![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jamjarSo lets see where we're up to:
Part 1-Prologue (in which the inevitable occurs, and one of the author's kinks is fed)
Part 2 (in which Mark plays dress up, and various other of the authors kinks are fed)
Part 3 (in which Mark learns that cleavage is an acceptable substitute for mind-controlling glamour)
Part 4 (in which Mark reminds everyone where he belongs on the food chain, even when he looks particularly snackable)
Interlude (What Aerael got up to on his summer holidays)
Part 5 (in which Aerael defends his territory)
And now
Part 6 (in which, since part 5 passed without a comment, the author attempts to drum up feedback with the possibility of mid-air groping).
It had rained while they were inside the club and occasional drops still fell from the sky. The streets were wet and shiny, reflecting the lights of the city. Cities looked their best at night after the rain, glittering and dark, and the smell of the rain took away the normal, background pollution. All the sounds of the city, traffic and the bar behind them, seemed strangely distant.
Mark turned around to face Aerael, standing close enough to kiss if he hadn't been looking over Aerael's shoulder. He slung both arms over Aerael's shoulders and stroked Aerael's sings along the bone. His expression was unreadable, but Aerael stayed very still. The loss of his wings must have been as damaging to Mark's sense of self as the loss of his power or gender. Flight was important to all the winged fae, but Mark and Davy both seemed to take to the air as if offering up a hymn to some essential self, as if the essence of what they were was distilled in flight.
Mark drew back a little, enough so that he met Aerael's eyes. His hands moved from Aerael's wings to link behind his neck and they kissed, almost cautiously at first as they tested out the differences, then deeper. Mark tasted different, and there was less chance of Aerael accidentally cutting his tongue on one of Mark's teeth, but it was still so familiar and really, kissing Mark was better than kissing anyone else.
Mark hopped up, wrapping his legs around Aerael's waist without raising his mouth. Some theorised that the extreme physical strength lust faeries possessed was simply to protect them from the dangerous situations their glamour might get them into, but Aerael went along with the idea that it was simply for moments like this. He didn't even need to catch his balance, just hold onto Mark's waist and take off.
Most people being carried were nervous. Even those who could normally manage under their own power usually felt a little thrill at being high in the air, depending on someone else for their safety. He felt none of that from Mark. Mark looked completely undisturbed, even when Aerael had to do a sudden dip to avoid a pigeon, and for some reason his lack of fear made Aerael hold on tighter.
Mark leaned as far back as he could, his back arching against the solid barrier of Aerael's arms. He unhooked his arms from Aerael's shoulders and stretched them out. The wind caught his hair and tangled it in a way that under normal circumstances would have had Mark chanting a spell to tidy it. At the same time, Mark's legs gripped tighter, hips pushing against him harder, as if he was trying break away and hold on tighter at the same time.
He wasn't a telepath, like Mark, but he was experienced enough to recognise the different flavours of desire. Mark radiated good, old fashioned lust, but underneath there was a note of something more desperate, late-night, last one still at the bar, desperate. He put it together with what he knew of Mark.
Fear. Underneath it all, Mark was probably terrified, and, being Mark, dealing with it by proving he still had power, he could still exert some control over the situation and others. He'd seen the bite on the incubus at the bar's shoulders, as well as the red burn on the back of his neck that matched Mark's bracelets, visible records of Mark pushing his will onto others, forcing them to bend or break under him. Like most predators, Mark tended towards extreme focus. He'd probably been concentrating on a series of actions, getting dressed, getting help, getting laid, proving to himself and anyone else that watched that he could, not just deal with, but triumph, no matter what weaknesses had been inflicted on him.
Aerael gave a mental shrug. He'd just have to get mark's mind on other matters then. He looked down at Mark, at the expanse of skin and the neck completely exposed and begging to be marked. He let out a hint of glamour, not enough for Mark to realise it consciously, not enough to completely take control for him, but enough to make him that much more aware of his body.
