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earisridesagain · 2 years

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Earis Recs 3.1 - Sex Pollen. That's It. That's the Rec.

There’s something pure about sex pollen fic. It’s just compulsory fucking. That’s it. I’ve often joked that sex pollen walked so that A/B/O could run, but sex pollen does not have the societal complications of A/B/O and certainly does not require alternate anatomies. Sex pollen can run the gamut from crack fic (oh no, we’ve wandered into this mysterious greenhouse together what will happen) to heavy plot-driving devices (oh no, we’re mortal enemies who have been forced to have sex maybe we should work together.) Sex pollen can be considered to be a subset of a larger aphrodisiac-related trope. In aphrodisiac fics, there are all sorts of entities causing the need to fuck - including sand, moth dust, aphrodiasiac sap, alien pheremones, etc.. And while it usually rides the line of dub-con/non-con, it doesn’t have to mean that the characters themselves are forcing themselves on each other (at least until one party doses the other(s) without consent).

For my first iteration of this theme, I will be focusing on classic sex pollen in Reylo (but there will be background pairings, which I will note). 6 full fics plus a 7th microfic/drabble. As always, if you think there is a tag I missed, please let me know. And for some of these authors, I could not find them on Twitter or Tumblr, so please let me know if I’m missing someone.

General Warning: For sex pollen, most of these recs are dub-con, verging on non-con. Please read the tags in the fic!

On DreamWidth - EarisParticpates - Sex Pollen. That's It. That's the Rec.

On Twitter - Earis Recs - Sex Pollen. That's It. That's the Rec.

1. This Dust Survives

Author: RedRoseWhite; Twitter

Rey has houseplants in her pod on Ajan Kloss. She starts have sex with her friends. She learns about love, friendship, loyalty, strength, and kindness. When the Force Bond opens, she shares what she has learned with Ben and brings him home. While Rey is definitely horny because of the plants, she does not regret what she has done. I love this fic because it is sweet and languid and sexy in the best way. It does have non-Reylo sex, but the true emotional connection here is Rey and Ben and it is Reylo HEA.

Pairing: Reylo, Rey/Rose, Rey/Kaydel/Poe, Rey/Original Male Character Status: Complete Rating: Explicit Warning: Dub-con due to sex pollen

2. Avaritia

Author: bbl8te; Twitter; Tumblr

Rey is lost and stranded on an unknown planet. In a panic, she reaches out through the Force to Kylo. When he gets there, he realizes that Rey has been exposed to a plant that causes living things to want to have sex. This fic a great example of one of my favorite sex pollen tropes - when one of the characters realizes what is going on and tries valiantly to resist the pull of the sex pollen, despite the fact that they want the other person, even without the botanical encouragement. Kylo Ren is tinged with sadness here and feels resigned to violence, but Rey brings him to a more hopeful place.

Pairing: Reylo Status: Complete Rating: Explicit Warning: Dub-con due to sex pollen

3. L’etrange affair de Venerem Pollini

Author: ELopez; Twitter; Tumblr Language: French

Translated into English - The Strange Affair of Venerem Pollini

Translated by: ELopez, with help from Everren (Twitter; Tumblr) and annonna

Regency Era Sex Pollen AU. Need I say more?

Okay, okay. Miss Rose Tiloy-Connor needs Euryale Palpatine to chaperone her when she and her suitor Lord Armitage Huxley visit a greenhouse to witness the blooming of a rare flower rumored to be the incarnation of a fertility goddess. Unfortunately for Euryale, the utterly unbearable Lord Benvolio Kylopold Soloren is there with Hux. Hopefully the beautiful flower’s blooming will provide some much-needed entertainment.

Pairing: Reylo, Gingerrose, various other background characters Status: Complete Rating: Explicit Warning: Dub-con due to sex pollen, public sex, public orgy, period typically attitudes towards extra marital sex

4. Blue Flowers and Silver Skin

Author: blueyedgurl

FUCK OR DIE. Ugh, what a great fuck or die sort of medieval AU. Rey is looking for a specific flower to make a potion. The flower, she knows, has a pollen that, if encountered, makes people want to fuck, and if they don’t, they will perish. She’s carefully harvesting the flowers when the local woodsman, Ben, comes into the clearing, covered in pollen. Whatever will happen?

Pairing: Reylo Status: Complete Rating Explicit Warning: Dub-con due to sex pollen, rough sex, somnophilia

5. Apart From My Beating Heart

Author: ReyloRobin2011

A post-TROS fix-it fic (sort of). After facing Palpatine, Ben and Rey escape Exegol in the decrepit X-Wing. They crash land on a planet with some very interesting trees and are overwhelmed with desire. This fic is lyrical and lovely, especially for a sex pollen fic. The sex is wonderful, and the ending strangely happy.

Pairing: Reylo Status: Complete Rating: Explicit Warning: Dub-con due to sex pollen, mild somnophilia

6. Unto Dust

Author: LyricalRiot; Twitter; Tumblr

Post TLJ, Rey is searching the galaxy for works that can help her learn about the Force. She lands on a planet with the promise of deep knowledge about the Force, but her journey brings her into a cave populated by plants with a very specific purpose - increase fertility by causing a driving desire to have sex. Unfortunately, the desire for sexual pleasure is so intense that people exposed to the plant will waste away from dehydration while they are trying to satisfy their appetites. Hey, what do you know - it’s FUCK OR DIE again! When Rey is affected, the Force bond opens and Kylo recognizes where Rey is and what is happening. In addition to some very hot sex, this fic has great character work, as the two of them try to find a common ground.

