fic: A Vein of Stars
Mar. 26th, 2009 10:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: A Vein of Stars
Day/Theme: 3/24. a vein of stars calling out my name
Series: FE10
Character/Pairing: Naesala/Leanne
Summary: Naesala figured he’d be the one doing the seducing and propositioning, not that he minded. Naesala/Leanne.
Word count: 2,512
Rating: R/NC-17
A/N: gratuitous use of italics is to signify the usage of the Heron language. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
searains as a bribery for posting. Total PWP. Also for the kink meme: ‘FE9/10; Leanne/anyone; kink is... use of galdr/heron mind-reading powers in bed? Bonus if Leanne tops.’ I didn’t start out writing for that one, but it fit too well for me to not do it.
She floated down into his chambers through the open window. Like stray fallen ash from a flame her feet came silent to the floor. She closed the pane of glass just as soundlessly as she had come in and closed the curtains behind her. It wasn’t a new moon yet, lovers trysts could be seen by the discerning. She had to be quiet, a mere squeaky hinge could send Ulki up on guard. There was a reason Janaff took days and Ulki took nights, but then there still was the fact that birds were nigh useless in the dark.
Windowpanes and drapes were his own incongruity; the little bits of homeland he had brought with him to the Serenes. The Herons may have loved communing with nature, but Naesala preferred a bit of space from Mother Earth. He had plans of installing a stone floor on his chambers, and perhaps a woven rug from the lower sectors of Begnion. He’d seen some of them, soft things that would be fit for a king, even if he wasn’t one any longer. No one said he had to live like a monk.
Naesala had not yet snuffed out the candle in his chambers and still had one finger undoing the lacings of his shirt when he turned to her. She smiled, mischievous and far from innocent. She too undid the lacings of her blouse, loosening it enough to show the hints of curves spilling out. It was a secret half told, the only secret he hadn’t quite found out yet. She stepped forward on her tiny, graceful feet towards him. Naesala figured he’d be the one doing the seducing and propositioning, not that he minded.
Leanne’s awkward Modern tongue may have been cute, but it was hardly good for lover’s whispering. Then again, Naesala wouldn’t have minded. It took a lot more than garbled Modern tongue to dissuade him from getting under the skirts of a lovely woman.
“You’re taking too long,” she said
“You’re guarded day and night,” Naesala replied drily.
“What, are you afraid of Tibarn?” she said.
“Not particularly, though he has said that he’d make a necklace of my spine more than once,” Naesala said.
“He is not as tough as he seems. I would protect you.”
“I’m sure you would.”
The last Herons were made of much stronger stock, some kind of steel infusion in their feathers. And to think, there used to ballads singing of the white winged one’s gentleness.
She came closer, her steps still soundless on the bare floors. There were no floorboards to worry about squeaking here in the greenery of Serenes. Even in the stone enclosures, the windows The grasses listened to their whispers and kept them secret, cushioned under their feet. Her hands undid the last of his shirt lacings.
“We’ll have to be quiet, unless you like having your illustrious guardians beating down the doors, ” Naesala said, barely above a whisper.
“I can be quiet.”
Surprising, he hadn’t thought that was a Heron trait. In truth, his experience seemed to indicate otherwise...
“I heard that!” she said.
He half smiled, smirked really. “And you’re surprised at that?”
“No,” she said petulantly
She traced the skin across his heart, opened her hand and pressed her fingers over the skin of the organ, as if to capture it and call the still beating muscle her own.
“It’s cold and dark,” she said.
Naesala chuckled. “Did you expect to find a saint?”
“It’s all mine. I am your queen.”
“Kilvas is no longer.”
“Not Kilvas’ Queen. Your queen”
“Ah, that...”
He undid the last lacings of the dun leather that held together the shirt of her dress. He cupped both breasts. They were perky, upturned yet still quite full. His favorite kind. He licked the side and the space between and she giggled softly.
He pushed the rest of her dress down slowly, for there was no need to hurry. Ripped skirts would only reveal what Tibarn already suspected. She let out a happy sigh as he licked the pink aureole and
“Carry me,” Leanne whispered. She looked at him, so intense and wanting. Naesala licked his lips.
