Julie Lawry (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
princessvegas) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
abraxaslogs2021-10-29 08:55 pm
princessvegas) wrote in abraxaslogs2021-10-29 08:55 pm
HAPPY HALLOWEEN ABRAXAS
Who: Julie Lawry and YOU, everyone
Where: The Horizon, Julie's domain
When: Halloween
What: P A R T Y
Warnings: alcohol, drugs, general party stuff. please put cws in subject lines if they come up!
01 | WAIT
It isn't hard to find Julie's domain. As she had told anyone who visited her prior to this evening, all you ever need to do is follow the music. For a hundred yards in any direction, muffled bass radiates through air. Neon illuminates the entrance in pink, lights a path along the pink carpet and pink velvet rope barricade. The huge double doors are what stick out. Covering the frosted glass, lit from behind, are dozens of bloody splatters and handprints, some of which appear to have been dragged off to the side. Written in giant letters of blood, the door reads TURN BACK NOW.
True to the invite that everyone accidentally received in their vision (most people also got a paper copy left in their domain -- like hell was she going to put in the effort and then throw it away), the doors of Julie's club remain firmly closed until exactly 10pm. At 10, the neon abruptly extinguishes itself and the music goes silent, leaving the area in pitch black quiet. The doors swing open on their own and fog floods out as screams echo from within. The bass starts back up, reverberating at frequency designed to shake the human body from within.
The screams raise to a fever pitch as the lights suddenly come back on, timed to sync with cannons that fire black and red confetti over everyone waiting. It's time.
02 | DANCE
Inside, the entire club has been decorated to appear as if it had sprouted in a desolate forest under a harvest moon, represented by a massive orange orb suspended from the ceiling. Barren trees sprout from the slick black floor, moss and spiders cloaking their protruding roots. In the upper levels of the branches, bodies swing in nonexistent winds, hanging on rotted ropes, bloodied sacks covering their heads. The bar is draped in more moss and spiderwebs, and a bartender dressed as a very convincing zombie is already pouring drinks into the many glasses waiting to be drunk. The bartender's name is Steven, if you need anything, and every drink he makes is the best drink you've ever had. There are tubs of water where you can bob for miniature bottles of Fireball, which must be immediately taken as a shot upon winning one, and some tables bear trays of shot glasses, each one with little floating eyeballs or brains in the drink (they're gummies, and safe to consume). There is a buffet of candy and various creepy snacks against one wall, though it also bears literal dishes of drugs for the taking; bowls of pills and plates of cocaine, and of course, a whole cauldron filled with large blunts and packages of edibles in every variety imaginable, all free for the taking.
The booths and seating are all black now, and look like they've been left to decay for years. More orange orbs light each table. The music is loud, but only comfortably so -- never so loud that it makes conversation difficult. The dance floor is lit from underneath, and strobes in time with the beat. There are already people dancing, although fewer than usual, and though they're all in costume, they ignore everyone unless directly interacted with. These are manifested people, designed to make sure that Julie is never alone, and she doesn't have the heart to unmake them, so instead, they're used as moving decor. The DJ booth looms large above the dance floor, set into the VIP balcony. Blood persistently drips from the edge of the balcony, though it never seems to accumulate anywhere in particular. A separate, smaller stage is set off to one side, with a professional karaoke setup; it's not lit up for use, but can be with the flip of a switch.
03 | SCREAM
If you move through the club, as if to get to the back wall, you'll find that the light gradually grows more sterile and the music fades as the furnishings become sparser and sparser. Eventually, you'll find yourself in what appears to be an abandoned, empty warehouse. The floor is filthy, and there's an ominous industrial fan set in the far back wall, wooshing as it slowly turns. The overhead lighting flickers off and on.
There's a separate structure, two stories and boxy, that's been roped off to prevent entry -- private quarters that Julie put in later, a lofted apartment in case she wants to be somewhere a bit more quiet, with the modern conveniences that she doesn't have outside the Horizon.
But there's a larger structure, shrouded in darkness, and this building-within-a-building has a wide open door. Screaming and violent noises ring from within, and a crooked sign, lit up in black light with glowing white print, points the way in, asking everyone who sees it FEELING BRAVE?.
