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The wind picked up just as she knocked on the door, its scarlet veneer dulled over the years and certainly in need of a touch-up, but what did she know? She wasn’t a carpenter. Far from it. The manor was certainly aged, but so was the manor across the street, and the next one down. Truly the Pillars had its history, and she still tried to wrap her head around the fact that he lived there. Yes, as the Lord Commander, Aymeric was expected to have a higher standard of living, but his modesty made it seem as if he lived along the common folk.
It was just another aspect of himself that drew her to him.
Quinn steadied her breath as she awaited an answer at the door, though admittedly a sneeze was coming on from being out in the cold for so long. She hastily sought a handkerchief on her person, yet the Ishgardian gown had no pockets or hidden sleeves.
“Wonderful.” she muttered, “Ah...ah-”
The door creaked open as a delightfully dutiful steward answered with a warm smile,
“Ah, yes, Mistress Rin’ria, I presume? We have been expecting you.”
Quinn held back the sneeze with an awkward smile in return as she crossed the threshold into Borel manor. The steward offered to take her coat, which she shed immediately upon feeling the warmth of the inside of the estate. Blue wallpaper with some form of crest lined the walls along with portraits of what she assumed to be Coerthas before the eternal winter. It was clean and dust-free, despite the appearance of the exterior door, and the smell of some form of cooking wafted through the main hall. It was welcoming, nay, inviting as she took her first steps into the hall. While it was not as elaborate as Fortemps Manor was, it was still a nobleman’s abode.
“Oh, is she here?” she heard a voice call from down the hall, presumably from the parlor. She curiously took another step forward before the source of the call showed himself from the doorway. There he stood, about half a fulm taller than her with his ivory black hair and piercing blue gaze and a smile that spoke for him—he was glad to see her. He was in familiar attire, though uncommon as he usually dawned his elaborate and ornate armor. It was the typical nobleman’s attire, Artoirel wore the same yet Aymeric donned his in a royal blue fashion. Quinn was advised to follow suit with her own attire, dressed in the typical noblewoman’s gown though (thankfully) lacking the hennin that often tied the outfit together.
She gave a short curtsey in response, “Thank you for inviting me, Ser Aymeric.”
“Oh, come now, Quinn, we’re friends are we not? You need not use formalities with me.” he laughed, presenting himself fully with two goblets in hand, “I’m just glad you found time in your busy schedule to accept my dinner invitation this evening.”
“I can’t say my schedule has been quite as lively as it was beforehand,” she giggled, “but, how could I refuse?”
It was only his third attempt in trying to have at least a drink with her, obliging him was the least she could do. Though, in more recent hours the only thing that kept her from the invitation were her duties, not by choice. In truth, she wanted to have that drink with him the first time he asked…
As their laughter dissipated, Aymeric grinned while offering her one of the glasses in hand. She accepted, naturally, though as she swirled the wine a tinge of unease was visible in her expression. Aymeric noticed, and with slightly widened eyes a red flush grew across his cheeks,
“I do apologize.” he began, offering his hand to take the glass from her, “I realize from past experience you probably don’t trust drinks you haven’t poured yourself.”
“It would be remiss of me to accept, were you a stranger,” she quickly composed herself as she spoke, grinning into the glass as she was about to take a sip, “but I trust you, Aymeric.”
His tense posture grew noticeably lax as his lips curled into a smile once more, “I understand in these times it’s hard to find trust in another, so I am honored.”
The wine was dry, a vintage similar to the Bacchus wine she had years prior. It was fine and smooth, and didn’t burn on the way down like what they served at the Forgotten Knight. Hells, it was even better than what was served at Fortemps manor.
“This is lovely.” Quinn commented as she took a few steps towards him, peeking into the drawing room where he had emerged from.
“I figured for a special evening I would provide the finest from my cellar.” he chuckled, following her, “I must say, it is my vice.”
“Come now.” Quinn turned on her heel, her playful gaze meeting his, “Collecting expensive wine is hardly a vice.”
He felt his heart skip a beat when she gazed upon him in such a way, her doe-eyed expression causing a slight tinge of red in his ears. He was about to retort, but his steward appeared before them like the silent shadow he was,
“If you two would like to head to the dining room, dinner will be served shortly.” he said. Aymeric cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink, begging for his fluttering heart to calm itself down.
