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storypaint) wrote2014-10-26 07:49 pm
storypaint) wrote2014-10-26 07:49 pm
[Chrestomanci] being born slowly (Christopher/Millie)
Title: being born slowly
Fandom: Chrestomanci Chronicles
Length: 1234 words
Prompt: Yuletide NYR forblueyeti: kinky Goddess sex with all the extra arms; also archived here.
Pairing: Christopher/Millie
Other: PWP; NC-17 for sex.
Excerpt: "It's been a while since I've tried to do this," Millie said, a bit uncertainly. She stood in the bathroom doorway and looked at her husband, sprawled out on the bed with his head propped in his hands. He was studying her like an artist studied a subject, his eyes roaming over her, enjoying the way her hips curved in the light of the moon. He'd loosened his cravat.
They were an experimental family, in several senses of the word. They experimented in having the kind of family that included two parents, both involved with their children's lives. They experimented in having a multi-cultural family, Millie sharing her favorite dishes and stories, and Christopher doing the same. They experimented being a magical family, as well-- while it was not rare that magicians married each other, it was unusual that both of them had such great strength (a fact that occasionally worried Gabriel, considering how much trouble Christopher had been in his youth).
They also experimented in ways that Gabriel knew absolutely nothing about and never would, if Christopher got his way. The former Chrestomanci was quite far away from his protege and his wife, who were taking a much needed holiday in Series Five, with strict instructions not to summon them except in the most dire of emergencies. Flavian was looking after the children, who were currently five and six and full of energy.
"It's been a while since I've tried to do this," Millie said, a bit uncertainly. She stood in the bathroom doorway and looked at her husband, sprawled out on the bed with his head propped in his hands. He was studying her like an artist studied a subject, his eyes roaming over her, enjoying the way her hips curved in the light of the moon. He'd loosened his cravat.
"All the better, then," Christopher said cheerfully, "so you don't go out of practice." He grinned at her. She had to smile back. Then she shut her eyes and concentrated. She'd never quite been severed from Asheth, probably never would be, but usually the Goddess was uninterested in her affairs. It was kind of like hearing an elderly relative that checked in once in a while.
Christopher gasped and she knew it had happened. Asheth was pushing in around her, sharing her self, making her feel taller and more real. She knew she was towering. She opened her eyes.
The extra arms were simply a fact of life now. It seemed as though she'd always had them. The Goddess eyed her husband with a certain considering look, trying to decide where to start. She decided that he wasn't nearly rumpled enough to be a worshipper. Not yet.
"Take off your shirt," she said, with two voices, and he leapt up as if he'd been struck, fingers pulling uselessly at his buttons. He was moving too slowly, torn between lust and the desire to preserve his finery, so she crossed the room and began to unfasten the shirt for him. Her hands made quick work of the job, sliding it down off his shoulders. Christopher was very fair underneath, skinny, and flushed at the throat. She wanted to bite his clavicle so she did, ignoring a half-hearted protest that turned into a moan of pleasure. She pushed him back onto the bed, onto his back, a pair of hands holding his arms above his head, another set scratching at his neck, the third crossing his exposed skin, fingertips sliding across his nipples and down his ribcage. Christopher kissed her with the kind of desperate affection that Millie had known from him after he'd rescued her from the possibilities. It was a different kind of feeling now, however -- more desire and less worry. As should be, the Goddess thought.
"Worship me," she said, now that he was flustered, pupils blown wide with desire. She released him from her grip and leaned back onto her haunches. He fumbled forward, reaching out for her but hesitating, unsure where to start. Finally he picked up one of her shadowy wrists and began to kiss her at the pulse point, believing so hard she felt every touch. He kissed each of her hands and then did not hesitate to take her breasts in both palms, teasing her nipples through the fabric, leaning forward and licking her through the cloth. It was not as satisfying as it would be if they were skin to skin, and he seemed to sense this from her. He was very attentive now that he had been properly trained. She allowed him to help with her dress and didn't complain when he used magic to unhook her corset. (She did it herself, sometimes.) Then he buried his face in her chest.
