Sparring

Kataki\'s Apologetic Author\'s Note

I wrote this ages ago, and I didn\'t even look it over before I posted it, which I would have done, except for the fact that I\'m lazy as Hell. *smile* Anyhow, it\'s here. Mostly because I just wanted to post something. Enjoy, and please review.
This bit is part of a much, much larger story arc that may never get written, much less posted here. If anything is confusing please let me know, eh?


Sparring
by Aoluas Anminti (Kataki Nuro)
(Please note that cuss words have been removed for the pleasure of the readers. Thank you.)


Monique was bored. This in itself was not so terrible a thing, as it happened often and usually without ill effects. Except that Moni was more than just bored. She was desperate for something – anything – to do. She couldn’t talk with Vovyna – she was off with either Faet or Rian, and Moni didn’t know which. That was Vovy’s business, Moni had vowed never to interfere with her best friend’s love life. She didn’t hold true to it, of course – she’d encouraged Rian a few times and made one unsuccessful and painful attempt to discourage Faet. But that was besides the point. The point was that Moni had no one to talk to or do anything else with, as almost everyone was busy, and those who weren’t busy weren’t people Moni wanted to be around much.
As she passed by the training grounds her sensitive ears picked up the sound of heavy but controlled breathing, but no other sounds that might suggest Kataki or Iliatha going at their favorite sport again. As Moni moved in the direction of the sound she found that it was coming from her dojo.
It wasn’t really her dojo, mostly she’d just come to think of it that way, since few other people used it, and very, very rarely at that. It had come to have the identity of being hers, because she used it everyday, before she went to bed. Moni glanced at the red sun, noting that it was huge and about to go beneath the horizon. Vovyna, Conidi and Iakireuta, the other three who used this dojo, were never here this late. Moni stalked to the door to find out who was intruding on her space. In truth she wasn’t really that angry. She could spar with whoever was in there, and she wasn’t all that territorial about it. She wasn’t even curious – not really. But, as was mentioned before, she was bored – horribly so, and had nothing better to do.
She slid the door open and looked around briefly, and seeing that it wasn’t even one of the Aoluas who was intruding on her space she was about to give him an earful, but she stayed herself, and watched, for he had caught her attention.
It was Ikiel’s breathing she had heard, and it was Ikiel training before her now. He didn’t even notice her as she closed the door behind her and moved over to a bench set inside of the wall, but continued his movements, as Monique watched, entranced. He had taken off his shirt sometime earlier, and his bare chest glistened with sweat. He seemed to be going through some sort of martial arts routine, but it wasn’t one that Moni recognized. He was first slow and graceful then fluttering and random, and back and forth again between the two. Moni felt like she was watching petals fall off of trees. His motions were so smooth, and he looked ethereal – it was clear that he had skill, and Moni thought that if all Intajiasen street fighters moved like that she might want to be around more of them. She’d never expected elegance from a man who insulted her so frequently and cussed more often – and, to her shame, more fluently – than she ever had. While he trained it was as if he were a different person. While he was training, Monique couldn’t find it within herself to laugh at his being a ‘Flower Fairy’..
Suddenly he stopped and turned towards her, glaring. “What are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to be here. I’m training. Get out.”
As soon as he was still the spell of his dance wore off, and Monique was no longer his thrall. Thusly, she could respond as she was used to. “What are you talking about? This is my dojo. You’re the one intruding here. You get out.”
Ikiel frowned. “If I had known it was used by a dirty old demon-dragon I wouldn’t have come in the first place. But I’m here now regardless, and I was here first, so you can leave.”
Moni smiled then. “I’ll fight you for it.”
“What?”
“I said I’ll fight you for it.” She walked right into his personal space and moved her face in close to his, smiling maliciously at him. “Or are you too scared, flower boy?”
Ikiel growled involuntarily. “I would never be afraid of you. Fine, we’ll fight.”
