alainn_aislinn: (Broken Smile)
Write a fic about the best gift you ever received for the holidays.

She’d never leave him, she promised herself, but right now Aislinn was sick to death of him. Not him, she corrected herself. Never him…well. Sometimes him. But not him, not now. She was, however, sick of Africa.

It was hot. People kept shooting beautiful wild animals, making her cry. There was a lot of desert. The British consulate and tourists and other expatriates were all bores, with no sense of a soul. The piece Byron was slaving over was going to be beautiful, she knew. She could feel it, resonating inside of both of them, delving down deep into the mysteries of this Dark Continent. But since he insisted on writing it back in their rooms in a brown house on a brown street in a brown city where the sun never seemed to stop beating down and trying to burn itself through her skin, she found herself languishing.

The market had held an allure for the first few months, but now it seemed too loud, too clamoring. Smells that had once intoxicated her now seemed to linger, pressed down into her skin and she ached for a cleansing, cooling rain with the scent of ozone filling the air and eliminating the stink of too many humans living too close together. If he’d take her back to the jungle, back to the villages, or even to the savannah, she thought, if he’d just do that, she could survive, pulling at the strings of nature and wrapping them around herself like a protective barrier. Here there was only desert, sand upon sand upon sand and it got into everything, no matter how hard the servants scrubbed. Most days, all she wanted to cry.

The calendar told her Yule was fast approaching, but there was nothing like that here. Some of them celebrated the Christ child’s birth, and the exiles tried to keep their customs, but greenery and candles were too incongruous under the harsh sun to do more than make the ache inside her grow.

Perching herself on the window sill, Aislinn stared out across the desert city and fought back the urge to cry, trying to keep it from him, how unhappy she was here. The spirits were strange, unfriendly, and even stepping through the Veil brought no relief here, as the world there was as terrifying as this one was soul-leeching to her forest grown heart.

Warm, too warm, everything was too warm, hands closed over her shoulders and she looked up, startled into smiling green eyes. His lips brushed over hers and then he tugged her out of the window.

“Pack your things.”

She felt a flutter of hope that they were going back to the jungle. “How much of it?”

“All of it,” Byron told her, with a soft, secret smile.

“Why?” Though she was already moving. Anything to get out of this city. “Where are we going?”

He paused, falling quiet, until she looked back at him, ready to repeat the question. He grinned then.

“Home.”
alainn_aislinn: (Sinful)
ooc: Written with permission of [livejournal.com profile] ambitious_woman's mun. And not canon. Um. Yet. *g* *might have evil!plots in mind*

You just woke up and found yourself in bed with the very LAST person you ever expected to. How did this happen, is this real, and now what will you do?

Aislinn didn’t sleep with girls. It had been a long and loudly proclaimed maxim, despite the threesome or four she’d managed to get herself talked into by Byron through the centuries. But as a rule, she didn’t. She’d even proclaimed it upon first meeting to the woman she was currently nuzzling sleepily. Reinette was warm and soft and curved in all the right places that Aislinn had never really considered could be the right places to have pressed so closely. Always before there had been a man in the bed, a buffer between another female body, and clearly the recipient of the intended attention.

Not last night.

She woke up slowly, the night’s exertions making every movement feel like moving through liquid, and yet her skin seemed to sing with renewed energy, pulsing with what she’d pulled from Reinette with the other woman’s permission. Her skin tasted sweet, everything gentler, warmer than the men she was used to, and she had savored it, then drank deeper, shuddering at the complex richness she found there. It was rare in mortals and intoxicating in its own way.

Stretching, Aislinn trailed her fingers up Reinette’s side, around the curve of her breast, eyes wide with wonder at the way her skin puckered, goosebumps rising on it. Their curls mingled on the pillow, deep auburn and honey gold making a riot of color that autumn would envy.

It had started out as a game for Byron and the Doctor’s benefit, something silly Aislinn had seen mortal girls do in clubs. Too much wine and too much laughter, and after all, the two men had indulged, so why shouldn’t they? Just a kiss, a brush of lips, the merest taste. They hadn’t meant it to go farther, but Reinette shivered, and Byron was giving off a too familiar heat and having the Doctor so close was always heady, so she’d deepened the kiss, linking lightly with the other woman’s mind, sharing the sensations she was causing.

Once the link was formed, there was no going back for either of them. They’d let the men watch for a while, and then they ceased to exist except to heighten the electricity in the room that Aislinn drank down as greedily as she ran her tongue over slowly bared skin. She’d felt a masculine hand brush over her skin, and she’d batted it away irritated, not wanting anything to block this journey of discovery.

Reinette laughed, winding her fingers through Aislinn’s and with a blown kiss at the two men, they’d made their way to the bedroom. The look on Byron’s face when the door closed before he could step through it had almost been enough to jar her from the sensual awakening, but not quite.

Peeking over the edge of the bed, she looked at the line of clothing trailing from the door to the bed. The sofa cushions were disturbed from their explorations there, and one table was upended. Reinette would likely have a bruise on the back of her thighs from that enthusiastic exploration, and Aislinn trailed her fingers lower to brush over her skin in silent apology. Reinette stirred with a sleepy murmur, opening her eyes to smile at her slowly.

With a wicked grin, Aislinn slid down to follow the path her fingers had traced, tasting her again with a small purr. The boys could wait a little longer.

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December 2007

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