Chapter Text
The gala was as overwhelming, just as Rook thought it would be. She was introduced to more people than she could remember, recognizing some of the names from tombs and crypts in the Necropolis or papers and books she’d had to read during her studies, but most were unknown to her. Nevarrans loved their art, and the dramatic ensembles gathered made it clear that this was quite the event. There were people from all over, members of their allies and some dignitaries from the South who had come — including some of the Inquisition.
A familiar face was welcome as Isabela had waltzed up, in a long blue-green dress that hugged her every curve and dipped low on her cleavage — the belled sleeves adorned with peacock feathers that matched a truly ostentatious hat. Varric had mentioned that Isabela oftentimes had sticky fingers, and she hoped she snagged a few good trinkets for herself if only out of a truly childish spite for the upper class.
“This is quite the party, can’t say I’ve ever gotten boozy in a crypt.”
“It’s not a crypt, well there are crypts here but —“
“I don’t need a Mourn Watch lesson, Rook,” Isabela waved her off. “I’m here to tell you that Varric would be proud, and since I can only do so much emotion in one day I’ll leave it there. You’re always welcome to warm your bones with the Lords if you need a break from your dusty Necropolis.” She tipped her glass to clink against Rook’s and took a long drink before running off to find another one.
Myrna and Vorgoth had toted her and Emmrich around to various well-renowned Mourn Watchers and Nevarran nobility. Emmrich knew every important Watcher and apparently had taught a good number of the noble mages they came across, He was met each time with admiration and familiarity. She had not been awestruck by any of them, as much as she thought she might be. It was strange, and it still felt like she was going to be found out and ejected from a party she had no business attending. But she made conversation, told stories, and spoke with all the formality a Watcher should. Back always straight, so Myrna didn’t have to remind her.
She tried not to be intimidated by how illustrious everyone in the Watch found Emmrich. She had never been invited to the same room as their best and brightest, and now she was wearing Grave Gold gifted to her by one of them.
Throughout the night she saw Emmrich’s eyes slip to her throat, where her choker and chains were. Every time she reached her hand out to shake a new acquaintance’s, his eyes lingered on the thick bands of gold that adorned her wrists now. Whenever she nervously jiggled her wrists there was a lot more jingling than she was used to, and he noticed the movement every time, grabbing her hand in his.
“I want to speak to her,” a voice came through the crowd. A woman’s: deep, vaguely accented and with all the command of a general.
The woman thrust herself into their conversation with a few of her former teachers, and she was thankful for it momentarily. The unschooled look of shock her former anatomy professor had given her and Emmrich when he took her arm in his had thrown her off. They would have to get used to that, but she was not quite ready to linger on it. The new woman had short black hair, a scar on her cheek, and steely grey eyes. Tall, strong and with the expression of someone on the warpath.
She wore the Inquisitions formals, and dread pooled in Rook’s stomach.
“Ah, Lady Pentaghast,” Myrna said. “Rook, this is Lady Cassandra Allegra Calogera —“
“Please, do not bother with the entire title,” the woman interrupted.
“It’s a pleasure, Lady Pentaghast,” Rook said quickly. “This is Professor Emmrich Volkarin, a fellow Mourn Watcher.”
“Charmed,” he dipped his head.
“I sent two of the Inquisition’s finest with you, and they are both gone. As is the Inquisitor.”
Rook swallowed. “I recall being recruited by agents of the Inquisition, not the other way around.”
Varric’s stories didn’t do this woman justice. He always spoke fondly of her, gave her a softer side, one that Rook knew she wasn’t going to see — instead she got the full brunt of the former Seeker’s blunt nature.
“Yes, and now Varric Tethras is dead. As is Scout Harding.”
Rook nodded. “They both knew the risks, as did the rest of my team.”
“And the Inquisitor?”
Rook knew better than to mouth off to nobility. Her disregard for the respect they demanded had gotten her right where she was to begin with. She also was aware some of the highest ranking Watchers were listening in on the conversation despite Emmrich’s attempts to distract them with inquiries about research. And yet. Rook had once cowered under the eye of authority, had felt frozen by it and ever so eager to be good, and to do well for people who had raised her as a village in the Necropolis.
She recalled her first meeting with the First Warden, how she had felt all at once again like a naughty teenager in trouble with her guardians. But after Solas, who gave himself authority and spiked her temper easily, and the Gods who so readily looked down on her, she was different than how she left the Necropolis. She was not going to tolerate being berated in public by anyone whose only authority came from a last name that placed them in line for a throne they would never claim.
“I didn’t push Inquisitor Lavellan into the Fade, Lady Pentaghast, she’s a very strong woman capable of making choices for herself. As was Lace Harding.” She felt Emmrich’s grip on her tighten, at the sharpness of her tone. She managed a short but calming breath as she added.
“Ingellvar,” Myrna said quietly, clipped but ever with coolness.
“And Varric? You let him walk straight up to Solas, knowing how dangerous he was.”
“Varric was going to try and talk him down no matter what I said. He made that call and I had his back . ”
“Cassandra, I told you not to hound the poor girl,” a new voice came, beleaguered but posh all the same.
