[FE] Thieves
Oct. 28th, 2008 12:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runespoorTitle: Thieves
Pairing: Micaiah/Sothe
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Peace meetings are frustrating.
Notes: written for the Fire Emblem kink meme at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ooh_shinies. Original request was for sex where one (or both) of the participants is menstruating. How it devolved into 4000 words of first-time sex is beyond me.
post-game.
Sothe had barely stepped into the room when Micaiah yanked him by the collar, slammed the door behind him, and pushed him against the wall. He let out a squeak of protest – why was she manhandling him all of a sudden – but was cut short abruptly.
By her mouth.
His eyes became very round and he thought of checking if he was really awake.
The queen of Daein didn't make it an habit of assaulting him with her tongue at the end of very long, very involved, very – if Sothe could speak for himself – boring peace meetings.
In fact, last he checked, Micaiah wasn't in the habit of kissing him at all, ever, and that was that. (Her right hand had latched onto his shoulder so she could lean up and her left hand was running up and down his chest, up and down, any lower and she'd been stroking skin, mindless caresses Sothe could have lost himself to.)
That sort of thing only happened in his dreams, and the fuzzy versions he toyed with during said diplomatic meetings, to have something to distract himself with.
Not that he was complaining with the turn of events, but he was starting to wonder if the inhalation of the fumes of Crimea castle's candles wasn't inductive to hallucinations.
His doubts were answered when Micaiah's teeth sharply clamped down into his lower lip. 'Sharply' being the operative word.
He pushed her away by the shoulders before he had the time to think about it.
“Hey, what's that for?” he snapped.
Micaiah was glaring up at him. He glared right back, just in case.
“You were thinking about something else,” she said between gritted teeth.
Because he was still a little dazed by the Micaiah lip action, Sothe blinked. Oh.
“You could tell?”
Okay, he may not have been very focused on the kiss. Not that it hadn't been enjoyable before Micaiah decided she was going to have herself a pound of his flesh for a snack – that sounded a lot more dirty than he'd meant.
The point was that Sothe hadn't realized Rafiel had helped Micaiah to hone her empathic powers to the point where she could literally read people's minds.
“I could tell you weren't kissing back!”
There was that, too.
Wait, what was he thinking? He shook himself. He couldn't believe this situation was becoming his fault, and he was letting it.
“Okay, no, wait, Micaiah, what is this all about?”
He held her by the shoulders as he waited. She didn't look as tired as he feared – which was good; it proved that he hadn't been blind for who knew how many days – but she did look frustrated. Boy, did she ever.
Well, it was only understandable. First there'd been the crowning, and then the peace talks and their trail of economical negotiations had commenced, and those were taking place in Crimea – as the nation who had held an irreproachable conduct during the war – and on the side, there was still Daein's reconstruction to worry about, which Micaiah could only supervise from afar for as long as the diplomatic issues lasted.
For the past two days, he'd noticed that Micaiah had seemed shorter on patience than usual when they were alone.
Nothing of her frustration showed during the meetings with the other kings, queens, and assorted advisors; a fact that made Sothe proud, smug, impressed, and a little peeved.
He'd never been able to control his tongue or his expressions so well, his body language always betrayed him. Micaiah, on the other hand, was never afraid of owning up to her emotions, but she was able to discount them when they went in the way of something bigger.
And then, as it turned out, there was something else.
She parted her lips, hesitated, then started talking with the mulish expression she sometimes assumed, when things didn't let her have her way fast enough and she was running out of arguments – be they fair or not.
“Look, Sothe, do you-- want this? Because from what I get during meetings, I think you want me. And when we were in the Tower of Guidance, I thought you wanted this. But it's been months and you don't do anything one way or another and I'm just sick of not being sure.”
Her lips were pale; she spoke in a clipped, intense tone. Her amber eyes were glinting, determined to get an answer, staring straight into his.
Sothe felt like the universe had gone topsy-turvy without a warning.
“Er, what?” He said weakly. Then, grabbing onto one thing from her speech, he asked, “this?”
“Us.”
Sothe gaped. Micaiah's shoulders tensed.
“Do I--” his voice cracked; he licked his lips before starting again (they were suddenly dry, his lower lip throbbing where she'd bitten him. It wasn't entirely unpleasant.) “--w-want to be with you? Micaiah, do you even need to ask?”
His voice had risen and cracked more in the last two sentences than it had in the last two wars put together, but incredulity and – desire – were playing fiddle with his nerves.
Her chest hitched as she took a breath.
“Just. Answer.” She held him still, with the mere power of her burning gaze. “Please.”
