LOTS - CARA/KAHLAN

No Boys Allowed

shimmeryshine

Title: No Boys Allowed

Author: shimmeryshine

Pairing: Cara/Kahlan

Rating: pg–13/r

Summary: The gang comes across a town where men are not welcome. What is our crack team to do? Send in the best girlfriends in the Midlands for some recon and some sexy times, of course!

Disclaimer: Woe, they are not mine.

no boys allowed

There are a multitude of strange places scattered all across the rolling green hills of the Midlands. Places where you must only speak in rhymes. Places where wearing the color black is forbidden. Places where red fruit will poison you in an instant. So it’s only mildly surprising to the Seeker and his companions when they come across a town where men are forbidden to step foot within the city walls.

cara/kahlan – pg–13/r

a/n: takes place any time after Extinction. A little bit of crack, and a little bit of sexy times.

No Boys Allowed

shimmeryshine

There are a multitude of strange places scattered all across the rolling green hills of the Midlands. Places where you must only speak in rhymes. Places where wearing the color black is forbidden. Places where red fruit will poison you in an instant. So it’s only mildly surprising to the Seeker and his companions when they come across a town where men are forbidden to step foot within the city walls.

“But why do they insist that only women may enter the city?” Richard asks, thoroughly confused.

Kahlan always falls into the role of Midlands Expert when Richard has a million questions to ask, so she answers: “It could be for any number of reasons, really. Something traumatic in their past, or...”

Cara interrupts her, finishing the sentence with a barely concealed smirk. “Or maybe they just prefer women.”

Richard’s eyes widen comically and Kahlan concedes with an exasperated look in the blonde’s direction. “Perhaps, but there is really no way of knowing until we get inside the city walls.”

“And you’re sure this is where the compass is pointing?” Cara asks for the third time, tying to peer over Richard’s shoulder at the humming little disk resting in his palm.

“Spirits yes Cara, I’m sure.”

“Just because you cannot march down into this village and charm your answers out of the women and small children who reside there with your exuberance alone doesn’t mean that we cannot get the information we need,” she deadpans.

“Just – help me get this rabbit skinned so we can eat and decide what we are going to do about this.”

Cara takes the game and starts preparing it to eat, glad to have something to do with her hands while the Seeker broods around the camp, not happy at all at the prospect of letting Cara and Kahlan go into the city alone to find out the information they might need.

It’s barely light out when Richard wakes to the sounds of a not so hushed argument coming from somewhere to his right.

“No, Kahlan.”

Kahlan huffs like this is the fourth time their conversation has circled back on itself. “You are being so stubborn! You would really jeopardize our whole quest, finding the Stone of Tears, just to avoid having to put on a dress?”

Cara’s face goes scarlet at being accused of holding her personal appearance over her duty to Richard. She takes a breath and tries again. “I just don’t see why I can’t go down into the village dressed as I am always dressed, in my leather. It’s not as if we haven’t marched into dozens of towns, dressed as ourselves, and found out exactly what we needed to know without much issue.”

“This isn’t like any other town though, Cara. If they aren’t fans of men, perhaps they won’t be sympathetic to the problems facing the Seeker and his companions either. Do you really want to take that chance? We may not get another one if they turn us away because they recognize us and refuse to answer our questions.”

Cara wants to argue, wants to refuse this embarrassing ruse, but she knows Kahlan is making too much sense for her to continue blindly resisting. Swallowing her pride with a huff, she spits out “fine.” Kahlan visibly relaxes; glad to have convinced the blonde to listen to reason. “But Zedd can spell me some pants and a shirt.” Kahlan nods her agreement in the direction of the blonde’s retreating back as Cara stomps off into the trees grumbling about finding something to eat for breakfast before they go.

It doesn’t take her long to return with a fistful of rabbits, looking better for having inflicted some violence on the unsuspecting creatures. Kahlan smiles knowingly at her, which only makes her scowl return, but she tosses her catch to Richard to prepare without a word. “My clothes?” she asks Zedd, who is sitting on his pack with a pile of drab looking cloth and a pair of brown boots piled to his left.

He passes the small bundle to her without comment. The material feels coarse and plain against her fingers, nothing like the buttery smoothness of her red leathers. The hand not holding onto her new outfit finds its way around the handle of one of her agiels, and the pain calms her. It’s only for one day after all. She is Mord–Sith, being forced to wear ugly, common clothes is not going to stop her from doing her duty.

