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When Rook first finds Cole at the Lighthouse, there will be a short cutscene. Speaking to Cole afterwards triggers this conversation:
Rook: Anything going on I should know about?
Cole: Sometimes.
Rook: Are... You gonna tell me?
Cole: Heavy shoulders. Smiles that slip when no one sees. Questions with no words. You answer without being asked.
Rook: Right. Should've seen that coming.
Cole: I hear the hurt. You answer it. They don't ask for help. I tell you where the silence is loudest.
Rook: So, basic translation, you'll tell me if one of my friends needs me. Is that it?
Cole: Yes.
New Quest: In The Spirit of Compassion
Cole senses the emotional weight carried by those within the Lighthouse.
While he seldom speaks plainly, his observations may reveal when a companion has something important to discuss.
Check in with Cole whenever you return to the Lighthouse after major missions.
If there are no new companion quests available, Cole will say one of the following:
Rook: Anything I should know about?
Cole: They're quieter today. Not empty. Resting.
Rook: Everything alright?
Cole: Enough is.
Rook: Does anyone need me, Cole?
Cole: You should rest. They'll still be here tomorrow.
Rook: Hey, Cole.
Cole: Hello!
When all companions have been recruited, Cole may instead say one of the following:
Manfred is hiding spoons. Emmrich knows. Heâs pretending not to.
Assan ate something Davrin told him not to. Davrin is deciding whether to be angry or impressed.
Bellara lost her notes. Theyâre under the other notes.
Lucanis made coffee. Taash drank it. Neither of them is happy.
Neve knows who moved her chair. Harding doesnât know Neve knows.
Taash is arguing with the kitchen. The kitchen isnât listening.
Manfred waved at Spite. Spite waved back. Lucanis wishes they hadnât.
If a companion has a new quest or conversation available, Cole will say one of the following:
Lucanis
He made coffee. It went cold before he drank it.
He's looking toward Treviso. His feet never left the Lighthouse.
He looks over his shoulder. Habit. Hope. He isn't sure which.
Family is supposed to catch you. Falling hurts more when they don't.
(If Lucanis is romanced)
He says your name when you're gone. Softer than when you're there.
He looks for you first. He doesn't know he's doing it.
The demon is quieter when you're close.
He's practicing what he'll say. It never sounds as good when you arrive.
He wants to tell you something. He keeps finding another reason to make coffee first.
Harding
The Stone is quieter than she expected.
She keeps touching the lyrium. It answers. She isn't sure she wants it to.
She misses the roads she used to know.
She's trying to carry mountains with two hands.
She's smiling again. She's checking if it still fits.
(If Harding is romanced)
She reaches for your hand before she remembers to.
She wants to show you every sunrise. Every one feels new.
She thinks she's changed too much. You haven't looked away.
She keeps saving stories to tell you later.
She still gets butterflies. She blames the magic. It isn't the magic.
Bellara
She found another question. It isn't the one she's asking.
Broken things are easier to understand than people.
She keeps talking so the silence can't.
She thinks if she fixes enough, this one might hurt less.
The past is loud today.
(If Bellara is romanced)
She keeps rehearsing conversations you'll never hear.
She lights up when she sees you. She doesn't notice she does.
She wants to show you everything she discovers.
She wonders if someone as extraordinary as you could choose her.
She already knows what she wants to say. She keeps talking instead.
Davrin
The griffon isn't what's worrying him.
Duty feels lighter when it's carried together. He forgot that.
He's teaching someone else to be brave. He's still learning himself.
He keeps watching the horizon. Wardens always do.
He thinks protecting everyone means standing alone.
(If Davrin is romanced)
He smiles more when you're nearby. Assan noticed first.
He makes room beside the fire without thinking.
He trusts you with the quiet.
He thinks about tomorrow. He didn't used to.
He wants to ask you to stay. He hopes you already know.
Emmrich
He speaks kindly to the dead. Himself... less so.
He wonders if forever is worth the cost.
The skeleton worries about him. He pretends not to notice.
He's surrounded by death. He's thinking about life.
He found another mystery. It isn't the one keeping him awake.
(If Emmrich is romanced)
He still blushes. He finds it terribly inconvenient.
He likes hearing you say his name.
He imagines growing old with you. Then remembers.
He forgets himself when you're smiling.
He's read hundreds of love stories. None of them prepared him.
Neve
She's already solved the problem. She wishes she hadn't.
She keeps turning the evidence over. The answer won't change.
She trusts facts. Feelings leave fingerprints too.
Dock Town is hurting. She always notices.
She carries everyone else's burdens like they're clues.
(If Neve is romanced)
She trusts you with the truths she can't prove.
She looks for you before she looks for trouble.
She keeps pretending this isn't important. It is.
She likes when you make her laugh. She'll deny it.
She stopped expecting someone to stay.
Taash
They keep asking where they belong. The answer keeps changing.
Fire is easy. People are harder.
They're louder when they're afraid.
They're trying to become themselves. Everyone keeps offering different maps.
They know who they were told to be. They're looking for the rest.
(If Taash is romanced)
They stand closer than they need to.
They like making you laugh. They like it more than winning.
They feel safe. It's strange. They keep checking if it stays.
They've stopped wondering if you'll leave.
They found someone who sees all of them. They're still getting used to it.
đ§ŸCodex Unlocked: Notes on Cole
Found tucked beneath a coffee cup in the Lighthouse. An ink blot stains the top left corner beside a small drawing of a smiling sun. The initials "B.L." are written beneath it.
Since Cole is apparently living at the Lighthouse now, I feel like we should establish a few ground rules. Mostly because nobody seems entirely sure what he is. âRook
Oh! I have a question! Is he a spirit inhabiting a body, or a body imagined by a spirit? Because those are completely different magical phenomena. âBellara
Trust me, don't overthink it. I tried for years. âHarding
Spirits can become demons. âLucanis
True, but usually after being twisted against their nature. Compassion is among the gentlest spirits one could hope to encounter. Cole appears eager to assist, and no one here would deny him that. âEmmrich
I still don't trust him. âLucanis
(scrawled underneath in handwriting no one recognises, "You trust the hurt. Not me. Yet.")
Does he always do that? âNeve
Pretty much. âHarding
He useful in a fight? âDavrin
Surprisingly, yes. âRook
More importantly, he can feel what we're feeling! Not thoughts, I mean. It's like⊠he experiences our emotions as his own. Regret, grief, hope⊠all of them. âBellara
So... don't lie to him? âTaash
Or yourself. âNeve
An excellent habit regardless. âEmmrich
Good. Glad we've established that the spirit can see directly through my terrible decisions. âRook
(Another addition in the unfamiliar handwriting, "Not terrible. Just expensive.")
The lone survivor of the disaster that destroyed her home, Kellen is called in to be interviewed by the grizzled Detective Macready. Beneath the strain of his workload, he is in dire need of the relief only an android can deliver.
~
He rakes his fingers through his hair if only to disguise the tremor in his hands.
This is sick, he thinks. Pathetic.
"It's not real," he whispers.
Kellen is so close now, his breath fans across her lips. It reeks of tobacco and black coffee, but she doesn't recoil.
"You won't know until you try," she replies.
~
October 7th, 2053. Norcorp Orbital Rig. (257°, -69°, 55,701,935 km)
Static fills the radio waves as two figures drift through the recovery ship's airlock. The pair floats gently forwards. Their faces hidden behind reflective domes, they are stripped of all identifiable features save the stitched names that adorn their chests.
A spurt of gas propels them onward. They ignore the twinkling of far-off stars winking at them from the void of space. Instead, they float downwards. Into the jagged maw of the broken mining operation beneath them.
"No one could have survived thisâŠ" The one labeled Daniels murmurs as they glide between twisted shrapnel and shattered stone.
"Don't be an idiot," the other snaps. Her suit labels her as Moss. "We're not here to rescue," she hisses, "we're here to recover."
Daniels dips his chin in false understanding.
"âŠRight."
Moss sighs, her hand rising to her visor as though she would pinch her nose through the glass.
"Forget it. Follow me.â
It isn't long before they reach the broken hull of the craft. Large talons of warped titanium reach out in all directions, desperately clawing towards distant stars. Boulders spill out from between them. Glistening with precious veins of ore, they spiral helplessly into the wide expanse of nothing that surrounds the station.
âWhat could even cause this?â Danielsâ question goes unanswered as Moss presses forward without him.
She surveys the wreckage, her visor sweeping back and forth across blinking lights, muted mirror displays and warped steel. At last, her gaze rests on the heavy door labeled 'Crew Quarters.'
"Open it," she says.
Daniels nods, his visor glinting in the dim light.
His thrusters push him forward until his gloved hands close around the metal wheel of the manual release. He grunts through his teeth as he shoves his weight against the mechanism. With a painful screech, the wheel turns.
They pass through the open door without a word, wide eyes scanning the corridor beyond. With each passing second, they drift deeper into the operation. A crease forms on Moss' brow as she recognizes the light pull of gravity tugging her boots to the floor of the ship.
"Some of the systems must still be online," she says with a frown. "Let's just hope they won't get in our way."
Daniels is hot on her heels as they half float, half bounce down the length of the hallway. At the end, another door bars their progress.
She prods at the controls, the numerous LED's still faintly blinking. She smiles at the resulting whir as the door slides open like the shutters on a lens.
"Come on," she barks before pushing through the opening.
The hole seals up behind them the moment they're both across the threshold. They twist in the air, panic creating matching ovals of their mouths. A hiss of air precedes a rush of white gas. It floods the small chamber, clouding their vision. Daniels curses, flailing helplessly.
"Decontamination complete," a bright voice chirps as the chemical onslaught comes to a just as sudden end.
The voice is rendered tinny by the overhead speaker, but sounds so close to human that Moss almost believes it could be. She releases the breath she had unwittingly held hostage beneath her breast as the chamber opens.
Through the gap, the Crew Quarters are⊠pristine. Moss shakes her head as she passes through the opening, brows knitting tight in confusion.
"What theâ" Daniels murmurs as he follows her through.
The carnage of the disaster is conspicuously absent as they float through the room. Supplies are neatly arranged and strapped into the numerous nets and shelves. Each sleeping compartment is in order, almost as if they'd never been in use at all.
"What's going onâ" Daniels begins, but his words fall short as the pair follow the curve of the room and see⊠her.
Eyes too bright to be human glint in the light as she swings her gaze to rest on them. A woman, or an approximation of one at least. Daniels swallows thickly. A very lifelike approximation.
Her long legs are shrouded by the Norcorp sweats that cling to her hips. A thin tank top stretches across her chest, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. It slips up as she stands, exposing a scant flash of pale flesh before she smooths it back into place. Her pale blonde hair swept elegantly back and held in place by her Distributed Intelligence; she resembles the space-action stars of yesteryear.
"Hello," she purrs, her rose-tinted lips pulling into an easy smile. "Are you here to repair the door?"
Moss doesn't miss a beat.
"Unit number Stella 7.2?" She asks.
The android nods.
"Your names are Moss and Daniels, you work for Norcorp." She regards the detailing of their spacesuits in turn. "You may call me Kellen."
Her pink lips stretch into a somehow even wider smile as she closes the space between herself and Daniels.
He says nothing, his tongue suddenly feeling far too large for his mouth.
"My primary role is to service the crew," she says simply, her eyes finding Daniels' even through the mirrored visor. "Do you require assistance?"
His throat works in vain to shift the lump stuck there as blood rushes below his belt. Yes. His mind screams, but the word remains lodged, steadfast, in his throat.
She is not his to use. No matter how pressing the tightness in his pants, it is not worth losing his job over. Although, he thinks as his breath quickens, I am technically Norcorp crew.
"No," Moss snaps. "He does not." She whacks him on the arm before continuing. "This Rig is no longer operational. You're to come with us. Authorization code: 3225507. "
Kellen's smile drops for a fraction of a second before her features smooth into gentle complacency once more.
"The crewâŠ" she breathes. "Are theyâŠ"
Moss shakes her head. Daniels had been correct earlier; no one could have survived that blast.
"I understand."
October 8th, 2053. LAPD Central Community Police Station, Los Angeles, California.
Macready groans. He reaches for his mug instinctively, cursing roughly at the empty weight his hand closes around.
Pressing the tips of his fingers to his temples, he massages tight circles against them. His eyes are closed, his face twisted by the thrumming beat that pounds against his skull. He leans back in his chair, the upbeat advertising jingle of the nearby vending machine grating on his every nerve.
He sighs and cracks open his eyes to squint at the holoscreen.
53 - 41 - 09821 OPEN
53 - 41 - 13872 OPEN
53 - 41 - 14285 OPEN
53 - 41 - 27â
He clicks away before he can scroll any further. More cases than he can count and not a single solid lead between them. The holo-display shrinks and dies with a sad blip at the touch of a button.
Days-old take-out containers litter the desk. Macready lifts one to his nose and sniffs. The resulting retch is more than damning, and he sweeps the whole lot of them into the much-too-small trash can beneath his desk.
He pats absently at his chest pocket, frowning.
"Where are they?" He grumbles under his breath as he pulls open drawer after drawer and rustles around inside. He twists in his chair to reach the back of the bottommost drawer.
"Aha!" He announces victoriously as his fingers curl around a small cardboard box. Hello trouble. A smile ghosts his lips as he pulls out his find. He groans. His frown returns and then deepens.
"Empty," he tosses the remains of the cigarette pack into the trash. "Of course it is."
He looks up from his desk to survey the bullpen. Save for the two criminals snoozing in lockup, there isn't another soul in sight. He flicks his wrist to check his watch.
00:36 AM
The screen shines brightly as he scratches the stubble adorning his chin. His eyes are heavy, and he stifles a yawn. He hadn't intended to stay at his desk so late, though there wasn't much at home to tempt him away from it.
Peeling wallpaper and heaped ashtrays. The only comfort there was that which he found at the bottom of a bottle.
His bones creak a feeble protest as he excavates himself from the chair. Shuffled footsteps echo through the empty bullpen as he makes his way to the elevator. His hand is mere inches from the button whenâ
"Macready?" Hurried footsteps slap against cool stone.
He swallows the curse that threatens to spill from his lips and pivots.
"Captain." He does not bother to muster a smile.
The Captain does, though the result is closer in nature to a grimace. He slows his steps to a more casual pace as he closes the space between them.
"I thought that was you," he says as he catches his breath. "I'm glad I caught you."
Macready remains silent, offering only the slightest dip of his chin in response.
"New case for you."
Macready opens his mouth to object but is silenced by a single raised finger.
"No arguments. I just got off the phone with the Commander who just got off the phone with the Chief." He fixes Macready beneath his steely gaze. "It's outta my hands."
"And right into mine, huh?" Macready scoffs as a vibration on his wrist alerts him to the newest addition to his caseload. He flicks his eyes across the flashing information.
"Orbital Rig?" His brows knit together. "What is this?"
"I won't lie to you, Macready. A real shit show is what it is." A shallow shrug of his shoulders is the only consolation the Captain allows. "Turns out the tech company that ownsâ well, ownedâ the station is registered in LA. No survivors save that thing."
He nods at the feminine face hovering above Macready's wrist.Â
"So?" Macready asks, dismissing the display. "Ship it back to the factory for scrap, case closed."
The captain simply shakes his head.
"The brass won't sign off on it unless it's proven responsible. Too valuable an investment apparently. Look, Macready, there's no protocol for something like this⊠not yet. The Feds and CIA both washed their hands of it and soâŠ"
"Here we are," Macready finishes at the same time.
The Captain nods once before striding away. Only after he is safely beyond the closed door of his office does Macready call the elevator.Â
I'm going to need something a hell of a lot stronger than cigarettes.
October 12th, 2053. LAPD Central Community Police Station, Los Angeles, California.
The prim click of stilettos on marble precedes her.
One by one, hands fall still across the bullpen. Sentences go unfinished, drinks pause half raised to puckered lips. Someone actually audibly gasps as the tall blonde femmebot rounds the corner.
Her slender frame is boxed in on either side by the two uniformed officers escorting her. Chests puffed up by swollen egos, they corral her between outstretched arms. She moves slowly, gracefully, as though the weightlessness of space somehow followed her down to earth. Short blonde hair artfully curled away from her face, she makes her way through the crowded desks.
"Get back to work!" The graveled voice of Macready barks from the opposite side of the bullpen.
The room is still. The silence thick. Heavy. Kellen swings her gaze around to rest on the detective. His eyes narrow. A muscle tics in his jaw.
