#emmrich x ingellvar | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heylittleriotact · 17 days ago

Text

Ｍａｓｓａｇｅ(ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2/2)

Manipulation of tissue in the course of preparation of the body

Chapter 1 here

Though perhaps he was of the sort that got a thrill from the act of undressing her. Yes… that seemed like something a man who freely boasted about his familiarity with the finer points of anatomy would be keen on: savouring the textures of different fabrics as his fingers grazed over them, pulling gently here, tugging gently there to methodically flay her clothing from her body as if it were her skin and she was his newest, most recently deceased patient: she required preparation so that her bones, still and silent, could be put to use housing an eager spirit, and he was not at all unfamiliar with the process of unmaking someone.

He would gladly aid her in this capacity.

The honour would be all his.

The second and final part of my piece detailing Emmrich and Amina's first time sleeping together. It's time for the main event. Batten down your panties 🩲

Rating: Explicit

Under the cut or on ao3

As it turned out there was actually a nightcap involved.

Emmrich’s mysterious bed dwelled in a hidden bedchamber in the laboratory behind one of the many bookcases lining the walls and down a curving set of stairs that split into two chambers: one emerged into a warmly lit cavern of sorts, spacious yet cozy, and the other Amina could only assume was space set aside for Manfred - his own room. She thought it very sweet that Emmrich saw fit to give Manfred a space to call his own. She knew perfectly well that wisps didn’t sleep, so she had no idea what the sentient skeleton did with any time he spent alone - she made a point of asking Emmrich another time.

The entire space was composed of the stone foundations of the island the Lighthouse stood on, and despite the rustic implication of a bedroom in a cave, Emmrich’s room was actually quite homey: the bed itself was on a raised section of stone, and ancient but pristine rugs covered the floor, overlapping in places, each of them rich, bright colours of magenta, turquoise, or marigold. The bar was set against the far wall and boasted a humble assortment of spirits and liqueurs which included the extremely expensive absinthe Emmrich had prepared for her, demonstrating a ritual involving cold water and sugar that proved his alchemical hobbies extended even into his drinking preferences. She took a sip of it and continued to politely snoop around the room while Emmrich excused himself to make sure Manfred was settled in for the night.

The room was illuminated by the soft glow of candles perched on various outcroppings and recesses within the stone walls. The cavern was humid and warm, but the air felt fresh and clean, free of the heavy stagnant quality air tended to take on in a cave.

More bookshelves framed either side of the bed, with side tables built into the base of them. On the side of the bed that Emmrich obviously favoured, Amina could make out the shape of a pair of spectacles and a book on the side table.

She stepped up onto the raised platform of stone and wandered over to the table, the sound of her shoes muted by the soft carpet beneath her feet.

She gently moved the rectangular gold framed spectacles aside and picked up the book, flipped it and read the cover, her eyebrows raising. “Oh my…”

It was a collection of erotic poetry with a gold embossed depiction of a couple - their genders unclear, entwining passionately - splashed across the cloth bound cover.

She tutted and set down her absinthe, leafing through a few pages and feeling her pulse quicken at the thought of Emmrich reposed in the bed on any given night, naked except for the gold spectacles perched halfway down the bridge of his nose, holding the book in one hand, stroking his cock feverishly with the other, his chest heaving, each breath rapid and desperate and sharp, teetering on a soft whimper or moan as he indulged in the exceptionally vulgar verses until he spilled himself over his own belly, his seed catching the wavering candlelight and shimmering prettily against his skin and the wispy hair that grew on him.

She let out a low expletive and shut the book, replacing it on the side table and picking up her absinthe to drink some of the intensely herbal spirit in an attempt to jar herself back to reality. Her hand ghosted over the front of her skirt, and she palmed her crotch as if to temporarily placate the burning need between her thighs. Where was he? How long could it possibly take to say goodnight to Manfred and make sure he understood he was not to wander into Emmrich’s room under any circumstances tonight?

