LotS Fic: Blind
Title: Blind
Author: TheDawn
Pairing: Kahlan/Cara
Rating: R/NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine. But I do so love to play with them.
Summary: Written for the lots-pornbattle. Prompts were dry humping, tight spaces, "I don't want to be your friend"...and I suppose dangerous, too, though sex with Kahlan tends to be that way regardless of where or how.
Author's Note: I had this idea a long time ago, actually, but the porn battle made it take shape in my head. Unfortunately, I had to go away this past weekend to see my baby niece, and thus didn't have much time to write. So this is kinda rushed and probably not as good as it could be. But I couldn't help myself. Also, yeah, the title's lame. I had to have something:P
Blind
“Apreataro!”
It happens in an instant. The world goes silent as they round the last corner in the labyrinthine mausoleum, and Kahlan stares in horror as the Whisperer ticks down to detonation, the man who set it off gone in a cloud of dust. The next thing she knows, she is lying on her back in a tomb, underneath the very Mord-Sith who shoved her into it. In a flurry of movement, Cara slides the lid closed, then collapses over Kahlan's body, her hands firmly pressed against the Confessor's ears. They don't hear the blast, but they feel it, the concussion of magic exploding outward to destroy every living thing within a league.
At first, Cara is simply relieved that she succeeded. The solid stone tomb has done its job, blocking out all sound - including the voices of Shadow People which would have proved fatal to her and, more importantly, to Kahlan. As she gets her breathing under control, however, she manages to process exactly what just happened.
“I told you this was a trap.”
Cara's mouth is above her ear, cheek resting against her forehead, so Kahlan can make out the muffled grumbling despite the blonde's hands still firmly covering her ears. It is not so easy for her to reply, and her cheeks burn as she realizes the intimacy of their position. Cara is straddling her waist, draped protectively over the upper half of her body. The tomb is dark, but Kahlan does not need light to know that her face is a hairsbreadth away from being pressed into the Mord-Sith's ample cleavage. The scent of leather and sweat is overpowering, and Kahlan cannot think clearly enough to know whether it is because she cannot see, or because she has never been quite this close to the other woman before.
“Cara.” She tilts her head up ever so slightly, her voice trembling. She tells herself it's due to the adrenaline and tries to focus on practical things. “I'm pretty sure it's safe now.”
Cara forces herself to ignore the heat of Kahlan's breath on her skin and reaches up with one hand to push the lid open, panic setting in when it doesn't budge. Beating back the flutter in her chest, she tries not to notice the way Kahlan's heaving chest presses up into her as she shifts her weight onto one elbow, hoping the added leverage will be all it takes to get them out of here.
When the lid still doesn't move, Cara huffs in frustration, flattening both palms against the bottom of the tomb and pushing up firmly with her back and shoulders. Her arms shake with the effort, and she is rewarded with the barest hiss of scraping stone before her elbows buckle and she collapses hard, knocking the air from Kahlan's lungs.
“I don't think that's going to work,” Kahlan pants, laboring to catch her breath.
But Cara hasn't given up yet; focusing on escape allows her to focus on something other than her proximity to the Confessor. Kahlan gasps as a leather-clad hand trails down her leg, groping at her calf. For a moment, she is torn between confusion and indignation, and a hint of something else that feels slightly more dangerous. Then she feels her dagger being slid from her boot, and she lets out a small sigh of relief, Cara's hair fluttering against her lips.
Cara pushes the hilt of the dagger into her hand. “Use this to pry at the lid while I push.”
It's a reasonable idea, and Kahlan's fingers find the seam where the lid rests against the base of the tomb, jamming the point of the dagger into it and pulling down. This time when Cara pushes up with her back, it lifts up maybe a fingers-width before Cara's arms give out.
Cara grunts as she collapses again, this time bracing herself with her elbows to avoid colliding with Kahlan again. The lid gives a loud groan, scraping loudly against the dagger as it crashes down. Kahlan's wrist screams in protest at the sudden jerk, but she keeps her grip on the weapon, and only the hilt makes contact with Cara's face.
“Are you all right?” Kahlan gasps, worry shading her voice.
“Of course I am.” Her cheekbone may be throbbing where Kahlan's dagger slammed into it, but it's a good kind of pain; and in any case, it's not as though Cara would admit if it wasn't.
“That was too close, Cara.” Kahlan can almost see Cara's eyes rolling as the blonde huffs.
“Do you have a better idea?” She responds gruffly, trying to position herself over Kahlan to minimize contact. She's not as successful as she'd like.
Kahlan moves to put her dagger away, but Cara's arm is planted firmly in her way. She shifts her hips, discovering quickly that there's no way to accomplish her goal without possibly wounding Cara or herself with the blade. She nudges Cara's hand with the hilt. “Can you?”
Cara grits her teeth, willing herself not to make a sound as Kahlan moves underneath her. Silently, she shifts her weight in order to take the blade and return it to its place. A shiver races up Kahlan's leg as Cara's fingers brush against it again.
Cara's hand slams down beside her chest again, and Kahlan busies herself feeling around the spot where the lid had fallen on her dagger.
