Lemon-Lime Time
Lemon-Lime Sorbet #8. Role Reversal with Chopped Nuts and a Cherry
Story : knights
Rating : NC-17
Timeframe : N/A - though I guess, obviously, somewhere in the period where Rune and Lyssa were together
Word Count : 3879
This is... weird... like seriously, messed up weird, like it doesn't just get a cherry, it gets one of those freakish green maraschino cherries... cause it's just so wrong, though (hopefully) in an amusing sort of way... (yeah, I'm sure it's been written before, probably plenty of times, but I've certainly never gone there!)
Rune waved a hand through the quickly disapating cloud of purple smoke that burned his lungs and eyes. “I told you not to-” He clapped a hand over his mouth at the sound, not his own voice, but Lyssa’s. He paused a moment, thumb feeling out his cheek, the face against his palm familiar, though far too soft to be his. Still blinking amidst the fumes, he peeled the hand away from his lips, gaping in shock at the fingers splayed before him, short and thick and feminine. “… touch that,” he finished, barely above a whisper.
“Sorry, I-” He nearly leapt at hearing his own voice, coming now from across the room, though the sound was nothing to the sight of the willowy, blonde figure the last evaporating traces of violet mist revealed.
The body that was clearly his, even if he was not in it, looked itself slowly over. “Wait, I’m…?” Blue eyes narrowed as they focused on him, and the other twisted his lips into an expression he was sure they‘d never held before, however many times he‘d seen just that look elsewhere. “And you’re…?”
“Lyssa?”
The other him nodded.
“What sort of sick joke is this?” said Rune, venturing a cautious examination of the far shorter and thicker frame that now seemed to be his, complete with its full set of generous curves.
“Does this mean…?” said Lyssa, and Rune cringed at the tone his own voice carried. She gave the waist of her pants a sharp tug and ducked her head to peer inside, the grin that settled across her borrowed features inspiring a desire to dive under the bed. “Nice!”
“Lyssa!”
“What?” Pants still drawn, she turned to him, the look of such feigned innocence only she could muster in his own eyes.
Rune made to fold his arms across himself, but jumped as they came together far too quickly against the soft shelf of his breasts. Flustered, he rearranged them and made another attempt, only to find the wide slope of his new body still very much in the way. Cheeks burning, he shook out his hands, and hastily stuffed one behind his neck where a thick mass of copper swallowed it.
“That would be your first thought,” he said, trying his best to look indignant while he squirmed about in his new form.
“Actually, it wasn’t,” said Lyssa, finally dropping the pants back against her waist.
“Oh?”
“No,” she said. “My first thought was why is everything so damn cold all the sudden?”
Rune laughed, a halting, uncomfortable laugh, soon cut short as the sound of his new voice still disconcerted him.
Lyssa picked her way, on long, spindly legs, that she frowned at as she stretched and flexed them, over the broken bits of whatever it was strewn like so much smashed crockery across the floor. She slid past him, to the bed and turned to sit down. She folded her knees, made to seat herself in the air a good foot above the mattress, and tumbled, long limbs flailing as she thrust them out in some desperate hope of finding support, onto the bed. A few muttered oaths escaped her as she fumbled her way back to her feet. Slouching against the wall, she wrapped her arms across her front, scowling as she adjusted them once and then again.
She cast Rune and his new figure an appraising look. “So?”
He gave his neck a scratch beneath the wealth of ruddy curls and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “What?” he said.
The corner of her mouth twitched as her eyes settled pointedly on his breasts. “Nothing you need to examine?”
Rune followed her gaze to the curves in question, the low, swooping neck of the shirt he now wore, the sort Lyssa was ever fond of, leaving more than a fair amount of said curves exposed, and a flush spread to his cheeks. “I’ve, er, seen enough of these on you,” he said, bringing a hand to cup one just the same. He rolled the bit of flesh against his palm, a bit disappointed that the sensation was somehow not as satisfying as he might have expected it to be. All the same, it was a marvel to think he had such a thing suddenly at his disposal. The warmth in his cheeks flared.
“Do that again.”
Rune jerked his head up, the breast still nestled in his hand. “Huh?” He gave the thing a look and another cursory squeeze.
“Yeah, that.” She pulled the waist of her pants open and peeked inside again with a grin. “Has a mind of its own, doesn’t it?” she said, dipping a hand inside to fish about.
The heat rose all the way to his scalp and the breath froze in his lungs. He let his hand drop and swallowed hard. “Only when you’re around.”
“You know what we have to do now, don‘t you?” said Lyssa. She gave the contents of her pants another prod, and Rune set his eyes on the broken bits of metal and china scattered at their feet and tried to not to think about it.
“Uh, try to figure out how to reverse this mess?”
