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+--- Thread: How to Train Your Channeler (/thread-1876.html)
RE: How to Train Your Channeler - Oriena - 12-24-2025
Impact rattled the lockers when her back hit them, the metal shivering in complaint. The sound cut clean through the quiet. Sasha’s bite made her hiss, pleasure sparking hot and immediate. She liked that. Liked that he’d gone there without asking. Liked even more that he’d done it knowing exactly who usually drew blood first.
She kissed him back harder, biting in return this time, answering his choice with one of her own. The heat between them flared, reckless and alive, and she let it. “Cells are down the left corridor. Showers are closer.” She murmured the directions hot against his mouth, fingers sliding into his hair to tug and hold. “Bar’s up a level. Locked, but I can get us in.”
Ori didn’t fight for control. She didn’t twist out of his grip or turn the moment into a lesson. Instead she let him pin her, giving ground deliberately just to see what he’d do with it. But her smirk was wicked and her touch was fire, sliding under his shirt, finding skin with no pretence of patience now. Her nails dragged, teasing and marking, chasing warmth and pulse and muscle like she couldn’t get enough fast enough. Mapping him like she was deciding how much damage he’d survive.
She didn't care where they went, just that he moved. And she was more than willing to make waiting hurt.
RE: How to Train Your Channeler - Sasha - 12-24-2025
Sasha didn't think that losing his clothes in the halls would be a good idea but his fingers made their way to their clothes and the moment she said the showers where closer Sasha moved in that direction, though it was only the soft drops of water that informed him there might be where they were.
He walked backwards hoping Oriena would tell him if he was going the wrong way. He didn't break their passion for long as he muttered "Showers it is."
Oriena confused him but he was not confused about this. Sex was easy.
RE: How to Train Your Channeler - Oriena - 12-24-2025
They shed clothes on the way, leaving a deliberate trail of abandon. Ori didn’t slow for modesty; she pressed into him, rough and teasing, guiding him backwards like a predator savouring the chase. She kept him off balance, never letting him feel safe in her control, while heat and friction coiled through every inch of contact. By the time they reached the showers, they were half-stripped, breath ragged, hearts racing – and she was still pressing him back, eyes dark with mischief and challenge.
Ori slammed the button on the showers with the flat of her hand.
Water screamed from the pipes, ice at first, stabbing shoulders, spine, ribs, thighs. A sharp, involuntary gasp tore from her throat, but her gaze up at Sasha was sinful – and fully knowing. The shock only made skin more sensitive, and she pressed herself harder against him, hips grinding, hands roaming, nails dragging over slick flesh, teasing the tender spots the water had made electric. Every nerve in her body screamed, every inch of skin alive and burning.
She guided him, but never gently, whispering heat into his ear, letting the water bite and sting where she wanted it while her hands roamed unchecked. Her fingers tangled in his hair, dug into his shoulders, sliding across chest and stomach, rubbing and pinching over places the icy water had left painfully alive. Every shiver, hiss and gasp she answered with deliberate heat – pressing lips, tongue, teeth, and body with intent, until the contrast between fire and frost was almost cruel in its intensity. Every stolen breath and twitch of muscle drew a smirk from her, made her pulse pound louder. She was storm and fire, orchestrating sensation and punishment in equal measure, letting him collapse into the tormented pleasure she commanded.
Ori felt fiercely alive, and she made sure he knew it.
The cold lingered long enough to make them both gasp, shiver, and tremble. But slowly, almost teasingly, the temperature finally began to shift. Warmth slid over taut nerves, loosening muscles while leaving every inch hypersensitive to her hands, her mouth, her heat. The contrast between shock and relief was exquisite, and Ori let it linger, revelling in the sensation. Her body throbbed, and each hitch of Sasha's breath, every inch of slick, shivering flesh as he adjusted sent her blood running hotter. She could feel the tension building not just in him, but in herself, that delicious spike of wanting something raw, real, unmediated by hesitation or courtesy. She didn’t relent or soften. She pressed him into the shower wall, arms sliding along his torso, fingers teasing, marking a claim. And in the heat she drew his mouth back down to hers.
RE: How to Train Your Channeler - Sasha - 12-25-2025
The sex was hat and icy and painful and filled with passion Sasha wasn't sure he'd ever had with other women. It was glorious and torturous and Oriena was amazing. He forgot about the past pain and torment. It was nothing but a passing memory. It was all about the woman in front of him now -- pressing him into the wall, the cold tile against his skin and the warm water running down his body.
