Chapter Text
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First Time
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Rook paces back and forth in front of the hall leading to the laboratory again, freshly scrubbed and changed into more comfortable clothes. He’s finished his rounds, and though part of him feels like the only thing he wants to do is go back to his room and collapse onto his chaise and sleep for 24 hours, a bigger part of him is weirdly excited to get back to Emmrich.
He told the older man he loved him. Probably the only person he’s ever said it to and meant it. Even though the necromancer hadn’t said it back, Rook was oddly fine with that. He didn’t need to hear it. He could feel it. But he doesn’t know why he just doesn’t go down the hall and fling open the door, why he’s suddenly so nervous to face the other man. Maybe it was the tone in Emmrich’s voice when he said ‘he’s not finished with him.’ There was something there that made Rook feel a stirring in the pit of his stomach, something that he rarely felt.
It’s a weird feeling, anticipating something like this the night before they kill a second god, but if he’s learned anything over the last few months, it’s that he should always expect the unexpected. He steels himself and finally pushes the door open.
And then Emmrich is whisking him away to the Necropolis, his hand on Rook’s lower back, his waist, his hip, hooked onto his arm. He won’t stop touching and Rook has to stop himself from pressing closer to Emmrich, stopping them in their tracks and returning every touch two-fold.
Emmrich checks him over for any remaining traces of blood magic, and Rook doesn’t think it was strictly necessary to do it here in the Necropolis, but he appreciates the secluded nature of the garden. Maybe it was the best way Emmrich could think of to get him alone. He’s not going to complain as long as Emmrich keeps touching him and looking at him the way he is now. Then Rook is standing and leading Emmrich back with him, eyes searching, hands comforting.
Rook lays himself down in an open burial vault, lined with plush silk, and he wasn’t sure if it was there before they arrived or if the Necropolis provided in the way it does. He doesn’t think too long or hard about it because Emmrich is laying himself down on top of Rook and they’re kissing again, drinking each other in, gentle at first, then hungrier and hungrier. Emmrich’s hands find the laces on the front of his shirt and Rook nods frantically, reaching up to help the other mage achieve his goal faster.
Emmrich chuckles, gently brushing Rook’s hands aside, “Patience, love. We have all night.”
Rook’s brows shoot up, “You expect this to take all night?”
”If I have my way it will,” and Rook shudders at the sentiment. He should have known the professor would be meticulous in even this. He lets his hands fall to his side and Emmrich continues his careful undoing of his laces, then sits up, sliding his hands under Rook’s shirt. Rook lifts his shoulders and lets Emmrich lift it over his head, then it’s deposited ungracefully outside of their coffin, and the mage immediately descends with an open mouth to kiss the newly bared skin. Rook’s hands are fisting the fine silk lining and he fights the urge to arch up into Emmrich’s mouth. He swallows down the sounds he wants to make, breathing hard through his nose.
Emmrich pulls back, sitting up. His hands retrace the path his mouth was making, kneading the tense muscles of Rook’s shoulders, then moving down to his pecs, “Some feedback would be appreciated, dear. You needn’t be so quiet, not here.”
”So-sorry, I’m used to keeping quiet,” Rook tries to ignore the brief flash of sadness that crosses Emmrich’s face. He squirms under Emmrich’s gaze, turning his face away. Emmrich’s hand immediately reaches down and turns his face back towards him, grasping his jaw.
”Don’t apologize, tell me what you like,” Emmrich’s voice is firm and reverberates down to Rook’s bones, the command doing something that fundamentally alters his brain chemistry.
”Okay,” Rook agrees, then waits..and waits…”You mean like, right now?”
”Yes, dear, now. What would you like me to do to you?”
”Oh fuck,” the tone of Emmrich’s voice tears through Rook’s body, deep into the pit of his stomach and lower still, his hips unconciously rolling up, slightly bucking Emmrich up as well. That earns him a sharp look as Emmrich sits further back, pinning Rook into his place.
”Words, love. Use them, tell me what to do.”
”I liked when you were touching my shoulders,” Rook begins. Emmrich’s hands immediately come to settle there, featherlight at first then firmer, massaging. Rook lets himself groan, showing his appreciation, rolling his neck back. Emmrich rewards him by dipping down and placing his lips to the extended exposed skin of Rook’s neck.
”Oh! I like that a lot,” Rook tilts his head back as far as his horns and the confined space they’re in allows.
”Good job, dearest,” Emmrich’s words vibrate through Rook’s neck, lips brushing against the front of Rook’s throat. He continues rubbing Rook’s shoulders and exploring his neck with his lips, and Rook tries his hardest not to hold back his reactions. Nothing Rook has ever done has been so tender, attentive, romantic even. The few times he’s ever gotten this far it had been a flurry of kisses and bites, half the time only one of them had their shirts off and it was over so quick. Nobody has ever taken their time with him, or even tried to learn what he likes. This is so new to him and the way Emmrich is speaking to him, touching him, almost worshipping him has his brain going fuzzy.
”Anything else, my dear?”
”Yeah, take your shirt off,” Rook’s fingers twitch at his side before reaching up, fingering the buttons on Emmrich’s fine silk vest, “Please.”
”Of course,” Emmrich sits up again and carefully starts to undo his buttons, slowly shedding his first layer. It’s so slow it’s frustrating and Rook groans for a different reason, watching as finally he can see more skin of Emmrich’s neck, then chest, sparse with a thin layer of greying hair. When the older man has finally shed his top layers Rook reaches up to greedily pull Emmrich down on top of him, finally feeling skin against skin. He doesn’t even try to hide his moan at the instant warmth as his lips immediately crush into Emmrich’s.
