jsmn_kinkmeme | ☆ Round Two!

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☆ Round Two!

Welcome to the second round of the Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell Kink Meme at

jsmn_kinkmeme!

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■ Only one prompt per post.
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■ Have fun! :)

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■ Any kinks welcomed!
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Links:
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☆ Previous Rounds: Round One

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The water spirit settled very happily into a small pond on the left side of the garden. Segundus laboured for most of that day till the pond was dug and he had laid a flat bed of stones for its base. Then he poured out the water from the teapot, and felt a very peculiar rush as the water spirit went with it. In a short time he had filled the rest of the pond as well, and it was bubbling contentedly as the snail investigated it.

That evening, as Segundus enjoyed a small glass of sherry and read a new magical journal that had just arrived from London— the journal endorsed making use of the principles of natural science to investigate and classify English magic; Segundus rather wondered what its editors would make of the water spirit, or indeed of cows wishing to go on holiday— he was startled to hear the unmistakable sound of a horse approaching in the lane.

Frowning and wondering if the village had experienced further magical trouble, Segundus left his comfortable dining room and went to the gate. He was astonished to see that the horse he had heard was Brewer, and that Childermass was astride him.

"Mr Segundus," said Chidermass forbiddingly.

"What are you doing here?" Segundus asked rather rudely.

"I heard there was trouble hereabouts," Childermass said. "I thought it best that I keep my eye on it."

"Well, there is no need for that," Segundus said. "I have resolved it already."

This seemed to give Childermass pause. "Did you now," he said at length.

"It may surprise you to learn that I have some small skill at magic, and also that I have other skills, many of them unknown to you, sir— many of them skills which you yourself are lacking!"

This gave Childermass even further pause. He peered at Segundus closely, looking very suspicious. "There is something different about you," he said. "What have you been up to?"

Segundus said, "I have been resolving magical problems, with a good deal of success. I have convinced the rosebushes to bloom, and instituted a number of reforms to my garden, and I have fed your slice of the cloudberry cake to a water spirit. He lives in the little pond to your right. He is a more congenial conversationalist than you have ever been."

"No; that is not it." Childermass frowned at Segundus some more. "Are you not going to invite me in?"

Segundus crossed his arms over his chest. "Why should I?"

"Because I have ridden a very long way."

For a moment, Segundus tried to summon up the strength to refuse him. He thought indignantly: no one asked him to ride a very long way! He did not bother to send word! It is his own fault if he sleeps in a field! But he was not the sort of man who could be so firm-hearted. He sighed heavily. "All right," he said. "You may come in. But I am not offering you any sherry!"

Childermass's mouth quirked in amusement, but he said nothing.

Once Brewer was in the stable, and Childermass had settled by the fire with a glass of sherry in his hand— "I have ridden a very long way," he had repeated, gazing with a certain profundity of sorrow at the sherry bottle, and Segundus had said, bad-tempered, "Oh, very well! But there will be absolutely no cake!"— Segundus discovered that in addition to his unpleasant demeanour and his dreadful habits, Childermass had brought a large number of magical magazines with him, including several from Edinburgh which Segundus had not known existed. The two of them therefore passed a very pleasant night reading quietly and drinking, occasionally offering observations on topics of mutual interest. With Childermass, there was no need to offer pleasantries, since he himself did not observe the art, and Segundus found this quite comfortable. From time to time, he caught Childermass staring at him a little fixedly, as though trying to perceive some unexpected dimension of him, but Childermass said nothing further on the topic of Segundus's apparent alteration.

Only, just before they both retired to bed, Childermass said, "I believe you are happy." His tone was one of accusation and displeasure.

Segundus considered this statement. "I cannot say for certain," he said at last. "I suppose I am."

In his dream that night, he was already naked, stretched out upon a rather sumptuous bed, which had wine-coloured sheets and more pillows than he thought were strictly necessary. He was thinking of Miss Absalom— how filthily she kissed him, how her long ginger hair tumbled down her back as she rode his prick, taking it inside her, letting him pierce her where she was hot and wet and tight— the loud cries she made whenever he pleased her, and how very demanding she could become, pressing herself down against him, greedy with desire... Before he knew it, he had taken himself in hand, and his breath was coming fast as he pleasured himself.

Then Miss Absalom, also naked, was crawling into the bed, giggling at his guilty look. "Oh, do not stop. Do not stop," she said, and gently placed his hand back on his prick. She did not remove her own hand, but guided him to continue touching himself in slow strokes. "Were you thinking about me?"

"Yes," he said fervently. "About— about being inside you. Pleasing you, while I—"

"Mm," she said, her eyes heavy-lidded. "While you fucked me. Is that what you were going to say?"

Segundus could feel himself flush, but he also felt his prick jump. He knew that Miss Absalom felt it as well, for she laughed low and delightedly. "Is that what you would like?" she asked him. She still had not moved her hand.

"Yes," he said, hoarse, gazing up at her.

"Then come and take me," she said, releasing him and lying back in a seductive pose. Against the dark red sheets of the bed, her skin looked especially soft and creamy, her body like something from a Botticelli painting, though it had also a quality of the English rose to it.

