#outcast jacob x lian smut

[hanasnx]

❝ taint. ❞

── jacob x lian

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 3k SUMMARY: after their shared kiss, lian is desperate to know how jacob really feels about her. WARNINGS: religious themes | mild angst | kinks: size, corruption | nipple play | mentioned: drug and alcohol use, purity culture | pussy rubbing | biting | implied smut.

A kiss. A kiss that could not be described as harmless. It’s a confession, a breaking point, a promise. Even if JACOB refuses to acknowledge it. He lets the heavy air plod, the tension caused by their mistake hangs over their heads, accumulating into the existing cloud that’s loomed over his shoulder for over a decade. It makes no difference to him if he’s added one more sin to his fold. Even if that cloud is dark and heavy with rain, his justice is well underway to cost him his life for his misdeeds. It’s why he was a drunkard. A frequent of a tavern until they kicked him out on his ass into the cold winds. Until he needed something stronger, suckling on the teat of opioids to render himself consciousless. 

A princess doesn’t deserve that. LIAN doesn’t deserve that. When she’d first come to him she was painted white; woven in a cocoon of expensive silken fabrics. An angel cursed by his company. Even though God has abandoned him, he prays anyway. He prays for Lian. 

He doesn’t look at her if he can help it. Any business he attends to in the cave is met swiftly and soberly. Filling his time and his mind with tasks that require his attention means he can’t stop to contemplate her. To deliberate over whether he made the right decision last night. It haunts him. 

How coldly he’d treated her after she’d opened herself to him, how the touch of her lips lingered on his, until he’d demanded more. How his arms had wrapped around her, pressing her flush against him. Her inexperience shone through her stiff stance. When he’d deepened the kiss, she didn’t know how to receive it. A grim reminder of how he taints her. Temptation took root that night, he could see it in her eyes. She wanted him. 

“Jacob. Touch me.” she’d said. 

“I can’t.” 

To deny such a request, to deny an angel, felt blasphemous. He had taken his leave as he battled contempt for himself. She remained, alone and hurt in his wake. 

“Do you resent me?” Faint words lilt in reservation, and he snaps back to present at the alert of them. He listens to her footsteps approach him, and he pivots his neck in their direction. All he can see are the shadows of her figure in the fires. It’s quiet in these quarters, the cloth separating this room from the passageway offers privacy but no noise suppression. It must mean they’re alone in this field of the caves. 

A fear blooms in the pit of his chest, the black tar of it mixes with the flowery meadow of new love. He’s lost in the labyrinth of his mind again, the lines of right and wrong blurred hopelessly. 

Gentle hands rest on his shoulders. Nimble, and feathery, they’re like doves that land on his armor. It dims his torment, if even for a second. For one wicked second, he’s free, and it crashes down as soon as she guides him to turn. His storming eyes meet hers. The shallow pinch of her eyebrows, upturned in worry, crushes him. Damn him for causing her pain. A cold palm cups his cheek in comfort and familiarity. He shies away from her, and she hesitates. The trembling hand falls to her side. 

“Lian.” he speaks brokenly. “What are you doing in here?” After evading her all day, she tracks him down during a moment of rare and unwanted peace. 

“I came to find you. You’ve hardly spoken a word to me all day. Have I hurt you?” A pitied lull of her head to the side, searching his gaze, and he yearns to brush his fingers through her lustrous hair. 

On the contrary, on the most absurd contrary. he thinks. “No,” he responds. “You should go.” 

A disheartened expression befalls her, altering her perfect features in a light he can’t bear to look upon. Knowing he’s the cause of her despondence. He skirts her, and she whirls around to follow his receding back. “Should I?” she asks, a tone with an edge of desperation, begging him to reconsider. 

He stands still as he cannot answer. 

“What have I done to you?” Another inquiry, yet it’s spoken differently this time. As if she goads him into admitting that this is about their kiss. “Please, tell me, Jacob.” His name on her tongue causes his eyes to fall shut. She’s only learned his name days ago, and every opportunity she has to invoke it, she does. He inhales deeply to calm his quaking nerves, fighting off his overwhelming emotions, and his tyrannical withdrawals. Everything heightens when she’s around him. 

