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"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 Moiss’ 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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
Slowly, the pale figure in the tall-backed chair spun to face her.
"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.
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.
"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.
"I— I don't understand," she stammered. Her eyes slipped about the room until they found the clock and her shoulders slumped.
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 Stars—
"I'm so so sorry Moiss. I don't know what happened. I could have sworn I—"
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.
Rhodolite gasped, her hand flying to her throat.
"Moissanite—" 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.
"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.
"I— 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.
"Moiss…" Rhodolite shuffled forward in her chair, her long legs crowding around Moiss' thighs. "Please, let me… let me make it up to you."
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.
"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.
"Let me service you," she whispered.
Moiss laughed. The cool sound skittered across Rhodo's senses like static electricity and she shivered.
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.
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.
"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 already…?" Her tongue felt too large for her mouth as she tripped on her words.
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 — crimson, magenta, saffron — as she hauled Rhodo's head toward her core. "I need you to serve."
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.
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.
Moiss watched through heavy lashes as Rhodolite stroked their entrance with their thumb, teasing but not yet giving them what they craved.
"Rhodolite," they warned. Pink eyes flicked up to meet theirs.
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," they cursed, their fingers fisting in Rhodo's hair. Their hips bucked uselessly as they ground against the firm press of Rhodolite's lips.
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 core—
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.
A warmth flooded her cheeks as the gem at her throat flared.
"No, Ma'am," she mumbled.
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.
"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.
"No, Ma'am," she panted through glistening lips. "I'm sorry, I—"
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.
Rhodolite swallowed to shift the lump in her throat as her eyes danced around nervously. Slowly, she eased herself onto her knees.
"I'm so sorry, Moissanite," she whispered. "I don't know what I was thinking. It was foolish of me— greedy. I promise, it won't happen again. I—"
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.
"Moiss," 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.
"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.
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.
Moissanite circled the table as they summoned their webs from above. Slowly, the silvery strands answered their call.
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.
"If you wanted a good time, Rhodolite," Moissanite crooned. "All you had to do was ask."
The webs tightened around Rhodo's arms and yanked them up towards the ceiling. Back arched, she panted heavily.
"M—Moiss?" She twisted against the webs to where Moissanite hovered behind her.
A firm slap to her ass cheek served as their only reply.
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."
"What?" Rhodo's brows furrowed.
"Your pleasure… Your body…" 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.
"Do you understand?"
Rhodolite swallowed thickly, nodding.
"Speak!" They punctuated the command with a sharp strike to Rhodo's cheek.
"Yes, Moiss—" She mewled.
"I— 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.
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.
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.
"Oh galaxies," 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.
Moissanite groaned. The ache in their core pulsed in time with the wet panting from Rhodo's lips. They could withstand it no longer.
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.
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.
A bulbous tip nudged against Rhodo's entrance and she whimpered.
"Please." Her plea was no more than a whisper. Want shone in her eyes as she twisted to face Moiss.
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.
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.
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.
"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.
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.
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.
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.
Rhodolite whined as Moissanite stood and stepped down from the table.
"Moiss…?" She asked, her glazed eyes following the Warden as they reset the chairs.
"I really thought this would be the one," they said simply, shrugging.
Rhodolite's brows knitted.
"What? What does that mean?"
Moiss chuckled.
"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," 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, "I— I wasn't…"
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."
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.
"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. "Link—" His name slips free, more mewl than moan, and your cheeks redden instantly.
"Dae." 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.
“Mmf~” 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," you mewl, grinding against his open hand. "I—"
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.
"Dae," he breathes, his fingers finding a hold in your hair.
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.
"Dae, I—" he warns, his nails curling against your scalp. "I'm going to—"
You watch his face twist into blissful agony as you bob your head up and down. His eyes screw shut, his legs straighten and—
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.
You slump against the side of the pool panting. Speechless, Link wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side.
Thoroughly spent, you surrender to the serenity of the spring.
He cups your cheek with a leather palm. “Is there something else I can give you then, my dear?”
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.
“Tell me, Rook,” he leans close, his lips almost brushing yours. “What do you want?”
~
You can’t 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.
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 — full — 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.
Your resolve is threadbare. You open your eyes.
It's useless.
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 thighs—calling you. An echo of want. Of him.
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, you’d 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.
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.
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.
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't—
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.
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.
"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.
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.
"Sorry," you say at last, as Emmrich rests a hand against the small of your back. "I—" 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 been—" He strokes your back with his thumb and you could swear you almost purr from the contact.
"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.
"Yes," you murmur.
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.
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.
“I’m sure I can find a remedy for that, my darling,” he says. His voice is hoarse and he whispers so softly you can barely hear it over the racing of your heart.
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.
“Perhaps a calming tea?” He murmurs, his lips quirking up into a teasing smile.
You step forward, the hold on you gone.
“Tea…?” You echo, as you stop within an inch of the professor.
“No?” He cups your cheek with a leather palm. “Is there something else I can give you then, my dear?”
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.
“Tell me, Rook,” he leans close, his lips almost brushing yours. “What do you want?”
You. The word screams through your mind. His mouth on yours. His hand in your hair. His cock buried deep as you—
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 Emmrich’s free hand curls over your hip.
“Darling?” He prompts, his hand at your hip guiding you towards the desk.
“I—” 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.
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.
“Emmrich~” You mewl, the pulsing heat in your core becoming more insistent by the moment.
“Tell me,” 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. “Tell me what you want me to do, darling.”
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.
"Touch me…" 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."
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.
You yearn to obey. To surrender to his touch— to his command— 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.
"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.
If speech was an option a moment ago it is a moment long since passed. All you can do is nod and submit.
"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.
"So good for me," he murmurs as his hands tighten on your hips. "So beautiful, my darling Rook."
Slowly— oh so very slowly— 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.
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.
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 are…" 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.
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."
You worry your lower lip with your teeth as you nod, anchoring yourself to the desk obediently.
"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," you mewl, and you aren't even sure what you're asking for. All you know is the heavy pressure in your core— the demanding thrum that aches for the man before you. "Please, love, I—"
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.
"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.
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.
"Please, love," you beg breathlessly. "I can't—"
"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.
"Emmrich, I—"
"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.
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.
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.
"My love," you whisper, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone.
He smiles — soft and warm — as he takes your free hand in his.
"My darling, Rook." He allows himself a moment to drink in your flushed cheeks, your messed hair and glistening thighs.
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.
~
“This… is not what it looks like.” 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 belied… 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 was—" 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 discussion— no such intent. Unless— 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 exploration… 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. But— 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," 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," 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 you— 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 — as he whimpers at your taste — 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," 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," 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 want…"
"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 con—"
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.
"I—Mierda— Rook— I—" 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 something… 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." 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.
"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.
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.
"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." 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.
"Mmf— 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."
"Please— Fu— My Ass—" 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.
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 — drooling— 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.
~
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.
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 Lucanis’ other wrist, having already freed the Crow’s ankles.
You gasp as your lips are torn from Lucanis. You watch through heavy lashes as he guides Emmrich’s 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.
They hold each other's gaze as they part— panting— 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.
"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.
Lucanis curls around you, his face nestling in the crook of your neck.
"Rook," he breathes and you wrap your arms around him. Emmrich lays his arm over yours, pulling you both to his chest. "Emm—"
Emmrich drags his fingertips across the assassin's back as he murmurs soft sleepy sounds.
"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.
"You too, Dearest," he says gently. "Rest."
Your lips stretch wide, and you tip your chin up to plant a kiss on his jaw.
"Yes, Love." You say, the fatigue of the night finally catching up with you.
And as you fade from consciousness, the last thing you hear is Emmrich whispering against your hair.
“What if,” you take a steadying breath to rally your nerves. “What if it is my teacher I desire?”
“Then, I’d say your rewards are long overdue.”
~
What was just another lesson with your smooth-talking magical companion quickly turns into something much more.
~
“Relax, you can do this.”
Gale’s voice brushes your ear, the warmth of his breath caressing your neck. His chest presses against your back as he adjusts your hand position.
“That’s it,” he says softly, smiling.
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. You’d sought help tonight, but with your teacher in such close proximity, you are struggling to focus on his instruction.
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.