Pairing: Reylo Status: Complete Rating: Explicit Warning: Dub-con due to sex pollen

AND A BONUS MIICROFIC (DRABBLE)

7. Allergic (part 4 of Cap’s Explicit Reylo Microfics)

Author: CaptainMarvel42; Twitter; Tumblr

Basically, Rey’s been exposed to flower pollen and is sooooo horny. Kylo won’t touch her.

Pairing: Reylo Status: Complete Rating: Explicit Warning: Dub-con due to sex pollen, voyeurism

#reylo #star wars #fanfiction #fandom #earis recs #fanfiction recs #rec list #fic rec #ben solo #kylo ren #rey #gingerrose #sex pollen #sex pollen thats it thats the rec

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stranger-nightmare · 2 years

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𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲

Pairing: Druig x (female) Mortal!Reader

Summary: you and Druig get doused with sex pollen whilst out on a mission. Only Druig, being the Eternal that he is, doesn’t get effected, leaving you completely vulnerable and in desperate need of some ‘help'

Warnings: bare minimum plot, lil tiny bit of angst, smut, sex pollen, enemies to fucking, tiny bit of degradation kink, lil bit of dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex (m+f), multiple orgasms, minors DNI

A/N: so when I posted about this idea you horny little bees absolutely ate👏🏻it👏🏻up👏🏻 so… here it is!! I was technically supposed to be taking a tiny break from Druig to work on my Bucky stuff but I started this and just really went for it, I basically wrote it in one sitting and then was just too impatient to keep it sitting in my drafts lmao😂 also bc I was in such a rush to just get this out I did not proof-read it so pls forgive any spelling and/or grammar mistakes🙈 I really hope you guys like it!!✨🖤💫

This is for people 18+ only. Minors do not read on. If you click ‘keep reading’ you are hereby agreeing that you are 18 or older.

You and Druig were begrudgingly on a mission together. You and Druig didn’t get on at the best of times, let alone being forced to be in constant companionship whilst on a mission. You hated being stuck with him but you knew this mission was too dangerous to go alone.

You peer round the corner cautiously before stepping forward, your weapons ready in hand. Druig followed behind you casually, the only weapon he needed was his mind. You follow the hallway until you reach the room at the end. You peer inside, noting that it indeed seemed to be the lab you were looking for. You were taking down a facility where they’d been experimenting with a mind control serum, and looking at the various test tubes with various coloured liquids in them, it seemed you’d hit the jackpot.

“I think we’ve found it” you say, sheathing your weapons and stepping into the lab.

“What gave it away? All the science equipment hmm?” Druig hums sarcastically as he floats past you further into the lab. You roll your eyes at him. You head to the nearest table, the one that seemed to have completed samples on it. Druig wondered off more towards the back of the room, where the equipment was. You scanned over the various vials before coming across a different substance.

“What’s this stuff? It doesn’t look like a serum?” You say picking up a Petri dish filled with a burgundy dust. “It’s more like a… powder?” You venture raising an eyebrow, leaning in to get a closer look at the stuff.

“No y/n don’t!!” Druig suddenly shouts, lunging for you. His shout makes you jump, the powder spilling up and around you in the air. You cough on the dust as Druig suddenly appears next to you, grabbing your arm roughly. He pulls you both away from the cloud of dust but it’s too late, you’re both coughing and choking as the tiny particles tickle your lungs.

“Fuck!” Druig shouts after you’d both stopped coughing.

“What the hell is that stuff?” You rasp. Druig just sighs deeply in frustration, running a hand through his hair.

Suddenly a small wave of pain racks through you, settling in your lower belly. You double over ever so slightly at the sensation. You’ve just about stood upright again when another wave hits you, stronger and more painful than the last.

“What the fuck is happening?” You cry. “Are we dying?"

“No” Druig sighs again. “But that pain is gonna keep getting worse until you wish you were dead.”

“What? How do you know?"

“Because I know what that stuff is” there’s a sharp and dangerous edge to his voice. You stare at him blankly.

“It’s sex pollen” he explains finally.

“Oh shit” you cry at the realisation. Another surge of pain courses through you, causing your legs to buckle. You only remain upright by clinging onto the empty table next to you.

“How come you’re not being effected?” You whine, one hand holding onto the table, the other still clutching your aching stomach.

“Because I’m an Eternal” he shrugs. You huff in frustration and in pain, hugging yourself tighter as another wave of pain surges through you.

“It’s lucky I’m with you here at least” he muses after a second, a wicked smirk suddenly taking over his face. "I’m your only cure."

“Huh” you scoff sarcastically. "I don’t need you. I can take care of myself” you seethe through pain-gritted teeth.

“Masturbating won’t help you” he replies harshly. "The release has to come from the hands of someone else. That’s just how it works”

“Oh yeah? And how do you know so much about it?”

“When you’ve been around as long as I have you learn a few things” he muses casually. You huff in frustration again.

“I don’t need you” you repeat weakly.

“You sure about that?” He hums.

“I’ll sort myself out” you force through pained breathes.

He laughs darkly in response.

“Oh that won’t fix it, little one. You need to be thoroughly fucked to get the pollen out of your system. Your hand will never be enough. But my cock will” he leans down to whisper that last line right against the shell of your ear. His breath on your skin sends a wave of sensations through your body, the pain dulling ever so slightly with him being nearer.

Fuck. Your body knew the only way to save yourself was to have Druig. Your pride didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but your body was in so much pain you really didn’t know how much more you could take.

“You want me to take mercy on you, little one?” He cocks his head to the side smugly, looking down at you, a pained and writhing mess on the floor. Oh that smug bastard, now you really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Fuck you” you spit, doubling over in pain again.

“Mmm all you have to do is ask” he purrs.

“No” you bite out.

Just then the most intense wave of pain flows through you. It knocks you to floor completely, causing you to double over on your knees. Druig just continues to stand and stare at you. You’re in so much pain you feel yourself start to cry involuntarily. You were at your breaking point.

