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heylittleriotact · 8 days ago

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𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫��𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤'𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐮𝐩 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝.

𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞.

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One Month Later

Rook's familiar form appeared on the stairs, stockinged feet skipping downwards as she hurried towards the door.

Even through the dusty glass, he could tell she looked divine, and when her bright smile lit up her face and she opened the door for him, her loveliness increased tenfold.

"Damn you clean up nice, don't you?" She practically dragged him inside and looked him over head-to-toe as if he was a particularly tempting Wintersend sweet she was having difficulty resisting. She slipped her hands under the lapels of his favourite wool suit - material a bespoke dark teal, single breasted, and not merely tailored to fit, but entirely custom made. She embraced him tightly with the sort of relieved gratitude that might belong to someone who hadn't seen him for a week instead, never mind the single day it had been. "I mean when you think about it, I guess you've just swapped one suit out for another, but I like this... it's nice seeing you in formalwear that isn't black for a change."

Pulling away, she smiled up at him. She smelled of vanilla and cinnamon - warmth and luxury that might have come across as sophisticated and extravagant if not for the unmistakable hint of citrus that trailed the base notes of the fragrance - it was the subtle bergamot and bitter orange punctuating the scent that kept it flirtatious and carefree where it might have otherwise been stuffy and predictable: it suited Rook perfectly - which was why he had purchased it for her when she became enamoured by a sample she'd come across weeks earlier. When she immediately balked at the price tag, supplying that anything that cost more than $60 per bottle was a pointless luxury, Emmrich only smiled indulgently at her and insisted it was no trouble on his part.

She soon revisited her definition of 'pointless luxury' shortly after unboxing the bottle of perfume when they returned to his house and she dabbed it on her pulse-points. The remainder of the afternoon saw her swanning around his home like she was Orlesian nobility: it clearly made her feel good - made her feel beautiful and empowered.

He wanted her to feel like that always.

"So glad that you think so, darling," his hand drifted down her bare arm from her shoulder as he enjoyed the sight of her attire for the evening as well. "And you are entirely breathtaking - though that comes as no surprise."

“You always know just what to say, don’t you?” She started up the stairs and Emmrich trailed behind, watching the hypnotizing shift of her gorgeous ass that was concealed under the tight material of the little black cocktail dress she wore - also courtesy of his credit card: she said she needed a new dress for the party, and he certainly wasn’t going to leave her to shoulder yet another financial burden during the time of year that was extremely costly for many people already.

“I speak only the truth, dear.”

It’s the right thing to do, he’d told himself at the time. It’s what anyone would do for their significant other if they had the means.

It certainly wasn’t born of a neurotic compulsion to hold her interest and prove himself: I’m safe, see? Stable, see? You need not want for anything with me, for I will give you the world and then some: jackets, dresses, designer shoes - orgasms - the 10 karat ruby and diamond necklace currently burning a hole in my pocket… please be my last love - please be the one…

Closing the door behind them, she breezed past Emmrich, her redolent perfume following in her wake. “Wine?” She asked, holding up her own half-empty glass of something red and cheap that probably tasted like grape jam.

“No thank you, darling. I’ll have something to drink when we get to the party.”

Rook nodded and passed him again, bringing her wine with her to the bathroom where she had clearly been finishing up with her hair when he arrived.

Emmrich watched, leaning against the wall outside the bathroom door, entranced by Rook as she resumed her routine.

He was quite certain he loved her.

But when to tell her that? When would be the best time to say the thing that could not be unsaid if her reaction was unfavourable?

She misted a bit of hairspray into the strands of hair that framed her face, then wrapped one of them around the barrel of her curling iron, standing on her tip-toes and leaning over the sink to closely inspect her makeup in the mirror.

He could tell her now - slip it into casual conversation with all the aloof nonchalance that he might use to remark on the shade and texture of the carpet beneath his feet.

She would look over her arm at him, curling iron still pressed to her head, and she’d laugh dismissively and ask if he’d been drinking before he came over. Then she'd shake her head before looking back at her reflection, thereby granting him absolution for his errant slip of the tongue.

“The Legendary Pink Dots, hm?” He observed instead, noting Rook’s choice of music that was issuing from the living room.

