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#Post#: 3322--------------------------------------------------
Like A Hurricane
DIR By: Maggie Flannery
Date: August 24, 2017, 1:13 am
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HTML https://c1.staticflickr.com/5/4421/36373625690_6aa7ebaae1.jpg
Summary: Two broken souls seemingly always left of center,
searching but never finding. Pasts brimming with hurt and
disappointment led them both down dark winding rocky roads
towards something neither of them thought they would ever find.
Love, acceptance and a person to call their very own.
Playlist:
HTML https://open.spotify.com/user/highlandfling22/playlist/5ja0CbBj1HjBMpR77DMKDf
A/N: *all images found through Pinterest.* Currently a WIP but
damn if I don't have an overload of feels for these two already.
#Post#: 3323--------------------------------------------------
Re: Like A Hurricane
DIR By: Wolfy
Date: August 24, 2017, 7:22 am
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HTML https://media.giphy.com/media/nEEijJRhdaWJi/giphy.gif
I am so pumped for this piece and I will be patiently awaiting
the first chapter. I can be as patient as possible for this one
because with everything you have been sharing on tumblr ( bits
and pieces about their life together ), I am dying to know the
ins and outs and Helene is non-too silent about a few things,
particularly wanting to know everything about this new fella of
Col's and it's hard to pipe her down. Also, your graphic is
beautiful :D
#Post#: 3326--------------------------------------------------
Re: Like A Hurricane
DIR By: Maggie Flannery
Date: August 25, 2017, 11:01 pm
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Aha! I love that gif! Thank you so so much hun! I'm excited that
you're excited! ( does that make sense? I hope it does. :-D ) I
may have broken my own heart with the first bit but I can assure
you the only way this can go is up. I may have ruined Eileen in
this piece but please know that she's in now way like this in RP
threads. I hope you enjoy my dear! P.S. I hope you don't mind
but I've borrowed Helene and Harvey in passing. I may ask you if
I can borrow them later on into the piece if you don't mind.
*hugs* I do apologize for it being so short though. I also
noticed that I've got Cage falling a little hard for our dear
girl, but as he's hanging around in the background while I write
he's offering bits and pieces about himself. He says he's
sensitive to energies and that he knew that she was the one.
Somehow their vibes were in synch and they clicked. I'd like to
think he got slapped by a hard and heavy case of love at first
sight. Col backs this up because she admits that she'd seen him
in the club before but was too damn shy to actually go over and
talk to him for fear of being rebuffed.
Side note: Setting the Scene
Song used: Host of the Seraphim - Dead Can Dance ( that Col
dances to ) / Like a Hurricane - The Mission ( for Cage's POV as
brief as it was )
[b]Incense burned:[/b] Moon and Star by Hem ( along with a
healthy dose of Citrus/Sandalwood room and body spray for good
measure. )
A/N #2: I'm not even sure if Djarum cigarettes are legal here in
the States anymore and I'm totally unsure about the UK. I used
to smoke them and thought I was super cool in addition to those
colored wrapper cigarettes. *sighs* I ended up smelling like a
spice rack so don't just don't kids. Also, Nice boots is a bit
of an odd term I know and I apologize but it comes from the
preposition of meeting someone in a club ( most likely a darker
one ) and looking someone over and going "Nice boots. Wanna #@!*
? " Does it have a different meaning in Europe? Because the last
thing I want to do is offend.
There wasn’t much in this world that she found herself hating,
it just wasn’t in her nature to do so. Unless you counted
absurdly sunny days when snow still blanketed the ground,
everything was false hope and too fleeting. Once, when she was
eight she had decided to brave the weather and take to the ice
rink only to fall and twist her ankle. At first she thought the
ice was going to give way but the joint in her right ankle had
instead. So, there Colleen sat willing herself not to cry from
the pain as the absurdly bright almost spring like sun beat down
upon her causing her to sweat through the layers of thick Aran
wool. Winter was meant to be biting and grey. By some grace of
a higher power she was able to drag herself from the middle of
the pond and onto the bank before hobbling home well past the
time her mother had told her to back by. She’d ended up getting
a lashing for it and she didn’t dare mention the state of her
ankle for fear of getting a second switching for hiding her
state from the person that supposedly loved her most. This,
along with her mother’s skewed view of the world at large was
why she avoided redheaded women with hawkish blue eyes like the
plague itself. They were another harbinger of false security and
just as much pain as a broken bone. Colleen could still hear the
thuds and yells on nights when her mind wouldn’t quiet down. Her
heart raced just as quickly as she willed herself yet again not
to cry. Instead she curled herself into a ball and willed the
memories to go back into the locked box in the back of her mind.
