ellnyx (ellnyx) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2008-11-12 02:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | a: logistika_nyx, f: baccano!, november 05, p: isaac/miria |
more than one way [baccano!, isaac/miria]
Title: More Than One Way
Author: logistika_nyx
Characters/Pairings: Isaac/Miria
Rating/Warnings: M
Prompt: Baccano! - mutual taking of virginity - but how do you STEAL something like that?
Word count: 935
Other: belatedly claimed and posted for Nov 5. Hope you enjoy!
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'--maybe,' Isaac says, 'I have to trick it out of you.'
'But Isaac, you can't trick me!'
'But we trick everyone else, Miria!'
'But not each other, Isaac. Never each other.'
And that's true, definitely. Isaac contemplates the ceiling for long moments. His silence is nearly as uncomfortable as the feel of Miria's bare shoulder and arm pressed the length of his. Not that she usually feels uncomfortable, pale and delicate next to the sunburn and freckle and fuzz of his arm, no, but rather that the bareness there leads to the rest of her bareness, nipples high and hard, heartbeat flickering between her ribs like a baby bird's, so fast and fantastic -- and that thought, of Miria as a downy white bird cupped in his palms, makes his cock lurch--
'Isaac, does it always move on its own?'
'I don't know everything, Miria. Why don't you touch it and see if it moves then?'
So then she's touching it--touching him, and he's moving not on his own but into her hand, for her hand, because of her hand. If anyone's a baby bird cupped in someone's palm its him, in Miria's hands. That's a good thing, because if he has to be a baby bird without his wings yet, he'd trust someone like Miria to pick him up and put him back where he belongs until he can fly all on his own.
If his cock's not moving on its own, his hands definitely start to wander without clear direction. Miria's shoulders, soft arms, the curve of breast that barely fills his palm, but is as soft and sleek as the feathers of a well-kept bird: Miria's moving now, rising to his touch, lifting hips from the mattress and knees sliding, mouth making an 'o' like she's just seen something with sparkle, something she wants, and her fingers are tight enough around him that it almost hurts -- except that it doesn't--
When his fingers touch the fuzz at her crotch, he finds wet and warm and a place inside that really wants his fingers, because Miria gives a joyous shout that makes him feel very warm. Her whole body arches, as tense as the pulse that has his cock throb.
'See, you move too! But it's very unfair that you have your whole body moving and feeling when I only have one little bit that moves.'
'Isaac, that's so sad.' Her breath is coming with soft sounds and very fast, fluttering. 'Maybe there's another place to touch that has your whole body move and feel?'
Isaac thinks. He's the planner of the two of them, the thinker, the dreamer, but it's Miria that he does everything for, Miria that gives him every idea, Miria who's staring at him with her eyes so wide and so full of Miria it's like she's trying to give herself with that gaze--
'Miria!' he shouts, and grins, and laughs and grabs her and rolls and rolls; they run out of bed and he hits the floor first, an Isaac-shaped cushion for a fallen angel-shaped Miria. 'Miria, Miria, I have it! Instead of trying to take it, why don't we try giving it instead?'
'Ohhhh,' Miria says, and grins, 'oh, Isaac, you're so smart.'
With all her warm soft and always-moving weight on top of him, it feels -- very good, and right; this is something, he's on to something now, or rather, it's on top of him.
He doesn't want to laugh or grin any more, but the feeling that comes to fill the space that mirth leaves inside him is something very special. Isaac can't tell what expression comes over his face, but the grin slides from Miria's lips, and she looks at him in a way that is so beautiful he almost hurts. He tries to smile; he doesn't want Miria to feel that same hurt looking at him.
She kisses him. Her hair falls in a veil, gets between their lips; he bites strands of hair and sucks, and then there's tongue and hair, and all Miria.
'I guess we can't call ourselves the greatest thieves of all time any more, Isaac! We couldn't even work out how to steal something like this.'
'But Miria,' Isaac says, 'as long as we both come out a lot richer, we're even better thieves for never having to steal it.'
'Ohhhh, you're right, Isaac!'
'This kind of thinking is left up to the experts! It's not something any old amateur can do! Deep cogitation, Miria, it's what makes us best better and betterest!'
'Isaac,' she says, shivering as he strokes her spine, 'I give it to you.'
'Miria,' he replies, eyes wanting to close as she runs her fingers through his hair, 'I give it to you first.'
'But I said it first, Isaac!'
'I thought of it first!'
'How about--together then?'
'At exactly the same time?'
Miria nods, and ends up with her forehead on his, the corner of her eye lined up with his. 'Exactly right, Isaac.'
'Oh Miria, you are definitely smarter than I am.' He concedes, with a grin: 'Sometimes.'
She laughs and headbutts him with a crack; he seeks her lips again and doesn't stop looking.
Intrepid Explorer Isaac Dinn is the first to discover that it's much more comfortable and results in much less bruising on the hips if they stick to doing it on the bed, but it's Fearless Explorer Miria Harvent that discovers there are also many more ways to do it than simply lying down.
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