They circled each other, each sizing their opponent up. Monique noted that he was well-built – muscular but not in a bulky way – and noted to herself that it might not be wise to use her usual strategy. What she often did was tire her enemy out by alternating between evasion and letting a few hits in, but she didn’t know what Ikiel’s stamina was like, or his strength, and those hits might cost her. She decided that she would test his strength first – let him make the first hit, so that she knew. She was already aware that he was fast – she was, too, so that didn’t bother her. She smirked at him and he growled in response. She could also use his temper against him. A fighter blinded by the red heat of anger was no fighter, but a berserker. Berserkers, while passionate, were easy to defeat.
As they continued to circle, Monique slipped out of her cloak and over-tunic, throwing them onto the bench when she neared it in her path, anticipating that this would be rigorous exercise. She didn’t notice, but Ikiel watched her as she bared her arms, and then her upper chest as her over-tunic was removed. The thin black shirt she wore just barely made it into the realm of ‘decent’. Moni needed the range of movement that the shirt gave her, and she couldn’t get distracted or weakened by overheating. She didn’t know quite what she was up against, and she was at a disadvantage, for he was well warmed-up, and she was fighting cold. Besides which, if he could potentially distract her with his bare chest, she felt well within her rights to show a bit more than a little cleavage.
Sick of building tension, Ikiel leapt at her, and Monique quickly realized that she had underestimated his speed. She dodged, but he had already adjusted when he saw he would miss, and his punch hit her squarely on the shoulder. She winced at the pain, but now at least she knew something of his strength. Rotating her arm to make sure her shoulder was still okay, she satisfied herself that it was merely bruised. She narrowed her eyes as he two began circling again. She had to be serious about this if she wanted to win. With a draconic attack cry, she launched herself at her opponent, repaying him in full for his blow to her shoulder.
As the battle progressed, though, Monique found that she was at least slightly outmatched. Ikiel’s fighting style was barely predictable, and she had never encountered it, while he seemed to recognize hers. He was stronger than her – at least stronger than her human body, and she was unwilling to resort to her demon-strength. He was faster. Without her powers she almost felt she couldn’t beat him, with her powers she would be cheating. She was fighting cold, and she hadn’t been prepared for his skill or anything else. He was besting her, and it pissed her off.
When he used a move she recognized that she knew would carry him forward a little, one whose momentum was hard to counteract, she slipped behind him and swung her leg out, tripping him and bringing him down. As he fell he turned and he kicked one of her legs out from under her, causing her to fall forward, and land on him. She lay atop his heaving chest blinking sweat out of her eyes and panting, and when she’d recovered her strength, she fixed a glare on her face.
Brushing damp tendril of hair out of her face she lifted herself up onto her elbows and looked Ikiel squarely in the eye. “There was no need to bring me down. You were already falling. I’ve already won.”
Glaring right back at her, he said; “I’d promised myself from the beginning that I wouldn’t go down without taking you with me.” He shook wet hair out of his eyes. “Besides, have you really won? Don’t I have to stay down for fifteen seconds?”
“Those are the draconic rules, yes, but—“
He didn’t let her finish, but immediately rolled over, gathering her wrists together in one hand and holding them above her head, pinning her legs with his own. He smirked arrogantly, bringing his face in close to hers. “Now I’ve pinned you. I win.”
Monique tried to struggle but it was futile; she had no leverage. This wasn’t fighting fair. They’d never specified the rules. As far as she’d been concerned, the first persona to fall was the loser. That how dragons fought, when they fought casually. It wasn’t fair, and if nothing else, Moni believed in the fair fight. Thusly, when a perceived rule was broken, she felt entirely justified in breaking a few herself. She leaned up quickly and placed a lingering kiss on Ikiel’s lips. He made a surprised noise and his grip loosened, and she gladly took the opportunity to roll over and jump to her feet. She copied his arrogant smirk from before.
“You didn’t keep me down for the full fifteen. Look what you’ve done, losing your win because of one little thing.”
Ikiel was on his feet and scowling at her before she’d even finished. “Don’t even start! That wasn’t an attack and you weren’t supposed to do it!”
“It was an attack, just one you weren’t prepared to block.” Her smirk widened. “It’s not my fault you were scared stupid by one little kiss.”