Dorian Pavus sauntered up to their gathering, behind him a wall of a qunari that dwarfed even Taash with countless scars and an eyepatch. It was a wonder they could find a shirt to fit him. His eye flicked over everyone present, a quickness to his thoughts that was evident in his observations.
“It’s not a real reunion until Cassandra starts a fight,” the qunari said. “You need to hit something, Seeker?”
“I’m not —“ Lady Pentaghast began and then stopped, staring at Rook. “Oh. I suppose it must seem like I…” She readjusted her posture, “forgive me. Three losses of this magnitude in one year...”
“Believe me, I know,” Rook replied curtly.
“But Varric chose well: you did it. You actually talked Solas down, I didn’t think it would be possible. The Inquisitor and Varric were so sure, and I doubted them. It seems I was wrong.”
Rook had whiplash from the shift. “Thank you, Lady Pentaghast.”
“Cassandra.” She corrected.
Rook just nodded. As if she was going to risk another perceived disrespect to a Pentaghast by using her name with familiarity.
“And this is the Iron Bull,” Dorian cut in.
“Hey, nice to meet you. Good work.”
“Thanks.”
“I hear you have an adaari on your team,” he said. “A dragon hunter.”
“Um, yes,” Rook said, looking around the room. Taash was with Lucanis on the edge of the room, their vibrant red linen shirt sticking out in the crowd with matching pants embroidered in panels with gold and inlaid with gems. “That would be Taash,” she pointed, “they"re just over there.”
“Kadan,” The Iron Bull said to Dorian, “stay out of trouble.”
“You are the only trouble in my life, amatus,” Dorian sighed as the qunari strode away. “Now, Cassandra, would you like to start over again with our dear friend, Rook?”
She mingled with the two of them for some time, the fellow Nevarran having a full interrogation prepared. Cassandra suddenly caught the eye of someone across the room and muttered about troublesome relatives before she scampered off. It wasn’t until she did leave that Rook took a deep breath and relaxed some, feeling Emmrich at her side again as he had successfully distracted his colleagues from the conversation she was having. He forgot their company and lifted her hand to kiss her wrist, just below the gold.
“Professor Volkarin, you dog ,” Dorian grinned like a cat.
“Oh, dear,” Emmrich murmured, face turning pink.
“And how long has this been going on,” Dorian was suddenly very interested.
“For some time,” Emmrich said quickly.
“Well done, Rook,” Dorian said with a wink. “I threw my cap at the good professor more than once and he didn’t even blink at me.”
“You were my student , Dorian,” He replied exasperated. “And a great deal younger than Rook when you were an apprentice.”
“Ah,” Rook was pleased to see Emmrich as the focus of the attention for a moment, and even more delighted at the blush that was climbing to his ears. “I was never fortunate enough to learn under the greatly esteemed Professor, but I can only imagine what it’s like to see him work.”
“You’ll find out later tonight, I’m sure,” the magister raised his eyebrows and his drink.
Rook laughed, louder than she had all night. For once not feeling seen and judged by the endless sea of faces in fine gowns and suits. Neve came up, as usual she was the vision of a seamlessly put-together woman, even if Rook knew she stayed up at all hours near manically piecing clues together on a pin board and woke up late every morning. The Shadow Dragon teal of her long dress looked lovely against her skin, cinched with a red belt and only made more elegant by long trailing capes at her shoulders. Embroidered dragons were proudly displayed over the fabric with darker lace creeping up at her collar and over her tilted hat.
“Now what have you said to make Emmrich turn that shade of pink,” Neve asked.
“We were discussing his private lessons with Rook,” Dorian winked at her.
“By the Maker,” he muttered, before he plucked an empty glass from Rook’s fingers. “I will grab you another drink, my love. Excuse me.”
He wasn’t gone very long, only long enough for Dorian to get pulled away by a very nervous looking woman with a thick Antivan accent whispering about Crows. ‘Josephine’, Dorian had called her, and she reached into her memory to draw up the last name but it didn’t stick. She just remembered she was one of Harding’s favorite advisors. Rook’s eyes trailed to where Lucanis was, finding that Teia and Viago had slipped in unannounced and were joining him in his corner. Probably best for a pair of assassins.
Her and Neve stuck by each other, both trading a bit of gossip back and forth. The other Shadow Dragons couldn’t show their faces and their limited remaining numbers were still cleaning up Minrathous, sending Neve and Dorian in their stead.
“He bought you that gold,” Neve said with a tilt of her head.
Rook looked over at her, “how did you figure that out?”
“It’s brand new, and you’re not used to it. You keep playing with the chain, and everytime you do you look at him like he’s the sun,” Neve smiled. “Not to mention, he hasn’t been able to keep one hand off of you all night. And you have a great pair of breasts, Rook, but his eyes are glued to your chest instead of his usual sneaky looks. I’m surprised I’m the only one that’s noticed.”
Rook felt as flushed as Emmrich certainly had been earlier. “Oh.”
“That"s a big deal, here in Nevarra? Jewelry?”
“It’s grave gold,” Rook clarified. “It’s meant to go with you when you move on.”
“Romantic,” Neve smirked, “I personally prefer a drink.”
“Or your favorite dessert.”
Neve shook her head, “you got me there.”
“It’s not something you just give, outside family,” Rook fiddled with a bangle on her wrist. “It’s… very, very serious.”
