(no subject)

[kisha]

 Drakstaden Smut Fic

He had never failed to satisfy her.  Even when she had attempted to tease him, challenging him to tire her, saying such an embarrassing thing as they say a mare in heat is at her most insatiable, she had never actually doubted that he would rise to the occasion.  Still… she had perhaps underestimated how seriously he would take her provocations, said red-faced as they’d been.

“Odinson-“ She can barely get his name out around a moan, one leg thrown practically over his shoulder, opening her borrowed human body up to slow, heavy thrusts that made her quiver in pleasure, writhing in his lap with one hand braced behind her in the sheets and another wrapped around his neck.  She’d begun in more control of this whole affair atop of him, pulling him up to meet her rising passions, to kiss her so that she could hide the flush of embarrassment for what she’d been saying, but now…

“Mmm… Yes, lover?” Even though she knew he said it to get a reaction out of her, teased her as if he could actually expect an answer… she gave it to him anyway, pleased in a way she hadn’t expected about how pleased he had seemed to hear her use the word.  Dug her nails into his shoulder and arched her spine, grinding her hips against his with a whine as he leaned forward and briefly captured a nipple in his mouth, tongue lapping over her unbound breast before he traveled up her collarbone to the neck he loved to lavish attention upon, leaving a trail that made her shiver when exposed to air in his absence.  Leaving what she knew would be a prominent mark come the morning- unfair, when she knew the scratch marks across his back would be healed by then.

It was spring in Drakstaden, though it had been summer in Azeria, and spring in Hanabira before that… and her breeding seasons were thrown into disarray by Hathaway’s constant world hopping.  With heat upon her, the curfew imposed by the government, and their faces being known to the Vakdir… it is so easy to stay here tangled up with him.  To moan his name again, tightening around his cock hungrily as she pulls on his shorn-short hair to bring him to her so that she might kiss him again, open-mouthed, and momentarily quiet her cries against his tongue.

He had told her here, in this bed, of when he had been Thor… but it is Odinson that she calls.  Even though she knows from his stories that it had been his name, perhaps more is his name… she had never known “Thor”.  It had been Odinson that had accompanied her through the galleries of Leramzen, Odinson that that she had grappled with in the Asterion prison, Odinson who had traded her story for story in Oska over the mead of gods, Odinson that she had fought beside on countless worlds… and Odinson’s hand that she’d reached for, that night on Headquarters when she could not stand a single night more alone.

Those same large, strong hands that held her now, fingers a rousing pressure on the curve of her rear and thigh, all the better to press her into his lap, her weak human feet and toes curling in pleasure on either side of him.  There were times when Hayame could not feel that the form the ring granted her was truly her, when she felt an alienating disconnect from anything below the waist… but now, like this, when she wore it to take to his bed… she certainly couldn’t deny it.  Not when the pleasure traveled up her spine, when each press and touch made something else move or clench or sigh, and she was able to forget for a time the suffocating feel of a body too small and too weak.

There were better things to waste breath on.  Like forgetting her earlier concerns for the possibility of being overheard through the walls by one of their teammates to let out a cry to match his rumbling tones, bucking her hips into his deep thrusts to meet him, the abject desire of her kind’s breeding season translated all too well into want now that she has sampled what satiation was.  Years she had ignored the urges, tamped down on anything that would betray her gender, make her look like a woman, a weakling- but after tasting satisfaction just once… she hasn’t gone back.  Now she tosses her head, long hair come undone somewhere along the way and fanning out across his sheets, sticking to the back of her neck with the sweat of exertion, panting with effort to reach the pleasure he had introduced her to, taught her that she was entitled from the acts she’d never once thought would please a woman.

“How fiercely she moves, this lover of mine,” It still amazed her, that he could speak so articulately in the act, could chuckle between his sounds of pleasure when she was reduced to singular words and gasps of name.  She had always known him the more experienced by far, known that he had surely bedded countless woman (and men, and things?) in the years he claimed of life, but she cannot feel anything but glad for it like this, even in shameful contrast to their experience.  She might not have command of words to reply, to match him there, but she had action.  Had the ability to surge forward, to wrap both her arms around his neck and dig a heel into his back to press against his broad, muscular chest and attempt to lock him in place.  Just a moment, just enough time for her to catch her breath...

