"perceiver" (Avatar: The Last Airbender; Toph)
Title: "perceiver"
Chapter: 7
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Characters/Pairings: Toph; another male character is involved, and there's sexytimes, but I don't specify who it is.
Rating: T/PG-13
Warnings: The sex is barely there, really.
Word Count: 1,365
Challenge: 5_sense; List 2: Movement
Summary: [Future] Eyes open, eyes closed; on this sea of sheets, the world is dark, and she's blind.
Notes: ohai, does anyone even remember me in this fandom? /o/ I don't remember when I renamed, but I used to be helium_lost, which is still my pen name at FanFiction.Net. Anyway, it's been three years since I've written any fic in Avatar, but I really wanted to get back into writing... so... here you go. This is a half-continuation of the previous ficlet, "Love".
It's a strange sensation, being held while sleeping on linen sheets. Toph never did like sleeping in a bed-sure, it was more comfortable, in a conventional sense, but she had always much preferred sleeping outside, under the stars, with her feet flat on the ground. Sleeping with her eyes open, in a sense-aware of every movement around her, every twitch of every animal, every shiver of every pebble, every breath of every blade of grass surrounding her as the scent of damp soil fills her nostrils.
No, it's not that this bed isn't comfortable, or that his touch isn't warm and loving-she's never felt softer fabrics, never sunk into something as cloudy-light and fluffy as this mattress, never felt so comfortable as she is now, with her head in the crook between his shoulder and chest and with his arm around her waist. It's just that, with her feet up on the sheets, feeling only the texture of hundreds of threads against her skin, she feels…
Vulnerable.
He opens his eyes.
"Hey lovely," he says, smiling down at her, "Can't sleep?"
Her eyes are open, milky white, shining in the darkness. "Yeah."
A rustling of sheets as he shifts and lies on his side, head resting against his palm, elbow against the pillow. A few strands of hair fall into his eyes. "Something wrong?"
Her gaze darts across the room. She can still smell the flowers that they had picked after the wedding; they're starting to wilt now, after a few hours, but their scent is still strong and sweet. She can hear how still the air is, both inside the room and out, and she can hear the sound of his foot rubbing gently, back and forth, aimlessly, along the sheets. She can feel her long, jet-black hair tickle at her bare shoulder; she runs her fingertips along the smooth skin of his shoulder, tracing the gentle curves of his muscles down to his hand, where their fingertips touch. She leans in forward and takes a big breath, smells his scent-so utterly male, masculine, yang, even after his bath-and she imagines that his scent wafts into her mouth, and she can feel his essence on her tongue.
But-eyes open, eyes closed; on this sea of sheets, the world is dark, and she's blind.
He takes a strand of her hair between his fingers and twirls it, then runs his hand down her back, tracing the arc, the curve, resting his palm on the small of her waist as he looks at her.
"Come on," he says gently, smiling softly at her, "tell me." A pause as his hand moves up to rub her back. "You know you can tell me anything."
She sighs. "I just-it's just that-" She bites her lower lip, her brow furrowed. She reaches her hands up and places them on his cheeks, spreads her fingers like the fan of a peacock's tail and traces the bone, the muscle, every pore on his skin with those tiny fingers, slim, yet callused after years of bending the earth.
He holds her wrist gently. His hand feels so big-his fingers go all the way around, and then some. Her skin is still pale, even though she's out for hours a day, still practicing her earthbending, still keeping herself in tip-top shape even though she hasn't fought a soul in ages. He lets out a little breath and holds her, cradling and cocooning her tiny body in his. Their curves meet, fit, complete each other, the embroidered silk of her undergarments rough against the bare skin of his chest; she closes her eyes, hands resting against his shoulders, fingers gently curled as her stiff body gradually relaxes into his.
He gently rubs his cheek against hers. "You can tell me," he murmurs, the moonlight catching on his open eyes, shining and bright.
"I…" she begins, then pauses, burrowing her face into his smooth, bare chest, marveling at how loud his heartbeat sounds, marveling at how lovely he is, how beautiful he is, even when the world is dark to her. "I love this bed… I love being with you like this… I love being together like this; I just-" Another pause, another breath. "I can't see."
He grins. In one swift move, he hugs her tightly around her chest, then rolls onto his back with her on top of him. She shrieks and he laughs. Her eyes are wide; his are half-closed in mirth.
"Don't do that!" she says, breathlessly, lifting herself off of him, her arms trembling on either side of him with her palms against the sheets. He smirks up at her.
"You're such an earthbender," he says, then laughs again as she gives him an indignant look.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He smiles, then pulls her down again so that the gentle swell of her chest and the smooth plane of his are touching. She lets out another breathless yelp as he wraps his strong arms around her.
