#Andarateia Cantori/Female OC

[rattzphobic]

Marionette

Marionette (AO3) NSFW WARNING It had been over a year since Teia had mentioned wanting to introduce a third person in their relationship. Viago had quietly kept that in the back of his mind. Now, in an effort to win back her affections after months apart, Viago meets an expensive escort in the Cantori Diamond who agrees to lend her services to him, and whomever else he might think to bring, for a week at Villa de Riva in the Antivan countryside. Tags and full chapter below the cut Read the other five chapters on Ao3 with more to come!

Handjob, blowjob, cunnilingus, squirting, double penetration, public sex, voyeurism, spanking, choking, throat training, edging, orgasm denial, prostitution, breeding, hair pulling, lingerie, bondage, sensory deprivation, rimming, marking, watersports, mutual masturbation, outdoor sex, scratching, puppy play, humiliation, creampie, body worship, wrap around, threesome, vaginal, anal, somnophilia, cnc, spanking 

01

The Cantori Diamond never truly slept. There was always a soul in its halls, gambling away thousands. All manner of guests and patrons walked the smooth tiled floors and watched the sultry singers perform as dice rolled and cards flipped and drinks were served. Highly trained servers brought out unopened boxes of Antivan cigars, scored the wax seals of decades old spirits and exchanged notes and unknowable looks that mirrored the exchange of life happening in the levels above them.

In a way, much like The Crows, a different exchange of the flesh was happening on the casino floor. 

Viago had never been one to buy into that. Whores, if he were being blunt. His concern of an assassination attempt sometimes grew so overt over his life, he seemed obsessed. That had lessened when he met Teia, but still. On their off seasons, which seemed like the difference between Summer and Winter, his fears crept back in. Made him angry. Made him tense. 

He pushed through the small crowd gathered in the foyer, his leathers dressed down to blend in with the rich patrons. 

It was not a fight that so much as took him away from his partner (if he could even refer to Teia like that). The waxing and waning of life and the very nature of their intimacy made their meetings fleeting. It would take the end of the world to make things official between the two, and despite Teia’s casual denial of that time ever coming, Viago knew better than to disagree with the notion that soon enough, that day would indeed come. The breach was less than a decade ago. And before that? The explosion in Kirkwall. And before that?

He shuddered to remember the Fifth Blight. The Fourth Blight had overrun Antiva. Viago of course was not alive to witness its effects on his nation, but the idea of it returning at any moment haunted him. Another kind of poison and one he could not save himself from. A drop of the blight could outright kill him. 

At the bar, he ordered some red wine. It was served in a crystal glass with the emblem of a crow etched onto its face. Wings spread, mouth ajar in a shout. Be it a shout of victory or of defeat, Viago did not want to ponder that. Not tonight at least. He was here to ease his worries, not make them bigger.

So, he swirled the wine in his cup and took a sniff. It was a Marcher wine, characterized by its slightly sweeter smell. Oak-wood barrels and the softest hint of florals. He took a small sip, swirled it in his mouth and let the warm taste spark a fire in his chest. It was good wine – great wine. The Cantori Diamond would not serve any less. He nodded at the barkeep for more, and his cup was filled. Red wine and the smell of cigars and the cacophony of laughing patrons and accounting tellers. It felt strange to call it home, but when Viago shut his eyes to take another sip of his wine, it felt… right. 

What did not feel right was the sensation that someone was watching him. 

Casually, he turned around, a hand on his hip to scan the crowd. A sea of brown faces checkered with the gray horns of Qunari folk of varying sizes and builds. Some people were betting. Some were drinking or socializing or bickering. Some exchanged chips and coin purses. Scantily clad escorts clung to high winning table patrons. Thin black and purple dresses and straps of clothing revealed themselves to be workers of the night. That, and their subtle lack of interest in the money and more so their hands on someone else's chest or arm or…

The feeling was back again. His dark blue eyes bounced from booth to booth, from table to table until –

She was sitting alone. Sipping a flute of champagne. Her full lips were painted a deep true blood-red color that matched the vibrancy of her dress. On her table was a single candle lit with a low orange flame that illuminated her heart shaped face. She was looking at Viago, there was no doubt in his mind. Her expression was clear enough for him to know her intentions, but the gaze was intense nevertheless. She smiled when he finally saw her, and leaned back in her chair, revealing a slender torso and her full breasts. Dark hair spilled down her shoulders and over the back of her chair. 

He watched as she crossed her legs and with the tip of her heeled foot, she pushed the chair opposite her away from the table slightly, beckoning him with a tilt of her head.

Viago took a deep breath. This is not for me, he told himself as he greedily downed half his wine. This is for Teia. 

When he sat down across from this mysterious woman, she smiled, red lips parting to reveal her white teeth. She had left a stain on her glass from where she had taken a sip. Her long fingers were tipped off with long manicured nails, and on one finger was a fine ring of gold set with a deep red ruby. She folded her hands over the table, leaning in.

“You finally noticed.” A deep, sultry voice. She smelled intoxicating. Sandalwood and florals that Viago could not name. The wine was getting to him. It must be. Why else would the mere presence of her fill him with such… desire? He inhaled through his nose and the smell beckoned in him further. 

Touch me. 

Eat me. 

Devour me.

“Do I know you?” Viago cocked a brow.

“Such a silly question.” She spoke slowly, shaking her head. “Does it really matter? You already made your mind up about me before you even sat down.”

“And what exactly did I decide?”

“That you wanted me. In some way or another. You wanted my answer. My voice. My smell.”

He swallowed.

“Have you got enough? Is this distance satisfying to you?” Her thick accent placed her as a local. But still. Viago felt as if her words brought on all new meaning; all new dictation. His wine became forgotten on the tabletop as he leaned in, too.

“You want something from me.” He insisted. Her eyes were big and round. Guarded by thick dark lashes that were coated in black mascara. When she blinked, the candlelight casted long spiked shadows down her smiling cheeks. 