The sun has risen fully in the sky when breakfast has been finished, and Cara emerges from the trees looking altogether awkward and beautiful at the same time. The brown pants and tan shirt she’s wearing somehow hug her curves in all the right places, but she looks as out of places as always wearing anything that is not her own skin, or red leather. She carefully places her Mord–Sith attire into her pack, being sure not to stuff it in too roughly, and then stands in the middle of camp awkwardly clutching her agiels. “Where am I going to put these?” she asks, lifting her shirt up to inspect the belt loops around her waist.

“Cara, your agiels are just as likely to identify us as your red leather would have.”

Cara grits her teeth, knowing that Kahlan is right, but feeling like this is quite possibly the worst side mission she has ever had to endure. (Well, maybe not as bad as that one time when she had to be a princess.) Her agiels are shoved into her pack a little bit more roughly than her leather was, and she turns her eyes back to Kahlan. “So I’m to have no weapon with which to defend us then?” Her hands are on her hips, but it’s somehow more endearing when she’s wearing men’s clothing and is unarmed.

Kahlan has to fight not to smile at her petulant attitude. Instead, she slides a hand into her boot and comes up with one of her own daggers, proffering it handle first. “Here, you can use this.”

Cara raises a singular eyebrow at the gesture, and lets her hand slowly wrap around the hilt of Kahlan’s dagger. It feels somehow intimate to be clutching the other woman’s weapon in her own palm. Kahlan has had her hands on those daggers more than she has had her hands on Richard – and that is saying something.

Cara is looking like she’s not quite sure where to put it when Kahlan leans in close, out of earshot of the boys. “If you slide it through your belt loop, you can squeeze it to make yourself feel better, just like your agiels.” Kahlan’s cheeks are pink from the teasing grin lighting her face, and Cara’s eyes widen and then narrow darkly as if one of her secrets has just been ferreted out.

Kahlan doesn’t stick around for her retort. Instead she skips her way over to Richard, giving him a quick hug goodbye, glancing one more time at which way the compass is pointing. Zedd gives her a squeeze as well, and then she’s trudging back over to where Cara is waiting for her with their small, shared pack slung over one shoulder.

“What about your hair?” Cara asks her, as if she has been thinking. Kahlan looks at her quizzically for a moment, so she elaborates. “Just because you are not wearing your white dress does not mean people will not recognize you. Your long hair is widely known throughout the Midlands, is it not?”

Kahlan twirls a finger through said locks, thinking. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

Cara nods, like there was never any question. “Here,” she says, taking a step into Kahlan’s personal space. She lifts her arms over Kahlan’s head, grabbing hold of the hood hanging against her back. Kahlan can’t help but let her eyes roam over the face now scant inches away from her own. Deep blue find bright green eyes, rosy cheeks, and full pink lips, impossibly pouty without even trying to be. Kahlan is momentarily mesmerized. Cara settles the confessor’s hood over the abundance of curly hair, tucking a wayward piece back behind Kahlan’s neck, her finger dragging across warm skin for long enough to send a shiver down Kahlan’s spine. Their eyes meet for a moment and then Cara steps back.

“After you, Mother Confessor,” she gestures.

“Kahlan,” the brunette corrects, slightly out of breath. “Don’t use my title in town.”

“Obviously,” Cara snarks and starts following as Kahlan steps her way down the grassy hill toward the town.

The first thing Kahlan notices as they pass their way through the city gates is that this town is the cleanest place she has ever seen outside of Aydindril. Every house is well kept, there are flowers in front of every shop, and there are small clusters of pleasantly dressed women making their way from place to place on the neatly cobbled streets. Cara is surprisingly not out of place here. Several women dressed in pants instead of dresses and skirts pass them by with only a mildly curious look.

“Well, you can certainly tell that there are no men living here,” Cara says under her breath, speaking as if she’s reading Kahlan’s mind.

Kahlan nods her agreement, grinning at how interesting a find such a town is. Noticing that several pairs of women on the streets are walking arm in arm with their companions, Kahlan slips her arm through Cara’s and tugs. “Come on, let’s do a little exploring.” Cara can only roll her eyes and follow where the confessor leads her.

The town itself is relatively small, so the two women make quick work of noting where most of the shops are located, where most of the homes are located, and the quickest routes back to the city gates in case there are any problems. Kahlan’s arm remains locked tightly through Cara’s the entire time. Cara takes advantage of her proximity to whisper stealthily into her ear. “How are we going to go about finding the information about the stone?” she asks, eyes scanning their surroundings for anything at all that might prove useful.

Kahlan bites her lip, thinking. “Let’s go into some of the shops and talk to some of the townspeople. Maybe we won’t even have to ask about the stone outright.” Cara looks dubious, but allows her to lead the way into the nearest shop.

