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lavenderprose · 2 days ago

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Emmrook Short: Rooftop Interlude

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ALRIGHT well this scene doesn't fit the narrative of the fic the way I thought it would. Currently gnashing my teeth and trying to fit it in elsewhere. I'll just throw it up here in case it ends up being left on the cutting room floor. Have at it.

Emmrook | Explicit | Semi-Public shenanigans ahead

They are in Treviso, the coffee is strong and the stars are beautiful. Rook watches with an open, laughing mouth as Emmrich hangs from a zipwire and, embarrassingly, screams with both exhilaration and horror as he flies above the glass-calm surface of a dark canal.

When his feet touch on the ground, his knees immediately buckle, though they don’t hit the pavement. Rook jumps forward and angles her shoulder against his chest. His arms go reflexively around her and she laughs and laughs as his nose crashes into the top of her head. She smells of honeysuckle and sweat.

“Whoa,” she says, stumbling only a little under his greater height and weight. She pulls back just far enough to meet his eyes, grinning as she says, “Hey, you did it! It gets easier every time.”

“Oh!” he says, panting, voice gone just slightly hoarse from the hollering. “That was…oh my, that was—quite something, I’ve never—” He straightens up, laughs, swipes a hand through his hair. Rook doesn’t move away, and he’s distantly aware that she probably should—the area they’re standing in isn’t necessarily public, frequented as it is almost exclusively by Crows using the vast rooftop system to move about the city clandestinely. That said, it isn’t necessarily private either. One could easily misinterpret the sight of them standing here, panting and wrapped around each other.

Still, Rook doesn’t move. Her hands find their way up his back, curled over the angle of his shoulder blades, and Emmrich can almost feel every movement of her fingers, every creak of her joints even through the thick fabric of his greatcoat.

“Lucanis went ahead,” she says, and flicks her fringe away from her face with a small, neat movement of her head. Emmrich watches as her mouth opens, her eyelashes flutter, and her tongue wets the length of her top lip. “He was—um, worried Viago would get upset if we left him waiting too long. Also, Spite was getting antsy.”

“Ah,” Emmrich breathes. “Well, forgive me the time I delayed us. I consider myself quite athletic, mind you, but overcoming one’s dread at the idea of zipping through the air—that’s quite something else!” He barks out another laugh, because it’s the only thing he can think to do.

“You did great,” Rook says again, and shifts against him in such a way that her hip collides with the front of his trousers. It’s purely accidental, and wouldn’t affect him in the slightest under normal circumstances—he’s more than capable of controlling himself, even with the feelings she inspires in him. There is, however, a great deal of adrenalin still coursing through him, and when her body presses to his—and one of her hands finds his chest.

“I am so sorry,” he gasps, taking a full step back. He’s embarrassed, flaming with it, and unfortunately it does nothing to ease his problem. There’s a wire crossed there—he’s never taken the time to examine it.

A moue of surprise curls onto her face. “That’s—alright. No, really, it’s fine—” She makes a grab for his hand as he takes another step back, and the grip she tugs on him with is shockingly strong. When he brings himself to look closely at her face, pushing past the mortification, he finds a sheen over her eyes and a high, pink blush blooming across her cheeks. She sucks her lip into her mouth. “Um. Here—”

She pulls him away from the ledge by which they are still, bizarrely, standing. There is a very narrow crevasse between the rooftops of two buildings, less than two full feet in width, and it’s into this crevasse that she leads him. They keep going until the moonlight almost doesn’t hit them anymore, illuminating only the silky top of her tonic-lightened hair and the metal notions on her gear.

Once sufficiently deep for her liking, she turns and pushes him into a wall. He’s panting, exhilarated and just a little alarmed, and she whispers, “Emmrich. Tell me, um. Tell me to stop, and I will.” Then her small hand reaches down his front, finds the outline of his erection, and tenderly caresses the throbbing head of his cock.

“Oh,” Emmrich whimpers, head clonking back against the brick wall. All ideals of propriety he’s ever been taught demand that he tells her to stop—that he politely rebuff her advance, initiate an encounter properly, privately, or else give himself over to the silent longing that is his lot in life. He knows he should, and yet cannot bring himself to; he is weak, weak for her, and she is beautiful, warm and offering herself to him like a wrapped gift. The weight of her hand, her sweet breath against his neck—he can only welcome them.

“Sh, sh,” she whispers. “You feel good. Is that—do you like—”

“Yes,” he gasps. “Yes, that’s—” He sighs, squeezes his eyes shut. “Please, Rook—please.”

Rook gasps against the crook of his neck, wet and hot, then she’s gone. His head spins as he processes her absence, and then her hands find him again—from below, and he looks down. Amber pools, so deep he could sink into them and never surface, examine him from hip-level. Her fingers are frantic, fumbling at the buckles and ties between the air and his flesh.

Emmrich Volkarin, who is far enough into his second half-century of life that he should know better, and still young enough that the world often manages to surprise him, stutters out a single word of protest—Rook, simply her name—and then can’t bring himself to finish the thought.

“I want to,” she says instantly, clearly aware of his train of thought. “Maker, I want you in my mouth. Let me suck your cock.”

“Okay,” he squeaks. “Okay—yes—that—Rook, darling, that button is a clip—"

He is stunned, overcome and so deeply aroused that he thinks his head might just pop clean off. Rook, who seems to know this, fixes him with a look of utter desire and he knows that whatever is driving her to do this, it isn’t something he needs to save her from. He joins her fumbling and, together, they free him from his clothes. The sight of his purpled, wet cockhead next to her comely face is utterly obscene, and it almost undoes him before he has the privilege of sinking into the heat of her mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her, as she taps his cock on her chin.

“So are you,” says Rook, speaking directly to and possibly about his penis, but he can’t really hold it against her. He’s been known to appreciate the presence of a hard cock in his face, as well. The thought startles a chuckle out of him as she inches closer, settling into the task she’s chosen.

She shifts from her squat to kneel on his boots, keeping her knees out of the alley refuse, and his toes flex against the sweet, heavy burden of her weight as she takes him. Her tongue is clever, slick, twirling underneath the glans. Her eyes stay open and somehow, against all odds, his do too. Her lips are red, a perfect pucker around the veined shaft of his cock. Emmrich has always enjoyed congress in all its forms, giving and receiving, but the act of oral pleasure has always filled him with a particular mixture of shame and desire. Something about the baseness of it, the inherent submission of kneeling before someone and servicing them.

