Chapter Text
Emmrich’s hand squeezed Ivy’s breast, savoring the silent permission she offered. His lips brushed hers, coaxing them apart, each soft gasp she released igniting something dangerously unrestrained within him. Yet, as quickly as desire surged, discipline reclaimed its hold. He drew back, releasing her with a breath, his gaze flickering past her to the table behind.
Ivy glanced down, her expression touched with a trace of confusion, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He reached past her, sliding his wine glass and dessert plate aside. One of the spoons sat askew, its curved edge out of place. His fingers corrected it, turning it upright and stacking it neatly atop the one beside it.
Once the space was clear, he adjusted his hands to rest on her behind and abruptly stood up, causing her to fall backwards onto the table with a yelp, landing on her back with a soft thud. His hands steadied her and adjusted her legs around him.
He wasted no time, diving back into her mouth. With every parting of their lips, a soft, sucking sound echoed through the quiet room. When he migrated down her neck he felt her hips arch up towards him.
He teased her skin, grazing her throat with the tips of his teeth. Before it deepened into anything painful, he softened the gesture, transforming it to a slow lick that pulled at her pulse.
He exhaled softly as he withdrew, his glasses slipping to the bridge of his nose, his face lingering close to hers.
Emmrich felt his breath hitch, unsteady for a moment.
He stood on the precipice of inevitability, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a truth he had always known.
That morning in the botanical gardens, it was as if the path to this very moment had already been laid.
There had been twists he hadn’t foreseen, detours he never anticipated, but the destination was always here, written in her eyes and carved into his soul.
His body ached for her, to take her here, now. To hold her down by her delicate wrist and sink his cock deep inside her fragile little innocence.
He had to slow down his thoughts.
Need screamed like a thousand entangling spirits and he wavered momentarily, thrusting his cock against her. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, you’ve occupied every corner of my mind.” He confessed.
She drew in a trembling breath, her gasp quivering with intensity.
He slid her sweater up to her neck and reached for her lilac bra to pull the cup down. But before he did he paused, retrieving away for a moment.
Emmrich’s body straightened, his breath catching as he took her in. Her arms were stretched above her head, her fingers delicately curled as if holding onto a dream. Her hair fanned out across the white tablecloth, encircling her face like a halo of shadow.
In this moment, she was everything. Effortless, unguarded, and completely and entirely his.
His gaze wandered down her torso, lingering on the glint of her silver belly button ring. Maker, how he had hoped, prayed, that he might see it again one day. And now here he was, the sight before him so real it made his fingers twitch, as if he’d stumbled into something he dared not dream.
He etched this moment to memory, committing every detail of her to heart. The tremble of her dilated eyes, the uneven rise and fall of her nervous breaths, the final rights of her delicate innocence he was poised to destroy, devour all for himself.
When she whispered his name, her voice was soft and uncertain, a sweetness that tugged at something truly wicked within him.
He memorized that too, knowing that the next time his name escaped her lips, it would be anything but timid and innocent.
Finally he leaned into her again, pulling the cup of her bra down and capturing her breast in his mouth. Her reaction was immediate. She shivered a gasp as her hands immediately reached to touch his shoulders. He kissed and licked her nipple, keeping it in between the tips of his teeth, sucking one final gluttonous time before letting go, moving to the other, mirroring the same care and attention.
He found her lips again and rolled his tongue against her own, a small sound escaping his lungs. Both of his hands slithered up her body, he slotted her nipples in between the webs of his fingers and gave one final greedy squeeze.
“Sit up,” Emmrich instructed firmly.
Ivy obeyed immediately, pushing herself upright with an eager swiftness that brought a flicker of satisfaction to his gaze. Without pause, Emmrich reached for the hem of her sweater, gathering the soft fabric in his hands as he began to pull it up over her head.
Her hair tumbled free as it slipped away, a few strands falling wildly across her face. Emmrich’s lips curved faintly as he reached out, his fingers gently smoothing the disheveled locks, his knuckles grazing her skin.
“Every detail of you is a masterpiece, Ivy.” He murmured, his gaze lingering on her with a quiet intensity, before settling the sweater aside.
Emmrich pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder, his lips lingering against her before trailing slowly along its curve.
His hands slid downward. The tips of his fingers found the edge of her pants, hooking beneath the band. He lingered for a moment before easing them down.
He hummed approvingly upon him discovering She was wearing matching lilac panties.
A few faint, uneven bumps dotted the skin near the edges of them, subtle traces of a rushed and tentative shave. Emmrich couldn’t help but notice the imperfections. Shaving was a skill he took great pride in, an almost meditative practice perfected over time, and one he approached with meticulous care.
Yet, instead of criticism, the bumps stirred something soft in him, a quiet affection settling over his features. It was imperfect, clumsy even, but it was done solely for him. And that realization filled him with a tenderness that penetrated deep in his chest.