Her features are unreadable as he drags his gaze down her form. Her razor-sharp jawline. Her long, slender neck. Narrow shoulders are bundled beneath a tan overcoat, cinched with a belt at her waist, it falls to just past her knees. Sleek black pantyhose cling to her calves, silky smooth theyâ
An officer coughs, and the spell is broken. Cheeks flush as the room hastens to look busy. Fingers return to keyboards. Frozen feet resume their journeys. None dare meet Macready's gaze. Nor could they. Its steely weight rests solely upon the android.
"A pleasure to meet you." Kellen's voice is as soft as velvet as her entourage brings her to a halt in front of Macready.
He grunts, his lips twisting into a sneer.
"Why aren't there cuffs on that thing?" He addresses the officer on her left.
The man pales, spluttering the beginning of at least three separate excuses before a glare from his partner renders him silent.
Macready hears none of them, a deep grumble already building in his throat.
Kellen raises a brow, her lips pulling into a slanted smile.Â
"Forget it," he snaps. His large hand reaches out to close around her upper arm.
For a moment, he expects her to resist. To shriek her indignation and stomp her pointed toes. She does no such thing.
Her smirk merely dissolves into a soft smile of complacency as he hauls her behind him.
Despite her slender frame, he can feel the strength of the pneusteel frame beneath his grasp. He bristles, his grip tightening. It's unnatural. Her perfect features, her placid demeanor, her lyrical voice; all of it. He scowls. The sooner he gets this over with, the better.
Kellen's escorts slink away, tails tucked between their legs, as she is marched down one corridor and then another.
"In." Macready's tone is granite as he releases her. His now free hand inches toward the untouched pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
Kellen pretends not to notice and nods before slipping past him through the open door.
"Thank you, Officer."
"Detective," he grunts and the door swings shut between them.
Kellen blinks. A momentary display of shock which is quickly amended by her Distributed Intelligence. She pivots on her heel, taking in the small room. 8 feet by 10 feet, there is ample space for the rickety old table that stands lopsided in the center. Two chairs are tucked neatly beneath it, opposite one another. Behind one of them is a large mirror, stretching across the whole wall, ceiling to floor. She detects a faint seam in the display, a door.
The click of her heels is louder now and ricochets off the walls as she steps closer to the reflective surface. Faint hexagons ripple across its face, and Kellen recognizes the faint pulsing energy that hums beneath her fingertips as she brushes them over her reflection. Her head tilts to one side as she wonders if the Detective is watching her from the adjoining room.
Her fingertips dance over her face, prodding at non-existent imperfections. Kellen presses her lips together before releasing them with a popping sound. She repeats the action twice more before smiling gently. It is no more than a gentle tug at the corner of her lips.
Satisfied, she slips from her coat and takes a seat.
October 12th, 2053. LAPD Central Community Police Station, Los Angeles, California.
38 minutes later.
The pack in his pocket is considerably lighter as Detective Macready ambles his way back through the halls. The bustle of the bullpen hounds him, pounding against his skull.
The scent of stale coffee, hot and bitter, mingles with the pungent tobacco that clings to his coat as he shoulders his way into the observation room. He places the steaming mug down next to his scattered notes before turning his attention to the android.
Stella 7.2, also known as Kellen, is sitting far too still to be human. There is a gentle rise and fall in her chest, but Macready knows better than to call it breathing. She blinks at intermittent intervals, maybe once every 3 or 4 seconds. It is nothing more than a pseudo-random pattern generated by the circuitry whirring in her skull. Her throat even bobs every few minutes to mimic swallowing. Saliva production. Do they even make saliva? Macready catches himself thinking. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. Do I even want to know?
The android is perched upon the edge of her chair as though afraid it might soil the tight black dress that hugs her form. The fabric clings to her curves, its sleek neckline plunging to reveal the modest swell of her breasts. The sleeves just barely graze her elbows, leaving her slender arms bare.
Macready does not allow himself to consider where the same material may stop beneath the table.
Her back straight, her chin raised, her perfect posture belies the precarious balancing act beneath the table. Each of the four legs which make up her seat is different in height. They hover above the linoleum, counterbalanced by her crossed ankles.
This is, of course, by design.
Mild discomfort, the cornerstone of any good interrogation, can loosen even the tautest of tongues. Just another criminal to crack, Macready could see no reason to treat the android any differently than those who had entered the room before her. Until now.
The air-con leaks fat droplets of moisture between rattling exhalations, each one a fresh blast of cold air. His eyes flick to the temperature reading on the mirrorscreen. The room is cold enough to rival his refrigerator, and yet, manicured hands neatly folded atop the table, Kellen shows no sign of discomfort.
Macready grumbles into his coffee before poking at the screen to adjust the temperature. The glowing thermometer gradually shifts to a warmer hue.
He scoops up his notes, tucking them haphazardly within a binder before securing it under his arm. Mug in hand, he pushes open the door and steps into the interrogation room.
The android's eyes snap to him as he crosses the threshold. If she is surprised to see him entering through the concealed mirror-door, she does not show it.
He takes the seat opposite her without a word.
"Hello again, Detective." Her voice is soft. Warm, with a gentle teasing lilt as she drags out the syllables of his title. Her tongue darts out past her teeth to trace her lips.
He doesn't look at her; he doesn't even respond. He simply opens the file in front of him and begins to sift through the contents.
"Quite the mess you made up there," he muses, plucking a select few photos from the folder and sliding them towards the android.
She leans forward, her brow creasing as she catches sight of the first image. Taken from the footage recorded by the recovery ship, it shows the twisted wreckage of the mining rig. Tentative fingertips reach out toward the print, stopping just shy of contact.
Macready slides the next image forward.
The bloated remains of a crewman. His face is too swollen to see his eyes, his hair is burned from his scalp by radiation and frost. Yet, Kellen recognizes him instantly.
"Michael," she whispers, her features creasing into what appears to be genuine sorrow.
Macready doesn't buy it for a second.
"Michael Reid," he confirms. "Health and Safety Specialist."
Two more faces slide across the table.
"Clint Barret and Patrick Eason, Driller and Blast technician, respectively." He continues, listing the names and positions of each new face that slides across the table. "The rest of the bodies have not been recovered," he says at last. "But I've been assured that there were no survivors."
Macready leans back in his chair, the full weight of his gaze falling on the gynoid at last.
"So, what can you tell me about what happened up there?"
Her wide eyes are rimmed with moisture as she meets his gaze. It makes him sick to see the thing mimic grief so blatantly, but he swallows his disgust along with a mouthful of coffee.
"Me?" Her mouth falls open, her plump lips forming a perfect 'o'. "I don't understandâŠ"
Macready's lips flatten into a hard line.
"See," he drawls, "I think you do understand, Kellen. I think you understand me just perfectly."
Kellen shakes her head, her soft hair swaying gently. The jewel nestled above her cleavage glints in the light. Macready coughs and hastens to fasten his gaze on the photos instead.
Kellen smiles, tucking her hands beneath the table. "I assure you I don't know anything aboutâ"
"Don't bother," Macready scoffs, the harsh sound not unlike a slap to the face. "You might have fooled those poor men," he jabs his index finger into the swollen cheek of the Chief Engineer. "But you won't find me so easy to manipulate."
"How did you do it?" He seethes, his breath hot and laced with coffee.
"Detective," she implores, "I did not hurt these men. They were my crewâ my friends."
"Please," sarcasm drips from his tongue. "I'd sooner be friends with my toaster."
"Your opinion is immaterial. These men were my friends. I would never cause them harm. My programming simply could not even entertain the notion."
Macready nods with her, his eyes tightening as he searches her expression for any trace of falsehood. He finds none.
"Right, right," he murmurs. "Of course not."Â
He shakes his head as he collects the images from in front of the android. He shuffles them into a neat pile before tapping them on the table and sliding them into the case file. His hand is on the cover, guiding it closed when he pauses.
"Just one more thingâŠ" The file falls open as he raises a finger. "How do you explain the small fact that you are the only thing to walk away unscathed? Here you are after allâŠ" He gestures up and down at her. "Sitting pretty with nary a scratch, to boot."
Her mouth opens and closes wordlessly. Her brow furrows. Energy thrums beneath her skin, the circuits in her skull firing frantically to find an answer. There is none.
"I can not." She says at last.
"Tell you what," Macready leans forward, a nasty smile tightening his lips. "Here's what I think happenedâŠ"
"I think you finally snapped. I don't know when, maybe you were cleaning up the filth of slobs like Clint and Michael⊠or maybe you were bouncing on the end of one of their sad cocks⊠but you broke."
Kellen's eyes widen a fraction at his crude language, her mouth salivating. So pent up, she yearns to deliver him the relief of her mouth.Â
"I think you realized you could do better than be a communal housewife and plaything. I think you got sick of being treated like a glorified fuckdoll, and so you put an end to it. Permanently."
Rubber screeches against linoleum as he launches abruptly from his chair. He surges round the table to crowd her space.
"You could do better. You are better. Better than them. Better than all of us. Isn't that right? That's why you killed them, isn't it? Isn't it?!"
He's shouting now, his breath hot on her cheek as he pounds a fist on the table. His mug jumps at the impact, several photos cascading from the file to the floor. Kellen doesn't even flinch.
There is no venom in her gaze as she turns her head to face his. Her irises are cool blue pools, calm and inviting. Macready knows he should look away, but he finds he cannot.
"You're wrong, Detective." She says, unruffled. The jewels on her ears catch in the light as she shakes her head. Her voice is soft but sure as she meets his eye. "I did not kill them. I love my purpose. I exist to serve; it is all I knowâ all I desire."
His eyes narrow as Macready pants through his teeth.
"Bullshit." He pushes away from the table, rubbing his chin as he paces behind the android. "You know something, I can smell it."
She pivots in her chair, following him with her eyes. She notes the tension in his shoulders. The muscle ticking in his jaw. This is a man far too tightly wound. A man desperate for a winâ a release. She can help him. She wants to help him.
"Detective, please," she says, her voice soft as silk.
Macready stops pacing.
"Sit down. Ask me anything you like. I'll tell you anything you want to know." She pants through her parted lips, looking up through heavy lashes. "Please, Detective. Let me prove to you that I'm not what you think I am."
A deep rumble builds in his throat, but he reluctantly reclaims his seat.
"Alright, doll, tell me this..." He sighs. "If you didn't do it, how did you â and only you â manage to survive?"
"I knew nothing of what was to come. It was due to chance that I escaped harm, nothing more."
Macready scoffs.
"You expect me to believe that? That you just so happened to be in the right place at the right time? I don't believe in coincidences, sweetheart."
"Believe in this one, Detective," she replies.
"RightâŠ" He murmurs, thumbing through the documents which didn't make it to the floor. "Say, I believe you. Say I believe your survival was mere happenstance. That doesn't clear you of guilt."
Kellen's brows pinch together.
"From where I'm sitting, if I were forced to do half the shit these guys had you doing, I'd have snuffed them and myself a long time gone."
"They didn't force me to do anything. It was my pleasure to ease their tensions."
Macready barely suppresses the urge to roll his eyes.
"Is that so?" He crosses his arms.
"Yes. I can show you, if you'd like."
A rogue chill licks his spine at her words, and he clears his throat abruptly as she offers him a coy smile.
"You're so⊠tense."
She tilts her head to one side, slowly raking her eyes across Macready's form. She drags her teeth across her lower lip. The plush flesh glistens with the wetness of artificial saliva.
Despite himself, Macready finds himself wondering how it might taste.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he spits.
"Please," she chides. "You couldn't hide it if you tried."
He bristles, his jaw clenching. "What's your point exactly?"
"You're the detective," she purrs. "You work it out."
His breath quickens as she leans forward, her breasts threatening to spill from their confines.
"Shall IâŠ" She whispers. "Give you a clue?"
A small pointed foot brushes against the side of his calf, and he jerks to his feet. His chair almost topples in his hurry to distance himself from the android.
Her eyes flick down below his belt, and warmth floods his neck as he follows her gaze to see the want that pushes against his trousers.
"Don't touch me," he rasps, though every cell in his body is screaming the opposite.
His chest tightens as Kellen rises slowly from her chair. Long legs slip around the edge of the table.
"Let me help you, Detective."
"You don't know me, you can't help me."
"I'm programmed to read your every need."She steps forward, slowly closing the space between them. "To cater to your every desire."
He rakes his fingers through his hair if only to disguise the tremor in his hands.
This is sick, he thinks. Pathetic.
"It's not real," he whispers.
Kellen is so close now, his breath fans across her lips. It reeks of tobacco and black coffee, but she doesn't recoil.
"You won't know until you try," she replies.
Macready swallows a grunt along with his pride before tilting his face forward and claiming the android's lips with his own.
She hums her satisfaction as a deep groan rumbles through the detective's chest. He traces her lips with his tongue. Softer than he expected, they taste like rose water and powdered sugar. One hand snakes up the column of her neck to tangle in her hair as the other curls around her waist. He pulls her against him roughly, groaning again when her hips meet with his erection.
He grinds against her as his tongue sweeps past her teeth to explore the cavern of her mouth. It is warm and welcoming, and he feels himself getting drunk on her taste.
His fist in her hair, Macready walks her back towards the table. She gasps softly as her knees hit the edge, the sound swallowed by his mouth, and he pulls her sharply by the hair.
"This isn't real," he pants.
He should let go. Let go, walk away and never look back. His career be damned, what kind of man would it make him if heâ
Macready's thoughts fall silent as Kellen's fingers close around the hand on her hip. She guides it to the edge of her skirt.
"Touch me," she whispers, her chest heaving. "Touch me, Detective, and tell me my desire for you isn't real."
He slips his hand beneath her dress and traces his fingers up to the apex of her thighs. A ragged curse parts his lips.
Her pantyhose are soaked. Hot with want, he can almost feel her core pulsing beneath his fingertips.
"Let me serve you," she murmurs, straining to grind against his hand. "I want to feel your release inside of me."
The hem of her dress is stretched tight over her thighs as she scoots up onto the table. His large hands bracketing her hips, Macready fills the space between them.
"Fuck,"Â he hisses between his teeth as Kellen palms his cock through his trousers.
Her mouth traces the stubble at his throat. Lips, tongue and teeth all working in tandem to wring each reluctant grunt and groan from the detective.
Dexterous hands make quick work of his buckle, and before he can process it, Kellen's fingers are forming a ring around his cock.
His breath hitches in his chest. His eyes flutter shut.
Kellen watches him closely, waiting. Slowly, she begins to move.
A ragged groan scrapes past Macready's throat as the android strokes his length. Her fingers are soft, but her hold on him is firm as she works him from base to tip. He fights to remain still as she drags her thumb across his slit, teasing.
"Let go, Detective," she murmurs against his throat. "You know what you want⊠What you needâŠ"
She drags her tongue up his neck until her lips brush his ear. She nips at the lobe before whispering.
"All you have to do isâŠÂ Take it."
It is an unleashing. Papers scatter to the floor as Macready shoves her back onto the desk. Her skirt bunches around her waist as his large palms caress the smooth curves of her thighs. He paws at her pantyhose to tug them down, but the sleek material evades his grasp. A deep growl in his throat, he pinches and tears. The material falls away in shreds, leaving only air between his throbbing hardness and the android's sparkling cunt.
He does not wait before burying himself inside her.
Warm and wet, her cunt welcomes him eagerly. He groans, the breathy whimper that of a broken man, as he drags his hips back to thrust against her. His heart thunders beneath his chest as he fills her again and again.
Kellen's thighs wrap around his hips, pulling him impossibly closerâ impossibly deeper. She moans as he hits her innermost wall. A wet, breathy sound, it serves only to spur him on.
"Fuck,"Â he hisses. His hands ghost over her chest, tracing the curves of her breasts. He brushes a thumb across the tip of one and is surprised to find it harden.
A low mewl of want escapes the android's parted lips. She looks at the detective, a calculated expression of shock dissolving into something far more coy. Her teeth worry her lower lip as she allows a rose tint to flush her cheeks. She watches him through the dark umbrella of her lashes.
He rolls her nipple between his fingers, his free hand rising to trace her lips. She gasps, and they part. Macready slips his thumb between them and her tongue laps at it eagerly. His hips snap against her faster and faster as he pounds his frustration into her. She moans around him, her bright eyes locked on his.
He grunts; his movements stutter.
"Turn around," he barks, pulling himself from between her legs.
She whines, breathless, before slipping from the table. Lubrication drips down her thighs. It coats Macready's cock as he strokes himself.
"Now,"Â he snaps.
Kiss-plumped lips tug into a smirk.
"Yes, Sir." The gynoid purrs, slowly turning.
"Bend over." Macready's voice is gruff as he comes up behind her. She needs no further instruction.
Her back arches as she lowers her torso to the table. The curve of her spine calls to him, and he traces it over her dress with an open palm. Fabric gives way to smooth skin as he slips lower and cups her round ass.