“What’s on the menu?” she asked curiously,
“My Lord requested a traditional meal of fried okeanis with beet soup and a dressed salad.” The steward explained, “He specifically requested that the meal be beast meat-free.”
Quinn’s surprised expression caught Aymeric off guard,
“You…remembered?” she asked.
Of course he remembered. He clung to every word she said that evening in the Churning Mists…
“You’re a pescatarian,” he explained, “I wasn’t going to offer you a steak, my friend.”
And she, too, felt her heart skip a beat. Her grip tensed on her glass as she attempted to keep herself from feeling absolutely giddy. Not often did someone remember this about her as she was often served meals of a variety of beasts which clashed with her dietary restriction without a second thought.
“I truly appreciate it.”
“Think nothing of it.” Aymeric cocked his his head towards the northern part of the estate to beckon her to follow him. Surely she could have found the dining area by the smell alone, but it was nice to walk and chat while following his lead.
As the pair made way to the dining room, Aymeric pressed Quinn for tales of her adventures during her time spent in Ishgard, wishing to know more about the lands so far out from his home. She obliged, starting with her assistance with the Fortemps brothers and then going on to when she traversed the Churning Mists…which brought up the moogles. Those irritating, fuzzy, flying little bastards who were obviously born solely to stand in her way from her tasks…or maybe that was just the like of the Churning Mists’ moogles. The delivery moogles at least worked with her.
Aymeric laughed over dinner as her story evolved into an outright rant against the beastkin—the way her brow furrowed, the way her eyes rolled, how utterly animated she was upon telling him about the ‘trials’ she had to face…and yet this was her. Not the prim-and-proper woman who came through his door, but a more lively, relaxed woman with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. He looked fondly upon her as he cut into his filet, nodding along to her tale before making his own comment,
“To think that the moogles would make such harsh taskmasters!” he chortled, “Forgive me, I did not know you had suffered so on your quest for the horn.”
“Believe me, I was thrilled to know that you and I were free to visit Hraesvelgr without having to reobtain the horn from those fluffy little shites.” Quinn laughed, “I would have certainly left it to you and Alphinaud that time.”
“Well, I must say I’m rather thankful for your sacrifice.” he replied between bites, “…You know, Quinn, your spirited accounts always come as a welcome change from the arid reports which fill my days. If you don’t mind, please, tell me more.”
“Ah, well,” her eyes brightened up a bit as he took interest in her stories, “if you’re interested in my more entertaining and mundane escapades, I should tell you about my time in the Shroud with the Sylphs. Tell me, have you ever danced before a sentient gyshal green?”
He snickered, leaning over his plate slightly to hold his more boisterous laugher in, “I cannot say I have.”
“It’s mortifying.” she laughed, “Hopefully the Vanu Vanu don’t make you do a silly dance to win them over.”
“Well, if in the event they do, I know a perfect liaison who has experience with dancing among beast tribes.” he said with a smirk. Quinn shook her head in protest, yet they both laughed it off.
“What of you, Aymeric?”
“Me?”
“Yeah.” she laced her fingers together, supporting her chin with the bridge that was her hands, “Surely as a younger knight you have some tales to tell?”
Aymeric’s gaze broke away from hers, taking a moment to ponder as he wiped his lips with his napkin, “I wouldn’t say that they are appropriate for dinner. Dire, even, in some cases. Witty banter wasn’t exactly commonplace when war was at our doorstep…”
“…forgive me-”
“No, it’s plenty alright.” he cleared his throat, “I do apologize that I’ve pried so much from you, my friend. It’s just that your tales are so remarkably fascinating and I, admittedly, wish I were there with bear witness to them.”
“Then why not join me on the next adventure?”
The question flew out of her with ease, to which the Lord Speaker’s eyes brightened with delight— a smile curling on his lips, his entire posture straightening with the mere thought of leaving his office to go on an adventure…
…with her....
“Hah! Well…” Aymeric pondered for a moment before continuing, “…I do admit, when I think back on the sweeping vistas of the Churning Mists I do feel some slight pangs of wanderlust…”
He thought back to their moment together in Sohr Khai after they had defeated Hraesvelgr. The energy, the absolutely exhilarating feeling of being atop the summit with the wind blowing through his hair, the thin air filling his lungs, and an adventuring partner whom he found comfort in being near. Yes…that did sound rather delightful.
“So?” Quinn leaned in closer towards him, “Will you?”
