Ivar watches her very carefully as she goes through the ritual. She's not of his world and doesn't know the specific customs, but the intent is there clear as anything. He's satisfied with how she handles her chicken and the blood right afterwards. Alright, time to wrap up the ritual.
He picks up one of the bowls. "Now we pour the rest of the blood over each other." Granted, they each could've done it themselves rather then each doing it to the other, but pouring blood over a hot chick is likely an item on Ivar's bucket list that he wants to cross off.
He looks down at the two chicken carcasses just before he pours the blood over Gaige. "I wonder how long it will take to figure out if this worked or not as far as Honir is concerned." Then he looks back at her. Yup, she definitely looks even hotter dripping with blood.
Gaige gets her eyes shut a second before he does it, leaning her head down to make it easier for him where he's sat. It's not the first time, won't be the last she gets covered like this. That thick way blood moved even within seconds after it was spilt, fresh and red. Running down her body, her clothes. Trickling around her neck, her chest, between her breasts and dripping down to the ends of her fingers in a steady stream.
"Guess there's nothing to do but wait. Figure we can pass the time somehow until we know for sure."
Which is about as much warning as he gets, because one thing was always true of Gaige. She was fast, and with it, she steps forward and kisses him. Mouth hot and sharp on his. She's messy, not neat, nothing about her is. That little bit too many teeth, a reckless grin as she inhales, smearing the blood against his lips where it covers her face that she presses into his.
That with her lips on his, her hand lifts, and tips the blood over him in return.
The Viking teen won't deny and say that the sight of Gaige being drenched in chicken blood isn't hot. She looks like she just came off a battlefield. Really, fighting something right now is the only way this moment could get any better. Or so he thinks. Then it does.
Ivar is definitely not expecting her to make the first move at all. Then again, he's good at reading people all but where his own feelings tend to cloud his view. So he's surprised and turned on at the same time as Gaige's lips meet his own. He hasn't kissed anyone since he killed his wife. He does his best not to think about that fact right now. Getting drenched in blood helps bring him back to the present moment.
He inhales and gets a little bit of blood in his mouth as he reaches up with one hand, curling it around Gaige's neck to bring her down closer to his level. He can taste her and blood and vegetables in his mouth right now and it excites him in a familiar way. He's not sure where they're going with this, but it'll be fun no matter what.
She knows where she's going with this, that's for sure. It's something to do. He's something to do. Someone who won't run, or cry, or squirm where she's all sharp pieces held together under the heat of a welding iron. That he likes blood and he likes the violence, but he isn't all bandit, has things he cares about. Rules he stands by. There's - a comfort to that.
The bowl drops, empty now, clattering onto the floor as she begins to push into him with his encouragement. Her mouth parting to lick that taste of blood out of his mouth, thin and heady inhalation on the taste. Because she does like it. It's not quite the same as running under fire, but oh it'll do for something that makes sense.
This probably isn't the time or the place for it, but fuck, they'll work it out as she bends. "Never had someone fuck me in a temple." It's panted quick against his lips. "Is that okay for the Gods too?"
Ivar craves affection and that's what she offers him. Someone dangerous and violent like himself, who doesn't judge him for either his behavior or the fact he's a cripple. She doesn't even seem to care about the latter fact at all. The fact she's hot as hell, especially covered in blood as she is right now, only adds to the fact.
Ivar thinks for barely a moment if this is going to offend his gods. Well, it's a celebration of life that contrasts well with the deaths that had just occurred. He makes up his mind quickly. "If they don't like it, they can protest it later." Who can say what Honir's reaction is gonna be when he finds out what's going on? He might actually like it or at least be curious about the process.
He reaches out and slips his hands under the edges of the blood-drenched shirt she's wearing as a robe (Sorry, Rhys, you're not getting this one back.) and seeks to pull it over the top of her head. He notes for the first time as he finally really looks that one arm is not like the other.
He's the one calling the shots where all this - God stuff is concerned, so if it's good enough for him, it's good enough for her. Or so says the grin she presses into his mouth, full and laughing. "Good, reckon no one will bug us here."
Because no, she doesn't think about his legs, any more than she thinks about her arm when she exposes the tattered skin that is her upper body in scars. Those things to her mind are just what has to be worked around, not a prohibition against. Especially not after being so long on Pandora. But as her clothes come off, tossed over her head eagerly, she's left in her mostly sensible underclothes, she shivers a little to let him inspect as she briefly wipes at her eyes. Nothing fancy, just a bra, underwear and where her black stockings hug the top of her thighs. She was never a big girl, tall or otherwise, but certainly not lacking, though these days it's all lean muscle that rolls smoothly in her direct purpose. Might be half metal on her arm.
"So," she breathes it out, squirming that little. Coming in close, dragged her words against his lips and yeah, just a problem to solve. Her fingers going to his jacket, beginning to yank at laces, kissing him in bites between it. "How does this work?" does he need to stay in the chair. "I should say, I'm pretty flexible. So don't be afraid to ask."
