Ourania

Challenge info: On 6/6/06, several people on LJ posted Kimahri!crackfic at the request of one member, who had challenged folks to write a Kimahri pairing. Since then 6/6 has become a silly date to commemorate: "The Day Kimahri Finally Got Some Lovin'!"

The challenge is simple: write a Kimahri pairing, preferably with sex. Because the big blue lunk deserves a little love too.

Here's my entry for this year.
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Do not scorn to wear the horn
that was the crest when you were born
Your father's father wore it, and
Your father wore it too, O... -- "Hal-an-Tow," traditional May Day song

"I'm not a butterfly." Lulu's hands curled into claws, digging into Kimahri's shoulders. "Harder." In the eerie flickering half-light of the Eternal Storm, it was easy to imagine sparks dancing off the mage's knuckles, especially when thwarted.

He growled and redoubled his efforts. His tongue burned like lightning as it quivered and struck the same place over and over. Lulu couldn't keep still; her hips twitched and bucked gracelessly with every lick. Her throaty sighs merged with the nearly constant rumble of thunder. She rocked beneath the Ronso's relentless onslaught, climbing the rungs of ecstasy towards the source from which all her fire came.

Namely, madness. Cynicism and analysis and encyclopedic intellect kept it locked behind carefully regulated checkpoints, or maybe they just balanced out the mage's psychic ledger.

Out here on the Thunder Plains, where the sky was a battlefield of the elements and darkness ruled in place of sun, it was possible to unbar the gates. Who would see? Only one who had a piece of the same story, who belonged to mountains and the avalanche as she belonged to jungle and monsoons. A snarl broke from his chest as she shuddered and lurched away from him, feeling the cold rain sluice down between her thighs where his mouth had been. The pressure of blunt claws spanning her belly forced her back down against the tarp. His long tongue drove deeper, lapping and plunging with savage grunts that should have terrified her.

This was madness. And incorrect the analytical part of her mind noted. The old forbidden tales of pre-Yevon were garbled, but they should have been seeking the Uranus Sigil, not Saturn's. Uranus' horn had been cast into the sea, where blood and semen and seafoam had combined by ocean's alchemy into a goddess. All Saturn had done was castrated and seized his father's power. Only not all of it, because the most primal part had gone into Venus' making, slept deep within her, the one Saturn couldn't swallow, couldn't rule. He'd have to let her consume him to get it back—

"No," she gasped suddenly, snaring Kimahri's thick braids in her fingers and tugging. "Not enough. Delicious, but it won't—" She gasped as his tongue slipped free.

The panting Ronso clambered up her body, hanging over her like a precipice. All right, maybe she felt a splinter of fear: he could crush her like a seashell under his heel.

"What should Kimahri do?" His lips were still pulled back from his teeth. Hot breaths beat against her collarbones, shredding raindrops and dashing them against her skin.

Amber eyes gleamed in challenge. "Surrender."

He gave an affronted huff, the sound changing to a dangerous purr as her hand stole between them and caressed the foothills of muscle rolling across his stomach. She felt her way down, fingers diving under his thick belt. "You'll see."

The Ronso trembled. He was holding himself in check, barely. Would she be able to bear it, if he let go?

She would know shortly.

Kimahri rolled away, twisting and scrabbling to peel off the last vestiges of civilization, as if his kilt and loincloth were the snaring vines that Besaid superstition said would grow over anyone foolish enough to fall asleep in the jungle. Then he was crawling back across her, biting her hair and braids to keep from biting her (there was already blood trickling down her forearm). Wet tufts of fur trailed over her skin.

Surrender, Lulu. she thought to herself fiercely, feeling him poised over her, muscles bunched to pounce, predator's instincts suddenly at a loss on how to seize this unfamiliar prey.

She would have prayed to Yevon, except that this had nothing to do with the temples. Yevon had failed them, and they must fall back on half-remembered gods and pagan rites to win.

Breathing out, the mage let her legs fall open. Her hands slid around his flanks, where the blue fur was short and velvety, pulling him down and guiding him in.

Lightning tore the sky again as Kimahri thrust forward. Lulu whimpered and wondered how ordinary women, the weavers and cooks and unremarkable villagers, could ever dare a second child. She had underestimated them all.