You slide your palms together and then apart in the complex gesture the Wizard showed you before reciting the accompanying incantation. You don’t realise you’ve closed your eyes in anticipation until you are forced to open them once more and… nothing. You can’t help the groan that drags through you as you sag with exhaustion, defeated.
“It’s no use,” you sigh, at last. Your arms fall to your sides, weak, and the slightest sheen of sweat breaks across your brow.
“No,” the Wizard’s soothing cadence sounds close to your ear. “You’re almost there. You can do this.” 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. “Just try again.”
His command rumbles through you, the reverberation of his whispered encouragement showering sparks against the kindling pressure building in your core.
“Okay,” you sigh. A long slow breath. Your lungs swell as you draw your focus inwards. “Okay.”
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.
“You’re doing it!” Gale’s excited whisper by your ear is almost enough to shake your concentration. “You’re really doing it! Keep going.” He continues, the faintest hint of pride entering his tone.
“There you go…” he says, circling to face you. “But remember to stay balanced.”
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.
The larger details of you are — admittedly — 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 mirror’s 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.
“Perfection,” the Wizard’s 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. “Truly. Go on, take a look at yourself.”
You can’t help as your mouth pops open, a small “oh,” 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 — your every expression. It is shockingly true to life and you must admit to yourself… you’re impressed. You catch the Wizard’s eye through the shimmering mirage and your heart races. The quick, staccato rhythm floods you with adrenaline as you fumble for words. “You… are a very good teacher,” you say, at last.
Gale chuckles, the sound crisp and dry like old pages. “Oh, I know,” he proclaims, his grin widening. “And I’ll accept my due credit, of course. But this work was all yours.” 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.
“And, as your teacher, I’d say you deserve a reward for your accomplishments.”
You gasp in a few short breaths, unable to speak for a moment. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you ask, “A reward?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, so soft that Gale must lean closer to hear.
“Mhm,” 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. “What would you like?” He asks, as a self-assured smirk tugs at one side of his mouth. “Anything is open to you.”
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 Gale’s 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. “Anything?”
His thumb’s roaming reaches your chin and tightens slightly. “Anything,” 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.
“What if,” you take a steadying breath to rally your nerves. “What if it is my teacher I desire?” Time hangs still and it takes all of your willpower to hold his gaze in the silence that follows.
“Then,” a glint in his eye suggests he enjoys how you are hung on his every word. “I’d say your rewards are long overdue.” 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.
Firm muscle — firmer than you’d expected from a magician — 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.
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.
“Mm,” his breath is warm against your cheek. “If I’d have known I was the desired reward, I would have started teaching you a lot sooner.” He chuckles and your already flushed cheeks heat with a new intensity.
You chew your lip nervously. “If I’d have known that you… that you wanted to…” Beneath his searing gaze, you fail to string words together. Cursing your fumbling tongue, you force yourself to go on. “Well, I don’t know what I’d have done. But I wish I’d known sooner.”
Had you felt more suave you may have alluded to making up for lost time, but you haven’t 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.
“You’re a beautiful woman, you know…” 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.
“Intelligent.”
“Passionate.”
“Brave.”
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.
“Gale,” 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.
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.
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.
“Does this feel good?” He murmurs between the kisses he places against your throat. You can hear in his tone — he already knows the answer.
Your breath is short as you manage to whisper in response.
“Yes… gods, yes.”
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.
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 Gale’s hands cupping your chest. Your breath is heavy and hot as he kneads your breasts, toying with the raised peaks.
The wizard’s breath hitches as he lifts his gaze to look at you.
“Gods… you’re gorgeous,” 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.
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.
“Wow,” you whisper and your cheeks flush crimson as you realise you’ve spoken aloud. Gale doesn’t 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.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs, one hand gently rising to comb through your hair.
“The same could be said for me,” 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.
“Though I…” you falter as Gale pulls away, a look of concern ceasing his brow. “I don’t want you to think this is all I want.”
“I want you, body and spirit. I—” You turn from him, feeling unsure for the first time. “I would deprive myself of one should you not want to give the other.”
Concern melts into affection as your words settle over him. “You think that I wouldn’t want to give you both? That I wouldn’t want to give all of myself to you?” His expression betrays genuine surprise as he cups your face in both hands. “I want you. I want all of you. You are… everything.” His voice drops to a whisper, reverent as though in prayer he touches his lips to your forehead. “I will give you everything— if you let me”
~
It takes a moment for his response to settle over you. It’s a soothing balm to your anxiety but does nothing to assuage the excited bundle of nerves caused by his proximity.
“Now,” he brushes his hand down your exposed collarbone, “how about we find somewhere a little more comfortable?”
A shiver chases his fingertip as he drags it lower across your flesh and you cast your eyes warily around the clearing.
“I— yes. But where?”
His lips, soft and plump, curl upwards.
“My tent should be far enough from the others’ so no one should overhear us.” His brown eyes lock with yours as his smile turns sinful. “Unless you’d prefer they did, of course.”
The heat between your thighs pulses with a new intensity, clouding your thoughts and tying your tongue.
“I— I don’t— I mean—” Your eyes slip around nervously, suddenly unable to maintain contact with his. “I don’t think they’d appreciate that.”
Gale lets out an amused chuckle, a playful glint sparking in his eye. “No, I don’t think they would.” His hands close around your hips as he brings his mouth close to your ear. “Lucky for us, I know a spell which will keep them from hearing us.”
Your eyes widen, your cheeks flush with heat and you swallow the nervous lump in your throat.
“Lucky me,” you manage to whisper.
“Lucky us,” 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. “Let’s go back to the tent… before I am unable to resist you any longer…”
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 Gale’s 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.
“This is a much nicer tent than I have been sleeping in…” you say softly, not quite sure you believe what you are seeing.
He steps up behind you, gently pulling you against him. “You were expecting something more… modest, I suppose?” You can hear the smile in his voice and find yourself smiling with him. “I like my comfort, what can I say?”
“You’ll hear no complaints from me,” you say, leaning back into the Wizard’s 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.
“I’m glad to hear it,” 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. “Fuck,” 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.
“Now then,” his voice is low as he guides you slowly backwards towards the waiting bed. “Where were we?”
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.
This time, the gasp that erupts from you is louder and more desperate. You snake a hand up Gale’s back and into his hair. Silky smooth, it slips through your fingertips with ease.
“Gale,” you whisper. He stops to look at you. “Kiss me.”
“With pleasure,” he replies, his voice a hungry growl.
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.
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 Gale’s control slipping. His want — his need —for 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 can’t help the moan that erupts through your chest as his touch skates across your skin.
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.
“I’ve imagined this…” 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. “So many times… you, like this… laid out for me.”
“Tell me,” you pant softly, “tell me what you imagined— what you would think about doing.”
“Every night,” his voice is soft and low. A breathy murmur that sets your blood aflame. “I’d lay in bed and picture you,” he squeezes your breast with a possessive grip and you gasp, “right here… writhing and wanting beneath me.”
Your eyes flutter closed as he leans forward, bringing his mouth to your other breast. His breath fans across your flesh as he continues. “Moaning for me…” His lips brush the raised peak of your nipple. “Begging.”
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.
“What would you do,” you whisper, “when you thought of us?” 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.
“I’d—” It is now his turn to be tongue-tied. “I’d— hells—” His words are as broken and ragged as his breath as you palm his cock through his breaches. “You know what.” He grinds out, lifting his head to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with desire.
“Show me.”
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.
“I’d spend the whole night like this,” he says, taking his cock and stroking it slowly. “Dreaming of how I’d make you mine.”
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.
”I’m yours,” you say, your breasts rising and falling with your rapid breaths, “should you want me.”
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. “I want you. I want all of you.”
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 — to be filled — but his hands on your hips still your attempts.
“You’re… beautiful…” 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. “Gale,” 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.
“Say my name again,” he commands, breathless.
His hand traces gentle, teasing circles around your clit as he delights in every gasping moan he can coax from you.
“Gale,” you suck in a shaky breath as his fingers dexterously rub and tease the swollen bundle of nerves at your centre. “Gods… Gale.” Your hands trace his back. Desperately reaching. Grabbing. Pulling. The pulsing ache of your cunt becomes more demanding with every brush of his fingertips. “Please,” you whimper, “please Gale.” You entreat him like a devotee upon the altar. “Please, I want you.”
