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ovaryacted · 4 months ago

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GUILTY AS SIN || II. VETITI FRUCTUS

─ General Marcus Acacius x fem! virgin! reader || WC: 11.5k

SYNOPSIS: After General Acacius hangs you out to dry, you're sure he no longer wants anything to do with you. Yet, when he confronts you while your father is away for business matters, he tries to prove you wrong.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Girthy age gap [Acacius is 50/reader is early 20s]. Explicit Language. Formal dialogue. Virginity loss. Unprotected p in v. Pull-out method. Oral sex (f! receiving). Fingering. Mirror sex. Light handjob. Praise kink. Size kink. Marking kink (if you squint). Dirty talk. Marcus guides you through it. Breast/nipple play. Terms of endearment (dove, little dove, mea columba). Misunderstandings & angst. Jealousy. Confessions. Mentions of misogyny, patriarchal norms, & customs. Mentions of societal beauty standards. Reader has hair & wears dresses & jewelry. Marcus the Munch makes his debut. Not historically accurate.

➣ Note: Reader's Father’s Name - Julianus Novius Lurio. Handmaiden name - Viria.

A/N: This chapter took me such a long time to write and I apologize for that, but I'm glad I was able to finish it. I did this for the 5 mutuals that wanna fawk Marcus Acacius like I do! Big thank you to @gothcsz for the constant encouragement and feeding my love for the General. Anyways, reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | PREV CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST | AO3

You had awoken the following morning to an empty bed and disheveled sheets, not a trace of Acacius left behind, at least to the naked eye. Your fingers searched over the silk that covered your mattress for any possible remnant of the man you had spent all night dreaming about, the buttery material cool to the touch. Curiously, you drew your face closer to the pillow beside your head, digging your nose into the plush cushion, hoping to find something reminiscent of the General.

Faintly embedded in the covers, you caught it: small hints of almond oil and basil smudged under your nostrils; you’d recognize that scent anywhere. All it did was confirm what you needed to know, that what transpired last night wasn’t a dream.

Resting once more on your bed, your eyes closed as you made sense of the things you did last night, what you felt. A part of you knows you’ve stepped into risky territory with the General, tempting him in such a way you gave him your first set of kisses, and in return, he gave you the first taste of forbidden pleasure. If you thought long enough, you could still feel the thick muscle of Acacius’ thigh between your legs, his plush lips trailing kisses over the side of your neck, his voice whispering the praise you sought after. Just thinking about it brought a throb to your core, something new that caused you to exhale a deep breath.

A tentative knock at your door snapped you out of your daydream. Clearing your throat, you sat up straighter on the bed and called out to the inquisitor. The door to your bedroom opened, with Viria appearing on the opposite end, slightly bowing forward at your presence.

“Oh, you are awake, my lady.” She acknowledged warmly, coming to your side of the bed, silently taking in your appearance. She didn’t say much about how the other side of your bed appeared used, but she watched over you with a knowing glance. “Shall I prepare a bath for you? Your father is said to make his return before midday.”

“Yes, that would be helpful. Thank you, Viria.” She nodded, stepping out of your room to order the other servants to set up the bathing chamber.

As you stripped yourself of your sleep gown and slipped into the scented bath water, you cleansed your body of last night’s conduct with the pumice stone, ridding the ghost of Acacius’ touch and replacing it with the scent of jasmine and olive oil. Viria had helped you dress once your skin had dried, layering the flowing material of your stola and fastening it with a golden brooch. As she styled your hair while the other servants took care of preparing for your father’s arrival, you glanced at her apprehensively through the mirror in front of you.

“Viria, did you see anyone leave the domus in the night?” She paused styling your hair momentarily, releasing the curled strands in her hand before placing them on your shoulder.

“If you are asking about the General, yes, I saw him leave before the others awoke at dawn. He left quietly without a word; I am sure he had not been spotted.” Viria’s words did little to provide you any comfort, a slight sense of defeat washing over you as your head filled with unanswered questions.

“Did he spend the night with you?” She asked cautiously, a wary look gracing her features as she tried to understand you. “Was he…was he forceful with you?”

“No, no, nothing of the sort. He was not like that…quite the opposite actually.” You were nervous to speak the truth to the one person you trusted in your home after all of these years, wringing your fingers over your lap. “We kissed.”

“You kissed the General?” Viria commented in hushed shock, receiving a bashful nod of your head. “And you wish to deprive me of such information?” Her lighthearted approach to her probing eased you slightly, chuckling lightly along with her.