“Of course I do. I wanted your attention.” This was a game. Viago had let that slip his mind. But he remembered it now. This was like a contract. And he had seen hundreds of contracts fulfilled. Flesh was flesh, be it warm or cold. He tried to break his gaze from hers, but she cocked her head, and his hand squeezed into a fist on his thigh. “Tell me what it is, cariño. And I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Beneath the table, one sharply pointed shoe ran up his leg. He stiffened with a jolt, and the woman laughed. 

“I can tell you’re not used to this kind of attention. I can slow down if it’s too much for you.”

“How much.” He bit out. “For – you.” Her foot was moving up and down his shin with such gentle force it was making his stomach tighten. A warmth bloomed in his belly matching the wine. He finished his cup as she watched, her answer slow in its coming.

“Now, now.” She shook her head, clicking her tongue. “I’m not some common whore you can find in the Red Lantern District. You should know better than that.”

“Then what are you?”

“A woman looking for company. Good company.” She turned to the crowd. “I don’t pick just any person with a heavy sack of… gold. They have to interest me.”

Viago followed her gaze. The same as before. Scantily dressed and half drunk workers already easing their spells on the winners and losers of this eternal game. 

“I have a very specific clientele.”

“And it seems like I fit that criteria.”

“Of course you do. You’re the fifth talon.”

He swallowed thickly and turned back to her. She did not meet his stare. 

“Don’t act so surprised. I don’t think many in the Diamond would recognize you. But,” Finally then, their eyes met again. “Like I said. Specific clientele.”

“You service crows.” He affirmed. 

“It just so happens that young, educated patrons come from your very exclusive club. Not to mention most of them are quite rich.” She shrugged, her hair tousling. 

Viago had never been the one to pry into the lives of his House. The de Riva’s walking around Antiva were certainly not keen on sharing these sort of secrets with him either. But the idea of this woman only choosing Crows… it made him feel a bit better than he had before. He waved to a server who refilled his glass promptly, and he took a slower sip. 

“Is this where you pick them up?”

“Oh,” She sighed. “Sometimes.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Her expression was impossible to grasp now. She was looking out into the crowd with a half smile on her face. Dark eyes were far away in some memory as her fingers found the base of her flute and felt the cold glass. Her foot had finally stilled itself against his ankle, and it left a subtle tingle in his toes where the anticipation had been before. The time between his question and her answer grew so long that he was almost afraid she did not hear him. Until she turned her head slowly back to him and revitalized her smile.

“Waiting for you.” She sipped her drink.

An exaggeration? A hook to get him to get closer? Already he wanted her. Already, his desires were shameful enough for him to try and think if this was all really worth it. Teia had mentioned something like this nearly a year ago now. Bringing in someone else to fuck out all their strangest desires. But, they were both so changed from those people back then. The realization that she might not want a third person in the middle of their already fragile relationship was like cold water on his face.

“You asked me about a price.” She continued. “It’s 500 for the night. 800 if you want me to stay until the morning.”

“And for a week?” It was this or nothing. It was her or it was crossing his fingers and hoping Teia would find him again next time she was in town. 

The woman laughed in surprise. “A week?” Her brows shot up, but the spark in her eye told Viago she wasn’t unused to these sorts of proposals.

“There will be two of us. Me and my… partner.”

“I see…” She swirled her flute, the golden liquid spinning in the glass.

“Perhaps more. If you prove yourself.” He shrugged.

“I feel like a Crow already.” 

“I have a place for you to stay. If you need anything delivered that can be arranged. You will be well taken care of, I can assure you.”

“Slow down there, Señor.” She tapped the table. “Don’t talk about it as if I’ve already agreed.” Her lips pursed.

“You’re refusing?” Viago cocked a brow.

“I have rules of my own, if you care to know.” Her foot moved again, stirring his excitement up as his wine glass was finished with one deep swallow. “I love the way you Crows always get straight to business. You and I are nearly the same, you know. It’s all just a contract between two bodies. I deal with life, and you deal with death. Sometimes I wonder… How many exchanges go on each and every day? How many people lose their lives above me when I have someone's hand on my thigh?”

Viago gasped. He was half hard between his legs just listening to her talk and feeling her foot on his thigh. His glass was refilled again. He saw her gaze bounce from his eyes to his lips and then dip down to his throat. He swallowed. 

“There is a healer in town. Not far from here. I need her approval before you and I can do anything.”

“A healer?”

“She will only take a piece of you – not your blood. Just any bit of you you’re willing to give up. She’ll write her results on a sheet of paper and stamp it. Come back and show me. Then, we’ll talk.”

He debated it. Already Viago wanted to get this over with. Impulse and budding desire wanted him to say yes so he could take her away and break in the new bed he had ordered in just for this rare occasion. He sipped his wine again. “Fine.”

With a flick of one of her delicate wrists, she pulled on the Veil and magic poured into their shared space. Viago shuddered and licked his lips as the feeling washed over him. Light formed on her palm and with a burst of a spell, a roll of paper appeared between them. 

“I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to show me you’re serious, Sr. de Riva.” She leaned back in her chair. “For now, you will have to excuse me. I have a prior engagement I must attend.”

When she stood, Viago allowed himself to drink in her form. Lean, slim and of a head with Teia. Her long hair met her waist in waves of inky black. She gave one last glance over her shoulder. Viago nodded his head, be it in dismissal or acknowledgement, he did not know, but she left afterwards. Sauntering past the bar to a place he could not see. 

Despite her being out of his sight, Viago’s mind left with her. Was she meeting another Crow? He imagined someone's hands around her slim waist, pulling up on her skirts and dipping their gloved fingers into her. He imagined her moans, though all that sounded in his ears was the muted sighs he could replicate from memory that she had given him. Her smell was still lingering all about him, and the words came again. 

Touch me. 

Eat me. 

Devour me.

Desire was a slow poison. It festered in everyone. Even someone as disciplined and in control as Viago. He was here, afterall. Imagining her with other people – other Crows. It made him feel strangely possessive; and he licked at the sharp edges of his teeth in his mouth. 