~ ~ ~
It wasn't quite the same. Aerael flew differently to Mark, as the differences in the nature of their bodies dictated different techniques in the air. Mark was lighter, his wings shaped differently, and he flew with longer glides, seeking height and moving with the wind, even when the wind was under his control. Aerael flew with a more muscular technique, the beats of his wings strong and heavy. In spite of the differences, Mark was disturbingly reminded of being carried by his parents, before he took First Flight. He fought the urge to take comfort in it. Feeling his legs wrapped around Aerael helped distract his body, at least.
"So do you want to tell me what you were thinking about, back at the bar," Aerael said. "See if you can come with a few mitigating circumstances?"
Mark straightened up and brought one hand around Aerael's neck for security. "Oh, I wasn't really thinking anything in particular. Your sibling said something my vulnerability in this form, and I had had several drinks." He shivered and snuggled closer. "And I wanted to torture my little brother." Aerael used his free hand to pull Mark's coat a little tighter around him. It was colder this high up and Mark was feeling it more than usual, so he bit back the instinctive comment to tell Aerael to keep his hands to himself, or at least put them to better use. He wondered if the added danger of mid-air sex when he was flightless would compensate for not being able to use his wings. He smirked. "But mostly, it was just that I had so much fun with this body last time, I thought I'd try it out again, without the need to play nice with your sibling."
"So you wanted to prove you could still fuck with, fuck up and just plain old fuck some poor bastard on your terms?" Aerael shook his head, less in denial than in amusement. "You know, there were probably better ways to deal with this situation."
Markkas raised an eyebrow. "What could be better than going out to a disreputable bar, getting drunk on other people's money and then indulging in a little catch-and-release with people who'll never know how lucky they were to get out in one piece. Oh, and then getting flown back to the apartment of an incubus of," he smirked, "considerable reputation. I know high fae with centuries of mind-control under their belt who couldn't have managed that."
Aerael looked down, eyeing Mark's breasts. "I can see two advantages you've got that most high fae lack."
"Excellent cleavage seems to be a reasonable substitute for glamour," Markkas said in agreement, looking down at his chest. He cupped them, almost experimentally. "Even lust fae aren't immune."
"I could have told you... don't do that when I'm flying," Aerael said, dragging his eyes away from the sight of Markkas pushing the front of his dress down and taking out his breasts before he crashed into a house.
Markkas looked up. "Why not? That's what they're there for, isn't it?" He petted one. "You know, I'm getting rather fond of them. I can see how they might get a bit inconvenient if they were there permanently, but they're not without their uses." He put them away reluctantly and adjusted his coat. He looked up at Aerael's snort and tilted his head on one side questioningly, a smug smile gracing his mouth. "What are you thinking, Aerael?"
"Can't you tell?"
Mark laughed. "In general, yes, but the details escape me. I'm afraid you'll have to spell it out for me. In explicit detail." He surged upwards and licked Aerael's mouth, settling back down again before Aerael could blink. "No telepathy, but I'm sure your mouth is sufficiently filthy to compensate."
"That's a given. Although thinking about it, maybe a demonstration would be best," and Mark was left coughing and clinging, as the body he was wrapped around changed. He was taller than Aerael now, legs wrapped her waist and in mild danger from her horns. "Wanna find balcony and make out?"
Mark closed his eyes and imagined Aerael landing on one the balconies beneath them, back pressed against cast iron railings. Kissing in front of French windows, dark and pale hair mixing together while desperate faces pressed against the glass, caught up in Aerael's glamour but unable to do anything about it. Secubae were said to be able to drive men made with lust, make them literally crazy with desire. Mark could lay Aerael under him, bring her to climax with his hands and mouth, until she lost control of her glamour. He could picture them hammering at the glass, desperately trying to assuage their desire ion each other but completely unable to lift their eyes from the sight of beautiful Aerael, black wings spread against the dark iron, mouth open as she screamed her pleasure loud enough to bring the neighbours out the doors.
"On second thoughts, maybe not," Aerael said. She was frowning slightly, but looked unsurprised. "We need to work out some of your nastier desires first, or at least get you too tired to follow through with them."
"This is probably the only time you'll have me in your bed completely magicless," Mark said, softly. "We could play my games safely, since you know I'd have no way of stopping you if you said no, no way of preventing you from seizing control if I went too far." He let his hand drift across Aerael's arms, feeling the deceptive softness of them. "You could break my neck without breaking a sweat, Aerael, surely it's not so much of a risk to let me have a little time with you in chains?"