She'd already taught him exactly the way to touch her, gentler here and firmer there, and he was a quick and eager study. It wasn't long at all before her body was singing. Her skin glowed a little. He looked on in wonder.
She took the advantage of his distraction to push him down on the bed again and climb on top of him, her hips cradling his, his body delightfully firm underneath her. His hands cupped her butt and she slid slowly across him until she could feel his desire pressing down around them. He begged. She smirked. She told him that she liked it and he begged more, to touch her and to be touched, to slide into her wetness, to do something before he embarrassed himself in her presence.
"Is that so?" she asked, in her best proper British accent, standing up on the bed to strip her panties off and then sitting down again on his face. She used two sets of arms to brace herself comfortably against the headboard and he gave himself to the job of pleasing her. She loved it when he got all excited like this, tangling her third hands in his hair for gentle guidance and a bit of hair pulling. His hair had practically had a mind of its own when they were young and now he insisted on taming the curls back with that horrible pomade. She messed it up when she could.
She rocked gently against him, making encouraging sounds until she was flying up, up, up to gasps and her toes curled in pleasure. She could feel his smile against her sensitive skin and he only paused for a moment before he started tasting her again. Normally she would let him -- it was only her due -- but she wanted more of him in her. She got up and slid down his body, unfastening his pants and slipping off his underwear with an imperious hand. The Goddess didn't understand why people here wore so many clothes. They were only in the way.
She climbed on top and slid him into her, treasuring the gasp he made as she enveloped him, holding him into her body. He jerked up toward her and they settled into a rhythm, his hands on her breasts, her hands on his chest, on his nipple, on his arm. They had started to fade now, the extra limbs -- she couldn't keep this up for very long and she didn't need that much of the Goddess's notice. And besides, sometimes it was nice to be Millie and Christopher Chant, just the two of them. It had been too long since they had had that luxury.
He didn't last long but that was alright. They had the whole week and Millie was determined to enjoy it. She kissed him afterwards, lying with her head in the crook of his shoulder. Someone had thoughtfully vanished the wet spot. He kissed her forehead.
"My Millie," he said, just that, and that was all she needed.
Fandom: Chrestomanci Chronicles
Length: 1234 words
Prompt: Yuletide NYR for
blueyeti: kinky Goddess sex with all the extra arms; also archived here.Pairing: Christopher/Millie
Other: PWP; NC-17 for sex.
Excerpt: "It's been a while since I've tried to do this," Millie said, a bit uncertainly. She stood in the bathroom doorway and looked at her husband, sprawled out on the bed with his head propped in his hands. He was studying her like an artist studied a subject, his eyes roaming over her, enjoying the way her hips curved in the light of the moon. He'd loosened his cravat.
They were an experimental family, in several senses of the word. They experimented in having the kind of family that included two parents, both involved with their children's lives. They experimented in having a multi-cultural family, Millie sharing her favorite dishes and stories, and Christopher doing the same. They experimented being a magical family, as well-- while it was not rare that magicians married each other, it was unusual that both of them had such great strength (a fact that occasionally worried Gabriel, considering how much trouble Christopher had been in his youth).
They also experimented in ways that Gabriel knew absolutely nothing about and never would, if Christopher got his way. The former Chrestomanci was quite far away from his protege and his wife, who were taking a much needed holiday in Series Five, with strict instructions not to summon them except in the most dire of emergencies. Flavian was looking after the children, who were currently five and six and full of energy.
"It's been a while since I've tried to do this," Millie said, a bit uncertainly. She stood in the bathroom doorway and looked at her husband, sprawled out on the bed with his head propped in his hands. He was studying her like an artist studied a subject, his eyes roaming over her, enjoying the way her hips curved in the light of the moon. He'd loosened his cravat.
"All the better, then," Christopher said cheerfully, "so you don't go out of practice." He grinned at her. She had to smile back. Then she shut her eyes and concentrated. She'd never quite been severed from Asheth, probably never would be, but usually the Goddess was uninterested in her affairs. It was kind of like hearing an elderly relative that checked in once in a while.