But the light faded, and while he continued to smile his eyes seemed sad and in longing, “…Someday, perhaps.”
Quinn sat back in her seat almost defeated. True, his present duties as both the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights and Lord Speaker for the House of Lords left little room for him to leave the confides of his office, let alone the city. Yet, his next comment caused her to sit upright once more as he admitted,
“I would very much enjoy spending more time with you, Quinn.”
“Oh?” she was caught off guard. To hear him admit such a thing without a stutter or a pause, with such confidence, truly meant that he wished to keep his word. With a small smile, she replied, “The feeling is mutual, Aymeric.”
In turn his grip tightened on his fork at her reply, for he was unsure as to whether the admittance would be reciprocated or not. But to hear her warm reply struck him with a pleasant feeling in his chest. Light as air, he breathed a small sigh as he took one last bite of his meal. Quinn also appeared to have finished, leaving very little on her plate and in her cup,
“You’re not much of a fan of dessert, are you?” he asked, to which Quinn once again smiled as he remembered such small talk from before,
“Not particularly.”
“Well, supper is not quite complete without at least a cup of tea to finish it all off, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps, you would join me back in the drawing room…?”
The question lay suspended in the air, Aymeric found himself biting his bottom lip in worry that their dinner date would soon come to an end. But Quinn only let the question linger to tease him as she winked at him from behind her napkin,
“Tea sounds lovely.”
Oh, thank the Fury…
Aymeric motioned for his steward to begin brewing them some tea, advising him that their guest did not take her cup in the same way he did. With a chuckle, the steward left the pair alone to their own devices. Aymeric gently folded and placed his napkin over his plate while Quinn did the same, and with a polite bow he urged her to be the first to leave the dining room. Their chatter failed to cease, Aymeric soon beginning his own recounts of the daily life of a Lord Speaker. While Quinn did not dabble in politics herself, she at least tried to understand what his duties were when it came to forming a republic. As he went on to explain, she would give a nod every once in a while to show that she was following, naturally allowing him to continue the conversation with little input on her end. Yet as they sat down on the shared couch before the coffee table, Aymeric paused before rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment,
“Forgive me, I do not mean to bore you with my day-to-day.” he said, afraid that he had turned the conversation one-sided and killed the mood. But Quinn continued to prop her head in her hand, gazing upon him with a smile,
“You don’t have to apologize. It’s nice to know what’s going on in your life.”
Again he felt the heat in his cheeks, “I thank you. Though I cannot thank you enough, truly. By your deeds, you have helped us lay the foundation for lasting reform. The formation of the republic is but the beginning, and you know as well as I do that we the people must learn to let go of our hatreds and rise above our bloody past…I only pray that I live long enough to see us achieve some measure of success.”
Quinn tilted her head slightly as she watched the man’s gaze fall to the floor, the weight of his nation obviously resting on his shoulders. How she wished to help him relieve that burden, even just a little bit.
“I believe you will.” she said rather softly, her hand hovering over his but quickly withdrawing. He didn’t seem to notice, though a smile did form on his lips,
“I can still see you there, on the Steps of Faith, striding fearlessly towards the wyrm...if you could do that, who are we to balk at the challenges ahead?”
The tea arrived during their shared silence, though Aymeric was quick to perk up and thank his steward for his service that evening, effectively dismissing him for the night. As he left, Quinn sank back into the couch with her cup and saucer as she pondered what to say next. But Aymeric continued,
“…The Lords and Commons agree on very little,” he explained, “but undoubtedly they agree on one thing: you and the Scions deserve our utmost thanks, and we pray that you continue to oversee the protection of our fellow Eorzeans.”
“I want nothing more than to do as such.” Quinn explained, “Eorzea is my home, and if I have the power to see to it that every soul can sleep at night knowing that danger is far from their doorstep, then I will gladly take up the mantle with my fellow Scions.”
“And that’s what I–” he froze, just before the words left his lips.
what I adore about you...
“Hmm?” Quinn hummed into her tea as she took a sip. Aymeric shook his head in response,
“It’s nothing.” he smiled into his own teacup, though a sorrowful one at that.
It just wasn’t appropriate, after all…
But then another question came to mind. She had mentioned the Scions, but…
“…May I ask a more personal question?” he began as he gauged Quinn’s willingness to answer by her expression.
