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!
And I'm not expecting you to care, but I have finally seen the light
Morgan tipped her head up to stare at the sky as Neron took his last drops of her blood, trying to think of anything but the images in her head, things she had never imagined before with Neron: aggressive and passionate movements, pressing each other up against walls or trees and not loving, not gentle; fucking, gritted teeth and nails and her dagger at his neck--
Suddenly, he released her and the intensity of the images lessened, though a great amount of the feeling still remained. Morgan took her wrist closer to herself and ran her fingers over the wound, the blood still slowly pooling out and onto her skin. She glanced to Neron, wondering if he felt it too, though one look at him gave her the answer: something in his eyes, hungry and reflecting her own.
"It was to save your life." She said flatly, though her actions did not match the words; against her better judgement she reached down to help pull him up, resulting in them being much closer than intended, a few inches separating their faces; Morgan glanced at Nerons blood-soaked lips, his cold eyes, and found herself tempted in a way she had never been before. Her nails dug into his arm where she had held him up with the pressure of not giving in, her determination wavering as waves of the bites power still ran through her.
His hand fell away as she pulled him to his feet, the cloak he’d been pressing against his chest slipping to the ground as well. His wounds weren’t the prettiest thing in the world to look at, and still bled, but sluggishly now. Either way, Neron paid them little mind with how close Morgan was all of a sudden, their faces almost touching, her pulse something he was certain he could hear as a fluttering roar in the air around them.
The Warden’s fingers digging into his wrist were a dull pressure that he barely registered, Neron leaning in further, his free hand coming up to whisper along her cheek, to brush against wild and untamed curls. ”Consider my life saved,” he murmured, his voice a soft purr in the barely-there distance between them. ”We should get to that shrine.”
And I'm not expecting you to care, but I have finally seen the light
Morgan hardly noticed the sound of the cloak falling to the floor or Neron's wounds, which her as far away from her mind as could be right now; when she looked at Neron all she felt, all she knew was a temptation unlike she'd ever felt before. Was this how The Voice spread her influence through people? It was powerful and as much as Morgan's brain was telling her to resist the trick, she also kept thinking just once couldn't hurt, surely...
He moved closer and his hand brushed against her cheek; Morgan thought Neron was going to break the tension and lean in to press his lips against hers but he didn't, somehow he resisted the heat between them and spoke; logically she knew he was right, that this was a bad idea (and how odd, that Neron was the one with sense here)...but suddenly, the part of Morgan that was sick of being controlled and good and disciplined even through the hardest years of her life, never showing a single sign of weakness or personal want - it snapped.
In a single moment Morgan reached to grab Neron's jaw and smashed their faces together in an ungraceful and desperate kiss, one made of teeth and frustration and nothing close to love, but hardly lacking in heat, her fingers slowly loosening their grip and going to dig nails into the back of his neck; he was welcome to pull away, if he wanted: she would not stop him and would help they could chalk it up to an embarrassing effect of the bite.
It was a lie, that he had been able to resist it. Neron had been drinking it in - drinking her in - and fully expecting Morgan to be the one to push him back and get them brusquely on their way. Their expectations of each other would likely be their downfall, but for now Neron drowned in the crash of their lips, the faint tang of blood staining their tongues, her body pressed closer now than even when they had been on horseback.
Fingers twining through her curls, his other arm slid around her waist, heedless of his injuries in lieu of getting more of this, whatever this was. He didn’t need to come up for air the same way she did, but he did draw back eventually with a sensation of almost dizziness. ”Please don’t push me over,” he said softly, well aware of Morgan’s usual attitude towards him.
And I'm not expecting you to care, but I have finally seen the light
There were hundreds of small moments where Morgan almost did push away, micro-decisions being made every time Neron's hold on her was loose or they parted for air (at least on her side); something, most likely the effect of the bite still coursing through her and making her need some kind of release, kept her there with him, at least until he parted to speak.
A real sign of how suddenly her guard had come down, Morgan laughed at Neron's words. "Does this seem like I'm about to?" She asked, before leaning back in, reaching to grab the cool hand around her waist and tighten his grip on her as she kissed him again hard and desperate, her eyes slipping shut as she let her mind go blank for the enjoyment of the sensation, feeling the sharpness of his teeth again with her tongue as well as the heat between them even in the lingering Deepfrost snow.