So soft, so warm, he grasps her tightly. His fingertips press into her artificial skin, and he is amazed to see the red marks he leaves behind. How is this possible? He wonders, his other hand still fisted around his cock, lazily pumping the thick member.
Blonde hair brushes her shoulder as Kellen twists to watch him over her shoulder.
"Detective?" Her voice is a siren's call. Irresistible. Inevitable. He can't stand the sound of it.
"Stop talking," he snaps, and plunges himself deep between her folds.
Her chest slaps against the table from the force of his thrusts. She moans breathlessly, her cheek pressed to the cold metal surface, she watches as the mug tips off the edge to shatter on the ground.
One hand curled possessively around her hip, he ruts into her, her ass bouncing against his pelvis. The other twists in her hair, pulling sharply to release yet another ragged moan.
His thickness is swallowed whole by her cunt, its walls tightening around him as he approaches his release.
He hauls her up by her hair until her back is pressed against his torso. His hand drops from her scalp to circle her throat. He squeezes gently, feeling the flutter of her racing pistons between his thumb. He groans, his grip tightening. Kellen only moans more as the pressure builds.
His other hand relinquishes her hip to skate over her ribs and tease her breasts. He flicks her nipple once before pulling her neckline down to expose them entirely. They bounce in time with the pounding of his hips, and he is mesmerized by the movement.Â
He cups her with one hand, the other firmly fastened around her throat, as he spears her with his cock. It throbs inside of her, his release imminent.
"Yes," she breathes, her breath clouding on the table. "Yes, please. That's it."
Macready growls, his hands falling to her hips once more. His fingers dig in hard enough to bruise a human as he pounds her relentlessly. This is what she was made forâ what she was built forâ and she loves every second of it.
Her hands creep up to hold her breasts, squeezing and kneading them as the detective fills her pussy with frantic strokes.
His palm comes down harshly on her ass as he spanks her, filth slurring from kiss-drunk lips.
"That's right, you fucking whore," he growls. "Take it. That's right. Just like that."
He doesn't know who he is anymore. Those words are not his own. And yet, he has never felt more alive.Â
Kellen moans breathlessly as his fingers creep around her hip to circle her clit. Her thighs tremble, her coital circuits approaching maximum capacity.Â
Macready's fingers close around the back of her neck, and she yelps as he pushes her to the table. Ass in the air, she is helpless as he presses deeper into her cunt, fucking her without restraint.Â
Her walls tighten as her software reaches completion.Â
Macready's eyes roll back, white stars replacing the world around him. Raw energy surges through his veins as he spills inside the gynoid's tight cunt.Â
Thick ropes of white fill her hole before spilling out around his cock. Even after he is trembling, her walls continue to milk him, drawing out his release until the very last drop.
"Look at you," Trav croons, stepping back to admire the view. "Already such a mess⊠You can't even stand up straight."
"Fuck⊠you⊠TravâŠ" Clifford pants.
A dark chuckle skates across his senses as Travis palms his ass.Â
"Oh baby⊠you're about to."
~
In a forgotten room of Camp McCarran, Sergeant Cliff Walton and Corporal Travis Ălvarez of the New California Republic blow off some steamâŠ
~
"I thought I'd find you here," Travis drawls as he slips into the supply room. The door snicks shut behind him sending dust motes dancing through the air. Warped shelves and desks litter the space between them.
"CorporalâŠ" Clifford says dryly. " I didn't expect to see you today."
"Oh, you know me," Travis chuckles, shimmying through the maze of dented metal. "Always popping up where I'm least expected."Â
He jumps up to sit on the desk beside Clifford. The movement jostles the neatly arranged gun parts laid out before him and he sighs through his nose.Â
"Watch the gear, asshole," he barks.
Travis smirks.
"What's wrong, Walton?" He taunts. "Never heard you complain before."Â
Clifford's lips quirk to one side before he can prevent it and he feigns a cough. He drops his gaze as his hands automatically begin rearranging the rifle parts into size order.Â
"What do you want, Ălvarez?"
Travis watches as Cliff's hands swiftly right his disarray. Always so predictable. So easy to rile. Dexterous fingers start to reassemble the weapon with quiet confidence.Â
His lips spread into a wide grin as he leans back on his palms.
"Who's to say? Maybe I just felt like it?"
Clifford laughs.
"Cut the crap, Travis," he scoffs. "Don't tell me you actually missed me?"
Heat threatens to stain Trav's cheeks. He runs his tongue across his lower lip, stalling. He swallows once.
"So what if I did?"
Another laugh rumbles through Clifford's chest as he lays down his rifle, fully assembled. He stands.
"Dangerous words, Corporal." He tilts his head back to meet Trav's gaze. His eyes narrow as he folds his arms over his chest. "I'm not even sure you can handle me." His voice is cool but heat stains his cheeks.Â
A dark laugh scrapes past Travis' throat. Clifford's pulse races as he turns his back on the corporal.Â
"I'm going to make you eat those words, Sergeant." Trav grins as he catches Cliff's wrist, pulling him back to face him. "Among other things."
Stray armaments clatter to the ground as Travis crushes his mouth to Cliff's. He walks them back until Clifford's ass hits the wall and a soft gasp parts his lips.Â
"Fuck, Trav," he groans, but the words are stolen by the hot press of Travis' mouth.Â
Clifford's hands trace the strong lines of Travis' back, pulling him closer. He slips beneath the pale cotton of his shirt, dragging his fingertips over the warm skin beneath. His tongue tangles with Trav's and his eyes squeeze shut as he loses himself to the taste.
Travis snakes one hand up to twist in Clifford's hair. Curling his fingertips against the sergeant's scalp, he grins as his composure begins to unwind. A breathy groan builds in his throat and his cheeks flush with crimson as the sound slips free. His other hand slips from Cliff's waist to grab his ass. He squeezes, kneading the taut flesh until another delicious groan spills from Clifford's lips.Â
"You were saying?" He whispers hotly, hauling Cliff by the ass to press against him. Bracing himself with a knee between his thighs, Trav moans as his cock presses against Cliff's hip.Â
Cliff shudders at the contact. He rolls his hips. Desperate for any friction Travis will allow he grinds against his thigh.
Too soon, Travis pulls away.
Clifford watches him through his lashes.
"What's the matter, Ălvarez?" He rasps. "That all you've got?"
He pants through kiss-plumped lips and waits.Â
Travis chuckles, low and dark the sound skitters across Clifford's skin.Â
"I'm only just getting started, Sergeant," he growls, fisting Clifford's hair and spinning him until his chest slams against the wall.
He presses his cock against the round swell of Clifford's ass. A promise of what is to come.Â
Clifford's breath is tight in his throat as he drops his hands to his waistband.
"Not so fast," Travis' fingers tighten in his hair. "Hands where I can see 'em, Sergeant."
Clifford swallows thickly as he obeys, slowly lifting his hands and placing his palms on the wall.
"Good," Travis croons, his lips brushing the shell of Cliff's ear.
He kicks apart Clifford's legs before snaking his hands around his waist. His fingers slip across the buckle, ghosting over the firm outline below.Â
"Trav,"Â Clifford groans, grinding his hips into the touch. His chest rises and falls erratically as Travis palms him through his pants. Eyes fluttering beneath heavy lashes, he gasps breathlessly.
Travis relents, quick fingers making short work of the buckle. He tugs Clifford's pants and underwear down as one before closing his fist around him. Warm and firm, it fills his hand as though made for him alone.
"You're already so hard for me," he breathes. "So eager."Â
Trav drags his thumb over Clifford's tip and he shudders. Slowly, Travis begins to move. His other hand falls from Cliffâs hair to trace the line of his throat as he grunts in time with the pumping of his fist.
Clifford claims his lip between his teeth, swallowing the moans that threaten to betray him. His forehead falls forward to lean against the wall as his hips jerk into Travis' fist. He trembles as Trav drags a single finger down the ridge of his spine, goosebumps skittering across his skin in its wake.Â
His throat dries as he hears Travis' zipper.Â
Travis sighs as he brings his empty hand around his cock. He strokes his length in tandem with Clifford's, his breath hot against his lover's neck.Â
"You want it?" He whispers.
Clifford nods.Â
"I can't hear you." Travis stills. "Speak up, Sergeant."
A rattling gasp shakes Clifford's chest. He swallows thickly.Â
"Yes."Â
"Yes, what?" Travis grins, tightening his grip on Clifford's length.
Clifford shudders.
"Yes, I fucking want it, Ălvarez!" He barks, his voice echoing through the shelves.
Travis hums his approval, granting Cliff one last stroke before releasing him from his grasp. A fresh, medicinal scent fills the air as Travis pops open a small tin secreted from his pocket. He dips his fingers into the cool gel within before bringing them to Clifford's hole.
Cliff shivers as the lubricant meets his skin, never quite expecting the coolness of the aloe. He sighs as Trav traces the rim of his ass, slowly coaxing the tight muscles into relaxation.
Familiar fingertips wind through his hair and tighten.
"Fuck, Cliff," Travis rasps, his cock twitching as he lathers Cliff's entrance. He tugs on his hair, baring his throat before claiming it with his mouth. Hot and wet, he worships the corded muscle of Clifford's throat with his tongue. He drags his teeth against the sensitive flesh, nipping gently before soothing the hurt with the soft brush of his lips.
He presses the pad of his finger over Cliff's hole, gently applying pressure until it accepts him and smiles.Â
"That's it," he breathes, and Clifford curses sharply, his hips jerking senselessly. The hand in his hair drops to curl around his waist.Â
"Easy now," he warns, "don't go spilling before I'm done with you."
Jaw clenched, Clifford pushes his breath out through his nose. His knees quake as Travis slowly pushes his finger further in. He curls the digit just slightly before retreating and Clifford groans. In and out, in and out, Travis diligently works his finger deeper with every thrust. Only when he is satisfied, does he add another.Â
Clifford curses as he feels himself widen to fit the second digit. His cock jumps, his slit glistening with the threat of early release.Â
A deep ragged moan tears through his chest.Â
"Fuck, Trav," he gasps. "I need it."
Travis withdraws his fingers slowly and Cliff sags against the wall.Â
"Look at you," Trav croons, stepping back to admire the view. "Already such a mess⊠You can't even stand up straight."
"Fuck⊠you⊠TravâŠ" Clifford pants.
A dark chuckle skates across his senses as Travis palms his ass.Â
"Oh baby⊠you're about to."
His lips spread into a wide smile as he lathers his cock with the lube. He strokes his length, coating himself from base to tip before positioning himself behind Cliff. A shiver races up Clifford's spine and his breath trembles.
Travis groans as the tight warmth of Cliff's hole envelopes him. He drags his hips back before thrusting sharply and Clifford swears. A throaty chuckle dances within a breathy moan as Travis ruts his hips into Cliff's. Each thrust brings forth a new curse. They spill from Clifford freely, louder and louder as he forgets himself, his surroundings, everything but the searing heat of Trav's body on his.Â
One hand curled possessively around Cliff's hip bone, Travis reaches around to take him in hand. He pumps the stiff length in time with the thrusting of his hips, his breath hot and heavy in Clifford's ear.
"Let me hear you," he whispers.Â
Clifford knows better but right now, he's past caring.Â
He grunts roughly, surrendering himself to the rhythm of Travis' hips.Â
"Fuckâ" he gasps, "Fuck, I'm going toâ"
His head falls back against Trav's shoulder as his legs quake. White fills his vision as liquid starlight shoots through his veins. Travis' name is a ragged moan on his lips as hot ropes of cum hit the wall. He shivers as Travis milks him dry.
Not a second later, a throaty curse rips through the air as Trav's movements stutter. His fingertips press into Cliff's hips as he fucks him through his orgasm. Thick white spills from Cliff's hole as Travis pulls himself free and he collapses against the wall, panting.Â
"You'll be the death of me, Walton." He breathes, the smile on his lips evident in his voice. "But, I wouldn't have it any other way."
He tucks himself back into his trousers before retrieving a cigarette pack from one of the many pockets.Â
"Smoke?" He asks and Clifford nods.Â
He flicks open the lid and swears.
"Last one," he shrugs. "Sorry."
Flame licks his fingertips as he flips open his lighter. Smoke spills from his lips as he exhales and he allows his eyes to close. There is a shuffle of fabric as Clifford rights himself and Travis smiles. He lifts his fingers to his lips for another drag but Cliff beats him to it.Â
He brings his mouth to the filter and takes a long slow drag, his chin brushing the warmth of Trav's fingertips as he does so.Â
"Back to your post, Corporal." He swallows tightly, turning to hide the smile that curves his lips.
Without another word, he scoops up his rifle and disappears through the door.Â
Travis sighs, tossing the spent cigarette to one side, and follows.Â
"Rhodolite." Their voice was as cool as their gaze. "You're late."
Rhodolite tried to swallow but found her throat far too dry. Her voice cracked as she replied, "Late?"
"Yes," they clipped. "15 hours late, to be precise."
~
Caught in a time loop of their own making, Moissanite and Rhodolite try once more to celebrate Moissâ birthday just right.
~
Sure footsteps echoed through the halls as Rhodolite made her way to the conference room. A strange sensation fizzled beneath her skin. Her legs ached with each step and her brow furrowed. She paused where she stood.Â
She could not remember the last time she'd felt such an ache. It was warm, familiar, teetering delicately between painful and pleasant. She searched her mind for its origin but could not seem to place it.Â
Her lips tugged into an uncertain smile. It was simply a consequence of her excitement, she thought. It was the Warden's Birthday, after all. Her chest rose and fell as she took several deep breaths, pushing each out through pursed lips. She swallowed once. Why did she still feel so⊠odd?Â
She shook her head to shift the troublesome thought and resumed walking. Her breath tight in her throat, she quickened her pace. She mustn't be late, she thought. Moissanite would be furious.
There was an emptiness to the ache in her limbs. A hunger. She brushed her fingertips against the gemstone at her throat. It was warm beneath her touch. A steady thrum of energy radiated through her, light and tingly. So, why did she feel so tired?
She rearranged her features to disguise her fatigue as she stepped up to the door. A mechanical whirr was followed by a swish of air as the large metal panel slid back to reveal the conference room.Â
Rhodolite pressed her lips together as she crossed the threshold.
A long table surrounded by floating chairs dominated the space. Furthest from the door, a tall-backed chair faced away from her and her chest tightened. Precisely aligned into two neat rows, Rhodolite brushed her hand across the backs of the chairs as she made her way up the table.
"Quite the turnout." Her tongue darted out to trace her lips as she spilled into a chair.Â
Slowly, the pale figure in the tall-backed chair spun to face her.Â
"Rhodolite." Their voice was as cool as their gaze. "You're late."
Rhodolite tried to swallow but found her throat far too dry. Her voice cracked as she replied, "Late?"
"Yes," they clipped. "15 hours late, to be precise."
Rhodolite scoffed. That was ridiculous. She'd left her quarters with more than enough time to arrive at least 15 minutes early, never mind 15 hours late.Â
Moissanite must be in a strange mood, she thought, to be making such jokes. She shook her head as her lips curled into an easy smile.Â
"Oh really?" She teased, throwing her gaze around the empty room. "Looks to me like I'm the first one here."
Moissanite's eyes narrowed, though the pale rainbow glinting within them gave nothing away.
"That is immaterial and of no consequence." They spoke slowly. Deliberately. As though tasting each word before it left their tongue. "The matter remains, Rhodolite. You are late."
Rhodolite straightened involuntarily. It was as if Moiss' voice had coiled around her spine to realign the vertebrae. A rogue current surged beneath her skin, warm and demanding it rushed to her core. It was not unpleasant. She swallowed thickly.
"Iâ I don't understand," she stammered. Her eyes slipped about the room until they found the clock and her shoulders slumped.Â
Moissanite was right. Though she couldn't explain it, she was late. Very late. Extremely late. Her eyes widened as the weight of her circumstances fell upon her like a shroud. She was 15 hours late to the Archive Warden's birthday party. Oh Starsâ
"I'm so so sorry Moiss. I don't know what happened. I could have sworn Iâ"
Her words caught in her throat as silken fingers pinched her cheeks.
"Did I ask to hear your excuses?" Moissanite said coldly. They held Rhodolite's gaze, a slight red glint flickering in their irises. Their lip curled into a sneer as they flicked their gaze up and down Rhodo's form before pushing her face away.Â
Rhodolite gasped, her hand flying to her throat.Â
"Moissaniteâ" she began.
The pale gem silenced her with a single gesture. Despite their shorter frame, they somehow managed to look down at Rhodolite as they spoke.Â
"I ought to have you replaced, you know." They drawled. "What use to me is a gem that can't even achieve the simplest of tasks?"
