From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
"Not lost, just takin' a detour," he assured her, having to take a frustrated little moment to kick his pants off properly - fuck the brute who had burst in through the cabin door this morning, though he supposed he had them to thank for the outcome. It wasn't often that Jack got the chance to properly enjoy himself; of course, he always did enjoy himself, but Eloise knew his secret, so she could be a little patient as far as he was concerned.
Granted, all of that vanished from his mind as she reached down and literally grabbed him by the balls, the captain hissing in a breath (he had been far, far too distracted by other things to have anticipated that). "Alright, message received." He grumbled, nipping at her earlobe and hitching her hips up to hook one of her legs over his shoulder. His hands roamed, Jack straightening up to leave a trail of kisses along the inside of the thigh suddenly pressed against his cheek.
It was with an intentional and infuriating slowness, however, that he eased himself inside her, a curse tumbling from his lips.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
'You fucking hypocrite." She purred against his ear, her teeth finding the lob of his ear and rather than predictably biting it, her teeth feathered along it to grip the delicate hairs there, and pulled. "You always hate when I detour."
Eloise grinned that shit-eating grin of hers, made all the more satisfying by having caught Jack off guard. Flexible as she was and usually quite pliable, Jack would find the muscles of his navigator's legs quite tense with unbridled anticipation. She nearly shook with effort to keep herself from reaching out with her magic and manipulating his body like some glorified dildo. But she'd asked for the unplanned. Just as she'd delivered on his sun and sand, so he was apparently delivering on her request as well.
Head lolling to the side, eyes on the illusory sea, all Eloise could liken the moment to was the surface tension of water as he oh so slowly kissed his way along her thigh. She imagined some great creature in the moments just before it broke the surface, when the water was a veil above, the tension unbroken.
Jaack, she cursed in her mind, her lips parted in a moan as the hand previously cupping his balls gripped the blankets of his bed.
I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put 'em
It was rare that the captain lost himself so completely. Because there was always the risk, when he was balls deep (lol) in someone else's thoughts, that someone could take the upper hand on that distraction.
But after the, ah, excitement of the morning, paired with the endless frustration of spending so much time around Eloise, Jack abandoned himself to her with barely a care. Driving himself forward, he buried himself in the feel of her, in the fireworks of her mind, in the taste of her skin. He wondered briefly if the distraction of pleasure would eventually have an effect on her illusions - but honestly, it was barely on his mind compared to other things.
Knowing already that she had been starved of touch, Jack didn't bother any more with teasing or subtlety. This wasn't sex - it was fucking - and he was determined to enjoy it.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
Having been an illusionist all her life, it wasn't so much that her abilities faded away as her mind became ever more taken by Jack's movements, so much as things simply changed. With every thrust the world seemed to mirror the heat increasing in Eloise' belly: a storm brewed out in the illusory sea with lightning flashes that punctuated Jack's movements. With every shuddery breath Eloise tried to stifle with teeth against the captain's shoulder, a wind would feel as though it was howling across their skin. Her thoughts were entirely without form now, a chaos of sensations that rippled outwards, removing the sand from the illusory island such that the bed was left floating out at sea.
Pushing her palms against Jack's shoulders and stilling her hips, Eloise shifted beneath him, communicating in no uncertain terms I want you from behind. Only instead of him simply grabbing at her hips and letting him thrust away, the illusionist instead reached for one of his arms, dragging him down on top of her. This might be fucking pure and simple, but that didn't mean Eloise wanted him far away.
Reaching for his wrist and trying to drag it across her so that her throat was in the crook of his elbow, she let her thoughts impress upon him just how she wanted him to have her: an arm around her throat, his body weight against hers, near immobile beneath his movements.
I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put 'em
It would have seemed like a dance, almost, the way they moved and shifted; Jack knew and felt her intentions even as her hands pushed against his shoulders, and the adjustment in their positions was done in a fluid motion that didn't break the mood in the slightest. He got a glimpse, briefly, of the stormy seas and the bed adrift in the waves, before their bodies met and he hissed in a breath, his focus consumed by the tempest in her mind.
The heat crackling in Eloise echoed in Jack, a mounting need that would only be satisfied when she finally broke against him, and the deep thrust of his hips, the roll of their bodies all contributed, seemingly, towards her pleasure and hers alone. The arm not around her throat snaked down beneath them, fingers seeking and finding her clit to rub against it in feverish circles, bracing her against the bed and arching her up against him. All the better to fuck you with, my dear.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
Eloise had ever assumed Jack to be a rather selfish fuck in bed. He certainly gave off the air of entitlement in other areas of his life, that it hadn't occurred to her to think he might use his mind-fuckery for good. For her. Never before had Eloise been quite so pleased to have been proven unequivocally wrong. And as he filled her again from behind, the angle making her gasp with relief as much as desire, whatever lingering walls she might have had up entirely came down. There was only the methodical pull of him mirrored in the waves around them, and the burning core of her that turned her thoughts into flashes of colour and light.
So consumed by the weight and heat and fullness of him inside of her, Eloise hardly noticed the movement of his free arm until his fingers snaked their way between her legs. With anyone else she might have moaned their name for encouragement, but such wasn't required here. Not with her thoughts turning heated and wreckless. That, and she was too overcome with raw desire to do much of anything other than writhe beneath him, grateful for the dexterity of his fingers and his surprising skill.