Inside the haunted house, there is only black light and various glowing colors, all mimicking the negative of a scene from a horror movie. Following the path and noise seems safe at first; though there are creepy things and the feeling of phantom cobwebs accosting you at every turn, there is nobody around. That is, until you turn the first corner. As you do, people in all black with only neon and fluorescent paint to define them begin to swarm at you, cackling and brandishing glowing weapons. They're surprisingly energetic for manifested people, and Julie has worked very hard to get them to do what she wants. They're aggressive but in a defined way; they chase but don't touch, lunge but allow people to escape. They seem to come from nowhere, every time you feel just a little bit less nervous. (If struck, they respond only by immediately leaving the area.) The sound effects crescendo as you come out of the other side, where a table of picture frames hold photos of your funniest scared faces during the experience. They're free for the taking, although of course they can't be taken back to Abraxas, and a celebratory drink accompanies each snapshot. A pink carpet leads the way back to the club.
The night is yours.
[ ooc notes: The pictures are mostly to give a vibe. Since the Horizon is amazing, feel free to presume things look much much much better IC. If you would like a better idea of what her domain actually looks like, please click here! ]
Where: The Horizon, Julie's domain
When: Halloween
What: P A R T Y
Warnings: alcohol, drugs, general party stuff. please put cws in subject lines if they come up!
01 | WAIT
It isn't hard to find Julie's domain. As she had told anyone who visited her prior to this evening, all you ever need to do is follow the music. For a hundred yards in any direction, muffled bass radiates through air. Neon illuminates the entrance in pink, lights a path along the pink carpet and pink velvet rope barricade. The huge double doors are what stick out. Covering the frosted glass, lit from behind, are dozens of bloody splatters and handprints, some of which appear to have been dragged off to the side. Written in giant letters of blood, the door reads TURN BACK NOW.
True to the invite that everyone accidentally received in their vision (most people also got a paper copy left in their domain -- like hell was she going to put in the effort and then throw it away), the doors of Julie's club remain firmly closed until exactly 10pm. At 10, the neon abruptly extinguishes itself and the music goes silent, leaving the area in pitch black quiet. The doors swing open on their own and fog floods out as screams echo from within. The bass starts back up, reverberating at frequency designed to shake the human body from within.
The screams raise to a fever pitch as the lights suddenly come back on, timed to sync with cannons that fire black and red confetti over everyone waiting. It's time.
02 | DANCE
Inside, the entire club has been decorated to appear as if it had sprouted in a desolate forest under a harvest moon, represented by a massive orange orb suspended from the ceiling. Barren trees sprout from the slick black floor, moss and spiders cloaking their protruding roots. In the upper levels of the branches, bodies swing in nonexistent winds, hanging on rotted ropes, bloodied sacks covering their heads. The bar is draped in more moss and spiderwebs, and a bartender dressed as a very convincing zombie is already pouring drinks into the many glasses waiting to be drunk. The bartender's name is Steven, if you need anything, and every drink he makes is the best drink you've ever had. There are tubs of water where you can bob for miniature bottles of Fireball, which must be immediately taken as a shot upon winning one, and some tables bear trays of shot glasses, each one with little floating eyeballs or brains in the drink (they're gummies, and safe to consume). There is a buffet of candy and various creepy snacks against one wall, though it also bears literal dishes of drugs for the taking; bowls of pills and plates of cocaine, and of course, a whole cauldron filled with large blunts and packages of edibles in every variety imaginable, all free for the taking.
The booths and seating are all black now, and look like they've been left to decay for years. More orange orbs light each table. The music is loud, but only comfortably so -- never so loud that it makes conversation difficult. The dance floor is lit from underneath, and strobes in time with the beat. There are already people dancing, although fewer than usual, and though they're all in costume, they ignore everyone unless directly interacted with. These are manifested people, designed to make sure that Julie is never alone, and she doesn't have the heart to unmake them, so instead, they're used as moving decor. The DJ booth looms large above the dance floor, set into the VIP balcony. Blood persistently drips from the edge of the balcony, though it never seems to accumulate anywhere in particular. A separate, smaller stage is set off to one side, with a professional karaoke setup; it's not lit up for use, but can be with the flip of a switch.
