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 air should have been stagnant and thickly musted with the lingering smells of sex, drugs, and whatever bodily fluids inspired by that combination of things. Instead, it has a crisp quality to it; a brightness and cleanliness that was one of the hallmarks of the Halenani. The monsoons have abated for a few hours—or perhaps they are merely gearing up for what will come that afternoon—leaving the light which filters in through the shutters calming and restorative; at least for those susceptible to such things.
Not for the first time, Remi doesn't realize whose body his arms are tangled around. There is only warmth and the press of skin against his. Sliding his lips against the curve of a shoulder, the alchemist sighs indulgently, more than happy to sleep away more of the morning.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Dreamdust - it's a helluva drug. Finn had promised himself he would only use it in emergencies, and he had quickly revoked that promise under the realisation that his whole damned life is an emergency these days. And so, wrapped as he is for most of his time in someone else's touch, it takes a powerful sedative to prevent him from completely losing his mind in his downtime.
And in fairness, the sleep that the drug delivers is delightful in its nature, numbing the mind to past horrors, allowing for rest and repair where there might not otherwise be any. The problem? It's a bitch for Finn to wake up from.
So the feel of arms around him and lips against his skin does little to rouse him from his slumber; indeed, he even relaxes back into it, assuming, rightly or wrongly, that there's yet another client vying for his attention. They'll have to wait until he's more able to attend to their needs, but for now a warm hand reaches back beneath the blankets, caressing thighs and hips with the promise of more to come soon.
It would have been better for them both had Finn been sober, least of all because then the emotions that slide from the Spyglass's fingertips wouldn't have been so muddy. But they are, leaving phantom colours in Remi's mind that in no way arouse any suspicion or suggestion that he is not where he thinks he is.
Laughing sleepily at Ronin's Finn's lazy affections, Remi draws himself up and closer to try and more properly spoon his partner. His morning wood is as eager as the alchemist is dozy, but he won't pretend that there isn't something utterly gratifying about just being able to be like this with his husband again after all the barriers they've put up. And, it was just like he and Maeve had discussed: sex for breakfast was good.
Remi's slips move from Finn's shoulder up the side of his neck; some are intentional while others are lazy (he is still mostly asleep, after all), but quickly the hand not pinned beneath the pillows begins to wander up Finn's side as well, teasing away any knots and tension that it finds.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
The body twined around his own is eager but lazy, and Finn's head tilts to bury further into the pillows and thus expose more flesh for the man behind him to kiss. Unaware as he is of the details - the who, why or where, specifically - all Finn can understand is the erection he feels pressed up against him and what that means for his involvement. And so he does little to stop the affections, the lazy hands and lips that whisper across his skin.
Indeed, it's a while before he even peels his eyes open, and even then everything is a bit blurred, a bit hazy. "Mm..." The enjoyment is only half feigned - he can't help his own body's response, especially in the morning, especially coming up from a sedative, and his back arches into the other man without much thinking about it.
Everything feels good, slow and lazy as it is. Each kiss against Finn's skin causes small ripples to appear in the back of his mind; the sensation is dulled for reasons the alchemist isn't actively thinking about, but it certainly encourages him to try and coax more of a splash from the man in his arms. Sleepy as the alchemist is, what bleeds from his own fingertips is utter satisfaction and love. With no thoughts or expectations for the day ahead, Remi's emotions are simply abstract shapes that blend together seamlessly.
Pressing his nose just behind Finn's ear where he might sigh out a wordless good morning, his hands trickle down the Spyglass's side toward the rise of his hip. Aroused by the time of day more than anything else, Remi's erection is less sensitive than it might otherwise be, hard as he is. Even so, the feeling of the head of his cock pressed between Finn's legs has him sighing appreciatively as his own hand begins to edge closer between the Spyglass's legs.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
It's the emotions that pass from Remi to Finn that has the Spyglass unexpectedly compliant in the other man's arms. It's true that his clients very rarely kiss sweet good mornings behind his ear, and they definitely don't feel this way (physically, maybe, but not like this). But with the dreamdust still mostly in his system and his hand drifting across Remi's thigh, he can't help but relax into it. Finn is similarly affected by the morning, and the alchemist will find him already hard as his hand works between his legs.
Though this is unusual as well - to have pleasure given to him in return, he means - and perhaps it's that more than anything that has hazy blue eyes gaining just a little more sense. He hasn't booked a client for this morning, he's sure of it. "What...?" It makes very little sense even as he says it, Finn shifting a bit, but not enough to really do much of anything.
Remi's fingers find his husband's Finn's hard length, and though tendrils of sleep still have their fingers over his eyes, he can't help the growl of satisfaction that escapes his lips. The Spyglass's question and accompanying swirl of dim confusion has Remi nosing softly against his ear as his palm roams up and down the erection between his fingers with measured and slow strokes.
"Did you want something else?" The alchemist wonders softly, the whispered words losing much of their accent and the colour of Remi's voice in the process. He assumes, incorrectly, that Finn is merely shifting to better align himself with what's to come; his lazy question a sort of tease, perhaps.
