gently shifts the hand in his feathers. "I feel as though I have the finest feast laid out before me, and I can't decide which dish to sample first."

She meets his gaze. "Is there somewhere you would like to have me touch or taste most, right now?"

Skellig sighs, contentedly - shifting his hips a slight amount beneath her to continue to 'spur' his arousal. (Though it isn't as if he needs any help - something in her preening oil against his cock has made him extra responsive to her touch, and she feels amazing, surrounding him as she is.)

"Your fingers, there...in my wings. I have always protected those feathers..." The delicate, inner layers of his feathers, the ones more prone to harm - his voice holds a sense of vulnerability, though there is no fear or anxiety in it. "Those I do not allow just...just anyone to touch."

But he is giving himself fully to her.

"But I would have you touch them, the way you are," he adds, quickly - not wanting her to misunderstand his meaning. "It feels...right."

Edited 2024-04-10 01:06 (UTC)

She flushes. That he is willing to be so vulnerable with her means a great deal. "I'm honored," she tells him.

She's careful, so careful, with the inner layers of his feathers. Touching, exploring, fingers teasing down to the skin, mapping the anatomy of his wings, his feathers, with her fingers.

"So soft," she muses aloud. "I bet they would feel lovely against any part of me."

"I would wrap you in them." He breathes. "Cover you and claim you as my own."

But with him on his back like this beneath her, he is at her mercy, and from the way he is groaning under his breath with pleasure with every sensitive spot she hits - he is not complaining about it.

Her breath catches at his words, heat and want surging in her body. She has to swallow, twice, before she can speak. Her voice is a little shaky with arousal. "I, I would like that. Later, perhaps?"

Every little groan he makes gives her pleasure, and she wants to explore his wings THOROUGHLY. Eventually, she's run through all of the inner layers of feathers that she can reach on that wing. She shifts to the other, this time having a better idea of where the most sensitive places will be. She plans her paths accordingly, wanting a slow build in pleasure for him as she explores.

"Later," he promises, with a brief nod, a light in his eyes.

He forces himself to hold her gaze for long stretches (as long as he can manage, though there are points throughout where he has to break the contact, look away to the stars and focus his mind elsewhere) while she pleasures him by stroking her hands over his feathers and skin. He is reading her expressions, the delight that flickers through her eyes when she hits a particularly 'good' spot on his body, the pleasure that crosses her lips as she moans when he squirms beneath her.

She is building him slowly towards ecstasy, just as she promised - even if this is not the wild and frantic vision he had played out in his mind when she first mentioned it, it is perhaps even better. Because this he can savor, relishing in the connection, the hold and grip she has on him.

"Kreyu," he breathes, dropping his head back, shoulders pressing firmly to the blanket beneath them. "Please...please don't stop." His hips are already begging beneath her, subtly rocking against her. Wanting more, needing more.

"Shall I ride you with my hands in your wings, love?" she asks, voice breathy. The subtle rocking against her is teasing her own pleasure higher.

He is tempted to answer that with not words, but by leaning his body up and grabbing hold of her, catching her mouth in a fierce kiss that would 'explain' quite clearly what he would like to say.

But he cannot bring himself to hardly move more than his hips in response - begging her - with the way every nerve ending in his upper body is aflame, burning with an invisible fire.

"Y-y-yes." He stammers, heart jumping in his throat.

She makes a soothing sound. "It's alright. I'll give you what you need, love."

She buries a hand in the downy feathers of each wing, then rises up off of him slowly. She moans softly when only the tip of him is still inside of her. Then she lowers herself again. "Gods, you feel amazing," she tells him, voice shaky with arousal.

She rides him, slowly, the motions drawing sounds of pleasure, of desire, from her. She doesn't dare move her hands in his wings much, but they do shift a bit as she raises and lowers herself off of his cock.

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