“Please” you whisper at last.

“Please what?” He teases. A small sob racks through you.

“Please. Help me” you sob. "Fuck me, Druig” you cry at last.

“There’s a good girl” you can hear the smirk in his voice.

Suddenly his hands are on you, picking you up off the floor and sitting you on the table in front of him. He forces your legs open and takes his place in between them. You immediately, without even really realising, begin to grind against him, pushing your clothed core against his crotch. It’s only the tiniest bit of friction but already you can feel the slightest reduction in pain throughout your body. You grab hold of his shirt, holding him in place as you grind into him. He simply watches you as you do so.

“Look at you crying, so desperate for release. So desperate for my cock hmm” he laughs. You mewl, fisting you hands tighter in his shirt bucking your hips forward into his.

“Don’t worry baby we’ll get there. For now you’ll cum on my fingers first. It's gonna take some time to coax all that pollen out your system. You’re gonna have to work for it” he whispers the last sentence hotly against your ear.

You try to glare at him but your face just twists in pain again.

“Shhh it’s okay babygirl. Open your legs wide for me” he purrs into your ear. You reluctantly oblige, opening your legs wider. He grabs the hem of your jeans and your panties, pulling them off you roughly. He leans back to look you in the eye as he spits on his fingers before shoving them down into your pants, quickly finding their place on your clit. You moan immediately at the contact, pleasure shooting through your body, slowly subsiding a bit of the pain that still racked through your body. Your head rolls forward pathetically to lean on Druig’s chest as he continues to rub your clit. But it still wasn’t enough. You needed more. But now you’re so overwhelmed with every sensation being heightened that you can barely form words. You just rut your hips harder against him, pulling tighter on his shirt again.

Lucky for you Druig gets the message. He moves his fingers from your clit to circle your entrance a few times before inserting two of them inside you. You moan loudly again as he begins scissoring them open inside of you, stretching you out deliciously. But he can still see how desperate you are and so he takes pity on you. Enough with the teasing, he begins pumping his fingers quickly inside you, curling them to hit your sweet spot. He places his thumb on your clit, restarting his circle movements again.

“Ah fuck. Yes!” you moan involuntarily. You hate the cocky chuckle that rumbles through his chest at your words.

You hated that you needed this. Especially from him. But fuck he was doing a good job.

You’re both looking down, watching his fingers pump in and out of you. You moan at the sight, and so does Druig. You continue to rut against his hand, helping him fuck his fingers deeper inside of you. You can feel a tension building in your lower stomach. It hurts, but it also feels so good. Your moans increase as the sensations build inside you. You can feel another wave about crash over you, but this time it’s one of pleasure. Pathetic whimpers leave your throat as you clench around Druig’s fingers, your climax flowing through you. You gasp at the relief. The pain definitely wasn’t gone but at the very least it had lessened slightly.

“Shhh, there’s a good girl” he coos, his lips against your ear again. He pumps you a few more times, prolonging your orgasm, making sure he coaxes every once of pleasure your body had to give in the hopes of it replacing the pain.

You barely have a second to bask in your climax before another surge of pain rolls through you, doubling you over into Druig’s chest as you cling to him desperately. You cry out from the pain, it’s ever so slightly less intense than before, but it still really fucking hurt.

“Druig...” you cry into his shirt. “It still hurts..."

“I know, little one, I know. I’m gonna take care of you” he whispers fervently into your hair.

The next thing you know Druig is sinking to his knees in front of you. He can see how much your suffering, all of his cocky attitude from earlier melting away. Now he only wanted to help, to get rid of your pain.

He holds your legs open with hands, spreading you even wider as he submerges his face between your thighs. His tongue connects with your clit and you cry out instantly. He doesn’t start slow, instead he goes right for an intense pace of lapping and flicking at your clit with his tongue. You instinctively grab his hair with one of your hands, holding him against you. Your hips begin to buck against him again, grinding your cunt against his face. Before long his fingers return to your dripping entrance, pumping, scissoring and curling inside you just as before. You can feel the pain start to lessen even more as the pleasure from Druig’s mouth on your cunt starts to overtake you. You feel your thighs start to tremble as your second climax approaches fast. You arch forwards, this time as pleasure racks through your body. Your moans are pathetic and ragged as you cum for the second time, convulsing against Druig’s mouth and fingers. You’re gripping his hair so tight you’re sure he must be pain, but he doesn’t even flinch, he just continues to lap at you, once again prolonging your orgasm. You feel your body start to relax a bit, your hand dropping from his hair.

“There’s a good girl, you’re doing so well” Druig praises as he stands back up again, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Another wave of pain courses through you as you look at him. He surprises you by suddenly tipping your chin with his fingers, angling your face upwards so he can place his lips on yours. The kiss is surprisingly soft, tender. His lips move gently against yours, it’s reassuring, comforting. You suddenly forget about everything. About the pain. About the fact that you usually hate this man most of the time. About the disastrous situation you were. Suddenly all you cared about was keeping his lips on yours. You felt like you could stay like this forever.

But you couldn’t as yet another wave of pain crashes over you. You break the kiss as you double over forwards again, the only thing stopping you from falling to the floor being Druig’s body in front of you. He holds you for a second as you gather your strength enough to sit back up. Once you’re able to hold yourself upright again Druig immediately begins undoing his belt and unbuttoning his trousers. He pulls his hard and leaking cock free and you involuntarily bite your lip at the sight, a mixed wave of pleasure and pain rocking through you. It was like your body knew that this was the solution, the cure: Druig’s cock.

Druig grabs the base of his dick, angling it until he was lined up with your entrance. You feel his tip breach your cunt and you whine, greedily wanting more. Druig obliges, pushing himself all the way inside you. He groans at the contact, you moan at the sensation of being so deliciously full, again feeling the pain start to dull even more.

