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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!
Feeling the prick of her fingernails against the back of his thigh and the way his hips begin to move of their own accord despite her obvious encouragement, Jack really does try his best not to crack or shatter or burn the cuffs around his wrists. But his magic is already trying to do it for him, such that the tell-tale creak of leather might alert Flora to his dwindling self control above anything he might have said or sworn or promised in the moment.
"Fuck, you're too much--" he groans, head tipping back as if it might help him focus if he isn't staring right down at her, his mind fighting a losing battle against the fever heat of her thoughts and the way he wants to take her until it's more than just his name being written against her clit. "Don't stop--" Don't stop thinking about him, don't stop touching herself, don't stop sucking his cock or clutching at his skin or wanting him.
All of a sudden whatever challenge Flora has planned for them is secondary to the mounting ecstasy clawing its way through the Doubletake and vibrating up the length of Jack's spine, and if asked, he'd never be able to say who would win.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
The smell of burning leather, the groan of knots being frozen and then strained against, the spark of lightning from behind Jack's back are all far too nuanced for Flora to be aware of them happening. The only thing the queen is conscious of is the barely contained climax that she's desperately trying to ward off and the overwhelming feeling of being wanted despite the fact that Jack hasn't once touched her and she's the one doing all the work. Naively Flora had imagined him using his magic to try and coax an orgasm out of her and while she anticipated it feeling good, she hadn't thought he'd have a hope of beating her to the finish (or not, as the case might be). What she hadn't accounted for was the easy control he exerted over her, nor the way touching herself as she sucked his cock turned her on so fucking much.
Moaning, her thoughts reduced to scalding ashes that could hold neither shape nor form, the queen's back arches off the couch again as her nails dig into the back of Jack's thigh, and had her hands not been occupied, she might have mirrored the sensation against her own skin. Desperate for the feel of his hands against her throat, on her breasts, his teeth nipping at the soft skin between her thighs and the fullness of him inside of her, Flora sipped in a hasty breath through her nose before taking in more of him, her toes clenching as they pressed against the bottom of the couch.
Cum, Jack, she begged, her entire body shaking now as her thoughts reached a fever pitch of arousal that she'd be unable to stave off for more than a few seconds longer.
i scream for whatever it's worth "i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
Flora's approaching climax is like trying to hold onto a livewire, and gods, though Jack has been hoping he might be able to hold out until he feels that tether snap within her, she just has to go and beg him, just has to draw him further into her waiting mouth.
Not only does the captain cum hard against the back of her throat, it's punctuated by the sudden snap of leather from one of the cuffs on his wrists, and were it not for the hand he suddenly braces against her shoulder (his fingers cold and numb and delivering no small number of static shocks), he might have toppled forward to unintentionally choke her as well.
Not that he imagines she would mind at this point.
"Fuck, Flora," he growls, fingers flinching against her skin and his mind still grappling with her mounting pleasure, barely knowing how to comprehend the fresh ecstasy she's about to pry from her own body.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
It's pure instinct on her part that has Flora drawing in a breath that's large enough to carry her through the next few moments. As Jack cums, he might feel as if he's suddenly in a hall of mirrors as something suspiciously similar to the way his own magic begins to ricochet back and forth between them. It isn't success that drives Flora over the edge, but the captain's own pleasure, and while she can't feel it the way he can with her, she's certainly imaginative enough for it to paint the inside of her mind a brilliant scarlet. The feeling of having pleased and pleasured him combined with the sudden cold static force of his hands against her shoulders is all she can handle, and as her fingers work their magic—touch yourself the way I'd touch you—the frenzy of need and desire finally breaks.
With his cock still in her mouth as if to tether herself to the source of her arousal, Flora cums with a near-explosive force that has her careening, her fingers flinching and then growing still despite the way the muscles of her arm strain and shiver. Tilting her head and swallowing, the Doubletake gasps loudly as the hand previously against the back of Jack's thigh now gropes for one of his arms to clutch him closer as her eyes squeeze shut against the freefall the drags her into a world of white.
i scream for whatever it's worth "i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
Flora will be able to add another notch to her bedpost one way or another - not only has she managed to win their little challenge, as she gasps and cums and throws Jack into the sort of tailspin he's barely able to comprehend, she manages to bring him to his fucking knees as well. The hand still against her shoulder is surrendered without protest for her to clutch onto his arm, the captain's forehead pressed to the plush fabric of the couch next to Flora, able to smell the lingering sun on her skin and in her hair, his eyes closed to better navigate the endless richochets of their combined pleasure.
His free hand comes up eventually - this one surprisingly warm and still cuffed, the broken restraint hanging uselessly from its chain - to slip down her body and across her ribs in as close to something like an embrace as the current positioning allows for. "Fuck," he says again, the word muffled by the couch and rough with a weary sort of bliss. Turning his head just enough to be able to nose into her curls, he lets out a quiet, tired laugh. "Fuck you, Flora."
