at_heart | [ continuations = imeeji = nsfw ]

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imeeji

[ continuations = imeeji = nsfw ]

[ linked from the continuations masterpost, this is where threads for various events or anything else will go! this post is specifically for anything that is or might become NSFW, so the starters themselves may be NSFW. SFW continuations are here! ]

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[ Down she goes, giving his hair a light, playful tug as she untwines her fingers. She likes long hair, just not on herself. ]

One quick thing. [ Turns her back toward him, pointing at her corset laces and pulling the tie undone. ] They get loose as I move around. One good yank oughta do it. [ Of course the point of this is to maybe get them undone later, but having it sliding around while she's trying to kick his ass would just be aggravating, and not in a fun way. ] [ Plus she has kind of a thing for people helping her dress okay, what of it? ]

[ ...His eyes lid a bit. Slides up behind her, gets a good grip on the cords; curling his fingers through them, eyeing the corset structure. He might like doing it more slowly sometime, but she said yank, so— ] [ Yank. He is definitely stronger than his usual layered outfits would let on. ]

Like that?

[ Was well prepared for him to follow instructions to the letter, but she makes a little breathy sigh anyway and a playul glance over her shoulder as she reaches back to regain control of her lacings. ] Perfect, thank you. [ Tempting to let him tie them, but there's time for that later. If they go too far down that route they might skip the fight, and where's the fun in that? ]

[ Once she's tied back up (a quick process, she's very used to corsetry as standard dress), she unhooks her fur-lined shoulder shrug and slips it off while she takes a dozen purposeful steps away from him, giving the garment a good heave so it flutters down far enough away. Then she turns, unsheathing her sword without prelude and tossing the scabbard aside similarly. ]

[ She's not about to insult by asking if he's ready so she simply waits, her eyes going strangely brighter as her gaze hardens, sharp and stinging like the edge of the sword she flicks in a few blurred arcs. She's still smiling, but there's a distinct predacious edge. No holding back, that's the deal. ]

[ His eyes move down her body, then back up to her face. Skins out of his sweater tunic, which leaves him a the razor-back tee and leggings. This is Lupine's unofficial fight outfit, so it's a good thing he felt like bringing back a classic today.

The way she tosses her scabbard makes him smile. He gives the cords from which his own dangles a sharp tug, so that the hilt flies into his — right hand, and then he swings it sharply, causing the scabbard to go flying away. ]

Let's go, then.

[ Not, noticeably, dropping into a fighting stance: but his stance is noticeably loose, deceptively ready all the same. And he's grinning, all teeth. Already — anticipating.

She's fast, he can already tell that from the speed at which she swings her sword idly. And he'd bet on a lot stronger than she looks, too, but he doesn't tend to have those sorts of thoughts. Strength isn't something you can judge by appearances. ]

[ She flashes a barbed grin, her eyes flicking down as he peels off his outer layer before locking back on his. ]

[ When she comes at him it's at her full speed, clearing the space between them in little more than a heartbeat. She moves like churning water, effortless and unpredictable, darting to his right and bringing her sword down hard to meet him, testing, prepared to quickly divert her strike in any direction if he moves away. Yes, she is much stronger than she looks, but her primary assets are speed and agility. ]

[ Eyes wide, and he throws himself back, bringing his sword up to meet hers in a block — grinning immediately at the impact, eyes lidding again. ~~That's hot.~~ ]

So, were you thinking of cutting off my clothes after or during?

[ Reflexive (flirty) banter, but damn, woman. ] [ Lupine brings his left hand up, a quick punch for her flank, but he absolutely does not expect it to connect. ]

[ A flick of her wrist sends her blade whirling to throw his off, and she evades that punch by vaulting overhead, a twisting that leaves her perfectly prepared to parry anything he tries to throw while she's in the air. Rather than press the attack as she lands, she does a few aerial backflips and lands neatly a short distance away. ]

Oh, it's too soon to tell. You've got to want it first.

[ She tosses a cheeky grin his way then lifts a hand and curls her finger at him, beckoning, while her sword cuts through the air, fast enough to make whooshing sounds -- teasing him. Let's see what you've got, gorgeous. ]

[ Lupine ducks when she vaults, going down into a smooth crouch that spins to face her, and then he's just got a great view of her retreat. The words have his eyes darkening just a shade more, lips parting, and then he grins at her, teeth again. ]

Well, never let it be said — that I don't appreciate delayed gratification.

[ When she beckons, he's responsive: throwing himself at her in a spiral of blade, left fist cocked and ready. Again not expecting this to connect, though. He's pretty sure she's faster than he is, so he'll have to be all the more ready to fall back, all the more ready to twist and block a counterattack.

Mostly ready for some of his own part-time gymnast routine. Already having so much fun, and she hasn't even cut him yet.]

