Once and again - and again
Apr. 23rd, 2012 11:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madame_dennaPairing: Cara/Denna
Rating: R (to be safe)
Words: ~1250
Warnings: none
Summary: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
seeker_kinkmeme
Prompt: "once more for old time's sake"
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. They are not mine and - of course no money is made.
It's late at night and the tavern is almost empty. Only a few tables are occupied, but not a single one in a wide circle around her own. Red leathers are still able to do the trick and she couldn't be more grateful for it. It's been only a few weeks since they have defeated the Keeper, but still hymns of praise accompany them at every turn. At least when the Seeker and the Mother Confessor are around and not only the Mord'Sith who will kill everyone without second thought, should it please her.
It's one of the better taverns along their journey and Kahlan, Richard and Zedd have retired early. Cara smiles, remembering the Mother Confessor and the Wizard of the first Order helping the new Lord Rahl up to his room - indulging in too much mead didn't seem to be one of his strong suits. Even when she has a room to herself tonight and doesn't need to endure the loud snoring of a certain wizard, Cara finds herself lingering down in the tavern, drinking her ale in silence, then she, unlike Richard, is more than able to hold her liquor.
From the table she sits at, Cara as an unhindered view at the inn's sideway entrance and it doesn't take long for her to notice that the woman, clad in a dark cloak, who has just entered is somehow familiar. May it be the rigid way the woman is holding herself upright or how she moves through the tavern, like she owns it. It's the natural arrogance one cannot learn, it's one that requires a lifelong training at the end of an Agiel. The woman's face is still obscured by a hood, pulled deep into her face, but Cara is content watching her with morbid fascination. Cara knew that sooner or later, she would run into her former Sisters, at least those who didn't swear allegiance to Darken Rahl once again. She also knew that these encounters probably wouldn't go so smoothly. Not that she cares, no, not one bit.
The woman has to notice her yet, still arguing with the taverns owner, who is telling her that there aren't any more rooms to rent - Cara knows, because they got the last free ones. A loud thud as the woman's fist hits the counter, rings in the end of the discussion and the tavern owner scurries hastily away. In a deliberately motion, the woman turns on her heels, resting her back against the edge of the bar, her eyes scanning lazily over the last residents of the tavern.
As their eyes meet, it's clear that neither of them has expected to see the other. Denna does not move, her piercing blue eyes burn with an intensity, Cara was sure she wouldn't see ever again. For a moment it seems like Denna is silently deciding what to do next and Cara almost expects her to walk out of the tavern and disappear and hide like she had done obviously in all these months. But Denna still is not moving and her gaze is never leaving Cara's.
Beneath the table, Cara pushes the empty chair across from her backwards with her foot. A silent invitation to the woman who is wearing the scars of Cara's hatred and her passion. An unspoken invitation to hurt and love her once again. Denna is regarding her with a curious expression, a delicate brow rising in somewhat close to amusement. Minutes pass before Denna pushes herself away from the counter and slowly, carefully closes the distance to her table and sits down on the offered chair.
"Innkeeper," Cara growls, loud and dangerous enough that the man almost stumbles in the hurried effort to come to their table, "more ale." Cara's eyes stay trained at Denna, who is pushing back her hood, revealing wavy long tresses beneath.
"And a glass for my old friend."
Denna chuckles throatily at that and the rich sound brings memories to surface Cara had drowned deep in her mind for a time longer than she wants to remember. Memories darker as the blackest of nights, memories of agonizing pain and the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Memories of nights of searing desire and their naked bodies writhing in passion against the other, memories of Denna's flawless fingers thrusting hard and deep inside her, marrying pain and pleasure with a lovers kiss. The innkeeper comes back and pulls Cara out of the depths of her past, back to reality, where she is sitting with her nemesis in a nameless tavern somewhere in nowhere in D'Hara.
Denna reaches for the new presented bottle and fills Cara's glass up to the rim and then her own. In a mock gesture of a silent toast Denna moves her glass, blue eyes sparkling with the confession, that she remembers as well, then tips her head back and drowns its content. Cara follows suit a second later.