“I feel a draft. The lid must have cracked when it fell.”
“Too bad it couldn't crack enough to let us out of here,” Cara gripes. “Or at least let in a little light.”
“At least we won't run out of air,” Kahlan points out, thinking of the last time they were stuck in a tomb together - albeit a much larger one.
Cara lets out a frustrated sigh. She's going to kill every last villager from that cursed town. This was a trap; she'd known it from the second that weeping woman opened her mouth, pouring out some story about a ruined city not too far away that was supposedly home to a particularly vicious group of banelings. Richard and Zedd had continued on, in search of some trinket that would apparently help them in their quest, leaving her and Kahlan behind to deal with the threat.
She knew from the minute they set foot in the crumbling city that something was amiss - no banelings in sight, no noise coming from anywhere. Clearly it was a trap, but Kahlan, convinced the villager had been telling the truth, insisted they investigate. Surely the banelings were just out, or had moved on, and perhaps they could find some clues as to where they had gone.
And now they're trapped. She is trapped, in a tomb, with Kahlan. Again. Only this time there's no room to fight to pass the time; there's just enough space for her to straddle the Confessor in a way that is far too intimate for comfort.
Growling in irritation, Cara flops to the side, wedging her left hip between Kahlan and the wall of the tomb. Her right leg and arm are thrown protectively over Kahlan's hip and shoulder, respectively.
“I didn't take you for the cuddling type.” Kahlan teases, grateful that Cara cannot see her cheeks flushing. Cara stiffens, the hand draped over Kahlan's shoulder curling into a fist.
“If the ceiling decides to fall in on us, you'll be grateful for it.” Her voice is harsh, even as she tries to sound glib.
Kahlan's teeth click shut, any further banter dying on her tongue as she comprehends the significance of Cara's careful positioning. She is draped over Kahlan for the same reason she had covered her ears when the blast went off: she still puts Kahlan's life before hers.
A tightness blooms in Kahlan's chest, thickening in her throat, and she turns her head to Cara, thinking that if she could just see the other woman, look into her eyes, right now they would tell her everything she wants to know - Mord-Sith or not.
She misjudges the distance between them, and as she turns her head, her cheek bumps Cara's nose, and her lips brush over Cara's fleetingly as she struggles to pull her head back to a comfortable distance.
“Sorry,” Kahlan apologizes breathlessly, wondering if Cara can feel the thudding of her heart against her arm.
Cara grunts noncommittally in response, trying to focus on anything but Kahlan; the dull pain in her cheek, the awkward ache in her elbow as she props herself up. Anything but the way Kahlan's shallow breaths brush warm air over her neck, or the firm heat of her thigh where it presses inadvertently between Cara's legs. She sorely regrets dropping her agiels to the ground in favor of pushing Kahlan to safety.
Cara shifts, sliding her right leg back toward herself to rest between Kahlan's knees in an attempt to gain the leverage to hold herself up and end the torturous contact. The effort is rendered useless by Kahlan's sharp intake of breath as Cara's knee pulls the front of her skirt taut against the apex of her thighs.
Cara quickly moves to adjust her leg, relieving the teasing pressure, but something has already sparked in Kahlan. Her mind is flooded with memories of the tomb in the Necropolis, Cara's heartfelt words ringing in her ears.
”I consider you to be...my friend.”
It's that hesitation that she remembers now; how Cara had never been so open with her before, and yet there had been something dishonest in the word “friend”. Lying here in the dark pressed up against the Mord-Sith, feeling Cara's heart racing long after the danger has passed, hearing her labored breathing, Kahlan realizes what it was. There's nothing friendly about the dampness growing between her own legs, the intensifying beat of her pulse in her ears, the way she can't stop thinking about how soft Cara's lips are, and how it would feel to kiss them properly. She wonders if Cara is thinking similar thoughts.
“Cara,” Kahlan breathes, the tension in her throat straining her voice. “What you said, back in Dunshire-”
“I thought I told you to forget about that.” Cara's voice is tight, her jaw clenched firmly as she struggles to control her growing desire. Kahlan swallows nervously and tries again.
“You said you considered me a friend.”
Cara's chest expands with a steadying breath, inadvertently pushing her breasts more firmly against Kahlan's bicep. “Yes,” she admits uneasily.
There are some truths Kahlan can identify even without the benefit of sight. Whether it is the Confessor or the woman, she cannot say, but something in her knows what it is that Cara's holding back.
“You didn't mean that, did you?” Her heart pounds as she waits for Cara's response, even knowing what it will be.
Cara finds strength in the darkness, in the knowledge that Kahlan cannot see how pitifully weak she must look as she gasps out her confirmation. “No.”
Kahlan raises her left hand to rest on Cara's fist at her shoulder, squeezing gently as she gathers the courage to speak once more.
“Neither did I.” As the words spill from her lips, Kahlan is struck by the utter truth of them. Her voice is a delicate combination of wonder, anxiety, desire. “I don't want to be your friend, Cara.”
