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!
The pain is as delicious as the pleasure, in truth, and every mark and every bruise is savoured as something brutally necessary. He doubles down and Isla is unable to take it any longer, the roll of his tongue and the press of his fingers working in tandem to throw her over the edge. Her mind blanks to white noise as everything that makes her up is overidden by ecstasy - his name rings from her lips like a curse or a prayer, her legs spread for him, fingers tight in his curls. Isla's orgasm rocks through her in waves, each one more intense than the last, like a dam finally broken under the pressure of all that has built behind it.
She has no idea when her mind finally clears enough to think again, only that her cheeks are hot and her chest heaves with a breath she doesn't need to catch. A silvery sheen of sweat has broken out across her body, and it's with an utterly satisfied moan that she finally lets her fingers grow slack. If those very same fingers were tipped with claws at any point, she'll apologise later. For now, there's a breathless laugh building at the back of her throat, and she lolls her chin down to look at Remi.
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
Remi is like a swimmer beneath the crest of some monstrous wave. The ripples bounce him about slightly, but by no means is he subjected to the violence of those above. Still, it's more than he's had in a long time, and he'll likely feel guilty about how ravenous yet filled it leaves him. It isn't about Ronin at all, it's about me, he'll tell himself later, when he isn't consuming himself with Isla.
Remi is left panting between Isla's thighs, his teeth nipping at the thin skin there with shaky restraint. Leaning his cheek against the inside of her leg, his gaze lazily roaming up her belly to where her hazy blue eyes regard him. "Well then I suppose there's no need for more." He growls with a menacing smile, shrugging off her calves that he might make his way back up to her lips.
He stops on the way through, his eyes drinking her in. Even the darkness he can make out the details of her body, the curve of her hips and where they narrow at her waist. She really is stunning, and though moments ago the alchemist took her with a feral pressure, now his fingertips roam up her body with the utmost care. It's entirely a contrast to how he'd been, as if Isla's orgasm had softened him somewhat. Though the press of his erection between her thighs will very much suggest this isn't the case, as much as what he says next. Cupping her face almost sweetly with one hand, Remi lowers his lips just above hers.
"I have to have you." It's said almost threatening, though the threat is one that promises pleasure. There is no room for discussion or negotiation. Though he might be holding himself gently above her now, the tenseness in his muscles and the roughness in his voice very much suggests that whatever restraint is allowing for this has very nearly run out.
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
"I don't believe you, somehow," Isla mutters; she doesn't quite growl it in the way that Remi does, and the glint in her eyes is more hazy and ethereal than menacing, but there's no doubt that it's still predatory in nature. He slides up the length of her body and she releases him only to let her hands devour him afresh; Isla's fingers enjoy the journey from his collarbones, down his sternum and over a torso that may as well be carved from marble, and a fresh tug of arousal surprises her with its intensity.
She has to have him too, she realises, if in a slightly different way. She wants to hear her name ring from his lips, she wants to be the reason that he throws caution and restraint to the wind, the madness that consumes him in this moment. Leaning her cheek into his hand, she flashes him a smile that's at odds with the look in her eyes, such is its sweetness. "Then what are you waiting for?" she asks.
In the meantime her fingers are finally working on the buttons of his pants, that Isla might slip her hand beneath his waistband to grip hold of him and squeeze.
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
What was he waiting for, gods but he isn't entirely sure. Something to tell him that this was all wrong, that he needed to stop. Unlike Ronin, Remi hadn't found comfort in the arms of another during the entirety of their marriage. The only person he'd ever properly wanted to be with was, by his own choosing, entirely off-limits (no matter how often he woke up, pressed naked against the fox). But Isla...he loved her more deeply and so differently than anyone else. She was part of him, even now that she was her own person again. Loving her was like loving the best parts of himself, and wanting her, surprising as it was, seemed only natural.
"Nothing at al—" But then her hands are around him and the words entirely break on his lips as his breath catches abruptly in the back of his throat. The sound that leaves him next is one of barely-there restraint as he all but winces at the overwhelming rapport of desire that echoes through him. "Gods, Isla." He pants against her, his head tilted and his jaw tense.
He can't remember a time when he'd wanted to be with a woman. Every time in his past had been done reluctantly, with images of men splayed out behind his eyelids and an erection that was only half-interested in the task at hand. But now? Gods he ached for her, and her hand around his cock was an insult at best.
Pushing away from her brutishly, Remi does what he hands were too slow to. Remove his pants and underwear in a practiced gesture, had Isla wanted a moment to look upon him afresh, she'd be hastily denied it. Only, much as he wanted her right then and there, he wouldn't be confined by the proportions of the lounge. Reaching down to scoop her up as if to walk her over some marital threshold, Remi will take them to the bed where they'll have all the space in the world for what comes next.