“Say it again,” he groans into your ear. “I need to hear it…”
“Please,” your voice is weak as you struggle to regulate your breathing. “Gods, Gale, I want you.”
”More than anything, I want you.” 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.
“Gods, yes… yes…” He moans, barely able to speak. “I want you… I need you.”
You watch as he withdraws his hand. Breathless, you eye his movements with eager apprehension. “You are incredible,” you murmur as he shifts his position to better align himself. “You—”
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.
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 — desperate to be filled. You moan something that sounds like a plea and he chuckles darkly.
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.
“You are… so beautiful,” 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.
“Are you ready?”
Words escape you. All you can do is nod.
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.
“Gods,” he gasps, moving deeper still. “You’re… so… perfect.”
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.
“Gods,” 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.
“Look at you,” he rubs a thumb over your clit, a dark gleam in his eye. “You’re everything.” 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.
“Fuck,” 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.
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.
His knee knocks your legs further apart, leaving you fully at his mercy. Spread wide, your pussy is his and you can’t hold back the cries that tumble from your lips as he fucks you without restraint.
One hand reaches under you to claim your breast and he squeezes it. His hold firm and bruising.
“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice laced with carnality. “All mine. Say it.”
You try to speak but the words won't come. Only a slurred mess of sounds.
”Speak up.” He commands, his hands tightening their hold on you and his cock filling you with greater force.
“Yours,” you gasp, “I’m yours.”
“Good,” 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.
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.
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.
“You are magnificent,” he whispers into your hair, brushing your side idly. “Tell me you’ll stay the night.”
You turn to face him, the sheets crinkling slightly as you shift. “I’d love to,” you whisper and press your lips to his.
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
A plea forms on its lips but words remain far from reach. Its toes curl as his thumb brushes the length of its opening and a gasp shudders through it.
"That's it," he murmurs to the inside of its thigh. "You are so perfect, pet."
~
The morning after casting Wish to restore Astarion’s mortality, he and Barry indulge in one another beneath the rising sun.
Golden sunlight, butter soft and resplendent, laps against the tiled rooftops of the Upper City. A lone gull opens its lungs to herald the dawn. It shakes out its feathers, a bright flash of white against the shingles, and launches into the air. Up, up, up, it soars, parting its beak to loose another shrill call into the morning. It whips through the clouds, diving sharply before spreading its wings to coast ever higher.
Far below, the city stirs.
Small hands wrap around still-warm stacks of The Gazette. A tiefling bartender tucks away her meagre wage, her tired feet already plotting the way home. Rogues and rats alike scurry from the sun, slipping into alleys and beneath sewer grates.
Clothed in only bed sheets, Astarion smiles and allows the dawn to wash over him.
~
Drunk on love and nothing more, they'd had the idea to push the bed onto the balcony. The frame was heavy and its feet dragged ugly marks across the floor as they heaved the great thing out and into the fresh air.
Even as that same fresh air presses chill kisses to his exposed flesh, Astarion can't bring himself to regret the decision. To wake under the sun again— he scarcely believed it possible.
3 years.
3 bittersweet years.
Free from Cazador. Free from the Absolute. Free to live— to love— as he desired. His path was his own, so long as it remained in the shadows.
No longer.
His skin warms beneath the golden balm of the sun. Eyes fluttering shut, he allows his head to rest back against the headboard. Each breath so full of life, tears threaten his lashes.
He tastes salt.
Though he can hear the shrieking of gulls, he knows it is not sea-air on his lips.
A soft huff by his hide draws his attention.
Brown hair mussed by sleep, Barry mumbles softly into their pillow. Their lips barely moving, their brows knit into a furrowed expression.
Astarion smiles once more, the creases around his eyes deepening as he does. He imagines placing his thumb to Barry's brow, smoothing away their troubles with a single tender touch. He contents himself with running his fingers through its hair. Soft as a tressym's wing, the cinnamon strands slip through his grasp. He curls his fingers, dragging his fingertips across Barry's scalp.
Another gentle huff of satisfaction parts its lips. Its eyes flutter gently, dark lashes brushing its cheeks before cracking open. Their lips stretch into a crooked smile as they push their head up into Astarion's hand.
He chuckles softly, ruffling their hair.
"Good morning, gorgeous," he says. His voice drips with awe as warm sunlight bathes his beloved, warming their rosy cheeks.
"Good morning, yourself," they reply. Vocal cords tight with disuse, their voice mimics the crunching of dry gravel.
Goosebumps race across their skin as they shift closer to Astarion. Favouring the new warmth of his body over that of the sheets, they press against his side. A thin strap of violet silk droops from their shoulder and he reaches out to replace it. His hand lingers, smoothing the material, before he stoops down to place a kiss there. The narrow strap leads to a border of silver lace. He traces its elegant path across Barry's skin, his breath hitching as his vision funnels to the ample swell of their chest. His mouth is dry as he attempts to swallow.
His gaze dips lower, to the liquid fabric that swathes Barry's form. The dawn dances upon the rich material, every breath shifting it to create a new dazzling pattern. His attention does not go unnoticed.
"So…" Barry's eyes glint in the light as it tilts its head. "What would you like to do today?"
Astarion coughs, a rose tint flushing his cheeks and ears. His gaze finds the clouds once more.
"I— uh," his tongue darts out to wet his too-dry lips. "I don't know."
He can't make sense of it.
Before the return of his mortality, had he been asked what he'd do if it were ever restored to him, he'd always had an answer. Never the same one, and often multiple. But, always, an answer.
Now that it's here. Now that his mortality— his true freedom has been restored. He finds he has none.
"Oh?" Barry teases, arching their back to better display their breasts. "Nothing comes to mind?"
Astarion chuckles, allowing his gaze to fall no lower than the blue of their eyes.
"I have…" he takes a breath. "I have a whole life ahead of me. A whole mortal life… I don't want to waste a day of it."
Barry holds his gaze. It can see the words that hang on his tongue unspoken. It reaches out a hand to claim his and squeezes gently.
"Sit with me," he says and extends an arm out along the headboard.
Barry fills the space obediently, their head tucking into the soft spot by his shoulder like a puzzle piece. His scent is fresh yet familiar as it washes over them. Unmistakeably alive. Unmistakably him.
Long fingers trace whirling patterns along Barry's skin. It hums softly, the warmth of Astarion's touch unwinding the knot of tension in its shoulders.
His touch is reverential as he traces his unspoken thanks on its flesh. Every inch sacred, he feels their shared warmth intermingle beneath his fingertips and smiles.
"Barry I— " He closes his eyes. Clears his throat. Opens them. "Thank you."
"Babe—" it begins.
A single shake of his head cuts through its protest.
"Please," he smiles shakily. "I want you to know… I want you to know how grateful I am."
Each word is careful. Intentional. Barry can't help but consider… did he rehearse this?
"You could have wished for anything. Power. Revenge. Anything…. But you chose me." Disbelief coats his tongue even now. "You chose me."
He swallows thickly, twisting to place himself in front of Barry. Their eyes meet. Sky blue and soil brown both rimmed by moisture.
"Thank you, my love."
Tears spill in the wake of words. He leans forward and the space between them closes. His lips brush theirs. Tentative at first and then with the intensity of a cresting wave he returns. Warm and sweet, his breath fills their lungs as his fingers tangle in their hair.
Neither can speak when they at last draw apart. Their chests heave in tandem, coy smiles toying on kiss-plumped lips.
Barry cups Astarion's cheek, bringing his dark gaze to meet theirs once more.
"I will always choose you."
His grasp in their hair tightens as he hauls their mouth back to him. They gasp but the sound is swallowed by the kiss.
One hand in their hair, his other roams their form freely. Over their shoulder, down their arm, across their chest, he maps every inch of their body with his fingertips. His palm slips across skin and silk as he traces loving whorls across the creamy valley of their breasts. He drags a knuckle across the sensitive peaks of each, delighting in the shivers that race down their spine in response.
"Star…" it sighs against his mouth.
The weight of his touch grows heavier. Hungrier. With each pass of his hand, he grows bolder, squeezing and kneading Barry until they whimper against his mouth. There is a groan in his throat as blood, hot and urgent, rushes below his waist.