Segundus stared at her, breathing hard, his mouth dropping open. Then he was crawling towards her, frantic with desire, and draping himself against her, and pushing into her with his prick. It was so good— so good, to be tangled in that double embrace, the hot wet grip of her body around his prick, and the close sweet tangle of her limbs around his body as he pressed her back against the bed. She did not lie still, but instead was in constant motion: her hips rocking forwards to him so that on each stroke he was pushed as deep into her body as it was possible for him to go; her hands moving ceaselessly against his chest, his shoulders, his back, stroking in almost an inquisitive manner, as though investigating all the parts of him; even her toes trailed up and down his legs, the feeling of which had an odd power to arouse him. He, for his part, could not stop himself trying to kiss her, even as the coordination required to do so became so difficult that he was reduced to mouthing shakily at her jawline and neck.

He could have finished quickly, but he did not wish to. He wished to savour every slide of his prick inside her, the way her eyelashes fluttered when he pushed very deep, the short cries she uttered, the disarray of her hair like a cloud of copper silk floss around her head. He had to stop and move slowly, closing his eyes, pushing in very carefully, one stroke at a time. But this made her impatient, and she pulled him flush up against her, then pushed him forcefully over so that she was now astride him.

This robbed him of his breath. For she then kissed him passionately and immediately began to ride him, rolling her hips while keeping him pressed inside her, working him according to her own pleasure. She grew increasingly vocal, moreso when she reached her hand down to pleasure herself. "Oh," she moaned, sliding sharply up and down him, "yes, you feel perfect, so deep inside me..."

Segundus reached his hands up to touch her breasts, half to pleasure her, and half because he could not resist them. He loved the feel of her nipples hard between his fingers, the small swell of each breast under his hand. But his touch did pleasure her, and in a very short time she came to her climax upon him. He barely managed to hold off his own climax so long, and finished in fact perhaps a beat before she did, so that they shuddered through the aftermath more-or-less together, breathing hard and touching one another gently, given over to that small kind of flinch that arises after orgasm like the small shocks before sleep, perhaps marking one's transition between waking and dream.

Segundus stretched his arms out langorously, but was in no hurry to move her. He gazed up at her rather foolishly, feeling enormously happy and very comfortable. "That was lovely," he said. "I loved that. I—"

She kissed him very sweetly, lowering herself to lie curled beside him with her head upon his shoulder. "Yes," she agreed airily. "It was very lovely. I thought we were going to talk about spellwork. But then you showed up naked in my bed, and all thought of spells flew right out of my mind."

Segundus said dryly, "I do not believe you." He had a great deal of experience with what it means to be a magician.

"Well, most thoughts of spells flew right out of my mind. Quite a few. Perhaps half my thoughts of spells. A few remain. Shall I teach you a spell now?"

"Oh, I would like that!'

"All right. Hmm. Let me see." She drummed her fingers thoughtfully upon his thigh, which sent a pleasant shiver through him. "A spell to banish dust from your house? A spell to make a star tell you all that it is seeing? A spell to cause someone to speak in sonnets?"

Segundus was quite taken by the idea of causing Childermass to speak in sonnets, and for a moment he strongly considered it. However, he had a feeling that Childermass would not care to be enchanted, so with some regret he said, "Perhaps the first. It seems very practical."

"It is! But very complicated, because it involves every object in the house— every object past, present, and future. You must account for all of them." Miss Absalom launched into a long, complicated, and interesting theoretical explanation. It had to do with webs of obligation, which she called liege-cloths, for she was in the habit of picturing magic as weaving. Segundus thought a little drowsily that Childermass would be interested in this, and that he might see a way to use it upon the roof, which was prone to leaking in various places when rainstorms came.

He had just asked Miss Absalom what he thought was a fascinating question about obligations between the past the present when he had the strange sense that a bird was whistling directly into his ear, though there did not seem to be such a bird in the dream. He frowned and shook his head, but the birdsong was not silenced.

"Oh, bother," he said vaguely. "It is going to wake me up!"

Miss Absalom made a noise of complaint and nuzzled against him, stretching a leg across his body. "How inconvenient! I was almost going to propose that we go again!"

Segundus groaned aloud, for now he very much wanted this to happen. Her small hand was wandering towards his prick, which had begun to rise at the thought of having her once more. "Tonight," he said desperately. "Come back tonight, will you, please?"

He did not receive her answer, for he woke then. A chorus of birds was singing in extremely shrill tones outside his window. He did not recall ever having heard such a racket before. He dressed in a very bad temper as the birds went on singing, and thudded down to the kitchen in search of some tea.

Childermass was there, eating ginger biscuits. He had piled the kitchen table with library books. He turned a very suspicious gaze on Segundus, eyes following him about the kitchen. "Why is there so much magic in this house at night?" he asked.

Segundus turned an innocent look on him. "I've no idea what you mean."

"I have noticed it before. At night, the house fills up with magic."

"Why are you creeping about my house at night, making such measurements?"

"I am not," Childermass said, "creeping about your house at night. I—"

"It is a disturbing habit, this creeping about; do you also stand outside my bedroom door?"

"I do not creep about your house! Nothing about your bedroom is the slightest bit interesting to me." Childermass affected to return his attention to his book, ignoring Segundus, though he appeared a little flustered.

Segundus set himself to brewing tea. "It is a very magical house," he said at length. "It was Miss Absalom's, after all. I dare say you are only sensing the house itself."

