(no subject)
Pear #4. Black & Blue and Lemon-Lime Sorbet #7. Fun with Props
with Hot Fudge, Chopped Nuts, Malt, and a Cherry
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : hard R for somewhat explicit sex
Timeframe : 1250's
Word Count : 1246
Malt Prompt : PFAH - black & blue + Kairn + hot stuff
Cherry for the repeated shifting back and forth of times.
Poor Kairn, the hat prompt haunted him for a long, long time. I've grown fond of Kairn/Reida. I'm working on a couple of other AU's with them as a pair. Considering the prompt, this is a little mild, but it took me ages to finish as is. I don't think I had it in me to go hardcore with it.
Bracing himself with both hands against the edge of the sink, Kairn leaned in and caught sight of himself in the mirror. The liquored glaze was starting to fade from his bloodshot eyes, though he could still taste the fuzzy remnants of last night’s binge on his tongue and his head was throbbing. His whole body ached, raw in some places, stiff in others, with greasy red lines dancing circles across his chest. A rumpled strand of pink dangling from his hair dipped before his eyes, and his stomach twisted as he reached up to pluck it free.
“Do you have any idea how good you look?”
“You’re out of your mind.” Ribbons hung all around his head, dainty trails of pink dancing their way in and out of his vision, taunting him. Silky little reminders of the depths to which he’d sunk for a little attention.
He shuffled, great, itchy clouds of lacy ruffles shifting about his legs. Reida sauntered toward him, a grin splitting her ear to ear, and he stifled the inebriated giggle with which he wanted to address the whole spectacle.
“No one hears about this,” said Kairn, with a drunken waggle of his finger. “No one.”
Of course, now it was in shreds. She hadn’t told him, though he could have guessed, that her other fetish involved knives.
He hazarded a glance down past the sink, steadying himself on the bowl as he tipped his head and the room swam. There was a scratch below the navel, barely a nick, the least of his concerns really, and another halfway down his thigh.
“Why would I tell anyone?” A hand snaked its way down his check, cupped his chin. Kairn tensed and swallowed hard, caught in those dark eyes, that maddening grin. “I’d rather keep you for myself.”
She slid the hand down his front, weaving her way over and around buttons that strained against his ill-fitted figure. Kairn gulped again. “You pretty, pretty thing, you,” she all but purred.
He jumped at the sudden sting. There was a hole in the skirts from the waist down the middle and a blade in her hand.
“The hell?”
She grabbed him by the collar.
As injuries went, the swollen cloud of purple on his hip was a different matter. Kairn turned a bit, still clutching the sink with one hand, to get a better view in the mirror of the mark that stretched around to his rear. The ugly blotch of brown and purple radiated around a circle of blue-black. Gingerly, he ran a finger around the perimeter, craning his neck and twisting his hip as he gently pulled at the surrounding flesh. He winced as he strayed just a bit too close, and he swore he could see an indentation at the point of impact.
“Well, well, little girl. What are you hiding here?”
Before he could more than open his mouth, she had a hand thrust through the incision, groping its way roughly across his belly. His breath caught as she took him in her fist.
“My, my, little girl,” she said, jerking him forcefully. Her lips found his neck, and then her teeth, and he stumbled backwards.
She leaned in, unrelenting in her grasp, kissing and biting her way up his neck. Kairn was backpeddling across the room, groaning and gasping for breath, feet colliding and tangling as the room lurched, gaining an awkward, tumbling momentum, until-
“Ow!” He pried Reida off him long enough to get a look at the dresser behind him and the hard little knob that had just met with his backside.
Reida snorted. “Baby.”
“Oh, I am, am I?” In retrospect it seemed such a completely stupid thing to say, seeing as he was talking to a mad woman holding a knife, but to his inebriated self it seemed a good idea. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Stooped over the sink, Kairn decided, not for the first time in his life, that Reida and liquor were a bad combination. He turned the knob and thrust his hands under the spicket. He splashed water over his face, pausing as his hands slid down his cheeks and he caught sight of his arms in the mirror and the angry red lacerations that wove their way over their length.
