lanciform (lanciform) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2007-09-11 02:10:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | a: lanciform, f: berserk, p: caska/gutts, september 11 |
Aches, Berserk (Gutts/Caska)
Title: Aches
Author: Lanciform
Fandom: Berserk
Characters: Gutts and Caska
Rating: Heavy R / NC-17
Word count: 1073
A/N: I might be having trouble with the tags here, lemme know if they're not showing up!
Prompt: Berserk, Gutts/Caska: water - "she is even smaller, even lighter--but no less strong-"
The only other thing Gutts can think of right now is that damn book Griffith showed him.
She's on top of him. Caska is as sore and weary and beaded in sweat as he is, but her palms crush to his chest and she brings her thighs to splay over his waist with an eagerness he hadn't expected from her. One of her hands searches out his length and closes around it, with the same pressure he's seen her apply to her sword just before drawing it. It turns his stomach to iron plate, and it is an incredible feeling. He groans as she brings him back to her, slowly and surely. She doesn't smile, her mouth too dry and greedy for air, but she does turn her eyes down to him, locking him into the stare as she holds his length between her thighs, her thumb rubbing it against the curve of her palm. She holds him like that for a while, readying herself, keeping him warm. He pulses in her grasp.
Three times now, Gutts has taken her, come with her. This will be the first time she takes him. Caska needs this rest as much as he does, and he's fine with it, of course, but it gives him time to look closer. His hands nestle at her waist, his thumbs tracing the hardened lines of her abdomen, and though the touch of her flesh sends a quiver through his aching loins, he feels something else stir within him. The last year has been brutal to her body, the arch of her back stretching the skin around her ribs. There's nothing about her that is not beautiful- but there's also nothing that hasn't been hardened, scarred, worn. They never drew anyone like her in that book. And she's so light on him- all that tone, all those curves, and while it might be the tension in his thighs, she may as well be a bundle of feathers.
Then she narrows her eyes, and closes her hand into a full fist around his length.
Gutts grinds his head back into the leaves and groans, thick and appreciative. She is even smaller, even lighter- but no less strong- her hand pumps him, and he feels her knuckle nestle into his pubic hairs, roll against the flesh beneath. His thighs tighten, and Caska notices, and she flexes her own, the skin stretching there as well. No less strong, and she's learning him, the where and the how. That isn't something he's ever felt comfortable with, except with her.
She tugs at him a little more, enough that he begins to reach full tilt again. Gutts can't think of a time before when it'd felt so good to ache like he is now. His hands are about to trail up her body when he finds they have to support it instead, a tremble passing through her that bows her head. She lets out a long breath, but will not let go of him. "G-Gutts..."
He sits up at her whisper, bringing his bandaged hand to her cheek. "No, let's stop," he says, gently. "You need water."
Caska shakes her head, and turns it back up- and he realizes what brought her to droop like that, pant like that, wasn't thirst. Not the kind he thought it was.
"No," she breathes to him. "I need..."
Her eyes bring his down to where she holds him, and he understands. Gutts never imagines himself to be the kind to blush, but his smiles, when they come, can say the same. He gives her one, though it's tight and serious, and his hands slide warmly down her shoulders, her arms, her back, all the way to her hips, and he holds her there, palms molding to their curves. Her hand moves from his chest to his shoulder, her touch settling on an old scar that she might have helped to heal, a year back. The muscle there is an iron mound, but she squeezes it until the ache almost tickles him. Gutts finds he's starting to like that kind of thing.
But not as much as what she does next.
Caska inches closer to him, her hand bending his length back to follow her, and Gutts is sure this is it. He braces himself, braces her. He doesn't expect Caska to arch forward, suddenly, until her body presses fully into his, chest to chest, hip to hip. Caska moves to kiss him, and his lips almost have hers- but she brings hers higher, as though she might kiss his forehead. He squints, thoughtfully...and then realizes what is coming. He doesn't stop it. He needs this, too.
Her lips pucker and seal around the bridge of his nose. Her tongue moves across his scar with slow and deliberate precision. The tip of her nose brushes the flesh over his eyebrow, and his right eye closes. She suckles, very briefly, and then parts only to blow a soft puff over the moist flesh, spreading in a cool, tingling ripple across his forehead. It runs down his neck, through his back, all the way to his hips, and every muscle it passes through just relaxes for that moment.
Gutts doesn't know how, but for once, the scar means something else. The memories are there, but he can't see them so clearly, feel the fear of that night and the pain of the metal. There's only her, her hands holding him where it aches, and her breaths falling on the scar.
Their fingers dig into each other's skin, and Caska lowers herself, carefully guiding him up into her, heedless of aches and fatigue. He lifts his thighs, his hips, and her as well, and breathes deep as their muscles tighten together. Her legs comb through the leaves surrounding them, lock tightly under his, and he feels her calves flex behind his knees with more strength than this last year could possibly take away. She forces herself down as he brings his hips up to meet hers, and buries her face in the curve of his neck and shoulder. He clutches her to him and thrusts, deep and steady, and feels stronger with every one, every breath that warms and moistens his neck, every broken shard of his name on her gasps.
Gutts just thinks back to that damn book again, and how it never prepared him for her.