"I want—" he whispers between kisses. "I need you."
Barry swallows, its breath turning ragged.
"This is what you want to do with your first mortal morning?" It teases.
"The rest of the world can wait. It'll still be there tomorrow. Today… I just want to be with you."
Barry shudders as Astarion's fingers brush the bare skin of their thigh. He stills. Waits.
"Well," Barry smirks, "I can't argue with that."
"Good." He purrs.
He wastes no time in peeling the silk from Barry's thighs. He pushes the fabric up, allowing it to bunch around its waist. Its skin is warm and soft beneath his palm as he caresses its thigh and he smiles as it quivers beneath his touch. His fingers curl around its knee to ease its legs apart. It offers no resistance.
He claims their chin with one hand, guiding their lips to his. His tongue brushes against the seam of their mouth and they moan, opening for him. His hand slips to the nape of their neck, fingers fisting in their hair. They gasp as he tugs their head back, their lips are wet and they work soundlessly in his absence.
He chuckles as he slowly lowers his mouth to their neck. They tremble as he licks the sensitive flesh, the rise and fall of their chest growing more frantic with every heartbeat.
"You are everything," he whispers, his breath hot against their skin. He kisses their neck, then their collarbone, then their chest. A blazing trail of searing kisses with only one goal in mind.
A soft whimper escapes them as he releases their hair and a fiery heat floods their cheeks.
"Everything," he repeats.
The mattress sighs as he adjusts his weight to ease down the bed. Gentle fingertips skate across their inner thighs and they can't swallow the moan that breaks free.
"Mmhmm," Astarion hums his approval.
Slowly, he traces looping shapes across the sensitive flesh, circling higher and higher with every pass.
His mouth is hot and wet as he drags his tongue up the line of Barry's thigh. He groans as he reaches the apex of their thighs, a solitary lacy scrap still barring his goal. Yet he can't help but inhale the heady scent of them. He groans.
"These," he pushes the word out through his teeth as he hooks a finger beneath the already damp fabric, "have got to go."
He tugs them free and tosses them over his shoulder. He spares half a thought for their neighbours' balconies as he doesn't hear them land, but the view before him banishes all trace of guilt.
The brilliant light of the sun warms his back as he sinks between their thighs. His mouth waters as he drinks in the sight of his love's exposed flesh. Pink and glistening, they wait for his touch.
He swallows the guttural sound in his throat as he brushes a thumb across their entrance. Their thighs shudder at his touch. He can deny himself no longer. He moans as his mouth comes into contact with their warmth. Their taste floods his tongue and he moans again, the deep rumble vibrating through their core.
"Gods," they gasp, their fingers twisting in the sheets.
His tongue laps at their clit as Astarion circles their entrance with his fingers. He smiles against them as they squirm, flicking and sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves until their words are beyond recognition.
Slick coats his lips and it smears across its thighs as he presses hungry kisses against them. His fingers continue to tease its entrance, only slipping in up to the first knuckle before retreating. He repeats the movement. Again. He chuckles as its hips chase what he will not give. Not yet.
A plea forms on its lips but words remain far from reach. Its toes curl as his thumb brushes the length of its opening and a gasp shudders through it.
"That's it," he murmurs to the inside of its thigh. "You are so perfect, pet."
He moans against its wetness as he brings his lips over its clit. It tries to speak but all it can produce is incoherent mewling.
"I know, love," he says before dragging his tongue up their slit. He allows his breath to fan over their sensitive flesh and at last slips his fingers inside.
The moan that falls from their lips is instant. Loud and wanton, a flurry of lost syllables fills the air as he works his fingers inside them. His thumb teases their clit as his fingers pump and curl against their inner walls.
Its legs straighten as a rush of warmth floods from its core, racing to ignite every nerve. Its eyes roll back, dark lashes fluttering weakly against its rosy cheeks.
"Mmnhmm~" it pants, utterly unable to string coherent sounds together. "Fu—"
It squirms beneath Astarion's continued ministrations but each ragged breath and half-formed cuss only spurs him on more. His tongue replaces his thumb to rub tight circles on its clit. Its hips buck from the mattress but a tight grip on their waist holds them fast.
His name on its lips, its thighs tighten around Astarion's head as it rides his face.
He groans his satisfaction as he laps at its sensitive nub until Barry can take it no longer.
It pushes his head from between its thighs.
"S— Sensitive—!" They manage, batting away his continued attempts to tease them.
His lips pull into a smirk as he instead turns his attention back to their thighs. He licks the last trace of their arousal from his lips before looking up at them through pale lashes.
"You have always tasted divine, my love," he whispers. "But now… You are transcendent."
He rises to his knees and the sheets that hang to his hips shift and fall. The sigh of cotton hitting the floor is echoed by the soft exhalation that parts Barry's lips. His cock hangs proudly between them, stiff and shining. His eyes flick down to the glistening hole between Barry's thighs and it twitches toward it. In one swift and solid movement, he hooks his hands around Barry's knees and pulls them toward him.
They gasp as their back hits the mattress and he repositions himself between their open thighs.
A growl scrapes past his throat as he closes his fist around himself. He swallows thickly as he strokes his length and Barry watches each movement greedily.
Eyes still shining with the pleasure ebbing through their veins, they claim their lower lip between their teeth. Their heart stutters beneath their breast as Astarion drags his tip across the slick mess he made of their hole.
"Gods," he murmurs," reaching up with his free hand to caress Barry's cheek. "You are so beautiful."
His breath snags in his chest as he pushes his hips forward. His tip nudges at their entrance and they whimper at the denial. He finds their eyes and smiles. A thumb brushes across their cheek and—
His name falls from their lips as he buries himself wholly.
Warm and wet, they welcome him. Their walls wrap around him, holding him close.
Time hangs suspended upon a breath as Astarion holds himself entirely still. The taste of his love still lingers on his lips, the scent still fills his every breath. Warm and tight, the press of their flesh surrounding his cock is almost too much to bear.
Slowly, like waking from a dream, he begins to move.
His legs quake as he drags his hips back. He does not allow an inch of space between them, plunging back into Barry as his lips crash to theirs.
A rush of tongue and teeth, it can taste its own pleasure as it opens for him willingly. He groans into its mouth and it swallows the sound, echoing it only a moment later. He palms its breast and squeezes. It moans against his lips as its hands tangle in his hair.
Gasping, they come apart when only the need for air demands they do so.
"Barry," Astarion breathes. His hips fall still as he rests his forehead against theirs.
"Star," they reply, utterly breathless.
"I love you," he says and begins to move.
"I love you," he repeats. "I love you. I love you. I love you."
Each proclamation punctuated by the slow roll of his hips, he murmurs his love against its flesh. He draws up one of its legs to rest on his chest. Pressing hot kisses against its calf, he groans as his cock reaches deeper inside of it.
"Gods, Barry," his movements stutter. "You're so…"
Its leg slips and falls. It giggles and finds the sound echoed on Astarion's lips.
"Perfect," he breathes. He taps the tip of his finger on its nose. "You are perfect."
He rolls his hips against it to reinforce his point. Its lips spread into a wide grin as it drags its hands over the bare expanse of Astarion's chest. He smiles, allowing his eyes to fall closed.
A foot hooks around his knee as their hands find his waist. One swift movement and his back hits soft cotton. All air leaves his lungs in a sharp gasp and his eyes open to find Barry straddled atop him. Flushed cheeks and blown out pupils, they are resplendent. He doesn't move. He barely breathes.
"You are my everything," they whisper, their palm pressed flat against his chest. "You are perfect."
They shift their hips and a moan splits his lips.
"I love you, too." Their hand on his chest anchors them as they roll their hips back and forth. "I love you so much."
"Gods, Barry," Astarion's hands find their way to the fabric bunched around their waist and he peels it off in an instant. The chill air rushes to greet their now bare chest but not before his hands close the distance.
"Star," they mewl as he rolls their nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Their core clenches around him and his hips stutter into movement.
His hands drop to their waist to form a possessive grip. A groan in his throat, he thrusts into them from below.
Almost musical, their names spill from their lips to fill the morning air. A chorus of panting is applauded by the wet sounds of flesh coming together and apart.