“Back in the box. Lock it and throw away the key.”
She often mumbled to herself as she grasped the second hand
duvet and pulled it over her head. If she could somehow blot out
the memories they wouldn’t bother her. If they couldn’t see her
she couldn’t see them. Sometimes she was right, others she was
very much wrong. Like tonight.
“If you think for one minute I’ll allow that ghastly practice in
my house you are mistaken girl.”
Ma had come home from a week long visit to great aunt Myrna’s
and for some reason she was fit to be tied even before Colleen
had properly gotten her coat and shoes off.
‘Cleanliness is close to godliness, Colleen.’ was what she had
grown up to have drummed into her head. Problem was that by
Eileen Murphy’s standards clean and tidy was never good enough.
The entire house had better be sterile or so help her. She'd had
her ears boxed on more than one occasion and had been lashed
twice.
“What?”
It was a halting whisper as Colleen looked over her shoulder at
her mother who advanced on her much like a hawk upon it’s prey.
Colleen was very much a mouse, she’d always known that but today
it was made abundantly clear to her.
“Don’t you dare go ‘whatting’ me, girl. I was cleaning that sty
of a room of yours and found these.”
Now, contrary to popular belief Colleen’s room was anything but
a sty, for another of her mother’s ‘rules’ was that they live an
unadorned life. There were no posters on her bedroom walls, no
make up on her dressing table. Her clothes, all handmade by
either her granny Murphy or by her own hand now that she was old
enough to afford her own patterns and materials were hung
according to color and season. Her small collection of books
were housed in a worn down apple crate under her narrow single
bed and the only other thing under her bed was a hand carved box
her father had given her for her fifteenth birthday. A flutter
of worn card stock and muted colors caught her eye. Her tarot
cards. The last thing her Granny Murphy had ever given her were
heading towards the hearth and crackling fire that Eileen had
stoked just before Colleen had gotten home from the meager job
stocking shelves down at Wallace’s Chemist.
“Please no! Mammy you can’t!”
“Don’t you Mammy me. I’ll not have these vile evil despicable
things in my home!”
Colleen had a wild grab for a few of the cards and picked up the
box they had been stored in. The top, which had once had the
most beautiful carving of the tree of life etched into it was
nearly split in half while the bottom had ended up in the
hearth and was being reduced to embers and ash, much like the
other half of the deck of cards. In her hands she held only
four. While part of her cringed inwardly at the childish way she
had addressed her mother her desperation to keep the two things
she held so dearly from the two people in the world she missed
greatly nearly broke her resolve to act her age.
‘The past, the present, and the future.’
Her mind mused as she studied the cards for a moment. Six of
arrows; the lessening of difficulties, travel in order to gain
distance from difficulties. The Queen of Staves; Dynamic stable
enthusiasm and someone who symbolizes those strengths. The three
of cups; Great satisfaction and a reason to celebrate, possibly
a wedding feast. The two of cups; Harmony, love and enchantment.
A balancing of souls and quite possibly marriage. Somehow that
didn’t make sense to her. At all. Who would want someone like
her? Her mother had said that countless times when she’d found
fault with her. ‘No one’s going to want you after I’m gone,
girly. That’s for damn sure, so I suppose I’m stuck with you
until I die. Shame too, had you turned out right you would have
had beautiful children.’
That same venomous voice barked out an order to her that she
didn’t quite hear. Again it thundered into her mind.
“Give them to me.”
She had never heard her mother’s voice take such a cold tone.
“N-no.”
“I said, give them to me.”
