Chapter Text
The silk shirt. It lies incriminatingly on her bed, staring up at her, and Marie stares stubbornly back. She’s been trying not to think that Cécile sent her a knowing look before retreating to the kitchen, too. The last thing she needs is her housekeeper getting involved in… matters of the bedroom. Theirs is decidedly not that sort of relationship.
Marie’s bathed, because that’s only fair – and if she splashed on some rosewater afterwards, that was only through force of habit. Certainly not because she remembered the way he nosed at her neck, his mouth there, the knowing scrape of teeth… If she almost left her hair loose, touching it at the nape of her neck before shaking her head at herself and swiftly tying it, well, that’s simply because she’s in her house – she has the right to relax. There are no meetings and diplomats to contend with.
Because it’s very likely he won’t knock at all. They’re both busy people, and perhaps once was enough for him. She did tell him that he need not worry. In which case she has paperwork and a good book to catch up with, and perhaps later she can get herself off in a leisurely manner thinking of his fingers and his cock and the desperate little noises he made. And then, probably, more paperwork.
She rubs her thighs together, and sighs up at the ceiling. The silk shirt is just that – a silk shirt. It’s comfortable, and she has enough of them, because she’s a fencer. She brings out the fine teacups when she has guests, too; this is no different. If this is also the shirt she wore to ask Jacqueline du Maron to dance, and if she likes to have it under her waistcoat and doublet when she’s trying to impress dignitaries, that’s of no consequence. (The lack of underwear is a little harder to explain, but she’ll find some way. She's a diplomat.)
Oh, by the Light. Marie grabs the shirt and puts it on. She allows herself a moment more of indecision, her hands on her hips, examining what she’s about to do. A moment, before she dispenses with convenient falsehood altogether. She takes the harness and its glass phallus from her bedside drawer and puts it on the bed. Then she goes downstairs, sets a pot to boil for tea, and sits by her fire with a book to wait. She doesn’t look at the clock on the mantel. She has a little more pride left than that.
She’s on the scene with the duel, where the long-lost empress confesses to arranging a war, when there’s a knock. Two sharp raps. And yes, when she looks, it’s quarter past nine. She swallows, and bolts her tea. Then she swiftly wipes her mouth and answers the door, leaning against the frame.
“De Sardet,” Vasco says, with a nod. Every ordinary thing of their acquaintanceship – except for how under his lashes, his eyes scrape over her, slowly, as if he wants to touch everywhere he looks. Not her imagination after all.
He maps the shape of her with his eyes the way he did last time with his hands. Her mouth, her neck that’s prickling and probably already starting to flush – why did she tie her hair? – and… ah. All of a sudden she’s overly aware of her raised arm, the way her nipples press against the fabric of her shirt. His eyes are… lingering, somewhat. She’s mostly only relied on chemises or layers, corsetry so rarely needed; and now she’s wondering how often in camp he’s looked and pretended not to. If now he’s simply not bothering to hide it anymore. His tongue briefly wets his lips, and then his eyes meet hers, caught-out and not particularly shamed. She’s extremely glad the street is quiet.
“Vasco,” she says, certain her voice sounds far from casual. She pulls herself back from doing something stupid, and gestures him in.
The quick closeness of him, the indrawn breath of their bodies brushing, and then she turns and closes the door. The moment the latch clicks, a hand comes to rest over hers – tanned, with fine lines of ink creeping out from under his sleeve to curl round his knuckles. She knows it nearly as well as her own. He’s left off his gloves, is her foolish, fascinated thought, even as she feels the heat of him close, strong at her back.
She turns to him, and he meets her with a swift, hungry kiss that makes her think of tidal waves. The force of it nearly rocks her back, but he steadies her. His hand cradles her face, his mouth open against hers. He drinks of her like it’s been forever instead of a week, and she kisses back, breathes him in, gets a hand on the back of his neck in that sleek hair to pull him in.
He pulls back and breathes, “I’ve been thinking about this.” He kisses her again, with that same ferocity, and murmurs against her lips, so quietly she’s not certain she was meant to hear it, “About you.” Another burning kiss.