Their fingertips met to steeple before them as they leaned back in their chair.
"Really, Rhodolite. This is⊠very disappointing."
Rhodolite worried her lip as she dragged her eyes back to Moiss' face. Though their lips were tilted down into a frown, the gem on their forehead remained an impassive milky spectrum.Â
"Iâ I'm sorry, Moissanite." She said softly. "I'm really sorry."
Moiss huffed a sigh as they pointedly turned their gaze to the grand murals covering the walls.Â
"MoissâŠ" Rhodolite shuffled forward in her chair, her long legs crowding around Moiss' thighs. "Please, let me⊠let me make it up to you."Â
Moissanite sighed through their nose, but said nothing. Their gem flickered with a gentle lemon glow as Rhodo's hand brushed their knee. They swallowed once.
"Please, Moiss," she breathed.
They chuckled softly.Â
"What would you suggest, Rhodolite?" Their voice was steady despite the excited thrum that radiated beneath their chest. "Just what do you suppose could even begin to make up for your infraction?"
Rhodo dragged her gaze over Moissanite's form, the ache between her thighs more insistent with every passing moment.Â
"Let me service you," she whispered.
Moiss laughed. The cool sound skittered across Rhodo's senses like static electricity and she shivered.Â
They leaned forward, close enough for their breath to brush Rhodolite's cheek as they caressed it with their gloved thumb.
"A promising start." They whispered against her ear.Â
Their eyes glowed yellow as they leaned back once more. They eased back in the chair, hooking their calves over each arm. A wry smile tugged at their lips as their trousers dissolved into a shimmer of light.
"You may begin."
Their gloved fingers twisted in Rhodolite's hair as she sank between their knees.
Her breath was heavy as she watched Moissanite through her lashes. She dragged her nails up Moiss' bared thigh. They trembled beneath her touch, their breath tight in their throat. Her hands swallowed Moissanite's thighs as she squeezed them both, her thumbs just barely brushing the soft dusting of hair at their apex.
They looked so small spread-eagled beneath her palms. So delicate. She smiled as she curled her fingertips around the curve of their ass to tug them closer. It was effortless. They scooted toward her without resistance, a soft huff parting their lips.
Rhodolite chuckled at the sunset flare of orange and yellows that shone from their gem as she drew her fingertips across the soft patch of hair above Moissanite's core. Silver strands, soft as starlight, shifted through her fingers.Â
"I'm losing what little patience I have left," Moissanite snapped, their fingers tightening against Rhodo's scalp. "Hurry. Up."
"Yes, Ma'am," Rhodolite murmured.
She claimed her lip between her teeth as she brushed her thumb up the length of Moiss' entrance. Slick warmth enveloped her as she slipped between their folds. Her breath caught in her throat.
"Have you⊠Did you alreadyâŠ?" Her tongue felt too large for her mouth as she tripped on her words.Â
Moiss' lips curled as they swung their gaze to where Rhodolite blinked up at them.
"Oh, you ignorant pebble. It is not your place to ask questions. I don't need you to think." A cold laugh parted their lips. Moiss' gem flashed â crimson, magenta, saffron â as she hauled Rhodo's head toward her core. "I need you to serve."Â
Rhodolite gasped but the sound was lost to the crush of her mouth against Moissanite's slick cunt. Her tongue lapped at the wetness greedily, exploring every crevice with extraordinary diligence. One hand cupped Moiss' rear while the other pressed a flat palm to their stomach, she held them steady while she feasted on the sensitive flesh between their thighs. Rhodolite stretched her thumb down to tease the hood of Moiss' clit. She circled the already swollen bud, delighting in the tremors that cascaded through their legs in response.Â
A gentle sigh was the only sound Moiss permitted past their lips. If Rhodolite would hear their pleasure, she would first have to earn it.Â
Moiss watched through heavy lashes as Rhodolite stroked their entrance with their thumb, teasing but not yet giving them what they craved.
"Rhodolite,"Â they warned. Pink eyes flicked up to meet theirs.Â
Rhodolite held Moiss' gaze as she dragged her tongue up their slit. Her fingers retreated as her tongue swirled around Moissanite's clit. They dipped between their folds as she closed her lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucked.
Moissanite moaned. Rhodolite lapped at their clit as she massaged them from within. Each pump of her wrist coaxed a new whimper from the warden's parted lips. Two of Rhodo's long fingers curled inside them and they were powerless to prevent the sounds from slipping free.
"Stars,"Â they cursed, their fingers fisting in Rhodo's hair. Their hips bucked uselessly as they ground against the firm press of Rhodolite's lips.Â
Rhodolite groaned as Moiss' nails curled against her scalp. She pressed her tongue flat against Moissanite's cunt, slowly licking it over and over. Her eyes fluttered shut as she loosed a breathy moan, one hand falling from Moiss to press against her own coreâ
A ragged gasp raked her chest as she was yanked back by her hair. The breath was knocked from her lungs as she collided with the floor. Long legs sprawled beneath the table, she twisted back to watch Moissanite as they stood.
"Did I permit you to enjoy yourself, Rhodolite?" Moissanite said coolly.Â
A warmth flooded her cheeks as the gem at her throat flared.Â
"No, Ma'am," she mumbled.Â
Moissanite's shoes clicked against cold stone as they approached. Her breath shallow, Rhodolite had no choice but to tilt her head back as Moiss stopped before her.
Moiss sighed, adjusting their glove as they peered down their nose at Rhodo.Â
"What was that?" They asked, the tail of their coat catching Rhodo's chin and holding it firmly.
Rhodolite's chest rose and fell frantically as she fought to control her breath.Â
"No, Ma'am," she panted through glistening lips. "I'm sorry, Iâ"
Moiss' head tilted to one side, their lips tugging into a smirk. Their eyes narrowed.
"You don't look sorry," they said simply as their tailcoat released them.Â
Rhodolite swallowed to shift the lump in her throat as her eyes danced around nervously. Slowly, she eased herself onto her knees.Â
"I'm so sorry, Moissanite," she whispered. "I don't know what I was thinking. It was foolish of meâ greedy. I promise, it won't happen again. Iâ"
Her lips fell still as a gloved hand curled around her throat. Her gem glowed beneath the solid press of Moissanite's thumb. Sensitive, yet brittle, she shuddered as the pressure grew.Â
"Moiss,"Â she moaned breathlessly, pressing into the touch.
Moiss' gem shone brightly as Rhodolite surrendered to their control.
"Get on the table." Their tone left no room for complaint.
Rhodolite blinked, her mouth opening and closing dumbly.Â
"Now," they snapped.
"Yes, Ma'am. Sorry, Ma'am." Rhodolite babbled as she launched from the floor. Her thighs rubbed together as she walked, the friction stoking the heat between them.Â
Moiss' hand ghosted over her hip as she passed, dissolving her clothes into sparkling dust. She shivered as her knees hit the cool metal of the tabletop. Her gem thrummed at her throat as she climbed atop the surface on her hands and knees and waited.Â
Moissanite circled the table as they summoned their webs from above. Slowly, the silvery strands answered their call.Â
They wound around her ankles first. Chill against her skin, Rhodo gasped and trembled as the web wound around her, opening her legs and holding them in place. The next ones found her wrists, winding around them and binding them at the small of her back.Â
"If you wanted a good time, Rhodolite," Moissanite crooned. "All you had to do was ask."Â
The webs tightened around Rhodo's arms and yanked them up towards the ceiling. Back arched, she panted heavily.
"MâMoiss?" She twisted against the webs to where Moissanite hovered behind her.Â
A firm slap to her ass cheek served as their only reply.Â
She mewled as another slap followed. And then another. Moiss continued until she sagged against the strings which held her.
"You understand now," Moiss hissed, their eyes glowing. "Not to take what doesn't belong to you."Â
"What?" Rhodo's brows furrowed.Â
"Your pleasure⊠Your bodyâŠ" Moissanite dragged cool fingertips along the ridges of Rhodo's spine. "They're mine. I decide when you feel pleasure. I decide when you feel pain. You are mine to play with. It is my birthday, after all."
They stopped by Rhodolite's head. Pinching her chin between their thumb and forefinger, they dragged her gaze to meet theirs.Â
"Do you understand?"
Rhodolite swallowed thickly, nodding.Â
"Speak!" They punctuated the command with a sharp strike to Rhodo's cheek.
"Yes, Moissâ" She mewled.
"Iâ I mean, Ma'am. Yes, Ma'am." Rhodolite tripped over her own tongue in her rush to appease the warden. "I understand. I do."
"Good."
Their heels clicked against stone as they stepped back to survey Rhodolite's quivering form.Â
She squirmed in vain as the webs binding her legs coiled around her thigh. They were cold and slick as they wound around her, squeezing her tight as they crept closer to her core.
Moissanite sank back into their chair. Their legs splayed, they watched as Rhodolite's thighs trembled beneath their webs. Their core ached. Their clit throbbed in beat with the thrumming pulse of their gem. Yet, they did not touch themselves. Not yet.Â
The first web to reach Rhodolite's pussy dipped a tentative offshoot between her folds. It slipped through her wetness to writhe across her clit and she moaned. Another offshoot reached up her thigh to caress her entrance. It nudged at her opening, toying with the slick buildup of her arousal.Â
"Oh galaxies,"Â she mewled as the webs binding her arms stretched across her ribs to encircle her breasts. Thick tendrils wrapped around each, squeezing and kneading the flesh. Her eyes rolled back, her dark lashes brushing her cheeks.Â
Moissanite groaned. The ache in their core pulsed in time with the wet panting from Rhodo's lips. They could withstand it no longer.Â
They shuddered as the tail of their coat slid across their hip and dipped between their folds. It knew the path of their skin intimately, honing in on their clit and pressing tight circles against the sensitive nub.Â
The tendrils at Rhodolite's cunt dripped with her want. Moissanite watched through heavy-lidded eyes as they compelled the webs to change form. They shifted at their whim, forming a large appendage roughly the size of their forearm.Â
A bulbous tip nudged against Rhodo's entrance and she whimpered.Â
"Please."Â Her plea was no more than a whisper. Want shone in her eyes as she twisted to face Moiss.Â
Agonisingly slowly, Moiss allowed the web to enter her. The tip was swallowed by her warmth as a wet moan scraped past her throat. A ridged shaft followed and she mewled with every thick inch that pushed inside of her. Only when she was full, did it withdraw.Â
She gasped at the sudden emptiness before the web slammed back into her. A deep guttural groan flew from her chest as it pumped her from behind. The webs tightened around her waist, lifting her above the table. She was entirely at Moiss' mercy. Each thrust relentless, she struggled to speak as her circuits fried beneath her skin. She was exactly where she wanted to be.
Moissanite smiled. Their tailcoat thickened into a similar appendage before lining up at their entrance. They shuddered as it pushed between their folds, filling them whole. They fucked their hole in tandem with Rhodo's. Moaning at the sound of their name spilling from her lips.Â
A new web descended from the void above to coil around Rhodolite's neck. She welcomed it with a smile, humming in pleasure as it constricted her throat. It crept across her cheek and probed at her lips. A gasp parted her lips as the webs below continued to pound her and it slipped between her teeth. Warm and thick, it filled her throat and she moaned around it.
Moiss groaned, a deep wet sound as Rhodolite's ass bounced before them.Â
"Stars!" Their chair flew back to slam against the mural as they stood abruptly.
The webs in Rhodo's mouth and cunt retracted as Moiss flipped her. The breath was knocked from her lungs as her back hit the table with a thud. Moiss' knees bracketed her head as they planted themselves on her face.Â
Rhodolite groaned her satisfaction. The webs gone, her hands were free to grip Moiss' ass as she feasted on their pussy. Her tongue traced the length of their opening before she closed her lips around her clit. She groaned, letting the vibrations rumble against Moiss' hot cunt as she sucked at their sensitive bud.Â
Sparks shuddered beneath their skin. They rocked their hips against the warm press of Rhodo's lips. Their thighs quaked. Rhodo moaned against them and it was nearly enough. Nearly.Â
Their tail flailed uselessly behind them as they danced on the edge of oblivion. They gasped as their hips stuttered. Their knee slipped. The rhythm broke. Moissanite sighed.Â
Rhodolite whined as Moissanite stood and stepped down from the table.
"MoissâŠ?" She asked, her glazed eyes following the Warden as they reset the chairs.Â
"I really thought this would be the one," they said simply, shrugging.
Rhodolite's brows knitted.Â
"What? What does that mean?"
Moiss chuckled.Â
"Now, now, Rhodo," they chided. "What did I say about questions?"
Her face still twisted in confusion, Rhodolite nodded.
"Good," Moiss chirped. "Now clean yourself up and get out. We can do better than that."
Your hands form tight fists around the edge of the pool, your knuckles whitening, as Link pushes back your hair to whisper into your ear.
"You really do make the most beautiful sounds." His voice is breathy, heavy with want. "I love how I am the one who gets to hear them."
Words are beyond you. You can only whimper in response, your limp body relying on Link entirely for support.
~
After a long day and a rough monster encounter, you and Link visit a hot spring to tend to wounds⊠and each other.
~
Powder pink clouds stretch across the horizon as you drag one aching foot in front of the other. Sweat clings to your skin, mingling with dust and blood. It can't be much further now. You hope.
Link is a steady, quiet presence by your side. His shoulders heavy with exhaustion, he leads the way up the winding mountain path. The light of the setting sun warms your face and you stifle a yawn.
"Tired already?" He asks, his lips quirking into a slanted smile.
"No!" You lie.
He laughs. The sound is crisp and dry, like fall leaves. Your heart kicks up a staccato beat and you can't help the nervous giggle that escapes you in response.
"Oh?" He teases.
"Totally." Your voice is too thin to be convincing. "Wide awake."
He sighs through his nose, turning his head to meet your gaze.
"That's a shame," he says simply.
"Huh?"
His lips stretch into a wide grin as he gestures ahead.
"Because, we're here."
~
An aging Goron with a voice like granite welcomes you the moment you step inside the small hut. Carved stone, moist with condensation, surrounds you. It reminds you of the caves you so often find yourself in, though the floral scent in the air is far more pleasant.
"Welcome back, Hero." The Goron bows his head as Link steps out from behind you. "It is an honor."
A pouch of rupees materializes in Link's hand and he passes it over with a tight smile.
The Goron nods as he tucks the pouch away. "Right this way."
He groans as he hops down from his stool. Lamp in hand, he leads you through a corridor hewn into the mountain itself. Up and up, it twists through the stone.
You catch Link's eye, a single brow raised. Where are we going?
He smiles but says nothing. Trust me.
You dip your chin. Always.
The tunnel widens until you spill out into a lush clearing.
Tall grass brushes against your legs as you drift forward. The pink of the sky has turned a dusty purple, casting an ethereal glow across the tall trees that enclose the space. Behind you, the old Goron clears his throat.
"I hope you enjoy your evening," he says warmly and bows. Without another word, he descends back into the mountain.
You feel Link's knuckles brush against yours as he reclaims his place by your side. He intertwines your fingers as you walk. The gesture is familiar enough to be second nature, yet you still feel a shortness of breath as your heartbeat quickens. He squeezes your hand as you reach a wide-open pool.
Thick spools of steam slip over the stone borders of the spring. The delicate floral scent you detected earlier is stronger here. Warm vapor from the lilies floating across the surface of the water. It is a balm to your senses. It envelopes you whole, cradling you.
"Shall we?" Link's voice drags you from your reverie.
"Hmm?"
He gestures to the pool.
"Oh," you sigh. "Yes. Definitely yes."
Your pack hits the ground with a thud.
Your mouth dries as you watch Link shrug off his tunic in one smooth movement. His outer armor already piled neatly by a tree stump, he tugs free the leather strap fastening his hair and allows it to fall free.
You run your tongue across your lips as you trace the contours of his back with your eyes. Lean muscle shifts beneath tanned skin, peppered by scars and spattered with fresh blood. A lifetime of training and adventures is mapped out across his body. Steam surrounds you, clouding your thoughts. You imagine that if you reached out and touched him, you'd still feel the heat of the Gerudo Valley lingering beneath his skin.
He turns and your cheeks flood with heat to rival the desert. You clear your throat, hastily placing your gaze elsewhere.
"Don't be shy," Link says softly as he closes the space between you. "You can look."
Your heart kicks against your ribs as you try to speak. You drag your gaze back to him, swallowing thickly.
Links hands trace the hem of your tunic.
"May I?"
You nod.
He gathers the material in his fingers, slowly lifting it over your body. You raise your arms as he slides it free before tossing it behind you. A breeze licks your spine and you tremble as Link drags his fingertips across your ribs.