Neve arched a brow, “and you’re what? Surprised he did it?”
“ Yes .”
“You didn’t see it, after Solas trapped you,” Neve said. “If you had, you wouldn’t be surprised at all.”
“See what?”
“That man didn’t bathe, shave, or even comb his hair for nearly a week and a half,” Neve said plainly. “We heard crying from his room. He didn’t eat. We all had to corner him in that room to get him to take a day to take care of himself so he could focus on finding you.”
“Oh.”
Neve laughed with a shake of her head. “I’m happy for you, Rook. You both deserve it.”
Emmrich had returned to her side, handing her a glass of wine before the free hand rested at her back. She was hyper aware of it now. Him and Neve chatted a bit before Dorian called her over to comfort that Josephine woman that the Crows were not there about some contract, and as she left, Emmrich leaned in.
“You are fortunate you are so exquisitely beautiful, Rook,” he said quietly, “or I would be very cross with you for engaging in such a conversation with a former student of mine.”
Rook couldn’t help but giggle at his expense. “And what does my beauty have to do with it?”
“I keep forgetting to be perturbed.”
“I could call him over, maybe that will remind you?”
“Minx.” He accused.
They were not hidden at all, in fact, they were on the edge of a few circles of people that could turn and steal their attention at any moment. Yet, Emmrich hovered even closer, lips almost touching the shell of her ear so she could feel each puff of air as he spoke, the resonance of his voice sucking the breath out of her lungs.
“I might just take you over the buffet table, something truly scandalous for them to whisper about.”
She should make a joke. Something witty and coy. But she could barely think.
Emmrich seemed entertained by how flustered she was. Smirking and entirely too pleased with himself. She toyed with the necklace in her nervous state, grabbing the dangling body chain and tugging at it gently. His eyes traced the movement, and without even trying to disguise it they settled heavily on her breasts, very much interested in the gold set against the skin.
“Does that not please you, my love? Perhaps then a shadowy corner?” He made a thoughtful sound, “no, you’re far too vocal for that. We’d be caught before I even had the opportunity to —“
“How much wine have you had, Professor ?” Rook turned slightly, and poked him in the chest, certain she couldn’t handle whatever he was going to say next.
Emmrich chuckled, “just enough to tolerate the bourgeoisie and be perhaps a tad indecorous with my beloved.”
Rook smiled and shook her head, wondering how much the Necropolis rumor mill would be buzzing about Professor Volkarin’s lack of subtlety. “Please consider your poor beloved’s nerves.”
He did not .
After Myrna introduced her to Lord and Lady Anaxas, a pair of nobles that had refused to shake her hand and behaved on the brink of incivility. Rook had thought she was going to throw up or start a fight. While she had not met them personally before, she had certainly met their ancestors. Some great-great-great grand-patriarch corpses were now in several more pieces than when originally interred.
And at their rudeness Emmrich had casually brought up recent aggressive undead and commented that, “the unruly dead must be managed, as is the Mourn Watch’s decree.” The haughty tone was enough for Myrna to give a slow blink, but then he added, “Indeed, Watcher Ingellvar can attest that you must show initiative and honor your duty regardless of petty politics.”
Myrna was a very collected woman, Rook had never seen her lose that cool exterior once, but her eye twitched as she deposited them with the rest of their team and suggested they enjoy mingling on their own. Emmrich had hidden a smile behind the facade of sipping some wine, and winked at Rook.
He was lively. And she wondered if his time with the team had been a terrible influence. But then again, he had conquered his own terrified heart, found love, seen more of Thedas than some saw in their entire life, and added preserving the world from ruin by Ancient God Mages to his long list of professional accomplishments. This was also his domain, where he was known, respected and acclaimed. Who could blame him for being a bit cheeky.
As the night progressed, people got more drunk and less dignified. Still strung with nerves, Rook had to slow down on her own drinking. Nursing one glass for as long as she could, afraid of what other impropriety she might display after her meeting with Cassandra Pentaghast. She had spent the entire time watching out for her team, tracking them around the room, trying to intervene when it looked like Taash was going to start breathing to impress the Iron Bull or if a noble got too close to Lucanis’ corner. There were toasts, and when she glanced about the room her team looked entirely uncomfortable with the attention save for Emmrich who seemed completely fine.
The only other person who seemed truly excited to be there was Bellara. She flitted about the room, introducing herself to various academics who shared Emmrich’s speciality. Somewhere in her gown she had managed to sneak in her own journal and a quill as she took notes and asked a thousand questions. Rook was still unsure how she had managed it, given the thin fabric that flowed so well and made her movements easy. She was a blur of blues, oranges and yellows. Her hair was down, impossibly long and shiny.
Davrin and Assan were never too far away from her, the Grey Warden standing by ready to regale them with some monster hunting tales, but Assan was the prince of the evening as people were completely enchanted to find a real griffon in their midst. Assan wore a silver collar he kept scratching at, but it matched Davrin’s suit of deep blue with the regal tasseled pauldrons. All tied together with matching sashes for him and his feathered companion. It was simple, but the handsome elf cut quite the figure. If Assan was already not enough to garner him attention, many young nobles had fawned over him in his suit throughout the night.
