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Some would consider it rather cliché, for Emmrich to find certain parts of a body more appealing than others. It was no different from finding the curve of one’s arm, or the sharp angles of one’s face, to be attractive. Different cultures had different things that were allowed to be exposed, or hidden away. The Orelsians hid their faces, but the last time he was at Court, the women and men did not cover their chests, and wore stockings that were so tight, it left little to the imagination. Not even a border over in Fereldan it was the opposite that was deemed acceptable and unacceptable.
So what if he liked your feet.
They were connected to strong calves, to a fine pair of thighs that he was more than happy to have wrapped around his head. Not to mention what laid between your legs, and while it brought both of you a wonderful time, it was nothing compared to when he could watch your toes curl in the heat of the moment. Or how your heel would press into the small of his back. And it’s not like you didn’t take care of them. Hours of hiking, running, climbing, you had to take care of them!
So when you had plopped yourself on the couch with him, bare feet taking their rightful place in his lap, he had to touch them. To feel the curve of your insole under his thumb. To count the number of dark hairs on your big toe. Or the way the nail on your pinkie toe was cut at an angle. How said toe curled, just a little, under the one next to it. He put the book down when you moaned at him pressing on the insole.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
You just rolled your ankle in his lap, eyes half shut.
“Stiff.” you said. “Can you…”
He blinked, and then smiled. He waited until you said something. Just held your ankle in one hand, the other tucked under his knee to stop himself.
“Finer points of anatomy,” you teased. “Help me out?”
“Hm… I suppose I could.”
He lifted one foot, pressed a kiss to the top. You just laughed, and he felt your toes brush against his cheek. He fought the urge to drag his lips across the inside, until he could put his lips on each pad, until he could pop the pinkie toe in his mouth. He stood up, told you to wait. Tucked into one of the shelves was the kit.
Unscented soap and creams, lotions for deep moisturizing, and tweezers, obviously. A nail file and some clippers, even a cuticle oil and trimmers, a small ivory pusher and a pumice rock. He set them down on the small coffee table, watched as your brows furrowed, but the smile remained. He put your feet back in his lap, froze as he watched your face.
“You… have a whole kit for a foot massage?” you asked.
He felt his face heat up, but the practiced excuse came quick enough.
“You once scolded me for wanting to take several books on a camping trip.” He started, rolling your pant leg up and out of the way. “And then you and Harding at laughed at my insistence of taking my shaving mirror and razor as well. A gentleman is never-”
“Okay, Okay,” you laid back, eyes closed. “I get it. Never do anything halfway.”
He let out a sigh of relief as he leaned over and grabbed the soap and cloth. He kept the small vial of rubbing alcohol close at hand. Yes, he liked feet, but he liked this part even more. The gentle care, cleaning a partner at the end of a long day. Watching as soft suds were gently removed by cloth and then what was left removed by the rubbing alcohol. Taking the pumice against the heel and soles of the feet, dead skin peeling off. The cuticle oil that softened them for the ivory pusher. The trimmers, first on the cuticles; he made sure it was cut cleanly, no stray ends that you might pick at and peel the skin around the nail with. Then the nails themselves.
Emmrich held each toe delicately, separated them as he worked to make sure they were perfect. When he got to the pinkie, how it naturally curled under. He watched the tendons in your ankle, and noted it was most likely something you inherited, rather than a past injury. He trimmed the nail so it was no longer at an angle. Emmrich looked up, saw that you were watching him, head against the armrest.
“Something the matter?” he asked, finishing his work on the second foot. “You’re nearly ready.”
“Did you want to paint my nails?” you asked.
He did not hear a teasing note. He titled his head all the same.
“I was going to rub the lotion in first.” He held your ankles one-handed, moving to grab the two lotions he had. “I’m afraid the only colors I have in here won’t suit you.”
“... Is that a toe ring?”
You tried to sit up, and he felt you press your heels to his crotch. He sucked in a breath, and you immediately started to apologize. If only you knew. He had fit perfectly in the cup of your insoles, and if he were braver, he would have held your ankles in place. A mental image flashed, holding your feet together as he rutted against them, like a dog in heat. Sucking his cum off your skin, specifically where it had got caught between your toes. He had done all the work, there was no risk of a nail cutting the roof of his mouth.
“It’s fine, darling, I’m fine.” he said, a little out of breath. “And, to answer your question. Yes, that is a ring you see. There’s a whole set, in fact.”
You laid back down, a coy smile on your lips. He undid the first lotion’s cork, started at your ankles. He laughed as your eyes rolled back, the gentle pressure making your entire body melt. Emmrich focused on you, the tibia before the talus. Back down to the fibula, how it all moved your ankle, rotating in his palm. Your skin greedily drank in the lotion, made it soft to the touch. He swallowed back his drool when he pushed against your insole, watched as you whimpered as he hit a pressure point. How your toes spread out, the curled pinkie standing up straight and struggled to separate from its neighbor. But it did, all on its own.
“That’s it.” he cooed. “Just relax, my darling.”
