#is this some weird kink where they like overly polished people

[sea-of-machines]

some weird account who's posting heavily facetuned pics of helloween and mostly of Andi, everything without tags or any context, started to follow me. Glad I checked their blog out because that shit is weird & somehow creepy. I blocked them.

[bard-llama]

WiP Wednesday: Love Breeds Love Isendain Edition

So, I have a porny universe called Love Breeds Love where the premise is that settlements across the Northern Kingdoms are being founded with the intent to save the elven race from extinction.

Now, for Iorveth and Roche, we discover that the settlement they're living in (Aiseirigh meaning rebirth/resurrection) is dedicated to doing this through accepting half-elves and creating more half-elves, because humans are very good at breeding. This means adjusting their culture as they share it, because half-elves and humans have their own experiences they're bringing to the settlement.

For some elves, that is simply not acceptable. They don't want human blood to taint their 'purity'. So they commit to working with elven couples to make babies. Their birth rate is much lower, but they argue that their product is better. (For the record: when you hear this kind of rhetoric, run. It's VERY eugenicist and suuuuuper racist).

Isengrim and Eldain both find themselves at one of the latter settlements (which I haven't named yet oops). They don't arrive together, though. In fact, they hadn't expected to see each other at all, though it's nice to see that rumors of each other's deaths were greatly exaggerated.

Because of the way I've made elven biology work, it's really important for the volunteers at this pure elven settlement choose a partner and really get to know them, get comfortable with them. This increases their chances of conception actually happening. I haven't actually decided if only one or both get pregnant, but they did decide to have some 'practice sex', to ensure their comfort. XD

I'll stick a bit of the WiP under a cut, but the really fun thing about this 'verse (aside from literally just being an excuse for breeding kink) is that the two settlements have to actually MEET at some point. At which point, rorveth and isendain discover each other and have a variety of reactions.

'cause see, Eldain doesn't like humans and he doesn't trust humans. He's made that mistake before and he refuses to do it again. So he is perfectly happy with the idea of living amongst elves and never having contact with a filthy human again.

But life isn't that easy and Isengrim and Iorveth are still old friends, though it's definitely awkward at first. But over time, Roche becomes the first human that Eldain actually feels comfortable around and they become bros. They most definitely bond over being feral raccoon disasters while their partners are fancy shmancy proper and polished types lmao. Oh, also, Iorveth and Eldain may both be musicians, but they despise each other's genres XD

I mentioned that this universe was just an excuse to write porn, right? So I've got a whole arc planned for isendain to meet up and bond with rorveth, but first, they all gotta get bred, 'cause that's the premise of the 'vese lmao. So this first isendain fic is the set up - establishing the settlement, getting them together, going through the breeding ceremony, etc. The sex is unfortunately fighting me during the 'practice sex' stage, but eventually, this will be a nice, long smutty piece. For now, though, here's them actually meeting again.

He’d arrived at the settlement alone, responding to a notice on saving the elven race, and he’d been astonished at how many people had actually shown up to do this. Of course, out of the thirty elves that had come to be bred, only a small portion would actually be able to conceive.

Eldain swallowed, wondering if he’d be one. He wasn’t sure if he was hoping that he would or that he wouldn’t, honestly, but hell, he was already here. He couldn’t back out now.

Which meant he had to find himself a partner. The notice had specified that single volunteers were welcome along with couples that were willing to conceive, but the first thing the elf who greeted him when he’d arrived had said was, “pick someone and get to know them. The actual breeding will not begin until this evening, but it’s important that you spend some time with your partner and become comfortable with them.”

Eldain had nodded, aware that feeling safe and comfortable was essential for elves to produce viable eggs and for them to be able to conceive. But he hadn’t realized just how many people there were and how daunting trying to choose one stranger out of two dozen would be.

So when he spotted the scarred man with dark hair that stood about two inches above everyone else, Eldain’s first emotion was relief. In more than one way, because this was someone he actually knew, but also, he’d heard that the other elf was dead. Of course, they’d likely heard the same about him, so Eldain shook himself and strode towards the famed Iron Wolf.

