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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!
It's everything she does and doesn't want rolled up into a perfect package, which is certainly not what Flora is used to receiving from Jack. There was no hiding her tears from him, even if she were to wipe them away on her shoulder or her pillow before they could streak onto his face, no hiding the way her thoughts wanted to shatter and return to moments of blood and torn skin where she could live in the pain as if she deserved it. There was only gentleness, something she craved and feared in the moment, and an intimacy that was much more than skin deep.
Lifting her arms, the Doubletake allows her robe to be removed, pressing immediately back into his hands and shivering within the fingers of moonlight that have her golden skin looking silver. Rather than stretching herself out next to him so that she might feel long and lean in his hands, instead as the Doubletake slips astride the captain properly, she's little more than a ball of skin and bones as her fingers slide across his jawline to bring his lips up to meet hers.
Parting from her skin only enough to cast aside her silk slip, one might expect Jack to wipe the tears from her cheeks himself, to kiss them away with soft lips and sweet nothings, but the captain lets them fall for as long and hard as Flora wants, focused instead on the way her body presses against his own, the way the heat kindles and grows between them like any one of Torchline's bonfires.
Humming a note of encouragement - the first thus far, he has no doubt she'll realise - as she sits properly astride him, Jack has an elbow beneath himself even as Flora grasps his jaw to devour him up in another kiss. His free hand slips up from her thigh, across the curves of her ass to her lower back, pressing down teasingly to grind her against him - and it doesn't take a mind reader to feel the captain's arousal.
"I want you," he whispers against the corner of her mouth, even as he parts to blaze a trail of kisses down to one of her breasts.
romancing yourself is possible, narcissistic and recommended
It's the captain's words rather than the friction between them that has fingers of fire reaching up from Flora's core and wrapping softly around her throat such that all she can do is gasp breathlessly against his cheek. "Slowly, please." She whispers, though of course he'd know already. Once Jack had told her that if his partners wanted to be fucked, then they'd fuck, and if they wanted to make love, then they would. The queen hoped that hadn't just been a bit of posturing for her sake, because gods, anything stronger than soft intimacy and she was sure she'd fracture in two.
Pressing a nipple against his mouth and gasping quietly at the feel of his lips against her skin, the queen rolls her hips slowly against his own. Had this been one of their usual dalliances she might have just reached for his cock through the top if his underwear and fit herself upon it. Instead, Flora shimmies herself down until her fingertips can tug at his waistband before pulling and releasing his erection. She doesn't immediately gag herself on it, force it between her breasts or lap at it with the flat of her tongue—all things she might well have down when her thoughts hadn't be swept away by a violet storm of her own making—but merely runs her fingertips up and down his shaft as she lifts her naked eyes to his, watching him.
She's right - she doesn't have to tell him, and if any part of Flora thinks that he's the sort of man who needs to posture about such things, hopefully the rest of the night will put those thoughts firmly to bed. Moaning softly against the swell of her breast even as his hands drop to the tops of her thighs, it's with almost reluctance that he withdraws from his ministrations to let her shift and move away from him enough to free his arousal.
Lifting his hips if only to assist with the tugging of his waistband, its with blue eyes shot through with slivers of moonlight that he meets her gaze, lips parted around a quiet hitch of breath to feel her fingertips barely upon him. "Flora," he whispers, her name hitting the air like a plea or a curse, and whilst he's starting to piece together the fractured storm of her thoughts into what he thinks she wants, there's a fine line between the patience he knows he possesses and watching her stroke his cock, painted in shadow and silver.
romancing yourself is possible, narcissistic and recommended
08-02-2024, 11:53 AM (This post was last modified: 08-02-2024, 11:53 AM by Flora.)
marked me like a bloodstain
She doesn't yes Jack? him, doesn't increase her pace, hardly even smiles, though the captain will feel the way that her name on his lips has something tentatively unfurling inside of her mind.
Would Jack stay put the way she'd told Asta to, if she'd asked? Presumably he would, if only because the delight she'd get from it would be worth it to him. Not like Asta, who'd complied so long as it suited him before taking what he wanted regardless of what he'd said, before succumbing regardless of Flora's plans, however naive they might have been, regardless of—
Stifling a moan, not wanting to think about it, Flora gives her head a small shake as if to put out the circular fires that sparked to life in her mind. Using the fingers of her free hand, Flora removed the ring she'd recently been given, the one that could detect lies, and tossed it haphazardly across the bed. She'd rather hear Jack say a thousand fake things than have to endure the crimson silence of her thoughts any longer. "I want you." Her fingers tighten ever so slightly even as her pace remains the same, her eyes fixed pointedly on his.