Closer, though, easy for him to reach and touch in return. Differently textures to brush overs. Shrapnel on her shoulder, a bullet graze on her hip, acid and fire burns mottled in patches. But the mess, the mess is her arm, it hadn't been a well thought out plan that she hacked it off. A mangled off angled cut at her shoulder where it had come off. The metal of her robotic arm was maintained but well worn, especially in comparison to, say, Rhys. But it works just as well as one of flesh and blood, when she leans over him, meeting his gaze, her eyes so green against the red of the blood.
He doesn't want to sound clueless, but he's never had sex in a wheelchair before. At least he's got enough (awkward) experience to know what works and what doesn't by now. "We'll have to do this sitting. I'm not able to stand." He's a bit put out in his own mind that she'll be on top, but that's a cultural thing, and well, they're not among the Norse now. So there's no one who will mock him for this, and if they do, he'll shove a knife down their throat.
He lightly runs his fingers over some of her scars, feeling the different textures of her skin. There's rough ones from what seem like stab wounds and smoother ones that feel like they were from burns. He wonders where each of them had come from. Maybe she can tell him afterwards.
Then he helps her take his own jacket and shirt off, leaving his well-toned upper body on display. For someone who's been in as many battles as Ivar has, there's surprisingly few scars on him. It helps he's usually at a distance. Besides, after all the broken bones he's had over the course of his life, he's fine with having tattoos instead to commemorate his victories. There's several on his chest and one on his back, all archaic in their simplicity as they show designs like Sköll and Hati chasing the sun and the moon forever in their quest to catch them.
He lets her take a look for a moment before leaning up and kissing her again, one hand splayed out over her side and the other wrapping around her back to pull her in close. He was feeling something with her he hadn't felt with any other partner: confidence. She knew he was a cripple and didn't seem to care. So he didn't feel the need to be as self-conscious as he usually does.
It's a treat as far as she is concerned - because she never had this much time to touch. Getting a guys shirt off properly and not just half undone, definitely is a treat. Dropping them over her shoulder along with her (Rhys') shirt. But there's something there to soothe his pride even if she is otherwise more in control.
Because her mouth is immediately on his neck and shoulders the second his shirt is gone. Oh, hell, he's so handsome. The tattoos, the strength in his body, his muscles hard under her fingers as she laps blood off his skin with drags of her lips, though it only smears more blood as she goes on his bare skin. It occupies her most of all as an incentive when he pulls her in. Yeah. Sitting, right. Knees. She's careful where she puts him. She hasn't asked, and he hadn't volunteered the information, but whatever was up, she didn't want to hurt unintentionally.
Planned on hurting him very intentionally, in just the right way.
So for right now, she makes sure to nestle them either side of his hips. Close as they could be as she settled her weight into his lap, and she's - turned on enough, right now, that it pulses up her body with just that bit of friction when they press together that she moans into his skin as she drapes against him. "Fuck, you make me so hot."
As her weight settles comfortably onto his lap, there's spasms of pain, but nothing more then what he usually goes through. Ivar figures if he hasn't shattered his pelvis by now during sex then he's not going to.
His head tilts to the side as her mouth gets right into the sensitive spot right where the curve of his neck meets his shoulder. The bits of his skin that he can feel her tongue touching send little shocks of pleasure up and down his spine.
His fingers close around the edges of her bra. Now, while Norse women have bras, they're just wraps of cloth tied up that can be easily undone. This one with clasps and hooks is a whole different animal. How is it supposed to come off...? He tries for a bit, and when that doesn't work, he gives up, instead working on unrolling the stockings she has on. At least he knows how to deal with those.
She's careful with her metal fingers as she runs both hands over his body. Making sure to keep out of his way if he really wanted to do it himself, but when he seems stuck on the clasp, she laughs against his throat and brings her hands back behind her back. Yeah, thousands of years and one thing was the same: dudes never could work out bra clasps.
But it comes off quick as anything with a sharp little tug the right way, tugging it down her arms hastily so she can lean back into his body pressing her breasts into his chest. As much about touching him as shifting her weight so he can keep rolling down her stockings. Which, that's - distracting in itself. His hands trickling through the material just enough to make her groan, that building heat sharp between her legs. That hair-trigger eagerness that she barely needed much to get her going. Especially with the heat of blood, of killing even a little, and his blue, blue eyes.
But distracted or not, twitching her hips looking for contact, some things she needs to make sure of first. Leaning up, she bites his lip, tugging his focus that little bit up to her and not just all the fun ways they can touch each other. "Where shouldn't I touch?" Something else, something else important, Gaige, not just how good his mouth feels or the impatient need to get his pants undone and fuck him. "My arm. Can't feel always how hard I'm pressing with the metal. Say, uh, - " shit, word, something he wouldn't say normally. "Grenade? Yeah, that'll do. If I'm hurting you too bad with it. It'll make me stop straight away."