Eileen made a grab for her daughter’s hand and latched onto her
wrist instead, bending it to her will Colleen thought for a
split second that her wrist was going to break. Her heart
skipped beat but somehow it didn’t. Colleen found it in herself
to wrench her wrist away and cradle to along with the cards in
her hand to her chest. She was well past the point of tearing up
and instead looked at her mother with a mixture of confusion,
anger and hurt. Not matter what she was feeling at that second
it wouldn't have prepared her for what came next. A solid blow
landed sharp and hard across the left side of her face. Her head
buzzed with pain as she felt a trickle of blood towards the
corner of her eye where her mother’s ring had caught her. She
knew she’d surely have a bruise to show for this. Huddle there
for a moment in a heap on the sitting room floor Colleen refused
to cry.
“I want you out. Can’t show emotion, can’t listen to your
elders. Can’t do anything right. If you’re going to invoke the
unnatural world then you’re not welcome into my house.”
Somewhere far off the sounds of a autumn storm rumbled in with
the traffic that was now ever present in the bustling part of
Camden she was calling home, had now for the better part of two
years. She’d left the tidy little brick house just a stone’s
throw from the peat bogs for life in an industrial jungle.
Sometimes she still pined for what she’d never have again. A
mother that loved her unconditionally. But if Eileen had been
able to toss her out like the recyclables did she ever actually
love Colleen at all? Perhaps not. But Col knew she had something
better waiting for her and with the help of her one and only
friend, Helene and Hel’s dear Dad, Harvey she was able to take
stock in her situation and then make a clean break for it. She’s
consulted the Cards, a brand new pack that were a gift from Hel
and meditated on where it was that she should start over. It had
told her England. She remembered as a child that her father had
always told her that it had always been his dream to see it.
He’d even danced with the idea of moving the family there but
Eileen was dead set against it and banned all talk of it from
the house. A smile tugged at her lips as she told Hel where she
planned on going. So, early one morning after all her ducks had
been put in a row off she went never to set foot on Galway soil
ever again.
She’d woken up from the spot in the middle of her bed and her
heart was still pounding. Tears had slipped out and now her
pillow was soaked and her hair was a tumble. One glance in the
mirror had told her that a shower was needed not only to clean
herself up but to calm her frayed nerves.
Letting the tub fill she took stock of the tiny flat she called
home, it wasn’t much just a one bedroom with a tiny kitchen and
an even smaller sitting room but it suited her just fine. Her
job as a clerk at the local used book store had provided her
with more than enough pay to live quite comfortably here. She
and Helene still talked every day and made the trek to the
different clubs around town when Hel had time off away from her
work. Most nights though she went on her own to one little club
that struck her fancy, Ends of the Earth. She’d found herself
quite comfortable in the dim lights and the smokey air heavy
with the scent of incense and clove cigarette smoke. More often
than not she came for the music, most of it played mirrored her
tastes and the brand of house red they carried had become a
favorite. She limited herself to a glass and made small talk to
those around her and danced with abandon, mostly swaying to the
beat like a tree caught in the wind. Tonight was no different.
There was a chill in the air and a ring around the moon,
something good was going to happen. She could feel it in her
bones. The one nice thing about Ends of the Earth was that the
dress code was lax and it accepted all forms of expression so
the velvet and Jacquard lace dress was a welcome sight. Now she
could say with pride that yes, she did in fact make it herself
when she was asked where she bought it. As was her well loved
dovetail overcoat she’d found in a charity shop with her shoes
each piece she wore she had customized in some way or another.
Had she stayed in Galway she’d have been branded a freak or a
witch. Both of which she was called by her own mother. Holding
her head high she greeted the barman with a nod as she sat down
and checked her coat behind the bar before ordering her usual
glass of water for starters. It wasn’t busy for a Wednesday
which wasn’t odd if she thought about it, the crowds usually
came in on Friday or Saturdays unless there was a big do going
on. Tonight it was quiet, peaceful. Dead Can Dance made up the
featured playlist mix tonight and the scent of Cathedral incense
clung to the air. Frankincense and Myrrh mingled with the smoke
of Djarum cigarettes created an ethereal scent that would surely
be clinging to her by the nights end, not that she cared. She
lived for moments of feeling like this. Free.
Slipping out onto the dance floor quietly she let the music move
her like a leaf on the wind. She would be the first to admit
that with the exception of step dancing, which she had had
extensive lessons for as a child, she wasn’t much of a dancer at
all unless the music spoke to her and awakened a feeling in her
soul. Closing her eyes she continued to sway, long graceful arms
above her head her hips slowly moving in time as her long dark
hair swung behind her down her back. She failed to notice the
man in the back by the bar who had come in quietly a about
twenty minutes after she did.
