Finger Prints[*]
Eris x reader
a/n: been working on this for a while but finished it while I’m ill so there might be some mistakes here and there—sorry!
warnings: pleasure dom Eris; fingering; oral (both receiving); very slight overstim, smut
word count: 2,453
Thumb Prints
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“Eris, wait…”
You squirm as his long fingers splay across your belly, dipping below the waistband of your silky trousers while the other hand skims beneath your breasts. “Whenever, wherever,” he reminds, nipping at a spot just below your jaw, “isn’t that what you told me?”
“Yes but- ah- not now…”
“What’s wrong with now, fawn?”
“We’re supposed to- be going to bed…” His lips curve into a vulpine smile against your throat. “Isn’t that the perfect time?”
A humiliating whimper slips from your mouth, knuckles pressing lightly to your lips as his fingers dance lower over your abdomen. Your thighs squeeze together when he dips beneath the band of your underwear, locating your clit. Eris hums and you can perfectly picture the smug look on his face, “you’re already wet.”
“You were teasing me all throughout supper,” you defend, hands searching for a place to land. Eris presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your throat, “Not this much though.”
“Liar,” you grumble, digits skating over his forearms. “Your fingers were practically inside me.”
Eris spins you around so you’re chest to chest, your neck craning back to look at him. “Don’t give me ideas.”
Teeth subtly prod at the interior of your lower lip, feeling the cool absence of him between your legs and the arousal he so cruelly left behind. The arousal that’s strengthening after that last comment.
“What if I want to give you ideas?”
Eris’ lips curve with suggestive interest, a muscle in his jaw feathering as he gives you a look that’s telling you to carry on. You flush, shying away. The embarrassed heat creeps high when he laughs—rich and sonorous and dragging its fingertips teasingly up the length of your spine. “So bashful, all of a sudden?” His digits slide beneath your chin, inclining your jaw so you’re peering into simmering amber eyes, “Why don’t you indulge me, fawn. Tell me about your ideas.”
You’re half dazed as he guides you over to the bedside, settling down and clambering after him as his palms direct your hips to settle atop one of his thighs. Heated fingers again slide beneath the waistband of your pyjama bottoms and underwear—underwear you’d put on so you wouldn’t ruin your pyjama bottoms—but thoughts slide out of your head when two long, deft digits push at your entrance. It’s embarrassingly easy for his fingers to glide up and down your centre, slicking themselves up so he can slide in with near no resistance. And yet he pauses before he’s even in to his first knuckle. “Would you have liked me to do this with you before my court?”
Wild heat bursts across your cheeks as you freeze, staring at him.
Eris smirks, and slides his fingers in a little further, beckoning you forward. “Should I have gotten you up on the banquet table and splayed you apart like—”
“Eris!” Your palms overlap over his mouth, sealing his lips closed to prevent him from finishing that sentence. Your throat rolls, arms trembling as he slides his fingers in so his second set of knuckles are just inside your heat. His tongue flicks out to lick the inside of your palm and you pull your hands back to your chest.
He looks at you, “Would you have liked that?”
His fingers are frustratingly still inside of you but your skin feels like he’s touching all over it. Caressing your thighs, cupping your breasts, trailing down your spine. It’s impossible.
“Fawn?” He’s smirking, gloating that you’re already so far gone. You mindlessly circle your hips, seeking his kind of stimulation. How good it might feel to have his hot tongue licking between your legs, swiping over your clit. You release another humiliating sound—something between a moan and a whimper—and he curls his fingers. “Should I have taken you up on that table?”
Right, the banquet table.
You shake your head, palms moving to settle on the sturdy muscles of his stomach, heat radiating up into your fingers through the thin veil of silk. “No,” you breathe in answer, lips grazing his own. You want to keep him all to yourself. You hate the idea of anyone else getting even a glimpse of how he is with you. Caring, kind, attentive. It’s all for you. You’re mine.
Eris’ smile turns pleasured, full of male satisfaction and you realise you spoke aloud. The edges of your own lips tug upwards in reply—you don’t feel ashamed to have told him.
