"A Triumphant Twang" - Legend of the Seeker Fic (R)
Disclaimer: Legend of the Seeker/Sword of Truth is owned by Terry Goodkind and all the grand high mucky mucks of ABC. No copyright infringement is intended and no money was made from this of course. Any similarity to any other story not my own is coincidence.
Title: A Triumphant Twang
Genre: Legend of the Seeker; Kahlan/Richard
Rating: R; rated for implied sexual situations
Timeline: Sometime after the series end
Prompt: Red/Love
Author's Notes: Written for valentine's day challenge at legendland
Title from the quote: "Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin, it's the triumphant twnag of a bedspring." - S. J. Perelman. I am uncertain as to who to credit for the quote proceeding the story.
She would never quite view her body in exactly the same way.
It was now a road map:
this is where he kissed her first, this is where he touched her and she gasped,
this is where he laid his head after they were done.
Kahlan looked down, consciously avoiding the sight of herself in the mirror. Slowly, she unwound the ivory bed-sheet from around her body, carefully tugging at the loosely tucked corner that rested underneath her arm. She watched in fascination as the warm fabric fell loose, finding herself somehow surprised that she really seemed to look no different than she had that morning.
“But what did you really expect, Kahlan?” She murmured quietly as her gaze drifted up to her reflection. The sheet fell from her hand and pooled warmly on the cool stone beneath her feet. She wiggled her toes in the skin warmed fabric for a moment as she contemplated the mirror image that stared back at her with wide, blue eyes.
“What did you expect?” She asked her reflection after a few moments, her voice quieter than the soft breeze whispering through the bedroom curtain.
Slowly, Kahlan reached out to brush her fingertips against the smooth glass, tracing the reflected line of her cheek before doing the same against her own skin. She sighed as she felt the coolness of her fingers against her flushed cheek before she pulled them to her lips. When she brushed the soft circle of them, she felt a quiet tingle that she chased down the velvet line of her throat.
“I should look different,” she whispered, feeling the words slip from her lips.
Her touch lingered briefly at the rapid pulse she found dancing in the hollow of her throat. Kahlan watched as it pushed lightly against her fingertips.
“Somehow...”
She traced a slow path down between her breasts until she reach a place low enough to press her palm flat against her stomach.
“Shouldn't I...” she murmured uncertainly beneath the perfect acoustics of the room before biting her lower lip. She turned her head, eyeing the simple curve of her neck and shoulder before trailing her free hand over her lightly freckled skin.
“Oh,” she gasped, circling her fingertip over the vivid red mark that she found there. “Oh...” She pressed just a little harder, a bit surprised and more than a little aroused by the feeling it produced.
“Kahlan?”
She startled at the sound of Richard's voice.
“Kahlan? Are you all right?”
Her eyes met his in the mirror as he rose from the bed and joined her in front of it.
“Kahlan...” Richard asked gently, his voice soft with concern.
She slowly moved her fingertips away from the intimate red mark that blossomed on her neck like a small rose.
“Oh, Kahlan... I'm...”
Kahlan interrupted his apology with a small smile every bit as intimate as the mark.
“Before you... I was never really touched by love.”
With quiet grace she slid her fingertips back over her reddened skin.
“My power let me touch others; mark others, but love never left its mark on me,” she continued quietly. “And I always imagined that white, untouched and unmarked, was the color of love. But now...” she smiled again a little before turning to face her lover and sliding her arms up and around his neck and shoulders.
“But now,” she whispered. “I know, that the true color of love is red.”
Richard returned her blissful smile with one of his own and bent his lips down to nuzzle gently at the small, vivid mark, whispering his devotion over her sensitive skin.
“Definitely red...” she sighed.
Title: A Triumphant Twang
Genre: Legend of the Seeker; Kahlan/Richard
Rating: R; rated for implied sexual situations
Timeline: Sometime after the series end
Prompt: Red/Love
Author's Notes: Written for valentine's day challenge at legendland
Title from the quote: "Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin, it's the triumphant twnag of a bedspring." - S. J. Perelman. I am uncertain as to who to credit for the quote proceeding the story.
She would never quite view her body in exactly the same way.
It was now a road map:
this is where he kissed her first, this is where he touched her and she gasped,
this is where he laid his head after they were done.
Kahlan looked down, consciously avoiding the sight of herself in the mirror. Slowly, she unwound the ivory bed-sheet from around her body, carefully tugging at the loosely tucked corner that rested underneath her arm. She watched in fascination as the warm fabric fell loose, finding herself somehow surprised that she really seemed to look no different than she had that morning.
“But what did you really expect, Kahlan?” She murmured quietly as her gaze drifted up to her reflection. The sheet fell from her hand and pooled warmly on the cool stone beneath her feet. She wiggled her toes in the skin warmed fabric for a moment as she contemplated the mirror image that stared back at her with wide, blue eyes.
“What did you expect?” She asked her reflection after a few moments, her voice quieter than the soft breeze whispering through the bedroom curtain.
Slowly, Kahlan reached out to brush her fingertips against the smooth glass, tracing the reflected line of her cheek before doing the same against her own skin. She sighed as she felt the coolness of her fingers against her flushed cheek before she pulled them to her lips. When she brushed the soft circle of them, she felt a quiet tingle that she chased down the velvet line of her throat.
“I should look different,” she whispered, feeling the words slip from her lips.
Her touch lingered briefly at the rapid pulse she found dancing in the hollow of her throat. Kahlan watched as it pushed lightly against her fingertips.
“Somehow...”
She traced a slow path down between her breasts until she reach a place low enough to press her palm flat against her stomach.
“Shouldn't I...” she murmured uncertainly beneath the perfect acoustics of the room before biting her lower lip. She turned her head, eyeing the simple curve of her neck and shoulder before trailing her free hand over her lightly freckled skin.
“Oh,” she gasped, circling her fingertip over the vivid red mark that she found there. “Oh...” She pressed just a little harder, a bit surprised and more than a little aroused by the feeling it produced.
“Kahlan?”
She startled at the sound of Richard's voice.
“Kahlan? Are you all right?”
Her eyes met his in the mirror as he rose from the bed and joined her in front of it.
“Kahlan...” Richard asked gently, his voice soft with concern.
She slowly moved her fingertips away from the intimate red mark that blossomed on her neck like a small rose.
“Oh, Kahlan... I'm...”
Kahlan interrupted his apology with a small smile every bit as intimate as the mark.
“Before you... I was never really touched by love.”
With quiet grace she slid her fingertips back over her reddened skin.
“My power let me touch others; mark others, but love never left its mark on me,” she continued quietly. “And I always imagined that white, untouched and unmarked, was the color of love. But now...” she smiled again a little before turning to face her lover and sliding her arms up and around his neck and shoulders.
“But now,” she whispered. “I know, that the true color of love is red.”
Richard returned her blissful smile with one of his own and bent his lips down to nuzzle gently at the small, vivid mark, whispering his devotion over her sensitive skin.
“Definitely red...” she sighed.