Title: Confessors Cannot Make Liars
Author: crammit
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker
Rating: M
Pairing: Kahlan/Cara
Summary: "Mord'Sith are not nice." You whisper, squeezing my wrists in your grasp. "And Confessors are not liars." I counter, tightening my shoulder and pulling, in an attempt to break free of your hold.
A/N: Legend of the Seeker and its characters do not belong to me. I'm only borrowing them. But I promise to put them right back where I found them.
The light breeze teases a shadow across the curve of your shoulder, as both the campfire and I lean closer to your body. Our solitude makes me bold as I slide our shared blanket further down your back, resting my palm gently along the dip of your spine. Pressing up on my outstretched arm, my eyes skim your bronze skin, each warrior's mark enticing me to glide my fingers up your spine, tracing reverently across bone, muscle and scars.
Your face is turned away from me in sleep, your strength and stubbornness apparent in the curve of your jaw, softened only by slightly parted full lips that know every secret I thought I had. Your blonde hair is tousled and hides the warmth and softness I know I would find if I were to lift the silken strands and press my lips to the nape of your neck. I raise my hand to do just that but something else catches my eye and I redirect my focus.
There is no thought but the one that forces my blood to run faster, careening through arteries and veins beating like a drum inside a heart that is no longer my own. My hand wanders to the curve of your hip, my eyelashes fluttering as I encounter the rough edges of four distinct scratch marks. I force my tense fingers to relax, taking a deep breath to try and loosen this fist of need that is my constant companion whenever I am near you. You'd never admit it, of course, but even you need rest. And as there are still a few hours left in the night, I am intent to see that you get it.
My noble intentions vanish as you shift slightly under my hand, the breeze having abandoned the fire to instead dance along your skin, announcing its presence in the form of goosebumps. An answering parade marches across my own skin and I feel my nipples tighten in response. I know I should draw the blanket up over us both, allowing us to pass these last few hours in sleep. But as you turn your head towards me, sly green eyes meeting mine, the blanket becomes irrelevant.
"Can I help you, Confessor?" Your voice is rough with sleep and I feel a small twinge of guilt at having woken you.
"I was just gathering the blanket to cover you," my hand grips the edge of the blanket and freezes, as I watch your eyes drop down to my breasts.
"Liar."
I glance down at your softly spoken word and feel a blush tug a half smile from my lips.
"Cara, that's not very nice." I lightly scold you, resuming my grip on the blanket and sliding it up along your lower back.
Without warning, your right hand grips my wrist, your body turning on its side and pushing the blanket down to your thighs.
Your eyes are intense and despite everything between us, my heart rate trips over a small ridge of fear. A brief second passes before your other hand reaches out, sweeping my arm to the side and knocking me to my back. Before I can draw breath to speak, your body is sliding over mine. My wrists and my arms are pinned above my head as you straddle my thighs. My peripheral vision catches the flexing of your thigh muscles as you hold yourself above me, most of your weight pushing my hands into the soft dirt above our bedroll.
"Mord'Sith are not nice." You whisper, squeezing my wrists in your grasp.
All traces of sleep are gone from your voice but the tone is no less rough and I swallow against a suddenly dry throat. The firelight is behind you, casting your features into shadow. A dark and dangerous presence. A visceral reminder of who I have chosen as a lover. And there, another reminder, as your thumbs brush lightly against my palms. Love and lust replace thought and reason and I tilt my head back further to look at you.
"And Confessors are not liars." I counter, tightening my shoulder and pulling, in an attempt to break free of your hold.
"Don't you mean Confessors cannot make liars, Kahlan?" I can hear the smirk in your voice and want to make some kind of retort but you've shifted your weight. The softness of your thighs distracting me even as the sensation of your nipples brushing against mine sharpens my focus to every point where our bodies are now touching.
"Let us find out," without breaking eye contact, you release one of my wrists, bringing my left hand to your throat, pressing your weight into my palm. "Command me, Confessor."
Involuntarily, my fingers tighten once against your throat and the look you give me makes my insides clench, forcing breath past my lips on a low moan. Helpless, I can only say your name.
Your right hand holds my wrist tight to your throat, your other hand still keeping me stretched out beneath you as your lower back arches and chases all coherent thought from my head. "I've been wet since you first pulled the blanket down."
You spread your knees a little wider and my own back arches as I feel your wetness slide along my lower abdomen. Slowly, you rock your hips against me, painting me with the warmth of your arousal. I can only watch as you lick your lips, your hand at my wrist preventing me from pulling you into a kiss.
