"Commander, do you have a moment?"
A momentary shiver traveled down his spine. So it was to be a Josephine night. They always began this way. Always the same script, down to the letter.
"Of course," he said, turning to face Josephine. He used to vary his responses a little. Just to make him feel like he still had some semblance of control over his own life. Now he simply followed the script.
"I'd like to talk to you later on," she said.
"Of course," he repeated. Her mouth pursed into a smile. She'd known that he'd agree. He always agreed. It was why he was there, wasn't it?
Josephine nights were good nights, he reminded himself. Cassandra nights were...more difficult. And Leliana nights...
Best not to dwell on Leliana nights. At any rate, the Nightingale of the Inquisition had been gone on a mission for weeks. Tonight he would have Josephine, and only Josephine.
Late that evening, he sat splayed in the chair at his desk, head thrown back and hands braced on his own thighs. He couldn't see her face, only the back of her head, bobbing up and down as her mouth moved over him, hot and slick.
He clenched his teeth to stop from moaning. The Skyhold walls had cracks, and sound traveled.
He wanted badly to touch her, to run his hands through her hair while she pleasured him, but this was not allowed. Instead he pressed his fists against his thighs, leaving a familiar pair of bruises that he would wear afterward for days.
She was fully clothed, still in her silk blouse and her full Antivan skirts. Not by his choice. He wanted to see her body, see her full breasts, her wide, round hips. He especially wanted that when her mouth was on him. But she would not allow it. He had never seen her completely naked.
It drove him crazy.
Soon enough, he could feel the telltale tightening meaning that the end approached. But so could she, and she pulled away, letting his cock slip out of her mouth. It bobbed obscenely on its own for a moment, touching nothing but air. He jerked, feeling as though a bucket of cold water had been poured on him.
"Don't worry, Commander," Josephine said. She allowed him a moment to look down at her exposed cleavage, then rose and threw one leg to either side of his lap, straddling him. She adjusted her skirts delicately to cover herself. He could feel the satiny sheen of her bare thighs against his cock. She wore no smallclothes; she never did on these nights.
"I won't leave you this way," she said. "I'm not cruel."
Then with a practiced swivel of her hips, Josephine slid onto him, controlling the motion and taking his cock inch by deliberate inch.
"Maker, Josephine," he gasped. Damn the cracks in the walls; he was sheathed inside Josephine Montilyet. The Maker himself couldn't remain silent.
"Darling Cullen," she said with a smile, "I find you ever so pleasing. How fortunate we are that you turned out to have some skill in commanding soldiers as well."
His fingers gripped the sides of the chair, knuckles white with the pressure. "Josephine," he breathed, "I want to touch you. Please."
She leaned forward, pressing her satin-covered breasts against his chest and nearly touching her lips to his own. "Pretty Cullen," she whispered. "Poor, pretty Cullen. I decide when you touch me, and I have decided that it will not be tonight. But perhaps you would like it if I..." She blushed girlishly. He wondered dimly if she could do that on command; surely nothing could embarrass this woman after some of the things he'd seen her do. "If I... touched myself," she finished.
No. Please, no. It would only add to his torment. But Josephine undoubtedly knew this too.
"Yes," he said, just barely managing to keep the word from turning into a moan.
She slipped a hand inside the waistband of her skirt. A moment later her eyes rolled back in her head and her muscles tightened around him; she'd found what she sought.
"I imagine you touching me, Cullen," she said. "All the time. How does that make you feel?" she asked, a smile playing around her lips.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Her smile widened. "I think it is better to leave it with the imagination, though, don't you?" she said. "The reality would surely be disappointing."
He could feel her tightening around him as she moved her hips in slow circles, forcing herself up and down on his cock.
"I could take my blouse off," she said, "and let you touch my breasts. Would you like that?"
"Yes," he hissed.
"Yes," she repeated, "yes, Cullen. You'd love that, I think. Oh, poor Cullen, oh yes...yes--" She shuddered, and her muscles fluttered in a quick, familiar rhythm.
"Now," she sighed. "Fill me, Cullen. Now."
He hadn't thought he was ready, but her words drew the orgasm from him, pulse by jerking pulse, until he was drained and empty, limp beneath her.
Josephine nights were good nights.