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 has.” Varus agrees, managing to crack a small smirk as he rugs her closer, lips colliding with hers and sighing as her hands roam along his back. Her fingers thread through dark hair and his hands slide down toward her hips, readjusting them while she readjusts herself as well, humming another quiet chuckle. “Just wanna keep you on that edge a little longer.” Though it isn’t like it matters much. She nips at his neck and he shivers, hips working on their own accord.
They’re lined up now at least, so when he thrusts forward they get what they both want. A groan slips from him, head tilting back slightly as his cock sinks into her, both hands digging into her hip bone as he tries not to let the white sensation of static cloud his mind. And once he’s had a second to recover, he uses his hands to lift her slightly before pulling her back down onto him again.
"You tease," Isla complains, though it can't really be considered a complaint when she loves every part of it. Her lips ghost along his neck and up to his jawline just as he slips inside her, drawing a ragged moan up from her throat. "More," she whispers, shifting to wrap her legs about his waist, her hips arching to meet him with each thrust.
And maybe it's an ironic punishment from Isla's point of view that she does nothing to try and keep Cal from teetering over any sort of edge; tugging roughly at his hair, she leans in to kiss him hard again, rolling her hips against him in a rhythm that's as relentless as it is indulgent. "Mm, there..." Her breath hitches, the medic starting to feel her climax rise deep within her core.
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
Her moan is like music to his ears, and of course it’s paired with the beautiful sensation of sinking inside her, shivering and shuddering as he gets used to the feel of her. Luckily for him he runs off of instinct more than the white noise in his brain, thoughts blanking out but working in combination with her as her legs wrap around his waist and work with him to pick some sort of rhythm at first that evens out into something greedy and needy, no room to draw it out further.
Especially not when she’s got her hands in his hair, tugging this way and that, guiding him with her words and the shift of her hips. Varus is greedy, and he hasn’t done this too often (obviously the few centuries shut down will make him rusty regardless), but he does manage to increase the pace, something more feral and greedy overcoming him as he dives forward, lips pressed to the soft patch of skin beneath her ear. “Gods, Isla—” He groans, that edge coming closer and closer until he thinks he’s just a fraction away from slipping over, holding off the best he can go suck in a silvery mark to her neck.
The warm up from the attention he's lavished upon her isn't wasted, and though Isla doesn't need any breath, she's still fighting for it as she arches and bucks against him. It feels as though all parts of her are on fire but in a way that burns wonderfully, and she moans her encouragement, heedless of whoever could be walking by outside. "Cal--" she manages - barely - as she finally feels herself crest over the edge of her orgasm.
Tensing around him, Isla rides out her climax with fingers tipped with blades, with her fangs pressed against his neck, though she somehow resists the urge to bite down. It would be wonderful, undoubtedly, but given the power they both carry, it probably wouldn't be advisable.
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
They work in tandem to drive each other over the edge and the second that he feels her begin to tense, his fingertips dog into her skin hard enough to bruise and he inadvertently pulls back a fraction against the scalpel ended fingertips of her own, rocking into her as he tips over the edge too. He shivers and shudders, trembling while his sensors flare and he can tell that he’s nicked himself against one of her fingertips as he surges forward into her.
He noses his way to her lips, panting and chest heaving despite not needing to, lips seeking out her own as he rides out the euphoria after. And when he thinks he has a semblance of thought, he withdraws, nuzzling her until he can press his forehead against her cheek, still shivering. “You’re incredible, Isla.” A hushed whisper for her ears only.
Everything feels numb apart from the warm press of his lips, Isla managing to worm her arms around Varus's neck so she can clasp him close. "Mm, no you," she mumbles into the kiss, inhaling shakily when he parts from her and slouching to lay against the bed, drawing him over her like a blanket. "You are incredible, Cal." And she means it, her fingertips trickling down the length of his spine to settle on his lower back.
And there's more she wants to say too, like an itch at the back of her throat, but suddenly it just doesn't feel like the right time. And so Isla sinks decadently into the sheets instead, her fingers walking back up Varus's back to slip into his long hair. They don't sleep, but gods... it's the closest thing to it that Isla has felt for a long while.
~FIN
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight we're always running scared but holding knives