Rook doesn’t seem to do it as an act of submission, or even particularly an act of service. She gives fellatio selfishly, if that’s even a thing. Genuinely appears to enjoy it nearly as much as him; groaning around him, pressing forward until her nose is buried in the still-dark hair at the root of his cock, and fluttering her eyelids as if he can bring her to her own ecstasy simply by fucking her mouth. It would be a lie to say he hasn’t thought about this—Maker, he has, and he’ll be judged for that someday. He’s also thought about his hands on her breasts, the curve of her ass in his lap, and the way she might taste. They aren’t thoughts he’s ashamed of, necessarily, because he would never breathe a word of them to her unsolicited. He’s red-blooded, she is beautiful, and it has felt for at least some short time now that they were hurtling towards this inevitably. Nevertheless, it’s shocking that it would happen now.

He considers himself a sexual being, deeply enjoys the act of it as both a source of intimacy and relief, and seeks it out when he desires it. It has, however, been a long time since he had the time or inclination to do so. She brings him to the brink quickly, and he can hardly breathe to signal to her his impending release.

“Rook,” he gasps, a hand clutching onto the nearest part of her—which, unfortunately, is her hair. He grips a handful of it far harder than he intends to. She groans encouragingly, hands spidering up to grasp at the backs of his thighs, and he bites savagely into his gloved hand as he spills onto her tongue.

She leans over and spits, which is one of the grosser things he’s ever found erotic, and then asks, “Do you have a handkerchief?” Her voice is quiet, now with the subtlest rasp. He immediately pulls out his handkerchief and offers it in trembling fingers.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, wiping her mouth. She tucks him back into his trousers, reverse-engineering the complicated arrangement of his buckles with only a little guidance, and then briefly rests her forehead against his stomach. His toes are beginning to go numb under her weight—a minor and extremely bearable pittance.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asks, curling a finger under her chin.

“Mm-hm.” Rook tilts her head up, eyes still closed, and presses a lingering kiss to his thumb. It reminds him that they have yet to so much as kiss, despite the taste of him now lingering in her mouth. “I’m so turned on I don’t think I’ll be able to walk straight. Give me a second.”

“Ah,” Emmrich murmurs. She giggles. “If you desire some assistance in that regard, I would gladly offer it.”

“No time,” she sighs. “We were supposed to be at the Diamond ten minutes ago. Spite will know what we’ve been doing, and I’m sure he’ll tell Lucanis.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” Emmrich says, resting his head back against the wall. The stars are just visible between the eaves of the two roofs almost meeting each other overhead. They seem almost audible in their brightness. “Spite is more likely to smell the alley than the sex. We’ll tell him you fell in a gutter.”

“Oh, I’ve been in the gutter alright,” Rook mutters against his hip, and they share another giggle.

The meeting with the Talons is awkward. Their delayed arrival had, indeed, aggravated Viago de Riva—though Emmrich has it on good authority that this is by no means an impossible feat. Lucanis, too, fixes them with a vaguely disgruntled look. Emmrich returns it, not missing the flash of purple on the edges of Lucanis’ pupils, and can only hope that a steady, reproachful look is enough to dissuade Spite from inserting himself into the conversation. Despite his assurances to Rook, Emmrich doesn’t yet know enough about Spite to be absolutely assured that Lucanis’ demon counterpart won’t smell Rook’s breath and immediately take it upon himself to announce his knowledge of their liaison.

This, thankfully, never comes to be. Teia is predominantly amused by their obvious dishevelment, and Viago is still grateful enough to Rook for Treviso’s rescue that he lets any observations of his own pass largely unmentioned. Lucanis only says one thing as they pass through the Eluvian.

“…on your own time next time, okay?” Emmrich hears, as Rook and Lucanis emerge through the mirror behind him. He also hears Rook’s huffed laugh.

“Sure.”

Spite, emerging at last through Lucanis’ throat: “Rook. Your breath. Smells like co—”

“Ah,” Emmrich snaps, prim, because Spite responds well to firm guidelines. Misguided spirits are, after all, something of Emmrich’s specialty.

“Ugh!” Spite snaps, before fading back into obscurity behind Lucanis’ eyes.

“Well,” sighs Lucanis, rubbing his neck. “This has been…fun. I’m going home.”

Rook lets him stomp ahead through the strange brush of the Crossroads, giggling under her breath, and Emmrich ignores the stark sting of mortification on the back of his neck. When the tails of Lucanis’ cape are swaying a satisfactory ways in the distance, Emmrich slants his gaze towards her and mutters, “I think you’re amused by this, my dear.”

“They were going to find out anyway,” she sighs, and shakes a hand through her hair, falling badly now out of its pins. It’s been most of an entire day since she put them in. She pockets them as they come loose until, after a moment, her hair falls over her shoulders in a sleek, pin-straight waterfall. The shadows of her black roots are only just beginning to surface at her scalp. “We’re all living on top of each other. It’s like the Novice Watcher’s dorms all over again.”

“It was a rather, um, effective way to ensure our relationship becomes common knowledge,” Emmrich murmurs, hands twisting together as they meander after Lucanis’ rapidly retreating form. “There are Crows in Vyrantium who I’m sure will know by the end of the week. And with Spite knowing, it’s only a matter of time before—”

“I’m giving it ‘til Thursday,” Rook says, it currently being Tuesday.

“Mmm. That’s generous.”

“Emmrich.” She stops, hands buried in the pockets of her Watcher’s apron, and waits for him to wheel to face her. She’s frowning and seems to be actively engaged in the act of making herself smaller, like she’s bracing for a blow. “We don’t have to…if that was too much, just let me know. I’m not made of glass. I’ve been rejected before.”

“That,” he says, stern, “is far from what is happening here.” The idea of rejecting her after the gift of her attentions in the alley, as unwise as they may have been, makes him see red. Someone, somewhere, must have made her feel so utterly worthless at some point. Someone left her to think that her body could be taken for granted and her sexuality scorned. He should hope that individual never crosses his path on a dark night.

It’s only the intensity of his voice that seems to keep her from pursuing that line of thought. She shifts nervously, a sort of girlish uncertainty about her, and she says, “This is kind of how I am. Impulsive. I don’t always make great decisions. You should know that before this goes any further.

“Rook,” sighs Emmrich, and he closes in to grip her hands. “Do you honestly think that my sexual experiences are limited to dark bedrooms? Quite the opposite. It’s rather flattering to me that you witnessed my floundering and still desired me at all afterwards, let alone right that very moment.”

“Well.” Rook, posture loosening at last, slides her arms around his neck. “It was very sexy floundering.”

“Point being,” Emmrich murmurs, lips against the tip of her ear, “I greatly enjoyed the experience. I’ll admit to being somewhat…embarrassed, but that isn’t necessarily an undesirable consequence for something of this nature. Not for…a man such as myself.”

He waits for the meaning of his words to reach her, and that delicious shame drifts down his back when her eyes widen. “Oh. Oh.”

He clears his throat. “Yes. So, darling, you did nothing wrong…aside from make us tardy for the meeting with the Talons. I do so abhor tardiness.”

“Right. So, next time, work time into the schedule for the rooftop blowjob.”