He was at her mercy and he went where she said, pressed when he thought she might like it, but it wasn't truly in his nature to push too far, too often. He didn't want her to be angry at him. He didn't want it to end or stop. She'd saved him, and this wasn't payment or even an offering. He wondered what it all was.
And when he finally gave up trying to hold back he groaned loudly biting back words in Russian. "Holy mother of..."
RE: How to Train Your Channeler - Oriena - 12-26-2025
She braced him harder against the cold tiles and laughed softly under her breath. Not warmth. Not reassurance. Her mouth found his jaw, his throat – claiming rather than soothing, pressure instead of comfort. She wanted him to understand exactly where he stood: not rewarded, not forgiven, not paying a debt. Just chosen. For this. For now. Whatever meaning it might have, Ori stripped it away with heat and presence. She didn’t explain herself. She didn’t slow. She let him feel the truth of her instead: force, appetite, and a will that didn’t require permission or justification.
The sound he made at the end was raw enough to satisfy something sharp and vindictive in her chest. Her hands stayed where they were, fingers still slick, still tracing for just a moment longer. It would have been a mercy to stop, and Ori wasn’t feeling charitable. She kept Sasha pinned there while the water steamed hotter around them, letting the aftermath roll through him, letting him come down under her hands and the weight of her body. She liked the way it left him – open, spent, helplessly honest. She liked feeling the proof of it against her palms, the way his body still chased sensation even as it betrayed him.
It left her wanting.
And that, perversely, pleased her. Right now unsated meant uncomplicated. It meant she could keep this where she liked it: sharp-edged, contained, something she could walk away from without carrying more of it under her skin. Just sex. Just heat and friction and impulse. Nothing that demanded examination.
Afterwards Ori lifted her hand, slow and deliberate, and licked her fingers with an insolent, knowing ease, eyes never leaving Sasha’s face. Her grin was all provocation, all teeth. “There’s nothing holy here,” she said, with a delicious purr of laughter.
Only then did she step back, not retreating, just shifting to take herself fully under the stream, water cascading over her shoulders and down her body, heat blooming where cold had bitten before. She slicked the hair back from her face and watched him under her lashes. If he fled now – if he mistook release for conclusion, or safety for permission to retreat – she’d let him go without a word. That would settle something. But her mouth still curved, not quite a smile. There was challenge there, and appetite, and a glint of something dangerously pleased. She shifted her weight, unhurried, unapologetic, letting the heat roll over her as if she had all the time in the world.
RE: How to Train Your Channeler - Sasha - 12-26-2025
She pulled away, the look in her eyes said she wasn't done with him and he was okay with that but he was spent. But he din't move, the water barely tricking from him as he watched the water cascade down her body. what was it with water that made things even sexier.
Sasha chuckled as he watched, no he leered. He enjoyed what he was looking at. "I'll need a little time for more. But I'm all yours till you get what you desire." His voice was raspy with lust and from the last vestiges of his climax.
He stepped into the stream with her not to clean off but to do what he could to keep her satisfied until he was ready to go again.
RE: How to Train Your Channeler - Oriena - 12-29-2025
Sasha stayed where he was, water barely trickling over him as he watched the way it traced her skin. The look he gave her wasn’t shy. It wasn’t deferential. It was lust – raw, shameless, unfiltered – and she liked the quiet intensity of his attention. But when he spoke, his voice rough and unguarded, the words hit her like a flick of cold steel. Ori’s expression hardened, amusement and heat snapping under a sharper edge. He was trying to be generous. Thoughtful. Attentive. Trying to be useful even now, when he was spent. And that was exactly what grated against her.
What made him think he knew what she wanted? He’d called her complicated, confusing, and the presumption of her needs now made her bristle, teeth itching to bite. If she’d wanted release, she would have taken it – used him for it cleanly, the way she had before. She didn’t need him to lay it on a tray first. The offer skirted too close to obligation, too close to a submission she hadn’t asked for. She didn’t want a servant. She didn’t want an offering laid at her fucking feet.
Her jaw tightened. Her eyes darkened.
And yet –
He’d stepped closer already, into the stream with her, water lancing over the marks she’d left. Red crescents bloomed across his shoulders and chest, proof of her hands, her teeth, her will. Sasha wasn’t retreating. Nor had he stepped back just because his body had finished demanding. He wasn’t lingering out of duty; he wanted her. Even now. Especially now. And that realisation sparked something treacherous in her chest, something that felt uncomfortably like being chosen without being chased.