"Be more like water," he says, then begins to rock her gently. "Go with the flow. Yield. Fill the container you're in. Be gentle, limber." He plants a kiss on her neck, and she gasps as her whole body tingles. "Don't be so tough and hard and firm and stubborn all the time, insisting that you're strong until the moment an earthquake breaks you." He plants another kiss on her collarbone, and she lets out another soft cry as her cheeks flush.
"But I-" she begins, but he hushes her with a finger against her lips.
"Shh," he says, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand, "just go with it."
He kisses her cheek and her breath catches in her throat; she gasps when his lips meet hers-tender, gentle as his hands wander over her body, sending shivers and sparks throughout her body. They're lying on their sides again, her hand resting against his waist, his hand stroking her hair and her back.
He pauses, breaks the kiss. She hears him moving against the sheets as he tugs off the last bits of fabric that separate him from her, then feels his hand at her back, fingers tracing little circles around the ribbon that laces herself away from him.
"May I?"
She's shy, unsure-she's never been this close to him before, this kind of close to him before, and of course there's that element of fear, of hesitation-but she feels a warmth for him bubbling up from inside of her.
Go with the flow…
She nods.
He tugs at the bow, and the last gate falls as she pulls away the covering and lets it fall to the ground beside the bed.
He's gentle with her as he takes her into his arms, strokes her, then lays her down on her back as he continues to rain kisses down upon her and makes her shiver and cry out. She's nervous, vulnerable, unsure of where he'll touch next, unsure of what he'll do next, and she lets that show with him-she doesn't hide it, doesn't raise her wall of toughness and stubbornness like she does with the rest of the world. She can't see him, but she can still feel his smiles, feel his love, feel his warmth as he caresses her, strokes her, reaches down and pleases her. Little gasps escape past her coral-pink lips as she squeezes her eyes shut, lost in his touch.
Her wall is down, her gates are open, and she allows him to enter her-and she feels safe with him; she rocks in a sea of pleasure, waves cresting and crashing ashore; her lips tingle, her hands grab at his back. She doesn't need to see, not now-nor hear, nor taste, nor smell nor touch; she simply needs to be, to love, to move with him, together as one in their own moonlit ocean.
Go with the flow-she relaxes her body, lets herself flow into him, and cries out as the final wave of pleasure crests and breaks and he flows into her.
The other chapters can be found here.
FF.Net: Mirror | Review?
Chapter: 7
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Characters/Pairings: Toph; another male character is involved, and there's sexytimes, but I don't specify who it is.
Rating: T/PG-13
Warnings: The sex is barely there, really.
Word Count: 1,365
Challenge: 5_sense; List 2: Movement
Summary: [Future] Eyes open, eyes closed; on this sea of sheets, the world is dark, and she's blind.
Notes: ohai, does anyone even remember me in this fandom? /o/ I don't remember when I renamed, but I used to be helium_lost, which is still my pen name at FanFiction.Net. Anyway, it's been three years since I've written any fic in Avatar, but I really wanted to get back into writing... so... here you go. This is a half-continuation of the previous ficlet, "Love".
It's a strange sensation, being held while sleeping on linen sheets. Toph never did like sleeping in a bed-sure, it was more comfortable, in a conventional sense, but she had always much preferred sleeping outside, under the stars, with her feet flat on the ground. Sleeping with her eyes open, in a sense-aware of every movement around her, every twitch of every animal, every shiver of every pebble, every breath of every blade of grass surrounding her as the scent of damp soil fills her nostrils.
No, it's not that this bed isn't comfortable, or that his touch isn't warm and loving-she's never felt softer fabrics, never sunk into something as cloudy-light and fluffy as this mattress, never felt so comfortable as she is now, with her head in the crook between his shoulder and chest and with his arm around her waist. It's just that, with her feet up on the sheets, feeling only the texture of hundreds of threads against her skin, she feels…
Vulnerable.
He opens his eyes.
"Hey lovely," he says, smiling down at her, "Can't sleep?"
Her eyes are open, milky white, shining in the darkness. "Yeah."
A rustling of sheets as he shifts and lies on his side, head resting against his palm, elbow against the pillow. A few strands of hair fall into his eyes. "Something wrong?"
Her gaze darts across the room. She can still smell the flowers that they had picked after the wedding; they're starting to wilt now, after a few hours, but their scent is still strong and sweet. She can hear how still the air is, both inside the room and out, and she can hear the sound of his foot rubbing gently, back and forth, aimlessly, along the sheets. She can feel her long, jet-black hair tickle at her bare shoulder; she runs her fingertips along the smooth skin of his shoulder, tracing the gentle curves of his muscles down to his hand, where their fingertips touch. She leans in forward and takes a big breath, smells his scent-so utterly male, masculine, yang, even after his bath-and she imagines that his scent wafts into her mouth, and she can feel his essence on her tongue.
