(no subject)
Title: what we can take between
Author/Artist: shiegra
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia (movieverse)
Pairing: Susan/Caspian X
Rating: R/NC17
Prompt: - Chronicles of Narnia, The, Caspian/Susan: stolen kisses - Their last kiss had only been their first public one.
The first time was in the shadows beneath the How; her fingers around his wrist, she reeled him in, long dark hair coiled, eyes wide and shadowed. The sounds of weapons and armour being prepared echoed through the caves, and his dark eyes widened, lips parting beneath hers. Mouth soft and open; he made a soft sound under his breath when her tongue touched his lips, and then his calloused fingers were against her cheek and jaw, cupping her face.
Leather and armour pressed together, his sword hilt digging into her hip, his fingers sliding into her hair. Moist heat and damp, fierce intensity, the awkwardness of a first touch, neither of them quite daring enough, melting into a hunger that had her teeth closing on his lower lip as his arms moved to tug her closer.
Reality broke them apart, breathing harshly, and he touched his lower lip, eyes lingering on her mouth--no doubt flushed, her hair mussed. She wondered if her eyes glittered as his did, fiercely seeking something in each other.
She didn't even know what she was looking for, but she thought she found it. When he tried to bow, she stopped him, hand out. "Take care," she said, managing to turn her tone even and reserved if slightly breathless.
"Your Majesty," he said softly.
She turned and walked steadily back into the torch-lit warmth of the main cave and the gathering tension of war.
The second time was beneath the tall shadows of trees.
His hand is firm and warm around her wrist, this time, and she bends to sweep up her bow even as his arm tenses, muscles moving against her palm, to take her weight. She rises, pushing up, and he bends--his mouth drags across hers, a quick rough brush, and her lips part in a shaky gasp. The contact jolts through her adrenaline-rich body.
"Caspian," she says, voice throaty. His head turns, the warm curve of his throat close. She can smell the metal and sweat on both of them; the tang of blood may be from the corpses, but could just as easily be from he electrified mind.
She thinks of the fading thunder of hooves beneath Lucy. "Ride," she commands sharply, her breath ghosting over his skin. "Hurry."
They kiss most deeply in the shadows of Telmarine walls, against a window, her heavy silken skirts falling around them, his hands on her hips. He is so courteous. She covers his hands with hers, her legs parting, his mouth sliding slick over hers; brocade on his coat scrapes against the inside of her knee, thigh--she reaches down, twisting, to lift it out of the way and it lets her knees slide up around his waist.
Caspian makes a low, rough sound in his throat. Her mouth, misdirected, drags across his jaw. The sun is warm on her back, on her heavy loose hair. His fingers spread against the small of her back.
His eyelashes brush her cheek. Each moment is suspended, heat and warmth and the low aching ball of desire in her stomach turning time honey-slow. She sighs, and the breath shivers; the sweetness of his unexpected smile, as she drags her eyes open, catches her breath.
When he is inside her, muscles clenching helplessly in helpless flutters around the heat of him, Susan cries out, low and fierce, and her strong fingers bite into his shoulders. He kisses her hard, almost trembling against her, and she closes her eyes again, feeling golden light spill up from the core of her.
Her voice is shaky when she calls his name.
Before the tree, she reaches for him again; her fingers curve against his cheek, the back of his neck, her lips pressing almost chastely to his. For a moment they are almost strangers again, desperately reaching out. She left behind the Susan that could weep at this moment before she ever arrived to Narnia; that fragile girl was stripped from her under the first falling bombs, Lucy's heartbeat thundering against her like that of a trapped rabbit.
She is too strong to break; and somehow, in his quiet eyes, she finds what she needs to turn away almost smiling, wounded but willing to look forward again.
Author/Artist: shiegra
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia (movieverse)
Pairing: Susan/Caspian X
Rating: R/NC17
Prompt: - Chronicles of Narnia, The, Caspian/Susan: stolen kisses - Their last kiss had only been their first public one.
The first time was in the shadows beneath the How; her fingers around his wrist, she reeled him in, long dark hair coiled, eyes wide and shadowed. The sounds of weapons and armour being prepared echoed through the caves, and his dark eyes widened, lips parting beneath hers. Mouth soft and open; he made a soft sound under his breath when her tongue touched his lips, and then his calloused fingers were against her cheek and jaw, cupping her face.
Leather and armour pressed together, his sword hilt digging into her hip, his fingers sliding into her hair. Moist heat and damp, fierce intensity, the awkwardness of a first touch, neither of them quite daring enough, melting into a hunger that had her teeth closing on his lower lip as his arms moved to tug her closer.
Reality broke them apart, breathing harshly, and he touched his lower lip, eyes lingering on her mouth--no doubt flushed, her hair mussed. She wondered if her eyes glittered as his did, fiercely seeking something in each other.
She didn't even know what she was looking for, but she thought she found it. When he tried to bow, she stopped him, hand out. "Take care," she said, managing to turn her tone even and reserved if slightly breathless.
"Your Majesty," he said softly.
She turned and walked steadily back into the torch-lit warmth of the main cave and the gathering tension of war.
The second time was beneath the tall shadows of trees.
His hand is firm and warm around her wrist, this time, and she bends to sweep up her bow even as his arm tenses, muscles moving against her palm, to take her weight. She rises, pushing up, and he bends--his mouth drags across hers, a quick rough brush, and her lips part in a shaky gasp. The contact jolts through her adrenaline-rich body.
"Caspian," she says, voice throaty. His head turns, the warm curve of his throat close. She can smell the metal and sweat on both of them; the tang of blood may be from the corpses, but could just as easily be from he electrified mind.
She thinks of the fading thunder of hooves beneath Lucy. "Ride," she commands sharply, her breath ghosting over his skin. "Hurry."
They kiss most deeply in the shadows of Telmarine walls, against a window, her heavy silken skirts falling around them, his hands on her hips. He is so courteous. She covers his hands with hers, her legs parting, his mouth sliding slick over hers; brocade on his coat scrapes against the inside of her knee, thigh--she reaches down, twisting, to lift it out of the way and it lets her knees slide up around his waist.
Caspian makes a low, rough sound in his throat. Her mouth, misdirected, drags across his jaw. The sun is warm on her back, on her heavy loose hair. His fingers spread against the small of her back.
His eyelashes brush her cheek. Each moment is suspended, heat and warmth and the low aching ball of desire in her stomach turning time honey-slow. She sighs, and the breath shivers; the sweetness of his unexpected smile, as she drags her eyes open, catches her breath.
When he is inside her, muscles clenching helplessly in helpless flutters around the heat of him, Susan cries out, low and fierce, and her strong fingers bite into his shoulders. He kisses her hard, almost trembling against her, and she closes her eyes again, feeling golden light spill up from the core of her.
Her voice is shaky when she calls his name.
Before the tree, she reaches for him again; her fingers curve against his cheek, the back of his neck, her lips pressing almost chastely to his. For a moment they are almost strangers again, desperately reaching out. She left behind the Susan that could weep at this moment before she ever arrived to Narnia; that fragile girl was stripped from her under the first falling bombs, Lucy's heartbeat thundering against her like that of a trapped rabbit.
She is too strong to break; and somehow, in his quiet eyes, she finds what she needs to turn away almost smiling, wounded but willing to look forward again.