“It’s mutual,” she gasps in the space between kisses, and pulls him against her, back hitting the door. As if he can’t know by now; as if, despite all her effort, it can’t be obvious.
His hand tightens briefly against her hip, runs loosely up the silk of her shirt, his knuckles skimming her ribs. Then he drags himself back, with an obvious effort. He has that fire in his eyes she recognises from her bedroom. He says, breathlessly, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”
She blinks. “If you mean your request from last time, I’ve prepared – “
His eyebrows raise just a little. Had he not expected to be listened to? “I – no. Yes.” His eyes dart downwards, accent coming out more strongly now as he says, “There’s something else.”
Marie tilts her head and waits, even while she wants to raise his chin and kiss the embarrassment off his face. She remembers him under her, the sheer relief that he wasn't going to turn her away or laugh at her, that he wanted the things she had to give. He made her feel so unashamed.
He says, with that casualness that means it isn’t casual at all, “How do you feel about tying a partner up?” And his eyes meet hers.
She attempts to take a full breath, and fails. The image comes to her, unbidden and incredibly distracting: Vasco, naked, spread out on her bed, bound hand and foot, his cock hard, his eyes on her – Marie swallows hard and forces the thoughts back, trying to ignore the sudden heat between her legs. ”I’d say it’s been some time, but I’m amenable. There’s something wonderful about having someone lay themselves out for you.” She knows her voice is darkening like woodsmoke. She shifts a little closer and watches his pupils dilate, unable to help herself. “About them trusting you enough to play the game with you. Why?”
He raises a brow, then unbuckles a coat pocket and reaches into it, coming out with a bundle of fine, undyed silk rope, neatly coiled and bound.
“Did you bring that especially for me?” Marie asks, a smile sneaking onto her face.
Swift relief passes through his eyes, and then he responds, with impeccable dryness, “It could have been for apprehending bandits.”
She reaches out and runs her hands over the cord, not taking it from him, enjoying the warmth of his skin. “Not this. It’s much too nice for bandits.” She looks up at him. “I take it you have a collection for this sort of thing.”
Vasco shrugs. “A few bits and pieces. Nothing to rival yours.”
Marie chuckles. (Vasco on his knees, propped up on some pillows, hands bound behind him with that soft, flaxen rope as she takes him from behind – Stop it, de Sardet.) “Shall we go upstairs?” she asks, hoping everything she’s been thinking isn’t written all over her face.
“I’d be delighted,” he says, and his words are wry but his voice is low and rough with sincerity. Marie presses her lips to his because she can’t help herself, and he meets her, hunger for hunger, openmouthed and ready. But they can’t stand around kissing in her foyer forever, so after a moment she takes him by one calloused hand and leads him up to her bedroom.
He takes in the turned-down bed and the harness and phallus resting on the red of her sheets with an unmistakable heat in his eyes, then turns to her, offering her the rope he still holds in his hands. “There’s two lengths in here,” he says, that nervousness back on his face, warring with the lust she can still see there. “I thought you could tie my wrists…”
Marie leans in close. “I’d be delighted,” she murmurs, and kisses the fear away, taking the silken cord from him. It’s smooth against her skin, much softer than she was expecting. She tosses it onto the bed and reaches down to undo his belt, then his sash, dropping them carelessly on the rug beneath their feet, then begins unfastening his coat, meaning to take it off him.
“Wait – ” Vasco breaks away for a moment to fish in a pocket, and comes up with a small, stoppered flask. Marie blinks at it.
“I said I’d bring the oil,” he reminds her, amused.
“Oh yes. A man of your word as ever, I see,” Marie jokes, and Vasco favors her with a crooked slash of a smile that leaves her feeling a little breathless. Perhaps it’s just the kisses, she tells herself.
He lets her undress him after that. She slides his coat from his shoulders, and then unlaces his shirt for him, pulling it up until he’s taking it off over his head. He’s just as lovely as she remembered, lean and strong from a lifetime spent at sea, with the elegant grace of a practiced fencer. She can't help herself: she kisses the line of his shoulders. He turns his head in curiosity – and she takes his face in her hand and kisses his mouth. He makes a soft, frustrated noise and chases the kiss when she leans away to continue her work, but lets her go. Marie kneels and he lifts one leg, then the other, helping her off with his boots. His trews are next, and then his… lack of underwear. Marie looks up at him, amused that they’ve had the same thought.