She was rather taken aback by such a request—had the questions posed before not been personal? What could he possibly want to know?
“Go on.” she said rather coyly behind her cup, prepared for the worst but hoping for the best.
“…Now that the dust has settled, what will you do? Not as a Scion, but…what do you want for yourself?”
The room went quiet, the sound of Quinn’s silence nearly deafening to the Lord Speaker. She stared at her blurred reflection in the liquid of her cup, lost for words as she both knew the answer and yet failed to find one. She spent so many years in Eorzea fighting to save everyone that she had simply forgotten about herself and her own desires.
Her own selfish desires…
Yes, in truth she had fallen for the Lord Commander–Nay, she had fallen for Aymeric de Borel, a man of valor and modesty. A man who kept to his word. A man of emotion, of understanding, of such a hidden gentleness that she had yet to experience in any other man, woman, or partner in general. To say it was a subtle crush would be to deny herself her true feelings: love, that’s what she felt. But she couldn’t identify it at the time, no…because she had never felt it in another.
But the warmth she felt in his presence and the flutter in her chest when he spoke to her gave her a hint, at the very least, that this was more than just fleeting lust. It was an urge to be held, to be kissed, to be brought into a bond that ensured her her safety.
But did he feel the same? She dare not tread on their friendship and tarnish their bond for her own selfish gain.
“…If I may,” she finally spoke after such a dreadfully long pause, “I wish to know something of you before I answer your question, Aymeric.”
He raised his brow in confusion, “You may.”
Quinn gently sat her teacup on its saucer and placed it on the coffee table. Her gaze fell upon his, eyes shimmering against the firelight of the hearth, brow furrowed with what appeared to be determination. After biting her lower lip, she spoke, “What do you see me as?”
A test, though not one that he could particularly fail. She was the Warrior of Light, the Savior of Ishgard, a celebrity in the eyes of men. Would that Aymeric’s vision of her be of false grandeur because of her title, she wished to know before pouring her heart out to him.
And yet, he froze—stunned by such a question, yet with a stutter he was quick to answer, “T-that certainly is a question.” his eyes flickered to the hearth then back to her, cheeks rosy as a newborn babe’s, “I…Gods, Quinn, I mean no disrespect towards you when I say this but, ah...oh, Gods.”
“A-Aymeric?” Quinn felt as if she broke the man, his entire calm and charming demeanor seemingly shattering before her.
In truth he had been holding it in, painfully so. For weeks, nay, one could say many moons prior he was smitten with her. But now? Now of all times, in the intimate space of his abode she posed such a question to him? He was ill-prepared, and yet, a gentleman could not keep a lady waiting…
“Forgive me, I…don’t know how to articulate this properly. But, you must know the truth…” he closed his eyes, fists balled in his lap, “…There is part of me that sees you with more than just admiration. Nay, not part of me but…my whole soul.”
Her lips parted in confusion, “Be straight with me, Aymeric-”
“By the Fury, Quinn, I am smitten with you.” he blurted out, locking eyes with her, “And I am serious when I say this. I have…longed for you for moons now. The way you carry yourself, the way you laugh...your smile…it warms me.”
Another pause filled the air as the pair stared at each other with confusion and embarrassment. Aymeric’s eyes widened at the mere realization of what he just admitted, while Quinn placed her hand upon her chest to ease her beating heart.
“...Oh, Gods…” Aymeric sat back a bit, “Q-Quinn, I-I-”
“I didn’t know you felt the same.” she whispered.
“What?”
“Aymeric, to answer your question: what I want for myself is to find a home.”
“…A home?”
“Somewhere where I can permanently belong.” she explained, “It doesn’t necessarily mean four walls and a roof, mind you. But, a place where I can call home, surrounded by those who love me for who I am. Not as the Warrior of Light, but as Quinn. Just Quinn.”
“So what you mean to say is…”
“…I would like to think that your praises and adoration come from a place that sees me as more than just a weapon.” a soft chuckle followed. Aymeric swallowed hard, offering his hand to her,
“You are more than a spectacle, much more than that. You are, at your core, a beautiful woman with a contagious smile. When we speak I…I can’t help but to wish our conversations would never cease. To have you at my side would be the greatest honor…and you would make me the happiest man alive.”
Quinn placed her hand in his—it was warm and slightly clammy, she could tell he was nervous to expose himself in such a way, especially to her: a friend.