Lucanis had avoided too much socializing, as he still hovered in the shadows. Sleek black suit with its long coat, cuffs ringed with dark oil-slick feathers, making him blend into the background easily. Teia was stunning in a sleek floor length sleeveless black gown, a sheer cape around her shoulders that was embellished with dark jewels in the shape of feathers. Viago did not look much different, a black bodysuit that made it look like he was not armed (he certainly was) and draped in a cloak that had feathered edges.
The murder of Crows lifted their glasses to her, happy to admire the frivolity from afar.
It got a little colder, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in a very familiar way that preceded the deep slightly wheezing call of her first name by a voice that could only belong to one being.
“Vorgoth.”
There was an indelible fondness she had for them. There had been a revolving door of caretakers in her youth, as the Mourn Watch didn’t expect one single person to take on the raising of a foundling, especially one as young as she was when her life started in the Necropolis. Vorgoth was always around, though. Emotionless as they were, they were never unkind. Only factual, if not cryptic.
“A HOME IN LIFE. A BERTH IN DEATH.”
As close to a welcome back as she would get, and more than enough for Rook.
“Manfred!” Emmrich was positively mortified at the pocket full of treasures his ward had started showing Rook. “Those do not belong to you, we’ve discussed this.”
They had bid everyone farewell, the rest of the team venturing back to the Lighthouse for what Davrin had called ‘the real party.’ Feet aching from pinching shoes, Rook had only made it two steps inside of Emmrich’s home before she had abandoned them. As she started undoing the style she had thrown her hair into to be more comfortable, Manfred had started eagerly digging through his suit coat pockets when she asked him how he fared through the night.
“Oh, come on,” Rook grinned, admiring the shiny buttons, brooches, a very smooth rock, gold coin and even a ribbon. “Every kid goes through a theft phase.”
“He’s not a child,” Emmrich sighed.
“Whatever you say, love,” she replied. “Now this is a nice rock, Manfred, good find.”
Manfred hissed happily, before picking through his pocket to find a shiny gold piece of a broken earring. He offered it to Rook, saying her name and dropping his jaw.
“Are you gifting me Grave Gold now, too?” Rook was delighted.
She looked to Emmrich, as she often did when Manfred showed a new level of understanding or did something that tickled her. He was wearing an achingly soft expression. Eyes sparkling, with an easy relaxed smile. She grinned.
“Well done, Manfred,” Emmrich mused. “Rook nearly fainted when I presented her with my gifts.”
“Oh, I’ll never live that down.”
“I thought I was going to join you, when you called it ‘too much.’” He chuckled, beginning to undo buttons on his suit jacket and get more comfortable.
Rook snorted, “what a way to begin the night. The pair of us swooning on the ground.”
There was something undeniably mesmerizing about him in just a soft purple linen dress shirt, and suit pants. Especially as he started unbuttoning his cuffs and collar. An intimacy in seeing him peel off a different kind of armor, the kind that made him stand tall amongst the well-to-do of their community. It was also quite the sight to see him drape pieces of clothing over the back of the couch rather than wait until they made it to the bedroom to put it away properly.
He stopped as he righted a wayward bangle on his wrist and then stared at her for a long moment. “It is alright, isn’t it? Not too fast?”
Rook’s hand went to the necklace, metal warmed from being on her skin all night. “It’s not,” she assured him. “My… panic wasn’t about you or us .” She mustered up her courage to say, “I’ve lived an entire life without anyone to remember me, to bring flowers to my grave or build me an altar. It’s new; exhilarating and terrifying. You do nothing in half-measures, Emmrich. And I love you for it.”
His eyes flicked from hers, to the necklace. “Manfred, stay out of trouble.”
“Okay!” Manfred replied, now emptying his pockets on the coffee table as he sat criss cross on the ground. He had started organizing all of his findings in a manner that she couldn’t make heads or tails of.
Emmrich grabbed her hand and led her to the bedroom. Just as they left it, save for a few left behind discarded articles of clothing in their distraction to get ready. He turned her to start unlacing the dress, kissing her shoulder as he slipped it off of her body, arms wrapping around her waist to pull her flush against him. His lips made a path to her neck, where she tilted her head to let him linger there as he liked to.
He was quiet, quieter than she expected him to be. She turned in his arms, and he had the same look in his eyes that he did the night before their final confrontation with the Gods. It had turned her blood to magma then and did at that moment as well. Sensual, enraptured, and making her feel like she was something mythical. Beyond mortal flesh, dipping into dreams and fairytales.
She finished unbuttoning his shirt, untucking it from his trousers and sliding it down his shoulders. Marble white, speckled with marks here and there, broad and perfectly pulled in a straight posture. Her hands came to his chest, down his sides over the slight protrusion of his ribs on his lean frame. Firm, and muscled both from his own daily efforts and their time fighting impossible odds but not without softness due to healthy indulgence and the passage of time.
She kissed his cheek, quietly laughing when he turned his face abruptly to meet her lips resulting in a dark lipstick mark at the corner of his mouth. His hand dragged over the dip of her shoulder where his mouth had just been, up to grasp the side of her neck. A steadying hold, with his pinky and ring fingers rubbing gently at the new gold there.
“Tonight was quite a challenge for you,” he swallowed, voice breathy. “If you need your rest, I understand, of course.” It tapered off, like he wanted to say more but he weighed her expression before he added, “but if you are amenable, I would like to welcome you home. Properly.”
