Ever A Surprise (Seychelles/Iceland)
anonymous
January 30 2010, 03:43:50 UTC
"Oh!" Seychelles cried as Iceland picked her up and sat her atop his desk. "What are you doing?"
"Checking your foot," Iceland said calmly, pulling off her shoe and sitting it on the floor. Seychelles shivered when his gloved hands touched the sensitive skin of her ankle and foot.
"Cold?" Iceland asked, glancing up at her. His voice gave nothing away, anymore than his eyes did.
"A bit," Seychelles admitted, then said, "Hey, look, my sprain is almost healed, isn't it? I'll be good as new."
"Hmmm," Iceland murmured as he leaned back on his heels and smoothly pulled off his white gloves, one after the other. Now his skin touched hers, much warmer than Seychelles might have supposed, his fingers feather-soft as they stroked down her ankle to the curve of her arch. Seychelles found herself involuntarily holding a deep breath. Iceland had the talented hands of a master musician.
Iceland looked back up at her, this time allowing the heat to show in his gaze, and Seychelles felt hypnotized as she watched him lean forward and tenderly kiss the little hollow beneath her fibula. Seychelles released that breath in a soft gasp. "Iceland, what're you doing?"
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, moving on to mouth at the soft pads of her toes.
"No!" she said so quickly that Iceland actually grinned.
"Your foot is as beautiful as the rest of you," he said, stroking maddening little circles on her heel with the tips of his fingers. "Every part of you is beautiful. I should like to make love to you."
Her heart pounding in her ears, Seychelles sputtered out, "But we barely know each other!"
"That is true," Iceland said in a tone that made it clear that he found that fact to be regrettable. "But if I cannot make love to you, perhaps you will allow me to tell you how I would make love to you?"
Seychelles' only response was to gape at him, her mouth moving but making only soft whimpers and gasps. Taking that for permission, Iceland forged ahead.
"I should like to lay you down -- perhaps not here, on this hard desk, but on my bed, where we would be warm and safe from prying eyes. I would begin at your feet, kissing my way up your legs, touching the soft space behind your knees with my mouth, until you welcomed me between your legs. I would breathe you in, licking and tasting you --" as if to illustrate, Iceland tongued between her toes --"until you came apart for me. You would be so pleasured, but not yet sated, that I promise. Then I would carefully undress you, piece by piece, until you were naked before me."
Seychelles, unthinking, entwined her fingers into his tousled fair hair. Iceland murmured something that sounded encouraging.
"And only when you were ready," he said, his eyes sliding shut as he licked his way from her ankle to her knee, "and crying for me, to know me, as I desire to know you. Only then would we lock hands --" and his hand caught her free one, their fingers locking together tightly -- "and I would cover your mouth with mine, and then I would slid into you. It might hurt a little, the first time, but I promise I will kiss your neck and love you so that the pain will subside, and you will feel only pleasure."
He brought their linked hands to his mouth, and tenderly kissed her knuckles. "That it how I would like to make love to you, Seychelles."
Seychelles swallowed deeply. "Well," she managed weakly, "you certainly have talented hands."
She felt rather than saw Iceland smile around her knuckles. "Allow me to show you how talented," he whispered against her skin.
Author of above two fills
anonymous
January 30 2010, 04:50:18 UTC
-blinks- My, my. How wonderfully sensual and sweet. And then I had to chortle at Iceland's bluntly poetic remarks. He is a land that had bards, after all, so I suppose it rubbed off somehow. There's something incredibly endearing about his particular voice...
"Checking your foot," Iceland said calmly, pulling off her shoe and sitting it on the floor. Seychelles shivered when his gloved hands touched the sensitive skin of her ankle and foot.
"Cold?" Iceland asked, glancing up at her. His voice gave nothing away, anymore than his eyes did.
"A bit," Seychelles admitted, then said, "Hey, look, my sprain is almost healed, isn't it? I'll be good as new."
"Hmmm," Iceland murmured as he leaned back on his heels and smoothly pulled off his white gloves, one after the other. Now his skin touched hers, much warmer than Seychelles might have supposed, his fingers feather-soft as they stroked down her ankle to the curve of her arch. Seychelles found herself involuntarily holding a deep breath. Iceland had the talented hands of a master musician.
Iceland looked back up at her, this time allowing the heat to show in his gaze, and Seychelles felt hypnotized as she watched him lean forward and tenderly kiss the little hollow beneath her fibula. Seychelles released that breath in a soft gasp. "Iceland, what're you doing?"
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, moving on to mouth at the soft pads of her toes.
"No!" she said so quickly that Iceland actually grinned.
"Your foot is as beautiful as the rest of you," he said, stroking maddening little circles on her heel with the tips of his fingers. "Every part of you is beautiful. I should like to make love to you."
Her heart pounding in her ears, Seychelles sputtered out, "But we barely know each other!"
"That is true," Iceland said in a tone that made it clear that he found that fact to be regrettable. "But if I cannot make love to you, perhaps you will allow me to tell you how I would make love to you?"
Seychelles' only response was to gape at him, her mouth moving but making only soft whimpers and gasps. Taking that for permission, Iceland forged ahead.
"I should like to lay you down -- perhaps not here, on this hard desk, but on my bed, where we would be warm and safe from prying eyes. I would begin at your feet, kissing my way up your legs, touching the soft space behind your knees with my mouth, until you welcomed me between your legs. I would breathe you in, licking and tasting you --" as if to illustrate, Iceland tongued between her toes --"until you came apart for me. You would be so pleasured, but not yet sated, that I promise. Then I would carefully undress you, piece by piece, until you were naked before me."
Seychelles, unthinking, entwined her fingers into his tousled fair hair. Iceland murmured something that sounded encouraging.
"And only when you were ready," he said, his eyes sliding shut as he licked his way from her ankle to her knee, "and crying for me, to know me, as I desire to know you. Only then would we lock hands --" and his hand caught her free one, their fingers locking together tightly -- "and I would cover your mouth with mine, and then I would slid into you. It might hurt a little, the first time, but I promise I will kiss your neck and love you so that the pain will subside, and you will feel only pleasure."
He brought their linked hands to his mouth, and tenderly kissed her knuckles. "That it how I would like to make love to you, Seychelles."
Seychelles swallowed deeply. "Well," she managed weakly, "you certainly have talented hands."
She felt rather than saw Iceland smile around her knuckles. "Allow me to show you how talented," he whispered against her skin.
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The way that was ended... is it implying more? ;D *bricked*
Either way, I loved it ~
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