brave_kreyu | OOM All Skate Skellig Dream Magic Weirdness -Part Three

Playfully, he growls and nips at the hollow of her throat - leaving no marks, of course - and then laughs.

"I do not know if I am yet recovered enough to last for hours, though I am certain your efforts will make it pleasurable regardless. You always manage to coax more from me than I am expecting," he praises her. "I am a very lucky man to take such a wife."

She flushes at his praise, but she's clearly pleased. "And I am a very lucky woman to take such a husband."

Her hands wander his chest, tease his collar bones. "Might be prudent for this dress to come off, before I rumple it thoroughly pleasuring you," she suggests.

"Thankfully that was the next item on my list," he says cheerfully. "I would help you do so at once."

And he does that, sliding the linen from her skin - and he does move away from her to carefully drape the dress over a chair, to keep it from wrinkling in the overnight hours. And when he turns back to look at her...well, he just studies her, pleased.

"A vision, you are."

Kreyu kicks off her sandals.

She flushes further at his gaze upon her, then stretches temptingly. "You might want to remove your kilt too, while you're there."

Skellig works on both his sandals and his kilt in short order, taking his time to fold the kilt linen oh-so-carefully before placing it on the chair with her dress. After all, it wouldn't do for his clothing to be wrinkled either...

He's definitely lingering on purpose.

"Almost forgot," Kreyu says. She stretches again, and her wings manifest, stretching with her.

She can tell that he's lingering on purpose. If he wants to look as opposed to touch, that's fine. She sprawls, moonlight shifting over her skin, cups her breasts in her hands, spreads her legs wide.

Even as much as he'd like to tease her, tempt her by lingering and just looking at her body...she is something he is unable to resist, especially in the state they are both in.

Skellig walks back over to the bed, crawling up beside her (still slowly) and settles, draping one leg over hers, his arm across her midsection, allowing one of his hands to join one of hers on her breast.

"If I were an artist of any sort, I would wish to capture your image with more than just my eyes," he admits, pressing his lips to her shoulder, his thumb caressing her nipple. "But I am not, so my eyes and mind will have to do."

"There you are," she says, smiling, as he crawls up beside her. One arm wraps around him immediately, caressing his back. The other leaves her breast when he caresses her nipple, runs through his hair.

"Your eyes and mind will more than do, Skellig." She luxuriates in the feel of his hands, his lips, on her.

"Shall we kiss for a while, let our hands wander where they will?" she asks. "Or would you rather have my mouth somewhere else first?"

"I would kiss you for awhile," he responds. "Then we can decide where your mouth would travel next." (Or his, for that matter.)

Kissing is intimate, deeply personal, and something that Skellig enjoys very much on a basic level - especially when it involves her mouth on his, a give and take of control, shared breaths and quiet sounds of pleasure.

And with his ears 'off', his sphere of focus limited to just this room and their shared space (he trusts that this place is safe, because clearly she has made it such and he can sense the Karma that lingers in the walls) and it makes it all that much easier to pay his attentions to her with his mouth, lips, tongue.

They spend quite a while kissing, touching, stirring the embers of their desire. Her hands wander all over him, his chest, his stomach, his wings, his arms, his hair.

At some point, they roll one another over so that he's underneath her. "Would like to get you ready for me to put my mouth on your cock," she whispers against his lips, between kisses. She kisses his collarbones, his nipples, licks and explores his chest, her wings mantled over him.

He is tempted to reply with I am always ready for that but he does not, instead sighing happily as her lips graze his chest, her wing feathers hovering above their bodies.

"My body appreciates your attention to detail," he says honestly, allowing his head to tip back into the soft pillows of the bed, chest pressing upwards slightly to meet her kisses. And it is obvious with the fire burning in his chest, the heat spreading across his skin, that she is doing just that, making him ready for her.

She laughs, low. "I'm glad," she purrs. She teases his abdomen, licks, kisses, gently scrapes her teeth across his hip bones.

She's kissing his thighs when she has an idea. "Would you move down to sit on the end of the bed for me? I'll be right back."

She sashays over to the trunk with their loot bags in it, and retrieves a silk cushion taken from Heka's hoard. "I intend to be on my knees a while, best to be prepared, no?"

He is halfway to sitting at the end of the bed (he's moving slowly, simply because he's taking the time to watch her walk away from him) when she retrieves the cushion and her words filter into his brain.

His skin flushes deeper, and he laughs, low and husky.

"I would insist on your comfort above all else," he replies, cheekily as he finishes his move to the end of the bed, bringing with him a pile of pillows to rest his back against if he ends up needing to.

It is clear he is excited at the prospect of whatever it is she intends to do to him, from the light reflected in his eyes.

She clearly likes his cheekiness, and that fact that he's brought pillows to rest his back against. "As I would insist upon yours," she replies, equally cheeky.

She struts back over to him, a wicked gleam in her eye. She judges positioning carefully as she stands before him a moment, then places the cushion in the best spot on the floor. She kneels, slowly, never breaking eye contact.

Kneeling is often considered a position of subservience, of vulnerability, of lesser before greater, but there is none of that in her body language, in her energy, as she kneels before him. She spreads her wings, for balance, mouths the inside of one knee while one hand strokes the other.

