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!
"Something like that," Isla murmurs, smiling despite herself as Sunjata arranges himself so enticingly on the bed. It's with a heat in her cheeks that races all the way to the tips of her ears that she hears his thickly accented words hit the air, the Remedy acting before her mind can fully catch up.
Her lips are back against the Flood's even before she's properly astride him on the bed, and although there's nothing rough about her movements, the sense of urgency is palpable; one hand splays out against his chest, the other reaching down between them to grasp the hard length of his cock. With a few teasing strokes that are matched by the flick of her tongue, Isla forces herself to draw away from the kiss to guide Sunjata against her slick heat.
It's with a breathy moan of satisfaction that they finally come together (hopefully in more ways than one), Isla's fingers flinching against his chest. With a shivery inhale, it's through heavily lidded eyes that she begins to roll her hips against him, each movement slow and deep and sensual, even if a large part of her is screaming to fuck hard and fast, to wake the rest of the inn with the sound of it.
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it When you hit me, hit me hard
'cause we might as well be blind, if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading
Something like that, indeed. Either way, she’s a vision as she returns to him, her warm body draping over him as their lips meet and Sunjata grows greedy in how he presses back into it, hands finding her body again as she readjusts and situated herself astride him. The hand on his chest is a pointed spot of connection, his own hands on her hips squeezing slightly as she strokes his length, a growl of a sound leaving him as his slit pupils drink her in the second she sits up.
He exhales a breathy moan as she sinks down onto him, refraining from speeding up the process any as his hips rock slowly to match her own sensual movements. He can match the moment further, though, one hand abandoning her hip to slide down her arm to the hand on his chest, calloused fingers covering her own and giving a gentle squeeze paired with the quiet moans that slip from him.
His other hand slips up along her side, taking a detour to palm her breast, before rising up along her neck to cup her cheek, his thumb pressing in against her jaw, his wings lifting finally to wrap around her and give her some extra support along her spine. It’s clear what she’s doing to him, though, with how his wings tremble in his restraint and pleasure.
you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses — that you'll fire in vain — but those 12 rounds just won't do
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
His hands cross her body like trails of fire, Isla leaning greedily into the touch as best she's able, though the shift and rock of their hips has most of her attention. Still, Sunjata is nothing if not a generous lover (in more than just the obvious ways, but gods if she's not well aware of that too), and as his wings lift to stretch around her, it's with a breathless smile that her head turns to nip at the thumb grazing along her jaw.
"Gods, you're so hard," she hisses, her body pitching forwards enough to drag a gasp of pleasure from her lips, and with her free hand she reaches out to grip the base of one of the Flood's horns, squeezing hard as if using him as an anchor point. And while she's still focused on lavishing as much pleasure on him as possible, it's all too clear that Isla is not immune to the indulgence of the moment either.
Painted in shades of moonlight, it's wrapped in a cloak of a dragon's wings and with parted lips that she chooses a more enthusiastic pace, a sheen of sweat beginning to glisten on her body.
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it When you hit me, hit me hard
'cause we might as well be blind, if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading
As she nips at his thumb, a playful smirk blooms on his face, his skin continuing to flush along his neck and cheeks to the tips of his ears, a shiver raking down his spine as her voice permeates the air between them. All it sparks is a growl of appreciation from him, having never been much of a talker. It’s appreciated regardless, though, grows his ego far more than he cares to admit, and rather than speaking with his words, he chooses to speak with actions in bed.
Which only adds to it as she grips onto a spiraled horn, his wings trembling hard with a jerk before his hips snap, as if out of his control before he takes control over himself again. The hand remains at her cheek, drifting up toward her temple, fingertips threading through her moonlit hair toward her own horn, shifting slightly as she picks up her speed and he pulls himself up to meet her, hand still between them covering her own as he interlaces their fingers and their torsos press against each other.
He tugs on her blonde hair, nosing his way into the opposite side for a kiss to her jaw, a kiss to her neck.
you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses — that you'll fire in vain — but those 12 rounds just won't do
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
If only Isla knew, she'd happily serenade the Flood's ego until both of them are too tired to keep going. Nevertheless, whether it's actions or words or both, it's all very much appreciated, and as his hips snap up it drags a cry of surprise and ecstasy from the Remedy's throat. Her nails will leave soft crescents in Sunjata's chest by the time they're done, and her grip is no less tight on his spiralled horn as he shifts himself up to meet her.
