(no subject)
Chocolate #17. Freedom
Rating : NC-17 for explicit sex (not for the eyes of minors or those related to me)
Timeframe : summer 1260
Sly asked for this. She seems to like Ski smut.
The stable door creaked open and Ski slipped from the deepening twilight of the courtyard to the thick shadows inside. The smell of the horses and the sound of their heavy breathing filled her senses as the light fell away with the closing of the door.
There was a rustling in the straw and a massive hand closed over her arm. “I was beginning to wonder,” said Tristan, warm lips settling between words on her neck.
She breathed a sigh and found the familiar mix of sweat and leather to take precedence over the general atmosphere of the stable, as she pressed her back against his chest. “I found it difficult to slip away.” Tristan’s hands found her waist and set to work pulling her shirt from her belt, thick fingers brushing, now and then, against her flesh as he struggled with the fabric. No more than a few feet from where they stood, one of the horses gave a snort and shuffled its hooves. Ski grimaced. “Could you not find someplace with a bit more atmosphere?”
“Not so long as you want to keep things secret.” She was barely able to discern the words, as they were spoken into her neck.
“You know as well as I that the repercussions would-” He voice died in a gasp of pleasure as his hand slid beneath her shirt and made straight for her breast, engulfing her in his palm.
“Then this will just have to do,” he said, as the other hand joined the first. “Won’t it?” She hoped he could feel the slight bob of her head against as chest because, at that moment, words failed her completely.
Apparently he did, or he took her silence for consent, as both his hands and his lips continued their slow, gentle movement over her body. She groped the darkness behind her, looking to find some part of him to touch or some means to steady herself as her knees threatened to give way. One hand caught the back of his neck and she wound her fingers tightly through his short, thick hair. The other flailed about, brushing folds of cloth and leather, until she resigned herself to wrapping it around one of the thick arms that held her. She slid her palm down its length, muscles gathering and relaxing in her grasp with each slow circle his hand made over her.
Ski swallowed hard and gave his arm a squeeze. “We cannot continue this forever,” she said, though she could think of nothing she would have liked to do more. “Sooner or later-”
“Ski,” said Tristan, his lips leaving her neck in favor of her ear. “We can talk all you want about whether it’s right or wrong later.” A hand slid down over her belly and dipped between her legs. “Right now I want you.”
Her mouth dropped open. Numerous arguments came to mind, though they fled just as quickly, a heady moan the only sound her voice seemed willing to provide. Consoling herself that she’d protested enough, Ski pulled herself from his grasp to turn and kiss him. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark enough that she found him with ease. He pressed his lips eagerly to hers, his tongue exploring her mouth, while his hands settled on leading her in swift, staggering steps across the floor.
“I want you too,“ she murmured. She wound her hands in his shirt, parting lips just long enough to tug it over his head while they both gasped for air. It hit the ground and passed beneath their feet. Ski leaned in to resume the kissing, but strong hands whisked her own shirt over her head and sent it flying through the air. Their lips reconnected and strong, warm hands stroked and kneaded her exposed flesh, while hers made their way over his taut, muscular frame. A few more awkward, tangled steps, and she threw out a hand to catch the ladder behind him.
Tristan relinquished his hold on her and she scrambled up the ladder. One hand gripped the rungs; the other she laid across her front, though whether out of practicality or some ridiculous sense of modesty she was completely uncertain. As she neared the top, the whole thing swayed, Tristan adding his weight to hers.
Ski ducked her head and crawled into the loft. She fumbled with her belt, all the while patting the thick bed of straw in search of the blanket she hoped Tristan had thought to bring. Rough fibers rustled beneath her fingers and scraped her flesh, a reminder of their first trip to the loft that made her wince. She found the stiff wool with one hand as the buckle gave way to the other.
Tristan topped the ladder and the beams beneath her creaked as he shifted his body to them. His hands joined hers at her waist and she soon found the rest of her body exposed to the air. Strong arms worked their way around her, hands passing deftly over her as he turned her over. Under his guidance she settled onto the blanket.
Her own movements were far less practiced, and she found her hands skittering awkwardly across his chest, wrapping round his neck, winding through his hair. She kept them nowhere for more than a moment, wondering just what it was she ought to do with them.
He was on top of her, devouring her with mouth and hands, while the straw snapped and cracked at odd intervals beneath their combined weight. Ski slid a hand between his legs to stroke the hard bulge that had presented itself there. A deep, rumbling moan passed from the lips pressed to her neck. She made a few more passes over him, grinning to herself while he panted into her ear, before she pulled back to work the buckle that held his pants.
Tristan laid more kisses on her neck as she struggled to relieve him of his clothing. His own hand wound its way leisurely over her body, pausing to cup a breast before gliding across her abdomen. She sucked in a sharp breath as he drew a lazy circle round her navel with his finger. It was now Ski’s turn to squirm and moan as Tristan’s hand dipped lower, deftly parting her so that same finger could trace her entrance.