His hands on her didn’t demand, but they were honest, present, close enough that she felt the pulse in his arms, the tension in his shoulders, the barely controlled weight of his body. The restraint was infuriating. Her own body betrayed her instantly – hips pressing, breath hitching, heat coiling low and sharp, skin alive wherever his gaze or the spray of water touched. Her fingers flexed, still deciding whether to shove him back or trail over his wet skin. Offering himself like that, exhausted and earnest, threatened to tilt the moment somewhere she didn’t want it to go: away from raw friction, toward something quieter, messier. Conflict knotted deep, sharp, intoxicating.
Lips wet with water, eyes gleaming, Ori leaned closer, breath hot and angry. “Don’t tell me what I want.” The words cut low, edged like a blade. For a heartbeat she wasn’t sure if they were for him or for herself. Her breathing gave her away: aroused and furious, both sparks burning in her chest, and neither willing to die first. But on the angry hiss of her words she was already kissing him again, letting him feel the heat of her, the anger humming beneath her skin. She was furious at being placated – and just as furious that her body answered him anyway. But she didn’t stop.
It took a slower turn now, a deliberate lull in the storm. She was hungry and unrushed in the heat and steam; a promise of more until he couldn’t keep up. Until the fire burned through them both. She let him trace her curves, glide over her slick skin, feel the pulse of heat beneath his fingers, while she pressed herself deliberately against him, hips shifting, hands tangling in his hair, teasing, guiding, teaching him the rhythm she wanted without ever speaking it aloud. Every brush of his hands, every press or pinch of his fingertips drew a sharp inhale from her, a flare of heat that made her pulse spike. She let him read her body, respond to it, and recover himself.
The time stretched, filled with whispered breaths, the hiss of water, and the press of slick flesh. And when she felt the first sharp flare of his urgency returned, she gave him no quarter.
Afterwards, steam clung thick to the air, blurring the hard lines of tile and metal until the shower felt sealed off from the rest of the world. The water still ran hot, steady now, a constant hush filling the space between them. Ori stood under it, skin flushed, pulse still loud in her ears. Her body was still warm, still responsive, the echo of want not yet burned out but tamed into satisfaction.
Sasha moved with an unthinking ease beside her, the urgency gone, hands gentler without trying to be. At first she stiffened when he moved to rinse soap from her shoulders, from the line of her spine, careful in a way that didn’t ask permission and didn’t seek reward. There was no hesitation in it, no calculation. Just the quiet assumption that this was allowed. He wasn’t watching her for reaction, wasn’t waiting for permission or bracing for retaliation. He was just… helping. Like he’d forgotten she could bite.
Ori’s jaw tightened. Her instinct told her to shake him off, to reassert the distance she preferred after something like this. Her body did the opposite. Muscles eased despite her irritation, breath slowing as warmth and water soaked deeper.
She didn’t stop him. Didn’t acknowledge it either.
He moved on without comment, fingers briefly lifting wet hair from the back of her neck so the water could reach the places it clung. The touch immediately reminded her of colder hands pressed there, working knots without reverence. It was almost absent-minded. Almost thoughtless. And that lack of self-awareness slid under her armour in a way lust never quite managed.
When they were done she didn’t fully dress, just top, panties, and boots half laced. Not a chance she was negotiating leather on damp skin. She didn’t speak either, not until she was pulling the tank down her stomach. “You know, that was a dangerous promise, Sasha.” Her tone was teasing, her smile the kind that caused wreckage. She fully expected him to follow.
It wasn’t technically breaking and entering since she knew the doorcode, but they weren’t supposed to be in here. Helena Asquith made no secret of her dislike of Oriena, but no one ever actually went to great lengths to reign her in so long as she maintained a certain amount of decorum. Like not destroying the place again.
This was one of several small bars which served the various subterranean levels of Almaz. The bar itself was industrial, welded into the cave wall. Metal chairs and tables dotted the space up to a reinforced glass wall which looked out onto one of the caged arenas. The view beyond was pitched dark currently, just the ghostly outline of their own silhouettes blurred back at them when Ori flipped the lights. It wasn’t bright. This deep underground it was like sunlight didn’t exist.