Emmrich allows himself to be groped and kissed and explored for a few minutes more, until he’s once again straightening up. Rook’s hands follow him up, running across his stomach, then his chest, down his arms.
”You’re so beautiful,” Rook sighs, eyes roving over the thin frame of his lover. That finally earns him a reaction, he thinks he can see Emmrich blushing, and he’s smiling, so soft and fond.
”Why thank you, darling. You cut quite a dashing figure yourself,” then he’s pressing back down into Rook, his backside still pinning Rook’s hips in place. Rook rocks up into him, seeking out any kind of friction to alleviate his whole dire situation downstairs, but there’s still too many layers between them.
”Can we…?” Rook trails off, not quite sure what he’s requesting, but Emmrich shows him some mercy finally and kneels up, then lifts himself out of the tomb. Rook takes that as a sign and immediately undoes the laces of the front of his trousers, shimmying out of them and his smalls in all one go. He tosses them unceremoniously over the side, then glances over to Emmrich. He’s down to his smalls and Rook is unashamed to take in the view. Emmrich looks back, equally unashamed, and he is unmistakably affected now.
“Get back in here,” Rook growls, growing impatient. Emmrich chuckles but doesn’t admonish him as he had before. He obliges Rook, lifting himself back into their coffin, but instead of straddling Rook’s hips again, he moves lower, his hands running down Rook’s side, brushing over the scars, old and new, with reverence. Then he slides lower, earning a breathy laugh from Rook as he brushes his fingers behind his knees. He grasps firmer there and lifts them, then pushes them apart, kneeling at Rook’s feet.
Rook hasn’t felt shy about his body in a long time, but the way Emmrich’s eyes are devouring him makes him want to curl back into himself. The only thing stopping him is Emmrich’s hands holding his legs in place, open enough for the other man to fit between them perfectly. There’s not quite enough room to maneuver in the confined space, and Emmrich is staring him down, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. He sits back on his haunches and continues to stare. Rook props himself up on his elbow to stare back, unsure of what the necromancer’s plans were.
Then with surprising strength Emmrich pulls him closer and up, so Rook’s hips are angled up, his lower back resting on the top of Emmrich’s thighs. That causes Rook’s elbow to fall out from beneath him and he’s knocked prone onto his back, having to crane his neck to watch what Emmrich was doing. He didn’t have to observe for long, because suddenly he’s feeling a hot kiss to the inside of his thigh. Then the other. Then closer, and closer, until he feels the tickle of a mustache right above his small erection. It’s stiff and glistening with his wetness, twitching under the sudden attention.
“May I?” Emmrich, ever polite, is requesting permission with his lips so close to Rook’s dick that he thinks it’s unnecessary but so welcomed.
”Please, Maker, please do,” Rook tries to rock his hips up but the angle he’s bent at just arches him further from his goal.
”Just Emmrich is fine, dearest,” and he’s so smug about it that Rook almost pulls away but then his lips are engulfing Rook’s prick in one go and all thoughts fly out of his head. Nobody has ever ever done this to him. He honestly didn’t know what to expect. He figured he and Emmrich would just rush to get each other off with their hands, like every other experience he’s had, but Emmrich’s mouth is so hot and wet and he’s applying the perfect suction that has Rook’s thighs already shaking. Emmrich lets out a grunt of effort, then he’s hoisting Rook’s legs up and over his shoulders, bringing Rook’s core closer to his face.
Rook’s hands fly up to the sides of the burial box, fingernails digging into the hard material on the outside. He lets out the loudest, longest guttural groan he’s ever heard himself make and his hips start rolling of their own accord. One of Emmrich’s hands, which had been holding Rook up, slides under Rook’s thigh, up into Rook’s folds, just caressing, not venturing any further. Asking for permission, even now, with his mouth full.
”Yes, do it,” Rook tries to push his hips even closer, then Emmrich slides a single finger in, finding Rook open and so slick already. He retreats and immediately replaces his finger with two and Rook almost sings his pleasure. A high sound begins in the back of his throat and is torn from him when Emmrich crooks his fingers inside of him. Instinctively one of Rook’s hands flies to Emmrich’s head, as if he meant to hold him there. He hesitates for a second, fingertips brushing against his kadan’s temple. Emmrich makes an encouraging noise and Rook slides his fingers in all the way, carding to the back of Emmrich’s head, then forwards again, mussing up the normally perfectly coiffed hair.
Emmrich doesn’t stop his efforts, he doubles them, sucking harder and rolling his tongue around the head of Rook’s cock. Rook rewards him with another embarrassing sound and begins to shake. He tries to warn Emmrich but it comes so quickly he can barely gasp out a name before he’s shaking apart, body tense all over before collapsing in a weakened pile. He had never felt anything so intense before. He’s boneless. He’ll never walk again. Somebody else will have to kill a god tomorrow. They can just bury him in the coffin he’s already in.
His legs are gently lowered, and he feels Emmrich crawling back up his body. Rook does his best to scoot over as far as he can, letting Emmrich drape himself across Rook’s chest, laying his head on Rook’s shoulder.
Rook is still catching his breath when he feels Emmrich pressing kisses to the side of his face, his neck, his chest. Rook has hardly recovered when he feels long fingers venturing lower and lower, back down to the already wet mess.
Emmrich wasn’t lying about this taking all night, Rook can feel his body already responding, and he’s never had a round two before. He supposes there’s a first time for everything.