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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


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    [mature]  Round 4: The Touch
    #7
    <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Astloch:700|Cutive+Mono|Sofadi+One" rel="stylesheet" type='text/css'><style type="text/css">.valensia_border{position:relative;z-index:1;width:562px;background:#e6cfc1;padding:10px;border-radius:150px 150px 0 0;box-shadow:0 0 10px #000;padding-top:34px}.valensia_background{position:relative;z-index:4;width:530px;background:#5a605e;box-shadow:0 0 5px #000;border-radius:150px 150px 0 0;margin-bottom:15px;margin-top:-10px}.valensia_pic{position:relative;z-index:6;width:530px;height:700;border-radius:150px 150px 0 0}.valensia_grad{position:relative;z-index:8;height:140px;margin-top:-140px;width:530px;background:rgba(90,96,94,0);background:-moz-linear-gradient(top,rgba(90,96,94,0) 0,rgba(90,96,94,1) 100%);background:-webkit-gradient(left top,left bottom,color-stop(0%,rgba(90,96,94,0)),color-stop(100%,rgba(90,96,94,1)));background:-webkit-linear-gradient(top,rgba(90,96,94,0) 0,rgba(90,96,94,1) 100%);background:-o-linear-gradient(top,rgba(90,96,94,0) 0,rgba(90,96,94,1) 100%);background:-ms-linear-gradient(top,rgba(90,96,94,0) 0,rgba(90,96,94,1) 100%);background:linear-gradient(to bottom,rgba(90,96,94,0) 0,rgba(90,96,94,1) 100%);filter:progidBig GrinXImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient(startColorstr='#5a605e',endColorstr='#5a605e',GradientType=0)}.valensia_quote{position:relative;z-index:21;color:rgba(230,207,193,0.8);font:13px 'Sofadi One',cursive;text-align:center;padding-bottom:20px}.valensia_text{position:relative;z-index:12;font:13px 'Cutive Mono',monospace;text-align:justify;padding:20px;width:410px;color:#e6cfc1;margin-top:-62px}.valensia_name{position:relative;z-index:17;font:50px 'Astloch',cursive;color:rgba(230,207,193,0.8);text-align:left;padding-left:10px;text-shadow:0 0 10px #6e2327;margin-top:-50px;margin-bottom:45px}</style><center><div class="valensia_border"><div class="valensia_background"><img class="valensia_pic" src="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d7/7f/f2/d77ff22fcc23927cf303616613502352.jpg"><div class="valensia_grad"></div><div class="valensia_name">Valensia</div><div class="valensia_text">
    Huddled on the off-white paper Valensia opens her eyes after she is sure that the stomp of boots and smell of rotting garbage has dissipated completely. Breathing heavily, she stands to look around her, but as she gets to her feet she begins to grow with another change. This isn’t NEARLY as bad as when she had been completely reformed, currently it’s just a dull ache. Nothing to make her collapse or scream. Similar to over-used muscles and bones lengthening when a child goes through puberty. Her hips and rear curve into a pleasant shape, hair begins growing in not-so-pleasant places, she doesn’t like the part when these two perky little things begin poking out of her chest. Her old clothes lay in shreds at her feet as they are too small to fit on the now 18-year-old woman.

    Another folded up pile of clothes is within reaching distance and she is quick to adorn herself in the garments. Lacy black hipsters can just be seen over the snug fitting, low-rise, wrangler jeans. She chooses to forgo the confining bra, instead taking the black spaghetti strap that just barely manages to cover her belly button. If she had a mirror Valensia could say that she looks like a sexy/supple version of the starving child she had just been. Glossy ringlets fall down her back thick and soft against her skin. After putting on the romeos; she bends to pick up one of the tattered princess shoes, <b>what a shame, I rather liked you</b>, she croons to the small badge plastered with the happy faces of fairy tale princesses. <b>Especially you</b>, she looks to Tianna as she says this. To marry a frog prince? The idea is just so magical, and the possibilities are endless. If there is even a chance of it being true, then some man trapped in the wrong form could accidently glimpse her from her window and fall in love with her. Her honey eyes sparkle with the dreamy quality of a young innocent girl not yet experienced in the art of love.