The bra being taken off is something of a relief. He was beginning to think he was going to need to cut her out of the darn thing with one of his knives. While that would've been fun for both of them, it might be a bit early to be getting into knife play.
There's some anxiety about being able to, ahem, perform, given his track record before. He finds out he doesn't need to worry. The friction of skin-on-skin contact as her breasts press into his chest. and feeling relaxed enough around Gaige is enough to get his cock working properly. There's something so very attractive about having sex when both of them were covered in blood.
He almost misses her question. What's that? Oh yes, pain. He thinks on that for a moment. "Nothing much below the waist." It's both a matter of pain and pride. He still can't stand to have anyone sleeping with him to stare much at his legs, poor, scrawny, wasted things that they were.
Then she reminds him of one other thing: the metal arm. This won't be a fun experience for either of them if she breaks one of his bones during sex. Memorable, yes, but not fun. "Grenade. Got it." He's not sure if they'll even need it, but he's managed to break bones from far less strenuous activities then this.
Got it, is the nod of her head as she keeps up the steady pressure of her lips dragging over his shoulders. "Don't touch the cut from my real arm, gives me weird phantom pains in a not-fun way." Less the stab-hot quick feeling of landing blows, but that nauseous headache the last time she had to take off the metal arm.
But not now, not now. Now what mattered more was threading her good fingers tightly in his hair to tilt his face up to kiss him again, rocking into his lap, grinding head against the rough material of his pants up between her thighs in that little bit enough fraction to make her groan against his lips. That building heat that burns tightly, turning her all slippery-quick. If she's aware that she's quick, easy as far as a fuck goes, she's never had a conversation about it that mattered particularly to her. Because why the hell should she care when there's a hot guy that gets her this wet, this fast and is interested in touching her back?
So no touching his legs? Worked just fine for her. Her metal fingers begin to tug the laces of his pants undone, maintaining just enough patience not to rip them apart entirely. Because oh, fuck, it's been ages since she had someone remotely interesting enough to make her want to do something else but fight. With just enough forethought to move her metal fingers away and swap with her real ones as she finally gets into his pants. If his bones like his legs are fragile, God forbid anywhere else far softer. But her palm is warm as she slides it into his clothes.
No underwear? Neat. Suits her just fine as her lithes fingers curl around his cock with a happy little sigh as she finds him growing hard. The blood trickled further down, now, over her chest, down her arms. The heat of their bodies keeping it smooth. His fingers leaving bloody handprints on the skin where the sun hadn't tanned starkly bright.
With all the communication out of the way, it’s time to get down to business. He presses his mouth up against her’s. His lips start out with meeting Gaige’s before they begin to move downwards, first across her cheek, and then down her neck, where he finds a sensitive spot to nip at with his teeth and soothe with his tongue. He can taste the saltiness of the blood that had worked its way into the crooks of her skin.
One of his wrists bends upwards while the fingers go downwards pressing hard against her skin as Gaige’s fingers close in around his dick. He takes in a breath, sharp, almost as if he’s in pain even though it’s borne from pleasure instead. It’s been a long while since he was touched like this by anyone. Not since Freydis and not even for a while since they’d had their falling out. He can feel most of his warmth rush straight to his groin.
The other of his hands roams across her breasts, feeling their weight in his scarred palm. He runs his callused fingertips slowly across them before hovering over the center. His thumb rubs over her nipple, stimulating it to help her get off even better.
The more he touches, kisses, bites, the quicker her hand works, an incentive push and pull. Squirming and shifting in his lap as she presses back into his lap. Tilting as he breaks away from her lips, down her throat and she lets him have as much skin as he wants to roam over. Enjoying how he gripped that little bit harder, not treating her softly. Encourages her, grinding back with absent friction, fingers tight in her rough palm. Gun callouses that she teases against the sensitive underside of his cock. Focused on that - head tilted, listening to see what sound came out of him for that -
"Ohhh, fuck," her voice hitches roughly, going still when she arches into his hand. Always such a catch, it feels like it should be a relief as he palms at her chest, teasing with sensitive skin. Loudly whining, eyes screwed tightly shut, she enjoys it so, so much. But hell if it ever was more than just an electric bolt straight down and carved out her need deeper where it hit. "Keep going, ah, fuck that feels good - "
It's a babble more than coherency, mindless encouragement in the way she knows how to be, especially like this: too eager and never kind. Mindlessly praising of him with little cuts of sound where she can snatch him for a kiss here and there, palm lazily going back to work when she remembers to move it again, but at the same time, fixed, to see if she can repay that favour.
With the encouragement she gives him, Ivar continues what he's doing, working away at her breasts. As he feels her fingers continuing to work his cock, he makes a sound in the back of his throat. "Hnnngggnnnhhh," Ivar says, groaning out a series of consonants rather then an actual word. Words seem superfluous right now.
He can't take much more of this. Her hand on his dick just makes him want her all the more. Finally, he seems to find a few words. "Gods, fuck me." He keeps one of his hands on her breasts, working the delicate skin there.