“And you’re mine.” His fingers curl and you find yourself melting across his lap. Pleasure bubbles and simmers in the pit of your belly, your back arching as you roll your hips, relishing in the sweet press of his digits.
Your spine sinks into the mattress and you realise he’s rolled you over, fingers still tucked deep inside of your heat. “Eris…?” You mumble, then whimper when he retracts his hand, slick gleaming on his digits. It’s swiftly remedied when you realise he’s removing your pyjamas and underwear, and you moan a breathy sigh of contentment as he slides back in.
“Lay back, fawn.” A hot palm pushes your thighs further apart, letting him settle on the bed. “I don’t want you moving a muscle.”
His tongue flattens over your clit and the heat that ripples up through your body is pure heaven.
Your thighs tense, hips shifting as he licks up your centre, pushing his fingers in up to their knuckles and you squeeze him tight. The idea of being anything other that soft and sweet and hot is distant and unfamiliar—you’re liquid candle wax, pooling and swirling around his flame, content to bathe in his warm fire.
Eris’ lips wrap around your clit, applying a suction as his tongue flickers over its tip, drawing light circles into you while keeping your thighs open. His fingers slide in and out, soft and wet squishing noises sounding with each motion and it’s so peaceful. His touch on your body; his flame against your skin; his mouth latching over you.
An amused laugh rumbles in his chest as you moan his name, your fingers curving into the sheets as you allow your legs to open wider, to lean into the tingling pleasure that’s calling you closer. His thumb strokes back and forth against the underside of your thigh and you want to give him your orgasm—want him to feel it as you flutter around his fingers and incline your hips to push your clit nearer his lips and teeth and tongue.
Your lips part as heaven blossoms upward and outward from your thighs, a thrumming pleasure that numbs your skin into ecstasy. You’re frothing butter melting over him, liquid candle wax splashing against the beckoning curve of his fingers, heated syrup and honey as it simmers and warms over an open flame.
Eris groans as you reach your high, pushing his tongue over your clit, digits rubbing up into that part that makes your thighs tremble. He needs you to feel the pleasure, the physical manifestation of adoration that is barely contained beneath his skin at any given moment. Needs you to make senseless noises and warm with heat, fluttering and moaning beneath his touch, squirming lightly as the pleasure begins to sink into you, filling up until you can’t take anymore and he’s reached your limit.
He doesn’t want to leave you yet. If he had his way he’d make your body sustain the peak of pleasure so it’s a constant shimmer in your blood, a constant weakness in your muscles, a delicate sweat making your skin dewy with the high.
You squirm when it becomes too much, trying to wriggle away from his skilled mouth and long fingers but he keeps up for a little longer, swirling his tongue and curling his digits.
Trembling fingers find purchase in his hair, managing to shakily guide him away from your dripping, sticky cunt, a thread of arousal connecting his mouth to your heat.
Amber eyes hold you down as he returns once to drag the flat of his tongue up through your centre once more, taking his time as he licks a stripe through you before finally allowing you reprieve. His mouth is soft and wet atop your own, arousal making your lips slippery and his hand cups your throat, thumb swiping against the hinge of your jaw. He’s pressing between your legs, the hard length of his cock grinding against you as you rock into one another, holding carefully.
You wrap your legs around his hips, squeezing at his waist. “…Go in…” But Eris presses his lips against your own again, tongue swiping across your lower lip before flicking against the roof of your mouth, sliding along the backing of your teeth. When he pulls away his cheeks have fresh colour in them, dark pupils expanding with the proximity. “I want you to ride me,” he murmurs atop your mouth.
Heat fluttering and bubbles in your abdomen, then you’re nodding your head in a daze, smoothly moving with him as he rolls onto his back taking you with him. Your fingers touch and trail over his stomach, smiling happily to yourself as the middle digit on your right hand circles a small, flat mole inset into his waist.
He’s so pretty.
So beautiful without his clothes on.