Head tipping back as his fingers tangle in her golden curls, Isla is left panting and flushed by this new angle, feeling fire begin to spark and kindle deep at her core. She wants to tell him more and faster, only realising belatedly that she's the one to control those things tonight. And so, slipping her hand out from beneath his own and quite literally taking the Flood by the horns (both of them this time), Isla bucks hard against him, knowing it's not a rhythm she can sustain for long but hoping that won't matter.
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it When you hit me, hit me hard
'cause we might as well be blind, if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading
The cry of surprise and pleasure that slip from Isla’s lips spark that electricity in his bones, the light pinprick of the sharpness of her nails digging into his skin leave goosebumps behind as he shivers again, wings trembling in the dim glow of the moon that filters in through the windows.
But he rises to meet her, rocking with her in this new angle, face diving in against her neck while his free hand tugs along those blonde curls to offer more of her skin up to him, rumbling his appreciations against her neck and jaw, nipping at her ear when it comes closer from how she rides him. And she’s right, when he does little to guide the moment, because she’s agreed to be the one in charge and Sunjata’s glad to have handed over the reins.
Especially when she readjusts and grips onto both horns, his head roughly adjusting to make space for her grip as she picks up the page and Sunjata groans a throaty sound, paired with all his mind can muster as she drives him wild. “Fuck, Isla—” it’s about all he can get out, her name on his tongue as his wings tighten in with the vibrating tremors fully felt as he restrained himself from tipping over that edge too quickly.
you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses — that you'll fire in vain — but those 12 rounds just won't do
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Gods, but Sunjata is beautiful like this, flushed and undone and breathless with pleasure, real and tangible in a way that Isla can practically taste. Riding him hard and feeling the swell of her climax begin to stretch up the back of her thighs, this time it's the Remedy who is lost for words, though the guttural thrum of her name on his lips is something she won't forget in a hurry.
Every buck and roll of her hips urges her closer to the point of no return, and although the urge to bare Sunjata's throat is palpable enough to make her teeth itch, she resists if only to keep a firm grip on spiralling horns; a grip that increases just a few seconds later.
Pitched forward against him with the force of her orgasm, Isla's mind whites out to nothing more than waves of pleasure, a cage of leathery wings and the siren song of the Flood's name spilling from her lips. Tightening around him and feeling as though she can chase further ecstasy if only she tries, the rhythm of her hips grows more urgent if anything, as if to drag him across that threshold as well.
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it When you hit me, hit me hard
'cause we might as well be blind, if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading
He can feel it, the second that she draws closer to that edge, the way she tightens around him that only keeps his leathery wings trembling. Her hold on his horns keep him still enough, despite the rocking their bodies take, and Sunjata’s helpless to keep from feeling the pressure increase in all the right places as she draws him closer and closer. Of course, when he feels her shake and clench when her climax reaches, he growls a throaty sound, fingertips twitching in their grip in her blonde hair.
She keeps going, though, and as the pace quickens and his name falls off her tongue in a bright song against the moonlight, he stands no chance. He pushes through the hold she has on his horns if only to pitch himself up to catch her lips with his in a devouring, possessive touch, panting through his nose as he twitches hard and tips over that edge, taking over for her now to rock through the rest of her lingering waves of pleasure alongside his own, pulling back from the kiss to press his forehead to her chin as he tries to catch his breath while his body continues to throb and ache in its relief.
you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses — that you'll fire in vain — but those 12 rounds just won't do
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Caught in the hard surge of a kiss, Isla moans a note of satisfaction against Sunjata's lips, her arms slipping around him of their own accord as they ride out those final moments together. Happily possessed by the Flood, she's left panting as well as he finally draws away, her fingers stroking down the nape of his neck before finally coming to rest against his scarred cheek.
Given their current compromising position, even relaxing flush against him is enough to draw a soft gasp from Isla's throat, not that it stops her from doing so. Her free hand drapes about Sunjata's shoulders and down his back, gently caressing the joint of one wing where it pushes from his shoulder blade.
Even the soft ocean breeze is enough to bring phantom touches to life along her skin where the Flood's hands have been, and with a shivering sigh, she noses into his damp hair, relishing the smell of salt and smoke and sweet liquor that clings to him. Saying anything just now feels like it might ruin it - whatever calm and heavy spell that seems to have been cast across the room - and so Isla merely turns her head to press a gentle kiss to the sleek curve of one of the horns crowning his head.
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it When you hit me, hit me hard
'cause we might as well be blind, if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading
His hand trails through her hair when he breaks the kiss, moving down to smooth along her shoulders, the moment soon coming to a halt despite how their bodies start to stick together with sweat. Her fingers settle on his neck, through the short hair found there, before her hand moves along those wings that have finally stopped their trembling, but that stretch when she strokes along the sensitive skin.
