[Ambassador] Duibhín Sunstorm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sunstormed) wrote2013-11-08 01:57 am
sunstormed) wrote2013-11-08 01:57 am
Entry tags:
Bad Romance Drabbles
I want your everything
As long as it's free
The night is cold. It isn't the first time that Zic'alai has brought Duibhín to Sen'jin, nor is it likely to be the last. The salty tang in the air remains, and the sound of the ocean rushing to meet the beach acts as a soothing lullabye ...but the Elf cannot sleep. The shaman snores at his side, peacefully oblivious at the moment to his lover's shivering and quiet meditation as he stares out the window at where the velvety sky meets the ever-reaching waves. Some small, practical part of his brain tells him that he could easily retrieve his clothing but he doesn't bother as he rises from the bed, making his way towards the window, continuing to watch the sky. It's so different here, compared to the smooth, glassy waters surroundings Eversong that are painted purple in the evening light.
It's beautiful here, in a primal sort of way, and he treasures it, even if he hates being cold at night. What right does a desert have to be this chilly? He's so caught up in his musings that he fails to hear Zic awaken, starting as the shaman wraps his arms about him, resting his chin gently on his hair. Large hands stroke over his arms, and a soft voice rumbles.
"Joo freezin'. Lemme get anuddah blanket." And Duibhín turns to follow, pausing as he realizes that he never wants to leave Zic, or this place. No matter how cold, Zic always keeps him warm.
I want your drama
The touch of your hand
There's something predatory in the way Keledrin moves that Duibhín utterly adores. It's a trait he respects, that utter ruthlessness, but never sees directed at him. For all his arrogance, he's a tenderhearted Sin'dorei and the other mage seems often inclined to indulge that side, to see that it does not fade.
Duibhín watches him now with lidded eyes, letting a plume of mageroyal smoke escape his lips as he studies his companion, his lover... his friend. Keledrin is warm as he approaches, gently smoothing the darkhaired Elf's hair back so that he can drag his nails along the curve of his throat and down his shoulder, where his fingers briefly linger at the collar to his robe. Laughing, he takes Keledrin's hand, pressing a kiss to his palm, followed by a nip that makes the older Elf laugh softly as he sinks down, pushing him into the bedding. Gently, Duibhín finds his arms pushed up and over his head, held firmly in place at the wrist as the lacings to his robe are loosened.
"You came here overdressed, dearest." Keledrin chides as he singlehandedly bares the Elf to the waist, immediately pausing to simply study him. Duibhín in turn does the same, admiring the other Elf for his golden skin, so different from his own pale flesh. They're a well-matched set and he's all too happy to feel the other mage against him, sending a rush of warmth through his body as their lips meet.
I want your leather-studded kiss in the sand
I want your love
"There you are, my Sun."
He's barely given a moment to register the voice before arms wrap about him, drag him closer into an embrace that is sweeter than it appears, for how fierce the demon hunter is. He laughs joyfully, slinging his own arms about about Aezuran's shoulders as he is pulled up for a kiss. There is little softness, for all of the emotion that he displays in how he hooks Duibhín's legs about his waist and walks him back towards a tree.
"You can't even wait a moment for a proper greeting, can you, you beast?" the Sin'dorei teases in response as he presses his face against Aezuran's throat, nipping sharply at the dusky purple flesh. The Kaldorei gives a sharp laugh in response, fitting his lover between the thick truck and his own body so that he is safely balanced. Duibhín contents himself with gently stroking his pale fingers through the dark green hair for a moment or two before tilting his head upwards in a silent demand for a kiss. It's a demand that the other Elf is all too eager to give in to, easily divesting himself of his kilt in the process before beginning to work on complicated little ties and buttons that frustrate him to no end.
"You had best undress yourself quickly, my Sun, or you'll be returning home nude." The grin is a sharp, feral one, and Duibhín's pulse quickens as he obeys, baring himself without shame.
- Rica on DA
Cause you're a criminal
As long as you're mine
"You shouldn't be here."
Duibhín gives the rogue an exasperated look from where he stands, arrayed in finery worthy of any mage preparing for battle and his heart aches a little to see the softhearted mage attempting to look so fierce. With a gentle, but firm hand he captures a pale wrist, whisking the Sin'dorei further into the purple shade of the forest. Duibhín sulks, and he carefully hides his smile at seeing the other so spirited. That spirit will do neither of them any good if it is dimmed, after all.
"We're allies for now, Beras. We will bring him down and then, perhaps..." Perhaps things will change, he tells himself, gently smoothing the sleeve of his robe even as he slowly makes his way closer. The rogue does not back away from him, instead remaining firm, allowing the smaller Elf to press against him. Duibhín smiles as he feels arms wrap about him and settle protectively at his back. He nestles closer at the exasperated sigh against his ear, followed by a tentative nuzzle.
"You should not be in the middle of this. Get yourself to safety. I won't see you harmed and in the aftermath I do not want you in range should anything unpleasant happen." Because skirmishes break out too easily and even if they succeed there will likely never be a true end to the fighting. Duibhín says nothing in response, unwilling to divulge that he is afraid for the future.
Want you in my rear window
Baby you're sick
Large hands stroke over his hair and down the curve of his neck over his shoulder. He's dragged closer, lifted as if he weighs no more than a feather until he's settled on his master's lap. He bows his head to hide his tired scowl but Sul sets two fingers beneath his chin, tilting it upwards all the same. He meets those golden eyes and tries not to cringe as the Sandfury forces the Elf between his tusks, kissing him deeply. He's trapped there - it's almost a painful fit between the jutting black bones, and he can't fight the hands that slide down his back and over his hips as tongue and teeth play over his lips and invade his mouth. There's no use whimpering as arms wrap about him, and besides, atal'Sul has more pride than that.
Sul is careful with him, but never gentle; he is not a being who knows how to be gentle. He takes what he wants and atal'Sul gives because the Sin'dorei refuses to allow himself to be beaten into complete submission (but that does not mean that he will not bend). His body is well-used to Sul's attention, and the large Troll knows how to play him like a finely-tuned instrument against his will. He shudders, as rough hands grasp his hips and tug him downward into a lazy thrust, giving the other a momentary look of hatred before the expression is lost in a sensation that he doesn't want.
You know that I want you
And you know that I need you