It's a testament to the fact that Jack really has found his way into Flora's bed with the intention of staying, as promised, because like it or not, the name of the stranger who had caused this whole mess hits her thoughts like a blood splatter, and had the captain been insincere, he'd have taken it and left. Don't get him wrong - he tucks Asta's name and the face that blooms with it away for safekeeping; for now, though, her ring hits the plush sheets of the bed (causing a small raise of an eyebrow) and her fingers tighten around his cock, the captain sighing out a shuddering breath.
Then have me, he might have said, or I want you too, or any other number of things. Instead, reaching out to cup her cheek, he tries to guide her back towards his waiting lips, as if he might be able to impart the silver of his tongue on his kiss and use it to flood her thoughts with something other than her own misery. "How do you want me?" he whispers once he's forced to part for breath. "I want to hear you say it out loud." To paint her thoughts into reality in the air between them, as if they might be orders he's all too willing to follow.
romancing yourself is possible, narcissistic and recommended
Stroking her fingers up the length of his cock as long as she was able to despite being guided toward his mouth, Flora is finally forced to relent as his tongue blurs the sharp crimson shape of her thoughts, such that she's covered in a faint sheen of purple as the red mixes with the earlier blue.
"I want you like you mean it." Flora answers after a moment. What the it was, Jack would have to decide for himself, though based on the complicated architecture of her thoughts, she wanted it to be as close to love as he could manage, if only for a few minutes. That'd explain the removal of her ring, if nothing else.
Letting herself slide off of him, the queen turns her back to him as she lays on her side, pressing the swell of her ass suggestively against him. Perhaps choosing this position was meant to be an act of kindness—or perhaps it was simply to trick the captain into spooning her in some capacity—but at least this way Jack wouldn't be able to see her tears when they inevitably fell.
Having expected something more explicit, other than what he's already gleaned that Flora wants from her thoughts and her earlier pleas, Jack is left with a furrowed brow even as he has to fight the urge not to lift his hips into her touch. Before he can question it further, though, the Doubletake is gone, and it's with her violet hued thoughts swamping his own that the captain lets himself succumb to her mind and its needs and whatever else might bring them both pleasure even if it's accompanied by Flora's tears.
Shifting to settle himself on his side behind her, the captain's kisses are gentle against her shoulders and the column of her neck, though the touch of his hands and the flick of his tongue are no less greedy as he draws her slowly back against him. Slipping a hand between her thighs to encourage her legs to part enough for him to stroke a finger against her slick heat, the press of his cock against her might well be evidence of him wanting her, but like he means it is yet to come.
"I can't wait to feel you," he whispers against the shell of her ear, his free hand slipping up to press gently - gentle enough that it barely counts - against her throat and collarbones.
romancing yourself is possible, narcissistic and recommended
If Flora is at all concerned by the captain's expression of confusion, she gives no sign nor do her thoughts seek to clarify. She's too exhausted just now for there to be signal fires much less fireworks , and maybe that's for the best.
Pressing her head back against his shoulder, Flora's body arches against Jack's as if she might perfectly contour herself against him such that not even moonlight could come between them. Letting her leg stretch and then curl over one of his thighs, the queen shivers as his finger all but glides against her, sending sparks of electricity roaring up through her core. Heat begins to build in the pit of her stomach in earnest, streaking upwards before disappearing into the purple haze, leaving Flora flushed and tensing expectantly back against Jack.
Lifting one arm to comb her fingers through his hair, Flora desperately rolls her hips back against the captain as her thoughts take on a pleading edge, wanting to be held by him, to be filled by him, to be had by him, and somewhere very far away in the mists of her mind, to be loved by him, as well.
Stroking her again, gentle and teasing against her clit, Jack's hand soon abandons its post to whisper against the inside of her thigh where her leg curls over his own, allowing him to shift enough to press the head of his cock slowly inside her. His breath hitches against her ear, their positioning enough to let her hear his every reaction to the feel of her body and the way they move together, and whilst even Flora's truth ring might shrug at the captain's thoughts about love, when it comes to being held and had, he's confident he can deliver.