The skirts had come off one jagged strip at a time, Reida yanking the knife from waist to foot. The stiff lace burned his wrists as she lashed him to the bed, but as the time not spent tying him down involved her head between his legs and the intervals between the placing of knots were growing longer and longer, he wasn’t finding much room for complaint.
Between the bands holding him to the bed so tightly his arms throbbed, the continued hacking away at the dress by Reida’s knife, and the tongue set on driving him mad, the whole thing got to be something of a blur. At some point her clothes made a much more reasonable departure, joining the tattered bits of pink on the floor more or less intact, and he could feel her skin against him where the remains of the dress no longer covered him as she pressed close to kiss his lips.
He had a vague recollection of the production of a paint stick. By then she was on him, their bodies writhing together, his straining against the lace that tore deeper into his wrists with every thrust, hers arched in pleasure, head tossed back and fingers grating their way down his ribs. She opened it in her teeth and spit the cap across the room. The paint was cold against his chest and she drew it in slow circles even as her hips continued their swift pace against his.
The ignition of the first form ripped through him with a force that threatened to take his consciousness. As he lay panting he realized she was already drawing a second. He cried out, somewhere between a moan and a giggle, as the sensation stuck him again. The world spun, the whole circling mess of it anchored around the pearly smile hanging over him.
“You like that?” she said, and there was part of him that held to the fact that this was wrong, but in the haze of magic and alcohol and the soft warmth of her around him, the rest of him ruled that part foolish and answered her with an eager nod.
He lost track of just how many forms she covered him in, the raw pleasure of their invocation rolling over him in wave after wave until he could hold on no longer. Reida cried out with him, the careful fingers that had drawn their magic on him replaced by the desperate scrape of her nails.
Hands curled around the porcelein, Kairn drew a deep, shuddering breath. He wasn’t sure if he remembered the knife slicing away the bonds or if he was just trying to fill in an explaination after the fact for why he’d woken up without them. He thrust his hands under the water again, the soft splash of it against his palms accompanied by the soft pat of feet out in the hall.
The water slid over his face and again he stopped with his hands on his cheeks, this time at the sound of a giggle from the doorway.
“Morning, lover,” Reida called, and Kairn grabbed the edge of the sink to keep from falling.
with Hot Fudge, Chopped Nuts, Malt, and a Cherry
Story : knights & necromancers
Rating : hard R for somewhat explicit sex
Timeframe : 1250's
Word Count : 1246
Malt Prompt : PFAH - black & blue + Kairn + hot stuff
Cherry for the repeated shifting back and forth of times.
Poor Kairn, the hat prompt haunted him for a long, long time. I've grown fond of Kairn/Reida. I'm working on a couple of other AU's with them as a pair. Considering the prompt, this is a little mild, but it took me ages to finish as is. I don't think I had it in me to go hardcore with it.
Bracing himself with both hands against the edge of the sink, Kairn leaned in and caught sight of himself in the mirror. The liquored glaze was starting to fade from his bloodshot eyes, though he could still taste the fuzzy remnants of last night’s binge on his tongue and his head was throbbing. His whole body ached, raw in some places, stiff in others, with greasy red lines dancing circles across his chest. A rumpled strand of pink dangling from his hair dipped before his eyes, and his stomach twisted as he reached up to pluck it free.
“Do you have any idea how good you look?”
“You’re out of your mind.” Ribbons hung all around his head, dainty trails of pink dancing their way in and out of his vision, taunting him. Silky little reminders of the depths to which he’d sunk for a little attention.
He shuffled, great, itchy clouds of lacy ruffles shifting about his legs. Reida sauntered toward him, a grin splitting her ear to ear, and he stifled the inebriated giggle with which he wanted to address the whole spectacle.
“No one hears about this,” said Kairn, with a drunken waggle of his finger. “No one.”
Of course, now it was in shreds. She hadn’t told him, though he could have guessed, that her other fetish involved knives.
He hazarded a glance down past the sink, steadying himself on the bowl as he tipped his head and the room swam. There was a scratch below the navel, barely a nick, the least of his concerns really, and another halfway down his thigh.
“Why would I tell anyone?” A hand snaked its way down his check, cupped his chin. Kairn tensed and swallowed hard, caught in those dark eyes, that maddening grin. “I’d rather keep you for myself.”
