COMMUNION (Legend of the Seeker - Kahlan/Cara)
TITLE: COMMUNION 17/26
AUTHOR: rhyfeddu
RATING: R (I'm an old school rater, so translation: girl!sex)
SUMMARY: Definitely AU from "Eternity" on.
Cara's POV. Kahlan/Cara, mention of Dahlia
DISCLAIMER: As always, everything here belongs to other (much more wealthy) people. I'm just having fun.
COMMENT: Seventeenth part, a continuation from "Yield"
I'll be taking about four days off from writing and posting again - to recover! LOL
Kahlan’s head angled towards mine, then she paused inches from me and for a moment suspended, we shared the same hot breath, already uneven and quickening. I remembered thinking that I would need to temper myself, be gentle with her, knowing she wasn’t very experienced, when I felt her roughly move in and cover my mouth with hers, sending me into the wall with a dull thud.
Kahlan didn’t notice or stop, instead snaking her hands down the length of my arms as she kissed me, and when her fingers reached mine, pulling them up and holding them high against the wall behind me and deliberately placing them there as if they should stay. I felt the full sleeve of her Confessor’s gown brush my cheek as she dropped her hands back down and started palming my leathers, following the shape of my curves. When her fingers would hit a seam, her breath would hitch and she would tug at them and dig her fingers in as if to bypass them directly to my skin.
My hands begin to wander away from the wall, when she grabbed them and forcefully put them back. Then she grabbed both sides of my head and ravaged my mouth, pulling back occasionally to suck on my lips.
I didn’t know if she realized she was rocking her body into mine, but it made my fingers dig into the crude plaster behind me. Her hands drifted from my neck to trace the opening of my leathers over my chest as she continued the kiss. Her fingers slipped just barely inside, grazing the skin. She made a frustrated cry at the back of her throat, which was captured in my own mouth, and then she drew back. Her eyes were almost completely dark now, but not as a Confessor’s, just her pupils opening fully, large and astonished. Then she grinned in such a predatory way, that any Mord Sith would’ve have been proud.
I licked my bruised lips. “May I move my hands now, Mistress?” I asked hoarsely, teasingly.
She cocked her head. “No. Not yet.” She brushed aside my hair and attacked my neck, her open mouth making my pinned body squirm beneath her. Her breath was labored and warm on my skin and my pelvis began to pitch against her.
She leaned back just far enough to place her hands between us and over my clothed breasts and our foreheads touching, she watched me intently as she moved her thumbs over and around their tips. The leather was wonderfully rough against them, and my head jerked back against the wall and I made an exultant cry.
After some time of this, and an escalating itch for more for both of us, she grabbed the front of my leathers and shook me a little. “Get these off,” her winded voice pleaded, demanded. “Now.”
I gave a heated chuckle as she stepped back and I took Kahlan’s loaned dagger from my waist and flung it to the side, embedding it into the wall, as her chest rose in a ragged, appreciative breath. I stripped the gloves from my fingers and let them drop at my feet. I unbuckled my belt and slid my holster down my leg and kicked it away. Then I worked the ties until I could peel off the leathers. Kahlan watched avidly, every move, every inch of skin as it was revealed. I stepped out of them and threw them roughly aside and looked up through my lashes at her.
“Now what, Confessor?” I challenged.
She took my shoulders and spun me around till I hit the bed, bouncing, and a deep laugh escaped me. I had sorely underestimated Kahlan. And I should have known better. The fierce spirit I saw in her during battle, the very thing that had first drawn me to her, could only find a natural outlet in her bed.
She crawled over my legs and settled on my belly. The moist heat between her legs warmed my stomach, even through the cloth she still wore and I moaned at the sensation, clutching vaguely at Kahlan above me. She started to slide over me, in a short, steady rhythm and I looked up and saw Kahlan’s head thrown back, her mouth open and eyes closed, and the sight of her over me like that almost tore me apart.
She made small noises, wimpering and gasping, losing herself, and I realized Dahlia was partly right. Playing with my own death to be with Kahlan had its appeal. But she stirred herself, and shaking her head as if to clear it, looked at me with hooded, ravenous eyes.
She shifted and hovered over me, her eyes trailing over my skin like a greedy touch. Her tongue then followed the path her eyes had made and she tasted and licked and moved on to the next spot and began again. Her white dress billowed over and canopied around me, her dark hair silk on my ribs. Her boots scratched the outside of my legs where she straddled me.
She stopped abruptly and I realized that she was looking at a particularly rough scar that ran from my left hip to the bottom of my ribs. Her eyes became glassy and she ran her hand lightly over it again and again, as if to sooth a wound that she had never witnessed. She then kissed it along its length, blessing it with her mouth.
