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| May 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 18 2010, 02:23 AM (3,621 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 04:56 PM Post #301 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Mon May 26, 2008 12:52 pm Dagonet Dagonet's eyes did not leave Bors's for a longer while waiting for the question. He saw Bors's mind drift somewhere else for a moment and Dagonet looked at his leg knowing that it must hurt his friend very much now.
They must. At first Dagonet face was thoughtful and without any emotion on it... They must keep going. Protect others... Maybe Bors was right, but in truth Dagonet had failed the people he protected. He should protect them more securely... he should look out for Gedeon in the battlefield and never allow him to climb the wall. He should be there for Bors during the fight with the Woads... He would not get injured. Dagonet turned his eyes from Bors and frowned deep in his thoughts as Bors continued to speak. Women and children... He had not been able to protect Saoirse from her past and from the fear of being a mother. Children... he had not protected his daughter, did not even see her... He hadn't been strong enough to protect Gedeon from death. As Bors came to Roman matter and their arses, the tall knight smirked at it and shook his head. Yes, Bors was the one man to make him smile, always was. Dagonet noticed how his friend struggeled to turn his body and frowned slightly at it. He must be in a lot of pain. Was he right in this? Should Dagonet still try to protect others, when he had failed so many? Should he endure more pain to protect Saoirse.... Should he try to protect her? Would he not fail this time? Should he reach with his hands towards his own future? His dream? Should he try...
Dagonet turned his eyes from Bors and thought at his question for a moment then looked back at his friend and tried weakly to smile, but it did not come out completely. It was a broken smile of a broken heart. "I've lost my child, Bors" he reminded his friend with a deep sigh. "Both of them...." he did not recall talking with Bors about his and Saoirse's daughter, but would gladly do it, if Bors was up to it. "I am far from being ok, really." he admitted with a sad sparkle in his eyes. "I... I just feel lost right now... I don't know Bors... I simply don't know what to do now." he shook his head sadly and looked deep into Bors's eyes knowing his friend will understand him. Bors was the only one, besides Saoirse, who really touched his true nature and knew him the best. Mirtha She was so close to him that time and outside world was nothing to him now. He was slowly forgeting about every worry he had in him for the whole morning. He had not hurted her in any way... She gave herself to him willingly. The mere thought of it almost broke his heart... First Thorn was willing to make love with him, but it never came to that.. and now Ione gave herself to him... Now Ione was so close... Now Ione wanted to touch him... and he felt her doing so. Now he wanted to have her again.... To have her body... To take pleasure from her, but also give her himself.... Give her pleasure. He wanted to make love with her.
Lonely together? Mirtha smiled at this words and let her finger caress his skin on his back. Lonely together! That was the thing he was searching for... For having a person, who wasn't perfect and felt the same way he does. He waited to have somebody like her.
Mirtha once more smiled and let his hands smooth her skin on her shoulders as she unlaced his tunic and touched his skin gently. His eyes were not leaving her face and he felt so big urge to hold her thightly to himself. To laugh with happiness at her words. He wanted this. He had not realised this till now that he needed somebody. And all he had in his life was his stinking horse! Who he loved very much... but still it was a fucking horse after all!! He longed to have a woman close to himself. To have somebody to take care of.
Mirtha felt his body react to her touches and he was listening to her very loosely... He noticed her blush and this made his heart jump a little in his exposed chest. His hand went to brush over her cheek gently as he kissed her neck, but then his hands came quickly to her breasts and caressed it with gentleness through the soft material of her dress.
He heard her moan... He heard her question. Yes... but his body was not listening... He felt his manhood hardened and he pulled Ione closer to himself... to feel her upon his chest. His hands quickly unlaced her dress and let it go down to the floor. His hands run over her back and felt marks on her. There was a flashback in the back of his mind of her scars. He slowly turned her around and pushed her hair out of the way... Then slowly trace every each of the scars and licked them after his fingers. "I want to please you, Ione" he whispered back to her ear and touched her hips.... grasped them in his strong hands before leaning slightly over her. His manhood was hard now, but he could hold on till she was pleased enough to offer herself to him. "What do you want me to do? Hmmmm....? What would be your pleasure?" His finger traced the line from her hip to her breast and touched gently her nipple to tease her as his kisses went to her neck. