Related OneShot - (**)
~ Manufactered Intoxication ~
Fog, obscuring and thick, cloaking vision and wool-wrapping the senses, pressing around me, blocking awareness. Chafing cuffs worry at skin, bound wrists and ankles stretched and secured. A weight, slight but confining in the enshrouding gray, gentle immobilization of numb flesh, passive and sweet. Soft fingers carefully separating strands of my hair, smoothing the velvet blindfold, tracing my jaw, far away yet still pleasant.
“Ancelin.” Voice like rusted nails scraping metal, raw and saturated with chemicals. Hopeful? Needy? It’s difficult to tell what I want in the dense fog.
Shifting of the weight, warm lips and hot breath at my mouth and throat, blossoming of fire on cold, deadened skin. The narrow stone passageways and cobbled paths of Cinis swirl through previously darkened corners, sections of mist disintegrating in the wake of flame. Memory scent triggers deep in the shifting cloud, smells of burnt stone and charred wood. Others are present as well, stronger, rooted in reality. Flowers, soil, herbs, lotion, freshly laundered fabric…
Like a sweeping of cobwebs, awareness slowly filters in, fragments struggling to make a cohesive picture. The fog is thick though, overriding chemical poison winning the battle for dominance. There isn’t much in me that is able, or even desires, to fight against it. How easy the fall into the drug-laced void, compiled years ensuring the well-practiced steps are effortless.
Small things nag at the edges of consciousness, prodding until I am forced to pay attention. The touch is wrong, devoid of teasing or violence, a caress instead of a slap. Skin calloused, but not rough, warm and alive where there has been only smooth and cold for nights on end. The weight is also amiss, the form too solid, the muscle pressed against my chest certainly not that of the one expected. Lingering scent of fruit-infused wine, customary at the celebration of a Year-Passing, yet she does not acknowledge the advance of age…
The word attempts to claw from the twirling fog, filled with importance, shreds of memory clinging like a small child on a piggyback ride.
Year-Passing…
The recognition is slow in forming, and force is required to vocalize it. “Ikkairius.”
The quiet chuckle tingles against my collarbone, heated breath increasing the buzzing sensation ten fold. “Do you wish instead for your sister?” Fingernails scrape lightly across my chest and I lurch at the touch, teeth clenched.
Amused, the ancient Bright Selestarri kisses my jaw. “She gave you as the gift for my Year-Passing. I found you on my bed, bound and blind, drugged into responsiveness. So thoughtful, in fact, that she even remembered the gift wrap.”
Nimble hands slide over rib and stomach, grazing feather-like over my legnth, stiff with an erection the fog had obscured until Ikkairius focused the awareness. Strips of thin ribbon bind tight, like a constricting snake, confining with just enough pressure to prevent release. My sister has many talents.
Helpless groans escape through grit teeth as the same taunting fingers rub against the silken ribbon. “Truly the most interesting Year-Passing gift I’ve received in a long time, and much better than those misshapen clay things you all gave me when you were children.” Fluids flow with ease and he slips between spread thighs, nudging the exposed secret place.
Voice in my ear, hot and lascivious, pitched over mewling cries of need, “but you’re not a child any longer, are you, Kallixstus?”
Words die in my throat as he pushes deep and twists, loosening the tight muscle. The mist writhes at the Bright’s touch, and for a moment I’m drowning as it completely overwhelms. Violet streams of light explode behind my eyes, sizzling through the fog as it rapidly evaporates.
The invading fingers create sensations that rival to cloud my thoughts in place of the drug-created mist. Hips bucking with each thrust, claws feverishly tearing at corded restraints, whimpers and moans between ragged breaths like an overanxious harlot.
“Better?” Ikkairius growls in my ear, newly returned senses picking up the strong spice of the wine, more than a few glasses by the smell. Sharp teeth nip at the fragile, curving shell as the violet magic begins to dissolve the second part of the drug concoction.
Ripping my attention from the movement of his hand, I struggle against the Bright’s weight. “Don’t…” I manage to grate.