“How sk-“ But he is so deep within her that she cannot quite find the way to attempt to return his words, unable to stop the furtive grinding of her hips despite the desire to focus past her season’s instincts, heat glazing her eyes and a warm flush of desire suffusing cheeks.  She struggles to find them even as she feels his hands dragging slow and heavy up her flank, her spine, relinquishing some control over pace and where they met to her as his fingers draw through the ink-black silk of her hair, burying his face at her neck and breathing in deeply the scent of her, the want in her… the comfort of her arms and the touch of another that had perhaps brought him a step closer to the way he had been before he became unworthy.

But it is the same for her, even if the words don’t come.  She tries, her lips part even as her body continues to undulate against him… but all that escapes is a quivering moan when she feels him suddenly spill his seed inside of her, a sensation that more than pleases the bestial desire in her to breed even while the more rational side of her takes comfort in knowing that he is a god, and that she needn’t fear to fall with child.  All she has to do is accept the warmth of it… and chase her own, groaning reluctantly as she pulls her nails from the skin of his back, drags them heavy over neck and through his hair, kisses him until her breath returns and she manages to pull him with her when she topples back over into the sheets, releasing him from the clutch of thighs in order to stretch muscles trembling with exertion.

It’s tempting to hand him the victory, even with her season leaving her wanting yet… she’s close enough to exhaustion that sleep is a tempting possibility… but in the end her hands find his face and the shape of his satisfied smile, breasts heaving slowly as she manages to find the words, exertion masking the blush of embarrassment.

“Lover…” It had been embarrassing enough to say the word before, sprawled across his chest in the morning after, but she manages it again, feeling some strange tightening in her chest at the way his smile spreads when she whispers it. 

“What did I say about a mare in heat… ?”

His hair was difficult to grip the way she’d like, but she does try, fingernails scraping along his scalp as his lips brush down her body, pausing to nip playfully at the tips of her breasts before he laves his way down her stomach, humming low before slipping his arms beneath her legs and curling them around her thighs in order to open her to him, chuckling under his breath.

“Aye… And what did I say about when you tire?”  The stamina of a god would win out soon enough… but until then… Hayame tightens her grip and arches her human spine with a pleasured whine as he shamelessly delved between her legs. 

That would do until she recovered enough to climb back atop.

 

 

 

Post Drakstaden Smut Fic

Never had she thought she would allow this.  Never had she thought to allow a human man to touch her like this, to allow strong, calloused palms to smooth along her flanks and fingers to dig in to her haunches.  Like this, she cannot fit against him, cannot curl around him and hold him to her or push him down, and it leaves her fingers wanting, unsatisfied with the sheets they are given to dig into.  She cannot reach him even if she twists and tries, (and she’d tried), and so as her tail lifts, as he adjusts behind her, she can only cast a look over her bare shoulder, long mane unbound, meeting his gaze with heat, tinged with a certain fear and doubt she cannot shake.

But he smiles, that confident, reassuring smile, and she wonders what it is that has led her here.

When they had returned from Drakstaden, she had no longer been able to take a two-legged form.  Despite herself she had found herself shirking away from touch, because in her mind it was yet entwined with her own world, with the abuses and sick uses she had seen forced on her armless brethren.  He had respected her need for distance… until he had caught her reaching out for the umpteenth time, failing to close the distance and recoiling in shame and silence.

“Do you think me so narrow-minded as that?”  No, she didn’t.  He had told her as much the first time they’d even met.  He was a god who had seen countless worlds and lain with countless women, men, and… things?  She didn’t know.  Had avoided thinking about it until now.  But still-

“Are these not the same hands that have fought beside me?”  He took them in his, and though she almost shirked away…. She had missed the warmth of his touch, and could not bring herself to recoil even as he moved them to his shoulders, his chest, and she felt his heart beating strong beneath her palm. 

