katyafeline | (no subject)

Katya has gradually become used to the idea of calling Milliways a home, of sorts - and now her room reflects that. The anonymously boring bedsheets and blankets have been replaced by ones with riotous colors and textures - silks and velvets and thick wool. Bookshelves have slowly crept their way in, filled with second-hand books in a veritable United Nations-worth of languages, all rubbing elbows together with no sense of general organization, interspersed with various trinkets - a long white feather, two floppy-eared cloth rabbit dolls with shiny black button eyes, a slightly chipped china teacup with a delicate design in blue and gold.

And of course the swords - several swords, of various ages and descriptions, hung up on the walls. Her old collection is now long lost, but no one said she couldn't start again.

Of course, Katya isn't much in the mood for giving a tour and explanation at the moment.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

katyafeline

His joy rolls over her, sparking through her veins and sending shivers through her frame. She whines, rocking harder as nerves spike lightening from breasts to belly to groin.

Her teeth find his ear and tugs sharply, her voice comes rough, the words slow as she consciously translates from the Russian that wants to come out.
"Emcee, please." The words rumble with an almost-growl, "Fuck. Me."

From:

i_am_your_host

He grunts through clenched teeth at the bite, even as his lips curl back in a delirious smile.

Reaching between their bodies, he aligns himself with her, and with an upward thrust of his hips, he pushes into her, sliding between the folds of her warm, wet flesh. He grasps her waist and thrusts into her again, deeper, harder.

From:

katyafeline

She moans, her English lost again in broken litany of Russian when he slides home - that is good, that is right, and she wants more. Taking the reins, she rides him to a driving rock 'n' roll beat. Her breath comes hot on his neck as she marks him, suckling and biting her way down his neck.

From:

i_am_your_host

Her teeth sting, leaving tingling welts on his skin. He in turn grabs a fistful of her hair, without pulling her away from his neck.

Heels braced on the mattress, he bucks wildly underneath her, each thrust punctuated with a throaty growl. Her rhythm is hard and driving and he lives for that, urging her on in breathless, barking German. Nothing is lost in translation between them when the only thing that matters is to push one another to the very edge.

From:

katyafeline

The burn and glow along her scalp earns a fierce crow of yes-please-sir-may-I-have-another against his skin. She dutifully laves attention where he directs her, more than willing to have more of the taste of him in her mouth.

She can feel the end coming like a runaway train barreling down the tracks, her body tightening in eager anticipation, her litany of not-quite-words taking on a pleading edge. Reaching down between them, she roughly grinds against her clit, fingers sliding in the slick between them.

From:

i_am_your_host

He tastes like sweat and cigarettes and gin and vodka, like shadows and light and the shifting gray of smoke.

She burns against him. The heat of her mouth, her body, her everything is so intense that he might melt into the bed covers. He feels her fingers move between them and his head spins. His hold on her becomes less a grasp and more a cling, as his nerves start to unravel like frayed rope.

He picks up the pace with short, hard thrusts. The sound of slick skin against slick skin fills the room, the creaking and rocking of the bed, their tangled voices echoing in every corner. (Katya's unfortunate neighbors are getting an earful. But who cares.)

She sets him on fire and now he burns, his limbs giving out and giving in. He tosses his head back as if he were possessed. And he comes, his body going rigid underneath her, a choked cry squeezed from his constricted throat.

From:

katyafeline

His release crashes through her, the mage and the woman subsumed in the fire. She jerks against him, clenches around him, cries out as she flies apart in his arms.

Slowly the tremors subside into shivers, the feedback dialing down to levels where she feels almost settled in her own skin. Dizzy and strung-out, she nuzzles her head against his shoulder, laving soft, open-mouthed kisses on the skin she can reach without shifting.

From:

i_am_your_host

He lies still, sprawled and spent, panting heavily, his eyes closed to the world.

His hand loosens in her hair to gently cup the back of her head. It's an unconscious gesture, almost instinctual.

Her body simmers now, cooling down. He slides his fingers through the sheen of sweat on her back, and purrs deeply under her kisses.

From:

katyafeline

She smiles, one hand shifting to rest over his chest, over his heart, feeling it settle slowly. And if she mutters softly in her mother language, words and intent learned more from the babushkas on her patrol than from any trainer - what of it? Such energy is easy to spare, and she can bask in the feeling of well-being she lets sink slowly into his bones.

Oh shush.

Clearly it's all just an excuse to cuddle, sharing his warmth as the sweat dries.

From:

i_am_your_host

He's not a cuddler, but... It's not as if he could do anything about it. It's not like he's going to move or anything. That would be rude. And plus he can't. Too comfortable.

He curls his fingers in her hair, over and over. Tracing the curve of her ear. Gently scritching the nape of her neck as if she were a cat.

"That was wonderful, Tiger Cub."