“Congress under the stars can be so romantic,” Emmrich sighs elaborately, and he knows her confidence is done faltering when she laughs.

He wants to touch her, to feel the promised arousal between her thighs. He thinks about it on a loop as they walk back to the Lighthouse, but she begs off when they arrive.

“I’ll fall asleep on you,” she threatens.

“Not a distasteful thought,” he murmurs, hands low on her hips. He imagines easing her to sleep with swipes of his tongue—a gentle orgasm leading to a deep, dreamless slumber.

He feels her shiver. “I want to. I wish…but I have so much on my mind. Viago is concerned about Antaam movements, Davrin and I need to go speak to Antoine and Evka as soon as possible. I need to think. I need…” She sighs, rolls her eyes. “I think I need to talk to Solas.”

Of course. He’s allowed himself to forget, however briefly, that the Dread Wolf still quite literally occupies her mind. Her slumber is never truly her own, never private. He wishes now, as he often has, that they had met in the Necropolis, before the world took it upon itself to attempt to end for the third time in as many decades. Or else that he could insulated her from the burdens of her station, at least long enough for more than a furtive rooftop fuck.

When they part at the bottom of the stairs to her room, it’s almost unbearable to watch her go.

“Rook,” he says, before she opens the door. She turns to look over her shoulder, and he says, “If you need me—”

“I do,” she says, and disappears.

#DATV #Emmrook #Emmrich Volkarin #dragon age

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zachsanomaly · 2 days ago

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Don't forget DON'T FORGET to send him more letters. Don't forget that no matter what's happening with this case, or his fandom, or if he's guilty or innocent.

He's been held in solitary confinement without trial. He's alone. He's very likely not being treated well. We watched them slam him into a wall in spite of his back injury on live television. I can't imagine how much he suffers when no one is watching to get outraged. Keep sending him letters, books, donations, whatever you can. Just don't let him believe he's alone. He doesn't even have a cell mate to talk to and he hasn't been convicted of anything.

That could be you in there. That could be your loved one. It's a horrific thing that an American citizen can be charged as a terrorist for merely allegedly murdering ONE person when people are murdered every day in this country, in that same city, and many get a slap on the wrist. The only reason they're mistreating what could very well be an innocent person is to scare anyone out of ever daring to say "eat the rich"

But they'll eat us and dance on our graves. They wouldn't even bury us if it saved them a dime. They don't care about us, they don't care about justice. Right now they just care about putting a human being through the worst solitude imaginable, for months at a time, and he still hasn't been found guilty of doing anything at all.

Just don't let him believe that we let them get away with it. Don't let THEM believe they'll get away with it. Don't let this kid, this gen z suspect, think he's as alone as his cell walls are there to tell him he is.

#Luigi #free luigi #Mangione #luigi nicholas mangione #luigi mangione

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livefromthedas · 1 day ago

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Lifeless, barren, hazy and grey. At first, Rook could see nothing that would indicate where she was. She felt disoriented and unusually, bitterly cold.

“Spite?” Rook asked, her voice sounding weirdly hollow and distant in the space, “Are you—“

She turned and gasped. The form that Spite cut here felt surreal. Hunched and watching her with intense curiosity, the demon was a near carbon-copy of Lucanis, but shorter, somehow, and kohl black in color, as though dark, billowing smoke had worked itself into a person. Lucanis’s usually dark, kind eyes cut through that black in a bright, glowing purple.

“Maker, he wasn’t kidding,” Rook said pensively, slowly dawning on her just where the demon had brought her, “You’ve managed to look just like him. A demon with good taste.”

Spite didn’t immediately respond. He seemed unusually tense and twitchy, as though coming to grips with this very real new person encroaching upon a private space.

“Hey,” Rook said quietly, “Hey, buddy. It’s okay.”

Despite nerves that crawled in her belly, she steeled herself. Trust was a decision, albeit a potentially reckless one, and as had repeatedly been the case, Rook willed herself to trust Spite… at least until he gave her a reason not to.

The demon shied away, initially, at the careful hand she extended its way. But as she remained calm, he managed to still himself. And Rook found herself endeared as he nuzzled into the palm of the hand she’d graced to his cheek. Every bit as touch starved as his unwitting host.

“Spite, how did you manage to pull me… here?” Rook glanced around. It looked like the fade, but different, somehow. It was neither truly beyond the veil, nor a memory, as she’d experienced from Solas… It was, instead, somehow more familiar.

“Lucanis keeps us here. Always,” Spite said, “Behind locked doors. I can’t break through.”

“Keeps you here…” Dawning struck her and Rook’s eyes went wide, “Literally here… Mythal’enaste. Are we in Lucanis’s head? How?”

“Rook tastes his blood. Spite reaches Rook,” the demon replied matter of factly.

Rook winced against memories of waking to crimson on her lips, warm copper, and the immediate panic that had followed. Always a bit chaotic, with Spite.

“Okay, we are going to have to have a nice, long conversation about using blood magic. And soon,” Rook sighed, feeling ill. Spite seemed to tumble into an immediate panic, fidgeting where he stood, and she was quick to add, “But first, let’s figure this out. Lucanis is here?” The demon nodded quickly, and Rook glanced up and around, squinting against the gray haze, “Then, let’s go get him.”

No sooner had the notion left her lips, the haze of their environment began to clear - solidify. Rook took several paces forward, wide eyes blinking and mind doing her best to register what she saw.

A cold, despondent man’s voice - a memory? - rang in her ears.

“Couldn’t you simply die already? This experiment has gone on for far too long.”

Rook knew that voice.

“That was Calivan,” Rook stammered, “That son of a bitch. And this…” She was fighting internally what she already knew.

Spite ambled up beside her, watching closely as she admitted, “I know this place… It’s the Ossuary… the prison we freed Lucanis from.”

“Freed? No!” The demon scoffed, “We’ve always been. Here.”

Rook’s heart felt lodged in her gut as the full picture of what was going on here took shape, “Aw, Vehnan…”

She swallowed hard, shook off nerves, and did her damnedest to focus, before catching Spite’s gaze, “Ok, if he’s here, then where? Where they kept his blood?”

The demon grew excited. Hopeful.

“Yes! Go there!” Worry was quick to shadow Spite’s features again, though, “But… The locks. Everywhere. I can’t touch them.”

“Well, then, the least I can do is try,” Rook decided, “Come on.”

It was the Ossuary, but wrong. Darker. Somehow even colder and more cloyingly damp. Rook walked uneven ground that felt ready to drag her to her knees at a moment’s behest.

“So…” she thought aloud to the demon on her heels, “Less the actual Ossuary… more like.. the experience of the Ossuary.”

“Yes. Yes!”

“So, locks to the experience of the Ossuary…How do we get past those? Turn ourselves into mice? Fight giant spiders?”

Spite looked at Rook as though she’d grown a second head.