“No,” said Lyssa. “Well, yes, I mean, we’ll get to that. After I’ve satisfied my curiosity as to how this body of yours works.”
“After…” The fragments before him shifted into a terrible blur, and he tore his eyes from the mess to meet hers. “What?”
She was edging her way back towards him, a smirk set on her borrowed features that most certainly didn’t suit them. “Oh, please.” She stooped a bit to drag one long finger down the neckline of his blouse, and Rune swallowed hard. “Do I need to spell it out? There’s no one around, a perfectly good bed. Don’t tell me you’ve never wondered-”
“No!” He jumped as the finger slid from cloth to flesh. “I mean, I don’t know… I…”
She paused to fire him a look of amused disbelief.
“So,” he said, forcing Lyssa’s voice back into its normal range, “you’re saying you want…to make love…with yourself?”
“Well, I suppose,” she said, her hand sliding back up over his collarbone, tracing its way along his neck, curling itself around his jaw, “technically, it’s still my body.” She gave his cheek a pat, and he swallowed again, shuffling from foot to foot as his own eyes appraised him. “But you’re in it now, so it would still be making love to you, just not the way we’re used to.”
Rune staggered back a step and found himself quickly up against the bed. “I’m not sure I find the thought as appealing as you seem to.”
Lyssa frowned and gave the top of her pants another tug. “Well,” she said, peering at the contents once more. “I suppose I could just go try this out on someone else, if you’d prefer-”
“I most certainly would not!” She met his outburst with a far too innocent grin. “That’s mine,” he said, a shaking hand waved in the general direction of her groin. “I’d like to get it back without any diseases, if you don’t mind. And do you think you could stop acting, for even two minutes, like you’ve got a new toy?”
“You mean it’s not?” She thrust her features into a pout, and Rune couldn’t help but laugh.
“Do you have the slightest idea how ridiculous you look?”
Lyssa thought for a moment and burst into laughter as well. “Actually, yes, I think I can picture that quite well. I suppose all my usual tricks are out,” she added with a frown. She quickly closed the distance between them. “Wonder where that leaves me.”
Pressed in beside him, she slid one hand playfully along his neckline. Rune found his breath stilled, his eyes on her lips as they softly parted and began their decent. He gave his head a twist and ducked to the side, just as they made for his.
Lyssa scowled. “What?”
“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me,” said Rune.
Her hand persisted at his collar. “I’ll have done a lot more than look by the time I’m done with you.”
Rune flinched out of her grasp again. “But…” he said, “but that’s my face you’re looking at me with.” He eyed his neck and the roaming fingers there. “And those are my hands, and my…” His voice failed him as she followed his gaze to her hips.
Lyssa laughed and ran her hand back over his cheek. “So close your eyes?”
Rune raised a brow. “You think I don’t know what I look like?”
The hand fell away, accompanied by an agitated sigh as it balled into a fist at her side. “Come on,” she said, “we might be stuck like this. Don’t tell me you never want to have any fun again.”
“I…” He sighed. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”
The hand was back, stroking his cheek, toying with his hair. “You make it sound like some sort of chore.”
“I didn’t mean… I just…” He sighed again. “Where do we start?”
She brushed her hand slowly down his nose, the last finger straying playfully for a moment at the tip as a grin spread anew across her lips. “You could let me kiss you.”
Lyssa bent, her lips approaching, parted, her breath warm on his cheek as they neared. Rune drew a shuddering gulp of air and braced himself to meet them with his own. They fell together, colliding with force, softening against each other, both turning their heads one way and then the other, and Rune gave a silent thanks that she was too distracted by the awkwardness of it all to force her tongue his way.
After long, fumbling moments, they drew apart, each with a foolish smile and tongues working their way over their lips. “Is that what I taste like?” said Rune, warmth creeping into his cheeks again.
Lyssa laughed. “I suppose so,” she said, with a swallow and another slow smack of her lips. She looked him over quietly for a moment, and her brows knit. “I never realized I was so short.”
“Lyss,” he said, though he wondered at the fact that, as he leaned back a bit, he could lay both hands comfortably on the mattress, “everyone is so short.”
She frowned as she stooped again to brush her lips to his cheek. “It’s a wonder you can stand straight anymore at all.”
“You know,” he gave the bed a look, “it works best if I sit and you come to me.”
She laughed. “That’s right.” She settled, much more carefully this time, on the edge of the bed. “Well?”
Rune eyed his own form perched along the side of the bed, hands neatly folded in its lap, look expectant and eager, and shook his head. “This is wrong,” he muttered.
One long arm arced out to pull him near. “Just get over here and kiss me again.”
Rune found he had to bend, just in the slightest, to reach her. He put a hand to her cheek and bit his own against the urge to laugh. Leaning in, closer still, he closed his eyes and brought his lips to hers. Her mouth twitched against his, as if she were swallowing a laugh as well. A hand slid behind his neck, another around his waist, and held him to her.
