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!
It is a bit awkward, but Milo gets the sense that Sam doesn’t do this very often — not as often as Milo has. And perhaps that added boon of confidence of it working is just what Sam needs right now. So Milo can play along, coming closer to Sam, scanning blue eyes with his own honey hued ones, searching for what it is Sam exactly wants out of this. Milo’s got nowhere to be, after all.
Sam looks toward the door, then, Milo following his gaze before Sam’s attention turns back to him. Milo meets his eyes with a playful smirk, head tilting a bit as Sam leans forward. Milo meets him, closing in the distance — eyes flickering between Sam’s lips and eyes, that smirk still remaining on his face. “Then why not test the theory, aye?” He hums, his other hand moving to rest at Sam’s other side, pinning him in front of Milo unless Sam were to back up. Though Milo gets the sense that’s the last thing Sam wants to do.
It did cross Sam's mind, just briefly, that Milo might be humouring him out of pity; he hoped that wasn't the case, that there was some kind of attraction there too: after all, the man didn't know about any of his (many, varied, frankly tiresome) traumas or issues. He had not expected to be in this position when he'd entered the shop in the morning, inches away from kissing a handsome smuggler over the counter, and he wasn't going to let his stupid head ruin it.
"In..indeed." He said, a little too flustered upon being pinned to the counter to come up with anything too smart. It seemed he'd managed to get past the point of speaking anyway, with Milo so close; looking up at him one last time, Sam leaned forward, hands gently placed on the man's chest, to let their lips meet in a gentle kiss: experimental, questioning, making sure this was the right thing to do.
In the back of his mind somewhere, Zeph's words rang out, but he ignored them: this wasn't looking for love, it was quite plainly looking for a confidence boost and a good time, and he thought that was probably alright.
It’s a different type of pace than Milo’s used to — full of teasing barbs to be followed by a roll in the sheets. Sam seems like he needs to go slower, and Milo obliges, letting Sam take the lead if only to ensure this is what Sam’s also thinking. But he’s got him pinned, at least well enough so that Milo finds those blue eyes looking back at him, suggesting they test the theory, when Sam’s hands are placed gently on his chest and Sam takes that extra leap. If he’s being honest, he finds it charming and sweet, the uncertainty that gleams from Sam. Milo is much like a duck in the tide, everything effectively rolling off his back onto the next.
And really that’s all the confirmation Milo needs once Sam reciprocates, pressing in a bit so that he might continue the kiss, hands inching closer to place along Sam’s sides to pull the shorter man toward him, careful enough to give Sam space should he change his mind. If he doesn’t, though, Milo’s kiss edges a bit deeper, curious how far Sam would let him take it. His hand slips up to Sam’s cheek, fingertips drumming along the back of Sam’s neck. The kiss breaks as Milo’s gaze scans Sam’s face. “So, about that bite..?”
Sam hummed happily into the kiss as Milo pulled him closer, letting his body press up against his as his arms lifted to snake up around his shoulders and neck; he was entirely eager to be pulled and taken to where Milo wanted him. When the other man pulled back he blinked, a little dazed, then nodded with an embarrassed, but excited smile.
"Okay, it might hurt a little bit at first, but it won't last long." Sam warned, then gently placed his fingertips on Milo's jaw and adjusted his head to tilt enough for him to be able to get at his neck; he had been recently replenished at the shrine but the sight of the bare skin, the knowledge he was about to drink: that creeping Ascended hunger began to crawl over him, something that had once made him uncomfortable but that he had now made peace with, saw it as a replacement of the growing excitement he hoped Milo was feeling.
Moving in close, one hand on Milo's hip and another on his neck to keep him in place, Sam laid his fangs on the man's skin for a moment, making sure he was lined up correcting to hit the veins, then bit down quickly, closing his eyes as the first rush of blood entered his mouth.
His brows raise as Sam explains there might be a little pain, half tempted to ask him what he needed a warning for — figuring that just the sight of him enough seemed to suggest he could handle a bit of pain. And it was called a bite, was it not? But Sam appeared kind, gentle, and the more Milo thinks on it the more he realizes it’s better to let Sam explain it out — fair warnings and all of that.
So he’s easily moved when Sam’s moving his head, tilting his jaw up slightly, a hand at his hip, Milo waits — anticipation growing in his gut that he might see what the bite all encompasses. His own hands move to match Sam’s, one slipping to the back of the other man’s head, the other along Sam’s lower back when he feels the brief scrape of fangs a second before the bite.
