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The evening had been going to plan, Emmrich thought, until it very suddenly wasn't. He'd asked Rook to dine with him in the Necropolis, which had been delightful — fine food and sparkling conversation. She'd been amused by the ambient wisps, and her face had lit up when she saw the bouquet of flowers he'd procured. The walk back to his little pied-à-terre had flown by, as the two of them talked of the city's history and its role in Nevarran politics. But now they were making overtures towards his bedroom, and his lovely Rook's demeanor had changed entirely.
"Emmrich?" she asked, stiff and hesitant, brow knitted with worry. For a woman who was usually so animated, so graceful, it was a concerning sight.
"Yes, darling?" he said.
"I have to tell you something," she said, fidgeting with a curl of hair that had fallen loose from her updo. It quite uncharacteristically made her look like a nervous schoolgirl.
Emmrich steadied his own nerves. "Of course. Anything, my dear," he said, steady and soothing. Privately, though, his mind was racing. Had she not enjoyed the meal? Was his apartment too untidy?
Or perhaps she'd been having second thoughts?
"This is…" She took a breath, steeling her resolve. "I have never lain with anyone before now. You would be my first."
"Oh, Lucia," said Emmrich, as things began to click into place. He suddenly thought back to the early days of their courtship, a lovely night they'd spent sharing confidences and wine. Somehow they'd gotten to talking about Emmrich's first love, a fellow trainee necromancer, and how the two of them had almost been caught together in the stacks of the University library. But we must both have our share of youthful follies and misadventures in love, my dear, he'd said as he poured them more of an especially rich Antivan red. Those days are behind us now, and you and I are all the wiser for it. Assuming so much about Rook's life — what a fool he'd been!
He wanted to apologize but Rook spoke quickly, like she'd lose her nerve if she slowed for a moment longer. Her confession tumbled out as though it were champagne overflowing. "Of course, as a fledgling, I was taught of seduction. We were all coached in what to say, how to behave, in order to get a mark to lower their guard." Her voice grew dark with barely-restrained anger. "One of the few areas where being an elf worked to my favor, they told me. Humans find us more convincingly vulnerable," she spat.
Emmrich could only nod, aghast. He knew little about Crow training, only that it was grueling to the extent that survival was not a guarantee. Rook didn't often raise the subject of her childhood, and Emmrich never pried. Still, it pained him to know how during her formative years she was treated as little more than a weapon to be honed. And it moved him beyond words that, despite the callous cruelty of her upbringing, she'd grown into the warm, sweet woman that had captured his heart so effortlessly.
"I don't begrudge my trainers their methods. If your mark trusts you enough to let you into their bed, that opens up a lot of options for when you must eliminate them," she said wryly. She reached for some trinket on his shelf and idly toyed with it, not looking at him. "Whether it was my skill as a Crow or simply fate, in all my years I never had to actually consummate a relationship with a target. So I never did with anyone."
"Do you wish to? Now?" he asked.
"With you? Oh, yes," she said, and as she turned to him Emmrich thought her eyes might have been shining with emotion. But she blinked it away and regained her composure quickly.
"Only… the knowledge feels like a burden, sometimes," she said quietly. "The vital veins and arteries of the neck. Which poisons are safe to be worn on the lips. I do not wish to think of such things when I look at you."
Emmrich's heart broke for her. Drawing closer, he clasped her hands in his, and she relaxed, though only slightly. "My dearest Lucia," he began, "you are so much more than your Crow training. You are a capable leader and a strategist without peer, true, but even beyond that you are gracious, and thoughtful, and so full of life," he said, surprising himself with his ardor even as he knew every word to be true.
"Thank you, my love," she said in a small voice, a blush warming her freckled cheeks. "I only wanted you to know that I'm… not experienced, in this one thing. At my age," she added ruefully, in self-reproach.
"Oh, darling, you mustn't think of it in such a way," said Emmrich. Though, of course, he understood her nervousness. She must have had certain expectations, built up over the years, leading up to this moment. Not to mention what the Crows must have taught her of sex. Such pressure! He brushed a lock of silver hair out of Rook's face. She looked back at him, expectant, her mismatched eyes shining equally bright. "Your measured judgment is something that I've always admired about you," he told her. "Your instincts are keen and you wait until you're certain that the time is right before leaping into action. Why should this be any different?"
"Very sweet of you to say such a thing," she demurred.
Emmrich clicked his tongue, amused. He was well aware that one's first brush with carnal matters was rarely all that one hoped it would be. (His own, for example — well, it was best not to go down that road at the moment.) So now, he realized, it was his responsibility to make this moment a perfect one for his dear Lucia. Which was no small amount of pressure, true, but when he looked at her he found that it was his only desire in the world.