Ski clenched her teeth, determined not to wail at the jolt his touch sent through her system. She gripped the waist of his pants and tore them from his hips. Tristan wriggled out of them and she heard the soft thud as they fell from the ledge. He descended on her, her hips rising to meet his. Her hands found a home along his shoulder blades, digging at his flesh as he eased his way into her.
He brought his arms to her sides, hands wrapping beneath her shoulders with a force she suspected might leave her bruised as his weight bore down on her, knocking the breath from her. She tore at his back with the same force. Every movement pulled them more tightly together, until she began to wonder just where it was that she ended and he began or if such a thing was something she would ever be able to decipher again.
Ski held her lips fast to his and swallowed the cry that threatened to escape them as he spilled into her. Through the wave of heat that choked her thoughts, she still had the presence not to sound what a barn full of warhorses might think to be an alarm. She wound her fingers through Tristan’s hair and focused on the pair of brown eyes staring down at her, so wide it seemed as if they might swallow her. Something in her wished that they could.
He tore his mouth from hers, gasping for breath and she took deep, shuddering gulps of the air she only now remembered she needed. “I love you,” he said, the words more breath than speech.
“I love you too,” she said, and drew her tongue over her raw lips.
His withdrawal left her shaking, the line between them once more clearly drawn. She reached out a trembling hand to stroke his cheek as he loomed over her, muscles glistening with perspiration. Tristan caught her hand in his, laying gentle kisses on her fingers as he settled onto the blanket beside her with a sigh.
Ski crept closer and laid her head on Tristan’s chest to listen to the thundering of his heart. Straining to keep her eyes from drifting shut, she focused on the hand that settled before her face, her fingers tracing lazy circles over damp flesh. Tristan responded with an appreciative sigh as his own hand gently stroked her hair.
“We cannot keep doing this,” she said.
“You say that every time.” He brushed a few wayward strands from her face.
“This time I mean it.”
A grin split his broad features. “You say that every time too.” She pressed her palm flat against his chest, lifting herself to meet his eyes. Tristan’s tone grew far more serious. “I’m not leaving you,” he said.
“I-” She broke off into a sigh her hand returning to traveling over his chest. “I have no intention of asking you to.”
“What then?” His eyes were wide, the smile gone from his face.
She brought her gaze back to her roving hand, uncertain if she could face him as she continued. “I think it is time we told everyone, don’t you?”
Thick hands grasped her cheeks, pulling her down, and then his lips were on hers, as forceful and hungry as ever. Long moments passed before he released her and she stared into a face that was, once more, beaming up at her. “I take it that is a ‘yes,’” she said, struggling to find her breath.
“Yes,” said Tristan, running a hand through her hair. “Yes, it is.”
Rating : NC-17 for explicit sex (not for the eyes of minors or those related to me)
Timeframe : summer 1260
Sly asked for this. She seems to like Ski smut.
The stable door creaked open and Ski slipped from the deepening twilight of the courtyard to the thick shadows inside. The smell of the horses and the sound of their heavy breathing filled her senses as the light fell away with the closing of the door.
There was a rustling in the straw and a massive hand closed over her arm. “I was beginning to wonder,” said Tristan, warm lips settling between words on her neck.
She breathed a sigh and found the familiar mix of sweat and leather to take precedence over the general atmosphere of the stable, as she pressed her back against his chest. “I found it difficult to slip away.” Tristan’s hands found her waist and set to work pulling her shirt from her belt, thick fingers brushing, now and then, against her flesh as he struggled with the fabric. No more than a few feet from where they stood, one of the horses gave a snort and shuffled its hooves. Ski grimaced. “Could you not find someplace with a bit more atmosphere?”
“Not so long as you want to keep things secret.” She was barely able to discern the words, as they were spoken into her neck.
“You know as well as I that the repercussions would-” He voice died in a gasp of pleasure as his hand slid beneath her shirt and made straight for her breast, engulfing her in his palm.
“Then this will just have to do,” he said, as the other hand joined the first. “Won’t it?” She hoped he could feel the slight bob of her head against as chest because, at that moment, words failed her completely.
Apparently he did, or he took her silence for consent, as both his hands and his lips continued their slow, gentle movement over her body. She groped the darkness behind her, looking to find some part of him to touch or some means to steady herself as her knees threatened to give way. One hand caught the back of his neck and she wound her fingers tightly through his short, thick hair. The other flailed about, brushing folds of cloth and leather, until she resigned herself to wrapping it around one of the thick arms that held her. She slid her palm down its length, muscles gathering and relaxing in her grasp with each slow circle his hand made over her.
Ski swallowed hard and gave his arm a squeeze. “We cannot continue this forever,” she said, though she could think of nothing she would have liked to do more. “Sooner or later-”
“Ski,” said Tristan, his lips leaving her neck in favor of her ear. “We can talk all you want about whether it’s right or wrong later.” A hand slid down over her belly and dipped between her legs. “Right now I want you.”
Her mouth dropped open. Numerous arguments came to mind, though they fled just as quickly, a heady moan the only sound her voice seemed willing to provide. Consoling herself that she’d protested enough, Ski pulled herself from his grasp to turn and kiss him. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark enough that she found him with ease. He pressed his lips eagerly to hers, his tongue exploring her mouth, while his hands settled on leading her in swift, staggering steps across the floor.