"Perhaps," Childermass allowed. But he did not seem convinced. Over the course of the morning, he directed a number of sceptical looks at Segundus, which grew more and more confounded throughout the day.

Ah! The plot thickens. I am enjoying this so very much.

I literally read this fic with a smile on my face, it's that perfect. Suspicious!Childermass is a joy. I can't wait to find out how he reacts when he discovers what Segundus has been up to. Omg.

A TREASURE AND A GEM

Oh this fic gets more and more delicious by the chapter :D Suspicious!Childermass is making me giggle so much, Segundus is about to get rumbled methinks ;-)

Indeed, a great many things confounded Childermass that day: the water spirit in the garden, which he viewed with frank and unfriendly disbelief— though the water spirit, in contrast, took to him at once, and further seemed somewhat besotted with him, and began to spout little fountains of water whenever he was nearby, a showiness for which Segundus rebuked it— and the flourishing rosebushes, and many other aspects of the garden, and the spell for ridding the house of dust, which Segundus was determined to try.

"Where did you learn such a spell?" Childermass asked with a dubious expression when Segundus had finished explaining this spell.

"Oh, in a book," Segundus said vaguely.

"Which book?"

"I do not recall exactly."

Childermass stared at him hard for a long time. "There are very few books of magic in this realm."

"And whose fault is that?" Segundus asked— precipitating a short heated argument on the topic, followed by a long and sullen silence.

Childermass trailed after him while he went from room to room in the house, setting the parametres of the spell. The nature of the magic required that Segundus make a number of marks upon each doorway, indicating that any object entering through it would become subject to the spell's law. Childermass seemed very interested in inspecting these marks, though Segundus was very concerned that he would disturb the chalk, and in consequence kept worriedly batting his hands away.

"Your spell implies an entire theory of magical alliances," Childermass observed as they were finishing a light lunch. "I did not know you had such a theory. Or was it contained in this mysterious book as well?" He raised a dark eyebrow and took a delicate sip of wine.

"It was," Segundus said cautiously, and proceeded to explain about liege-cloths, and sewing the rooms of the house together, and the importance of time as a substance in spells. He could see Childermass attempting not to be interested. It was like watching someone try not to fall asleep. Every so often Childermass's attention would wander and he would lapse into enthusiasm, which for him was a fierce, sharp-edged, and full-force kind of thing. Then he would recall that he had meant to be suspicious rather than interested, and he would go back to pretending to be disengaged. Segundus was quite amused by this deception. Childermass, he thought, had many considerable talents, but he was not very good at hiding his nature, and his nature was at root one of curiosity.

The conversation went on for quite a while. Childermass smoked two pipes during it. Segundus made a show of complaining about this, for he felt it did not do to encourage such habits indoors, but secretly he very much enjoyed the scent. It seemed to belong, in some indefinable way, to a home. This was very curious, for his family home had not smelled of tobacco; nor had he ever felt a strong attachment to that home. He did not know how one formed an idea of home. The process was wholly mysterious to him.

The sun had begun to set by the time they fell into silence. Late sunlight streamed through the high panes of the windows.

Childermass cleared his throat. "Well," he said. "I must beg your pardon for colonizing such a deal of your time."

"It has been my pleasure," Segundus said, and was surprised to find he meant it. "It is a delight to me to talk of magic with those who understand it; they are fewer than one would imagine, I find. However, I am aware that I may keep your from your own researches; in which case—"

"Not at all," Childermass said. He had said it a little too quickly, and seemed to realize it. "But your own researches—"

"What a pair of retired old gentlemen we sound," Segundus said wryly. "Soon we shall sit at our writing desks all day, penning vituperative letters to the editors of scholarly publications."

Childermass assumed a rather guilty expression.

"I too," Segundus admitted shamefacedly. "The Ivy and Sceptre, after last April's debacle. Not one of which they have so far chosen to print. I believe they view me rather as a nuisance."

"They are the poorer for it," said Childermass.

It was such an unexpectedly kind comment that Segundus flushed. "Well," he said, "they are all London magicians. I have quite affiliated myself with the country. There is a divide."

Childermass made a dismissive sound. "Magic comes from the North," he said. "It does not come from London, nor from gentlemen in nice houses."

"No," Segundus said. "I suppose that is true. I do not find them all that interesting, either, I must confess."

"No," Childermass said.

They looked at each other. This time it was Segundus who cleared his throat.

"I was," he said, "thinking of adapting the spell I previously described. There are a number of leaks in the roof. I do not think you have observed them. You have not been here during a very hard rain. But the question of additions to the house is a queer one; that is, of structural additions, and so I wonder if you might offer your input..."

Childermass was very happy to offer his input. They walked about Starecross inspecting various elements of the ceiling, sticking their fingers into niches and nooks, and getting altogether covered in dust and plaster. Once, Segundus accidentally put his hand through a wall that turned out to be little more than paint and sawdust.

"It is like restoring the hall all over again!" he complained. "I thought I would only have to do it once. I come to find it is more like gardening than I expected."

"But you do not mind gardening," Childermass said gravely. He had laughed when Segundus put his hand through the wall, and been reprimanded, and now affected an air of mock-solemnity.