[ Her smile widens and she moves to meet him, expression calm and amused in contrast to the fury of her blade which flicks out to parry each of those quick strikes. When he tries to use that fist she takes one single, perfect step to the side and aims to grab his wrist and hold it fast as she does another twisting maneuver, this time parallel to the ground, not so much aiming to break his arm as to see how he'll respond, and not minding the idea of physical contact other than their swords (she'll let go if it's looking advantageous to do so, always prepared for any eventuality during a fight.) ]

[ If she lands her somersault with his wrist still in her hand, she'll use it to yank him closer and attack with her sword again, relentless, grinning all the while. Listening for his pulse, out of ravenous curiosity. ]

[ There's just a flicker in his eyes, intrigue or excitement, a beat of hesitation before he decides to roll with her momentum instead of trying to pull his arm back, a lithe flip over her head, twisting midair a second time to land on his feet. ]

You're good.

[ And his heartrate is up, but maybe more tellingly he's flushed. Humming with adrenaline. Still half-wishing he'd let her twist his arm. He wants to feel her impact, her strength, directly. He wants to be bleeding from somewhere, shit. ]

[ Her smile is lifted on one side by the time he lands, what would be a smirk if it reached her eyes, which remain pinpoint focused on him, vivid in a way that stands out against the cool, serene colors of the park. ]

You're fun. [ The emphasis on that word is swirling with promise. His speeding pulse, she'd swear she can actually feel it cutting through her. She drags her blunt fingernails across the back of his hand as she withdraws her own -- ]

[ In a blink, she has both hands on the hilt of her katana and is springing at him, gale-force, a flurry of blinding attacks lashing out at him. Perhaps he'll get lucky and one will get through. ]

[ He likes her eyes, in point of fact. But he likes her tone, the predatory grace, even more. He's breathing faster and it's all excitement, not exertion, and more than a little disappointed, in spite of himself, that her nails don't leave an actual mark. ]

Oh, good. Fun's what I'm aiming for.

[ Again there's that split second of hesitation; instinctively sure that the only way to avoid all of those strikes is to get the hell out of dodge, but so tempted to stay.

He brings his sword up, braced, to block the first strike — feels the impact, pleasantly rattling — and he's quick enough to block a second, but then he has to fall back, literally, feeling her blade graze his chest as he does, and he has to bite his lip. Damn, that's really...

Okay, all the way down, into a handspring, and he launches himself up, up, up, boxcuttering over her head. He'll go for an arcing strike from behind her, sword spinning in his hand, as he lands. ]

Edited 2021-12-05 21:03 (UTC)

[ She watches him leap, tracking him all the way, but turning only her head to watch his landing over her right shoulder. When he attacks her sword is already there, held behind her back, her left hand reaching down to brace the blunt side of her katana. ]

[ All her considerable strength shoves against where their swords are connected, just enough to shove them apart so she can whirl around to face him. She'll duck under, shimmy around, any attacks, aiming to get in nice and close. ]

C'mere, you.

[ She's incredibly deft with her sword even at very close range, her body a swirl of movement as she uses one hand at mid-blade to push her slashes even faster, aiming for his neck or shoulder, while one leg flicks out to try and take out his knee. ]

[ You know, you're a good-looking woman, but in motion you're beautiful. ] [ Again he meets the first slash, but only just, a glancing block, and her leg does catch him — but instead of going down hard, he executes a deft midair flip, at the same time throwing his sword up in the air...

...so that he can catch it in his left hand instead when he lands, simultaneously throwing a right hook for her flank while his sword comes for the opposite side, maybe nick her somewhere in exchange for the new rip in his tank and the shallow cut on his shoulder that just feels like heat to his senses.

If he has one advantage over her here, it might be that the more she pushes him, the more energized he becomes. For whatever reason, adrenaline from a good hard fight definitely hits him a little strangely, charging him up instead of draining him. ]

Oh, I'm here. Come and get me.

[ All but purred. ]

[ When he switches hands she's mid-swing, and it's hard to pull up at this range so she blocks with her forearm, which yes, scores him a shallow slice. ]

[ She leaps backwards, not really needing to strategize but wanting to shoot him a gratifying smile as she examines the cut on her arm before her flaring eyes settle back on his. ] Not bad.

[ She likewise flips her sword into her left hand; why not? There's an aesthetic quality to fighting that she loves, a symmetry -- a dance. It feels right to switch sword hands if he is. ]

[ She's barely caught the sword before she's moving again, when she gets near enough she uses her agility to the fullest to do several rapid-fire, unpredictable switchbacks, aiming to send his defenses in several directions at once. When she finally strikes, it's toward his strong side, and almost vicious -- he wanted her best, after all. ]

[ Oh, he likes seeing that. His eyes lid, a rim of silver around the black, and Lupine hunches down this time to take it, braced for blows that don't quite come, instincts thankfully not leading him too far astray — but he wouldn't have been disappointed to be peppered with slicing attacks, either.