It quickly becomes obvious, as the pair travel from shop to shop, that Cara had been correct in her assumption that the women of this town just prefer women in general. Many of the women they encounter and speak to are clearly couples, holding hands, making intimate gestures, kissing cheeks and lips. The first time Kahlan witnesses one of these outward shows of emotion, she blushes, caught by surprise. It only takes her a moment or two to recover, however, and to decide that if she and Cara are to fit in, they must act like those around them.

And maybe she wants to have a little bit of fun with the stoic blonde she’s been pulling around by the arm all morning long.

Kahlan decides to start small, ease Cara into it lest she decide to use Kahlan’s own dagger in self–defense from PDA. As she is carrying on a pleasant conversation with the owner of a small bakery, Kahlan lets her fingers trail lightly down the bare skin of Cara’s wrist. She feels the Mord–Sith stiffen almost imperceptibly at the change in contact, but she doesn’t make a move to pull away. Kahlan takes this as permission, and starts tracing light circles around the soft skin she finds there, and then slides her hand down to thread their fingers together.

Kahlan almost can’t resist a sideways glance in the blonde’s direction, but she’s afraid she might not be able to keep her amusement to herself if she peeks. Cara’s hand is unsurprisingly slack next to her own, like she won’t even acknowledge Kahlan’s movement by participating in this embarrassing show of affection in a public place. No matter how fake it might be.

As they move from place to place, Kahlan’s touches escalate until her arm is snug against Cara’s waist, pressing them as close together as possible while they chat inanely with more townspeople. Cara is quietly seething at the confessor’s antics, and her chest feels unfamiliarly heavy and warm. Kahlan is clearly oblivious to her…discomfort, and so when she leans over to casually smack a kiss against the blonde’s cheek, her sudden yank back comes as a shock.

Kahlan squints her eyes, silently begging Cara to play along and not blow their cover. Cara almost blushes at her own unrestrained reaction to Kahlan’s lips against her skin, so she tries to save face by stepping back into her embrace, plastering on the fakest smile she can muster. This seems to be the correct course of action because Kahlan smiles approvingly in her direction before tugging her closer and mock whispering to the townswoman about how her girlfriend is a little bit shy in public.

It is in this moment that Cara begins plotting her revenge.

She doesn’t get her chance until much later that evening, when the two women give up on their interrogations (after finding out absolutely nothing of use about the Stone) to grab some much needed dinner at one of the taverns in town. Kahlan is greeted by the women inside like she’s lived in this town for years, simply because she has talked to almost all of them sometime in the last few hours. They accept an invitation to sit at a small table near a wall with some of the younger women, Kahlan and Cara sitting side by side.

Cara sits and eats, quietly biding her time until the perfect moment presents itself. This, she is good at. Waiting. Watching. Planning. Kahlan is in the middle of bluffing her way through a conversation about where exactly they have traveled from when Cara stealthily places her hand on Kahlan’s thigh. To her credit, Kahlan’s conversation does not even falter for a moment. Cara can see her lips pressing more tightly to her teeth though, so she stills and waits for Kahlan to raise her cup to her mouth. As soon as the liquid passes through the confessor’s lips, Cara’s hand slides underneath the slit in her skirt, rubbing circles on her inner thigh. Kahlan tries to take an involuntary gasp of air, but all she does is inhale her drink, sputtering and coughing as Cara tries to hide her grin with the hand not currently up Kahlan’s skirt. All of the women at the table are staring quizzically in their direction, and Kahlan shrugs them off, still coughing.

“Just, swallowed wrong! I’m fine, I’m fine,” she says, blushing from the attention and from where Cara’s hand is still squeezing gently. “Cara,” she says as she firmly pushes her chair out from under the table, dislodging Cara’s rogue digits. “Can I speak to you outside for a moment?”

The women at the table seem confused, so Cara just smiles at them, sliding her gaze to the worked up confessor. “Of course.” She can tell Kahlan wants to yank her outside, but she smartly refrains from touching of any kind. That’s what got her into this predicament in the first place.

Cara holds the door for her reddening companion, and follows her around the corner of the tavern and into a shadowy alleyway. Kahlan turns as soon as they are far enough away from the door to not be heard or seen, but there is a flash of blonde hair and tan skin covering her field of vision, and before she can register what is happening, she finds herself pressed against the scratchy brick wall at her back.

Cara is everywhere at once, and Kahlan can feel her own body rising and falling against Cara’s as emerald green eyes lock onto her ocean blue.

“Cara, what in the name of the Creator do you think you’re doing?” It is a testament to how much trust she has for the blonde that she doesn’t immediately raise her hand to her throat.

“What am I doing?” Cara asks incredulously.

