marred: (pic#7551343)
LUKE CASTELLAN. ([personal profile] marred) wrote in [community profile] divided2014-03-20 10:27 am

( open post! ) voicetest → luke castellan!



what do:
→ drop a prompt (images work best for me!) or a previously written scenario.
→ completely up to date (but if you throw hoo at me I will have to rely on you and Google).
→ i'm gonna be slow because i'm possessed. (what else is new?)
rues: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ (at black masses)

[personal profile] rues 2014-04-10 01:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ the fire in clarisse's eyes dies down, no longer a raging inferno, but something more akin to a campfire, something both of them can relate to. camp had brought them together, once. she knows luke will never return to camp half-blood, but the warmth of the atmosphere, of friends and family alike, shines in her eyes. she's seen luke in so many different lights today, isn't quite sure which one this is.

he towers over her — only by a few inches, but still enough to be intimidating — and she holds her ground, lets his words pierce through her armor, the vehemence in his voice like poison slowly corroding her defenses. she's still angry, but not enough to bite back. there's still time to fix this, even if fixing a situation with luke castellan is the last thing she'd ever imagine herself doing. ]


I don't. [ it's quiet as much as it is true. she doesn't have a problem with him being around, not really. it's just an act, a defensive maneuver set in place for when he gets too close — she lets him get too close — and she panics; her fear of letting people in and facing her feelings has always been one of her greatest downfalls. then, just to clarify: ] Not anymore. [ she hesitates, looking him over as if she's trying to find something she lost. it's a futile effort, because she knows — she knows the old luke castellan is gone. she's seen it, she's experienced it, even if he pretends and puts up a mask of his old self, it isn't there anymore. not really. that part of him died with kronos. ] You've changed. [ it isn't forgiveness, not exactly, but it's something. ]

[ she's changed, too, literally, emotionally, mentally. she can understand how percy and annabeth and chris and silena all forgave him, but it's still too big of a leap for her to take in one day. he's already started to change her mind, just by doing all of this, for not putting up with her just putting up with him, for finally pushing back and calling her out on the things she's too afraid to admit. whether she realizes it or not, this is what she's been looking for all these years — of course it would be a son of hermes who would deliver it to her. ]
Edited 2014-04-10 01:33 (UTC)
rues: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ (politicians hide themselves away)

[personal profile] rues 2014-04-10 02:59 am (UTC)(link)
[ a past version of herself would've just given up at this point, shoved past him and walked out, tugging his track pants on as she stormed out of his apartment onto an unfamiliar street in an unfamiliar neighborhood. but she isn't that girl anymore and he has her grounded here, his eyes keeping her situated here, in his apartment, staring at him like she wants to strangle and kiss him at the same time. clarisse is used to boys being frustrating, but this is a whole new level of it.

she knows she can't convince him of anything, at least not with words. she doesn't have skill over her tongue like some people she knows, she only knows how to threaten and intimidate — words of reassurance and comfort aren't in her playbook. she only has her actions, and they do say actions speak louder than words. she's grateful for that, at least. it makes pushing him into the wall behind him that much easier, her lips crashing into his like she crashes into everything else in her life. it's hard and angry, but there's a passion in it she never knew she could have for him.

her hands stay planted firmly on his neck as she pulls away, staring into his eyes with an intensity that has only ever harbored hate — but there isn't any hate in her eyes, there's only a desperate craving for him to understand, that maybe if she bores her gaze into his skull he'll finally get it. ]


Enough.