The lips he knew to be his own kissed him with a force that could only be Lyssa’s, while her hands groped and kneaded up his ribs and down his shoulder blades. He drew back for breath, never daring to open his eyes, and, in a moment, she was on him again, her lips forcing his wide, hot breath flowing between them. Rune shifted his feet, his hands draped loosely over her shoulders, uncertain where else he might put them. They came apart and together again and again, in an awkward dance of fumbling lips and hands.
“Enough of this,” she said at last. Her grip on him tightened and he was tumbling towards the mattress, rolling beneath her, his eyes fluttering open to the sight of her approach. An awkward tangle of limbs, she climbed on top of him. Her lips kept at his, while her hands tore at his shirt, the fabric peeling swiftly away so she could force them beneath.
Eyes forced shut once more, he pressed his head into the pillow. Her mouth groped its way down his throat, while her hands kneaded along his ribs and over his hips, and he found himself alternating between gasps and groans of pleasure and the urge to laugh at the pitch and tone his voice now carried.
Lyssa’s hands settled at his middle, fingers plucking at the ties that cinched his shirt. There was a rush of air over his chest and the warm, wet press of lips against exposed flesh, and he let out a yelp, as portions of his new anatomy violently asserted their presence. He cast a nervous look to his groin, wondering if there might be some outward sign to the sudden tightness and wet he felt there.
If there was, Lyssa had yet to notice. Perched over him on one elbow, she was caught up in the thoughtful examination of the breast she’d managed to extract from his shirt. “You know,” she said, “I’ve never quite understood the appeal of these.”
“No?” he said, cheeks flushing. “You certainly flaunt them enough.”
She ran one long finger and then another over the exposed flesh, sending shivers through him as they passed. “Didn’t say I didn’t understand that they were appealing,” she said, as her palm slid round the underside. “Just that I don’t know why.”
She cupped her hand beneath and gave a firm but gentle squeeze, and Rune’s breath hitched with an unintelligible squeak. Lyssa met his eyes with a grin and squeezed again. “You like that?” she said.
Rune eyed the hand set to kneading him and his stomach pulled itself into even tighter knots. He squirmed, thighs pressed together, as he tried not to think about the growing ache between them. “This is so very wrong,” he said, each breath harder than the last.
Perched over him, all spindly limbs and unnatural grins, Lyssa laughed. “You do like it,” she said, rolling her hand over him more forcefully, and Rune let out a shuddering moan.
“Curse this body of yours,” he said, squirming and shifting beneath her. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
Lyssa laughed, the gleam in her eyes making him squirm even harder. “I know something else you’ll like.” Her hand slid from his breast, down his front, sinking with his abdomen at his sharp inhale, and pressed between his thighs.
“Oh, Lyssa.” His head sank deeper into the pillows as she kneaded her hand against his groin, his pants folding and bunching in the tight confines between her fingers and his flesh.
She rocked back on her knees to free her other hand so that she could pick apart the laces of his pants. Rune gritted his teeth and clutched at the sheets, his hips writhing beneath her touch. The ties came free, and she yanked the pants down to his knees. His head flew from the pillow with a strangled cry as she set her fingers to bare flesh.
“Nice?” she said, smirking down at him from where she knelt at his waist, her hand still stroking him. The only response he could muster was completely incoherent, as he clawed at the sheets. Wave after wave of heat raced through him with every flick of her fingers, and Lyssa laughed, as he squeaked and moaned and gulped at the air.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” said Rune, prying a hand from the sheets, “but two can play that game.” He thrust the hand between her legs, swallowing hard as it coiled round the distinct bulge there. Teeth gritted, he gave it a stroke and a pull. “That work for you?”
“Dear gods, yes,” she said, eyes glazing over as she manuvered herself so he could continue.
She brought her lips to his, and he did his best to pry apart the laces of her pants while still groping his way over her. Her hand joined his in peeling the cloth away, and warm, hard flesh pressed itself to his palm. He curled his fingers over her, jerked and tugged as she rocked her hips against him. Her lips worked, with renewed vigor, against his own, as her hand edged closer and closer. One long, slender finger slid its way into him, and he yelped.
“Alright?” said Lyssa. Rune managed a breathless nod, and another digit fell, far less gently, into place.
He sucked a breath through clenched teeth as she thrust into him, and pleasure and pain raced, hot and wet, through him. His hand fell from her to pull again at the sheets.
“The real thing is so much better,” she said, with another jab of her fingers and a flick of her thumb that sent the room spinning. “You want me to show you yet?”
“Right,“ said Rune, jaws still tight, “’cause this is all about me.”
She grinned, and he let out a groan as her thumb made another pass. “You’re enjoying yourself and you know it.”