In truth, your ankles were stiff. And your left foot was more swollen than your right. He huffed as he picked it up, working over the joint and making sure that there were no nerves being pinched. Slowly but surely the swelling went down. He gently picked up the tweezers, did his best to make sure the small hairs on the top of your foot and on your big toe. He rubbed at the spot after, smiled as you hummed, the foot not being serviced resting in his lap, resting against his hip.
“What’s the other lotion for?” you asked, half-asleep.
“An everyday use.” he said. “Would you like me to put it on? Or did you want me to put the jewelry on your foot?”
“Can we do both?”
“Of course!”
He gently tugged your legs closer, watched as laid perfectly flat on the couch. Emmrich put one foot on his shoulder, kissed the delicate ankle bone as he smiled down at you. You giggled, toes brushing his temple and making his hair fall out of place in the process. He held your other foot, thin fingers moving between each of your toes; it was reminiscent of how he held your hand in crowded areas. He picked up the jewelry, placed it on your stomach so you could inspect them all, and grabbed the last lotion.
This time, he did not look up from his work. He already liked your feet. But now, pampered and groomed, they were a work of art. The only thing missing as fine gold… and his mouth. The soft jingle of chains and rings was ignored in favor of the soft slide of his fingers over your foot.
Eventually, there was no more lotion to rub into the skin. He looked up saw that you were already holding some things. He took hold of the anklet with the chain and a ring attached at the end. He slipped the ring over the middle finger, careful that it did not pinch you. An adjustable ring was put on the big toe. A smaller one was put on the ring toe. He moved the chain to sit on the top of the foot, held it to his chest and sat up.
“Well?” he asked.
He felt you dig your toes into his shirt, admiring it.
“Cute.”
He couldn’t help it. He kissed the sole of your foot. Lingered for a moment, before putting it on his shoulder. You slid the other down his collarbone, pressed gently against his sternum. He found himself chuckling, moving to grab the rest of the jewelry. There were far more anklets, but each required him to slip your foot through first. The gentle maneuvering around your heel, soothing skin where gold had rubbed too hard for his liking. One after another, small bands of gold were added.
Emmrich put your foot back on his shoulder, rubbed at your calves as they framed his face. You smiled at him; he watched you admire the jewelry, continued to touch your skin. He saw the moment of hesitation, the question before it left your throat.
“Can I keep them?” you asked.
“On one condition.” he said. “I get to take them off you. No one else, not even you.”
You sat back up, feet resting in his lap. He kept his hands on them, stroked the delicate arch, let the anklets clink against his own jewelry. You kissed him, gently. He moaned, hands sliding up to your knees, pulling you in closer. That caused your feet to rest against his crotch. It was a light pressure, just like before. But he could feel how you flexed your toes, mapped out his rather quickly hardening cock.
“And how would you take them off?” you asked, lips brushing against his, the second kiss as lazy as the first.
“My dear,” he sighed. “However you wanted.”
“I think you’re lying, Emmrich.”
It was such a gentle tease, but the way the balls of your feet pressed against his erection made him gasp. He spread your knees apart, one hand moving to hold your ankles together in a loose grip.
“How do you think I would?” he asked, the third kiss a little more heated.
“Hmm,” You moaned as he moved to kiss your neck. “With your mouth?”
He groaned, nipped at your jugular.
“Or maybe you won’t.” you whispered into his ear. “You’ll take it off so you can rub my feet with lotion, and then put them right back on. Can’t sneak up on you if I’m wearing a collar, can I?”
“Dearest.”
“Maybe I should walk around barefoot,” you giggle. “What do you think? Or is that too distracting for you?”
“I-”
“Emmrich,” you held his head in your hands. “Do you like my feet?”
“I do.” he confessed.
“Just my feet?”
“I love all of you-”
He gasped as you cupped his erection with your feet. The anklets chimed against each other as he bucked up.
“You know what I meant.” you kissed the side of his mouth.
“... No, it’s not just your feet.” he admitted. “Do you think less of me?”
“Not if you show me.”
“Show you?”
“Mhm.”
He blinked into the kiss. Smiled as you slipped your tongue into his mouth. He nodded, peppering your cheek, the side of your neck, hands moving to undo the sash around his waist. Your hands moved down, undid the buttons of his shirt, fingers scratching at the chest hair that was there. You shuffled back, one foot pressed against his bare skin, the other staying in his lap. His bangles clacked against the anklets, his rings matching the ones on your toes. You leaned back on your elbows, eyes bright as you scratched his chest hair with your toes just like you had been with your fingers.
He yanked his sash off, lifted the foot that was on his chest to his lips as he undid his pants one handed. Just like before, he kissed the arch of your foot. This time, he did not close his eyes, watched your reaction instead. Your mouth parted with his, the sharp inhale as he dragged his mustache across the sensitive skin. Soothed it with the tip of his tongue.
With his other hand, he pulled his cock out. He reached with his fingers to pull your foot closer, holding you next to his erection. Your toes flexed involuntarily when they touched the head; he felt his eyes roll into the back of his head as you cautiously curled them back to touch him.