    <i>Valensia! Get down here this instant!</i> Her temptations to remove her clothes in front of the window for some handsome prince to take notice of her is shattered by the cringe worthy voice of her brother. She jumps from her bed pulling out a book from the shelf sliding her finger between the pages as if she had just closed it. Breathing out her mouth to calm herself, she steps from her room shutting the door behind her. Scrambling downstairs she passes the little sitting room, and breakfast nook they share to peak around the kitchen doorway. <b>Yes Nicolae</b>? She bites her lip hoping that he hasn’t somehow guessed what she was about to do. <i>What do you think you were doing</i>? He’s not yelling, but then, he has never needed to yell at her. The stern stare of his eyes is enough to make her want to roll over and beg for forgiveness. She chews her lip looking to the floor with tears burning her eyes. She can hear him sigh before the heavy weight of his palm clasps on her shoulder. <i>You know you were supposed to wash the dishes this morning. I can’t do everything around here Val</i>. His tone so gentle so soft that she can’t feel relieved, if anything she feels worse than before. Indulging in day dreams of princes, and princesses rather than doing the dishes to help her tired brother makes her sick with shame.

    <b>Promise I’ll do it right now</b>! He gives her a reassuring hug before walking off to take care of some of the nets. He’d become more of a father to her over the years than she could have ever dreamed possible. They may be far from any form of street life they used to know, but they also are far away from the lap of luxury they want to know. Their struggling business only survives because the generous man who owns the docks allows them unrestricted access to bring in their daily hauls. She has never met the man, but Nicolae says he is kind, and often her brother chooses to give him any extra fish they are able to spare. Nicolae has never described the man, nor has she been tempted to ask about him. When she pictures him she sees a grandfather with a wide girth, mustache, balding head, and a smoldering pipe held by a large paw of a hand.

    She’s humming that old lullaby of Charlies, when a knock on the back-door startles her into dropping the plate she is washing back in the soapy water. The sloshing suds leave soapy trails down her arms cheeks neck and shirt. Trying not to get exasperated she takes a deep breath leaning her head back to calm herself. After flicking her hands over the water, she shuffles carefully over to the stove where a dry towel is neatly hanging just waiting for her to pick it up and pat her face dry. Clutching the rag to her now clingy shirt front she heads to the door. Another rude pounding and her lips purse. She is almost tempted to slow and make them wait a bit for this trouble they are putting her through. Instead she sucks it up, throws the towel on the floor and flips her hair back over her shoulder. Valensia takes the knob jerking it open so that only a screen stands between her and the man on the other side.

    Her balled fist digs against her jutted hip, incensed with the rudeness of this newcomer. <b>Watcha want</b>? tersely the words come out; she raises her chin snubbing him as much as a little 5-foot girl can. He stands there smirking down at her. Clean-cut hair and clean-shaven face, his features are stunning with dark eyes leering. She blinks rapidly, unsure of how to continue. The man takes advantage of this and opens the screen slowly like a predator who knows everything his prey will do or say. Hesitantly she takes a step back unsure of him and his motives. When his hand extends, knuckles brush her cheek. The contact sends icy chills through her and she jerks back as if he had slapped her. He raises his knuckles to her eye level showing her the suds he had removed. Her face and neck light on fire embarrassed that she gave him reason to touch her. <b>If you’re here because my damn brother said I’m looking for someone. I’ll show you the door, just like all the others.</b> Seething in her need to exert some control Val takes this opportunity to firmly jut her finger back at the screen that had just swung closed behind the man. She swallows hard shifting her weight uncomfortably, trying to make herself more imposing and failing miserably. <i>Others huh?</i> He looks to his feet stalking around her until he is in the kitchen headed towards their freezer.