With both hands he traced his fingers over the lace of her bra and panties. “Is this, by any chance, for me?”
Ivy’s face flushed the deepest shade of red he had ever seen, her gaze darting away as she mumbled something too soft for him to catch.
Emmrich didn’t allow the escape. His fingers tilted her chin firmly, guiding her face back to his. His dark eyes held hers captive, leaving no room for retreat. “I believe I asked you a question,” he said softly, though there was no mistaking the command in his tone.
His hand drifted down her bra and traced the tantalizing path of her cleavage.
“Yes, it’s for you.” She whispered.
Emmrich smiled, a quiet hum of satisfaction vibrating deep in his chest as he leaned forward, tasting her lips once more.
“Before we proceed,” Emmrich said, his voice taking on the same cadence he used in his lectures. “I’d like for you to show me how you touch yourself.”
He reached behind her, fingers curling around the slender stem of a wine glass that he previously moved aside. He let the pause stretch as he brought the glass to his lips, taking a sip while his gaze remained locked on her. He scooted his chair back, the sound of wood scraping against the floor deliberate.
Lowering himself into the seat, Emmrich kept the wine glass in his hand, swirling it slowly, the deep red catching the light as his posture remained both relaxed and commanding.
From his vantage point, he watched her carefully, her flushed cheeks, the rise and fall of her breath, the tension that sat on the edge of her anticipation. There was something intoxicating in seeing her like this, caught between innocence and trust, knowing he alone was responsible for the emotions flickering across her face.
He tilted his head ever so slightly, his voice dipping lower as he broke the silence. “Whenever you’re ready, my dear.”
Ivy froze. “What?” she breathed. Her hands toying nervously with the hem of the tablecloth as she stared at him.
The corner of his mouth lifted, but his tone was unwavering when he spoke again. “I detest repeating myself,” he said, swirling the glass once more. “Show me how you pleasure yourself.”
Ivy’s laugh slipped out, soft and unsure, tinged with awkward disbelief. “I don’t…” she said, shaking her head as she rubbed the back of her neck. “I mean, I can’t imagine it’s anything worth wanting to watch.”
Emmrich leaned back slightly, his expression calm. “On the contrary,” he replied, his tone rich with authority. “I believe it to be quite worthwhile.”
He gestured faintly with his hand, an invitation and an expectation wrapped in one. “And you will, for me.”
Her breath caught, and he saw the battle play out in her eyes. the nerves, the hesitation, and the inevitable surrender. She swallowed hard, her shoulders drawing back as she pushed herself slowly forwards onto the edge of the table. Her movements were cautious, reluctant, as though the table beneath her were unsteady.
She hesitated, reaching for the band of her panties, just as her fingers began to slip downward he made a sound, “Ah ah ahhh,” the unmistakable tone of gentle correction. His voice followed. “Leave them on.”
Ivy blinked, surprised, her hands hovering in place. “Why?” she mumbled, her voice small.
His gaze lingered on her, taking in the lilac lace that framed her. “You told me those were for me,” he said simply, his words a quiet compliment. “Do allow me to admire them a little longer.”
Her cheeks darkened, and she muttered something under her breath that he couldn’t quite make out, though it made him smile. With a slow, shaky breath, she slid her hand down the front of her panties, awkwardly finding her way to her destination. Her other arm supported her from behind. Green eyes flicked up to meet his, a faint furrow forming on her brow as if seeking reassurance.
Emmrich observed her with all the quiet patience of a seasoned professor guiding a student through unfamiliar terrain, steady, composed, and silently encouraging.
Ivy exhaled again, her fingers slowly beginning to move. her movements were clumsy, her fingers fumbling slightly. Emmrich leaned back, his sharp gaze fixed on her, taking in every flicker of her self consciousness.
“Close your eyes,” he said, his tone a quiet hum, steady and warm. He watched her swallow, her lips pressing together in brief hesitation before she complied. Her eyelashes fluttered shut, the faintest crease of tension lingering in her brow.
But then, predictably, charmingly, one eye cracked open, stealing a peek at him. Emmrich caught her instantly, his lips curving into an amused grin. “Ah-ah,” he murmured, his voice laced with gentle teasing. “Close both. And breathe.”
Her cheeks flushed, a sheepish laugh escaping her lips. “Sorry,” she murmured, shutting her eyes again, this time tighter, almost as if she were trying to prove something.
“Good,” he said, his voice quieter now, more intimate. “Now, take a breath. Slow, deep.”
He watched as her chest rose and fell, the tension in her shoulders melting away. She adjusted her hands, the small, fidgety movements stilling as she began to trust him.
Her vulnerability, her willingness to follow his guidance was magnetic. Emmrich couldn’t look away, his gaze tracing the soft curve of her cheek, the delicate slope of her neck. She was beautiful like this.