Again Druig doesn’t bother with starting slow. You’d asked him to fuck you and so that’s what he was gonna do. He thrusts into hard and fast, setting a brutal pace. You can feel how sensitive you are already but you didn’t care, you knew you needed this, needed the pain to be gone. You needed Druig to absolutely ruin you.

You wanted to be as close to him as possible and so you place your hands on the back of his neck, holding him against you. Your head is limp against his shoulder, dizzy with exhaustion. He turns his head towards yours, using the angle to place hot kisses on your neck, biting your skin before soothing over each mark with his tongue. The added sensation of his lips on your neck make you whimper even more. You were borderline crying again, but at least this time it was from pleasure rather then the gut-wrenching pain from before.

“That’s it little one” he purrs.

“Stop fucking calling me that” you bite out. He laughs darkly.

“Well clearly you’re starting to feel better” he slams extra hard into you on the last word, extracting another moan from you.

“Gods I really hate how much you’re enjoying this” you seethe between your panting. He laughs again into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t pretend like you aren’t” he whispers smugly, biting and pulling on your earlobe.

“I’m not!” But your lie is quickly made apparent when another moan rips through you immediately after. You can feel Druig smirk against your neck as he starts to suck and bite your skin again. He’s quick to fuck the attitude out of you as he pumps into you so hard you see stars. You once again feel the pressure build in your lower belly. But it’s different this time, it’s no longer a mixture of pleasure and pain. This time it’s pure pleasure. You cry out loudly as you finally cum again, this one being the most intense of them all. Your entire body shakes and convulses as you clench around Druig.

He keeps moving inside you, making sure to prolong your orgasm, drawing out any last traces of that dreaded pollen. Then Druig's pace slows as he fights for control of himself. You can see the strain on his face as he battles not to cum as your pussy squeezes him tightly. You can see he’s about to pull out of you and you let out a pitiful whine.

“No, no please” you grab onto his shoulders, keeping him in place. "Just keep going. Please” you plead, rocking your hips, sliding yourself along his dick in desperation.

“I can’t. We didn’t use protection” he rasps. You shake your head pathetically, practically crying again.

“I don’t care. Druig please. Just cum inside me. Please” you plead, peppering open mouthed kisses across his throat as you rake your nails down his back. A growl escapes him as he makes the decision to toss caution to the wind. He picks up his pace again, fucking into you roughly. His cock hitting your sweet spot sends you right into another orgasm, your whole body shaking as your fourth climax rips through you. Your clenching cunt finally sends Druig over the edge as well, he grunts as his hips still against you and he spills inside you.

You’re both breathing heavy as he lifts his head to look at you. Before either of you really realise what’s happening his lips are on yours again. Just briefly, another soft and tender kiss, as if his lips were telling you that you were okay, that it was over now.

...

You’d both gotten yourselves dressed again but decided it was best to give yourselves a bit of time before moving anywhere. Your legs were to weak and shaky to take you more than a few steps anyway. So for now you both sat on the floor of the lab, leaning against the wall, far away from all the serums and powders.

A kind of calm silence had settled between the two of you. You’d expected the aftermath of this to be painfully awkward, but somehow it wasn’t.

“How are you feeling now?” He asks after a while, a gentleness in his tone.

“Better. Exhausted, but better” you breathe.

“Good” he states simply.

“Thank you” you mumble softly after another short while. He shifts slightly to look down at you, a sudden sincerity and softness in his eyes.

“Don’t mention it” he smiles warmly.

Masterlist

A/N: whoops this was longer than I intended it to be, but oof this was a lot of fun to write!!🥵👀 I’m low-key thinking of naming my followers my little bees, or my horny little bees when y’all act up, what do we think??😂😂

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

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The Prince of the Sea and his Child of Fire - Chapter 5/15 (Rated NC17)

Summary: Blaine is a water sprite, prince of the undersea kingdom and sole heir to the throne. Five days away from turning seventeen and his big coronation, he decides to take a journey to the surface, to seek out a legendary flame said to be tended by an evil witch. Instead of a witch, he finds something else entirely ...

Kurt is a fire fairy, prince of a race of fire fairies and heir to the throne. Five days away from turning seventeen (on the night of a full solar eclipse when he will transform and become king), he sees for the first time in his life a water sprite - a member of a race that he's been raised to hate.

What will happen when these two mortal enemies fall in love? Is there any way for them to escape destiny and be together?

Read on AO3.

Chapter 5

Blaine zips through the water, laughing as he goes. He twirls through the current on pointed toes, dancing with arms outstretched the way Kurt does around his flame. Tripping several times over nothing proves that Blaine is nowhere near as graceful as Kurt, but that doesn't matter. Attempting those complicated steps makes him feel closer to the fairy.

Like he doesn't ever have to leave him.

Blaine weeds in among a school of moonfish, leaping from bony back to bony back, checking himself in the reflection of their scales. He holds up his arms as if he's circling the water with Kurt in his embrace. He closes his eyes, and in his mind he's back on the surface with Kurt's body pressed against his, the handsome fairy throwing his head back and laughing up at the sky. He's so real in Blaine's mind that Blaine can actually feel him - his skin warm, his hair soft as it tickles Blaine's cheek, the two of them daring anyone to see them, to know with one glance what Blaine realized the moment Kurt spoke to him and his heart stopped in his chest.

Blaine is in love.

How it can happen so quickly – or how it can happen at all considering – Blaine doesn't know, nor does he care. He is filled to the brim with this new sensation, leaving not an inch of room in his heart or in his thoughts for anything but Kurt. He’s light-hearted, ridiculous, adolescent – all the things his father tried to train out of him.