“I didn’t come here to play cards, de Sardet,” Vasco informs her.
“Nor did I,” she says, her voice low and smoky to her own ears. On her knees at his feet, she’s tempted again to take him into her mouth and suck him to hardness, but then they’ll both get carried away, and she doesn’t quite dare. She looks up at him and can see her own desires mirrored in his eyes, can smell the soft, clean musk of him, can almost taste him on her tongue – Marie rises hastily, refusing to give into temptation.
“Get on the bed?” she says, and Vasco complies as she picks up the rope and begins to unwind it from its tidy coil.
Marie ties him up carefully, wrapping the silken cord around his wrists and tying it off as neatly as she knows how – her knots are probably not nearly up to scratch for a Naut, though she flatters herself that they’re serviceable enough – before binding him to the bedposts. She triple-checks that the ropes aren’t too tight, fearful of hurting him. Vasco is unusually quiet, letting her work in silence, but he watches her with hot eyes, and tugs experimentally on his bonds when she finishes.
“How does that feel?” Marie asks him.
“Good,” he says, voice rough. “Perfect.”
“Wonderful,” she says, and looks him over at long last. He nearly takes her breath away.
Vasco is so, so beautiful spread out naked on her bed – so beautiful that Marie doesn’t quite know what to do with herself for a moment, lost in the sight of him. He lies on his back, his arms stretched wide and his strong thighs a little parted. Those graceful tattoos trace their way lovingly down his throat and over his chest to the bottom of his ribs, and her eyes follow them almost helplessly. His belly hitches a little as he catches his breath; a fine trail of brown hair leads down from his navel to his cock, already half-hard from just a few kisses and from letting her tie him up. Marie realizes suddenly that she’s just standing there staring at him (well, his cock, to be exact) and tears her eyes away hastily, hoping with everything in her that she doesn’t start to blush, but when she meets his gaze she finds it dark and hungry. He stares up at her with dilated pupils and parted lips. Vasco is silent. He waits for her patiently.
With a jolt, Marie remembers that she’s still fully clothed. Saints! He’s naked in my bed and I’m just standing here like a bloody idiot! She hastily reaches up to unbutton her shirt. Vasco’s eyes follow her hands, his gaze so heated she can almost feel it on her skin. Oh, she thinks. Oh. He wants… She swallows.
“I’ve never done a striptease before,” she jokes. It comes out sounding far more nervous than she’d hoped. Damn it.
“It’s all right,” Vasco says. His voice is so husky with desire that Marie feels it right down to her toes. “I don’t need anything special. I just want,” he licks his lips, a little nervously maybe, “to see you.”
“Oh,” she says softly. After that, it’s easier. She opens her collar, then draws her shirt off over her head, making a bit of a show of it for Vasco’s benefit, and is rewarded with a quickening of his breath and a visibly harder cock, but then she’s got to get her trews off, which means she’s got to get her boots off, and there’s really no way to make that look good. Marie stares at her footwear, momentarily confounded. The hell with it, she thinks, and stands on one foot, then the other, yanking her boots off and tossing them aside. Maybe she looks like a fool in front of Vasco; maybe she doesn’t care. All she knows is she needs to get her damned trews off, now. So she does.
Climbing into bed with him, naked at last, is a delicious, thrilling relief. Marie straddles his thighs and bends over him, leaning down for a slow kiss. Vasco surges up under her with a harsh breath; his pulse hammers under her hand, but he lets her take the lead as she kisses him, sucking his lower lip into her mouth for a gentle, teasing bite. She can feel the muscles tensing in his thighs, pressing up between her legs; his skin feels almost hot against hers.
“Vasco,” she breathes.