I'm just sick of not being sure, she'd told him. She wouldn't budge until he said something.
Sothe realized all his words had deserted him. And even if they hadn't, he wouldn't have been able to speak anyway. His brain had given in to the arguments of his libido and several years of inhibitions.
His head twitched into a nod. Then he nodded again, several times.
Micaiah must have decided this was as good as she was going to get, because the next thing Sothe knew she was pressing herself against him, all hands and legs and breasts and short, sharp pants that went straight to his groin.
Her hands had slid up and hooked behind his neck, bringing him down again for a kiss – and this time he kissed her back, parting his lips for her. The soft weight of Micaiah's breasts pushed against him, and there was no way she couldn't feel how aroused he was.
Her left leg wrapped around him as high as she could, bringing them even closer; her hips began undulating, grinding against him, pulling a moan from his throat.
Fumbling blindly, Sothe let go of her waist to secure the position, uncertain of what to do even as Micaiah kept on moving against him, her tongue dancing around his, her fingernails scratching the back of his neck when she clutched his hair in her fingers.
Micaiah's thigh was naked under his palm, heated up; he slipped his hand under her knee to keep her against her. He brought her leg a little higher, and she broke the kiss, hissing.
He let go, worried that he'd done something wrong.
Now they weren't moving anymore, his throbbing cock, warmly encased between their two snug bodies, felt like the most conspicuous thing in the world.
He tried to calm himself.
“Micaiah?”
She was grimacing a little. Her face was pleasantly flushed, Sothe couldn't help noticing.
“It's nothing. My back hurts, that's all.” Sothe silently waited for the rest of her instructions, praying without daring to put it into words that she wouldn't ask them to stop.
She gave an experimental twist on the hips. Sothe's hands closed convulsively around the parts of her they were holding, the back of her thigh and her waist and he locked his knees fiercely, in a last-ditch attempt to avoid crumbling against her and being done before they even started.
Micaiah must have felt the danger, for she abruptly stilled.
During a few moments, nothing happened except for their heartbeats. Micaiah held her breath – something for which Sothe was thankful, given that if she didn't her chest would push into him and it might just be the thing to throw him over the edge.
Finally, Sothe managed to get himself back to a point where he could relax without immediately spilling himself.
“Sorry about that,” he mumbled. He would've liked to speak into Micaiah's neck or shoulder, but... yeah, he wasn't about to take a risk of stupidly coming. The crook of her neck was still damn tempting, though. “So, um, you were saying?”
He didn't look at her as he apologized. It'd be so humiliating if she was amused or worse, compassionate.
“No, I'm sorry,” Micaiah whispered back. “I shouldn't have pushed you like that...”
“Please don't use that word,” Sothe said, barely audibly.
His masculine pride was hating him for sounding so lame, but the cock poking into Micaiah's thigh was the proof that said pride hadn't shriveled up and died yet, and the best way to prevent that was to not. come. prematurely.
The entire lexical field of “pushing” and “someone” ranked right at the top of expressions to be banned, because Sothe's neurons could only connect the two by adding an “into” between them, and that way lay badness.
And everything he was thinking was turning into innuendos, please, Micaiah, just...
He took a deep, calming, shuddering inspiration. “So, what next?”
Micaiah herself looked somewhat dazed, enough that Sothe suspected she had indeed perceived something of his inner rambling. That'd be hot-- he killed the train of thought before it could get any worse.
“Bed,” she said succinctly. “Now.”
He didn't need to be told twice.
In a perfect universe, their clothes would have vanished before they reached the bed; the suite Micaiah had been given was even big enough for it to make sense, but they were both impatient, horny, and not used to each other that way, so by the time they were next to the mattress only her cloak had been dispatched and Sothe's jacket was on the way of being taken care of.
Micaiah let go of him as soon as she finished undoing the buttons and pushed him back. The back of his knees hit the bed and Sothe found himself sitting on the soft mattress and the soft bedclothes as Micaiah was bending forward to take her panties off.
Sothe tried to swallow and, finding his mouth had gone drier than Micaiah's habitual sarcasms, opted for blinking.
The panties were whipped off in a blink, and Micaiah pushed against his shoulders again.
“On your back.”
If it was an order, Sothe obeyed without even thinking about it. He would probably pay her back later with upgraded bouts of bitchiness, but the thought wouldn't enter his mind until the dead of the night, once he started recovering from being fucked senseless.
His shoulders against the blankets, he looked up at her as she plopped down on him, straddling his lap. Her hands on his chest, his open jacket pushed away, she began to grind down on him again.