He kissed the balls of your feet, ran his nose across the pad of each toe. The difference between metal and skin was incredible, but he had to stop himself. After all, it was as much about the process, the journey, as it was the destination. He pulled his head away, moved his thumb to the arch and pushed down. As expected, your foot pointed towards his face, toes flexing upward, while the tendons in your ankle dropped.
He held it off to the side, looked down at you. Moved your foot just enough to make the anklet and connecting chain jingle. You raise an eyebrow, smiling. You move the foot on his crotch to press his erection against his stomach. Your big toe moved to trap the head of his cock between it and its neighbor.
Emmrich wraps his hand around your toes and his cock. Just a light bit of pressure, he shows you how to stroke him like this. The gold had warmed up by now, but the anklets clicked against each other as you used your foot, foreskin pulling down in the process.
“Excellent work,” he breathed, and let go. “Just like that.”
“C-Can I touch myself too?” you asked.
Your pupils were blown wide; he could barely make out the color.
“… And here I thought I would be alone.” He teased. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
Your hands moved to undo your pants, opening just enough so that you could touch yourself. He watched, enraptured, as your hand disappeared under the fabric. He kissed the insole of your foot again. You dropped from your ankles, concentration on still moving your foot against his cock, forced to stop touching yourself and then starting back up again. It was clunky, no rhythm, nor rhyme or reason.
And yet…
Emmrich cradled your other foot to his face. It started just like before; a chaste kiss to the heel, a drag of his mustache before an open-mouthed kiss. Climbing higher and higher, covering each inch. Your breathing was getting ragged. He could feel your toes flexing along his cheek, how they got closer and closer to his lips.
He opened his eyes halfway when your middle toe rested against his bottom lip. You rolled the balls of your feet along his cock. He was leaking pre-cum now, most of it coating the top of your foot. He let go, held the heel of your foot with his other hand. The first one brushed against the arch of your foot, long fingers draped across the instep. Emmrich let his tongue peek out, the tip curling around the digit. You froze, watching his mouth. Slow as he could, he lowered his mouth, slid his tongue along the underside. He moaned when he finally sealed his lips around it. The soft pinch as your big toe closed on the side of his mouth. His fingers played with the chain that sat on top of your instep.
He let go of your middle toe with a pop, flicked his tongue across the other pads. He sucked in the pinkie toe separate, and then rolled his tongue across the ring toe and brought it further into his mouth.
“Shit.” you breathed.
He moaned when he heard you touch yourself again. He only grew louder when you pressed your free foot against his crotch. It was clumsy, not nearly enough pressure for him to actually get off. But it didn’t matter, not when could mouth your long toe. There were two rings on this one, one that was just under the nail. A small v of metal, meant to frame the nail. He rolled the underside with his tongue, followed the nail bed and then back again. Once, twice, three times.
Emmrich opened his eyes, held a firm grip on your foot. You had yet to look away, mouth agape. The barest touch of teeth, his lips pulled back so you could see what he was doing. He flicked his tongue against the pad, gently pulling the ring off. When it finally did slip off, he held it in his teeth, pushed his tongue through and then stuck it out.
You were smiling at him.
You were smiling .
Emmrich quickly spat the ring out, tossing it into the kit. He kissed the knuckle of your big toe, laved his tongue across the pad. He grabbed the foot by his crotch, shuffled forward, holding your feet close together. It caused the anklets to bang together, not that he minded. They were tangling with his bangles anyway. You were half bent on the couch now, upper body pressed against the couch.
He took himself in hand as he moved from one toe to the next. Drool dripping down your arches, rings being his only guide on which one he was focused on. The audible sound of you both touching yourselves, Emmrich shoving his face to the cup your feet made, feeling your toes curl and rub at his forehead as he mouthed at the skin. He did not stay there long, just long enough to whine and catch his breath, and then he was back to sucking your toes.
You came first, legs shaking so hard that he had to let go. He held your feet in one hand, resting him on his chest as he watched you. Praising you, rubbing at your ankle bones as you shook in his hands. When you were finally finished, he couldn’t stop himself. Emmrich pulled both of your big toes into his mouth, moaning as gold clacked against his teeth. He came when you pinched the corners of his mouth, pulling the sides open with your feet.
No one had ever done that for him before. He tried to catch is cum with his hand. He popped off your big toes, kissing each arch. The heels, where he could on your ankles when the anklets weren’t in the way.
He saw the mess he had not caught on the back of your thighs, your pants hopelessly ruined. But when you pulled him closer, he took his rightful place between your legs. He kissed your neck, wrapped his arms around your center. He kept smiling as you played with his thinning hair.
“Thank you, my dear.” he sighed.
You hummed and then giggled.
“Would you really let me keep these?” you asked.
“Of course!”
“Can we… get a matching set?”
He lifted his head to look at you.
“I… We already are.” he admitted.
Your brow scrunched together, like it always did when you did not quite get something. He sheepishly held up his hand, the chain that connected one bangle to his thumb ring. Your eyes went wide. He found the foot with the matching anklet chain and ring.
“It’s yours… So long as you will have me?”