    She huffs and crosses her arms to block the air that is making her chest cold after being doused in dish water. <i>Just here for the fish</i>, he points to their large chest freezer, <i>that is… if you don’t mind</i>. The snark drips from his mouth as he continues to walk over gathering the bag that Nicolae had set aside for the costumer. She bites her lip once again flaming with embarrassment. She opens the door, eyes to the ground, unable to look up at him. <i>You are to pretty a thing to keep turning down suitors</i>. Her lips thin as she makes every effort not to let him have a piece of her mind, he’ll leave, just leave… she’s about to explode into a vicious tirade when his boots finally cross the threshold and the door is swiftly shut; the lock clicking behind him. She understands that her brother is trying to be a father to her but sending men to her under the guise of customers isn’t what she is looking for.

    Valensia spends the rest of the day getting things done around the house, when her brother comes back they take their meals out to the porch. <i>It’s beautiful out tonight</i>, she stuffs her mouth so that she doesn’t have to answer him. <i>Did the customer come and get his fish today</i>? she nods shoveling more food in. </i>What was his name again? I can’t remember</i>.  Snapping, she slams her plate down on the wooden stand next to her rocking chair. Storming into the house to grab her jacket, the screen bangs shut a few times behind her. He is quick to follow, calling for her to stop. Just as he is about to walk in she marches right past him; but not before he snags her arm causing her to spin and face him. Her jaw set, she glares with a new defiance she had never felt towards him. They stay there in a standoff, and she can see the shock written on his face.

    Before he has a chance to recover she takes off down the steps zipping her jacket up to the chin before shoving her fists into her pockets. Fuming she doesn’t stop walking until she is at the docks. When she gets there, she takes a moment to think. He’s just trying to help, she’s becoming a burden and she knows it. Hot angry tears run down her face. How can he expect her to marry someone that she feels nothing for? What about romance? and love? She kicks at the pier once, and it feels good, she does it again. Before long she finds herself screaming and kicking mindless from the rage that courses through her. <i>Maybe you should consider not fighting it</i>. She startles so easily, cursing Valensia turns with her back to the water. The shed where they store their nets is too dark for her to see who is present. <b>Yea? Well maybe you should consider not sneaking up on people</b>. A figure steps from the shadows steadily coming closer to her. Chestnut locks fall in waves just touching his shoulders, a heavy brow hiding his eyes from her.

    Shifting her stance, she licks her lips. <b>Who are you</b>? The stranger raises his head and his eyes reflect the ocean in their color. He has well-kept stubble and deliciously broad shoulders. Her mouth parts to form an o. His lopsided smile looks so familiar her brows knit together trying to pinpoint where she may have seen him before. <i>Me? Oh I’m just a dock hand</i>. There is something about him… <i>Who are you</i>? His expression… <b>Oh, uh I’m Val</b>, she shakes her head trying to bring her disconcerted feelings back under control. Sticking out her hand she attempts to be brave but he doesn’t take it. Instead studying it intensely for minute making her feel exposed and vulnerable in ways she doesn’t understand. <i>Just a handshake</i>? There is something about the way he says it that give her shivers. He comes closer to her stooping his frame so that if she tilts her head, he can easily kiss her. His tanned skin glistens against the moonlight. Mesmerized she whispers,<b>you’re so beautiful</b>, the chuckle comes from deep in his chest. She feels a new type of flame beginning to smolder deeper within. Her legs squeeze tightly against it.

    Shallow puffs heat the air between them; wide eyed she gazes up at him. <i>So are you</i>, a husky whisper is all she gets in response before he turns to leave. It’s not until his back is turned that an irresistible urge to reach out has her hand clasping his. Something comes alive in that touch, and it leaves her gasping. She finds herself without words, she can’t dare to think it. Shaking she slowly begins to walk around him so that she might see his face once more. Standing in front of him she studies every inch of his face. Her hand reaching to cup his cheek, and when skin meets skin it’s as if something consumes her. Valensia can’t stop with just this, trembling in her vulnerability she hesitates hovering just a feathers width away from her first kiss. He hovers over her, waiting for her; though his eagerness to close the distance seems stronger than his will to let her to initiate. He doesn’t blink, she thinks that he wants her to understand exactly what is happening. Strong hands clasp her hips forcefully pinning her against his causing her breath to hitch.

