Fic: Rada'han (Legend of the Seeker, Kahlan/Richard, NC-17)
Title: Rada'han
Author: alyse
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Pairing: Kahlan/Richard
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: Written for legendland's long fic challenge.
Word Count: ~ 1,650
Summary: She wanted this, she reminds herself. She still does, with an ache that's fierceness surprises her. Kahlan, Richard and a rada'han.
The metal of the rada'han is cool against Kahlan's skin. It's heavier than she remembers, and her fingers trace over the width of it, measuring out the span as though that will calm her nerves.
She wanted this, she reminds herself. She still does, with an ache that's fierceness surprises her. She wants this more than Richard, she thinks, but that ache isn't fierce. Richard wants her completely - all of her, including her powers. It's not the first time he's told her that her powers are part of her.
It's just the first time she hasn't listened to him.
But Kahlan - Kahlan wants Richard. She wants him, the kind of want that sinks its teeth into her bones, that curls deep into her belly until she aches with need for him, until every brush of his fingers against hers, every smile of his, even the scent of him on a sunny day is torture. And there is enough pain in the world, enough want that can never be satisfied, to mean she no longer feels guilty about giving into her desires.
Cora, bless her, is more understanding than Richard. She knows the kind of hunger that Kahlan feels even if her monster only comes out at night - that's one advantage of Shota's curse.
Cora has no need of the Rada'han during the day, and her smile, when Kahlan asked for this favour, was sweet and happy, delighted not knowing.
Cara's on the other hand was more smirk than smile, and more knowing than was seemly.
Richard still has his doubts, she can tell. He wants as much as she does, in his own way, but his want is tempered with duty, with concern for her. She knows this is temporary - they still have their quest and Cora, her kingdom - but temporary can still mean forever.
She just has to convince Richard of that.
She takes one step towards him, then two, her fingers finally lifting from the rada'han to trace over the lines of his face instead. His skin is warm, not cool, rough underneath her touch. But it's not the sharpness of the metal she feels now, the edges that can cut if she's not careful. There is nothing about Richard that will wound her. Instead his muscles move smoothly, his mouth curling up in a smile that sets fire to his eyes.
Yes, he wants this, wants her as much as she aches for him.
She's touched him before, kissed him before, but this time she doesn't worry that the fire building within her will consume them both. She lets go, her fingers unfurling and the last of the tension within her - always present, always tightly controlled - finally eases, leaving her fluid with relief.
Richard tastes of summer, of apples and sunlight, of a clear, sweet stream when her throat is parched. His mouth moves slowly over hers, so soft and welcoming, that she barely feels the palm of his hand slide slowly down her spine.
He pulls her tightly against him, and that she feels, the need flaring within her, bright and sharp. His lips part beneath hers, and she breathes his breath, losing her own when their tongues touch.
Every part of her is alive, tingling sensation from her scalp to her toes, and her heart beats a joyous rhythm that won't be denied. She wants to slide her hands over his skin, tear off his clothes - with her teeth if she needs to - and she laughs, the sound bubbling out of her even as she deepens the kiss.
Richard's mouth curls up in another smile, something as giddy as she feels, and she presses another kiss against his lips and another, her hands moving now, catching at the laces of his shirt as she strips it from him. He takes a step back, guiding her towards the bed, and then another, stumbling in his haste.
His smile never fades, and neither does hers.
He is beautiful when she finally divests him of his clothes. She has always known that, like she's always known the sweetness of his smile, the lightness of his soul, but there's something feline in his grace as he stretches on the bed, and something feral in the way the sight of it slides through her body, curling its way around her heart and setting her pulse racing. There's a hunger in Richard's eyes as he reaches for her, and an answering hunger in her belly, in the ache between her thighs. She lets him undo the laces of her corset, slide the arms of her dress down over her shoulders until it falls towards the floor.
And then, when she is as naked as he is, as vulnerable to his gaze, he simply looks at her.
It feels like a caress, the weight of Richard's look, the way that the breath catches in his throat. He is growing hard and she can't - won't - resist the siren call of his flesh, reaching out to run her fingers along his length.
He gasps and then growls, reaching for her again, less gently this time. When he kisses her now, it's hard and hungry, the passion rising in him met by hers.
His mouth moves lower, his lips sliding over her neck, nipping lightly at her skin, and it's her turn to gasp, to groan, her hips moving restlessly as Richard explores. Her hands aren't idle either, mapping the contours of Richard's body, delighting in the feel of him, the shape and the weight of him as he settles over her.
They have time - until near dusk, at least - but she's too eager to wait, too impatient after months, years of wanting. The feel of his lips on her breasts simply ramps up the heat, sharp shards of pleasure pulsing through her as he licks and sucks until her teats are peaked and her flesh is pink and flushed.