“…Will you teach me how to love?” she asked, “Will you be my home?”
“…’Twould be remiss of me to deny you that.” he whispered, “I will provide you the safest home. And I will love you for as long as my heart beats in my breast.”
Lips pressed themselves against the back of her palm, foreheads touched as she leaned in closer to him; the tea was abandoned. Soft chuckles broke out between them as they relished in the moment of pure bliss—to feel such a weight off of the other’s shoulders, to finally admit such deeply rooted feelings, to finally have their hearts released unto one another. One could not ask for a more pleasant moment.
“Should I call for more wine to celebrate?” he asked,
“No.” she said in a hushed voice, “I want to be alone with you.”
With the force of her emotions behind it, the Warrior of Light pressed her lips against the Lord Commander’s. Their first kiss, warm and wet, firm and brimming with emotion. It lingered for some time allowing for Aymeric to abandon her hand and gently brush away her curls in order to touch her face.
They parted, Quinn taking in a sharp breath before going in again, and again, and again until she found herself shifting into his lap from her seated position, squeezing him between her legs and running her hands through his hair.
“By the Fury…” Aymeric muttered between overwhelming kisses, his hands going straight to her hips to keep her stable, with an unknowing grip tight enough it forced a giggle out of her.
“Ser Aymeric,” she teased, “a little handsy this evening, aren’t we?”
Aymeric loosened his hold on her with his hands falling to her legs, “Forgive me.”
“Nonsense,” she snickered, dragging his hands back to her waist and then just a little higher to her ribcage, “it’s much more of a polite grab than what others have done before…”
HIs lips made a thin line as he pondered what she had said: to picture her with another soul grabbing at her the way he did if not more. He had to remind himself that, despite her earlier pleas for love, this wasn’t the first time she had physically been with someone. But neither was it his first time either, though it had been many, many moons since those bygone days. Still, he couldn’t help but to feel a tad bit flustered at the thought of someone else intimately touching her the way he did…
A slender finger curled itself under his chin, tilting the young lord’s head so that his fallen gaze could meet hers once more. He closed his eyes, exhaling softly before their lips brushed together once more. Quinn snickered with delight, “Forgive me,” she muttered, “I find it endearing, that’s all.”
“Hush now,” he muttered back, “I’m not as green as you think I am.”
With soft words to admonish her, Aymeric pressed his lips firmly against hers once again, though this time Quinn had parted her lips and allowed the sweet taste of tea on his own to dance upon her tongue. He wasn’t expecting it, nay, the feeling of her tongue touching his bottom lip before her teeth gently sank into it.
He could feel a warmth in his core and his hands inched further upwards upon her frame in response. There wasn’t a corset underneath her dress that he could feel…perhaps a thin bodice? He chased the thought from his mind—how uncouth. Yet, how could he evade such a notion when she perched to carelessly upon his thighs?
“Are you alright with this?” she asked when they parted. Aymeric could tell his overall demeanor was rather stiff to her. He couldn’t help himself, having been raised in such a way that the feminine frame was seen as such a tantalizing sin. The way she sat upon him did not help the matter either, her bosom at eye level with him and tauntingly so. Yet against his better judgment, against the worries that crept from the darker corners of his mind, he replied,
“I am simply a man, my dear.” he whispered, “And you are...absolutely tantalizing.”
“Will you be there when I wake up in the morning?” she asked as she bridged her arms over his shoulders, lacing her fingers together behind him.
“Of course.” he replied instantly, yet breathlessly. Quinn was pleased with this response, her hips gently swaying for a moment before she touched her lips to his once more,
“Then I’m yours for the night, Ser Aymeric.”
The kiss that followed was all but chaste as a rush of passion burst forth from each of them. Wet, sloppy kisses followed with Aymeric finally moving his hands upwards and grabbing her breasts. She squealed in response, but such a noise would prove troublesome in the open area that was the drawing room. Aymeric gently hushed her before instinctively attaching himself to the exposed crook of her neck—the mark he would leave would truly draw questions from the Scions. Yet a lurid moan escaped her as he suckled, and the Warrior of Light began to grind herself against him–slowly, but nonetheless inflicting the lord with the carnal need to take her right there in the drawing room. He felt a tightness in the pit of his stomach, his legs quaking with every stroke of her nethers against his thigh.
With a soft pop he released her, whispering directly into her ear, “Shall we continue this in my bedchamber?”