Her rhythm was less frenetic this time, as though now that they were on the bed, she had no doubt they'd be able to see this through, however many times they needed to, to make sure she was satisfied.
His hands gripped her legs while her hips rolled, rubbing her so well over his groin he felt like he was on fire, encouraging her with uninterrupted groans.
His caresses were clumsy, shaking, he groped until he had his hand under her dress, up and up against her thigh – Micaiah's legs, he had lost count of how many times he'd dreamed of them – until he could touch her there. A high keen rose from her lips and she threw her head back.
“Yes,” she breathed.
She was wet, the curls were sticky, and it was a lot more complicated than it had sounded when he had spied on girls who were talking about that – he understood why the girls' boyfriends had to make so much effort to find that spot now he was in the same situation, Micaiah was moving and the skirt was in the way, which made it even more difficult – but she was making the same wailing sound she'd made the first time whenever he rubbed, so he must be doing something right.
Her cheeks were flushed a dark pink, and she bit down on her lip.
“A-aah...”
Sothe's hips bucked upwards. Micaiah's eyes widened, her thighs instinctively constricted around him. Too soon, Sothe thought, panicked, as he forced himself to lay back down.
“Micaiah, I don't think I'm going to last much longer,” he said in a strangled tone.
He stopped brushing his fingers against her curls. It didn't seem like a wise thing to tease her when he was practically begging for mercy.
“I want you in me.”
In a way, it was an answer. She tipped to the side so he could have access to his pants and unbutton them. (Her white skirt – stained with a few reddish streaks, odd – was less getting in the way.)
A task which he started to dutifully perform, as well as his trembling hands let him – he was a thief, he was not supposed to get clumsy with his fingers and everything he thought still sounded dirty... And the fact that his fingers were coated in her juice didn't make it any easier either.
He wasn't fast enough; Micaiah batted his hands away. Her touch was sweet and warm and something he'd wanted for so long, and it was running up and down his cock as she undid the buttons.
He needed something to distract himself with right now, he reflected as he lifted his hand to caress her face, touch the pretty lips she was worrying, gleams of her with teeth showing when she nibbled a little too hard.
His fingers stilled midway to her hair.
“Urk,” he said, or tried to.
Red? His fingers were red? Maroonish red? Like blood?
A crowd of confused thoughts pertaining to Micaiah's virginity collided in his mind. She was a virgin? Really? She'd never had sex? But he could have sworn-- and no, that still wasn't the root of the issue, the issue was, but... the hymen... it wasn't... he'd barely touched her! And it was supposed to be a lot deeper, right?
...There was another reason why she'd be bleeding. Much more mundane.
“Er, Micaiah? Are-- are on your period?”
She looked up briefly – she'd been pushing down his pants and requesting his collaboration in lifting his hips, Sothe called back the last few moments.
“Oh, yes,” she said as if it was nothing worth mentioning.
Then she paused. He must be pulling a face.
“Does that bother you?”
Did that bother him?
“Er, no...”
He just hadn't been expecting it. And maybe it was slightly mystifying; the women he'd overheard used to complain when their husbands and boyfriends asked for sex when they were on their period. But, well, if it wasn't an issue for Micaiah...
“Oh good,” she breathed. “I'm not sure I could have gone through one more afternoon like today.”
She rose to her knees again, huddling her skirt up, and then, in one smooth movement, sank down his lap.
Sothe's eyes rolled back in his head, his hands clenched in the sheet. Micaiah's breath was coming in short hisses, her teeth gritted.
Her muscles clenched around him, and Sothe's hand flew to his mouth, and he bit down the back of his wrist to keep from moaning out loud. She was so hot and tight and fit so well and so tight.
Her nails scratched down his chest again, making it a foregone conclusion that he was going to keep marks.
“Don't— do that. I want to hear you.”
Micaiah's eyes were flashing wild gold, tendrils of silver hair made darker with perspiration clinging to the sides of her face, to her neck, one thin, persistent strand stuck all the way down until it disappeared down her cleavage.
Sothe removed his teeth from his wrist and his wrist from his mouth, but it was mostly to give a wobbly protest.
“I'm the only one half naked,” he pointed out. “I – hn – don't think it's fair, Micaiah.”
Micaiah's eyebrows rose.
“Yes?”
The heady, heavy smoke of her voice coiled around him; the sibilant sliding closed around his throat like a velvet choker.
Swiftly, she leaned forward and snatched Sothe's hands. With the mattress underneath, the sudden movement became a bounce, spreading her legs wider across his hips, bony and imprinting themselves into the soft flesh of her inner thighs. He groaned.