“As much as I can while being scared out of my mind.”
The grin faltered. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “At least I don’t think I am,” she added, pausing to frown at herself. “At any rate, it wouldn’t be on purpose.
“That’s incredibly reassuring.”
“Well?” she said, fingertips curling back, teasing over a spot that sent bursts like magic up his spine.
Squirming, straining, as another shock sped through him, he swallowed hard and nodded, quickly cringing as her grin nearly reached her ears.
“You know,” he said, as the hand fell away and she brought her knees between his own, “curious as I might be, this is something I really don’t think I need to see.”
“You’re right,” said Lyssa, a hand on his hip. “Turn over.”
“What?”
She gave him a shove. “On your knees.”
“I was meaning the lights, but-”
“Yeah, got those too,” said Lyssa. She gave the lamp at the bedside a pointed look and then a wave of her hand. When nothing happened, she crawled over him, grumbling to snuff it out.
“Uh, Lyss-” he said, shrinking back into the pillows, her knee beside his head, his eyes wide and affixed on the appendage dangling far too closely to his face.
“What?” she said, still fumbling with the lamp. She cast Rune and his awkward position a glance and laughed. With a rattle and a hiss, and far too much shaking of Lyssa’s hips to be to Rune’s liking, the light went out. “Now, turn over,” she said, with a shove to his shoulder as she crept back down the bed.
“But- Lyss-” he stammered, turning over just the same.
Her hands slid down his sides, teasing over his breasts as they passed. They found his hips and settled there. She set her knee between his legs. With a firm but gentle push to his thigh, brought the other to join it. He let his forehead fall to the pillow, balled his fists in the sheets, his whole frame tense, as she brought her hips in line with his.
Lyssa leaned in close, her hands tight at the base of his ribs. She pressed herself to him, the very tip of her falling into place, and he shuddered, a slow, aching burn lacing its way through him. “Ready?” she said, voice low and husky.
Rune bit his lip and bobbed his head against the pillow.
There was a rush of immense pressure as, slow and steady, she filled him. The hands on his sides grew tight and she let out a groan as she pressed deeper still, pushing on until her hips met his backside. Rune clawed at the bed, tears in his eyes, and pressed himself deeper into the pillows, his voice reduced to breathless whimpers.
She rocked back and he gasped for air. “Oh, Lyssa!” he cried as the next thrust of overwhelming, intoxicating pressure presented itself.
Lyssa laughed, and Rune trembled as she shook inside and against him. “Now that,” she said, “is something I never thought I’d hear myself say.”
“Very funny,” he said, as she retreated and the pressure again subsided. “I- Oh!” Another thrust forced him into the pillows again.
“I’m sorry,” said Lyssa, her hands ever tighter on his waist, “but I really don’t think this is going to last terribly long.” Still grabbing at the linens and shaking, Rune thought better than to admit it was just as well.
As if spurred by her acknowledgement, her next thrust was shaky. Her hands groped their way, trembling and rough, up over his ribs, grabbing and squeezing at his breasts. “Oh, Rune,” she murmured, her head diving low, body arching over him, to nip and kiss at the back of his neck. “Oh!”
Face in the pillow and fingers in the mattress, Rune let out cry after shuddering cry, as she heaved and jerked inside him and the pressure grew to heights near unbearable. “Oh, Lyssa! Lyssa!” he wailed, as release washed over them both.
She held tightly to him, still eagerly pumping for long moments after she’d emptied herself into him, and his hands worked even harder at the bed. Finally, she drew to a halt and slipped away. Breath found Rune’s lungs in a rush, almost painful, as she separated herself from him, and he tumbled to his side.
He lay, wide eyed, shaking and panting, as she picked herself apart from him, disengaging arms and legs from his own, a grin as if she were heavily intoxicated plastered across her face.
“So,” Rune said slowly, as Lyssa settled beside him, a tangle of long, boney limbs, all trembling and shaking, “about putting things back to normal-”
“Yeah.” She laid her head on his shoulder and gave his cheek a weary pat. “Sleep first.”
“But-”
She lifted her head just an inch, to study him, eyelids drooping, and gave a slow smack of her lips “Is it always so hard to keep your eyes open like this afterward?” she said, running her hand lazily over his cheek, down his throat, to his breast. “I feel like I could sleep for days.”
Rune frowned. “I’d say you’ll get used to it, but I rather hope you won’t have the chance.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, her head coming back to rest against him. “I like my old body just fine”
“That’s good, because I’d rather appreciate-” The body pressed to his gave a slow, rasping rattle. Rune raised a brow. “Lyss?” There was no answer but a resounding snore, and Rune sighed. “Night, Lyss.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze and groped about for the covers. The blankets hauled up over the both of them, he settled back to stare at the ceiling with a shake of his head and a sigh, as Lyssa snored against him.