“Yes” she breathed, “I would very much like that.”
With a rush of excitement the pair withdrew from their intimate seat upon the couch, Aymeric gently taking Quinn’s hand to guide her through the house. Their footsteps were light, but not hurried, for neither of them wanted to appear that ecstatic. Though, Aymeric could feel his heart nearly burst from his chest while Quinn had the most devious yet playful smile upon her lips. He felt like a young man sneaking a girl into his room as he checked over his shoulder to make sure his steward did not catch them. Luckily, they were alone as he pulled the door to his main chambers open with a soft creak.
Quinn peered into the crack of the door–it certainly was the master bedroom, given its spacious surroundings containing a rather large bed and a loveseat which overlooked a lit hearth. While it wasn’t dusty, the air in the room signaled that it was not often occupied by the Lord Commander. Not that she had been in anyone’s personal chambers before, but she imagined that, at the very least, there would be a stray piece of laundry or two. Maybe an offset pillow?
Her train of thought was cut short as he closed the door behind them, “Perhaps we can now have a bit of privacy…?”
The click of the lock caused her heart to skip a beat. His, too. In fact, he was about to switch the lock back off until she approached him,
“Where were we…?”
Her fingertips trailed along the fur of his cloak until they reached the silver clasp in the center of his chest. With ease did she undo it, and he allowed the first layer of his ensemble to fall to the floor in a heap. Aymeric leaned forward to kiss her, yet Quinn had already begun to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him down to her level. This caused him to stumble forward and into her, yet she stood her ground with a soft chuckle before the subtle pout in her lips returned.
Another passionate kiss, one unlike before in the foyer where her tongue danced along his. His eyes fluttered shut, and his hands mapped her from her shoulders down to her hips. He pulled her lower half closer to him, but the taffeta of her dress kept him from grabbing at the curve of her ass.
“These damn gowns…” he muttered into the corner of her lips. He wouldn’t say it aloud, but the need to have her undressed grew louder within the far corners of his mind. Yet at the same time he felt embarrassed to even think of seeing her in her intimates—the cruel dichotomy of his lust versus his upbringing.
Yet Quinn knew what he wanted. She knew damn well that Aymeric was just a man who stood before a temptress. A forbidden fruit. And, oh, how he wished to take a bite.
Yet, he was gentle with her all the same. She slowly unzipped the back of her dress while he brought his hands back to her shoulders to help pull the garment down her frame. Like a present on Starlight’s eve, Aymeric carefully unraveled his beloved to rid her of the gown.
Just as he surmised—no corset, though not even a bodice or brassier was underneath that tantalizingly scarlet outfit. Nay, all she had on were a bold pair of white-laced panties and shoes which she immediately stepped out of. The air left his lungs, his hands turned clammy and his pants grew ever-tighter at the sight of her practically nude frame before him. The room was dark, but the way the fireplace illuminated her skin and highlighted every curve on her form nearly brought the lord to his knees in worship.
“You're beautiful.” he muttered, hands shivering with anticipation as she stepped towards him—her skin, soft and warm against his fingertips when he pulled her into an embrace and kissed her. She giggled at his compliment as devious hands pulled at his shirt.
She didn’t want to be the only one with skin exposed.
Aymeric took the hint, and quickly did he remove both layers so that Quinn had free reign of his bare chest.
He was built like a paladin–broad shoulders, strong arms, and a well-built torso scarred from war. Quinn couldn’t help but to press her ear to his chest to listen to his heartbeat.
“Are you nervous?” she asked.
How could he lie to her? He was. Yet Aymeric swallowed hard and dragged his hands down to her ass, giving it a firm, playful squeeze.
She squeaked in delight, and he clenched his jaw in return. Exhaling, he said behind gritted teeth, “Do it again.”
Another hard squeeze which elicited more of a moan than a squeak, yet it satisfied him nonetheless. Quinn accepted his feigned confidence, dragging her hands down his chest before gently nudging him back as she stepped back towards the bed. She allowed herself to catch the edge, falling back into the duvet and allowing the softness of his mattress to envelope her.
“Ah, yes.” she hummed, “This is much nicer than a bed at the inn, that’s for sure.”
Aymeric met with her soon after, pressing light kisses to her neck and jawline as he hovered over her, “Well, it’s ours now, my darling.”