She wondered if she should spend this time making herself ready for him: she supposed she could undress and arrange herself on the bed so that when he entered the room again the first thing he’d see was her nude form, spread out for him like a feast more sumptuous than the dinner they’d just had, wearing only the network of scars that spanned her flesh like a topographical encyclopedia of injuries… and those adorable spectacles, of course. She’d sip from the glass of absinthe in her fingertips and haughtily ask if he came around this place often, and he would think her so cavalier and witty and irresistibly attractive that he’d shed his clothes and take her with desperate need marking every one of his movements.

He would gladly aid her in this capacity.

The honour would be all his.

She made a sound low in her throat at the thought, wandered over to the small table in the corner with a shaving mirror on a stand, a small hickory box she supposed contained a razor, brush, soap, and strop; a basin and a towel, and a variety of small bottles - six or seven in total. Further inspection revealed they were all different perfumes and colognes.

She removed the cap from one and sniffed the atomizer, instantly recognizing the scent that filled her nostrils as one that he wore earlier that week: earthy and grounded with notes of vetiver and petrichor. Replacing the lid and setting down the bottle of amber liquid she picked up another and smelled it too: wet clay, the sweet tang of decaying leaves, dark oily patchouli…

Her mouth watered - this was what he was wearing tonight, the evocative scent mixing with his own natural aroma in a complimentary way that had made it hard to focus all evening…

She let out a startled yelp when a long fingered hand slipped over her front, splaying across her abdomen as she felt the presence of someone much taller than her press close to her back. Hot breath played over her ear as he stooped down, causing the hairs on her neck to stand on end as Emmrich chuckled and said, “There you are. I was worried I’d lost you.”

“Lost me?” She set down the bottle and turned in his arms, facing him now and standing up on her tiptoes to rub the side of her nose against his, her own hands wandering around his narrow waist. “I think you’re stuck with me, Volkarin. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

One hand came up to card through the hair at the nape of her neck, his fingers winding between strands, combing through them as he regarded her affectionately, though desire still smoldered in his moss-coloured eyes. The other dallied over the concave curve of her lower back and came to rest cupping a handful of her muscular rear and drawing her hips flush against him where she could feel evidence of his arousal stirring again.

“Not in the slightest, Ms. Ingellvar.” He purred, squeezing her ass.

She shivered at his words and felt her fingers curl tighter into the fabric of his waistcoat as she felt his broad palm against her behind, fingers kneading the ample flesh there while his lips trailed over her cheek, then her jaw, then he imparted just enough tension to the handful of hair in his hand to urge her chin towards the ceiling, allowing him access to the thin, hot skin of her throat.

She couldn’t help but gasp as he licked her neck, sucking and kissing up the length of it. A pained little sound slipped past her lips and her hand flew to the back of his head, twining into his own hair when his teeth grazed her and he sucked hard against the skin above her carotid artery. The feeling was warm and wet, a sensation that was both pleasure and pain as capillaries buckled and gave way to the suction, flooding her dermis with the minute quantities of blood that would present like a tattooed clump of alpine betony against a backdrop of spring snow - richly mauve, prickling when the air caressed it…

She groaned, her knees going weak, his name slipping past her lips and suffusing through the cavern, a pleading whisper urging him to peel back layers of her flesh and muscle and bury himself inside the gleaming ruby treasure within.

Responding to the need in her voice, he parted from her neck and guided her away from the corner table, walking them back towards the raised section of stone where the bed was, kissing her, caressing her, stroking her cheek with his thumb as though she was the only thing in the world that mattered then.

“Darling…” he studied her with his round, perceptive eyes, hand stilling over the centre of her chest where her heart hammered against her ribcage like a frantic wisp trapped in a bottle. “We don’t have to… if you would rather wait—“

He would want to make sure she didn’t feel pressured, wouldn’t he?

Her hero.

She reached up between them and unclipped his collar pin with a deft twist of her fingers, her eyes never leaving his.

“I don’t want to wait. I’ve waited for what feels like a lifetime already: I want to make love to you right this minute.” She walked him backwards until the edge of the bed met the backs of his knees and he was forced to sit, hands hovering over Amina’s hips as she stood between his long longs. She guided those hands to the bottle green satin of her blouse, closing his fingers around it and guiding his wrists upwards with her index fingers hooked under them so that the hem of the garment slipped free from her waistband.