Ever the gentleman. She pursed her lips to stifle a smile threatening to be too wide and entertained. “I’ve been welcomed home all night,” she said. “But I’m very much interested in your idea.”
“Not just back in the Necropolis,” he insisted. “I mean to welcome you here . With me and Manfred.”
“Oh. Oh .” Rook breathed, understanding at once. She was less shocked at his breakneck pace now, ready to roll with it and follow her gut. “Yes. Yeah. I’m very amenable.”
“Thank the Maker,” he muttered and kissed her.
His mouth pressed to hers without the gentle finesse he usually started with, firm with eagerness and tongue hungrily exploring. He tasted like wine, smelt like aftershave and cologne and home.
She thought back to what Neve had said. She knew that he had been worried about her when she had entered Solas’ prison. He had rushed her back to the Necropolis to make sure she was truly free of the blood magic, whisking her away from everyone else who had also been worried about her. Selfishly stealing a night alone before the world either ended.
Aside from the battle itself and the few instances where he was running around Nevarra City preparing for the gala, he had hardly left her side since she returned. She saw it now. The careful compartmentalization he’d had to do to make sure he was functional, and at his best in the aftermath of her disappearance and return. Neve had said he was a wreck when she disappeared, and maybe he hadn’t fully recovered. Now moving at breakneck speed to ensure she stayed by his side now and into the unknown eternity.
And she had told him she loved him for that lack of restraint. Another thing she got to see that no one else did. No perfectly coiffed exterior or proper manners, carefully weighed words and measured tones. Just a hopelessly romantic man that had been teetering on the brink of jumping headlong into love for far too long.
Rook broke from the kiss, pressing her lip over his heart, the steadily quickening beat of it palpable through his skin. She left another lipstick stain, the first in a trail that she took down his body until she was on her knees. She took his hand to her shoulder for balance as she finished undressing him, pulling at smallclothes and socks until he was a tall pillar above her.
They may have been moving fast, it would be the talk of the Watch for weeks, but these moments of quiet slowness where they undressed each other drove that from her mind. Even on her knees looking up at him, there was nothing but trust. Faith.
His hand cupped her face when she placed hers on his thighs, one hand settling over the single tattoo he had on his upper thigh.
A gorgeous portrait, something that would have been fit to be hung in a gallery, despite the eroticism of the scene. A skeleton wrapped in an amorous embrace from behind with a beautiful naked man, face drawn perfectly in an expression of bliss. The skeleton’s jaw hung open, angled toward an exposed throat, finger bones of one hand resting over a bare broad chest while the other wrapped around a leaking cock. All framed by Orlesian style filigree with the words ‘la petite mort’ in elegant calligraphy ribboned beneath it.
Her delight at its reveal when they had their first time together still stuck with her. Somehow perfectly balanced in refinement and lewdness that seemed to simply make sense. And to find out he had been completely naked, draped over a chaise with his head in the lap of his lover while the artist worked on his skin. It was an image she had tried to recreate in her mind, imagining the heavy incense, good wine and the sounds of others fucking around them.
He lived with grace and fervor, indeed.
Ringed fingers rubbed at her lips, further smearing lipstick until she parted them, and he sighed as he pressed them further into her mouth. Slightly salty, metallic from the gold that danced over her tongue. He sucked in a breath, eyes closing for a moment in an expression of reverie before he let it out slowly and forced them open again. Emmrich rubbed the pads of his fingers over her tongue, thrusting them in and out slightly and she felt herself shudder, heart starting to pound.
Her eyes slid from his face, down the line of stains of her lipstick kisses she had given him. His cockhead was as flushed as his cheeks, still only half-hard and beckoning to her. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard on the digits in her mouth as she pulled her head back with a satisfying pop. Rook grabbed the base of him, pumping a bit as she leaned forward to take him in her mouth.
He said her name, a whine as she worked on getting him fully erect for her. One of her hands was tugged to him, as he fumbled slightly to remove some of his own bracelets and slip them over her wrist. He’d done so before, had playfully slipped his rings or bangles onto her and said ‘hold onto this, would you, darling?’ Usually before he used his hands to skillfully pull her apart. She thought now that he may have done it partially for his own viewing pleasure, given how taken he was with her in nothing but grave gold.
Swirling her tongue around the head of him, before dipping him as far down her throat as she could manage, she felt him twitch in her mouth. And she pulled off of him with a final heavy suction of her cheeks, making another popping sound echo off the walls, this time sloppier.
He groaned, fingers still slick with her spit as he cupped her face. “I do love this,” he sighed, “to see you shed the glamour and wear debauchery.”
And she must have looked debauched. Lipstick smeared, hair gone from an elegant style to a mess, out of her dress and still in her gold on her knees before him. She hadn’t had the chance to mess up his hair, but he was sporting her shade of lipstick on his skin and lips from her kisses. With the flush high in his cheeks, and his lips kiss swollen while he was naked as the day he was born, she understood his sentiment perfectly.
He took her hand to help her stand, kissing all the way to the bed. Tongue dancing over hers in a demanding way that didn’t stop as they climbed onto the soft mattress, even softer duvet beneath them. He settled between her legs on his knees, shifting his body back so he could look at her.