Story : knights
Rating : NC-17
Timeframe : N/A - though I guess, obviously, somewhere in the period where Rune and Lyssa were together
Word Count : 3879
This is... weird... like seriously, messed up weird, like it doesn't just get a cherry, it gets one of those freakish green maraschino cherries... cause it's just so wrong, though (hopefully) in an amusing sort of way... (yeah, I'm sure it's been written before, probably plenty of times, but I've certainly never gone there!)
Rune waved a hand through the quickly disapating cloud of purple smoke that burned his lungs and eyes. “I told you not to-” He clapped a hand over his mouth at the sound, not his own voice, but Lyssa’s. He paused a moment, thumb feeling out his cheek, the face against his palm familiar, though far too soft to be his. Still blinking amidst the fumes, he peeled the hand away from his lips, gaping in shock at the fingers splayed before him, short and thick and feminine. “… touch that,” he finished, barely above a whisper.
“Sorry, I-” He nearly leapt at hearing his own voice, coming now from across the room, though the sound was nothing to the sight of the willowy, blonde figure the last evaporating traces of violet mist revealed.
The body that was clearly his, even if he was not in it, looked itself slowly over. “Wait, I’m…?” Blue eyes narrowed as they focused on him, and the other twisted his lips into an expression he was sure they‘d never held before, however many times he‘d seen just that look elsewhere. “And you’re…?”
“Lyssa?”
The other him nodded.
“What sort of sick joke is this?” said Rune, venturing a cautious examination of the far shorter and thicker frame that now seemed to be his, complete with its full set of generous curves.
“Does this mean…?” said Lyssa, and Rune cringed at the tone his own voice carried. She gave the waist of her pants a sharp tug and ducked her head to peer inside, the grin that settled across her borrowed features inspiring a desire to dive under the bed. “Nice!”
“Lyssa!”
“What?” Pants still drawn, she turned to him, the look of such feigned innocence only she could muster in his own eyes.
Rune made to fold his arms across himself, but jumped as they came together far too quickly against the soft shelf of his breasts. Flustered, he rearranged them and made another attempt, only to find the wide slope of his new body still very much in the way. Cheeks burning, he shook out his hands, and hastily stuffed one behind his neck where a thick mass of copper swallowed it.
“That would be your first thought,” he said, trying his best to look indignant while he squirmed about in his new form.
“Actually, it wasn’t,” said Lyssa, finally dropping the pants back against her waist.
“Oh?”
“No,” she said. “My first thought was why is everything so damn cold all the sudden?”
Rune laughed, a halting, uncomfortable laugh, soon cut short as the sound of his new voice still disconcerted him.
Lyssa picked her way, on long, spindly legs, that she frowned at as she stretched and flexed them, over the broken bits of whatever it was strewn like so much smashed crockery across the floor. She slid past him, to the bed and turned to sit down. She folded her knees, made to seat herself in the air a good foot above the mattress, and tumbled, long limbs flailing as she thrust them out in some desperate hope of finding support, onto the bed. A few muttered oaths escaped her as she fumbled her way back to her feet. Slouching against the wall, she wrapped her arms across her front, scowling as she adjusted them once and then again.
She cast Rune and his new figure an appraising look. “So?”
He gave his neck a scratch beneath the wealth of ruddy curls and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “What?” he said.
The corner of her mouth twitched as her eyes settled pointedly on his breasts. “Nothing you need to examine?”
Rune followed her gaze to the curves in question, the low, swooping neck of the shirt he now wore, the sort Lyssa was ever fond of, leaving more than a fair amount of said curves exposed, and a flush spread to his cheeks. “I’ve, er, seen enough of these on you,” he said, bringing a hand to cup one just the same. He rolled the bit of flesh against his palm, a bit disappointed that the sensation was somehow not as satisfying as he might have expected it to be. All the same, it was a marvel to think he had such a thing suddenly at his disposal. The warmth in his cheeks flared.
“Do that again.”
Rune jerked his head up, the breast still nestled in his hand. “Huh?” He gave the thing a look and another cursory squeeze.
“Yeah, that.” She pulled the waist of her pants open and peeked inside again with a grin. “Has a mind of its own, doesn’t it?” she said, dipping a hand inside to fish about.
The heat rose all the way to his scalp and the breath froze in his lungs. He let his hand drop and swallowed hard. “Only when you’re around.”
“You know what we have to do now, don‘t you?” said Lyssa. She gave the contents of her pants another prod, and Rune set his eyes on the broken bits of metal and china scattered at their feet and tried to not to think about it.
“Uh, try to figure out how to reverse this mess?”
“No,” said Lyssa. “Well, yes, I mean, we’ll get to that. After I’ve satisfied my curiosity as to how this body of yours works.”