When he got closer, it became apparent that he was not the only one who had recognized Isengrim Faoiltiarna, because several other elves were circled around him, trying to persuade him to pick them.

The feeling in Eldain’s stomach was not jealousy, nor was it disappointment. It wasn’t like Isengrim was likely to choose him amongst all these choices. Hell, when they’d met in the past, he’d gotten the impression that Isengrim tolerated him at best.

Nodding to himself, he spun on his heels to find someone else to partner with when Isengrim apparently spotted him and called his name, a little bit desperately.

He couldn’t exactly walk away now, so Eldain turned back and walked up to Isengrim and his pursuers, forcing a friendly smirk onto his face. “Hey,” he started to say when Isengrim grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close in an overly familiar hug. Before he could say anything, Isengrim murmured in his ear.

“If you pick me, I swear I will owe you a favour of your choosing,” Isengrim’s low voice growled and Eldain shivered, Isengrim’s breath tickling over his exposed skin.

Pick Isengrim? Sure, twist his arm. That had, after all, been his initial intent. But he wasn’t sure why Isengrim was asking when Isengrim was the one with the pick of the place.

“Yeah, all right,” Eldain shrugged, trying to exude casualness. He was obviously just doing this for the favour. No other reason. “Shall we find somewhere to chat, then? Apparently we’re supposed to get to know each other.”

The look of sheer relief on the Iron Wolf’s face was strange to be on the receiving end of. But Isengrim slipped his arm through Eldain’s, immediately pulling them away and guiding the pair towards the garden.

Eldain looked around, mildly impressed. For a new settlement, these organizers were doing a pretty good job and getting it up and running.

Which made sense, given they were hoping that this event would culminate with many pregnant elves.

“So,” Eldain drawled, surprised by how much he liked the feeling of Isengrim’s fingers against the crook of his arm. “Seems like you’re a big hit.”

Isengrim’s nose wrinkled in a strangely adorable expression and Eldain bit his lip against a smile. “Apparently there is potential acclaim in having the Iron Wolf’s child. Even though, as I understand it, the point of this event is not about genetics as much as just…”

“Conception?” Eldain offered, and Isengrim nodded, frowning. “So why choose me? Do I not get the same acclaim?”

Isengrim snorted, “you have your own acclaim. Though, speaking of, I’d heard you were dead?”

“Likewise. It was a close ‘almost’,” Eldain shrugged, trying not to let the memories flood through him. He cleared his throat instead. “And you?”

Isengrim made a face, “believe it or not, I owe my survival to a human.”

“You’re kidding.”

The Iron Wolf shook his head, looking every bit as imposing now standing in an early-stage gardener’s plot as he had commanding Scoia’tael into battle.

Eldain licked his lips. Sure, he may have his own ‘acclaim’ in the form of a brutal reputation that was based mostly on real events, but there would always be something majestic about the Iron Wolf that people like Eldain could never match.

“Well, I doubt either of us want to talk more about that,” he said, jerking his gaze away from Isengrim’s face and continuing their walk through the garden. “So, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know,” Isengrim shrugged casually, “fighting, assassinating kings, that kind of thing.”

Eldain blinked, gaze landing on Isengrim again. Isengrim had a little smirk on his face, like he was enjoying Eldain’s reaction, but there was no sign that he wasn’t telling the truth.

“Wow, and here I thought I was doing well with my best kill being a duke,” Eldain joked, smiling back at Isengrim.

Isengrim tossed back his head and laughed, deep, rumbling sounds that felt at home settling in Eldain’s chest. Weird.

“What about you?” Isengrim asked after his laughter had passed. “What’s keeping you busy these days?”

“Eh, I’ve been working as a merc,” Eldain said, wondering if Isengrim would judge him. It was always hard to predict with Scoia’tael – some thought fighting for money was horrific and some thought it was sensible. He didn’t know what Isengrim thought.

“Oh? Around Aedirn?”

“All over,” Eldain shrugged. It had taken him about a year to be ready to return to Aedirn after everything with fucking Queen Meve. She was a perfect example of why humans could never be trusted. Ever.

He swallowed hard. “So, what do you think about this event?”

