Post by laura on Feb 5, 2010 11:59:49 GMT 10
Title: Entropy
Rating: R
Length: 439 words
Competitor: Wyldon
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: Because I'm sick of college chemistry and that damn delta S. May soon be followed by Enthalpy if I don't kill myself before then. The Lord of Cavall gets wrapped up in the chaos.
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The streets were in a riot of celebration as the last of the returning Scanran War heroes passed through the city gate under a shower of spring’s fresh flower petals. Their faces were dust-covered, but any bystander could see the relief in the weary, jaded eyes of both young and old. They headed toward the palace, where they would personally be greeted the king, rest for the afternoon, and attend a banquet in their honor later that evening.
Wyldon would have liked all those things, but there was one thing he needed more.
The cheers outside were now in a frenzy, people dancing and whirling in the courtyards as he shed his saddlebags into a footman’s arms and began taking the steps up into the residence wing two at a time.
The halls were so crowded with scurrying servants, weeping, laughing, praising the gods that the war was finally over; they genially removed themselves from the knight striding swiftly between them.
The moment he entered her quarters, he unbuckled his belt and tossed it to the side. Through the common room, and his tunic was sprawled across the armchair. By the time he threw open the door to her study and she glanced up from the ledger she was reading, he had kicked off his boots against the wall.
Kel stood and walked around her desk, opening her mouth to say something (either “What are you--” or “Let me help with--”), but what, the world would never know, because once she had come within arm’s distance he reached for her and covered her lips with his.
Mmm, he growled, and Mm-hmm, she agreed.
Wyldon swept missives, quills, and an inkwell that went sputtering across the floor off her desk with one arm, and the other he wrapped around her back, throwing her on the oak top and leaning into her spread legs. Kel fumbled at his belt, gasping as his unshaven face moved quickly down her chest, now mysteriously bared to the midmorning sun.
The tumult outside grew deafening through Kel’s open windows until they could no longer hear each other. No sound, only the taste of his tongue and sweaty skin, the feel of the travel grit in his hair and his naked thighs between hers, the desk under her back and the slide of his hard muscles under her hands. He looked wild, her room looked like a jungle, completely awry with spilled ink, crumpled papers, and undergarments. She felt wild, throwing her head back and crying out for joy simply because no one could hear her.
He drowned her in the chaos around them.
Rating: R
Length: 439 words
Competitor: Wyldon
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: Because I'm sick of college chemistry and that damn delta S. May soon be followed by Enthalpy if I don't kill myself before then. The Lord of Cavall gets wrapped up in the chaos.
--------
The streets were in a riot of celebration as the last of the returning Scanran War heroes passed through the city gate under a shower of spring’s fresh flower petals. Their faces were dust-covered, but any bystander could see the relief in the weary, jaded eyes of both young and old. They headed toward the palace, where they would personally be greeted the king, rest for the afternoon, and attend a banquet in their honor later that evening.
Wyldon would have liked all those things, but there was one thing he needed more.
The cheers outside were now in a frenzy, people dancing and whirling in the courtyards as he shed his saddlebags into a footman’s arms and began taking the steps up into the residence wing two at a time.
The halls were so crowded with scurrying servants, weeping, laughing, praising the gods that the war was finally over; they genially removed themselves from the knight striding swiftly between them.
The moment he entered her quarters, he unbuckled his belt and tossed it to the side. Through the common room, and his tunic was sprawled across the armchair. By the time he threw open the door to her study and she glanced up from the ledger she was reading, he had kicked off his boots against the wall.
Kel stood and walked around her desk, opening her mouth to say something (either “What are you--” or “Let me help with--”), but what, the world would never know, because once she had come within arm’s distance he reached for her and covered her lips with his.
Mmm, he growled, and Mm-hmm, she agreed.
Wyldon swept missives, quills, and an inkwell that went sputtering across the floor off her desk with one arm, and the other he wrapped around her back, throwing her on the oak top and leaning into her spread legs. Kel fumbled at his belt, gasping as his unshaven face moved quickly down her chest, now mysteriously bared to the midmorning sun.
The tumult outside grew deafening through Kel’s open windows until they could no longer hear each other. No sound, only the taste of his tongue and sweaty skin, the feel of the travel grit in his hair and his naked thighs between hers, the desk under her back and the slide of his hard muscles under her hands. He looked wild, her room looked like a jungle, completely awry with spilled ink, crumpled papers, and undergarments. She felt wild, throwing her head back and crying out for joy simply because no one could hear her.
He drowned her in the chaos around them.