03 | SCREAM
If you move through the club, as if to get to the back wall, you'll find that the light gradually grows more sterile and the music fades as the furnishings become sparser and sparser. Eventually, you'll find yourself in what appears to be an abandoned, empty warehouse. The floor is filthy, and there's an ominous industrial fan set in the far back wall, wooshing as it slowly turns. The overhead lighting flickers off and on.
There's a separate structure, two stories and boxy, that's been roped off to prevent entry -- private quarters that Julie put in later, a lofted apartment in case she wants to be somewhere a bit more quiet, with the modern conveniences that she doesn't have outside the Horizon.
But there's a larger structure, shrouded in darkness, and this building-within-a-building has a wide open door. Screaming and violent noises ring from within, and a crooked sign, lit up in black light with glowing white print, points the way in, asking everyone who sees it FEELING BRAVE?.
Inside the haunted house, there is only black light and various glowing colors, all mimicking the negative of a scene from a horror movie. Following the path and noise seems safe at first; though there are creepy things and the feeling of phantom cobwebs accosting you at every turn, there is nobody around. That is, until you turn the first corner. As you do, people in all black with only neon and fluorescent paint to define them begin to swarm at you, cackling and brandishing glowing weapons. They're surprisingly energetic for manifested people, and Julie has worked very hard to get them to do what she wants. They're aggressive but in a defined way; they chase but don't touch, lunge but allow people to escape. They seem to come from nowhere, every time you feel just a little bit less nervous. (If struck, they respond only by immediately leaving the area.) The sound effects crescendo as you come out of the other side, where a table of picture frames hold photos of your funniest scared faces during the experience. They're free for the taking, although of course they can't be taken back to Abraxas, and a celebratory drink accompanies each snapshot. A pink carpet leads the way back to the club.
The night is yours.
[ ooc notes: The pictures are mostly to give a vibe. Since the Horizon is amazing, feel free to presume things look much much much better IC. If you would like a better idea of what her domain actually looks like, please click here! ]
no subject
It's not cruel, she isn't laughing at Jaskier. It's in part embarrassed and in part delighted. This is all so surreal, would be even without the pleasant haze of drugs and stronger drink than Nadine's used to.
But she wants this. She deserves it. All those years of metaphorically locking herself away, the hell that was Harold, and then to lose what she'd done it all for? No, she deserves something nice. Something that's hers, and had just because she wants it. Maybe later there will come guilt over so easily going to bed with a man she doesn't even know, but there's no guilt in this moment.]
Thank you. I'm pretty sure that's the idea. Does...yours come off?
[It looks a lot more natural that what Nadine considers a costume. Oh the possibilities the Horizon offers. It doesn't even matter, really. He's nice and he's handsome and it looks soft. Without thinking, spurred by the ecstasy, she reaches to run her fingers over one furry hip.]
no subject
Julie didn't need much prodding at him for this. She's beautiful, her laugh is delightful, and his heart is already finding its quicker rhythm.]
Mm. Well. [He looks down with her. His goat legs are, in fact, his legs right now, which is why he's such a natural on them.] I can certainly -- [Oh, there goes her hand. He shivers a bit, moving in closer, and his hand on her back moves lower. Oh, yes. He made sure the fur, the hair covering his chest (okay, he normally has that anyway), the horns -- they're real to him, in this place.] They can certainly be adjusted.
[To his credit, there's a reason he wrote a song about women fucking pucks. He's heard the kinks.] But I must hope you don't mind a bit of hair. [Or fur, as it were. As he ducks his head in close to her ear, his voice is closer to a whisper.] Tell me what you want, and it's yours.
no subject
[The words are distracted as Nadine gently brushes her fingers through the fur at Jaskier's hip. Physical sensation is heightened and the feeling is amazing. Her fingers tingle. The press of his body against hers is just as amazing, warmth seeming to flood out from when she can feel him.
It's surprising, the strength of her sudden want. Not just sex but to touch and be touched, to take the time to just feel. It's a need so intense she can feel it vibrating through her palms and down her spine.
But she shakes her head at the question, lost for the sort of answer he's looking for. How to even answer at all? It's never been about her wants.]