Aerael shook her head. "Not a chance beautiful. Human or not, I still wouldn't trust you with a whip in your hand. Especially when you might feel like you've got something to prove."
Mark nodded, accepting the point with a little bit of pride. "The other way around? You'd have to be careful. I bruise more easily like this," Which probably wouldn't have sounded like an invitation to anyone else, but Aerael knew Mark better than most. Mark smiled, sudden and genuine and stroked Aerael's hair back from her face. "I really should make you suffer, you know. I could have indulged my desires with that pair at the bar, and then you could have had me when I was satisfied and soaking the blood off in the bath."
"Humans tire more easily than fae, Beautiful. You could have worn yourself and then what's left for me?"
"I kept up with Iolaus last time. More than kept up, even," Mark said, back stiffening at the perceived insult.
Aerael shook her head. "You know, it's a pity you don't get drunk like this more often. You're adorable like this." Mark dug his nails into Aerael's biceps and tried a snarl that didn't quite work in this throat. "So damn cute," Aerael said, leaning forwards to give Mark an almost haste kiss. "Even more than normal."
Mark glared at him. "Shut up. And I'm neither drunk nor cute." He pressed his nails in harder, then stopped when Aerael didn't so much as wince. "
"You know, it works the other way around too," Aerael said, switching back to male. He wasn't that much stronger as a male, but just the difference in size made it easier to carry Mark when he was.
"What?"
"The poor defenceless Mark argument you were trying to use against me. You're human, female and under the influence, and no-one's gonna think twice if you just don't fight me for once. Don't bother with the struggling, all the mind games and constant refusal to just lie down and bare your neck even when we know it's what you want. It'd all be completely futile anyway. You're just a vulnerable human who had one too many, and my kind have been feeding off of ones like you for centuries before either of us were born."
Mark started to object and Aerael shut him up by giving his glamour free reign, just for a second. "Chaos, Aerael, don't…" he said, clinging to Aerael and shuddering, his eyes wide and dark.
Aerael stroked his back through one of the slits in the coat. "See? Nothing you can do, so you might as well save your energy. You know there's a certain freedom in giving up the struggle. And tomorrow you can just say it was Bonnie or the booze or whatever."
Mark frowned and licked his lips nervously. He looked at his arms, swamped in Aerael's coat, the iron bracelets safely tucked away under the butter-soft leather and felt Aerael's hand, warm on his back and almost as soothing as the sense of power he'd got from making the boy at the bar kneel. Mark laughed out loud.
"What?" Aerael said, pouting a little. "I thought that was pretty convincing myself."
"I suppose it was," Mark said. "It just reminded me of something."
"What?"
There's this joke," Mark said, tucking his chin in and resting his head against Aerael's shoulder. "Bonnie told it to me once, although I didn't appreciate it at the time. What's the mating cry of the Southern Belle?"
"No idea," Aerael said, smiling down at him.
Markkas tipped his head back, letting the rain fall onto his face and neck. He raised his voice, probably loud enough to be heard on the streets below. "Ah am soooooo drunk!"
tbc.
Part 1-Prologue (in which the inevitable occurs, and one of the author's kinks is fed)
Part 2 (in which Mark plays dress up, and various other of the authors kinks are fed)
Part 3 (in which Mark learns that cleavage is an acceptable substitute for mind-controlling glamour)
Part 4 (in which Mark reminds everyone where he belongs on the food chain, even when he looks particularly snackable)
Interlude (What Aerael got up to on his summer holidays)
Part 5 (in which Aerael defends his territory)
And now
Part 6 (in which, since part 5 passed without a comment, the author attempts to drum up feedback with the possibility of mid-air groping).
It had rained while they were inside the club and occasional drops still fell from the sky. The streets were wet and shiny, reflecting the lights of the city. Cities looked their best at night after the rain, glittering and dark, and the smell of the rain took away the normal, background pollution. All the sounds of the city, traffic and the bar behind them, seemed strangely distant.