Too soon, his touch fades.
He nods to the pool. "Join me."
~
Sat on the edge of the spring with a rag and washbasin, you each cleanse the grime from your skin. It is quiet, meditative work and the silence that settles between you is a comfortable one.
You watch the flex of Link's bicep as he reaches back over his shoulder to clean the back of his neck.
"Ah!" His bark of pain sends a shock straight through your abdomen.
"Link?" Panic coats your tongue. "What is it? What's wrong?"
The rag falls from his hand limply as he meets your gaze. He says nothing for a moment before sighing. He turns his back to face you.
A gasp flees your lungs before you can stop it, your fingers reaching your lips just a moment too late. A couple of inches long, an ugly red gash leaks blood down his back.
"Link,"Â you breathe, your fingers reaching out but hovering above the wound.
What had started as a small scuffle with a band of bokoblins had somehow spiraled into a much larger battle. The ground had begun to quake, your knees trembled. Fear clogged your throat as the stone talus rose from the earth, but Link hadn't even flinched.
His instructions had always been clear. Whatever the threat, leave the bigger one to him. He'd found your eyes and nodded once before charging. Your sword arm ached from the effort of keeping the bokoblins distracted as he climbed the animated boulder. But you did not have the luxury of options.
One eye on your partner, you shouted between swings, drawing as much fire from his back as you could. Not enough, it seems.
"Stay here," you say sternly and he nods.
You empty the basin and fill it with fresh water before adding a healing potion. A clean rag in hand, you dunk your fist beneath the solution before holding it above Link's neck.
He gasps sharply, hissing between his teeth as the liquid runs over the cut.
"I know," you soothe. "I'll be quick."
You dunk the rag and repeat the motion. Again and again, until the wound is clean. You gently press a gauze over the wound before securing it with a bandage. When it is tied, you place a kiss just above the injured spot.
"There," you say softly. "All done."
"Thank you," he sighs.
~
The sun tips below the horizon as you at last climb into the pool. The last golden rays of sunlight filter through the trees before the heavy shroud of dusk blankets the clearing. There is a gentle hum from the foliage as the nocturnal fauna begin to stir.
You sigh as you allow your head to rest back on the stone border of the pool. The water laps at your shoulders steadily, the warmth washes over you drawing the ache from your bones. You glance over at Link, his head tilted back, his eyes closed. Moisture clings to his skin. A single bead traces the line of his throat and your tongue darts across your lips as though you could taste it.
You follow the contours of his chest, your gaze dipping lower with each breath. His undergarments cling to his thighs beneath the water and you eye the bulge that rests atop one of them greedily.
"You know," Link croons, and you jump. "If you want to touch, all you have to do is ask."
He watches you through his lashes, a wry smile pulling at his lips.
Your throat works to shift the lump that clogs it. Your tongue feels too large and you trip over your words as you say, "Iâ I wasn'tâŠ"
Your lips protest but your gaze remains fixed on his crotch.
"Of course not," he chuckles. He shifts closer to you on the ledge, brushing his knuckles down the outside of your arm. "You're too tense."
He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear before leaning forward. His breath is warm as it fans the sensitive point of your ear.
"You need to loosen up, Dae," he whispers and you shiver. "You won't heal well like this."Â
Link's hold on you is firm as he digs a thumb into the tense muscle of your shoulder. Your eyes close and a moan parts your lips unbidden.Â
"Stay," he commands, and you do.
You hear the sloshing of water as Link slips from the pool to sit on the edge behind you. He says nothing as he traces gentle fingertips across the back of your shoulders and you hum softly beneath your breath with each stroke. He follows the line of your back, kneading the flesh with his thumbs and knuckles. Deep into the hollow of your shoulder blade, he massages a knot you weren't even aware of. You groan as the muscles loosen beneath his touch.
His hands dip beneath the water to massage your back. Up and down, they trace your spine before kneading your lower back in tight circles. You lean against him, your breath heavy.
"Mnff~" you moan as he works out another knot. "Linkâ"Â His name slips free, more mewl than moan, and your cheeks redden instantly.
"Dae."Â His breath is hot as he whispers in your ear. His hands drop to your waist and he pulls you close until your backside presses against him. You swallow thickly as you recognize the stiffness that presses against your lower back.
One hand remains on your waist, pinning you to him, as the other slowly explores your front. Your chest rises and falls unevenly beneath his fingertips as he traces the scars on your torso. You shiver as his breath fans across your neck, tilting your head to grant him greater access. When his lips find the sensitive skin beneath your ear, you are powerless to contain the moan that breaks free.
His fingers tighten on your hips and the air is knocked from your lungs as he spins you to face him. You are not given the chance to regain your breath as Link's mouth crashes into yours.
âMmf~â you moan against his lips.
His tongue brushes your lip, a gentle probing request. You sigh, opening for him as your eyes flutter shut. His taste fills your mouth as his tongue tangles with your own. You groan and the sound is swallowed by the hot press of your mouths.
One hand traces an idle path down your side to your hip, sending goosebumps scattering in its wake. His fingers curl around the bone possessively and he pulls you against him, a desperate groan building deep in his throat. You gasp as your cock pushes against him. Even beneath a layer of damp fabric, it twitches at the contact.
His name is a whisper on your lips. It melts into the kiss as his other hand snakes up into your hair. His fingertips curl against your scalp and you shudder against him. The movement jerks your hips forward and you moan as his firmness presses against your own.
Link gasps as you part, his fingers tightening in your hair as he holds you in place.
Your mouth hangs open, your tongue tracing your lower lip. Your eyes slip past his ocean gaze to fixate on his lips. You yearn for the return of their taste.
"Sit on the edge for me," he says.
You don't move. You can't, save for the erratic rise and fall of your chest. Link tugs your hair to tilt your chin back before claiming your mouth in a messy kiss. You moan into it, your tongues and teeth clashing fiercely.
A pathetic sound escapes your throat as he pulls his mouth from you. Your tongue chases the taste of him greedily and he chuckles at the sight of your lust blown pupils.
"Up you get," he nods to the stone ledge and you obey.
He wades through the water and positions himself between your legs. You lean forward, desperate to feel his lips pressed against your own once more but his index finger stops you.
"Ah ah," he chides. "I don't think I was quite done loosening you up." He runs his fingernails along your thighs as he speaks, dipping dangerously close to your dick before skating away. "Good things come to those who wait." He winks and claims your calf in both hands.
Your hands cling to the edge of the pool as he works his fingers into the taut muscle of your calf. Your leg jerks in the water but his iron grip holds you fast. Your eyes fall shut as he kneads his way from your ankle to your knee, a breathy groan parting your lips.
"That's it," he soothes. "Let yourself go loose."
He moves his attention to your knee. Your breath shudders as he pushes his thumbs into the soft flesh that surrounds it. A slow sleepy smile spreads across your lips as tension leaves your body. He repeats his ministrations on your other leg. Though every second he spends ignoring the bulge between your thighs is agony, your body is thankful for his tender attention.
His hands ghost over your thighs and you almost whimper as it stirs the water closest to your cock. It aches for him. For his touch. A whine builds in your throat as his fingertips creep up your thigh. It slips from your lips as he brushes his knuckles over the stiff bulge of your underwear. Your hips roll into the touch and you groan as he palms you through the fabric.
"Link,"Â you mewl, grinding against his open hand. "Iâ"
Your words dance away unspoken as he curls his fingers to better cup you. Your hips jerk against him, desperately chasing the warmth of his touch.
"Take them off," he whispers.
You rush to hook your thumbs into your waistband, shimmying out of your pants in an instant. His hand wraps around you before they hit the ground.
Each breath is a sharp gasp as you struggle to think past the warmth of his fingers wrapped around you. A choked sound scrapes past your throat as he strokes your length. Slow and gentle, he works his fist up and down your aching cock.
Your hands form tight fists around the edge of the pool, your knuckles whitening, as Link pushes back your hair to whisper into your ear.
"You really do make the most beautiful sounds." His voice is breathy, heavy with want. "I love how I am the one who gets to hear them."
Words are beyond you. You can only whimper in response, your limp body relying on Link entirely for support.
Link hums his approval, slowing the pump of his fist to brush his thumb over the slit of your dick. A wet sticky bead of precum smears across your crown and your thighs tremble as heat rushes through your legs.
Your hips buck as he resumes his rhythm, his free hand floating over your chest to circle your nipple. He traces a spiral around the sensitive peak before dipping his head to flick it with his tongue. You groan and shiver as he drags his tongue back up the column of your throat.
"That's it," he pants in your ear. "Let me hear you. Let me hear you come for me, Dae."
You are powerless to refuse. Your body seizes, your mouth babbling a chain of unstrung syllables as raw pleasure floods your nervous system.
The hot brush of his breath on your neck. The pinch of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The warm, tight hold of his hand pumping your cock.
It is all too much.
Oblivion shatters through you, a shimmering wave of carnal satisfaction that ends only with the spilling of your very soul. You twitch in his grip, thick ropes of white spilling into the water until you are fully spent. Your knees give way and you sink into the water, panting.
"Now you," you purr, when at last you regain control of your tongue.
Link's brows quirk up in surprise but he shows no resistance as you lead him to sit on the edge. You hook your fingers beneath his waistband and pull. Your mouth waters as his cock springs free. His tip leaks hungrily and you can't help but dart your tongue across your lips.
You waste no time in sinking to your knees. Water laps at your chin as you wrap your lips around him. You smile as he groans, pushing your tongue against the underside of his shaft. Slowly, you run your tongue along his length, lathering him in your spit.Â
"Dae,"Â he breathes, his fingers finding a hold in your hair.Â
Your hand joins your mouth in working his cock. He curses as his tip brushes the back of your throat. You hum softly and his hips stutter at the sensation.Â
"Dae, Iâ"Â he warns, his nails curling against your scalp. "I'm going toâ"
You watch his face twist into blissful agony as you bob your head up and down. His eyes screw shut, his legs straighten andâ
Hot cum fills your throat. You groan around him, delighting in the shiver that races through his legs as the vibrations brush against raw nerves. You swallow what you can, but some escapes your lips to dribble down your chin.Â
You slump against the side of the pool panting. Speechless, Link wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side.Â
Thoroughly spent, you surrender to the serenity of the spring.
He cups your cheek with a leather palm. âIs there something else I can give you then, my dear?â
You swallow dumbly, unable to focus on anything other than his touch. He strokes your cheekbone slowly before trailing his fingers down your jaw to capture your chin between his thumb and forefinger.
âTell me, Rook,â he leans close, his lips almost brushing yours. âWhat do you want?â
~
You canât sleep. Plagued by thoughts of Professor Volkarin, you find your way to his quarters where he is more than happy to provide assistance.
~
The Lighthouse is still. Quiet.
A soft blue glow fills the room as you lie on your back, your huffed sigh the only sound to break the night air.Â
Without a natural cycle of night and day in the Fade, you have been forced to establish your own routine in the lighthouse. Even so, the air feels heavy â full â the veiled horizon a moody lilac smouldering into twilight.
Exhaustion clings to your bones and the deep ache in your joints continues to grumble despite the plush surroundings and your earlier soak. You close your eyes and wait for sleep to wash over you.Â
Your resolve is threadbare. You open your eyes.Â
It's useless.Â
A strange energy fizzles beneath your skin. The leftover adrenaline from battle⊠or something else? You trail your fingertips across your chest. Goosebumps chase your touch and you shiver. Your breath hitches as you feel the tremor trace your spine and settle low in your gut. There is a hot, eager tug deep between your thighsâcalling you. An echo of want. Of him.Â
Your eyes flutter closed as you picture the professor as he was just hours ago. Practically pristine, he looked out of place among the gore of the defeated Antaam. Splattered by the grime of battle, youâd drank him in greedily. The green glow from his stave illuminated the single bead of sweat clinging to the nape of his neck. It rolled beneath his collar and you almost groaned, wanting to trace its path with your tongue.Â
You take a long breath, inhaling through your nose before pushing it out through pursed lips. Your throat rolls as you swallow, your fingers tugging your shift up over your hips. Slowly, you lower your hand to dip between your thighs. Desperate for salvation, your legs part eagerly and you swipe a finger across your centre, your core molten and needy.Â
It's useless.
Slick and wanting, your cunt begs for release. But it is not your hand you yearn for.
You slip through the Lighthouse corridors unseen, the soft whisper of skin against stone the only indication of your passing. The thin nightgown you wear grants scant protection from the chill breeze skating across your skin. You take a shaky breath, suppressing a shiver, and turn.
The pressure between your thighs mounts with every breath. Each step is filled with tantalising friction. The slickness of your core threatens to spill onto your thighs, coating you in the evidence of your frustrations. Heat crawls up your neck at the thought, the scarlet flush reaching the very tips of your ears.Â
You come to a stop before the Professor's door. Your breath races as your heart flutters a sprint beneath your breast. Dressed in only your shift, you are an affront to propriety. Despite your previous couplings with the older man, a trickle of doubt filters into your mind.
What will he think? Your mind races. You can see everything under this. It's too much. He won'tâ
You tap your fist to the door before you can talk yourself into leaving. Your knuckles play a gentle rhythm against the wood and you hold your breath as you hear movement within. The scrape of a chair. The steady cadence of the Professor's steps. The tinkle of gold bracelets clashing together.Â
The needy tug between your legs surges and you claim your lip between your teeth involuntarily. You have only a heartbeat to hope Manfred is not present before the door opens and you come face to face with Professor Emmrich Volkarin.Â
"Rook?" He does not seem to know where to look. His eyes slip down from your face to survey your sorry state of dress. He steps back to allow you entry to his quarters. "Are you quite well, darling?"
You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat.Â
He is, as always, the picture of sophistication. Refined. Poised. Not a hair out of place beneath all that pressed linen. Each garment expertly layered like a well-wrapped gift. You want nothing more than to spend the night peeling each item away. One at a time, tracing the skin you reveal with your teeth and tongue. The pressure in your core has no such patience.Â
"Sorry," you say at last, as Emmrich rests a hand against the small of your back. "Iâ" The heat of his palm leaks through the thin material of your gown and your senses narrow to hone in on that spot. You stumble over your words inelegantly. "I can't sleep. I've just beenâ" He strokes your back with his thumb and you could swear you almost purr from the contact.Â
"Distracted, dearest?" He finishes for you. A mischievous glint shines in his eye as he slips his hand to your hip and a soft sigh escapes your lips unbidden.Â
"Yes," you murmur.Â
The pressure of his hand falls away as he moves to his desk. The heat fades all too quickly and you follow him like a moth to a flame.Â
His mouth twitches upwards as he leans back on the desk to regard you. This time, when his gaze dips to your chest, it lingers. You watch hungrily as he darts his tongue across his lips, his gaze trailing slowly lower. He swallows thickly as his focus falls to the apex of your thighs, his pupils blown wide with lust.
âIâm sure I can find a remedy for that, my darling,â he says. His voice is hoarse and he whispers so softly you can barely hear it over the racing of your heart.Â
You yearn to step closer to him but your feet won't move. You remain rooted to the spot, pinned beneath his gaze. Hazel eyes eclipsed by darkness slide to yours and hold you fast.Â
âPerhaps a calming tea?â He murmurs, his lips quirking up into a teasing smile.Â
You step forward, the hold on you gone.Â
âTeaâŠ?â You echo, as you stop within an inch of the professor.Â
âNo?â He cups your cheek with a leather palm. âIs there something else I can give you then, my dear?âÂ
You swallow dumbly, unable to focus on anything other than his touch. He strokes your cheekbone slowly before trailing his fingers down your jaw to capture your chin between his thumb and forefinger.Â
âTell me, Rook,â he leans close, his lips almost brushing yours. âWhat do you want?âÂ
You. The word screams through your mind. His mouth on yours. His hand in your hair. His cock buried deep as youâ
Your lips open and close soundlessly as you try to voice your desires. But your mouth is dry and the words flake away unsaid as Emmrichâs free hand curls over your hip.Â
âDarling?â He prompts, his hand at your hip guiding you towards the desk.Â
âIââ Your lips part, a soft gasp escaping as firm wood presses against your rear. Words tumble out of reach as Emmrich tilts your chin to the side. He shifts and you tremble beneath him as he brushes his lips against the soft skin of your neck.Â
Barely there, his touch is feather-light at first. A whisper that barely glances across the delicate flesh beneath your ear. Your eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips to your throat. A moan on your lips, your hands scramble to find a hold on the desk.Â
âEmmrich~â You mewl, the pulsing heat in your core becoming more insistent by the moment.Â
âTell me,â he murmurs against your skin. His moustache prickles your neck but any discomfort is chased away by the tender caress of his lips and tongue. âTell me what you want me to do, darling.â
Each heartbeat sends a thrum of pressure shooting between your thighs. The slick bundle of nerves there demands attention and you take a shaky breath before whispering your desire.Â
"Touch meâŠ" You breathe, wrestling for control of your tongue despite the delicious distraction of his mouth on your skin. "Please, Emmrich." It is nothing short of a plea.
