More Lemon-Lime
Lemon-Lime Sorbet #12. Stolen Moments
with Hot Fudge, Whipped Cream, and Chopped Nuts
Story : knights
Rating : NC-17
Timeframe : early 1250's (teenage Sethan & Reida)
Word Count : 1164
Well, I rather liked the whole magic smut of Kairn/Reida. And I wanted to see it done with consent. And who would Reida like to get her hands on more than Sethan? So, here goes. I must say, I am quite happy with how the format worked out, especially considering the prompt.
Reida scratched at the floor with her chalk, not half thinking about the results. A swift glance over her shoulder found Sethan in place, head bowed beneath a dark sheet of wild, black curls. A flash of blue from beneath the curtain, the briefest hint of a grin, and she let her foot slide from under her skirt and edged his way.
Eyes back on her work, she chewed her lip, as a long, slender finger made its slow, playful way up over her ankle, emitting tiny bursts of fire beneath her skin as it wound in loose, ambling circles. Shivers rolled up her leg and along her spine, warm echoes of life breathed into flesh in all but the smallest of doses.
The hand withdrew, her foot retreated to its cover, and Tarek’s slow, shuffling robes slid into view. She dared one more look as the teacher closed in. Their eyes locked for a moment, and another burst raced up her spine, this one born of anticipation, at all the promise held in that swift glimpse of blue.
Flat on her stomach, legs hanging behind her, Reida clutched at the lip of the table. Sethan’s hands curled around her rear, palms square over the hastily drawn webs of lines, energy bursting between them with every thrust of his hips.
“More,” she breathed, as each wave subsided and the world resumed its dull clarity. “More.”
His fingers dug at her flesh, his breath catching, rasping in his throat, legs shaking as he rocked from heel to toe. The table shuddered beneath them, bones and tools rattling in the piles carelessly swept to either end.
Reida tore at the wood, forcing tiny splinters beneath her nails, as heat erupted from his hands and the room dove and spun before her like some magnificent, demented kalidoscope. “More.”
“Shh.” Sethan froze.
“Don’t stop,” Reida groaned, eyes clouding as he slid from within her. The walls settled back into place; their former colors returned. The swift rustle of Sethan’s pants behind her all but drowned out the steady slap of boots in the hall.
With a sigh, she fell from her perch, hollow and aching without him. Hands slid firmly down her legs, pressing her skirt into place. Lips brushed the back of her neck as her feet hit the floor.
“Later,” he whispered against her ear.
He threw her up against the wall, and Reida raked her hands over the stone, the surface grating its mark into her flesh. There was a hand between her legs, hauling her up to meet him, another fumbling with her skirts.
With one violent push and a shuddering sigh, Sethan filled her, She forced her head to her shoulder and took a mouthful of cloth to push back the cry that threatened to flee her throat at the pressure. Hands hooked beneath her legs, he thrust into her, driving her into the stone. Her teeth ground at her shirt as he worked his way up her thighs and carefully parted her flesh to hook a finger between.
The first jolt hit her, liquid heat beneath her skin that melted her joints and set her legs quivering. The cloth fell from her lips with a gasp, and she clawed at the wall as the grey stone before her burst into a swirling wash of color.
“Good?” His lips brushed her ear.
Fingers worked into any crevice they could find and toes dug into the earth, she ground her hips on his. “Shut up and do it again.”
“Mmm,” said Sethan. “But what do you say this time I take?”
Before she could open her mouth, the sensation ripped through her in reverse, the breath torn from her lungs and wrenched down her spine and out between her legs, even as he kept pace inside her. Her fingers fell, numb and trembling, from the wall and she slumped against him, hollow lungs groping for air.
His hand fell away and she winced. The howling reverberations in her head retreated, giving way to the slow shuffle and slap of boots on grass. There was a muttered curse and Sethan pulled free, a frantic fluttering of cloth flying between them. The two spun round, just in time to offer an innocent smile to Kinu as he rounded the corner.
Hands roaming, hearts pounding, they writhed on the floor, knees and elbows colliding with the clutter of books and scrolls that lay where they’d fallen when the shelves gave way.
