A/N: This was just a quick little drabble to get the creative juices flowing a bit more as they had begun to freeze up a bit due to the bad weather: Ah the New England Winter has come at last- snow, snow and more snow: Bleh. Well this is what writing is for- distract from the icky cold outside. This was based off one of those "one word" prompts prevalent on Tumblr and frankly this was rather fun so I may end up doing a few more or these "one word" prompts for the fun of it. Well enjoy my lovelies! And stay warm!
Checkmate:
Noun: a final defeat or deadlock.
-o-o-o-
The sun had risen bringing the new dawn slowly giving way to early morning when they woke up. Limbs tangled- Hair askew- eyes wide- naked with shock before they had both tumbled away from each other- sharp gasps and curses in their wakes- before once again their roles are remembered... and they act accordingly.
No direct words are exchanged of course. They instead circle each other like two menacing wolves- teeth bared- fists clenched- eyes blazing.
There was only silence. The silence of unspoken demands- hostility and... something else. Something lingering over the room like a heavy fog- so thick their breathing was slow and labored... the very air between them seemed to be crackling- tensions were high- one was waiting for the other to crack first. Would it happen? Who knows?
She was a beauty. An almost ethereal beauty that only grew the moment she shed those mortal garments and was left in her devastating unfair glory- the mere thought of such a sight was almost enough to make most heterosexual men fall to their knees in desire, need and desperation.
But this young man in front of her- who stood in an equally glorious magnificent natural state was no normal male- no he was her determined equal- her supposed natural conqueror- biology was on his side after all- as he had grown so had his muscle, his mass, his bone density and even his physical stature- all made his female counterpart before him near dwarf in comparison for all her Amazon strength and looks- he was still all the taller. All the stronger.
As he continued to claim. As she continued to scoff.
He was a God. She was a Goddess.
Locked in an endless war of conflict and jibes. Of constant stalemates and hollow victories.
All that had finally ended in this.
How this had happened… neither of them could honestly say. One moment they had been at battle- not with fists but with words- they didn't bother to descend to violence like their green eyed siblings both would- but nor would they demean themselves to the so called truce their golden haired siblings had declared amongst themselves.
No. Never.
Their eyes were locked- neither spoke. To speak now would be to admit a defeat. Just as neither would admit to being the first to flinging the first insult- the first remark.
They stared each other down.
Neither would either admit to have been the first to follow the other into that dark alley- where the verbal altercation continued- louder. Angrier. Had they have been inclined they could have descended back into their childhood solutions- a flying fist- a well-placed kick.
The silence only grew.
It had ended somehow. That argument over nothing- had it been nothing? Neither could remember either what had caused their altercation- but both knew but would never admit what had ultimately ended it.
A crash of mouths, melding of lips- clashing of tongues- a fight for control- for power- the pulling of hair- and the equal pull towards the other- hands had gripped at thin cotton and thick wool- buried themselves under them, within them- down them. A hand up a shirt – another trailing down… down.
He would take credit for taking the first step- literally to be honest- hoisting the obviously amorous woman up and leading the way out of that dimly lit alley way- That low satisfying moan and looping of legs around his torso had been the only permission he'd needed after all. A tossing of her head- a nod maybe? Or it could have just been another reflex- unconscious- conscious- before she'd pointed him forward- demanded it really- tch a demand- toward him?
He wasn't one to take orders. She knew it too.
But in some cases he could be open to….forceful suggestions- especially when that had involved her mouth beginning to do some delightful things to the cord in his neck: Everything nice….
HA!
Not in a million years- she could keep up the façade all she wanted but that's all it was- a façade- and it only disappeared with him. With her counterpart.
He was the one in charge here. Him.
She was prideful to say he had capitulated first- he had made no protest nor any sort of argument when she'd made short work of his shirt- and her own: If anything he'd been rather eager himself- a sort of shaking repressed giddiness when she'd allowed him to aid in the removal of the rest of her clothing- she'd already stripped him bare- there'd been no question after all of him even thinking of keeping himself clothed.