“And now?”
She arched her back, offering herself. He'd have been a pathetic thief not to take such an open invitation.
So he did, following with his finger the crease of the dress that ran from the point of her right breast to the point of the other. Her hardened nipples were perfectly defined through the fabric. Her legs and her inner muscles twitched when he pinched the peeking nubs, her eyes wide as she snapped her head back to him.
“Ah-”
Sothe tried to assume a confident smirk at Micaiah's startled breath. She took the challenge in, returned it with a lopsided smile, and started to rise from him.
“H-hey—”
He didn't get to finish; Micaiah cut him off by slamming herself back against him, plunging him deeper in her – so deep. Micaiah cried out and Sothe gnashed his teeth.
He was so close.
Her chest was heaving as she picked the rhythm up again, her lips shiny with saliva and her pupils dark between her eyelashes.
She rode him, not caring about the way her nails dug into him again or the inarticulate moans she was making or how the deeper she took him the more delicious pressure she was inflicting to his cock, slick and tighttighttighttight goddess above so tight Micaiah...
The orgasm tore through him like a tidal wave breaking, and Sothe just gripped at what he could, her hips, to hold on.
He came in long white spasms, forgetful of everything but her name echoing within and around him, from the blind thumping of his heart to her breath against his chest.
He didn't open his eyes before the last throes of his orgasm had died out and he was breathing slowly, deeply. He felt Micaiah slump on the blanket with a sigh.
The sound killed his buzz as efficiently and precisely as a stiletto between two cervical vertebrae. Had she--
He could've hit himself. He'd heard it over and over again, and when the moment came, he was so thoughtless?
Turning uneasily his head toward her, Sothe mentally prepared himself for it. Next to him, she was lying on her side, her eyes closed, looking drained.
“Er, Micaiah... Did you... Did you come?”
He didn't care about sounding nervous or fearful or childish, he just wanted her to say she was okay, and show him how make her come if he had failed to get her off before.
She answered without opening her eyes, mumbling words he had to repeat to himself.
“Do I look like I didn't come?”
Ah. Ah.
“'T was a happy sigh. A sated sigh,” she added.
Something very much like pride swelled in Sothe's chest. Micaiah snorted, or giggled, then fell silent as Sothe extended his arms around her awkwardly. Even with her, he wasn't prone to tactile demonstrations of affection, but in this moment, he wanted to touch her. It felt like the right thing to have their sides touching and their hands holding.
She looked like she hesitated before allowing herself to let go.
“Oh, okay. I'll wash up later.”
“Before dinner?” Sothe asked idly. He was staring at the ceiling, but truth to be told, he was a lost more interested in the feel of Micaiah's hand in his. In that moment, he was at complete peace with the world.
“Let's skip dinner.” Her eyes had shuttered closed again.
He snickered. There was always something exhilarating about Micaiah suggesting they be bad.
“Let's,” he agreed, snickering again.
Micaiah sighed again, like she was planning to let herself doze off, when someone knocked at the door.
She groaned.
“You want me to take care of it?” Sothe offered.
The impression of floating on a candy cloud had still to vanish. If this was the afterglow everyone was talking about, it was no wonder people were so obsessed with love.
“And let you answer at the door with how you're now? I'll just get rid of them right now,” she said, her last words punctuated by more knocking at the door.
“Oh, for – go away, we're busy!”
Micaiah's yell conveyed precisely how tired she was. There was silence from the other side of the door, followed by quick steps retreating away.
“I bet they know,” Sothe commented. The perspective didn't alarm him as he knew it would have done if he hadn't been basking in the after effects of a truly phenomenal climax with the girl he loved.
Micaiah's go away, we're busy didn't do much to appease the imagination either. Just the person's face when they'd heard that.
“Hey, Micaiah... Who do you think it was?”
Sothe imagined that annoyingly loud Kieran and wanted to snicker again. But no, there'd been no shouting on the other side...
He yawned. Maybe Micaiah had the right idea.
“As long as it's not Soren, I don't care. He'd be insufferable,” she muttered.
“Hmm.”
He didn't care about who it'd been, really.
His eyes fluttered closed, he turned his head until his cheek rested against Micaiah's hair. He shifted his hold on Micaiah's hand, intertwining their fingers.
Before he drifted off to sleep, he felt her grip tighten in response.
Pairing: Micaiah/Sothe
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Peace meetings are frustrating.
Notes: written for the Fire Emblem kink meme at
ooh_shinies. Original request was for sex where one (or both) of the participants is menstruating. How it devolved into 4000 words of first-time sex is beyond me.post-game.