I was practically keening by then, and she dropped lower and gingerly picked up one of my legs and placed it over her shoulder. She caressed my center with her hand, which made me roll and lift my hips and then she parted the skin and lowered her mouth to me. Sounds I remembered only making before during torture escaped me as I thrashed on the mattress, as her tongue flicked, lapped and explored.
Kahlan’s strong hands then gripped my upper thighs to steady me and she took my engorged nub in her mouth and sucked and pulled, letting her teeth glance over it with a delicious jolt of pain. I felt my flesh seem to swell and burst and I melted, my lungs burning for air, a thick, dripping coat of sweat covering every part of me.
I continued to shake and twitch as Kahlan kissed my thighs. She moved on to my stomach and slowly retraced her way up my body.
I became aware of Kahlan balanced on one elbow next to me, waiting for me to focus again, watching me with sparkling eyes and biting her lower lip trying to not grin. “You don’t have to look so smug, Confessor,” I heaved. Then she did laugh, delighted and content, and it felt like we were in a Wisp’s grove and not some Inn that had seen better days.
“The libraries at Aydindril have some very interesting parchments,” she said coyly.
A full, silly smile conquered my face and defeated, I reached out a hand to stroke her cheek. Our eyes fixed and locked and I felt like I could see into the depths of her. I couldn’t recall such a merging closeness with someone before in my life.
Kahlan sighed deeply, and with a satisfied groan, tucked herself against me, burrowing her head against my shoulder. She was still fully clothed and the contrast was hard to ignore. I frowned.
“As...interesting as it was to lay with you while you wore this,” I said, tugging on her long sleeve, “I think we’ve forgotten something.”
I felt her body grow rigid. “Cara, we really don’t have to-“
I propped up on my elbows, displacing her. “Kahlan. Yes. We do.”
I flipped her over on her back and knelt next to her. A worried line ran between her eyebrows and I reached out and rubbed there pointedly until she started giggling and play slapping at my hand. She appeared so young and trusting. I looked at her and realized I would do anything for her. Anything at all. Not that there were many doubts about it before. But I could admit it now. Happily. Gratefully.
I bent over her and kissed her forehead, her nose, and her lips and gazed at her. “It’s okay.” I saw a moment of acceptance, of faith. Then I smirked cockily. “I don’t think it will take much more for you, anyway.” She smacked me again, a little harder this time and she tried to glare convincingly.
Then the worried crease reappeared. “What about what Zedd said? About avoiding magic in case Shota can track us through it? If I...” She waved her hand in front of herself. I found it amusing that she could do what she had just done to me and still have a problem saying the words to describe such acts.
“Since you won’t be confessing anyone,” I stressed meaningfully, and her mouth quirked, “you aren’t actively using your powers. What makes you a Confessor is with you always. You’ll just be releasing the grip you hold over it to suppress it.”
She looked a little mollified and I took a forefinger and followed the cut of her jaw. “Besides, there always seems to be one hundred different reasons why you need to deny yourself pleasure.” My thumb swiped her lips to help me punctuate my last words. “And. That. Ends. Now.”
Her nostrils flared and she dipped her head and swallowed. “Alright. Yes. Please.”
I settled over her legs and ran my hand over the laces in front of her gown, from between her breasts and back down to her lower belly. Her eyes closed, her head shifted slowly from side to side, flinging her dark strands of hair on the bed. The beauty of it hurt.
I wanted to say so much and found I couldn’t. I released the call from the bond that was created when I gave her the Breath of Life and Kahlan’s torso immediately lifted off the bed and against my hand still resting on her belly. Both her hands came up and clasped hard over mine, pushing down as if to intensify the pull. Her clenched eyes leaked tears from the outer corners and she had a blissful smile on her face. “Oh, Cara,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”
I felt answering tears biting my eyes. I reclaimed my hand and started pulling out the dress’s laces, slowly and deliberately. Kahlan eventually opened her eyes and I held them evenly as I continued. She took in a shallow gulp of air after each flick of my wrists.
Finally, I could part the dress and she slid her arms out and remained on top of it, the white cloth becoming the sheet she lay on. Her dark corset and long skirt were revealed underneath. I loosened the ties on the skirt and lifting myself from her, I tugged it and the short fabric underneath it off in one pull. I grinned as she lay there in just her boots and corset, which was framing her breasts and highlighting the short, rapid breaths she was taking. The dark curly patch of hair at the apex of her legs was shiny with want.