For some reason he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Watching her,
entranced before he went about ordering his drink and wondering
what she looked like from the front. He’d seen her in profile
for the past three months now, perhaps tonight he could pluck up
the courage to ask her her name. That ring around the moon was
supposed to be good luck, perhaps his was changing in the right
direction. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his crumpled
packet of cigarettes and lit one, blowing a smoke ring up
towards the ceiling. There was something free about how that
woman moved, like she had discovered herself and was now free.
His smoke had burned down to a mere nothing and he'd ended up
burning his fingers. Before he knew what his feet were doing he
found himself out on the dance floor with her. His own eyes went
wide as they danced in time and she smiled at him.
Did he have something on his face? Oh God. She's got green eyes.
and she's smiling at me.
Moving closer to her he caught her scent. She smelled like
summer. Wind and Rain and wild roses. He could have waxed poetic
about just that. The woman pale as moonlight with hair of
midnight, eyes the color of the first leaves of spring who
smelled like summer and moved like the winds held her. Shaking
his head slightly he noticed that she was still smiling at him
and asking him something. He tried his best to form an elegant
answer but the music had made it impossible so he cupped his
hand to his ear and settled for a 'Wot? I'm sorry?' He heard her
gentle laugh as she moved closer toward his other ear and gently
laid her hand on his arm to steady herself. To say he'd felt an
electric jolt was an understatement, he felt like she'd lit him
on fire.
"What's your name?"
Her lips had grazed his earlobe and he felt a tingle go from his
feet to the top of his head. He'd been beguiled by a dark haired
Irishwoman.
"Micajah."
The thrum of the drumbeat must have muffled his response as her
smile grew wider.
"Cage? I'm Colleen."
She had inadvertently given him a nickname, the first in his
entire life and he loved it. This Irishwoman surely was a
winsome elf as the old song he'd heard many times had
proclaimed.
"Are you from County Down?"
Another bell like laugh as she shook her head and held up her
hand to show him a ring. Two hands holding a heart with a crown
at the top.
"Claddagh Quay, Galway."
Another song played in his head, he bowed slightly to her and
offered her his hand, she accepted and he gave her a twirl
around the floor all the while the line replayed in his head.
'So I took her hand and I gave her a twirl
And I lost my heart to a Galway girl.' The song changed to some
ethereal instrumental as they walked back towards the bar and
settled in next to one another.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
She'd asked and he was stunned for a moment. Wasn't he supposed
to offer her one? Dumbly he nodded before trying to school his
features back into place.
"The house red here's lovely would you like something else?"
He shook his head as he all but gawked at her for a moment. He
felt like such a creep staring at her but he found he was
content to listen to her talk, at this point she could be
reading the phonebook and he wouldn't have cared. They sipped
their drinks and exchanged bits and pieces, half started yarns
of conversations flowing easily between them. This, was a first
for Cage.
"My you've given yourself a nasty little burn there haven't
you?"
She asked before taking his hand in her own, he felt like some
sort of giant compared to her.
"Just a cigarette burn, it's not much to worry about."
"Infection sets in quick and you have beautiful hands."
A rosy tint painted her cheeks and he adored it. It made her
eyes sparkle in the light as she smiled.
"I've got an ointment if you're interested...you'd have to
follow me home though."
That bewitching smile was back as she paid the tab for their
drinks he sat there for a split second until the barman, Quince,
nodded him on. Colleen went to collect her jacket from the side
room.
"My Lad, you best catch up with her because women like her don't
come along very often and women like her most certainly don't
'nice boots' every man that they meet."
"Don't I know it."
He said as he got up to follow her out into the chilly autumn
air. Neither of them noticed that the ring around the moon was
brighter than it had been hours before.
#Post#: 3327--------------------------------------------------
Re: Like A Hurricane
DIR By: Wolfy
Date: August 28, 2017, 6:11 am
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I am so sorry it's taken me a day or two to reply to this one !