"I suppose I do not." Segundus frowned, and squinted at a spiderweb in the corner of a hallway. "One never seems to achieve very much. But then perhaps achievement is a young man's game."

"Hark at you," Childermass said dryly. "The Old Man of the Mountain."

Segundus waved a dusting cloth at him, which made him sneeze.

That night, after the oddly peaceful evening had concluded and he had seen Childermass off to bed, Segundus retired with a certain amount of anticipation. Not only did he have a great deal to discuss with Miss Absalom, he felt, but he had not at all forgotten what he had postponed.

And, indeed, she was waiting for him, clad in a Chinese silk robe the colour of spring moss and stretched out on the bed. Segundus began shedding clothes as soon as he saw her, which resulted in his hopping awkwardly for a moment as he pulled off his stockings, and then in his half-tumbling forwards onto the sheets as he stripped his shirt off. He did not very much mind this, as they were both laughing, and then he was pressing her down and kissing her, and then she was tumbling him over and kissing him, her hair falling in a ripe and jasmine-scented curtain, her mouth tasting faintly of rosewater.

"You owe me," she said, smiling breathlessly against his mouth. "How will you repay me for your desertion?"

"Mm," he said contentedly, pushing the robe off her shoulders. "I think you shall have to take whatever payment you like from me."

Miss Absalom seemed to find this amenable, for she kissed him again.

Then all at once she pulled back and cocked her head as though she listening to something— a noise that Segundus could not hear. Her face grew very exasperated. "What a nuisance—!" she said. She made a sharp gesture with one hand, and abruptly they were both wearing clothing— a state that Segundus did not very much wish to be in— though her own clothing consisted of the Chinese silk robe, now belted, and some very expensive items of jewellery— notably ruby earrings that had the appearance of blood-drops, and a ferocious amber dragon pendant fully as big as Segundus's hand.

"What—?" Segundus protested. He might have protested more, but he was rather awed by the sight of her in this regalia.

Miss Absalom tossed her hair behind her shoulders and flung herself back beside him on the bed. "There," she said, and snapped her fingers at the ceiling.

Childermass crashed spectacularly out of it.

It was not a very dignified position for a man to be in. The house being a dream-house, one might have supposed there was not much to it in the way of construction, but— perhaps because Miss Absalom was extraordinarily irritated— Childermass was covered in grey dust to the point of being ghost-like and spitting plaster-chips out of his mouth nevertheless. He was also sprawled on the bedroom floor looking thoroughly dumbfounded.

"Childermass?" Segundus demanded, outraged, just as Miss Absalom said, "John Childermass!"

Childermass's gaze flickered from one to the other. His forehead creased as though he were attempting to absorb some difficult notion. "In my defense," he said at last, "I had no notion that I was intruding upon a lady's boudoir. Nor, mi..."— he appeared to mentally run through the range of options— "...ss, have I had the pleasure, so far as I know."

"You certainly have not," Miss Absalom said very scornfully. She was capable, as it turned out, of a blisteringly high degree of scorn. Segundus was quite impressed, and a little frightened. "My name is Maria Absalom, and you, sir, are trespassing in my house."

"And in my dream!" Segundus said. He did not wish his indignation to be overlooked."

"Yes," Childermass said. "That part I knew." He did not look very apologetic.

"You knew?" Segundus said, aghast.

Childermass shrugged. "You would not be honest about the matter." He blinked at Miss Absalom. "I perceive it would have been a trifle difficult to explain."

Miss Absalom said fiercely, "What right have you to any explanation?"

Childermass was silent for a moment. "None, I suppose," he said. His face and voice were both very composed. He stood, and, brushing more plaster off his sleeves, he made a little bow. "I beg your pardon," he said to Miss Absalom. "I am sorry to have intruded." To Segundus, he said: "I will go."

Something about the way he said this made Segundus realize that he did not mean he would leave the dream. He meant he would go. A strange, blind surge of panic rose up within him. He did not wholly understand it. He stared at Childermass. He felt tremendously angry, and hurt, and as though something very small and nascent— a damp baby bird or a vulnerable crocus— had been stamped out ruthlessly. Most of all, he felt very unhappy.

Miss Absalom was looking between Segundus and Childermass with an air of bewilderment. "... Oh!" she said suddenly, at last.

Childermass was turning to go.

"Why did you not say so?" Miss Absalom demanded of Segundus. She had turned an accusatory stare on him.

"Say what?" Segundus was very honestly befuddled, and also inexplicably forlorn.

"That you wanted him! It is very convenient that he wants you as well. We could have arranged it ages ago."

Segundus felt even more befuddled. "I don't..." he said. "But he... does he? Do I?" He gazed helplessly at her.

"Oh, honestly," Miss Absalom said. "You cause me to recall why I never married. No," she said, turning to Childermass and making an impatient gesture, "I rather think that for the time being you'd better stay here."

Childermass slunk back into the room, looking distinctly unexcited. "You are wrong," he said to Miss Absalom. "It is better that I go."

Miss Absalom sighed irritably. "Do not lie to me; you only further your disrespect. It is in your face when you look at him."

"That is not what I meant."

She blinked. "Well, of course he does; I cannot think why I did not see it before."

Childermass said, "But you—" He gestured.

"I am not proposing to give him up!" She laughed incredulously. "Certainly not! Would you?"

