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Character of the Season
Frail in body but dangerously quick of mind, Nikandr is the sort of character who proves that curiosity can be just as perilous as any weapon. A necromancer, inventor, and problem-solver with more ambition than self-preservation, Niki approaches the world like a puzzle box begging to be opened, even when what’s inside has teeth. Blunt, dry-witted, fiercely independent, and carrying a history best left partially buried, he has a knack for making even failure feel fascinating. Whether he’s raising the dead, moving across Caido to King's End, or experiencing a hangover for the first time, Nikandr brings a wonderfully strange spark to Caido, and we can’t wait to see what trouble his brilliant mind wanders into next.
Congratulations, Niki!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
OG Skinning provided by Kaons, with functionality and many custom plugins made by Neowulf!
Panting, her entire body feeling both exhausted and shaky with a need for more, Flora hiccups in a moan as Jack's tongue sends static up her spine and bristling against the bottoms of her feet. Phantom shivers still have her shuddering on the desk, everywhere from her thighs to her fingertips, and as she lets her calves fall away from the captain's shoulders, it's an effort to try and rein in her breathing.
Blinking her eyes open as Jack blocks out the bars of moonlight that cut across her, Flora appraises him with a dark mischief blossoming in her eyes. "No?" Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, the queen shrugs with feigned casualness. "I suppose I'll just be on my way, then." She adds before her hand lifts from her thigh to fit around the caged shape of the captain's erection and presses.
We can't make any promises now can we babe? But you can make me a drink.
”That’d probably be for the best, ye—” With his magic drenched in the aftershocks of Flora’s pleasure, the Doubltake manages to catch Jack off guard in the sudden press of her fingers, and he’s cut off by his own sharp intake of breath, jaw feathering as his hips rock into her hand of their own accord. ”Sure I can’t tempt you to stay?” he ends up asking instead, pitching forward just a little further as if he might catch her lower lips between his own teeth instead.
He doesn’t - not yet, anyway - but his mouth lingers mere centimetres from her own as he considers how they might yet enjoy themselves, and whether his desk is a sacrifice he’s willing to make. (The answer is a resounding yes at this point in time, though he gets the impression Flora knows that already). ”I could make it worth your while.” And then some.
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
"Mmmmm..." Flora hums mischievously, and even as she meets the press of Jack's hips with the flat of her palm, her expression remains wry if not bordering on disinterested. Her mind will tell a very different story of course; plumes of magenta heat swirl up through lace-like tears in the curtains of her mind, and though the queen is more than happy to stay precisely where they are that doesn't stop her from imagining cold hands and hot water, her hands braced against his door, her knees scraped on midnight sand.
"Or will I make it worth yours?" Pressing herself up to crash against his mouth, Flora rubs her hand up the length of his still-caged erection before slipping her fingertips beneath the waistband of his underwear. "I was the one who woke you up after all." Flora purrs as she presses herself up fully despite the way her muscles still continued to tremble. Using both her feet and hand to tug his pants down around his knees while the fingers of her other hand stroked along the length of his cock, the queen tilts her head to the side as she peers up at Jack through darkly hooded eyes. "Seems only fair."
Flora had no idea how many woman (or men) Jack had actually fucked on his desk, but no doubt the sheer number who fantasized about it outnumbered the actual tally considerably. His cock pointed at her like a dowsing rod, and had she not known better Flora would have thought the height-to-cock ratio of Jack's desk was suspiciously well suited.
We can't make any promises now can we babe? But you can make me a drink.
”You always do, love,” Jack assures her with a crooked smile that has no chance of meeting his eyes given how his mind continues to swim in a wine dark sea of Flora’s making. And it’s true; despite some interesting bumps in the road that their trysts have occasionally taken (looking at you, bawling-your-eyes-out-in-your-apartment Flora), they always end up having a good time in the end.
Snagging an arm around her lower back as she lurches up to seal his lips with another kiss, Jack is as helpful as he can be in tugging down his pants, though he hopes the Doubletake will forgive him if he’s a little distracted. Stirring up a warm breeze with his magic that strokes and shivers across Flora’s bare skin, it only drops a fraction as her fingers pulse and stroke around the length of his cock, the captain drawing back with a soft inhale that belies the fraying threads of his patience.