I read it the other night whilst at my Dads and have been dying
to comment since ( I've no idea why I didn't do this last
night, forgive me ). It's a beautiful thing to find out about
Colleen's background a little more, in relation to her home life
and the sort of person that her Mother is. It makes me so sad to
think about how both Col and Hel have such problematic relatives
to some degree, but I am always hopeful that somewhere down the
line, things smooth out a bit. I hope so for Colleen,
especially, because having her Father gone and no parent to turn
to, really, she must be craving that sort of affection in her
downtime ; the sort that Cage can't always provide . . the bond
between a Mother and her Daughter etc. It almost makes me want
to write a drabble about our girls Mother's because these are
some wicked witches, aha.
I'm entranced by how you set things up for the dance scene and
wholly do not blame Cage at all for feeling bewitched by her in
that moment. I like to see it as though he was sitting there
with his mouth agape and jaw slack so much he wouldn't have been
able to find words to respond even if she'd ended up waltzing
over after catching his eyes on her. I can just picture what you
wrote, how she was swaying so freely in the middle of the
crowded floor and can imagine a light billowing of smoke around
her ( all eyes on her scenario ), even if that wasn't the
goal, and it's beautiful. Helene kept on piping up and asking if
she could join Col one night in said club. Hel's night shifts
are most likely in her Embalmer verse, so I love how you fitted
that one in, too. It brought such a smile to my face to learn
that Colleen had moved to England, as well ! Helene was born in
Caldy, about a forty minute drive from where I live, so now our
girlies are closer than ever! that makes me excited, too. I'm
excited by everything really.
Given that Jimmy is no longer around, reading this, Harvey has
also piped up and would like to get to know Cage, find out who
he is and what he's all about, saying something or other about
making sure he is exactly what his Daughter's best friend needs
in her life. He's very protective of Colleen since the ordeal
with Eileen and the two seemingly no longer communicate all that
much. Harvey says that Eileen over the years has been reminding
him of the woman that left him and his baby girl all those years
ago, so the terms there are not very good, either. He wants to
be sure that Col is happy as can be, meanwhile Helene is trying
to silence her father because she wants to read about all the
details of their relationship ( the ins and outs that Harvey
will not be allowed to scan through ). I think you've done a
wonderful job with the start of this piece and I'm really
looking forward to a follow on from it, because she deserves so
much happiness with everything that has happened.
I have no doubt at all that Cage can provide her with that and
vice versa. All of the snippets on tumblr as well lead up to one
sure thing —— that these two are genuinely a match made in
heaven and they fit so perfectly together. I'm so made up for
Colleen :D
#Post#: 3329--------------------------------------------------
Re: Like A Hurricane
DIR By: Maggie Flannery
Date: August 29, 2017, 5:21 am
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A/N: Remember lovelies, no glove no love! Stay safe. P.S. Wolfy
dear I hope you enjoy part two! *hugs*
They walked through the brightly lit square and huddled closer
as the wind picked up, odd bits of paper and old band fliers
fluttering past them as they walked talking quietly the
conversation littered with soft chuckles from Cage and ringing
laughter from Colleen. This was first time each had smiled so
much in years. They walked passed the church and Colleen
stopped to marvel for just a moment before dropping a coin into
a late night street busker’s case. Their walk continued down a
little alley side way short cut and before he knew it there they
stood in front of a brightly painted blue door. Fishing out her
keys from her bag she nodded to him.
“This is me. Come on up for a cup of tea while I mend that hand
of yours.”
Cage found himself standing stock still for a moment, this was
the first time he’d ever been asked up. Usually if something was
going to happen it happened in the bathrooms of a club or they
went back to his.
“S-sure.”
He watched as she slid the key in gave it a quick twist and then
gave the door a nudge with her shoulder and apologized over her
shoulder.
“Sometimes the door sticks, ‘pecially when it gets cold like
tonight. I’m only two doors in on the right.”
She moved away to let him and ushered him into her tiny flat.
The first thing he noticed was the fact that despite it’s small
size it was comfortably laid out. A few poster prints were
hanging on the wall, her bookcase was neatly set up across from
her couch and packed to the brim with paperbacks whose authors
he was very familiar with. She turned up the heat and went
about turning on a side lamp while she got the tea ready.
Shucking off her coat and kicking off her shoes while she waited
for the water in the kettle to boil she ushered him to sit down
on an overstuffed couch covered by what a handmade afghan.
