[ what an Excellent prompt, friend. CN: scars, dubcon, praise kink. ]
//
"Kashaw."
Kash digs his elbow into Keyleth's side without opening his eyes. Does she never sleep?
Apparently not, because he's barely settled back against the tree trunk when he hears her whisper again, so closer to his ear he can feel her breath hot against his skin. "Kash. Answer a question for me?"
"Shut up." He hisses, bolting upright, ready to ... well, he hasn't thought that far ahead, and then he stops thinking at all at the sight of her. Curled up in a tiny ball reminiscent of Minxie, one hand tucked under her cheek, mouth slightly open and snoring in a way that he refuses to admit is adorable.
Cautious now, he looks around their makeshift camp. Z and Vex are perched several trees over, ostensibly keeping watch but he's not sure they have eyes for anything but each other, considering how closely their heads are bowed together, Vex's hands in Zahra's hair. Everyone else seems just as asleep as Keyleth, still and calm while the wind settles over them.
Almost eerily still.
Oh.
Took you long enough, husband. Her voice is in his head now, darkly amused, and he covers his ears uselessly anyway. Do you want me to take the druid girl so you could have her? You only need —
"No!" Kash snaps, loud enough that Keyleth stirs and makes a vague unhappy noise. He freezes, but she just rolls over, still lost to dreams. No, he thinks, you don't get her. You don't get any of them.
She laughs, seemingly unconcerned. Then follow me.
Years ago he might have fought, might have pulled at his hair and kicked the ground in fury at the order, follow me, as if he had any choice but to do so for every second she kept him alive, follow me as though she still held sway over this plane. Now, though, he just makes his way down to the ground as silently as he can, walks down to the lake like an offering, or at least a distraction: anything to keep Her away from Vox Machina — from Z's friends — from his sister and Keyleth and —
Your attention wanders.
"Yeah, well." The wind is wilder at the water's edge, the storm his wife always brings closer and closer to the surface. He's far enough around the bend of the lake he should be well hidden from Z and Vex. "End of the world, and all that."
I know, She says, and he doesn't want to think about why she sounds so silkily pleased with herself. You're learning new spells, now. Spells to deny me my due. Or perhaps to bring me back?
He hasn't cast Revivify in more than five years, and rather doubts it's a coincidence that's She's been much, much more talkative ever since then. "You don't get to talk about dues without mentioning your head start," he says, and pretends the shiver that wracks his whole body is only from the wind.
(The wind, too, is Hers.)
We're even, now. Kash knows her for a liar, knows the names and numbers of dead where he keeps them safe in the static whole of cold pink midsummer mornings before the storms of Her afternoons.
Knows that She counts far more than bodies in the calculations of Her cosmology as She rises. "My Lady."
Why should I allow you to keep your magic, when others know my name thanks your work? I could have any of them, if I wished.
"You like me best." It's not quite a certainty, not quite a hope, but the veil between Her plane and this is not so thin that this can be easy for Her.
And you don't extend the same courtesy to me. If an entity of gleefully malevolent evil could sound petulant, Kash thinks, that would be how he would describe her presence. Instead, he watches the barely-there waves lap at the shore, pulling mud and snow and the few plants still clinging to the soil down with much more force than before.
"So," he says, before the silence can stretch on. "You don't usually want to just talk during our little chats."
If he offers, if he offers this time, then maybe —
Smart boy, she croons, and then She's more than a voice, more than a presence, She's in him, in their scars and his mind and Kash feels like he's in freefall.
She slips under his skin so easy, always does, and the pain that rips through the scars they've both left on him never leaves new marks. She flows through him easier than air, easier than blood, like she knows the reason he's never found a new home is because he is to be Her home first of all.
She touches him everywhere, all at once, wind like hands on his throat, his heart, his hips, creeping between his legs. Kash can feel himself getting hard despite the cold as ghostly fingers slide teasingly along his cock. He wants his wife less than he wants most things in life, but She's trained him well.
And — he chokes on a moan — it has been so, so long.
Cold trails slip down his body like icy tentacles, curling around his thighs and pressing so hard he staggers, legs shifting further apart as the seam of his breeches digs into his erection. Her touch is so much more impersonal like this. So much worse.
Who's touching you? Kash bites his lip, closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see his body moving under Her touch.
"You," he says. Not a lie. Not the truth She wants.