[ it's just one word, somewhere in between a command and a simple statement of fact, but it speaks volumes. he's changed enough for her or she wouldn't be doing this, and she's had enough of his pathetic self-deprecating shit. she doesn't even have any pity left to give him, she just wants him to shut up. and with just one word, she's telling him to stop and start all at once, though she has no idea if her message will be clear to him or not. ]
rues: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ (what you think)

[personal profile] rues 2014-04-10 04:34 am (UTC)(link)
[ if clarisse were a weaker person, she might have melted the second luke's hands found themselves back on her hips. she's only felt one of them there before, but the weight of them feels familiar, natural, like they've done this a thousand times before. maybe it's chris she's thinking of, but right now all she sees is luke, all she feels is luke.

his grip is tight and real and it keeps her focused on the moment, focused on him. her brain is screaming at her to push him away, to raise all her shields against him, but fights the urge to run away yet again from something she started, and she pushes into him, her fingers digging into the hair at the base of his neck, tugging him closer to her as he initiates the kiss. he might start it soft and slow, but clarisse meets him with all her roughness wrapped in a silk package.

the noise she makes in the back of her throat isn't something she's heard in a long time, not even in the privacy of her own bunk when none of her siblings are around to walk in on her. sparring rarely even frustrates her to the point she needs to rub one out, anyway. not a lot excites her these days — but luke, luke is new, luke is something unfamiliar, unknown, something she wants to learn and explore and conquer.

she drags her teeth across his bottom lip, breaking the kiss only to breathe shallow breaths. the corners of her lips curl upward in a smirk, but this isn't a game to her. this is as real as everything else, as real as holding his hand for the first time, except this time she won't let herself let go. ]


Convinced?

[ it's not mocking in the slightest, she just wants to know where they stand with one another, what page they're on, if they need to do anymore of this kind of catching up. she'd gladly shove him into another wall for the thrill of it if he still needs a little help getting it through his thick skull. ]
rues: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ (wait till their judgement day comes)

[personal profile] rues 2014-04-10 11:22 am (UTC)(link)
[ clarisse is about to say something witty in response, but finds the words stolen out of her mouth, as only a child of hermes can, drawn out of her in a gasp that means nothing and means everything. she wonders why she keeps finding herself tangled in the arms of the sons of hermes, if this was her fate, if all along her heart was only meant to be stolen by the quickwitted and tricky — if this were a battle, she's already lost, just as she always seems to find herself when it comes to luke.

one hand still tangled in his hair, she guides him where she wants him to go. not just her collarbone, but her neck, too. she can imagine his lips there, and his teeth, and the bruise that might form there if he claims the skin as his own. she wants him to, anywhere, so she can wear it as a badge of honor, of pride, of change. this is a new step forward into something only they are apart of. there's no percy or annabeth or thalia or anyone — it's just luke and clarisse, and no gods could stop this now if they tried.

she turns her head, baring more of her neck to him, pressing her cheek to his, feeling that all too familiar warmth seep into her skin. her breath is shallow and warm against his ear and she tilts her head just enough to whisper one thing. ]


Bite me.

[ it's meant to be a joke, at first, a play on words for all the times they've snapped at each other and nearly bitten the other's head off — but she's also issuing him a challenge. she wants his teeth against her flesh, reminding her that she is still half mortal and that mortals can hurt and bleed and bruise and that it doesn't make you weaker or any less of a person if you do. ]
rues: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ (what you think)

[personal profile] rues 2014-04-10 01:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[ her fingers dig into his scalp, tugging at his hair, as his teeth graze her neck. he's doing this on purpose, deliberately disregarding her command, teasing her with his laugh and his bite that isn't really a bite at all. she actually likes it a little better this way, him not listening to her, having a mind of his own. it makes things interesting, unpredictable, exciting.

he hoists her up and for the first time she's actually looking down at him instead of up, and she can't say she doesn't like the view. she almost expects him to shove her into the wall, but he doesn't, which is actually a little disappointing. where's the anger from before, the intensity? here is the raging inferno that nearly destroyed olympus reduced to only an ember. if he wants her to channel her rage, he'll have to meet her with the same level of intensity.

her legs curl around his hips, and she presses herself hard against him, the heat of him nearly searing her flesh beneath only the thin layers of fabric she wears. she thinks for a moment that it isn't fair that she's already half naked, but she's distracted by the way he looks at her, even just by the way he looks. it occurs to her she's never seen his face this close before and she takes a moment to stare at him, matching his expression with as much mischievousness but also with a hint of curiosity.