The bottle is half empty by midnight and neither of them has spoken a word. The silence between them is neither comfortable nor peaceful, but the themes they could talk about aren't really a better option. The innkeeper is throwing out the last lingering patrons but doesn't dare more than an occasionally look over his shoulder at their table.
The almost physical pull, Cara acknowledges, is still there. Even after all this time and all the things that happened between them, it's still undeniable strong. Hate, abandon, affection, all these years of clashing against each other, fighting to regain the upper hand and moans of suffocating closeness are palatable as is the burning ale in Cara's throat.
"So," Denna begins, slipping one feet out of its boot, only to move it incredible slowly up Cara's leg. "Still with Richard I assume?" Denna purrs, raising a brow as her foot is reaching the inside of Cara's knee.
"Mhmhm," Cara's breath is caught in her throat, but she manages to nod, eyes flickering between the spot where Denna's foot is reaching her inner thigh and the blonde's as ever sparkling blue eyes. The way Denna is worrying her lower lip, Cara is absolutely certain, that Denna feels the heat seeping through her suddenly all too thin leathers, with nothing but the intensity of a licking flame. Denna has worked her way up her thigh and the shiver running down Cara's back settles heavily between her legs. The desire to fuck the brilliant smile off Denna's lips here and now, in front of everyone who is happen to watch, gets almost too strong to resist.
"Still plotting to take over the empire?" Cara chokes out, only to bite down on her lip to hinder the obscene loud moan from escaping, then Denna's foot has reached its destination and is pressing with delicious pressure between her legs. It's been a while since her leathers have felt so sticky and slick and even longer that one of her Sisters had been the cause of it.
"Naturally," Denna breathes out, her foot is moving slowly, but with murderous intent over tight red leather. Cara swallows against the forming lump in her throat as Denna's tongue flickers out, wetting her lips. Cara is tumbling from her chair, her voice is a little too hoarse for her taste, but there isn't anything she can do about it, when Denna is looking at her that way.
"We are done here, right?"
Denna looks up, smirking her trademark smile, and Cara shivers, "I believe, we haven't even started."
Rating: R (to be safe)
Words: ~1250
Warnings: none
Summary: Written for
seeker_kinkmemePrompt: "once more for old time's sake"
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. They are not mine and - of course no money is made.
It's late at night and the tavern is almost empty. Only a few tables are occupied, but not a single one in a wide circle around her own. Red leathers are still able to do the trick and she couldn't be more grateful for it. It's been only a few weeks since they have defeated the Keeper, but still hymns of praise accompany them at every turn. At least when the Seeker and the Mother Confessor are around and not only the Mord'Sith who will kill everyone without second thought, should it please her.
It's one of the better taverns along their journey and Kahlan, Richard and Zedd have retired early. Cara smiles, remembering the Mother Confessor and the Wizard of the first Order helping the new Lord Rahl up to his room - indulging in too much mead didn't seem to be one of his strong suits. Even when she has a room to herself tonight and doesn't need to endure the loud snoring of a certain wizard, Cara finds herself lingering down in the tavern, drinking her ale in silence, then she, unlike Richard, is more than able to hold her liquor.
From the table she sits at, Cara as an unhindered view at the inn's sideway entrance and it doesn't take long for her to notice that the woman, clad in a dark cloak, who has just entered is somehow familiar. May it be the rigid way the woman is holding herself upright or how she moves through the tavern, like she owns it. It's the natural arrogance one cannot learn, it's one that requires a lifelong training at the end of an Agiel. The woman's face is still obscured by a hood, pulled deep into her face, but Cara is content watching her with morbid fascination. Cara knew that sooner or later, she would run into her former Sisters, at least those who didn't swear allegiance to Darken Rahl once again. She also knew that these encounters probably wouldn't go so smoothly. Not that she cares, no, not one bit.
The woman has to notice her yet, still arguing with the taverns owner, who is telling her that there aren't any more rooms to rent - Cara knows, because they got the last free ones. A loud thud as the woman's fist hits the counter, rings in the end of the discussion and the tavern owner scurries hastily away. In a deliberately motion, the woman turns on her heels, resting her back against the edge of the bar, her eyes scanning lazily over the last residents of the tavern.