Cara's breathing quickens as Kahlan releases her hand, fingers trailing up the supple leather covering her arm. Struggling to keep her traitorous emotions under control, she manages to speak through clenched teeth.
“What are you saying?”
Kahlan answers the breathy question with her fingers, sliding across Cara's shoulder, feeling along the line of her jaw. She finds those soft lips again, the lower one pulled firmly between Cara's teeth. Gently, she coaxes it free, her fingers sliding across the moist flesh in a feather-light caress.
Cara's breath catches in her throat as Kahlan's lips replace her fingers. The kiss is delicate, hesitant in a way that Cara's not sure she's ever felt before. Something in her chest wrenches uncomfortably at the sensation, and she pushes back against Kahlan's mouth, her right hand slipping sideways to bury itself firmly in Kahlan's hair as she takes control of the kiss.
Kahlan moans as her lips part under Cara's prodding tongue. She meets it with her own, her left hand falling to rest on Cara's collarbone, the blonde's skin hot under her fingertips. The taste of Cara's mouth is heady, and for long moments Kahlan can think of nothing but her growing desire for this woman.
Cara's hand slips from her hair, warm leather fingertips tracing the line of her corset, dipping into the valley between her breasts. Kahlan shivers, flattening her palm against the curve of Cara's chest, unsure of whether she wants to push the woman away or grasp at the edge of her leather and pull her closer.
Then Cara's palm covers her breast, kneading the soft flesh as she nips at Kahlan's lower lip. A jolt of arousal surges through Kahlan, settling between her legs with a throbbing need.
The sensation brings with it the realization of how dangerous this is; of the possible ramifications if Kahlan allows this to continue. Urgently, she pushes against Cara's chest, whimpering softly at the loss of Cara's lips.
“We should stop.” Her voice is thick with desire and warning.
The ache between Cara's legs is clouding her mind, and Kahlan's fingertips idly stroking at the base of her neck are anything but helpful, but it's not as though Cara's never thought about this before.
“Your magic,” she murmurs breathily, her hand flexing on Kahlan's breast. The action elicits a strangled gasp that is almost enough to make up for not being able to see the look in Kahlan's eyes. “You have to be touching skin, right?”
She brings her knee up, pressing her thigh briefly in between Kahlan's to illustrate her suggestion. Kahlan cannot stop the wanton moan that is drawn from her lips, nor can she keep her hips from arching into the fleeting touch. But this is life or death, quite literally.
“Cara, it's too dangerous,” Kahlan says thickly, moisture pricking at her eyes at the thought. “I could kill you.”
The threat of tears is momentarily eclipsed by a dull pain, the back of Kahlan's head colliding with the floor of the tomb as Cara surges back up to straddle her thigh, her hand sliding off of Kahlan's breast to plant itself beside her waist. The pain, in turn, is forgotten when Cara slides her leg firmly against Kahlan's sex.
Before she can protest again, Cara leans down, her lips finding Kahlan's ear as much by dumb luck as by skill. Her voice is rough and seductive, her tongue flicking at the delicate lobe.
"Do you know why Mord-Sith are covered in leather from the neck down, Kahlan?"
Kahlan does know, of course she does, but she can't bring herself to voice it, for fear that it will be seen as encouragement of this reckless idea. She can feel Cara's lips spreading into a smug smile as they trail down her neck, teeth gently teasing at the sensitive flesh as the blonde thrusts her leg forward once more.
"Because we cannot be confessed, if a Confessor cannot touch our skin."
Kahlan whimpers, grasping at the strands of her resolve. There are so many ways this could go wrong, but with Cara's moist breath hot on her neck and firm thigh pressing deliciously between her legs, she's finding it hard to focus on anything but the chance that it could very easily go right.
“Cara.” Somewhere between her mind and her lips the word changes, no longer an argument but a desperate plea. Without conscious thought, Kahlan finds herself reaching up to tangle her fingers in the hair at the back of Cara's neck, matted with sweat from the heat their bodies are generating.
“Watch yourself, Confessor,” Cara purrs as she pulls back, reaching up to capture the offending hand in her own and pulling it to her waist. “If we're going to do this, you're going to have to keep better track of your hands.”
Kahlan's fingers dig into Cara's hip, any thought of arguing the “if” dissolving in the heat between them. There is no doubt in her mind that they are going to do this. Anticipation curls in her stomach as Cara's hands slide closer, pinning her arms to her sides.
Then Cara is moving again, her thigh flexing as she thrusts against Kahlan's sex, slow and deliberate. Wanting to reciprocate, Kahlan lifts her knee, flattening her foot on the floor of the tomb for leverage. Cara hisses sharply as her leathers slide against her, the generous moisture gathered between her legs resulting in a deliciously teasing friction. With a growl, she grinds down onto Kahlan's thigh, quickening the rhythm of her own thrusts.
The air in the cramped tomb soon grows thick and humid with their shallow gasps and moans, the musky scent of sex filling the small space. Clothing slides against slick flesh, sweat dripping down Cara's neck onto Kahlan's chest as their movements become increasingly frantic.