Famously not a particularly fair man, Jack is nonetheless not about to argue with Flora, and he tilts his head right back at her as he leans forward a fraction - enough to kiss her neck and to roll his hips into her hand; enough to press the head of his cock against her slick heat, teasing at more.
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
"Fuck you." Flora says through lips that can't help but curl wickedly up at the corners. Surely Jack had noticed by now the way that particular word filled the queen's mind in a torrent of midnight rain, coating her every thought in something deep and vast and cunning. Something that burned dangerously, and while it wasn't completely out of control, it wanted to be.
Arching her back once more as his arm curls around it, the Doubletake moans greedily against Jack's lips as they both fumble to rid him of his clothes. It's a halfhearted job at best, and were someone to yell fire, there wouldn't be a chance in hell of the captain being able to take more than two steps without his pants tripping him up. How convenient, then, that he had such mastery over air and water that fire wasn't something for either of them to fear.
Shivering against the warm tickle of air, Flora sips in a delighted breath that has heat scoring a path down to her core. Tilting her chin up as the captain's mouth descends, the queen kneads the heels of her feet against Jack's ass as if to force him to take a step into her, whilst simultaneously holding her hand steady to keep his cock precisely where it was. The only motion she allows is up and down, gliding the head of his cock against her that he might be reminded of just how wet he'd made her and how close he was to having more of it. All of it. Knowing better than to tease Jack in the traditional sense, Flora nevertheless relishes the feeling of his cock between her fingers and his pleasure, even if only momentarily, fully hers to grant.
We can't make any promises now can we babe? But you can make me a drink.
But of course Jack knows - and whilst it isn’t a term he uses exclusively on Flora (yet), he’s well aware of the implications it sets off in her thoughts like dark, quiet fireworks. And it’s something he relishes as much as he does the silver slant of her enjoyment, the control she wields over the situation as his lips drift towards the hollow of her throat and her hand continues to stroke his cock.
Swearing softly as he’s guided against her, almost there but not quite, the anticipation ricochets out of Flora, then into Jack and back again until he’s almost drowning in it. He’ll blame his reaction on that, anyway, the captain leaning in to leave another bruising mark on her neck, just beneath her jaw, his fingers flinching against her as if he might be able to simply grab and take what he wants.
Which is, of course, exactly what Flora is likely enjoying the most.
Dragging his lips up to the shell of her ear, Jack’s ”Please,” is for her and her alone, his voice pitched low and soft and breathless.
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
It does everything Jack knows it would, and gods if Flora wasn't so thoroughly wound up in the lurid tempest of her own thoughts she might have savoured the moment for what it was. How many others had ever heard the word please from Jack's lips, even outside of a tryst? How far would that number dwindle if paired with former (or even current) lovers?
Knowing better than to try and make more of it than it was, Flora reached out for the captain's jaw in order to force his stare against hers. With a small smirk on her lips and her kohl-lined eyes holding his, gaze, she releases her hold on his cock as her legs tangle and then tug around his waist, thrusting him all the way inside of her. Even with her eyes filled by the wild blue of his stare, Flora's thoughts grow instantly still and ocean-dark as she inhales sharply, her lips parting in a ragged moan. There's one shimmering instant where she feels resplendent and wholly complete, her satisfaction clawing at the back of her throat as if that's how far Jack's cock had thrust inside of her, before the illusion is shattered and she's suddenly ravenous for more.
Releasing his jaw, Flora lets herself lean back onto her elbows and then finally onto his desk. It no longer occurs to her to savour the way his maps lay beneath her shoulder blades or how his desk shifts with every thrust. It seems so unimportant in comparison with the way he moves inside of her and the perfection of his hands. And perhaps that's the difference now between Flora and the others: now that she had what so many want from the captain (of being able to barge into his room in the middle of the night, of being fucked on his desk regardless of his precious maps), she couldn't bring herself to care. Not with the realization that in times of trouble not only had it been Jack that she had run to, but that it had been Jack she'd wanted. He'd never saved her from anything, but nor had she ever asked him to, and the fact that he'd just been there had, to the surprise of no one more than Flora, been enough.
