Mimosa x warraw

[Mimosa]

It was closing in on midnight as the conspirators started to pour out of the cellar of the abandoned inn. Among the last of the stragglers was Helena Kane, a pretty young creature who talked a lot during the meetings and knew how to wield a rapier better than a socially desirable woman should have. In truth, though, she wasn't as socially desirable as her dress might suggest--as far as her life went, it was either revolution or the whorehouse, and she'd chosen revolution.

Not that she objected to sex by any means. She was just too easily bored with mundanity and routine. The ideals of her comrades had managed to permeate her skull in the past few years, but truthfully, she could care less about the plight of the poor and the tyranny of the King. She needed something to do, and if that something was conspiring to tie down the King and take off his head, then so be it.

Just another lost soul who thought her life might be more worthwhile if she spiced it up by doing terrible things.

Standing at the back of the stone chamber, she blew out the candles, but left one. The light bounced off the fiery red curls of her hair and she appeared ghostlike in the dim lighting. It was quiet now. If she didn't know better, she might have thought she was alone in the chamber.

But she did know better.

"What's it going to be tonight, eh?" She smirked.

The whole place smelled of hay and beer and burning wax and burning hair and sweat and bile and something else, an undertone, heavy, sharp, offensive.

 

[warraw]

Arthur was a fairly well-built man. Tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular; though, his build had obviously been honed to a much more agile, lithe form than that of the average warrior. He had medium-length brown hair and a fistful of battle-scars along his body; most notably one running diagonally against the corner of his lips. It made his crooked smiles seem all the more devilish.

He was normally quiet during the meetings - his role in the revolution was not as a thinker, but as a killer. He'd come into the whole thing with relatively pure intentions: he was an orphaned young rogue, stealing food to take care of his impoverished brothers and sisters. And - as fate would have it, he was good at it. The tyrannical empire would soon take note of him, and the local city guards were delighted to have his family executed to punish him for the crimes they could never actually catch him committing. Thus had began his one-man revolution; his war against society from the shadows. He robbed, stole, and cheated to acquire what he needed, and developed quite a penchant for slitting throats. Especially when the bloodied bodies he left in his wake belonged to the overstuffed nobles and guards.

This had all attracted the attention of the revolutionaries, who were quick to capitalize on his skills as an assassin and the violent, seemingly insatiable rage he had buried deep within him for the King. He would stay in the back corner of the cellar as everyone else piled out: idly balancing a twisted dagger by its tip on the end of his finger, and then, pocketing the thing and leaning back against the wall. He ran his tongue over his lips contemplatively and watched as Helena blew out all but one of the candles and asked her question into the apparent nothingness.

Only then would he take a few steps forward, along his features to be dimly illuminated once more. He shrugged those broad shoulders of his, and smiled: "I don't know. What're you up for?"

 

[Mimosa]

Helena grinned as Arthur acknowledged her. A shudder ran down her spine. She was usually composed, apathetic in public, but the man could make her weak with his presence alone. There was something about him, some pent up rage and sense of danger, that piqued her curiosity in more ways than one. Often she fantasized about him during meetings--his body on top of hers, his hands pinning her down...

She caught his gaze for an instant, moving to sit on top of the table which had just been used for the meeting. "Oh, you know me, comrade. Anything outside the usual." She fiddled with a deck of cards someone had left behind. Anything to keep her hands busy while they longed to touch hard muscle and warm flesh.

 

[warraw]

His predatory smirk remained on his lips as he watched the woman fiddle with the cards atop the table. He folded his arms over his chest, letting his large eyes flick down to Helena's hands, and then slowly pan their way up her body back to her eyes. He couldn't pretend that he, too; didn't have the occasional - or perhaps even regular - fantasy about his fellow revolutionary, so he hollowly cleared his throat and nodded. Rolled his shoulders back til they cracked, and then spoke in his all-but emotionless tone.

"Mmm... perhaps a game of cards, then?" he shrugged broadly- "I'm sure we could come up with, ah, some way to spice it up. Make it a little more... outside the usual, for ya." Another crooked smile; flashing of straight white teeth from wide lips. He inched forward, subtly, to the woman on the table.

 

[Mimosa]

"We could make up the rules as we go, so neither knows when we're about to break them."

Shuffle.

She marked his every subtle movement, her breathing losing some of its stability as she felt his eyes on her. He was unreadable--just what she craved. None of that emotional, sentimental garbage so many men in the village couldn't seem to get past.

Shuffle.

"My mother used to tell me you could see the future in the cards. She predicted her own death, you know." A short laugh. "It was a suicide."

Nihilism and idle talk.

Too slow.

An id that burned for gratification.

God, he was so damned attractive.

Looking at her with those devil-may-care eyes.

Shuffle.

 

[warraw]

He chuckled darkly. "Yeah, something like that'd work," he was quick to agree. Arthur's eyes followed Helena's every subtle movement. He could feel the awkward, semi-sexual tension in the air; thick as it was. Cleared his throat against the sound of the cards shuffling against the table.

