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.)

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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.

"Just need you," he mutters cheerfully, his words wavering slightly - she may recognize him as being a little 'punch-drunk' on arousal, his energy mixing with hers and bringing him an extraordinary amount of pleasure to this moment. "You're right here with me."

And he knows that she has hold of him, so he's allowing himself to 'let go' and simply enjoy it.

Every motion of hers, he meets with his own, and he eventually 'settles' enough to bring his hands up to her wrists, sliding his fingers over her forearms, guiding her hands to shift in his wings to right where he wants them - the places he groans loudest, the places that cause the brightest sparks in his chest.

"That's it, show me what you want, love," she says as he guides her hands. She teases those spots. "Keep hold of my wrists, Skellig, don't want you to wander." Her words are rougher now, broken by gasps and moans.

She speeds up, rides him a little harder, a little faster, rocks her hips a touch every time she takes him all the way in again.

"Not gonna go anywhere," he shakes his head (just a little too quickly, the world briefly spins around him until he refocuses on the sky above them, trying to solidify his 'location' using the bright white pinpricks of stars against the black) and tightens his grip ever-so-slightly on her wrists.

"Not without you. No wandering."

He's making a greater effort to control the waves of pleasure that are coursing through his veins, wanting this to last, wanting her to also find her ecstasy with him. With her riding him like this, his body exposed to her, no concerns about who or what might hear his pleasured cries...

"With you," he gasps. "Want to stay...stay with you. You've got me."

"Good," she gasps. Touching his wings, his hands around her wrists, riding him harder and faster.

He feels good, so good, but she wants him to come before she lets herself go over the edge.

"Come for me." The tone is half command, half plea, tone dark with Want.

He was already close to finding his release, but with that amount of Want in her voice, the path is suddenly much clearer - lit in part by the image of her body moving over his, backlit by an endless sky plastered with infinite stars.

"Kreyu."

Her name falls from his tongue like he is praising the most powerful being he has ever known - and in this case, it is likely the truth. It is a swear, an oath. A promise and a prayer, and so many other things.

And his breath catches hard in his lungs as he finds his climax, arching his body beneath her as he comes, grip tightening on her wrists - but not enough to hurt her, never would he hurt her - as he falls apart under her touch.

Edited 2024-04-10 03:28 (UTC)

The way he says her name, the weight and power in it, winds the pleasure so tight she can't HELP but come when his body arches beneath her with his own climax.

Her body tightens around him as he falls apart. She can't manage the coordination to keep riding him as he comes, it takes every bit of will to not just collapse onto him.

She lets her torso slide down on to him, slowly, presses her lips against his neck. She's trembling a little, wings shaking as she spreads her wings out over them both.

There is much power in a name.

Her name is echoing in his head as she presses her lips against his neck, and he can hear it reverberating with each thud of his heart against the inside of his ribcage, with each rush of blood that pulses through his body. He is falling apart beneath her and at the same time, pieces of his soul are finding their way back into place, the bond strengthening and tightening between them.

Skellig is slightly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of energy that is in his blood. It reminds him of the way he felt as her blood was filling his lungs, but in a way that does not cause him panic or fear. Just the all-encompassing Karma spreading out into his bloodstream, carried along by the cells as they worked to heal his wounds, fix tiny spots of damage along their pathways they traveled into every crevice of his being.

His arms wrap around her instinctively, pulling her body to him as her wings cover them. She is his, and he is hers. But something is different, their blood intermixed, Light and Karma tangled together but not fighting for control.

There are no spots in his vision, the only stars in his eyes the ones above them.

There is much power in a name, and much power in the ritual they have unknowingly enacted here, with earth, sea, and sky as witness. Perhaps they have only ensured he need not fear 'wandering off' again within his mind, only helped him adapt to the power in this new world.

Perhaps they have done far, FAR more than that. He has offered up everything he is to his dragon, and he was joyously accepted. (A sacrifice, a sacred marriage, a binding rite.) Perhaps he has bound himself to her for all of time in a way no other being ever could. (Tied himself willingly, EAGERLY, to an immortal by blood, by oath, by power.)

Changes should be expected, most likely.

She snuggles against him, less aware of the changes than he is.

She may not be as aware of the changes as he is, but they are coursing through his body like wildfire, his skin crackling beneath her touch as she snuggles into him. It is a welcome feeling - comforting him, surrounding him - and one that he appreciates greatly, especially given how his mind is running on overdrive.

And his body.

Skellig is shaking slightly beneath her, wrapping his limbs to hold her close. He knows something has changed, he just can't figure out quite what it is. Everything which before was slightly hazed and fogged is now crystal clear, which is mildly overstimulating - her skin touching his, her feathers against his body, her breath against his neck. All of it is laser-sharp in focus.

"I am yours," he whispers. "All of me." He presses his hands against her skin, his lips against her forehead. He sounds a little desperate, a little frantic as he speaks, but it is more his emotions taking charge. "I am yours, Kreyu. My dragon."

The shaking, the desperation and frantic energy in his voice, worry her greatly. "Are you hurt, love? Did something frighten you?"

"No, I am not scared."

His hands might be trembling, and his voice may still sound a little 'off', but there is also a resolute determination to his voice. Something more knowing and powerful than he quite understands, just yet. It is just nervous energy that his body has no idea how else to expel...

"And I am not hurt," he adds, reassuring her. "It...I am not sure of why I feel as I do, this is just extra..." As he sighs, another release of this extra energy, his body shudders beneath her. "...energy. It is as if...everything is sharp, all of my senses are in focus at once. That has not happened before, after a climax - typically it is the opposite."

The energy is a good thing. His voice is steadying, even as he continues to ramble a bit with his words, trying to explain just what it is that is coursing through his veins.

The relief in her voice is palpable. "Extra energy, not something bad."

"I'm so glad." she admits, voice shaky. "I was afraid I'd...damaged you, somehow." She holds him close, tightens her grip just a little.

"Was it your wings, maybe? I would guess you haven't, haven't had someone touch them like that before?"

"Nobody has ever touched my wings in that way," he agrees. "You are right about that. Never have I allowed someone that...close."

Close.

Something clicks in his mind as he speaks, as if a piece of the puzzle has fallen into place: Close. She is closer to you and you are closer to her.

Skellig tilts his head, trying to listen in an effort to make better sense of not only his body, but also his feelings, his mind. Then something else clicks, and this one hits a little harder, causing his breath to catch in his chest sharply: You have been missing parts to your soul for so long. You go as to where you are needed. Searching. But now you do not need to search. You have found a missing piece. It is her. He tips his head back, trying to catch her gaze with his eyes. There is relief in his expression when he looks at her.

"Oh, Kreyu," he whispers, reaching up to stroke her cheek. "I...I am no longer lost." There is gratitude and relief in his voice, along with a power that speaks of how much this means to him. "I am...I am exactly where I belong. With you. I am yours."

Her joy for him when he says he is no longer lost is a brilliant thing, warm as summer. "You were lost for a long time?" she asks, softly.

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