Astarion's hips jerk erratically and he pulls Barry down so that their chests are flush to his. His breath is hot in their ear as he pumps into their hole desperately. They clench around him, their toes curling as their eyes roll shut.
"I love you."
The words are mirrored on both their lips as they tumble into blissful oblivion.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on stage soon?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow.
Undiluted yearning radiates from those deep brown eyes as he responds, “I always have time for you, sweetheart.”
~
“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!”
The crowd cries out for the beloved lead of Corroded Coffin to appear.
Backstage, the only thing he is focused on is the sound of your voice crying the same thing.
The ground pulses beneath your feet with the heavy thrum of metal. Even here, in the dimly lit room backstage, you can hear the opening act perfectly well. Some small-town band of old friends, not at all unlike how Corroded Coffin first started. You smile softly and drain the dregs from your can of Coke. They’re good. Really good, if you’re being honest. Eddie had made an excellent choice when selecting who would accompany his band on their tour of the states.
You stoop down to check yourself in the mirror. Picking up an eyeliner that isn’t yours, you correct the smudged mess that’s overtaken your left eye. Eddie won’t mind, you share most things with your boyfriend anyway. Your smile widens at the photographs crammed into the edge of the frame, a collage of memories of you and the metalhead. You’d transferred to Hawkins High a semester before graduation, and for that, he’d called you his lucky charm. “I couldn’t have done it without you, sweetheart,” he’d said, pressing a kiss to your cheek before climbing the stage to flip Higgins the bird and collect his diploma. Your smiling faces peer out from under your graduation caps in the photos you’d taken that afternoon.
Next to them, are countless snapshots of your short history together. Your first Corroded Coffin concert. Your first Christmas together. Your second Halloween, where after a significant amount of begging and bribery you had convinced Eddie to be the Goblin King to your Sarah. The first of a long line of couples’ costumes if you had anything to say about it. Oh my god, I’m such a dork. You almost laugh aloud but something in the mirror catches you off guard. A wild mess of curls and wide brown eyes fill your vision.
“Eddie!” You spin around, one hand flying up to clutch your chest in shock. You hadn’t even heard him come in over the music.
“Hey,” he says with a crooked grin, “I missed you.”
“Jesus, Eddie,” you laugh a little, and his eyes light up with mischief, “you scared me.” The scent of smoke and motor oil envelopes you as he closes his arms around you. Your eyes flutter shut and you take the moment to just breathe him in.
“Sorry,” he mumbles into your hair. He pulls back to look at you, a sheepish smile replacing the grin from a moment before. “Couldn’t resist.”
You swat him playfully on the arm, though you can't help the smile that spreads across your features even as you roll your eyes. “Dork,” you reply, the affectionate insult rolling off your tongue.
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “But I'm your dork.” He punctuates the statement with a light prod of his index finger against your nose. Your resulting laughter is infectious and soon you are both bent over in a fit of uncontrollable giggling. Only when the need for air outweighs the urge to laugh, do you suck in a long and greedy breath. As you do, your eyes fall on the old beaten-up clock propped up between a beer and the wall.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on stage soon?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow.
Undiluted yearning radiates from those deep brown eyes as he responds, “I always have time for you, sweetheart.”
You smile as he brings his lips to yours. Smoke and beer on his breath, his beringed fingers tilt your chin upwards to grant him easier access.
“Mhm,” you murmur against him. The sound is swallowed by the kiss entirely, unheard even as he pulls you closer with his other hand on your lower back. Flush against him, you feel a thick hardness pushing up to you below his belt. Wandering hands trace the curves of your body. One creeps down to cup your ass as you are guided back, step by step, toward the dresser. The other tangles in your hair.
Your breath is knocked from your chest as your thighs hit the counter. A grunt of pleasure rumbles through Eddie’s chest to yours. The vibrations ignite a fire deep within your core. Downwards it sinks until it settles between your legs.
“Eddie,” you breathe, as he trails his lips from your jaw to the hollow of your neck. Painted fingernails clutch feverishly to his denim-clad back. Pulling away for only a moment, his eyes pierce yours as he tears away the jacket. His hands are back on you before it hits the floor. Warm palms ease you up onto the table. They spread your legs apart, squeezing and kneading the flesh of your thighs. Higher and higher they creep, the heat in your core building with every brush of his skin against yours. Your skirt pushed up to your waist, he grins at the small lacy black thing you wear beneath it. It is the only thing separating him from the burning heat of your pussy.
He groans a low sound of approval and passes a thumb over the thin material. You shiver under his touch, a desperate mewl of want slipping past your lips. Incensed by your moan, he takes hold of your panties in both hands and tears them away. Somewhere in the room, they land with a soft thump.
“Mmm,” he hums appreciatively and presses his face to your inner thigh. His eyes close as he brings his mouth to the soft flesh there. Breathing deeply, he kisses you. A trail of lips and tongue and teeth which inches closer and closer to your cunt.
“Fuck, Eddie,” you quiver under him. “I—” A single touch takes all thought from you. A quick dart of his tongue against your centre. Without thought — without control — your hips buck forward, following the bliss of his lips. On his knees now, Eddie looks up at you. His chocolate-brown eyes sparkle with desire as he watches you squirm. His tongue swirls around your clit, and each flick of the sensitive bud sends a shiver darting up your spine and a cry shattering from your lips.
His hands trace over your hips and thighs. He guides your legs so that one rests on either shoulder, the movement spreading your cunt out like a feast before a king. He groans against your mound, your slickness coating his tongue with every swipe. Clamping his hands down on either thigh, he anchors you against him, not once breaking contact with your pussy. A pulsing wave builds in your core and you shudder with the force of it.
“Oh fuck,” you cry, your hands forming fists on the table edge. A dark chuckle rumbles against your cunt as he enjoys the sight of you squirming. The vibrations send you over the edge. Your whole body seizes involuntarily as ripple after ripple of pleasure overrides your senses. Your legs are weak, too wobbly to stand, as Eddie rises from his knees. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, before running his tongue across kiss-plumped lips. Your eyes track the movement, the hunger to taste him building again even in the wake of your orgasm.
You watch greedily as he presses his palm against the bulge in his jeans. You tip forward and crush your mouth to his, tongues clashing as you chase the taste of him. Reaching down to his belt, you find his fingers already there, slipping the band free. Your hands retreat upwards, trailing over the firm muscle just beneath his shirt to get lost in his hair. Your nails curl against Eddie's scalp and you feel his breathy moan as you tug lightly at his roots.
“Shit,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I want you.”
“Eddie,” you reply, his name the only word that fills your mind.
You hear the zip of his jeans open, the shifting of material, and look down just as his cock springs free. Hard in his hand, he strokes the impressive length.
“Fuck,” you moan in unison as he nudges his tip against your pussy.
“You’re so wet,” he moans, circling your clit with his cock. You quiver beneath him as his head slips through your folds, taunting — teasing.
“Please Eddie,” you whine. Your hips lift from the dresser but he does not allow it. Firm hands plant you solidly back down. Before you have a moment to think he is inside of you. His mouth on yours, he groans with pleasure the instant he pushes into your cunt. A roll of his hips and his cock pushes against your back wall. You see stars behind your eyelids as he fills you again and again. Like fireworks, the pressure to explode fizzles beneath your skin with every stroke. Beneath your shirt, a hand creeps up to cup your breast. Rough fingertips brush over your nipple and you can't help but tremble.
Your name is a whispered prayer on his breath. He moans it against your neck as he drags his lips across the sensitive skin.
“You’re so fucking good,” his voice is deep, a husky groan which vibrates down to your core. “So fucking good.”
He hitches one of your legs higher, over his hip. The position brings you closer, and somehow his cock reaches an even greater depth.
“Fuck, Eddie,” his name tumbles from your mouth, husky and breathless. You feel your walls being forced to stretch — to accommodate his girth so deep inside you.
“Eddie,” you whimper again, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. He groans, shifting to open his neck to you. You trace the curve with your lips. Then your tongue. You feel him shudder and his rhythm falters for just a moment.
“Shit,” he mumbles. His voice can barely be heard over the chanting voices outside as he adjusts position and thrusts into you once more.