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 04:58 PM Post #302 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon May 26, 2008 12:54 pm Tristan "Mmhhh." That sound was an exhalation, with a barely audible voicing behind it, as Tristan bent his head and nipped with his lips at her thumb that had settled on the underside of his jaw, turning back her earlier action on her, in a way. It might even have been a playful gesture, had it lingered a bit longer, or been accompanied by a smile, but as it was it fell just short of that- it was just an ackknowledgement instead. Her hand could stay there, though- it felt nice there, in a way. And she was ready for him- his fingers between her legs told him that. He gave her a bit of a rub- just a perfunctory one to make sure- and then turned his attention to his own pants, undoing them as quickly as he could with fingers that fumbled just a little bit- but not very much. He pushed them down just enough to get them out of the way, scooped Catherine up by her round bottom and that soft, creamy, conveniently-held-out thigh, and slid inside her right there, her back against the door, his weight and her legs around him holding her there. He ran his hands up her thighs, around to her backside, once more feeling the round, feminine contours of her, and once she was settled nicely, he began to thrust, a steady, but not hurried rhythm to start with. He could feel the pleasure building up inside him, coiling and tensing itself up in his stomach and thighs, but he didn't want to rush this- he wanted it to last for a bit. His breath grew ragged and he buried his face in her neck once again, mouthing a little at the skin for more of the feel of her, but really- the main reason why he hid his face like that was so that she would not see it. To have her looking right at him while he was doing this...it felt odd, not right, somehow, and this way he didn't have to see, only to feel. The door rattled on its hinges in time to his thrusts, so Tristan was not even sure how many knocks there had been before he realized that some of the sound was coming from outside the room- and just as he realized it, whoever-it-was emphasized their presence with a shout. "Sir Tristan? I've a message for you...are you there?" It was a young voice, a rather hesitant one, no doubt owing to the rattling, rocking door, but it was also an urgent one, and Tristan remembered Arthur's words about wanting to ride out and see Merlin yesterday. Since that hadn't happened, maybe the expedition had been convened for today... "Fuck," he growled emphatically in Catherine's ear, ceasing his movements and turning to the side so that he could at least open the door a crack. He gave his hips a shake, letting his manhood slip free of her and indicating silently that she should drop her legs and stand, but kept his left arm tightly around her, settled around her waist and holding her bottom in his palm. His penis was sandwiched against her stomach, aching for the continuation of what they had been doing, but Tristan shoved down that instinct and obeyed the other one- albeit with bad grace. "What?" He yanked the door open and stuck his head out it, still standing sideways to the door, and snapping the word at the page boy who stood there, now backing up a step nervously at the knight's obvious bad temper. "Er...Sir, Commander Castus wants you ready to ride out as soon as you can. You'll be going with the Optio- he'll meet you at the stables. Sir." The boy added the last title with a wary look at Tristan's stormy expression, and the scout suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn't going to bite the boy, for God's sake. "I'll be there," he growled, then shut- nearly slammed- the door once again, now looking down at Cathering assessingly- and disappointedly. He really should go right away- shouldn't waste more time here. Whenever Arthur called, he always obeyed unquestioningly...but damn it, it wouldn't take but a couple of minutes more. "Fuck it," he muttered again, his mind still warring with itself even as his body, moving seemingly of its own volition, took steps to insure the completion of what it had wanted for quite a while now. He wrapped both arms around Catherine, picking her unceremoniously up off her feet, and carried her the three steps or so to the bed, where he laid her down with a bit of a bounce on the straw mattress, pushed her legs apart, and climbed onto the bed after her, his face a black scowl as he knelt between her legs. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 04:59 PM Post #303 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon May 26, 2008 1:06 pm Eala Eala was nervous of this new cell. It was not as dingy as her other one - and it was that that made her nervous. She looked around it with wide black eyes which slowly narrowed as she went to investigate what looked like a mattress. She kicked it then lurched back a few steps, narrowed black eyes on the thing to see it move with devious intent. But it didn't. The little blonde glanced over her shoulder, gave the bemused guard a death-glare then went back over to the mattress. She gave it another prod with her toe and waited.. nothing. Sniffing, the ten-year old went over to the far wall from the mattress and slid down against the wall. She was not as afraid now as she had been earlier -she knew Ash was out there and she knew that he would not leave her here forever. Eala glanced down at the doll the shackles man had given her curiously. She placed it on her bent knees and poked it's cheek viciously. She then pulled the hair back from the face and pinched the arms before waggling it around in the air a while. What was the bloody point of the damn thing? Giving up trying to figure out what to do with the doll, Eala held it to her chest and rested her head on her knees, looking towards the bars warily. Waiting. She slept - briefly. The clatter of the bars opening brought her around and she scampered, still half asleep, to the far corner, hissing and snarling like a wild creature as a guard placed a tray of food and drink down. Eala did not look at the tray until the door slammed shut, and even then she watched it warily. The doll was still in her tight right fist and she warily stepped forward, eyeballing the tray as suspiciously as she had done the mattress. The guard was looking in through the bars at her in fascination. Eala inched towards the tray sideways, glancing at the door, at the tray, at the door, at the tray. She used her foot to pull the tray into a more shadowed part of her cell and sat down with a thump, pulling apart the bread and dunking it in the jug of water before stuffing it all into her mouth, chewing noisily, teh doll tucked under her arm and her black eyes peering over at the guard. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 05:00 PM Post #304 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Mon May 26, 2008 1:17 pm Ash