“Herons are certainly quite pushy.”
“Reyson is much moreso,” she huffed. “He’s far finickier and more demanding. The things I’ve overheard–” she clucked her tongue in disapproval.
“Tell them to me sometime, I might be able to put them to use,” Naesala said.
She tittered, and he lifted her up. Her sunsoaked tresses fell about in golden waves, trailing behind her as he carried her the whole three steps it was to the bed.
And what a bed it was. Naesala prided himself at always keeping large, comfortable beds in whatever abode he kept. It was a large four-poster bed draped in varying shades of a maroon and black. She felt over the bedspread and fine linens in appreciation. He closed the curtains and closed out the world with it.
He pulled off the remainder of her dress, for it could easily entangle between them and the sheets. Besides, it limited access. She had a curvaceous yet petite body like the marble statues that depicted the goddess (Though having actually seen the goddess, Naesala thought Leanne just might one-up her in this respect. Also, he preferred his women far less psycho than the goddess had shown to be.)
“You’re being cruel,” she said with a pout. She tugged at his all too present and covering pants, and shirt that only hung partly open, revealing not enough for her tastes, apparently.
“I am, aren’t I? Sorry to deprive you.”
He peeled off the black, near skintight pants and removed his jacket. Naesala never bothered with loincloths or undergarments. They just got in the way. He kneeled on the bed and she bent before him. With an almost shy glance, she left one surprisingly chaste against his member. She smiled up at him, adoring and looking for guidance.
“Like this?” she said.
“Yes, like that.”
Her innocence had a false edge about it, though Naesala didn’t doubt her virginity. However, he thought she might have pestered a member or the family or court to give her pointers.
Oh Leanne. That was his girl.
She tried licking, and her own gentle hesitance gave to more playful, confident usages of her tongue. She breathed hot air over his engorged member, and licked harder, bathing it from glans to base in saliva. And even for a virgin, his pulse rose as that ever familiar bodily pleasure alighted within him. So she wasn’t the most skilled person who’d ever given him head, she’d learn in time. He liked the sheer willingness or her, and how she gave suppressed moans, as if she was getting just as much pleasure sucking him off as he was. Naesala liked it when his women realized the great honor he was bestowing upon them
She took the glans in her mouth completely and sucked harder. Naesala let out a breath as she licked in circles and tasted him. He thought one very clear thought as loud as his mind could think: Don’t use teeth.
He heard something like a stifled laugh on his skin and felt the ripples, the reverberation of her over him. A few more was all it took to make him come. She really wasn’t that bad at all, especially for a virgin.
“How that?” she said in Modern tongue.
“Not bad, though practice is the best teacher. Come with me and I’ll have you sucking like a whore in no time.”
She giggled softly, stifled against a pillow.
He lowered himself to the bed beside her, perched on his side. He loved his great black wings, though they did get in the way of conquests at the time. Her downy, winter white wings flowed out about her. Heron wings had always been his favorite. He stroked over them and she made quiet trilling sounds under her breath. He knew from personal experience that while wings weren’t erogenous zones, they were still quite sensitive, and any attention to them would be quite sensuous.
She scooted closer until they were body to body, legs entangling together. He moved his atttention and ran his hands down her lissom body, and in response she grasped and pulled closer, maneuvering her body into each touch.
“You’re supposed to be deflowering me already,” she whined.
“Patience, patience,” Naesala.
Usually he’d have had the lover in question come at least once by now, but Leanne wasn’t merely some drunk bargirl or beorc noblewoman.
“I’m special?” she said coyly.
“Of course,” Naesala replied.
“You Favorite?” she said in the Modern tongue.
“My favorite.”
He kissed her and buried his fingers in the triangle of dark gold hair, he ran his hand over her clit in a steady rhythm until she was rocking against his grip.
“B-but I want you inside,” she gasped.
“Oh I will, trust me...” Naesala purred. “Just wait a little longer.”