A soft “Mmh” is his only answer. Marie nips at his mouth; Vasco’s lips part for her eagerly, and she slips her tongue between his teeth, just to taste him. She misses his hands on her, but the knowledge that she has him tied up here in her bed is intoxicating. She leans back a little to look down at him: Vasco’s mouth is flushed, wet and well-kissed. The look on his face sends a jolt of heat straight to her centre.
“What do you want?” Marie asks him.
“I want to please you,” Vasco says, his voice low and gravelly, the words coming right out of him like he didn’t think about them first, like he really means them. He blinks then, like he’s only realized afterwards what he’s just said, but then he meets her eyes squarely, his gaze dark and burning.
Oh, Saints, Marie thinks dizzily.
Vasco fidgets under her, tugging at the ties around his wrists. She can feel how badly he wants to touch her, the ghosts of his hands running themselves over her body as he struggles against the flimsy restraints. He could certainly get out of them if he really wanted to, but that’s part of the point of the game, isn’t it? Marie leans over him to make a show of checking the knots, a posture that puts her breasts nearly in his face. Vasco darts up, kissing her skin, licking a nipple –
The impulse is too strong and sudden to resist. “Stay still,” Marie says firmly, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him back into the pillows. Then she realizes what she’s done, and looks down at him in a sudden panic, but Vasco doesn’t look angry or withdrawn, he looks… blown open, his lips parted, his eyes all pupil, staring up at her with an awestruck sort of need that sends heat racing over her skin. He doesn’t move a muscle. So she kisses him again, shutting her eyes and making it last, biting his lips teasingly; Vasco kisses her back, but he doesn’t even move his head, doesn’t chase her when she pulls away, just lies there, waiting, trembling a little, his entire body tense.
“You’re so good,” Marie whispers against his lips, and Vasco lets out a soft, tight sigh, almost a moan. “I promised you a proper fucking, didn’t I?” she asks.
“Oh storms, yes,” he rasps, his voice all breath and gravel.
“Then you shall have it,” she murmurs, and sits up. The sight of him is enough to take her breath away. He’s fully hard, his cock standing at attention between her thighs, the head already beginning to drip slick onto his belly; he’s gripping the ties binding his wrists to the bedposts so tight his knuckles have gone pale under the tattoos; the hazel of his eyes is swallowed up by the black; his cheeks and lips are flushed. Marie has never wanted anyone more in her life. The thought of taking him overwhelms her in a rush – the tremor of his parted thighs, the look on his face as she fills him, the thought of fingering him open slowly enough to make him beg, hot and tight around her as she prepares him – she’s staring at him again.
Marie has to force herself to turn away, to lean across the bed and pick up her harness. It’s been at least two years since she last strapped into it and fucked someone, probably more. It requires a little adjustment, but fortunately the harness was designed for such things. After a few moments of awkwardness and some tugging she’s kneeling between his legs, warming the smooth glass phallus in her hands.
“Put your knees up, and I’ll prepare you,” she tells him, and Vasco complies. Marie leans over him again to reach for the oil he so thoughtfully left on her nightstand, and he watches avidly as she slicks up her fingers. She bends down to kiss him again after setting the oil aside, one hand wrapped around her glass phallus to keep from accidentally jabbing him with it or something else equally unerotic; her knuckles brush the underside of his cock and Vasco sucks in a harsh, needy breath. Marie hooks an arm under one of his legs, drawing his knee up higher, and reaches down with her oiled fingers, stroking his cleft, circling his arsehole with one slicked fingertip.
“Ready?” she asks, her voice little more than a whisper. Heat prickles over her skin.
Vasco lets out a breath and she feels him relax himself to allow her entry. “Please,” he rasps.
Marie breaches him slowly with a single finger. Vasco moans with pleasure, rocking his hips down against her hand as she penetrates him, trying to take her deeper. He’s hot and not as tight as she’d expected – although she shouldn’t be surprised, she supposes – he’s clearly more experienced with this than she is. And he’s cleaned up for her, of course, prepared as ever. Marie adds a second finger and feels around for that secret, needy spot inside him, and knows she finds it when Vasco cries out, arching his back, his tattoos drawing lean, graceful curves over his ribs as his head pushes into the pillows, his eyes rolling up even as they flutter shut, those long lashes black against his cheeks. Vasco clenches around her, his cock visibly twitching as she pushes in, curling her fingers just so, and he cries out again and again as she fucks him, and clings to the ties binding him to the bed as though they’re the only thing keeping him anchored to the world.