Sipping his wine again, Viago took the sheet of paper from the table and unfurled it. It was written in elegant Antivan script in brown ink with an address at the top. A certain Dottore Ashara was listed as the practitioner of this medical office. Viago had to scoff. She really wasn’t kidding. He half knew what these sorts of tests might be for. Never had he gotten so close to any sort of illness before, but being as grown as he was, the realm of possibilities was not shortened by his lack of partners. Still, the idea of this person taking something from him and working some sort of alchemy over it to prove what Viago already knew… It made his stomach tighten. 

This is really, actually happening. 

He stood only when his wine was done, and when he did, he gave one last look around for the woman in red. When he did not find her, he left a few silvers for his wine on the table and walked slowly out of the Casino floor into the warm evening air. 

A gondolier picked him up and ferried him to his destination a few minutes away.

The building was unassuming, with a hanging metal and wood sign reading MEDICAL REMEDIES AND CURES swaying in the wind. Viago pulled his hood lower over his head and pushed into the warmly lit room. Thankfully, it was empty. The place was full up with cushioned chairs and portraits of aristocrats and past Divine’s alike. There was a fancy rug on the floor from a place in Rialto and incense was burning silently on the counter that bisected the room.

“Just a second!” Came a voice. It came from somewhere in the backroom. Viago approached the counter, tapping his fingers on the wood as he did as he was told. Papers were neatly stacked where someone should have been sitting as well as a pot of brown ink and a pen. Cabinets lined the back wall where some counter space was filled with strange glass and copper equipment. Some of it looked indescribably new. Others were hard to differentiate between ancient Elven and ancient Tevene.  Blue crystals and glowing runes were hung up or seared into empty wall space. Vials of strange liquid were set in several rows behind surgical tool sets and magnifying glasses.

Viago wondered how many new ideas were being created and cultivated here. And if he too, could see if a new concoction might come from the strange materials in its confines. 

“Sorry ‘bout that.” A heavy set elven woman sat on the chair. She was dressed in pristine white linens with a copper name tag that read DR ASHARA on her chest. Her brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun revealing violet eyes and vallaslin across her cheeks. “Time gets away from me sometimes. Now, how can I help?”

Viago handed her the paper quietly, his body moving before his words. “Here.” He choked out.

“Oh ho!” The woman chuckled. “I see. Well, just sit down. I’ll be right out with my tools.”

He sighed and found the nearest chair.

It aggravated Viago that he was at a loss for words. He could deal rather easily with life or death situations. If someone died, he would spew out sentence after sentence about the future and what went wrong or if they deserved it or not. He could discipline a hundred rowdy young recruits and find retorts for all their hot-blooded insults. But this? Perhaps he should have taken the easier route and picked up the cutest piece of ass from a brothel and saved himself the work. But a part of him knew why he chose the Cantori Diamond instead of a place like that. 

He had a taste for the high end. Wine, art, clothes. Why would flesh be any different? That woman seemed to be of a mind with him in thinking the same. And was decent enough to ask for a … medical check or whatever this was. 

Dr. Ashara came back with a wooden cup, a few copper rods and a glass vial. 

“Right. Now, come ‘ere.” She motioned with one gloved hand. “Good. If you please, I’ll need a bit of you to run this test.”

He cocked a brow.

“Oh, come on – just your spit or hair.” She insisted. “‘Less you’d prefer your piss to those other options –”

Viago leaned over and spat in the cup she was offering. 

Setting it on the table, she put in the two copper rods diagonal to each other and with some magic, sent some green electricity down into the fluids. Then, with the same rods, she whisked up his fluids until it was bubbly and full of air and shoved it down into the small glass vial, rods and all. 

Viago felt sick.

“Just one more moment.” Dr Ashara walked back to one of the ancient machines, slid the glass vial into a slot, activated the crystal and stepped back as the magic spun her sample at back breaking speeds around a dial. “Have you many sexual partners?”

“What?”

“Do you have. Many. Sexual. Partners.” She took a step towards him so he could hear her over the whirring of the machine, though Viago could hear her fine enough.

“...No.”

“Good then. This test should tell you what you already know.”

Viago grumbled a response. 

The machine slowly spun to a stop, and the Dottore held the mixture up to the light. It had turned blue. “All seems well – though I would mind how much fat you’ve been eating. Could upset your kidneys.” She threw all the pieces away into a metal trash can and sat back down at her desk. “Everything seems in check…. And… there.” She stamped the paper. “Don’t be afraid to come back now. Your first physical exam is free.”

She handed him back the paper. Viago took it, rolled it up and shoved it into his coat pocket. “Good evening.” He said curtly, walking out the door.

A stamp was all he needed and a stamp was what he got. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the sky was bruising a deeper and deeper shade of blue by the moment. The crowds on the sidestreets didn’t lessen any, however. This was the time when Treviso came truly alive. Marchants lit the lanterns and brightened their displays with silver and gold. Shoppers eager to buy something browsed goods and walked down the streets to stare at the water or catch a ride from a gondola. 

Viago cleared his throat and sniffed. 

That smell was back again. Jasmine and orange and… roses? Mixing headily with sandalwood and another flower that slipped from Viago’s mind. He turned his head sharply towards the smell.

“Such eagerness.” The woman shook her head. She had thrown on a red shawl that covered only her exposed collarbones and shoulders. It was the same red as her dress. In her right hand was a long wooden pipe made of ivory. Stuffed into it was a sweet smelling mixture that blew behind her in the breeze. “Done already?”

He straightened his collar. “I thought we were to meet back at the Casino.”

“I finished with my previous client and decided to see if you were serious about keeping your word.”

Someone bumped into him from behind and apologized profusely before continuing on their way. The woman took a long drag from her pipe and moved over to lean against the wall of the building beside them. Viago followed, and fished out the letter to show it to her. “Some strange Dottore you sent me to.”

“Hm? Never been to a physician before?”