“No, I do not plan on doing such a thing. It was bliss what we did, I have never felt anything like it. Yet, we avoided the very thing I hear so much from other people. It’s strange.” While you spoke, Viria resumed styling your hair, isolating each riveting curl to fall down your back. “Though, I am rather confused on how to feel. He confuses me…” You slumped your shoulders and looked off to the side.

“Well, he is a complicated man, I am sure he has his reasons for leaving without notice. But, so long as he treats you with respect and not like a barbarian, that should be sign enough that he is considerate of you.” You hummed at that, feeling another squeeze on your shoulders. “Perhaps you should speak to him afterwards, once you two have a moment alone.”

You left the conversation at that, adding the finishing touches of your look for the day, a simple set of earrings paired with a jeweled necklace, tying it together with some scented oil on the sides of your neck. The rest of the morning was focused on making sure your home was prepared for your father’s return. The servants kept themselves busy by sweeping and scrubbing the floors, placing fresh flowers in the vases by the entryway while others cooked a welcoming feast and fetched the best aged wine in the reserve.

Your father arrived just as the sun reached the halfway point in the sky, the guards at the front door lowered their heads to welcome the man that paid them. Standing beside Viria and some of the other servants to honor him, you all offered him a bow of respect as he walked down the entryway, nodding in approval at the scene before him.

“Stand, child.” He commanded, straightening your back to look at the man before you in the eye. He looked you over once or twice, the end of his lip faintly coiled upwards, patting you on the arm before walking down the line and thanking the other members for their kind welcome. Strolling behind him, lunch was a quiet affair, consisting of light conversation between the bites of food prepared for the day.

“How was your trip, father?” You asked him, sitting across from the man at the dinner table.

“It was fine. Some of the other politicians in the provinces had conflicts they asked my input on, nothing to cause much concern over.” His fork dug into a piece of pork, munching away at the piece of meat and washing it down with the wine in his goblet. “How have things been in the city since my departure?”

“No change since you left. Rome remains the same.” You took tentative bites of your meal, pacing your swallows the way you’ve been trained to. Posture tall and shoulders drawn back, always so careful not to irritate your father.

“And what of your marriage affairs?” The question immediately spoiled your appetite.

“I believe that is intended to be your duty, to find me a husband worthy of partnership.” You chose your words and delivery carefully, taking a sip of wine to manage the nausea you could feel coming.

“When I find a man who offers the right price for your hand, then I will consider it. I refuse to have you bring shame to my name and my legacy by bedding with a commoner. I did not raise you to be a whore after all, unless I am wrong in my judgment?”

The hairs on the back of your neck rose as you met your father’s piercing gaze, eyes widening at his insinuation. It should be no surprise to you, these were the same comments you’ve heard for most of your life since reaching the appropriate age for marriage. The price was never enough, or your father was too busy establishing himself as a man of politics to care for your future outside of being his emotional punching bag. The thought of him figuring out your affections towards the General made your stomach churn, and you knew then that there was no possibility of your union happening with his approval.

“No, father, I understand. I shall wait for you to approve such a union.” He responded with a satisfactory hum, gulping the rest of his wine and snapping at one of the servants for a refill. You did your best to finish the rest of your meal, growing impatient to avoid more of your father’s temperament.

Luckily, he remained busy with his work in the Roman Senate, frequent meetings with the other politicians and leaders kept him out of his home more often than not, leaving you to your own devices as you’ve grown accustomed to. Though leaving you alone to your thoughts granted you time to think about Acacius or where he was as of late. You haven’t heard from him since the night he snuck into your room and offered more than conversation, the night replaying on a loop in your mind and in your dreams.

It was almost one full moon cycle before you saw him again.

The front doors of your domus opened, welcoming the sound of heavy footfalls and the metallic clicks of armor. You’ve trained yourself to recognize when Marcus was present in your home, the staccato of his steps echoing the walls of your entryway, exactly how you remembered. You made your way to the atrium like you always have, ensuring you’d get a good look at him as he stepped through the halls to speak with your father.

The moment you saw the top of his head, you were expecting him to turn and meet your eyes. Desperate for the soft chocolate irises to hold your gaze for that one moment to signify he was okay, that things hadn’t changed between you, that he hadn’t lost interest in you.

Except he never did.

You watch with furrowed eyebrows as Acacius walks beside your father towards his study wearing his black and gold armor, the signature red shawl thrown over his broad shoulders. His face remained hardened, jaw firm and eyes sunken as he kept them forward, body stiff and head stuck in place with no sign of turning.

Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.

The doors of your father’s study closed with no change, the sight of Acacius now kept hidden from you, savoring the last bits of his back and graying curls before you were shunned out in the dark. Standing there full of confusion, your chest stung at the slight dejection you just witnessed.

Has he grown bored of you so soon?

You retreated to your bedroom again, refusing to see Acacius going through the front doors. Keeping to yourself, you disregarded the sound of his voice through the walls, commenting on something the twin Emperors had requested for the next Senate meeting. He parted ways from your father and trekked to the doors, surely on his way to speak to whoever demanded his attention. Unbeknownst to you, he glanced in the direction of the atrium and further to your room for a mere second, walking out of your home without turning back.

The next time you went to the market for some goods, you stopped by the garden you and Acacius claimed for yourselves, searching everywhere for a note or a sign to explain his sudden behavior. The place was just as you left it previously, looking by the fountain and the marble bench to see nothing left behind, peeking around the trunk of the massive tree and the weeds surrounding it to see if you had missed anything.

Not a note. Not a flower. Nothing for you to find.

Had he even thought of you during this time?

Were you so easily forgettable?

You didn’t have the time to continue rummaging before Viria stated it was time to return home. Taking your baskets and stomping out of the garden, you controlled your breathing as much as you could, brushing off the disappointment and the hurt brewing inside you. It was delusional to think you would be anything but someone’s plaything, a naive little girl yearning to be seen as a woman capable of making her own choices.

You were stupid to think the General viewed you as something other than a toy to occupy his time, and nothing would change your reality, no matter how much you wanted things to be different.

Anxiety gnawed at your gut from sunup to sundown, restless nights spent wasting away questioning yourself and your worth to the man you’ve opened up to. You ran through the multitude of possibilities to explain his sudden rejection, finding any loophole to give Acacius the benefit of the doubt put you on the verge of losing your mind from the stressors.

You’ve heard of the recent campaigns initiated by the twin emperors to satisfy their lust for violence, your father spending lengthy periods in his study noting the financing to the army, lingering by the door in case his drunken mumbles revealed any news of the General and his location.

Last you heard, he was along the coast of Alexandria in Egypt, standing at the ready to combat runaway rebels of the army. Resting was a hassle; your clammy skin and hyperactive mind kept you awake throughout the night, with Viria offering teas to soothe your nerves by morning. It was useless; too much of your psyche was tethered to a man who had made it obvious he no longer cared for your existence. Yet you still prayed for his safe return every night, for respite and favor from the twin leaders who were hellbent on jerking their lapdog’s leash.

The news of the army’s successful conquest didn’t surprise you, nor did the extended invitation you and your father received to another one of the emperors’ banquets. However, the thought of being in the same space as the General once more, much like how it had first been when you two initially met, brought bile creeping up your throat. You prayed the wine they served would quell your worries; at this rate, you’ll drown in it one way or another.

Heeding your father’s commands, you dressed in all white and gold, a jeweled armband cuffed around your bicep with opals draping down your open back. Your hair was folded into a neat array of braids, some bordering around a pinned bun and the rest melting into your wavy tresses layered neatly around your neck.

With your hand taking its place around your father’s arm, you held the folds of your stola with your free hand, adopting the facade of sociability with grace. It was the same routine as usual, nodding your head when you were acknowledged, letting the men offer their sons’ hands in marriage or their own while laughing off their propositions and feigning a playful smile.

Amongst the crowd of opulent wealth and overindulgence, the urge to search for the one face you cared to look for was hard to ignore. Subtly turning on your heel and heading for more wine, that was when you spotted him.

General Acacius, draped in his signature white and golden armor, the cape flowed behind him, golden cuffs on his thick wrists. His hair had grown since the last time you saw him, grayer than you remembered, curling down the nape of his thick neck. From afar you could count a new scar on his forearm, a shade of light pink contrasting his tanned skin. He was still relatively the same, the same Acacius, your Acacius.

But he wasn’t alone.

Perched beside him was a woman you’d never seen before, at least not in the streets of the city from where you usually ventured off. Dark raven hair with a singular streak of gray and golden pins ornate her head, almond-shaped eyes as blue as the sea, smudged in dark pink and lashes darkened with ink. The green material of the fabric adorning her slim figure cascaded around her pronounced waist, her chin angled upwards with confidence and a permanent smirk on her oval face.

You didn’t miss how her hands clutched onto Acacius’ bicep, her nails scratching at the muscle, grip steady and consistent, never once parting from him. It was as if she was purposefully taunting you, proving a point that he was only hers to have. Hers to touch. Hers to claim. That he was never yours to begin with.