Sothe had barely stepped into the room when Micaiah yanked him by the collar, slammed the door behind him, and pushed him against the wall. He let out a squeak of protest – why was she manhandling him all of a sudden – but was cut short abruptly.
By her mouth.
His eyes became very round and he thought of checking if he was really awake.
The queen of Daein didn't make it an habit of assaulting him with her tongue at the end of very long, very involved, very – if Sothe could speak for himself – boring peace meetings.
In fact, last he checked, Micaiah wasn't in the habit of kissing him at all, ever, and that was that. (Her right hand had latched onto his shoulder so she could lean up and her left hand was running up and down his chest, up and down, any lower and she'd been stroking skin, mindless caresses Sothe could have lost himself to.)
That sort of thing only happened in his dreams, and the fuzzy versions he toyed with during said diplomatic meetings, to have something to distract himself with.
Not that he was complaining with the turn of events, but he was starting to wonder if the inhalation of the fumes of Crimea castle's candles wasn't inductive to hallucinations.
His doubts were answered when Micaiah's teeth sharply clamped down into his lower lip. 'Sharply' being the operative word.
He pushed her away by the shoulders before he had the time to think about it.
“Hey, what's that for?” he snapped.
Micaiah was glaring up at him. He glared right back, just in case.
“You were thinking about something else,” she said between gritted teeth.
Because he was still a little dazed by the Micaiah lip action, Sothe blinked. Oh.
“You could tell?”
Okay, he may not have been very focused on the kiss. Not that it hadn't been enjoyable before Micaiah decided she was going to have herself a pound of his flesh for a snack – that sounded a lot more dirty than he'd meant.
The point was that Sothe hadn't realized Rafiel had helped Micaiah to hone her empathic powers to the point where she could literally read people's minds.
“I could tell you weren't kissing back!”
There was that, too.
Wait, what was he thinking? He shook himself. He couldn't believe this situation was becoming his fault, and he was letting it.
“Okay, no, wait, Micaiah, what is this all about?”
He held her by the shoulders as he waited. She didn't look as tired as he feared – which was good; it proved that he hadn't been blind for who knew how many days – but she did look frustrated. Boy, did she ever.
Well, it was only understandable. First there'd been the crowning, and then the peace talks and their trail of economical negotiations had commenced, and those were taking place in Crimea – as the nation who had held an irreproachable conduct during the war – and on the side, there was still Daein's reconstruction to worry about, which Micaiah could only supervise from afar for as long as the diplomatic issues lasted.
For the past two days, he'd noticed that Micaiah had seemed shorter on patience than usual when they were alone.
Nothing of her frustration showed during the meetings with the other kings, queens, and assorted advisors; a fact that made Sothe proud, smug, impressed, and a little peeved.
He'd never been able to control his tongue or his expressions so well, his body language always betrayed him. Micaiah, on the other hand, was never afraid of owning up to her emotions, but she was able to discount them when they went in the way of something bigger.
And then, as it turned out, there was something else.
She parted her lips, hesitated, then started talking with the mulish expression she sometimes assumed, when things didn't let her have her way fast enough and she was running out of arguments – be they fair or not.
“Look, Sothe, do you-- want this? Because from what I get during meetings, I think you want me. And when we were in the Tower of Guidance, I thought you wanted this. But it's been months and you don't do anything one way or another and I'm just sick of not being sure.”
Her lips were pale; she spoke in a clipped, intense tone. Her amber eyes were glinting, determined to get an answer, staring straight into his.
Sothe felt like the universe had gone topsy-turvy without a warning.
“Er, what?” He said weakly. Then, grabbing onto one thing from her speech, he asked, “this?”
“Us.”
Sothe gaped. Micaiah's shoulders tensed.
“Do I--” his voice cracked; he licked his lips before starting again (they were suddenly dry, his lower lip throbbing where she'd bitten him. It wasn't entirely unpleasant.) “--w-want to be with you? Micaiah, do you even need to ask?”
His voice had risen and cracked more in the last two sentences than it had in the last two wars put together, but incredulity and – desire – were playing fiddle with his nerves.
Her chest hitched as she took a breath.
“Just. Answer.” She held him still, with the mere power of her burning gaze. “Please.”
I'm just sick of not being sure, she'd told him. She wouldn't budge until he said something.
Sothe realized all his words had deserted him. And even if they hadn't, he wouldn't have been able to speak anyway. His brain had given in to the arguments of his libido and several years of inhibitions.