But-eyes open, eyes closed; on this sea of sheets, the world is dark, and she's blind.
He takes a strand of her hair between his fingers and twirls it, then runs his hand down her back, tracing the arc, the curve, resting his palm on the small of her waist as he looks at her.
"Come on," he says gently, smiling softly at her, "tell me." A pause as his hand moves up to rub her back. "You know you can tell me anything."
She sighs. "I just-it's just that-" She bites her lower lip, her brow furrowed. She reaches her hands up and places them on his cheeks, spreads her fingers like the fan of a peacock's tail and traces the bone, the muscle, every pore on his skin with those tiny fingers, slim, yet callused after years of bending the earth.
He holds her wrist gently. His hand feels so big-his fingers go all the way around, and then some. Her skin is still pale, even though she's out for hours a day, still practicing her earthbending, still keeping herself in tip-top shape even though she hasn't fought a soul in ages. He lets out a little breath and holds her, cradling and cocooning her tiny body in his. Their curves meet, fit, complete each other, the embroidered silk of her undergarments rough against the bare skin of his chest; she closes her eyes, hands resting against his shoulders, fingers gently curled as her stiff body gradually relaxes into his.
He gently rubs his cheek against hers. "You can tell me," he murmurs, the moonlight catching on his open eyes, shining and bright.
"I…" she begins, then pauses, burrowing her face into his smooth, bare chest, marveling at how loud his heartbeat sounds, marveling at how lovely he is, how beautiful he is, even when the world is dark to her. "I love this bed… I love being with you like this… I love being together like this; I just-" Another pause, another breath. "I can't see."
He grins. In one swift move, he hugs her tightly around her chest, then rolls onto his back with her on top of him. She shrieks and he laughs. Her eyes are wide; his are half-closed in mirth.
"Don't do that!" she says, breathlessly, lifting herself off of him, her arms trembling on either side of him with her palms against the sheets. He smirks up at her.
"You're such an earthbender," he says, then laughs again as she gives him an indignant look.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He smiles, then pulls her down again so that the gentle swell of her chest and the smooth plane of his are touching. She lets out another breathless yelp as he wraps his strong arms around her.
"Be more like water," he says, then begins to rock her gently. "Go with the flow. Yield. Fill the container you're in. Be gentle, limber." He plants a kiss on her neck, and she gasps as her whole body tingles. "Don't be so tough and hard and firm and stubborn all the time, insisting that you're strong until the moment an earthquake breaks you." He plants another kiss on her collarbone, and she lets out another soft cry as her cheeks flush.
"But I-" she begins, but he hushes her with a finger against her lips.
"Shh," he says, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand, "just go with it."
He kisses her cheek and her breath catches in her throat; she gasps when his lips meet hers-tender, gentle as his hands wander over her body, sending shivers and sparks throughout her body. They're lying on their sides again, her hand resting against his waist, his hand stroking her hair and her back.
He pauses, breaks the kiss. She hears him moving against the sheets as he tugs off the last bits of fabric that separate him from her, then feels his hand at her back, fingers tracing little circles around the ribbon that laces herself away from him.
"May I?"
She's shy, unsure-she's never been this close to him before, this kind of close to him before, and of course there's that element of fear, of hesitation-but she feels a warmth for him bubbling up from inside of her.
Go with the flow…
She nods.
He tugs at the bow, and the last gate falls as she pulls away the covering and lets it fall to the ground beside the bed.
He's gentle with her as he takes her into his arms, strokes her, then lays her down on her back as he continues to rain kisses down upon her and makes her shiver and cry out. She's nervous, vulnerable, unsure of where he'll touch next, unsure of what he'll do next, and she lets that show with him-she doesn't hide it, doesn't raise her wall of toughness and stubbornness like she does with the rest of the world. She can't see him, but she can still feel his smiles, feel his love, feel his warmth as he caresses her, strokes her, reaches down and pleases her. Little gasps escape past her coral-pink lips as she squeezes her eyes shut, lost in his touch.
Her wall is down, her gates are open, and she allows him to enter her-and she feels safe with him; she rocks in a sea of pleasure, waves cresting and crashing ashore; her lips tingle, her hands grab at his back. She doesn't need to see, not now-nor hear, nor taste, nor smell nor touch; she simply needs to be, to love, to move with him, together as one in their own moonlit ocean.
Go with the flow-she relaxes her body, lets herself flow into him, and cries out as the final wave of pleasure crests and breaks and he flows into her.
The other chapters can be found here.
FF.Net: Mirror | Review?