I don't know. I just...I just really want you. Tell me something about yourself. It feels a little weird that I don't know anything about you.
no subject
He's a very attractive one, of course.]
That is a fine start. [He can take the reins, so to speak, if needed. It helps they're close now, that his hand has moved down to grip her ass and pull her against him, where only a very politely (and colorful) wrapped cloth around his waist is keeping him decent. The first thing must go, he thinks, is the wings. Those are definitely going to get in the way.]
And here I thought Julie sang my praises. [And here is the perfect moment to start working on removing those wings. There's plenty of time to get a room, he's simply. Distracted now.] I'm a bard. A -- a musician. [That's how Julie always put it. As if he could be delegated to a mere musician.] The most famous bard on the Continent, actually.
[A humblebrag, but true nonetheless.] I sing tales of adventure. Of the monsters and men who roam my world, who change it to suit their whims. [Unable to figure out the straps of the wings, he hopes she doesn't mind if he sort of just. Snaps them off. It's the Horizon. They can be repaired. They drop to the ground behind her, and he gently pulls her a step forward so neither of them trip upon them.] And of romance. Of love itself, of course, but also the more sensual, carnal representations.
[Just to set the mood.]
no subject
[It's an important distinction to Nadine. She knows this is just supposed to be for fun, the sort of casual experience thousands have regularly. But she still wants to know something of who she's going to bed with. Even under the effect of the drugs she still understands this is something big. Making this choice, or rather agreeing to it, is the sort of step she never saw herself taking. Not in any seriousness. Even Larry, much as she'd cared about him, had been a mistake that she's grateful didn't go further. It only would have made things worse.
But no one is going to materialize from the shadows to punish her now. Sleeping with Jaskier isn't going to destroy the course of destiny or anything like that. This world can't possibly care who she sleeps with.
But she does.]
It's just that I've only ever gone to bed with one man before now.
[Harold doesn't count. She knows that's probably cheating in some way, to claim what he'd done didn't count, but she can't let it. At least she'd chosen Flagg. She never chose Harold. And maybe she shouldn't have said that, she isn't trying to put pressure on Jaskier. He's nice. There's no part of her that's afraid to slip off privately with him. But it's another thing she thinks is important.
Her fallen wings are ignored. They aren't real anyway, it doesn't matter.]
no subject
[A very philosophical one, if you look too deeply into it, which is a bit hard when he is extremely high. Still, he's a bit pleased by it because he believes that is not something one cares much about when participating in a bit of a casual fling.
How interesting.
Ah. His eyebrows raise. Julie had mentioned a previous relationship, but he hadn't realized... a single one. oh. Whew. That's a bit of added pressure, isn't it? That he should show her that good of a time?]
I'm someone who has no care for how much experience you have or that you lack. As long as we are both genuine, I don't believe much matters more than that.
[She certainly isn't making it easy for him -- though these things rarely are -- which tells him more about the person she is. Even if they're both a little. Floaty. He's desperately trying to keep up. And to give an answer that is both sincere and will lend to her what she seeks.
Perhaps it's different in her world. Because who he is is a musician. A poet. He is entangled so much with what he set out to craft himself into. It isn't a job. It is everything.]
And I am... well, perhaps it sounds very self-serving of me, but I am deeply invested in showing you a good night. In whatever way you wish. I think we all deserve that. To be given what we want, by someone who appreciates us. To be wanted.
[And, honestly, he thinks that who someone is is never more obvious than how they treat their lovers.]
no subject
[And it's a very acceptable answer. Just some small insight into who the man Jaskier is. Something to remember and think on when he's gone. She doesn't need his life story or a list of fears, just some little understanding. Maybe it's not typical of one night stands, but Nadine still wants some small piece to keep with her. He's the first lover she's ever taken of her own choice. Mostly. Julie had picked him out but Nadine agreed.
Besides, his response tells her something important.]
You have compassion. [Or enough drugs in his system, but now isn't the time to be cynical.] And kind eyes. Thank you.
[She turns her body towards him, reaching up to lay one hand against the side of his face, the drugs in her system allowing her to just casually touch without shame. There's no agenda here, and no duty. Just a sweet, cute boy that seems very honest in his intentions to make sure she enjoys herself.]