Childermass's eyes flickered to Segundus. "No," he conceded.

Segundus covered his face with his hands. "I am not a valise!" he complained. He thought he was probably flushing rather red. "Why must you talk about me as though I am not here?"

Childermass shrugged. "You did not seem to be saying very much."

"That is because I do not understand!" Segundus could not keep his voice from rising. He sounded, he thought, sad and petulant, which was not how he wanted to sound, but was perhaps a fair representation of his heart. He had never felt so—

Childermass kissed him.

This was so astonishing an act that for a moment Segundus was not quite sure what to do. He floundered. It was a very appealing kiss. It tasted slightly of tobacco and slightly of Segundus's apple wine, which they had shared by the fireside before going to bed. They had been arguing about the extent to which a London magician could be said to truly understand
English magic, and whether it were necessary for such a person to seek out a sort of baptism in the North in order to cleanse himself of his London-ness. It had not been a terribly serious conversation. Segundus had confessed to the shame of coming from Oxfordshire. "But," he'd said with a wry smile, "perhaps my soul was always of the North." Childermass had not returned his smile. "Perhaps there is a bit of the North where-ever there are souls such as yours," he'd said. It had been such an oddly solemn comment. Like a love letter, Segundus thought. Like something you would write in a love letter.

Oh, he thought.

He kissed Childermass back— a little tentatively at first. He did not feel he quite knew what he was doing yet. He had a great sense that he did not want to break what he was holding, although he was holding nothing. And then he was holding Childermass in his hands, touching his hands very carefully to Childermass's face. And then suddenly he did not feel very tentative at all. He did not know what he was doing, but he knew, he thought, what he wanted.

(sorry, I have no idea where that random line-break came from...) -a!a

Yesssssssssssssss.

The only thing better than Maria Absalom sexily bossing one magician about is Maria Absalom sexily bossing TWO.

Also, I want very much to read their grouchy letters to misguided editors.

SPECTACULAR

*applauds* *standing ovation* *pumps fist in the air*

Yes! Finally!!!!

So now I have no idea how I am going to get through the next 24hrs (OR MAYBE LONGER?? - omg, noooo) trying to act like a responsible human being whilst waiting for the next instalment.

The water spirit!! The "valise" line! Miss Absalom's outfit! And most of all, Childermass crashing through the ceiling...

And then the kissing...

Dying here, A!A.

*Squeals* I was just waiting for Childermass to gatecrash the party :D I love how Miss Absalom realised their feelings for each other before they did and I can't wait to see where this goes next!

OP again, I've forgotten to ID myself for a couple of these comments. I only wanted to say that this story is making me the happiest person ever. It is adorable (old married couple poking around the house) and sexy as hell, and I think I may love you for it. Thank you!

OP, thank you for your awesome prompt which generated this awesome fic. I am obsessed with it to an almost worrying degree.

Can't believe I haven't commented on this before now. Both prompt and fic are totally inspired. And this chapter is perfect - I could read endless variations of Childermass and Segundus being dense about their feelings for each other and then finally getting to the point.

I had been enjoying this fic a lot. More than a lot! A very lot! I did not think it was possible to like it more!

But I was wrong. This part has just upped the ante.

"Childermass kissed him."

My stomach actually flipped at this line. Oh man oh man I cannot wait for more. a!a I want to hug you.

I know this next bit will be worth the wait, but, omg, I NEED this in my life!!!

(next bit appears, as if by magic)

(so now I am going to be late for work)

(genuinely no fucks given)

omg I'm the worst sorry --a!a

Re: FILL: John Segundus/Maria Absalom, Dream Seduction (8/?)

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-16 05:46 (UTC) - Expand

He set his hands at Childermass's waist and pushed eagerly forwards against his mouth, working it open even as he tugged Childermass's shirttails loose to get hands underneath them and onto his bare skin. Childermass himself, having precipitated the kiss, seemed quite unsure what he was meant to do next. He was standing very still with his hands in Segundus's hair. When Segundus skimmed his fingertips up his chest he made a sighing sound, and when those same fingertips scraped his nipples he gasped. Segundus rubbed up against him langourously with his whole body, allowing Childermass to feel that he was growing hard for him, and licked his way into Childermass's mouth in a very suggestive fashion.

Childermass said, sounding dazed, "I thought you would be—"

"Virginal?" Miss Absalom suggested. She was lying across the bed, watching them with what appeared to be intense enjoyment.

"Yes. No. I do not..."

"Am I not what you wanted," Segundus said, half in jest. He could not conceal the faint uncertainty in his voice, so different to the confidence of his hands. He had, he thought, slightly wanted to show off for Childermass and produce exactly this reaction: how skilled you are, how talented, how good you make me feel. Perhaps this was disingenuous of him. But he did want to make Childermass feel good. He had a great many tangled-up wants when it came to Childermass: he wanted to force Childermass into abandoning his pretense at stone-facedness and reveal the soft curious wondering person who lay inside, whom Segundus had been so lucky as to glimpse here and there. He wanted to make Childermass laugh, which fractured that stone-facedness. He wanted to see Childermass thrash in the grip of pleasure. Oh, that image opened a dozen more doorways: Childermass arching up from a disarrayed bed, Childermass tossing his head back and moaning, Childermass with his wrists bound to the bed...