“You have me pushed against a wall, and you put your hand up my skirt!”

Cara’s eyes widen, and she leans impossibly closer. Her voice is deadly calm. “You’ve been touching me, and rubbing me, and kissing me all day long. I thought I’d play along.” Kahlan opens her mouth like she is about to speak, but she closes it comically when she can’t think of a thing to say. Cara is smirking now, clearly pleased as pie to have rendered the Mother Confessor speechless. “What’s the matter Kahlan, can’t handle it? Does Richard not have the daring to touch you –”

Cara is abruptly cut off by a growl bubbling up from the confessor’s throat, and then her hand somehow wiggles itself out from in between their flush bodies to wrap itself around Cara’s neck. Cara’s eyes widen even more, but she presses closer, trying to intimidate with proximity. Kahlan can feel every irregularity of the bricks cutting into her back, but they help center her as she feels her emotions running unchecked through her body. “Are you going to confess me for trying to keep up your ruse, Kahlan?” Instead of using her new leverage to push the blonde away, Kahlan uses her grip to pull their faces even closer together. Their noses are almost bumping; their lips are sharing the same breath.

Cara’s eyes are appraising her curiously; there is something about her face, her eyes, which Cara can’t quite place. Emotion she can’t quite grasp onto. Kahlan is staring hotly into her eyes, holding her breath, but then she curiously shifts her gaze nervously to the side, away from Cara’s probing expression. Kahlan seems to have been – caught?

Interesting, Cara thinks.

The moment is interrupted too quickly for Cara to adequately decipher the meaning of the brunette’s sudden hesitation by a stumbling group of girls coming out of the tavern and heading right for their hiding spot. Cara’s eyes are turned toward them when she hears Kahlan make a forceful request. “Kiss me,” she says urgently.

Cara’s head practically whips back in the confessor’s direction. “What?”

Kahlan uses the hand still on her throat to pull her so their foreheads bump together. “So those girls don’t wonder why we are out here skulking in a dark alley.” Kahlan licks her lips, eyes dipping down to gaze at Cara’s mouth. “Do it, kiss me.”

Cara wants to resist, wants to say that this is not a good idea, but just the thought of being commanded by the Mother Confessor to kiss her in a dark alleyway is enough to make her throw all caution to the wind and obey. So she goes for it, lurching her mouth forward the breath of space toward Kahlan’s parted lips, connecting them in a hard press of pliant skin. Kahlan’s hand slides it’s way from the front of Cara’s throat, to the back of her neck, inserting itself in the tangle of blonde hair it finds there, tugging her closer without even meaning to. Cara groans into Kahlan’s mouth as she feels the brunette’s traitorous body arch up into her own, seeking friction she doesn’t even know she needs. It’s a gift to the constantly denied confessor when Cara pushes her farther back into the rough wall, using her momentum to lodge a thigh right where Kahlan needs it most. Cara swallows her gasp, plunging her tongue into Kahlan’s open mouth. Kahlan’s tongue is quick to slide against the one invading her mouth, making them both shiver as tendrils of white hot heat race through both of their bodies. Their impromptu kiss is quickly devolving into a more carnal coupling of kissing and tugging and rubbing, and both women pull away panting heavily when the group of girls inevitably catches sight of them. Cara whips her gaze to the unwelcomed interruption, covering Kahlan’s body with her own and shooting daggers from her eyes. Her expression is dire enough that the women hold up their hands in surrender, giggling apologies for having interrupted, and turn back the way they came.

When Cara turns back in Kahlan’s direction, the confessor’s eyes are closed and she is trying to bring her breathing back under control. Her legs are still squeezed around Cara’s thigh, likely by accident, but Cara can’t help but bump it forward a little bit to see what Kahlan’s reaction will be. The brunette gasps lightly, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth and biting down. Cara leans her head in close, trying to get Kahlan to open her eyes. She’s not sure what to do in this kind of situation. If it were anyone else, there wouldn’t be a question, but this is Kahlan, and she doesn’t want to do the wrong thing here.

Instead of opening her eyes, Kahlan lets her head fall forward to rest against Cara’s shoulder. Cara brings a tentative hand up to Kahlan’s back, letting it rest there. Kahlan lets out a sigh, and turns her head into the crook of Cara’s neck, breathing in her skin. Then she laughs softly.

“What?” Cara asks, suddenly extremely self–conscious.

“You feel strange without your leather,” she mumbles and Cara can hear the smile on her lips.