Mark turned around to face Aerael, standing close enough to kiss if he hadn't been looking over Aerael's shoulder. He slung both arms over Aerael's shoulders and stroked Aerael's sings along the bone. His expression was unreadable, but Aerael stayed very still. The loss of his wings must have been as damaging to Mark's sense of self as the loss of his power or gender. Flight was important to all the winged fae, but Mark and Davy both seemed to take to the air as if offering up a hymn to some essential self, as if the essence of what they were was distilled in flight.
Mark drew back a little, enough so that he met Aerael's eyes. His hands moved from Aerael's wings to link behind his neck and they kissed, almost cautiously at first as they tested out the differences, then deeper. Mark tasted different, and there was less chance of Aerael accidentally cutting his tongue on one of Mark's teeth, but it was still so familiar and really, kissing Mark was better than kissing anyone else.
Mark hopped up, wrapping his legs around Aerael's waist without raising his mouth. Some theorised that the extreme physical strength lust faeries possessed was simply to protect them from the dangerous situations their glamour might get them into, but Aerael went along with the idea that it was simply for moments like this. He didn't even need to catch his balance, just hold onto Mark's waist and take off.
Most people being carried were nervous. Even those who could normally manage under their own power usually felt a little thrill at being high in the air, depending on someone else for their safety. He felt none of that from Mark. Mark looked completely undisturbed, even when Aerael had to do a sudden dip to avoid a pigeon, and for some reason his lack of fear made Aerael hold on tighter.
Mark leaned as far back as he could, his back arching against the solid barrier of Aerael's arms. He unhooked his arms from Aerael's shoulders and stretched them out. The wind caught his hair and tangled it in a way that under normal circumstances would have had Mark chanting a spell to tidy it. At the same time, Mark's legs gripped tighter, hips pushing against him harder, as if he was trying break away and hold on tighter at the same time.
He wasn't a telepath, like Mark, but he was experienced enough to recognise the different flavours of desire. Mark radiated good, old fashioned lust, but underneath there was a note of something more desperate, late-night, last one still at the bar, desperate. He put it together with what he knew of Mark.
Fear. Underneath it all, Mark was probably terrified, and, being Mark, dealing with it by proving he still had power, he could still exert some control over the situation and others. He'd seen the bite on the incubus at the bar's shoulders, as well as the red burn on the back of his neck that matched Mark's bracelets, visible records of Mark pushing his will onto others, forcing them to bend or break under him. Like most predators, Mark tended towards extreme focus. He'd probably been concentrating on a series of actions, getting dressed, getting help, getting laid, proving to himself and anyone else that watched that he could, not just deal with, but triumph, no matter what weaknesses had been inflicted on him.
Aerael gave a mental shrug. He'd just have to get mark's mind on other matters then. He looked down at Mark, at the expanse of skin and the neck completely exposed and begging to be marked. He let out a hint of glamour, not enough for Mark to realise it consciously, not enough to completely take control for him, but enough to make him that much more aware of his body.
~ ~ ~
It wasn't quite the same. Aerael flew differently to Mark, as the differences in the nature of their bodies dictated different techniques in the air. Mark was lighter, his wings shaped differently, and he flew with longer glides, seeking height and moving with the wind, even when the wind was under his control. Aerael flew with a more muscular technique, the beats of his wings strong and heavy. In spite of the differences, Mark was disturbingly reminded of being carried by his parents, before he took First Flight. He fought the urge to take comfort in it. Feeling his legs wrapped around Aerael helped distract his body, at least.
"So do you want to tell me what you were thinking about, back at the bar," Aerael said. "See if you can come with a few mitigating circumstances?"
Mark straightened up and brought one hand around Aerael's neck for security. "Oh, I wasn't really thinking anything in particular. Your sibling said something my vulnerability in this form, and I had had several drinks." He shivered and snuggled closer. "And I wanted to torture my little brother." Aerael used his free hand to pull Mark's coat a little tighter around him. It was colder this high up and Mark was feeling it more than usual, so he bit back the instinctive comment to tell Aerael to keep his hands to himself, or at least put them to better use. He wondered if the added danger of mid-air sex when he was flightless would compensate for not being able to use his wings. He smirked. "But mostly, it was just that I had so much fun with this body last time, I thought I'd try it out again, without the need to play nice with your sibling."