Energy flowed from his hands, his lips, every time that he touched her, everywhere that they met, pulsed into where he filled her with rapid, violent thrusts. She clawed at his shoulders with charcoal blackened fingers that fumbled for the remains of the sigils smudged and smeared across his back and seized his lips with her own, devouring the life he so eagerly fed her.
“Oh, Sethan,” she groaned, her cries dissolving against his mouth, as he tensed and flowed into her and the room flailed between blankets of pitch and starbursts in myriad hues. “Sethan!”
Legs in the air, eyes on the ceiling, she lay beneath him, paint oozing from between their ribs, trickling to the sheets in blood red rivulets as sweat and friction eroded the marks on them both. Too spent to call another invocation of what remained of the forms drawn on their flesh, they simply moved together, as she supposed ordinary lovers must. The breathless moments in the halls, in the classrooms, the yard, were spectacular, but Sethan’s bed was, by far, the best. Nowhere else did it last like this.
The frame clattered against the wall with a sharp, stuttering rap. It peeled away, swaying precariously into the air, at the slow swing of Sethan’s hips, and they both bit back a laugh as the whole thing groaned as if it might splinter beneath them.
“One of these times,” he said, “we’re going to break this thing.”
Reida stretched a hand up to his cheek, swept a sweat damp lock of thick, black hair from his face, and rocked her hips against his with a grin. “We could go back to using Kairn’s bunk.”
Returning her smirk and her thrust, Sethan shook his head. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
She shrugged. “It deserves some action.”
Sethan dragged a finger through the paint pooled at her side and waved the red smeared tip at her with a smirk. “You just want for me to have to explain to him again what’s become of his linens.”
Reida laughed. “As long as I get to see the look on his face when you do.”
He shook his head again, rolling himself from trembling limbs to rest on the bed beside her,
“One has to keep things interesting,” she said.
“That,” he said, spreading his fingers in the shallow pool of red at her midriff, with an appreciative look as the paint lapped over them, “is something I think you need not worry about.”
with Hot Fudge, Whipped Cream, and Chopped Nuts
Story : knights
Rating : NC-17
Timeframe : early 1250's (teenage Sethan & Reida)
Word Count : 1164
Well, I rather liked the whole magic smut of Kairn/Reida. And I wanted to see it done with consent. And who would Reida like to get her hands on more than Sethan? So, here goes. I must say, I am quite happy with how the format worked out, especially considering the prompt.
Reida scratched at the floor with her chalk, not half thinking about the results. A swift glance over her shoulder found Sethan in place, head bowed beneath a dark sheet of wild, black curls. A flash of blue from beneath the curtain, the briefest hint of a grin, and she let her foot slide from under her skirt and edged his way.
Eyes back on her work, she chewed her lip, as a long, slender finger made its slow, playful way up over her ankle, emitting tiny bursts of fire beneath her skin as it wound in loose, ambling circles. Shivers rolled up her leg and along her spine, warm echoes of life breathed into flesh in all but the smallest of doses.
The hand withdrew, her foot retreated to its cover, and Tarek’s slow, shuffling robes slid into view. She dared one more look as the teacher closed in. Their eyes locked for a moment, and another burst raced up her spine, this one born of anticipation, at all the promise held in that swift glimpse of blue.
Flat on her stomach, legs hanging behind her, Reida clutched at the lip of the table. Sethan’s hands curled around her rear, palms square over the hastily drawn webs of lines, energy bursting between them with every thrust of his hips.
“More,” she breathed, as each wave subsided and the world resumed its dull clarity. “More.”
His fingers dug at her flesh, his breath catching, rasping in his throat, legs shaking as he rocked from heel to toe. The table shuddered beneath them, bones and tools rattling in the piles carelessly swept to either end.
Reida tore at the wood, forcing tiny splinters beneath her nails, as heat erupted from his hands and the room dove and spun before her like some magnificent, demented kalidoscope. “More.”
“Shh.” Sethan froze.