“You must know.” he reasons, his stoic nature consistently melts within her atmosphere. 

“I won’t unless you tell me.” Her watery words quiver in her throat. 

His heart aches. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” he tells her, and he absorbs her reticence, continuing on, “After I’ve restored you to your throne, I’ll be off. You’ll never see me again.” 

A gasp, and a hurried step forward is abruptly cut off. As if to mirror how she first recruited him to escort her through the mountains in hiding, she offers him payment once more, but this time it’s to stay with her. “What can I give you? Money?”

He faces her. “Don’t say that. I don’t want that.” Surely, she must know. 

Lian’s confidence wavers at the sight of him. Gathering bravery, she pushes through. “What do you want? Do you want me?” His brows furrow at the idea she could doubt that, yet it’d be better if she didn’t know. It’d be entirely easier and safer for her if he hadn’t accepted her act of love. That kiss ruined everything. 

He falters. He cannot lie to her. “Of course I do.” he replies in a forlorn, urged whisper. 

“Then have me.” she speaks firmly, submitting herself as payment. Now he understands what she’d initially meant, his frown deepening with a shake of his head. 

“No, Princess,”

It’s not known to Lian that men deny what they want. Any man she’s ever known has been taught to take their desires. To forge paths and change fates to gain their yearnings. Out of frustration, she yanks her outer layer off until it pools at her elbows, pushing out her chest. Respectfully, Jacob jerks his head to the side, shielding her from himself to protect her dignity. “Are you refusing me?” 

She sacrifices herself on the altar of humiliation and he won’t answer her. After what he’d done in front of that bonfire, the way he held her as they shared their destined kiss, she could not be convinced of his indifference. So she softens her approach, taking a sheepish step forward. 

Her enchanting voice lightens, encouraging him to look at her, to comfort her. “Do you not find me… attractive?” she asks. His calculative blue eyes drift to her shoes, climbing her skirt to feed off of what she gives him. 

“Princess,” he chastises in protest, “You will find love in another.” He takes a step back. “Once you return to your kingdom you’ll be betrothed and married off, and I will remain as I am.” An addict, a failed former soldier, a broken man. His tailbone bumps the end of a table, and he’s forced to still as she advances. That recognizable gleam in her eye returns, the one from last night. How she looks at him with hunger. It’s intoxicating. He’s heard of the sirens at sea, and the lustful witchcraft of the North, but they are nothing compared to the infallible power she holds over him. Out of dread of what he will do, what he’s capable of, he fixes his hands to the edge of the table, lest they disobey him and reach out to her. “Do not give yourself to me in hopes of consummation, it will not keep me.” he warns, his empty threat thinly veiling his self-control dwindling. 

She leans into him, causing his body to jump at the brush of her fingertips against his aching chest. Those lips– those addictive lips– shape, hollowing her stunning cheek bones when she purses them to form her next question, “Won’t it?” She affords a great deal of faith in her flesh, and Jacob can’t disagree. “Do you fear it?”

He concedes, “I am no stranger to sodomy.” 

A single glance to his mouth. “How lucky.” 

The pain grows unbearable and he growls in irritation over his defeat. He’ll condemn himself later, presently he’ll give her what they both need. He surges forward, stamping his lips against hers in his enthusiasm, causing a sting they hardly notice. A content exhale from his nose fans over her face as he presses on, leading her through this. A noise retreats from the back of her throat when he tilts his head, hasty to part her lips. His tongue reintroduces itself to her, a foreign feeling stirs within her as the tip glides along her until she grants the access. 

Hers is tense, allowing him to do as he pleases. His arms wind around her waist, drawing her flush against him so she’s unable to run away. Her instinct is to back up, but he’s made that impossible now. His tongue slides against hers, goading her to play. Warily, she rears it, and he invites himself to the underside of it. When she swipes hers back and forth, his fingers dig into her hips, and excitement seeps into her through her saliva. The memory resurfaces, the one of yesterday, when he kissed her so sweetly. This is different, it’s demanding and coarse. So this is the passion she reads about. 

