Be Careful What You Wish For
Rating: M . Seriously folks, sex lies herein and there are a couple of naughty words, including the "F-Word," and the "d-word" that refers to a member of a man's body.
Disclaimer: Really, if I owned them, would they be having sex?
Warning: . Adam/Adora IT'S INCEST! If that squicks you, good for your morals, but don't read. It's the sequel to "Wishful Thinking," "Familiar Pain," and "Sometimes I Forget." I blame both Brittany and Star3 for this fic, for demanding a sequel. Here it is:
I don't know who I should blame more for this predicament: Hordack, for capturing us; Shadow Weaver, for the spell I know she's conjuring; or Adam for always trying to rescue me. It won't do any good to waste my breath yelling at Hordack or Shadow Weaver, however, so I take my rage out on the man sitting next to me in the dungeon beneath The Fright Zone.
"Why did you come here?"
He-man just stares back at me, and actually has the audacity to glare at me. As if any of this were my doing. "You were in danger."
"Did I ask for your help?"
"You didn't have to. I sensed it."
"You seem to be doing an awful lot of sensing lately."
Adam jerks back as though I've struck him. Instantly, I regret my words, and my hand reaches for his shoulder. My regret grows deeper as he pulls away from me. Others have done so, but never Adam.
"He-man," I say, wishing I could use his real name, " I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"But you do," he says so softly that I have to strain to understand him. "Every time I see you, it hurts." His large frame sags against the wall of our cage, and I stifle a gasp. I'm so used to seeing him look strong. I haven't seen him look this weak since the night I became She-Ra for the first time. I was the reason for his pain then, and it nearly kills me to be the cause of it this time.
Especially when I know better than anyone what he's talking about.
"I know the feeling, and it's something we need to talk about. But we can't do it here."
He smiles a small Adam smile and nods in agreement. "So, She-Ra, got any clues how to get free?"
"No. This material is completely invulnerable to our strength."
I need Hordack's familiar snort seconds before he actually speaks. "So it is, She-Ra. Do you like it? Shadow Weaver helped design it especially for our favorite do-gooder."
"Oh, we're flattered, really, Hordack. A whole empty dungeon all to ourselves." I emphasize empty because it's a sign of the success of The Great Rebellion. The emphasis works because his previously amused snort changes into an angry and indignant one.
"You and He-man might prefer the privacy when Weaver's fertility spell takes hold, She-Ra," he sneers.
"Fertility spell?" Adam whispers from behind me. The knot that takes hold in my stomach every time Shadow Weaver casts one of her spells is the tightest it's ever been.
"You may have met Princess Adora through your association with the other rebels."
"Then perhaps," Shadow Weaver chimes, "You know that before she betrayed us, Adora serves us very well as a force captain."
Yes, I'm very well aware of it. I think about it every day.
"We've had such difficulty replacing Adora with a competent captain. Fortunately, we were able to capture one of Brightmoon's seers, Baldor. Before we killed him -"
I can't help but ache for Queen Angela. She has spent many weeks worrying over Baldor's fate. Hordack only confirms what we all believed, but that doesn't ease the pain any.
"-And according to him, Adora's strength lied in her do-gooder family. I don't know if you've ever met Randor, She-Ra, but he's almost as bad as the two of you are."
The irony of this situation isn't lost to me. Indeed, it would be humorous, if I wasn't almost certain that I knew where it was heading.
"We could only wonder, then, what a child of yours might be capable of, She-Ra."
There has to be some way to stop him. "Really, Hordack, I didn't think you were superstitious enough to believe in seers."
Hordack snorts and waves his hand dismissively. "They do speak a lot of nonsense. Still, if it works, the Force Captain I'll gain will be quite impressive, especially since He-man was nice enough to stop by. We did have a long line of Hordesmen just waiting to father your child, but with a child with both of your powers shall be virtually unbeatable. Those rebels will never know what hit them.
Hordack snorts once more, and the word "No" dies on my lips as Shadow Weaver's black cloud engulfs me.
I tug at the bars to the cell in an attempt to remove them. But before I can even complete a futile attempt, I can feel Shadow Weaver's black fog creeping around my hands, arms. . .
And it's everywhere. The harder I pull, the tighter the smoke squeezes my body. I can feel it seeping into my pores and into my nose. The slightly sweet smell burns and makes me cough. But the harder I cough, the more the smoke seems to burn my lungs. I glance over at Adora, and it occurs to me that I've never seen a more beautiful sight.
Her tiara has slipped slightly and I reach up to fix it, but instead find myself pulling it off. Adora's hair is so soft. . .
"That's not fair," she whispers huskily as she turns and molds her body next to mine. "You don't have one for me to take off." Her hand slips to my waist and tugs at the fur found there. "I guess this will have to suffice."
As she tugs, she steps closer. Her beautiful face, which Mother swears resembles my own, leans closer. It occurs to me that I shouldn't. . . We shouldn't be doing this. But I can't remember why. My brain is suddenly so foggy that I try to remember where we are, and I can't.It's important. . . I think.
But it's not as important as the taste of Adora's lips against mine. She tastes like sweat, berries, and Ambrosia. Her tongue probes expertly along the underside of mine and there's an obscenely loud slurping noise as our saliva mingles.
She lets out a moan as I pull away, and the sound intensifies the hardness between my legs that first appeared when she melded her body against my own. "Don't stop," she pleads. Her voice is so needy, so desperate, so pleading, so perfect. It's the kind of want I've dreamt of hearing in my sister's voice.
"Sorry. . . need to take this off," I fumble for a few minutes with her armor before her hands join mine and together we pull the remaining clothing off.
Free from constraints, I place my hand on the small of her back. It's my favorite place on a woman and hers is as hard as a warrior's should be while still feeling undeniably feminine. More roughly than I dared with any of the courtesans, I pull her naked form back up against my own. She responds by pushing me roughly to the ground, wrapping one knee against each of my hips and sliding herself down onto my aching, needing dick. Her womanhood tightens around me as though we were born for one another, to be lovers instead of brother and sister.
"Ancients, Adora," I shouldn't be using her real name, I remember vaguely, but I can't remember why. "This is my favorite position. . . mmm. . . . and none of them ever want. . . oh. . . to . . . be . . . on top."
She stops moving for one very cruel minute, tilts my head, and says calmly, "I'm not a courtier."
"No, you're a princess."
She begins to move again, painfully and delightfully slowly. "Mmm. And I plan to fuck you royally, my sweet prince."
Then she increases her speed, and all words and surroundings are lost.
Feedback is good! And yes, I know I'm a pervert.