Kahlan can feel her control slipping as she nears the edge; her heart seizes reflexively as her power rises in her chest. Cara only quickens her pace, pushing past the fear that she can sense even without sight.
“Cara,” Kahlan whimpers, clinging to her last shred of control. She somehow manages to form words in between incoherent moans. “You...first.”
She may be new to taking her pleasure with another person, but Kahlan knows the limitations of her power; with how light-headed she is, she will be lucky to maintain consciousness when she reaches release - and Kahlan needs to feel Cara come undone over her, even if she cannot see it.
“As you wish, Confessor.” Cara grins into the dark, grinding harder against Kahlan's leg as she climbs ever closer to the height of pleasure.
A strangled moan spills from Cara's lips as she tumbles over the edge, and pure survival instinct keeps her arms from buckling under her as her body spasms with pleasure.
Kahlan feels Cara shake, the throbbing of Cara's sex searing into her thigh, and the sensation is powerful enough to bring her to the brink. Her hips rise one last time, slamming hard against Cara's thigh; the air crackles around them as her magic bursts free, filling the space with soundless thunder.
Cara expects her joints to pop, her ears to ring as they always do when she is too close to Kahlan when she releases her power; instead, she feels as though sparks are dancing across her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. A shiver shoots down her spine, and then it is over. Kahlan collapses limply underneath her, and Cara would be concerned were it not for the ragged breaths puffing erratically against her throat.
When Kahlan regains consciousness moments later, she is met with a warm body pressed against her side. Cara's gloved hand rests gently on the curve of her breast, feeling her heart beat through the leather; when Kahlan's breathing makes it obvious that she is awake, her fingers twitch guiltily. Kahlan doesn't call her out on the intimate gesture; she simply covers Cara's hand with her own, the darkness hiding her giddy smile.
For a time, they lie in silence; the only sounds are those of their slow breathing, and the soft creaking of Cara's leather as she adjusts her position. It is not a comfortable silence, not exactly - their passion has not completely cooled, and there is still so much left unsaid - but it is an enjoyable one, and Kahlan does not feel the need to speak, content to savor the weight of Cara's body against her.
The indulgence is cut short by frantic, muffled sounds; fast, heavy footsteps, then Richard's voice calling their names. It takes Kahlan a moment to remember that they are, in fact, trapped, and that Richard's presence is a good thing.
“In here!” Cara calls out, snatching her hand from its place on Kahlan's chest in order to pound at the lid. Kahlan barely has time to miss the contact before the lid is scraping open.
Cara all but leaps out of the tomb, busying herself with collecting her agiels. Kahlan climbs out after her, trying to compose herself.
“Kahlan, are you alright?” She endures Richard's worried gaze scanning her for injuries, suddenly aware of how she must look in the light. Her hair is a tangled mess, and her cheeks are no doubt still flushed with heat; she is thankful at least that her skirt is dark, hiding any moisture that may have seeped through her undergarments. She thinks it must be painfully obvious what she's been doing.
He would have to be looking with suspicious eyes to see it, though, and Richard looks at her with the same reverent gaze as always, a relieved smile on his lips as he assures himself of her well-being. Guilt twinges in her chest at the sight, and she pulls him into a hug so she won't have to see it.
“Of course I'm alright, Richard.” She seeks out Cara, standing stiffly near the exit of the room. The blonde is trying her best to feign disinterest, but Kahlan's eyes lock onto hers and she cannot look away. “Cara took care of me.”
Her cheeks burn with the deliberate double-meaning of her words, but it's worth it to see Cara's eyes darken with arousal. This is the sight Kahlan was denied in the darkness of the tomb: the predatory glint in jade eyes, the glisten of a pink tongue as it flicks out to slide over plump red lips, the subtle heaving of full breasts belying a lack of composure that Cara would never admit to.
The sight is nearly enough to make Kahlan forget that Richard is even there, let alone in her arms. She pulls away, sure that he must feel the pounding of her pulse, as Zedd ambles into the room.
“When will you learn, Richard, that running headlong into problems is merely the best way to earn yourself yet more problems?” He pauses his grumbling long enough to smile broadly at Kahlan. “I'm so glad you're alright, child.” Glancing over to Cara, he adds, “And you as well, Cara.”
Rolling his eyes at Cara's tight smile, Zedd throws his arm around Richard's shoulders. They set out following the winding hallway out of the mausoleum, Zedd grumbling all the way about the impatience of youth and the limitations of old bones.
Kahlan tears her eyes away from Cara, begrudgingly recognizing that they shouldn't let Zedd and Richard get too far ahead. Cara stands at her place by the exit until Kahlan passes her, her voice stopping Kahlan in her tracks.
“After we find the Stone of Tears, and save the world,” she begins, with a roll of her eyes. Kahlan turns back to find Cara standing much closer to her than she remembers. Cara's breath teases her ear as she continues. “The next thing we need to find is a Rada'Han.”
Kahlan's breath catches in her throat, the implication inspiring a new flood of moisture between her legs. Cara brushes past her, sauntering down the hallway, and it takes several tries for Kahlan to remember how to work her legs.