The hand-stretched beneath the pillow shifts slightly for better purchase, as the alchemist masks the raggedness of his breathing with another flurry of kisses to Finn's neck and jawline.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
It proves very difficult for Finn to think half drugged, and what's more, having anyone stroke his cock is going to feel good, regardless of what other opinions he might harbour about the situation. And so he very much can't help the shivery sigh of pleasure that leaves his lips, his head tilting back as the feel of Remi's hand overthrows any other sleepy protests or questions that might dance upon his tongue.
"...Mm... no..." Is it a plea to stop or an answer to the question? Most might think the former, but the alchemist will be able to feel the latter, and Finn's hips shift further as if to arch into the touch. This could all be a dream, as far as he's concerned, and with all that he's endured over the past few days, it wouldn't surprise him if these are the sorts of dreams he's having.
Feel it he does. Swirled in deep blues and greens that Remi has come to associate with sleepy pleasure, the alchemist's hand doesn't necessarily change in its pressure or speed, though there is something decidedly more intentional about it. His own arousal is now more than awake, seeking purchase between Finn's thighs that will require assistance from the Spyglass, or for Remi to cease his ministrations for a moment to shift the angle of Finn's hips.
There is a slow and sweet tingle of pleasure that sparkles like sunlight on the ocean as Remi touches Finn. Just the echoed sensation is enough to have Remi's lips parting as his eyes press shut, happy to lose himself in the rebounded ecstasy he means to lavish from Finn. "Dei, mi piaci così tanto quando sei così." He whispers as his fingertips tighten around the base of Finn's erection, unable to help the way his own hips surge forward with an insistent that is anything but sleepy.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
They are both more than awake, in body if not in mind, and Finn's lips have parted to enjoy the attentions paid to him (so infrequently does it happen, that he's really not sure what to do). Indeed, were it not for the words whispered into his ear, he might have been utterly compliant throughout what happens next. But the language - so unusual, so completely foreign to his sensibilities - has him blinking his eyes back open, his head turning enough to just about spy a flash of green in his periphery.
"What...?" he asks dumbly, thinking he has perhaps misunderstood something; or worse, that his mind might be on fire again, and that the words might make sense to anyone who has a modicum of sanity. "What did you say...?" He tries again, and his worry over his own state is enough to break the bonds of what he ought to do, how he ought to act.
'I will tell you after,' Remi chuckles with a shake of his head, and were the words not heard through ears much more interested in the quiet moans he'd heard from Finn earlier, the alchemist might have noticed the way the words didn't quite dance off of the Spyglass's tongue, as they should have done. Or, he'll tell Finn now, but not with his words. Instead, Remi pours feeling into the man in his arms as a way of translating; the reds of Remi's desire mingle with the slow-blues of Finn's own arousal, and it's this newly made purple that the alchemist is truly taken by. Not one of them over the other, but the higher places they might reach when the both of them find themselves in sync.
And so with that in mind, Remi's fingers continue again, trying to tease out the sounds he'd heard from Finn moments ago and to coax the man to relax back against him once again
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
This is all wrong, and yet it's immediately made right again by the new drug entering his system - the feelings that Remi projects into Finn make it all but impossible not to relax, and he finds himself melting against the other man's chest. Deft fingers resume their work, and the alchemist will get what he wants in the soft and stuttered moans he draws from Finn's throat. Gods, if he had any sense at all perhaps he would question it.
Or perhaps he wouldn't. Because it's still a brothel, and Finn is still a prostitute, and there's still a man in his bed who has arrived to get what he wants out of the arrangement. (Or not, but obviously the Spyglass is unable to know that right now). So with Remi's hand around his cock and the hard length of the other man pressed between his thighs, it's little effort for Finn to relax further into it, to adjust himself with a roll of his hips that Remi might enjoy himself properly.
It's strange, how similar we all sound when there's little more than wordless agreement pushing past our lips. There is no accent to it, no tone of voice, just breath with a bit of life to it. And so it's with a smile that Finn will feel against his skin that the alchemist shifts himself that he might enter the Spyglass.
I want you, Remi had once admitted to Finn. But gods, he hadn't meant like this.
Slowly he pushes himself forward, meaning to experience the same dizzying commitment to pleasure that he'd forced Ronin to endure. Moaning a note of relief and bliss, the alchemist's hips begin to find a rhythm that he matches instinctively with his hand. The arm stretched beneath their pillows and Finn's head tries to curl back around, wanting to hold more of the man in his arms than he's capable of, but their current positions all but forbid it, godly strength and dexterity or not. Giving up, Remi just sighs with utter contentment against the shell of Finn's ear, letting his hand and his body act on their own accord so that he might simply sink into the feeling as he had done before.
Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
His head tilts back, wordless something slipping between his lips - encouragement or bliss or something else, he's not sure - and Finn is as heedless to stop what's happening as he would be to fly from the windows of his apartment. Remi enters him and it's a strangely gentle experience compared to the others the Spyglass has endured. He's not even sure if endured is the right word for this, because Finn isn't waiting this one out. He's an active participant, in whatever way he might be.
The hand against his cock strokes a rhythm matched by the other man's hips and, dazzled as he is by dreamdust and the heavy emotions that Remi is sending his way, Finn can only welcome as much of it as possible. His own feelings grow more vibrant now as heat ignites in his belly and through the backs of his legs. "More," he whispers despite himself. More of what, though? Sex? Finn is not nearly so hungry for physical touch. No, he wants more of whatever exquisite emotion Remi is pouring into him, more of that warmth, that light that he's never known he craved.
