#sofia salvara

[incorrectgentlemanbastards]

*Returning to Camorr*

Sofia Salvara: Last I heard, you were still on the run

Locke: Last I heard you were still a bitch

[msfehrwight]

It was a matter of time when I would write here about one of my favourite books, Scott Lynch’s The Lies of Locke Lamora (2006). Just a brief introduction to my relationship with this as-yet-unfinis…

I developed FEELINGS over a single word in The Lies of Locke Lamora (and okay, it was more like, feelings over something that’s been going on for a while but that word was the tipping point) and I’ve put them down so you can all enjoy my bursts of emotion over this series!

[lesbianyeva]

MOODBOARD → SOFIA SALVARA, the lies of locke lamora by scott lynch

“i’m going to miss you, doña vorchenza,” said locke. “and you as well, my lord and lady salvara   –––   all apologies for getting most of your fortune buried under shit.  i hope we can still be friends.”  “set foot in our house again,” said sofia, “and you’ll become a permanent fixture in my laboratory.”

[liliaanisimova]

Doña Sofia Salvara. “The Lies of Locke Lamora".

[incorrectgentlemanbastards]

the characters x saying fuck

[msfehrwight]

'Fuckdamn,' said Conté, totally unable to help himself when the sums involved vanished over his mental horizon. 'Beg pardon, Doña Sofia.' 'You should.' She drained her snifter in one quick un-ladylike gulp. 'Your calculations are off. This merits a triple fuckdamn at the very least.'

Scott Lynch: The Lies of Locke Lamora

And here, ladies and gentlemen, is exhibit A in the case of Why I Fucking Love Sofia Salvara.

[betteralready]

[GB fic] Taste Test (Salvaras/Reynart)

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Reynart sat back in his chair, licking away the cream from the corner of his mouth.  It was light and sweet on his tongue, with a delicate hint of fruit and citrus when he closed his mouth and breathed in through his nose.  He smiled, taking care to not pull at the soft belt that held his hands securely behind his back.

“Doña Salvara, now that is hardly fair,” he said, turning to where he presumed the lady would be.  The silk blindfold he wore was thin and wrapped twice around his eyes.  It would have been easy to tilt his head and have the cloth slip down, but he held himself up straight, not wanting to loosen it at all. “If I am not mistaken, the flavor is that of a hybrid.  One of yours?”

 “It is,” Sofia said, her voice coming from somewhere behind him.  Her hands rested on his shoulders and Reynart could feel the lace cuff of her sleeve brush against his cheek as she leaned over to speak in his ear.  There was a smile in her voice, he could hear it and picture it in his mind.  “But I have a higher opinion regarding your sense of taste, captain.  Shall I give you another bite?”

They had been playing the guessing game for some time now.  Sofia’s voice, while quite lovely in almost any situation, was at the point of making Reynart uncomfortable in his seat.  It was her voice, yes, and also the way her body pressed against him, and how she held up his chin so that he could open his mouth and accept another bite of cake from her fork.

“Lemon and plum?” he guessed, chasing after the fork when she drew it back.  He felt the four metal tips poke against the side of his jaw in warning, trailing playfully over and leaving behind a streak of frosting down to his chin.  He heard Sofia tsk in disappointment, and she ran her thumb over his skin to clear away the cream.

“Incorrect,” she said, laughing, and then Reynart could hear the wet sound of someone sucking on skin – the pad of her thumb, and the frosting on it.

He shivered, involuntarily turning his head so that he could better hear the sound.  Sofia must have noticed, because she laughed again and tightened the blindfold on him.

“That was the first time you have been wrongt, Stephen,” she said.  Her hands lingered at the back of his head, playing with his hair.  “It was lime and red plum.” 

“You must be desperate for a victory, to be so specific,” Reynart said, unable to help himself despite his position.

“Very desperate,” Sofia agreed, tugging his hair so that his head tilted back.

“Oh?  Tell me more- ah,“ he cut off as pressure was applied between his legs.  Surprised, he bucked up in his seat, the chair lifting on two legs for a quick second before Sofia pushed him back down on all fours.  Reynart exhaled sharply, moving his hips along with the hand against him.  “Perhaps I should… start giving the wrong answers more often,” he panted, and was very proud of himself for not whining in protest when the pressure disappeared.

“Oh no, it was punishment enough, making you wait like that,” Sofia said, and gripped his shoulder.  “Stephan, please keep still.  You look very unbecoming trying to rub against your breeches like that.”

It took an effort to stop himself – he hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.  Reynart grinned, open-mouthed and breathless. “Do I, my lady?”

There was no immediate answer, and he took it as a small win.

“Hm.  Well, I suppose we better move this game along for all of our sakes.  How about one more tasting?” Sofia asked.  There were the sounds of silverware clinking together and dishes being moved.

“If you wish,” Reynart said, trying to make his voice as calm and amiable as possible.  He turned his head, trying to make sense of the noises he heard.  She was cutting another slice of cake – there had been an assortment when he had first entered the room – and he heard padded footsteps approach, much sooner and quicker than he anticipated. 

Hands were laid on either side of his thighs, warm and squeezing lightly, teasing him.  The strong scent of sweet spice wafted under his nose.

“Open your mouth,” Sofia instructed, and Reynart did.

What pressed against his lips was not cake, but a very enthusiastic mouth and an even more enthusiastic tongue.

Reynart made a quiet noise, surprised but very happy.  He laughed into the kiss, straining forward against his binds to return it without reservation.  He could feel a smile, and the teeth of the grin that followed after.  The image and thought of it made him moan, quiet and low, before he abruptly sat back, mouth wet all over.

“A pleasant taste,” he said, licking his lips and trying to regain his breath.  He smirked and turned his head to where he thought Sofia was standing, to his left and not between his legs. “I believe that particular flavor was my lord Salvara?  Without the glasses, I assume.”

Lorenzo laughed, settling more comfortably against him as Reynart spread his legs further apart to make more room.    “An easy guess, Stephen.  You’ve sampled me before.”

At that, Reynart flushed but smiled.

“Without glasses?” Sofia said in mock skepticism.  “Are you sure?”

“Taste him yourself,” Stephen said, crossing his ankles to trap Lorenzo, though he didn’t need to do a thing; he could feel Sofia’s hand on his chest to brace against as she bent down to kiss Lorenzo.

This, Reynart didn’t want to miss.  He shook the blindfold from his eyes and found the Don and Dona Salvara together in front of him.  The couple was not as kept together as they had sounded.  Sofia’s hair was mussed out of their curls and Lorenzo’s shirt was opened and untucked.  There were bits of cake on them both.  Reynart wasn’t sure when those happened, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“Had enough cake, captain?” Lorenzo asked, once Sofia was done with him.  His cheeks were bright red and his hands had never wandered far from the seams of Reynart’s breeches.

“Not quite,” Reynart said, grunting a little when he had failed to notice Sofia untying his hands.  He immediately reached over to draw her down.

“Well,” she said, pulling her husband up so they could both crowd over Stephen, small chair be damned. “Don’t keep us waiting.”