archademode: (When you feel the heat)
Jᴜᴅɢᴇ Mᴀɢɪsᴛᴇʀ Gᴀʙʀᴀɴᴛʜ ([personal profile] archademode) wrote in [community profile] albinomilksnake2021-05-06 01:46 pm

RP: OPEN POST



I: pick a character
II: write a prompt or pick some visuals

poleaxed: static; angry; hand; fight (i go out)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2021-06-11 04:58 am (UTC)(link)
There are a lot of things she could say to that, all crude, all requiring a tongue. She'd rather kiss him, fast and hungry and deep. If she can't convince him with words, she'll convince him with sounds, hungry pants and the occasional keen. This is good. This is amazing. She wants more.

"Let me- touch you." She kisses him. "Just let me touch you." She kisses him again, her teeth finding his lip, turning begging into demands.
poleaxed: static; angry; hand; fight (and i pretend to myself.)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2021-06-11 06:10 am (UTC)(link)
What she finds is a man with hunger that may just match hers. It's a heady thing, to be wanted. For once, there is no question of first choice, last choice. This is potentially dangerous, and he doesn't care, all for her.

If she isn't allowed to touch him soon, she's sure she'll die.

Accordingly, she's just as greedily stripping him of armor, the clothing under it. Her hands run over his chest, somewhere between pawing and clawing. She's embarrassed to find herself keening, when her hand brushes, of all things, his knee.

She's pulling at him again, tugging him toward the bed. "Come here. I need- come to me. Come with me."
poleaxed: anger; static (is this what you think i do?)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2021-06-11 03:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Jone is still dressed in the silken scrubs she's been relegated to for her recovery. She's forgotten them entirely, in favor of exploring every inch of Gabranth. The curve of his spine is wonderful and warm, and her fingers travel over it to find his arse (fantastic), the inside of his knee, his inner thigh. She needs to touch everything, and then taste it, if she'll ever tire of this kiss. Not that it seems remotely likely, moaning around his tongue as she is.

"Give me all of you," she says, panting, trying to regain her breath before she goes again. Her lips swipe and smear against his, nuzzling. "I want every inch."
poleaxed: sc; emb (took me in.)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2021-06-11 04:43 pm (UTC)(link)
What surprises her is how gentle he is with her clothes, even as they are both scrabbling, hungry and full of want. Jone remembers herself, moving out of the flimsy pyjamas, revealing-- well, not very much of interest. On instinct, she presses her chest into his, hiding and giving both at once.

And then, finally, they are lying together on her bed. She throws the covers over them, less out of modesty than greed. One hand cards through his hair, reveling in it. Her skin feels electric, flush to his, finally allowed to touch however she pleases.

Her fingers draw nonsense patterns down his side, settling at his hip. She moves to kiss him again, this time lavishing attention over his pulse point, trying to leave a welt. Some sign she was here, that this happened, so it cannot be denied when he leaves, embarrassed or regretful.

(Some part of her hopes he won't regret it, but his resolute silence makes her doubt. Ultimately, it doesn't matter; in the moment, she has what she wants most in the world.)
poleaxed: static; angry; hand; fight (and once you're gone)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2021-06-11 06:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Jone has always been fascinated by bodies. As a fighter, she considers this important. Knowing how they break is, of course, a vocation. But to her own privately wandering mind, she likes to measure the reverse against it. How they hold pleasure, the shape of them, the feel. Just as causing pain is a powerful thing, giving ecstasy is just as strengthening.

She feels Gabranth writhing against her, and that is certainly a boost to her ego, but she wants more than scrabbling, now that she's had it. Jone moves, pushing him away, smiling through a messy nest of hair. She pulls it back as she kisses his chest, down to his hip, smearing bites and kisses along the way.

She's felt him, now she wants to hear him. Aside from moans, he's been so silent.

One bite to the inside of his thigh, and then all softness, taking the head of his cock in her mouth. If this doesn't get a yelp out of him, nothing will.
poleaxed: sc; hand; joke (in my brain)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2021-06-11 09:32 pm (UTC)(link)
She's always liked this part. The power of it-- some people find the act effacing, which she'd never understood; she has teeth-- and the closeness. It's the quickest, easiest way to be wanted and needed, and Gabranth proves that handily. She tries to catch his eyes as she takes him in more fully, dragging her tongue along, teasing. How much can she get out of this? How much noise can she leverage, how much touch and need and want can she find in him?

She enjoys this with every partner she actually, well, enjoys, but it's been so long, and Gabranth is so incredibly tight knit. The excitement is heightened in her, she feels like her blood is singing, her skin alive after a long dormancy.