“I want you too,“ she murmured. She wound her hands in his shirt, parting lips just long enough to tug it over his head while they both gasped for air. It hit the ground and passed beneath their feet. Ski leaned in to resume the kissing, but strong hands whisked her own shirt over her head and sent it flying through the air. Their lips reconnected and strong, warm hands stroked and kneaded her exposed flesh, while hers made their way over his taut, muscular frame. A few more awkward, tangled steps, and she threw out a hand to catch the ladder behind him.
Tristan relinquished his hold on her and she scrambled up the ladder. One hand gripped the rungs; the other she laid across her front, though whether out of practicality or some ridiculous sense of modesty she was completely uncertain. As she neared the top, the whole thing swayed, Tristan adding his weight to hers.
Ski ducked her head and crawled into the loft. She fumbled with her belt, all the while patting the thick bed of straw in search of the blanket she hoped Tristan had thought to bring. Rough fibers rustled beneath her fingers and scraped her flesh, a reminder of their first trip to the loft that made her wince. She found the stiff wool with one hand as the buckle gave way to the other.
Tristan topped the ladder and the beams beneath her creaked as he shifted his body to them. His hands joined hers at her waist and she soon found the rest of her body exposed to the air. Strong arms worked their way around her, hands passing deftly over her as he turned her over. Under his guidance she settled onto the blanket.
Her own movements were far less practiced, and she found her hands skittering awkwardly across his chest, wrapping round his neck, winding through his hair. She kept them nowhere for more than a moment, wondering just what it was she ought to do with them.
He was on top of her, devouring her with mouth and hands, while the straw snapped and cracked at odd intervals beneath their combined weight. Ski slid a hand between his legs to stroke the hard bulge that had presented itself there. A deep, rumbling moan passed from the lips pressed to her neck. She made a few more passes over him, grinning to herself while he panted into her ear, before she pulled back to work the buckle that held his pants.
Tristan laid more kisses on her neck as she struggled to relieve him of his clothing. His own hand wound its way leisurely over her body, pausing to cup a breast before gliding across her abdomen. She sucked in a sharp breath as he drew a lazy circle round her navel with his finger. It was now Ski’s turn to squirm and moan as Tristan’s hand dipped lower, deftly parting her so that same finger could trace her entrance.
Ski clenched her teeth, determined not to wail at the jolt his touch sent through her system. She gripped the waist of his pants and tore them from his hips. Tristan wriggled out of them and she heard the soft thud as they fell from the ledge. He descended on her, her hips rising to meet his. Her hands found a home along his shoulder blades, digging at his flesh as he eased his way into her.
He brought his arms to her sides, hands wrapping beneath her shoulders with a force she suspected might leave her bruised as his weight bore down on her, knocking the breath from her. She tore at his back with the same force. Every movement pulled them more tightly together, until she began to wonder just where it was that she ended and he began or if such a thing was something she would ever be able to decipher again.
Ski held her lips fast to his and swallowed the cry that threatened to escape them as he spilled into her. Through the wave of heat that choked her thoughts, she still had the presence not to sound what a barn full of warhorses might think to be an alarm. She wound her fingers through Tristan’s hair and focused on the pair of brown eyes staring down at her, so wide it seemed as if they might swallow her. Something in her wished that they could.
He tore his mouth from hers, gasping for breath and she took deep, shuddering gulps of the air she only now remembered she needed. “I love you,” he said, the words more breath than speech.
“I love you too,” she said, and drew her tongue over her raw lips.
His withdrawal left her shaking, the line between them once more clearly drawn. She reached out a trembling hand to stroke his cheek as he loomed over her, muscles glistening with perspiration. Tristan caught her hand in his, laying gentle kisses on her fingers as he settled onto the blanket beside her with a sigh.
Ski crept closer and laid her head on Tristan’s chest to listen to the thundering of his heart. Straining to keep her eyes from drifting shut, she focused on the hand that settled before her face, her fingers tracing lazy circles over damp flesh. Tristan responded with an appreciative sigh as his own hand gently stroked her hair.
“We cannot keep doing this,” she said.
“You say that every time.” He brushed a few wayward strands from her face.
“This time I mean it.”
A grin split his broad features. “You say that every time too.” She pressed her palm flat against his chest, lifting herself to meet his eyes. Tristan’s tone grew far more serious. “I’m not leaving you,” he said.
“I-” She broke off into a sigh her hand returning to traveling over his chest. “I have no intention of asking you to.”
“What then?” His eyes were wide, the smile gone from his face.
She brought her gaze back to her roving hand, uncertain if she could face him as she continued. “I think it is time we told everyone, don’t you?”
Thick hands grasped her cheeks, pulling her down, and then his lips were on hers, as forceful and hungry as ever. Long moments passed before he released her and she stared into a face that was, once more, beaming up at her. “I take it that is a ‘yes,’” she said, struggling to find her breath.
“Yes,” said Tristan, running a hand through her hair. “Yes, it is.”