Can we find somewhere private? Now?
no subject
He blinks. That's awfully... blunt.]
Well. [He licks his lips. Is this what others feel like when he's examining them?] I'd like to think so, of course.
[More the compassion, not his eyes. (At least some lovely women do not point out his crow's feet. Which he does not have.) And though he feels a bit under the spyglass, so to speak, her answer relaxes him again. Was it really that good? He's beginning to piece together the sort of man she must have been with before.
Jaskier leans into her hand, moving his own to slide on top of it.]
Why, yes. Of course, Nadine. [He leans down to kiss her cheek, then offers his arm, as a proper gentleman might. At least he remembers his manners still.] I imagine Julie has not made it too difficult for us. [Considering this was her idea. Which is still bizarre, but he imagines she is looking out for her friend, in the end.] Actually, I remember she mentioned rooms upstairs. Shall we?
[He's made his way around this party in several rounds (and with a variety of drinks), so he leads the way to a stairwell he's passed several times before. Now, he's not sure what these rooms look like, but he can guess anything about Julie, he imagines they're going to be very nice. And have very large beds.
And if they don't, he'll make sure that's the case. Not that he means to go about changing someone else's domain, but. She'll understand.]
Wandering Into NSFW Territory
But she just wants to be in private. She's in no rush, if anything the drugs in her system are urging her to be languid and take her time. To enjoy all of it, from the perfectly tame linking of arms to whatever may transpire behind a closed door. It all feels good, more intense than it normally would.
Though there's no mistake that she wants to sleep with Jaskier. She can't help but be curious...what would it be like? While her experience may be limited, she's not without it. But what's it like to have a 'normal' encounter? Harold had been a chore, perverse and spiteful and either it was over too quickly for her to take enjoyment or it was too bizarre and beyond her tastes to find any pleasure in. Randall had been practically an animal, and while there had been plenty of pleasure found in her marriage bed, it had been a dark sort of passion, all blood and claws and teeth and screams.
None of it at all what her youthful romance novel reading had led her to believe about sex. Even that first time with Randall, as tender and sweet as he'd started, had ended in strange fear.
Jaskier doesn't bring any of that to mind. If anything, he puts her in mind of that brief span of minutes when she'd been weak and let Larry kiss her. It had been forbidden, but god it had been sweet. And she does feel a particular fluttering in her loins as they mount the stairs, a certain pleasant twisting deep in the pit of her abdomen.]
Apparently Julie planned for everything.
[She realizes how long she's been quiet, lost in her mind and the feel of Jaskier's skin on her own where their arms are linked together. She can feel the warmth of him, the little movements in his muscles against her hand as they walk. Her fingers gently move against his arm, enjoying the sensation of running over his skin. This place might not, technically, be real, but they are. And what happens here is.]
I still can't really believe she set this up.
no subject
[It's not a negative trait, but only one he's noticed. Well, who among them isn't, especially in the Horizon? And by god, if she wants to use limitless power to throw one of the most wonderful parties he's been to -- and help her friends get laid -- then more power to her.
He holds the door open for his company, highly enjoying her skin on his, in fact. Julie had told him the drugs could enhance everything, but he feels she did not make it particularly well known how much. Even a brush up his arm gives him goosebumps.
It's far from his first time. But it will be his first time in a headspace like this.
That's... honestly? Exciting.]
Me either, honestly. [He closes the door behind her but doesn't lock it. Just in case that's a bit -- well. If it sends the wrong message.] This is nothing like I've seen before. And she maintains it flawlessly.
[He turns to her, hooves clicking on the floor, and carefully takes the flowers from his hair.] Though I think I should love to see your domain one day. [His smile turns teasing, as he offers a hand at the back of her costume. Surely there's... buttons here, or clasps, or something. (Zippers have not been invented for him yet, unfortunately.)] I imagine it's just as fascinating as you've already proven yourself to be.
no subject
[It's just a small slice of country New Hampshire in the midst of much grander landscapes. But it suits Nadine and she likes it. It's familiar.