Bangles slipped one by one down his willowy arms, chiming softly as one hand wandered underneath the blouse, exploring the expanse of scarred but soft skin over hard muscle, tracing the shape of the costal cartilage that defined the boundaries of her rib cage, protecting the precious organs that lay beneath it.

She watched his hands rove over her; took in the expression of reverent longing on his face as his mouth parted and he stared up at her. His tongue darted over his lips to wet them before he spoke, his voice rough with lust. “If that is your desire, dearest, I am happy to oblige.”

“Oblige?” She repeated, running her fingernails through his hair, following the patterns of the gray dispersing and mingling into black like the thick, impermeable mists that hung around the obelisks and headstones in the gardens. One hand started slipping the small buttons at the side of her skirt loose, the other found her ass again and resumed squeezing and massaging. “What about you? Forget about everyone else’s needs for a fucking minute and tell me: what do you want, Emmrich Volkarin?” She tipped his face up, her fingers on his chin.

He freed the last button and pulled the skirt down over the swell of her ass, letting it slide to the ground where it pooled at her feet. He filled his hands with her bare cheeks, lifting them, feeling the weight and heat of them. He dipped his head and she could feel his hot breath through the thin material of the silky black thong she was wearing, her breath hitching as his nose buried into the cleft just above her throbbing clit and he inhaled deeply, filling himself with the scent of her need. He lingered there for a moment, then looked back up at her, eyes dark with lust.

“I want you, darling. Every inch of you…” His hands travelled to the waistband of the lacy little thong and he hooked his fingers under it, working it from under the garter belt that held up her stockings, sliding the sodden bit of fabric down, peeling it away from her dripping sex and down her thighs until he relinquished his hold on it and it joined the skirt. He parted her slightly, thumbs nestling softly into her dark hair, and smiled besottedly at the glint of gold that greeted him at the peak of her thighs. “I want to steal the air from your lungs and make your lovely legs shake...” He lowered his mouth again and feathered his searing tongue over the shape of the open hoop adorning her anatomy, urging a low whine from her as her hips jolted in his hands. “I must admit that I’ve often found myself wondering if your grave dowry was of the intimate sort…” he nuzzled against the soft thatch of hair and inhaled again, emitting a satisfied sigh as Amina’s mind swam, adrift in a sea of touch and awe that she was finally here - finally this close to him… and about to get closer still.

“Indulge your curiosity…” She managed to prompt with a coy smile. “Find the rest of it.”

His head snapped up and a lascivious smile that made her stomach flip-flop spread over his face. His hands found the backs of her thighs and he pulled her down onto his lap, her legs on either side of his hips, her slick core pressed against the bulging front of his pants. She rolled her hips against him and let her shoes clatter to the ground, his fingernails digging into soft flesh as he let out a low growl and then claimed her mouth with his, tongue sweeping brazenly past her lips to collide with hers enthusiastically as she opened wide and returned his fervor.

He held her in his lap, his free hand diving under her blouse to squeeze a handful of breast, the warmth of his touch muted by the expensive lacy brassiere she wore underneath.

Unsatisfied by this impediment, Amina wrenched her hands from Emmrich and hooked her thumbs into the bottom of her blouse and yanked it up unceremoniously over her head, no longer caring whether she appeared poised or elegant. Emmrich’s fingers found the clasp at the back of the brassiere and it slackened as he crushed his face into her breasts, laving his tongue over her skin, practically tearing the cups free of her chest and down her arms so she could shed it completely.

He laughed - a high pitched, giddy titter that went straight to her cunt - and thumbed the ends of the gold barbells flanking her erect nipples before clamping his mouth over one and sucking hard, tongue flitting over her stiffened peak while he continued playing with the other one.

Her back arched and she rutted against him again, keening at his hands and mouth all over her; his cock between her legs. She reached between them and gripped him through his pants, feeling his readiness as she stroked him through too many layers of clothing.