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
No, you probably shouldn't love someone more just because you have really good sex with them, but equally...fuck.
It's a real shame that Flora had missed the way the captain was brought to his knees, as that was the sort of imagery that might have sustained her for weeks both in bed and out of it. Alas she's left to piece together what must have happened based on the nearness of his mouth somewhere by her hair and the arm snaking out to reach across her body. His touch has her gasping softly, and while Flora certainly hasn't inherited Remi's penchant for sentimentality post-sex, on this occasion there is something overwhelmingly rosey and golden-edged that blossoms in her chest.
Slipping her hand from beneath her thighs with a small shiver and letting it cover Jack's, without opening her eyes a lopsided smile parts Flora's lips as her fingertip taps gently against the broken chain. "I don't remember leaving it like this." She hums teasingly before stretching out her other hand to curl her fingers into his hair. "Love you, too." Flora laughs and as she opens her eyes, it's almost a surprise to see a proper ceiling overhead rather than the wooden cabin she'd come to know so well.
Twisting as much as she was able without having to exert more effort than was required, Flora's aqua eyes peeped over the edge of the couch. "I would have stopped if I could." She admits, her smile hidden against the fabric and yet it had her eyes sparkling nonetheless.
i scream for whatever it's worth "i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
"Mm, you must not have noticed. It was always like that," Jack assures her, his mumbled words edged in a smile that will have her truth ring burning on her finger. Her laughter and the proclamation of love are met with little more than a kiss pressed to her hair, the captain taking a deep, shuddering breath and letting it out again, not that it stands a chance of getting him back on his feet for another minute or so.
Blinking a few times and tilting his head so he might meet Flora's gaze, Jack looks for all the world like a lazy feline who has broken into the pantry, and the smile that curls wider across his lips is one that promises the sort of retribution Flora will enjoy, hopefully, just as much as this. "We've got time," he drawls - they've procured the dungeon for the full afternoon, after all. "Though you might need to give me a second. And some more of that whiskey."
Finally getting his feet beneath him, Jack spends a moment buttoning his pants and unbuckling the remaining leather cuff, his gaze occasionally drinking her in now that her body is so decadently moulded against the curves of the couch. "I'd offer to help you up, but it'd be a shame to ruin it."
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
"Ahh well, that's my mistake. I was fairly distracted when I put those on." Flora chuckles lazily. The feeling of his lips against her hair has the queen smiling to herself as golden waves filter through her mind, leaving her feeling warm and wonderfully content.
Not needing to come out and say how hot Jack looks draped in lazy arrogance, Flora merely lets her eyes drink in the parts of him that she can see with weary appreciation. Bouncing her eyebrows, the gesture made all the more comical given how much of her face was concealed by the couch, the Doubletake grins as a shiver of anticipation ripples down her spine.
Watching him watch her, the queen lifts a brow. Preferring the feeling of Jack's eyes on her skin over any textile or garment no matter how luxurious, if she could have worn nothing but that for the remainder of the day, she'd have been quite content. "Ruin what?" Tilting her chin up toward him, her eyes sparkle with mischief as she tucks a curl behind her ear and then extends her hand out to him. "Besides, if I don't get up, who's going to get you that whiskey, mm?"
i scream for whatever it's worth "i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
"Mm, you really ought to be more careful if you ever expect me to stay cuffed in future," Jack agrees, rubbing his wrists for a moment (there are red marks, one or two of which will become bruises, and Flora is just as welcome to fawn over those in the coming days as anything else) before refocusing on the Doubletake. "You know very well what," he drawls, "and I think I can cross the room and get a glass without your help, but if you insist."
Reaching out to take her hand, the captain draws her smoothly to her feet where his hands might swarm possessively over the places she'd been so decadently touching only moments before, and whilst he's in no position yet to take what he wants, it doesn't stop him from savouring every inch of Flora that he can grasp. "The things I'm gonna do to you," he hisses, voice low and quiet and full of wicked promise, before his arm curls around her waist and he leads them to their waiting glasses of whiskey.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
"I should, shouldn't I?" Flora agrees with a crooked smile before rolling her eyes and shifting onto her back with a weary laugh. Undoubtedly the Doubletake will fawn over whatever bruises or marks Jack comes away with, paying special attention to those gained by his unrestrained want of her. She might not even bother to heal them with fountain water once they were back on Torchline's shores, instead choosing to worship the marks as they faded from red to blue to yellow, doing nothing to hasten their healing if only to better cement the memory of how they'd come to be on the captain's skin.