“Fawn…” Your eyes find his as he calls you by the sweet nickname, having dazed off while taking him in. You suck your lower lip into your mouth as you glide over him, already having rid himself of the clothing that would have been in the way. You lift from his hips, hand wrapping around him and offering him a few teasing strokes that have his breathing pattern changing. Shortening. Forcefully deepening.
Your eyes find amber. “Can I take you in my mouth for a bit?”
Eris’ eyes almost roll back but he gives you a nod. For some reason he believes himself less worthy of direct pleasure than you. You try not to push him, but he’s so irresistible.
You lick your lips then shift down his body, fingertips ghosting over his abdomen as you descend, letting your lips skim across the muscles of his stomach, pressing kisses down along his happy trail. You lick once at the skin of his abdomen then seal your lips over the area, teeth scraping as you pull reddish colour to his surface, placing marks around his hips and waist—as many as he’ll allow before you slink between his legs.
Precum is nestled in his tip, a bead having already overspilled and drizzled down his underside that you eagerly lick up, swirling your tongue over his head. Wrapping your hand around his base you take him into your mouth, moaning at the weight of him on your tongue, how he pushes your jaws apart as you take him into your throat.
Eris’ breathing is shallow, chest rising and falling lightly as you apply your mouth to him. His hand soon finds purchase in your hair, stroking to deliver comfort rather than instructions and you can’t help the sweet flutter of your heart. How you lean into his touch, emulating the assurance he’d afforded you by stroking your free hand over the marked skin of his abdomen and waist. But before long he’s gently tugging on your hair, asking you to pull away so you can join together.
“You didn’t come…” you mumble, lifting your mouth from his cock but not quite following up his body. His palms cup your jaw, squeezing your cheeks lightly. “I want to be inside of you,” he answers, an edge of roughness in his voice, “I need to feel you.”
It’s enough to have you mindlessly chasing his touch, crawling up his powerful body to straddle his hips, the touch of his cock wetting your inner thigh where your saliva dampens skin. With one hand, you guide him to your entrance, lining yourself up before sliding down far enough his head is inside of you but no further.
Eris raises a brow but but your palms splay across his stomach. “I want you to do it…” you whisper, “…push me down.”
His throat rolls, but the rough inside of his palms settle over your hips and your lips part as breath is pushed from your lungs, heart jumping in your chest as he pulls you down into his lap, down onto his cock until the backs of your thighs are flush with the very tops of his.
Once you’re there and caught up you tangle your fingers with his, digits interleaving as you clutch onto him. Slowly, steadily, you rise from his hips only to slide back down, completing light circles as you tilt your body weigh to swirl over him. Eris’ head sinks into the cushioning of the pillow, the molten burn of his usually neat hair made messy and curled from sweat and the raking of fingers through it.
“Keep moving,” he urges, hands helping with your movements but not commanding, the two of you working in tandem to deliver pleasure on both ends, “Don’t stop.”
“I’m not going to.” You assure, eyes sliding shut as your clit rubs over the bone of his abdomen, sensitivity tingling between your thighs, a coil tightening far too quickly. You want to ride out your pleasure, to let it slowly gather between you—not to suddenly spring free but it doesn’t look like you’re getting a choice.
He just feels so good.
The orgasm rises before you even have a chance to push against it, releasing throughout your body with swift, crushing pleasure that has your hips fervently bucking back and forth, dragging over him to have his cock pushing and rubbing against that spot that’s the cause of all this pleasure. Eris groans roughly when you clamp down on him, cock twitching before releasing deep inside of you, your name repeating on his tongue like a prayer.
Panting breaths echo throughout your bedchambers, heat exchanging between sweat-slicked bodies as palms grasp and grope, touching and trailing over skin as the aftershocks begin to die away.
Eris’ hand finds your nape and you’re being pulled downward, a muffled kiss me flurrying from his mouth before your lips are together and his tongue is pushing against your own. You moan, keeping still on top of him, not yet ready to disconnect.
He’s so warm. So warm and so tender, when it’s just the two of you. Sweet kisses and hot touches, flame licking up your spine and softening muscle.
If only it could be like this permanently, without the stress of court life and ruling.
Maybe one day.
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