"Oh?" he paused shortly after she mentioned her mother's death. "That's, ah, too bad." Another lengthy pause. He considered trying to come up with some snarky comment about predicting the future - maybe asking her what she saw in their future? - but decided against it, opting instead with: "Mmm, I've got an idea."

A smile. "Whoever loses this hand; loses their shirt," his eyes rose to meet hers once more. "Unusual enough for ya?" his eyes darted down to the cards, but only as an excuse to once more rove their way up the woman's figure. By now, of course, he'd noted the way she always looked at him. His move wasn't even so much a bold request as it was a catalyst to what they both - hopefully - knew lay ahead.

 

[Mimosa]

She wanted him to ravage her. The thought had haunted her on and off, but she never thought there would actually be an opportunity, the both of them alone in a room like this. The fact was, she probably had some stiff competition. His skills as an assassin were invaluable, and she could only guess what other skills of his were just as fine tuned...

"Capital idea," she said, smiling as he told her the conditions of the game. "Though for my sake, I hope my card playing skills are still up to scratch...it's freezing in here, and I'm not wearing a slip," she added with a sly grin.

Oh, she could be as straight-laced and proper as she was required to be by daylight and out of doors, but here in the underground, her outlook was, to hell with corsets, to hell with slips, to hell with everything meant to act as a barrier and enforce order. Why, right now, if Arthur wanted to, he could just reach up her skirt and...

Ooh. The thought made her warm and wet down below.

She dealt them each seven cards--the first four because four was her favorite number, the next two because there were two of them there, and a bonus because it was the full moon a week before Saturnalia and how often did that happen?

Hoping her expression didn't betray her eagerness, but at the same time hoping it did, she played a three of spades. "Your move."

 

[warraw]

Arthur continued to stare the woman down from his side of the table. She wanted him; he could tell. He may have been emotionally robbed from a very early age -- but he was a masterful lover, after spending oh-so many hot, sweaty, passionate dark nights with all manner of women. He was quite good at the art, now - the soulless, gorgeous-bodied husk of a perfect man. He licked his lips once more and chuckled as she spoke of how she hoped her card-playing skills were up to scratch.

"Oh?" he'd tease, "I think I'm hoping mine are even better, for that very same reason," again, his tongue passed over his lips, and he watched the woman pass out the cards - an arbitrary number; but, it was only fitting. Their game was arbitrary as well. They were both letting their heated sexual desires rule their thinking, and so, he cleared his throat as he slapped a five of diamonds down onto the table, atop her card.

"... I think I win," he announced with an impatient smirk, cocking a brow suggestively.

 

[Mimosa]

"Bravo. I suppose you'll want to claim your prize now..."

Helena set her remaining cards down on the table, gingerly, her movements unnecessarily slow and careful--secretly, or perhaps not so secretly, she got a little jolt out of being mischievous and messing with people. Then, she grasped the hem of her blouse, pulled it over her head, and discarded it over the side of the table. Her chest now completely bared, her round, pronounced breasts jutted outward, her nipples stiff and aching from the cold and from desire.

She gripped the edge of the table and drew her arms forward ever so slightly so as to push her twin mounds together. "Does the good gentleman approve?"

Her breathing was shallow now, her heart punching against the inner wall of her chest with anticipation, and she supposed somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered why the both of them seemed so eager to proceed detached from all semblance of scruples, but her every impulse overpowered the background noise, screaming, Gods, let it begin!

 

[warraw]

He just nodded, that same cocky smile on his lips as he watched.

The man's eyes would alight slightly while Helena's blouse was slowly pulled up over her head. She was taking her sweet time with it; but he didn't mind. The hardened young assassin could appreciate the slow, sensual movements - though they seemed a bit out of place given their settings. This dark, vile cellar seemed to lend itself much more naturally to the heated, gritty actions that he was sure were not too far off. Another licking of his lips.

He set the cards down as his eyes drifted down her round breasts and stiff nipples. No more need for those anymore.

Noiselessly, the man would rise from his side of the table, and chuckle at her question. "Oh, indeed," he chimed in, licking his lips - this time, more hungrily than from the regular tic he'd developed - and slipped one hand under the woman's skirt without so much as a word. His fingertips were resting on her inner thigh before he actually spoke; his voice a rhythmic baritone: "I think we can put away the cards and, ah, jump right into... ah," he paused, bringing his other hand up to grope one of her breasts loosely, giving it a quick kneading squeeze; not quite finishing his thought: "... if that's quite alright with you?"

 

[Mimosa]

Sweet ancestors' ghosts.

His repeated licking of his lips drew her attention to his mouth, and she suddenly craved it over her own...his hand rested on her thigh, but she needed it higher...

She arched her back as he touched her, giving him a handful of her breast. Her hands moved to his body, exploring his well-toned frame, the hard, flat plane of his stomach, his chest, his broad, powerful shoulders, and coming to a rest there. She dared a fluttering glance into his eyes.