Instead of making any attempt to block her final strike, he grabs for her wrist, not so unlike her grab for his earlier — and if he manages it, he'll yank her in close just the same.

She's faster. He might be stronger, but he's definitely not betting on that to save him. And if she's still counting, his heartrate's definitely elevated. He likes what he can catch of the scent of her. ]

[ Relentless attacks were her next move, interrupted by his grab for her hand. She could dodge, but instead finishes her blade strike with her other wrist locked in his grip, whirls on her heel to put her back against his chest, and uses her substantial momentum and strength to try and hipcheck him to the ground. She sort of likes how forward it is of him to grab her, so she decides to repay the favor. ]

[ If successful, she flashes dangerous smile, then pounces. No fancy flips this time, leaving him very little time to move. If he can't block, the tip of her sword will sink into the ground beside his pretty little head. ]

[ ~~He wants to get knocked down, his player wants him to get knocked down, so let's just say he rolled a 1 to dodge.~~ ] [ Briefly widening eyes again, and he does, at least, bring his sword up to block, his right hand braced against the blade — but the point of hers doesn't come down where he was expecting it, and then he's just... grinning up at her, breathing hard. ]

Want it clear: I'm not yielding 'cuz I don't wanna keep going.

[ He's yielding because hnnngh. ]

[ She'd been about to jam her knee against his chest, but when he speaks she diverts course to perch on her knees, astride his hips. One hand still on the hilt of her katana, the other splays lightly on his chest, where he's wounded, then skims up over his shoulder to the nape of his neck, where she gets a good handful of his long hair. ]

[ This time she does yank, aiming to leverage him into a sitting position, flush against her. She tugs again to tilt his chin up until he's perfectly angled for kissing, but she doesn't, just keeps him nice and close so his panting breaths wash over her. ]

You must want something.

[ Pressing her hips down against him, hard, to punctuate the thought. ] You'd better not yield one inch, though.

[ A low hiss in response to one or both, and he wets his lips as she yanks him close, a — very low, very husky laugh when she doesn't quite kiss him. ]

Hey. It's ladies' choice.

[ That grind is more than a little dizzying, and if she was hoping to feel him harden responsively, she's got it. ] [ Fuck, Alizarin, his hands find her hips, grip tight and more than a little urgent, but he holds himself otherwise rigidly still. If she doesn't want him to move, then—

...well, that could be a lot of fun, too. ]

[ She hums hearing that, hushed and rumbling, then leans down, shifting at the last moment to press her mouth to his neck. Chuckling, she drags his skin through her teeth, then moves to the turn of his jaw, less kissing than tasting, teasing. Her hips shift against him, quite pleased. ]

[ Just before reaching his mouth, she pauses, eyes dancing, ] Then show me. [ And definitely do not hold still. ]

[ If he needs any further instructions, she'll just tug him closer still and kiss him with parted lips, hungry and demanding. She does everything the same way she fights: full-out, nothing held back. ]

[ A very audible groan from deep in his throat, and then he's surging into her, kissing her hard. Yes, he wants something — wants her — and if she's offering, he will meet that hunger pound for pound.

His head ducks then, his mouth finding the side of her neck, suction and scraped teeth, one of his hands cupping a breast, thumb dragged over nipple. ]

[ A delighted hum as he kisses her with near abandon, then a swirl of amused laughter as he moves to her neck (which they'll both get later, why she found it so funny). She was impatient before they started and his eagerness notches that toward feverish, vanishing any small desire she might have had to get off the ground before they get lost in this. ]

[ Her corset doesn't let her feel much of his hand; it's too structured, too thick, but she has something for that. She spares one hand to reach behind her and tug at the laces, the other tugging equally on his hair, her shoulders and hips shimmying to aid in loosening things up. Then she needs to relinquish his hair so both hands can snap open the front corset busk, starting at the top. Very fortunately, he won't need to remove his mouth from her as she proceeds to unfasten it entirely and lets it fall away. Shame her shorts and tights won't be so easily shed, especially with boots on (but the prospect of watching him through her eyelashes as he tugs them off is a pleasant one, at least). ]

[ Tempting to rip at his shirt, starting where she cut his chest, but she doesn't want to make him spend points over the matter. She gets her hands beneath his shirt hem and peels it up and away, her nails dragging along his back enough to raise a few welts. ]

[ It'll be a fun surprise for later, that's for sure. ] [ Hey, he wasn't sure, some of the corsets around here are purely for the look, but he lets her take over, dragging his lips up to her earlobe and nipping, sucking it into his mouth while she gets her top more or less off. Then he draws back, because he'd like to see, his gaze dropping and then lingering. A slow smile.

He would not have complained about having his shirt ripped off, really; maybe a playful comment and a laugh, but that'd be it. He's very cooperative with her less-destructive efforts, though, and having his back clawed like that — pulls a very guttural sound out of him, fuck.

Sure is — breathing a lot harder there, for some reason, hnngh. ]

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