His head twitched into a nod. Then he nodded again, several times.
Micaiah must have decided this was as good as she was going to get, because the next thing Sothe knew she was pressing herself against him, all hands and legs and breasts and short, sharp pants that went straight to his groin.
Her hands had slid up and hooked behind his neck, bringing him down again for a kiss – and this time he kissed her back, parting his lips for her. The soft weight of Micaiah's breasts pushed against him, and there was no way she couldn't feel how aroused he was.
Her left leg wrapped around him as high as she could, bringing them even closer; her hips began undulating, grinding against him, pulling a moan from his throat.
Fumbling blindly, Sothe let go of her waist to secure the position, uncertain of what to do even as Micaiah kept on moving against him, her tongue dancing around his, her fingernails scratching the back of his neck when she clutched his hair in her fingers.
Micaiah's thigh was naked under his palm, heated up; he slipped his hand under her knee to keep her against her. He brought her leg a little higher, and she broke the kiss, hissing.
He let go, worried that he'd done something wrong.
Now they weren't moving anymore, his throbbing cock, warmly encased between their two snug bodies, felt like the most conspicuous thing in the world.
He tried to calm himself.
“Micaiah?”
She was grimacing a little. Her face was pleasantly flushed, Sothe couldn't help noticing.
“It's nothing. My back hurts, that's all.” Sothe silently waited for the rest of her instructions, praying without daring to put it into words that she wouldn't ask them to stop.
She gave an experimental twist on the hips. Sothe's hands closed convulsively around the parts of her they were holding, the back of her thigh and her waist and he locked his knees fiercely, in a last-ditch attempt to avoid crumbling against her and being done before they even started.
Micaiah must have felt the danger, for she abruptly stilled.
During a few moments, nothing happened except for their heartbeats. Micaiah held her breath – something for which Sothe was thankful, given that if she didn't her chest would push into him and it might just be the thing to throw him over the edge.
Finally, Sothe managed to get himself back to a point where he could relax without immediately spilling himself.
“Sorry about that,” he mumbled. He would've liked to speak into Micaiah's neck or shoulder, but... yeah, he wasn't about to take a risk of stupidly coming. The crook of her neck was still damn tempting, though. “So, um, you were saying?”
He didn't look at her as he apologized. It'd be so humiliating if she was amused or worse, compassionate.
“No, I'm sorry,” Micaiah whispered back. “I shouldn't have pushed you like that...”
“Please don't use that word,” Sothe said, barely audibly.
His masculine pride was hating him for sounding so lame, but the cock poking into Micaiah's thigh was the proof that said pride hadn't shriveled up and died yet, and the best way to prevent that was to not. come. prematurely.
The entire lexical field of “pushing” and “someone” ranked right at the top of expressions to be banned, because Sothe's neurons could only connect the two by adding an “into” between them, and that way lay badness.
And everything he was thinking was turning into innuendos, please, Micaiah, just...
He took a deep, calming, shuddering inspiration. “So, what next?”
Micaiah herself looked somewhat dazed, enough that Sothe suspected she had indeed perceived something of his inner rambling. That'd be hot-- he killed the train of thought before it could get any worse.
“Bed,” she said succinctly. “Now.”
He didn't need to be told twice.
In a perfect universe, their clothes would have vanished before they reached the bed; the suite Micaiah had been given was even big enough for it to make sense, but they were both impatient, horny, and not used to each other that way, so by the time they were next to the mattress only her cloak had been dispatched and Sothe's jacket was on the way of being taken care of.
Micaiah let go of him as soon as she finished undoing the buttons and pushed him back. The back of his knees hit the bed and Sothe found himself sitting on the soft mattress and the soft bedclothes as Micaiah was bending forward to take her panties off.
Sothe tried to swallow and, finding his mouth had gone drier than Micaiah's habitual sarcasms, opted for blinking.
The panties were whipped off in a blink, and Micaiah pushed against his shoulders again.
“On your back.”
If it was an order, Sothe obeyed without even thinking about it. He would probably pay her back later with upgraded bouts of bitchiness, but the thought wouldn't enter his mind until the dead of the night, once he started recovering from being fucked senseless.
His shoulders against the blankets, he looked up at her as she plopped down on him, straddling his lap. Her hands on his chest, his open jacket pushed away, she began to grind down on him again.
Her rhythm was less frenetic this time, as though now that they were on the bed, she had no doubt they'd be able to see this through, however many times they needed to, to make sure she was satisfied.
His hands gripped her legs while her hips rolled, rubbing her so well over his groin he felt like he was on fire, encouraging her with uninterrupted groans.