absently, she runs her fingers over the long scar under his right eye, almost with a sense of awe. she's no stranger to battle scars — they define her, scattered across her body, old and new testaments to her losses as well as her victories. they hold stories only scars can tell; some she wants to share, while others need no explanation. some she wears with pride, others with shame, though every scar is a victory in the end — proof that you're still alive to fight another battle, whether you win or lose.

she leans in, not to kiss him, just to tug at his lip with her teeth, breathing one word against his mouth. ]


Both.
rues: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ (wait till their judgement day comes)

[personal profile] rues 2014-04-10 10:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[ under normal circumstances, she'd hit him in response to him mouthing off like that, but this is not a normal circumstance. this is the farthest thing from a normal circumstance — and it's not like he's disrespecting her authority, because she doesn't own him and he doesn't have to answer to her. the way he so casually defies her — though isn't defiance second nature to him? — gets her heart racing, and she has to wonder if he can feel it, pounding against her chest like a war drum, and even harder between her legs. ]

You'd better.

[ he hoists her up again, and then they're moving, like only a child of hermes can. she hardly even notices the change of scenery, sinking her nails into the back of his neck and raking them across his skin in retaliation for the lack of pressure on hers. she clings to him as they move, eyes closed, breathing him in. there isn't the familiar scent of the outdoors anymore — he left that life a long time ago — but there's something else, something she can't quite pinpoint but wants more of because it's so distinctly luke.

the position they're in now, her straddled on top of him, isn't something she's unaccustomed to. how many times has she pinned someone like this in a friendly match of sparring? she can't even count on one hand, let alone both. this is a position she's comfortable with, the position that gives her the most control, but the way luke drops back like that, almost preemptively, not waiting for her to press her hands into his chest and shove him back — that makes her think he has a plan, that this position won't last long.

and while he doesn't give her the opportunity to shove him into the bed, he has given her this moment of opportunity, so she's going to take full advantage of it. she's as aggressive in bed as she is with anything else — for her, it offers the heat and the rush of battle but also the added gratification and release only sex can provide. she was always so much calmer when she and chris were dating — he subdued her in the only way he knew how; he became her outlet for all her frustration and he took it willingly, with as much understanding as he could (and when no one else was around, she let him fuck her into the pool table).

of course, luke isn't chris and she knows that. she isn't pretending or deluding herself into thinking otherwise — she was always in control with chris, but luke is a different story entirely. the power structure isn't the same; it's almost balanced, both of them pushing and pulling until eventually the scale evens out.

with a curl of her lip, she leans down on top of him, rolling her hips into his as her hands slide under the fabric of his shirt. her teeth graze his neck just as delicately as he'd been with her, her hands moving up his chest slowly, deftly, her words hot against his ear. ]


Are you going to take that off or do I have rip it off?

[ with a grip like hers and the strength of an army, it's certainly not an empty threat. ]
rues: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ (no more war pigs at the power)

[personal profile] rues 2014-04-11 03:25 am (UTC)(link)
[ his hands against her back, nails dragging down her spine, are just enough to make her breath hitch, catching in the back of her throat, and she pulls away from his neck to return that shit-eating grin of his. he's a fast learner, like all hermes kids seem to be, but he's bolder, more aggressive than chris ever was. chris was soft and timid, and clarisse had to coax him into biting and scratching and fucking her hard into the wall. he was always more worried about hurting her, despite the fact that he'd seen her hold her own numerous times in battle and slay a drakon without so much as blinking an eye. sure, she appreciated the concern sometimes, but other times it was exhausting, suffocating.

she appreciates the lack of concern luke has more, his willingness to follow her lead, to counter every one of her moves with his own, as if they're choreographing a new dance one step at a time. she thinks she likes this one a lot better than the old one. ]


I was hoping you'd say that.