"So you wanted to prove you could still fuck with, fuck up and just plain old fuck some poor bastard on your terms?" Aerael shook his head, less in denial than in amusement. "You know, there were probably better ways to deal with this situation."
Markkas raised an eyebrow. "What could be better than going out to a disreputable bar, getting drunk on other people's money and then indulging in a little catch-and-release with people who'll never know how lucky they were to get out in one piece. Oh, and then getting flown back to the apartment of an incubus of," he smirked, "considerable reputation. I know high fae with centuries of mind-control under their belt who couldn't have managed that."
Aerael looked down, eyeing Mark's breasts. "I can see two advantages you've got that most high fae lack."
"Excellent cleavage seems to be a reasonable substitute for glamour," Markkas said in agreement, looking down at his chest. He cupped them, almost experimentally. "Even lust fae aren't immune."
"I could have told you... don't do that when I'm flying," Aerael said, dragging his eyes away from the sight of Markkas pushing the front of his dress down and taking out his breasts before he crashed into a house.
Markkas looked up. "Why not? That's what they're there for, isn't it?" He petted one. "You know, I'm getting rather fond of them. I can see how they might get a bit inconvenient if they were there permanently, but they're not without their uses." He put them away reluctantly and adjusted his coat. He looked up at Aerael's snort and tilted his head on one side questioningly, a smug smile gracing his mouth. "What are you thinking, Aerael?"
"Can't you tell?"
Mark laughed. "In general, yes, but the details escape me. I'm afraid you'll have to spell it out for me. In explicit detail." He surged upwards and licked Aerael's mouth, settling back down again before Aerael could blink. "No telepathy, but I'm sure your mouth is sufficiently filthy to compensate."
"That's a given. Although thinking about it, maybe a demonstration would be best," and Mark was left coughing and clinging, as the body he was wrapped around changed. He was taller than Aerael now, legs wrapped her waist and in mild danger from her horns. "Wanna find balcony and make out?"
Mark closed his eyes and imagined Aerael landing on one the balconies beneath them, back pressed against cast iron railings. Kissing in front of French windows, dark and pale hair mixing together while desperate faces pressed against the glass, caught up in Aerael's glamour but unable to do anything about it. Secubae were said to be able to drive men made with lust, make them literally crazy with desire. Mark could lay Aerael under him, bring her to climax with his hands and mouth, until she lost control of her glamour. He could picture them hammering at the glass, desperately trying to assuage their desire ion each other but completely unable to lift their eyes from the sight of beautiful Aerael, black wings spread against the dark iron, mouth open as she screamed her pleasure loud enough to bring the neighbours out the doors.
"On second thoughts, maybe not," Aerael said. She was frowning slightly, but looked unsurprised. "We need to work out some of your nastier desires first, or at least get you too tired to follow through with them."
"This is probably the only time you'll have me in your bed completely magicless," Mark said, softly. "We could play my games safely, since you know I'd have no way of stopping you if you said no, no way of preventing you from seizing control if I went too far." He let his hand drift across Aerael's arms, feeling the deceptive softness of them. "You could break my neck without breaking a sweat, Aerael, surely it's not so much of a risk to let me have a little time with you in chains?"
Aerael shook her head. "Not a chance beautiful. Human or not, I still wouldn't trust you with a whip in your hand. Especially when you might feel like you've got something to prove."
Mark nodded, accepting the point with a little bit of pride. "The other way around? You'd have to be careful. I bruise more easily like this," Which probably wouldn't have sounded like an invitation to anyone else, but Aerael knew Mark better than most. Mark smiled, sudden and genuine and stroked Aerael's hair back from her face. "I really should make you suffer, you know. I could have indulged my desires with that pair at the bar, and then you could have had me when I was satisfied and soaking the blood off in the bath."
"Humans tire more easily than fae, Beautiful. You could have worn yourself and then what's left for me?"
"I kept up with Iolaus last time. More than kept up, even," Mark said, back stiffening at the perceived insult.