She rolled onto the bed, dragging him with her, wrapping her legs around his waist and scrambling at the buttons of his waistcoat while she explored his mouth with a ferocity that suggested she hadn’t just sat through an entire six course meal. She managed to get all the buttons undone without ripping a single one off, and immediately set into the absurd quantity of buttons on his shirt next - why did he need so many damn buttons anyway?

Laughing breathlessly, he pulled away from her to take a breath, rocking back on his knees and holding out a warding finger when she launched forward to follow him.

“Wait,” he panted, looming above her, tracing soothing circles on her thigh with one hand, his normally perfectly coiffed hair an absolute tumble of wayward strands and dishevelled angles: he looked so wonderfully undone with his hair a mess, his prim waistcoat thrown open, and his collar pin askew, clinging to his shirt with little more than wishes and prayers at this point. His mouth was curved in a crooked, slightly daft grin, and his fingers abandoned her thigh to settle between her legs, running up the length of her slit and massaging her slick into her engorged clit as he began deftly undoing buttons with his other hand, observing her with an expression of maddeningly inhibited curiosity when she threw back her head and uttered a deep moan, her hips bucking into his hand, her knees clamping against his sides.

“Fuuuu– Emmrich!” She cried, fingers and toes curling tightly into the blanket beneath her hips rose off the bed and he toyed with her clit, teasing her piercing with the edge of his thumb; rubbing, stroking, softly pinching her blushing bud, and brushing his fingertips along her innermost lips like they were the fragile petals of a delicate flower - all while methodically undoing the buttons of his shirt and finally reprieving his macabre collar pin of its duties. He slipped her leg over her shoulder as he stretched over the bed to deposit the accoutrement on the side table - on top of the book of poetry.

Drawing back, he kissed the inside of her knee, echoing her laughter when the coarse hairs of his moustache tickled her sensitive skin through her stockings and she writhed in his hands. He manipulated her leg, bending her knee and kissing down her shin, rubbing his cheek against the meat of her calf, his strong, nimble fingers finding the arch of her foot. He slipped a single finger into her desperate core and held the bottom of her painstakingly pedicured foot to the side of his face, leaning into it as another finger joined the first and he languidly worked them in and out of her, still sitting back on his knees, his shirt open, his eyes glazed.

“You’ve no idea how often I’ve thought about this, darling,” he huffed, the bridge of his nose flushed pink, and Amina couldn’t take her eyes off his tented trousers.

“I think I do,” she breathed, reaching for him, her fingertips caressing the damp spot on the front of his pants.

He treated her to another ribald grin - where were these coming from? They were so… dirty. So decidedly un-Emmrich, and they drove excited shivers up her spine. He shrugged his shirt off, relinquishing his contact with her for long enough to slip the sleeves down over his many bracelets and bangles and drape it carefully over the footboard of the bed - an act that had Amina clenching her eyes shut and stifling a giggle - Maker forbid his expensive Orlesian-cut shirt ended up in a wrinkled pile on the floor for a night…

He turned back to her, naked from the waist up now, looking nonplussed at the specter of laughter on her face, “What?” He asked, the corners of his mouth drooping as his smile disappeared as quickly as Assan on bath day: she thought he was laughing at him.

“Oh,” she pushed herself up on her elbows a little. “Nothing, love.”

He cocked his head to the side inquisitively and Amina snagged his left hand, now desperate to move on, pressing his fingertips to her lips, tasting herself on them. “I see I’m not the only one who keeps my grave dowry close to my person.”

She was referring to his nipples that were equally as gilded as hers, and didn’t leave room for him to reply as she started gently but systematically pulling rings off his fingers with the same mindful care she would use when removing jewelry from the deceased before she bathed and embalmed them.

“I want to be with you as you are,” she explained coquettishly when he arched a brow at her audaciously helping herself to his jewelry. “Without all of… this.” She lifted a stack of bangles on his wrist and let them fall back down, their metallic settling punctuating her point. “I didn’t fall for Emmrich Volkarin’s gold.”

Silence fell for the first time in a while as she collected his rings in her hand, plucking them from his branch-like fingers and palming them with the same delicate touch she used to handle the cherries that she harvested from the tree that grew behind Reda’s house when she was a child.

“You are…” he breathed, looking at her with an expression on his handsome face that was difficult to read.