“Yeah. Been listening to them a bit more lately. I knew of them before, but finding that t-shirt in your drawer last month got me to thinking I should check out more of their stuff.” She unfurled the loose spiral of black hair from the curling iron and began twirling the hair on the other side of her head around it. The rest of her hair was pinned up in a simple but classy bun. “They’re good - super chill but like… still moody and somehow… kinda prog-y if you know what I mean?”

“Edward Ka-Spel and Phil Knight tapped into something quite unique when they got together. Which album are you enjoying the most?”

Rook sipped her wine, tipped her chin downwards and batted her lashes at herself in a way that served to remind Emmrich once again that - yes, you are certifiably mad about her.

“I mean… have you seen their discography? There are so many albums! I’m still working my way through, but right now it’s a toss up between Asylum and The Crushed Velvet Apocalypse with Apocalypse being slightly in the lead because ‘Just A Lifetime’ is a fucking banger.”

She set down the curling iron and unplugged it, squinting as she misted her hair with one more coat of hairspray.

“Just A Lifetime is particularly memorable,” he agreed.

“How much time do we have before we need to go?”

Emmrich lifted his wrist and glanced at his watch. “About fifteen minutes. Both Elijah and Becks are on the way into downtown, so it won’t take long from here.”

“Perfect.” She slipped by him again, her hand flat against his stomach as she imparted unto him a passing smooch on the way to her bedroom.

Every year Emmrich made himself available to carpool to the Wintersend dinner so folks that weren't driving didn’t have to find their own way there - they were responsible for their transportation home at the end of the night, but he was happy to provide a lift to the party to his colleagues.

This year, it presented a convenient excuse for he and Rook to arrive together: there couldn’t possibly be anything going on between them if she was just one more McDermott & Rafferty employee who had taken him up on a ride to the dinner, right?

A month into their relationship, they had managed to maintain discretion at work despite the challenges that presented themselves. For the most part they had both managed to maintain a facade of polite professionalism, trotted out in the form of cordial inquiries after each other’s weekends, banal small talk, and the courteous offer to top up the other’s coffee if one was going down to the staff room for a refill.

Of course, beneath all of that - and out of the view of their colleagues - were uncountable lingering glances veiled with anything from lust to admiration; there were carefully stolen touches - fleeting moments briefer than a second where Emmrich would sidle in behind her at her desk to reach for something in one of the cupboards, and his fingers would skitter over her shoulder as if to say ‘mind your head’ when he opened the door, even though there was no risk of it hitting her.

Sometimes their resolve wavered entirely, and they gambled on the electrifying risk of a long, slow, sweet kiss hidden in plain sight in an arrangement office when they knew they were unlikely to be interrupted.

Nobody thought anything of her leaving with him on the days they worked together: driving lessons had been the excuse since the beginning, and no one had any reason to suspect otherwise: if anyone was going to spend his spare time helping a coworker practice driving, it was Emmrich Volkarin.

But it couldn’t last forever - they both knew that. There would eventually come a time when it was no longer practical to continue their relationship in private, and something insistent and annoying in the back of Emmrich’s mind told him that time was coming soon: perhaps after the holidays, they had decided when it had been briefly mentioned by Rook a couple of weeks earlier.

Rook unboxed the brand new, metallic gold pointed toe stilettos (again, his doing) she’d stashed in her closet. Whisking the balled up tissue paper out of the toes, she slipped her feet into them and struck a pose for him, hitting a wide stance and resting her hands on her hips, chin tilted upwards, face endearingly haughty as she pouted like a bratty supermodel.

“Radiant,” Emmrich declared reverently - for she was: tattooed, foul-mouthed, plonk-loving and imperfect. A vision of beautiful flaws with hair dyed a shade of black that came from a supermarket aisle and could never be mistaken for natural, with ochre nicotine stains shading the insides of her index and middle finger. Her makeup was heavy and aggressive, blacks and reds contrasting sharply against pale, pale skin like war-paint. She was intense, obtuse, and defiant from top to bottom, but so, so alluring…

“One final thing to bring it all together, I think…” he crossed the room and stood before her, a humble supplicant granted a rare audience with a goddess to render unto her an offering in exchange for her benign favour… her boon… perhaps even her love…

Grey eyes flitted to the rectangular black velvet box he held between them. “Seriously?”