The Stone of Tears can't be found quickly enough.
Author: TheDawn
Pairing: Kahlan/Cara
Rating: R/NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine. But I do so love to play with them.
Summary: Written for the lots-pornbattle. Prompts were dry humping, tight spaces, "I don't want to be your friend"...and I suppose dangerous, too, though sex with Kahlan tends to be that way regardless of where or how.
Author's Note: I had this idea a long time ago, actually, but the porn battle made it take shape in my head. Unfortunately, I had to go away this past weekend to see my baby niece, and thus didn't have much time to write. So this is kinda rushed and probably not as good as it could be. But I couldn't help myself. Also, yeah, the title's lame. I had to have something:P
Blind
“Apreataro!”
It happens in an instant. The world goes silent as they round the last corner in the labyrinthine mausoleum, and Kahlan stares in horror as the Whisperer ticks down to detonation, the man who set it off gone in a cloud of dust. The next thing she knows, she is lying on her back in a tomb, underneath the very Mord-Sith who shoved her into it. In a flurry of movement, Cara slides the lid closed, then collapses over Kahlan's body, her hands firmly pressed against the Confessor's ears. They don't hear the blast, but they feel it, the concussion of magic exploding outward to destroy every living thing within a league.
At first, Cara is simply relieved that she succeeded. The solid stone tomb has done its job, blocking out all sound - including the voices of Shadow People which would have proved fatal to her and, more importantly, to Kahlan. As she gets her breathing under control, however, she manages to process exactly what just happened.
“I told you this was a trap.”
Cara's mouth is above her ear, cheek resting against her forehead, so Kahlan can make out the muffled grumbling despite the blonde's hands still firmly covering her ears. It is not so easy for her to reply, and her cheeks burn as she realizes the intimacy of their position. Cara is straddling her waist, draped protectively over the upper half of her body. The tomb is dark, but Kahlan does not need light to know that her face is a hairsbreadth away from being pressed into the Mord-Sith's ample cleavage. The scent of leather and sweat is overpowering, and Kahlan cannot think clearly enough to know whether it is because she cannot see, or because she has never been quite this close to the other woman before.
“Cara.” She tilts her head up ever so slightly, her voice trembling. She tells herself it's due to the adrenaline and tries to focus on practical things. “I'm pretty sure it's safe now.”
Cara forces herself to ignore the heat of Kahlan's breath on her skin and reaches up with one hand to push the lid open, panic setting in when it doesn't budge. Beating back the flutter in her chest, she tries not to notice the way Kahlan's heaving chest presses up into her as she shifts her weight onto one elbow, hoping the added leverage will be all it takes to get them out of here.
When the lid still doesn't move, Cara huffs in frustration, flattening both palms against the bottom of the tomb and pushing up firmly with her back and shoulders. Her arms shake with the effort, and she is rewarded with the barest hiss of scraping stone before her elbows buckle and she collapses hard, knocking the air from Kahlan's lungs.
“I don't think that's going to work,” Kahlan pants, laboring to catch her breath.
But Cara hasn't given up yet; focusing on escape allows her to focus on something other than her proximity to the Confessor. Kahlan gasps as a leather-clad hand trails down her leg, groping at her calf. For a moment, she is torn between confusion and indignation, and a hint of something else that feels slightly more dangerous. Then she feels her dagger being slid from her boot, and she lets out a small sigh of relief, Cara's hair fluttering against her lips.
Cara pushes the hilt of the dagger into her hand. “Use this to pry at the lid while I push.”
It's a reasonable idea, and Kahlan's fingers find the seam where the lid rests against the base of the tomb, jamming the point of the dagger into it and pulling down. This time when Cara pushes up with her back, it lifts up maybe a fingers-width before Cara's arms give out.
Cara grunts as she collapses again, this time bracing herself with her elbows to avoid colliding with Kahlan again. The lid gives a loud groan, scraping loudly against the dagger as it crashes down. Kahlan's wrist screams in protest at the sudden jerk, but she keeps her grip on the weapon, and only the hilt makes contact with Cara's face.
“Are you all right?” Kahlan gasps, worry shading her voice.
“Of course I am.” Her cheekbone may be throbbing where Kahlan's dagger slammed into it, but it's a good kind of pain; and in any case, it's not as though Cara would admit if it wasn't.
“That was too close, Cara.” Kahlan can almost see Cara's eyes rolling as the blonde huffs.
“Do you have a better idea?” She responds gruffly, trying to position herself over Kahlan to minimize contact. She's not as successful as she'd like.
Kahlan moves to put her dagger away, but Cara's arm is planted firmly in her way. She shifts her hips, discovering quickly that there's no way to accomplish her goal without possibly wounding Cara or herself with the blade. She nudges Cara's hand with the hilt. “Can you?”
Cara grits her teeth, willing herself not to make a sound as Kahlan moves underneath her. Silently, she shifts her weight in order to take the blade and return it to its place. A shiver races up Kahlan's leg as Cara's fingers brush against it again.
Cara's hand slams down beside her chest again, and Kahlan busies herself feeling around the spot where the lid had fallen on her dagger.