And wow, Sam wasn’t kidding. There’s almost a hiccup of a gasp that slips from Milo, fingers tightening in Sam’s red hair, the hand at Sam’s lower back pressing the Ascended into him as heat floods his body, sparks a growing need within him, a pressure with no out that Sam would surely feel pressed against him. Instincts kick in and his hips shift toward Sam, a huff of a groan slipping from Milo’s throat.
In addition to the heat and sensation that flooded one's own senses, a part of the joy of biting someone was feeling the moment of realisation, the second where their body pressed closer, lips parted, hands grasped: Sam knew well how overpowering it was, the experience on his side just as intense in a different way, and couldn't help the muffled, breathy laugh against Milo's neck.
He wasn't in need of too much blood, but he kept drinking a moment longer, knowing how long he could go without causing Milo any damage. The more he drank the longer the remnants of the bite's heat would stay with him, and there was fun in seeing just how overwhelmed he could get Milo, Sam already able to feel evidence of the man's arousal hard against his leg and hips as he pushed forwards.
Letting his eyes slip closed, shyness being taken away by desire, Sam lifted the hand on Milo's hip to push up into his shirt, fingers beginning to trace the warm skin he found there, gently caressing over his side and eagerly pulling him closer, encouraging the shift of his hips.
A shudder slips through him as the bite goes on, the warmth spreading like a fire through his veins, evidenced in the way he presses in against Sam – hands roaming, mind whirling, focused entirely on him and nothing else around. There’s a throaty growl that slips from his throat when Sam pulls away from it, Milo leaning into the touch of his skin, along muscles.
His breathing is heavier, honeyed gaze lust filled and glazed as he finally peers at Sam – the hand at Sam’s neck shifting a bit so that his fingers might twist into red hair, his other hand running up Sam’s other side, trying to press the other man back against the counter to effectively pin him there. “S’pose you were right.” He murmurs softly, a toothy smirk crossing his face as he peers down at Sam. “Now what’re you going to do?” Comes the quiet prompt, a raise of his own red brow – the building too small to effectively have a separate bedroom of sorts in it.
Milo’s not really in any position to leave either.
There was something so pleasing in knowing that each movement, each noise Milo made was caused by him the effect he was having; Sam took his teeth away slowly, licking the drops of blood that appeared on Milo's neck away before he pulled back. This soon after the bite he could feel in his own body small shocks of sensations he'd once known; with the 'new' anatomy he now possessed it was quite the new experience indeed, a more overall arousal taking hold of him.
It seemed he'd effectively riled Milo up too; Sam let out an amused huff of air as his hair was grabbed, easily letting Milo move him how he wanted and leaning back against the counter, moving to his thigh press between Milo's legs. He was fully prepared for Milo to take him there, was expecting to have his clothes ripped off and be laid over the counter from the look in the man's eyes and the way he was being held, and he would have been fine with it. The question made him pause and he looked over Milo's face, one hand coming to idly play with his shirt, tracing light trails along his chest.
"I...suppose if you want something more comfortable, there's the chair over there." Sam pointed to the corner of the room, where an armchair hypothetically big enough for him to sit on Milo's lap beckoned. "I was intending to, well, let you do whatever it is you want to." He wasn't about to tell Milo this (quite content to play along), but since he couldn't come to orgasm, he was more focused on Milo's pleasure. While he still had the remnants of the bite's heat running through him, he wanted to feel something: lips, hands, whatever Milo had to give.
As much as Milo wants to take Sam there, he refrains. Focused instead on how the hunger roaring within him would be sated. Despite being a street kid, a ‘dock worker’, a smuggler, Milo has manners, has it ingrained into his mind to not simply take because he could. There’s a playful smirk to his face when Sam’s easily moved, when he presses his leg in against him and Milo’s chin lifts a small amount, pressing his hips into Sam again.
Reluctantly, he tears his gaze away from Sam to focus on which chair he’s picked – that feline smirk curling around his lips a bit more when his honeyed gaze focuses back on Sam. His hands move, tugging Sam closer to him, stepping over toward the chair and keeping the other red haired man as close as he can, pausing only to slip the shirt over his head and discard it to the side.
“Whatever I wanna do, huh?” He nearly purrs to Sam, that same smirk crossing his face as he’s shifting again – a hand reaching out for Sam’s own clothes, trying to dive in and get under them, craving the feeling of skin against skin, teeth against teeth. His other hand attempts to work with the buckle to his belt and the ever growing pressure there.
Sam let out a charmed, happy laugh under his breath as Milo moved him to go to the chair together; it filled his heart with light joy to know he was desired, to feel carried and cared for. As Milo's chest was revealed he bit his lip, taking in the view eagerly: it had been a long while since he'd gotten to touch someone so attractive (and touch he did - any second he had, Sam was trailing his fingers along Milo's chest, around his hips, stroking his sides).