“By getting past the guards. It’s a prison.”

Rook managed an awkward laugh, “Right. Naturally.”

This was Lucanis’s consciousness, after all. And the man was nothing if not a pragmatist.

… A pragmatist with some very deep shadows, Rook was quick to find. With as damp and isolated as the Ossuary had felt in passing, it became nearly intolerable when combined with the weight of genuine fear. Of hopelessness. Of meager scraps of longing for revenge. The deeper Rook traversed its crumbling hallways and surprisingly claustrophobic ocean as sky, the more she felt all of these things. Viscerally.

“You feel the same pain he does,” she noted carefully, after his breathing once again matched the calm of her own, “Do you not feel his exhaustion as well?”

“All. Of it. And he feels. Mine.”

The depth of Lucanis’s shared experience with Spite hit Rook hard alongside this memory, and fast. It was horrible here. And heartbreaking.

“Promoted from flying vermin to malicious spirit,” Rook heard the memory of another familiar voice, “Whatever will you become next, I wonder?”

Zara Renata. That bitch. Rook bit hard, quelling anger. She pressed ahead with an even more determined stride.

“… Nobody’s here,” she said, baffled, as they waded into The Ossuary’s storage. Memories of blood vials - Proof of prolonged, meticulous torture and control - hovered eerily near by. Lucanis, however, was nowhere to be found.

“Of course not,” Spite said, “Rook can’t be here.”

Rook had barely begun making sense of that statement when she found herself bracing, hearing the memory of another familiar voice. Another absolute bastard.

Illario Dellamorte.

“If I were in charge, you wouldn’t have to do this anymore.”

“Oh, absolutely fuck you, guy,” Rook spat.

Still, she took the memory as a hint, and wandered in the direction of that voice.

It was a long, disparaging walk. Frayed memories and frigid, deeply compartmentalized feelings of grief seemed hidden in shadows around every corner. They broke her down, slowly and methodically. It was impossible not to share those sensations here. It was awful.

Worse still were scraps of parchment Rook kept finding, singed at the edges and written neatly in Lucanis’s hand.

…But we’re more like brothers. Caterina took us both in… (all we had left.)

What if I go after him and get Caterina killed? (All I have left.)

Rook was startled then, bracing to fight, when she rounded a corner to find someone else in the room with them.

And not just any someone.

The First Talon of the Crows, Caterina Dellamorte.

“Rook,” the old woman bit coldly, “Did you forget our deal?” She somehow stood taller than was natural.

Rook struggled to harangue the electricity that crackled anxiously at her fingertips. She breathed deep, and righted her stance, though no less baffled by the question.

“You were to bring my grandson back to me.”

Rook eyeballed the woman cautiously, “I… did?”

“You brought me an abomination,” Caterina sneered, “Where is my grandson?”

Rook was immediately incensed, “Oh, fuck yo—“

Spite’s slither up beside Rook, accompanied by a curious sniff, stole her attention.

“Tenderness and terror. Rage and relief. Old, stale fear of disappointment,” said the demon.

That’s right, Rook thought, this is the memory of Caterina - Lucanis’s idea of her - not the woman herself.

With everything he had told her in confidence about his family’s long-time matriarch, their relationship had been contentious, at best. Stories of days without food, time locked away in dark, tight spaces. Countless beatings with that damned cane if he so much as put a toe out of line.

“Lady, I don’t give a singular fuck who you are,” Rook sniped. This was a lie, of course - Rook did care. Deeply. Caterina was important to Lucanis. And, admittedly, Rook found the woman absolutely terrifying. But by the maker, she was mad - and it felt good to lay into Not-The-Real-Caterina, “He’s not fielding insults from anyone monstrous enough to do everything you did to a child.”

“I kept him alive,” Caterina replied simply. Frigidly.

Rook struggled to swallow, still furious. “Look, you say that you love him?”

“He is my grandson,” she said, as though that made it obvious.

“Lucanis is trapped here. Somewhere. He needs our help… he…” Rook sighed, “The idea of disappointing you terrifies him, do you get that? I think that’s part of the reason he’s even here.”

Caterina eyed her down the bridge of her nose, “What is it that you want? To release a demon?”

“The demon isn’t the one who’s trapped!” Rook gestured to Spite, who hovered - practically hid - at her left shoulder, “Lucanis is. Out of fear that he’s failed you… when you know he hasn’t done a damned thing to deserve what he was put through here.”

Rook stumbled back a pace, bumping back into an equally startled demon. Caterina’s entire visage had suddenly undulated and churned. Seconds later, it evaporated into a haze of white light, the old woman’s last words fading with her, “My poor boy.”

“Ok, Lucanis,” Rook muttered before righting her stance, half-smiling that the man’s demon seemed uninterested in releasing his grounding grip on her arm, “What’s next?”

There were more people to be found, it turned out. Or, visages of people they knew, at least - shallow projections of them rooted deep in a fear of rejection.

First came Lace Harding. This surprised Rook at first - He and the tenacious little dwarf had gotten on quite well over the past many months. Rook often caught Lucanis smiling fondly after the little woman, like one would an endeared little sister.

But then she remembered their rocky start. With so much experience fighting demons beneath her belt, Lace had been more vocal than most about their new “team abomination.” She hadn’t trusted Lucanis in the least, and made no qualms about saying so. Out loud. Repeatedly, and oftentimes as though Lucanis wasn’t even in the room.

And then, there was Neve.

Ah, Neve Gallus. Stunning, brilliant, irritatingly charming Neve. Rook liked Neve. Truly, she did. But she also doubted it was lost on anyone by then that Rook had stopped bringing the detective and Lucanis on missions together after only a handful of outings to Dock Town within weeks of the Crow’s joining the team.

They had chemistry, Neve and Lucanis. She also clearly found the man attractive, having little problem saying so - Neve was a flirt, and a talented one. And petty thought it was, it drove Rook nuts. Doubly so when Lucanis started playing right along.

Unsurprisingly, there was something extra satisfying about watching Lucanis’s gorgeous mental image of the woman erupt into blinding white smoke.

Rook was more than happy to leave that mess in her wake.

Still, the further she and Spite ventured, the more memories and fear found them. The sound of Zara Renata’s voice circled overhead like a vulture, and every time it crowed, Rook felt a seed of nausea that she wasn’t entirely sure was her own.

“I was supposed to have a useful demon, and instead I have a useless abomination. Wonderful.”

“Still fighting? How tiresome. There is no point, you know. Nothing awaits you anymore. You’re long dead.”

Rook caught a singed piece of parchment as it flittered down into her path. Some of its words she remembered, others Lucanis had kept to himself.

“I didn’t want you to see that. Again.”

(I’m not this… I cannot be this.)

Rook felt absolutely gutted, and for the first time since arriving, she stumbled against the weight of the grief this Ossuary held. She choked back hot, furious tears.