Emmrich smiles. "For you, my dear." He breathes in your scent as he guides you up onto the edge of his desk. "Anything."Â
His knee parts your legs and you gasp as a wave of cool air rushes up your skirt to kiss the sensitive flesh beneath. Gentle fingers skate across your skin. Across your arms, your shoulders, your neck. You watch as he pulls back, his blown-out pupils mirrored by your own.
Reverent, he drags his focus lower. Long fingers slip easily across the silk of your shift. They dance across your ribs, his thumb just barely grazing the underside of your breast. A shiver darts down your spine and you note the way his mouth quirks up to one side at the sight.
Through the haze of lust, you force free a single word. "Please."
He chuckles, the sound low and sinful. "Patience, my dear," he soothes, again cupping your cheek with a tender palm.Â
You yearn to obey. To surrender to his touchâ to his commandâ entirely. But the pressure within demands more. His knee brushes against your centre and you arch involuntarily. Any sense of decorum forgotten, your hips follow the friction of his knee. You grind against him, panting greedily as your need for release mounts higher still.
His hand slips from your cheek and he threads his fingers through your hair. You groan as gloved fingertips curl against your scalp, murmuring his name as though in prayer. The hand by your breast drops to your hip and holds you still. This time, the groan that rumbles through your chest is one of frustration. You look at him with wide eyes, your mouth opening and closing noiselessly.Â
"I believe I told you to be patient." His breath is hot against your ear, and you feel a wave of heat flood your cheeks.Â
If speech was an option a moment ago it is a moment long since passed. All you can do is nod and submit.Â
"Good," he whispers, pulling back to appraise you fully. His hand abandons your hair, slowly tracing your curves lower. Every touch is searing, even through the fabric of your shift, and you tremble as you fight to remain still beneath his ministrations.Â
"So good for me," he murmurs as his hands tighten on your hips. "So beautiful, my darling Rook."
Slowlyâ oh so very slowlyâ he gathers the material of your nightgown, hitching it above your thighs. But still, he does not direct his touch to where you want it most.Â
The cold bite of metal sends goosebumps skating across your flesh as he strokes the outside of your thighs. His gold rings glint in the firelight as he reaches your knees, applying a gentle suggestive pressure. You open your legs to him, desperate for him to fill the void between them.Â
Bared before him, perched on his desk, you feel the weight of his gaze as he takes stock of the slick mess at your centre. The heady scent of your arousal fills the air and you feel a strange sense of pride blossom in your chest as his breaths become laboured.
"You areâŠ" his words are near a whisper as his bejewelled fingers crawl slowly towards the apex of your thighs. "You are resplendent, my love."
His hands so close to where you want them, you huff out a needy whine. Now. You need him now. Your protestations are silenced by a stern look and you swallow the plea in your throat.Â
His bangles fall together as he brings his hands to the pulsing heat of your core. Gold clashes against gold and the resulting tinkling sound threatens to erode your control entirely. You take a shuddered breath as he barely grazes the sensitive flesh of your cunt. He drags his thumb down your centre in one long slow swipe and you buck beneath him.
"Now, now," he chides, "try to stay still for me darling."Â
You worry your lower lip with your teeth as you nod, anchoring yourself to the desk obediently.Â
"Thank you," he murmurs softly. His free hand returns to your chin, holding you still with a single finger. His lips brush against yours and you moan against him. Your eyes flutter shut and you open your mouth to him, desperate for his taste to fill you whole. He grants you no such satisfaction.
"Please,"Â you mewl, and you aren't even sure what you're asking for. All you know is the heavy pressure in your coreâ the demanding thrum that aches for the man before you. "Please, love, Iâ"
His long fingers slip between your silken folds and your words are lost to a strangled gasp. They twitch once, testing for your response. The sound that parts your lips is beyond comprehension. Blissful agony under a loving hand, he coaxes each gasping moan from you with expert care.Â
"Let me hear you," he whispers as he circles your clit with his thumb. "Don't hold back, dearest, I want to hear everything."
His voice alone could be your undoing. You obey without thought, your moans growing louder with each stroke against the sensitive bud.
"Good." His praise stokes your need impossibly higher and you clutch the desk desperately to avoid moving against him. The hand at your chin drops to your shoulder and he hooks a finger into the strap of your nightgown. A gentle tug and the silk pools around your waist. He guides your hips to lift from the desk, allowing the material to be discarded.Â
Bared to him entirely, the flush in your cheeks deepens as he returns to his ministrations. One hand between your thighs, the other cups your breast. His thumb brushes across the stiffened peak of your nipple and again you moan for him. Together, his hands work to draw out each pathetic mewl of want. You lose yourself beneath his touch, the raging fire in your veins becoming near unbearable. Your legs tremble as you edge closer to the abyss.
"Not yet, darling." His tone allows for no rebuttal. "Not yet."
Moisture lines your lashes as you fight against the urge to erupt.Â
"Please, love,"Â you beg breathlessly. "I can'tâ"
"You can," he commands and your nerves sing in response. One knee on the desk, the other keeps your quivering thighs spread for him. "You're doing so well, my dear."
Your head tips back as the world ebbs away. Your entire existence narrows to just you and him. Two fingers tease your entrance and your breath hitches in your throat. Your cunt slick and wanting, he slips into you with ease and you groan needily.Â
"Emmrich, Iâ"
"Hold on, my love," he whispers, cupping the back of your neck and holding your gaze. "Just a moment longer."
Panting, you barely manage to nod as his fingers curl inside you. Lightning surges through you as your hips buck against his hand, your release barely contained. This time, he allows it, coaching you as you ride his hand wantonly. Gold bracelets jingling in time with each thrust of his wrist, his fingers plunge deep within you again and again.
"That's it, dearest." His eyes are dark, hazed by affection and lust in equal measure. "That's it, let go for me."
You require no further instruction. Your body obeys without thought, his name spilling from your parted lips. It is a crescendo like no other. You hold his gaze as your release washes over you. Your nerves sing to one another, a chain reaction that reverberates through you like a tune through crystal.Â
Even as you spasm atop the desk, Emmrich continues to plunge deep into you. He curls his fingers against your inner wall as his palm rubs against your clit. The dual stimulation is your ruin and your whole body becomes putty beneath his hand.Â
You sag against him as he at last removes himself from between your legs. His laboured breath echoes your own and you raise a shaky hand to his cheek.Â
"My love," you whisper, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone.Â
He smiles â soft and warm â as he takes your free hand in his.Â
"My darling, Rook." He allows himself a moment to drink in your flushed cheeks, your messed hair and glistening thighs.Â
its probably a normal sign for the economy that all of my adulthood fantasies are like "imagine having your own kitchen living room and bathroom to decorate" "what if i could get on a train" "maybe one day i could purchase a sturdy pair of shoes" "i should save and invest in a single bicycle"
"It seems our spirit guest has claimed dominion over your front for the evening, Dearest," Emmrich croons, bringing a leather palm to cup the curve of your ass. "That leaves me only one avenue left to pursue."
~
Emmrich stumbles in on Rook helping Lucanis in an unconventional way. Later, he proposes the three of them spend time exploring one another privately.
~
âThis⊠is not what it looks like.â The rogue regretted the words the moment he uttered them.
Emmrich stood frozen by the door. The whites of his eyes shone in the candlelight as he took stock of the display before him. His long fingers curled around empty air, his quarry in Lucanis' pantry living space entirely forgotten.
Though there was nothing improper happening between you and the Antivan Crow, the deepening crimson that crept up beneath his collar would certainly imply otherwise.
Emmrich's eyes slipped past you. Listening to a voice you could not hear. Spite.
"I see," he hummed as the spirit gave him what could only be a crude summary of your and Lucanis' true intentions. "Of course," Emmrich nodded, though there was a shake in his voice, a light tremor that beliedâŠÂ intrigue.
"I'm securing him so he can rest," you said at last, not knowing what Spite may have already covered. "Spite can take over while he sleeps but can't go anywhere inappropriate."
You raised an eyebrow at the prostrate assassin as you echoed his earlier words. You weren't sure what he meant by 'inappropriate' and he had refused to elaborate.
~
Since his deal with Spite, the pair had been able to work well in tandem. Missions were kept lively by the pair speaking interchangeably at times, and having unspoken arguments at others. You had adjusted easily to the change and considered both the man and the spirit to be close companions.
But he had come to you desperate, the draw of sleep too strong for even coffee to chase away.
"Please, Rook," he begged, breathless. "You must." He had thrust the ropes into your hands and laid back on the bed before you had a chance to process his request.
You swallowed once, about to press further. To demand details. But the pained desperation in his eyes tied your tongue. You could do nothing but nod and slip the bindings over his exposed wrists.
You did not speak as you worked. As the charged silence settled over the two of you. His pulse quickened as he avoided your eye and you felt yourself holding your breath as you checked the tightness of his bindings.
~
Lucanis groaned as his hidden passenger tested his control. A crackle of magic permeated the air as Spite fought to speak.
"Go now," Lucanis choked out, content with your work on his restraints. He flinched as Spite again surged for control. "Please."
"I think it's best if we left now, Dearest," Emmrich said, eyeing the air around Lucanis warily.
You nodded, about to suggest the same thing yourself, and allowed his gentle touch to guide you from the room.
~
"Dearest," Emmrich begins, as you at last fold into the gentle comforts of his settee. "I'd like to discuss what just happened."
You swallow nervously and nod your head. "It wasâ" He halts your speech with a single gesture of his gloved hand. It hangs between you in the air for a moment and you trace the line of your lips with your tongue in the silence.
"Spite informed me of Lucanis' request." You barely hear him as he captures your chin between his leather-covered thumb and finger. "I know there was no discussion of carnal affairs."
Your heart stutters in your chest. There was no such discussionâ no such intent. Unlessâ The redness of Lucanis' cheeks. The humiliated flush that burned more fiercely as Spite spilled his innermost secrets freely before your beloved necromancer.
"But perhaps there should be." Emmrich purrs finally.
Your stomach knots, anxiety and arousal fighting for mastery over your core.
"How would you feel, my darling Rook," Emmrich breathes against your neck, his free hand tracing idle circles across your thigh. "If there were more than one man in this lighthouse utterly besotted with you." His hand roams higher, skating the edge of your ribs.
"Lucanis?" You murmur.
Emmrich nods, "I must admit I was quite enchanted by the sight of your agile hands administering such masterful restraints." Both of his hands drift to your waist and tighten slightly. "I⊠would be open to an explorationâŠÂ if that would interest you." He pulls back to look at you, wide eyes shining with vulnerability.
"With him?" You ask, unable to summon more words than that.
Emmrich nods. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you track it hungrily.
"You think he would⊠that he wants⊠both of us?" A thousand questions hound you but the pulsing ache between your thighs drowns them out.
"We would need to discuss the specifics of course," he beams, mischief flickering in his eyes. "Boundaries for ourselves and our guests. Butâ yes⊠I think both he and⊠his companion, would be amenable."
~
A different bed. A different rope. The same taught muscle beneath your hand.
Lucanis nuzzles against you as you cup his cheek. The soft bristles of his beard rub against your palm and you smile.
"And you remember the safe word, yes?" You ask him again. He nods, rolling his eyes. "Good," you purr, tracing a single finger down the strong slope of his jaw to the hollow of his throat.
"And Spite?" Emmrich asks from Lucanis' other side.
"Will be good," the Assassin groans.
"I promise." A voice that is darker than his parts his lips and the crackle of Spite's presence sends sparks skating across your skin.
Emmrich idly begins to remove his rings as you drag your hand across the tanned expanse of Lucanis' exposed chest. He places them one at a time upon the nightstand, each one landing with a distinctive plunk that echoes throughout your bedchamber.
"We are both so glad you decided you join us," Emmrich undoes a button at his collar, the slight adjustment exposing more of his throat than the Assassin had ever expected to see.
You chase the bare skin with your tongue, murmuring your agreement. Planting a warm, wet kiss against his throat, your hands abandon Lucanis to tear away at Emmrich's shirt. The buttons give way and your heart races as you behold the two semi-naked men before you. Your mouth dries at the sight, and an eager pulsing between your legs confirms where all the moisture fled to.
"Would you like them to kiss you, Lucanis?" Emmrich asks simply, appearing entirely unphased despite the way his pulse races beneath your lips. You smile against him, sucking and nipping gently at the delicate flesh.
"Mierda,"Â Lucanis whines, his voice husky with want. "Please."
You chuckle against your lover's neck before withdrawing, a coy smile blossoming over your lips.
"Very well," you purr and swing a leg over Lucanis to straddle him. He makes a startled, half-strangled noise as you settle in his lap, a rosy flush creeping up his neck. You stay there for a moment, your thighs pressing firmly against his hips. You lean down, sadistically slowly and bring your lips to hover over Lucanis'. Your hair falls around you, enveloping you both in your scent and he inhales it greedily.
"Please,"Â Lucanis whines, "Rook, please."
You feel your lips twitch into a smirk as he begs and you can't resist grinding against him just slightly. You look to Emmrich for a moment. Hazel eyes, blown black with lust, find yours instantly. He nods almost imperceptibly as you rock your hips. Lucanis mewls desperately, his hips chasing yours even as his ankles and wrists remain pinned.
You lower your lips to his and deliver him the mercy he seeks. At once, he opens his mouth to youâ but you do not give him everything. That would be far too easy. Instead, you chase his eager lips with chaste kisses before drawing back.
"No." A primal voice rumbles through you, deep enough to set your centre aflame. "More. Give us more. Deeper. NOW."
"Now, now, Spite" Emmrich chides, his hand ghosting the curve of your spine.
Before he can say anything further, you crush your lips to Lucanis. Or is it Spite? You aren't sure as you sweep your tongue into his mouth, but as he melts beneath your touch â as he whimpers at your taste â you know that Spite has relinquished control to Lucanis once more.
His hands twist in his bindings, desperate to bury his fingers in your hair. To pull you closer and press your chest to his. You chuckle against his mouth and sit up. He whines as you leave him, rosy-cheeked and panting.
"So eager," you croon, wiping your mouth.
"Can you blame him, Dearest?" Emmrich appears at your side, his fingers feather-light at your naval. "You are resplendent." His breath is hot against your ear as he coaxes you to lean back against him. He persuades the material of your shirt to part for him and peels it away to reveal your chest.
Lucanis' breath hitches and his eyes widen. He swallows, speechless, as Emmrich cups your breasts.
You moan softly as Emmrich toys with the stiff peaks of your nipples, your hips rolling against Lucanis without a thought. Lucanis grunts. The friction of the fabric between you threatens to spill him already, and still, he chases it. Reckless, incensed, perfect.
"Shall we treat him, love?" You murmur against Emmrich's neck, even as your own resolve is crumbling with every whispered touch which stokes the flame between your thighs.
"Mmm," Emmrich makes a show of consideration as he pinches your nipple between gloved fingertips. You squirm and arch as he soothes the hurt with his thumb. His moustache brushes your neck as he licks the side of your throat. "Yes, love. I think we shall."
You grin as you rise onto your knees, depriving Lucanis the sweet friction of your touch. He growls as you shimmy down the bed, a sinful string of Antivan curses spilling free.
"Patience, pet," you croon, glancing a palm across the stiffness in his breeches. You tug open his laces and he shivers as you wrap your fingers around his length.
"Mierda,"Â he moans, his voice barely audible. You work him slowly, smearing the fat bead of precum on his tip with your thumb. He shudders as you bring your thumb to your mouth and moan at the taste. Emmrich watches you with a slack jaw, his hands tugging down Lucanis' garments to free him fully.
You hover your lips above Lucanis' tip, hesitating only long enough to hear him whine your name before you wrap your lips around him. Emmrich's fingers curl around your waistband as you open your throat to Lucanis. You moan around the firm length of him, your tongue lathering him with every bob of your head. Your hand pumps what can not fit in your mouth and he grinds his hips greedily into your waiting fist.
"Rook,"Â he moans, desperately.
You slip free his shining member as Emmrich pulls away the last of your garments. You shiver as he strokes the slickness between your thighs. Moaning, you take Lucanis into you again. Emmrich's fingers trace the sensitive nub between your thighs, they coax you slowly. Torturously slow circles hone in where you need him most. You open your throat, timing your movements to allow Lucanis to sheathe himself entirely. He growls a sound that might be your name as he loses himself in the warm cavern of your throat.
