LOTS - CARA/KAHLAN

She’s the Last Confessor, Ya Dick

meatisadelicacy

Title: She’s the Last Confessor, Ya Dick

Pairing: Cara/Kahlan

Rating: C for Crack and PG–13 for language I suppose?

A/N: Seriously, I just don’t even know. There will probably be more of these. Also, not beta’ed and clearly after reading this you’ll see that I’m either drunk or high, so there are probably mistakes. Lemme know. Muah.

She’s the Last Confessor, Ya Dick

meatisadelicacy

Cara didn’t even have time to react, which really said something about Kahlan’s speed. Something to the effect of, ‘damn, is that the Mother Confessor or FloJo?’ Except the two could never really be confused, since the particular confessor in question did not have flashy diva nails ready to claw out a bitch’s eyes. Cause really, that’s the only physical difference between the two – their manicure regimen. And the summer Olympics hadn’t been held in the Midlands in ages… But that’s neither here nor there and totally off subject.

So anyway, one minute Cara was minding her own business, thinking about raiding the nearest Mord’Sith temple for a third agiel. Seriously, chicks dug juggling. It was a great conversation starter. Juggling and puppies, but one couldn’t just go around with a puppy attached to her belt. Oh it would start a conversation alright, but not the kind that led to panty droppin’. Not that Cara had ever done anything like that before. It had just come up one evening in the baths with some of her sisters. That was her story, and she was sticking to it. When that one minute of minding her own business was over, the visions of agiels and sugar–plums dancing in her head scattered like roaches when someone in the projects spends the weekend ho’ing their heart out to get their electricity turned back on.

Kahlan came crawling out of the woods (her form would have made GI Jane proud), pulled the Mord Sith down to the leafy forest floor (as tree–filled forests floors tend to be), and attached her lips to the slow–to–react woman’s like her mother confessing life depended on it. And damn could FloJo the Confessor kiss! Being fast herself, speedy yes, but in this case meaning slutty, Cara had done her fair share of smooching. This kiss was some epic shit though. Of course Cara was way too butch to spend any time day dreaming about the way Kahlan’s lips would feel, but they felt so much better than Cara had ever imagined in all the time she had spent fantasizing how confessor lips might feel!

The kiss couldn’t go on forever, unfortunately. As the saying goes, all good things come to an end when you fall off the early horse who got the worm, or whatever it was. Close enough. Of course they both would have liked it to go on forever, even though Cara did have a slight case of TMJ. After all, she was a womanizing Mord’Sith. One can only get slapped in the face by jilted bar wenches before a jaw starts to suffer, no matter how badass the said womanizer may be. The kiss probably would have gone on for a romantically arbitrary time, but the women were interrupted by none other than CockBlock the Wizard. Of course.

“Spirits!” His eyes were as wide as Richard was useless. Basically, really damn wide. Truth be told, the women were so accustomed to ignoring Zeddicus FOO’L Zorander that it took the aforementioned useless Seeker to actually break them apart.

“Kahlan!| Really, a man his age should not be able hit such a high note. Seriously. How embarassing. Richard looked completely scandalized. Cara felt scandalized and promptly decided she liked it.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, er, leafy forest floor, Kahlan rolled her sky blue or sometimes leafy forest green eyes (depending on the medium), and finally released her grip on Cara’s leather covered, perfect, well–toned, squeezable, epic ass. Not that she ever spent any time looking at the Mord Sith’s attributes. Not at all. Nope. Ass ogling was below a confessor. Finally coming to her senses at her Lord Rahl’s outraged squawk, Cara flung herself off the brunette.

“It’s not what you think, Dick.” Kahlan sat up and began working off her thigh high, totally practical, not– at–all–out–of–whack–with–Midlands–fashion boots.

“Did you just call me a Dick?”

“I stubbed my toe, Richard,” she explained, gesturing towards her foot. As if that explained it all.

“As if that explains it all!?” His voice was creeping dangerously high again. “Why were you kissing Cara?” The range was truly impressive.

Finally trusting herself not to burst out laughing at Kahlan calling the seeker a dick, Cara jumped into the conversation. “She’s the last confessor, Di – I mean, Richard. I was giving her the Breath of Life.” It wouldn’t be good for her to start calling the Lord Rahl a dick too, however fitting it may be.

“Yeah!” Kahlan liked that idea. It was totally what happened. She was the last confessor, damn it. “It’s my responsibility to replenish the line.” She rubbed her toe and tossed in a grimace for good measure.

“Oh. Well, uh, good thing Cara was nearby.” The women weren’t really paying attention to him anymore. Cara bent down to retrieve Kahlan’s hooker boot and once again, the confessor’s eyes were absolutely NOT glued to her perfect ass.

“Cara, would you help me get to that stream? The cool water will be good for my life threatening stubbed toe.” Cara simply tossed her the boot and swept the taller woman into her arms, easily supporting her weight while the confessor swooned like a gay man at a Lady Gaga concert.

THE END UNTIL SOMETHING GOES WRONG IN THE STREAM AND KAHLAN NEEDS SOME MORE “SAVING.”