“Perfect. You’re doing wonderfully, my dear,” he said quietly, the warmth in his tone undeniable now. He let the moment linger, savoring it, before continuing in that same low, steady hum. “Touch yourself for me, Ivy.”
Something about his words eased her shoulders, loosened her movements. Her hand began to move more, her hips swaying to the side slightly, the mesh lace of her panties shifting, allowed him to see small glimpses of her.
Emmrich brought the glass of wine to his lips to hold his expression back only to find it was already empty. A small, shy smile tugged at her lips, and Emmrich couldn’t look away.
He set his glass down quietly, his full attention fixed on her now, watching the transformation unfold. Her mouth opened as small strained sounds softly escaped her lips. Her eyes penetrated his, becoming playful, “like this, Professor?” she said lightly.
“Yes,” Emmrich hissed, the composure of his tone had all but vanished. He didn’t move, didn’t interrupt, but the weight of his words lingered in the air between them. “Exactly like that my dear.”
She continued, her breath catching, as she circled two fingers around where he assumed her clit was. She moaned in earnest now, and he saw her ankle flex.
“What do you think about when you do this in privacy?” He asked.
Ivy whimpered, her body loosening as his words seemed to reach somewhere deeper within her. The shyness that had painted her cheeks earlier was nowhere to be found now. She lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes with a boldness that took him entirely by surprise.
“You,” she said without hesitation. “I think of you.”
The admission hung between them, Ivy didn’t falter. “Every time,” she added, her voice cracking again from the pleasure, her eyes never leaving his. “I pretend you’re the one touching me. Only you.”
The breath Emmrich exhaled was long and audible.
He stood up. Ivy’s gaze tracking him, her breath caught as he approached, his presence filling the space like a quiet storm.
Emmrich’s voice was smooth as silk. “May I?”
She swallowed, her lips parting as though words might fail her, but they didn’t. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please.”
A flicker of tenderness and possession crossed him as his hand rose to the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair with care. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling softly in the stillness.
Emmrich’s voice dropped even further, his words brushing against her skin like a secret. “Those little whimpers you are making are intoxicating.”
His other hand found the band of her panties and pulled them down, until they were hanging slack around one of her ankles.
And there, in the quiet intimacy of the room, Emmrich sank his fingers inside her, her forehead twisted against his as she moaned his name against his face. He began small ‘come here’ gestures as he twisted his own head to follow hers. “My dearest girl,” he murmured, “the wonders I will share with you, the pleasures I will draw from you.”
He pressed his thumb and pinky on the lips of her cunt, opening it up for him. With the tip of his middle finger he traces minuscule circles around the very top, searching for her clit.
Her hips buckled and she shouted, clutching his shoulder and arm.
“Ahhh,” he hummed almost in delight. “There we are.” He chuckled deeply in his chest and began small circles around it.
She broke apart quickly, pleading to gods he didn’t believe in for him to not stop.
With his other hand he gripped her chin and held it up so that he could watch her every reaction. The sight of her trying so hard to keep her little noises dimure and soft made him hum a wicked sound.
“Lie back.” He told her.
The moment her elbows touched the table he removes his fingers and dashed his mouth forward to replace them. His hands slithered up her thighs, the tips of his fingers brushing against the warm metal of her belly button ring until he covered it with the palm of his hand, holding it there to steady her while he began covering her in open kisses and tiny bites, the tip of his tongue flicking and swirling around her.
Emmrich’s gaze lifted to hers as he gently sucked her clit, and in that instant, he swore he saw it, the precise moment her world tilted, irrevocably changed.
Her fingers tightened in his hair and she whimpered softly. “Professor…”
The way she said his title, it wasn’t just music, it was a forbidden melody, one he shouldn’t indulge in but craved all the same. It echoed in his mind, dark and dangerous, wrapping itself around him like the haunting strains of a song no one was meant to hear.
“Please, please don’t stop,” she sobbed, her words barely audible but carried with such sincerity it made his cock twitch.
He hummed deep in his chest, a sound that rumbled against her skin, pulling her further into him.
“Never darling,” he murmured, his voice velvety and confident. “Never.”
Emmrich returned his fingers back inside her, tracing small circles against her soaking walls, his mouth and tongue remained licking and nibbling her clit.
Ivy’s lips parted, her breath hitching as her eyes rolled upward. Her body began to arch, but his hand pressed against her belly held her firmly in place. Instead her head fell back, and she screamed his name as she came undone.
“Beautiful,” he murmured while standing upright, reaching for a napkin to dab his lips. Then, with a steady grip, he helped her up from the table, his hands supported her when her trembling legs faltered for just a moment.
Emmrich settled back into the chair, his arms wrapping securely around Ivy’s waist as he guided her back onto his lap.