The cold where She grips him turns, for a fleeting second, into pain, cuts sharper and less visible than the ones their knives made. Do better, husband. The pressure on his cock tightens.
"Someone who can't be seen."
The lake lashes out at him, a whiplike crack of water across his face, and he falls to his knees. I am everywhere. His cock twitches against his breeches, and he flushes and the rough slide of skin on fabric.
"My Lady."
There's too much at stake now, too many people close by who could be hurt. Kash can feel his resolve cracking, splitting apart just like his skin under his own teeth, his own fingernails, as he tries to hold back. Closer. He feels Her presence press against his ass, not breaching him, just resting between his cheeks as a threat or a promise or —
"A promise."
He hadn't meant to speak aloud, but as soon as the words leave his lips everything that She is is gone — and almost before he's fully noticed that She rushes back into him with such force that he falls to his hands and knees. Who did you make a promise to, Kashaw?
He can feel the tears turning to ice on his face as he murmurs, "Vesh. I — I promised my god."
And he feels too Her ecstasy, something exploding in his chest like he's been struck by one of Percival's bullets. The shock of it tears through him so deeply he topples fully to the ground, rolls to his back and when he brings his hands up to his chest and he's almost surprised when they touch just his shirt, and his unbroken skin.
It feels wrong, that She should be able to do this to him and leave no outward sign but the damp stain darkening his crotch. The blood the first time was easy, the words She drags from his throat after that harder every time.
That wasn't so hard, was it? She would sound breathless, if She needed air. Kash can feel her presence slowly seeping from the rest of his body, coalescing once more into Just the voice in his head. It does nothing for the sticky mess between his legs, and he shifts uncomfortably on the ground.
You worship so well, sweet boy. One would almost think you'd been practising on someone other than me.
Kash buries his face in the snow and tries to lead Her to any thoughts other than those of bright red hair, sparkling brown eyes, a long, crimson tail.
Nevermind, She huffs, and he feels the memory of her teeth scraping his cheek. Just remember, any of them could be mine as well. This is what you buy, with your sweet words.
Kash doesn't move, barely breathes. Slowly, too slowly, she leaves, in bits and pieces with too many parts left behind. The snow is even colder when she's gone.
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: I May Follow Her Voice To The River; Kash/Vesh; M
Date: 2017-10-04 09:56 pm (UTC)[ what an Excellent prompt, friend. CN: scars, dubcon, praise kink. ]
//
"Kashaw."
Kash digs his elbow into Keyleth's side without opening his eyes. Does she never sleep?
Apparently not, because he's barely settled back against the tree trunk when he hears her whisper again, so closer to his ear he can feel her breath hot against his skin. "Kash. Answer a question for me?"
"Shut up." He hisses, bolting upright, ready to ... well, he hasn't thought that far ahead, and then he stops thinking at all at the sight of her. Curled up in a tiny ball reminiscent of Minxie, one hand tucked under her cheek, mouth slightly open and snoring in a way that he refuses to admit is adorable.
Cautious now, he looks around their makeshift camp. Z and Vex are perched several trees over, ostensibly keeping watch but he's not sure they have eyes for anything but each other, considering how closely their heads are bowed together, Vex's hands in Zahra's hair. Everyone else seems just as asleep as Keyleth, still and calm while the wind settles over them.
Almost eerily still.
Oh.
Took you long enough, husband. Her voice is in his head now, darkly amused, and he covers his ears uselessly anyway. Do you want me to take the druid girl so you could have her? You only need —
"No!" Kash snaps, loud enough that Keyleth stirs and makes a vague unhappy noise. He freezes, but she just rolls over, still lost to dreams. No, he thinks, you don't get her. You don't get any of them.
She laughs, seemingly unconcerned. Then follow me.
Years ago he might have fought, might have pulled at his hair and kicked the ground in fury at the order, follow me, as if he had any choice but to do so for every second she kept him alive, follow me as though she still held sway over this plane. Now, though, he just makes his way down to the ground as silently as he can, walks down to the lake like an offering, or at least a distraction: anything to keep Her away from Vox Machina — from Z's friends — from his sister and Keyleth and —
Your attention wanders.
"Yeah, well." The wind is wilder at the water's edge, the storm his wife always brings closer and closer to the surface. He's far enough around the bend of the lake he should be well hidden from Z and Vex. "End of the world, and all that."
I know, She says, and he doesn't want to think about why she sounds so silkily pleased with herself. You're learning new spells, now. Spells to deny me my due. Or perhaps to bring me back?