He moves lower still, tracing over the soft curves of her stomach with his tongue before parting her thighs and settling between them. She slides her fingers into his dark hair, her palm cradling his skull, as his warm breath ghosts over her quim, sending shivers through her. They build as his tongue follows his breath, sliding between her folds, which are already slick with her need for him. He teases her mercilessly, holding her down as she twists and cries out, the pleasure building and building in her until finally she finds her release, her hips jerking as she spends.
For a second she feels her magic rising under the surface of her skin, tangling with her pleasure until she doesn't know where one ends and the other begins, but it's muted, powerless in the face of the rada'han and when the pleasure finally eases so does it, sliding back into dormancy, safely contained.
When Richard sits up his face is slick and satisfied, his eyes as bright as her smile. She can't help it - she laughs when she sees his expression, so smug but still joyous, still tender. This time she reaches for him, holding her arms open for him and sliding her legs around his waist, opening there for him too.
He is heavy at first, until he props himself up on his elbows, reaching down to kiss her again. It's bearable, as is the brief pain when he finally slides into her body, watching her face the entire time as though he's afraid he'll hurt her.
She wants to reassure him, tell him he isn't, but her words drift away, lost in the feel of his body, of him moving within her. The pleasure is building again, fierce and unrelenting, and she can only clutch at his shoulders, wrap her legs around him, reduced to nothing but yes and please.
Her final cry is Richard! and she shivers apart, all of her limbs turned to liquid and her body to molten fire.
When she comes back to herself, Richard is lost in his own pleasure, the movement of his hips, the way his body slams into hers rougher now. She's a little tender where their bodies are joined, but she doesn't mind it, the ache of his dick in her, the roughness of his beard scratching against the skin of her neck. There's a pleasure in that as well, in the mindlessness of stroking her hands over Richard's skin knowing that his climax is close, knowing that she will feel each of these small hurts later, when they can no longer touch like this, and remember how it felt to love him completely.
When Richard comes, he calls her name, his hips jerking against her as he empties himself into her body. It's an odd sensation, the feel of him slipping from her body when he finally eases away from her, and for a moment there's a brief sensation of loss, something sad and bittersweet, especially when she reaches down and realises the wetness she feels isn't blood, as she'd been led to expect, but his seed slipping from her body.
But then Richard pulls her closer again, cradling her against his chest as he sighs happily, and just like that the bitter fades leaving only sweetness behind.
"I love you," he says, murmuring the words against her skin as though he would brand her with them, carve them into her body so that she would never forget.
He doesn't need to - they are carved so deeply into her heart that they will last her life entire.
"I know. I love you, too," she murmurs back, the words too small for everything she feels.
But the day is early yet - there are hours until dusk, hours to share with him.
Hours to show him how much of her is his, over and over again.
Author: alyse
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Pairing: Kahlan/Richard
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: Written for legendland's long fic challenge.
Word Count: ~ 1,650
Summary: She wanted this, she reminds herself. She still does, with an ache that's fierceness surprises her. Kahlan, Richard and a rada'han.
The metal of the rada'han is cool against Kahlan's skin. It's heavier than she remembers, and her fingers trace over the width of it, measuring out the span as though that will calm her nerves.
She wanted this, she reminds herself. She still does, with an ache that's fierceness surprises her. She wants this more than Richard, she thinks, but that ache isn't fierce. Richard wants her completely - all of her, including her powers. It's not the first time he's told her that her powers are part of her.
It's just the first time she hasn't listened to him.
But Kahlan - Kahlan wants Richard. She wants him, the kind of want that sinks its teeth into her bones, that curls deep into her belly until she aches with need for him, until every brush of his fingers against hers, every smile of his, even the scent of him on a sunny day is torture. And there is enough pain in the world, enough want that can never be satisfied, to mean she no longer feels guilty about giving into her desires.
Cora, bless her, is more understanding than Richard. She knows the kind of hunger that Kahlan feels even if her monster only comes out at night - that's one advantage of Shota's curse.
Cora has no need of the Rada'han during the day, and her smile, when Kahlan asked for this favour, was sweet and happy, delighted not knowing.
Cara's on the other hand was more smirk than smile, and more knowing than was seemly.
Richard still has his doubts, she can tell. He wants as much as she does, in his own way, but his want is tempered with duty, with concern for her. She knows this is temporary - they still have their quest and Cora, her kingdom - but temporary can still mean forever.
She just has to convince Richard of that.
She takes one step towards him, then two, her fingers finally lifting from the rada'han to trace over the lines of his face instead. His skin is warm, not cool, rough underneath her touch. But it's not the sharpness of the metal she feels now, the edges that can cut if she's not careful. There is nothing about Richard that will wound her. Instead his muscles move smoothly, his mouth curling up in a smile that sets fire to his eyes.
Yes, he wants this, wants her as much as she aches for him.
She's touched him before, kissed him before, but this time she doesn't worry that the fire building within her will consume them both. She lets go, her fingers unfurling and the last of the tension within her - always present, always tightly controlled - finally eases, leaving her fluid with relief.
Richard tastes of summer, of apples and sunlight, of a clear, sweet stream when her throat is parched. His mouth moves slowly over hers, so soft and welcoming, that she barely feels the palm of his hand slide slowly down her spine.