Offering to take his jacket she gave him another smile. She had
been beautiful in the low lights of the club with the incense
smoke swirling around her but in the warmth of her home she was
radiant. The tiny overstuffed settee and the wingback chair
draped in tidy dark grey sheets with hints of an old sun faded
chintz print peeked out at him. A few photo collages in
oversized black frames adorned the warm cream colored walls.
Most of them showed snaps of herself and another dark haired
woman smiling against coastal backdrops in various places. ‘That
must be her sister.’ He mused as he spotted what surely must
have been her knitting basket. A sweater with varying shades of
purple was nearly half finished and another much smaller one was
in the making along with a pair of mittens and a neat little
cap. This was very much a cozy little home, unlike his sterile
black and white world back on Bayham street. He didn’t even have
a couch. Just a crappy little futon that was apt to give whoever
had the misfortune of dozing off on it a wicked crick in the
neck upon waking. How different their worlds were, hers warm and
inviting and his cold and distant.
“So, how do you take your tea?”
Her voice brought him out of his thoughts and he blinked for a
moment.
“Oh, uh. Milk and two sugars, thanks.”
She popped back into the kitchen and he could have kicked
himself. Was it too late to make a run for it now that she had
discovered how he preferred his tea?
‘She probably think you’re a stuffy old codger now. You like Dad
tea!’
That little voice in his head admonished before he could run for
the hills she was back with a tea trey and a small nervous
smile.
“I’m so sorry I don’t have more to offer but tomorrow’s my
shopping day. The shortbread’s homemade though.”
He hadn’t had shortbread biscuits in years and these looked
particularly good at the moment. She sat down next to him on the
tiny settee before taking a sip of her own tea. He could smell
the bergamot and lavender and found himself comforted. Sneaking
a peek at her without wanting to seem downright creepy he found
that she was studying him. If it had been any other person, let
alone a woman he would have been uncomfortable but something
about her made him drop his defenses. He nibbled on the
shortbread and attempted to keep his wits about him. His mother
had been right. The way to a man’s heart was surely through his
stomach. He would never ever tell her that she was right but
damn he’d been stereotyped and at this particular moment he
enjoyed it. He ended up going back for seconds and eventually
thirds and was sorely disappointed when he found the place only
held a smattering of crumbs.
“I’ve made a pig of myself.”
A gentle pat on his arm and a chuckle from her as she set her
mug down made the knot in his stomach ease.
“I’m honestly not much for shortbread myself. I just made them
on a whim. I’m glad you enjoyed them though.”
A warm soft hand moved gently over his cheek and brushed his
lips.
“Sorry, you had a few stray crumbs.”
“Thanks.”
“So, what is it that you do again?”
“A bit of everything at the moment I’m a piercer over at
Flannery’s. Looking into getting my tattoo license soon.”
He watched as Colleen’s eyes all but lit up at the mention of
his job, not many women found that interesting. Come to think of
it his mother hadn’t even had that sort of reaction when he told
her his plans.
“That’s fantastic! I’m sure you’ll get it, you’ve got artist’s
hands.”
Another tinge of pink colored her cheeks as she reached out to
study his free hand. He suddenly felt self conscious of all the
rings that adorned both of his hands, heavy pieces of sterling
silver in various shapes. He watched as she studied the lines of
his palm and traced them with her fingertips. Who knew palm
reading could be such a turn on? He hadn’t until this very
moment.
“You’ve got a long line for imagination and creativity. A good
strong life line but a trouble love line. It’s in the past but
see how it’s disconnected from the present? I see a long happy
relationship in your future.”
‘With you I hope.’
He thought to himself as he felt a sting from the cigarette burn
he’d inflicted on himself earlier that evening. Her brows knit
together as she looked up at him, tucking a lock of hair behind
her ear.
“Let me go get you that balm. I’ll be right back.”
She left him in a whirl of black lace and jangle of beads. He
found himself almost pining for her return and his heart skipped
a beat she reemerged from what must have been her bedroom with a
jar of something that looked like a homemade balm. It looked
like cloudy milky thick something or other in the apothecary
jar.
“You’re not allergic to honey or aloe are you?”
“No, is that all that’s in there?”
The smell of roses and honey filled his nose and he quirked a
brow.
“No, it’s a little raw honey, aloe, sea buckthorn oil,
rosewater. A few other things. It’s my own secret recipe.”