“Bizarrely hung up on ritual and meaning? Yes. You’ll find that to be quite a maddeningly common trait among Watchers, in case you weren’t aware,” she quipped, and her fingers paused over his left pinky and the grand looking ruby ring that occupied it - his Father’s, a gift to young Emmrich before he died - she knew that much. Then she relieved him of that too, marking the dark stain revealed in the ring’s absence for only a moment before he whisked his hand away and hid it behind her thigh, extending his other hand to her now, wordlessly bidding her to continue.

She finished stripping him of his gold and jewels, depositing handfuls of rings and bracelets and bangles on the side table, the book of erotic poetry now buried under a small fortune, and then she set to work on his trousers which had lingered for far too long.

First went the cummerbund, slipping through her fingers as she untied it, the soft ‘fwip, fwip’ of the sleek material filling the silence that had fallen again. It joined his shirt on the footboard, and as she stretched under his arm to put it there she notched her waist against his and let him fondle her ass and thighs and cunt some more before she planted her ass back on the bed and finally freed his delightfully hard cock, taking him in her hand and stroking him experimentally, nibbling on her lower lip as he knelt before her on the bed, shuddering at her ministrations.

“Darling…” he whispered, eyes lidded, jaw slack as he watched her slowly, sensually jerk him off. Now that his arousal was now out in the open, his own scent filled the air: clean, masculine musk and the aphrodisiac tang of arousal collided with her nose and she swallowed the buildup of saliva that flooded her mouth.

His cock was lovely: as elegant and distinguished as the rest of him, surrounded by a mantle of clearly tended hair that matched the hither and thither shades of black and gray on his head, his pulse thrummed strongly against her fingers, the skin of his shaft velvet smooth over his hardness. She gently worked his foreskin down to reveal his shapely, leaking head, as rosy and ripe as any cherry at the peak of its season.

“No grave gold here?” she pouted, working her thumb over his slit, spreading the slick moisture that had beaded there over his blushing crown - an act which caused him to draw a sharp breath through his clenching teeth.

“I did… at one time…” he exhaled, voice wavering as his eyes flicked back down to resume watching her movements. “But I did away with it years ago...”

“Shame,” she tutted, jerking her head to the side. “Bet your pierced cock was a majestic sight indeed…” her cheeks heated and panic struck her. “Not… not that it’s not now.”

Shut up, Amina, shut up and just fuck him.

But Emmrich only chuckled deep in his throat and pulled himself from her hand, stretching out over her and dwarfing her with his lanky stature as he pressed a soothing kiss to the blossoming love bite on her neck and finished shedding disrobing from his place between her thighs.

“Years spent in ruthlessly discriminating academic circles have granted me the virtue of a thick skin, dearest,” he purred into her ear, catching her lobe with his teeth and uttering a pleased sound at the gasp he wrought from her. His chest met hers and she was at the mercy of his skin against hers, enshrouding her; capturing her - binding her the same way he bound spirits to vacant bone.

She might have babbled something in response as her hips arced into his, searching for the heat of his cock to relieve the burning need between her thighs, but then his lips found hers again and he kissed her with a sweetness and depth that drove words from her brain and air from her lungs.

And then he was gone, sitting back on his haunches again, so far away as his fingers danced along the oversensitive flesh of her inner thigh and he drew her towards him over the bedspread with an easy yank, lining her hips up with his, their thighs connected.

Cock in hand, he dragged himself slowly through her folds, collecting her pooling slick and massaging her engorged clit with his tip, humming sumptuously as Amina squirmed, her clit slip-sliding against the most sensitive part of him.

He dipped just inside of her entrance and back out again, and her fingernails dug into his abdomen.

“Please…” she pleaded. “Please Emmrich…”

He acquiesced with a gentle kiss, pressing his hips to hers, pushing inside of her slowly, almost hesitantly, drawing back before thrusting forward again, stretching her, his elated groan joining hers as his he breached her fully and her walls flexed and clenched around him, their heat finally joining, their connection at last made complete.