“Crows must have different ones than the kind you’re used to seeing.” He did not mean for his words to be so venomous. But the woman just shook her head with a smile. She unrolled the paper and when she saw the stamp, it vanished into spine-chilling magic that washed away in the night air. She took another pull from her pipe.

“You want me for a week? Why?”

“As a gift.”

“What if I’m bad.”

“Are you?”

She smiled and leaned in closer. One hand dragged down his toned chest. His breath hitched in his throat. “I’m very good.”

“A thousand. Each night.” He grabbed her wrist. It was delicate in his palm. And warm.

“Twelve hundred.” She countered. “And I want five hundred right now as a down payment.”

His eyes fell down to her breasts, thinly veiled beneath her transparent red shawl. When she moved, the soft flesh jostled with her. She noticed and inched closer. 

“Viago?” Her name on his lips like a whisper. He felt himself stiffen again and he ground his teeth together. 

“I have the money. Just not here. We’ll have to take a gondola.” He turned briefly to look out into the canals to see if a boat was near enough to be called, and when he looked back, she was inches away from his face. Dark eyes looking into his through thick black lashes. He could feel her chest pressed against his and smelled the smoke from her pipe on her breath. She was warm and soft and so close to him it was nearly impossible to not want to close the distance and press his lips against her.

She moved her chin slightly then turned away abruptly. “Don’t take those boats. I have a better one.” She rolled her wrist that Viago was still holding so their palms were cupped together. “Come, Sr. Crow.”

Her heels made satisfying clicks with each step she took in front of him. Viago kept his arm stiff and straight so she’d be as close to him as possible to hide the fact he was holding her hand. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she pulled once more on her pipe and exhaled with a smile, happy that their hips were bumping each time they had to dodge an incoming crowd. She stopped him at the base of some stairs leading into the canal and waved her head. 

A fully covered gondola quickly appeared from down stream, and magic was used to lift the flap leading inside. 

“Tell the good man where we’re going.” She urged Viago as she slipped inside. Viago relayed it to the masked Gondolier and followed her beyond the covers.

The inside was only big enough for the two of them. The woman sat on the far side and Viago sat heavily next to her. Behind them in a small niche a few candles burned behind a screen, illuminating the space. The thick curtains around them retained the head of the flame and Viago pulled down his hood.

She let her pipe smolder on a small shelf in front of them. The smoke was sucked out through a small slit in the cloth. Her smell and the entire essence of who she was, though, permeated the small cabin. Viago’s leg bounced. 

“What exactly am I signing up for?” 

“Whatever your usual services are.”

“Don’t be so dense.” She rolled her eyes. “Am I going to be tossed around? I charge extra if it's more than three people at once. I can handle being roughed up but not to any abnormal extent. Pulling my hair is the same way. I’ll need certain remedies afterwards if you want to involve magic or different instruments. All the usual liquids are fine, but if you’re going to whip out your cock and piss on me it’ll be extra –”

“Maker!” Viago gasped. He shivered at her words, but she only laughed at the interruption.

“Don’t act so proud, Viago.” She touched his chest. “Your body is giving you away.” Her hand slipped down to his stomach and then below his belt where she grabbed at the stiffness there. Viago jumped, a shivering breath hissing through his teeth. She matched his heaving breaths with her own, mimicking him and making the air thicker. “Already so eager…”

His legs spread open involuntarily at her squeezing and pawing and his hand shot down to her wrist. “I haven’t paid you yet.” His cheek turned to her.

“First one is on me.” Her teeth snagged his lip and the pain made his hips buck. 

Her hands found his belt and made quick work of it. She pulled apart his trousers with expert speed and touched him through the linen shorts beneath. He twitched at the gentle tickle of her long fingers feeling their way down his length still curled against his clothes. 

“Touch me, too.” She whispered. Viago wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in closer. The other went tentatively to her chest. He pulled away her shawl, then the red silk of her blouse to reveal her breasts. Round, full and warm to the touch with two dark nipples. He brushed one with his finger and it stiffened as she sighed in pleasure. 

She pulled him out of his pants and gripped the base tightly. His cock curved to the right, away from her, and she stood it up straight as it continued to harden. 

“You’re beautiful, Viago.” She sighed against his lips. His eyes fluttered at her words. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

His hand groped her breasts in large circular motions. Her nipple poking out between his fingers. His other hand rubbed at her waist and then her ass and then gripped harshly on her thigh as her hand squeezed around his tip. He hissed at her involuntarily, and she gave a sloppy kiss to his cheek that silenced him. Pleasure shot through his legs and down into his toes in his boots. His chest heaved as her hand worked up and down and up and down. He had worked himself up more than he thought he had, and wet noises quickly filled the cabin.

“Don’t think about anything.” Her lips against his skin were like hot irons. “Focus on my hand.”

Let go? Let go? Viago moaned, his mouth falling open. His leathers were suddenly too tight and his skin too warm. He wanted to strip naked and fuck her. He wanted to do this his way. But her hands on him and her smell in his nose; the sweetness of her voice telling him he was beautiful – it was melting the icy exterior he had long since been building.  

Her pace sped up. Viago’s hips bucked. He gasped for air and inhaled her smell. His eyes closed. She kissed his cheek again. His hands squeezed her harder, his fingers pinching and rubbing at her nipples. Her movements were rocking him harshly against his seat. Lewd noises slipped from his mouth. 

“You wanted this. You wanted me to touch you like this.”

Yes. His eyes looked down to see her touching at his cock, playing with his glistening tip, feeling him twitch against her.Yes. One of her legs hooked in his to spread him open even more, and he whined at the feeling. 

“You’re so needy – already making such a mess all over my hands.”

His hips bucked up and she pushed him down against the seat. His own wetness made her hands slip easily against him.

“You want to cum?”

Maker. He wanted to speak but his heart was pounding so hard in his ears he almost couldn’t hear her. His jaw dropped to his chest, his hand squeezed at her nipple. His moans echoed against hers as the intensity of his pleasure reached a fever pitch. 