Unlike practically everything that's happening now. Even being alone with a man is still a novelty. At least a man that isn't Randall. She waits for the chill of protest and fear to creep in, that little voice to tell her this is wrong and she's mad for even considering it.
It doesn't come.
There's only anticipation and wonder and that low pulsing desire. That itself is so strange, and she knows it's the drugs but she's unused to feeling this level of physical want for anyone beside her husband. A dim part of her wonders how much of that was magic. But the thought fades quickly as Jaskier fumbles at the back of her costume.]
Here...let me deal with that.
[Nadine gently moves his hands away, and pulls the wire halo off of her head to toss it aside. It's nice in here, the music softer and the lights not as overwhelming. And away from any other eyes, she feels more comfortable. More able to throw herself fully into whatever's about to happen between her and the handsome, rather charming man she's slipped away with. He really does have a sweet face, with that boyish sort of handsomeness that she's always found appealing.
Taking a step back, she reaches behind her to draw down the zipper cleverly hidden in the folds of the white 'dress'. There's a little shiver at the shift of fabric against her, her skin's sensitivity in overdrive. The garment opens and with the ease of practice she shrugs it off her shoulders and lets it pool around her feet, leaving her in a white satin brassiere and matching panties. After a moment's hesitation, she reaches up and pulls the pins out of her hair, the ones holding it in high falls over the two pearlescent horns the Singularity had gifted her with. She could just banish them here, she knows that, but that is cheating. They're a part of her now, the same as her white hair or the mark on her thigh. And is Jaskier's keeping goat legs, he's probably not going to care about a pair of petite horns.
Besides, she's feeling bold.]
no subject
[It's not all about whether the domain itself is fascinating, after all; it's what it tells about its owner.
Hopefully he recalls the desire to do so. His head feels... not foggy, exactly, but as if his interests and priorities are constantly shifting, with about the same flexibility as his fingers hold right now. Jaskier, though gently admonished, pulls his hands away and watches her undo whatever it is that is holding this thing material around her.
It's. Something. A contraption that makes a unsettling noise, but splits open her costume like a blossoming flower. And while normally he would take this moment to not look so awkward, standing there -- like undressing himself -- his costume, so to speak, is nary silken cloth around his loins and the fur that rises underneath. Which she does not mind, making him far more inclined to keep it.
Perhaps it's rude, how he takes in the show. And what a show it is. He expects... well, to be fair, there's hardly any room for the undergarments he is so used to removing underneath her costume. No garters or chemise or plain strips of white cloth. This is white, and that is the only similarity it holds. The way it fits against her, leaving very little to the imagination (though still, he imagines.) And lace. Lace, a material he often only sees on the highest of ladies. Though not... like this.
Beyond the undergarments, there's so much to take in he missed. The scar, quite obviously, but he is a gentleman and his eyes only glide over it, yet he cannot help but let them linger on her... her horns.
Ah. He did not expect those. Did angels have horns? How quaint. (Later, he'll get it. And he's the same. Even in the Horizon, he doesn't hide the scar that's left of his arm being torn apart.)]
They match your hair. [He means the horns, but he supposes everything about her does. It all comes together in this ghostly, ethereal way. He steps forward, his hands finding her hips, sliding up around her back. His body follows the movement, moving behind her only because this time, he would rather not fumble removing her clothing.
Ah. A clasp. Several, actually.. Now this, he understands, and he unhooks them after a moment, allowing them to hang free from each other.] I do appreciate your assistance, my lady. It serves you well you're as graceful as you are striking.
no subject
[Nadine reaches up to touch one gently, still a little unsure of them. She flushes a little, the attention to her horns bringing the color to her cheeks more than standing here in her underthings in front of a man she's just met. She may doubt her morals, she may doubt her judgement and common sense and life choices, but she doesn't doubt her appeal to the so-called rougher sex.
Not that there's anything rough about Jaskier, quite the opposite. She bets he writes beautiful poetry. Would it be weird to ask to hear some? Is that the sort of thing you don't do on a one night stand? She isn't sure about all the rules here. Maybe she just shouldn't worry about that.]
I just figured your world probably doesn't have zip fasteners.