“After…” The fragments before him shifted into a terrible blur, and he tore his eyes from the mess to meet hers. “What?”
She was edging her way back towards him, a smirk set on her borrowed features that most certainly didn’t suit them. “Oh, please.” She stooped a bit to drag one long finger down the neckline of his blouse, and Rune swallowed hard. “Do I need to spell it out? There’s no one around, a perfectly good bed. Don’t tell me you’ve never wondered-”
“No!” He jumped as the finger slid from cloth to flesh. “I mean, I don’t know… I…”
She paused to fire him a look of amused disbelief.
“So,” he said, forcing Lyssa’s voice back into its normal range, “you’re saying you want…to make love…with yourself?”
“Well, I suppose,” she said, her hand sliding back up over his collarbone, tracing its way along his neck, curling itself around his jaw, “technically, it’s still my body.” She gave his cheek a pat, and he swallowed again, shuffling from foot to foot as his own eyes appraised him. “But you’re in it now, so it would still be making love to you, just not the way we’re used to.”
Rune staggered back a step and found himself quickly up against the bed. “I’m not sure I find the thought as appealing as you seem to.”
Lyssa frowned and gave the top of her pants another tug. “Well,” she said, peering at the contents once more. “I suppose I could just go try this out on someone else, if you’d prefer-”
“I most certainly would not!” She met his outburst with a far too innocent grin. “That’s mine,” he said, a shaking hand waved in the general direction of her groin. “I’d like to get it back without any diseases, if you don’t mind. And do you think you could stop acting, for even two minutes, like you’ve got a new toy?”
“You mean it’s not?” She thrust her features into a pout, and Rune couldn’t help but laugh.
“Do you have the slightest idea how ridiculous you look?”
Lyssa thought for a moment and burst into laughter as well. “Actually, yes, I think I can picture that quite well. I suppose all my usual tricks are out,” she added with a frown. She quickly closed the distance between them. “Wonder where that leaves me.”
Pressed in beside him, she slid one hand playfully along his neckline. Rune found his breath stilled, his eyes on her lips as they softly parted and began their decent. He gave his head a twist and ducked to the side, just as they made for his.
Lyssa scowled. “What?”
“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me,” said Rune.
Her hand persisted at his collar. “I’ll have done a lot more than look by the time I’m done with you.”
Rune flinched out of her grasp again. “But…” he said, “but that’s my face you’re looking at me with.” He eyed his neck and the roaming fingers there. “And those are my hands, and my…” His voice failed him as she followed his gaze to her hips.
Lyssa laughed and ran her hand back over his cheek. “So close your eyes?”
Rune raised a brow. “You think I don’t know what I look like?”
The hand fell away, accompanied by an agitated sigh as it balled into a fist at her side. “Come on,” she said, “we might be stuck like this. Don’t tell me you never want to have any fun again.”
“I…” He sighed. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”
The hand was back, stroking his cheek, toying with his hair. “You make it sound like some sort of chore.”
“I didn’t mean… I just…” He sighed again. “Where do we start?”
She brushed her hand slowly down his nose, the last finger straying playfully for a moment at the tip as a grin spread anew across her lips. “You could let me kiss you.”
Lyssa bent, her lips approaching, parted, her breath warm on his cheek as they neared. Rune drew a shuddering gulp of air and braced himself to meet them with his own. They fell together, colliding with force, softening against each other, both turning their heads one way and then the other, and Rune gave a silent thanks that she was too distracted by the awkwardness of it all to force her tongue his way.
After long, fumbling moments, they drew apart, each with a foolish smile and tongues working their way over their lips. “Is that what I taste like?” said Rune, warmth creeping into his cheeks again.
Lyssa laughed. “I suppose so,” she said, with a swallow and another slow smack of her lips. She looked him over quietly for a moment, and her brows knit. “I never realized I was so short.”
“Lyss,” he said, though he wondered at the fact that, as he leaned back a bit, he could lay both hands comfortably on the mattress, “everyone is so short.”
She frowned as she stooped again to brush her lips to his cheek. “It’s a wonder you can stand straight anymore at all.”
“You know,” he gave the bed a look, “it works best if I sit and you come to me.”
She laughed. “That’s right.” She settled, much more carefully this time, on the edge of the bed. “Well?”
Rune eyed his own form perched along the side of the bed, hands neatly folded in its lap, look expectant and eager, and shook his head. “This is wrong,” he muttered.
One long arm arced out to pull him near. “Just get over here and kiss me again.”
Rune found he had to bend, just in the slightest, to reach her. He put a hand to her cheek and bit his own against the urge to laugh. Leaning in, closer still, he closed his eyes and brought his lips to hers. Her mouth twitched against his, as if she were swallowing a laugh as well. A hand slid behind his neck, another around his waist, and held him to her.
