LOTS - CARA/KAHLAN

Washing Clean

shiegra

Title: washing clean

Author: shiegra

Pairing: Cara/Kahlan

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: not mine

On Dreamwidth: http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/

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Washing Clean

shiegra

“I’m not your responsibility.”

Cara’s voice was sharp enough to cut, razor-edged with scorn. Her legs were folded away, her body set in cool, stiff lines. She wasn’t actually striking Kahlan’s hands away, but it would have been hard for her to have made her opinion more clear.

Kahlan finished securing the bandage and wiped her hands on the thick, springy grass. The air was cool, crisp, and it tickled down her spine in a wash of chill breeze and moonlight. She’d hastily bound her hair back with a thong to examine the wound and now she rose and went to the edge of the pool and washing her hands. With her face unobstructed, she could see a dark smear on her cheek where must have absently brushed at her face. She doubted it was Cara’s; the wound had been relatively shallow, and her clothing wet. Cara didn’t need to bleed someone to kill them, but Kahlan had cut the throat of the man at her back and the arterial spray had made them both filthy.

She smiled at the water, a thin wry quirk of her lips. “You’ll only slow us down if you get infected,” she said aloud, throwing the teasing accusation back at her. Cara’s silence was disgruntled, but she thought she heard a hint of amusement in her huffed exhale. “And anyway—” She plunged her arms into the water. “—I needed to wash up either way.”

It was too cold to really bathe, but she stripped over the Confessor’s white gown, kneeling on the dirt in her underclothes. She plunged the fabric into the water, letting the biting chill wash over and begin to numb her hands. Cara was moving from her place; Kahlan had become attuned to her movements beyond her usual alert norm—from the days when Cara had been an uncertain ally, she was sure—and the hairs on the back of her neck rose at the Mord’Sith’s catlike step.

She kept her eyes on the white fabric in her hand. “I hope the wound doesn’t pain you too much?”

Cara made a sound of soft disgust. “No,” she said pointedly.

Kahlan bit her lip to suppress a smile and kneaded her fingers into her dress. She could feel Cara just behind her, staring down at her. In the uncertain ripple of the water, she could see the Mord’Sith’s outline and the wary tilt of her head, but not her expression. The silence stretched, surprising her a little. Cara didn’t usually linger when she had nothing to say, and when she had something to say she usually didn’t hesitate to express it.

“Cara?” Kahlan asked, sitting back and turning to look over her shoulder.

She had a peculiar expression on her face, and she was rubbing her gloved hands together as though feeling the blood on the leather covering her fingers. “You fought well today,” she said, and Kahlan sat back on her heels and stared at her.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “Cara, is something wrong?”

A smile curved her lips in a quick dark flash, as though coming to some sort of decision. Her eyes were glittering and she wiped at her cheek, smearing a broad stripe of blood across her skin. With Cara, it was definitely not accidental. “Why would you think something was wrong?” She asked.

“You don’t usually—” Kahlan began, and Cara rolled her eyes and leaned forward.

Her blood-wet hands tangled in Kahlan’s hair; her mouth had the iron hint of blood to it and was sure, forceful. Kahlan was already in a slightly awkward position, oddly turned, and when she moved she almost imabalanced and fell into the water. Her hand was fisted tightly in the fabric, fingers almost numb. Moving automatically, she dragged it out and dumped it on the grass.

“Cara,” she whispered against her lips, “what are you doing?”

She drew back enough to smile, feral and anticipatory. “Indulging myself,” she replied, and drew her mouth over Kahlan’s again, a slick teasing brush. “Just breathe, Mother Confessor.”

“Cara…” She murmured. A warning. But she didn’t move away when Cara leaned in again, kissing her hard, hands moving to her throat. The leather rubbed against her skin, and her pulse skipped and sped up; Cara’s eyes were half-closed, sleepy with satisfaction, and she yanked and then shoved, landing Kahlan on the thick grass of the slope, flat on her back.

Cara crawled over her, sinuous and feline. And she was smiling—really smiling, almost grinning with pure, giddy delight that looked curiously young on her face, usually composed of sculpted, disdainful angles and sensual danger. The look made Kahlan’s heart lurch somewhere in her chest and she arched up, finding Cara’s mouth with her own, a sloppy restless kiss. Cara liked to bite, and she did. Kahlan found her hands buried in blonde hair, tightening and loosening rhythmically. The sharp little pain of the tugs made Cara’s breath turn ragged against her throat.

“Cara,” she whispered, breath ragged. “You know—you know I can’t—”

Cara bit her collarbone, hard, almost hard enough to draw blood. “When it’s uncontrolled, I can hold you off,” she murmured. “I’m no one’s slave, Kahlan Amnell.” The bodice peeled away under her fingers and her lips curved as Kahlan’s nipples tightened in the cool spring air. “Especially—” breathing the words against her mouth, “not yours.”

Kahlan shuddered against her, hands clenching again. Cara’s fingers slid up the inside of her thigh, past the dark hair to stroke, lightly, already damp skin. Strong sharp teeth closed on Kahlan’s nipple as she sucked—pain and pleasure mingled, like a lightning strike in the pit of her stomach. She slid down her body, until her mouth was level with Kahlan’s pelvis and looked up her, eyes gleaming, as she slid her gloved fingers inside.

“Let me,” she said too softly, “give this to you.”

Kahlan sighed her name, a ragged sound that came out on a trembling breath, and Cara’s smile was white and sharp and hungry in the dark.

~ ~ ~