"It's absolutely not alright with me. Go home." Her legs slid apart with need and she smirked. "Of course, I'm lying."

 

[warraw]

Arthur took full advantage of the woman arching her back; giving her breast another generous squeeze before tracing his fingertips upwards to pinch and tug on her hardened nipple slightly. Smirk on that slightly-scared face of his as she moved her hands to his own body.

He was unwavering in letting Helena take her fill of his body; muscles ready to take - if not downright craving - the attention her hands brought. His frame shook slightly with another quiet chuckle at her words. "I figured as much," he winked to her would-be confession.

The man slipped the hand on her thigh upwards; giving her thigh a little squeeze before making it to the mound of her pussy. He would rub; then, only in a wide motion around her sensitive flesh, gauging her warmth and wetness with a devilish grin.

 

[Mimosa]

Helena's breath came out in shallow, punctuated exhales as Arthur teased her sex. Her skin tingled at his touch. His hands on her felt amazing, but she wanted more.

"Please." She squeezed his biceps encouragingly, then went back to caressing his body--back to his waist, his ass, and finally, his crotch. She pushed herself forward, the movement serving two purposes--it allowed her to both press her hand more firmly against his genitals and cheat herself into more pleasure from his hand at her own dripping wet sex. Curiosity set her head spinning as she wondered how he was endowed...how deep she would be able to fit his cock into her mouth...

 

[warraw]

His own breathing was still mostly calm; he was showing very few signs of his intense excitement, in fact. But that was all just a part of who Arthur was: on the inside, he was loving every moment as they pushed on farther and farther.

Her hand on his crotch caused his eyebrow to raise once more, but he smirked. Even pivoted himself forward a bit so that his cock was more snugly pressed against her through his pants. The man was - as one might suspect, given the rest of his physical status - quite incredibly endowed; if not downright abnormally so: his manhood far above average in all dimensions. He'd let her do as she wished with his pants - and with the feeling of his bulge through them; his focus shifting back to what was beneath her skirt once more. His finger's motions became more controlled; more concise: he began spreading the lips of her pussy and rubbing between them: pushing inside of her briefly, and nowhere near the entirety of his finger's length; before pulling out once more, index finger slicked with her juices.

 

[Mimosa]

The amount of control Arthur was showing impressed Helena to say the least. She felt like she could lose herself and wouldn't have to worry about time or the world or being walked in on or anything...he had it all figured out.

She slipped one hand up the back of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his flesh, and the other into his trousers, her slender fingers wrapping around the base of his erection. She stroked him from base to tip, tantalized by the immense size of his cock. A breathy moan escaped her lips and she looked up at him, her eyes seductively half-lidded. She craved him inside her, and that damned sexy smirk of his just melted her from within.

 

[warraw]

He sucked in a quick, intense breath as the woman's hand made its way down his pants - and the other, up his shirt. He continued to expertly rub and prod at her sensitive flesh; though, he began to slow down slightly as he felt her stroking her way up and down his impressive length. Exhaled deeply and let his gaze pass down on the woman with something of a subtle wink; reaching one hand away from her chest, now, to lower his pants.

He wouldn't remove them completely; just enough to free his gargantuan cock - exposing it to the dim light and adding his own subtle musky scent to the cellar.

 

[Mimosa]

She gasped with need, dizzied by his presence, giving a slight shiver as she inhaled his scent, deep and masculine and tantalizing. His cock now fully exposed, she ran her fingers along it, prodding and caressing with her thumb where the shaft met the tip.

"Mmh, take me," she said, her voice a low whisper, filled with lust. His fingers between her legs left her thirsting to be filled, and she burned to feel him thrusting inside her.

 

[warraw]

He let out another somewhat noisy exhale as the woman ran her fingers along the length of his cock. Let his eyes rove her body a bit more; his hand now serving to lift her skirt up and keep her legs apart more than to continue rubbing between them. The man's smile continued to widen as she whispered her request.

With that; Arthur would lean forward: spreading her legs apart, and deftly lining the head of his cock up against her slit, and rubbing around for a split-seconds' time before beginning to push in: slowly, at first; spearing apart her pussy lips.

 

[Mimosa]

She lay back on the table, her legs--and het sex--parting for him. She let out a moan and her breathing sped up as his hot, hard rod filled her with it width. She'd lain with men in the past and taken in her fair share of cock, but this was unlike anything she'd ever experiened. She ground her pelvis against his, pushing him insistently into her slick pussy, urging him harder, faster.

 

[warraw]

She was the kind of woman who wanted it rough; if Arthur couldn't tell from the way she acted on a day-to-day basis, he could read it in her body language now. So he shifted his hands to get a better grip on the woman sprawled-out on the table, and began to push in and out of her with more fervor; more speed. He would continue to pick up the pace - the table shaking, slightly, with their bodies; every pounding motion inside of her quick and noisy.