The lips he knew to be his own kissed him with a force that could only be Lyssa’s, while her hands groped and kneaded up his ribs and down his shoulder blades. He drew back for breath, never daring to open his eyes, and, in a moment, she was on him again, her lips forcing his wide, hot breath flowing between them. Rune shifted his feet, his hands draped loosely over her shoulders, uncertain where else he might put them. They came apart and together again and again, in an awkward dance of fumbling lips and hands.
“Enough of this,” she said at last. Her grip on him tightened and he was tumbling towards the mattress, rolling beneath her, his eyes fluttering open to the sight of her approach. An awkward tangle of limbs, she climbed on top of him. Her lips kept at his, while her hands tore at his shirt, the fabric peeling swiftly away so she could force them beneath.
Eyes forced shut once more, he pressed his head into the pillow. Her mouth groped its way down his throat, while her hands kneaded along his ribs and over his hips, and he found himself alternating between gasps and groans of pleasure and the urge to laugh at the pitch and tone his voice now carried.
Lyssa’s hands settled at his middle, fingers plucking at the ties that cinched his shirt. There was a rush of air over his chest and the warm, wet press of lips against exposed flesh, and he let out a yelp, as portions of his new anatomy violently asserted their presence. He cast a nervous look to his groin, wondering if there might be some outward sign to the sudden tightness and wet he felt there.
If there was, Lyssa had yet to notice. Perched over him on one elbow, she was caught up in the thoughtful examination of the breast she’d managed to extract from his shirt. “You know,” she said, “I’ve never quite understood the appeal of these.”
“No?” he said, cheeks flushing. “You certainly flaunt them enough.”
She ran one long finger and then another over the exposed flesh, sending shivers through him as they passed. “Didn’t say I didn’t understand that they were appealing,” she said, as her palm slid round the underside. “Just that I don’t know why.”
She cupped her hand beneath and gave a firm but gentle squeeze, and Rune’s breath hitched with an unintelligible squeak. Lyssa met his eyes with a grin and squeezed again. “You like that?” she said.
Rune eyed the hand set to kneading him and his stomach pulled itself into even tighter knots. He squirmed, thighs pressed together, as he tried not to think about the growing ache between them. “This is so very wrong,” he said, each breath harder than the last.
Perched over him, all spindly limbs and unnatural grins, Lyssa laughed. “You do like it,” she said, rolling her hand over him more forcefully, and Rune let out a shuddering moan.
“Curse this body of yours,” he said, squirming and shifting beneath her. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
Lyssa laughed, the gleam in her eyes making him squirm even harder. “I know something else you’ll like.” Her hand slid from his breast, down his front, sinking with his abdomen at his sharp inhale, and pressed between his thighs.
“Oh, Lyssa.” His head sank deeper into the pillows as she kneaded her hand against his groin, his pants folding and bunching in the tight confines between her fingers and his flesh.
She rocked back on her knees to free her other hand so that she could pick apart the laces of his pants. Rune gritted his teeth and clutched at the sheets, his hips writhing beneath her touch. The ties came free, and she yanked the pants down to his knees. His head flew from the pillow with a strangled cry as she set her fingers to bare flesh.
“Nice?” she said, smirking down at him from where she knelt at his waist, her hand still stroking him. The only response he could muster was completely incoherent, as he clawed at the sheets. Wave after wave of heat raced through him with every flick of her fingers, and Lyssa laughed, as he squeaked and moaned and gulped at the air.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” said Rune, prying a hand from the sheets, “but two can play that game.” He thrust the hand between her legs, swallowing hard as it coiled round the distinct bulge there. Teeth gritted, he gave it a stroke and a pull. “That work for you?”
“Dear gods, yes,” she said, eyes glazing over as she manuvered herself so he could continue.
She brought her lips to his, and he did his best to pry apart the laces of her pants while still groping his way over her. Her hand joined his in peeling the cloth away, and warm, hard flesh pressed itself to his palm. He curled his fingers over her, jerked and tugged as she rocked her hips against him. Her lips worked, with renewed vigor, against his own, as her hand edged closer and closer. One long, slender finger slid its way into him, and he yelped.
“Alright?” said Lyssa. Rune managed a breathless nod, and another digit fell, far less gently, into place.
He sucked a breath through clenched teeth as she thrust into him, and pleasure and pain raced, hot and wet, through him. His hand fell from her to pull again at the sheets.
“The real thing is so much better,” she said, with another jab of her fingers and a flick of her thumb that sent the room spinning. “You want me to show you yet?”
“Right,“ said Rune, jaws still tight, “’cause this is all about me.”
She grinned, and he let out a groan as her thumb made another pass. “You’re enjoying yourself and you know it.”
“As much as I can while being scared out of my mind.”
