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| Pooka Tales: Of Sugar and Spice; For Sabe | |
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| Topic Started: Nov 20 2014, 08:30 AM (404 Views) | |
| Sabellius | Feb 28 2015, 07:36 PM Post #26 |
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Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.
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The obvious confusion of his companion slowed his tongue, as well that it already felt thick and heavy, lethargic even. It was quite amazing that he'd been inside a brothel and apparently had some sort of relations with a lady, if he was still as virginal as untrodden snow. Amazing considering he didn't seem to comprehend what he was trying to explain in his drunken ramble. yet try to explain it to him when sober and he was going to get all kinds of pain inflicted on his person just for trying to give him an education. Maybe he should just hand him over to Sigvard with a fistful of coins and the promise to show him a good learning. He'd considered doing that with the kid but he'd probably just piss himself at the sight of a bare nipple. "As my lady commands..." He snapped his jaws shut with an audible click, surly eyes averted from the fae with feigned disdain. Gods body but this is what you got when you tried to help someone who was little better than an obstinate teenager with no idea what he was doing. He supposed it might be cute, viewed in another light, but right now he just looked ill. A fact he confirmed a moment later. "I dunno. I guess I didn't expect it. You're as delicate and pretty as any highborn lady. And probably just as picky." He snorted at that. Highborn ladies often liked to fool around with rogues and ruffians for all the puffed up popinjays they kept company with. He wondered if he stuck his head up Dal's robe, how fast he'd get mule-kicked across the room. "Don't you keep a basket or something for waste? You can puke in there, Lightweight." Gooseflesh prickled on his skin as he felt Dal's breath on his solitary ear, flicking with sudden discomfort, even as he delighted in the gentle weight of the arms around his shoulders. he inclined his head back a touch, eyes rolling back to watch the Pooka from his peripheral until they ached with the strain. "I didn't think you were some kind of leech." Sabe turned the peculiar request over in his mind groggily. What harm could it do? He recovered so quickly that any vampire would have a real job of draining him dry. No, that wasn't what was bothering him about it. Couldn't quite put his finger on it. The risk, he supposed, didn't like subjecting himself to such a position that might make him so vulnerable. But this was Dal. If he wanted to kill him, he'd have likely punched him to death, rather than be so polite as to ask him first. He finished the lho stick, absently stubbing it out on the desk beside him. "You're such a pushover. Need to build up your tolerance. We should make this a weekly thing." All the same his fingers rose to the clasp at his throat, and picked it loose, then the second, the third, letting the high collar fall open, and loose as he pulled it from his neck. A brief hesitation, reluctance, perhaps at the strange intimacy of such a thing, and he guided Dal's hands to rest either side of his neck, the right irregular with the scar tissue of a corrosive burn. The worst of it had been under the collar, the damage around his ear modest in comparison to that which marred the arch of his shoulder meeting with his neck. Roughly he scraped callused fingers through his hair, drawing it towards that side and baring the unmarked skin of his left. There didn't seem to be any bravado or sharp words left in him now, just the chilly discomfort, leaving him wondering if this was how Dal felt faced with the prospect of sexual activity and things that most people considered normal. It wasn't exactly..heartening. "What are you waiting for?" |
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| Dalbhack | Feb 28 2015, 08:15 PM Post #27 |
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A small grunt of disapproval came from the Pooka at being called a lady. What was this the second time that night, the third? Not that he was really keeping score just that he was making a mental note to give Sabe a good pounding or tongue lashing for it once he was sober, and that was not an innuendo. "If highborn ladies tortured people for a living," grouched Dal, who for all his attempts to be a physically violent person still have the looks of well a lady. Aside from the more angular set of his face, the flat chest, and a few other details; the long hair was probably what really did him in, along with the floating. "Leech is such an ugly word," Dal complained, but he could not come up with a better description of how he drew blood, magic and nightmares from others. It was done in quite a leech like fashion after all. No one really wanted to be compared to a leech, that's all it really boiled down to. "I don't think that'd be a good idea, people might get the wrong impression," teased the Pooka. Tongue flicking over a sharp tooth Dal couldn't help the bubbling of excitement that rose in his person as Sabe loosened and opened his collar exposing more of the flesh about his neck. It had been so long since the Pooka had partaken in blood, perhaps due to the intimacy of the act. Dal shifted to settle on his knees on the desk his pale eyes giving Sabe's neck a very through looking over, the burn did not bother him at all, if anything it just sparked more unknown feelings through the Pooka's body. Heat flooded his face as he pinpointed the artery on Sabe's neck that pulsed with his heartbeat. "Just taking it in first," muttered Dal in response to Sabe. Shifting forward his spine prickling pleasantly before his fingers smoothed lightly over the unmarred side of Sabe's neck. First his tongue flicked out over the teifling's flesh before his sharp fangs pierced the flesh, lips sealing over the wound to suck the warm blood down his throat. A tremor ran through the Pooka's body as his fingers gripped Sabe for stability. One hand at the back of the other's neck, the other on his shoulder. The headache quickly cleared replaced by the euphoric sensation of a good high. Dal did not need much, though he took more than he should have, it would have been enough to send a normal person reeling. Dal's tongue soothed over the wound as he disengaged, his body tingling pleasantly. Tongue swiping over the tip of a fang before his fingers moved up Sabe's neck to tangle oddly lovingly in the other's hair. Dal tilted his head eyes heavily lidded as he looked at Sabe their faces, as well as their bodies still dangerously close to one another. Lips parted hesitantly, hovering just near enough Sabe's that he'd be able to feel the Pooka's heated breath. "Ba mhaith liom tú, agus mar sin go holc," uttered Dal before pressing his lips against Sabe's more heatedly than any previous lip locking. |
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| Sabellius | Mar 6 2015, 06:22 PM Post #28 |
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Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.