I leaned over and ran my tongue over the border between her flesh and the leather cupping her breasts and her hands lunged out to seize my hair. I put my mouth over one of her nipples and sucked through the leather as she stirred restlessly under me. I moved to the other and did the same things, even as my fingers loosened the ties and buckles that held the corset in place.
Tucking my fingers underneath the bottom, I worked my hands up her stomach until I reached her breasts, splitting open the garment as I went. When I had handfuls of her flesh, she twisted and cried out.
Her skin was so pale and smooth, it almost receded into the gown beneath her. It was flecked with a scattering of freckles like a speckled egg. As I added my mouth to my hand’s work on her chest, I imagined finding and kissing every faint spot on her body. One of my legs slipped between her thighs and I started to press against her, falling into a tempo as she pushed back at me.
Suddenly I felt her palm strike hard against my shoulder. “Close,” she hissed. “Spirits, Cara.”
I refrained from gloating about my being right at how near she was, and just stayed still, perched over her body until she could regain herself a little. When she looked up at me, full of desire and frustration and still a little fear, I reached out and took her wrist and drew her hand between my legs. I dragged her fingers over my center, coating her hand with the wetness she had caused. She made a gasping cry even as I shuddered at the contact. I then placed her hand back over her own center, and bent over her until my lips brushed her ear.
“Now I’ll be with you,” I breathed.
I drew off her until my back hit the footboard and watched as her hand made urgent, frantic motions. The air felt charged, like before a thunderstorm, as her power crackled through the room. I caught just a glimpse of the coal black force swimming in her eyes before her head snapped back, and all I could see was her straining neck muscles, flexing and pulling, as a raw, primal shout loosened from her throat.
The air pushed against me, a concussive, solid thing and my flesh crawled with exquisite pin pricks of potent magic. Our bond wasn’t suppose to work both ways, but it felt almost like I was experiencing being the Confessor not the confessed, and I could feel the profound depths of reverent love that fed her release and that coursed through her like an element of nature.
Then I watched her slowly descend. Her legs kicked aimlessly at the bedding, her black boots still sheathing them, her remaining dagger still tucked into one side. Her hair was plastered in long, wet vines on her face. Her hands clutched and unclutched beside her. Her corset underneath her like a shed shell, cracked open and revealing her soft, white skin in the quickly dimming daylight.
I hummed in bone deep satisfaction, enchanted with the sight of her, committing it to memory. And I thanked a Creator I wasn’t sure I believed in.
AUTHOR: rhyfeddu
RATING: R (I'm an old school rater, so translation: girl!sex)
SUMMARY: Definitely AU from "Eternity" on.
Cara's POV. Kahlan/Cara, mention of Dahlia
DISCLAIMER: As always, everything here belongs to other (much more wealthy) people. I'm just having fun.
COMMENT: Seventeenth part, a continuation from "Yield"
I'll be taking about four days off from writing and posting again - to recover! LOL
Kahlan’s head angled towards mine, then she paused inches from me and for a moment suspended, we shared the same hot breath, already uneven and quickening. I remembered thinking that I would need to temper myself, be gentle with her, knowing she wasn’t very experienced, when I felt her roughly move in and cover my mouth with hers, sending me into the wall with a dull thud.
Kahlan didn’t notice or stop, instead snaking her hands down the length of my arms as she kissed me, and when her fingers reached mine, pulling them up and holding them high against the wall behind me and deliberately placing them there as if they should stay. I felt the full sleeve of her Confessor’s gown brush my cheek as she dropped her hands back down and started palming my leathers, following the shape of my curves. When her fingers would hit a seam, her breath would hitch and she would tug at them and dig her fingers in as if to bypass them directly to my skin.
My hands begin to wander away from the wall, when she grabbed them and forcefully put them back. Then she grabbed both sides of my head and ravaged my mouth, pulling back occasionally to suck on my lips.
I didn’t know if she realized she was rocking her body into mine, but it made my fingers dig into the crude plaster behind me. Her hands drifted from my neck to trace the opening of my leathers over my chest as she continued the kiss. Her fingers slipped just barely inside, grazing the skin. She made a frustrated cry at the back of her throat, which was captured in my own mouth, and then she drew back. Her eyes were almost completely dark now, but not as a Confessor’s, just her pupils opening fully, large and astonished. Then she grinned in such a predatory way, that any Mord Sith would’ve have been proud.
I licked my bruised lips. “May I move my hands now, Mistress?” I asked hoarsely, teasingly.
She cocked her head. “No. Not yet.” She brushed aside my hair and attacked my neck, her open mouth making my pinned body squirm beneath her. Her breath was labored and warm on my skin and my pelvis began to pitch against her.