Again his name erupts from your lips. Again and again, like a prayer, you whisper it to him. Each one a desperate moan as he fills you over and over. A quick succession of faster thrusts has the table spilling its contents on the floor. Bottles and cans clatter around you, unnoticed as together you meet your maker. The groan of release that shatters through Eddie is ruinous. If you hadn’t already tumbled into ecstasy, it alone could be your undoing. Your pussy clenches around him as you rest your forehead against his, panting.
“God damn,” he breathes. You can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re incredible.” You stare as he removes himself from between your legs. He catches the pooling fluids with a clean shirt before they hit your skirt and tosses it in the trash as he walks to the door. His hand rests on the handle. Still spent from the force of your orgasm you can only watch as he prepares to leave.
“You’re late,” you say wryly with a slight chuckle that catches in your throat. Try as you might, it is difficult to hide the disappointment that he now must go. The crowd’s chanting swells from beyond the door. They want him. “You better give them what they want before they come get you.”
He turns his head to look back at you. His hair, wilder now than you've ever seen, brackets his smiling face as he shakes his head.
“Let them try,” he laughs and clicks the lock on the door.
Your knees crack against the hardwood floor of your chambers. The wood beneath them is warm, yet a shiver rushes down your spine as Astarion stretches the collar out before you.
~
You are Astarion’s spawn. His lover. His pet.
You should know better than to misbehave.
A tremor of excitement raced down your spine when you received the summons. A small, folded piece of paper delivered on a silver tray. On it, in an exquisite hand, was only one word.
Come.
Even now, as you slip through the halls of your home on silent feet, a thrill of anticipation thrums through your veins.
So perhaps you’d gotten a little carried away with your dinner yesterday. Eaten your fill and left little for your love - other than a delicious scene even your godly father would have been proud of, that is - before slinking away into the night.
You’d left with a smile on your blood-stained lips, knowing that your darling would surely have something in store for you when you returned. He did not disappoint. No sooner than when your foot passed the threshold of the palace, there was a servant at your side, and the note thrust towards you.
Your fangs flash in the candlelight as you approach the door to your chambers. You’d deprived him of a meal. Bloodied his floors. You’d be happy to bleed for him now. To satiate his need for blood and more. You saunter your way to him. Your pace, slow. Your eyes lowered. Only when his pointed shoes come into view do you raise your gaze.
His beauty is always breathtaking. The sharp line of his jaw. The dangerous glint in his eye. The sensual curve of his lips. You tilt your face up to his, expecting the familiar crush of his lips claiming yours. But instead, he stops you with a gesture. His eyes rove across your form greedily. And you notice his lip begin to curl as he breathes in your scent.
“Did you enjoy your meal?” He purrs, reaching out to drag his cold fingertips down the column of your neck.
“It was exhilarating,” you allow the faintest coating of lust to taint your words. To rile him. Taunt him.
His eyes cut to yours sharply. “Tut tut,” you catch a glimpse of his fangs as he smirks down at you. “That just won’t do.”
“We must learn to share, darling,” he continues, “and to not… play with our food.”
You raise an eyebrow defiantly. A rebuttal builds on your tongue while a deep, warm yearning builds in your core.
“And how do you intend to teach me?”
“You’ve been naughty,” his breath fans over your neck as he leans close to whisper in your ear. “And naughty pups deserve to be punished. Don’t you agree?”
You swallow your excitement and nod with an artificial meekness.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. His fingers brush your shoulders and he slips the soft fabric of your robe from them. The silk pools by your feet and you kick it away.
As you drag your gaze up to meet his, you notice him pull something out from behind his back. A dark strip of leather hangs from his fist and you feel the warmth coiling in your gut pool between your thighs.
He slowly points a single finger to the floor and you bite your bottom lip as you obey. Your knees crack against the hardwood floor of your chambers. The wood beneath them is warm, yet a shiver rushes down your spine as Astarion stretches the collar out before you. You tip your chin up, your tongue darting out hungrily to wet your lips as you wait for him to wrap the strap around your throat. But he doesn’t.
Instead, a dry chuckle fills the air. “Eager, aren’t you?” He croons. His voice is like velvet, it brushes against your senses and stokes the fire building within. He tucks a stray strand of hair away from your face and you lean into the touch. It is tender. Soothing. The calm before the storm. With a lazy flick of his wrist, the collar flies across the room. You try to turn, to follow its movement, but a firm, possessive grasp on your jaw prevents it. Astarion pulls your face to his, your lips coming together for only a heartbeat.
“Fetch.” He commands before releasing his grip on you. No compulsion coats his words. No magic forces you to obey. It is of your own free will that you pivot and begin to stand—
The hard slap of leather kisses your ass and you fall, landing harshly on your hands and knees. A hiss of pain slips past your lips as a jolt of pain lances through your legs.
“On your knees, love,” he growls, the promise of pain and pleasure eternal tangle on his tongue.
You make your way across the floor. Slowly placing one hand in front of another, you arch your back to fully display the curve of your ass. Astarion’s breath grows heavier as he watches your movements and you hear it catch as you lower your face to the floor. The leather is warm as you wrap your lips around it and clamp the collar between your teeth.
“You are making me wait,” his voice cuts through the air.
You turn slowly to approach your lover and allow the slightest whine to surface as your glistening thighs rub together. The friction only frustrates you further, with each movement the deep, yearning need for more builds within you. You would - will - beg for him. Your body already screams with desire. To touch. To taste. To be filled.
You come to a halt before him and rise onto your knees. The belt that struck you earlier hangs limply over the arm of the chair he has claimed, you eye it greedily and wonder if you’ll taste the sweetness of its sting again tonight. He offers you an open palm and you drop the leather strap into it.
“Very good, my pet,” he hums his approval before slipping the dark leather around your throat and fastening it. “Now, sit.”
You lock your eyes with his as you slide your knees apart and settle into a seated position between his feet. The needy ache between your legs grows as you notice the bulge straining against the constraints of his trousers. Your tongue darts out to sweep across your lips as you imagine wrapping your mouth around him.
“I’ll allow it,” he says, noticing the focus of your attention.
“Thank you,” you whisper, lust dripping from the words as surely as the wetness in your core now threatens to drip down your thighs. Your hands are eager but dexterous and you unlace his breeches with practised ease. His stiff member springs free from the fabric and you do not attempt to conceal the soft hum of satisfaction that rumbles through your chest at the sight.
You place your lips gently against his tip, a soft kiss that drags a deep groan from his throat. A smirk blooms across your lips at the sound and you flick your eyes up in time to see his head rock back against the back of the chair. You run your tongue up the hard length before you, a long, slow lick that culminates at the swollen crown of his cock. You tease him, a series of gentle breathless touches of your mouth to his member. A kiss. A lick. A brush of your fang against the sensitive shaft.
“Behave,” he warns. His fingers knot in your hair, curling against your scalp like smoke. He pulls sharply and you see him grin at the moan that shatters from you. Your hand wraps around the thick base of his cock and you bring him back to your lips. You open your mouth and your tongue guides him safely past your fangs to the warm, wet cavern of your throat.
Immediately you are rewarded with a guttural growl that vibrates through his entire body. It spreads through you like wildfire and you’d smile if your mouth weren’t so full of him. You rock your head backwards and forwards in a steady rhythm, your tongue and lips tracing the impressive length.
“That’s it, darling,” he breathes as you continue to take him deeper into your mouth. The tip of his cock pushes against the back of your throat and you feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. Moisture gathers along your lashes as you open your throat to him. You blink away the tears and look up.
“That’s it,” he repeats the words like a prayer. “Keep going, love.” Spit spills from your lips as he thrusts his hips upwards. His hand, buried in your hair, keeps you anchored to him as you surrender your control. On your knees before your lover, you worship every inch of him. His prick serves as an altar and you are his supplicant. Utterly devoted. You moan around his length and feel his tremor as the vibrations send a wave of pleasure racing through him.
Suddenly, your head is wrenched back by your hair and you whine your disappointment as Astarion pulls himself from your mouth. Your tongue lolls out and a string of saliva follows his swollen member. You have no time to appreciate the sight of his cock, glistening with your spit, before you’re pulled up by the loop of your collar. A short gasp escapes your lips in the scant moment before they are captured by Astarion. He crushes his mouth against yours hungrily. Your tongues clash against one another in a war for dominance you both know you will lose.