For more encouragement, he slides his hand around to the front from her back and then slips it into her panties. It takes him a fumbling moment before he can get his fingers inside of her, moving them around to see if he can have her keep making those sounds. He might not know all the technical terms, but he'll see if he can find her clit to keep on going.
She honestly wouldn't care what he called it, as long as he knew where to find it, that's all that matters, and when he does - she whimpers, not able to help where she freezes, pressing into the hand at her chest, and hips back into his fingers as he slides into her and desperately tries to take more like the demanding thing she is.
Twitching, her head falling, hair falling over her face in a mess and tacking with blood as she grins between each kiss. Her free arm curling around his shoulders, broad as they are, strong as they are. It's not really a surprise when she thinks about it. But damn if it wasn't nice to find out this way. Easy to reaching his tattoos where she's so much littler in his lap. Squirming happily between the steady pressure of his fingers fucking her open, how with each stroke, she's all - eager and slick, coating his fingers that each movement comes smoother and easier and she whimpers into the bites she begins to litter over his neck, his shoulders, that little jut of collar bones she feels out with tongue and teeth. Lapping at the blood, smeared over the both of them.
Though it's hardly listless, the more he keeps it up, the pointed those sharp little cries she begins to smother against his chest. That joy to being 19 and stupid, it never took her much to get her off, especially when it had been ages, and this place and these people leave her empty - and there was enough here already. The way he seemed to like her as it was, as much as he liked the violence, that he was hot as hell, that he was into it as much as she was. Wasn't even a little bit afraid of her. That his fingers were that little bit rough, that little bit broad, that little bit too much, that leaves her screwing her eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed as it leaves her toes curling. "Ivar." His name in between little profanity said like prayers. Her voice hitching higher, mewling vibrations into his skin.
The bites all along his skin each leave a tingle of pleasure running through his body. He keeps working his fingers inside Gaige, his confidence growing when he hears the sounds she makes and can feel his fingers growing wet. He's feeling a deep ache within himself for release as well.
They're young and alive and full of fire. If they burn up together, so be it, for it will be a pleasurable experience for both of them. She's gorgeous and interested in him without seeming to care a whit about his legs. It's a new and amazing discovery for him. For the first time in a long while, sex actually feels pleasurable for him.
Then he removes his fingers from Gaige, leaving her to grow possibly antsy for a moment before he slides his dick inside her. Then he starts up a steady pressure. It's muted compared to what most men were capable of, given that he couldn't thrust with as much force given his useless legs. But it's enough to be able to give her pleasure and that's all that matters to him.
She is that for that breathless second where his fingers go, squirming and whining petulantly against his lips for contact she's denied, one second is too long before he can feel him moving to align them. Lifting her hips eagerly to help the angle. Her eyes shutting tightly as she gasps with that finally. God finally, filled up and it's oh so good. Her fingers twisting tightly.
Easy to make up for where it's tricky for him to move, more than happy to make up the pace as she rocks steady. God they were going to have to figure out a way that she could get her legs around his waist, one of these days, which is just haphazardly pleasing in the same thoughts of again and more and God, God, God that tear out of her lips in a steadily louder moan. He feels so hot inside of her, and she feels feverish in return. Little against his chest, but pushes up equal in height that is worth it when it means she can put fingers in his hair and twist them tightly to tilt his face to hers. Panting raggedly against his lips, meeting his eyes directly, green and bright, half-mad and gleefully so.
"Come on, Ivar," the blood trickling down her skin, sticky and smeared. "I want to feel bruises tomorrow morning and know I fucked you." Leans in to brush her lips against his ear, scraping her teeth and biting sharply against his fingers. "Hurt me, and I promise I'll hurt you back."
Ivar has rarely had sex this good. Despite all his fumblings thus far, Gaige seems to know what to do so that the rhythm they've got going isn't lost at all. He can feel the two of them joined together now, their bodies entwined so close together. He clutches at her with something close to desperation, as if he's afraid this is a dream he's going to wake up from soon.
He rolls his hips in a way to keep things going and then listens for a moment to Gaige as she urges him to hurt her.
That's all the encouragement he needs really. He lifts his mouth from her lips over to the side of her neck, biting at the thin skin far too hard to be called a mere hickey. He wants to tear it, taste the blood beneath it. One of his hands is pressed tightly around her waist. He's sure that he's going to leave marks she'll remember him by.
The reaction is immediate. Her hips snapping into his with a stolen cry, sharp and pleading, knees squeezing tightly. He feels so good, that pain and blood and heady mess of they probably shouldn't be here, and whatever the magic of it is that she doesn't care to understand just that it feels so good right now. Chasing that fixed sort of nothing with utter purpose. How her breath feels her lungs, how the taste of his skin and his lips fills her head.