She leaned back just far enough to place her hands between us and over my clothed breasts and our foreheads touching, she watched me intently as she moved her thumbs over and around their tips. The leather was wonderfully rough against them, and my head jerked back against the wall and I made an exultant cry.
After some time of this, and an escalating itch for more for both of us, she grabbed the front of my leathers and shook me a little. “Get these off,” her winded voice pleaded, demanded. “Now.”
I gave a heated chuckle as she stepped back and I took Kahlan’s loaned dagger from my waist and flung it to the side, embedding it into the wall, as her chest rose in a ragged, appreciative breath. I stripped the gloves from my fingers and let them drop at my feet. I unbuckled my belt and slid my holster down my leg and kicked it away. Then I worked the ties until I could peel off the leathers. Kahlan watched avidly, every move, every inch of skin as it was revealed. I stepped out of them and threw them roughly aside and looked up through my lashes at her.
“Now what, Confessor?” I challenged.
She took my shoulders and spun me around till I hit the bed, bouncing, and a deep laugh escaped me. I had sorely underestimated Kahlan. And I should have known better. The fierce spirit I saw in her during battle, the very thing that had first drawn me to her, could only find a natural outlet in her bed.
She crawled over my legs and settled on my belly. The moist heat between her legs warmed my stomach, even through the cloth she still wore and I moaned at the sensation, clutching vaguely at Kahlan above me. She started to slide over me, in a short, steady rhythm and I looked up and saw Kahlan’s head thrown back, her mouth open and eyes closed, and the sight of her over me like that almost tore me apart.
She made small noises, wimpering and gasping, losing herself, and I realized Dahlia was partly right. Playing with my own death to be with Kahlan had its appeal. But she stirred herself, and shaking her head as if to clear it, looked at me with hooded, ravenous eyes.
She shifted and hovered over me, her eyes trailing over my skin like a greedy touch. Her tongue then followed the path her eyes had made and she tasted and licked and moved on to the next spot and began again. Her white dress billowed over and canopied around me, her dark hair silk on my ribs. Her boots scratched the outside of my legs where she straddled me.
She stopped abruptly and I realized that she was looking at a particularly rough scar that ran from my left hip to the bottom of my ribs. Her eyes became glassy and she ran her hand lightly over it again and again, as if to sooth a wound that she had never witnessed. She then kissed it along its length, blessing it with her mouth.
I was practically keening by then, and she dropped lower and gingerly picked up one of my legs and placed it over her shoulder. She caressed my center with her hand, which made me roll and lift my hips and then she parted the skin and lowered her mouth to me. Sounds I remembered only making before during torture escaped me as I thrashed on the mattress, as her tongue flicked, lapped and explored.
Kahlan’s strong hands then gripped my upper thighs to steady me and she took my engorged nub in her mouth and sucked and pulled, letting her teeth glance over it with a delicious jolt of pain. I felt my flesh seem to swell and burst and I melted, my lungs burning for air, a thick, dripping coat of sweat covering every part of me.
I continued to shake and twitch as Kahlan kissed my thighs. She moved on to my stomach and slowly retraced her way up my body.
I became aware of Kahlan balanced on one elbow next to me, waiting for me to focus again, watching me with sparkling eyes and biting her lower lip trying to not grin. “You don’t have to look so smug, Confessor,” I heaved. Then she did laugh, delighted and content, and it felt like we were in a Wisp’s grove and not some Inn that had seen better days.
“The libraries at Aydindril have some very interesting parchments,” she said coyly.
A full, silly smile conquered my face and defeated, I reached out a hand to stroke her cheek. Our eyes fixed and locked and I felt like I could see into the depths of her. I couldn’t recall such a merging closeness with someone before in my life.
Kahlan sighed deeply, and with a satisfied groan, tucked herself against me, burrowing her head against my shoulder. She was still fully clothed and the contrast was hard to ignore. I frowned.
“As...interesting as it was to lay with you while you wore this,” I said, tugging on her long sleeve, “I think we’ve forgotten something.”
I felt her body grow rigid. “Cara, we really don’t have to-“
I propped up on my elbows, displacing her. “Kahlan. Yes. We do.”
I flipped her over on her back and knelt next to her. A worried line ran between her eyebrows and I reached out and rubbed there pointedly until she started giggling and play slapping at my hand. She appeared so young and trusting. I looked at her and realized I would do anything for her. Anything at all. Not that there were many doubts about it before. But I could admit it now. Happily. Gratefully.
I bent over her and kissed her forehead, her nose, and her lips and gazed at her. “It’s okay.” I saw a moment of acceptance, of faith. Then I smirked cockily. “I don’t think it will take much more for you, anyway.” She smacked me again, a little harder this time and she tried to glare convincingly.