He’s irresistible. He’s exquisite. The head of his cock is flushed and shiny with slick, his chest heaving, his belly hollowing out as he gasps, and Marie feels on fire with his pleasure, with every cry she draws from his lips. She withdraws and then works three fingers into him; Vasco curses helplessly as she presses in deep, and then gives a hoarse cry when she finds that spot again. The sight of his cock is quite literally making her mouth water, but she’s afraid if she sucks him now he’ll come before she can fuck him. Well, some wicked little part of her thinks, maybe I’ll just have to be very careful then. So she bends down and takes him into her mouth.
Vasco tightens down hard around her fingers and he gives a choked cry: “Ah, fuck, no please I can’t I can’t – ”
She lets him go.
“Oh storms,” Vasco gasps. Then Marie licks a single stripe up the underside of his cock and he curses again, shuddering, his muscles convulsing around her fingers; she pleasures him deeply and he muffles a shout in the pillows.
Marie continues for some time, teasing Vasco’s cock with her lips and tongue until he tightens down on her so hard she’s certain he’s about to climax, and then withdrawing and leaving him for a moment to catch his breath, or fucking into him with her fingers to make him curse and beg. That’s all he’s doing by the end, is begging, his words reduced to a handful of ragged, desperate pleas. He doesn’t ask for mercy, doesn’t ask to be taken or even to come – he just asks, over and over again, like he’s forgotten how to say anything else. “Please,” he chokes out as she suckles gently on the head of his cock, making him shiver. “Please!” he cries as she takes him to the root just once, her fingers pressing deep. “Please,” he whispers as she runs light fingertips over the tightening skin of his balls. He’s so close she can see it, so close she can almost taste his seed on her tongue, and she wants to make him come so badly that this game is nearly as much torture for her as it is for him. Vasco tugs helplessly at his bonds, well past coherence; if he weren’t tied to the bed, she thinks he would be writhing beneath her.
“What do you think?” she murmurs. “Are you ready yet?”
“Please, please – ah – please,” he gasps. “Yes. Please.” The need in his voice goes right through her.
“All right,” she breathes, and pulls her fingers out of him, then reaches for the oil.
She lubricates her glass cock and strokes it steadily; it’s warmed from her hands and Vasco’s skin, but she wants to make sure, and besides he’s watching her do it, fascinated. He lies there with his legs spread wide, his arsehole gaping slightly, well-fucked and ready for her; she admires the pink of it, the shine of oil on his skin. His cock is darkly flushed and he’s still a little out of breath, panting softly as he watches her hand slide up and down that glass phallus between her legs.
“Please,” he says softly.
“Vasco,” she murmurs, taking him behind the knee and pushing his leg back against his chest; he complies with the unspoken order, bringing his knees up again, and Marie leans down over him and lines herself up, her cock in her hand, the head of it just brushing his arsehole. She meets his eyes and pushes into him, slowly, slowly.
“Ah,” he groans, “aahhhh – ah storms – ah!” And then, “Marie,” he rasps as she bottoms out, his eyes black with arousal and half-focused on her face, his back arching as she fills him.
The sound of her name on his lips breaks over her like a wave, all surprise and nerves and sudden, deep desire – Light, she wants to fret, she wants to worry that this means something, but no, he’s gone, he has no idea what he’s saying and besides, mostly she just wants him. She wants to hear him say it again. She can feel the pressure on the harness, the strain of his weight as he fucks himself down onto her cock as deep as he possibly can.
“Vasco,” she says fiercely, and draws her hips back, and then thrusts into him. He cries out, ragged as a sail torn in a tempest, his knuckles going white as he grips the ties that bind his wrists to her bedstead like twin lifelines in the flood. She fucks him steadily, not too hard, wary of hurting him, but speeds up when he starts to beg.
