Chapter Text
Treviso - 9:53 Dragon
"Sure you're up for this?" she asks again, securing the ties around his ankles. "I'm putting you through your paces tonight, handsome."
Illario grins up at her, bared in his entirety for her to observe, and tilts his head back into the pillows. "Do your worst, mi amor. I can take it."
The tilt in Nels's grin tips him off, first. He's offering himself in his entirety, which is always a risky play, and tonight he realizes he's walked straight into a trap. But a trap made by Nels de Riva? A trap that involves him naked and bound in her bed? He is willing to walk into that. At the very least, it promises him some release for the evening.
She settles over his thighs, grabs her bottle of oil and pours a generous amount into her hand. He wonders for a moment if this is her play for the evening, if she'll be making him take one of her larger toys, but then her hand skips over his ass entirely to take his length in hand. He lets out a huff of breath, grinning, and lifts his hips into her grip as much as he can. "Is this your game, tesoro? Am I to cum until I run dry?"
"Mm, no, although I do appreciate that you're tryin' to figure it out," she replies calmly, hair coming to drift over her shoulder as she leans in. "It's cute. I like seeing you put that intelligence to work."
Something lights up in his chest, makes him almost fumble for a moment before he speaks. "Finally, someone who acknowledges it," he teases.
"All these years, learning you like the back of my hand; y'know, somedays I kind of miss our early work? Watching you puzzle me out, pulling at threads until you got what you wanted." Her lips brush over his, pulling back just out of reach before he can take their kiss anywhere. "Felt heady, Illario. All that sharp focus, that quick mind, focused on me... have I ever told you how many nights I got myself off to that? Not even the sex, not just how well you can fuck me, but your mind."
He squirms a little, as he comes to the realization that he's blushing. "Nels..."
"You're joking about it, vhenan, but I'm serious," she murmurs, hand tightening around him, giving him just that little extra pressure. "I used to walk myself home, lock my door, and fuck myself to the thought of you giving me that look."
He shudders, struggles to keep his eyes open, hoping she can't tell just how insanely aroused he is. He pictures it - pictures her - spread out in her private room in Salle- he'd left lipstick stains on her a few times, had she even bothered to remove it before sinking her fingers deep? "How- how many times?"
Her grin is sharp, as she leans in to nose at his cheek. "That year before I let you take me? After every job." The admission tears a groan from him- it shouldn't surprise him, thrill him as much as it does, but it is. It does. "Twice a week in between. Give or take. And all for that sharp wit."
Andraste spare him, he thought he knew everything Nels had to offer him. Twelve years of falling into bed together- this is the first she's ever done this, talked to him like this, praised him like this with her hand around his cock. He doesn't know what to do with it- so he flounders, reaches for the easiest response he can give, which is a joke, a tease. "My beautiful face- is feeling a little neglected-"
Her free hand moves to his chest, and she pushes herself back up, gives him a firm look. Her hand slows, making his breath catch. "Illario. Much as I do love your face, there's more to you than just that. Even if people don't admit it, even if you don't like to admit it. You read people better than any other Crow I've ever met."
"It's a talent-"
Her hand stops. "It's a skill. What's the difference?"
Without thinking, he tries to buck his hips into her, forgetting that with her straddling him, there's well and truly nothing he can do but take it. Which means she needs an answer, the right answer, before she'll move again- "Oh, gatita, this is evil-"
She laughs, strokes him once in sympathy. "What's the difference, Illario?"
"A- fuck- a talent is natural, but a skill is- learned, practiced, honed- right?"
He knows he looks pitiful, desperate, as he looks to her, but she seems to want him desperate, because she just smiles, and quickens her pace. "Good, Illario. Smart man."
She leans over him again to taste the skin of his throat, teeth nipping slightly, before she moves to settle against his ear. Her pace doesn't falter again, not as she whispers a string of surprisingly chaste praise to him. He shakes all the same, when she tells him your memory astounds me, and I know I can trust your plans for jobs, I never have to worry that you've overlooked something, and never known a man who could dance as well as you. None of it is sexual, and yet all of it is erotic - enough that he's already rocketing towards his end, limbs trembling faintly, gasping out a quiet warning-
And then her hand goes still, sitting back up so he's well and truly untouched, and he groans.
"Let me finish- I was close-"
"No," she replies, just as calm as ever.
"Nels- what, do you want me to beg?-"
She laughs, presses a kiss over his chest, over his heart. "Begging is always nice, princesa, but no. You know what I want to hear."
He does. He does, and that's the problem. She wants to hear words he's never genuinely said- not to himself, not to another person, not ever. He's not sure he knows how, and he definitely doesn't know how when a beautiful woman is pinning him to the bed and edging him to the point he wants to cry. "Nels- I- I can't, you know I can't-"
"Then I guess you can't cum, either," she hums. "Have to use all that self-control and wait. Until you can say it."
He gasps up at her, a whimper escaping his lips before he can think about it. "You wouldn't."
"I told you, I wanted to put you through your paces." She lets him steal a kiss, lips soft and just barely wet. "So you wait... until you can say it."
"Where did you- learn this torture?" he pants.
"Rook, actually. Saw them bring that Mortalitasi of theirs to his knees with barely two words." She shrugs, too casual for how ruined he feels. "Thought I'd see how well it works on a Dellamorte."
Her thumb runs over the head of his cock, and he jolts, thrashing in his restraints. Nels just chuckles, pins him with a hand on his chest, he can feel how hard she is against his thigh, if she'd just- but that's not the point, he'd walked into her trap and asked her for it, and she's not known for empty threats, so-
"Fine! Fine," he gasps out. "I- I am smart. Smarter than I- than I give myself credit for."
She raises an eyebrow, expectant, and he groans, turns his head so he's mostly speaking to her bedside table. "I'm good f- for more than a quick fuck- mierda, Nels- and you like me, for more than just my face, you- you're here because of it, which means- there's something else- something else you like- please-"
Her hand grips his jaw just long enough to turn him to face her, before she kisses him, biting and fierce, her other hand speeding up and finally, finally, she lets him cum.
It's several minutes before he regains enough of himself to study her face. Not as it is now, as she's untying his limbs, lithe fingers working out the tension in his joints, making sure his blood flow returns to normal. But the look she'd given him just before she kissed him. The look of... surprise and pride in her eyes. Astonishment.
She hadn't expected him to know.
He hadn't expected to find it in the first place.
When his first hand is freed, he reaches for her, cups her cheek and pulls her to him. While she's waiting for him to kiss her, he instead just presses his forehead to hers, quiet and intimate. There are words hanging unspoken between the pair of them; three words, in Trade, two in Antivan, and he's not sure how many in Elven. And yet, with all the languages they share, it's still not a feeling either of them can name. Not out loud. Not now.
But maybe, for her, he could learn how.