"I see you in my dreams and wake up wanting you."
"Cara, pleaseā¦" I try to reach for you but your hand pushes down harder and I can feel the trembling in your muscles as your hips begin to pick up their pace. Planting my feet, I begin to move with you, as your chin drops towards your chest, your hair brushing against my forearm.
Your eyes are liquid fire and reluctantly, I glance down, watching where your body is moving in an ever-quickening rhythm against me, feeling an answering wetness between my own legs. I can feel the hum of your moans against my hand as you grind harder against me and I release a shuddering breath. Thief-like, the sneaking tendrils of my magic start to tiptoe across my nerve endings, announcing their presence with a low, warning tingling. My sex clenches hard in approval.
Sweat is starting to break out along my lower back where it is brushing against the bedroll and I want your mouth there. Truth be told, I want your mouth everywhere. I want you inside me and against me. Sharp desire reaches its own hand out in confession and I redouble my efforts to touch you.
"Kiss me."
My demand comes out more breathless than I would have liked but it still has the desired effect as you finally release my wrists, planting your elbows above my shoulders and bracing your weight on your forearms. Your mouth hovers over mine as your body continues to rock against me. I brace my legs a little wider, and your shudder is my reward. My hands find your hips, fingers gripping hard and your slow smile is the last thing I see before your mouth claims mine.
Secretly I can admit to myself that while making love with you is incredible, it is kissing you that keeps my body and my heart ready for you. Even when we are walking side by side, it is the memory of your kisses that are keeping me company.
It took me some time to admit to myself that being kissed by you, being marked and claimed by a Mord'Sith, could bring me to my knees. And on occasion, they have brought me to that exact position in front of you. The way you kiss me, as if your sole purpose is to take your pleasure and replace it with mine, binds me to you more than any words of devotion could. It is this sharing of yourself, contained in a simple act, which makes me yours in as much as you are mine.
I'm brought back into the moment by a sharp bite to my lower lip, your tongue soothing the mark before kissing me again, overwhelming my senses with your taste. Our tongues slide, warm and wet, and I moan loudly as you grind your hips in time with your kisses. I want to touch you but the trembling in your thighs lets me know you are close and a dark thrill shoots down my spine at the thought of you taking your pleasure like this.
Breaking from the kiss, you bite and kiss along my jaw, resting your lips against my ear, your groans and panting breaths causing my hands to leave your hips and curl over your shoulders, helpless to do anything but hold on.
Your throaty voice takes up residence in my ear as you continue to whisper your devotions, our breasts crushed together, your hips a wet blur sliding across my belly.
"My mouth is yours."
"My body is yours."
"My life is yours."
"My heart is yours." The last is delivered on rush of breath and I can feel your muscles straining, sweat easing the friction between our bodies as your turn your head, pressing your lips against my throat.
Knowing what both the Mord'Sith and my lover need, I brush my lips against your ear and whisper, "Come for me."
Your teeth scrape against my neck seconds before you push up onto your hands, your gaze holding mine as your hips thrust once, twice and then you are coming, your inner thighs flush against my legs as your stomach muscles tremble. My fingernails scrape across your forearms as I feel the heat of your wetness between your legs, my own toes curling at the sight of your head tipping back, your back arching against the aftershocks.
Reaching up, I brush the backs of my fingers against your hard nipples, placing one hand against your lower back to pull you forward, my mouth encompassing one and then the other. A belated apology for my accidental neglect and as I look up, I can see by your smile that my apology is accepted.
You bring your lips to mine, the kiss soft and deep and perfect. Stretching out your body against me, you prop your head against your hand, your other hand resting lightly against my rib cage. "So?"
Sweeping my hand along the curve of your spine, I bring my other hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, caressing the curve of your smile just because I can. "What, Cara?"
"Can Confessors make liars?"
I grin, thinking of all the things you just said to me. "Apparently not." Recognizing that look in your eye, I feel my smile waiver, to be replaced with an arched eyebrow. "What is that look for?"
I suck in a quick breath as you lean in to nuzzle against my collar bone, my hand instantly burying itself in the hair at the nape of your neck. Your voice is muffled against my skin, but your words are clear.
"Kahlan, since you can't confess me, who is to say?"
I grip your hair and pull your lips from my skin, meeting your smirk with a playful glare. "Does that mean that Mord'Sith are nice?"
Your smile only deepens as your grab me and fall back, pulling me against your body, your hands tangling my hair in their grasp. With a growl you pull my face closer to yours, hesitating for a brief moment, your lips poised to press against mine.
"You tell me."