He blithely ignored her, never commenting, and she seemed to be oblivious to the fact she was speaking for the both of them. He flexed his hand impatiently, as she wrapped her slender digits around his offered finger to pull herself up. His feet were about a foot apart standing ground, but he had not locked his legs into place. Finally she managed to clamber to her feet. Ash grimaced and purposefully stepped back, the distance between them suggesting she had the plague. Suddenly she slipped and although Ash tried to avoid her tumbling chaotic mess, he inadvertently and irrevocably became victim to her clumsiness. For a moment his body remained half twisted, his fists in the mud and his face contorted in silent agony against his forearm. He hissed out a shaky, sharp breath, one hand moving to hover over his throbbing flank wound. Surely his bindings had begun to unwind by now. He lifted his head toward Mari, his eyes black with insufferable hatred. He was in far too much torment to be baffled by this complicating girl. She was mad, absolutely stark raving mad, that much was obvious by the way she cackled like a loon. Ash's hand twitched anxiously at his thigh, itching to lurch down to his boot and pull from it his knife to end this pitiful and maddening creature's life. She shifted over him, homing unevenly between his lower body and the ground. Her face was plastered with a dark mass of hair muddied and wet from the rain. She was a right mess and yet she laughed. The Woad's arm darted out under Mari's chin, against the length between her two shoulders, and effortlessly shoved her off of him. He rolled to the side as she plopped into the mud where he had just been, and mechanically climbed to his feet, fists clenched at his sides and features hard. He hunkered forward and lashed out a hand to grasp the front of Mari's cloak, effortlessly yanking the girl to her feet. His dark eyes pierced hers, his face somehow more terrifying than before as he looked down the length of his nose at her. Anger boiled up from the very core of him by the second, but it was far too dangerous for him to do away with this brat in broad daytime. How infuriating. "Go," Ash growled under his breath, his hand snapping away from his hold on her cloak. The syllable had been uttered so darkly she was sure to immediately cower away in submission. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 05:01 PM Post #305 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Mon May 26, 2008 1:43 pm Arthur The Roman attempted to focus with what were now lackluster green eyes on Lancelot’s dark and dirty features, attempting to truly ‘see’ the other man now that they had a moment alone. Lancelot looked dreadful – bloodshot eyes and pale cheeks - and that only proved to make Arthur feel guilty and distracted the Commander from what he had needed to speak of. The Sarmatian had to be in great want of rest before he collapsed and Arthur would see to it that Lancelot had that rest…even if he had to give up his own bed to the other man. That thought had to be shoved away with a slight shake of Arthur’s head and fingers briskly rubbed over his eyelids as he allowed them to flutter shut. However, Lancelot did his own part in helping Arthur to forgo his notions of care towards the Sarmatian when he opened his mouth again.
Was that the sound of wounded pride in Lancelot’s voice? Did the knight truly believe Arthur would be foolish enough to send him to Merlin?? Arthur snorted his disbelief and angrily rubbed thick fingers over the lines in his brow ignoring the other two points completely. Lancelot was at times selfish and prideful to the point of his own destruction. The Commander would not risk losing his First Knight and best friend to the Woad leader again by sending him on the peace mission. Period. Besides, Scipio with Malcus’ support could manage. Besides, sending Lancelot to negotiate with Merlin would have been the equivalent to drenching a bonfire with pitch in hopes of putting out the blaze. And more to the point, did Lancelot not understand that Arthur wanted – needed - him here?
Arthur gazed up at Lancelot with weary hooded eyes while the other man paced with annoyance in front of him. His green eyes followed Lancelot’s fist when the Sarmatian thumped his own chest. His gaze followed Lancelot still as the other man retrieved a mug of wine from the table. But instead of drowning his anger with the wine as Arthur had expected, Lancelot handed the mug to the Roman instead. Arthur accepted it but did not readily drink.
Darya. Hearing Lancelot speak her name and in that tone conjured up a tidal wave of emotions that Arthur did not want to be flooded with at this particular moment. Darya would not be alone….she would have you, my friend. Perhaps that is the fate you both share and why I cannot…. Arthur’s head dipped for a brief moment as he forced his personal demons down again. His side ached nearly as much as his head throbbed and Arthur gripped at the wine filled goblet with enough force to whiten his knuckles. He said nothing…but felt everything.
Arthur had been aware that Lancelot had once again stood. He then re-opened his eyes to witness Lancelot falter on his feet and reached for the knight’s arm just as Lancelot’s hand grasped on the frame of the chair Arthur occupied. All pains and aggravations were forgotten as only concern now filled Arthur’s mind as his fingers gripped at Lancelot’s forearm.