When he recedes, her lips idle in the form of a pucker, having been unexpectant of their impending divide.  “Are you sure you want this?” he speaks against them, pecking them impatiently between words. He stoops to her eye-level, the end of his nose prodding into her cheek as he crushes her body against his. As if he saw fit to absorb her, he can’t get her close enough, air is expelled from her lungs. 

She can’t think of one time she wouldn’t have accepted him. Even if he’d asked the day of their first meeting, when she’d thought of him as a junkie who was good with a sword. He’d earned her admiration and respect when he’d inadvertently saved her and her brother’s lives, and more so when he came back for them to escort them into the mountains. It’s scandalous, but if the opportunity presented itself, she fears she would’ve said yes to the dirty stranger. 

Now clean and familiar, he stands before her, ready to take her as she’d requested. She can do nothing but nod over and over again as she inhales a steadying breath. “Yes, yes,” Her outer layer slips fully off her arms to her feet. 

Steadily, he guides her back, that grip on her so tight she’s sure if she stumbled he’d catch her. She doesn’t dare break his intense gaze, even when the bed of furs lick her ankles and she’s pushed over. His large hand cradles the back of her head, guarding her from the impact. Rushed pecks latch onto wherever he can reach, the impetuosity of a man left wanting for far too long. The corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jawline, and she cranes her neck encouragingly. He entitles himself to her pulse point, mouthing it, teeth scraping against it in a most pleasant feeling she’s never experienced before. Unable to contain herself, she tangles her nimble fingers into his hair, tugging as she involuntarily writhes underneath him. 

A pattern of his past, a phrase slips out, rolling off his tongue and vibrating against her, “You like that, princess?” It trembles her nethers, lifting her leg out of the confines of its skirt, tucking him in between her legs. 

“Yes, yes, I do,” she answers him curiously. Her eyes falling shut from the tingles resounding throughout her body as his stubble brushes her sensitive skin. All of this is new to her. Being untouched her entire life, it brought her puzzlement and immense emotion to come to understand the heat in her core. How it had been awakened by Jacob, and reignites with his shallow thrusts of longing. His hips slot in between her thighs, his heavy belt nipping at her clothed sex. The debauched nature of it flushes her cheeks, but how can she deny true love? “Jacob?” she sighs, and his lips falter as they suck on her exposed collarbone. “What is that?”

Confused, Jacob rears, and she meets his gaze, lids heavy with pleasure. It says enough to him, and he moistens his reddened lips. He shifts to his hip, propping himself up over her on a single elbow, as his free hand comes to gingerly form over her mound. “You mean this?” 

A symphony begins in her head, harmony created by the position of his palm. He watches her diligently, pupils dilating as he witnesses her acquaintance to the sins of the flesh. The volume of her imaginary song increases as he gently rolls the heel of his hand against her, so specifically she pushes into it begging for more. If it were under different circumstances, he may delay her on the basis she’d overstimulate herself. He can’t bring himself to now. How she parts her lips in a silent gasp, faithfully rocking against his experienced touch, bowing her head and demonstrating how loyal she can be in holding his gaze. She wants this as much as he does, he can’t say no to that. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he muses, finding himself entranced with how unapologetically she chases that high. The virtuous wonder in her spellbound eyes. He can’t remember the last time he felt like that, and he wanted to prolong it for her. If they could live in this single moment forever, they would. Unfortunately, he can’t wait that long, the stiffness residing his pants fit to burst. “Have you felt anything like this before?” 

She shakes her head. It confirms his apparent suspicions. A princess allowing a lowly peasant from the West stain her, it’s unheard of. Yet he does not slow. 

To experiment, he dips his fingers into the divot of her folds, grazing residue that leaks onto the tips. An intentioned swipe sends a shiver up her spine, and he regards her reaction with interest, increasing his efforts. Every simple touch intensifies her movements, and when he circles her bud deliberately she arches her back. Without warning, she moans out. Nothing alerting, but still evocative, and he claps his palm over her mouth. Widened eyes meet his, abashed she’d lost control of herself. 