"You are daydreaming," Childermass said. He sounded amused. He touched Segundus's face with a tender hand. "I want you, virgin or wanton I have spent a great deal of time wanting you. I have thought in considerable detail of how I would want you."

"I was daydreaming about how i want you," Segundus confessed.

Childermass looked extremely interested in this topic. And Childermass's interest, as Segundus had so many times observed, was fast and forceful and full of sharp edges. It was one of the things about Childermass that he found most attractive, that overwhelming interest. "What conclusions did you draw?" Childermass said. He smiled slightly, as though he could see the effect he was having.

Segundus moved a little closer and slid his hands down Childermass's back, past the waist, to where his buttock began to slope. "That I would like to pleasure you," he said. "If it is agreeable to the lady, with whom I have a certain understanding."

"It is very agreeable to the lady," Miss Absalom said. "I find the idea of such a thing delicious. Only I wish to have you after, as I am yet unfulfilled."

"Is that all right?" Segundus asked. He risked a look up at Childermass's eyes. "I know it is not... conventional. You are free to watch us. You are free to watch us now, if you prefer." The thought of Childermass watching as he took Miss Absalom— as she rode him, perhaps, touching herself as she displayed where his prick pushed inside her— was very appealing, to say the least.

Childermass said, "I have resisted for a long time the urge to touch you. I do not think I should like to give the chance up now." He let his hands rest at Segundus's waist.

"The chance will not disappear at daybreak." Segundus did not know how to explain to Childermass that he felt in his own heart the gentleness that he saw in Childermass's face, which promised affection but also more, and which asked very humbly not to be betrayed. Because he did not know how to explain, he touched Childermass instead, drawing him forwards carefully and lifting his shirt off, then kissing all the parts of him in a long line descending from throat to hip-bone. Childermass did not make much sound, but rested his arms around Segundus lightly, as though very tentatively enclosing him.

"Oh," he said when Segundus reached for his breeches buttons.

"Perhaps," Segundus suggested, "you might sit on the bed.

Childermass looked at the bed. He looked at Miss Absalom, who was angled so as to occupy a great deal of it. She looked at him in return rather curiously.

"You do not need to be afraid of me," she said— kindly, Segundus thought, and with no hint of condescension.

Childermass seemed yet uncertain of this, but he sat on the bed and allowed Segundus to remove his breeches and stockings. Segundus, kneeling, could not help doing as had previously been done to him, and lingering in all the unexpected places of the body: the ankles, the knees, the turn of the hips. Childermass's body was so different to Miss Absalom's, thin where she was soft and lavish, all hard angles where she was welcoming, rounded. The differences fascinated Segundus. Childermass's prick fascinated him— such a statement of want where it stood out from his body, and a kind of barometer of pleasure in the way it twitched and hardened. Segundus cupped it lightly and felt it respond. He licked it, and it responded again. He lowered his mouth very deliberately onto it, and heard a double intake of breath.

He did not look up, but sucked slowly and consideringly, pulling off to tongue with fascination at the glossy head, then lowering his mouth once more. He found the act not perhaps as interesting as he might have liked; it was very repetitious, and he could not fit all of Childermass into his mouth. He gagged a little when he tried to take him deeply in, and though this produced further gasps from Childermass and Miss Absalom, almost but not quite in unison, it was not very enjoyable. So he pulled off once more and instead moved lower and wetly licked at Childermass's scrotum, then the skin beyond and his taut entrance.

It was at this point that Childermass, breathing hard, brought a hand up to his hair. Segundus felt a little triumphant. He licked hard at that strip of skin, which made Childermass's hand twitch, and then set himself to exploring that entrance. He recalled the bright sensations that Miss Absalom had evoked in this location, a heat that had built all under his skin, but that at the same time had reminded him a little of champagne, the way the bubbles like stars burst all through it. This was what he wanted to give to Childermass. So he applied himself to opening that flesh with his tongue, both caressing and subtly pushing at it.

Childermass said in a hazy voice, "Oh, my God." His hand went very heavy on Segundus's head.

"He has a very gifted tongue," Miss Absalom agreed from behind him. Her own tone was somewhat breathless. "Isn't he beautiful when he wants to give you pleasure? When he loses himself in it?"

Segundus could not decide if he ought to be indignant about this description. But he could not very well respond to it. Instead he began thrusting his tongue in sharp, pointing little flickers, which made Childermass cry out and push forwards to him. Segundus rewarded him by pushing a finger in as well, being very firm and gentle with it. He pulled back to enjoy the spectacle of Childermass taking his finger. Above him, Childermass looked rather wrecked— the colour was high in his face, and he was staring at Segundus with dumb wonder. Segundus moved his finger in and out and Childermass bit his lip; harder, deeper, and Childermass made a dark sound.

"You like that," Segundus said in a low voice that he almost did not recognize. He was amazed by how it affected him, the knowledge that he could undo Childermass with pleasure. He bent his head and licked at the wet tip of Childermass's prick, just to see what result it would have. Childermass's hand clenched in the bedclothes. His prick was very heavy and very stiff; he was probably at the stage where he ached for climax.