Ori pointed out a barstool with a smirk, but didn’t watch to see whether he listened. She turned her back to go behind the bar, eyeing up the offerings.
“You still in pain?” she asked.
RE: How to Train Your Channeler - Sasha - 12-29-2025
Sasha hadn't had many lovers in life. But he was always good with them. It wasn't a thing he thought needed teaching but apparently some men were mean or something. Sasha knew Oriena could bite his head off any minute but it hadn't seemed to bother him in those moments following release. He liked touching her, even platonically. He was still confused and he liked that she walked around the empty club with barely nothing on.
He watched her move. Daydreamed about more. She was sexy like a viper, graceful like a cat. And he knew that this could end any moment but he wanted nothing more than to walk in this illusion of normalcy for a little while longer. It never occurred to him that they shouldn't be there. And she she told him to sit and where he did though he turned and watched her. He hadn't been to the Almaz before -- not like this. He'd been inside, but he'd never be in the bars, no he lingered at the friges selling what he could to the people who could afford it.
She inquired after him and that made his eyes go wide. But he didn't hesitate to answer. "It's tingling like I was just electrified." He wasn't talking about the sex though his body still reverberated from that, but the pain from the torment still lingered a little. But he reached into the slick dark power just out of sight and smiled. A tiny flicker of fire hovering above his hand. "But I got something out of the exchange." The flame danced in front of him and he watched Oriena through the flicking flame. He was okay play with fire and he smiled darkly through the flame. Oh what revenge he could take.
RE: How to Train Your Channeler - Oriena - 12-29-2025
Vodka – plain, unceremonious. Ori poured two measures, heavy-handed and generous, the clink of glass sharp in the quiet. She slid one back across the counter without looking, a gesture closer to challenge than hospitality. Whether he drank or not wasn’t her concern. The other she lifted and took a swallow from herself, the burn clean and familiar. It’d been a long time since it was simply pleasant and not a survival tactic, and she savoured the bloom of warmth. Then she liberated the whole bottle and brought it with her.
Rather than circling back around the bar Oriena lifted herself up onto it, palms braced behind her as she swung one leg and then the other over the edge. The movement was careless, confident. Damp hair clung to her shoulders, skin still flushed warm from heat and steam. The burn scars caught the low light as she settled astride the space in front of him: not old damage, though it looked it because of the healing. Despite that she wasn’t careful of the flame dancing above his palm, or how close it came to her skin as she moved around him. If anything, her eyes flicked to it with interest. Fire suited him more than obedience ever would.
“You look better with teeth showing,” she said, smirk slow and deliberate. “Power suits you.”
Tingling didn’t sound like a problem – but she reached for him anyway. Fingers threaded into his hair with a grip that was assertively rough, not painful by any means but hardly gentle. She leaned in, heedless of the flame he toyed with, and angled his head just enough to get a better look, eyes narrowing as she traced the remnants of where the device had bitten into him. Her thumb brushed near one mark, not tender but not careless either. The punctures weren’t bleeding anymore at least. Her touch lingered, and by the smile that lifted a corner of her lips she was fully aware of it. Ori’s attention always had an edge. Most quivered under it when it was given in earnest.
“I did try and tell you,” she said, meaning the power which came so easily to his call now. Her thumb brushed his temple – decidedly not where his blood had been rushing in the churchyard, else maybe he could have saved himself paying any price at all. She withdrew her hand, but not her interest. The sex had made her languid and loose-limbed, her posture as she sat back relaxed in a way that invited mistakes. But so too had the blessed emptiness in her skull. “So,” she said, tone easy and curious in the way predators sometimes sound just before they decide. “What’re you going to do with it?”’ The implication hung there unspoken: build something interesting, or make a problem for yourself. Ori looked prepared for either.
RE: How to Train Your Channeler - Sasha - 12-29-2025
Sasha took the offered drink and knocked it back. He coughed a little as it burned going down. In a good way, but he wasn't used to drinking so much. He took the bottle and poured them both another.
He watched the way she moved. He liked watching Oriena. He didn't hide his look. He barely noticed the burn on her leg, his fingers reached out and caressed it while she talked about him looking good with a smile. It felt good to smile to smirk. To be here and not screaming. Though he wouldn't mind screaming under her fingers a time or two.
Oriena asked what he was going to do with the power? "Honestly I don't know. I would love to burn that bitch to the ground. But it won't do me any good." He cocked his head to the side. "What do you think I should do with it?"