“Rook?” Spite hovered at her flank, growing nervous. His rescuer breaking into tears had certainly not been part of the demon’s plan.

“Rook… you’re too good to be wasting your time in a place like this.”

Rook suddenly glanced up with a ferocity that could have cut glass. That voice again.

Illario.

She grabbed Spite by the hand, and immediately strode in the direction of the disembodied voice.

The visage of Illario Dellamorte stood, suave and cocksure as ever, at the bend of an especially dark hallway. Even as a concept, he peacocked where he stood - a man fully aware just how obnoxiously gorgeous he was, with no qualms about putting those looks to use.

“You have my attention, all right?” Rook said irritably, “So, where is he? Where is Lucanis?”

A forced but no less gorgeous smile stretched across immaculate white teeth.

“Forget my cousin,” Illario purred, “You’ve got much more important things to worry about, don’t you?”

Spite stepped in flush with Rook. She could feel the emotion radiating from the demon - it nearly mirrored her own, amplifying it all the more. Righteous anger threatening to boil over with a healthy dose of fear. He inhaled deep.

“Sharp. Jagged edges. Hurt with every breath,” Spite growled, “Grief and relief. Hope and anger. Mixed.”

“You’ve no right to tell me or anyone else what’s important, you dick,” Rook managed to keep her voice steady, though barely. “And you don’t even owe this bastard the time of day. Do you hear me, Lucanis?” Rook found herself shouting at the endless, watery grave that consumed them.

Spite added, snarling, “He. Put. Us. HERE!”

Illario was furiously unthreatened.

“You’ve got to leave this be, Rook,” he crooned with another flirtatious half-smile, “You turn my cousin loose, it’s only going to cause more grief.”

“Yeah? Who’s?” Rook sniped, “Zara Renata’s? Her Venatori thugs? Because they’re all dead, Illario, without a single innocent bystander so much as breaking a nail. And that just leaves you.”

“You know,” the assassin ignored the threat completely, “that Caterina had five children. Eight grandchildren. All dead now, except for Lucanis and me.”

“I…” Rook trailed, “Yes, I know. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Last time the Crows fought a war of succession,” Illario continued, “House Dellamorte lost everything. Except the seat of First Talon. This time, we fight ourselves. What will be left then?”

Rook shot the man a look to kill.

“You think you’d survive as his friend, let alone his lover?” Illario smirked darkly - authentically, for once - as the observation made the pretty little elf before him squirm, “And what about your friends? Your cause?”

“Yeah… yeah, no,” Rook shook off indignation, before speaking past Illario again, “This asshole doesn’t get to speak for you, Lucanis. I’m not going to stand here and act like the bastard who stabbed you in the back gets to tell anyone how to feel about it. This is his fault. All of it.”

“Is it? Are you sure?” Illario mused, “Do you really think he made a deal with a demon? He’s not even a mage! Or do you think, maybe, he just found the one there already? He’ll carry this prison with him forever, and he’ll fill it with corpses, given time.”

Spite was only growing more anxious, radiating heat where he glowered at Rook’s side.

“We. Need. OUT!”

“Lucanis, anything could happen - we could literally die tomorrow!” Rook called out, feeling desperate, “But that’s not a good excuse to hide somewhere that’s hurting you. Please, just…”

“You always have an answer, don’t you?” Illario bit sharply, “Are you sure you can live with the consequences?”

“Better than I can live with the consequences of not even trying, like a complete fucking coward,” Rook sniped without a moment’s hesitation.

Spite sneered, and grinned at the younger Dellamorte, as though that sure showed him.

… And the demon was right. Illario’s visage shuttered and broke, erupting into a mist of white light like the others.

Rook breathed a massive sigh of relief, promising aloud, “Whatever happens, Lucanis, I’m going to be there to help you. You’ve handled enough alone.”

The deep, resonating clang of a deadbolt lock slipped loose through the air. Rook shared curious glances with Spite, before the pair of them followed the sound. Massive, heavily fortified double doors lay around the corner, and with a low, baleful creek, one of those doors had opened by a matter of inches.

Determined, Rook once again gathered their demon, “Come on.”

To say it was a relief to spot Lucanis the moment she stepped past that threshold was an understatement. Rook was quick to sprint his way, Spite on her heels like an eager wisp of smoke.

Lucanis looked as exhausted as he was startled to see her.

“What are you doing here, Rook?” He stammered beneath a deeply furrowed brow.

“I had to find you,” Rook struggled to catch her breath under the weight of relief, “If anything happened to you… I can’t even think about it.”

Lucanis sighed softly, barely masking a pained wince. He shook his head.

“You should go,” he said softly, “It’s better I stay here than risk losing you.”

Rook felt the threat of tears at those words, quelled only when Spite snarled in frustration, “You see? He breaks. Our. Agreement! His mind. Is still here. He wants. To stay here. So he keeps. Me here!”

“Mierda,” Lucanis cursed the demon, “Why would I want to stay? Even in my head, this place is a nightmare.”

“Right, but,” Rook said softly, “It’s a nightmare you’ve already defeated…” Her mind raced as she caught Lucanis’s gaze. Those warm, kind eyes were so tired. So utterly defeated. He quickly looked away.

She understood. And sometimes, it hurt to understand, too.

“I get it now,” she said with a sad smile, “As bad as the Ossuary was for you, it was better than the alternative.”

Lucanis glanced up past that knotted brow, “What alternative?”

“The Ossuary, Zara,” Rook explained, “You could solve those problems with a blade. But healing again? Living as an abomination? There is no simple answer there, vehnan. And, if you fail,” she shrugged, finally admitting to a very real danger, “You could hurt the ones you love.”

This sheer level of transparency seemed to rattle the assassin to his core. It was a truth given words that he had fought so hard to ignore.

“No! I… This is not…” Frustration boiled over and Lucanis growled angrily, “Damn it, Rook!”

It was frustration he apparently shared with his demon.

“Make. Him. Leave!” bellowed Spite.

Rook shuddered a sigh, determined to stay calm, “It doesn’t work that way, Spite, I’m sorry. It’s going to take time. And it’s got to be something Lucanis chooses to do for himself.”

Spite growled in frustration, but something about the presence of possibility at least helped him calm.

Rook, meanwhile, was watching Lucanis carefully, reading the storybook of emotions that played across his face. He finally breathed deep, a palm at his forehead. He seemed to settle on simply looking overwhelmed.

“Rook, you are right. There has to be a way through this,” he said, sounding like a raw nerve, “It’s just… so much. I cannot see how to begin.”

She watched him quietly for a moment. He seemed to find some calm in that silence, as did Spite. The demon became distracted, apparently content in the fact that there was a productive conversation between the two adultier adults in the room.

“Start small,” Rook suggested, “You and Spite. Figure out a goal you can both agree on. Then, make it happen.”