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Isla doesn't expect the fierce smile she feels spread across her face at hearing him gasp, the way her chin tilts up as if to challenge more, invite more of him. It's a dance of primal need between them, and though Remi is by far the stronger, the more brutal, Isla seizes whatever moments of dominance that she can grasp - and right now, that's in the way she squeezes the hard length of his cock. Only as Remi pushes himself away does she release him, snatching in the sight of him through quick glances that have her tongue running across her teeth.
Then he's scooping her up into his arms and her mouth is on his before he can try to speak further. Hopefully he can navigate the way to the bed while occupied, because Isla's arm slips around his neck, her tongue pressing against his with needy enthusiasm, eager to taste herself on his lips. There is, of course, zero conflict in the Ascended's mind. She has been a part of Remi for longer, it feels, than she has been her own self, and she knows the scars on his soul as if she'd put them there herself.
Put simply, even though there's a faint pulse of logic within her that's asking why this is happening now, Isla understands Remi far too much not to be swept along in his wake. She doesn't want to be smart or sensible. She wants to be fucked.
"Take me," she all but begs, fingertips leaving delicate streaks of red across his shoulders where she breaks the skin.
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
His tongue is as agile against hers as it was against her clit, knowing he can't coax quite the same response but damn well trying. The feel of her against him as he stumbles toward the bed and how his cock twitches below her back is precisely why he's picked her up like this. If this is to be his first, of sorts, he'll not rush into it with boyish neediness. Or at least not with as much boyish neediness.
And so as he lays her down, it isn't with virginal care. It isn't with loving tenderness and the reverence befitting all of these new firsts. No, it's the care of one setting down a silver platter for a banquet, topped with decadent desserts that know they won't last more than a few seconds before they're devoured. So it is that Isla is placed upon the bed. Her words cause a shiver to run through him, starting at the base of his spine and spiriting upward.
Remi's hands glide up Isla's thighs before they fall to the bed on either side of her. Drawing himself up the length of her, his body touching hers in places that their peaks align, he pauses only when the tip of his cock brushes against skin he knows well is already slick. It isn't at all like it is with Ronin, or any other man, really. He can't look Ronin in the eyes like this, at least not with the Star's body entirely curled and his feet near his ears.
He might have leaned down to kiss Isla, were it not for the feeling of the head of his cock sliding into her. Slowly, only a few inches in, and already Remi's breath is ragged, and the muscles of his arms shaking. The look he offers the medic is ever-changing, from shocked to overcome, delighted, and then insatiable. "Oh gods," He gasps, reaching a hand up to grip the blankets for better purchase as he slowly, but deliberately, presses himself all the way inside of her. 'Isla—' He pants again, his breath coming in rapid beats now as if he's on the verge of hysteria. Dropping his forehead to her shoulder, his hips pull back that he might repeat the progression all over again. "—Isla—"
It isn't the pace he'll stay at for long, but gods he can hardly wrap his mind around it. She's soft and wet in ways he's never known. Even the angle, the curve of her is so different than it is with the men Remi's been with. It steals his sanity—his soul, it feels like—replacing it with perhaps the closest approximation to what he once had with Isla when she was truly a part of him.
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
The flush in Isla's cheeks is racing south now, across her collarbones and chest, dusting her with moonlight as Remi sets her down. She's been able to feel him but not feel him for this whole adventure so far, and for one who is taking the role of the silver platter, she positively devours him with her eyes when he finally joins her. A moan leaves her throat as she samples the heat of his skin, the way he blankets her, as the head of his cock finally presses against the slick, hot wetness ready to welcome him.
Her lips part in a soft gasp, hips tilting and legs locking snugly around his waist as if to encourage him forward, though there's no rushing this. He fills her slowly and completely, driving deep into her core and sparking a needy sort of heat there; a fire that begs to be stoked.
Isla is no stranger to sex, but she feels it as well, the newness of this, the need to savour and to take one's time. This is Remi, and for all that she might have been a part of him, she still understands what he is and what he isn't. One arm slips around him, ghosting down the length of his spine to press at his lower back, to urge him on. At the same time her head tilts to loll against his curls, and Isla squeezes her thighs teasingly, gripping and tightening around him.
"Like that," she pants through a whisper, "but harder and faster. I won't break, I promise."
02-28-2021, 10:25 PM (This post was last modified: 03-01-2021, 02:45 AM by Remi.)