Yes. Yes. 

Yes!

She untangled herself from him, slipped to her knees, and as Viago felt himself letting go, she took him into her mouth.

The heat of her made him shout. His cock slipped down into her throat and pressed against the warm, wet, soft flesh inside her. He threw his head back, gasping as his hands found her hair and pushed her down even further against his stuttering and bucking hips. His foot jerked up and found the wall of the cabin to push against. Sweat rolled down his neck as his stomach fluttered from his orgasm. He was heaving, and squirming as she hollowed out her cheeks. Her tongue was working on the stiff underside of his cock as it throbbed with each white robe he shot down her throat.

She pulled off him with a wet noise, kissed his blushing tip and wiped her mouth.

He had known orgasms before. Maker knows he’d found pleasure in Teia’s hips and thighs. In her mouth too, like just now. But always in the confines of someplace safe and private. Not a gondola cruising down the canals. Not in such a small stuffy place. His heart was beginning to calm along with his ragged breaths. The gondola could have stopped. Someone could have seen. Seen the Fifth Talon with a whore between his legs. 

Viago did little to hide the half smile on his lips.

His fingers shook as he clothed himself again. His toes flexed in his boot. He wiped some sweat off his brow and leaned his head back against the wall.

“Like I said.” She took her place by his side again. “I’m very good.” Marionette (Ao3)

Read the other five chapters on Ao3 with more to come!

[rattzphobic]

Marionette Ch. 7

Marionette (Ao3)

NSFW WARNING

Teia and Viago left Illario alone with Marionette in the picturesque forest beyond the de Riva Vineyard.

Tags and full chapter below the cut! Read the previous six chapters on Ao3 with more to come!

Handjob, blowjob, cunnilingus, squirting, double penetration, public sex, voyeurism, spanking, choking, throat training, edging, orgasm denial, prostitution, breeding, hair pulling, lingerie, bondage, sensory deprivation, rimming, marking, watersports, mutual masturbation, outdoor sex, scratching, puppy play, humiliation, creampie, body worship, wrap around, threesome, vaginal, anal, somnophilia, cnc, spanking  07

The narcissus flower had its roots in an ancient Elvhen story that had been told and retold since the beginning of recorded history. They said an elf had found himself so enchanted by his own beauty, that one of his gods had cursed him to forever grow by the poolside nearest his own reflection. When hearing that story for the first time, Illario had always imagined the brightest, most vibrant blue flower growing in a hazy spring field beside a clear stream turned silver in the moonlight. 

When he saw the bloom for the first time, he was disappointed.

It was only a small white flower with a yellow center. It didn’t strike him as the kind of plant to inspire mythology. 

It was only when he picked it up and pulled it to his nose that he understood. Bitter orange and woody notes filled his mind with the idea of a elf so beautiful all the world stopped and stared. He had worn the flower in his breast pocket for months after that. A new one each day. Soon enough, the flowers had propagated into the garden, and the white bloom was everywhere. 

The memory was the only reason why he recognized the woman's scent. But her flower was different. Darker. It coaxed him in closer. 

He wondered if the water loved looking back at the handsome elf. He wondered if the grass itself grew in glee of having been touched by him. 

Jasmine. Rose. Par Vollen Orange Flower. Vanilla. Musk. 

Touch me. 

Eat me. 

Devour me.

She was sitting on the other side of the table with all the languidness of a cat out in the sun. Her black hair was loose around her shoulders. It spilled like ink down to her waist. Her skirts pooled around her in the chair, and the red silk seemed even more vibrant in the sun.

“You didn’t answer my question before.” Illario spoke up. Viago and Teia had disappeared down into the wood beyond them, leaving the two alone. 

“Hm?” She turned and gave him an innocent look, but her smile was anything but.

“Have you been crying?” 

A muscle in her throat twinged below the red ribbon. “Such a personal question. And you haven’t even yet asked me my name.” She shook her head.

“I know it already. Your keepers were shouting it like hens clucking for their chick before they found you again in the vineyard.”

“My keepers?” She scoffed.

“Isn’t that what they are?”

“They’re… proprietors.” She corrected.

“Of?”

She shrugged and stood. She had full breasts that moved beneath the thin fabric of her bodice with each step she took as she paced beyond the table in slow movements. Her smell blew towards him in the wind. Her eyes never met his; and he knew it was not for any reason of shyness. She was playing with him. He felt a tightness in his chest and a warmth in his gut and shifted eagerly in his chair. 

“Marionette.” He pouted in voice only. She stopped her pacing, looking beyond.

“You don’t have to skirt around the word whore.” Her shoulders rose as she exhaled a sigh.

“I wouldn’t insult you so.” 

“It’s not an insult. To me, at least.”

“Don’t tell me Mama Teia and Papa Viago rented you out to come here to fuck you.” He said in feigned shock. Half unbelieved, half hoping it was true. 

When she did look at him, his heart jumped up into his throat. Her eyes alone were his answer. 

“And now you’re here with me.” He wanted to laugh. The grin that split his face was enough. The idea that Viago and Teia were… were… Illario swallowed thickly. She had been crying. She had been doing something. Something that made her cheeks red and her eyes glisten with tears. He wondered which one had done it. Which one had broken her and made her keep walking after. He wanted to do it, too. He wanted to do it better. 

“And now I’m here with you.” She mimicked.

Marionette was a few short paces away from him, standing against the backdrop of green like a splash of blood. Her skirts ruffled in the soft breeze. Illario tilted his head as he began to think. Viago didn’t leave them alone together by accident. Was this a test? Or a slight way of giving her away for a moment? He saw her gaze go to look at the trees. He wondered what was on her mind. 

Finally, after a brief silence, he spoke.

“Take off your clothes.” 

With her back to him, he saw only the slight tilt of her head, and the soft profile of her nose as she tossed a look over her shoulder before she began.