Spite’s attention returned - He lit up, curious, “A contract?”

A flicker of amusement teased Lucanis’s face, but he seemed to be giving it a serious consideration.

“Contracts are for clients,” he said to Spite. “Call this… an alliance.” Dark eyes came back to Rook. Always back to Rook, “But on what terms?”

“Didn’t you just learn your grandmother was alive?” Rook grinned - doubly so at the light it brought to Lucanis’ tired features, “What are you waiting for? Go rescue her!”

“That’s true.”

Spite looked eagerly between Lucanis and Rook, “Fighting Crows?”

“And anyone else who gets in our way,” Lucanis said to his demon, that steadfast fire returning to his eyes with a renewed determination. “Do we have a deal? We free Caterina together?”

Spite looked earnestly excited, to which Rook could barely stifle a grin.

“Together. We fight!”

Spite’s words rang in Rook’s ears as a flash of white light consumed everything in sight. She felt a distinct yank backwards at the navel, and a full-body halt, the sound of the Seventh Talon’s voice chiming as that bloom of light faded back into the fire-lit innards of the Cobbled Swan in Minrathos.

“Rook? Are you all right?” Teia sounded worried.

Viago, meanwhile, sounded very annoyed, “What is the matter with the two of you?”

Lucanis and Rook were both struggling with eyes re-adjusting in the dark.

“It’s ok,” said Rook as she caught Lucanis’s gaze, “We needed a moment, but… I’d say we’re ready for anything. Though, uh…” she pulled a face, asking awkwardly of the Talons, “How long were we standing here?”

Teia smirked, “Long enough for it to get awkward. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Lucanis smiled after the concern, “We’re fine, Teia. Don’t waste your worry on us. Can I trust the two of you to keep an eye on Illario? If he starts anything, I want to know about it.”

“I was going to do that, anyway,” Viago assured.

Teia’s gaze danced between Rook and Lucanis knowingly, “You’re planning something.”

“I’m getting Caterina back,” Lucanis grinned, “But Viago is right, we need more information before we move. Illario panicked when I came back alive. If he panics again, he could actually kill her this time.” He looked between the Talons and Rook, “We’ll only get one chance at this.”

“We will make it count,” Teia said.

Viago nodded in agreement, before his gaze fell on Rook, “That aside, we finally got word this morning on which contracts Caterina had in motion for House Dellamorte before she was taken. There are complications with three of them, and the chance that Illario will make any calls, let alone good ones right now is…” he looked to Lucanis.

“We will talk,” Lucanis agreed, “Give me a moment to show our guests out.”

“Rook,” Teia nodded and smiled as Lucanis took Rook’s hand and ushered her away from their murder of Crows.

“Find me, when you get back to the Lighthouse?” Rook asked. They came to a table near the door, where Bellara caught sight of their return over a fancy-looking bottle of wine.

Lucanis rounded to stand before Rook, his expression warm and soft. He had hands upon her shoulders as he often did to steady her, “This may run long, but I will find you as soon as I can. And Rook?”

She glanced up just Lucanis stepped in closer. A hand at the side of her neck, thumb brushing the delicate spot behind her ear, the assassin surprised her with a kiss.

Stunned and delighted at once, Rook pulled him even closer by the belts on his coat. Their kiss became a chuckle into a mischievous grin.

“Oh, you’re blushing,” Rook whispered teasingly.

Lucanis was already ambling away, back towards the Talons, looking endearingly smug.

It took a number of moments for Bellara to hoist Rook’s attention from the gutter well enough for Rook to realize her fellow Veil Jumper had joined her at her side.

“Heyyy. How we doing?”

“It, uh…” Rook finally managed to relocate words, before joking, “It got a little warm in here all of the sudden.”

Bellara giggled, “I’ll bet it did. Want to talk about it?”

“Oh my god I do.”

Rook’s enthusiasm had the pair of women cackling as they headed for the door.

Notes:

Oookay, so re-interpreting game stuff can be a little tiresome, but hey, we got there.

Also, just a heads up, the next chapter gets ( ˘▽˘)っ♨ SPICYYYYY ( ˘▽˘)っ♨ and will probably up the overall fic rating. So, avoid that chapter, if that’s not your bag (Though, we all know it probably is. Greetings, my people!)

Thanks for reading!

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #datv #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age veilguard #lucanis x rook #dragon age fan fiction #rook x lucanis #rookanis

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feroluce · 21 hours ago

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So we were talking about Dan Heng reincarnating in the boothenghill server recently. I think there's a lot of wiggle room in there for how it would go, given

a) we know very little about the transmutation arcanum and how All That works and

b) Dan Feng fucked around hard and found out even harder, so anything we would have known anyway is kaput.

This is something that, apparently, has never occurred before. There's no precedent. There should never be two Vidyadhara with draconic features at the same time, but even so, we have Dan Heng and Bailu both displaying tails and horns.

tl;dr I have a permit that says I can do whatever I want!

In the case that they find out Dan Heng will no longer reincarnate the same way- with Dan Feng having successfully broken the line of the Imbibitor Lunae- I think Dan Heng would be happy about it, in a way. He'll reincarnate the same as any other Vidyadhara now, where he will be a completely different person with no memories every time. There's no more pain or expectations to inherit. Whoever comes after him will have the clean slate he'd always wanted.

The only bitterness he holds about the whole ordeal is that it means he'll be leaving Boothill alone.

And so Dan Heng holds out as long as he can, to the point that even Bailu goes before him ("Now next time you'll have to call me jiejie haha!") but eventually the time comes for a hatching rebirth, and he and Boothill make their way back to the Luofu, to Scalegorge Waterscape.

(As he gets older, as he pushes the limit of the Vidyadhara lifespan, Dan Heng gets slightly more delirious, more forgetful. One morning, Boothill wakes up to Dan Heng trying to crawl out of bed half-asleep, asking what time it is. He was supposed to get up early to help Himeko make breakfast, so he can try to save everyone's stomachs.

Himeko has been long gone for centuries.

Boothill coaxes Dan Heng back into bed with him, tells him it's alright, someone else took over breakfast duty this morning. He forgot to tell him last night. Sorry. Dan Heng settles back in, right up against a warm metal chest plate, goes back to sleep.

If he remembers any of this later when he wakes up again, he doesn't say anything. Neither does Boothill.)

Boothill knows the water isn't good for him. He stubbornly wades out as far as he can anyway.

Dan Heng kisses him goodbye, pinches his cheek, tells him to behave himself through the crack in his voice. There's not much left to say at this point, they've been saying their goodbyes for days now. Boothill cheekily makes no promises, even as he slides his own hand over Dan Heng's, cradles the flat of his palm against his face and holds it there as long as he can. Dan Heng finally disappears under the waves.

Boothill still can't cry.