She wasn’t used to such a pet name—darling. She had been called a myriad of other things, but not one’s ‘dear’ or ‘darling’. That, paired with the intimacy of being in his room, really solidified in Quinn’s mind that this was more than just a lay or a one-night-stand. This was simply the aftermath of making a commitment to another. They were in love. Aymeric loved her. Aymeric wanted to commit himself to her.
And she the same...
“Quinn?” he asked curiously as she lay there in a daze. She quickly came to upon hearing her name,
“I would like to top, if you don’t mind…”
“O-of course.” he sputtered out. Though his gaze hardened for a moment upon realizing they were about to have intercourse, “...your tincture, did you—”
“You know I take it every morning.” Quinn huffed as she sat up, then drawing her finger under his chin, “Now, remove those greaves for me, will you?”
Were he not so slack jawed by the command, a ‘yes ma’am’ would have surely followed. While he fumbled with his buttons and such, he felt at least a bit less nervous knowing well that they didn’t run the risk of a pregnancy. Truth be told, he very rarely took the time to test his limits, making pulling out a failed option to begin with.
Once his trousers slid off, Quinn immediately began to fondle him as her gaze fell upon the thick outline of his begging cock through his underwear. This caused his knees to buckle underneath him, forcing him to his side and then to his back as Quinn happily rolled over to sit atop him.
“My, my...” she cooed, “If I may?”
Without hesitation did he reach for his waistband along with her and slowly pulled the garment down until his cock sprang free. Aymeric’s entire face flushed red once the cool air surrounded his nethers—to feel exposed and so vulnerable…it had been such a long time. He let out a soft moan when she oh-so-gently touched him,
“Your hand is…so...soft.” he muttered as she began to stroke him, “Please...I’m begging.”
“For what?” she teased as her pace began to quicken, “You’re not going to finish in my hand, are you?”
“No. Gods, no.” he huffed as his body practically sank into the bed, “M-Mmm…”
He was thick in her hand, long as well. Quite sizeable for a man his height, though arguably above the average. She mused a bit as to whether she could actually handle his full shaft—maybe it was for the best that she top to start slow. He would, and could, absolutely wreck her were he given free reign.
“Do you have a lubricating salve?” she asked. Aymeric sighed in disappointment,
“No.”
“I’ll make do.”
Quinn pursed her lips before lowering her head between his legs. She ran her tongue slowly across the tip of his cock to tease him before taking him wholly in her mouth—his response was all but chaste. Nay, the Lord Commander gripped the sheets beneath them and let forth a lurid moan before bucking his hips upwards in response. She let out a soft grunt in return, having his cock touch the back of her throat when he did so. Both of her hands pressed against his hips to keep him grounded while she bobbed her head up and down, her spit coating him from his glans to about halfway down his shaft. With a half-lidded gaze the Lord Commander reached for the bun in her hair, yet she released him before he could have such satisfaction in yanking her locks.
“There.” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the tip once more before situating herself back into a seated position on his thighs.
Aymeric’s eye caught the glistening sheen of his cock in the firelight, the tip beading with precum as it yearned to be inside of her.
And what of her? Well, she was just as alluring and beautiful as she perched practically naked above him. Her eyes reflected that of hunger—of unbridled lust for him and him alone. She couldn’t take it much longer, and neither could he. Aymeric went so far as to grab her hips and force the lace down, to which she happily assisted with a smile until they lay on the floor next to the heap that was her dress.
She wet her lips while positioning herself over him, preparing to take his length as far as she could. Their eyes locked on one another for a tense yet brief moment, all before his cock sank into her cunt until she felt filled.
“Oh,” she whined, “oh, Gods, Aymeric…”
The warmth, the wetness, the absolute tightness of her body around him left him speechless. He could only grunt in response, trying his damnedest not to thrust into her for he could see the slight twinge in her eye.
“W-we can stop-”
“Oh, Gods, no.” she leaned forward and began to grind herself against him, “Mmm…mmm! Yes, yes…!”
It was in that moment that Aymeric felt the absolute euphoric surge of pleasure shoot through his shaft and radiate through the rest of his body. The sheer pleasure of being ridden in such a way caused him to moan along with her. Even his hands abandoned their spot on her hips to wander, eventually ending up just ilms from her swaying breasts.