[ just as promised, or threatened — not that it matters either way — she balls her fists into his shirt and pulls, the cotton fabric no match for the strength of ares. it rips easily in a jagged line, finally exposing his chest, and clarisse's lips curl into a smirk, her eyes wild with pride. she'd forgotten how built he was, and for a moment she's lost just staring at him, the contours of his biceps, the hardworked definition of his abdomen.

she runs her hands over his chest, spreading the torn fabric over his shoulders, but not removing it entirely. she'll let him take care of the rest while she sits back on her knees, staring him down and not once taking her eyes off him as she carefully undoes the buttons of his shirt on her shoulders at an agonizingly slow speed. she wants him to watch her, unbuttoning one after the other with a slight roll of her hips accompanying each button undone. ]
rues: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ (they leave that role to the poor)

[personal profile] rues 2014-04-11 07:11 am (UTC)(link)
[ clarisse is gloating and she knows it. the sway of her hips in time with the last button is her own personal victory, and for now, nothing can wipe the proud smirk off her face, not even the momentary twitch of her abdomen when luke digs his nails into her skin, his teeth grazing at a much more sensitive part of her body. she finds a hand in his hair again, kneading at his scalp and pressing him closer. with the buttons undone, the shirt falls loosely off one shoulder with just a shrug.

she laughs, low and breathy, and almost forgets what she was going to say. he's being very distracting and it shouldn't be fair that him growling at her should be that hot. it speaks to the carnal part of her and she almost growls back, but it gets mangled in her throat, twisting into something that's almost a moan but not quite. luke can be good with his mouth when he wants to be. ]


I know.

[ she manages to focus long enough to remember that luke is still in his jeans, and those really need to go. there's too much material between them, too much getting in the way — and despite the fact that she could just dry hump him into submission, that's really no fun. maybe it's fun when you're teenagers and trying not to get caught and too scared to take everything off but still so desperate — but that isn't them or this and they've both been with people before, both know what it's like to feel someone's whole body beneath you, tensing and quivering beneath someone's touch.

her free hand reaches down toward the waistline of his jeans, fumbling one-handedly with the button and not having very much luck. she could bring her other hand down to help, but she likes it better in his hair, tugging at his hair like reigns. ]


Am I going to have to do all the undressing or are you going to help me?
rues: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ (what you think)

[personal profile] rues 2014-04-11 08:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ clarisse pushes herself up onto her knees instead of leaning back on them, giving luke a little room to breathe before her hand dives downward, shoving past coarse fabric and elastic into coarse hair and luke. she squeezes hard, but that's all she does before she removes her hand and grinds down into him one more time, grinning wickedly. if he thinks this isn't going to her head, he's dead wrong. ]

I think that can be arranged.

[ she wanted to say something like you can get me off, but she settles for that instead. she's never been a huge fan of dirty talk, anyway; she doesn't want to end up sounding like an amateur porn star. she has more dignity than that.

she pulls his face to meet hers, her lips crashing into his once again, though not as violently as before, and she doesn't break it, doesn't breathe, until she's dragging her teeth across his bottom lip as she pushes herself off of him — only this time she actually removes herself from his lap fully, crawling over him to splay herself on his bed. his shirt is still half hanging onto her, loose fitting on her arms, but she likes it that way. she wants to keep some part of it on her, so when she returns it to him it won't be his anymore, but his with her scent on it, of pine and sweat and sex. ]


Come on, Castellan, it's not like we have all day.

[ except they do, and she could do this all night. she beckons him with a wave of her fingers, as if she's curling them around some invisible rope that's attached to him which will pull him back over to her. ]
rues: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ (what you think)

[personal profile] rues 2014-04-11 10:55 am (UTC)(link)
[ from her position on the bed, she can see nearly all of him standing there, watching his shoulder blades work as he sheds himself of the remains of the shirt she had so inspiredly tore in half. it's almost a religious experience, watching him at the foot of the bed, taking in every detail of him she can — the curve of his mouth, familiar and tempting; his broad shoulders that once carried so much weight she isn't sure how he bore it alone; his fingers, impossibly long digits that hold in them so much power and persuasion; his hips she wishes she could reach, to grab him and pull him into her, offer him the release he so clearly needs.

a thousand butterflies fill her torso, a wave of heat and pleasure washing over her just from looking at him. her leg shifts slightly, bending her knee just so that she can attempt to calm the beating of her heart between her legs. he could just stand there and she could give him a show, press her fingers hard between her legs and moan his name for him until her whole body quivers and she's reduced to the mess he made of her — if he'd taken any longer returning to the bed, she might have. ]


I will if you don't get over here.