Fuck, fuck. Too much. It's good to be young and stupid, it's good to be young and not need to know better, because as he scores her as deep as bullets through a shield, it's enough. "Oh, fuck, Ivar." Fuckfuckfuckfuck - She sobs when she comes. Locking her body around him so tightly, the long, crying noise that tears out of her that's all rough before pretty, her metal hand gripping onto the chair, her real hand scratching down his back, gripping hard into his skin. That welcome shake in her limbs that turns her rhythm off-kilter, needy small little twitches where she has him as deep as she can and her thighs are shaking.
Doesn't let her stop, not even for a second, even when the overwhelmed cries turn to whimpers she buries against his throat, her spine curving to press her body into his, face tilted up. That peak all acid-hot, gripping him, all ripped out of the back of a magazine you find in a bandit clan in crudeness that feels so right, right now. That she didn't want him to stop fucking her, hurting her, didn't want him to stop being in her and grinding hard against him. All fucked up and open, here always, if she can just have more. Her body holding pliantly into him like he was the only thing holding her up, and it was more than a little true.
He keeps going, full of the fire and vigor that only someone full of life at the age of nineteen can possess. Then he climaxes with a sudden jerk, the hand holding onto Gaige's waist pressing tight enough to leave deep black-and-blue marks, while his entire frame goes stiff and rigid for a moment. There's deep, primal cry that escapes his throat almost like a battle cry.
Then he just slumps there in his chair, as boneless as his nickname would suggest right now. The level of bliss he was at right now couldn't be measured in quantifiable terms. He hasn't been this happy in a very long time. Covered in blood, sweat, and what's likely going to be quite a few marks forming, he feels very content.
She kisses his throat through it, rocking, twitching every little bit of that jerking high out of him. Or as much as she can when he's hiding her in a vice grip, held tightly, where he's thrust all the way inside of her. Letting him enjoy it as much as she does. Overstimulated and blood-soaked. Sated with sex and ripping themselves to pieces. It leaves her toes curling against the cooler air, in the after-shocks like a bomb drops.
Gaige rubs her face affectionately like a cat marking its territory, as they come down. Knows she's a mess, or that they are as a whole. Naked on top of him where he's still half-dressed in comparison, his handprints both now marked in red and she can tell, later will bruise into her hips by the time she wakes up later. But that's something to worry about later if it's even worth worrying about. Like that she probably needs to ask someone what the hell birth control was like in magic whatever land, because ah, fuck, he came in her, didn't he? That sticky feeling she'll worry about later. Right now, it's too late and too content to care, she stretches out.
Or maybe it's just pride. Got him going just as good as he got her. Made him go all kinds of undone, just like he made her.
"Think I like this worshipping your Gods thing. Kinda fun."
Nuzzling against him, head buzzing empty, the edge from too many days not fighting finally taken off, she feels good.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-09-21 05:38 am (UTC)He picks up one of the bowls. "Now we pour the rest of the blood over each other." Granted, they each could've done it themselves rather then each doing it to the other, but pouring blood over a hot chick is likely an item on Ivar's bucket list that he wants to cross off.
He looks down at the two chicken carcasses just before he pours the blood over Gaige. "I wonder how long it will take to figure out if this worked or not as far as Honir is concerned." Then he looks back at her. Yup, she definitely looks even hotter dripping with blood.
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Date: 2019-09-21 06:08 am (UTC)"Guess there's nothing to do but wait. Figure we can pass the time somehow until we know for sure."
Which is about as much warning as he gets, because one thing was always true of Gaige. She was fast, and with it, she steps forward and kisses him. Mouth hot and sharp on his. She's messy, not neat, nothing about her is. That little bit too many teeth, a reckless grin as she inhales, smearing the blood against his lips where it covers her face that she presses into his.
That with her lips on his, her hand lifts, and tips the blood over him in return.
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Date: 2019-09-21 07:19 am (UTC)Ivar is definitely not expecting her to make the first move at all. Then again, he's good at reading people all but where his own feelings tend to cloud his view. So he's surprised and turned on at the same time as Gaige's lips meet his own. He hasn't kissed anyone since he killed his wife. He does his best not to think about that fact right now. Getting drenched in blood helps bring him back to the present moment.
He inhales and gets a little bit of blood in his mouth as he reaches up with one hand, curling it around Gaige's neck to bring her down closer to his level. He can taste her and blood and vegetables in his mouth right now and it excites him in a familiar way. He's not sure where they're going with this, but it'll be fun no matter what.
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Date: 2019-09-21 07:52 am (UTC)The bowl drops, empty now, clattering onto the floor as she begins to push into him with his encouragement. Her mouth parting to lick that taste of blood out of his mouth, thin and heady inhalation on the taste. Because she does like it. It's not quite the same as running under fire, but oh it'll do for something that makes sense.
This probably isn't the time or the place for it, but fuck, they'll work it out as she bends. "Never had someone fuck me in a temple." It's panted quick against his lips. "Is that okay for the Gods too?"
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Date: 2019-09-22 02:06 am (UTC)Ivar thinks for barely a moment if this is going to offend his gods. Well, it's a celebration of life that contrasts well with the deaths that had just occurred. He makes up his mind quickly. "If they don't like it, they can protest it later." Who can say what Honir's reaction is gonna be when he finds out what's going on? He might actually like it or at least be curious about the process.