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
Remi might have said something stupid like, You've never been with me before, but his lips are too busy, wrestling as they are against inarticulate sounds. 'Isla—' He tries, before the need to breathe steals the words and he pants a moan into her hair. Isla, you're beautiful, the words might have been; You're everything, or gods I'm so lucky to have you. They might equally well have been a threat, a promise, or some sort of vow. Instead, all the alchemist can manage is breathlessly reciting her name over and over again into her neck, the words said as much with his lips as they are with his teeth.
Dizzy with desire now, Remi's shoulders roll beneath her fingertips as her hands move lower. One of his comes to anchor himself under her lower back, and as he thrusts into her again, he presses upward as if he might somehow find himself even deeper inside of her. There is sweat shining across his back now too, though not from exertion. Remi is far too fit a specimen to be taxed by this, but then again his emotions haven't been tried like his for quite some time.
Missionary might be one of the plainest of positions according to most, but it certainly doesn't feel that way to Remi. Arching his back and pressing himself up with the hand previously entangled in the sheets, Remi gorges himself on the way her body is splayed out beneath his, of the cleft of her hip and how it makes his mouth water. Of where they connect and the way it feels to reassert that connection with every thrust of his hips.
Reaching for one of Isla's hands, he'll fit his over hers that he might press her fingertips into the flesh of his thigh. He'd felt talons previously, or so he thought, and gods his mind needed the distraction of pain lest this end before he had a chance to fuck Isla in all the ways he never knew he wanted to.
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Missionary might be plain as far as some of Remi's sexual deviances might go, but considering this delicate balance they both walk, it's probably safest - and it's no less gratifying for that care. Isla's hips rock and buck against him as he thrusts up and buries himself deeper within her, and the feel of him, rock hard with his arousal, has her moaning encouragement into his ear. They fit flush against one another, legs locked and bodies rolling in a rhythm that still seems painfully slow compared to the acrobatics they might yet perform.
Nevertheless, Remi is hitting all the right spots, and having climaxed once already, Isla is already feels that fire in her belly begin to kindle a second time. "Remi--" Isla's hand moves gladly to his thigh, claws puncturing into the flesh there without hesitation, as if she might anchor him ever deeper inside her. Her free hand moves to draw his mouth up against hers; her kiss is needy and desperate and punctuated with fangs. It's a suggestion or a threat or a promise - Remi can decide.
"Fuck me," she moans into his mouth. "Hard. I want to be screaming your name."
03-01-2021, 02:42 AM (This post was last modified: 03-01-2021, 04:50 AM by Odd.)
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
It will leave scars, he's sure. The spacing suggests that the claw marks on his thigh were left there by a wild animal, though there's only one predator that the alchemist knows of who leaves such precise incisions. Feeling the sticky-slick froth of his own blood against his hand and hers has Remi sighing with relief. It bites into him and excites him in a way that isn't healthy, but what fucking of it. If no one else, surely the demigod of death is allowed to blur the lines between pleasure and pain.
Roughly Remi kisses Isla back. Her lips are soft and small compared to what he's used to, and gods if it suddenly feels as though there just isn't enough of her to satisfy him. Releasing his hand from around hers, he slips his bloody fingers roughly into her hair that he might take, take, and take again all that her lips and tongue have to offer.
Hard, she said. I won't break, she said.
The room. Isla. The feeling of being inside of her and the tangy-sweet smell of his own blood. It could not have been a more perfect, or dangerous combination on the heels of which to make such a request of him.
Tawny mane trundles down his neck and upper back, stopping as massive wings spread suddenly outward. With her legs already wrapped around his waist, it's all too easy for Remi to simply slip his hands around her, lifting her off the bed. One arm curls around her upper back while the other presses against her lower, anchoring her against him as his mouth seeks hers out. Seeking out a wall to press her against, not unlike he'd found himself doing in her exam room, Remi sinks one fully-taloned hand into the wall, piercing through the wood. With the other still on her lower back, Remi indeed fucks her hard. The sound of cock entering her, of his thighs slapping at her ass with every thrust, of curses and pleas that all sounded remarkably like her name—it was a fitting enough background melody for her request.
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Isla isn’t sure what she’s expecting, but when it comes (not quite yet, but you get it), it’s far from a disappointment. Remi grips ahold of her and surges up, lifting her as easily as a ragdoll, and the movement and the thrust of him deeper inside her drags a heady moan from her lips. Anchored around him, her arm laces around his shoulders, and greedy fingers trace tawny fur down to the explosive expanse of wings from his shoulders.