Ikkairius shifts and rough hands pull the blindfold away. Intense purple eyes meet crimson, hard and glaring. Embarrassed by the underlying concern of the older Selestarri, I turn my head to the side to study the dark linens.
“There will be only emptiness if you take it all.” The words admit weakness and I’m surprised by the disgrace they bring.
“Has she done that much damage?” he asks, anger barely contained behind the quiet words. “Broken you so much?”
Long moments pass as I stare at the flickering shadows that dance over the sheets. “I feel little without her magic or the drugs…for a long time now, before we went into the Crystal.”
Strong fingers grasp my chin, forced under the violet glare. “Why would you allow her to do this?”
There is no explanation that will be accepted, or that can be easily given, and so I seek to mollify him with a kiss, drinking the warmth of his mouth, letting it interact with the drug to remind me that I’m still alive. The chemicals set fire to nerves and blood, spurring a whirlwind of lust and desire to which I readily surrender. Hips grind against his hand, stilled as we spoke, desperate to rekindle the motions that would ease the breakneck need that was swiftly enveloping my consciousness. Complying, the fingers flex and turn, scorching white streaks behind closed eyes, a keening moan pulled from my ragged throat.
Smiling against my lips, Ikkairius pulls away briefly, whispering, “This conversation will be finished later.”
I’m past forming words to reply, and dumbly shake my head. Fueled by whatever rarely-stoked passion stirs his ancient blood, he impatiently bites at my lips when I’m too slow in allowing him entrance. Dizzied by the quick darting of tongue, sharpness of teeth, and scratch of fingernails against my chest, all I can do is groan and writhe, lost in the rush of sensation.
Metallic saltiness, hot and edged with the pain of a bitten tongue, hit strung out nerves just as hard as Ancelin’s manufactured ecstasy, and I’m panting when the Bright breaks the kiss, sliding down to lick exposed neck and chest. Each wet stroke is heaven, pushing my erection tighter against the tight ribbon imprisonment, bottling release. A third finger invades, almost too much, and I’m arched completely off the mattress, impaled on slender digits.
“Ikk…airius…” I beg like a child. “Please…”
Glittering amethyst eyes, drunk with lust, peer from between cascading strands of white, like a predator sizing up its prey. How often my own eyes had held an identical look, how discomforting to be on the receiving end. Luckily I was past the point of caring if he eviscerated me or fucked me, just as long as there was release.
Straightening, he settled between my legs, ignoring the complaining whimper at the sudden emptiness. Deftly unknotting the silken ties that fasten the top of his black and gold robe, I watch hungrily as the finely woven fabric exposes alabaster skin. Thin scars, faint with time, cross from shoulder to hip, remnants from when he’d collapsed the Sentinel Tower and helped turn the tide of the war against the Valceariens.
Chemicals rioting in my head, I’m possessed with the sudden need to touch them, run my tongue over the raised edges, and feel the living reminders that still bind the ancient Selestarri to the past. Frustrated with the restraints that hold my wrists, I manifest obsidian claws, easily slicing the cords. Still linked by the leather and metal cuffs, but free, I lunge forward, pressing against the solidness of his chest. Nipping and sucking, frantic to touch, I’m incapable of gentleness and blood flows as fangs nick the velvet flesh.
Rough hands shove me to the mattress, pinned at the throat as Ikkairius turns, a sweeping motion of his arm freeing my legs. Predacious violet pools devour as he releases my neck and pulls my legs and hips up to his shoulders, almost completely bending my body in half. The eyes mock from between the juncture of my thighs and he shakes his head like a parent scolding their child.
“When you misbehave, Kallixstus, you don’t get what you want.” The hot sweep of his tongue warms the inside of my leg. “Now you’ll have to wait.”
Squealing like the whore-in-heat that I’ve become as he unleashes a vicious assault on sensitive, secret places, I quickly lose track of myself amidst the rubbing, sucking, press of teeth. Hands fisted in the sheets, I push for deeper penetration, thrusting my hips against his face, an animal in rut that cares only for gratification. Like the gathering of storm clouds, it shifts through my mind, barricading all but the concept of release, a salvation that will break this maddening build up of need that has wound me so tightly.