Obviously pregnancy wasn’t a negative option here. Naesala wouldn’t have to worry about herbs or pulling out or any of the other inane measures to prevent accidents. She sighed but rocked extra hard against him. He kissed her to quiet the moans that had come higher than she could silence now. He kissed even as he felt the desperate rising and falling of her chest. She gripped about his neck and writhed against him, pointedly attempting rub against his member. Possibly revenge. Considering his experience with the Royal Heron family as a whole, he wouldn’t put it past her.
At least she knew enough to breathe though her nose. Having her faint wouldn’t be the best thing, especially as there was no explaining away her being flushed with excitement and naked in his bed.
When Naesala deemed her aroused enough, he withdrew her hand. She gave a tiny cry of indignation.
“Don’t stop,” she said. “Not yet–”
“You’ll like this better.”
He lifted up one leg, taking care to stroke the sensitive inner thigh as he did. He’d thought about paying her back, licking her too, but he thought he’d save that for next time. He thought move over slightly and she did.
He buried deep into her until his flesh and hers was meshed to the deepest level. She keened, a note he’d come to associate with heron copulation. They weren’t called ‘The Singers’ for nothing, at the height of pleasure they would make a whole number of vocal intonations from throaty cries to peals and trills. But she was a clever girl, one who could apparently bite her tongue when need be. Even Naesala himself bite is bottom lip to quiet the moans. Everything was exquisite and senses raised when entering a woman. That much hadn’t changed. Naesala wasn’t the kind of romantic who believed that being with a woman one was more than fond of meant that the sex would be mindblowing and unforgettable, but even he couldn’t deny that the intimacy had its draw over the distance of a stranger.
Leanne was more than eager, she did everything possible to draw him in deeper. She wrapped her arms about him, an jutted her hips in time with his. She moved when he moved, she gasped when he gasped, she breathed when he breathed.
I can feel yours too. Your heart. Your body. Your mind.
Oh, Herons skill extend that much? Funny, it was never mentioned.. Naesala thought back.
She did not respond in words, just the same hushed keening cry and ah, ah, ah as he thrust into her. Her pale cheeks were flushed with pleasure and her lips redder still. Gold hair fell on him, over him as they moved together. She gasped and groaned in such sheer wonder that Naesala wondered if she’d ever come before. Even if she hadn’t been taken before, surely there was self touching, or accidental brushes against the soft grasses while sleeping. Whether she had or not, her expression was one of unadulterated bliss.
You’re welcome, he thought with no undue smugness.
When the pleasure reached its apex, she gave a cry which was too loud, but even Naesala couldn’t bear to hush her at this point. She lay on her side panting and his own pleasure came, oddly secondary, hardly noticed with his attention fixated on the beautiful sated girl beside him.
“Did you think I’d just roll over and start snoring?” Naesala said.
“Like Tibarn?” Leanne said in the Modern tongue.
“Like Tibarn,” Naesala said.
She nuzzled against his chest and let out a pleased sound, some Heron inflection that had a very clear meaning even if it didn’t translate literally between the bird tribes.
“As much as I enjoy your continued presence, it would be somewhat conspicuous if you woke up naked in my bed,” Naesala said.
“Tibarn mean,” she muttered in the Modern tongue.
“I think it was Reyson who had the real concerns, he’s the one calling the shots anyways,” Naesala replied.
Leanne muttered an obscure Heron phrase that Naesala thought must be an insult of some kind. Still, while he didn’t understand the meaning, he could grasp that whatever had been a very dire insult inded
Leanne sighed and bent down to find her clothes. She picked them up from the side of the bed where they’d fallen to in their writhing and loving. Leanne grimaced as she shook out the wrinkles that had amassed there.
“Your hair too,” Naesala said. He smoothed back a tangled thread of gold. As much as he liked the feel of it, at this rate she might have to tie it back during their trysts.
“I brush later,” she said in the Modern tongue.
She leaned up and gave him a chaste, closed mouthed kiss. It held more love than passion, more affection than lust. When she finished she brushed the hair at the back of his neck and gave him one last glance.
“Later I’ll stay the night. And always.”
And for once, that thought didn’t leave him cold. With that, she turned her back, those great white wings poised for flight. She opened the curtains and window and left as quietly she had first come.