He reaches out and slips his hands under the edges of the blood-drenched shirt she's wearing as a robe (Sorry, Rhys, you're not getting this one back.) and seeks to pull it over the top of her head. He notes for the first time as he finally really looks that one arm is not like the other.
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Date: 2019-09-22 05:43 am (UTC)Because no, she doesn't think about his legs, any more than she thinks about her arm when she exposes the tattered skin that is her upper body in scars. Those things to her mind are just what has to be worked around, not a prohibition against. Especially not after being so long on Pandora. But as her clothes come off, tossed over her head eagerly, she's left in her mostly sensible underclothes, she shivers a little to let him inspect as she briefly wipes at her eyes. Nothing fancy, just a bra, underwear and where her black stockings hug the top of her thighs. She was never a big girl, tall or otherwise, but certainly not lacking, though these days it's all lean muscle that rolls smoothly in her direct purpose. Might be half metal on her arm.
"So," she breathes it out, squirming that little. Coming in close, dragged her words against his lips and yeah, just a problem to solve. Her fingers going to his jacket, beginning to yank at laces, kissing him in bites between it. "How does this work?" does he need to stay in the chair. "I should say, I'm pretty flexible. So don't be afraid to ask."
Closer, though, easy for him to reach and touch in return. Differently textures to brush overs. Shrapnel on her shoulder, a bullet graze on her hip, acid and fire burns mottled in patches. But the mess, the mess is her arm, it hadn't been a well thought out plan that she hacked it off. A mangled off angled cut at her shoulder where it had come off. The metal of her robotic arm was maintained but well worn, especially in comparison to, say, Rhys. But it works just as well as one of flesh and blood, when she leans over him, meeting his gaze, her eyes so green against the red of the blood.
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Date: 2019-09-23 08:45 am (UTC)He lightly runs his fingers over some of her scars, feeling the different textures of her skin. There's rough ones from what seem like stab wounds and smoother ones that feel like they were from burns. He wonders where each of them had come from. Maybe she can tell him afterwards.
Then he helps her take his own jacket and shirt off, leaving his well-toned upper body on display. For someone who's been in as many battles as Ivar has, there's surprisingly few scars on him. It helps he's usually at a distance. Besides, after all the broken bones he's had over the course of his life, he's fine with having tattoos instead to commemorate his victories. There's several on his chest and one on his back, all archaic in their simplicity as they show designs like Sköll and Hati chasing the sun and the moon forever in their quest to catch them.
He lets her take a look for a moment before leaning up and kissing her again, one hand splayed out over her side and the other wrapping around her back to pull her in close. He was feeling something with her he hadn't felt with any other partner: confidence. She knew he was a cripple and didn't seem to care. So he didn't feel the need to be as self-conscious as he usually does.
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Date: 2019-09-23 09:14 am (UTC)Because her mouth is immediately on his neck and shoulders the second his shirt is gone. Oh, hell, he's so handsome. The tattoos, the strength in his body, his muscles hard under her fingers as she laps blood off his skin with drags of her lips, though it only smears more blood as she goes on his bare skin. It occupies her most of all as an incentive when he pulls her in. Yeah. Sitting, right. Knees. She's careful where she puts him. She hasn't asked, and he hadn't volunteered the information, but whatever was up, she didn't want to hurt unintentionally.
Planned on hurting him very intentionally, in just the right way.
So for right now, she makes sure to nestle them either side of his hips. Close as they could be as she settled her weight into his lap, and she's - turned on enough, right now, that it pulses up her body with just that bit of friction when they press together that she moans into his skin as she drapes against him. "Fuck, you make me so hot."
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Date: 2019-09-24 05:53 am (UTC)His head tilts to the side as her mouth gets right into the sensitive spot right where the curve of his neck meets his shoulder. The bits of his skin that he can feel her tongue touching send little shocks of pleasure up and down his spine.
His fingers close around the edges of her bra. Now, while Norse women have bras, they're just wraps of cloth tied up that can be easily undone. This one with clasps and hooks is a whole different animal. How is it supposed to come off...? He tries for a bit, and when that doesn't work, he gives up, instead working on unrolling the stockings she has on. At least he knows how to deal with those.
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Date: 2019-09-25 06:12 am (UTC)But it comes off quick as anything with a sharp little tug the right way, tugging it down her arms hastily so she can lean back into his body pressing her breasts into his chest. As much about touching him as shifting her weight so he can keep rolling down her stockings. Which, that's - distracting in itself. His hands trickling through the material just enough to make her groan, that building heat sharp between her legs. That hair-trigger eagerness that she barely needed much to get her going. Especially with the heat of blood, of killing even a little, and his blue, blue eyes.