[ she's not actually threatening to leave, but he is too far away and she needs the weight of him on top of her, needs to leave the mark of clarisse la rue on his back when he fucks her and she claws at him for more. despite being in his domain, she will claim his territory as her own and the marks she gives him will be reminders of that. this will be her victory but she will share with him its glory. ]
rues: (in misery)

[personal profile] rues 2014-04-11 10:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[ clarisse had about half a mind to just sit up and meet luke halfway, shoving him back into the sheets as he denied her before, but she remains patient, curious, a respite before the battle that is yet to come. the war she wages with luke for control is at a standstill, both of them refusing to back down — clarisse may not be actively asserting herself, but she has been dictating the rules and direction of this little encounter since the beginning, silently or otherwise.

as luke's hand moves up her leg, she thinks it's a good thing she decided to wear a dress today. they aren't her normal standard of beauty; they come with so much other pressure to look beautiful — makeup, accessories, shaving — but she'd glad she chose today, of all days, to uphold the societal standard. silena never pressured her or tried to convince her that her natural body hair wasn't beautiful, but even clarisse, one of the boys, understands that sometimes it's okay to be a girl, and the amount of hair on her legs doesn't change who she is.

today, her legs are smooth, though she has a feeling luke wouldn't really care either way. he expects her to be one of the boys, hard and tough with none of the feminine qualities her genetics have gifted her. but today she is strikingly feminine, all her roughness concealed behind smooth legs and full breasts.

his breath on her thigh makes her inhale sharply, but she grins down at him approvingly, the arch of her hips when his nose brushes so close enough to tell him, yes, keep doing that. she doesn't realize she isn't breathing until something escapes her mouth that sounds almost like a whimper, the muscles in her thigh tensing when he bites her. she throws her head back, squeezing her eyes shut, and she raises a hand to her mouth to bite down hard on her forefinger, her other hand clenching hard at the sheets next to her. ]
rues: ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴛᴇᴀʟ (god is calling)

[personal profile] rues 2014-04-12 04:57 am (UTC)(link)
[ clarisse would have been more than happy to let luke suck and bite and massage her thigh with his mouth until she couldn't take it anymore, unraveling at the seams like she had so easily done with his shirt before. with every flick of his tongue and every scrape of his teeth, she can feel herself coming undone, one sensation at a time, and she wonders if this is what it feels like when he wills locks open with only his hand.

she stares at him, almost in a daze, when he returns to his knees, and a part of her questions if this is even real — for a moment, she feels the overwhelming sense of being trapped in the labyrinth again, never quite knowing the difference between what was real and what the labyrinth wanted you to think was real. chris was the realest thing she had when she could no longer trust her own mind — after he had already lost his.

now, luke is her sense of reality as much as he is the thing she keeps finding herself lost in. he is a maze of anger and passion and wit, but there is so much about him she has yet to find, always coming to the same dead ends again and again and again. perhaps it's because she finds herself taking a new route through the labyrinth of luke castellan, that she finds herself more lost than ever, that she needs him to guide her — and shouldn't that be an easy job for the son of the god of travelers? he's already guided her here, through the murky depths of the past, or maybe she just found herself here, a secret entrance she never knew existed, to a man she never knew could exist — all he had to do was take her hand.

her hands come to meet him as he crashes into her and she drops back into the sheets, dragging her nails across his neck and over his back to match the ferocity of his biting kiss. her legs move of their own accord, drawing themselves closer to her abdomen and locking him between her legs while her hips rock up into him. she gives a little grunt, and tries to focus on words, something witty like is that all you've got? but all she can manage between biting at his lips and pulling his hair, burying her face in his neck and clinging to him for all dear life so she doesn't lose herself entirely in him, is: ]


Gods, Luke...

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and then i tagged this instead

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