Christopher gasped and she knew it had happened. Asheth was pushing in around her, sharing her self, making her feel taller and more real. She knew she was towering. She opened her eyes.
The extra arms were simply a fact of life now. It seemed as though she'd always had them. The Goddess eyed her husband with a certain considering look, trying to decide where to start. She decided that he wasn't nearly rumpled enough to be a worshipper. Not yet.
"Take off your shirt," she said, with two voices, and he leapt up as if he'd been struck, fingers pulling uselessly at his buttons. He was moving too slowly, torn between lust and the desire to preserve his finery, so she crossed the room and began to unfasten the shirt for him. Her hands made quick work of the job, sliding it down off his shoulders. Christopher was very fair underneath, skinny, and flushed at the throat. She wanted to bite his clavicle so she did, ignoring a half-hearted protest that turned into a moan of pleasure. She pushed him back onto the bed, onto his back, a pair of hands holding his arms above his head, another set scratching at his neck, the third crossing his exposed skin, fingertips sliding across his nipples and down his ribcage. Christopher kissed her with the kind of desperate affection that Millie had known from him after he'd rescued her from the possibilities. It was a different kind of feeling now, however -- more desire and less worry. As should be, the Goddess thought.
"Worship me," she said, now that he was flustered, pupils blown wide with desire. She released him from her grip and leaned back onto her haunches. He fumbled forward, reaching out for her but hesitating, unsure where to start. Finally he picked up one of her shadowy wrists and began to kiss her at the pulse point, believing so hard she felt every touch. He kissed each of her hands and then did not hesitate to take her breasts in both palms, teasing her nipples through the fabric, leaning forward and licking her through the cloth. It was not as satisfying as it would be if they were skin to skin, and he seemed to sense this from her. He was very attentive now that he had been properly trained. She allowed him to help with her dress and didn't complain when he used magic to unhook her corset. (She did it herself, sometimes.) Then he buried his face in her chest.
She'd already taught him exactly the way to touch her, gentler here and firmer there, and he was a quick and eager study. It wasn't long at all before her body was singing. Her skin glowed a little. He looked on in wonder.
She took the advantage of his distraction to push him down on the bed again and climb on top of him, her hips cradling his, his body delightfully firm underneath her. His hands cupped her butt and she slid slowly across him until she could feel his desire pressing down around them. He begged. She smirked. She told him that she liked it and he begged more, to touch her and to be touched, to slide into her wetness, to do something before he embarrassed himself in her presence.
"Is that so?" she asked, in her best proper British accent, standing up on the bed to strip her panties off and then sitting down again on his face. She used two sets of arms to brace herself comfortably against the headboard and he gave himself to the job of pleasing her. She loved it when he got all excited like this, tangling her third hands in his hair for gentle guidance and a bit of hair pulling. His hair had practically had a mind of its own when they were young and now he insisted on taming the curls back with that horrible pomade. She messed it up when she could.
She rocked gently against him, making encouraging sounds until she was flying up, up, up to gasps and her toes curled in pleasure. She could feel his smile against her sensitive skin and he only paused for a moment before he started tasting her again. Normally she would let him -- it was only her due -- but she wanted more of him in her. She got up and slid down his body, unfastening his pants and slipping off his underwear with an imperious hand. The Goddess didn't understand why people here wore so many clothes. They were only in the way.
She climbed on top and slid him into her, treasuring the gasp he made as she enveloped him, holding him into her body. He jerked up toward her and they settled into a rhythm, his hands on her breasts, her hands on his chest, on his nipple, on his arm. They had started to fade now, the extra limbs -- she couldn't keep this up for very long and she didn't need that much of the Goddess's notice. And besides, sometimes it was nice to be Millie and Christopher Chant, just the two of them. It had been too long since they had had that luxury.
He didn't last long but that was alright. They had the whole week and Millie was determined to enjoy it. She kissed him afterwards, lying with her head in the crook of his shoulder. Someone had thoughtfully vanished the wet spot. He kissed her forehead.
"My Millie," he said, just that, and that was all she needed.