He returned Rook's contagious smile and leaned down to kiss her. They'd kissed before - but it'd been chaste, restrained. Not so this time. As their lips parted and tongues slid hotly against one another, Emmrich made a surprised little sound and Rook's shoulders shook with silent laughter. Goodness, he thought. Perhaps it had been a while since he'd done this sort of thing, too.
"That's very good," he said, a little short of breath, as she withdrew from him. "You are a fast learner."
"Emmrich, I am familiar with this much," she said, as a crooked grin crept across her face — not mocking, he thought, but perhaps self-conscious.
"Ah. Yes, that does make sense…" he said, feeling a touch flustered himself.
"Though it must be said, I do think you are a remarkable teacher."
How could he resist her? Emmrich returned her smile. "I shall devote myself to your edification, body and soul."
They found their way to the bed without any further interruptions. Emmrich lavished attention on Rook and she returned it with tongue and teeth, delicious sparks of friction coming off their kiss. He ached to press his lips to every freckle on her face, akin in number and in beauty to the stars in the night sky. Her hands were all over him, cupping his jaw and petting his hair and roaming the length of his back.
There was a hunger building in Emmrich, one that had started slow and smoldering but by now was like a towering blaze. How he'd longed to hear the sweet sounds Rook made as he mouthed at her neck and the tips of her long ears. When he slipped a hand under her blouse, his ringed hands grasping at her soft breast, she cried out.
"O-oh! More. Please, Emmrich," Rook begged.
"Of course, darling," he crooned, and obliged her. She moaned as he rubbed his thumb over her nipple, feeling it peak and stiffen. It sent a filthy thrill through him, as he listened to Rook's voice going high and shivery, but he ignored the burgeoning heat in his own trousers. He was on a mission right now — to learn his lover's body by touch, to catalogue the cause of each soft sound and each flutter of her lashes. Any hint of anxiety, any lingering tension in her, he would lovingly massage away until only languorous ease remained.
Emmrich soon found himself kneeling at the foot of his own bed, while Rook sat on the edge. His head was in her lap, her fingers were in his hair. He was in a position of supplication, which was good — letting Rook set the pace for the encounter. Selfishly, though, he couldn't help nuzzling in closer, between her clothed legs, craving the warmth that lay there. As he placed a kiss on the inside of one thigh he looked up. She was rapt, lips parted, wide-eyed.
"May I?" he asked, as his hands went to her belt.
"Of course," Rook said, and had her trousers down in record time. Her smallclothes were soft and lacy, a fetching shade of jewel-blue, accenting the lovely curves of her hips. Emmrich pressed his lips to the fabric where it was already warm and humid with her arousal, and she squeaked, opening her thighs wide.
"Very good," he said, and slid a finger under the lace. He leaned in to taste her at long last, and they both moaned as he did. He traced over her most intimate parts, slow and reverent. Savoring, not devouring — not yet, at least. Above, Rook shuddered and clutched her hands in the bedcovers.
He pulled away after placing a parting kiss on her inner thigh. "You can put your hands on me if you wish," he encouraged as she gripped the back of his head, "yes, just like that. Show me how you take your pleasure."
Rook indulged him, tittering nervously at first. As he resumed attending to her, she grew bolder, knuckles curling in his hair, pressure-points on his scalp. He kissed and sucked with more fervor, spurred by her heightening noises and the arch of her spine. Yes, Emmrich thought, taken by a fierce possessiveness, and sped his pace. That's it. Unravel for me. Before long Rook's pleasure crested — a high, uncontrolled moan tore from her as she clenched and thrust against Emmrich's eager tongue.
She quieted to a whimper, softly murmuring endearments as she leaned over Emmrich, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. He felt duty-bound to clean her up with his tongue, but it was easy to get lost in the job — the heady scent of her, the taste, the lush wetness of her release. Before long Rook sounded ready to go again, and Emmrich felt the fierce burn of satisfaction. One-handed, he worked the rings off his first two fingers, pocketing them for safekeeping.
"You're doing so well for me," Emmrich said, and circled her slick entrance with the pads of his bare fingers. "Can you give me another? Like this?" When she breathlessly hummed her approval he pushed a digit inside. So warm, so tight, gripping around him as he withdrew then pressed back in. Imagine if it wasn't his fingers, but his — no, not now. Not until Rook felt ready, at least. For now, his hands and mouth would suffice. He returned his attentions to the pearl that lay between her thighs, laving it with his tongue until she hit her second peak of the evening and her release gushed out over his hand.
Enervated, Rook slumped back onto the bed, her curls coming undone and fanning out around her like a halo. She was sweaty, exhausted, unbelievably gorgeous. I'm the only one she's shared this part of herself with, Emmrich thought, and the realization made him almost lightheaded. He climbed up atop the bed, unbuttoning his waistcoat, and she sat back up to assist with a dexterity that shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Before long he was wearing only an open shirt and smallclothes, and he banished all thoughts of self-consciousness at his own aging body once he confirmed that a certain part of him was very functional and very eager to participate. (Small mercies, he thought, after a certain age that wasn't always a guarantee.)