Slim, deft tanned fingers reached around her and began work on the thick, strong laces of her bodice. The thing was lined in silk, but most likely made out of a stronger fabric beneath like linen or canvas. The eyelets for the laces were rimmed with gold, and around her waist, connected to the edges of the structure were strings of glittering clear crystals that rung gently as she slowly pulled the piece of clothing apart. Her fingers worked at the bottom, untying a knot, and then slowly kept working up until the bodice fell around her ankles. 

She stepped off to one side, and hooked the bodice around the tip of her bejeweled slipped and tossed it off into the grass. She was left with a shift beneath, connected to the first layer of her skirts. A red silken piece of fabric with fluttering sleeves. 

Her body. Illario wanted to drink that forever. Long legs made longer by her heeled shoes. Slender arms with softly rounded shoulders. A small waist made half hidden behind her thick dark curtain of hair. Marionette pulled her black tresses over a shoulder to show off the deep dip of the dress, exposing the soft skin of her back. He saw the elegant curve of her spine and the barest hint of subtle marks on her skin where her clothing had bitten into her. It left sore pink marks in the shape of the hard line of the bodice. 

Marionette bent over. Her hands hooked on the bottom of her red skirt and slowly, slowly pulled up. It left, now, her corset and her petticoats.

She wore white beneath her red. Was that supposed to mean something? Illario covered his smile with a strong hand and leaned against the table. She was no blushing virgin, that much was true. Her silent undressing, her subtle movements. He saw the curve of her breasts from where he was. Her arms were still raised above her head as she tossed away her dress. He saw the way they moved as she lowered her hands, touching at herself where he could not see. But Illario had a vivid imagination.

His cock throbbed in his pants. He shifted in his stiff chair and swallowed. The anticipation of a good fuck always made him anxious to get it started. But what were her words? He had to earn it? He inhaled, keeping his eyes on her. He would not break this dance. Not until the right moment, at least.

Her skirts were tied in the back, and her fingers once more snaked around and pulled at them. The first petticoat. Then the second. When the last one dropped, it revealed white and silver garters holding up pale stockings attached at her tight laced corset.

And her bare ass against the wind.

He clicked his teeth and shook his head. She stopped.

Her cheeks were marked with the red lashes of a punishment. But it was no crop or hand that made them. It was a belt. A thick, leather belt most likely buckled around Viago’s waist. The lashings left angry red welts across her otherwise perfectly smooth skin, but the pinkish aching flesh seemed only to add to Illario’s arousal. He stood and wiped his mouth, walking over to her.

Still she would not look. It did not matter. He did not need her eyes now. 

He touched her thigh first. Then dragged his fingers across one band that connected to her stockings up to where it pressed against the curve of her ass. He pulled at it and let it slap back down against her. She jumped. Her breasts jostled at the movement.

“What am I supposed to think, huh?” He whispered in her ear. He could smell that black narcissus flower so strongly now. It mixed with her natural musk and the sweet taste of her sweat. He pressed his nose against her scalp just above her ear. His hand grabbed at the soft flesh of her behind. “Sloppy seconds? Marked by someone else before me?”

He spanked her and she gasped. His hands dipped low to touch her cunt and found it sopping. 

“I had to learn a lesson.” She replied, leaning against him, her shoulder to his chest. 

“I imagine it was hard not to.” His fingers spread her lips in several lazy movements. He touched her opening, feeling the fleshy juiciness, but he never slipped a finger inside. Her legs were shaking them, her breath coming in short pants. Still she did not look. “What was the lesson?”

She laughed. A sweet sound. His other hand found her breasts and took one in a palm. They were warm, full and firm when he gave a squeeze. “My place.”

His hands went down from her breasts to meet his other hand between her legs. One from behind, the other in front. He found her throbbing clit and swirled it with one hand. Her whole body shuddered and jerked at the touch. “So sensitive.” Illario chided. All she could answer back with was a moan. 

Her warmth, her wetness, her smell, her presence. Her voice. Her dark hair. The red dress and the white corset and her tanned skin and the marks on her ass and her shaking body. Illario was hard pressed against her arm. When she shuddered at his hands, she rubbed against him, adding to his arousal. 

Her clit was soft and fleshy. Warm from the heat of her core. Illario wanted to touch it with his tongue and taste her in his mouth. But his fingers did the exploring. He pushed apart puffy flesh and touched the puckered hole of her ass before giving her another spank while he kept working on her cunt. The pain was making her shudder and the pleasure was making her blush. Her gasps were becoming sharper, her moans shorter and needier. She leaned hard against him, her hips pressed against his fingers. 

Without warning, her right hand found his wrist and pushed him harder against her and she bit her lip and her back arched and her ribs strained against her corset. Illario felt her throbbing and her moans became strained. He didn’t slow down. He felt her body become tense and she shifted from foot to heeled foot and rolled her hips against his unforgiving touches. He groaned out a laugh when she moaned his name and finally, did she look up at him.

Her eyes were big and black and her cheeks were red and her lips were wet from where she had sucked them into her mouth through her pleasure. She said his name again, her eyes filling with tears, and her hand went from his wrist to his forearm and then to his elbow as her calls became more desperate until –

Illario pulled away and she nearly collapsed. A frustrated shriek slipped from her red lips and she gripped hard on his arms. He felt her hips bucking, her knees going weak. 

Her mewling and begging was near incomprehensible. Staccato words peppered by staggering, shuddering breaths. A flushed, pinkish face glowing with sweat and fresh tears. Illario was rock hard in his pants. She turned to him again, twisting her body so she was pressed flat against his chest, her hands going to his hair and pulling the tie loose, letting his long inky locks fall around his jaw. Small hands pulled down harshly on his neck and she slammed her lips into his. 

Their kiss was a warm, desperate touching of the lips and teeth. Illario tasted her saliva, sweet from wine. When she parted to gasp in some air, she made soft noises. Her hands were comBing through his hair, her hips pressing into his, her legs moving against him. She was needy, desperate, and Illario was the cause of it all.