“I feel a draft. The lid must have cracked when it fell.”
“Too bad it couldn't crack enough to let us out of here,” Cara gripes. “Or at least let in a little light.”
“At least we won't run out of air,” Kahlan points out, thinking of the last time they were stuck in a tomb together - albeit a much larger one.
Cara lets out a frustrated sigh. She's going to kill every last villager from that cursed town. This was a trap; she'd known it from the second that weeping woman opened her mouth, pouring out some story about a ruined city not too far away that was supposedly home to a particularly vicious group of banelings. Richard and Zedd had continued on, in search of some trinket that would apparently help them in their quest, leaving her and Kahlan behind to deal with the threat.
She knew from the minute they set foot in the crumbling city that something was amiss - no banelings in sight, no noise coming from anywhere. Clearly it was a trap, but Kahlan, convinced the villager had been telling the truth, insisted they investigate. Surely the banelings were just out, or had moved on, and perhaps they could find some clues as to where they had gone.
And now they're trapped. She is trapped, in a tomb, with Kahlan. Again. Only this time there's no room to fight to pass the time; there's just enough space for her to straddle the Confessor in a way that is far too intimate for comfort.
Growling in irritation, Cara flops to the side, wedging her left hip between Kahlan and the wall of the tomb. Her right leg and arm are thrown protectively over Kahlan's hip and shoulder, respectively.
“I didn't take you for the cuddling type.” Kahlan teases, grateful that Cara cannot see her cheeks flushing. Cara stiffens, the hand draped over Kahlan's shoulder curling into a fist.
“If the ceiling decides to fall in on us, you'll be grateful for it.” Her voice is harsh, even as she tries to sound glib.
Kahlan's teeth click shut, any further banter dying on her tongue as she comprehends the significance of Cara's careful positioning. She is draped over Kahlan for the same reason she had covered her ears when the blast went off: she still puts Kahlan's life before hers.
A tightness blooms in Kahlan's chest, thickening in her throat, and she turns her head to Cara, thinking that if she could just see the other woman, look into her eyes, right now they would tell her everything she wants to know - Mord-Sith or not.
She misjudges the distance between them, and as she turns her head, her cheek bumps Cara's nose, and her lips brush over Cara's fleetingly as she struggles to pull her head back to a comfortable distance.
“Sorry,” Kahlan apologizes breathlessly, wondering if Cara can feel the thudding of her heart against her arm.
Cara grunts noncommittally in response, trying to focus on anything but Kahlan; the dull pain in her cheek, the awkward ache in her elbow as she props herself up. Anything but the way Kahlan's shallow breaths brush warm air over her neck, or the firm heat of her thigh where it presses inadvertently between Cara's legs. She sorely regrets dropping her agiels to the ground in favor of pushing Kahlan to safety.
Cara shifts, sliding her right leg back toward herself to rest between Kahlan's knees in an attempt to gain the leverage to hold herself up and end the torturous contact. The effort is rendered useless by Kahlan's sharp intake of breath as Cara's knee pulls the front of her skirt taut against the apex of her thighs.
Cara quickly moves to adjust her leg, relieving the teasing pressure, but something has already sparked in Kahlan. Her mind is flooded with memories of the tomb in the Necropolis, Cara's heartfelt words ringing in her ears.
”I consider you to be...my friend.”
It's that hesitation that she remembers now; how Cara had never been so open with her before, and yet there had been something dishonest in the word “friend”. Lying here in the dark pressed up against the Mord-Sith, feeling Cara's heart racing long after the danger has passed, hearing her labored breathing, Kahlan realizes what it was. There's nothing friendly about the dampness growing between her own legs, the intensifying beat of her pulse in her ears, the way she can't stop thinking about how soft Cara's lips are, and how it would feel to kiss them properly. She wonders if Cara is thinking similar thoughts.
“Cara,” Kahlan breathes, the tension in her throat straining her voice. “What you said, back in Dunshire-”
“I thought I told you to forget about that.” Cara's voice is tight, her jaw clenched firmly as she struggles to control her growing desire. Kahlan swallows nervously and tries again.
“You said you considered me a friend.”
Cara's chest expands with a steadying breath, inadvertently pushing her breasts more firmly against Kahlan's bicep. “Yes,” she admits uneasily.
There are some truths Kahlan can identify even without the benefit of sight. Whether it is the Confessor or the woman, she cannot say, but something in her knows what it is that Cara's holding back.
“You didn't mean that, did you?” Her heart pounds as she waits for Cara's response, even knowing what it will be.
Cara finds strength in the darkness, in the knowledge that Kahlan cannot see how pitifully weak she must look as she gasps out her confirmation. “No.”
Kahlan raises her left hand to rest on Cara's fist at her shoulder, squeezing gently as she gathers the courage to speak once more.
“Neither did I.” As the words spill from her lips, Kahlan is struck by the utter truth of them. Her voice is a delicate combination of wonder, anxiety, desire. “I don't want to be your friend, Cara.”