Growing bolder with each second of returned touch, she pulled away and looked him in the eyes, her voice very steady indeed considering her altered state of mind: "Finish what you started." Morgan commanded, now moving the hand on her waist to just beneath her belt: it was up to Neron what he chose to do from there.
He liked the sound of her laugh. Perhaps it was because it felt like a rarity, a privilege almost, but it was something he found himself wanting to hear again. ”Yes, well, when you put it like that,” Neron began, his tone wry and amused, only for his words to be cut off by another kiss from Morgan. That was something else he might get used to, given the opportunity, and his grip tightened on her willingly, fingers teasing through her hair.
It was the command that really did it, though. Whether she knew she was doing it or not, Morgan giving orders was missing only a sharp slap across the face for Neron to turn to putty; he gazed down at her, lifting a hand to reach up and gently wipe a smear of crimson from her lips with his thumb. ”With pleasure,” he purred, leaning in for another kiss only to cut it short to gracefully drop to one knee. What he did from there was make very short work of unbuckling her belt, hands roaming beneath fabric to seek out soft skin, lips pressing to the curve of her hips.
And I'm not expecting you to care, but I have finally seen the light
Alarmingly, Morgan found that fun sarcastic comments and kisses with Neron were, well...fun. Oh, she definitely knew that this was dangerous and that in the coming hours she'd be disgusted with herself, but bizarrely, on the side of a snowy road sharing kisses with a man she considered at best a mundane enemy, she was feeling better than she had in months.
She certainly noticed that he was more than willing to follow her orders and a pleased, almost wicked grin spread across Morgan's face. Allowing him the indulgence of one more kiss, it seemed Neron knew just went to move down, Morgan opening her mouth to tell him to obey as he did: instead she only ran a hand to stroke over his jaw and face as he knelt, her hand ending in his hair and holding tight there.
Hips exposed, Morgan supposed she ought to feel embarrassed in the public space, but she found that all she could focus on was the soft touch of Neron's lips to her skin, the magical warmth of her cloak meaning the cold of his lips gave a delicious contrast. Giving an encouraging hum that was not quite yet a moan (he'd have to work for that) she pushed gently down on the top of his head, moving him firmly and wordlessly.
Her touch was a frustrating ghost of what might have been, but Neron tilted his head into it nonetheless, eyes slipping shut to enjoy the sensation, however faint, of fingers tightening in his hair. His hands roamed, gliding up the backs of her thighs, his kisses slow and wandering, sharp teeth just about grazing the skin in a teasing promise of what had been.
Then Morgan urged him on, a laugh rumbling up in his throat, and Neron gazed up at her for a moment, deliciously surprised by the wickedness in her smile. Being so exposed seemed like a distant problem, something easily swatted away, and in the outskirts among the melting snows, there was truly no one around. So his hands got to work again, tugging at the fabric of her pants, laces of her boots, until he was able to hitch one of her bare legs over his shoulder, his lips pressing to the soft flesh of her inner thigh.
And I'm not expecting you to care, but I have finally seen the light
Morgan, unawares of the full extent of the Ascended's dull senses, did not know Neron was not feeling the full extent of her touches; she knew Ascended could not feel sexual sensation in the same way (which was why she wasn't offended at Neron's lack of reaction down below) but that was all. Certainly after this day though, her understanding of just what the Ascended could do had shifted.
She helped Neron get her pants down and lifted one leg when he moved it, surprised just how natural it seemed. Morgan had never been embarrassed by her naked body, her toned and scarred form a testament to her work over the years. Not many had seen this side of her, the skin Neron now had bare before him: as he pressed his lips to her thigh she let out a breath with just a hint of being a moan at the edges, pushing her hips closer to him, the top of her inner thighs tellingly wet.
"If you bite me there you will never see the light of day again." She warned, the words likely a joke, though it was hard to tell with the slight breathlessness to her voice.
Neron rumbled out a laugh against Morgan’s thigh, his lips ghosting over her flesh in another kiss. ”I’ll consider myself told,” he said, glancing up at her with a raised eyebrow. He didn’t know whether or not she was serious, but all things considered even with the heat of their emotions, Morgan was still a formidable woman, and Neron wasn’t about to overstep her boundaries.