“Lancelot, you require rest far more than I,” He lied. “And that is why I sent the Optio and not you,” Arthur continued while releasing his grip on Lancelot’s arm as the other man seemed to have steadied himself. Arthur hissed in discomfort as he twisted his torso, the stitches tugging at his skin in the motion, to set the goblet down on the small table to his left. He then recalled Lancelot’s injury and frowned as he took in the other man’s appearance again. The borrowed tunic practically hung off Lancelot’s shoulders, but still managed to conceal the bandage Neeve had placed over his injured arm. “I will give my word once you have sworn your own, my friend. Go to your rest for the remainder of the day. And I expect you to eat…regain your strength,” Arthur mildly lectured Lancelot while he reached up to tug at the other man’s loose tunic…Arthur’s tunic. “And I expect you to return this to me….without damage….later, hm?” Arthur added with a hint of mockery although his expression showed only genuine care. The Commander knew he need not comment further on Lancelot’s earlier outburst…he knew his lieutenant understood the importance of minding his tongue with the Optio. All that remained was whether or not Lancelot would attempt to go after Merlin again the moment Arthur’s back was turned. Even as he offered Lancelot placid green eyes of trust, Arthur was silently planning to order the dark knight watched until the Commander could recover enough to do so personally. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 05:05 PM Post #306 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Mon May 26, 2008 2:39 pm Catherine Catherine wanted to smile at Tristan when he nipped her finger but she knew it would not be received well. So she kept her expression interested but not amused, looking at her immaculate thumb buried against the greying hair of his beard with a peculiar sense of fascination. She was always fascinated with those men whose lives hung in the balance every day of their existence. Any moment he could be called up to go ride out and it would be his last time to be with a woman, his last time to be touched tenderly, his last time to feel another person's skin against his... The whore's thoughts were put to the very furthest reaches of her mind when the Knight started to tug at the laces of his breeches. Again he took her by surprise by how ... to the point he was. The blonde tossed her head to move the hair from her face and gave a warm shudder of pleasure when his hand slid along her thigh, his other one cupping her backside firmly. And then he was inside of her. Catherine's breath caught in the back of her throat and her eyes shot open wide, feeling him fill her so unexpectedly. She had not thought he would be so ... so .... ready! Catherine shut her green eyes, biting her bottom lip in surprise as her body adjusted to the feel of him, his thrusting gentle at first, considerate. Or was he? Was it for his own pleasure that he went slow at first? The blonde pulled her head back a little, about to look at his face to try read what was going on behind his pitch-dark eyes. But he dipped his head to her neck once the space became available. Catherine's eyes stayed open, confusion written all over her unseen expression. It seemed almost tender, the feel of his lips nipping at her cool, pale skin now and then. The speed of his thrusts increased - Catherine could feel the pleasure slowly building inside of herself too, her ankles hitched in behind Tristan's thighs as she pulled him in tighter to her with each thrust. Her free arm wound about his shoulders, her hand sprawled against his shoulder blade. Her breasts felt sore from rubbing against his tunic, the soft flesh being bounced around hard as the speed increased - but it was a thing she could bear, she had done before afterall. She heard the knock before Tristan. The need to giggle was almost unbearable as Tristan continued to fuck her without realising someone was at the door. Or did he and was just ignoring it?
Catherine's legs felt wobbly and weak when Tristan placed her back on her feet. She gave a wry grin, dipping her head as he yanked the door open. She lifted her hand to her hair, twirling it around one slender digit whilst suppressing the urge to laugh at the situation. The hand about her waist, holding her to him, felt rather possessive. Catherine found herself wondering if that was because he had paid for her services and so considered her to be 'his' until he had gotten what he wanted... ? Or was it something else entirely? It was a gentle gesture though, an intimate gesture, one that made the heat in the pit of her stomach increase. It felt nice. She wished her job could involve more of that rather than the other. The intimate moments, the holding hands, the caressing of hair, the kisses to her shoulders. Gestures that had nothing to do with sex. She heard Tristan being ordered away and heard his gruff, annoyed response that he would be there. Without thinking, Catherine's head whipped around, her big green eyes on the Scout's troubled face as he shut the door. She immediately dropped her eyes, a sheepish smile on her lips as she waited for more instructions. Tristan's utterance of 'fuck it' was met with a stifled giggle as Catherine was lifted up by his strong, lean arms and carried to the bed. There was excitement inside of her now, a burning want to finish this because he was willing to put his duty to one side for the pleasure she could offer. The blonde parted her legs and placed her hand back on Tristan's neck, her lips parted as she lifted her face to his, her mouth hovering close to his a moment, her eyes shut. But she did not kiss him, instead she dipped her head and brushed her soft lips against the furthest reaches of his neck that she could caress from that angle. HE slid inside of her again and Catherine moaned, her other hand clasping his shoulderblade now. Her hips lifted as his descended, their bodies clashing in mid-air, the pace increasing, pleasure intensifying, heat rising until finally -- "Oh!" Catherine tried to be quiet, it seemed Tristan's habit to be quiet after all, but the utterance could not be helped. She felt the sweat seep from her pores from the exertion, the quick 'fuck' that she had come to love from men giving her a sharp and pleasureable orgasm that thrummed through her body now, tightening her body around Tristan's stiff and throbbing cock inside of her. It took a moment for her to realise that he had finished too, their timing impeccable. The blonde's arms fell backwards, draped out above her head as she sighed, shutting her green eyes and letting her head loll backwards on the mattress. Her heels remained embedded in Tristan's thighs but they no longer pressed inwards, they just rested there, her legs feeling too worn out to be moved right now. Trying to steady her breath, Catherine moved a shaky hand to Tristan's neck and smiled, her unfocussed eyes looking about his face knowing he would be leaving soon and he might not come back. Oh it was not sadness or worry that had her think such a thing - it was fact, wasn't it? She just couldn't imagine someone with so much life and vitality in them lying dead and yet that was what this man was destined for. Like Gawain. Kolya It said enough about Kolya's character that he didn't even notice that Alina was crying. Would he have stopped this if he did know she was crying? Probably so. He was a bastard - but he wasn't a totally unfeeling bastard after all. And despite the cruel way he was going about things, the Sarmatian really did harbour feelings for the woman. He would not admit it - oh gods no - and once he figured it out he would, no doubt, run a mile.
