xistentia | one ⛵ why don't you rest your fragile bones?

Entry tags:

one ⛵ why don't you rest your fragile bones?

Characters: Kenzi, Barclay & you!
Summary: Barclay and Kenzi have moved into a lighthouse home, and are throwing a housewarming. Everybody is invited— via Meow Meowd, Kenzi's daemon. Have drinks! Make merry! There are 3 unused bedrooms to abuse, and for those of you with magic, the oceanside location could definitely use some warding/fortification if D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. should ever come.
Date(s): Mid-September 2017, after the fair
Warnings/Notes: Alcohol and potentially other substance use, possibly sexual content, please warn in subject header if so!

Welcome to casa del Kenzi and Barclay, a beautiful oceanside lighthouse with a spacious attached home! Behold, there's a rooftop lounge breathing bright in the open air, a living room with sprawling windows, and two spare bedrooms, all of it in an interesting mix of blue and purple walls within the spacious interior. Check it out! The furniture and decor consist of both modern and vintage choices. Put together, it's as odd a fit as the couple who lives there now.

You might be relieved to know that the raccoon and possum running around are just their daemons. It's pretty clean overall! After all they were expecting guests.

It would appear that Kenzi and Barclay absconded with every bit of alcohol that spawned in the city of Xistentia. You have blue gin, whisky that glows, vodkas in various bottles both plastic and glass, a half-dozen tasteful cognacs, and a range of beers including something in a clay pot that smells rather interesting.

If you're here to drink and/or make new friends, this would be the place. You can also, however, offer to help your hosts with magical wards and protections, considering they're out here on the beach, not far from where newcomers tend to crash and allegedly overlooking the ocean D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. will someday come. (Alternatively, tell them they're daft for taking the risk, however small.) It's gloriously peaceful right now, though.

So maybe what you should really be doing is to go for a swim in the blue water. There's at least one pirate who will race you, and a reformed lady thief who probably won't be going through your pockets if you left your clothes ashore.

Also give them presents. They love presents.

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We really ought to see if you can start fires with your voice. Or otherwise cook, [Barclay says. He's currently deep into his fifth or sixth or seventh drink, pleasantly blurry around the edges. Dressed in his fine mix of vintage and contemporary clothing and leaning against the wall, in a lull between small-talk sessions with some strangers who had apparently come from space. Or a different planet. Barclay is not clear on the distinction or how the language is supposed to be used, and right now, he's quite happy being on the ground right here, in this... insert more confused terminology.] At least check if you can do that thing.

You know, we had those drinks in Eudio that one time, [he motions with a lazy hand.] Where the set the surface of the beverages on fire. And we blew them out before drinking them. Very entertaining.

[ Hot damn he looks good right now (okay, he looks good all the time but still...). She grins her dopey sort of grin that's reserved for whatever lucky man has captured her heart. And that would be Barclay. The party wasn't a rager which was fine by Kenzi, suddenly she was an old, married type of person. ]

Oh honey, I'm never going to be able to cook. [ Sorry Barclay, she's hopeless in the kitchen despite her many jobs that involved cooking or catering. She moves to pat his cheek as she says it, leaning against him after she does.] I don't think fire is a thing that sirens can do. Besides, I'd probably burn the place down trying to light our vodka shots up.

Not with that attitude, you won't, [he says playfully, as if he's really going to try to egg her into starting fires with her superpowers while she's drunk. This just in: he isn't, actually. Barclay winds his arms around her waist, brushes his nose across the sleek black strands of her hair. Breathes deep of the scent of her mingled with that of their home, the combination of perfume and work and sea.

And then, abruptly, he hitches her up against him. Long hands cradling her hindquarters. She is still such a slender thing, despite that food in Xistentia and Eudio were plentiful.]

That's all right. I'll play with fire enough for both of us. And lately, [he shifts his elbows, tipping her knees up -- and open -- around his hips. Unmindful of the clusters of crowd around them.] I've been playing around with spice.

[ Kenzi's got that annoying TV metabolism, the girl can stuff her face and never work out a day in her life and still be tiny. Although she thinks of it as her body trying to make up for those years on the streets where food wasn't so easy to come by.

And when he hitches her up so boldly, after nuzzling the heck out of her hair, she lets out a raucous laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck at her leisure.] Barclay Odell, aren't you being Mr. Exhibitionist. [ She's had just enough vodka Not to Care.]

Just how spicy are you planning on getting?