“Forgive me, I’ve been rakish all night,” he muttered, hand coming out to trace over the body chain that had been hidden from him all night. “It was a difficult evening for you and all I"ve been able to think of… is this.” He tugged on the chain, “you look lovely in gold.”
“Even when you’re being a tease, you’re a perfect gentleman,” she assured him, hand coming up to settle on his thigh again.
“Not without extraneous effort,” he laughed a bit. “What a party it would have been, had I acted on half the impulses that have plagued me.”
“And to think I tempted your wrath by embarrassing you in front of a former student?”
He hummed, hands trailing over the softness of her stomach and the chain, before climbing up to trace the frame of it around her breasts. “I’ll forgive the transgression, if only because you were so good the entire night.”
Goosebumps rose on her skin from the praise. “Was I?”
He smiled knowingly, “oh yes, my dear, a perfect vision of propriety and humble yet heroic stoicism. Even if you did let that sinful tongue get sharp with Lady Pentaghast.”
“She started it.”
“I have no doubt you would have finished it.”
“I’m not the only one who was cheeky, tonight, and you know it. The Anaxas’ knew exactly what you were saying to them.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” He said with an arched brow. “I was perfectly civil.”
“Mhm,” she hummed, “civil. Sure. The most eloquent ‘fuck you’ I’ve ever heard, honestly.”
“Darling, I have been waiting to admire you in your gold for hours,” he tilted his head forward, “but I will divert my efforts to occupying that filthy mouth of yours if I have to.”
She had pushed the final button without realizing it, apparently. Tilting him over from perfectly happy to teeter on the edge of their usual dynamics to officially being in charge. He liked it very much, preferred it, even if he did enjoy being at her mercy every once in a while. It had been a welcome shift from her day to day as decision maker for the team, as uncertain as she had felt at first about grappling with letting him see her in that vulnerable state and then leading him in battle the next day.
But he had kept that part of her safe. It never left the bedroom. He was perfectly able to respect her as team leader outside and give her the reprieve she needed. After the challenges of the evening, she felt the comfort settle over her even as it charged her arousal to a new height. She was his , now. The four walls around them became a safe haven where she didn’t have to be anything else.
He leaned close, lips barely touching hers, “and I won’t be pleased about having to delay my indulgence. Do you understand, my love?”
“Yes,” she nodded, chasing his lips only for him to pull back slightly.
“Wonderful,” he began rubbing his hands over her sides, palms grazing over the sides of her breast. “And what will you say, when I tell you about all the lovely jewels and gold I will adorn you with?”
She faltered, swallowing down the immediate reaction she had to being offered more . She was surprised the spirit of Panic hadn’t been hovering around her all night. But she figured out what he wanted to hear easily. He was, after all, very committed to politeness. And she wanted him to kiss her, very much, his mouth just out of reach.
“Thank you.”
“Very good,” he smiled a little.
She let out a truly pathetic little noise when he said it, punctuated by the press of his lips on hers finally. Dizzying, all consuming desire bubbling up in her as she tried to press her body closer, to grab at him only to have her hands gently corrected to lay at her side.
Emmrich sat up again, and set out to continue his exploration, simply rubbing over her skin and taking in the sight of her in nothing but gold.
“Now let me finish my appraisal.” His hand roamed over her torso. “Have you considered piercings?”
“Not really,” she admitted.
“I think you’d look fetching,” he said, “a dangling ring here,” he circled her belly button, “or a hoop for your perfect nose. Perhaps a few extra to line the ears, or these,” he brought both hands to her breasts, rubbing at the rigid peaks to make her arch her back to him.
“Sounds painful,” she gasped.
“I’ve heard it enhances sensation,” he commented, “but if it doesn’t please you, we could procure some lovely clamps. For temporary use.”
Her breath caught. “I could barely handle one gift, Emmrich, how much more are you planning?”
“I did say we must practice. And what do you have to say to my offer?” He reminded her.
“Thank you.”
“I won’t remind you again,” He said with a pleased smile. All the more arousing in the dichotomy of a promise he was certainly going to keep and the way he smiled like it was the most inane conversation.
He got distracted by her breasts, leaning over her to trace the line of the gold that dangled around it with his tongue while he teased and tormented her nipples with steadily more firm pinches and flicks. She was unable to keep from writhing, unsure if she should arch into the touch or retreat from the intensity of it along with his mouth hot on her skin.
He pulled away and swallowed, licking his lips with a concentrated frown as he moved again. His hands traveled all the way down the length of her legs, to grip her ankles as he pulled one up, kissing the side of it.
“Toe rings wouldn’t go amiss,” he said to himself, “but a delicate chain here would be lovely. I’ve seen gold garters,” he was talking to her again, “now that would be something. To know you have treasures hidden for me to uncover around these thighs. Maybe connect the chain from the ankle to here,” he kissed the inside of her thigh. “What do you think of that, Rook?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Thank you.”
“More waist chains,” he commented, hooking his fingers underneath where the one she wore split to cover her hips, a dreamy sigh as he said, “that’s for certain.”
“Thank you.” Rook replied again.
“Good girl.”
“You’re going to waste that hard earned fortune on a sexual vice if you’re not careful,” she commented to ease herself, still grappling with the unusual feeling of being doted on.