Segundus pressed another finger in. He felt the tight flesh quiver and yield slightly around him. "Would you like me to take you?" he wondered, more as an idle thought. "Do you like being penetrated?"

"That is not fair!" Miss Absalom interjected. "I wish for you to take me!"

She was touching herself as she watched, her robe now open and two slick fingers making lazy circles between her legs.

Segundus said, "You have had me numerous times already."

"But I like to feel your prick inside me— pressing inside me very solid and deep..."

Childermass made a choked kind of sound. The top of his prick dripped.

"You like that as well," Segundus said curiously. "So you do want to watch."

"I," Childermass said. He appeared to be struggling for words. He closed his eyes. "I want everything of you. I wish to see you take your pleasure; I want to see your face when..."

Segundus had to close his own eyes. He rested his hot face against Childermass's leg. He said helplessly, "You may have what you want. Only I do not know how to satisfy both of you."

Childermass seemed to consider the matter, stroking gently against Segundus's hair, occasionally sighing heavily when Segundus did something clever with his hand. "Give her her pleasure," he said at last, "and then let me have mine. Can you do that? Will you last?"

"... I will try," Segundus said. He kissed Childermass's thigh. "You are very generous."

"There is nothing generous about it." Childermass showed a flicker of a smile. "I have the sense I am about to be given a show."

Miss Absalom laughed aloud at that, but she did not deny it. She beckoned to Segundus. "Come," she said. "Shall we be dramatic?"

So Segundus disattached himself from Childermass and removed his clothing with great haste. No sooner had he embraced Miss Absalom, greeting her with kisses, then she was pressing him down flat on the bed, and easing herself down onto his prick. He groaned at the feeling of it, for he had grown very hard while pleasuring Childermass, and the interior of her was unbearably delightful. But she was moving hardly at all, instead keeping him wholly inside her, which was hard for him to stand.

"Look," she said to Childermass— as though he were not looking. To Segundus, he seemed utterly transfixed. His hand was around the base of his prick.

But here was what Miss Absalom had meant: she opened the folds of herself so Childermass could clearly see where she was stretched around Segundus's prick, then rose very slowly and lowered herself once more, displaying every inch of the slide of him into her, showing Childermass how deep he went.

"Jesus Christ," Childermass said hoarsely. His hand moved very fast on his prick.

Miss Absalom repeated the motion, this time moaning very loudly as she sank down upon him. "He feels so good," she said, "keeping me so full— come here, come touch and see."

Childermass hesitated fractionally before obeying the injunction. His hand was trembling when he raised it to where they were joined. He touched the slick flesh of Segundus's prick, stroking just a fingertip against it. It was enough to make Segundus cry out loudly and thrust helplessly upwards for a moment. The sensation of that fingertip, when he was already buried inside of Miss Absalom, being gripped hot and wet!

"Go on," Miss Absalom said. "Feel. More. Put your finger inside me."

And Childermass did as she said. He let his fingertip probe at where Miss Absalom was stretched tight, and after a few tries— a few sharp bitten-off cries from Segundus— it pushed very tightly within, hard against Segundus's prick and rubbing at it slightly.

Segundus's breath sobbed in his throat. "Oh God," he said. "Oh my God."

Miss Absalom herself was breathing hard. She was working at herself now with her hand as she rode them both in slow, rapturous movements. It was not easy for her to take them both in, and every time she did so anew Segundus felt a sound ripped from him. He was amazed that he had not climaxed already, and he could only think that it was too much: the feel of her, impossibly taut, impossibly wet, and the look of almost-agony on her face as she laboured frantically towards her climax, and the feel of Childermass touching him— touching him inside her, his face awed and eyes gone almost black with the concentration of desire.

"I can't—" he said, and then: "I can't, I'm going to—"

"Not yet," Childermass said, and kissed him, which at least distracted him from the unendurably exciting spectacle, so that— though he suspected he sank his teeth very hard in Childermass's lip— he did not finish when he felt Miss Absalom climax around him. It was a near thing. There were not words for the feeling of it.

[sorry to break it here but tbc hopefully tomorrow...]

Oh.

My.

Fucking.

God.

Oh Jesus....this is SO HOT. I don't know what else to say other than I need a cold shower and I absolutely can't wait to read the next instalment!

Made the error of catching up on this on my lunch break OH MY GOD

*dazed*

I have to go back to work now!

A!a you are incredible. I can't process enough to leave coherent feedback. But Segundus losing himself in giving pleasure I bet is very beautiful indeed.

Re: FILL: John Segundus/Maria Absalom, Dream Seduction (9/?)

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-16 18:52 (UTC) - Expand

*flings self down at end of thread and waits*

Re: FILL: John Segundus/Maria Absalom, Dream Seduction (9/?)

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-18 05:55 (UTC) - Expand

[I'm so sorry to leave everyone hanging! Should be able to update in the next few days! --a!a]

Re: FILL: John Segundus/Maria Absalom, Dream Seduction (9/?)

(Anonymous) - 2015-09-19 05:22 (UTC) - Expand

Childermass slipped his finger out of her as she panted atop Segundus. It was glistening with her wetness. He touched it to Segundus's lip and Segundus let it penetrate his mouth, sucking the taste of Miss Absalom off of it. He saw Childermass's breath shudder as he did so, Childermass's eyes drawn magnetically towards his lips. He released the finger with a filthy wet sound.