Kolya gave a wry grin at her, sliding his hand up her back a fraction and then back down again, waiting for a reaction. But .. it wasn't coming. Something was starting together in his head. Something was happening here that had not happened in a long, long time. Kolya cocked his head to the side, his hand falling from Alina's body as a cross look took over his features and he took a step backwards. "Fuck me - you do, don't you?" he said in disbelief, realising now that she was crying, realising now that she did want him no matter that she said she did not. He realised that he wanted her too but that was fucking impossible. Disastrous and impossible. This had been a bit of fun, nothing serious. For him. He had shown her a good time and made her realise that there was more to life than the rubber-necked goody-too-good lifestyle that Galahad had offered her. He couldn't let her know he felt the same though. Kolya's stunned expression changed too quickly and he lifted a hand to stroke his bearded jaw, feeling the beads of water come together and slicked them off his face before raking that same hand back through his longish hair - grinning, though there was a tightnesss to his narrowed blue eyes. "Listen, sweetheart ..." Kolya stepped forward, reaching a hand to her cheek again, feeling brave, "Girls always go for the bad boys, the ones who are no good for them. You don't need to beat yourself up over this. Go back to your boyfriend - but when you want to feel like you're alive again then don't hesitate to come to me, alright?" he said confidently, quietly, almost sweetly, smiling at her. There - that sounded right. It meant that it would only be sex between them. Ever. Nothing more. He didn't want, or need, more. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 05:08 PM Post #307 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Mon May 26, 2008 5:36 pm Ione The exhilarating feel of his warm breath on her neck made Ione shiver, her hands moving over his partially exposed chest, slowly moving the tunic further until it rested about his waist. The young weaver saw Mirtha smile as she left his tunic fall. There had been something about Mirtha, even while she had promised her heart to Javier, that made her curious as to why he attracted her. She never dreamed that he'd ever be attracted to her. Was it his wild nature? Or just the air of freedom that drifted about him? The feeling of safety and warmth that flowed from Mirtha...feeling his strong body close to hers. The scent of him aroused her softly and gently. Ione's hands ran lightly over his bare chest letting them rub open palmed over his hard nipples, then over the taut muscles of his upper torso. Ione had loved Javier very much, but she never felt like he was totally hers...that his connections to wealth, war, his father, and the Church all seemed to have that invisible wedge driven between them. With Mirtha, Ione felt freer to be herself, and not worry about if she was perfect or not... As his hand brushed over her blushing cheeks, Ione's heart raced. What she thought she had wanted in a man had turned out to be the wrong choice. Javier had been the perfect man for her and everything she had dreamed of...but perhaps too perfect. Mirtha was like herself in that they were both far from perfect, poor as church mice, and were looking for that love that came from the heart...not from material things. Her back arched as his hands moved to her breasts under her dress making her moan and squirm a bit under the touch. 'Mirtha...oh...gods....more please...' She whimpered with need as she felt Mirtha's fingers undo the laces of her dress, letting it fall to the floor, his fingers running over the scars on her back. Ione had been afraid to let him see the scars as she was sure they'd trun him off, but instead, he didn't seem to be bothered by them. With his hands on her shoulders, Mirtha had turned her around and pushed the long dark auburn hair out of the way. Lightly tracing the scars first with his fingers than his tongue, Ione moaned bending her head gracefully to the side. Ione reached back a hand to where Mirtha's leather belt was, but just ran the hand over his hips and the front of him feeling the bulge through his trousers...
His hands rested on her hips now as he spoke into her ear. Ione could feel his hardness against her back side...his fingers touching her skin sending shivers over her body. 'I..asked first....,' Ione could barely get the teasing line out as she began to work at his belt, her back still toward him, then letting the pants fall to the floor. Soft fingers ran lightly over his thighs and hips while he licked and touched her scars...then traced a line from her slender hips to her breasts. She gasped. Beads of sweat had begun to form on her body, her breath quickening. Wicked thoughts that had never arisen, now appeared in Ione's mind. Moving him toward the bed as they continued to touch, Ione guided Mirtha to sit on the edge of the mattress. Looking into the eyes of the man before her, Ione knelt down slightly, and began to move like a cat, giving his legs tiny licks tasting the sweat on his skin, working her way up to his thighs, then moved to straddle him so that she was kneeling over his hard length, but she didn't lower herself onto it, but instead said, 'I want you to explore me very slowly so that you know every inch of me...then I want you to teach me what pleases you...' Vanora
Well, Vanora had to hand it to Linnette: she was persistant even while grieving for her loss. Though Vanora liked this persistance, there were times when one needed to take time and get things in order especially when that person's life had taken a tragic turn. Linnette had more important things to do than the ledger. Vanora made a mental note to herself to write in a raise for Linnette even if things were tight...even a few coin raise was better than none, and every bit helped. As Vanora watched the young woman make a note concerning Thorn, Vanora still wondered where Adian had run off to, and hoped that he was alright. He had taken the news of his future wife's death very hard. So many needless deaths...so many battles. Everytime a battle arose, that same fear of losing Bors entered her mind...What would she do, and where would she go if he ever died?