Ivy shifted, her touch soft as her fingers found his bracelets. Emmrich relaxed his hand, watching as she traced the cool metal with quiet curiosity, spinning a bangle around his wrist with a delicate, almost absentminded motion.
“That was. I never in all my wildest dreams imagined doing something like that with you,” Ivy said softly, her voice weaving through the quiet.
Emmrich’s lips curved into a faint smile, his head tilting slightly as he gazed at her. “I did,” he murmured, his tone rich with quiet certainty. “Far more often than I care to admit.”
Her breath caught for a moment before she let out a small, disbelieving huff against his chest. He felt the warmth of it, and it only deepened the steady fondness in his expression.
Emmrich slipped the bangle she was playing with from his wrist, the sound of it sliding free from the rest breaking the stillness between them. Taking her hand in his, he brought her palm to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against her skin.
Ivy’s breath caught, her fingers curling instinctively in his grasp. Emmrich smiled against her hand before pulling back, slipping the bangle onto her wrist. The golden band caught the low light of the room as it settled against her skin, shimmering as though it belonged there.
She stared at it, stunned into silence for a moment, her eyes wide as she looked from the bracelet back to him. “You… I wasn’t playing with it because…, you didn’t have to do that,” she said, her voice unsteady.
“Perhaps not,” Emmrich replied smoothly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “But I wanted to. Indulge me, won’t you?”
“I—” Ivy faltered, her lips pressing together before a sudden smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She slipped free from his arms with a lithe, teasing motion. “I know what I can do.”
Emmrich arched a brow, his gaze following her as she stood before him, the golden bangle glinting faintly on her wrist. Her confidence, still so new and fragile yet unmistakably hers, lit up her face.
Ivy reached for his trousers, her fingers brushing against his thin leather belt as she began to unbuckle it. Emmrich’s hand reached out, capturing hers gently but firmly as the clasp came undone.
“I would not have any part of this be a transaction,” he said, his voice edged with a quiet intensity. His gaze bore into her.
Ivy paused, meeting his eyes for a moment before glancing down at the bangle around her wrist. Without hesitation, she slipped it off and placed it on the armrest of his chair, a deliberate, silent gesture that spoke volumes.
She turned her attention back to his waist kneeling her naked body down before him as she gently pulled his belt from around his waist. The leather cord slid from her hand, her gaze flicking back to him.
“I want to suck your cock, Professor.” She said in a deliberate manner.
Emmrich’s hand shot out, fingers curling around her jaw in a firm grip. He tugged her closer, the space between them shrinking in an instant. Ivy’s expression shifted, her earlier smugness faltered, giving way to a flicker of fear, or perhaps uncertainty, that softened the edges of her boldness.
The sudden fire in her, this dangerous confidence, threatened something within him.
He leaned in just enough for his breath to graze her skin, his voice low, clear, making sure she could hear every syllable.
“Careful, Miss Ingellvar,” he murmured, his grip flexing in a silent warning. The power in his hold was tempered by the tenderness with which his other hand smoothed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb grazing the delicate curve of her cheek. The juxtaposition was intentional, a demonstration of both sides of him.
“As discussed, bravery is a beautiful thing,” he continued softly, though there was a quiet storm lurking beneath the surface. “But do not let it slip into recklessness.” His gaze held hers. “Else you may find yourself burned by the flames you so carelessly stoke.”
For a beat, silence settled between them, the weight of his words lingering. Emmrich’s chest rose and fell in a ponderous rhythm as he willed himself to stay calm.
They must slow down. It was too soon to risk losing her before she fully understood just what it meant to step into this side of him.
He exhaled slowly, loosening his grip just enough for her to feel it, a quiet offering of reassurance as much as a warning.
Ivy’s hands moved to wrap around his wrist, causing Emmrich to feel his restraint begin trembling. Her touch was gentle, so gentle, yet it seared through him like a spark catching dry tinder. His grip on her jaw loosened even more and she guided his hand away.
The shift in her demeanor was impossible to ignore. Ivy, sweet and unassuming, now looked at him with something else in her gaze. Emmrich’s breath stilled as she brought his hand to her lips, her eyes locking with his. Without breaking her gaze, she sank two of his fingers into her mouth.
The room seemed to constrict around him as her lips wrapped around the base, her slow movements a test he felt burning through every inch of him. Her mouth closed over him, his emerald marquise indenting slightly against her cupid's bow, her tongue brushing lightly along his skin. And then, just as deliberately as she had taken him, she pulled back, sucking gently, the sensation ignited something dark and insistent within him, a tolling bell that resonated through his very core, warning of the unraveling to come.
A fire surged, relentless and all consuming, shattering the calm he clung to with such painstaking control. His fingers twitched ever so slightly as they left her mouth, now slick with her intention.
For a long, breathless moment, he simply stared at her. How dare she, he thought, and yet, how could he ever want for anything else?