Deflect. Joke it off. The feeling couldn’t fester if she let her ever running brain vent steam in the form of banter. Because she liked this. She didn’t know what to do with it. She still felt she ought to warn him. He didn’t have to, he really didn’t need to be so damn generous to her. But what if she let him? He took mercy on her, not being as strict as she knew he could be, and let her make her commentary without reproach.
“It could not be wasted if it’s for you,” he said plainly.
Sometimes it felt like he knew her as well as she knew herself. Could somehow read her mind and see that while she wanted to be good, to play the game, to let him have his indulgence — she needed to be met halfway. At least for now.
He leaned over her, kissing her again and again, fingers pushing down through coarse curls before they lightly rubbed the seam of her sex. Thoughts flying away with the spike of pleasure at finally being touched where she was feeling suddenly neglected.
“Would you let me keep my dowry on while I get you ready for me? I long to see the gold glitter while it sinks in and out of you,” he shuttered a breath, exciting himself with the words. “It may be intense, but I swear, I’ll be careful with you.”
Rook whined her consent, his fingers still rubbing along the wetness there making her start to rock her hips. He kissed her, sweetly before leaning over her to reach into his bedside drawers, not needing much time to dig around before he found what he was looking for. He lifted himself back up, settled onto his haunches as he uncorked a bottle of lubrication. She wasn’t entirely sure he’d need it, given how she felt herself nearly dripping, but Emmrich had many rings. Of varying thickness and over the different quarters of his fingers.
She was grateful he’d thought of it, since she was too drunk on lust and strange elation to have even considered it.
He slicked his fingers with the oil, which smelt vaguely of elfroot but was otherwise not obtrusively perfumed. Licking his lips he used one hand to press over her pubic bone, the other rubbing through her folds. The excess of wetness and lube made the friction agonizingly light as he teased her clit in small circles. Rook arched her back, whining for more.
“Patience, Rook.”
One finger slid from her clit to breach her slowly, pumping gently as he went. Up to the first knuckle was familiar, the shape and length of him she knew well. But there was the firm press of something harder as he pushed further, unyielding but smooth. The gold ring eased in and created a ribbed sensation in the pump of his finger.
An unexpected mewl of pure bliss slipped out of her and her eyes flew open to stare at the ceiling in shock made her realize something else new about herself. She knew she liked the rings. She’d liked trailing her tongue over them, and looking at them and hearing his gold click together as he cast or spoke animatedly. But he’d always removed them when he touched her like this.
But this was new. This was… very interesting.
“How are you, my love?” He sounded focused, eyes trained on her face.
“Good,” she choked out. “Very good.”
“Can I use another?” He asked, “two rings this time?”
It sounded like a lot. But she was intrigued and, as usual, loath to deny him anything. So she breathed out her approval. The press of a second finger had her whining to begin with. This time the pair of rings sat just beneath that first knuckle, and he slowly worked his fingers, until she felt an even more intense pressure of the metal against her walls.
She gasped, she tried to keep her legs still, but she felt her foot slide against the soft duvet in an attempt to do something with the electric energy that flooded her body. A warm hand gripped her thigh, soothing pressure as he massaged the muscle there that was tensing and releasing in harsh intervals.
“Breathe,” he commanded her, voice low. “Do you want to stop?”
“No,” she shook her head frantically. “No, please — I —“
He shushed her, rubbing gently at her leg still. “I have you, dearest, no need to panic. You’re doing wonderfully.”
She heard the clink of the vial of lubricant again, felt it drip onto her cunt, a cooler sensation than his warm fingers and her even hotter skin. He pumped his fingers, and she felt herself go lax at the pleasure it wrung from her. All she could do was slightly roll her hips, grip the bedding and hang on for the ride.
Emmrich made a noise from deep in his chest that tapered into a throaty moan. She could hear his fingers moving in and out of her, and she let out a broken moan that sounded close to sob. When she opened her eyes, he was watching between her legs with an intensity that made her hair stand on end. When she realized his free hand had moved to stroke his cock while he did so her walls tightened around him.
A pleased high sound of approval left him, and she saw his Adam"s apple bob with a harsh swallow. He was being light with his touches of his own arousal, elegant fingers not fully clasped around the length as he danced his fingertips over it. He was panting, he was flushed and she was going to come.
“Emmrich,” she whined, hand coming out to grab at his thigh, digging her nails in.
She saw his length twitch and he pulled his hand away, effectively edging himself as he turned his attention to playing with her clit. His thumb rubbed up and down over it, in assured movements drawing more blood to the swelling bundle of nerves. Her hips bucked, and he had to adjust fully to his knees to allow the right angle to now swipe the pads of his fingers over and over until she broke.
Unyielding gold met the press of her muscles around his fingers, as he pressed in and out against the spasms. She heard him sighing above her as he continued to watch his adorned fingers dip in and out of her until the waves of white hot pleasure started to flow away.
Emmrich pulled his fingers from her with a quite obscene sound before pressing both into his own mouth, and a sinful moan ripping out of him at the taste.
“Exquisite...”
Sweat made a few pieces of the last remaining dark streak of hair fall into his face, other pieces precariously hanging on to their shape although slightly out of place. His beauty sharpened her breath, skin tingling being under his gaze before he leaned forward, a liquid movement like he was pulled gently by some unseen string.