His voice is a deep, rasping velvet.

From:

katyafeline

Perhaps it is too much of a tell, but she truly doesn't give a damn - she's practically boneless for petting, her plans to find her cigarettes (and a lighter, mustn't forget that, she's... pretty sure she has one around here somewhere, drat) put on temporary hold.

"You have a talent, Emcee, for inspiring one's best effort." Her own voice is still hoarse, the sound of it making her wonder about her neighbors. Maybe they got some good inspiration. "Like begets like, and that sort of thing."

From:

i_am_your_host

"Mmmm," he agrees, playfully smug even in this state of euphoria.

"But I could say the same for you."

He's suddenly overcome with the need to stretch, as one often is, and he does so, arching his back and shifting his legs against hers. They get tangled in the bedcovers, and that's just fine with him. He slumps back onto the mattress, as boneless and languid as she is.

From:

katyafeline

She huffs a laugh against his shoulder, pressing a kiss against his skin before pulling just far enough away to scrabble one-handed in the nearest bookshelf... there. The crinkle of cellophane and (hurrah!) the heavy rattle of the lighter sliding under questing fingers heralds her victory.

"Since we are both simply marvelous, care for a cigarette to celebrate?" She asks, wry humor in her tone.

From:

i_am_your_host

"Mmm, yes, a cigarette would be perfect, darling," he purrs, opening his eyes to pluck one from the pack.

"I must say, your vices are just absolutely lovely. They're just like mine."

From:

katyafeline

She holds the light steady for him, before lighting her own cigarette.

"What vices?" Katya asks incredulously, blowing smoke at the ceiling, "Don't tell me you feel guilty for any of this, I'd just have to find a way to correct that and frankly, I'm all fucked out for a bit."

From:

i_am_your_host

He tips his head back and laughs through a cloud of smoke.

"Guilty? Of course not. I'm merely using the term that society ascribes to the things that we do for fun."

From:

katyafeline

"Ah, society." She doesn't much pay attention to what society is up to in Skellig's world - she did more, when she was in Moscow, mostly so she could bemoan the state of affairs and how people were continuously and creatively messing up a good thing, and to gripe about ever-higher stiletto heels.

The wardrobe department had a deviated sense of humor and liked to see the Watch's hoyden stumble around like a baby giraffe.

"Best thing about this bar, I can tell the naysayers exactly what I think of them, and I get the pleasure of watching them splutter. It's fun."

What's even more fun is seeing just how many people she's failed to shock. People are so much more fun, here.

From:

i_am_your_host

He tucks an arm behind his head and slants an admiring grin at her.

"You see? We both have the same idea of fun. It's quite refreshing."

A beat, as he takes a drag off his cigarette.

"Speaking of refreshing, why oh why did I put the vodka down so far away? Fuck."

From:

katyafeline

She sighs at him, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

"You had one job..." Since she's the one with the socks (and lo, the socks are awesome), she decides to take one for the team and go fetch the half-finished bottle. She hisses when she stands, stretching abused thighs, gingerly prodding what's going to be some spectacular and fascinating bruising later.

But hey, she gets to drink the vodka first! Win.

From:

i_am_your_host

He pouts and shrugs helplessly, hiding behind his cigarette and a puff of smoke, but really, all the better to keep lying there on the bed to watch her delightfully naked form (except for the socks) get up and cross the room.

"Oh, darling, you are a martyr for our cause," he declares.

From:

katyafeline

She poses for a moment, trying for tragic (Ignat would manage it better, she's sure, but one sort of expects that from an incubus), before sauntering over to hand over the bottle. Of course, now that she's up, the draw of a shower is becoming equal to the draw of the bed.

Hmph. Such are the 'rewards' of industry. She goes to fetch the teacup (which is now serving its second life as an ashtray of sorts).

From:

i_am_your_host

She is adorable and sexy and he would eat her up, and he will probably do that later if she wants him to.

"Danke schön," he says as he takes the bottle and drags himself up to sit with his back to the headboard, where he lounges amongst the bedcovers like some Bacchanalian offspring. Aptly enough, he takes a swig straight from the bottle.

From:

katyafeline

"You are a picture of a well-spent day." She laughs, and clambers back up onto the bed. Who is she to go against such an impressive example?

Besides, he has the vodka.

She fumbles through the bedclothes for a moment before finding the packet of cigarettes so she can fish out another.

From:

i_am_your_host

"I have you to thank for that," he says with a lazy grin. "Or blame. Thank, blame, interchangeable, really. And the vodka as well, mustn't forget the vodka."

He passes the bottle to her.

From:

katyafeline

She wobbles a hand, unsure which term is more appropriate but willing to take on both.

And then she takes the bottle, because vodka is awesome.

"You're going to have to teach me German, though. And hope it isn't as fickle as my English." She points out before drinking, tossing the package of cigarettes between them.