“Are these not the same lips as I have kissed before?”  She was stiff with nerves even as he urged her to lean down, as he kissed her, but Hayame couldn’t help but anxiously return that kiss, once, twice, lips parting with a soft sigh of desire despite.  She’d missed him.  Wanted him.  But to bridge the gap between them like this, as ajinba… 

“Are these not the same breasts I have caressed before?  … Unbound, that is.”  His tone turned somewhat teasing, running along her chest yet tied down beneath her clothing, passing a thumb over the hidden peak with a small laugh.

“This is different, admittedly.”  Before she could doubt herself, before she could pull away in fear, his hands had come to her “waist” where woman met equine, and she felt a shudder work down her spine, hocks trembling as his fingers slipped along her lower chest, blunt nails scratching along muscle and dun hide- something that she found, in this moment, to be… pleasant, physically, back leg twitching as she fights the urge to let her spine arch. 

“Odinson, I-“

And then here they were.  Here he was, humming softly and looking just as desirous as he always had, even when looking upon her like this, as a jinba, instead of a human woman whose body more obviously fit his own.  It reassures her, in a way, but still she looks over her shoulder, mouth open slightly as she pants lightly, fingers curling tightly in the sheets and watching his gaze as it flicks back to her face, as his thumb slides in a frustrating, erotic circle at the base of her tail.

“Hayame… if you would not have me you must say so now.  It matters not to me what form you take, but if it matters to you…”

She doesn’t have the words for it.  She never did, did she?  She had actions, and so though it takes her a moment, a swallow, she finally nods her permission.  Shifts on her belly, pulls her back legs up, and lifts her tail with a shudder, watching through lidded eyes as he began to press into her from behind.

It’s different, like this.  She can’t curl around him, wrap her legs about his hips, pull him to her...  She can only let out a low moan and clench, hooves sliding on the sheets and biting into her bottom lip as he began to fit inside her, trying not to writhe too strongly until she felt his hips touch against her rear and his hands found purchase on her own.  They had done this many times now, when she had taken human form, but… she had never, as a jinba.  So this is what it felt like-

“You are far hotter inside like this, Hayame… as if you will burn me.”  What is she supposed to say to that?  How would she know if were warmer within as a jinba than a human?  It feels so dirty, so wrong to hear out loud that she shudders, fingers curling tighter in the sheets and wishing that it was the hard flesh of his muscles that she dug into instead, a whimper of pleasure slipping past her grit teeth despite some part of her that felt she couldn’t, shouldn’t enjoy this.

“Odinson-“ She had balked at the sight of his girth when they had spent their first night together, unsure if it would even be possible in a human form to accept him, but that had been her ignorance of female human bodies… and the sexual capabilities of Norse gods.  Now, though… his resemblance to a stallion made this far more possible than she had thought it would be, and she struggles for words to say so, the hair of her long black tail dragging along his length as he pulls out before he huffs in amusement at the peculiar sensation, gathering it out of the way and pressing back inside of her, pacing himself in the hopes that she would relax around him, accept what they were doing as just as desirable as two humans, two jinba.

“Odinson, I hate this-“It’s whisper-whined when she finally manages it, spine arching, forelegs stretching out in a shudder when she feels him stop his movement immediately, turns her head again to look over her shoulder and see the way his expression begins to shift as he prepares to draw back… until she actually clarifies, ashamed of speaking such words aloud, of knowing that her cheeks must be flushed, as if she were some foolish, inexperienced maiden-

“I cannot embrace you, or touch you, or evennnn-“ Her words dissolve into a  conflicted moan when he slowly resheathes himself in her as deep as he can go, grinding against her with an almost smug smile until her back hoof twitches in pleasure before he suddenly withdraws, her arousal glistening on his skin as he crawls over her back, drags himself along her spine and reaches for her, encouraging her to turn and meet him for a hot, open mouthed kiss that made her heart race, made her twist about to get a grip on his short-cropped hair, giving her leverage to arch as his hand plies over her breast and pinches, teasing with a husky murmur in the good-natured way that toed the line so perfectly between riling her up in offense and inspiring her to discard her qualms in order to meet his passions.