Well. He was. But not with his teeth. Her gasp pulled at all the parts of him still reeling from the effects of the bite, much as it was beginning to fade by now, and Neron felt himself rising to the challenge to draw out more from Morgan, to have her singing with the pleasure of him. And whilst he couldn’t rise so much in the conventional sense any more, that wouldn’t stop him.
Arching her hips forward, Neron bent to his task with enthusiasm, tongue flicking out to seek her wetness, to taste the sweetness of her (in whatever way he could). He hummed against her, a hand squeezing her curves, ears keen for her reactions to guide him.
And I'm not expecting you to care, but I have finally seen the light
Morgan gave Neron the smallest of smirks in response; while this exchange was for the moment joking, he needed to know she was deathly serious.
Luckily, her attention was quickly taken away from potential bites to the nether regions. Morgan had never been one for loud wails in bed, not a swooning waif to be taken, but she had to admit that with the chemical affects of the bite still flooding her with a strong heat and the time it had been since she had last been touched, it was hard to stay her usual stoically silent self. As Neron's tongue first reached her she let out a quiet hum, positioning herself better on his face with a tilt of her hips: knowing that he did not need to breathe, she did not concern herself too much with covering his mouth entirely.
The new position served well: with a breath leaving her Morgan bent over, her fingers gripping onto Neron's shoulders as his tongue flicked against her clit, making her sharply intake a gasp to stop herself from moaning at the tingle of pleasure. "There." She instructed, her voice clearly strained, eyes slipping closed as she began to truly ride the waves of heat and touch.
Neron was drowning in her, and happily so. It was almost a relief that he couldn’t feel the frustration that would undoubtedly be mounting if he had access to all of his senses; it was enough to ride the aftershocks of pleasure. For now, at least. Strong hands squeezing the curve of her ass, Morgan arched forward and Neron could tell, even before her instruction, that he’d struck metaphorical gold.
He didn’t know if she’d be able to feel the smirk on his face, but he didn’t need to be told twice, his tongue lavishing attention against her clit with every roll of her hips, anchoring her in his grip. It wasn’t really the sort of moment where he could chit-chat, his lips somewhat occupied, but Neron was determined for Morgan to do all the talking anyway. Without so many words, of course.
And I'm not expecting you to care, but I have finally seen the light
Feeling Neron's hands grab her ass, Morgan let out a quiet scoff between moans: were this any other situation, she would slap him away; at the moment it provided a useful steadying force and while she knew Neron could not feel what she was, it was nice to know he appreciated her still with some passion.
Not that she had much presence of mind to be thinking about it when Neron started to focus on her clit, his tongue not enough and too much all at once. Morgan pulled on his hair, pushing his head back to look into his eyes as she felt herself getting close to a release, each panting breath accompanied with a soft moan; she didn't know what it was she was looking for, but it seemed she found it; staring down at him she bit her lip and leaned back to get as much pressure on Neron's mouth as possible as she grinded down into ecstasy. "Oh, fuck--" Morgan mumbled under her breath; she had not wanted to give him the satisfaction of words, but they escaped almost involuntarily with the overwhelming nature of the pleasure he provided.
Her thighs squeezed either side of his head, probably too tight, for a few seconds as she was at the peak of her orgasm, her fingers tight in his hair. Then with a final panting breath out, she released him: for the moment, clarity had not yet reached her and she even found herself feeling a little fond as she began to slowly take her leg off of his shoulder, taking her hand from his hair to his cheek in a gesture that could be interpreted as affectionate. "...Good. Thank you."
The fingers in his hair tugged his head back enough for him to glance up at Morgan with eyes like molten blue steel, though his hands and mouth were still very busy. Still, from this position she reminded him of some avenging angel; a valkyrie maybe, strong and capable, beautiful in her prowess, and he hummed appreciatively at the sight.
Morgan wasn’t done though (not yet, evidently), and his tongue pressed hard against her with each crest of her hips, a pressure echoed by his hands squeezing against her curves. She spoke - a quick, breathless warning - and Neron felt it as the release surged through her, held in place by thighs and fingers until she was well and truly finished.
Left on his knees in the melting snow with fluid still sluggishly leaking from the lacerations on his chest (shame it couldn’t be from other places - alas), Neron tilted his head up and into the touch of her hand. ”You’re welcome,” he purred. A former duke, it was only polite to help her dress, and as he stood he held out the cloak for her to adjust back around herself. ”I suppose we should be on our way, then?”