Cara suddenly feels the compulsion to apologize, something the Mord–Sith never ever does. “I’m –“ she starts and then stops. “Sorry if that got a little out of control,” she mumbles. She desperately doesn’t want Kahlan to feel like she was taking advantage, and then rolls her eyes at her own display of feelings. If only Kahlan knew the inner struggle she was enduring right now, the confessor would be proud.

Kahlan hums lightly, and then snakes an arm around Cara’s waist, tugging until they are resting torso to torso. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she admits softly into Cara’s hair. “I wanted it to get out of control.” Cara can hardly believe the confession she’s just heard, but she doesn’t press. “Sorry for touching you and embarrassing you all day.”

Cara wants to throw her own words back in the brunette’s direction, I wanted you to, to make her laugh, but she can’t quite bring herself to voice the sentiment. Instead she sighs. “I didn’t really mind that much,” she eventually admits in a quick, quiet rush of words.

Kahlan laughs and Cara can now feel her hot breath against the thumping pulse in her neck. “Are you rolling your eyes right now?” Kahlan asks.

Cara scoffs. “I don’t know, I can’t see my own eyes.”

Confessions spent, Kahlan extricates herself from the safety of Cara’s neck. The two lock eyes immediately, and stand frozen in a moment for what seems like hours. Kahlan grins in a lopsided way and leans in to peck Cara’s lips quickly. Cara is surprised, but she lets Kahlan do as she wants, aware that this connection is something she greatly needs. Cara’s body feels cold without the confessor’s pressed against it, but Kahlan’s outstretched arm brings her a different kind of warmth in her chest. “Come on,” Kahlan says, waggling her hand until Cara grasps it with her own. “I don’t know what we were supposed to find here about the Stone, but I don’t think we can uncover anything new tonight. Let’s go back to camp.”

They walk hand in hand though the town, out the gates, and start trekking their way up the grassy hill toward the woods with only the moonlight lighting their way. Both women are quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Kahlan keeps squeezing Cara’s fingers in some sort of gesture the Mord–Sith doesn’t know how to read. The smile on Kahlan’s face makes her feel light inside, though, so she squeezes back, tugging the taller woman to a trot as they get close to the crest of the hill. As they enter their camp, Richard shoots up from his place on a log where he has been sitting poking a stick into the small fire at his feet.

“There you are!” he shouts, clearly glad they have returned. Cara is the one to drop Kahlan’s hand as Richard comes closer, but Kahlan remains pressed to her side, the backs of their knuckles brushing together in the darkness. “Did you find anything out about the stone?” he asks eagerly.

Kahlan shrugs and shakes her head. “I’m sorry Richard, but we spoke to nearly everyone in the town, and no one knew anything.”

Richard runs a hand through his shaggy hair in frustration, and pulls the closed compass out into his palm. He opens it to check the bearing for the hundredth time since Kahlan and Cara left camp, but opens his eyes in wide surprise as the tiny blue and yellow lights begin humming and swirling in a completely different direction. “This…this can’t be right,” he says to himself, giving the compass a little shake. Zedd is peering over his shoulder at the eastern direction that the compass is now pointing in. “Why would the compass suddenly switch direction?” Richard asks him, puzzled.

Zedd shrugs a little. “This is not the first time that the compass has led us to a place where knowledge or understanding of some kind must be gained, no matter how indirectly related to the actual Stone of Tears.”

“But what needed to be learned? Cara and Kahlan said they didn’t find anything in the town.” Richard was gesturing wildly in the girl’s direction, where they just stood quietly, hoping Zedd had more to his explanation.

“Maybe it was Cara and Kahlan who needed to discover something.”

Richard looks dubious at that explanation, but nonetheless turns to peer curiously at the two women currently shifting awkwardly a few feet away. Cara isn’t about to stick around so they can all analyze what exactly she and Kahlan had learned down within those city walls, so she brushes her hand against Kahlan’s one last time and grabs up her pack off the ground.

“I’m going to go change out of these scratchy clothes,” she announces, effectively halting Richard’s pending line of questioning.

“I’ll come with you,” Kahlan blurts out, just as eager to be away from a Seeker who is about to ask a ton of questions she doesn’t know how to answer. Cara raises her eyebrow in question and Kahlan hurriedly finishes, “I need a bath from traveling in the dusty city all day. I saw a small stream back behind the trees last night.” She also grabs her pack and then gives Cara’s shoulder a shove, and disappears with her into the dark tree line.

Richard stares out in the direction the girls had just walked, and then turns back to his grandfather. “That was…odd,” he says, rubbing his finger around the edge of the compass.

Zedd only smiles a secret little smile. “Come on my boy, let’s get this rabbit cooking so they can have a hot meal when they come back. I suspect they’ll be needing it.”

~ ~ ~