Cara's breathing quickens as Kahlan releases her hand, fingers trailing up the supple leather covering her arm. Struggling to keep her traitorous emotions under control, she manages to speak through clenched teeth.
“What are you saying?”
Kahlan answers the breathy question with her fingers, sliding across Cara's shoulder, feeling along the line of her jaw. She finds those soft lips again, the lower one pulled firmly between Cara's teeth. Gently, she coaxes it free, her fingers sliding across the moist flesh in a feather-light caress.
Cara's breath catches in her throat as Kahlan's lips replace her fingers. The kiss is delicate, hesitant in a way that Cara's not sure she's ever felt before. Something in her chest wrenches uncomfortably at the sensation, and she pushes back against Kahlan's mouth, her right hand slipping sideways to bury itself firmly in Kahlan's hair as she takes control of the kiss.
Kahlan moans as her lips part under Cara's prodding tongue. She meets it with her own, her left hand falling to rest on Cara's collarbone, the blonde's skin hot under her fingertips. The taste of Cara's mouth is heady, and for long moments Kahlan can think of nothing but her growing desire for this woman.
Cara's hand slips from her hair, warm leather fingertips tracing the line of her corset, dipping into the valley between her breasts. Kahlan shivers, flattening her palm against the curve of Cara's chest, unsure of whether she wants to push the woman away or grasp at the edge of her leather and pull her closer.
Then Cara's palm covers her breast, kneading the soft flesh as she nips at Kahlan's lower lip. A jolt of arousal surges through Kahlan, settling between her legs with a throbbing need.
The sensation brings with it the realization of how dangerous this is; of the possible ramifications if Kahlan allows this to continue. Urgently, she pushes against Cara's chest, whimpering softly at the loss of Cara's lips.
“We should stop.” Her voice is thick with desire and warning.
The ache between Cara's legs is clouding her mind, and Kahlan's fingertips idly stroking at the base of her neck are anything but helpful, but it's not as though Cara's never thought about this before.
“Your magic,” she murmurs breathily, her hand flexing on Kahlan's breast. The action elicits a strangled gasp that is almost enough to make up for not being able to see the look in Kahlan's eyes. “You have to be touching skin, right?”
She brings her knee up, pressing her thigh briefly in between Kahlan's to illustrate her suggestion. Kahlan cannot stop the wanton moan that is drawn from her lips, nor can she keep her hips from arching into the fleeting touch. But this is life or death, quite literally.
“Cara, it's too dangerous,” Kahlan says thickly, moisture pricking at her eyes at the thought. “I could kill you.”
The threat of tears is momentarily eclipsed by a dull pain, the back of Kahlan's head colliding with the floor of the tomb as Cara surges back up to straddle her thigh, her hand sliding off of Kahlan's breast to plant itself beside her waist. The pain, in turn, is forgotten when Cara slides her leg firmly against Kahlan's sex.
Before she can protest again, Cara leans down, her lips finding Kahlan's ear as much by dumb luck as by skill. Her voice is rough and seductive, her tongue flicking at the delicate lobe.
"Do you know why Mord-Sith are covered in leather from the neck down, Kahlan?"
Kahlan does know, of course she does, but she can't bring herself to voice it, for fear that it will be seen as encouragement of this reckless idea. She can feel Cara's lips spreading into a smug smile as they trail down her neck, teeth gently teasing at the sensitive flesh as the blonde thrusts her leg forward once more.
"Because we cannot be confessed, if a Confessor cannot touch our skin."
Kahlan whimpers, grasping at the strands of her resolve. There are so many ways this could go wrong, but with Cara's moist breath hot on her neck and firm thigh pressing deliciously between her legs, she's finding it hard to focus on anything but the chance that it could very easily go right.
“Cara.” Somewhere between her mind and her lips the word changes, no longer an argument but a desperate plea. Without conscious thought, Kahlan finds herself reaching up to tangle her fingers in the hair at the back of Cara's neck, matted with sweat from the heat their bodies are generating.
“Watch yourself, Confessor,” Cara purrs as she pulls back, reaching up to capture the offending hand in her own and pulling it to her waist. “If we're going to do this, you're going to have to keep better track of your hands.”
Kahlan's fingers dig into Cara's hip, any thought of arguing the “if” dissolving in the heat between them. There is no doubt in her mind that they are going to do this. Anticipation curls in her stomach as Cara's hands slide closer, pinning her arms to her sides.
Then Cara is moving again, her thigh flexing as she thrusts against Kahlan's sex, slow and deliberate. Wanting to reciprocate, Kahlan lifts her knee, flattening her foot on the floor of the tomb for leverage. Cara hisses sharply as her leathers slide against her, the generous moisture gathered between her legs resulting in a deliciously teasing friction. With a growl, she grinds down onto Kahlan's thigh, quickening the rhythm of her own thrusts.
The air in the cramped tomb soon grows thick and humid with their shallow gasps and moans, the musky scent of sex filling the small space. Clothing slides against slick flesh, sweat dripping down Cara's neck onto Kahlan's chest as their movements become increasingly frantic.