"Please," he said. "Please, I'm so close, tell me what you— what you want; I want to give you anything you want, anything—"

Childermass kissed him again. It was a long, slightly aggressive kiss. It was sweet, lingering, hungry, but with a hint of violence. "You will wait," he said, "to give me what I want. Won't you?"

"Oh," Segundus breathed out. Then: "Oh!" As Miss Absalom shifted off him. He had to close his eyes and dig his fingers into the bedsheets so as to not touch himself, so acute was his desire for release.

Cool fingers settled on his brow, in his hair. He could smell Miss Absalom, a certain post-coital aroma she had, like late sunshine and overripe lilies, the end of summer, tinged with a touch of human sweat. He turned his head towards her blindly.

"Shh," she said. "Shh. I know how good you can be for him. You want to be very good, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes." A hand touched his prick and he cried out, hips arching upwards.

Miss Absalom tugged his hair sharply. A flash of pain. He moaned. She said, "Not yet."

But Childermass was— Segundus opened his eyes hazily and saw Childermass kneeling over him, gazing at him with almost animal desire, reaching— and then—

Segundus's prick pushed just into the clenched hole of his body. The precise star of muscle where he had previously licked, the softest, hottest, most delicate skin. This was what Childermass was giving to him: his most delicate part, to hold him and enclose him, to force him with its fist-like grip towards completion. The weight of Childermass pinned him to the bed, and Segundus reached up for him blindly, grasping him at odd angles: putting hands wherever he could reach. The rounds of his knees. The curve of his hips. The hot flesh of his prick. Childermass moved, rocking on him, taking him deep in his body, and Segundus made a punched-out noise.

Miss Absalom knotted her hand in his hair and pulled once more, jerking his head towards her. "Not yet," she said. "Not yet."

Segundus wanted to explain that he did not want to come yet, that he wanted to stay inside Childermass forever, pleasing him, fucking him; that he wanted to stare at Childermass exactly as he was now: kneeling as though in prayer with his dark hair in his face, naked and soft-eyed, and with Segundus's prick sliding into him, the most obscene and the most beautiful sight Segundus could imagine. He wanted to explain that he did not want to, but that he did not know how to not do it, with Childermass's body against his body and Miss Absalom's hand in his hair. But he could not manage to say it. He could only moan in fits and starts as Childermass moved on him. He entirely lost track of the world but for the hot plunge of flesh into flesh, and from time to time the sharp pain of Miss Absalom reining him in, forcing him back from the edge. He was aware of Childermass working himself fast, his breath stuttering in huffs, and Childermass's eyes burning down at him, and he said something inarticulable— the sort of thing you can only say in dreams, because if you said it in the waking world it would not make any sense. Then he was crying out and climaxing unstoppably.

Childermass continued riding him for a few long moments before giving a sort of startled sigh and opening his eyes very wide and shoving down hard and spending himself on Segundus's chest.

Childermass was still moving softly. Segundus was still holding onto his hips. He felt a great sense of peace that he had not known before. He raised his hand and Childermass caught hold of it, and they stared at each other, shivering a little.

Miss Absalom yawned and stretched and pulled Segundus to her, making room for Childermass on the other side of him. Childermass eased himself off of Segundus and into that space. Segundus, caught between them like a pearl cradled between two rough oyster halves, sighed comfortably and drew them both closer. Their bodies were warm. He pressed his face to Childermass's shoulder and felt Miss Absalom mold herself against his back. She stroked his arm. Childermass ran a hand through his hair, then let his palm rest at the back of Segundus's neck.

"Mm," Segundus said drowsily, wriggling slightly in satisfaction. "I could sleep like this. Only I do not wish to sleep, for I am already asleep, and I wish to stay here forever."

There was a short silence. Childermass said, "Your logic is dubious, as ever."

"You are mistaken," Segundus informed him. "But I will permit you to remain in my bed, because I am a generous person."

"It is my bed," Miss Absalom said. "But I suppose I do not mind if both of you stay."

"That is gracious of you," Segundus said gravely.

Childermass appeared close to sleep, which was very endearing. His hand had grown heavy on Segundus's neck. When Segundus risked a glance up, his eyes were drifting closed. He did not go to sleep, though; he wrinkled his nose and said vaguely, "What is that noise?"

Segundus made a questioning sound, a sort of mmph?

"That— noise, that bird noise. You must hear it."

"No," Segundus said, by which he did not mean, No, I do not hear it, for he could hear it now, if only faintly— like birds from a very long way off, possibly miles— but rather a more general refusal to acknowledge the interruption. He buried himself further into Childermass's shoulder, tugging Miss Absalom's arm tightly around him. "No," he said again, for emphasis.

Miss Absalom muttered something exasperated-sounding against his back. Segundus was about to ask her if she could quiet the birds, for they seemed to be drawing closer and he wished to rest, but even as he thought this he became aware that the noise would wake him. He clung to the last vestiges of the dream with drowsy hands— the feel of Miss Absalom's breath warm against his shoulder, Childermass's soft prick pressed against his leg, the faint smell of sex, damp and overripe and fecund, a lazy, salacious, flowering scent... but it was no use. Sleep was unspooling from him, and before he knew it, he was waking in his own bed.