One of the Pearlkeepers has to come up and chase Boothill out, how long he stands there rusting in the water.

He wouldn't tell Dan Heng about it, of course, but as the 700 year mark approached them, Boothill starting having Ideas. And he decides, as he stands there alone in the sand feeling horribly hollow like he hasn't in a long, long time, fine! Fuck it! Fine!!

Execute Operation Last Hurrah!!

Because I think Boothill should get to go out in a petty, spiteful blaze of glory! Let the man die like how he lived!!

Boothill had simmered down a bit after he killed Oswaldo Schneider, and then even moreso when he and Dan Heng got hitched. But now Dan Heng is gone. There's no one left to stick around for, or to keep him together. So Boothill just goes on an absolute bender.

He leaves everything he and Dan Heng had to charities and rebel organizations. He steals whatever he wants from the IPC and then some. He fucks over as many of their plans as he can, and as horribly as he can. He hijacks himself an entire spaceship to hide away whatever it is he's pilfered and made off with- just the things that are no use to anyone else or that he can't give away without causing too much trouble for the receiver, but he can destroy them and make sure they don't fall into the wrong hands ever again.

And then Boothill finds himself a nice cozy little spot in the captain's room, kicks back with his feet up as he sets course for the nearest sun.

He makes himself a sad little one-sided toast, with the godawful sake Dan Heng would always insist was good after you got used to it. Boothill already figures he's not gonna make it to wherever it is Dan Heng ended up. If he does, it's a sign somethin' ain't workin' right.

But oh, Hell is about to become so, so much worse for all them IPC folks down there.

See ya soon, Oswaldo! ☆

#honkai star rail #henghill #bootheng #honkai star rail boothill #honkai star rail dan heng #hsr boothill #hsr dan heng #I love the thought of Boothill dragging as many evildoers plans down with him when he goes #but doing that kind of thing takes a certain level of preparation that you just don't get from dying suddenly in battle #I think Boothill is incredibly stubborn and cockroach-coded so tbh-#-I think I COULD see him simply pushing himself to keep going and going until someone else finally takes him out #but he's also incredibly petty and spiteful and he absolutely loves to make that other people's problem skzhsjjsnd #so I think if he ever actually decided he'd finally had enough of being alive he would pull this exact kind of shit haha #hsr #boothill #dan heng #major character death #suicide

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onestopanime · 1 day ago

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Another writing prompt from the discord I’m in. This one is nsfw so 18 and over only.

Prompt were: hair pulling and wearing out Lucanis out to the point he falls asleep.

I’ll be posting this also to my AO3 and it goes with my Rook oc story poison in the garden

———————————————

A sharp breath echoed throughout the dim study of the lighthouse were Iris took as residence. She slow rose from her make shift bed, hands raking over her face in exhaustion. The past couple days have been rough on her and the team more issues popping up every day to the point where sleep was becoming a luxury. Standing up from her spot with a light stretch to her aching bones needing to have a drink of anything to dull the thoughts.

The Lighthouse proper itself was quiet. No gentle whispers of Emmrich’s reading to Manfred. No sounds of Taash sharpening weapons for the team, a small task Iris had found them doing in the late hours to their side from everyone. Not even any stragglers in the main common area. it was just painfully quiet, causing her thoughts to grow even louder.

Even in the fade time was quite interesting. Day and night cycles were so much different than how it should be. It took everyone a moment just to adjust to how rapid the night seem to go. But it always had a certain charm to the courtyard. The “night” sky of the fade’s personal haven for us was comforting but even that didn’t dull her thoughts. Continuing her journey up the stairs, walking into the dining hall.

Entering through those doors she could almost feel massive weight roll off her shoulders. The soft scent of herbs and spices that Lucanis recently brought were present in the air. But the thing that did surprise her a little bit on entrance was how quiet it was. Maybe for once Lucanis was asleep and Spite was keeping to himself with that book I lent him last time we kept each other company. A small smile painted on to her face as she began rummage for one jar of tea that he specifically always bought for her, begrudgingly of course though.

With a quick flick of her wrist, she lit the fire underneath the pot using her magic trying to boil the water. Leaning her back against the counter behind her, eyes closed just to focus more on the sounds of the gentle bubbling and hissing from the kettle. Hoping that this would be able to bring sleep back to her.

“Flor que tú haces aquí a esta hora?”

“Fuckkk!!” She exclaimed while slightly jumping out of her skin. “Coño no te oí!” Placing a hand to her chest and trying to breathe normal again.

“ Then you should remember to always keep an ear open for your enemy.” Lucanis chuckled as he moved closer to tuck in a stray curl back behind her ear before attending to her kettle.

“Luca you don’t have to do that..” she whispered while walking up behind him wrapping her arms around his middle.

“Shh deja que yo hago esto para ti.” He whispered back while pouring out the water into one of his many coffee cups and placing in the tea leaves allowing it to steep.

They stayed like this for what felt like forever to them. Iris’s arms holding him securely against her soft body. They’re breathing almost in sync with one another’s. Lucanis slowly bring one of his hands to Iris’s arm, tracing the geometric design of her floral tattoo before peeling her arms off of him and turning around around to hold her back.

That was the moment when Iris finally properly see Lucanis’s face to see he was maybe even worse than she was. She knows that the look of exhaustion was present but it was to the point where she could hide it just enough. But on him, the level of exhaustion just painted on his face made her heart ache. His eyes darken with what looks like to be days of no sleep so evident that even coffee wasn’t doing its job to keep him up anymore.

“ Luca cuando era el último tiempo que tú dormiste?” she asked him worried while placing gently, her palm to his face, stroking his cheekbones.

He turned his head towards her palm, gently kissing it looking at her with those tired eyes, “Tú preocupas demasiado por mí.”

She shook her head lightly, chuckling under her breath something he couldn’t even put together from how exhausted he was. Away from his embrace, she placed her smaller hand, his leading him out of the dining hall. He just followed her too beaten down to even asked questions to where she was even taking him, just allowing the quietness and stillness of the fade to cover them. Slowly returning to the lighthouse proper and entering her underwater oasis of a study.

“Sit..” she commanded to Lucanis once they were right by her sofa.

Not even an ounce of hesitation, he just followed her command so loyally. Iris’s hands found purchase on his face and hair. Slowly scratching his beard and scalp watching his eyes flutter in bliss and a deep groan creeping out from his lips, only fueling her to continue her work. Slowly moving her hands to cradle his face to look up at her and smirking at how already relaxed he looked. His deep brown eyes -finally regaining a little bit of that sparkle that she loved so- falling deeper into her own mixed green and amber gaze lovingly.

“Es bien claro que nosotros necesitamos dormir.” She spoke oh so gently while stoking his beard.

“Flor tú sabes que no puedo.” He mumbled drunkenly from her gently handling of him.