Do you even know? she wants to say, though her tongue and teeth are otherwise occupied. Do you even know how breathtaking you are? Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? But of course those sweet nothings will have to wait, because Remi’s claws are buried in the wall and he’s burying himself in Isla in a frenzy that borders on violent.
And the medic is loathe to forsake even a second of it on shoulds and maybes - Remi barely gives her room to breathe (not that Isla needs it), and her stuttered cries of ecstasy come wrapped around fragments of his name, again and again with each pounding thrust, until it doesn’t matter whether it’s pleasure or pain causing it. All that matters is getting more.
It might make sense, then, that as the heat building within Isla rises to a fever pitch, she doesn’t have time to tell Remi he’s about to make her cum again. She doesn’t have time to do much more than buck and roll with it, her fingers clutching into the back of his hair to drag his head to the side. And at the crest of orgasm, Isla leans in to sink her teeth deep into the Lullaby’s neck, injecting a fresh and maddening crackle of pleasure into something that’s already nearly unbearable.
She tightens around him, every muscle screaming with her release, and it’s only the blood welling against her lips that stifles the siren song of pleasure rising in her throat.
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
It's times like these that Remi wishes he was closer to mortal than he was. He wants to feel his legs burn with his efforts, wants to have to bite his tongue and force himself onwards so as not to disappoint the woman in his arms. He wants his arms to scream with the effort of holding her up, to have to fight to keep his balance, to wonder how much longer he could remain in such a frenzy. But gods it's all so easy for him; it's all so maddening for him.
Refusing to cum until Isla had, Remi's plans are entirely undone as her teeth sink into his neck. She'll feel blood fill her mouth from the swollen veins running down the alchemist's neck. He snarls against her as her own passions are heightened and refracted back into him, leaving the alchemist entirely lost in it. There is no Isla and Remi anymore, just one thing, perfectly bound together. He moves in her and she against him in ways that are nothing more than hastily smeared colours against the back of his eyes. He can't feel her arms or legs, can't feel the blood that trickles down his thigh. It's just an overwhelming cacophony of sounds and sensations that change at a kaleidoscopic rate.
At some point his hand has left the wall, his palms now cupping the sweet curve of her ass that he might use her body entirely to satisfy his own. He guides her hips against his using her body to fuck him, where previously it had been him doing the fucking. Gods she's so light in his arms that he's able to force her against him in a way few probably could. "fuck you," he snarls viciously against her, but it isn't to Isla he speaks, and whatever else he might have said is lost in what comes next.
As his orgasm finally breaks through, like snarling wolves caged no more, he curses against her, pitching them forward against the wall again. Reaching out to clasp the back of her head, his fingers roughly tangle in her hair that he might pin her mouth against his neck. She can tear it out, if she likes. Gods, but what that would feel like?
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
What would it feel like? Is this the day that they both find out? Isla's back hits the wall again, her head cradled by the Lullaby's large and calloused hand, and amid the blood pumping from the thick veins in his neck, she nearly does bite down and tear. Luckily her orgasm is such that she's too distracted to do much more than cling to it, awash in sensation, in pleasure and pain and anything that rockets in between. Her moan something hummed against his throat, legs locked tight about his hips, and it's a place she'd happily stay forever.
Eventually, all things must come to an end. But Isla makes it worth their while, at least, hanging on far (far) past what would be considered wise or safe, until Remi might just start to feel lightheaded from the bloodloss. Isla stays pressed against his neck until the overtaxed nerves start to hurt with so much pleasure - then, and only then do her jaws part and she lets go. Not needing to breathe and still very much anchored against the alchemist, the medic's head lolls against his shoulder.
She's covered in blood, sticky-sweet and coppery, and it takes some time before feeling returns enough to her fingers to loosen her grip in Remi's hair and against his feathers.
right now everything you want is wrong & right now all your dreams are waking up
Heedless, the alchemist keeps thrusting into the medic as if not having realized that the act was over. They were done. Like an addict licking the spoon or compressing the needle one more time, so too does Remi grind Isla's hips against his, his fingers tight on her skin like he might squeeze more out of her (or out of him). Grunting brutishly against her, the sound of his skin against her now flat, instead of feverish, he shakes his head. "..no-" He mumbles, thrusting again, harder and harder, as if with enough effort he might bring the moment back to life.
But blood loss, perhaps the only thing able to stop him now, slows his movements as his limbs feel suddenly stiff and sluggish. "..no.." He moans again, thrusting again, with much less force, as his head lolls languidly against her while hers does the same.
He says that way, his hands around her ass, his quickly-melting erection still inside of her, his blood dripping down his neck onto his shoulder and smeared onto her breast, his wings quivering, and his muscles tight with tension.
The Lullaby
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