Vanora could not believe what she was hearing. Surely not ALL of the barracks were that damaged that the Optio had to start kicking people, especially widows, out of their rooms. She had not met this Optio up close, but already she did not like him. ''Are there rooms in the servant's quarters that you could stay for the time being...at least until you found something better..." Vanora paused for a moment, then said, "With such a kind man as Arthur, I am sure he'll do all he can for you, Linnette." The red head had never known Arthur to have a mean bone in his body. He did so much for everyone at the fort, that she had no doubt that he'd do everything in his power to see that Linnette was taken care of just like he did all of the rest that lived within Badon's walls. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 05:10 PM Post #308 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Mon May 26, 2008 5:48 pm Lancelot Lancelot's feet seemed to wrap around themselves, forcing himself to falter as he grabbed for Arthur's chair - and damn it, of course the other man saw it, and snagged Lancelot's forearm with his own grip. Could have been responsible...for his death. Could have ... could have been left alone ... alone, in this pisshole. With that Optio.
Lancelot snorted and when Arthur released his arm, rubbed both hands over his face. He had no fear in showing his exhaustion to this man - but that didn't mean he had to like it. The borrowed tunic slipped and slid under his vest, and Lancelot cursed and laughed at Arthur's comment. He also moved away from the Roman's reach, suddenly not wanting Arthur so close. It was disconcerting and the knight did not feel he could deal with any more emotion at this juncture. His stomach burned and his eyes were dry and his mouth was far too empty of wine. And Arthur was lying to him, lying about the serverity of his own wound in order to get Lancelot to agree to behaving. He took a step toward the door, but turned back and rested his hands on his narrow hips - if only to hold up his horrid, old, holey leathers. Fucking things - the last thing Lancelot wanted to spend his measely coin on was clothing. Perhaps he could find some hand me downs in the stores - Tor had been about his size. And Tor was dead, so Lancelot was certain the other Sarmatian wouldn't mind sharing his things. "I will hold my tongue. Even if you lie to me to keep me here - I bound your wound, remember?" He cocked an arch eyebrow at the commander, but was too weary to really follow through on his veiled threat. "Arthur...that Optio had best be certain he uses as much tact as possible with the Magician. I of course would not hesitate to slice his head off - unless of course, you directed me not to," he added quickly, his gaze all innocence and long lashes. "I just - I do not trust Scipio as far as I could throw him, but I also don't want any man to die for no reason. Especially at the hands of that blue bastard. Even if it is the 'official' second." Lancelot flushed at his bitchy words - he really needed to let that pride and embarrassment go. But looking into Arthur's eyes, all he could see was the history between them, Lancelot's rare and unwavering loyalty, and all the things the Sarmatian had done for the other man - for love and for friendship. Yes, for love. He could not deny that any more than he could deny breathing - but there were different kinds of love in the world, and just admitting that he loved his friend didn't mean.... The optio would be here soon. Lancelot pointed at the wine he'd handed Arthur. "Drink that, Artos. It is watered, so you don't have to worry about holding your liquor." Arthur's childhood name rolled easily off his tongue. Why now? Why now, damn it? It has been a long time. Too long by far. A small ache wormed its way into Lancelot's body, filling the holes that his pain had left behind and his overly shielded heart. A gnawing desire for contact shook him almost to the core - even after he had made a point of getting away from the other man. He'd have to go see some of the girls in the tavern, later. Maybe more than one. And that wasn't love, by the gods own teeth. That was just contact, and a type of contact wherein Lancelot didn't owe anyone anything afterward except money. That - he could spare. For the price of sex - to get rid of his annoying and painful need for touch - that he would spare in spades. He smiled briefly, and cocked his head back and forth, working out the kinks. By Hadrian's balls, he was dead on his feet. Dead, for lack of the lieutenant's swords. "I shall promise one thing, and that is to rest after the others have been seen to. Fair?" |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 05:11 PM Post #309 |
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Author: linnet Date: Mon May 26, 2008 7:29 pm Mother Lavinia Lavinia was half surprised that the girl listened patiently, without making a face of boredom or annoyance. She seemed to be a very polite gentle young lady. So much more the pity that she was already involved with a soldier.
Well, it was hopeless. Lavinia hadn’t really expected anything else. The girl had no anger toward him for making her cry, only excuses, and the dreadful ‘he really didn’t mean to’ rationalization. Lavinia just shook her head sadly and let the woman continue.
Lavinia raised her eyes heavenward in frustration. So, the soldier had ‘caught her eye’ where farmers had failed. Was that what the young people were calling it these days? The nun suspected that more than the girl’s eye had been caught. And frankly, who could blame her for succumbing to the lure of a handsome man in a uniform, and the excitement of getting involved with someone whose life was full of adventure and danger. At such a young age, who wouldn’t prefer a dashing soldier to a solid farmer? All the warnings and good advice in the world weren’t going to change this girl’s mind.