He growled at her, and rushed her, pushing her roughly against a wall. He took a moment to savor the surprise in her face and to enjoy having taken her off guard. Then he pressed his mouth to her in a dominating, demanding kiss that left a pleasant tingling in her lips. When he pulled away, she was breathless.
“Now who was taken by surprise?” He taunted. She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but he covered it with his again, briefly. “Shut up. I’ll show you what it is to kiss someone senseless.”
This time when he kissed her he was more passionate, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. There the battle for dominance was short and clear: Ikiel won. Keeping her firmly against the wall with his body weight, his hands explored her body while his tongue explored her mouth. Moni made a strange sound, like a cross between a whimper and a growl, in the back of her throat. She arched to his touch but quickly went back down, trying not to give him the satisfaction of her reactions. Ikiel would have none of that. His fingers pressed sharply into the skin of her waist and he bit the corner of her mouth. Moni choked back another cry that threatened to surface.
Ikiel growled at her angrily, digging his fingers deeper into her waist. Moni gasped in pain. “You will withhold none of your cries from me.”
Moni was caught by the look in his eyes. They seemed like pools of liquid anger, and almost seemed to glow. Every muscle of her body seemed to vote for submission to this rough, demanding male. It was only natural, they seemed to say, it was only right. But her pride was not so easily subdued. With a defiant look she brought her leg up between his – not to hurt him, but to slide slowly across his groin as it ascended and went back down. He closed his eyes at the sensation but instead of loosening, hi s grip on her tightened. His hand moved up to just beneath her breasts, and he cupped them, feeling their weight and their roundness. He stroked them, and gently squeezed them, and there was nothing Moni could do to suppress her cry. Though, by her reckoning, she had won in sparring, this battle was clearly his. Her leg fell back to the job of holding her up, and she arched against him.
Ikiel made a low satisfied sound in his throat and bit her again, this time on the neck. Moni still had her pride, that thing which would not let her ever fully submit. Even though she know she would probably lose at the endeavor, she set out to, if not dominate, then at least make him lose control before she did. It was for her pride, and she could not deny that she had a fierce desire to know what he was like when his passion was unleashed. She brought her hands up, one mussing his damp silver hair further, the other tracing the outline of his back and firm backside. She was rewarded with a deep groan and he pressed himself to her, letting her feel his rising manhood against her thigh. Moni swallowed hard and gasped at the feeling, the hand in his hair clenching and releasing quickly.
By now it was dark out, and in the mansion the lights had been turned on, and in the field fireflies chased moths in their nightly game. Crickets chirped and a breeze blew the sweet, leafy smell of the forest in through the dojo’s open window. Moni registered none of it, except that it was dark and the window was open. Even these were quickly brushed to the background. They were unimportant right now. There were more pressing matters that needed to be dealt with. Still, it was something to take note of. In the darkness Ikiel’s eyes truly did glow, their gold seeming to draw her in. His hair reflected even the minutest light, and it’s silver was obvious. Moni looked like little more than a shadow between him and the wall. The contrast made him look mysterious, and dangerous, and those things Moni had great difficulty resisting in any situation.
Ikiel smoothed his hand over her breast and waist, and the curve of her hip. He made a pleased sound that was almost like a purr, and stepped away from her, with the command for her to remove her clothes. Without preamble or teasing – there was no point, in the dark – Moni slipped out of her shirt and threw it in the general direction of her other clothes, and did the came with her pants. That was all – dragons did not understand the concept of underwear, why should something be covered that was already hidden? Ikiel gazed for several long moments at her shapely silhouette, then smirked. “Now me,” h said.
Moni’s breath caught in her throat, and she moved towards him hesitantly. Ikiel did not move, but stood waiting patiently as she dropped to her knees in front of him. Moni slipped her fingers beneath the elastic of his waistband, noting somewhere in the back of her mind that the were good pants for fighting – loose, stretchy. She slipped them down slowly, tentatively, unsure of herself. Moni hated it – the insecurity – but ignored it. Her revenge would come. She finally pushed the pants down over his hips fully, and gasped at the smell of his arousal hit her like a physical blow. She gulped and quickly got his pants the rest of the way off, and tossed them in some direction or another – she didn’t remember. He wore no undergarment.. She was tempted to touch him, to feel him, to see how hard he was, but she resisted and stood, backing up against the wall.