“I couldn’t help but notice that you possess very little gold - that’s said to be bad luck."

“Well that certainly explains a lot,” Rook quirked an eyebrow and lifted the box from his fingers.

“I would be terribly remiss if I didn’t do something about it,” he said, delighting in the rounding of her eyes when she flipped the lid open to see the elegant necklace for the first time. “Do you like it, darling? It’s important that you like it, you see - if you don’t like it then you’ll never wear it—”

“I love it!”

One word off. So close…

“Help me put it on?” Her face might have broken if she smiled any wider, and she pushed the box back into his hands, taking advantage of the momentary distraction to grab him by the lapels and crush her mouth against his.

“Mhmph!” He acquiesced around her tongue, distantly aware that he was going to have to scrub half of her lipstick off of his face before they picked anybody up because its presence would almost certainly raise questions… and eyebrows. A thin strand of saliva snapped between them when they parted and she settled herself on the chintzy red and gold paisley chair at her vanity, happy as anything.

“Mmmm... I feel like Rose in ‘Titanic’ except the dude putting a fancy necklace on me isn’t a massive prick,” she beamed, fingers tip-tapping excitedly against the scuffed wooden surface of the vanity as Emmrich - beaming as well - fastened the elegant and simple chain at the back of her neck. As hoped, the rectangular ruby, horizontally set across the thin gold chain was complimented by her pale complexion and the black and grey inks that lingered a few inches from it. A couple of inches up the chain, sat a single round cut diamond, lending a contemporary asymmetrical quality to the piece: it was unique and original, but not tacky or tasteless… much like Rook.

“Thank you, Emmrich,” she said, rising from the chair. “It’s honestly the nicest thing anyone’s ever given me.” Her fingers ran over the surface of the chain as if making sure it hadn’t vanished when she looked away from her reflection. “Thank you for all of this,” she motioned at herself. “I… I know you want to do it, but I feel like I have to tell you that you don’t have to—”

He silenced her fussing when he pulled her against him and surprised her with a kiss this time.

That appeared to be the excuse she needed, because before he could stop her - citing the fact that they needed to leave imminently to pick up Elijah and Becks - Rook had stripped his jacket down his arms and undone his belt buckle.

Whilst he was babbling something about needing to warm up the car, Rook dropped to her knees and fished his cock out of his underwear, wrapping her lips around it with brazen confidence that made his knees wobble and forced him to grip the back of the vanity chair.

It was sloppy. It was rude. It was wet and a bit trashy. The other half of her lipstick that she hadn��t baptized his face with was now smeared all over his cock, bright red and streaky.

He couldn’t help the embarrassingly ragged groan that ripped out of him when she swallowed around him, hollowing her cheeks and massaging the throbbing underside of him with her tongue.

“D-darling!” He panted, “You really don’t need to… mustn’t think that - that I… expect you to - we ought t-to be going, you see - I w-would hate to ruin your m-uh-makeup—”

He popped out of her mouth, lewd… vulgar… mind-numbingly erotic - and she looked up at him from the floor, the tip of his dick resting against her chin as she breathed, “Yes, we ought to hurry.” She shot to her feet and hiked her skirt up over her hips, bending over the back of the grotesque little chair and pushing her arse into the air. “I need you to fuck me.”

He could have made some excuse about time: about dreading being late - about worrying they’d smell of sex and sweat... about anything really, but as he stared at the pale round ass before him and the garters that ran down the legs attached to it, he discovered that he didn’t feel particularly moved to pass this up.

“Very well,” he purred, one hand drifting to her hip, the other towards her nightstand where the condoms were kept.

“Wait–” she said when she realized what he was going for. “I… I wanna feel you,” she explained. “All of you.”

Oh.

“My - uh… I have an IUD, remember?” She offered - he must have looked hesitant. “But if you’re not comfortable—” she blurted, seeming less confident suddenly. “— we can… w-we don’t have to—”

Shivering at what this meant - the unavoidable implication of such intimacy - he shushed her gently, drawing his hand back from the drawer to cup a handful of her ass, kneading the soft flesh and nuzzling into her hair, careful not to mess it up or take his eye out on a bobby pin. He pressed up against her, his leaking cock resting on the curve of her rear, leaving a glistening trail of precum on her skin.