He pulls her tightly against him, and that she feels, the need flaring within her, bright and sharp. His lips part beneath hers, and she breathes his breath, losing her own when their tongues touch.
Every part of her is alive, tingling sensation from her scalp to her toes, and her heart beats a joyous rhythm that won't be denied. She wants to slide her hands over his skin, tear off his clothes - with her teeth if she needs to - and she laughs, the sound bubbling out of her even as she deepens the kiss.
Richard's mouth curls up in another smile, something as giddy as she feels, and she presses another kiss against his lips and another, her hands moving now, catching at the laces of his shirt as she strips it from him. He takes a step back, guiding her towards the bed, and then another, stumbling in his haste.
His smile never fades, and neither does hers.
He is beautiful when she finally divests him of his clothes. She has always known that, like she's always known the sweetness of his smile, the lightness of his soul, but there's something feline in his grace as he stretches on the bed, and something feral in the way the sight of it slides through her body, curling its way around her heart and setting her pulse racing. There's a hunger in Richard's eyes as he reaches for her, and an answering hunger in her belly, in the ache between her thighs. She lets him undo the laces of her corset, slide the arms of her dress down over her shoulders until it falls towards the floor.
And then, when she is as naked as he is, as vulnerable to his gaze, he simply looks at her.
It feels like a caress, the weight of Richard's look, the way that the breath catches in his throat. He is growing hard and she can't - won't - resist the siren call of his flesh, reaching out to run her fingers along his length.
He gasps and then growls, reaching for her again, less gently this time. When he kisses her now, it's hard and hungry, the passion rising in him met by hers.
His mouth moves lower, his lips sliding over her neck, nipping lightly at her skin, and it's her turn to gasp, to groan, her hips moving restlessly as Richard explores. Her hands aren't idle either, mapping the contours of Richard's body, delighting in the feel of him, the shape and the weight of him as he settles over her.
They have time - until near dusk, at least - but she's too eager to wait, too impatient after months, years of wanting. The feel of his lips on her breasts simply ramps up the heat, sharp shards of pleasure pulsing through her as he licks and sucks until her teats are peaked and her flesh is pink and flushed.
He moves lower still, tracing over the soft curves of her stomach with his tongue before parting her thighs and settling between them. She slides her fingers into his dark hair, her palm cradling his skull, as his warm breath ghosts over her quim, sending shivers through her. They build as his tongue follows his breath, sliding between her folds, which are already slick with her need for him. He teases her mercilessly, holding her down as she twists and cries out, the pleasure building and building in her until finally she finds her release, her hips jerking as she spends.
For a second she feels her magic rising under the surface of her skin, tangling with her pleasure until she doesn't know where one ends and the other begins, but it's muted, powerless in the face of the rada'han and when the pleasure finally eases so does it, sliding back into dormancy, safely contained.
When Richard sits up his face is slick and satisfied, his eyes as bright as her smile. She can't help it - she laughs when she sees his expression, so smug but still joyous, still tender. This time she reaches for him, holding her arms open for him and sliding her legs around his waist, opening there for him too.
He is heavy at first, until he props himself up on his elbows, reaching down to kiss her again. It's bearable, as is the brief pain when he finally slides into her body, watching her face the entire time as though he's afraid he'll hurt her.
She wants to reassure him, tell him he isn't, but her words drift away, lost in the feel of his body, of him moving within her. The pleasure is building again, fierce and unrelenting, and she can only clutch at his shoulders, wrap her legs around him, reduced to nothing but yes and please.
Her final cry is Richard! and she shivers apart, all of her limbs turned to liquid and her body to molten fire.
When she comes back to herself, Richard is lost in his own pleasure, the movement of his hips, the way his body slams into hers rougher now. She's a little tender where their bodies are joined, but she doesn't mind it, the ache of his dick in her, the roughness of his beard scratching against the skin of her neck. There's a pleasure in that as well, in the mindlessness of stroking her hands over Richard's skin knowing that his climax is close, knowing that she will feel each of these small hurts later, when they can no longer touch like this, and remember how it felt to love him completely.
When Richard comes, he calls her name, his hips jerking against her as he empties himself into her body. It's an odd sensation, the feel of him slipping from her body when he finally eases away from her, and for a moment there's a brief sensation of loss, something sad and bittersweet, especially when she reaches down and realises the wetness she feels isn't blood, as she'd been led to expect, but his seed slipping from her body.
But then Richard pulls her closer again, cradling her against his chest as he sighs happily, and just like that the bitter fades leaving only sweetness behind.
"I love you," he says, murmuring the words against her skin as though he would brand her with them, carve them into her body so that she would never forget.
He doesn't need to - they are carved so deeply into her heart that they will last her life entire.
"I know. I love you, too," she murmurs back, the words too small for everything she feels.
But the day is early yet - there are hours until dusk, hours to share with him.
Hours to show him how much of her is his, over and over again.