He whips his head in the direction of the tapestry that hangs in the doorway. It billows with breath from the cave’s mouth, but it’s ultimately harmless. There are no footsteps to behold. So he returns his attention to her. “You’ll have to be quiet, Lian, remember that.” he informs, and she nods under the pressure of his appendage. “If you don’t, I’ll have to stop.” She nods again. A commanding eye on her as if to scold her as he tentatively takes his hand off her mouth. An apologetic kiss presses to her lips, and she accepts it. It morphs, becoming a conduit to swallow any of her undisciplined sounds as he massages her sweet virginal sex. 

Wandering fingers are tender in their endeavor, tracing down her collarbone, and hooking into her neckline. Delicately, so as to not disturb her, he tugs the fabric down, loosening it off her shoulders. He breaks their kiss, a string of saliva connecting them, as he takes away his hand in between her legs to pull her dress down. It frees her chest, and he loses himself in the sight of them. Unlike those of brothel women, they’re shapely, and perked at attention from the stimulation. Untouched, unsullied, he’s swift to bow down and worship. His plump lips enclose around one of her nipples, and she gasps from the new sensation. He doesn’t need to admonish her because she covers her own mouth with her hand, undulating underneath him with the heels of her feet digging into the covers. His tongue swirls around her responsive nub. 

The hand that abandoned the warmth of her core cups the fat of her breast, greedy in how he handles it, near strangling it in his fervor as he mouths more and more of her flesh. His teeth bite down, and her discontented yelp reminds him where he is. He releases it with a pop, while his fingers roll the other. A cruel motion by her standards, the sharp pleasure from it twists her expression, and he basks in the notion no one has ever touched her like this except him. And it’s still early in the encounter. How is she to cope when he introduces her to every inch of his aching length? The passing fascination shifts his countenance as intensifies his efforts. For a moment, he forgets decorum. He's an animal driven by self-fulfillment, plunging his face in between her tits to gather them around his temples. He mouths and licks at the salt on her skin hungrily, burying his face in her tissue like a drunkard would a willing, warm body at a tavern. A soft laughter, like bells, snaps him out of his stupor. So he views her through his brows, playfully nipping at the side of her breast as a smile is brought to his face. She finds his intoxicated enthusiasm endearing. 

That guilt within him assuages. His hips gravitate towards hers, seeking out friction in ruts. She inhales sharply, the tip of his nose tracing up her as he leaves a trail of kisses in his wake. Sloppy, and wet kisses. 

“Jacob,” she whispers over her hand. 

He hums. 

“I’ve never… Well, I haven’t done…” she begins, embarrassed over the fact she may not be what he wants, or know what to do for him. His lips against her ear quiet her with a hush. 

“I know, it’ll be fine. Let me handle it.” he reassures, pecking her earlobe as he picks himself up to sit on his haunches. He removes his outer layer, whipping it down his arms as she watches with intrigue. He removes fabrics to bare himself to her. His belt as well as his trousers remain, and he shifts backwards. Carefully, he rides up the skirt of her dress, and his cold fingers startle her heated skin as he hooks them into her underclothes, peeling them down and off. She lifts her legs for him, poised and lithe, and he removes her shoes, palming the heel of her foot to pepper the top of it with soothing kisses. 

He settles, the backs of her knees fixed atop his shoulders as he tucks his head between her thighs, eager to relax her, prove his devotion to her. Even if it takes all night. 

[hanasnx]

small talk

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and drug usage | contains details about a brothel | lian being marginally jealous.

LIAN shifts her hips in tandem with her horse's trots. It's hooves kicking up water from the stream they pass through. The handsome stranger that escorts her says nothing, merely leads. Her brother hangs back, becoming acquainted with their newest addition to their party: Xiaoli.

There's little to occupy the time, so Lian catches up to their hired guard. He does not show her he registers her presence, and after growing up in a palace, she tries not to perceive it as disrespect. She's sure he doesn't mean it.

"What's your name?" she asks to make conversation, realizing she'd could've offended him by taking this long to ask.