“Please,” he chokes out, arching under her. “Please, please.” It’s a desperate chant in time with her thrusts. His cock twitches every time she hilts herself inside him. There’s a sheen of sweat gathering on his heaving chest, his tense shoulders. She can see the muscles in his arms, every one locked tight as he clutches at his bonds, just to hold onto something, she thinks.
“Please what?” Marie is breathless with arousal and exertion. “What do you want, Vasco?”
“Please – I need – I need to come – ”
“So come,” she says, not laying a single finger on his cock. Her hands are planted on the mattress on either side of his body, bracketing him in as she fucks him.
“I can’t – I can’t – ah – please – ” He can barely get the words out.
“You can’t come?” she pants.
“I can’t take it – ah, ah – I can’t – it’s too much – please – ”
“Come for me, Vasco,” she tells him, and just like before, he looks up at her in dark-eyed surrender, something in him melting away, his face wide open as he silently offers himself to her.
“Come,” she says.
And he arches his back and bites his lip and thrusts himself down to meet her, taking her deeply, getting the angle just right. His eyes are sharp with focus and wild with pleasure, his face flushed, and he’s breathing hard through his teeth, hips rocking sensuously as he chases his climax on her cock, an intense, desperate struggle. For a moment, she thinks she’s asked too much of him, that he won’t be able to do it, that he’ll end up defeated and bruised and she’ll have to bring him off gently and apologize and she doesn’t want that, she’ll call it off first, they don’t have to play this game, she can just touch him –
“Oh storms, oh fuck, Marie – ” Vasco gasps, and then he comes. She feels it in the harness first, the way he tightens around her cock, pulling it into him as he shudders, and then he’s crying out, breathy and almost voiceless, and spilling seed all over his chest, thick ropes of white up nearly to his collarbone, his balls clenching tight against her belly as he finally climaxes. His knuckles are fully white under the stark tattoos, the ropes digging into the skin of his fingers as he grips them too tight, rocking his hips against hers as she holds still for him, bracing him as he works every bit of pleasure out of himself. Oh, Light. It feels almost like she’s coming herself just from watching him, so intense is her arousal at the sight of him lost in ecstasy with her cock buried deep inside him.
At last it ends. Vasco collapses under her, his body going loose with bliss as he settles back onto the mattress. His fingers come loose from their death grip on the cords binding his wrists ever so slowly; Marie can see deep, pink marks striping his palms where he’s been gripping the ropes too tight for too long. She realizes, somewhat belatedly, that Vasco is probably going to be too exhausted to bring her off at this point, but when he opens his eyes she still feels the heat of his gaze on her skin. He curls his legs around her waist and looks up at her hopefully.
Oh, she thinks, and leans down to kiss him, her breasts dragging through the spend on his chest. Vasco catches his breath, pushing up into the kiss, his mouth slow and delicious with pleasure.
“That was marvellous. You did so well, Vasco,” Marie says softly, and the breath goes out of him all at once. Saints, he really likes that, she thinks. She pulls back a little and finds him gazing up at her under those long lashes of his. He is so lovely.
“Did you…?” he asks her.
“No. I was a little busy, if you’ll recall,” she says, amused.
“I want to make you come,” he breathes.
“Are you sure? You’re not too tired?” Marie asks. He’s damp with sweat, locks of hair stuck to his forehead; she reaches out and tidies them with a fingertip, brushing them off his face. Vasco licks his lips.
“Please,” he says fiercely. Warmth prickles over her skin. Light. He really means it. He wants it so, so much, she thinks, thrilled and embarrassed and still achingly aroused from pleasuring him.
“All right,” she says. “Just let me up and then we’ll see.”
Vasco relaxes his legs, and Marie pulls out of him slowly, watching his face for any sign of discomfort, but aside from letting out a long breath, Vasco seems composed, even comfortable. He’s far more experienced with this than any other partner she’s had, that much is patently obvious. She gets up and unbuckles her harness, depositing it in the empty chamber pot tucked under her bed with a resolution to deal with it later; the phallus itself is surprisingly clean aside from the oil on it. Vasco is a beautiful sight, gleaming with sweat, his chest and belly striped with his own seed. He looks up at her longingly, fidgeting a little. She gets back into bed with him, settling herself astride his hips and bending to kiss him, hot and sweet and gentle, cradling his face between her hands. His mouth is needy and open beneath hers; he sucks on her lips and tongue, silently begging for more, more.