"I do." The queen purrs, and as Jack draws her to her feet, she effortlessly fits herself against his side with her arms tangling loosely around his neck. Leaning against him as she lifts herself onto her toes, Flora steals a kiss that echoes the desire she'd felt for him on the couch, but where her fingers and heartbeat had raced before, her lips and tongue were now deliberately slow and thoughtful. "Or maybe I'll just keep doing them to you." The Doubletake counters wickedly as her fingers press against the base of his skull before trickling down his back as she tucks herself in against his side.
Accepting her glass of whiskey before slipping out from Jack's side, Flora goes to a corner of the room where a coat rack held a number of unassuming garments. One had caught her eye earlier on, and as she reached for it, draping the cool white silk robe over her body and fastening the belt, she glances over her shoulder toward Jack with a coy smile. "Very virginal." No doubt that was precisely the point and while it was an ill-suited metaphor for someone like Flora, she did look great in white.
i scream for whatever it's worth "i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
"Oh no," Jack drawls, his voice dry and low, "please no. Someone stop this." His body arches against the press of her fingers automatically, the captain taking a slow sip of his drink and releasing Flora to explore the rest of the room. While she fusses and plays dress up, he moves to what looks like a large wooden throne, padded and lined with plush leather, sinking down onto it and tipping his head against the high back to relax.
Raising an eyebrow at the Doubletake as she fastens her robe, clad like an angel in white silk and looking for all the world as if she's never spread her legs for anyone a day in her life, Jack can't help the devilish smile that spreads across his face. "I feel like you should've been wearin' that before the couch," he points out, though he can't help but agree - white is a great choice for her.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
"We can always pick a safe word if you're that worried about it." The queen chuckles over her shoulder. Quite confident that if things ever went too far she'd absolutely be able to stop herself if Jack was in pain or discomfort, even with a safe word she knew herself better than to promise that she'd have the self control to peel herself away from him simply because wanted to win a bet or cum in a different position.
Where Flora might look like an angel, Jack with his serpentine tattoo and skull of whiskey sat upon a throne of wood and leather looked precisely like the dangerous shadowy monarch that he was. "Oh?" She hums innocently as her fingertips trickle down between her breasts before smoothing the silken material over her stomach. "Are you sure you mean that couch?" Flora asks, her eyes meeting his as a flash of heat streaks across the bridge of her nose, illuminating the memory replaying behind her eyes of another couch and a very different kind of first. Gods she really had been young then, only sixteen, but Jack had been surprisingly gentle, had let her take her time and hadn't let her fake things as had been her initial inclination with him.
Grinning at the memory, Flora slinks her way toward the throne, setting her whiskey down in order to slip into Jack's lap. "Help me with something?" Not bothering to explain, instead, she recalls her conversation with Safrin, the tasks given to her followed by the captain's insistence that she avoid his telepathic offspring. "I'm going to think of a number and you try and guess it." Easy work for Jack no doubt, but in order to obfuscate his efforts, Flora let her thoughts grow as noisy as she could, covering the number thirteen in thick brambles of gossip and refrains of songs.
i scream for whatever it's worth "i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
"Does any part of me look worried 'bout it?" Jack asks around another sip of whiskey; he's not ignorant to their current and strange symbolism, and only in a place like a sex dungeon could it not feel tacky. Instead, the captain spreads his legs a little to welcome Flora into his lap, gazing down at her through hooded eyes that suggest he's still very much on a come down from the pleasure she'd previously dragged out of the both of them.
"When you say it like that it makes it sound like one of us has a fetish for couches," he points out - he's not saying which one, though. Instead, raising his eyebrows and falling predictably quiet to lift the conversations and thoughts from her mind, he hums a note of acceptance and sets his drink down on a small side table carved to look like coiling tentacles. "A'right, give me your best shot."
Perhaps if he'd been as new to digging around in people's minds as Flora is at trying to prevent it, her efforts would have preoccupied him for a lot longer. But although the captain's frown suggests that he has to concentrate, it only takes a few seconds for him to murmur, "Thirteen," against the side of her neck. "Try again. And think of a better song."
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
"What's wrong with a good couch?" Flora wonders innocently, though as she makes herself comfortable in Jack's lap, her long legs stretched comfortably over one of the arms of the throne, there's nothing at all innocent about the amount of skin that the silk robe reveals.
The captain's frown has a surge of naive optimism brightening Flora's thoughts, and while she'd like to think it was that that let him see the number so clearly in her mind, in reality they both knew it was simply the fact that he was really fucking good at this. Huffing her disappointment but not willing to quit yet, Flora leans forward, her tongue parting Jack's lips in the hope she might distract him in other ways. Shifting her hips in his lap, this time Flora doesn't think of a number but instead a shape—circle—hiding it behind layers of suggestive imagery, some real, some entirely imagined.
i scream for whatever it's worth "i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