It knits a deep, tight longing within her, but she'll attend to that later. She wants to watch his movements, greedy creature that she is, as he responds to her. Her free hand rushes up to claw at his chest, trailing downward before settling to pet at his thigh as she lowers her head once more.
poleaxed: static; gent; (when you're out of the blue)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2021-06-12 01:24 am (UTC)(link)
It hurts, but that's not new, or particularly surprising. Judge Magister Gabranth likes to pull hair? Fucking shocking.

She likes the closeness, anyway. It's not an intimate closeness, but it's another sign of need, and Jone longs to be needed. He wants to keep her there, and she laps it up.

Trying to keep with his irregular rhythm, she snakes her hand down further between his legs. He won't moan for her mouth, maybe he will for her hand, playing gently with his ballbag. Occasionally, a finger slips back to pet his taint.

Pleasure is like pain, terribly intimate and entirely about power. What else can she wrest from him, now that she has his vaunted control?
poleaxed: static; gent; sad (into my head.)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2021-06-12 02:45 am (UTC)(link)
She's about to counter with some line, are you the only man in the world who doesn't like-

But then he speaks, and she laughs, a rough sound in her throat. It's mostly joy, but even joy is harsh with her. She swats his hand away from her scalp, kisses his hip, and settles her head there, expression lazy and content. The buzz of appreciation has settled her mood-- she wants more, she always wants more, but she can slow the pace, if that's what he wants.

But she does want him to look down and see her face, mouth wet and smiling, resting near his cock. "He speaks," she says. One hand reaches up, once more, to trace patterns over his chest. "Tell me what you want."
poleaxed: static; angry; hand; fight (there.)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2021-06-12 02:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Jone tries to read that scowl, and it takes her until she's lying back next to him to realize the truth; he was afraid of being mocked. Why on earth would he have that fear? She struggles with the thought before coming to an answer: if it's been some time for her, it's been an age for him.

What can you say to that, really? It's not in her nature to reassure. She takes his hand instead, kissing the back of it, the rough knuckles. She feels better if she's wanted. It may be the same for him.

"Just... speak to me," she says, eyes closing. She rests her face against that callused hand. "Don't have to be anything particular. Just want your voice."
poleaxed: emb; tired; sad; gent (you won't keep me there.)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2021-06-12 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)
He's not... suited? This is a different side of Gabranth, ruggedly honest when torn from the rigors of formality. And she thinks, is this why he hanged himself so thoroughly on order and duty? Was that his crutch? Is it possible he has lived in that carapace too long, and does not know how to act outside it?

"I'm-" She shakes her head, letting it loll to the side so she can kiss his fingers. Fuck, even his hands are a beauty, callused as they are. They mean work, hard and uncompromising, and she won't... she can't make him do what he can't manage on his own, if she's to say she wants this man in particular. If she's to say to herself (and only herself) that this is desire born of something more than convenience.

"Then say nothing," she whispers hot breath over his fingers, "but look me in the eye."

If she will do this for him-- and it is not, she thinks, a terrible burden-- because he is himself, he will do her a favor in return; eyes open, unable to pretend she is someone more beautiful and poised.
poleaxed: static; angry; hand; fight (and)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2021-06-13 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
It's intoxicating.

She's been fucked before, that's nothing new. Letting it wait, burn slowly, that's not particularly new either. What she hadn't accounted for was the intensity of his gaze. She wasn't sure what she was expecting. Gabranth doesn't do anything in half measure, and the way he looks at her makes her feel like the only person of any substance he's ever been with.

It's about as close to love as she's going to get, and she can't get enough of it. Legs wrapped around him in a vice, she keeps her hands in his hair. She feels no guilt for pulling at his scalp, scraping at his neck. Finally, her forehead presses to his. It feels complete.

"I won't let you go," she's not sure why she's still talking, when words clearly don't matter, they just call from her lips. "Oh, f- Gabranth-" And the rest is all nonsense.
poleaxed: static; angry; hand; fight (and once you're gone)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2021-06-13 03:05 am (UTC)(link)
Jone ends up moaning into Gabranth's mouth, unwilling to let herself slacken, let her back arch. The uneven stutter of his hips makes it feel more genuine, lengthens the stretch-- she enjoys putting things off as long as she can, when she has the luxury of knowing she'll still have her ending. Gabranth seems determined to give it to her. Set to a task, and he's... perfect.

And as he holds her closer, she feels more and more wrapped up in it, the feeling of being wanted, unfaltering.

She turns her head, biting at his lip, breathing into his mouth. "Gabranth, Gabr- harder- can barely feel you-"

An obvious lie, from the noises she's been making, and yet, he is indescribably fantastic; she cannot resist the urge to pick and scratch, seeing how much she can steal for her own greedy heart.

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collapses.

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wilderness tags back.

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resurrection scroll tyvm.

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