    Whatever she felt in taking his hand; is nothing compared to the burn in her arms urging her to wrap around him. She needs to swallow against the desire to taste his lips, but it’s the unbearable itch to tangle her fingers in his wavy locks that makes her dizzy. The few seconds that he spends waiting for her seems like a lifetime. So, when he can’t seem to wait any longer, she gets all the things that she had been craving and more. He hoists her legs around his hips in the midst of their kiss so that he can carry her. She doesn’t know where, doesn’t really care at this point. A gasp escapes and she arches her back at the rough shove against the shed’s back wall. With her fingers loosened from his hair, it doesn’t take long for them to be up over her head, pinning her securely in the position of his choosing. He pulls away from her lips leaving her wanton. The fire blazing in his eyes is both delightful to watch and intimidating to be under.

    All the thoughts and daydreams of her first kiss, of passionate love, or white knights and princes all seem so pale and bland in comparison to this. Never can anyone say that they have felt more alive than in this moment. The ripping of her shirt brings her back to reality, and just as she is about to moan he swallows it before it can escape. He coaxes a hungry response out of her that she never knew she possessed. In the heat she can feel everything nuance and it’s somehow not enough. It stirs growing taking her to places never discovered, sweat forms on her skin, and all that can be done is to follow her instincts. They master her until dawns light finds her drawing circles on his chest. <b>What are you thinking of</b>? a gentle smile twitches at his lips. <i>Your brother, he won’t accept me as a suitor</i>, a low thrum resounds through her chest, <b>he just needs to meet you</b>. She giggles in her bliss of finally finding the one. <b>Stay with me</b>? she leans on her elbow looking down at him searching and pleading with her eyes. <i>Always</i>, he growls, but it’s when he flips her over to steal another kiss, trailing them down her throat that her lips open and she lets out a shuddering breathing; blissfully shutting her eyes.
    </div><div class="valensia_quote"><br>“And there was you - your fair self,<br>always delicately dressed,<br>with white firm fingers sure of touch <br>in delicate true work. <br>I loved you then.” <br>- Charlotte Gilman</div></div></div></center>

    The Fish-man is a Salish Folk/Fairy tale of a girl that turns down many men until one starts visiting her every night. She wants to tell her parents but he doens't want to. When they do say something the parents refuse him and he takes away their food until they give him the girl.

    Modernized parts:
    PG-13 Smut Scene: (kept it as far from R-rated as possible) First night the “fish-man” visits her is on the docks
    Fish-Man: The dock master, pretending to be a dock-hand.
    Father figure: Her brother Nicolae from previous story.
    One of many rejected suitors: Customer her brother sends to the house.
    Word Count: exactly 2500
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    Messages In This Thread
    Round 4: The Touch - by The Creator - 02-01-2018, 09:07 PM
    RE: Round 4: The Touch - by J'adore - 02-01-2018, 09:49 PM
    RE: Round 4: The Touch - by Spink - 02-01-2018, 09:55 PM
    RE: Round 4: The Touch - by Neo - 02-01-2018, 10:09 PM
    RE: Round 4: The Touch - by Tiny - 02-02-2018, 03:10 AM
    RE: Round 4: The Touch - by AuroraElis - 02-04-2018, 04:19 PM
    RE: Round 4: The Touch - by Valensia - 02-04-2018, 11:26 PM
    RE: Round 4: The Touch - by Saedìs - 02-05-2018, 05:32 PM
    RE: Round 4: The Touch - by Ceara - 02-05-2018, 09:50 PM



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