A desperate whimper erupts from within as you feel cold fingers wrap around your throat. You can’t help but press your thighs together, the yearning pressure between them becoming greater by the moment. You feel the sharp tip of a fang scrape your lower lip a second before tasting blood. Your blood. It floods your senses even as Astarion holds your lip between his teeth. He moans, a deep breathy mumble against your mouth, before releasing you. No longer held by the hand at your throat you collapse between his knees.
You hear a long satisfied groan as Astarion samples your blood on your tongue. You raise your eyes in time to see him run his tongue across his bloodied lips.
“Get up.” You do so. “On the bed, darling,” his commands are your desires. You do not need to be asked a second time. You turn on your heel and walk to the grand four-poster that dominates the room. You have almost made it when you feel a sudden presence behind you. Cold hands wrap around you, one at your throat, the other claiming a possessive grip on your hip. He drives your hips backwards against him as his fangs drag along the sensitive skin of your neck. The thick length of his cock presses against your ass and you arch your back instinctively.
“Such a good girl,” he whispers against your skin. You tilt your head to allow better access to your neck. An invitation, a plea. But he denies you the blissful kiss of his fangs, instead pushing you forward onto the mattress. He follows as you crawl into the centre of the bed, a predator stalking prey.
His hands trace your hips. Ass. Thighs. He shoves your legs apart and runs a finger right down the centre of your damp core. A tremor races down your spine and the mewl of pleasure that breaks from your lips is beyond desperate. He chuckles as he beholds the wetness waiting in your core and you whine as his fingers dance around your centre with fleeting, teasing touches.
“Mmm,” he muses, his breath a gentle caress against your thigh. “So very desperate for me,” a finger brushes against the swollen bud of your clit and your nerves ignite. He follows the erratic rhythm of your hips with his hand. His fingers sweep across the sensitive bud again and again as you writhe. The warm pressure in you builds with a new ferocity, you feel your body tighten then shudder with the cresting wave of climax and—
“But you don’t deserve this yet.” His cruel hand retreats, leaving you whimpering weakly in protest. You hear it first. The sharp slap of leather against flesh. Pain follows. A ragged gasp breaks free from your chest, chased quickly by a moan as the belt is brought down again. Again. Again. Each strike brings forth agony and pleasure in droves. The sweet sting of penance beneath a loving hand. You relish it. Crave it. Deserve it.
“I know, darling,” he coos as you arch your back, exposing the expanse of raw, stinging flesh. “I know.” Smooth hands replace the harsh bite of leather. They are cold. Soothing. Tender.
“Fuck me,” you murmur into a pillow. The plea tastes foreign on your tongue, yet you cherish the sound of his breath catching when you beg.
“Tsk” he chides. “Manners, darling.” His chill touch traces whorls across your skin, each sending shivers racing down your spine to the damp warmth of your wanting core. “Ask nicely.”
“Please, love.” Cold fingers press into your flesh, pulling you back by your hips to meet the firm length of his cock. He presses against the curve of your ass and you whine for more.
“Please, what?” He growls.
”Fuck me,” you breathe. “Fill me. Mark me.” You push back against him and let out another desperate, breathy moan. “Please, my love. ”
His voice is like gravel as your Master commands you to turn over. You feel chill air against the warm, welcoming, wetness waiting between your thighs as you expose yourself to him. A dark veil of lust settles over his eyes as he takes in your display.
“You are… perfect,” his voice dips low into a sultry purr as he crawls over you. His member brushes against your weeping mound but he makes no move to thrust inside. You allow your knees to part fully and arch your back slightly. The movement exposes the collared expanse of your neck. Your undead heart thunders in your chest as you lie there with his stiff prick pressed against your entrance. Watching. Waiting. Wanting. Every inch of you screams for him to touch you — take you.
“So perfect for me,” he murmurs against your skin. He hooks a finger in the leather band at your throat and pulls your face to his. Your lips meet and you can’t help the moan that slips by and is swallowed by your kiss. The touch of his mouth on yours lasts a lifetime. You lose yourself in his taste, it could almost be enough if it weren’t for the pressure building once more between your thighs.
You shift your hips slightly, no more than a nudge, yet your intention is clear. You haven’t the breath for words but your body forms your plea. Please. The tip of his cock slides against the wetness in your core. Please. You feel his crown against the swollen bud of your clit. Please. His hips shift and again he rests against your entrance as he pulls his face away just a fraction. Breathless you voice your thoughts at last. “Please.”
“Alright, darling,” his words carry the promise of pleasure and your blood thrums in anticipation. “I suppose, you have earned a treat,” you hardly hear him as his cock finally pushes past your entrance, filling you wholly. He rolls his hips in a soft, gentle motion. His cock slips between the drenched folds of your pussy. In and out. Over and over again. You feel your walls stretch to accommodate the size of him and can’t help the shattered cry that erupts from your chest.
“Astarion,” his name tumbles from your lips without a thought. With each stroke, you cascade further into oblivion. His hands trace the curve of your breasts and you feel a shiver skate down your spine as he drags his thumb over the raised peak of your nipple.
“My love,” he whispers, leaning down to place a kiss to your throat. Still, his hands roam across your skin possessively. One remains grasped around your breast, kneading and squeezing in a way that teeters between painful and pleasurable. The other snakes upwards before becoming entangled in your hair. He curls his fingers into a fist and pulls. A dark chuckle sounds against your skin as he bares your neck to him. “You’re mine,” he says. It is not a question, yet still you answer.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
You struggle to form the words as he continues to fill you again and again. “I am yours.”
”Good girl.” You hear the words a moment before his fangs are buried in your neck. They slip past the delicate skin of your throat to puncture the flesh beneath. You don’t know if it is his cock or his fangs inside of you that pushes you across the edge and you do not care. You feel your cunt clench around him as you climax and yet he does not slow.
Harder and faster. He fucks you as he feeds and though you have no need for breath you struggle to gasp for air between the cries of pleasure each stroke wrenches from you. With a guttural moan and his cock buried deep inside you, he releases your throat from his grip. You feel his breath, chill with death, fan across your neck. A tremor races down your spine as he traces your wounds with his tongue.
Pressure builds in your core once more and you drag your nails down the back of your lover. Together, you fall into the abyss. Ecstasy floods your senses as he spills inside of you. The only word in your mind is his name. Astarion. You cry it aloud only to find your own echoed on his lips.
Gradually, the movement stills. Undead hearts racing, you look into one another’s eyes. Astarion brings a hand to your cheek, gentle now in the aftermath. His lips hover over yours, only a fragment of air between them. You feel pinned by his gaze and can only watch wordlessly as his eyes scan your face.
His hand slips from your cheek to find the collar at your throat. Your breath hitches and you swallow as he releases the clasp and the leather strip falls free. He tosses it from the bed, his hand returning to once again frame your face with a touch so tender you barely feel it.
“You are everything to me,” he whispers, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “My beautiful consort, I am yours. Forever.”
“Forever,” you reply, the tides of your orgasm parting just enough for words to be within your comprehension. He shifts from above you and holds you to his chest. Strong arms wrap around you and as your eyes flutter closed you feel content. Sated. Home.
“Every part of you, whispers sweet temptation.” He drags his fingertips along your exposed stomach, the touch ignites the flames in your blood anew. “The only trouble is deciding where to begin.”
~
In another life, Astarion would have led you to his Master’s crypt instead of a pretty clearing in the forest. At least, that is what he was supposed to do.
“Admit it,” he drags his finger across your jawline, “you like this.” He pulls your chin sharply, forcing you to look up at him. Your heart thrums wildly beneath his touch, fire and ice war inside you. A battlefield in your veins.
”You like how your heart races at my slightest touch,” the pale elf continues. “You crave it. You want it — want more.” His voice is a deep purr, the rumble of his cadence casts your nerves on edge. The lump in your throat dissipates as you swallow and the pale stranger’s eyes flicker momentarily to the movement.
“Yes,” you whisper, the words barely sounding past your lips.
“Tell me,” a silken whisper in your ear, “what you want.” His breath caresses the shell of your ear and you almost tremble. The shiver that licks down your spine has nothing to do with the chill in the room.