But distracted or not, twitching her hips looking for contact, some things she needs to make sure of first. Leaning up, she bites his lip, tugging his focus that little bit up to her and not just all the fun ways they can touch each other. "Where shouldn't I touch?" Something else, something else important, Gaige, not just how good his mouth feels or the impatient need to get his pants undone and fuck him. "My arm. Can't feel always how hard I'm pressing with the metal. Say, uh, - " shit, word, something he wouldn't say normally. "Grenade? Yeah, that'll do. If I'm hurting you too bad with it. It'll make me stop straight away."
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Date: 2019-09-26 02:58 am (UTC)There's some anxiety about being able to, ahem, perform, given his track record before. He finds out he doesn't need to worry. The friction of skin-on-skin contact as her breasts press into his chest. and feeling relaxed enough around Gaige is enough to get his cock working properly. There's something so very attractive about having sex when both of them were covered in blood.
He almost misses her question. What's that? Oh yes, pain. He thinks on that for a moment. "Nothing much below the waist." It's both a matter of pain and pride. He still can't stand to have anyone sleeping with him to stare much at his legs, poor, scrawny, wasted things that they were.
Then she reminds him of one other thing: the metal arm. This won't be a fun experience for either of them if she breaks one of his bones during sex. Memorable, yes, but not fun. "Grenade. Got it." He's not sure if they'll even need it, but he's managed to break bones from far less strenuous activities then this.
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Date: 2019-09-28 08:22 am (UTC)But not now, not now. Now what mattered more was threading her good fingers tightly in his hair to tilt his face up to kiss him again, rocking into his lap, grinding head against the rough material of his pants up between her thighs in that little bit enough fraction to make her groan against his lips. That building heat that burns tightly, turning her all slippery-quick. If she's aware that she's quick, easy as far as a fuck goes, she's never had a conversation about it that mattered particularly to her. Because why the hell should she care when there's a hot guy that gets her this wet, this fast and is interested in touching her back?
So no touching his legs? Worked just fine for her. Her metal fingers begin to tug the laces of his pants undone, maintaining just enough patience not to rip them apart entirely. Because oh, fuck, it's been ages since she had someone remotely interesting enough to make her want to do something else but fight. With just enough forethought to move her metal fingers away and swap with her real ones as she finally gets into his pants. If his bones like his legs are fragile, God forbid anywhere else far softer. But her palm is warm as she slides it into his clothes.
No underwear? Neat. Suits her just fine as her lithes fingers curl around his cock with a happy little sigh as she finds him growing hard. The blood trickled further down, now, over her chest, down her arms. The heat of their bodies keeping it smooth. His fingers leaving bloody handprints on the skin where the sun hadn't tanned starkly bright.
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Date: 2019-10-04 03:54 am (UTC)One of his wrists bends upwards while the fingers go downwards pressing hard against her skin as Gaige’s fingers close in around his dick. He takes in a breath, sharp, almost as if he’s in pain even though it’s borne from pleasure instead. It’s been a long while since he was touched like this by anyone. Not since Freydis and not even for a while since they’d had their falling out. He can feel most of his warmth rush straight to his groin.
The other of his hands roams across her breasts, feeling their weight in his scarred palm. He runs his callused fingertips slowly across them before hovering over the center. His thumb rubs over her nipple, stimulating it to help her get off even better.
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Date: 2019-10-04 04:32 am (UTC)"Ohhh, fuck," her voice hitches roughly, going still when she arches into his hand. Always such a catch, it feels like it should be a relief as he palms at her chest, teasing with sensitive skin. Loudly whining, eyes screwed tightly shut, she enjoys it so, so much. But hell if it ever was more than just an electric bolt straight down and carved out her need deeper where it hit. "Keep going, ah, fuck that feels good - "
It's a babble more than coherency, mindless encouragement in the way she knows how to be, especially like this: too eager and never kind. Mindlessly praising of him with little cuts of sound where she can snatch him for a kiss here and there, palm lazily going back to work when she remembers to move it again, but at the same time, fixed, to see if she can repay that favour.
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Date: 2019-10-04 06:04 am (UTC)He can't take much more of this. Her hand on his dick just makes him want her all the more. Finally, he seems to find a few words. "Gods, fuck me." He keeps one of his hands on her breasts, working the delicate skin there.
For more encouragement, he slides his hand around to the front from her back and then slips it into her panties. It takes him a fumbling moment before he can get his fingers inside of her, moving them around to see if he can have her keep making those sounds. He might not know all the technical terms, but he'll see if he can find her clit to keep on going.
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Date: 2019-10-04 06:43 am (UTC)Twitching, her head falling, hair falling over her face in a mess and tacking with blood as she grins between each kiss. Her free arm curling around his shoulders, broad as they are, strong as they are. It's not really a surprise when she thinks about it. But damn if it wasn't nice to find out this way. Easy to reaching his tattoos where she's so much littler in his lap. Squirming happily between the steady pressure of his fingers fucking her open, how with each stroke, she's all - eager and slick, coating his fingers that each movement comes smoother and easier and she whimpers into the bites she begins to litter over his neck, his shoulders, that little jut of collar bones she feels out with tongue and teeth. Lapping at the blood, smeared over the both of them.
