Movement

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Movement

Postby Trace » Fri Apr 25, 2008 9:11 am

Sequence, Act II: Movement of Moments
Prologue: The Passage of Time, the Persistence of Memory


They sat together, in the warm darkness. It was night again, regular as turning of the moon and the stars. The shutters of the room were shut against the chill of the winter, sweet wax candles casting clean, golden light across the naked bodies entwined on the floor.

Her hair was cropped short these days. The crown of pale grass-green had darkened to a rich forest, and lay in tousled curls just to her neck. Easier to travel with, as well as for Miranda to toy with when they were together. The magician's hand lay there now, fingers wrapped gently around the back of her head, cradling her against the gentle swell of her breast.

Miranda crooned softly, as Piana wrapped her lips around one arousal-swollen nipple.

Time had moved on, since they'd captured the succubus on the way to the city. An affection for softness had earned her a name of sorts, as she'd learned to speak. Her easy assimilation into the caravan family had followed not long after, as they'd made the Crossing.

Piana's teeth grazed the sensitive skin, eliciting a soft gasp at the bright thread of pain flavoring Miranda's pleasure. She basked in the contact, the heat and pulse as her lover drew her honey, taking her in...she remembered...

Miranda...

...the call of her name rolling in a whisper from those delicious lips, as if the sound of it alone could wrap nocturnal arms around her soul...

She'd seen Miranda from the sky, as she'd banked through the starry twilight. They'd been cat-and-mousing for months, under the watchful, disapproving eyes of Linette. It had been as clear as a bad romance novel that they'd wanted each other since Piana had crashed into her room, but weren't going to do anything about it that risked the wrath of Miranda's family.

At least, until Piana won them over...


She lay back, taking Piana down with her onto the cushions that made their bed. The succubus rose over her, skin stroking skin, whispering her name again, as she had before...

Miranda bit back a scream as her would-be lover crashed into the water, wings snapping out amidst the sudden, sunlit rain. "Miranda..."

They wove together like serpents, two bodies conjoined at the heart. The boundaries that broke them thinned for moments at a time as they touched...they kissed. The magician lifted her back, pressing into her lover's body with a fervent desperation.

Caught.

She was caught. She felt it all at once, as she locked eyes with the terrifying beauty that stood across from her, naked and unashamed. Felt herself falling into the warm, golden light of the sharp, predatory eyes.


They shifted against each other, hips rolling together as each body tried to push itself into the other. Their scents mingled with the sweat of their flesh, and they repeated themselves with growing passion.

She felt the grass on the shore under her, brushing against her naked back as Piana brushed against her front, pinning her. Warmth swelled within her, needing...feeling again the first sweet thrills of sex she'd fear never to feel again.

She moaned at the wet heat as lips and tongue enveloped the tip of her breast, sticky sweetness filling Piana's mouth, Miranda flowing into her.


Piana lay a moment, suckling at Miranda's breast as memory blurred with moment. Then she let go and slid...

...down her lover's curves, kissing a path from belly to mons. Drawing gentle fingertips and nails down tanned skin.

Miranda sand her fingers into green hair, shivering as her lover's tongue slid into her flower and drank of her. Her body burned with lust, every inch illuminated with mind-stopping brilliance. The touch of the grass against her spine made her want to scream, let alone the stroke of Piana's slender hands or the feel of her lips.

So she did, her body flexing as she emptied herself, not even wondering or caring if she should lose herself in this fatal moment. She was wide open now, body and soul, the walls of her psyche and chakra blown down in a cascade of trust and bliss.

No wonder they called it the little death...


...but the feeling passes, and we live again.

She felt Piana embrace her again as the feeling faded, nuzzling her cheek with a honey-covered face. Needle fangs nipped lightly at one earlobe, a soft voice whispering her name, once more, as she had before.