Ikiel stepped in close – close enough she could feel his warmth – but only touched her with his hands. They roved over her body, feeling every inch of her torso and a good deal of her thighs and backside, leaving a trail of fire over her hot, flushed skin. She moaned at his touch, and arched into it, and that pleased him. He pressed his body flush against hers, and she gasped at the unexpected contact. He covered her mouth and took the opportunity to fill it with his tongue. She moaned into his mouth, bringing one thigh up and curling her leg around his. He growled low and lifted her other leg to do the same, pressing her even harder against the wall and pushing her up a little. That eliminated their height difference, and Ikiel broke their kiss, giving her a long, searching look. Moni didn’t know what she looked like to him – she didn’t really care – but she did know that he looked like a god. His silver hair was mussed and damp and glistening in the moonlight, and his eyes…. The desire in them was so hot she felt like burning, and she was looking into pools of liquid gold.
She arched into him, moaning softly and low, and he growled loudly, biting her shoulder suddenly and violently, drawing blood. He licked the wound clean carefully, and kissed it, but even that was rough and hurried. His thin control had snapped. He quickly probed her opening with his fingers, making sure that she was ready for him. *he covered her mouth with his, biting her tongue and muffling her moans as he spread her lubrication around. He did that quickly and his first thrust quickly followed. Moni’s hands flew to his shoulders and her nails dug into his flesh, making eight crescent marks that were white against his tan skin for a moment before they filled and overflowed with red. Her legs gripped him more firmly. Satisfied that she could take him, he groaned low and buried his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder, thrusting again, harder this time.
She cried out loudly as his second thrust pushed her into the wall, and he followed closely, keeping her sandwiched between the cool wood and his very warm body. Her nails dug deeper into his shoulders, the tips of her fingers becoming slick with his blood. In response, his grip tightened painfully on her hips and he began a fast, wanton rhythm. Moni threw her head back and moaned again, and her volume increased as they continued, so that in the back of her mind she was sure that she could be heard clear to the mansion, but she didn’t care.. Ikiel left a trail of bites going from her jaw line to her shoulder and back again, and he bit the tip of her ear briefly, too, but finally he captured her lip again in a possessive, bruising kiss. Moni happily gave herself up to that, grateful for the muffling of her passion-cries. Ikiel was equally happy to have those sounds all to himself now.
He began to thrust harder, and increased his pace, and Moni reacted favorably, moaning and pressing herself against him, her hands wandering, squeezing and touching and stroking, and she barely conscious of herself, he drove her to such a frenzy. Through all of this he watched her facial expressions – or what he could see of them, what with his being so close. Her eyes were closed as she gave herself up to desire. If he had had any control left at all, it had vanished while he watched her. He moved into the final frenzy, thrusting harder and more rapidly than ever before, and losing his rhythm, focused only on the fulfillment of his desire. He grunted with the effort and moved his lips over her cheeks, her ears, her neck – wherever he could reach, but not her mouth. He wanted to hear her, and he did. Her moans and cries and whimpers were louder, they were at their loudest. She arched into him, and her nails dug eight more crescents into his body, this time at his waist. As she came she screamed hi name, and would have thrashed, if she’d had that freedom of movement. She clenched around him, and that pushed him over the edge, and he yelled her name hoarsely as he filled her with his seed.
For a few seconds after, her stood there panting, then they both slid to the floor, exhausted. Moni murmured something about a futon in the closet, and he got that and laid it out, lethargic as he was. He lay down, and as soon as she did too, he pulled her close to him, and she nuzzled into the flesh of his shoulder. They fell asleep that way.


In the morning he woke alone, but next to him was a note on which these words were written:
Ikiel-kun,
Even though I won the fight last night, I’ll let you use my dojo.*smile* We’ll share it. Use it whenever. I look forward to our next sparring session.
~ Monique
Ikiel smirked as he folded the paper up. He looked to the side of the Futon and found his pants neatly folded. As he slipped those on his smirk widened, the memory of last night becoming clearer with each waking moment.
He looked forward to sparring again, too.