Day/Theme: 3/24. a vein of stars calling out my name
Series: FE10
Character/Pairing: Naesala/Leanne
Summary: Naesala figured he’d be the one doing the seducing and propositioning, not that he minded. Naesala/Leanne.
Word count: 2,512
Rating: R/NC-17
A/N: gratuitous use of italics is to signify the usage of the Heron language. For
searains as a bribery for posting. Total PWP. Also for the kink meme: ‘FE9/10; Leanne/anyone; kink is... use of galdr/heron mind-reading powers in bed? Bonus if Leanne tops.’ I didn’t start out writing for that one, but it fit too well for me to not do it. She floated down into his chambers through the open window. Like stray fallen ash from a flame her feet came silent to the floor. She closed the pane of glass just as soundlessly as she had come in and closed the curtains behind her. It wasn’t a new moon yet, lovers trysts could be seen by the discerning. She had to be quiet, a mere squeaky hinge could send Ulki up on guard. There was a reason Janaff took days and Ulki took nights, but then there still was the fact that birds were nigh useless in the dark.
Windowpanes and drapes were his own incongruity; the little bits of homeland he had brought with him to the Serenes. The Herons may have loved communing with nature, but Naesala preferred a bit of space from Mother Earth. He had plans of installing a stone floor on his chambers, and perhaps a woven rug from the lower sectors of Begnion. He’d seen some of them, soft things that would be fit for a king, even if he wasn’t one any longer. No one said he had to live like a monk.
Naesala had not yet snuffed out the candle in his chambers and still had one finger undoing the lacings of his shirt when he turned to her. She smiled, mischievous and far from innocent. She too undid the lacings of her blouse, loosening it enough to show the hints of curves spilling out. It was a secret half told, the only secret he hadn’t quite found out yet. She stepped forward on her tiny, graceful feet towards him. Naesala figured he’d be the one doing the seducing and propositioning, not that he minded.
Leanne’s awkward Modern tongue may have been cute, but it was hardly good for lover’s whispering. Then again, Naesala wouldn’t have minded. It took a lot more than garbled Modern tongue to dissuade him from getting under the skirts of a lovely woman.
“You’re taking too long,” she said
“You’re guarded day and night,” Naesala replied drily.
“What, are you afraid of Tibarn?” she said.
“Not particularly, though he has said that he’d make a necklace of my spine more than once,” Naesala said.
“He is not as tough as he seems. I would protect you.”
“I’m sure you would.”
The last Herons were made of much stronger stock, some kind of steel infusion in their feathers. And to think, there used to ballads singing of the white winged one’s gentleness.
She came closer, her steps still soundless on the bare floors. There were no floorboards to worry about squeaking here in the greenery of Serenes. Even in the stone enclosures, the windows The grasses listened to their whispers and kept them secret, cushioned under their feet. Her hands undid the last of his shirt lacings.
“We’ll have to be quiet, unless you like having your illustrious guardians beating down the doors, ” Naesala said, barely above a whisper.
“I can be quiet.”
Surprising, he hadn’t thought that was a Heron trait. In truth, his experience seemed to indicate otherwise...
“I heard that!” she said.
He half smiled, smirked really. “And you’re surprised at that?”
“No,” she said petulantly
She traced the skin across his heart, opened her hand and pressed her fingers over the skin of the organ, as if to capture it and call the still beating muscle her own.
“It’s cold and dark,” she said.
Naesala chuckled. “Did you expect to find a saint?”
“It’s all mine. I am your queen.”
“Kilvas is no longer.”
“Not Kilvas’ Queen. Your queen”
“Ah, that...”
He undid the last lacings of the dun leather that held together the shirt of her dress. He cupped both breasts. They were perky, upturned yet still quite full. His favorite kind. He licked the side and the space between and she giggled softly.
He pushed the rest of her dress down slowly, for there was no need to hurry. Ripped skirts would only reveal what Tibarn already suspected. She let out a happy sigh as he licked the pink aureole and
“Carry me,” Leanne whispered. She looked at him, so intense and wanting. Naesala licked his lips.
“Herons are certainly quite pushy.”