She was in charge here- she was the one making the plan- the orders… everything… her. Not him.
Her.
He had had especially relished in the removal of her brassiere- she'd been hiding her figure from him for far too long and he was tired of it. He'd certainly latched onto her breasts quick enough- soft murmurs- compliments in his wake even- he had his victory- there was no need to not give her some enjoyment- the usual language of carnality- she'd responded in kind after all. How could she have not- she was completely lost in the delirium of lust – of desire- his kiss had parted her lips- her legs had spread out of instinct- desire- want- need.
He'd delivered. Of course he had.
Victory had been his.
He'd been in awe of her- of course he had- he'd been wanting this for weeks… months… years – she wouldn't be crude and lie about her own enjoyment of this- her victory- her total and complete victory had been well earned- so why not let herself enjoy the spoils of a hard campaign. His hair was unfairly soft- for someone who didn't take care of it in a satisfying fashion… it was nonetheless… soft and thick. Fingers lost in it. And his physique… had been satisfying… quite… satisfying to behold. She'd followed the firm lines of his back up… and down… slick with sweat… smooth and shining… like gilt.
But it had been her victory… her's.
He'd seen the way her eyes had lingered on him. Assessing him- staring at his very being like she couldn't believe her eyes. He'd wanted to laugh- he should have- but he'd been too focused on exploring her body- tracing every curve with his hands… and his mouth- relishing in every stolen breath growing quicker the longer he'd stared upon her- looking at his prize- his hard earned spoil of war- a long ardous campaign that they were ready at long to last to declare a winner.
Him of course. Not her. Him.
She'd looked up at him- She hadn't gone down easily- but her smile- shaky with desire and long repressed sin had been constant- he'd smirked and his mouth trailing down her body and hadn't ceased nor slowed- only increased: She'd wrapped her legs around his torso- Arousal. Desire. The musky scintillating scent of sex and need permeating his nostrils. His smirk had grown.
Victory was his.
And… the spoils of war were now his. His. He'd earned them. He'd earned his victory.
His.
He'd clung to her- his kisses near desperate with a long withheld want as he'd insisted on touching every inch of her- every groan and whispered endearment another waving of the white flag. His surrender had been absolute. She relished in it- relished in her victory- relished in him. He was gone. Finished. Completely in her power and he belonged only to her. So lost in his carnal euphoria he'd not even noticed when she had taken the upper hand- literally- looking down at him- but then up- Up. Down.
One last battle- one last campaign.
And to the victors… would come the spoils.
Because this was her victory.
Her's.
She had wrapped herself around him- her eyes had been closed and her breathing had been constant. She was worn out- he'd exhausted her obviously. His victory. His win. King checked Queen. He was the master of this board. Done. Finished. Victory.
When his own eyes had closed as he had gathered his prize closer- relishing in the warmth of her skin and the softness of her hair- it had been in the afterglow of a hard battle won: He had won. He had earned his respite. His reward. His Prize.
Because this was his victory.
His.
And so it was that they were here once more… once more at a stalemate, This same constant stalemate between those two proud individuals- the leaders of their pack- the alpha's of their species- circling- yearning- drawing back- moving forward.
Silence. One step forward in sync- one could never give the other the advantage. One could never give the other weakness.
Breathing in sync. Facing the other. Eyes locked.
He would claim she had fallen in his arms- clinging to him. Desperation.
She would claim he had pulled her forward- clutching her. Lust.
Anger. Desire.
Lust. Desperation.
Another step. Another. Another.
Chest to chest. Face to face.
The silence was broken. In sync. In unison.
"Again."
His battle. Her battle.
His victory. Her victory.
One moment. One breath.
One mind. One heart.
"Brick..."
"Blossom..."
Their battle.
Their victory.
Checkmate.
fin
-o-o-o-