“To think my lover was so concerned with such things… If it is touch you desire then we shall have it in spades.”  Oh, she did… As shameful as it was, as taboo as she felt… she had to admit that she did, she did.  She wanted to hear him say what she’d finally had the courage to call their bond, draped over him in that bed in Drakstaden.  Her grip tightens on his hair, pulls him closer with a sudden surge in strength to recapture his mouth, moaning into him as her nipples tighten beneath his touch, as her skin shudders along the path his hands trace down her belly, past the line where human skin transitioned to equine coat.  Not wishing to be a passive partner she reaches down to find his erection, hesitating just a moment when she feels the heat of him, the slick of her own heat on his flesh, before she takes the plunge and wraps her fingers around him, sliding up and down with inexperienced fervor.

“Yes, Hayame… Just there…” She had always feared coupling with humans, could only imagine it coming against her will, the end result of failure, of being sold not as a warhorse like she desired and instead as a broodmare or companion, forced to take to her knees and accept a human cock in her mouth whenever it was desired of her, if she failed badly enough, to lose her arms and be helpless to even resist it.  But this- This was Odinson, and he-

“Odinson, you sc-“ His hands had found the slightly concave line of her lower chest, and as his fingers slid along where muscles meet she finds it such a sweet spot that she can’t hold back, the sensation travelling up and down her spine with a shudder of pleasure as she discovers an erogenous zone she’d never even allowed herself to know she had.  One he exploited with a groan as her fingers tightened around his cock.

Somewhere in the tangle of limbs she starts to lilt to the side, takes him with her when she rolls off her belly and onto her flank, back legs kicking in an attempt to get comfortable on the unfamiliar bed of mattress and sheets.  There was still a part of her that felt anxious, a ball of nerves she’d carried all her life about such things as this, what she had seen in her master’s stables… but there was a leap to take, and it required trust… and she summons up just enough to accept it, to try to, nipping with sharp teeth after his kiss and dragging nails down his back as they resituated, as she indulged in her desires to be an active participant in this, to touch him and invite him and build the feeling that this as nothing like what she had always run from.  Nothing like being used.

It’s too strange to feel his broad hands slide along her coat, to feel human fingers touch her equine half not in cold inspection or harsh rebuke but in desire.  What was she supposed to do with that, when part of her had learned to be able to indulge in such pleasures in private and another part of her still found it so wrong? She was no coward, she wouldn’t run from something she had decided to do, from the trust she’d decided to grant him, so… though Hayame isn’t sure how long it takes her, lost in the haze of sensation, she tries to awkwardly right herself on the annoyingly shifty mattress…

“Well-“ Only Odinson’s reflexes save him from being brained by a back hoof, and she flushes even more in embarrassment to see him holding her leg with a nearly comically taken aback look. 

“I  can’t say I dislike that you’re still trying to hit me every now and again.” There’s a moment when he places a teasing kiss on her hoof that she almost thinks she can’t do it, tempted to actually try and kick him in the head for even joking like that… but instead she finishes what she meant to do, yanking her leg back, rolling back over onto her belly and lifting her tail with a grumble that she can’t even manage to make convincing, too worked up at this point to risk saying anything but,

“Do not make me change my mind,” It still seems wrong, she still hates that she can’t reach him properly like this, that the shape of her body makes it difficult to do much but be mounted, but despite all of that…

“… Lover.”  

Permission.

She accepts him back, bites fiercely into her bottom lip to muffle the whimper as he begins anew, leaning over her to thrust powerfully, a steady, building pressure accompanied by an occasional lean to nip or kiss on her dun spine, her withers, enabling her to briefly run her nails over his shoulder, his scalp, in twist of waist and fleeting touch.  It’s enough to keep her from the regret of one-sided motion, doing her best to rock back against him, to writhe and clutch the sheets, to revel in the friction that made up for depth.  It’s different like this, of course it’s different, but it’s still him, and it’s still damnably pleasurable, and in heat as a jinba she revels even more in the warmth of the seed he spills within her, both for instinct to breed satisfied and worry about pregnancy assuaged by… form, spine arching with a shudder as she seizes up, chasing the edge of her limits until he dutifully sees her to the end.

But more than that… both sets of lungs panting softly, both hearts pounding in her chests, she revels in the expression on his face when she rolls over and notices that the look on his face… it’s exactly the same as it had been when she’d been wearing the ring that made her body human.  

Ah.