Kahlan can feel her control slipping as she nears the edge; her heart seizes reflexively as her power rises in her chest. Cara only quickens her pace, pushing past the fear that she can sense even without sight.
“Cara,” Kahlan whimpers, clinging to her last shred of control. She somehow manages to form words in between incoherent moans. “You...first.”
She may be new to taking her pleasure with another person, but Kahlan knows the limitations of her power; with how light-headed she is, she will be lucky to maintain consciousness when she reaches release - and Kahlan needs to feel Cara come undone over her, even if she cannot see it.
“As you wish, Confessor.” Cara grins into the dark, grinding harder against Kahlan's leg as she climbs ever closer to the height of pleasure.
A strangled moan spills from Cara's lips as she tumbles over the edge, and pure survival instinct keeps her arms from buckling under her as her body spasms with pleasure.
Kahlan feels Cara shake, the throbbing of Cara's sex searing into her thigh, and the sensation is powerful enough to bring her to the brink. Her hips rise one last time, slamming hard against Cara's thigh; the air crackles around them as her magic bursts free, filling the space with soundless thunder.
Cara expects her joints to pop, her ears to ring as they always do when she is too close to Kahlan when she releases her power; instead, she feels as though sparks are dancing across her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. A shiver shoots down her spine, and then it is over. Kahlan collapses limply underneath her, and Cara would be concerned were it not for the ragged breaths puffing erratically against her throat.
When Kahlan regains consciousness moments later, she is met with a warm body pressed against her side. Cara's gloved hand rests gently on the curve of her breast, feeling her heart beat through the leather; when Kahlan's breathing makes it obvious that she is awake, her fingers twitch guiltily. Kahlan doesn't call her out on the intimate gesture; she simply covers Cara's hand with her own, the darkness hiding her giddy smile.
For a time, they lie in silence; the only sounds are those of their slow breathing, and the soft creaking of Cara's leather as she adjusts her position. It is not a comfortable silence, not exactly - their passion has not completely cooled, and there is still so much left unsaid - but it is an enjoyable one, and Kahlan does not feel the need to speak, content to savor the weight of Cara's body against her.
The indulgence is cut short by frantic, muffled sounds; fast, heavy footsteps, then Richard's voice calling their names. It takes Kahlan a moment to remember that they are, in fact, trapped, and that Richard's presence is a good thing.
“In here!” Cara calls out, snatching her hand from its place on Kahlan's chest in order to pound at the lid. Kahlan barely has time to miss the contact before the lid is scraping open.
Cara all but leaps out of the tomb, busying herself with collecting her agiels. Kahlan climbs out after her, trying to compose herself.
“Kahlan, are you alright?” She endures Richard's worried gaze scanning her for injuries, suddenly aware of how she must look in the light. Her hair is a tangled mess, and her cheeks are no doubt still flushed with heat; she is thankful at least that her skirt is dark, hiding any moisture that may have seeped through her undergarments. She thinks it must be painfully obvious what she's been doing.
He would have to be looking with suspicious eyes to see it, though, and Richard looks at her with the same reverent gaze as always, a relieved smile on his lips as he assures himself of her well-being. Guilt twinges in her chest at the sight, and she pulls him into a hug so she won't have to see it.
“Of course I'm alright, Richard.” She seeks out Cara, standing stiffly near the exit of the room. The blonde is trying her best to feign disinterest, but Kahlan's eyes lock onto hers and she cannot look away. “Cara took care of me.”
Her cheeks burn with the deliberate double-meaning of her words, but it's worth it to see Cara's eyes darken with arousal. This is the sight Kahlan was denied in the darkness of the tomb: the predatory glint in jade eyes, the glisten of a pink tongue as it flicks out to slide over plump red lips, the subtle heaving of full breasts belying a lack of composure that Cara would never admit to.
The sight is nearly enough to make Kahlan forget that Richard is even there, let alone in her arms. She pulls away, sure that he must feel the pounding of her pulse, as Zedd ambles into the room.
“When will you learn, Richard, that running headlong into problems is merely the best way to earn yourself yet more problems?” He pauses his grumbling long enough to smile broadly at Kahlan. “I'm so glad you're alright, child.” Glancing over to Cara, he adds, “And you as well, Cara.”
Rolling his eyes at Cara's tight smile, Zedd throws his arm around Richard's shoulders. They set out following the winding hallway out of the mausoleum, Zedd grumbling all the way about the impatience of youth and the limitations of old bones.
Kahlan tears her eyes away from Cara, begrudgingly recognizing that they shouldn't let Zedd and Richard get too far ahead. Cara stands at her place by the exit until Kahlan passes her, her voice stopping Kahlan in her tracks.
“After we find the Stone of Tears, and save the world,” she begins, with a roll of her eyes. Kahlan turns back to find Cara standing much closer to her than she remembers. Cara's breath teases her ear as she continues. “The next thing we need to find is a Rada'Han.”
Kahlan's breath catches in her throat, the implication inspiring a new flood of moisture between her legs. Cara brushes past her, sauntering down the hallway, and it takes several tries for Kahlan to remember how to work her legs.
The Stone of Tears can't be found quickly enough.