He felt like that memory – like Nar’cissus, the ancient elf. He felt worshiped and needed. He laughed at her wanton touches. His own hands were dragging down her waist, feeling the smallness there made more apparent by her corset. He grabbed at her ass, and she hissed against his mouth at the pain. Would the Gods smite him down, too? Not that he believed in them.

The idea of sex is stronger than the idea of Divinity. Illario knew that well. He had people shrieking for the Maker beneath him, mumbling to Avvar and Dalish gods alike – crying out for the ancestors while he fucked them into walls and beds and floors. That too was a form of worship. It was like setting a coin at the feet of Andraste. Like leaving herbs at the feet of Sylaise. Like a lopped off braid for the Lady of the Skies. Like Lyrium for the ancestors. It fed him; his powers only growing with each sacrifice. 

She kissed his lips and kissed the face of a God – of one that held her immediate pleasure in his hands.

He moved down to her neck, feeling the rough edges of her ruby necklace against his lips, then lower between her breasts. She shivered and clung to him, her feet walking backwards as he moved them towards the table. He took one breast in hand, the other arm scooped her up to sit on the hard iron surface of the counter. Marionette wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him in and kissed him again. 

Illario knew what she was feeling; the hot anticipation and lightheadedness of want. She was breathless against him, hands pawing at his clothes to feel his skin; she managed to get his leather vest undone to expose his chest before he pulled off her again and leaned her back on the table. Without asking, she pulled her knees up to her shoulders, arms hooked beneath them, and she peered down at him. 

“Are you looking?” An innocent, poised question. She smiled, her face a mess and yet still so beautiful. 

Illario fell to his knees and pressed his tongue against her clit in answer. She squealed.

He could not describe her taste; she simply tasted the way she smelt. And felt. Warm, aroused. Musky. Her clit was like a soft fleshy pearl on his tongue. He swirled it wetly, feeling her hips tremble against him. Then, with one hand, he spread her out, fingers against her vulva, and he saw into the pinkish throbbing cunt that wanted him. 

A finger slipped inside and she arched her back and cried out his name. Her voice seemed so far away that it nearly didn’t comprehend in his mind. Illario shut his eyes to it all and felt her; tasted her. Devoured her. As she had wanted. As he wanted too. He lapped at her pleasure and curled his finger inside her, adding a second to feel for the soft spot inside he knew would be her undoing.

Her hand came down between her legs to grab at his hair and direct him more urgently to her budding orgasm. He paused.

“Show me.” He wiped his mouth on her thigh. “Tell me how you want it.”

“With your tongue – again.” She swallowed. “And your fingers…” He saw her lean her head back and take a deep breath before she looked down to see him again. “I want to make a mess all over your shirt.” She smiled.

A mess? He grinned back and pressed his tongue flat against her clit before finding the spot again with the tip. His fingers were stronger inside her, spreading her out, feeling her. He found a slow deep rhythm and felt her gasp around him. 

“Do you hear that?” She asked through shuddering breaths.

His fingers curled again. Illario heard it. Like a bell chimes of the chantry – the deep wet noise of a cunt near to bursting. The sound of clear trumpets calling a soldier home. She was close, and her stiff clit and her sopping cunt agreed. 

Her moans got louder, more intense. Her jaw fell open as he continued to work her until it was just his fingers curling inside her, wrist moving up and down. She was squeezing around him; the building pressure a tingling feeling around his fingers. 

“Cum for me.” He rasped. “Good girl. Cum for me.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed when she came. Her body shuddered and her legs shook and clear liquid squirted from her cunt, spraying down against Illario’s shirt. The whole table was shaking from her intensity and her hips bucked hard against the open air where his hand once was. He brought it down hard against her clit in a slap that earned another shriek of pleasure. 

His leathers were able to repel her mess easily enough. It slid down his chest and onto the grass. But the linen shirt beneath it was peppered with dark spots where the liquid made the color of the fabric damp. When he straightened up back to his feet, Marionette sat up from the table and put her hands on his shoulders. She had this sudden wild look about her. Glistening eyes, tousled hair. Her breasts moved in tandem with her heaving ribcage as she recovered from her orgasm.

 Wordlessly, she kissed him again. Hard, like before. One hand cupped the back of his head, and the other went down between his legs to cup him there. She was as hot as a burning coal. Her fingers were deft and quick. Illario pulled her hips closer and she pushed off the table to stand. She was so small against him, so hot and needy. She pulled off the kiss to look behind him and when he turned back to see what was there, he saw her skirts tossed onto the soft layer of grass. Like a blanket. And he knew. 

Laying down over her clothes, Illario extended out on his back. Marionette straddled him. Leaning over, ass in the air, she pressed herself against his chest, breasts against his sternum, hands by his head. 

Looking at her like this… Illario felt strangely at ease. His hands rubbed at her thighs as he took in her new look. Big brown eyes, streaks of dark makeup down her blushing tanned cheeks. Red lips, a softly rounded chin. Her hair spilled over her like a curtain of dark ink, covering him from the sun. He opened his mouth to say something, anything – to let a compliment spill out to break the heady silence.

Instead, Marionette leaned down and with one slow movement, lapped out her tongue and licked him. 

From chin to nose off to his right cheek, her tongue left a hot warm trail over his skin. Illario startled, his hands freezing on her thighs. His heart froze in his chest… but his cock twitched in his pants and his smile grew. She laughed when she saw his shocked face. One of her hands went back to fish him out of his trousers and she pressed his wet tip against her cunt, rubbing herself there breathlessly. 

His hips bucked involuntarily at the contact. He rubbed at her again, her stockings, her garters. He spread her cheeks and gave them a soft spank that earned a gasp of pain from Marionette, and then, with a slowness that could kill, she took him inside her. Inch by delicious inch, until she was planted firmly against his hips.

Illario’s mind went blank. His hands flexed against her skin and his eyes fluttered shut. He didn’t realize he had needed it this badly. But now that he was in her; her tight warmth, her fluttering muscles – he desperately needed more. A sling of small curses flew from his mouth as he watched her adjust herself over him. Hips swirling against his, thighs squeezing at him from his sides. She straightened up and dragged her hands up the bones of her corset to her breasts, where she grabbed each one and squeezed them, pinching at her nipples.