[The flush fades quickly as he moves behind her. She waits until she feels the clasp release before she turns to face him, letting her bra slide off her shoulders and away from her modest breasts. She smiles softly, just looking at his face for a moment before reaching up to hold it in her hands. He really does have kind eyes. They're a pretty color, too. And he has a soft, generous mouth... a clear bolt of desire shoots through her and she feels her pulse skip and her breath quicken.]
Come here.
[Spoken just before she leans up to kiss him, properly on the lips.]
no subject
Considering the unfamiliar word, I'd dare say you're right.
[He gives her a little wiggle of his brows, hands finding that lovely dip in her waist again, moving up to let his thumbs settle just under her breasts.
Mm. He loves a handsy woman.]
I'm coming. [He manages before their lips press together, and he slips his arms around her, holding her close. She's short enough, he thinks, that even his arms could manage to pick her up the short distance to the bed. Actually. It's the Horizon, and he's a succubus. Of course he could. Besides, he would hate for one of his hooves to step on her feet. With the loss of the space between their bodies, it's clear that his silken loincloths are no longer hiding the effect her body has. Or, more effectively, her kiss.
Her should ask. To be polite. As he breaks the kiss to slide his lips along her cheek, he mumbles against her skin:] Shall we retire to bed?
no subject
Her hands slide into his hair as she stands on tiptoe, noting the swell of him against her. That's another little thrill. There's a power in arousal, in the inspiring of it. That's one thing Nadine's minefield of a sexual past has taught her.]
I think I'd like that very much, Jaskier.
[Just the sensation of his hands on her sides, his mouth on her cheek...the feelings they're sending spiraling through her are knee-weakening enough. What heights of tactile pleasure were waiting in the bed?]
no subject
[The finest answer one can give, really, not only a yes, but a resounding one. He gives her another kiss because she tastes that good -- light, both fruit and floral, like the drinks he's been consuming all night -- lifting her with grip on the underside of her thighs. Whether its his own strength or the Horizon's magic, he doesn't drop nor lose his grim as he makes his steps backwards until the back of his thighs hit the bed.
And then he falls back on top of it, allowing her weight to fall right on top. He barely misses a moment, running a hand down her back, the other in her hair as he catches another kiss.
Mm. Julie did well. Big bed, immeasurably soft. Plenty of room and quiet.] I don't suppose you have a preference in position?
[It's only fair to ask.] I promise it will feel wonderful whichever way.
no subject
She lifts herself up with her arms, stretched out over him, enjoying the soft feel of his furred legs against her own. It's surprisingly pleasant. And in truth she has no preference, really. She's enjoyed it different ways...but she decides she likes this, having him under her. It makes her feel less like she's being taken, as though this is something happening to her.
That's one thing all of her encounters have in common. Even with Randall, she felt less like an active participant or equal. Sex, primarily, had so often felt like something being done to her.]
This works just fine, actually. Assuming you don't have any complaints?
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He can't imagine it's her first time to be carried to bed. Who doesn't love that sort of effort?]
Complaints? My lady, you must be mad to think I'd complain about this angle. [Honestly. The weight of her breasts, the expanse of stomach, the shadows her clavicles create when she leans forward. He can feel the way her skin shifts his fur, as real a part of him as his skin.] You are more than welcome to hold me down and fuck me as you wish. [Simply saying the word teases the heat between his legs. Between hers. Oh, he can imagine the ride. The way the lights would catch on her pretty horns as she moved. The swing of her hair. Would it be too much to encourage her to hold him by his horns? (He's only curious how it feels.)] Or simply admire the sight of me trapped beneath your silken thighs, [And his hands run up them, teasing the rings on his fingers glittering with gems, the sharpened points of his nails gentle on her skin,] if it so pleases you.
[He's not actually putting it on thick. That's just what happens when you fuck medieval poets.]
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[Nadine's voice is soft and warm, the drugs removing any sharpness that might have normally come with her response. She leans down, pressing her forehead against his as she shifts to straddle him properly. As appealing as the idea is, to be the one in the position of power, the whole point of this is for something different.
Besides. There are other ways to have power in bed that don't hold shades of her own uncomfortable past.]
No one's holding anyone down. Not tonight.