‘I’ve already figured that out,” the old woman said with a hint of smile in her sharp eyes. “You’re a nice young lady, and for your sake I hope I’m wrong. But I’m usually not. Go, chase after your soldier.” She dismissed the girl with a flick of her hand, then added, “If he makes you cry again, tell him he’ll have to deal with Lavinia.” The nun started once again toward her office, looking all around for any other business she might want to poke her nose into. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 05:13 PM Post #310 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon May 26, 2008 7:36 pm Tristan Tristan rolled off Catherine with a low groan of completion, the only sound he had uttered during their quick, rough coupling- even his climax had been accompanied only by a silent catch of breath and a tense squeezing shut of his eyes as all the rest of his muscles spasmed pleasurably, too. Now, he lay for a moment, his body touching the woman’s all along their sides, though he did not put his arms around her or anything like that. He blinked, focusing his gaze on the ceiling beams, his breathing almost immediately slowing back to normal- and then turned his head to look at her. He was rather surprised to see that she was peering back at him curiously. What for? And…she had climaxed, hadn’t she? The thought had not occurred to Tristan at all during the act, but now that he had leisure to consider it, he was pretty sure it was true. He sat up, blinking again and looking down at her with a wry twist of his lips. “You’re easy to please,” he snorted softly, but his voice was not unkind, and it even contained a hint of a laugh as he stood up and began to haul up his pants, which had settled awkwardly down around his ankles, as he had never taken them completely off. Not very dignified, and he found himself turning his head away and avoiding her eyes as he worked on the laces. He had to go- and he had to see her out of the room first, as he didn’t want her there when he was not. “Sorry for the rush,” he apologized sheepishly, sneaking a look at her again under a screen of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. Now that his pants were in place, one hand snuck out, almost hesitantly, to the coins he had already placed on the table and pushed them a fraction closer to her. Linnette
“I suppose so,” Linnette shrugged, more in response to the first statement than the second- because she just wasn’t going to complain to Arthur about this, no matter what Vanora seemed to think he would or would not do. And the servants’ quarters above the kitchens were indeed a good possibility as a place for her to stay- and certainly more fitting to her current status than the knights’ quarters, since she no longer shared her bed with a knight. Blinking back the tears that hovered in the corners of her eyes again, Linnette lowered her gaze and idly adjusted the edge of the bandage over her left hand. It needed no tweaking, really- Drake had done a fine, tight job. Turning her attention briefly to the other one, she adjusted Vanora’s handkerchief over the scratched palm- it might make writing easier if she used something to cushion it. “Er…can I keep this for a bit? I’ll give it back to you when I’m finished here,” Linnette looked up at Vanora questioningly and indicated the handkerchief in her palm with the other, bandaged hand. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:06 PM Post #311 |
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Author: linnet Date: Mon May 26, 2008 8:29 pm Gawain
The blond knight’s tension eased when he understood that Galahad hadn’t sought him out to inform him of some crisis. “I was afraid you had something awful to tell me,” he said. “I thought maybe Dag or Arthur… You looked like you’d just gotten bad news.” Gawain narrowed his blue eyes to study his friend. Something was definitely wrong. And this wasn’t just one of the young knight’s quiet, brooding, leave me alone moods. Something had him upset. He was nervous, almost twitchy. He wasn’t withdrawing, but he avoided looking directly at Gawain for more than a quick glance. Gawain wasn’t about to ask Galahad again what was wrong. It had to be something personal, he realized, and he wouldn’t pry or try to force an explanation. Gawain had his own problem that he didn’t want to talk about. He’d lay off Galahad, but be ready to lend an ear if and when his friend felt like talking. Now that Galahad was standing next to him, the long-haired knight was surprised that the other man’s presence felt welcome. He’d been certain that he didn’t want to run into his friends. He had wanted to avoid the Brianna situation, he thought. But he couldn’t run from it forever. His friends had to be told what a fuckup he was in her eyes. What scared him was what their reactions would be. Gawain wasn’t sure that telling Galahad would be a good idea, since the younger man had his own problems it seemed. Maybe he would, maybe he’d wait. But at least he felt ready to face it. For a short time Gawain just stood next to Galahad, both men looking out at the incessant rain. “I was on my way to the infirmary to ask about Dag,” he finally said, turning toward his friend. “Come along? Put your hood up, if you do. You look like a drowned rat.” He smiled familiarly, hoping Galahad would tag along as usual. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:07 PM Post #312 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Mon May 26, 2008 10:56 pm Alina
The realization had seemed to come to her and then him simultaneously, but she hadn't noticed the stunned look he harbored for she was too wrapped up in her own dilemma. In the beginning their relationship had not had this confusion, this disarray of feeling. Alina wondered just when it had been that she had crossed the line between healer and patient? When had the line between friends and lovers been blurred so? The fault, she felt, could only lie within herself. Kolya had been the pursuer, that much was true, but Alina had always had the option of saying 'no.' He had offered her a way out, a different path to follow, and she had elected to take it - she had not been forced. She had known from the very beginning what she was doing despite the denial, and yet she had allowed it to persist. This was all on her. This was her doing. Alina hadn't earned the right to be the one to run away or to crawl inside herself and disappear. The only thing she had conceived from this entire situation was the prospect of choice. She could choose to be with Galahad, or she could choose to be with Kolya. She saw no room for in between, and yet it was an impossible decision. Somewhere along the way, Alina had irrevocably chosen both of them. She was hopelessly dead-locked, the victim of a vicious impasse. Silently, Alina tentatively stepped forward and pressed her forehead into Kolya's chest, her arms shooting under his and around his back, her hands curling about his shoulders. Then, without preamble she turned away, her footsteps feverish against the ground as she hurried through the rain again. She had to see Galahad. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:08 PM Post #313 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Tue May 27, 2008 7:46 am Arthur Arthur watched Lancelot step towards the door. He was so familiar with how the other man moved that he could easily detect Lancelot’s exhaustion in the way his typically fluid stride was hindered by it. Lancelot was vulnerable right now even if the dark knight refused to see it himself. And oddly enough, Arthur found himself frowning over the poor state of his lieutenant’s clothing…with the exception of his borrowed tunic. His gaze noted how the other man’s worn leathers easily slid lower on his hips as Lancelot turned to face Arthur. He deserves better than this….life. The Commander released a mild groan in weariness and scrubbed a hand over his stubbled throat flinching slightly as the tip of his finger brushed over a cut beneath his chin. His other hand seemed permanently fixed to the spot over his stitches.