Isengrim huffed a soft laugh. “At my age, I kinda figured my chances of having a child were pretty slim. But…”

“Yeah,” Eldain nodded, understanding the unspoken reason. How could they not, when the very fate of their species lay in peril?

“But you’re pretty young, aren’t you?” Isengrim asked him. “Is this your first time doing this?”

Eldain hummed, pondering exactly how much older Isengrim was. The Iron Wolf had lived pre-humanity, Eldain knew that much. Most of the Scoia’tael commanders had been older elves that had been born before the Conjunction of the Spheres. Eldain had been unusual in gaining his command, but none of the elder elves ever had the balls to take on the Moulderwoods, so it had fallen to Eldain and all the younger elves who had been born there. Not that there were many of them left anymore, not after...

Eldain shook himself. If he kept thinking about his old command and his old home, he was either going to scream or cry, so he very pointedly redirected his thoughts to his companion.

Isengrim looked – pretty great, actually, for someone who was supposed to be dead. But then, Eldain wasn’t entirely sure it was possible for the Iron Wolf to look anything but gorgeous and commanding and in control.

“So, Isengrim,” he enunciated Isengrim’s name clearly and Isengrim cocked an eyebrow, one that was split by the scar that spanned across his nose. It was kind of beautiful. “What do we need to know about each other to be able to comfortably fuck?”

Isengrim choked slightly at him being so blatant about it, but seriously, they were at a breeding event. There was nothing un-crass about this whole thing.

“Well,” Isengrim cleared his throat. “Um, I guess… I have no idea,” he said after a long moment. “Um, maybe preferences, I guess?”

Eldain snorted, “feels like an icebreaker question. ‘Hi, I’m Eldain and I prefer men.’”

“Any man?” Isengrim’s eyebrow arched again. “Or specifically one who can put a brat like you in their place?”

Eldain’s breathing hitched and his exhale was shaky. “That helps,” he managed to say, and Isengrim’s mouth twitched into a smirk. “And what does the Iron Wolf prefer?”

Isengrim’s nose wrinkled again, clearly uncomfortable with his moniker in this context. Eldain made a note of that. “Apparently,” Isengrim said slowly, “my type is bratty musicians.”

Blinking, Eldain took a moment to process that, then grinned widely, bowing and flourishing his hand in front of him. “At your service.”

Isengrim laughed again, shaking his head. “What kind of music do you play, anyway? All the rumors said was ‘former musician’.”

Eldain tsked, “really, Isengrim, don’t you know better than to believe rumors?” Isengrim rolled his eyes and Eldain laughed. “Mostly, I play the lute and the fiddle, though I know several other instruments. I’m a modern musician, none of that classical shit.” He shut his mouth, abruptly realizing that Isengrim had been alive when those ‘classics’ were new, and may have been attached to them.

Fortunately, Isengrim just chuckled. “You’d probably get along terribly with my ex. He’s very much a classicist.”

“Oh?

“Played with symphonies and stuff, way back,” Isengrim said, a soft smile on his face that Eldain knew wasn’t for him.

He cleared his throat, looking away from Isengrim’s face. It wasn’t as if he was in love with Isengrim or anything, but it still hurt a little bit to be reminded that this was all to save their species. Isengrim had chosen him, sure, and that was an honor. But it was nothing more than sex. He needed to remember that.

Swallowing hard, Eldain forced a smile on his face. “Bet I’m a better musician,” he taunted, and Isengrim laughed again.

“You might be,” Isengrim conceded. “Would you play for me?”

Blinking in surprise, Eldain looked back at Isengrim. The smile on his face was different now, not like he was thinking of a past love, but like it was intended for Eldain.

This time, he swallowed down an entirely different emotion. “Yeah,” he managed to say. “Um, lemme–” he cleared his throat again, cursing himself for leaving his lute with his stuff in the room the organizers had given him.

Isengrim licked his lips and suggested, “I could come with you.”

“Uh, sure,” Eldain shrugged, wondering why he felt like a teenager bringing a boy home for the first time.

Isengrim’s smile widened, and he stepped up to curl his hand around Eldain’s elbow again. Eldain bit his lip against his own smile, leading them towards the rooms for volunteers.