He nearly dances all the way back to the castle, his mind a mess of thoughts that make little sense other than they’re about Kurt, and that makes a million-and-one other vastly important things easy to miss.

Like the eyes of both friend and foe watching his every move as he finally arrives to the castle and skips inside.

"Blaine!" Trent races to catch up with his friend. "Blaine! Wait up!"

"I can't." Blaine gives in to a huge yawn but quickens his steps. "I have to hit the rack. I had a big night and I'm exhausted."

"Yeah … that's … kind of what I need to talk to you about."

Blaine slows as he reaches his door, which gives Trent the chance to catch up.

"Do we have to?" Blaine groans. “I really need some sleep. I’m dead on my feet as is.” In truth, he’s running on adrenaline, so even though he’s yawning after every other word, he probably could spare a moment. But he doesn't want this now. He doesn't need it now. Not when he has plans to spend a long morning dreaming about talking to Kurt, making Kurt laugh, dancing with Kurt …

… kissing Kurt …

Trent puts his hand on Blaine's door, holding it shut. "It's important." Blaine sighs. He can easily strong-arm Trent away from the door, but Trent is his best friend. He's only looking out for Blaine's best interests. Blaine knows that.

If only Trent took his job a little less seriously.

"Fine. What is it?"

"Where were you last night?" Trent asks, having the good sense to whisper. But that regard for Blaine’s privacy doesn’t earn him any points. Blaine is long over people checking up on him. When will being prince, or king for that matter, mean that he can be trusted?

Apparently, today is not that day.

"Where do you think I was, Trent?"

"Did you go back to the cove? To see …?"

Another heavier sigh. "Yes. I did."

"Why didn't you take me with you?" Trent asks, sounding hurt.

Ugh! Not that! Blaine thinks. Anything but that! Be angry! Be disappointed! Don’t be hurt! He clenches his jaw until his ears ring. No! He refuses to feel guilty! He doesn't want to have this conversation! He doesn't want to admit to his best friend that he deliberately left him behind!

"Plausible deniability," Blaine says. "This way if my father asked, you wouldn't need to lie. You're a horrible liar."

"But … but why?" Trent asks.

Blaine doesn't answer. He shouldn’t have to. But from the look in Trent's eyes, he doesn't need to.

"You … you didn't," Trent stammers. "You don't …!"

Blaine drops his forehead against his door with a hollow thunk.

"How can you!? It’s only been one damn day! Why didn't you tell me!?"

"I only have four days left, Trent!" Blaine growls. "Do you know how heartbreaking that is? Can you even comprehend how much that hurts? I may be a prince, but that doesn’t mean I have any rights to my own life, any say in what I do or how things turn out! I should think that your job as my handler makes that obvious! I am a servant of our people! Everything I have, everything I am, I’m expected to give to our kingdom, with my father disappointed in me every step of the way! But I’ve finally found something that I might have a chance to call mine - that can make me happy - and I only have four days to enjoy it! So forgive me if I wanted to be alone with him!"

Trent doesn't respond, doesn’t move, barely breathes, lingering by his prince’s side with that same look of hurt in his eyes. Maybe even a hint of betrayal.

And Blaine can't stand being in his friend's presence any longer.

"Look," he says, removing Trent's hand roughly and opening his door, "I will be king for the rest of my life, trapped down here in this palace. I'll probably turn into some sort of disgusting, bloated bottom-feeder just like my father has. All I'm asking for is four lousy days!I thought that maybe, as my friend, you would understand."

Blaine storms into his room and slams the door in Trent's face. He throws himself down on his bed, squeezing his eyes shut to capture his last memories of Kurt's soothing song to lull him to sleep.

***

"So are you really a prince, or are you trying to impress me?" Kurt asks, tossing a handful of fresh leaves into the flame, turning it a sapphire blue. Blaine applauds as he watches Kurt pick up a handful of flowers and toss them in after, turning the fire violet as a result.

"Yes, sir. I am a bona fide prince, I promise you that," Blaine says. "I tried to tell you last night, but we got invaded and you pushed me overboard."

Kurt thinks back on the moment his mother arrived, remembering that he had shoved Blaine into the water mid-speech.

"Oh." Kurt blushes to match the flame. "Right." He dusts the pollen from his hands and walks over to where Blaine has been sitting on the branch, watching him work. "Should I call you your highness then?" he jokes. "Or will your majesty work?

"No! Never!" Blaine reels backward and pretends to vomit. Kurt raises a dignified eyebrow, but laughs at the sprite's antics. "You're a prince, too, so I would say your station and my station cancel each other out."

Kurt bobs his head as he thinks it over. "I agree. No titles then. Just Kurt and Blaine."

"Right." Blaine settles back onto the branch. "Kurt and Blaine."

Kurt swings his legs back and forth, the soles of his feet barely brushing the surface of the water. "So what is it like where you live? It seems so dark and spooky to me from up here."

Blaine puffs his chest with pride at Kurt showing interest in his kingdom. "It's not that at all!” Blaine looks into the pool for an example, but all he sees is dreariness and black. If this pool always looks this way, he can understand why Kurt thinks that. "Well, okay, there are places that are spooky," he amends. "It can be dark and cold definitely, but mostly it's glorious."

"Really?" Kurt asks, eyes bright with the glow of the flame a short distance away. "What's glorious about it?"

"So much, I don't even know where to start!" Blaine dips into the water, then climbs back up onto the branch - a habit he's developed to combat the drying heat of the flame. "There is so much life under the sea, plants and animals of every shape and color. It can be overwhelming if you’re not used to it, but it's also peaceful."

Kurt's head starts to bow, his cheerful smile creeping toward a frown.