“Yes…and perhaps if that is enough to keep you safely within these walls, then I shall continue to lie to you,” Arthur answered quietly yet with conviction as he met Lancelot’s challenging dark eyes.
Arthur regarded Lancelot closely while the other man continued to have his say on the matter of the mission; anger and frustration easily visible to the Roman who knew the Sarmatian better than anyone. Arthur found himself wanting to sooth away the other man’s irritants….but the Roman remained still and silent unwilling to make this moment more intimate than it already was. That was no longer possible between us. Although, Lancelot’s use of his expressive eyes and long eyelashes did not go unnoticed by Arthur either. The knight could still manipulate the Roman in ways that no other person could. But no matter how or what Lancelot would attempt right now to persuade Arthur to let him go on this mission….he would not succeed. Arthur was determined to keep Lancelot here within the fortress walls and keep him safe. While Scipio appeared to be a fine Roman officer, the man was still expendable compared to Lancelot…at least for Arthur. ‘Official’ second in command or not. And why had Lancelot continued to mention that particular point? Did he not know Arthur’s opinion on that matter by now?
Arthur’s hand moved to retrieve the mug of watered down wine to appease Lancelot. And there is was again…the ache in his chest at hearing Lancelot address him with such intimate familiarity….as if they had remained more than….. I cannot give him what he needs any more than he can give it to me. “Then we have an accord, my friend,” Arthur lifted the mug as if in salute and then touched the vessel to his dry lips; emerald eyes never left Lancelot’s dirty angular face as he drank. “Do not concern yourself with Scipio. Malcus and Tristan will see to it that my orders are carried out and Merlin dealt with properly. We will speak later tonight once we have both rested, hm?” Arthur finished, allowing the corner of his mouth to slightly twist upwards. He was clearly dismissing Lancelot for now as he hoped to give the knight the opportunity to ‘not’ cross paths with Scipio who he expected to return at any moment now. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:10 PM Post #314 |
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Author: Eledhwen Date: Tue May 27, 2008 8:42 am Bors
Bors knew of Saoirse's selfish act, and not for the first time his heart twisted in anger at the thought of her taking away this man's child. What would Bors have done if Vanora had chosen to not allow him to meet any of his children? He would have killed her - twisted her fragile neck and watched the life leave her beautiful eyes. It was no woman's place to prevent a father loving his child, especially now, for Dagonet, with his only son dead... He met the younger knight's gaze sadly for a long moment, considering his reply. Truth be told Bors did not know what to do either. He felt for Dagonet, felt his loss as though it were his own, perhaps the only one of the knights who could know what it felt like to lose a child. Even though all his children had thankfully been healthy, he could still feel that tug of fear whenever any were hurt, or lost, or in danger. But he could not allow Dagonet to wallow in his misery, not with Saoirse absent. The wild Irish woman was the only other person Dag would listen to, and she wasn't here to help in, not when it counted. Where was she? Wallowing in her own misery no doubt, selfish whore. Bors grit his teeth. "We carry on fighting Dag," he replied forceably, "that's what you do. We carry on fighting the bastard Woads and in five years we go home with our heads held high, knowing we've done our bit for the bastard Romans. Then..." He didn't continue. He had been going to say, then they could find Dag another woman, a good woman, without a selfish, thoughtless bone in her body, with whom he could have more children, more than Bors if he wanted. But he couldn't say that. Whatever he himself thought of Saoirse at that moment he knew Dag loved her and always would. That was the way of it - there was nothing Bors could do. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 23 2010, 06:11 PM Post #315 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Tue May 27, 2008 12:51 pm Tatiana
"Thank you, Ma'am." Tatiana replied polietly. "Yes, ma'am. I'll relay your message to him for you." She commented to the old nun nodding at her polietly before leaving the infirmary heading toward the tavern for a plate or a bowl of something to eat before continuing down to the stables to get some work done and hopefully still be able to meet Brendyn down at the baths. Lavina gave me a good bit of advice to think about. I'm glad that she did though. |
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