“You’ve made a mess of me,” she murmurs, stroking her breasts against his chest with an arch of her back, coating her nipples in even more of his spend.
“Let me clean you up,” he says – a request, not an order.
Marie’s cunt aches with arousal. “All right,” she says, and leans further forward, propping herself up on the pillows on either side of his head, and Vasco takes one of her breasts into his mouth. He licks it clean sensuously, that clever tongue sliding over her skin as he sucks his own seed off her nipple, and pleasure sparks down Marie’s spine, making her catch her breath. Vasco groans softly against her chest and then turns his attention to the other breast, cleaning her attentively.
“You like that, don’t you?” she says, her voice husky with lust, and Vasco nods a little, his eyes shut, her nipple still in his mouth.
She reaches down and drags a thumb through the spend on his chest, and when he releases her breast, she brings it to his lips. Vasco meets her eyes as he sucks it clean; the tip of his tongue swirls against the sensitive pad of her thumb; Marie catches her breath. Her cunt is throbbing in time with her heartbeat. His face is wide-open, his eyes hot with want, so she does it again, gathering up another fingerful of seed and putting it into his mouth, and Vasco swallows it down, licking her clean again. His cock is soft, of course, but he’s visibly aroused all the same, his pupils dilated, his lips flushed, and he sucks on her fingers like his spend is a holy sacrament. So, she does it once more, and makes him moan by sliding her finger deep into his mouth, then bends and licks a stripe up his chest, taking a mouthful of seed for herself, reveling in the odd-salt-bitter taste of it because it tastes of him. The joining of her thighs is hot and slick, her cunt probably wet enough to drown in.
“I want to make you come,” Vasco rasps, his voice low and needy.
“All right,” Marie says, and reaches up to start undoing the knots in the rope that binds him to her bed.
“Wait,” Vasco says.
She pauses, looking down at him in some surprise. What on earth is he planning?
“Please. Leave them for now?” he says. “I want you up here.” He jerks his chin at her – indicating the pillows, presumably – or his face, she realizes.
Oh. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he says.
Marie’s skin prickles with arousal at the thought of him under her, pleasuring her with that quick tongue as she uses her hips to pin his head to the mattress, the slick of her cunt all over his face – “All right,” she says, and gets up on her knees. It’s a bit awkward to get into position – she has to move all the pillows, and then hook her legs over his arms, bound as he is, but they manage in the end with a minimum of laughter, and she doesn’t knee him in the chin even once. Her chuckles stop abruptly when she finally has his head between her thighs; Vasco looks up at her hot-eyed, but doesn’t move, just lies there, waiting.
“Go on, then,” she says, reaching down to spread her folds for him. Vasco parts his lips and gives her one long, slow lick, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Oh fuck,” Marie gasps as pleasure surges through her. She reaches out and grabs the headboard, rocking her hips down against his face, and Vasco groans as her weight comes down on him. He’s gripping the ropes again, and his tongue is just as wet and hot and soft on her cunt as it ever was on her fingers, stroking her lightly, almost teasingly. Marie clings to the headboard for dear life as he pleases her. I should have known how good he’d be at this, she thinks, whimpering helplessly.
Vasco suckles on her gently, then releases her and lets the tip of his tongue play delicately over that sensitive little nub hidden in her folds; Marie can hear herself moaning and is powerless to stop it. He’s trapped beneath her, bound to the bed, the juices of her cunt soaking his mouth, his cheeks; Marie’s pleasured a woman like this before and she knows what it feels like, what it smells like to be down there, the way the whole world narrows to the space between her partner’s thighs. Vasco breathes like he’s running a race, panting beneath her as he licks and sucks on her cunt, his tongue never stilling. When Marie chances a look down she finds his eyes open; he’s staring up at her as he gives her pleasure, his brows tight with effort and desire.