Her insides fluttered when she did that, and Illario groaned. 

Marionette set the pace. She leaned over and put her hands on his chest and started bouncing her hips against his. The feeling was magic – it was addicting.

This was divinity. Leastwise, it was the closest thing Illario could ever get to it. There was no other feeling like this in the world. When two bodies came together and created something new. There was power in the naked form. A power that was stronger than any mages spell or assassins poison. He knew just how far someone might go to get a glimpse at him undressed, or to feel the touch of his lips on theirs. It was worth more than any amount of gold any King or Emperor or Divine could pay.

Illario put his hands on Marionette’s hips and helped her slam herself down against him. She was moaning sweetly between them. Eyes shut, body shivering as he bucked his hips up into her warmth. The weight of her on him felt like a warm blanket, her nails were dragging down hard lines on his chest. The pain made the pleasure all the better. 

“Oh, Maker!” Marionette shrieked. She was speeding up. He felt her quivering around him. Illario felt his gut go taught. His toes curled in his boots. He bit his lip. There was no time to call out her name. There was not even a thought to pull out of her. Instead. He threw his head back, groaned, bucked his hips up hard into her, and came. 

She gave a gasping shiver. Her own body squeezed around him, throbbing and sucking him in, taking him all the way inside her as his hips gave thrust after thrust in tandem with the roping of his seed. 

He touched her breasts. They were warm and soft. He took a nipple between his fingers and rolled the hard bud to see the skin twist and react. 

“Don’t stop.” She  shook her head. She grabbed his wrist and pushed him harder against her. “Don’t ask me to stop.” Adjusting herself, she leaned back into a squat, her hands on her knees. Illario could see himself between them where his cock disappeared into her cunt. He saw his own cum leaking down around his length from inside her. He gasped.  

“So eager for more?”

“You’re still hard.” She lifted herself up and slammed herself back down again. Illario squirmed, a sweet noise slipping from his lips he had never made before.

She was right. He hadn’t gone soft after he spilled out inside her. He was still throbbing and riding the high of his first orgasm, but it seemed Marionette wanted more. Illario had never gone beyond the first climax. He had become an expert in foreplay enough so when he finished, his partner would already be too worn out to go on. But Marionette?

The wild look in her eye had not gone away. She was bouncing on him with reckless abandon, her head leaned back with eyes closed, moaning to herself. Illario ground his teeth. He was sensitive – each slap of skin and stroke inside her was like hot fire in his belly. Something was winding up tight in his chest. He grabbed her ankles to steady himself, but his groans turned to moans turned to whimpering as he strayed further and further from the edge of the known limits of his body.

It was like being in your cups – being too in your cups. Drunkenness. But this was no ordinary tipsy feeling. Illario’s hips jerked up against hers and he was struggling to maintain his cool. His hands were palming her, his speech stuttering, his breaths getting caught in his throat. She kept riding, she kept fucking him. She kept moaning and taking from him things he didn’t know he had and he fucking loved it.

His head lolled back against the soft grass. The smell of the black narcissus perfume mixed with the scent of their fucking and the freshness of the grass loomed hard above his head. His vision spotted as his pleasure mounted to a head. He did not notice his eyes closing. He could not tell the light from the dark. She was everything. 

“Illario.” She growled his name, her hands on his chest. Her magic poured from her hands in a wave of purple electric bolts that shocked him back into the present. His skin was on fire, his cock was painfully hard inside her. He wanted to cum again – he was going to come again –

He gasped, grabbed her waist and bit down hard on his lips and cried out. His hips lifted off the ground and halted her bouncing. This time, he really did shut his eyes. They squeezed closed and his teeth tore into the soft flesh of his lower lip and his cock buried itself deep in the warmth of the woman above him. He did not notice her own orgasm, thrumming against him. Nor her kisses on his neck and on his chest. Illario was gasping for air so hard it felt like he had almost drowned. 

With a hammering heart, he stared blankly above him, feeling everything and nothing. His legs were full of static and his mind was slowly, slowly coming back to him.

Where had he gone? He asked himself after a few moments passed. The Golden City? Had he left his body momentarily and touched the heavens? He swallowed thickly, suddenly in dire need for water. Marionette pulled off him and he cursed, his tip flushed and sensitive as it left her warmth.

She leaned back and showed him her cunt. A throbbing clit, his cum leaking from her folds like a divine fountain. It dribbled down to his toned stomach and on his leathers, drip by drip. Long fingers spread herself apart. 

“Illario.” She moaned with a giggle. “Look.”

“What,” He swallowed. “Did you do to me?”

“Was it too much?” She tilted her head. Her fingers found her clit and swirled on the pinkish muscle. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Marionette spoke through pursed lips, as if speaking to a child. Illario did not have the capacity to comprehend nor care for her sarcastic remarks. The fact that she was still able to keep going… His eyes followed her fingers moving in slow languid circles. 

“I – no.” He cleared his throat and tried to laugh it off. “No. You didn’t.”

She leaned over to one side and crawled off him. “I didn’t?”

“I don’t scare easily.”

“You cum easily.”

“It’s like that now, huh?” He laughed. 

She wiped at her face, smearing away the mess of tears and makeup off her cheeks before pulling at her petticoats from underneath Illario. He sat up and shuffled himself back into his pants. 

“Guess I can’t compete with professionals.”

She paused in her dressing, still on her knees. With a cocked brow, she pulled her petticoat to her chest to cover herself. “You did wonderful.” She assured. “I don’t know why… but I couldn’t stop myself. You were touching me all over and looking at me with those blue eyes of yours…” She stood. “Tell me you’re staying a while.”

Illario wiped himself clean with a handkerchief from his pocket. “I was going to stay for the wine.” He sighed, shrugging. “Though now, I think I’ll stay for something.”

“Which is?”

“The view.”