Though it's hardly listless, the more he keeps it up, the pointed those sharp little cries she begins to smother against his chest. That joy to being 19 and stupid, it never took her much to get her off, especially when it had been ages, and this place and these people leave her empty - and there was enough here already. The way he seemed to like her as it was, as much as he liked the violence, that he was hot as hell, that he was into it as much as she was. Wasn't even a little bit afraid of her. That his fingers were that little bit rough, that little bit broad, that little bit too much, that leaves her screwing her eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed as it leaves her toes curling. "Ivar." His name in between little profanity said like prayers. Her voice hitching higher, mewling vibrations into his skin.
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Date: 2019-10-12 03:00 am (UTC)They're young and alive and full of fire. If they burn up together, so be it, for it will be a pleasurable experience for both of them. She's gorgeous and interested in him without seeming to care a whit about his legs. It's a new and amazing discovery for him. For the first time in a long while, sex actually feels pleasurable for him.
Then he removes his fingers from Gaige, leaving her to grow possibly antsy for a moment before he slides his dick inside her. Then he starts up a steady pressure. It's muted compared to what most men were capable of, given that he couldn't thrust with as much force given his useless legs. But it's enough to be able to give her pleasure and that's all that matters to him.
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Date: 2019-10-15 09:02 am (UTC)Easy to make up for where it's tricky for him to move, more than happy to make up the pace as she rocks steady. God they were going to have to figure out a way that she could get her legs around his waist, one of these days, which is just haphazardly pleasing in the same thoughts of again and more and God, God, God that tear out of her lips in a steadily louder moan. He feels so hot inside of her, and she feels feverish in return. Little against his chest, but pushes up equal in height that is worth it when it means she can put fingers in his hair and twist them tightly to tilt his face to hers. Panting raggedly against his lips, meeting his eyes directly, green and bright, half-mad and gleefully so.
"Come on, Ivar," the blood trickling down her skin, sticky and smeared. "I want to feel bruises tomorrow morning and know I fucked you." Leans in to brush her lips against his ear, scraping her teeth and biting sharply against his fingers. "Hurt me, and I promise I'll hurt you back."
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Date: 2019-11-07 07:25 am (UTC)He rolls his hips in a way to keep things going and then listens for a moment to Gaige as she urges him to hurt her.
That's all the encouragement he needs really. He lifts his mouth from her lips over to the side of her neck, biting at the thin skin far too hard to be called a mere hickey. He wants to tear it, taste the blood beneath it. One of his hands is pressed tightly around her waist. He's sure that he's going to leave marks she'll remember him by.
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Date: 2019-11-15 07:41 am (UTC)Fuck, fuck. Too much. It's good to be young and stupid, it's good to be young and not need to know better, because as he scores her as deep as bullets through a shield, it's enough. "Oh, fuck, Ivar." Fuckfuckfuckfuck - She sobs when she comes. Locking her body around him so tightly, the long, crying noise that tears out of her that's all rough before pretty, her metal hand gripping onto the chair, her real hand scratching down his back, gripping hard into his skin. That welcome shake in her limbs that turns her rhythm off-kilter, needy small little twitches where she has him as deep as she can and her thighs are shaking.
Doesn't let her stop, not even for a second, even when the overwhelmed cries turn to whimpers she buries against his throat, her spine curving to press her body into his, face tilted up. That peak all acid-hot, gripping him, all ripped out of the back of a magazine you find in a bandit clan in crudeness that feels so right, right now. That she didn't want him to stop fucking her, hurting her, didn't want him to stop being in her and grinding hard against him. All fucked up and open, here always, if she can just have more. Her body holding pliantly into him like he was the only thing holding her up, and it was more than a little true.
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Date: 2019-11-23 06:59 am (UTC)Then he just slumps there in his chair, as boneless as his nickname would suggest right now. The level of bliss he was at right now couldn't be measured in quantifiable terms. He hasn't been this happy in a very long time. Covered in blood, sweat, and what's likely going to be quite a few marks forming, he feels very content.
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Date: 2019-11-25 08:54 am (UTC)Gaige rubs her face affectionately like a cat marking its territory, as they come down. Knows she's a mess, or that they are as a whole. Naked on top of him where he's still half-dressed in comparison, his handprints both now marked in red and she can tell, later will bruise into her hips by the time she wakes up later. But that's something to worry about later if it's even worth worrying about. Like that she probably needs to ask someone what the hell birth control was like in magic whatever land, because ah, fuck, he came in her, didn't he? That sticky feeling she'll worry about later. Right now, it's too late and too content to care, she stretches out.
Or maybe it's just pride. Got him going just as good as he got her. Made him go all kinds of undone, just like he made her.
"Think I like this worshipping your Gods thing. Kinda fun."
Nuzzling against him, head buzzing empty, the edge from too many days not fighting finally taken off, she feels good.