“Don’t stop,” Reida groaned, eyes clouding as he slid from within her. The walls settled back into place; their former colors returned. The swift rustle of Sethan’s pants behind her all but drowned out the steady slap of boots in the hall.
With a sigh, she fell from her perch, hollow and aching without him. Hands slid firmly down her legs, pressing her skirt into place. Lips brushed the back of her neck as her feet hit the floor.
“Later,” he whispered against her ear.
He threw her up against the wall, and Reida raked her hands over the stone, the surface grating its mark into her flesh. There was a hand between her legs, hauling her up to meet him, another fumbling with her skirts.
With one violent push and a shuddering sigh, Sethan filled her, She forced her head to her shoulder and took a mouthful of cloth to push back the cry that threatened to flee her throat at the pressure. Hands hooked beneath her legs, he thrust into her, driving her into the stone. Her teeth ground at her shirt as he worked his way up her thighs and carefully parted her flesh to hook a finger between.
The first jolt hit her, liquid heat beneath her skin that melted her joints and set her legs quivering. The cloth fell from her lips with a gasp, and she clawed at the wall as the grey stone before her burst into a swirling wash of color.
“Good?” His lips brushed her ear.
Fingers worked into any crevice they could find and toes dug into the earth, she ground her hips on his. “Shut up and do it again.”
“Mmm,” said Sethan. “But what do you say this time I take?”
Before she could open her mouth, the sensation ripped through her in reverse, the breath torn from her lungs and wrenched down her spine and out between her legs, even as he kept pace inside her. Her fingers fell, numb and trembling, from the wall and she slumped against him, hollow lungs groping for air.
His hand fell away and she winced. The howling reverberations in her head retreated, giving way to the slow shuffle and slap of boots on grass. There was a muttered curse and Sethan pulled free, a frantic fluttering of cloth flying between them. The two spun round, just in time to offer an innocent smile to Kinu as he rounded the corner.
Hands roaming, hearts pounding, they writhed on the floor, knees and elbows colliding with the clutter of books and scrolls that lay where they’d fallen when the shelves gave way.
Energy flowed from his hands, his lips, every time that he touched her, everywhere that they met, pulsed into where he filled her with rapid, violent thrusts. She clawed at his shoulders with charcoal blackened fingers that fumbled for the remains of the sigils smudged and smeared across his back and seized his lips with her own, devouring the life he so eagerly fed her.
“Oh, Sethan,” she groaned, her cries dissolving against his mouth, as he tensed and flowed into her and the room flailed between blankets of pitch and starbursts in myriad hues. “Sethan!”
Legs in the air, eyes on the ceiling, she lay beneath him, paint oozing from between their ribs, trickling to the sheets in blood red rivulets as sweat and friction eroded the marks on them both. Too spent to call another invocation of what remained of the forms drawn on their flesh, they simply moved together, as she supposed ordinary lovers must. The breathless moments in the halls, in the classrooms, the yard, were spectacular, but Sethan’s bed was, by far, the best. Nowhere else did it last like this.
The frame clattered against the wall with a sharp, stuttering rap. It peeled away, swaying precariously into the air, at the slow swing of Sethan’s hips, and they both bit back a laugh as the whole thing groaned as if it might splinter beneath them.
“One of these times,” he said, “we’re going to break this thing.”
Reida stretched a hand up to his cheek, swept a sweat damp lock of thick, black hair from his face, and rocked her hips against his with a grin. “We could go back to using Kairn’s bunk.”
Returning her smirk and her thrust, Sethan shook his head. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
She shrugged. “It deserves some action.”
Sethan dragged a finger through the paint pooled at her side and waved the red smeared tip at her with a smirk. “You just want for me to have to explain to him again what’s become of his linens.”
Reida laughed. “As long as I get to see the look on his face when you do.”
He shook his head again, rolling himself from trembling limbs to rest on the bed beside her,
“One has to keep things interesting,” she said.
“That,” he said, spreading his fingers in the shallow pool of red at her midriff, with an appreciative look as the paint lapped over them, “is something I think you need not worry about.”