"Like … like up here, right?" Blaine asks, wondering where Kurt's smile has gone. "The night sky, the colorful flowers, the forest and all its inhabitants to keep you company …"

"The fire keeps the sea calm," Kurt says. "It protects the fairies from the water, but it also keeps the animals away. It's actually rather lonely for me out here."

"What about during the day?" Blaine asks. "When you're not guarding the fire?"

"Then I am at the palace learning what I need to know to become king. It takes up most of the day, all of my time. My mother is … how shall I put it … vigilant."

"So in that large palace of yours, you don't have any friends?" Blaine watches Kurt pick up a petal and set it down gently on the water, pushing at it with his toe until it drifts away.

"No. None but my sister Rachel, and she can be a colossal pain." Kurt chuckles dryly. Blaine tries to smile. He tilts his head, watching Kurt examine his reflection in the water. It gives him an idea.

"What would happen to you if you went into the water?" Blaine asks.

Kurt's eyes pop wide, but not with fear. Not of Blaine. Blaine can see Kurt considering the possibilities of visiting his kingdom beneath the sea. Kurt leans forward. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course." Blaine moves closer. He'd really like to touch Kurt, feel what the heat of Kurt's skin would do to the cool of his hand, but he keeps his hands locked to the branch.

Kurt's eyes shift uneasily left and right, searching for ears in the forest that might overhear. "I have touched the water," he confesses. "Only briefly. Out of curiosity. And that is fine. But if I were to submerge myself, I would die." He turns his head to the flame, eyeing the flickering light. "We all come from the fire. It lives within us. It keeps us young and alive forever. If I were to go beneath the water, like any fire fairy, that fire would extinguish. Even my mother, the most powerful fire fairy among us, does not venture under the water."

Blaine's spirits fall.

The more he learns about Kurt and the fire fairies, the more Blaine knows this tiny cove is the only place they’ll ever be able to meet. There's no way he could visit Kurt for long on land, or in his palace. He would dry out without the sea, and the daylight would kill him.

But he’s going to be king soon, and as king, there has to be something he can do - some small way he can change things. He chews his lower lip, giving it thought. As a prince, he’s limited. He is constantly watched, and there are things he needs to ask permission for. But not as king. He’ll have advisors, yes, but the final say belongs to him. As king, he could end the feud between the sprites and the fire fairies. And then he and Kurt would have no need to hide their affection for one another.

Maybe he doesn’t have to be bound to the palace the way his father is. There’s no reason he can think of that he should be required to lock himself away to serve his people. He’s always felt his father’s decision to stay in one place was a deficit. As King of the Sea, he should travel the whole ocean for himself instead of having generals and ambassadors do it for him. Yes! Blaine will do that! He’ll have the power to make that happen!

In this way, he will be a far better king than his father … and he may get to be with Kurt yet.

It might just be a dream, but the thought raises his spirits once again.

And now, only four more days no longer feels like a sentence.

"Too bad." Blaine kicks his feet, his toes forming ripples over the water's surface. "It would be nice for you to see my world, feel the water on your skin, how it can calm, soothe …"

"I don't think the water would feel the same to me as it does to you." Kurt catches his reflection again when the ripples on the water cease. He’s shooting down Blaine’s suggestion, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t dreamt about it - swimming in the water, his legs and arms cutting through, propelling him forward, seeing things he’s never seen before, things he can’t even imagine. A loud pop pulls his attention, makes him turn toward the fire snapping and shimmering in ways Kurt can't recall seeing before. When he turns to Blaine to mention it, the sprite is staring at him.

Strangely so.

"Why do you look at me that way?" Kurt asks.

Blaine jerks back. "In what way?"

"In … that way," Kurt says, not knowing how to explain it. "Like you've lost something. Or you've found something. Something you’ve been looking for forever. It's a little … unnerving."

"I'm sorry," Blaine says but not looking away. "It's only that …"

"Only what?"

Blaine reaches into the water with his cupped hands. He scoops up some water and pours it over his hair, down his face. Kurt watches the water drip down his body, each droplet reflecting light like a prism across his skin. For a moment, he becomes a beacon – and that beacon calls to Kurt.

Everything about Blaine calls to him.

His voice, his eyes, his skin, his hands, his smile, his laugh …

"I would like to kiss you."

Kurt's eyes, which had been chasing the beads of water as they dripped along Blaine's skin, fly up to his face.

"Why?" Kurt asks. “We are not related.”

Blaine feels his cheeks redden. He hadn’t expected this. He didn’t know a single thing about fairy courtship or mating rituals, or if they even had any! But who knew he would need to explain why he might want a kiss?

"Where I come from, when you like someone, and they like you, you press your lips to theirs."

Kurt makes a face. "Ugh!" he exclaims. "My mother has only ever kissed me on the forehead! Or the cheek! But on the mouth? Where you eat!?” Kurt puts his fingertips to his lips, nibbling the tips with his teeth. Perfect white teeth … “That sounds foul!"

Blaine rolls his eyes away in embarrassment. “I don’t know. It didn’t seem so bad to me.”

Kurt looks at Blaine's lips, focusing on the way they pull down at the corners as his expression changes, his tongue running over them slowly to wet them.

"Have you ever kissed anyone?" Kurt asks shyly, paying more attention to Blaine's lips than he has ever paid attention to anyone's before. “On the mouth?”

"No," Blaine admits. "I've never liked anyone like that before. Besides, I'm royalty, and no one kisses royalty but royalty."

The fairy and the sprite grow quiet, legs swinging in an even rhythm over the water.

"I am royalty," Kurt says softly.

"Yeah," Blaine agrees, eyeing the fairy prince as he contemplates his next move. Kurt slides down the branch up to Blaine, feeling his own fire cool as Blaine's skin absorbs his heat, turning it a light shade of rose where Kurt's skin brushes against it. But it doesn't burn.