Her body language and her energy that she is radiating as she kneels in front of him is nearly as arousing as the feeling of her lips touching the inside of his knee, her fingers on his other. His stomach jumps, a shiver running down his spine, toes curling slightly.

Maintaining the eye contact is a bit tricky, but he manages.

"You will have to forgive the scars," he comments idly - there are none that are too awful (that she hasn't already noticed anyway) but his skin is littered with small faded ones, scratches and pockmarks that serve as evidence of time spent on the ground. There are nothing he is ashamed of, they are simply part of who he is.

(His memory stretches to recall how he got some of them, but it comes up hazed again.)

"There is nothing to forgive," she tells him, between kisses up his thigh. "You are lovely, to me, just as you are."

When her mouth has ALMOST reached his balls, she stops, switches to working her way up his other leg. "I think I can almost taste the honey that was in the soap, on your skin, and the cinnamon. Another layer of complexity to your taste."

When she's worked her way up almost to his balls on the other leg, she stops for a moment, grins. Then she flicks his cock with her tongue ever so lightly.

Edited 2024-04-20 01:28 (UTC)

It is taking him quite a great deal of restraint to keep from squirming wildly beneath her touch; as it is, he shifts beneath as she works her mouth over his inner thighs.

However, all his restraint breaks - briefly, his body jerking and his fingers clenching in the sheets beneath his hands - when her tongue flicks from her mouth and grazes his cock.

He also swears (pleasured) in a foreign language, words grunted from between clenched teeth. If she didn't know how good this was making him feel (because she most definitely knows) she might worry he was uncomfortable, but the underlying laugh in his breath helps with any of those fears.

"My dragon is feeling inspired this evening."

"Very inspired," she purrs. Is there a hint of violet in her eyes? it would be hard for human eyes to see it, in moonlight, but it's there.

She places one hand on the inside of each of his thighs, then puts a gentle kiss on the underside of the base of his cock. She traces the blood vessels with little flicks of her tongue, keeping eye contact with him as much as she can.

Skellig shifts a little closer to the edge of the bed, his stance widening in response to her touch on his thighs. (He can see the violet in her eyes, and it only helps to further his want from his dragon's touches.)

She is driving him absolutely mad with pleasure, and she's barely just started with her mouth on him - he knows he's doomed. His grin in response however shows just how unworried he is.

"Love the things you spark in my body with your tongue," he whispers. "It's like lightning on my skin. Crackles."

Kreyu makes an inquiring sort of noise as she licks his cock from base to tip. Wouldn't lightning hurt? Well, unless you're Elihu who just finds it invigorating.

She teases the head of his cock with her tongue, licking everywhere, searching for the most sensitive places on a place that is already quite sensitive to begin with.

"That is wicked--" He sucks in a sharp breath, holding it briefly in his lungs before he exhales with a hint of a groan alongside. "--so very wicked and I, I love that. Love you."

Rambling is going to become more common, the more she works to tease him with her tongue - which she really is quite skilled with.

She likes his rambling, so that's just as well. And hearing him say that he loves her makes her heart beat a little faster, makes her feel warm. (She KNOWS he does, of course, but words are important.)

She takes the head of his cock in her mouth at last, bobs her head a few time, testing the water. But she's not done with wicked ideas, not yet. She folds her wings in front of her body as if they were her arms. She strokes the parts of his cock that aren't in her mouth with her wings, feathers sliding up and down his shaft. Her hands touch his balls, light, not sure if this will be too MUCH on top of everything else.

It isn't too much, in comparison to some of the ways she has rapidly brought him to climax (and sent his mind into a hard reset) previously during their escapades, but it is a lot of stimulation. His self-control wavers briefly, and given the pleasured cry that escapes his mouth...it is good that there is solid soundproofing of these walls, and that any sounds that might escape will not cause nearly as much of a stir as they would in their village back home.

Here, they are expected and encouraged!

His heartrate quickens and his breathing increases to more of a pant, and he brings one hand up to allow his fingertips to brush her feathers, teasing softly (and grounding himself with something familiar).

Oh, Kreyu LIKES that cry of pleasure, the sounds he makes, she moans around his cock in an encouraging sort of way. She shivers at the feel of his fingers in her feathers, a tingle of want going down her spine. She keeps going, keeps doing what's she's doing with her wings, her mouth, her hands.

She wants to get him close enough to climax that he can almost taste it!

When he's close, she takes her hands away, folds her wings back behind her, lets him slip out of her mouth. She draws a few deep breaths. But she doesn't go back to his cock. One hand works on his right calf while her mouth kisses his left calf. Light, teasing, touch while he drops back from the edge a bit.

Skellig rewards her efforts with several other near-breathless cries, his voice nearly pleading at some points for her to keep doing what she is doing...which she does not.

He does not hesitate to growl playfully in 'frustration' as she backs off, even though he knows what she is wanting to do to him - and he also wants to make this last, let this wave of pleasure cascade over him for longer. He gets it, he truly does. But that does not mean that all the parts of his brain have to agree with it.

His muscles are well-defined in his legs, and he appreciates the attention they get - even before arriving in the desert, wandering on foot, most all of his travel has been under his own power. When one does not drive, and one cannot simply step sideways between worlds, or he has been unable to fly...he walks.

Sometimes, he just walks for the sake of it.

"I deserve this," he mutters, knowingly, as she flicks her tongue across his skin. "I cannot blame you for it."

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