He hasn't cast Revivify in more than five years, and rather doubts it's a coincidence that's She's been much, much more talkative ever since then. "You don't get to talk about dues without mentioning your head start," he says, and pretends the shiver that wracks his whole body is only from the wind.
(The wind, too, is Hers.)
We're even, now. Kash knows her for a liar, knows the names and numbers of dead where he keeps them safe in the static whole of cold pink midsummer mornings before the storms of Her afternoons.
Knows that She counts far more than bodies in the calculations of Her cosmology as She rises. "My Lady."
Why should I allow you to keep your magic, when others know my name thanks your work? I could have any of them, if I wished.
"You like me best." It's not quite a certainty, not quite a hope, but the veil between Her plane and this is not so thin that this can be easy for Her.
And you don't extend the same courtesy to me. If an entity of gleefully malevolent evil could sound petulant, Kash thinks, that would be how he would describe her presence. Instead, he watches the barely-there waves lap at the shore, pulling mud and snow and the few plants still clinging to the soil down with much more force than before.
"So," he says, before the silence can stretch on. "You don't usually want to just talk during our little chats."
If he offers, if he offers this time, then maybe —
Smart boy, she croons, and then She's more than a voice, more than a presence, She's in him, in their scars and his mind and Kash feels like he's in freefall.
She slips under his skin so easy, always does, and the pain that rips through the scars they've both left on him never leaves new marks. She flows through him easier than air, easier than blood, like she knows the reason he's never found a new home is because he is to be Her home first of all.
She touches him everywhere, all at once, wind like hands on his throat, his heart, his hips, creeping between his legs. Kash can feel himself getting hard despite the cold as ghostly fingers slide teasingly along his cock. He wants his wife less than he wants most things in life, but She's trained him well.
And — he chokes on a moan — it has been so, so long.
Cold trails slip down his body like icy tentacles, curling around his thighs and pressing so hard he staggers, legs shifting further apart as the seam of his breeches digs into his erection. Her touch is so much more impersonal like this. So much worse.
Who's touching you? Kash bites his lip, closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see his body moving under Her touch.
"You," he says. Not a lie. Not the truth She wants.
The cold where She grips him turns, for a fleeting second, into pain, cuts sharper and less visible than the ones their knives made. Do better, husband. The pressure on his cock tightens.
"Someone who can't be seen."
The lake lashes out at him, a whiplike crack of water across his face, and he falls to his knees. I am everywhere. His cock twitches against his breeches, and he flushes and the rough slide of skin on fabric.
"My Lady."
There's too much at stake now, too many people close by who could be hurt. Kash can feel his resolve cracking, splitting apart just like his skin under his own teeth, his own fingernails, as he tries to hold back. Closer. He feels Her presence press against his ass, not breaching him, just resting between his cheeks as a threat or a promise or —
"A promise."
He hadn't meant to speak aloud, but as soon as the words leave his lips everything that She is is gone — and almost before he's fully noticed that She rushes back into him with such force that he falls to his hands and knees. Who did you make a promise to, Kashaw?
He can feel the tears turning to ice on his face as he murmurs, "Vesh. I — I promised my god."
And he feels too Her ecstasy, something exploding in his chest like he's been struck by one of Percival's bullets. The shock of it tears through him so deeply he topples fully to the ground, rolls to his back and when he brings his hands up to his chest and he's almost surprised when they touch just his shirt, and his unbroken skin.
It feels wrong, that She should be able to do this to him and leave no outward sign but the damp stain darkening his crotch. The blood the first time was easy, the words She drags from his throat after that harder every time.
That wasn't so hard, was it? She would sound breathless, if She needed air. Kash can feel her presence slowly seeping from the rest of his body, coalescing once more into Just the voice in his head. It does nothing for the sticky mess between his legs, and he shifts uncomfortably on the ground.
You worship so well, sweet boy. One would almost think you'd been practising on someone other than me.
Kash buries his face in the snow and tries to lead Her to any thoughts other than those of bright red hair, sparkling brown eyes, a long, crimson tail.
Nevermind, She huffs, and he feels the memory of her teeth scraping his cheek. Just remember, any of them could be mine as well. This is what you buy, with your sweet words.
Kash doesn't move, barely breathes. Slowly, too slowly, she leaves, in bits and pieces with too many parts left behind. The snow is even colder when she's gone.
Still on the ground, Kashaw waits for morning.