Spicy enough to want to discuss international cuisine in private, [Barclay says. She provides a good reminder for his over-powered sense of propriety, and he proceeds to tote her off toward the privacy of the spiral staircase. Of course-- the rest of the revelers don't have a lot left to their imagination, with regard to what it is the lovebirds are up to. After all, they've all had a tour around the nest by now.

There's a lot of bedrooms. The culture of Eudio had left its mark.]

Curry? [his feet thump up the steps, his braid swinging into her slender shoulder.] I'm given to understand that red pepper flakes can pull together unlikely ingredients. If you put shrimp on a white pizza, for example. [He knows pizza now. That's probably her crowning achievement, with him. (In this metaphor, it's hard to tell which of them is the white pizza and which is the shrimp.)]

[ For all that she might be kinkier than Barclay, Kenzi isn't the kind of girl who likes to get it on in with an audience. And that's what Barclay seems to want at the moment, a party quickie. Which is fine by her, she's feeling saucy and spicy. As he carries her up the staircase, she's just glad her stomach doesn't grumble at all the talk of food.

However, when he mentions the shrimp pizza, she lets out a laugh. (And yes, she is so proud to have been the educator of pizza and terrible foods, introducing them into his diet). ] Am I the shrimp because I'm small? Are you calling me a shrimp?

[To be fair, it's rather unlikely that other partygoers are actually going to follow them up. The fact that they're about to go and bone is allusive, rather than denotative. Not subtle, but not overt, either.

Maybe they'll just make out for awhile.

Probably not.] I could be the shrimp because I'm a maritime person, [He points out, hitching her wee body into the hallway.] You could be the pizza because you're urban and contemporary. [Now he's pushing the door open with his hip, careful not to bang her knee against the doorframe or the surface of the thing. He totes her into the bedroom.] Or you could be the shrimp because you're wee. I thought we were gloating about that advantage the other week, that they're never out of shoes your size.

[ She pretends to be appropriately offended by the comment to her size even if it's true, they'd just had a conversation lauding the benefits of being so small. And she actually really liked that aspect of herself, her ability to eat like a trash person and still remain tiny. She could eat Barclay under a table.

She likes it when he's like this, frisky and playful, she's going along with it, egging him on, playing her own games.] I'm just the right amount of "wee", thank-you-very-much. Not shrimpy "wee". I'm a very attractive sort of "wee", [ she pouts before her mouth decides it would be better placed at his jaw, letting him carry her where ever. However, that's not before her teeth give his earlobe a tiny little tug. ]

But I guess it's the right kind of "wee" to be carried off and ravaged easily.

[His knee knocks into the base of the mattress, and then he stoops his willowy frame, the basket of his arms tilting gently to lay her onto the bed with a friendly bounce that ripples through her dark hair and the shift of her breasts inside the fabric of her shirt. The pirate looks down at her with a smile, bracing his hands on either side of her narrow shoulders. These are some of his favorite kinds of games, better than dice, safer, but that compels the heart anyway.]

I cannot say you have an excess of humility, [he says, teasing with his voice. But also his hands, which he now skims down over her tiny waist, the flattering spread of her hips, thumbing the button and zip of her jeans. He pops them open, and it's a frictionless tug that exposes the first smooth inch of her lower belly.

He skims his mouth there, following a line south from her navel.] But I have to concede, [he remarks,] attractive so far.

[ On the bed she goes with a contented sort of smile, letting him hover over her as he teases her, then touches her. She moves instinctively, arching her body into his touches, shifting so that he could work her pants open and pull them downward. Of course, Barclay has to tease her more, barely tugging the fabric down at all.

But his lips do feel very nice against her skin, just above the waistband of her underwear. ] I can try to impress you more... [ She moves to hastily pull her shirt off, tossing it aside and waggling her eyebrows at him afterwards..]

Well I wouldn't want to make this about looking for flaws, [Barclay murmurs against her belly, nuzzling his way up now. His nose floats over the smooth well of her navel, then up her belly. He lifts his eyes between her breasts and he takes a moment to admire her bra. Girls like Kenzi don't skimp on lingerie. Faeries like Kenzi don't skmp on lingerie. There aren't girls or faeries like Kenzi, though, and that much Barclay would hold to.]

Does your body feel different, now that you're a faerie? Virtually indestructible, unageing.