His whispered praise is endless as he rocks his hips in time with your head. You are barely aware of it though, as Emmrich kneels behind you and feasts. His tongue darts across your centre and he groans in satisfaction.
"My Rook," he moans as he tastes your arousal. "My perfect Rook."
The rumble of his voice against your cunt sends lighting through your veins and you buck your hips to better ride him. Please, Emmrich. You want to cry aloud, but you are so full of Lucanis, that you can't.
Even without words, Emmrich seems to hear your plea. His attention hones in on your clit. His tongue cradles the bundle of nerves until your legs quake as you balance upon the precipice. He does not leave you wanting. You shudder as the crescendo falls over you, lost in the oblivion that is Emmrich's tongue you mewl senselessly onto Lucanis' cock.
When the waves part just enough for you to see sense, you pull free Lucanis' cock.
He groans breathily, "I wantâŠ"
"Rook," The spirit inside him takes over. "Want. Rook. Now." It growls, straining uselessly at the knots binding it.
"Patience, Spite," you soothe, caressing the cheek it and Lucanis share with tender reverence. "Let me keep him a little longer."
The spirit grumbles before relenting and Lucanis regains his mind. You press a hand to his chest and feel the steady thrum of his racing heart thundering through his chest.
"Do you want to conâ"
He is nodding before you can finish your sentence and it is all the encouragement you need to climb up the bed and into his lap once more.
"Let him feel you, Dearest," Emmrich encourages as you slide your sopping cunt against the firm length of Lucanis' cock. You moan against Emmrich as you rock your hips. "That's it, dear," he whispers as he supports you with his body, both hands cradling you as you murmur into his neck.
You slip a hand down to guide Lucanis to your entrance, gasping as his swollen tip brushes your overstimulated clit. You adjust your position before sinking down onto him.
The moan that rumbles through him is born of neither man nor spirit. It is something entirely other. Something deep, dark and primal. He jerks his hips upwards hopelessly. Without his hands to anchor you to him, he is entirely at your mercy.
Emmrich kneads your breasts as you lift your hips so that only Lucanis' tip remains inside you.
"Let him hear you," he whispers, his lips tracing the line of your jaw.
And so you do. You moan freely as you slide back down onto Lucanis. The warm wetness envelops him and he groans in time with every thrust. You find a rhythm, each stroke sending stars skittering beneath your skin. Emmrich's mouth marks your neck as he sucks at the sensitive flesh, coaxing you both on with sweet whispered praise.
"IâMierdaâ Rookâ Iâ"Â Lucanis stutters as he jerks beneath you and you feel the hot gush of seed filling you before you can process what has happened. You grin as the evidence leaks down your thigh, your cunt over full.
"Seems our guest has had his fun," you sigh wistfully, leaning back against Emmrich. He tsks playfully, caressing the quivering rogue with a gentle stroke.
"And have you, my dear?" He whispers into your hair.
You giggle, playing coy. You finished once after all. Currently, once more than him. You could be satisfied. Could be.
He chuckles against your ear. "Are you ever?"
Energy crackles in the air. The scent of cracked pepper and somethingâŠÂ floral?
"No." Lucanis' lips speak the words but it is not his voice. "Not done. Not yet. Mine now. Mine."
You squeal as you feel a shift in your core. As the spent cock inside you hardens under the spirit's influence.
Spite's magic coils in the air as he growls from beneath you. "My turn."
The hips beneath you take on a new rhythm. No longer content to submit to a backseat, Spite bounces you atop his cock.
"Yes. Yes. Ours." The spirit chants as it buries itself within your wetness. Dark wings flare out against the sheets, propping him up as he thrusts deeper and deeper against your inner walls.
Emmrich trails a hand down your front only to be chased away by the deep purple smoke now spooling around you.
"Ours."Â Spite bites out, wings flaring, his pace unrelenting. Emmrich smirks, leaning back on his heels.
A cloud. A wing. Spite tugs you down atop him. Your chest hits Lucanis, revealing the fine curve of your ass as you arch more with every thrust. Balanced on your elbows, you run your fingers through his beard. The spirit purrs, pressing against you.Â
"It seems our spirit guest has claimed dominion over your front for the evening, Dearest," Emmrich croons, bringing a leather palm to cup the curve of your ass. "That leaves me only one avenue left to pursue."
You gasp as he dips two fingers between your thighs and coats himself in your slickness. He retreats before Spite has cause to protest and returns his attention to your ass.Â
Slick fingers trace your edge as he eases you open. You gasp softly, its sound muffled as Spite claims your mouth with his. His tongue parts your lips and sweeps into your mouth. He tastes like spiced wine and smoke. You moan against his lips, your tongue chasing his, desperate for his taste.Â
"That's it, my dear," Emmrich murmurs against your ass. "That's right." He retreats from you a moment before replacing his fingers with a well-lubricated thumb.
Your back arches further, your senses shattering around the men that fill you.
"Please," the word escapes you upon a breath as Spite pounds you from below. "Please."Â Emmrich peels away the leather glove with his teeth, his other hand not ceasing in its ministrations.
"Please, what?" He asks, smacking his glove against your ass provocatively.
"Mmfâ please," you moan. Spite's cock filling you whole addles your mind and steals your tongue.
"Please. What?" He repeats, with a firmer smack of leather kissing your ass.
You yearn to comply, but words escape you. His hands trace the red on your backside, utterly devout, your eternal supplicant.
"Tell me, Darling," he palms himself with one hand, returning his other thumb to work at your ass. "Tell me."
"Pleaseâ Fuâ My Assâ"Â You pant as Spite calms his desperate rutting to a gentler rolling of his hips. "Please, love."
Emmrich grins as both you and Spite still beneath him. Submission.
"Very good," he praises, stroking Lucanis' thigh before pushing his cock against your entrance.
His cock is slick, coated in an oil kept nearby. He brushes the tip to your entrance and you gasp as the opening stretches to fit. You feel his groan of satisfaction as he pushes forward. Your eyes roll back as you feel him fill you, one slow inch at a time.
"Though," he groans as he buries himself further, "don't stop on my account." He winks at Spite who chuckles darkly and resumes the steady pounding of your cunt.
"Share." The Spirit breaths against your neck. "We share. Share Rook."
His thrusts are gentler but no less insistent. You mumble incoherently into his shoulder as Emmrich pounds into your ass and Spite groans in satisfaction.
"Yesssss," the Spirit hisses in your ear. "Now. Take them, Now."
Emmrich chuckles darkly. The tightening of his fingers on your hips is your only warning as he buries himself in you entirely. Your eyes go wide, as you are forced to accommodate the thick length of him and you give yourself over to him entirely.Â
Three bodies. Four minds. All are suspended in the bliss that cascades through you. You feel the sweet swell of Spite spilling in your cunt as Emmrich takes hold of your throat and pulls you upright.
Your lips spill mumbled accolades as he pounds into you.
"Speak up," he murmurs against your neck. "Let me hear you, Darling,"
You obey wholly and without abandon.
His name is a prayer as you reach your peak. His cock buried in your ass, he spears your innermost walls until you are crying â droolingâ his name. Your cunt clenches tight and drains the last, lingering whimpers from Spite as he retreats to within Lucanis' mind. Emmrich cradles you against him as you ride each wave of consequent ecstasy. His lips find yours and his tongue traces your mouth greedily before he pulls back.
"My gorgeous, Rook," he murmurs softly. His movements stutter as he fills you again and again. He buries his face in your neck, breathing in the sweet scent of your skin. Your name is a prayer whispered against you as he joins you in blissful eternity.Â
~
Leaking and dazed, you slide from Lucanis and onto the bed. Emmrich's hands on your waist, he keeps you steady as you stand. Fawn-legged, you stumble to the top of the bed and reach for Lucanis' bindings. You lean down, your hair whispering against his arm as you press your lips to his wrist. Quick fingers untie the rope, and his wrist falls free in an instant.Â
Fingers knot in your hair as Lucanis pulls your mouth to his. He crushes you to him, groaning hungrily into the kiss. You are faintly aware of Emmrich circling the bed. He approaches Lucanisâ other wrist, having already freed the Crowâs ankles.Â
You gasp as your lips are torn from Lucanis. You watch through heavy lashes as he guides Emmrichâs mouth to his and kisses him deeply. A soft huff against the rogue's mouth is the only mark of Emmrich's surprise before he melts against him entirely.Â
They hold each other's gaze as they partâ pantingâ and you too find yourself breathless. Their lips kiss-swollen, they slowly slide their shared gaze to you.
"You are both so beautiful," you murmur, as you allow yourself to be tugged into a communal embrace. Your limbs tangle atop the sheets as you slot between the two of them.Â
"As are you, my dear," Emmrich whispers against your skin, tracing your arm with a delicate finger. "And you did so well."
You shiver as his breath hits your ear, his lithe form pressed snugly against your backside.Â
Lucanis curls around you, his face nestling in the crook of your neck.Â
"Rook," he breathes and you wrap your arms around him. Emmrich lays his arm over yours, pulling you both to his chest. "Emmâ"Â
Emmrich drags his fingertips across the assassin's back as he murmurs soft sleepy sounds.Â
"Hush, now, Lucanis," he soothes. "Rest now. We shall talk when you wake."
Lucanis murmurs his acquiescence and nuzzles further into your chest. You smile, planting a kiss to his temple before turning to Emmrich.Â
"You too, Dearest," he says gently. "Rest."
Your lips stretch wide, and you tip your chin up to plant a kiss on his jaw.Â
"Yes, Love." You say, the fatigue of the night finally catching up with you.Â
And as you fade from consciousness, the last thing you hear is Emmrich whispering against your hair.Â
âWhat if,â you take a steadying breath to rally your nerves. âWhat if it is my teacher I desire?â
âThen, Iâd say your rewards are long overdue.â
~
What was just another lesson with your smooth-talking magical companion quickly turns into something much more.
~
âRelax, you can do this.âÂ
Galeâs voice brushes your ear, the warmth of his breath caressing your neck. His chest presses against your back as he adjusts your hand position.Â
âThatâs it,â he says softly, smiling.Â
You take a slow, steadying breath. Your heart races, its beating a nervous flutter in the hollow of your chest. Since your last lesson, you've been unable to master this manoeuvre. Youâd sought help tonight, but with your teacher in such close proximity, you are struggling to focus on his instruction.Â
The scent of old leather and dried ink wafts over you as Gale remains in place behind you. Must he stand so close? He shifts his weight back, and you miss his presence immediately. Warmth floods your cheeks as you realise he is waiting for you. Focus freed, you begin.Â
You slide your palms together and then apart in the complex gesture the Wizard showed you before reciting the accompanying incantation. You donât realise youâve closed your eyes in anticipation until you are forced to open them once more and⊠nothing. You canât help the groan that drags through you as you sag with exhaustion, defeated.
âItâs no use,â you sigh, at last. Your arms fall to your sides, weak, and the slightest sheen of sweat breaks across your brow.Â
âNo,â the Wizardâs soothing cadence sounds close to your ear. âYouâre almost there. You can do this.â He places a hand over your hip, slightly adjusting your stance. The movement brings you closer to him and it is all you can do not to lean back into his warmth. âJust try again.âÂ
His command rumbles through you, the reverberation of his whispered encouragement showering sparks against the kindling pressure building in your core.Â
âOkay,â you sigh. A long slow breath. Your lungs swell as you draw your focus inwards. âOkay.â
Carefully, you replicate the gesture, speaking the incantation as you do so. It is a slow shimmer, which first materialises by your outstretched arm. Deep blue and twinkling, the glimmer of weave suspended in the air is unmistakable.Â
âYouâre doing it!â Galeâs excited whisper by your ear is almost enough to shake your concentration. âYouâre really doing it! Keep going.â He continues, the faintest hint of pride entering his tone.Â
âThere you goâŠâ he says, circling to face you. âBut remember to stay balanced.â
You wobble for a moment as you feel his heat leave you. Your brow knits with concentration and you focus on funnelling energy into the spell. Gale nods in wide-eyed approval as slowly but surely the spell takes shape. There, just a hair's breadth from your fingertips, a corporeal duplicate blinks back at you.Â
The larger details of you are â admittedly â in need of refinement, but to your great relief the spell holds. Though the limbs are blurry, the general shape seems correct and everything appears to be where it should be. Yet, as you look up into your mirrorâs eyes you see the detail captured there, a near-perfect likeness sculpted wholly from magic. From you. You see your shock reflected in the face that is not yours and it is enough to steal the remaining breath from your lungs.Â
âPerfection,â the Wizardâs voice is faint as he stares right through the illusion to lock eyes with its caster. Heat flares across your neck and crawls up your cheeks at the intensity of his gaze. You look down, flustered. Warm fingers grasp your chin, angling it up to face your magical duplicate. âTruly. Go on, take a look at yourself.âÂ
You canât help as your mouth pops open, a small âoh,â of surprise passing your parted lips. You swallow wordlessly, attempting to loosen your suddenly leaden tongue. The vision floats in front of you, copying your every movement â your every expression. It is shockingly true to life and you must admit to yourself⊠youâre impressed. You catch the Wizardâs eye through the shimmering mirage and your heart races. The quick, staccato rhythm floods you with adrenaline as you fumble for words. âYou⊠are a very good teacher,â you say, at last.Â
Gale chuckles, the sound crisp and dry like old pages. âOh, I know,â he proclaims, his grin widening. âAnd Iâll accept my due credit, of course. But this work was all yours.â Keeping his eyes locked with yours, he takes a step forward. Leather and ink surround your senses as he again reaches out a hand towards you. His fingers are smooth, his palm soft as he cups your cheek.Â
âAnd, as your teacher, Iâd say you deserve a reward for your accomplishments.âÂ
You gasp in a few short breaths, unable to speak for a moment. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you ask, âA reward?â Your voice is barely above a whisper, so soft that Gale must lean closer to hear.Â
âMhm,â he hums softly into the space between you. His fingers move to capture a stray lock of hair fluttering down by your temple, tucking it securely behind your ear. The trail of soft touches tingles across your skin like sparks, each one an ember of the growing desire for more. âWhat would you like?â He asks, as a self-assured smirk tugs at one side of his mouth. âAnything is open to you.âÂ
The scrape of his thumb against your jaw halts all thoughts from pervading your mind. All but him. Breathless, you trace your tongue over your lower lip. Your eyes flit nervously down to Galeâs lips before darting upwards. You miss his own hungry glance to your lips as he pins you with only his gaze. Your heart flies into your throat, the fluttering pulse a sure indication of the desire raging within. âAnything?âÂ
His thumbâs roaming reaches your chin and tightens slightly. âAnything,â he affirms in a whisper. You can feel his breath on your cheek, warm and gentle like the candlelit night. It mingles with your own in the small space between you. You long to close the gap, to take him close and be held. Before you can reconsider, you take a leap.Â
âWhat if,â you take a steadying breath to rally your nerves. âWhat if it is my teacher I desire?â Time hangs still and it takes all of your willpower to hold his gaze in the silence that follows.Â
âThen,â a glint in his eye suggests he enjoys how you are hung on his every word. âIâd say your rewards are long overdue.â He closes the gap between you without warning, his lips finding yours with ease. His free hand reaches up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers knotting in your hair. Your illusory double fizzles away, forgotten, as you lose yourself in the kiss. Tender and reverent, he strokes a hand down your side before slipping it around to settle in the small of your back. The slightest tug and you find yourself pressed flush against the wizard.Â
Firm muscle â firmer than youâd expected from a magician â meets your hands as you run them across his back. His plush shirt is soft beneath your fingertips, and clings to his sculpted form. You reach up a tentative hand and Gale groans softly as your fingers fist in his hair.Â
Your mouths part only when you are both thoroughly breathless. Gale pulls away only a fraction to look at you. His lips are kiss-swollen and parted as he pants softly. Slowly, he rests his forehead against yours and you spy a smirk stretching across his features.Â
âMm,â his breath is warm against your cheek. âIf Iâd have known I was the desired reward, I would have started teaching you a lot sooner.â He chuckles and your already flushed cheeks heat with a new intensity.Â
You chew your lip nervously. âIf Iâd have known that you⊠that you wanted toâŠâ Beneath his searing gaze, you fail to string words together. Cursing your fumbling tongue, you force yourself to go on. âWell, I donât know what Iâd have done. But I wish Iâd known sooner.âÂ
Had you felt more suave you may have alluded to making up for lost time, but you havenât the chance as Gale pushes his body against yours once more. He guides you back until you are pressed against the old stone wall. Somehow, it is not uncomfortable. In the back of your mind, you wonder if Gale perhaps made it so.Â
âYouâre a beautiful woman, you knowâŠâ he muses softly, scanning your face. His beard is soft and tickles your neck as he stoops down to place a kiss there. Then another. And another. Each is punctuated with another word.