“Oh, please, touch me.” she begged. He obliged. She whimpered. He squeezed. Her soft moans grew louder and louder as her grinding turned into outright bouncing as she became more comfortable with his girth. He wasn’t expecting her to be so loud, but Gods were her noises endearing. He became drunk on her moans, even going so far as to thrust upwards just to hear her yelp and whine.
“Bad boy.” she moaned, “You’re so bad.”
“Am I?” he asked playfully, “You’re the one absolutely lost in her lust, my dear.”
“Are you not?” she slowed down her pace, “Does it not feel good?”
She was worried she was having all the fun, yet Aymeric’s expression softened a bit,
“You feel divine. If anything, I want more.”
Quinn grabbed his wrists and leaned forward once more, “Then say my name.”
“...Quinn.” he whispered. She began her movements again, this time with fervor. This time taking him wholly inside of her. When their bodies slapped against one another, Aymeric exhaled sharply and repeated, “O-oh by the Fury, Quinn…!”
It was a challenge, one that she could not deny. Yes, she was stretched. Yes, she could feel him in the back of her throat. Yes, she enjoyed every. single. moment of it.
What started out as a dinner between friends turned into a night of passion and ecstasy—something not quite uncommon among the nobility in Ishgard, but certainly not expected of the Lord Commander. And yet there he lay with the woman who enraptured him, moaning her name over and over in praise while he took in the sinful pleasure of her cunt. It was like a dream fulfilled, for it was not the first time he looked upon her with thoughts that would make a harlot blush.
Aymeric reached and touched corners within her that no one had touched before, causing the young woman to seize with delight. Her toes curled, her head thrown back as she bobbed up and down on his length, then entirely coated in her lust.
“I’m close.” she moaned, “I’m so damn close.”
Aymeric broke from her grip and slid his rough hands down her frame, planting them on her hips as he began to move his lower half along with hers. He could feel his own limit being reached as well, but he would be damned if he came inside her before she finished.
“Yes! Oh, Gods, yes!”
“Oh, Quinn!”
Another well-timed wet slap. Another moan. Another moment—just another sweet moment was all that they asked for. Another moment of bliss. Another moment together.
And then she cried out his name. With her clammy palms pressed against his abdomen and her head lowered in embarrassment to hide her face, Quinn rode out her orgasm against the Lord Commander as he felt the slight twitch of her body against him. Her skin was practically fire against his touch, and when she came around to show her face, her eyes were in a daze—yet her lips were curled in satisfaction. He had pleased her. What a relief.
Aymeric grinned in return before his own lips twitched and contorted, his brow furrowing as everything grew tighter in his core. The air in the room grew hot and sticky, and not before long did his cock twitch in response.
“Gods, I love you—!”
With a low grunt he spilled inside of her, Quinn moaned at the feeling of his hot seed filling her and oozing out of the space between them. She slowly pulled her hips away, swaying them playfully as she dripped along his lower half. But he didn’t care, nay, Aymeric lay there in utter disbelief that he had just made love to the woman he had desired for so long.
Quinn flopped to his side with her hand tracing small, lazy circles upon his chest. She giggled as he lay there with labored breath, priding herself that she could bring the mighty Lord Commander to such a worn-out state.
“How do you feel?” she whispered quizzically. Aymeric’s gaze fluttered to hers with a soft smile,
“Wonderful...and you?”
Her gaze softened, once a cocky grin turned into a hesitant taught line. His proclamation before as he climaxed—that he loved her—it echoed in her mind. He promised to be her home, to be someone she could go to when she needed it. To be that one thing in her life that could be simple and safe. Permanent. She no longer had to find comfort in the temporary—what she had would never be just a one-night-stand, nor a fleeting love. He was serious.
“...My love?”
“Loved.” she whispered, “I feel…loved.”
Aymeric rolled slightly onto his side, his hand tracing her cheek as he pressed his lips to hers. Soft, comforting, warm, and full of love, the kiss deepened and repeated itself until Quinn pulled away with a grin,
“I have to get used to such affection.”
“If I overwhelm you, please let me know.” he sighed with a smile, “I want nothing more than to see you happy.”
The fire crackled in the hearth as the couple found comfort in his bed. But there was still more to discuss—their position, their fears, their dreams, and their future. But the aching conversation would be pushed to a new day, for in the late hour did both the Lord Commander and Warrior of Light find sleep in the comfort of each other’s arms.
For a moment, they each finally found solace.