Feeling her orgasm begin to build, a spark that seemed to start simultaneously low in her belly as much as in her toes, Eloise gripped the sheets with one hand, tightening Jack's grip around her neck with the other. Her mind was a loop of frantic pleas for him not to stop; images of their bodies as they were now flashed in vivid colour, but that wasn't all. Every moment of sexual tension between them flashed in a bright and blurred succession: when she'd first learned his secret turned into a passionate fuck on the sands rather than her almost-death; moments of frustration ended with Jack fucking her in an alley still mostly clothed, mumbling curses in her ear; the night he'd saved her in the fingers turning into Eloise on her knees expressing her appreciation; and a thousand other moments that might have turned into precisely this had the winds been blowing differently.
I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put 'em
Eloise was dangerous, Jack was learning, but in all the best ways. The captain could drown in her, in these thoughts, these illusions, the feel of her against and all around him; there was fucking himself into oblivion and then there was this. Whilst she had been wrong in that people tended to think of washing the damned dishes whilst having sex with him - and Jack was quite convinced that he had chased those thoughts out of her mind now, for the record - they all had their own fantasies. It was a rarity to have a cinematic show quite like what she gave him.
Had he the breath for it, he might have told her that they could always go back and recreate the moments in her mind - righting those wrongs, so to speak - but Jack was understandably distracted by the pressure building in the base of his spine, drawn out of Eloise's mounting pleasure. The captain was lost in the pounding heat of their bodies, the illusionary buck and sway of the sea beneath the bed. He couldn't have stopped even if he had wanted to, though his movements reflected the chaos in her thoughts as he drove her towards her end. Hard, fast and reckless, if it was a ride to hell they were on, he was at least having a good fucking time doing it.
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
If Jack cared at all that Eloise's thoughts weren't fully on the here and now, he certainly wasn't showing it. She was nearing the point that each of them knew all too well; moments where you'd give up anything, promise the life of anyone, if only to bridge the gap between where you were and where the phantom rivers of pleasure in your toes and thighs wanted to take you. So it was, that as Eloise's body fought against itself—her hips wanting to rise up against each of Jack's thrusts, while simultaneously wanting to press down against the movements of fingers and to lay trapped beneath him—that she lost herself entirely.
Her moans of pleasure were drowned away in massive claps of thunder and the spray of the ocean against rocks that were actually bookcases. To Eloise's ears there was only the pounding of her heart and the feel of Jack all around her. For the crew, there was bedposts pounding against a wall and the siren-screams of a woman being well and truly fucked. But of course, that had been story all along.
As the navigator came, her mind flashed from scene to scene so fast that the lurid imagery of her thoughts seemed to melt into a single point. Darkened alleys and skirts lifted, hands 'round a cock beneath the table at the Hanged Man during a business meeting, knees scraped raw against the jagged tunnels of the Fingers—the only continuity was the want and the need, and now, the finally broken tension.
I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put 'em
Eloise came and it broke Jack entirely, the captain following not long after her, lost and overwhelmed in moments-that-had-almost-been, in imaginary meetings and bodies pressed up against the walls of an alleyway, of her lips around his cock and his teeth against her neck. And all of it - gods, all of it - compounded with the physical here and now, of her body pinned beneath his, of her hips bucking and pressing against him, of the smell of perfume and the distant and yet too-close creak of the bed.
With a last thrust, it was all he could do not to collapse then and there, his heart thundering, his arms trembling with the effort of staying upright. Not that he intended to be valiant about it, the smuggler twisting so he might collapse down into the bedsheets with Eloise to the side of him, their limbs still tangled, phantom pleasure chasing along his skin and behind his eyes. "Fuck," he breathed, voice hoarse. "Fuck, love. I underestimated you."
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
As Jack flopped down next to her, the illusionist instinctively arched her body to match his. The rise of pleasure might already be declining, but Eloise' need for closeness hadn't. Still, it wasn't the desperate attention-seeking behaviour of before, nor anything nearing the first blushes of love or even a crush.
Grinning wearily silently into the sheets at that admission, Eloise tilted her head ever so slightly over her shoulder. "Just so long as you don't expect me to keep that secret." She hummed in reply. Reaching for the part of one of the sheets not entirely tangled around their limbs, the navigator lazily draped it over their bodies.
"Now shut up and let me sleep." Slowly, softly, she let whatever new magic she could feel spool out around Jack. But just like the sheets, it was used lazily. Given the captain's earlier reaction she'd not dull him entirely to the world. But turn it all down that they might both get the sleep they deserved? She could do that.
I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put 'em
"Good luck, I reckon anyone livin' up at the Apopo might have heard you at this point," Jack mumbled into the sheets with a grin, not bothering to open his eyes. He wasn't a cuddler, and Eloise knew it already, but equally he was too tired and too satisfied to bother disentangling himself from her just now. And as the blankets were pulled over them, he grumbled an agreement into his pillow.
"You got it," he said, and this time as her magic softly began to drape itself about his mind, he tried not to resist. And, wonder of wonders, it was actually very pleasant. So much so that Jack was out in only a moment, drifting into a better sleep than any he'd had in weeks.
~FIN
you wanted perfect, you got your perfect but now I'm too perfect for someone like you