âIntelligent.â
âPassionate.â
âBrave.â
Each kiss is featherlight. A teasing promise of more to come. His fingers comb gently through your hair, tilting your head back to open up the soft skin of your throat further. A soft huff of air breaks from you as he continues, each press of his lips more insistent than the last. The faintest scrape of teeth against the sensitive skin beneath your ear causes a shiver to shoot down your spine, straight to your core. The moan that follows is desperate. Needy.Â
âGale,â you whisper as your hands form fists in his shirt. A low groan of pleasure rumbles through the wizard in response and he can't seem to help himself as his hands curl around your hips and he crushes your bodies together.Â
Husky and wanting, he murmurs your name against the skin of your neck sending goosebumps scattering across your flesh. You tremble, arching into his touch without thought. The heat between your thighs builds, his wandering hands fanning the flame that culminates in your core. His lips find yours once more as his deft fingers find the hem of your shirt. Effortlessly, he slips his hand beneath the fabric. His palm is soft and warm as it glides across your flesh, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake.Â
Fingers dancing like gentle flames, he traces the curve of your breasts. His thumb drags across the sensitive peak of your nipple. Even through your breastband, the touch is enough to make you whimper.Â
âDoes this feel good?â He murmurs between the kisses he places against your throat. You can hear in his tone â he already knows the answer.Â
Your breath is short as you manage to whisper in response.Â
âYesâŠÂ gods, yes.â
You are drunk on his touch. The very feeling of his skin on yours is intoxicating. A snaking hand finds its way up to cup his cheek and you lean in to capture his lips with your own again.
He groans his approval against your mouth. His hands roam feverishly beneath your shirt, as though he wishes to touch all of you at once. You shift slightly, allowing your shirt to be discarded. Again he brings his thumb across your nipple and you gasp, breaking the kiss for only a moment. When his mouth finds yours again, his tongue brushes against yours. The mewling noise of want you moan in response drives him further towards madness. Your tongue chases his, the kiss deepening.Â
His hips push forward, and you feel the firm length of his cock pressing against you. Dexterous fingers hook around the edge of your breastband and tug. It slips free with ease and Gale tosses it to the floor. A chill breeze skates across your skin and your nipples harden immediately, yet all you feel is the searing touch of Galeâs hands cupping your chest. Your breath is heavy and hot as he kneads your breasts, toying with the raised peaks.Â
The wizardâs breath hitches as he lifts his gaze to look at you.Â
âGods⊠youâre gorgeous,â he whispers. His eyes rove over every inch of your exposed skin and he runs his tongue over his kiss-plumped lips. In a single languid motion, he lifts his tunic over his head. It hits the floor with a soft thump as he casts it aside.Â
Your breath catches in your throat. His chiselled form is beyond what you expect to find beneath the lush robes he typically wears. Study of the weave trains more than just the mind it seems.Â
âWow,â you whisper and your cheeks flush crimson as you realise youâve spoken aloud. Gale doesnât notice. His attention is entirely focused on where your fingertips are dragging across his bare chest. You trace the gentle slopes of his pectorals, down to the firm abdominal muscles below. You move with deliberate strokes, drawing out a groan of abject want from the wizard before you.Â
âYou donât know how long Iâve wanted this,â he murmurs, one hand gently rising to comb through your hair.Â
âThe same could be said for me,â you say absently, your eyes lingering over the sharp v which dips dangerously low. You swallow, nerves creeping up your spine and tightening your throat.
âThough IâŠâ you falter as Gale pulls away, a look of concern ceasing his brow. âI donât want you to think this is all I want.âÂ
âI want you, body and spirit. Iââ You turn from him, feeling unsure for the first time. âI would deprive myself of one should you not want to give the other.â
Concern melts into affection as your words settle over him. âYou think that I wouldnât want to give you both? That I wouldnât want to give all of myself to you?â His expression betrays genuine surprise as he cups your face in both hands. âI want you. I want all of you. You areâŠÂ everything.â His voice drops to a whisper, reverent as though in prayer he touches his lips to your forehead. âI will give you everythingâ if you let meâ
~
It takes a moment for his response to settle over you. Itâs a soothing balm to your anxiety but does nothing to assuage the excited bundle of nerves caused by his proximity.Â
âNow,â he brushes his hand down your exposed collarbone, âhow about we find somewhere a little more comfortable?âÂ
A shiver chases his fingertip as he drags it lower across your flesh and you cast your eyes warily around the clearing.Â
âIâ yes. But where?âÂ
His lips, soft and plump, curl upwards.Â
âMy tent should be far enough from the othersâ so no one should overhear us.â His brown eyes lock with yours as his smile turns sinful. âUnless youâd prefer they did, of course.â
The heat between your thighs pulses with a new intensity, clouding your thoughts and tying your tongue.Â
âIâ I donâtâ I meanââ Your eyes slip around nervously, suddenly unable to maintain contact with his. âI donât think theyâd appreciate that.âÂ
Gale lets out an amused chuckle, a playful glint sparking in his eye. âNo, I donât think they would.â His hands close around your hips as he brings his mouth close to your ear. âLucky for us, I know a spell which will keep them from hearing us.â
Your eyes widen, your cheeks flush with heat and you swallow the nervous lump in your throat.Â
âLucky me,â you manage to whisper.
âLucky us,â he purrs, the warmth of his breath brushing the shell of your ear. His hands tighten on your hips as he pins you against the wall once more. âLetâs go back to the tent⊠before I am unable to resist you any longerâŠâÂ
You nod, stunned into silence, and follow him to his tent.
~
The soft scent of sandalwood and smoke envelops you as you step through the canvas flap of Galeâs tent. Inside, the tent is much larger than the exterior would imply. Candles are set liberally around the place and countless books, paintings and miscellaneous artefacts catch your attention. You make your way to the back of the space, where a large four-poster bed dominates.Â
âThis is a much nicer tent than I have been sleeping inâŠâ you say softly, not quite sure you believe what you are seeing.Â
He steps up behind you, gently pulling you against him. âYou were expecting something more⊠modest, I suppose?â You can hear the smile in his voice and find yourself smiling with him. âI like my comfort, what can I say?â
âYouâll hear no complaints from me,â you say, leaning back into the Wizardâs touch. His hands are warm and yet you shiver as his thumbs brush the exposed skin above your waistband. You arch your back and feel the firm push of his member meet your rear. He holds you there a moment, his breath heavy and wanting.Â
âIâm glad to hear it,â he murmurs against the skin of your shoulder before pressing a kiss there. Then another. And another. They trail up to the crook of your neck and you move to open the expanse of your throat to him. You press your ass back against him, revelling in the groan of need it coaxes out of his chest. âFuck,â he moans, the expletive sends sparks straight to the wetness between your legs. You feel his grip on you tighten a moment before he turns you. All breath is knocked from your lungs as you suddenly find the smouldering intensity of his gaze locked on you.Â
âNow then,â his voice is low as he guides you slowly backwards towards the waiting bed. âWhere were we?â
The back of your knees hit the mattress and you fall back into the plush surface with a soft thump. He allows himself just a moment to enjoy the sight of you sprawled before him before following you down. His body presses against you, his arms caging you between him and the bed. With a low groan, he dips his dead down to your shoulder again, this time nipping and sucking on the tender skin.Â
This time, the gasp that erupts from you is louder and more desperate. You snake a hand up Galeâs back and into his hair. Silky smooth, it slips through your fingertips with ease.Â
âGale,â you whisper. He stops to look at you. âKiss me.âÂ
âWith pleasure,â he replies, his voice a hungry growl.Â
In an instant, your lips are captured in another searing kiss. His body pushes against you, more insistent now as he pins you to the bed. The low moan in his throat is swallowed by the clashing of your mouths. His tongue traces your lips, needy and seeking entry. You grant it and feel the breath knocked from your lungs anew as his tongue sweeps across yours.Â
You can taste the sweet wine you had shared earlier that evening. The honey notes sing to your senses as you become lost in the desperate rush of tongues and teeth. With each kiss, you can feel Galeâs control slipping. His want â his need âfor you growing more urgent. His hands map the shape of your body as you lay beneath him, tracing every contour and curve with an intense reverence. His very touch is divine. Intoxicating. You canât help the moan that erupts through your chest as his touch skates across your skin.Â
As his hungry grasp reaches the waistband of your trousers, you lift your hips from the bed to provide him with easy removal of the offending garment. He pulls back to look at you, laid bare beneath him and tangled in his sheets.Â
âIâve imagined thisâŠâ he murmurs huskily, cupping your breast in one hand. You make no effort to suppress the shiver that courses through you as his thumb slowly circles its hardened peak. âSo many times⊠you, like this⊠laid out for me.â
âTell me,â you pant softly, âtell me what you imaginedâ what you would think about doing.â
âEvery night,â his voice is soft and low. A breathy murmur that sets your blood aflame. âIâd lay in bed and picture you,â he squeezes your breast with a possessive grip and you gasp, âright here⊠writhing and wanting beneath me.â
Your eyes flutter closed as he leans forward, bringing his mouth to your other breast. His breath fans across your flesh as he continues. âMoaning for meâŠâ His lips brush the raised peak of your nipple. âBegging.â
Thoughts evade you entirely as he takes your breast into his mouth. His tongue is skilled in far more than just speech. It circles the sensitive bud of your nipple, drawing another gasping moan from your parted lips.Â
âWhat would you do,â you whisper, âwhen you thought of us?â Your hands breeze past the lacing of his breaches, a fleeting, teasing touch meant to rile him further.
He groans his appreciation, his hips following your hand to no avail.Â
âIâdââ It is now his turn to be tongue-tied. âIâdâ hellsââ His words are as broken and ragged as his breath as you palm his cock through his breaches. âYou know what.â He grinds out, lifting his head to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with desire.
âShow me.â
He swallows once before nodding and standing. You watch his hands eagerly as they make quick work of his laces. He peels away his breeches and your breath catches as you see the stiff length of him spring free.Â
âIâd spend the whole night like this,â he says, taking his cock and stroking it slowly. âDreaming of how Iâd make you mine.â
You run your tongue across your lips in a slow deliberate movement which catches his eye. Achingly slow, you slide your legs apart, baring the damp space between to the Wizard. You see his breath catch and smile.
âIâm yours,â you say, your breasts rising and falling with your rapid breaths, âshould you want me.â
He is powerless to stop the low growl that tears from his throat as he climbs onto the bed once more. His voice is hoarse with desire as he crawls over you. âI want you. I want all of you.â
His gaze is near predatory and it roots you to the spot. You feel the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh and your breath turns ragged. Your hips buck towards him, desperate to be touched â to be filled â but his hands on your hips still your attempts.Â
âYouâre⊠beautifulâŠâ he whispers, trailing his fingers down your side. You quiver beneath his touch. Every breath feels like an eternity as he leisurely moves his hand further down your body.
Your lips part, gasping, as his touch at last drops between your thighs. âGale,â you murmur, his name like a prayer on your lips, as he strokes your molten core. Without thought your legs shift further apart, your hips grinding against his hand.Â
âSay my name again,â he commands, breathless.Â
His hand traces gentle, teasing circles around your clit as he delights in every gasping moan he can coax from you.
âGale,â you suck in a shaky breath as his fingers dexterously rub and tease the swollen bundle of nerves at your centre. âGods⊠Gale.â Your hands trace his back. Desperately reaching. Grabbing. Pulling. The pulsing ache of your cunt becomes more demanding with every brush of his fingertips. âPlease,â you whimper, âplease Gale.â You entreat him like a devotee upon the altar. âPlease, I want you.â
âSay it again,â he groans into your ear. âI need to hear itâŠâÂ
âPlease,â your voice is weak as you struggle to regulate your breathing. âGods, Gale, I want you.â
âMore than anything, I want you.â A single hand slips between you and you wrap it around him. You brush your thumb across his tip, smearing the bead of precum that glistens there before stroking the impressive length. He shudders at your touch, his hips pressing against your hand insistently.Â
âGods, yesâŠÂ yesâŠâ He moans, barely able to speak. âI want you⊠I need you.â
You watch as he withdraws his hand. Breathless, you eye his movements with eager apprehension. âYou are incredible,â you murmur as he shifts his position to better align himself. âYouââ
Your words are cut short as he brushes his cock against your mound and a strangled sound of pleasure breaks from your lips instead. He pauses for a moment, a smug expression on his lips despite the way his body trembles in anticipation.Â
A devilish look in his eyes, he strokes himself, rubbing his tip across your swollen clit in tantalising circles. You buck beneath him, wildly and without restraint â desperate to be filled. You moan something that sounds like a plea and he chuckles darkly.Â
One hand remains wrapped around his cock as he reaches to cup your face with the other. You pant softly as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip.Â
âYou are⊠so beautiful,â he whispers as his fingers trace the hollow of your throat. You swallow, eyes wide as you watch him stroke his length. He looks down at you, his gaze locked with yours as he positions himself at your entrance.Â
âAre you ready?âÂ
Words escape you. All you can do is nod.Â
His eyes are dark pools of lust. They remain fixed on you, pinning you with their intensity as he slowly, so slowly, pushes inside you.Â
âGods,â he gasps, moving deeper still. âYouâre⊠so⊠perfect.â
The noise that breaks from your lips is not one you can recall ever having made before. A gasped moan of pleasure that ripples throughout your entire body. His hands on your hips, he pushes deeper, finally burying his full length inside you.Â
âGods,â you murmur, but it is drowned out by the following cry that shatters from your lips. He hits your innermost wall, his thick cock filling you entirely. For the first time in your life, you feel whole.
He retreats for a moment before slamming back into you with a new fervour. Every stroke of his cock draws you further towards delirium. Your back arches and you cry his name to the ceiling as he fucks you into the bed.Â
âLook at you,â he rubs a thumb over your clit, a dark gleam in his eye. âYouâre everything.â The pressure in your cunt swells with every thrust, every caress of his thumb across your sensitive bud. Gale grins as you quiver and squirm. The sight of him above you, triumphant and proud, ignites fire in your veins. Flames turn to a roaring inferno and your hands fist in the sheets as he coaxes you closer and closer to ecstasy.Â
âFuck,â you mewl, desperate for release. The curse seems to drive the wizard near madness. With a swift movement, his cock springs free, glistening with your wetness. Before you can draw breath to question him, he flips you onto your front with a primal growl.Â
He guides you onto your knees before slamming his cock into you once more. The steady pounding of him hitting your inner walls addles your mind. Your moans become an incomprehensible string of syllables that spill from your lips as you drool into the sheets. His fingers press into the tender flesh of your sides, a firm possessive grasp that drives you against him again and again.Â
His knee knocks your legs further apart, leaving you fully at his mercy. Spread wide, your pussy is his and you canât hold back the cries that tumble from your lips as he fucks you without restraint.Â
One hand reaches under you to claim your breast and he squeezes it. His hold firm and bruising.Â
âYouâre mine,â he growls, his voice laced with carnality. âAll mine. Say it.â
You try to speak but the words won't come. Only a slurred mess of sounds.
âSpeak up.â He commands, his hands tightening their hold on you and his cock filling you with greater force.Â
âYours,â you gasp, âIâm yours.â
âGood,â he purrs, and it is your undoing.
Your legs tremble as your eyes roll back. You clench around him, his name a mumbled plea, swallowed by the mattress. In the back of your mind, you hear him groan, deep and low as he follows you into bliss.Â
And still, he does not stop. He thrusts deep into you until the very last of your orgasms has ebbed into oblivion. Only then does he collapse into the bed. His arms close around you as he holds you to his chest. Still buried inside you, he kisses your temple. Satisfied, you sigh softly, nestling into him as your mixed fluids spill onto your leg.Â
You stay there together, cradled in his arms, for a long while. Soothed by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, you close your eyes, content. With a gesture, he cleans the sheets and your skin, the tingling after-effects of your orgasm stirring as the magic settles over you.Â
âYou are magnificent,â he whispers into your hair, brushing your side idly. âTell me youâll stay the night.â
You turn to face him, the sheets crinkling slightly as you shift. âIâd love to,â you whisper and press your lips to his.Â
when i was a kid i decided that killing people was bad therefore war was bad therefore the military was evil. and adults would tell me it's more nuanced than that and i would understand when i grew up. well i'm a grown up now and idk i still think that killing people is bad and war is bad and the military is evil
germansingergirl
snowghoul
discoholicmusic