But no, the thunderclap of pain was starting to ebb to mere throbbing. She was after all perfectly used to the searing joy of the elements making use of her own body as a vessel, lightning or ice or flames tearing through her before making the leap to an enemy's flesh. The Ronso was handling her with care even now, easing into her gently but inexorably. The mage closed her eyes, blotting out his shadowed, inhuman features looming over her, and concentrated on taking slow, measured breaths. If she panicked now and clenched up, there was a very real chance of injury.

Slowly her body relaxed around him. His panting had deepened to a wheezy purr more felt than heard above the storm's tumult. She felt stretched and strong and magnificent as she began to roll with him, their bodies speaking together through subtle movements, the shift of hips, the clench of a muscle here, wet skin and clinging fur gliding together there. Flinging her white arms loosely around his chest as far as she could reach, Lulu turned her head and buried her face against the great muscles of his upper arm. The musky scent filling her nostrils was nearly overpowering.

The sorceress gave herself over to madness, cries and moans and bites muffled against his tough hide. His guttural grunts and snarls grew wilder as instincts began to take over. Massive hips ground into hers. The heated, enormous cock forcing its way in was like a fiend, and the only way to fight it was to dance with it. Her inner walls squeezed it erratically. The tingling vibration down there was no longer due only to his purring. His pace began to pick up, pumping her deeply. Again the heavens opened, pouring over his back and shoulders and pelting her cheeks and legs where the Ronso's broad shape failed to shield her.

Yes. He had forgotten caution now, swept away by primal sensations and raw need, racing his hammering pulse with shallow, jerking strokes lifting her hips from the flooded tarp. Lulu's strength was failing. She flopped bonelessly under him, tossed and churned like a coconut husk riding the surge of a tempest. Pleasure's fire was narrowly winning over pain. She straddled them both until her head fell back and her whole body arched. Stabbing ecstasy ripped through her. She barely knew that the keening scream thundering in her ears was her own. Dimly she heard his howl blending with hers, felt the deluge of his release as he pounded into her, battering her past all enduring.

* * *

It might have been minutes or hours later when Lulu came to. She tasted the oily bitterness of a potion on her lips. Something warm and soft and tickling was bathing her solicitously, gliding over her cheeks and neck and shoulders, down over her breasts and belly and across her hips and thighs. They ached, but that was nothing compared to the throbbing within.

She lay there basking, too weak to move or just unwilling to admit she could. Finally the licking stopped.

"Lulu?" Kimahri sounded worried.

She trembled with a low, wicked laugh, surprised to hear the liquid sound of her own voice before remembering the potion must have soothed her throat. "Mm?"

"Hurt?" He nosed her hand shyly.

"Only a little." She stroked his muzzle absently, stretched and winced. "Ow..."

"Where hurt?"

She rolled onto her side, moving away from a hard spur digging into her thigh. Had she been lying on it the whole time? Frowning, she sat up and caught a glitter of something lying there on the tarp. "What's this?"

Another sizzling bolt struck the nearby tower with a bang, illuminating the plains. The egg-sized object beside Lulu's knees was defined with blinding clarity for an instant. The stone disk seemed to pulse with a pyrefly nimbus in the lightning's aftermath, except where a stark black glyph was etched deeply into its surface.

"Ah." Lulu smiled with relief. Not that she hadn't enjoyed herself, but she did not want Kimahri deciding that her tale of Venus, Saturn and Uranus had merely been a contrivance.

She checked his hand when he reached for it. "Wait. I'd prefer not to explain this to the others."

The mage rose, swayed, brushed herself off (the rain and the Ronso had washed most of the blood away), and moved to the waterlogged bundle of clothing on one corner of the tarp. "I have an idea."

* * *

"Saturn's sigil from the plains
A butterfly shall find again!"

Lulu glared at the bird-man strumming away on his harp. She was cold, sore, and exhausted, and his rhymes were nearly as maddening as Wakka's snore. "Breathe so much as a word of where it came from, and I will roast you alive. Understood?"

"Secret things shall secret be;
Your friends will get no tale from—"

Kimahri, standing beside her, thumped the butt of his spear on the tree-limb where they were standing.

"Yes!" the bird-man said.

"Good." She turned on her heel and stalked back the way they had come.

Kimahri plodded behind, dragging like Tidus at the end of a long day's march. "Don't look so crestfallen," she told him. "Rikku or Tidus should have no trouble finding it tomorrow. We'll have your weapon soon enough."

"Kimahri knows." The Ronso made an odd chuffing sound in his throat. Was he laughing? "Kimahri think Lulu broke other horn."