Finally, he casts her a side-glance, and considers hiking his horse to draw forward so he could indicate his disinterest. The reason he doesn't is because she's a lady. A noblewoman of high stature, indeed. He huffs through his nose, moistening his chapped lips from the crisp air. "It'd be safer if you didn't know." he replies, his grip on the reigns tightening at the grim reminder of his origins.

If Lian had a stronger backbone, she might've pushed through, "Surely you can't be serious." she might say. Instead, she bows her head, pressing her lips into a thin line.

He regards her lack of confidence, and is torn between being grateful for the silence and guilt for shutting her down. The poor girl is still coping with her circumstances, but he can't coddle her when he's got his own problems. The horses reach the bank, trotting uphill. When he merges onto a rocky pathway, the group follows, cutting through a town. It's quiet, smoke from pipes and fires curling into the gray skies. Their guard keeps a watchful eye on those whose gazes idle on their traveling throng. Unfortunately, they have no money for clothes, and their expensive fabrics stick out like a sore thumb.

A tavern comes up, and when they close in, Lian recognizes the true nature of the place. A brothel, drunken men filtering in and out searching for warmth in bodies willing. For the right price, that is. She has half a mind to look away, to glue her stare to her horse's mane, but she can't bring herself to. How couples laugh and pour drinks, it appears welcoming. She studies the mannerism exchanged between a woman and her mark, intent on milking him for all he's worth. The one notion that diverts her attention is that of the back of her companion's head and what he must be thinking. Would he rather spend his time in a place like this? High out of his wits in such a sultry atmosphere of pleasure and luxury? Has he ever?

When the town recedes out of their view, past the horizons, not one word has been spoken, shaking off still the fear of being caught. Perhaps, the villagers cared not for the reward money on her and her brother's heads, or their personal debauchery was best left untouched by the Black Guard's judgmental influence. Inviting them there, if only to turn in outlaws, would only bring trouble to their privacy.

The path, wider now, makes room for their escort as his horse aligns with hers again. It's unintentional, but she hopes against all odds he wanted to be closer to her. "Would you rather have stayed behind?" she questions him before she stops herself. The memory of where she met him resurfacing. How he cared only for his sword and his artificial ecstasy as he clambered drunkenly about a pub.

"I'd rather make camp at sunset." he responds. He sounds displeased. It convinces her further he'd rather do anything but this, rather be anywhere but here with her.

"Have you ever been to a disorderly house?"

He's reticent. Contemplative of whether or not to reveal any detail about himself.

After a moment, he concedes, “There was a time I would’ve loved to be drowning in women," As he lulls his head in her direction, she meets his gaze in time for his eyes to wander lower, scanning her form. Once caught, he's unabashed, lulling his head to face forward. "but those days are over.”

Heat spreads to her cheeks, coloring them.

[hanasnx]

shall i?

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: a question of having children | mention of drug use and religion and self pleasure.

“We have to stay behind to raise the children.”

LIAN's somber words from that night echo inside JACOB's mind. Women left behind in times of war, are told their use lies in their ability to raise children. Lead them into a life of servitude as a soldier in the next great, and pointless war.

When they’d promised themselves to one another, Jacob had considered the possibility of bearing young. It always seemed like the next step. Passed down in the form of ancestral knowledge, it was taught there was strength in lineage, and it was expected to heir a legacy. Jacob didn’t believe he deserved one. Anything he had to offer was not worthy to teach. His seed meant nothing. No better than the stone it’s thrown on when he’s reluctantly pleasured himself to clumsy completion.

Siring was simply unattainable. Until he met Lian. A woman he could imagine a life with, even if it were grand delusions born from poppy tears. When he closed his eyes he could see his son, scampering around with a makeshift bow and arrow in hand. How he’d draw the string and send the blunt end of the weapon flying towards it’s mark with practiced precision.

It’s when his eyes open that the vision is lost. He remembers who he is, and where he comes from. A woman of her stature and experience could not breed with the likes of him. Her status can’t allow even their union in the eyes of God. So what of it?

Shall he remain in the shadows forever? Shrouded in the safety of ambiguity and forgotten by history?

Perhaps. But when his gaze falls onto her, and her most gracious smile, the despair dims in her light.