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"Who's to say they don't?" A wry smile graced his lips, thoughts sliding backwards, through the mists of time and into darkness that smelled of cold, of dry stone and old blood. Yes, many high born women who would, in their way, inflict such agonies. Even here all dressed up in their pretty silk gowns, they had their secrets. Not all of them ran so dark and treacherous but he'd known at least one countess in his time who had a deep racial hatred of anything non human, to the point that it was muttered about missing beggars and urchins. The rumors had circulated for weeks, until he left again and forgotten about it. But then, when you had so much money that you could afford near enough anything you wanted, you tended to seek out the more..peculiar tastes. He really didn't want to think about it too much. Not to judge but... "A highborn lady once kept me chained and collared in her quarters for sixteen years. I'll show you the scars sometime, if you like." He grunted his assent with the whining Pooka, eyelids sliding leaden, lashes touching his cheeks a moment. Talking seemed a great effort, retreated into himself, behind the whorls and sickly coils of blue smoke. "About you, or about us?" He huffed a soft laugh, lids gliding heavily up once more, stared dully at the lho stick as he finished it. "I wouldn't want to tarnish your shining reputation, such as it is." Gooseflesh prickled his skin once more, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as Dal's tongue flicked over his skin. A moment of sudden self consciousness assaulted him, made him want to screech and pull away, make a dozen excuses to leave. His shoulders ached with the sudden tension, tight as a wound spring, lips parting in a grimace of gritted teeth as Dal pierced his neck. He felt his strength ebbing, the insistent pulling, drawing sensation on his neck setting his body to throbbing with it, hands shaking where they gripped the edge of the desk until the wood complained, claws scoring small furrows. "Dal.." Enough. Enough damn you! He wasn't sure if he'd even said it aloud, but he was suddenly released, the air bursting from his lungs in an awful gasp, and slumped as the strength bled from him yet, left his legs quaking and unwilling to support to him fully. At least there was the desk. He sagged against it, closing his eyes to the slowly spinning room, the warm trickle of his own blood inching down across the back of his shoulder. Sabe swallowed hard against the urge to vomit, felt his pulse slow sluggishly as he calmed, head lolling back to view the Pooka, his expression all but unreadable. "You talkin' dirty to me, Scathach?" The words were smashed from his lips quite literally, thought fragmenting and falling apart like so many crushed biscuits goaded on by clashing teeth and insistent tongues, one forked, entwining the other. His grip slipped then, knees giving out shamefully and clunking hard onto the polished floor. Lips separated, he blinked dazedly, wincing as pain stabbed through his scalp where Dal still held his hair, half jerked him down over the edge, and thunked his own head against the wood in the process. "Gonna feel that one in the mornin.'" He slurred. "Just...just gimme a minute...not enough blood hittin' my brain." The fact it was primarily in the Pooka, and rushing elsewhere was beside the point. |
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| Dalbhack | Mar 11 2015, 11:37 AM Post #29 |
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Dalbhack wasn’t all that surprised to hear about a highborn lady having kept Sabe as something of a pet. It wouldn’t have been the first tale of such horrors, to be honest there were a few such questionable highborn ladies in Ashoka itself. But that Pooka was something of a sexist, racist, whateverist…if he could find a way to detest it he would. It was also not beneath him to be a hypocrite about things either. Too violent, clearly an inquisition matter; whatever he could use against a person he would. But that’s all it was, a means to an end; he didn’t usually feel strongly one way or the other about a person based on race, sex, or creed. Let the hookers do their thing, he could still sneer at it but at the same time shrug and walk away. There was in the Pooka an inconsistency almost or perhaps a consistency to be boredly judgmental. “If you would really like to show me them,” he responded tilting his head. There had been so many scars that he had witnessed that in the end to him they were all the same. Sure they had stories to them but he wasn’t the kind of creature to listen. After all the start listening to sob stories you might actually develop a perchance for empathy, which lead to mercy, and he simply could not have that. However, when it came to Sabe he found that he was mildly interested, if for nothing else than to get a more intimate look at the perplexing teifling. “I’d hate to ruin yours,” retorted the Pooka. Sure the general populace hated them on principle, but there were still small pockets that respected the Teifling far more than they did the Pooka. Not to mention the niche that actually liked Sabe, there were even political figures from other nations that crazily enough enjoyed Sabe’s company. Imagine rumors of the teifling keeping more than business relations with the Pooka, even such a simple thing as social drinking. Or made the Pooka should be more worried about his reputation; fear was a powerful tool after all. But there was no logical reason for someone not to fear Dal even if they thought him going soft, as he always backed up words with actions. Though it would be such a bother to have to double his actions at the effect of words. Normally the Pooka would have laughed as the other fell to the floor, but this was one of those rare moments where he abstained. Not to mention that odd knotting feeling in his stomach at the idea of laughing at Sabe who had just bonked his head pretty damn good against the wooden desk. There was also the small matter of Dal himself nearly toppling over off the desk, he managed to let go of the other’s hair before such an issue occurred but it did leave him teetering over the edge of the desk looking down at Sabe. It was also to the teifling’s benefit that the Pooka didn’t have an inkling of a thought to tease about blood rushing to the wrong head. “Probably going to feel more than that in the morning,” commented Dal, not intending for it to sound sexual and if he even thought for a second that it might come across as such it didn’t show. Amused Dal smiled a bit as he slipped off the desk, bare feet connecting with the floor below. It was a nice cool feeling, going along quite nicely with the abating throbbing in his head and the nausea in his stomach. Giving a little stretch before settling down next to Sabe the Pooka looked over at the teifling, quite amused by some private thought. |
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| Sabellius | Mar 17 2015, 04:50 PM Post #30 |
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Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.