He spied some linen bandages alongside it. Her smile was
infectious.
“It can get quite…sticky.”
She said as she worked the cap off with nimble fingers and
dabbed out a bit onto her finger and true to it’s word it felt
heavy and thick on his skin. She gently dabbed it in and
bandaged him up.
He hadn’t wanted her touch to end, the sparks he’d felt earlier
that evening as she had spoken to him had multiplied and the
more time he spent in her company the more he yearned to feel
them again.
“Oh, almost forgot the most important part of the healing
process.”
He watched his bated breathe as she brought his hand up to her
lips and placed a soft kiss upon the bandage. He had remembered
his mother doing this for him when he was a child but this, was
certainly not his mother and given how the reaction her lips had
on him he certainly wasn’t a child. The memory of her lips
brushing against his ear and now this had made his skin feel
like it had been lit on fire again. He blinked and she was
tidying up the extra bandages and closing the jar up. Her hair
had fallen from it’s place behind her ear and once more obscured
half of her face. He gingerly reached out and touched the soft
dark locks and brushed them over her shoulder as his fingertips
made contact with the slim ivory column of her neck. She sat
straight and still, lush pink lips parted as he moved closer to
her. He had never quite seen the appeal in kissing a woman’s
neck but now he certainly could. Craning his neck downwards he
could smell her perfume rich red roses bathed in summer rain, he
felt the thrum of her pulse beneath his lips.
Peppering light kisses along her throat and over her collar bone
he heard a reedy keen from her.
Both were caught by surprise as the end of the couch gave way
with a solid thud and they found themselves a tangle of limbs on
the floor. Somewhere along the way down he’d nipped her gently
as she worked her hands over his chest and shoulders before
working them up toward his hair. Both gave twinned groans of
pain as one found herself bitten and he found himself getting
his hair yanked.
“That’s what I get for buying a second hand couch.”
She’d said as she wiggled beneath him in a most delicious
manner. Was it him or were his pants getting a bit tight? If she
rolled her hips like that again he might burst. One look at her
eyes told him that he was more than welcome to spend the night
but he knew he dare not push his luck. The clock over the mantel
chimed a warning of one in the morning and somewhere outside
their little bubble of a world the rains were pouring down as
the winds blew once more, the old building she called home
creaked like an ancient wooden ship out to sea.
“I’d feel horrible if I turned you out into that.”
She murmured, those lips of hers working their magic against the
shell of his ear. With a wicked little grin she rolled her hips
against his once more. He was sure the friction between them
caused his eyes to roll back into his head for a moment.
“Then don’t.”
He found himself groaning into her neck once more as his lips
found her collarbone.
“I won’t.”
Her hands had found the buckle of his pants and her nails danced
over the clasp. His left hand found it’s way up to her thigh and
he was pleasantly surprised to find that her knickers matched
her dress. Lace on lace. He found himself wondering what color
she preferred. An edge of the hem got caught on one of his
rings and he soon found his question answered as her panties
gave a sound rip and he was left with a scrap of red lace in his
hand. Things were going ever so well and now they’d just gone
to hell in a hand basket for him. He felt his lower tremble a
bit as he envisioned her sending him packing out into the storm
with a raging hard on, a shite ton of regret and his little
scrap of her panties. Perhaps he could frame them, maybe get a
little plaque with the words ‘What could have been had I not
hauled off and fecked it up.’ engraved on it.
He startled when she keened against him. Seems like his right
hand had a mind and an agenda of it’s own tonight. The hollow of
her throat had gone from milky white to a startling red. Her
hands finally wrenched off his belt. Tossing the scrap of fabric
over his shoulder he helped her get his pants down. He suddenly
remembered that was wearing boxers. Danger Mouse boxers. He was
well and truly screwed, or not so much as of this second. He was
officially at strike two.
“I always liked Penfold the best.”
Was her reaction before snaking a hand under the waistband and
giving him a squeeze. She leaned up and brought her lips to his
and for a second he could have sworn his heart was going to
stop.
‘If her hand doesn’t stop the fun’s going to.’
The formerly snark filled voice in his voice warned. Air was
becoming vital and the kiss was broken, much to their shared
disappointment.
“If…you keep that up I’m not going..”