Starting from the edge of the chain that hung low over the softness of her belly, he licked the length of it until he reached between her breasts and teased it between his teeth. Hot breath tickling wet skin as he slipped a nipple into his mouth, and grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. Her own gold, the ones he had slipped on her and his remaining bangles all jingled together in a tune with no rhythm. Finally he kissed her mouth, nipping at the bottom lip and nostrils flaring.
“Keep your hands here,” he panted. “I want to — to see —“ his hips stuttered, “all of you.”
He lifted himself up again, staring down at her as he used his hand to guide himself in. It made her cry out, tilting her head back. Slowly he pulled his hips back, building up the anticipation for a quick thrust back in. The chain on her body moved with the thrust, a soft new sensation against her hot skin, the gold on her wrists made a soft sound as she clenched the bedding. Emmrich’s jaw twitched, eyebrows furrowed in an intense expression, a few unmeasured thrusts paired with a grunt before he went still.
He was on a precipice, his measured breaths giving him away. She knew the training, even if she hadn’t quite mastered it like him. Grounding breathing to keep one balanced, maintain a center, and hold off the wave of extreme emotion.
Rook planted her feet, bending her knees, technically not breaking demand to keep her open for his viewing pleasure. She rolled her hips, resulting in a shallow slip of him in and out of her. She saw the thin line of his moustache twitch, his nostrils flare with the effort of a harsh breath that stuttered slightly on the exhale.
“You feel so good,” she whimpered. He went still. “I need more. Please .”
A well-timed involuntary flutter of her walls around his cock seemed to be enough to break him. He grabbed her thighs, tilting her hips back, and pushed hard back in before giving way to a more steady pace that made her cry out.
Rook lavished in the slightly mad look in his eye when he let go of himself, eyes nearly black as he watched her body jolt with each snap of his hips. Her tits bounced, her head tilted back and she struggled to find something to grab onto with her hands still above her head.
“You need…” he huffed, “rings.” His eyes locked onto her hands above her head. “Jewels — that will catch the light.”
He thrust and thrust, keeping a steady pace but obviously verging on losing himself as his brow kept switching between furrowing in concentration and tilting up in bliss. There was no talking for a remarkably long time for Emmrich, just the slap of skin, the tinkling sounds of gold, moaning, panting and grunting. Forgetting herself she reached out, to touch his chest, and he seemed to wake up from his daze.
He gripped her wrist, jolting forward to press it back against the pillows. His pace slowed down, now just grinding his hips into hers making her see stars as she wrapped her legs around him.
“My desire,” he breathed into her neck, “is to come home to you daily, just like this,” he sucked on her skin. “How I long to walk through that door and find you in our bed, covered in naught but this gold, a tableau of how you will carry it to our grave.”
Rook felt her breath hitch, desperate hands breaking away from his grip to wrap around him and pull him as close as she could. Tugging at his hair, sloppy kisses on whatever bit of skin she could reach and tilting her hips up to fuck herself on his cock. He adjusted, so he could still remain close and meet her thrusts. Rough, but precise, not too deep or too forceful despite the few times she shoved herself on him too eagerly. She felt his long fingers slip between them and up to her throat.
He didn’t grip, or constrict air, just a firm press so he could feel the gold of the necklace he had placed there. He was close, she could tell, and her hand followed his example slipping between them, the press of the gold very present as she rubbed between her own clit. He groaned nearly intelligible words of approval, and chased his release.
The creak of the wooden bed, her own voice devolving to half whispers, while he got progressively louder was all she could hear. She heard his bangles clink together before she felt one of her hands tugged from its firm grip in his hair, lacing fingers together as they pressed in the downy bedding. Her legs locked around his hips, trying her best to bring him somehow closer.
Emmrich came, whining as he thrust with heavy pauses to be as deep as he could. Rook followed, tipped over by his pleasure and a thrust that rubbed him over just the right spot. She felt him twitching in her, body still rigid before she heard a pathetic sound choke out of him as her cunt massaged his sensitive and spent cock. It made him rock his hips a little, hissing against the oversensitivity but seeking it out all the same.
“My darling,” he murmured, kissing her all over her face before toppling onto his side without any of his normal grace to catch his breath. She laughed at him, feeling a little mad in post-coital bliss, rolling onto her stomach and burying her face in the bedding.
“This bedding is so soft,” she sighed.
“Better than that chaise, I’m sure.”
“You snob,” she snorted. “I’m gonna miss those fish when we leave. And that chaise was quite comfortable.”
“My legs dangled at the knee over the edge.”
“You poor thing,” she laughed at him. “So very undignified.”
Emmrich scoffed. Rook stared at the gold on her wrists, played with the two rings on her one hand. A warm hand rubbed over her back, dancing along the line of her spine. She glanced at him, finding him watching her again. Sated and pleased, blinking slowly like a content cat.
“I never thanked you,” she whispered sheepishly. “They are beautiful.”
“I’m pleased you think so,” he said. “Unfortunately only part of my order arrived in time for the event,” he sighed a little, “the jewelers were terribly busy. The complete set should be here in a fortnight.”
“ Emmrich! ”
The only response she got was a laugh.