She slid the hand down his front, weaving her way over and around buttons that strained against his ill-fitted figure. Kairn gulped again. “You pretty, pretty thing, you,” she all but purred.
He jumped at the sudden sting. There was a hole in the skirts from the waist down the middle and a blade in her hand.
“The hell?”
She grabbed him by the collar.
As injuries went, the swollen cloud of purple on his hip was a different matter. Kairn turned a bit, still clutching the sink with one hand, to get a better view in the mirror of the mark that stretched around to his rear. The ugly blotch of brown and purple radiated around a circle of blue-black. Gingerly, he ran a finger around the perimeter, craning his neck and twisting his hip as he gently pulled at the surrounding flesh. He winced as he strayed just a bit too close, and he swore he could see an indentation at the point of impact.
“Well, well, little girl. What are you hiding here?”
Before he could more than open his mouth, she had a hand thrust through the incision, groping its way roughly across his belly. His breath caught as she took him in her fist.
“My, my, little girl,” she said, jerking him forcefully. Her lips found his neck, and then her teeth, and he stumbled backwards.
She leaned in, unrelenting in her grasp, kissing and biting her way up his neck. Kairn was backpeddling across the room, groaning and gasping for breath, feet colliding and tangling as the room lurched, gaining an awkward, tumbling momentum, until-
“Ow!” He pried Reida off him long enough to get a look at the dresser behind him and the hard little knob that had just met with his backside.
Reida snorted. “Baby.”
“Oh, I am, am I?” In retrospect it seemed such a completely stupid thing to say, seeing as he was talking to a mad woman holding a knife, but to his inebriated self it seemed a good idea. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Stooped over the sink, Kairn decided, not for the first time in his life, that Reida and liquor were a bad combination. He turned the knob and thrust his hands under the spicket. He splashed water over his face, pausing as his hands slid down his cheeks and he caught sight of his arms in the mirror and the angry red lacerations that wove their way over their length.
The skirts had come off one jagged strip at a time, Reida yanking the knife from waist to foot. The stiff lace burned his wrists as she lashed him to the bed, but as the time not spent tying him down involved her head between his legs and the intervals between the placing of knots were growing longer and longer, he wasn’t finding much room for complaint.
Between the bands holding him to the bed so tightly his arms throbbed, the continued hacking away at the dress by Reida’s knife, and the tongue set on driving him mad, the whole thing got to be something of a blur. At some point her clothes made a much more reasonable departure, joining the tattered bits of pink on the floor more or less intact, and he could feel her skin against him where the remains of the dress no longer covered him as she pressed close to kiss his lips.
He had a vague recollection of the production of a paint stick. By then she was on him, their bodies writhing together, his straining against the lace that tore deeper into his wrists with every thrust, hers arched in pleasure, head tossed back and fingers grating their way down his ribs. She opened it in her teeth and spit the cap across the room. The paint was cold against his chest and she drew it in slow circles even as her hips continued their swift pace against his.
The ignition of the first form ripped through him with a force that threatened to take his consciousness. As he lay panting he realized she was already drawing a second. He cried out, somewhere between a moan and a giggle, as the sensation stuck him again. The world spun, the whole circling mess of it anchored around the pearly smile hanging over him.
“You like that?” she said, and there was part of him that held to the fact that this was wrong, but in the haze of magic and alcohol and the soft warmth of her around him, the rest of him ruled that part foolish and answered her with an eager nod.
He lost track of just how many forms she covered him in, the raw pleasure of their invocation rolling over him in wave after wave until he could hold on no longer. Reida cried out with him, the careful fingers that had drawn their magic on him replaced by the desperate scrape of her nails.
Hands curled around the porcelein, Kairn drew a deep, shuddering breath. He wasn’t sure if he remembered the knife slicing away the bonds or if he was just trying to fill in an explaination after the fact for why he’d woken up without them. He thrust his hands under the water again, the soft splash of it against his palms accompanied by the soft pat of feet out in the hall.
The water slid over his face and again he stopped with his hands on his cheeks, this time at the sound of a giggle from the doorway.
“Morning, lover,” Reida called, and Kairn grabbed the edge of the sink to keep from falling.