[Now settled on her knees, Nadine's hands can get to work. She wants to explore him, to take her time and just enjoy the symphony of sensations that touch brings right now. Her palms and fingers glide over his shoulders, down his chest, slowly mapping their way over his nearly-naked form.]
I just want to enjoy you.
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Ah. The benefit of being nearly nude in his costume already.]
Mmm. As you wish.
[Her palms press over the curls of pastel paint, but it doesn't smudge or crack -- more like tattoos, as he understands them, than paint at all. Unable to help himself, wanting so badly to touch her as well, he moves back to her hair (look, he's a hair man) but even higher still, to her horns. Like Himeka's scale, they hold a sort of pearlescent quality. Colors move across them, shifting in the flickering lights, which are influenced by his love of sex in candlelight.
She is wonderfully beautiful. It's hard to imagine she really has only been had by one man. The awe crosses his face, his eyes wide and fascinated, following the shape of them. Of course he has his own, but these are... they feel different to him.]
And? Are you enjoying me so far? [He shifts underneath her, allowing her to feel exactly how much he's enjoying her.] Not that I'm fishing for compliments.
[All right. Maybe a bit.]
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[The teasing note is evident in Nadine's voice, and she smiles as she leans her head down closer to his. It's strange, the attention paid to her horns. Not that Randall had ignored them, but it had been a very different sort of attention. Not near as gentle.
They're smooth, the feel of them like their color, similar to that of a pearl's.]
But yes, I'm enjoying you very much. All of you.
[She presses her own hips down, meeting him in encouragement, reveling in the heat between them and the firm press of his arousal against her. The few scraps of fabric separating them hardly offer much of a barrier.
All of it's intoxicating. Even the smell of him, masculine and heady, is making her head spin.]
I want to feel all of you, Jaskier.
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[She doesn't seem to mind. And, even better, she indulges him. He takes it with a soft laugh, kissing her when she's low enough for him to steal another taste. Mm. Still fruity, but now it's even headier on his tongue. Between the heat of where their bodies meet, the palms of her hand on his chest, and the heat of their mouths -- ah. He may as well melt at this rate.]
Likewise. [He says, a low growl in his throat as she shifts and it hits him in just the right way.
Gods. Being to the point is very sexy, indeed. ]
And are you wet enough for that, my dear? [His hand slides up her thigh, delving between the very little room between them to cup over her. But he pauses there without pushing any further, as much as he'd love to. It's only polite to ask.] May I?
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Nadine lifts her hips to give him better access, the saddle of her undergarments giving clear evidence to just how aroused she is. And oh god, she wants him to touch her, wants his fingers on her most sensitive and aching flesh. Again there's a pulsing sensation through her loins and she lets out a soft little moan.
But that boldness still has her, and she tilts her head to bring her mouth very close to his ear. Her own voice is low and heavy with want.]
As wet as a morning after the snowmelt.
[It's strange, how much his asking delights her. The fact that she's nearly naked and on top of him is, in her mind, permission enough. But still he asked.
No one's ever asked before.]
And you may.
for a man who fucks I sure don't get to have any sex icons
And here I thought I was the only poet between us.
[Though happily it is not only a turn of phrase, because his hand meets plenty of wet trapped on her undergarments. (They're very nice, by the way. They could simply will them away -- the Horizon is for all sort of experiments, after all -- but Jaskier can't help but want to appreciate them for a little longer.)
Besides. They're not that in the way.
With her permission, two fingers slip beneath the cloth, following the wet to her core. Not the clit, not yet -- he is a gentleman, of course -- but he strokes around it, gentle and teasing, while his head tips up to kiss her.]
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Something to be examined later.]
I can be very poetic, when I want.
[God knows she's read enough of the romantic era offerings in her teen and college years. But it's hard to think about that, when Jaskier's fingers breech the feeble last defense of her underthings. It hasn't really been that long since she was touched, a couple of weeks maybe, but it doesn't matter. Something had awoken in her, that first night in the desert, a craving for physical pleasure she'd never known she had the capacity for.
And Jaskier is good. She doesn't know if it's the drugs or just the novelty, but it already feels like he's working her body with a skilled knowledge. She gasps against his mouth and twitches against his exploratory fingers, wanting more with a fierceness that almost frightens her.]
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