In a swift decisive motion he shot to his feet, the chair teetering precariously behind him from the force of his movement.
Emmrich tugged his pants and briefs down, his aching leaking cock falling forwards in front of Ivy’s face. The light catching on his golden frenum piercing. He pumped himself only once. The sharp clink of his piercing striking his rings and the brutal clash of his bracelets filled the room with a savage chaos that mirrored the storm unraveling inside him.
In an instant both hands snatched the sides of her head, his fingers threading into her hair with an almost violent intensity. He tilted her lips to his cock, angling her precious little mouth toward him as he prepared to give her exactly what her reckless audacity had earned.
Her confidence flickered, and then, exactly what he thought would happen, happened.
The mask she wore, that sweet attempt to play the minx, crumbled like paper.
Gone in an instant.
Her wide eyes locked onto his, a flash of vulnerability replacing the fire she’d tried to stoke. Her bravado evaporated, leaving behind something small and uncertain.
He released her and for a brief, breathless moment, they stared at each other. Then her gaze dropped, guilt, maybe embarrassment, swimming behind her glassy green eyes as they flicked back up to him, searching.
Emmrich moved without hesitation. He pulled his trousers back up, wincing at the uncomfortable sensation of his erection being shoved away so hasty.
He didn’t care.
All that mattered was her comfort, her trust. This… whatever this was becoming… was not a performance, and he’d be damned if he let her feel like she needed to pretend for him.
He knelt down. “Darling,” Emmrich murmured, his eyes searching her face, “are you alright?”
Ivy’s nod came quickly, but her wide, glassy eyes betrayed her. “You were right,” she admitted softly, the words barely audible. “That was, I was… moving a little too fast for a moment.”
Emmrich’s lips curved into a reassuring smile, one that held no trace of judgment, only understanding. He leaned in and pressed his forehead gently to hers. The space between them evaporated, and as her shoulders loosened, Ivy leaned into him, brushing her nose against his.
She sighed, the sound tinged with something fragile. “To answer your question no, not really.” she whispered, her voice trembling in a mixture of self loathing and deprecation. “Pretty sure I just made an absolute fool of myself in front of the man of my dreams.”
Emmrich froze for a moment, her words lingering in the air.
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he tilted his head, his gaze locking onto hers. “The man of your dreams?” he repeated softly, his voice a low murmur, carrying a hint of both disbelief and adoration.
Before Ivy could respond, he leaned in and captured her lips with his own. The kiss was achingly slow, achingly patient. His thumb brushed the curve of her cheek, but the touch was protective, cradling her face as though she might break if mishandled. He kissed her not as a response to desire, but as a promise that she was safe with him.
When Emmrich pulled away, he lingered, his gaze sweeping over Ivy.
Without a word, he rose to his feet and guided her up with him. Ivy looked so small, so undone, yet still entirely his, wrapped in a blend of innocence and trust. His hands fell to the hem of his cashmere sweater and he tugged it over his head.
“Here,” he murmured softly, stepping toward her. Emmrich eased the sweater over her head, adjusting it to sit properly on her. The oversized garment fell loosely around her frame. He reached for her hair, sweeping it from beneath the collar and letting it spill over her shoulders in dark waves before readjusting his glasses.
Ivy blinked up at him, surprised but saying nothing, her hands lifting to hold the edges of the sweater. Emmrich allowed himself a moment to take in the sight, how perfect she looked wrapped in his sweater, in his life.
Emmrich neatly tucking his oxford shirt back into his trousers before crouching down, Collecting her scattered clothes, he folded them carefully before placing them on the chair.
He turned back to her, pressing his hands together. “Perhaps,” he said smoothly, “a change of scenery might prove beneficial. Here, allow me to tidy up first.”
Ivy quietly walked over to her clothes, gathering them into her arms, her expression unreadable. Emmrich watched her for a moment, the lingering quiet settling heavily between them before he turned to the table. He began gathering the dirty dishes into a neat pile.
“A moment please,” he said, giving her a glance that held no pressure, only reassurance.
With the dishes in hand, he moved into the kitchen. Once out of sight, Emmrich set the plates into the sink, He gripped the edge of the counter with both hands, his fingers pressing into the cool surface as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
The taste of her cunt was still on his lips. The way her wide, trusting eyes looked at him, sobbing his name as she came apart by his doing.
It was all he could see,
all he could hear,
all he could want.
For a long, dizzying moment, he wanted nothing more than to storm back into that room, to throw her over the table, the chair, against the wall… it did not matter where as long as his cock was shoved so deep inside her she couldn’t think straight.
She’d let him.
No. He wasn’t that man.
He refused to be that man.
She deserved more than this, more than thoughts driven by raw, selfish need.
Ivy wasn’t a fleeting moment.
She deserved patience. Care. Devotion.
She deserves the world, because that was what she was becoming to him.