"nnnnnnnnn, Jack." She moans, her thoughts a shining array of garnet and gold as her hand grasps at her breast as the other braces beneath her.
We can't make any promises now can we babe? But you can make me a drink.
His eyes flick up to hold her gaze, a blue made darker with lust and possessive want, and no sooner does Jack catch her intentions when Flora draws him forward, allowing him to bury himself inside her with a rough groan. She slips back to lay against his desk and Jack is already following, one hand pinning her wrist against the wood whilst the other roves greedily across her skin.
Each thrust of his hips is enough to have trinkets rattling and objects shifting and rolling in the drawers, a sound he does nothing to muffle as his lips drag across her throat, finding her lips to kiss her hard, the captain almost impatient in his need to have more of what the Doubletake offers. Whether it’s a performance to spark all the thoughts and feelings he knows Flora enjoys or something murkier and more organic, Jack doesn’t know. And quite frankly, with his cock filling her entirely, he doesn’t care either.
Hissing out some curse to the gods against her lips, he reaches down to reach a hand around her calf, sitting up enough to hook it over his shoulder and angle her just so. Jack fucks her like he means it, hard and deep and leaving no room for breath or argument, hoping to coax another orgasm to catch them both by surprise.
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
Though Flora doesn't struggle against Jack's grip by any means, she does press against it if only to see just how tightly her wrist was pinned against the desk. Moaning, her fingertips scratch across his back before finding the channel of his spine and riding it all the way up towards his neck before plunging into his hair. Wrapping her ankles around one another to fix him against her, Flora lets herself submerge into the decadent blues and opalescent reds of her thoughts rather than concocting tableaus for them both to enjoy. Certainly there were times when images of thrusting cocks, curled toes, and the magnified sound of skin on skin was precisely the salacious sort of imagery the Doubletake needed to get off, and other times when reality was simply too good to ignore.
Sinking into the here and now in order to better be drowned by it, Flora thought only of Jack. Of the sleepy way he'd opened his door to nothing but midnight air before beckoning her in, of the way his hands found and fit around her curves even without being able to see her, of the tearing of lace and the colour of his eyes as he'd thrust himself inside of her. "I want you," Flora moans against his mouth, her own kisses unyielding beneath his lips as her fingernails scratched against his scalp. "Fuck do I--"
As he repositions her, the words are abruptly cut off. Flora's teeth snap closed around a shaky moan as one hand descends between her thighs. "Gods, Jack." Said as if in awe, and honestly part of her was. How the sex could continue to be so good, mind reading aside, Flora didn't know, but just now she couldn't have cared about anything less as prismatic bursts of pleasure began nipping at her heels. "Gods make me cum again," She moaned, not caring at all about the pleading tone of her voice as she gazed up at him.
We can't make any promises now can we babe? But you can make me a drink.
One might expect that having thoughts of himself overriding all of Flora’s immediate desires would be complicated and distracting for the good captain. To that we say, though: haaaaaave you met Jack? Shifting enough to unpin her hand, only if to give him more room to fuck her and to give her the space to let her fingers slip between her thighs, there are already beads of sweat glistening against his back and shoulders, his breathing quick as if it’s an effort to find the time to do it between his thrusts.
”And I want the whole ship to hear it,” he hisses, his cheek pressed to the silk of her inner thigh, his hips snapping into her hard and fast enough that even the siren song of he orgasm is enough to have something tighten and lurch in the pit of his stomach.
Their eyes meet, Jack’s dark and fey wild in the moonlight as he watches the bounce of her breasts with each pounding thrust, the way her hair seems silver and her lips are parted just so. ”Fuck,” he moans. ”Cum for me, then.”
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
All aboard the Ark will find themselves either tugged from sleep, serenaded while on duty, or have their dreams invaded by the Doubletake's moans as she gasps Jack's name again and again. Having forgotten entirely what she'd been running away from, Flora thinks of only what she'd been running to, and the fact that she'd found Jack welcoming and wanting was perhaps the most dangerous situation with him she'd ever found herself in.