“Cómo tú tienes control por eso.” She smirked as she straddle his hips and pressed her lips against his neck and peppering her kisses gently to his skin.

Lucanis’s hand quickly found his way to her wide hips grabbing on to ground himself. His own voice stuck in his throat with only deep moans being worked out of him with each kiss and nip his flor leaves on his neck before silencing him with a deep kiss. It was instantly a one sided win over dominance with this kiss. Iris finding a way to just have him be absolute putty in her hands. Each nip to his lips, each brush of their tongues, each grind of her hips down on him brought him closer and close to the edge.

Her kisses only became more and more intense the moment she just felt how hard he was getting just for her. Breaking the kiss with only strings saliva connecting it together she went back to working at his neck, biting on his ear, grinding even harder against his lap and back to his lips. She craved to see that drunken expression on his face.

His hands tried holding her hips down in pitiful act of defiance not wanting to come in his pants like a teenager. But to no avail in stopping her from dragging out pleasure from his tired form. As one of his hands slowly move to grab her ass- over filling in his grasp- his other slowly began to trail up her back with small chills rolling down her spine from his gentle touch. Slowly his hand finding his way up behind her head, fingers curling around her long black curls, pulling back enough for her head to leave his neck, ripping out a lovely strangled moan from her lips. His grip stayed firm on her hair as his own lips moved up to start his own work of art on her neck. So lost in the moment his hips began to sync with her grinds, breathy moans from the two lightly filled the still air of the study.

Lucanis feeling his climax rising gripped hard on her ass rocking his hips more firmly and biting down on the crux of Iris’s beautiful tanned neck muffled his moans. His hips slowly losing rhythm and power, his grip on her loosing with his body relaxing deeper in the sofa. Looking up at her look at the mess she was too. Eyes blown out of lust, her curls all messed from his hands, lips bruised and that neck littered with love bites and still she was a goddess to him.

The one thing he did truly sometimes forget was sometimes how much of a little demon she could be. With a little smirk on her face she pushed back slightly slowly unbuttoning his shirt, nails lightly scratching down his chest to the start of his belt. Before he was even able to open his mouth, she quickly unbuckled his pants sliding off his lap, laying her head so innocently on his thigh, looking up at him. He was at such a lost for words watch her drag his pants down his hips. Her breath fanning over his sensitive cock.

“Párate.” Lucanis moaned breathlessly as his hands found their way back into her curls, gently pulling at their scalp trying out a nice little moan from her bruised lips.

Iris didn’t even bother to answer back, only looking up at him innocently as she gently grabbed his sensitive cock before placing him gingerly in her mouth. She watched his head tilted back from the sofa, strangled groans ripping from his throat. His hands tightened in her curls hands but that only made her want to please him more. Teasing his head before dragging her tongue down his shaft, catching every moan as a little reward.

Her rhythm was ruthless to her lover. Not giving him a moment to even think before he felt her bobbing her head sucking his soul from him. Whimpers of ‘please’ and ‘coño’ and ‘sigue’ were a song for Iris. Killing him as her eyes stared back into his, forcing his gaze to watch her. Feeling him twitch against her tongue. She knew he was close to climaxing again that did not stop her to slow down. Trailing her nails up and down his thighs encouraging him to come hard as her eyes sparkle mischievously up at him.

Groaning loudly as he couldn’t stop himself anymore. Gripping even tighter in her hair, his hips lifting off the sofa thrusting deep into Iris’s mouth. Not care if he could hear her little chokes and moans, only focus was his need to cum. And with one last set of thrusts his body became boneless. His spill filling her mouth as he removed his cock from her lips.

His head falling backwards as he tried to regain his breath once again. His body feeling heavier than it did before. Lucanis trying his best to keep his head up to find his Flor’s eyes watching her swallow down his spent causing him to moan from just the sight. His hands slowly reaching to caress her face, his thumb moving to her lips pulling it down begging her to open her mouth for him. Just making it even more real for him.

Iris turned her head and his hand to place a chaste kiss on his palm, almost like she was returning the favor back to him. Still kneeling between his thighs she slowly unbuttoning her blouse maintaining that eye contact, needing to feel his eyes on her. Feeling her nipples harden the moment the cool air hit them only increased Iris’s hunger for Lucanis. The way his eyes took in her form was deliciously intoxicating. And the way that his eyes just kept flickering down below her heavy breast to the flame tattoo -one she took much time designing- made her proud of how much he wanted her like she did for him.

Slowly standing up between his legs to quickly removing her trousers and placing herself back onto his lap, almost felt like whiplash. Her lips back to teasing his neck and ears, nails scratching up and down his chest and in his scalp, and the feeling of her wet folds against his overtly sensitive cock it was too much.

“Flor por favor no puedo más…” Lucanis whimpered out, which out made Iris smile as if she won the best prize ever.

“No te preocupes yo te tengo.” Iris comforted him as she lifted her hips to take him whole.

The moment she fully bottomed out the joined moan between the two filled the space around them effortlessly. Lucanis’s arm wrapped around her waist pulling her close to stop her from moving. Yet that did nothing to stop her from grinding herself down crawling out whimper after whimper from her love. The look on his face was to good to pass out on and the need to get him the the brink was so tempting.

With each touch, each grind of her hips, each nip on his neck, each teasingly chaste kiss on his lips had him falling deeper and deeper into what he could only describe as heaven. He tried to match her hips with thrusting up into but even that was too much for his overly sensitive body. Iris like a musician has strung him up so tightly that all he can do is just sing her praises with every moan and groan he didn’t know he could make.

“Iris….please.. Coño stop..” Lucanis whimpered feeling his third climax of the night rise. His hands running up and down her curvy form, like a man drowning looking for something to hold onto to survive.

“Luca.. please wait… Fucccckk so close.” Iris moaned loud, throwing her head back and doubling her effort to bring them both to their peaks.

“Fuckkkkkkk~” Lucanis threw his head back exclaiming loudly feeling Iris tightening around his cock. His body on overdrive, thighs twitching under her delicious weight.

They held each other like that for a few moments. Both their bodies feeling the exhaustion hit ten times more. Placing their sweat heavy foreheads against each other just taking that minute to breathe together in silence. Finally letting their eyes flutter open to look at each other with such love they closed the space between them with a sweet kiss. Settling down on the sofa together -not even pull out from her warmth- with Iris plastered to his chest feeling sleep take him swiftly.

“Iris..” Spite acknowledged her but was quickly interrupted.

“Spite please for tonight just Luca rest. I promise later we can talk. But please for right now just hold me?” She mumbled to Spite feeling sleep finally take hold of her.

“Fine.. We Talk Later. Sleep tight..” he soon to her stroking her head watching her fall asleep.

#da: the veilguard #da4 lucanis #dragon age rook #lucanis x rook #da4 #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age the veilguard fanfic #lucanis x rook smut #da4 smut #spite dragon age

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