Emmrich exhaled deeply, the weight of restraint settling in his shoulders
“Slow down,” he murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper, as though the words carried a fragile resolve. His eyes opened, a renewed calm in their depths, and he straightened, smoothing his hands over his hair as though preparing himself.
Emmrich strolled back into the dining room, his polished calm restored. “Would you—” he began smoothly, but the words caught in his throat as the scene before him gave him pause.
Ivy had her back turned to him, she was dressed back in her own clothes now, his golden bangle back on her wrist. Though what caught his attention most was the unmistakable way she held his sweater up to her face.
She inhaled deeply, the fabric cradled against her nose as if the very scent of it brought her to life. Emmrich noticed the way her shoulders eased, the way she tipped up onto the balls of her feet, as though the sensation had lifted her off the ground entirely.
He said nothing, mesmerized by the sight of her, the innocent intimacy of it. Then, finally, his words broke through the stillness, and his voice came out softer than intended.
“Ivy—”
She jolted as though struck, whirling around to face him, her wide eyes caught somewhere between guilt and mortification. It was a look he knew well thanks to his son, caught red handed.
She quickly cleared her throat, her cheeks blazing red as she clumsily folded the sweater into an untidy bundle. Her fingers fumbled over the soft fabric, and she refused to meet his gaze as she stepped forward, extending it toward him with all the grace of someone hoping to sink into the floorboards.
“Here ya go,” she mumbled as she shoved it into his hands.
Emmrich accepted the sweater, though his lips curved into the faintest, knowing smile. He didn’t say anything, didn’t tease, didn’t pry, but there was no hiding the way his gaze lingered on her, both amused and endeared by what he had just seen.
“Would you care for some tea?” he asked, his voice calm and composed.
Ivy adjusted the golden bangle on her wrist, her smile soft and thoughtful. “Some water would be great,” she said gently. Then, with a glance around the room, she added, “And… if you’re willing, I’d love a tour. From what I’ve seen, well, it’s been good so far.”
Emmrich’s lips twitch in amusement, “Oh! Excellent.” He pushed the chairs back into place, nodding. “Let’s start with the kitchen.”
The moment Ivy stepped into the kitchen, she froze mid step, her mouth falling open in astonishment. “Maker’s breath,” she whispered, her wide eyes drinking in the expanse of the room. “This is the size of my entire apartment.”
He retrieved a glass, filled it with chilled, filtered water from the fridge, and handed it to her, chuckling. “It’s a bit ostentatious. For all its size, I find I only ever use this corner,” he said, gesturing to a worn spot on the marble counter where he clearly spent most of his time.
Emmrich watched her slowly come back out of her shell as he guided her throughout the house.
When they entered his library, Ivy’s breath hitched audibly, her wide eyes sweeping over the towering shelves of books. The warm glow of the sconces danced over the spines, casting a soft, golden light across the room. But it was the gliding ladder that seemed to capture her attention most.
“Is that a sliding ladder?” she asked, her voice tinged with excitement as she stepped closer. Her fingers hovered near the wood, her gaze glinting with mischief. “Please. Can I climb it? I’ve always wanted to do something.”
Emmrich pressed his hands together. “I’m afraid it’s currently locked,” he said smoothly, tilting his head as he watched her reaction. “Manfred watched an animated film not too long ago. One where a charming young woman sings and slides rather dramatically along shelves much like these.”
Emmrich’s lips tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his face, but he continued without pause, “Inspired, he attempted his own rendition, though the execution was… flawed. The ladder tipped, and an entire shelf of encyclopedias came crashing down.” He sighed, shaking his head in mock resignation. “It’s been out of commission ever since. A temporary exile, if you will.”
Ivy pulled her lips between her front teeth, clearly trying to stifle her laughter, but the blush that colored her ears betrayed her thoughts. “Kids, am I right?” She glanced away quickly, pretending to admire the spines of the books instead.
“Was there a specific volume you required?” Emmrich asked smoothly, arching a brow as he stepped closer. “I’d be happy to retrieve one for you.”
She shook her head a little too quickly. “Oh, no, no! I was just… curious, that’s all.”
Emmrich led Ivy through the rest of the house, his tone effortlessly composed as he narrated small details along the way. They ascended the staircase to the upper floor, where he showed her his office. The walls were lined with bookshelves and framed accolades. Some hung neatly on the walls, while others rested against the baseboards, waiting patiently to be mounted.
Next came Manfred’s room, where Emmrich paused before opening the door. “I’ll warn you,” he said with a rare smile of apology, “it’s… lived in.”
The room was, as always, a chaotic masterpiece. Toys spilled across the floor, art supplies sat half open on the small desk, and blankets were draped over furniture as though mid fort construction. Yet, despite the disarray, it radiated the cheerful energy only a child could bring.