In response to the way the fingers between her thighs had begun to grow frenzied with the nearness of her orgasm, the ones in Jack's hair had likewise began to sporadically pull and tug. Opening her eyes to peer at him up the length of her torso, the gueen shivers at both the sight and feel of his cheek against her thigh. The thoughts the flicker through her mind are certainly not of love just then, though they do bear a familiar resemblance. Perhaps it's closer to coveting, to some bastardized form of possessiveness that masquerades as desire in order to hide what it really was. Either way, as the gravitational tug of her orgasm pulled at her for a second time, Flora's thoughts were wonderfully doused in lascivious shades of violet and wine as she slammed her palm down onto the edge of the desk for better purchase. "Jack-" She cried out, her voice lifting as the tidal pull of her orgasm crashed down against her.
We can't make any promises now can we babe? But you can make me a drink.
The range of Jack’s magic certainly doesn’t cover his entire ship, but it absolutely reaches far enough to snag a few of the sluggish or lascivious thoughts that Flora’s cries provoke. With a wolfish smile that lasts only long enough to see her over the edge of her orgasm, the captain is dragged as if through a riptide into the near-violent pull of her ecstasy. He doesn’t hear his own moan of pleasure, though gritted teeth as it might be, but Flora might.
Thrusting hard into her and finding himself breathless and utterly owned by her thoughts and feelings in that moment, Jack cums and the world slides into nothing but the feel of her fingers in his hair and her heel against his shoulders. He rides the waves of his pleasure like a man finding water in a drought, curled over her and seeking out her lips even as the movement necessarily forces Flora into the sort of acrobatics that only has his cock driving deeper into her still.
It isn’t love, even if it might be love-adjacent, and in those few moments where their combined pleasure renders the whole world silent but for Flora, Jack might understand perhaps an element of how it’s meant to feel.
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
For a few shining moments, everything is blissfully easy and clear and calm. Flora doesn't think of Koa and how far away he always is, doesn't think of Asta and how he'd made her feel so special only to have it all torn down in an instant. She doesn't think of Starfall or heroes or comparative levels of strength, doesn't think of orbs or lilies or regional quests. Instead there's just a shimmering strand of decadence that connects her to Jack, stretched taught by the thrust of his hips and then left to hum with the combined reverberation of their pleasure. What escapes his mouth or hers, the way her limbs are forced to contort, Flora has utterly no capacity to comprehend, and if Jack is at all inclined, he's welcome to drown in the murky stillness the cocoons the queen's mind if he so chooses.
After however long, there's an ache in Flora's hip that suddenly bites into her consciousness forcing her to remove her leg from Jack's shoulder before shattering the calm waters of her mind. "That's exactly what I wanted." She hums, her tone one of dark satisfaction as her eyelashes flutter slowly open and her aqua stare lands smugly on him. "Sorry about your desk." Pressing her lips against Jack's, Flora slips her hand out from between her thighs in order to sit herself up, her mouth firm against his as her nipples brushed against his chest. "And for waking you up." She adds, her lips curling into a feline grin. Had he any suspicion at all as to her actual level of contrition, her thoughts would confirm that she wasn't sorry at all.
We can't make any promises now can we babe? But you can make me a drink.
Jack is inclined, as it so happens, the captain’s eyes shut to fully enjoy the decadent nothingness that keeps him buoyant in the wake of their combined pleasure. It’s with a deep sigh that drags the almost permanent tension from his shoulders that he finally blinks a couple of times to gaze down at Flora, just as she manoeuvres her leg down from his shoulder and her lips catch his own once more. He hums some sort agreement with her - it’s always exactly what he wants, regardless of the time of day, and his smirk says as much.
”You have my express permission to interrupt my sleep whenever you like, if this is the reason,” he tells her, his hands continuing to graze along her hips before he withdraws at last, tugging his pants back up and stepping over to his bunk to sink unceremoniously down back onto it. Whether Flora sees herself out or decides to push her luck isn’t Jack’s business, but there’s certainly space for her if she chooses the later. Space Jack has left for her.
sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)