As their eyes meet, it's clear that neither of them has expected to see the other. Denna does not move, her piercing blue eyes burn with an intensity, Cara was sure she wouldn't see ever again. For a moment it seems like Denna is silently deciding what to do next and Cara almost expects her to walk out of the tavern and disappear and hide like she had done obviously in all these months. But Denna still is not moving and her gaze is never leaving Cara's.
Beneath the table, Cara pushes the empty chair across from her backwards with her foot. A silent invitation to the woman who is wearing the scars of Cara's hatred and her passion. An unspoken invitation to hurt and love her once again. Denna is regarding her with a curious expression, a delicate brow rising in somewhat close to amusement. Minutes pass before Denna pushes herself away from the counter and slowly, carefully closes the distance to her table and sits down on the offered chair.
"Innkeeper," Cara growls, loud and dangerous enough that the man almost stumbles in the hurried effort to come to their table, "more ale." Cara's eyes stay trained at Denna, who is pushing back her hood, revealing wavy long tresses beneath.
"And a glass for my old friend."
Denna chuckles throatily at that and the rich sound brings memories to surface Cara had drowned deep in her mind for a time longer than she wants to remember. Memories darker as the blackest of nights, memories of agonizing pain and the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Memories of nights of searing desire and their naked bodies writhing in passion against the other, memories of Denna's flawless fingers thrusting hard and deep inside her, marrying pain and pleasure with a lovers kiss. The innkeeper comes back and pulls Cara out of the depths of her past, back to reality, where she is sitting with her nemesis in a nameless tavern somewhere in nowhere in D'Hara.
Denna reaches for the new presented bottle and fills Cara's glass up to the rim and then her own. In a mock gesture of a silent toast Denna moves her glass, blue eyes sparkling with the confession, that she remembers as well, then tips her head back and drowns its content. Cara follows suit a second later.
The bottle is half empty by midnight and neither of them has spoken a word. The silence between them is neither comfortable nor peaceful, but the themes they could talk about aren't really a better option. The innkeeper is throwing out the last lingering patrons but doesn't dare more than an occasionally look over his shoulder at their table.
The almost physical pull, Cara acknowledges, is still there. Even after all this time and all the things that happened between them, it's still undeniable strong. Hate, abandon, affection, all these years of clashing against each other, fighting to regain the upper hand and moans of suffocating closeness are palatable as is the burning ale in Cara's throat.
"So," Denna begins, slipping one feet out of its boot, only to move it incredible slowly up Cara's leg. "Still with Richard I assume?" Denna purrs, raising a brow as her foot is reaching the inside of Cara's knee.
"Mhmhm," Cara's breath is caught in her throat, but she manages to nod, eyes flickering between the spot where Denna's foot is reaching her inner thigh and the blonde's as ever sparkling blue eyes. The way Denna is worrying her lower lip, Cara is absolutely certain, that Denna feels the heat seeping through her suddenly all too thin leathers, with nothing but the intensity of a licking flame. Denna has worked her way up her thigh and the shiver running down Cara's back settles heavily between her legs. The desire to fuck the brilliant smile off Denna's lips here and now, in front of everyone who is happen to watch, gets almost too strong to resist.
"Still plotting to take over the empire?" Cara chokes out, only to bite down on her lip to hinder the obscene loud moan from escaping, then Denna's foot has reached its destination and is pressing with delicious pressure between her legs. It's been a while since her leathers have felt so sticky and slick and even longer that one of her Sisters had been the cause of it.
"Naturally," Denna breathes out, her foot is moving slowly, but with murderous intent over tight red leather. Cara swallows against the forming lump in her throat as Denna's tongue flickers out, wetting her lips. Cara is tumbling from her chair, her voice is a little too hoarse for her taste, but there isn't anything she can do about it, when Denna is looking at her that way.
"We are done here, right?"
Denna looks up, smirking her trademark smile, and Cara shivers, "I believe, we haven't even started."