“I —” you begin, but words seem to choke in your throat as he prowls around you. His dark eyes hide in shadows, yet his hunger is etched into every line of his pale face. You feel like prey the second before the catch. A warm feeling pools in your stomach. Lower.
“I think you want to be touched,” he says, idly brushing his chill fingertips across your collarbone. He brings his mouth to yours and stops a moment before your lips can touch. “Tasted.” His teeth flash in the dim light as he grins down at you. You consider what it would mean to be devoured by this man. You have no doubt of the danger hidden behind those dark eyes.
You can’t explain why it is that you ask, “What do you want?” But when you do, like the shadow of a crow crossing the sun, darkness flutters across the pale elf’s face for just a moment. His lip quirks to the side and his eyes shine as he pins you with a stare.
“What do any of us want, darling?” His voice is a smooth caramel, sweet. Almost sickly. Yet you can not deny the urge to indulge yourself. In this. In him. “Tell me you want this,” his voice is husky, wrought by something behind the shadows in his eyes.
“I do,” you take a step closer to him. Your heart races, and warmth floods your veins. You don’t notice how cold the elf is to the touch, even as you press your bodies against one another.
“Good,” he growls softly into your ear and you feel a hand snake into your hair while the other cups your rear. His grip on your ass tightens as he pulls you closer, grinding you against him. A guttural groan rumbles through his chest and into yours.
Before you have a chance to draw breath, your lips are claimed by his. Soft as rose petals, but with a fierce insistence, they crush against you as though he could consume you through this kiss alone.
Practised fingers make quick work of your laces and soon he is tugging your shirt free and over your head. The chill air of the night brushes against your exposed skin and you shiver, edging ever so slightly closer to the man before you. His hands guide you by your hips and you follow his lead. Slowly he herds you to the bed, you step backwards until you feel the backs of your knees hit the edge of the frame. With the slightest push you feel your self careening backwards, freefalling.
A huff of air slips past your lips as your back hits the plush mattress. The elf smiles down at you as you shift further onto the bed. You can’t help but feel a lick of fear race down your spine as his eyes trace the contours of your body. His gaze is hot and piercing as it locks again with yours. You feel as though you could drown in the deep blood red that glints in the candlelight, and you don’t care at all. You open your legs and allow him to rest between them as he crawls onto the bed.
“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs softly, almost as though he didn’t intend for you to hear it. He blinks and his face shifts from a complex unreadable expression to something altogether more carnal.
“Every part of you, whispers sweet temptation.” He drags his fingertips along your exposed stomach, the touch ignites the flames in your blood anew. “The only trouble is deciding where to begin.” His hands cup your breasts and he skates a thumb over the sensitive tip of your nipple. The soft sound that breaks free from your throat is involuntary, as is the instinctive buck of your hips towards his.
“Please,” you whisper, desperate for his touch.
“You sweet, darling thing,” he replies as his knee pushes against your core. He continues to tease your nipple with his thumb as he leans down and presses his lips to your throat.
Desperate for friction you grind against the knee between your thighs. You are all too aware of the warm dampness beneath your breeches and you want nothing more than to shed the excess layers. But something about this man stops you from taking the lead, you yearn to give yourself over to him entirely. To surrender to the whim of his wants.
Your back arches as he sucks gently at your neck, his lips and tongue sending tremors dancing down your spine. A soft mewl of pleasure erupts from your chest and he releases you.
Your hands float over the hard lines of his chest. He could be made out of marble for how firm the musculature is beneath his skin. You trace the outline of his abs before snaking your hands lower towards the thick bulge you see straining against his trousers.
“Ah, ah, ah!” He scolds you playfully, nipping your earlobe as he does. “Not yet, my dear.” He nudges your legs apart with his knees as his hands make their way to your waistband. A sharp tug and you lift your waist to allow him to slip the material free. His fingers are cool and send goosebumps scattering across your thighs as he spreads them open. He brushes the wetness at your core with a finger and you can’t help the moan that slips past your lips.
“Mmm,” he echoes against your neck. His fingers and lips move together, between your thighs and at your throat. A lick, a nip, a flick. Each movement sends lightning through your veins. A warm pressure builds in your core as he strokes your pussy with slow circular movements.
You suddenly realise that you do not know his name. You wish you did, if only to gift him with the sound of it as he pleasures you. Instead, you bury your hands in his hair and grind against his hand. Your moans turn desperate as he increases the speed of his ministrations and the pressure in your pussy reaches a breaking point. Your cry of relief shatters through you and you cling to him as you `.
He wipes the evidence of your orgasm from his hand and draws back to remove his breeches. Your eyes follow the movement with something more than hunger. Want. Need. You claim your lower lip between your teeth as his member springs free.
“Gods,” the word slips past of its own accord. You feel your cheeks flush as he again locks his gaze with yours. He is impressive to say the least and you hold your breath as he lowers his cock to your wetness. He teases your entrance, rubbing his crown against the wet folds of your cunt. You shudder from the contact as he brushes against your clit.
“You’re sure?” He asks with an intensity that catches you off guard.
“Y— Yes,” you nod.
He dips his chin and a moment later… stars shoot across your vision as he buries himself inside of you. You feel him deep within you, each thrust hitting the backmost wall of your pussy. His hips roll with a sensual rhythm that draws out the most desperate whines of pleasure from your lips.
”That’s it, love,” he whispers as he fills you. Each roll of his hips drives him deeper between your warm folds. He lowers his lips to yours and claims them in a kiss that is surprisingly tender. You moan into his mouth and he devours the sound. His hands fist in your hair and you hear him groan as he thrusts his thick member into you again and again. His tongue traces the outline of your lips before probing inwards and tangling with yours. He is sweet. Addictive. You have forgotten what it is like to taste anything — anyone — but him.
The pressure in your core threatens to erupt as you push your hips up. Against him. Wet slaps fill the air as he spears you down into the bed. His breath is hot and heavy as he grabs you by the hips and pulls you towards him to achieve a better angle. Your eyes roll and flutter shut as he reaches a deeper spot you thought was impossible.
“Fuck,” you moan. You whine, writhing beneath his expert care. He skates his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves above your pussy. The friction sends you reeling and you shudder with the force of the orgasm that floods through you. His cock is unrelenting as he chases the waves of your pleasure, you are a whimpering mess, delirious in your praise as he at last spills himself inside you.
The entire world seems to halt as you remain suspended in that moment, entwined with this beautiful stranger. And then, like a spell broken, it comes to an end. You feel a strange sense of emptiness as he withdraws from you. A coldness that settles between your thighs and deep within your chest. His eyes are downcast as he gently cleans you with a cloth, he is thorough but soft. Considerate even. When he is done, he retreats to the end of the bed.
You hesitate a moment before you follow. You rise to your knees and shift closer to him. The room is darker now, the candles have long since dripped away and snuffed out. Only the dim light of the moon through the window casts any light on his back. You reach out tentatively and brush your fingers against his shoulder. He stirs for a moment but does not say anything. As you drag your hands over the surface of his skin, he seems to lean into your touch. He presses against you wordlessly.
Your hands knead the tautness in his shoulders. Your fingers easily find the knots and you hear him groan softly in relief as you soothe them. Methodically, you move from his neck to his shoulders. Then his back. Your hands drift over the angry ridge of a scar and you feel him wince and tighten.
You look down to where your hands are resting between his shoulder blades but it is too dark to make out.
“Sorry,” you whisper, withdrawing your touch.
It takes him a moment before he speaks again. “That’s quite alright darling,” his voice is nonchalant but his eyes betray a deep vulnerability when he turns to face you. “Lie down, my sweet,” He wraps his arms around you and guides you back down into the mattress. “Rest.”
Sleep comes suddenly, like a blanket being thrown over your senses. You go willingly to your slumber, safe in the arms of this handsome stranger.
When morning comes, you wake to an empty bed. The sheets beside you are as cold as the man who had occupied them. A cold realisation unfurls in your heart. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you realise that his promises of palaces and eternity were as empty as you now feel, alone and cold in your bed.
What do you mean “chat” is now referring to ChatGPT and not twitch chat? What? What? What the fuck? No?
When I address chat I am speaking to a presumed Greek chorus of real human people shitposting on their lunch break, not a machine that devours lakes to covert electricity into slop.
dededos
dailybridgerton
baratheonpilled
kianamaiart