Emmrich watched as Ivy stepped inside, her gaze immediately caught by the crayon drawings taped to the walls. She lingered there, her eyes scanning the bright colors and clumsy shapes, then moved on to the rows of children’s books neatly stacked on shelves, mirroring his own office in their quiet organization.
“He tests my patience endlessly,” Emmrich said, his voice low, though not without affection. “Every request to tidy up is met with resistance.”
Ivy glanced back at him, her laugh soft and lilting. “Look at this! Emmrich, you can’t possibly stay mad at him,” she said, pointing to a crayon drawing of a skeleton family, three figures holding hands in a graveyard. Her voice carried a gentle warmth as she added, “It’s not a mess it’s… okay, a bit creepy, but also adorable.”
He observed her closely, her ease in this space and the gentle way she smiled at Manfred’s little world. A thought lingered, unspoken .
His voice softened as he pulled the door closed behind them, guiding her back into the hallway. “He’s taken quite a liking to you,” he murmured.
Ivy turned to him, her smile teasing as she said, “Well, the feeling’s mutual. Who’s to say I’m not just keeping you around for the chance to hang out with the real charm of the Volkarin household.”
Emmrich chuckled softly, pulling his glasses off and carefully polishing the lenses. “Not even a thought spared for me, then?” he murmured, his tone laced with playful curiosity. He slid the glasses back on, meeting her gaze with a subtle smirk. “I don’t cross your mind at all, Miss Ingellvar?” His voice dipped slightly.
Her cheeks flushed as her smile faltered for just a second before returning, brighter and more genuine. “Well… I didn’t say that,” she replied, her steps slowing slightly as she glanced up at him.
He hummed, his hands clasping casually behind him, though his eyes never left hers. A warmth in his chest grew, settling in a way that felt far more complete than he cared to admit aloud.
Finally, they reached the double doors to his bedroom. Emmrich hesitated, his hand on the handle. Opening the doors, he remained in the doorway, unwilling to intrude too much on the moment. The room was bathed in a soft light, illuminating the vast, elegant space.
Ivy, however, had no such hesitation. She strolled through the threshold, her gaze sweeping across the room as if trying to capture every detail at once. Her eyes widened, sparkling with wonder. “I knew it would be beautiful,” she said softly, her voice carrying that familiar mix of awe and quiet excitement.
Emmrich lingered in the doorway for just a moment longer, his usual composure faltering. He hadn’t expected her boldness in crossing into the room so easily. Letting out a soft breath, he finally followed her inside, his footsteps falling quiet against the polished wood floors.
Ivy walked around the king sized canopy bed, her fingers grazing lightly against one of the carved wooden posts.
Her eyes caught his father’s chess table tucked into a corner. It was a rich dark wood table with carvings of corpse flowers and ivy leaves framing its edges. The chessboard itself was inlaid with ivory and black marble squares. Each piece hand sculpted, the knights rearing up on detailed halla, the kings and queens adorned with regal crowns, and even the pawns carrying a subtle grand in their simplicity.
“That chess table,” Ivy began, “It’s… woah.”
Emmrich followed her gaze and smiled faintly, “It was my father’s,” he said, his tone softening with a note of nostalgia. “He and my mother used to play together all the time. As a boy, I’d sit and watch them for hours. I suppose that’s where my love for the game began.”
Emmrich caught the glimmer of wonder in Ivy’s eyes just as she began moving toward the piece, her steps brimming with excitement. “May I take a closer look?” she asked over her shoulder, already closing the distance to inspect it more closely.
“Of course,” Emmrich said, gesturing gracefully toward the table. “Be my guest.” He leaned against the wooden post of his bed.
There was something enchanting about seeing her in this light. A spark of curiosity and delight that had transformed her entirely. It was as if he’d stumbled upon a hidden facet of her, like finding an unexpected present tucked beneath a Chantry’s solstice tree.
“You still play?” she asked, her voice brightening.
Emmrich’s gaze lingered on the chessboard for a moment, its intricate pieces perfectly aligned, before he turned his attention back to Ivy. “When I can find a worthy opponent,” he said with a faint, playful smirk. His tone was teasing, but his curiosity piqued as he asked, “Do you play?”
Her grin bloomed slowly, a spark of mischief lighting up her eyes. “Do I play?” she echoed, her voice tinged with amusement. “My uncle taught me, well, more like forced me to learn. He reasoned I ‘ought to know how to play the game I’m named after.’” She chuckled softly, her gaze turning inward as she recalled the memory.
“I ended up getting pretty good at it. Won a few state championships, which earned me a full scholarship to Necropolis University. Last year, I competed in the Thedas World Championship in Ferelden. I made it to the top 15 bracket before a qunari wiped the floor with me. They went on to win the entire thing.”