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[TW+ Mild sexual themes~] Sabe half opened his mouth with the intent to crack a crude remark about ruined reputations and other ruined and defiled things but miraculously thought better of it. Where was the point in that? They were both more than aware of the reputations they carried around, both as inquisitors and as individuals. He wondered for a moment which was the more important distinction between the two, the decided that it probably didn't matter. Or that he didn't really care. Well, both. He grinned lazily as the thought cleared in his head, escaped as barely more than a whisper between them. + I'll ruin you, Princess. + He really couldn't do worse anyway. For all his apparently innocent looks, Dal inspired terror wherever he went, whether it was because of a bitingly cruel jest at someone else's expense, or because of the lack of restraint when it came to lashing out and spreading a fair helping of pain with those damned gauntlets he wore. He was only surprised, and a touch amused really that he hadn't been on the receiving end of that childish giggling when his ass hit the deck. It was so...out of character, that for a moment it drilled the seriousness of it home through the dizzying haze of drink and light headedness that threatened to spill him like so many scattered marbles across the office floor. A flash of white teeth and his giddy smile returned, genuine. He'd not had amusing company after a night of drinking like this in...a long time. Not that genuinely dragged the mirth out of him, barbed or otherwise. He was...actually having a good time, despite sitting on the floor of a colleague's office after hours, suffering from mild blood loss and feeling like he might puke at any second. His hands found the floor and he made to lever himself up, then gave up when the room did a lazy circuit of its own accord. His head thunked on the wood again, less hard than before, eyes drifting closed against the scene. At least he recovered quickly. Good, if someone were to use him a veritable source of flesh and blood he supposed, or wanted to extend agonies when the subject just kept regenerating. How maudlin. "Satiated?" He cracked one eye open, watching Dal from his peripheral, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. Waking up beside him wouldn't be so bad. Just waking up was usually a chore, something he regretted soundly when dreams fell in tattered wisps around his mind, weary body rising cold and shuddering with exertion from the trials he threw himself into. Just to wake slowly, feeling contented and lazy, with the catlike elegance of a full night or day, to find cool flesh beside him was...indescribable. He couldn't remember the last time actually waking up next to someone who wanted to be there. Jade didn't count. He'd paid her to let him hold her while he slept, whatever small spark of affection may or may not have kindled there. "Penny for your thoughts?" He rolled his head to one side, watching the Pooka beneath heavy lids, not really listening to anything he said. No, he just wanted to listen to the sound of his voice, the ebb and flow of words, watch his mouth form them haltingly. Odd that the thing that he found gave him such versatile power could be turned into something violent, tender, so emotive or sensual. Impulsively he leaned forward, cutting him off mid-speech and pressing his lips against his, mouth moving of its own accord, fingers tangling with the fae's equally dark, skinny digits. For all the times that they clashed, he'd almost expected his tongue to be jagged as broken glass, cutting him every which way, as it had the night he'd left after his fledgling flight off the top of this very building. He'd wanted him to stay then, but hadn't been able to communicate. No, only to lash out, each of them hurting and causing more pain to the other on opening their mouths. A soft laugh sighed off his lips against the Pooka's mouth as he moved, rolling himself carelessly to his knees, and dropping into his lap. His free hand traced the curve of his jaw, neatly straddling him so their bodies melded together, close enough to make him aware of his desire. For all that he tried to drown himself in drink, all he really wanted, right then, was the mindless ease and passion of skin, to sink in the sensation of touch and taste, of hurriedly snatched breath and soft cries of ecstasy that washed away all thought, all pain as surely as a healer's touch. "Ghil. Nin."* The words tripped off his lips, a quietly spoken statement that was still half a question before they were erased with a kiss, hands questing, firmly rucking Dal's robe up with some difficulty, considering he was obstructing it. *Here. Now. |
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