As she relaxes and melts against him and gasps, he does much the same, body tensing momentarily as a quiet grumble leaves him, one that turns into a soft breathy laugh. Precisely about the time she presses a kiss to one of the spiraled horns and he presses his stubbled face in against her neck. ”Careful.” A little small warning that if they stay like this and move too much more, it might spark that flame again. Despite his warning, he noses his way in to press a soft kiss to her neck, keeping his arms tight around her.
you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses — that you'll fire in vain — but those 12 rounds just won't do
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
Sunjata's laughter is surprising in its sweetness, and Isla finds herself smiling into his hair even as they run the risk of winding each other up all over again. "With you? Always," she whispers of being careful, grazing her thumb across the scar on his cheek and tilting her head to expose more of her neck to his affections; and if she wakes with a necklace of bruises tomorrow, so be it. "Unless you tell me not to," she adds, her tone soft but her smile mischievous.
"Here." Fingers flinching a touch against his wings and the curve of his jaw, Isla shifts so they aren't quite so dangerously entangled, before rolling to sink down into the bed - and given that Sunjata's arms are still locked around her, drawing him over her body as well. "So you can stretch your wings," she mumbles into his hair, her lips finding his forehead and her hands stroking down the length of his torso, clearly not minding the idea of using him as a blanket.
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it When you hit me, hit me hard
'cause we might as well be blind, if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading
He doesn’t expect the tone to be so gentle, the words so affirming, that the gentle stroke of her thumb along his cheek has him leaning into it and her again, ever so slightly, before her mischievous comment paints the air between them and the Flood grumbles something quietly, pressing a kiss with a playful nip against the pale column of her neck. He doesn’t say anything that could be made out, however, pressing himself in with playful little nips against her skin, not intending to leave marks behind but for the moment they do spark a dull pink in the moonlight as they part for the moment, readjusting.
He rolls with her, easily, spreading his wings like a draped blanket and locking the heat in between them again, as her hands find a path down his torso, he props himself up on one hand to hover above her, a mirror of her own moonlit silhouette, letting his slit pupils still survey her as his lips quirk into his own mischievous smile. “You’re not helping, you know.” He teases her lightly, lowing himself onto one elbow to use the other to tuck her blonde hair behind her ear, tracing around the amber horn, before drifting along her cheekbone.
you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses — that you'll fire in vain — but those 12 rounds just won't do
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
"You're not helping either," Isla fires back with a fanged smile, stretched beneath him with her legs haphazardly locked around his waist. She does try to school her hands into behaving, but it's a difficult thing when she's so greedy for his touch, wanting to map the ladder of his ribcage, every bruise and mark and tattoo that decorates his skin.
Leaning into his caress, Isla gently captures the fingers that skate along her cheek, pressing them to her lips without a thought. "Especially when you look at me like that," she continues, tilting her head up at Sunjata, his eyes a warm yet predatory steel framed by a fan of dark lashes, his smile the crooked sort that promises something wicked and tender all at once.
Perhaps it's this that prompts her next remark, her head sinking back against the pillows, topaz horns gleaming against the light spilling in from the window. "Are we really just business partners?" she whispers. "Or is that just what we tell people?" Gods know Isla understands the cold dread of admitting there's something she cares about enough that would hurt if she lost it. But here, like this with the Flood, the truth comes knocking.
And it terrifies her, quite frankly, so it's with a flush to her cheeks that she shakes her head, squeezing his fingers in her own. "Don't answer that. I'm being silly."
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it When you hit me, hit me hard
'cause we might as well be blind, if seeing is believing, this parable's misleading
She fires back at him, that playful smile spanning her face that reflects in his own as he takes note of how she isn’t exactly preventing the moment, letting her hands run along his skin, wings draped around them in a lazy stretch. He nears his head to hers as she speaks again, brushing his mouth against the corner of her lips, offering a deep, husky whisper. “Like what?”
But, of course, it’s all a lot of whiplash for the Flood, as he withdraws and her head lays back against the pillows, and there’s an immediate look of confusion that dances across his face — a sudden coldness that blooms at odds with the heat running up his thighs and hips.
He can’t let himself be more than that. And he doesn’t know how to word it before she starts to tell him not to answer that, despite how he remains frozen with his hand against the side of her head, propped up on an elbow, looking down at her. “Isla…” He says softly, all heat from his voice dissipating for something akin to hurt despite how he tries to prevent it.
you've got your shotgun loaded with excuses — that you'll fire in vain — but those 12 rounds just won't do
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