The grin faltered. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “At least I don’t think I am,” she added, pausing to frown at herself. “At any rate, it wouldn’t be on purpose.
“That’s incredibly reassuring.”
“Well?” she said, fingertips curling back, teasing over a spot that sent bursts like magic up his spine.
Squirming, straining, as another shock sped through him, he swallowed hard and nodded, quickly cringing as her grin nearly reached her ears.
“You know,” he said, as the hand fell away and she brought her knees between his own, “curious as I might be, this is something I really don’t think I need to see.”
“You’re right,” said Lyssa, a hand on his hip. “Turn over.”
“What?”
She gave him a shove. “On your knees.”
“I was meaning the lights, but-”
“Yeah, got those too,” said Lyssa. She gave the lamp at the bedside a pointed look and then a wave of her hand. When nothing happened, she crawled over him, grumbling to snuff it out.
“Uh, Lyss-” he said, shrinking back into the pillows, her knee beside his head, his eyes wide and affixed on the appendage dangling far too closely to his face.
“What?” she said, still fumbling with the lamp. She cast Rune and his awkward position a glance and laughed. With a rattle and a hiss, and far too much shaking of Lyssa’s hips to be to Rune’s liking, the light went out. “Now, turn over,” she said, with a shove to his shoulder as she crept back down the bed.
“But- Lyss-” he stammered, turning over just the same.
Her hands slid down his sides, teasing over his breasts as they passed. They found his hips and settled there. She set her knee between his legs. With a firm but gentle push to his thigh, brought the other to join it. He let his forehead fall to the pillow, balled his fists in the sheets, his whole frame tense, as she brought her hips in line with his.
Lyssa leaned in close, her hands tight at the base of his ribs. She pressed herself to him, the very tip of her falling into place, and he shuddered, a slow, aching burn lacing its way through him. “Ready?” she said, voice low and husky.
Rune bit his lip and bobbed his head against the pillow.
There was a rush of immense pressure as, slow and steady, she filled him. The hands on his sides grew tight and she let out a groan as she pressed deeper still, pushing on until her hips met his backside. Rune clawed at the bed, tears in his eyes, and pressed himself deeper into the pillows, his voice reduced to breathless whimpers.
She rocked back and he gasped for air. “Oh, Lyssa!” he cried as the next thrust of overwhelming, intoxicating pressure presented itself.
Lyssa laughed, and Rune trembled as she shook inside and against him. “Now that,” she said, “is something I never thought I’d hear myself say.”
“Very funny,” he said, as she retreated and the pressure again subsided. “I- Oh!” Another thrust forced him into the pillows again.
“I’m sorry,” said Lyssa, her hands ever tighter on his waist, “but I really don’t think this is going to last terribly long.” Still grabbing at the linens and shaking, Rune thought better than to admit it was just as well.
As if spurred by her acknowledgement, her next thrust was shaky. Her hands groped their way, trembling and rough, up over his ribs, grabbing and squeezing at his breasts. “Oh, Rune,” she murmured, her head diving low, body arching over him, to nip and kiss at the back of his neck. “Oh!”
Face in the pillow and fingers in the mattress, Rune let out cry after shuddering cry, as she heaved and jerked inside him and the pressure grew to heights near unbearable. “Oh, Lyssa! Lyssa!” he wailed, as release washed over them both.
She held tightly to him, still eagerly pumping for long moments after she’d emptied herself into him, and his hands worked even harder at the bed. Finally, she drew to a halt and slipped away. Breath found Rune’s lungs in a rush, almost painful, as she separated herself from him, and he tumbled to his side.
He lay, wide eyed, shaking and panting, as she picked herself apart from him, disengaging arms and legs from his own, a grin as if she were heavily intoxicated plastered across her face.
“So,” Rune said slowly, as Lyssa settled beside him, a tangle of long, boney limbs, all trembling and shaking, “about putting things back to normal-”
“Yeah.” She laid her head on his shoulder and gave his cheek a weary pat. “Sleep first.”
“But-”
She lifted her head just an inch, to study him, eyelids drooping, and gave a slow smack of her lips “Is it always so hard to keep your eyes open like this afterward?” she said, running her hand lazily over his cheek, down his throat, to his breast. “I feel like I could sleep for days.”
Rune frowned. “I’d say you’ll get used to it, but I rather hope you won’t have the chance.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, her head coming back to rest against him. “I like my old body just fine”
“That’s good, because I’d rather appreciate-” The body pressed to his gave a slow, rasping rattle. Rune raised a brow. “Lyss?” There was no answer but a resounding snore, and Rune sighed. “Night, Lyss.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze and groped about for the covers. The blankets hauled up over the both of them, he settled back to stare at the ceiling with a shake of his head and a sigh, as Lyssa snored against him.