In the morning, it would be time to move again, as was their way. But for now, they lay in comfort and shared again the secret that was love.
~~~~~
When I'm gone like yesterday,
When I'm high like heaven,
When I'm strong like music,
'Cuz I'm slow like honey
and heavy with mood.

~Fiona Apple, Slow Like Honey
Trace
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Re: Movement

Postby Aleph-Null » Fri Apr 25, 2008 9:31 pm

beautifully as ever
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Re: Movement

Postby Trace » Thu Mar 05, 2009 8:38 pm

Sequence, Act II: Movement of Moments
At That Time, in the Eyes of Distant Thunder


Stillness. Absolute, unmoving perfection in form under the brilliant, sterile light. Shades of gray drifting in sheets of dust in the air. Colorless pillars in perfect, precise rows between walls draped white. Cold, clear air wafting across the low, ivory table.

The Lady's eyes shone a stark, startling scarlet against the stark sterility. Her mode of dress, the corsetry rendered in shades of gray and black, offered the foremost texture in the view. A dark, colorful contrast, patterns upon the posture she kept.

Before her lay her meal. An array of appetizers, dark green leaves wrapped lovingly around pink, uncooked fish-flesh. With a slow, precise movement, the Lady drew the tips of two slender, black sticks lightly up along the table's leg. Turning inward at the curve of the hip, she reached to pluck a wrap from it's belly. The faintest of smiles teased at the corner of the Lady's lips, as the girl very carefully refrained from moving.

Well trained, and studiously blank.

Taking her time, she took the morsel between her lips, drawing it in with her tongue. Savoring it. Waiting. Thoughtfully chewing. Eventually, she swallowed it with barely a sound to disturb the silence.

Again, with no particular malice, she teased her table's skin with the tips of the sticks, stroking back and forth along a thigh while contemplating something. Whiling away the minutes. Eventually, she concluded that she'd made the guest waiting for her attention wait long enough. It would be interesting to see what they made of the Lady in repose. There was no point in hurrying the meal when they were the ones in such a rush.

It really was a pity, the way they hurried.

At her silent sign, unseen servant's whispered welcomes to the figure standing stoically outside. They drew open the great doors of the dining hall, bidding her enter and she strode forward. She knew the Lady of old, and dressed for the visit. Formally, in white robes that betrayed little to nothing of her figure. Feathered wings held tight against her back. There was no sense in inviting more danger than she was already in.

The Lady bade her guest to sit across the table. This she did, with slow, formal movements. The angel waited then, for the Lady to break the silence. First, however, the Lady offered her guest a certain provocation. Smiling, she drew the sticks up across the table's belly, plucking up another morsel and playing it back down across the skin.

Her table's flower did not yet glisten with honey, but she saw to it that it did, soon enough. Wielding the wrapped food like a weapon of subtle distraction, she toyed at the folds until they shone...wetting her meal. This done she offered the bite to the angel, who declined with surprising grace.

At last, she broke the silence. "...a pity. You don't know what you're missing until you've tried it."

"I know where it comes from, Lady."

"I suppose you do." she replied, eating it herself. "...and to what do I owe this visitation?"

"Your lover, Lady."

"You would demand any more of me, at this late hour?" she asked, the subtlest hint of warning caressing her visitor's ears.

"Only knowledge, Lady." asked the guest, maintaining carefully neutral tones.

"Ask then. I'll let you know if you can afford it."

"...do you know how long she evaded us, or where she went?"

Again, the cool whisper of caution. "She was quite unendingly loyal to me, Messenger."

"We know."

"An accusation?" A risen brow.

"Not yet."

"To the best of my knowledge, she carried out my last order as we agreed. Do you have some reason to doubt our arrangements?"

"..."

"I see. Well. There's nothing here for you but a reminder that I remain well within my rights. If you wish to break our pacts, I certainly won't stop you, though of course...I believe you still have the most to lose? Do tell your mistress' I miss their far wittier repartee."

It was a dismissal, and the angel took it as one.

The Lady continued her meal in silence, leaving nothing but a whisper.

Later, if she had the time, she would train a new one.

She might not after all.
~~~~~
...i fuck you to fuck you over...
...i fuck you until I find someone better...
...i fuck you in secret...
...i fuck you because I can't remember...
...if i already fucked you before...

~Marilyn Manson, Para-noir
~~~~~
(I ain't dead yet. >.>)
Trace
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Re: Movement

Postby Duamutef » Wed Apr 01, 2009 7:55 pm

Wowz. The intricate craftsmanship of your words make mine look like a horde of screaming harlots on motorcycles. Entertaining, yes, but not nearly as classy.

Though I will admit that you might be a little too subtle at times; I'm not always entirely sure what's going on...

But there were bits where the subtlety was bloody epic.

A dark, colorful contrast, patterns upon the posture she kept.

That gave me a total literary boner.

(...see, comments like that are why I compare my writing to a horde of bikers...)
Step into my world, and maybe one of it's denizens...
http://www.sdcga.com/~duam9/
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Re: Movement

Postby sunny11 » Thu Jan 15, 2015 6:23 am

This is very nice and cool post thanks for this .............!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
sunny
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