Rook reached hesitantly for the tent in Emmrich's smalls, waiting for his nod of encouragement before actually making contact, tugging down on the waistband. He was mesmerized by the sight of her hand on his erection, thumbing over the foreskin, swiping at the bead of liquid at the tip. She explored him with a gentle, curious touch, lightly squeezing his scrotum and exhaling a half-laugh when he whined. Rook's grasp on his cock grew firmer, more confident with each passing moment, and it was difficult not to buck his hips into her waiting hand.
"Ah— Lucia—" he trailed off, overcome.
"You're incredible," she rasped. "I want to feel you inside me." She unbuttoned her shirt with one hand while wiggling out of her smallclothes, the rich blue fabric sliding down one shapely leg and catching on her heel. Both garments were flung across the room, landing in a heap on the rug, and Emmrich couldn't even bring himself to object to the disorderliness. For once, such a thing was low on his list of priorities. Instead, he climbed over her, guiding her to lie back on the plush bedspread as he took his place between her legs.
As he pressed to her entrance, their eyes met, and he spoke softly once more. "My dearest Lucia, you're doing so well. Relax for me, let me fill you." And she shuddered and cooed as he slid into the tight, wet heat of her, but there was still some tension in her body that didn't resolve. Was there something troubling her still? That simply wouldn't do.
"Emmrich?" She'd noticed his hesitation.
"Is this position… comfortable for you?" He was gazing down from atop her, boxing her in with his arms. Did she feel trapped?
"It's fine," she said breathlessly. Fine? "It's traditional, I think." To the Void with tradition, he wanted to say, but instead he recalculated.
"Would you prefer it if I was the one lying down and if you were seated atop me?" The flash of interest in her eyes let him know he'd gotten it right. Soon they'd reversed positions, Emmrich backed up against the headboard while Rook swung one leg over him. Yes, he thought, this was better for the both of them. Lucia would be able to set the pace, while he would have the privilege of watching as she rode him.
Maker, but she was wonderful in motion, Emmrich thought. Every part of her stoked the fires of his passion yet further. The graceful stretch of her limbs as she settled atop him, her freckled and tawny skin bared for him at last. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, as silvery and gorgeous as moonlight.
Rook groaned, low and desperate, as she sunk onto him.
"Better?" Emmrich asked, already hazy with pleasure. The heat and pressure were exquisite, and it took strength not to immediately thrust up into her.
She nodded enthusiastically. "I rather like the angle," she said.
"I could say the same," said Emmrich, looking up in adoration. He grasped her from behind, pulling her down onto him, dragging another moan out of her. Their bodies moved in unison, slow and rhythmic, quickening their pace before long.
"There we go, darling. So gorgeous. My sweet girl." Emmrich was murmuring nonsense by now, hoping that it would stave off the inevitable. But it was difficult not to give over to the all-consuming pleasure, and when he opened his eyes it was even harder — watching the sway of her breasts, the parting of her lips, the sweat-glazed hand working between her legs.
"Need you," she muttered under her breath. She sounded close, too. "Please, keep going. I want to hear you."
Emmrich was frantic, little endearments falling from his lips as his climax neared. "Lucia, darling, you're doing so well for me. Just like that. Please, oh, I'm close, I—" He threw his head back and cried out, a pulse of white-hot pleasure ripping through him. Atop him, Rook stilled, stroking herself to ecstasy as he shuddered and bucked up into her. For a long while, the air was filled by inarticulate cries and panting. Then, even that quieted to silence.
"Oh," Emmrich sighed dazedly, as she clambered off him and tucked herself into his arms. "Oh, Lucia. My dearest." It had been a while since he'd felt this sensation of physical closeness, two postcoital bodies so in sync that they almost became one. Perhaps Rook was realizing the same, learning for the first time what he'd almost forgotten.
She responded with a satisfied hum, kissing him on his cheek, then at the corner of his moustache, then finally on the lips. The moment stretched out, luxurious and honey-sweet, as they nestled into each other, and Emmrich let his eyes slip shut.
"…everything I'd hoped and more." She had been saying something, it seemed. Emmrich roused himself from the fog of slumber and made an inarticulate noise of agreement.
"You were gorgeous," he told her, and she responded with an adorable little sound, melting with pleasure and satisfaction. "My light, my sun and stars," he said, hoping to hear another, but his tired brain was already losing coherence. She said something in response, low and sleepy, but he'd drifted off, unable to hear exactly what it was.
(It might have been "I love you", he thought, feeling the press of her lips on his temple. He hoped that he was right.)