His caresses were clumsy, shaking, he groped until he had his hand under her dress, up and up against her thigh – Micaiah's legs, he had lost count of how many times he'd dreamed of them – until he could touch her there. A high keen rose from her lips and she threw her head back.
“Yes,” she breathed.
She was wet, the curls were sticky, and it was a lot more complicated than it had sounded when he had spied on girls who were talking about that – he understood why the girls' boyfriends had to make so much effort to find that spot now he was in the same situation, Micaiah was moving and the skirt was in the way, which made it even more difficult – but she was making the same wailing sound she'd made the first time whenever he rubbed, so he must be doing something right.
Her cheeks were flushed a dark pink, and she bit down on her lip.
“A-aah...”
Sothe's hips bucked upwards. Micaiah's eyes widened, her thighs instinctively constricted around him. Too soon, Sothe thought, panicked, as he forced himself to lay back down.
“Micaiah, I don't think I'm going to last much longer,” he said in a strangled tone.
He stopped brushing his fingers against her curls. It didn't seem like a wise thing to tease her when he was practically begging for mercy.
“I want you in me.”
In a way, it was an answer. She tipped to the side so he could have access to his pants and unbutton them. (Her white skirt – stained with a few reddish streaks, odd – was less getting in the way.)
A task which he started to dutifully perform, as well as his trembling hands let him – he was a thief, he was not supposed to get clumsy with his fingers and everything he thought still sounded dirty... And the fact that his fingers were coated in her juice didn't make it any easier either.
He wasn't fast enough; Micaiah batted his hands away. Her touch was sweet and warm and something he'd wanted for so long, and it was running up and down his cock as she undid the buttons.
He needed something to distract himself with right now, he reflected as he lifted his hand to caress her face, touch the pretty lips she was worrying, gleams of her with teeth showing when she nibbled a little too hard.
His fingers stilled midway to her hair.
“Urk,” he said, or tried to.
Red? His fingers were red? Maroonish red? Like blood?
A crowd of confused thoughts pertaining to Micaiah's virginity collided in his mind. She was a virgin? Really? She'd never had sex? But he could have sworn-- and no, that still wasn't the root of the issue, the issue was, but... the hymen... it wasn't... he'd barely touched her! And it was supposed to be a lot deeper, right?
...There was another reason why she'd be bleeding. Much more mundane.
“Er, Micaiah? Are-- are on your period?”
She looked up briefly – she'd been pushing down his pants and requesting his collaboration in lifting his hips, Sothe called back the last few moments.
“Oh, yes,” she said as if it was nothing worth mentioning.
Then she paused. He must be pulling a face.
“Does that bother you?”
Did that bother him?
“Er, no...”
He just hadn't been expecting it. And maybe it was slightly mystifying; the women he'd overheard used to complain when their husbands and boyfriends asked for sex when they were on their period. But, well, if it wasn't an issue for Micaiah...
“Oh good,” she breathed. “I'm not sure I could have gone through one more afternoon like today.”
She rose to her knees again, huddling her skirt up, and then, in one smooth movement, sank down his lap.
Sothe's eyes rolled back in his head, his hands clenched in the sheet. Micaiah's breath was coming in short hisses, her teeth gritted.
Her muscles clenched around him, and Sothe's hand flew to his mouth, and he bit down the back of his wrist to keep from moaning out loud. She was so hot and tight and fit so well and so tight.
Her nails scratched down his chest again, making it a foregone conclusion that he was going to keep marks.
“Don't— do that. I want to hear you.”
Micaiah's eyes were flashing wild gold, tendrils of silver hair made darker with perspiration clinging to the sides of her face, to her neck, one thin, persistent strand stuck all the way down until it disappeared down her cleavage.
Sothe removed his teeth from his wrist and his wrist from his mouth, but it was mostly to give a wobbly protest.
“I'm the only one half naked,” he pointed out. “I – hn – don't think it's fair, Micaiah.”
Micaiah's eyebrows rose.
“Yes?”
The heady, heavy smoke of her voice coiled around him; the sibilant sliding closed around his throat like a velvet choker.
Swiftly, she leaned forward and snatched Sothe's hands. With the mattress underneath, the sudden movement became a bounce, spreading her legs wider across his hips, bony and imprinting themselves into the soft flesh of her inner thighs. He groaned.
“And now?”
She arched her back, offering herself. He'd have been a pathetic thief not to take such an open invitation.