Teasingly, Ikkairius slows pace, languidly dragging his tongue across the slick entrance as I squirm and pant. Wet fingers trace over the binding ribbon, and I inhale sharply and buck my hips, eyes closed tight as millions of tiny darts of pleasure surge to my tortured groin. A small burst of pain and warm blood trickles down my thigh in response before the Bright pulls away.
Shaking on the linen sheets, I watch as he sits on the thick wooden side of the bed’s box frame, back pressed against the windows that line the corner of the room. He beckons and smiles as I am forced to crawl across the mattress, hands still tied at the wrist. Willingly I straddle his hips, feeling for the first time the heat of his erection beneath the thin robe as I place my joined hands behind his head and press my forehead against the cold glass.
I barely have time to look at the snow piled against the pane before Ikkairius thrusts deep and the world is washed in a white starburst of delight and pain. Gripping my hips he sets a slow rhythm, mouth moving over stretched chest, seeking the delicate flesh that he knows will further incite desire. Ribbon-lashed cock straining as it slides between, friction drawing fresh torture with each pass. I am damned either way, body craving the exquisite trespass that in turn causes terrible suffering. There is no pacification of one without loss of the other and the frustration brings tears that are hidden shamefully behind closed eyes.
Heavy breathing spills across my chest, the once gentle hands pushing harder as we both begin to hit the breaking point. Spreading my legs further, I take him as deeply as possible, intent on attaining more of the bright, pain-edged pleasure, even if it splits me in half. Soft groans join my unending mewling pants, and together we increase our speed, hurrying toward the final release.
Without warning there is stillness, the soft touch of slightly calloused fingers on my cheek forcing scattered attention to focus. Ikkairius studies the salty droplets for a moment, violet eyes clouding over with an emotion I cannot name. With astounding quickness and skill, a white-bladed dagger, inlaid with garnet, severs the taut ribbon and I unsuccessfully bite back a cry of pain as blood rushes unconstrained.
Mouth closing over mine, the Bright carefully lowers our joined bodies to the mattress, cool sheets against burning skin. Fresh cries reverberate around the room as bodies instinctively move, feverish with the unrelenting demand of need. Hot breath huffs against my clavicle as Ikkairius blunts the edges of lust on sweat-soaked flesh, violet tipped strands of wet hair draping like a thick blanket.
The storm clouds swirl with menacing intensity, driving out rational thought, screaming commands.
HarderfastergoddammitIkkairiusFUCKMENOW!
Churning hips comply, bruising with each thrust, and I dimly realize the words were shouted aloud. With a hard shudder and low groan, the ancient Selestarri finds release, nails and teeth scoring skin as heat coats battered internal flesh. I barely notice because the storm has broken, drowning everything as I revel in the ensuing flood of emotion.
Long moments pass, slowing of breath, mingling of fluids, fuzzy heaviness of mind. The weight of Ikkairius draped over my chest is comforting in those few spaces of time, something rare in this chaotic life. The feeling is fleeting however, and after a minute he rolls away, alabaster skin still flushed with the afterglow of sex. Sitting up, I summon the necessary winter garments and slide to the edge of the bed.
Ignoring the sticky fluid and drying blood, the clothing slides on with ease, and I turn to find violet eyes regarding me with a familiar stoic gaze. Neither of us is the type to stay nor lie together after fucking, so there are no awkward pleas or lingering hurt. Residue of Ancelin’s drug swiftly dissolving, I lean over the bed for one last taste of his mouth, slow and sweet, his hands sliding into my damp hair.
“I’ll tell my sister you enjoyed her gift,” I promise as we part and he draws the blankets close against the chill. Turning and crossing the small space, I glance over my shoulder before opening the door.
“Sorry I didn’t get you anything, but Happy Year-Passing, Ikkairius.”
End: Manufactured Intoxication
Bounce: Summer 2006
A/N: This story is an actual event in the Streifen timeline. It takes place well before the events in Streifen: Prelusion.
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