For a moment, Emmrich’s mind went entirely still, the weight of her words sinking in. Then, as if a dam had burst, his excitement erupted. He clasped his hands together, leaning forward as an incredulous smile lit up his face. “By the Maker, Ivy, that’s extraordinary!” he said, his voice vibrant and alive. He clenched his hands into fists and brought them underneath his chin. “A championship level chess player, and you’ve kept this from me until now? Truly, what an honor to host such a talent in my home.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” she said, brushing it off with a bashful wave of her hand.
“Nonsense,” Emmrich said, his tone both warm and unwavering. “It’s far more than a big deal.
He could feel his hands becoming animated as he spoke, gesturing in delight as his mind whirled with the implications of her skill. She laughed, her cheeks flushing faintly at his enthusiasm, and it was clear she was unaccustomed to such lavish praise.
“Oh you must share a game with me sometime.” The thought already began to spark in his mind, the challenge intriguing him as much as the idea of seeing her brilliance in action. A playful grin curved his lips. “But fair warning, I’ve never been one to surrender easily.”
Ivy hesitated, her hand brushing the edge of the chessboard as she turned her gaze downward. “Maybe… one day,” she replied, her voice softer, almost distant. “I stepped away from the game recently. For… personal reasons.”
Emmrich immediately noted the shift, the way her shoulders seemed to draw inward, as though shielding herself from something unseen. Her words were careful, but the weight behind them was unmistakable. The brightness that had lit her features moments ago dulled ever so slightly, and she avoided meeting his eyes.
Ivy quickly moved on, traced her fingers lightly along the black bishop. “Anyways, I’ve never seen anything like this though,” she murmured, her voice carrying a quiet awe. Lowering herself to her knees, she leaned in closer, her hair spilling over her shoulders as she peered beneath the table. “Is there a mark somewhere? A name or date, perhaps?”
She hesitated, glancing back at Emmrich. “It’s almost Tevinter in its style, but not entirely,” she said, her voice growing softer as she leaned closer. “They tried to mimic ancient Arlathan designs, but this… this doesn’t feel like an imitation.”
Emmrich’s lips curved into a smile as he watched her, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. Her fascination was infectious, and he found himself marveling not at his father’s old table, but at her.
Ivy stood back up, brushing her hands against her lap as she approached him. Her eyes flickered back to the chess table, then to him, as if searching for the right words. “Emmrich, do you even realize…?” She closed her eyes and rapidly shook her head in disbelief. “Maker, I can’t believe something this beautiful, this valuable , is just… here. In your room.”
Emmrich’s gaze drifted briefly to the table before returning to her, lingering on the wonder in her eyes. “I understand the sentiment,” he said politely, his voice smooth and quiet. “Though I suspect we’re not admiring the same masterpiece.”
Her brow furrowed slightly before understanding dawned on her, and she laughed, pressing her forehead against his shoulder to hide her blush. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, the words softened by a note of affection.
Emmrich looked down at her, his lips parting as though to respond, but before he could, she wrapped her arms around him, surprising him.
For a moment, he froze, then, slowly, his arms came up to envelop her, his palms resting against the small of her back. He held her gently, his chin lightly brushing the top of her head.
Slowly, her hands moved to clutch at his shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric as though she might slip through the cracks if she let go.
“I’m sorry,” she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Downstairs, when we were…” She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. Emmrich remained silent, a hand gliding soothingly up her back till it sank into the hair at the base of her neck.
Her head tilted slightly, her face hidden against him as she continued, her words raw and unfiltered. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this…” Her voice wavered, and she pressed herself closer. “As much as I want you. ”
The declaration struck him, the intensity of her vulnerability igniting a swell in his chest. He instinctively tightened his arms around her. But before he could respond, she pressed on, each word cutting deeper into his heart.
“You’re always so composed,” she began, her voice soft but trembling with honesty. “So… perfect. So entirely you.” She shook her head, “It’s intimidating, you know? Holding something so perfect, so valuable… and knowing it’s yours, even for a moment.” She glanced back up at him, her vulnerability laid bare.
“Doesn’t help that I’ve never been here before… on the other side of wanting. What do I even do now that I’ve caught you? What happens next?”
Emmrich exhaled softly, the sound steadying his own thoughts as he reached for her face, his fingers warm against her jaw. He lifted her chin, bringing her eyes to meet his.
“You keep me,” he said simply. His thumb brushed the curve of her cheek.
Ivy’s chest rose with a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling over her like a blanket of certainty. Slowly, she pushed forward, her hands pressing against his chest. Emmrich allowed her, his body easing back onto the bed as she climbed on top of him. Her hair fell like a curtain around them, and he felt the heat of her palms through his shirt.
She sat there for a beat, gazing down at him. His hands settled lightly on her waist, steadying her, though he remained silent, waiting for her to speak or move first.
The room felt impossibly quiet, their breaths the only sound as Ivy leaned forward. “Let’s try this again.”