Aerael shook her head. "You know, it's a pity you don't get drunk like this more often. You're adorable like this." Mark dug his nails into Aerael's biceps and tried a snarl that didn't quite work in this throat. "So damn cute," Aerael said, leaning forwards to give Mark an almost haste kiss. "Even more than normal."
Mark glared at him. "Shut up. And I'm neither drunk nor cute." He pressed his nails in harder, then stopped when Aerael didn't so much as wince. "
"You know, it works the other way around too," Aerael said, switching back to male. He wasn't that much stronger as a male, but just the difference in size made it easier to carry Mark when he was.
"What?"
"The poor defenceless Mark argument you were trying to use against me. You're human, female and under the influence, and no-one's gonna think twice if you just don't fight me for once. Don't bother with the struggling, all the mind games and constant refusal to just lie down and bare your neck even when we know it's what you want. It'd all be completely futile anyway. You're just a vulnerable human who had one too many, and my kind have been feeding off of ones like you for centuries before either of us were born."
Mark started to object and Aerael shut him up by giving his glamour free reign, just for a second. "Chaos, Aerael, don't…" he said, clinging to Aerael and shuddering, his eyes wide and dark.
Aerael stroked his back through one of the slits in the coat. "See? Nothing you can do, so you might as well save your energy. You know there's a certain freedom in giving up the struggle. And tomorrow you can just say it was Bonnie or the booze or whatever."
Mark frowned and licked his lips nervously. He looked at his arms, swamped in Aerael's coat, the iron bracelets safely tucked away under the butter-soft leather and felt Aerael's hand, warm on his back and almost as soothing as the sense of power he'd got from making the boy at the bar kneel. Mark laughed out loud.
"What?" Aerael said, pouting a little. "I thought that was pretty convincing myself."
"I suppose it was," Mark said. "It just reminded me of something."
"What?"
There's this joke," Mark said, tucking his chin in and resting his head against Aerael's shoulder. "Bonnie told it to me once, although I didn't appreciate it at the time. What's the mating cry of the Southern Belle?"
"No idea," Aerael said, smiling down at him.
Markkas tipped his head back, letting the rain fall onto his face and neck. He raised his voice, probably loud enough to be heard on the streets below. "Ah am soooooo drunk!"
tbc.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-04-25 04:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-25 04:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-25 05:06 am (UTC)Hee! I love it when you write fic ^__^
And the idea of female!Aerael/female!Mark? Mmmmm...reminds me of that Iolanthe/Bonnie fic I tried to write a couple of months ago...
no subject
Date: 2003-04-25 05:25 am (UTC)...
...nope, still there, but Bonnie and Iolanthe are keeping me company.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-25 06:12 am (UTC)*guhs* (girl!mark--lady!aerael!!!)
*laughs hysterically* (i do love that you show mark's occasional displays of humour. because he does have one in there. somewhere.=p )
*happy sigh*
you done goooooood. =)
no subject
Date: 2003-04-25 06:41 am (UTC)See, now I've got the kitten image in my head, and I just want to see lots and lots of Aerael being all physical and muscular and... guh.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-25 06:49 am (UTC)::insert appropriate wicked grin here:: and this is a problem because?
See, now I've got the kitten image in my head, and I just want to see lots and lots of Aerael being all physical and muscular and... guh.
...mmmm...yes. *nods* i'm right there on the "guh". add a nice "uhn", on the side as well.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-25 09:05 am (UTC)::insert appropriate wicked grin here:: and this is a problem because?
See, now I've got the kitten image in my head, and I just want to see lots and lots of Aerael being all physical and muscular and... guh.
...mmmm...yes. *nods* i'm right there on the "guh". add a nice "uhn", on the side as well.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-25 09:55 am (UTC)*DROOL*
Sorry!
Date: 2003-04-25 08:14 pm (UTC)Re: Sorry!
Date: 2003-04-25 11:17 pm (UTC)And then them underestimating him, because he's just a human woman...
Starts to hum "The female of the species is more deadlier thn the male..."
Mark as a woman is scary....
Date: 2003-04-25 11:32 pm (UTC)At least Aereal did a good deed for the day. He saved a life! ^_^;