With a slow and deliberate thrust that has a quiet moan escaping his throat against the crook of her neck, Jack fills her completely, his fingers flinching ever so slightly against her neck. It isn't the sort of position that will allow him to pull back completely before thrusting forward again, but the roll of his hips against her, the suddenly greedy flex of his hands, it all combines into something that goes well beyond fucking, but then that's exactly what Flora had asked for.
romancing yourself is possible, narcissistic and recommended
As he enters her, Flora's lips part in a silent scream that has her gasping, and it's only once he fills her completely and her jaw locks around the shape of his name, that she's able to moan it into the moonlight.
Reaching for the hand edging towards her throat, the queen slips hers beneath it and tangles her fingers between Jack's before tugging his arm between her breasts as if hugging her. Perhaps Flora would have gotten a good deal more pleasure from the entire ordeal if Jack was allowed simply to handle her the way he knew she liked, but this was what she wanted; regardless, she was fairly certain the captain was not so cerebral that he couldn't cum on his own terms, especially if he could just mentally tune her out.
Each time his hips shifted away, Flora's hips rolled forward and then back in order to give him something more to thrust into as she continued to arch and writhe against him. "Stay still for a minute—" The queen murmurs roughly, and, should the captain's hips still, he'd feel Flora's body begin to pick up the rhythm on its own, sliding forward until the head of his cock was nearly out of her before rolling back again and again.
Letting his fingers go slack in order for her to fit her own between them, it doesn't take longer than a second or two for Jack to realise where Flora desires him to be, the captain hugging her back against him even if it somewhat hinders the thrusts of his hips. Because as she's already indicated, this is what she wants, and the rolling of her body against him more than makes up for their somewhat languid movements.
The order that slips from her lips is enough to have his hips stuttering, his breath rough against her throat, and as Flora starts to move of her own accord it's enough to drag a moan up from within his chest. The hand that isn't wound tightly around her finds its clever way between her legs, naturally, and whilst the deft roll of his fingers against her clit might usually herald the last leg of a race they're engaging in, tonight it's as slow and decadent as anything else.
Pressing hot kisses against her jaw and her cheek, Jack hisses out a soft curse as if that might keep him from rolling her over and fucking her precisely in the way he knows she enjoys.
romancing yourself is possible, narcissistic and recommended
He stills, just as she'd known he would. There's something wildly satisfying about being the one to set the pace, and even as Flora hugs Jack's arm tightly around her, she's still able to keep her hips rolling rhythmically against him even as her upper body contorts to stay pressed firmly within his arms. It's an exercise in flexibility, and even as one of the captain's hands slides between her legs, Flora is somehow able to account for the space he needs without changing the movement of her hips.
"No, don't—" Flora pants, a touch frantically perhaps as the captain's needy curses hit her ear. While it made little sense to her and probably made even less to Jack, somehow Flora knew that for however good it would feel to be fucked, she'd be left all the more hollow for it after. There was being wanted, and then there was being wanted, and gods but it was too nuanced for Flora's mind to chart out for Jack just then, such that he'd just have to take his guidance from the movement of her hands and the approval of her thoughts.
"I want it like this." She adds reassuringly, her cheek brushing against his as her breath catches in her throat. Vaguely she imagines him on top of her; his hands interlaced through hers and her legs wrapped around his waist. That would be fine too, just so long as it was slow. So long as she could feel him with every thrust, and not just the pressure of his fingertips or the pounding of his cock.
It's almost a command that leaves her lips, and just as Jack had stilled his hips for her to set the pace, so do does he steel himself against wanting to take her from behind, to bury himself in her over and over again and make her feel the way he had back in his cabin. Instead, hissing some shaky acquiescence into the crook of her neck, the captain writes promises with the kisses he trails across the slope of one of her shoulders. Slow and gentle and like this, and even as he continues to stroke a slow and steady rhythm against her clit, he raises a brow at the thoughts that flicker through her mind.
"We can do better than fine," he says, his laugh brief and distracted and breathless, and though he changes nothing about their positioning, keeping the Doubletake hugged back against his chest for the moment, there's something to be said about her ideas. "I want to see your face," he whispers. "I want to see you when you cum."
romancing yourself is possible, narcissistic and recommended