“Vasco,” she whispers, “oh fuck, Vasco – ” The ecstasy is rising through her fast, welling up from somewhere deep inside her like water, like light – she can feel herself shaking with it. “I’m close, I – ah, Vasco, ah!” And Marie comes with a desperate cry, her entire body shuddering as she grinds down hard against his ready mouth, pressing herself onto him as the climax takes her. Vasco’s moans intertwine with hers as he brings her through it, licking her steadily until she pulls back from his touch with a gasp.
Marie leans against the headboard for a long moment, catching her breath. Her muscles feel like jelly; her cunt is twitching its way through the aftershocks of an intense climax. She can feel Vasco’s breath on her; a glance down reveals him lying with his eyes closed, panting quietly. His arms hang slack in their bonds. Marie briefly considers attempting to disentangle herself from him, but decides it will be easier to just untie him first, so she leans over and picks at her own knots. Vasco holds his arms up for her, taking weight off the ropes once he realizes what she’s doing, but he doesn’t open his eyes, just lies there, slick from nose to chin with her arousal, letting her look after him at last. One, then the other arm falls limp onto the mattress, his wrists still wrapped in their silken ties, but no longer bound to the bedstead.
He sighs deeply as Marie rolls off him. Part of her wants to curl up at his side and fall asleep right then and there – she’s properly tired now, after fucking him into the mattress and then taking her pleasure from him – how long has it been, anyway? It feels like hours since they got into bed together. But Vasco is in need of untying, cleaning up, a glass of water, and a pair of arms around him, and she is more than willing to provide. Marie gathers him close, wiping his mouth off with a careful thumb. Vasco’s eyes open to lazy slits; he smiles at her slowly, crookedly.
“You’ve made a mess of me,” he murmurs. Marie kisses him, tasting herself on his lips.
“Then I shall have to clean you up,” she tells him, and proceeds to do just that.
A damp cloth to clean his mouth, to daub the sweat from his forehead and wipe up the last of the spend smeared across his chest. A tall glass of water. The ropes unbound from around his wrists, the pink marks striping his palms stroked and softly kissed. The coverlet spread over him to keep him warm. She has to leave him to wash her glass phallus, not wanting to let it wait until morning, and she’s sure he’s fallen asleep when she gets back – satisfaction and regret battle within her. She’d wanted to hold him, to kiss him and tell him how good he’d been for her – she had a feeling he might like it, might even need it – but on the other hand, he’s obviously exhausted. Him going back to the docks tonight is out of the question, of course: he can’t go wandering around New Serene in the middle of the night, not in this state. So she creeps around the room, putting out the lamps as quietly as she can, leaving only the one by the bed, but when she slips under the covers his eyes flicker open, and he reaches for her.
“Did I wake you?” she asks, settling into his embrace.
“No,” Vasco mumbles, sounding half-asleep. He nuzzles closer, tucking his face into the curve of her neck. Marie puts her arms around him.
“How was that for you?” she asks him, and kisses his hair.
Vasco sighs deeply. “Perfect,” he says.
“Everything you wanted?” she says, half-joking.
But Vasco just says, “Yes,” like he really means it, and purses his lips against her skin in a small, sleepy kiss. “What about you?” he asks.
“It was wonderful. You were wonderful. You were so good,” she tells him, utterly sincere. Vasco’s arm tightens around her, pressing her closer. Marie runs her fingers through his hair and he sighs again, content. She lets her eyes drop shut and tucks her arm under the covers, rubbing his back slowly. “You’re lovely, and so good with your tongue… I loved taking you. You look so beautiful when you come,” she murmurs. She’s drifting towards sleep and loose with pleasure, and Vasco is holding onto her like he never wants to let her go, and he just did so much for her, and she thinks he wants to hear it. “You were so good for me. Thank you for letting me have you.” She holds him close and strokes his skin, his hair, lets a soft litany of increasingly nonsensical praise fall from her lips as she begins to nod off, and Vasco relaxes into her slowly but surely, his breathing turning deep and even, his arm weighing heavy on her as he falls asleep cradled against her chest.