“Reyson is much moreso,” she huffed. “He’s far finickier and more demanding. The things I’ve overheard–” she clucked her tongue in disapproval.
“Tell them to me sometime, I might be able to put them to use,” Naesala said.
She tittered, and he lifted her up. Her sunsoaked tresses fell about in golden waves, trailing behind her as he carried her the whole three steps it was to the bed.
And what a bed it was. Naesala prided himself at always keeping large, comfortable beds in whatever abode he kept. It was a large four-poster bed draped in varying shades of a maroon and black. She felt over the bedspread and fine linens in appreciation. He closed the curtains and closed out the world with it.
He pulled off the remainder of her dress, for it could easily entangle between them and the sheets. Besides, it limited access. She had a curvaceous yet petite body like the marble statues that depicted the goddess (Though having actually seen the goddess, Naesala thought Leanne just might one-up her in this respect. Also, he preferred his women far less psycho than the goddess had shown to be.)
“You’re being cruel,” she said with a pout. She tugged at his all too present and covering pants, and shirt that only hung partly open, revealing not enough for her tastes, apparently.
“I am, aren’t I? Sorry to deprive you.”
He peeled off the black, near skintight pants and removed his jacket. Naesala never bothered with loincloths or undergarments. They just got in the way. He kneeled on the bed and she bent before him. With an almost shy glance, she left one surprisingly chaste against his member. She smiled up at him, adoring and looking for guidance.
“Like this?” she said.
“Yes, like that.”
Her innocence had a false edge about it, though Naesala didn’t doubt her virginity. However, he thought she might have pestered a member or the family or court to give her pointers.
Oh Leanne. That was his girl.
She tried licking, and her own gentle hesitance gave to more playful, confident usages of her tongue. She breathed hot air over his engorged member, and licked harder, bathing it from glans to base in saliva. And even for a virgin, his pulse rose as that ever familiar bodily pleasure alighted within him. So she wasn’t the most skilled person who’d ever given him head, she’d learn in time. He liked the sheer willingness or her, and how she gave suppressed moans, as if she was getting just as much pleasure sucking him off as he was. Naesala liked it when his women realized the great honor he was bestowing upon them
She took the glans in her mouth completely and sucked harder. Naesala let out a breath as she licked in circles and tasted him. He thought one very clear thought as loud as his mind could think: Don’t use teeth.
He heard something like a stifled laugh on his skin and felt the ripples, the reverberation of her over him. A few more was all it took to make him come. She really wasn’t that bad at all, especially for a virgin.
“How that?” she said in Modern tongue.
“Not bad, though practice is the best teacher. Come with me and I’ll have you sucking like a whore in no time.”
She giggled softly, stifled against a pillow.
He lowered himself to the bed beside her, perched on his side. He loved his great black wings, though they did get in the way of conquests at the time. Her downy, winter white wings flowed out about her. Heron wings had always been his favorite. He stroked over them and she made quiet trilling sounds under her breath. He knew from personal experience that while wings weren’t erogenous zones, they were still quite sensitive, and any attention to them would be quite sensuous.
She scooted closer until they were body to body, legs entangling together. He moved his atttention and ran his hands down her lissom body, and in response she grasped and pulled closer, maneuvering her body into each touch.
“You’re supposed to be deflowering me already,” she whined.
“Patience, patience,” Naesala.
Usually he’d have had the lover in question come at least once by now, but Leanne wasn’t merely some drunk bargirl or beorc noblewoman.
“I’m special?” she said coyly.
“Of course,” Naesala replied.
“You Favorite?” she said in the Modern tongue.
“My favorite.”
He kissed her and buried his fingers in the triangle of dark gold hair, he ran his hand over her clit in a steady rhythm until she was rocking against his grip.
“B-but I want you inside,” she gasped.
“Oh I will, trust me...” Naesala purred. “Just wait a little longer.”
Obviously pregnancy wasn’t a negative option here. Naesala wouldn’t have to worry about herbs or pulling out or any of the other inane measures to prevent accidents. She sighed but rocked extra hard against him. He kissed her to quiet the moans that had come higher than she could silence now. He kissed even as he felt the desperate rising and falling of her chest. She gripped about his neck and writhed against him, pointedly attempting rub against his member. Possibly revenge. Considering his experience with the Royal Heron family as a whole, he wouldn’t put it past her.