Then the worried crease reappeared. “What about what Zedd said? About avoiding magic in case Shota can track us through it? If I...” She waved her hand in front of herself. I found it amusing that she could do what she had just done to me and still have a problem saying the words to describe such acts.
“Since you won’t be confessing anyone,” I stressed meaningfully, and her mouth quirked, “you aren’t actively using your powers. What makes you a Confessor is with you always. You’ll just be releasing the grip you hold over it to suppress it.”
She looked a little mollified and I took a forefinger and followed the cut of her jaw. “Besides, there always seems to be one hundred different reasons why you need to deny yourself pleasure.” My thumb swiped her lips to help me punctuate my last words. “And. That. Ends. Now.”
Her nostrils flared and she dipped her head and swallowed. “Alright. Yes. Please.”
I settled over her legs and ran my hand over the laces in front of her gown, from between her breasts and back down to her lower belly. Her eyes closed, her head shifted slowly from side to side, flinging her dark strands of hair on the bed. The beauty of it hurt.
I wanted to say so much and found I couldn’t. I released the call from the bond that was created when I gave her the Breath of Life and Kahlan’s torso immediately lifted off the bed and against my hand still resting on her belly. Both her hands came up and clasped hard over mine, pushing down as if to intensify the pull. Her clenched eyes leaked tears from the outer corners and she had a blissful smile on her face. “Oh, Cara,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”
I felt answering tears biting my eyes. I reclaimed my hand and started pulling out the dress’s laces, slowly and deliberately. Kahlan eventually opened her eyes and I held them evenly as I continued. She took in a shallow gulp of air after each flick of my wrists.
Finally, I could part the dress and she slid her arms out and remained on top of it, the white cloth becoming the sheet she lay on. Her dark corset and long skirt were revealed underneath. I loosened the ties on the skirt and lifting myself from her, I tugged it and the short fabric underneath it off in one pull. I grinned as she lay there in just her boots and corset, which was framing her breasts and highlighting the short, rapid breaths she was taking. The dark curly patch of hair at the apex of her legs was shiny with want.
I leaned over and ran my tongue over the border between her flesh and the leather cupping her breasts and her hands lunged out to seize my hair. I put my mouth over one of her nipples and sucked through the leather as she stirred restlessly under me. I moved to the other and did the same things, even as my fingers loosened the ties and buckles that held the corset in place.
Tucking my fingers underneath the bottom, I worked my hands up her stomach until I reached her breasts, splitting open the garment as I went. When I had handfuls of her flesh, she twisted and cried out.
Her skin was so pale and smooth, it almost receded into the gown beneath her. It was flecked with a scattering of freckles like a speckled egg. As I added my mouth to my hand’s work on her chest, I imagined finding and kissing every faint spot on her body. One of my legs slipped between her thighs and I started to press against her, falling into a tempo as she pushed back at me.
Suddenly I felt her palm strike hard against my shoulder. “Close,” she hissed. “Spirits, Cara.”
I refrained from gloating about my being right at how near she was, and just stayed still, perched over her body until she could regain herself a little. When she looked up at me, full of desire and frustration and still a little fear, I reached out and took her wrist and drew her hand between my legs. I dragged her fingers over my center, coating her hand with the wetness she had caused. She made a gasping cry even as I shuddered at the contact. I then placed her hand back over her own center, and bent over her until my lips brushed her ear.
“Now I’ll be with you,” I breathed.
I drew off her until my back hit the footboard and watched as her hand made urgent, frantic motions. The air felt charged, like before a thunderstorm, as her power crackled through the room. I caught just a glimpse of the coal black force swimming in her eyes before her head snapped back, and all I could see was her straining neck muscles, flexing and pulling, as a raw, primal shout loosened from her throat.
The air pushed against me, a concussive, solid thing and my flesh crawled with exquisite pin pricks of potent magic. Our bond wasn’t suppose to work both ways, but it felt almost like I was experiencing being the Confessor not the confessed, and I could feel the profound depths of reverent love that fed her release and that coursed through her like an element of nature.
Then I watched her slowly descend. Her legs kicked aimlessly at the bedding, her black boots still sheathing them, her remaining dagger still tucked into one side. Her hair was plastered in long, wet vines on her face. Her hands clutched and unclutched beside her. Her corset underneath her like a shed shell, cracked open and revealing her soft, white skin in the quickly dimming daylight.
I hummed in bone deep satisfaction, enchanted with the sight of her, committing it to memory. And I thanked a Creator I wasn’t sure I believed in.