She exhaled a ragged breath as her thighs tightened against his ribcage and he delved further, his thumb sweeping a strand of hair from her face as he cradled her head in his arm, his nose brushing hers as he lowered his mouth and whispered against her lips, “Is this all right?”

“Yes…” she panted, “… ohhh Emmrich… please don’t stop…” She felt the smoothness of his back under her fingers as they travelled downwards, and squeezed his pert ass in her hands, encouraging his thrusts as he moved inside of her, burying her face in the crook of his neck as he fucked into her and uttered soft gasps and the sweetest nothings she’d ever heard into her ear for a time before his movements ceased abruptly, and she could feel his heart racing against hers.

“Ah— oh.” He took a deep breath and exhaled, long and smooth - grounding: Nevarran breathing techniques. “Darling, I’m… I’m ashamed to say it, but I’m not going to last much longer… you feel entirely divine, and it’s been some time since I’ve—”

Her heart flooded with affection for him as her Reaper’s gift kicked in and she felt his emotional state change abruptly as his aura shifted: he felt embarrassed. Inadequate. Pathetic.

“Hey,” she cupped his cheek with her hand and dragged his eyes back to hers, then treated him to an understanding smile. “That’s one hell of a compliment.” She undulated against him, urging him on.

“Amina…”

“Will you cum for me, Emmrich?”

He let out a soft whine and his eyelids fluttered slightly at her words.

“Yes,” he whispered, his thrusts resuming, his steady rhythm returning as the sound of skin on skin filled the cavern again. “I daresay I would do nearly anything for you…” he kissed her again, their tongues entwining as they tasted, licked and sucked.

She locked herself against him, riding him from the mattress, meeting his thrusts and feeling his hips buck sloppily and shudder as his climax drew near - hers was not far behind: each movement dragged his cock over that place inside of her that made her thighs quake and tremble against his sides.

“Unnngh!” His eyes went wide, then shut tightly. He gasped her name like he’d been immersed in a tub of freezing water and cupped her jaw in his hand, his eyes opening again to hold her gaze as his hips arched against hers once, twice, and she felt the telltale heat expanding through her from the inside out as he spilled his hot seed deep within her.

It was more than enough to send her hurtling over the edge as well, so over the edge she went, groaning in soul-scraping ecstasy as she tightened around his twitching length, crushing him to her chest as she cried out his name followed by a babbled stream of blissed out expletives. Her vision went white and she clenched so hard around him he was almost forced out of her, but he drove his hips forward and remained in place, covering her throat in soft, encouraging kisses as he murmured quiet praises into her ear as she tensed and writhed under him.

“Ohhh, good girl…” he cooed as they rode out the dwindling waves of their release, and Amina whimpered, feeling her heart leap into her throat at those words, so sinfully spoken from his flushed, kiss-swollen lips…

She smoothed the hair at the nape of his neck as they collapsed together, quaking and trembling, sweat-slicked and reeking of sex.

Emmrich’s fingers found themselves winding through her stormy black hair where it spilled over the pillow, and he did not let go as he rolled off of her to stretch out beside her, pulling her tight against him, his wet, softening cock squashed against her slightly shaking thigh. He kissed the crown of her head and held both of her hands in his as he hugged her to him.

“I’ve had a wonderful evening with you, dearest Amina,” he said, his voice dripping with all the familiarity and intimate cadence one would anticipate from a lover.

“I’ve had a wonderful evening with you as well, Emmrich.” She kissed the back of his naked hand, her mind hazy, her heart achingly full of affection for the man tangled up with her. “Here’s to many, many more.”

They rested for a time, peacefully dozing in each other’s arms, but neither seemed capable of staying asleep for long - the exhilaration of their joining was too fresh; too real.

A couple of hours later, Amina awoke to see Emmrich sleepily regarding her from his pillow, a strand of her long hair still twirled around his fingers, her name on his lips. Moments later, those very lips wandered down her belly and between her legs, and he lazily licked his leaking seed from her, bringing her to the softest, coziest orgasm she’d ever had with his fingers splayed over her lower belly and his tongue deep inside her.

They fucked again after that, and then one more time before sleep properly found them and they drifted off in the early hours of dawn, entwined and undeniably in love.

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