At least she knew enough to breathe though her nose. Having her faint wouldn’t be the best thing, especially as there was no explaining away her being flushed with excitement and naked in his bed.
When Naesala deemed her aroused enough, he withdrew her hand. She gave a tiny cry of indignation.
“Don’t stop,” she said. “Not yet–”
“You’ll like this better.”
He lifted up one leg, taking care to stroke the sensitive inner thigh as he did. He’d thought about paying her back, licking her too, but he thought he’d save that for next time. He thought move over slightly and she did.
He buried deep into her until his flesh and hers was meshed to the deepest level. She keened, a note he’d come to associate with heron copulation. They weren’t called ‘The Singers’ for nothing, at the height of pleasure they would make a whole number of vocal intonations from throaty cries to peals and trills. But she was a clever girl, one who could apparently bite her tongue when need be. Even Naesala himself bite is bottom lip to quiet the moans. Everything was exquisite and senses raised when entering a woman. That much hadn’t changed. Naesala wasn’t the kind of romantic who believed that being with a woman one was more than fond of meant that the sex would be mindblowing and unforgettable, but even he couldn’t deny that the intimacy had its draw over the distance of a stranger.
Leanne was more than eager, she did everything possible to draw him in deeper. She wrapped her arms about him, an jutted her hips in time with his. She moved when he moved, she gasped when he gasped, she breathed when he breathed.
I can feel yours too. Your heart. Your body. Your mind.
Oh, Herons skill extend that much? Funny, it was never mentioned.. Naesala thought back.
She did not respond in words, just the same hushed keening cry and ah, ah, ah as he thrust into her. Her pale cheeks were flushed with pleasure and her lips redder still. Gold hair fell on him, over him as they moved together. She gasped and groaned in such sheer wonder that Naesala wondered if she’d ever come before. Even if she hadn’t been taken before, surely there was self touching, or accidental brushes against the soft grasses while sleeping. Whether she had or not, her expression was one of unadulterated bliss.
You’re welcome, he thought with no undue smugness.
When the pleasure reached its apex, she gave a cry which was too loud, but even Naesala couldn’t bear to hush her at this point. She lay on her side panting and his own pleasure came, oddly secondary, hardly noticed with his attention fixated on the beautiful sated girl beside him.
“Did you think I’d just roll over and start snoring?” Naesala said.
“Like Tibarn?” Leanne said in the Modern tongue.
“Like Tibarn,” Naesala said.
She nuzzled against his chest and let out a pleased sound, some Heron inflection that had a very clear meaning even if it didn’t translate literally between the bird tribes.
“As much as I enjoy your continued presence, it would be somewhat conspicuous if you woke up naked in my bed,” Naesala said.
“Tibarn mean,” she muttered in the Modern tongue.
“I think it was Reyson who had the real concerns, he’s the one calling the shots anyways,” Naesala replied.
Leanne muttered an obscure Heron phrase that Naesala thought must be an insult of some kind. Still, while he didn’t understand the meaning, he could grasp that whatever had been a very dire insult inded
Leanne sighed and bent down to find her clothes. She picked them up from the side of the bed where they’d fallen to in their writhing and loving. Leanne grimaced as she shook out the wrinkles that had amassed there.
“Your hair too,” Naesala said. He smoothed back a tangled thread of gold. As much as he liked the feel of it, at this rate she might have to tie it back during their trysts.
“I brush later,” she said in the Modern tongue.
She leaned up and gave him a chaste, closed mouthed kiss. It held more love than passion, more affection than lust. When she finished she brushed the hair at the back of his neck and gave him one last glance.
“Later I’ll stay the night. And always.”
And for once, that thought didn’t leave him cold. With that, she turned her back, those great white wings poised for flight. She opened the curtains and window and left as quietly she had first come.
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Date: 2009-03-28 10:54 am (UTC)haha, and Leanne's so cute. Man I have a really soft spot for this pairing. ♥