[He lays himself up against her, his weight warm against her breasts. In a moment, his cock is between her legs, and he hooks the fragile skein of her panties aside with his finger to press it against her clit, the lips of labia.]

There's one aspect of being fae that has an unexpected downside, one she didn't consider when she came to Eudio because falling in love wasn't a thing she planned on. Kenzi can be so-so about planning.

Never aging means that as she stays the same age, that growing old with the guy she's bonkers about isn't an option. He'll grow old and she'll be the same and someday... She doesn't want to think about that at all.

Instead, she focuses on the hot press of his mouth and the way he looks above her.]

Not to me, it doesn't. [ She looks up at him, drawing in a breath when she feels the hard press of his body against her own, the warmth of his skin pressing to hers. She bites back a tiny sound when he presses himself against her, making her shiver with delight and anticipation.] Does it to you? Am I different?

[His body could cover hers twice, how diminutive she is. He feels how she's holding him, fierce and warm, her tiny hands tight on the fabric of his clothes. The damp warmth between her legs is welcome to him-- by now, he knows her body intimately, and it goes straight to his cock like it knows it's going home.]

Mmm. These are the same-- [He brushes his mouth over her mouth, and then there's a thumb tracing around the vividly made-up corner of her eye.] And these. Your voice.

[The way it sounds when she's trying not to worry about something. But he decides not to mention that aloud. Instead, he kisses her back. Rolls his hips gently against hers, running the length of his cock up against the pink of her, not pushing in just yet. He searches her face.] Are you here with me?

Edited (... i think i forgot to warn) 2017-10-06 01:36 (UTC)

[ They don't really have the time to get completely naked, do they? They have guests downstairs and this is meant to be a drunken quickie. And yet, she wishes they had more time in every sense of the idea.

Her eyes flutter shut when his mouth brushes against hers, when he slides his thumb just around her eye, explaining the things that are still the same with her. And she sucks in a breath against his lips, the resulting sound something akin to a whine when he rolls his hips against hers, sensitive skin brushing against sensitive skin.

Her eyes open, however, at his question, her hands finding his face as she smiles.] Yes, I promise. [ She is now, she's not thinking about anything other than him and the way he feels and how much she loves this man. Kenzi reaches between their bodies then, warm fingers wrapping around his cock to try and guide him where she wants him to be (and where she suspects he wants to be too).]

[She's not wrong. It's what he wants from her, which he wants nearly as bad as all of the things that he wants for her. Among them, to relieve the disquiet in her soul, how badly she misses Bo, the comforts of Eudio as well as the greater calling of her fate among the fae at home. It had been no skin off his nose, the thought of eventually joining her there, making his final incentive his final world.

But there's none of that now. There's only the surreal squeeze of her as his cock nudges in, pressing apart the slippery folds of her. He runs his fingers up the tender skin under her arm, presses hungry kisses to her throat. He'd never expected to live this long, past his mid-twenties— the lifespan that Kenzi imagines is beyond him. This, however, he knows. How porcelain fine her limbs are outside, how soft and warm she is on the inside. He rolls his first thrust into her, quick-- jerk in a sharper angle up against the part of her, inside, that he knows will make her tiny feet kick and her body open deeper and wetter to his thrusts.]

Hello love. [His nose grazes her cheek, his smile grazes her mouth.] There you are.

[ She's not as restless as she's been in the past, domesticity had become a lot more familiar to her thanks to her time in Eudio and now here. Sure, things weren't always perfect or slice of life but it was still a lot calmer and more secure than her life on the streets.

His mouth feels like fire against her skin, her whole body already tingling with the alcohol she'd been drinking and the anticipation of feeling him inside of her. He doesn't make her wait too long, thrusting into her with a rougher entrance than usual. She gasps, back bowing and yes, her feet reflexively kick upward a little before her legs move to wrap around his waist, keeping him still for a moment while her body adjusts to him.

As he nuzzles her cheek and then her lips, her hand moves to tangle in his hair.] I'm not going anywhere.

[He tucks his fingers up under her left knee, pulling her slender leg up until the heel of her tiny foot skims the small of his back. Then he slides his hand down again, planing along her smooth thigh until he can feel the slight gap between her buttocks and the bed. His touch is featherlight, just skimming the sleek curves of her body with his fingertips.]

Nor I.