It tingles.

"So, would it be …" Kurt whispers, leaning closer, pausing a moment to see what Blaine will do "… like this?" Kurt fits his lips to Blaine's mouth – carefully, unsure. Blaine stops breathing. Or his breath gets stolen away. But the first touch of Kurt's lips against his own feel like falling too fast, plummeting down to that bottomless abyss Trent nearly lost him to with no one to stop him.

But Blaine doesn't want to stop falling. Not for a minute.

Then Kurt pulls back and the kiss is done – over too quickly, his fairy too far away.

“Like that?”

"Close." Blaine clears his throat awkwardly as Kurt stares at him, nervously awaiting a reaction. "But maybe we could try it like this …"

Blaine reaches out a hand, pausing at Kurt's neck to get used to the heat stinging his fingertips. He threads his fingers through Kurt's hair and pulls him close. Kurt's lips on his are surprisingly cool. He smells like the flowers he gathers in the meadow that he feeds to the fire, his hair soft like their petals. Blaine feels himself engulfed in light, the flame behind them moving through the spectrum of colors from pink to green to blue and then gold. He hears Kurt hum in his ears as he slides his lips against his and it becomes a song – a new song, one he's never sung before.

Kurt only stops when he hears Blaine's skin sizzle.

Blaine drops down in the water to cool off, quell his blush, calm the erratic pounding of his heart. The first thing he sees when he bobs up is Kurt's worried face.

"How was … how was that?" Blaine asks, climbing back onto the branch, his skin returning to its normal color.

"Are you alright?" Kurt asks, hands hovering in the air, prepared to do … something to help.

Blaine grins like the quarter moon. “I’m fine. Actually, I'm better than fine."

"Do you … do you think you might want to do that again?" Kurt asks.

"Yes! Of course! But only if you want to-umph!"

Blaine stops talking with Kurt's mouth on his. Blaine smiles and Kurt kisses him harder. Blaine wraps his arms around him, stopping every so often to dip into the water. But the longer they kiss, the more Blaine can withstand the heat of Kurt's skin, until nothing about Kurt burns anymore.

***

Blaine doesn't want to leave Kurt. He doesn’t ever want to leave. It takes another shove back into the water from Kurt to get Blaine to realize that daylight has started skating across the ocean, spreading its fingers to grab hold of them.

It would energize Kurt with one hand, and with the other, burn Blaine alive.

The whole night spent kissing Kurt, Blaine couldn't stop thinking about bringing Kurt with him under water. There has to be a way, even if it’s only for a little while – just long enough to show Kurt his kingdom, his castle, and all the incredible beauty of life beneath the sea. Besides his father (and he has no intention of asking him) Blaine can think of only one creature in the sea who might know a way.

But she is going to be difficult to get to.

#klaine #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction

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realmsherald · 7 years

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Day 3 - The Ancient Warlord

A rhythmic thumping stirred Lyliath from her meditation with the World Roots, her call for aid answered, but oddly, and weak. The dust of the abandoned building her warband took shelter in from the night shook with each thud that reverberated through the ruined city, falling upon their leaves from the gutted alcoves above, the remaining shards of stained glass shaking in the narrow gothic window frames.

She turned to one of her malevolent stalker kin, already the Spite was smiling mirthlessly, his fangs bared and eyes glinting like cut amber, he could feel an approaching battle as well as she and the Branchwych bade him to climb the heights of their shelter and discover what came.

As he left Lyliath thrust her hand into the dry earth, questing for a touch of the roots. Within a moment the broken tile and grave dirt floor swelled and cracked as thick viney roots burst out. Ghyran had answered her plea and the wave of life giving energy in this death parched land revitalized the seedkin like a second wind. Breathing in the heavy aroma of pollen and warmth Lyliath opened them to see a flower quickly bud, it’s yellow leaves filling with vitality and blooming within an instant. Nestled in the center of the flower wasn’t a Sylvaneth like she was expected, but instead a small turquoise scaled lizard, it’s eyes glowing with the same life giving amber as her own. Clutched in its clawed hands was a long shaft of wood, festooned with feathers and beads. This was one of the Rootborn’s spawn and although starlight did not course through his veins like the Seraphon rumoured to stalk all lands in anathema to chaos, this mortal creature of old was just as fierce and loyal to life.

“Despoilers, brutes, Orruk.” whispered the Spite Revenant from above.

Lyliath grimaced, memories of axe wielding destruction to her land and people running through her ancestral memories. Bolstered with a new ally, no matter how meak, the warband strode out of the ruined building and into the street to meet the oncoming enemy.

Pounding down the narrow avenue came a ravenous band of Orruks, breaking the city’s funeral silence with their glotteral chanting and stomping, either by ironclad boots, foul bare feet or massive boar hooves. Charging in their forefront was a boar riding berserker, followed closely behind by an odd mix of iron plated and wild body painted savage Orruks, the former wielding massive blades that looked capable of chopping through a tree in one strike, the latter, carrying crude stone tipped bow and arrows, screaming and shouting incoherently to the trailing Warchanter. He ran behind his warband, shouting out prayers to his dual gods while holding aloft a stone sarcophagus, trailing graveyard dust.

The greenskins had not seen the silent seedkin or the nimble skink that climbed for a better vantage point, until an oakstone arrow sailed through the air wounding one of the warpainted savages. Screaming her own warchant the Sylvaneth charged forwards to meet the incoming brutes, slamming bark to iron and green flesh.