“You’re sure, darling?” He whispered, willing his voice steady.

“Maker’s tits - yes. I’m not sleeping around with anyone else, are you?”

“Of course not!” The question had been rhetorical, but he couldn’t keep the hint of indignation from his tone.

Never. Never anyone else. Never again, if he had his way…

“Then let’s goooo!” She whined. “I can only get so wet.”

He imparted a soft smack to the ass cheek he’d been massaging in response to the snarky comment, causing Rook's breath to catch in her throat. “I would have it such that you were wetter still if we had the time, but you make it so difficult to say no to you, my sweet, lovely Rook…” he felt her shiver at his words, and he reached down to slip aside the flimsy little wisp of fabric that was covering her cunt - one of those seamless undergarments that professed to do away with unsightly lines and lumps.

He guided himself between her legs, feeling a shiver of his own when - for the first time - he felt the unimpeded heat and slickness of her against the head of his cock as he swept through her folds, breaching the tight, inviting entrance that awaited him.

Rook emitted a small hiss as he eased inside, and he heard a tentative ‘oh’ pass his own lips as he felt every euphoric inch of her walls - every ridge and valley, clenching and pressing around him until he was fully seated within her.

To hell with the dinner - he’d been to all twenty-seven iterations of the annual Wintersend soirée since he started at McDermott & Rafferty, and all twenty-seven were more of the same: a glorified staff meeting where everyone was too nervous to properly enjoy themselves, lest they offend a Rafferty and find themselves surrendering their tie and name tag Monday morning.

This was what really mattered - she was what really mattered - and being buried in her unyielding warmth… Rook’s perfect, accepting, fascinating warmth…

She squirmed against him, sending a jolt of sensation through his cock that dragged him back to the present.

“Fuck me you feel good, Emmrich…” she groaned, thrusting against him shallowly - not enough to make him blow his top, but enough to cause his fingers to tighten into the sleek fabric of her dress over her hips.

He met her next thrust, driving a rich moan from her, palming a breast through the fabric of her dress and squeezing. “So do you, darling…”

He wished he had something more romantic to say, but as her fingernails scraped into the textured paisley of the chair and she bounced on his cock, that incredible perfume wafting around them, he found that words failed him for the first time in his life, thoughts replaced with only her and the dawning realization that she felt too good: he was going to cum. Oh - he was going to cum soon…

“Rook…” he rasped, trying to slow her frantic, needy pace, certain his cock had never felt harder than it was in that moment. “Rook - ah - w-where—?”

She placed her hand over his, leaving indents in the backs of his fingers where her nails dug in, “Inside me,” she panted, not missing a beat - not hesitating at all. “Ohhh fuck… please cum in me, Emmrich…”

More beautiful words had never been spoken, written, or imagined: the art of the world’s greatest and most famous writers and poets was reduced to the low-brow pandering of the purple smutty drek peddled in drugstores and airports when compared to Rook's intensely evocative phrase. And well… since she asked so very nicely…

One more stroke of her perfect cunt was all it took to send him over the edge. He felt his dick twitch against her walls, and then the rhythmic pulsation of release as he spilled deep inside of her, the warmth and weight of his semen mingling with her own sweet secretions as she tightened around him.

He sagged against her back, rubbing her hip soothingly, trailing kisses up her neck, thanking her, praising her - worshipping her, and when the throes of her own orgasm subsided, she slipped off of him and turned around.

She reached between her legs and collected a thick bead of his spend that had begun migrating down the inside of her thigh with her fingertip. His heart nearly beat out of his chest when she laved her tongue over that finger while wearing the coy expression of one indulging in a wayward dollop of icing left behind after decorating a cake.

‘I love you!’ He wanted to scream, shattering the quiet sensuality of the moment. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her, staring down into her face as he raved. ‘I love you, Rook! Do you love me back? I beg you - please don’t leave me like this - I simply must know!’

However, that was not an appropriate way to comport oneself and would surely frighten the poor thing out of his arms forever. So Emmrich did the next best thing: he put his dick away, kissed Rook so passionately he was sure he felt her sway against him slightly, and then offered her his silk pocket square to save her the awkwardness of hobbling to the bathroom to clean up.

They were going to be late, and for once, Emmrich couldn’t care less.

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