[and with that, he sets his hand back against the blanket, fingers tightening on the fabric. And he shunts his hips forward, burying himself into her in rolling, fierce little thrusts, like he's making a sanctuary for his cock in the sweet wet warmth of her body. Much like this lighthouse has become for them, between missing Eudio and fearing for the fate of the multiverse. He tucks kisses under her throat, as if for safekeeping.]

[ She loves him. She's in love with him. Like stupid in love. She doesn't need booze or the end of the world to make her admit it, to want to be with him. Sure, she's scared of losing him but he knows her life, knows the things she is and has been, the things she's surrounded herself with and he hasn't run scared.

He's rolled with it.

And right now, he's doing a different kind of rolling, one that has her gasping, her back bowing, her hands moving to tangle into his hair as she rocks into those movements.]

Ah, gah--Barclay.

Kenzi, [he answers, the word funneling warm and damp into the nook of her throat.] Kenzi, [because he likes her name. He's always thought it didn't sound very Russian, but he liked that about her too— how much of an expatriate she was, always the wanderer and the thief, the stranger in a foreign land, long before she'd come to Eudio. An outsider who found others to form her clan with, and in choosing them, she looked past differences of time. Even-- in Bo's case-- of species.

Powers or no, he loves her too. And he kisses her fiercely as he ruts into her, his cock finding a sweating rhythm, and pushing steady, then faster. He runs the long fingers of one hand over her neck, her shoulder, the ticklish cage of her ribs. Finds a grip on her ass, even as his knees dig into the mattress for traction.]

[ She like the way he says her name, she likes the way it feels against her skin, breathed out and warm. She likes the way he kisses her, she likes the way he moves. She likes everything about him, about how far he's come, how much he's learned and still managed to be the same man she found herself drawn to.

Her body moves with his, arches into his touch. She kisses him back, she gives herself over to him for a little longer before she breaks the kiss and murmurs against his lips.] Roll us over. [ If she weren't so damn dainty, she'd do it herself but she wants to give him the ride of his life.]

[He's not going to say no to that. He complies, and quite quickly, arms slipped around her waist and his own narrow hip digging down into the mattress. An easy pull on her slight frame, and he has them up vertical again. Gravity tilts with them, intersecting with a little bit of centrifugal force to shove his cock deeper in her when they settle, riding up at a lip-biting angle against the tender spot inside of her.

Her breasts settle against his chest. He slides his fingers down the question-mark curl of her spine, and smiles up at her face, which leaves no rooms for questions in his mind at all.]

I like your voice best like this, [he tells her. She's a siren. Her voice literally, physically saved his life once. But he isn't lying.]

[ A sound leaves her when he pushes in deeper, although the sound is a result of nothing but pleasure. She gasps out his name, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she adjusts to the position. He touche her, she can feel his smile without even seeing it, knowing it's there when she hears him speak.

Her eyes open to meet with his with a shudder.] Breathless? [ She runs her lips over his, then slide them along his jaw before she starts to roll her hips, slowly for now, wanting to hear him out before she picks up the pace.]

Breathless, [he agrees. He actually kind of forgot the original question, but it seems true. Breathless. It describes him in the moment as much as her. Her eyelashes like fucking palm fronds in the half-light of the room, and there's a dancer's agility to the twirl of her hips, sleeking over his cock. One day, when he has more time, he'll try to have her enough orgasms that she accidentally loses it with her powers and shatters a window, maybe. Hopefully not his skull instead.

He kisses her bra line, like he's mapping a constellation down to her cleavage, slow and reverent.]

You're the best at making me sound that way. [ she half-murmurs, half-slurs against his temple, letting him bury his face in her chest as she rides him, picking up the pace after a moment of letting him kiss the skin above her bra. after a moment, she lets her mouth brush along his ear so she can whisper, breathlessly as possible:]

I love you, Barclay.

[And this is sentimental, in a way he never would have been before Eudio. Even halfway through Eudio. Not since before Valentine's Day, probably, when he carried her in through the threshold of his workshop and set her down in front of a meal styled after Russian traditions. Today, he's sentimental in a different way. She says she loves him, not for the first time, but still-- but still. And he comes, a flash of orgasm rocking through his rangy body. A flash that leaves a neon green afterglow behind his eyes.

His arms tighten around her. He groans her name, sucking on a spot above the edge of her bra, his nose grazing the fine skin of her shoulder.]

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one ⛵ why don't you rest your fragile bones?

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this got marked unread somehow? i'm so sorry

no worries at all!

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nsfw

i swear i can html real good, REAL GOOD

html is the worst

it issss

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