So he did, following with his finger the crease of the dress that ran from the point of her right breast to the point of the other. Her hardened nipples were perfectly defined through the fabric. Her legs and her inner muscles twitched when he pinched the peeking nubs, her eyes wide as she snapped her head back to him.
“Ah-”
Sothe tried to assume a confident smirk at Micaiah's startled breath. She took the challenge in, returned it with a lopsided smile, and started to rise from him.
“H-hey—”
He didn't get to finish; Micaiah cut him off by slamming herself back against him, plunging him deeper in her – so deep. Micaiah cried out and Sothe gnashed his teeth.
He was so close.
Her chest was heaving as she picked the rhythm up again, her lips shiny with saliva and her pupils dark between her eyelashes.
She rode him, not caring about the way her nails dug into him again or the inarticulate moans she was making or how the deeper she took him the more delicious pressure she was inflicting to his cock, slick and tighttighttighttight goddess above so tight Micaiah...
The orgasm tore through him like a tidal wave breaking, and Sothe just gripped at what he could, her hips, to hold on.
He came in long white spasms, forgetful of everything but her name echoing within and around him, from the blind thumping of his heart to her breath against his chest.
He didn't open his eyes before the last throes of his orgasm had died out and he was breathing slowly, deeply. He felt Micaiah slump on the blanket with a sigh.
The sound killed his buzz as efficiently and precisely as a stiletto between two cervical vertebrae. Had she--
He could've hit himself. He'd heard it over and over again, and when the moment came, he was so thoughtless?
Turning uneasily his head toward her, Sothe mentally prepared himself for it. Next to him, she was lying on her side, her eyes closed, looking drained.
“Er, Micaiah... Did you... Did you come?”
He didn't care about sounding nervous or fearful or childish, he just wanted her to say she was okay, and show him how make her come if he had failed to get her off before.
She answered without opening her eyes, mumbling words he had to repeat to himself.
“Do I look like I didn't come?”
Ah. Ah.
“'T was a happy sigh. A sated sigh,” she added.
Something very much like pride swelled in Sothe's chest. Micaiah snorted, or giggled, then fell silent as Sothe extended his arms around her awkwardly. Even with her, he wasn't prone to tactile demonstrations of affection, but in this moment, he wanted to touch her. It felt like the right thing to have their sides touching and their hands holding.
She looked like she hesitated before allowing herself to let go.
“Oh, okay. I'll wash up later.”
“Before dinner?” Sothe asked idly. He was staring at the ceiling, but truth to be told, he was a lost more interested in the feel of Micaiah's hand in his. In that moment, he was at complete peace with the world.
“Let's skip dinner.” Her eyes had shuttered closed again.
He snickered. There was always something exhilarating about Micaiah suggesting they be bad.
“Let's,” he agreed, snickering again.
Micaiah sighed again, like she was planning to let herself doze off, when someone knocked at the door.
She groaned.
“You want me to take care of it?” Sothe offered.
The impression of floating on a candy cloud had still to vanish. If this was the afterglow everyone was talking about, it was no wonder people were so obsessed with love.
“And let you answer at the door with how you're now? I'll just get rid of them right now,” she said, her last words punctuated by more knocking at the door.
“Oh, for – go away, we're busy!”
Micaiah's yell conveyed precisely how tired she was. There was silence from the other side of the door, followed by quick steps retreating away.
“I bet they know,” Sothe commented. The perspective didn't alarm him as he knew it would have done if he hadn't been basking in the after effects of a truly phenomenal climax with the girl he loved.
Micaiah's go away, we're busy didn't do much to appease the imagination either. Just the person's face when they'd heard that.
“Hey, Micaiah... Who do you think it was?”
Sothe imagined that annoyingly loud Kieran and wanted to snicker again. But no, there'd been no shouting on the other side...
He yawned. Maybe Micaiah had the right idea.
“As long as it's not Soren, I don't care. He'd be insufferable,” she muttered.
“Hmm.”
He didn't care about who it'd been, really.
His eyes fluttered closed, he turned his head until his cheek rested against Micaiah's hair. He shifted his hold on Micaiah's hand, intertwining their fingers.
Before he drifted off to sleep, he felt her grip tighten in response.
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Date: 2009-02-20 04:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-20 05:42 pm (UTC)I firmly believe that Micaiah would have to take matters into her own hands if she wanted to get somewhere with Sothe - he's way too passive-aggressive to send clear signals. Hopefully she's not too tied up in the issue that she basically raised him to let it stop her.
All in all, this fic is making me consider switching to girls. :)
:D High praise indeed! *may or may not carry a HUGE SWOONY SCORCHING TORCH for Micaiah*