The treekin flowed seamlessly around the heavy bladed swings of the Orruks, lashing out in turn and finding little purchase against their hide. The noble hunter unleashing arrow after arrow to lay low the beast while Lyliath blasted the mortal off it’s mount in a blast of verdant energy. Though the swift Sylvaneth kept their foe at bay the Warchanter marched on under strain of his prize and would escape past Lyliath’s wooden clutches if she could not end his followers lives. It had seemed a sure thing until the Ironjaw Brutes cut deep into her Revenants, the skink above it’s addersap darts proving ineffectual against both iron and hide.

Desperate with the fear of more slain kin, Lyliath stirred the life within her, awakening the multitude of crawling slithering spites and fanning their malicious ire with the malignant rage the Branchwych felt while in this cursed city of the dead. Raising her head to the slate grey sky dozens upon dozens of spites swarmed out of her mouth, crawled from the cracks in her skin and poured from under her leaves and branches. The little beasts, struck out at the ironclad brutes, crawling beneath their armor, shredding into flesh, eyes and mouths. Before long the hulking Ironjawz collapsed all around her, their bodies ravaged and the swarm returning to hers.

Breathing heavy the Branchwych lifted her scythe to the Warchanter.

“Drop it, despoiler.”

With mouth agape, the bottom tusks protruding like the slain boar still bleeding out on the street, the Warchanter snarled, slamming the stone sarcophagus into the street’s cobblestones. He raised his Gorkstikk (or Morkstikk) in kind “Wood for cooking meat, soon witch.”

He then turned and stomped down a side alley, talking to himself in an incoherent grumble.

While Lyliath bade the skink to scout out for more perils awaiting them the remaining seedkin approached the sarcophagusand gazed upon it’s carved effigy, an armored woman in stone, with one hand grasping a sword that reached down to her plated feet, the other a scale, her eyes cut shadeglass but the spirit within dead and gone like the rest of the city. Ancient runes were carved around her, some in billowing scrolls surrounding the scale, others wrapping around the blade of her stone carved sword.

“Can you read this?” she asked of Oakenson, the wounded Kurnoth Hunter, oldest among her kin, his hand to his side holding in the leaking blood amber.

“No my lady, this mortal tongue escapes my knowledge.” he furrowed his brow at its arcane text.

“I know of it!” exclaimed a Tree Revenant, rushing to peer closer, “Or at least I have memories...of...knowing…” He looked inwardly with confusion at this, Lyliath knew of the ancient spirits that sung in the souls of her Tree Revenants, not truly Sylvaneth, not truly mortal they stood upon both shores of life and found moments of enlightenment from times from the World that Was, without truly grasping how or why.

Running his bark-flesh hand over the inscribed runes, “Those that encircle the blade tell of Duchess Nephasus glories in purging the Ghoul hordes east of this once-empire...But surrounding the scale, these runes tell of her exploits as a master merchant, dealing with denizens from all realms...as...investor...in the guild masters...of the Ossific Swamp!”

Lyliath felt her rage abate with the fluttering of hope, bending down she rested her own hand on the stone and felt a thrum of power unlike any other she felt in this parched land. Maybe she had spent already too long in this land of death, but the power within this sarcophagus felt powerful enough to waylay all others in her warbands path. With both hands her sharpened talon-like fingers prodded the edges of the lid, and before she could lift a light descended like an arcing comment and blasted her and her kin off their feet.

Blinking away the sudden light, the brightness almost alien in this gloom filled land she saw through sappy tears a golden angel lifting the sarcophagus effortlessly through the air on wings of light.

Roaring like a thousand leaves caught in a gale the Branchwych railed at her Hunter to lay the thief low.

As arrows flew through the air, striking off the Sigmarite armor or through the misty air more golden clad warriors broke into the streets. A Lord Relictor, just the same from the mad battle only a day before, slammed his bone festooned banner into the ground and called out to his god from under his skull crafted helm, looking to belong in his deathly realm more than any other.

“By Sigmar’s light! Smite these tree spawned demons!”

An answer to his prayers was quickly called and the sky opened to the white fire of Sigmar’s wrath and under lighting and hail the two warbands ran at each other, hammers to oakstone blade, sigmarite to bark.

While the two groups battered and fought, Oakenson continued to fire at the fleeing Prosecutor. With miss after miss the Kurnoth Hunter reached down to his Quiverling and plucked the last of the arrows, hearing the little beast whimper in failure. Last arrow notched, bending back the snapvine he let loose his shot and watched it connect with a resounding crack.

The golden Lord Relictor watched his winged brother plummet to the ground, his heavy body leaving a crater of debris, the sarcophagus slamming into the earth, miraculously unopened and still thrumming with power. Yelling out with a rage only brotherhood could muster he laid into Lyliath, his hammer slamming against her scythe over and over in ever quickening strikes, trying to block the incoming attacks the Branchwych tiring with each limb breaking blow.

Her body moving to slow to intercept a thundering barrage the hammer of silvered Sigmarite slammed into her chest and threw her out, leaving her senseless in the bonedust. Her remaining sisters and brothers fought on gloriously, sharpened talons and blades scoring hits and sending the Stormcast’s souls back into the the grasp of their god until only the Lord and the great noble Oakenson remained.

Bereft of any remaining arrows the Kurnoth Hunter ran at the immortal and the two exchanged titanic blows, all alone in a street devoid of life and hope.

With one last prayer to Sigmar on his lips a shaft of lightning broke through the heavens and struck Oakenson not unlike the tallest tree in a storm.

Falling senseless like his lady, the seedkin were devastated and covered in the dirt and dust of the streets while the goldclad warrior stepped over their near dead forms.

With a sliver of an opened eye Lyliath watched the immortal reach down and lift the casket’s lid, a dark unlight cascading over his leering skull mask, and though the Branchwych could not see it, she felt as well as any sense the Lord Relictor smile beneath his deathmask.

Her eyes then closed to unfeeling oblivion.

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