Her strokes increased and he thought he was going to burst. His
eyes roamed over her face, her lips were full and swollen,
cheeks and throat tinged a bright red and her eyes were alit
with a fire he knew he’d never seen in anyone he’d spent the
night with before. She was studying him and drinking him in. He
should have felt ashamed, vulnerable, perhaps even the tiniest
bit angry for her gaging his reactions but he didn’t. He felt
accepted. Free. Just as she had danced at the club he felt free.
Her ministrations stopped for a moment as his hand roamed over
the apex of her thighs. Circling the nub there he dipped a
finger in and she keened.
“Ah…perhaps we should take…oh screw it. Fuck.”
In a flash jewelry and clothing were strewed around the tiny
apartment and Cage found himself the one laying sprawled out on
the floor. She had taunted him, teased him and brought his
parlously close to the edge only to stop and whisper ‘not yet,
Leannán.’ in his ear. There was a moment of panic when he the
condom that was in his wallet was well over the expiration date
and dried out to mere nothing. She came to the rescue by ducking
into her bathroom and retrieving a handful of brightly colored
foil packets. In between touches and kisses as he fumbled with a
packet
‘You must think I’m a slut or something.’
‘You’re anything but. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with
being prepared.’
‘You sure you’re not just saying that to get into my pants now
would you?”
“What pants? Oh, you mean the ones I ripped off of you about ten
minutes ago?”
“Cheeky bastard.”
“Darling you have no idea.”
“I’d quite like to find out.”
Colleen was free once more, a force of nature to be reckoned
with as fluid as she had been while she danced her hair draped
over one of her shoulders her breasts moving in perfect time
with her hips. Cage found that if he were to be struck down at
this very moment he would die a very happy man. In her face and
by her touch he found something. Some would call it God, others
a Higher Power. He simply called it Her. In one smooth movement
she was on her back once more their pace reaching a fever pitch,
two sets of hands roaming over expanses of skin breathing in
time as the storm raged on around them.
‘Oh G…g..ungh.”
The fluttering around him increased to a pulse as her body
started to quake underneath him.
‘Micajah.’
At that exact moment he was positive he had never seen anything
so beautiful or heard anyone say his name in such a way. She
looked as if she had swallowed the sun, soft warm skin taking on
a glow all of it’s own her eyes half closed as she rode out the
wave of pleasure. Pleasure he had given her. Just as she had
said his name he toppled and lost himself over the edge of the
sweet oblivion. Grabbing the sheet that doubled as a slipcover
and the afghan off the couch he covered them both as she settled
her head onto his chest and allowed him to stroke her long dark
hair. Together they drifted off to the sound of the autumn storm
and the ticking of the clock.
#Post#: 3331--------------------------------------------------
Re: Like A Hurricane
DIR By: Wolfy
Date: August 29, 2017, 5:58 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
I live for how well you've written this chapter. I'm sure there
is something in the air at the moment, because everywhere I turn
there is some sort of nsfw writing or imagery going on and it's
definitely nothing I'm complaining about. I seem to have shifted
into a comfort zone of writing only smut over the last few days,
aha. Your use of detail and setting the scene makes this stand
out, by the way. It's really difficult to write a sex scene so
effectively that the reader can feel emotion and if by chance,
understand and physically feel what the characters are ( this
sounds wrong to so many people but that is usually the general
idea a writer is trying to get across when writing these things
). I'm a firm believer that if your readers get all hot and
flustered and feel a certain type of way after reading material
like that, the writer has done a damn good job and here, you
genuinely have. I literally felt as though I was in the room
with them, things got so heated up in here. Bravo ! and I look
forward to the next chapter, following this :D
#Post#: 3332--------------------------------------------------
Re: Like A Hurricane
DIR By: Maggie Flannery
Date: August 29, 2017, 8:14 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Aha! Ohmygoodlord! This just made my entire week! I'm honored
and so so glad you liked the update! I tried and I was afraid
that perhaps the mechanics weren't clear enough for the scene? I
had to take a moment and try to connect with what each was
feeling even though it was mainly from Cage's POV ( man that's
an interesting experience to write as a male character having
that kind of reaction ) Please forgive me for saying this but
I'm glad it got heated up! I've got a few things planned for the
next chapter and a few ideas for a few more smutty scenes. ;)
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