"Mhm. It's all up to you." He said, going to straddle Milo in the chair and help to take off his shirt; since his incident with the voice he had gained back slight breasts, a swell under his chest hair, noticeable but not overly apparent. Some anxiety came over Sam as he was revealed (he had hoped to be as undressed as possible, but in the heat of the moment...), but he continued on the assumption that Milo still found him attractive, leaning in to kiss him hard as one hand moved down the smuggler's chest and to his pants, pushing inside as soon as Milo opened his buckle and gasping with flattered delight at what he found there, hand immediately getting to work stroking Milo's cock.
Milo’s content to let Sam touch and look as much as he wants to, leaning ever so slightly into the touch of the Ascended once he’d reached the chair. His shirts discarded soon after, hands slipping beneath Sam’s clothing to slip his off too — pressing in just enough to feel skin on skin. He manages to get the buckle undone, pants slipping down just enough before he’s sitting and Sam’s on his lap. Milo’s hands trail up, lust glazed eyes scanning every inch of Sam’s skin.
The smirk remains, one hand slipping up Sam’s side, thumb brushing under the slight swell he finds there, the other hand lifting to Sam’s chin just at the time Sam leans in for the kiss. And Milo delivers, a rush of heat swelling through him, teeth aiming to nip at Sam’s lower lip as soon as Sam’s reaches his cock. A flush of red crosses through bronzed skin upon the initial reaction, humming quietly to Sam. A sharp inhale of breath, a hiss of a growl slips from him, hips rolling into the grip easily as Milo’s kiss grows deeper, more demanding, more intense.
To Sam's delight, Milo didn't even seem to look twice at his chest, the man's hands still eagerly touching and feeling; while Sam's senses were beginning to fade, the friction on his skin now only feather-light, to be accepted such as he was was a revelation in itself and he moaned happily, rocked his hips towards Milo.
As his lip was bitten he moaned again but now louder, needier, knowing how to play the part of a desperate lover (and loving it too: if he could not feel the true sensations of this, Sam would enjoy himself with the fantasy). Kissing Milo, he moved to fully pull down the man's pants to his thighs, freeing his cock, which his hands swiftly returned to, stroking and turning his hand over it and letting his palm stroke over the tip.
"It looks like you warmed up." Sam said with a laugh, trying to keep one hand on Milo as he reached to unbuckle his own belt but struggling a little with it, fumbling with the clasp.
He nearly vibrates with the sounds that leave Sam, a shudder slipping down his spine when Sam’s hips roll. His breath hitching and picking up with each stroke of Sam’s hand. Milo’s own continue to rove, however, hand stroking along Sam’s chest, thumb brushing along the nipple when the kiss grows deeper. He appreciates the way Sam seems to mold to fit what Milo wants, what he’s seeking, able to take that desperation with Milo who’s equally wishing for relief. It’s evident in the way Milo’s cock twitches and the way the smuggler trembles with Sam’s touch.
There’s a low hum as the kiss breaks, Milo’s hand still at Sam’s chin as he shifts himself a bit to help with his own pants, before his hand is sliding against Sam’s neck, fingers pressing in and applying pressure on his slow descent to Sam’s own pants. A shuttering breath leaves him, a rock of his hips before both hands are at Sam’s belt, unbuckling, pulling down clothes, a feline curl of his lips as his gaze remains on Sam’s face. “Guess you weren’t kidding, hm? Now C’mere.” His hands lift from there, likely needing some help from Sam to lift him into the position Milo wants, to get him to sink down on him and help give him some of that relief.
Sam easily let Milo handle him, biting his lip and closing his eyes as he felt hands strong and sure on him, holding his face and guiding fingers down from his neck to his hips; he so rarely got to be instinctual, to live in the moment. He kept his hand lazily, loosely stroking Milo's shaft as his own pants were removed.
For just a moment, Sam was conscious of himself, of the obvious difference between them: he had never had a sexual encounter with his original anatomy, did not quite know how Milo would react...but it seemed, just like with his chest, he didn't mind. Very happy to please, Sam moved to line himself up, one hand holding Milo's cock still as he moved to sink down, lifting his face to the ceiling as he did so with a gasp.
He had never before felt himself be filled in this way; even without the warm and overwhelming sexual sensations associated with the act, feeling Milo enter him was enough to make Sam whine appreciatively, leaning forward to kiss sloppily at the man's mouth as he slid down further, bottoming out quickly and waiting for Milo to set the pace.