She was older, refined, established. Everything you weren’t.

The way Acacius’ hand clasped over hers and looked her way with the same charming grin he wooed you with tore your heart in two, the glass in your hand shook from your weak grip as you observed the scene from afar. The room began to spin, and your breath caught in your throat, rib cage rattling around your lungs as the white fabric you wore grew tight, constricting around your frame.

It was too much.

Pushing through people to reach the balcony, you were thankful the space had been empty for some time, everyone’s attention drawn to the boar that was brought out to be served. Tightly gripping the railing, you struggled to take a steady intake of air, knuckles turning white against the marble guarding you from falling over the edge of the hill. The tears lining your eyelids burned, threatening to flow down your cheek and leave their mark.

It was idiotic and embarrassing more than anything. To think you would be the one chosen for once, desired and sought after the way you wanted. Jealousy. An all-new emotion to you, one you did not preferably enjoy. The image of that woman smiling with glee while she relished in the attention she received from Acacius seared into your mind, filling you with disgust, a fiery irritation burning in your chest.

She has what you’ll never come close to. Nothing would be able to change that.

Pivoting on your heel to the sound of hasty footsteps behind you, your teary gaze was met with Acacius’ furrowed eyebrows, concern written all over his war-worn face. Quickly wiping at the corners of your eyes, you made a pathetic attempt at keeping your head high, brushing off the seething rage overpowering the betrayal bubbling inside you. Whether you were mad at Acacius directly or the witch who selfishly caressed him, you weren’t all too sure.

“General. Congratulations on the success of your campaign.” Your voice grew strained as you spoke, face hardened with the reaffirmed formalities.

“I give you my thanks,” Acacius replied, gauging your body language and expression as you played into the dismissive and cold act towards him. You cut him off before he could speak a second time.

“I shall let you enjoy the balcony in peace.” In an effort to excuse yourself, you paced to the banquet entrance. Just as you were about to pass Acacius, his hand came to grip your forearm, stopping you in place in front of him.

“Dove.” He whispered firmly, his voice seeping into your mind, a shaky exhale escaping you from the sheer closeness of him, your body betraying you at his missed touch.

“Do you give all of your playthings nicknames as well?” Tearing your arm away from his grip, you faced him directly with a bit of distance between you, uncovered anger in your emotional eyes. “Or is that only when you have yet to grow bored of them?”

“Playthings?” He squinted at you, stepping closer with a slight puff of his chest at the insinuation.

“The woman on your arm,” just mentioning her burned your tongue and sent your blood boiling, practically smelling her on him, “I was unaware of your…tastes.”

“She is merely a party guest.”

“A guest?” You fought the urge to laugh sourly in his face, taking offense to his sudden aloofness.

“You do not believe me?” Acacius tilted his head, and for a second you would think he sounded confused, even hurt. You didn’t bother having enough faith in him to find out. “Or would it be more convenient to paint me as a liar?”

“It certainly suits the current circumstances between us. One does not attempt to woo a girl and disposes of her for a replacement. But that is how this works, is it not?” Your words were laced with venom, striking a nerve when you noticed Acacius growing stiff, his back straightening more, fingers flexing by his side as realization dawned on him.

“I can explain everything, dove, please.” The authoritative tone he had with you wavered as the conversation progressed, edging to the point of pleading when those brown orbs landed on you.

“No. I do not wish to hear it.” Unyielding in your decision to shut him out, your ears tuned into the level of noise at the banquet, needing to turn back before someone grew suspicious of your whereabouts. “Vale, General Acacius. I will pray for your continuous prosperity on behalf of the empire.”

Hurriedly parting from him, you were quick to leave Acacius alone on the balcony to meddle in his own thoughts. Your body vibrated for the duration of the outing, occupying yourself with whatever wine, meal, and conversation you came close to. For the remainder of the night, you refused to look over in the General’s direction, not caring whether his guest was stroking his broad chest or holding his hand. Yet, you could feel his eyes on you the entire time, stealing glances when he could without making it too obvious, burning holes into the back of your head whenever a man approached you, offering them a petty bat of your lashes.

You were thankful that your father suggested taking his leave not too long after that fiasco of a conversation, not looking back at the attendees much like Acacius had done when he blatantly ignored your presence in your own home. Wishing the man of the house goodnight and storming past Viria towards your bedroom, the dam you constructed collapsed, and the tears you’ve been withholding flowed over the material of your pillow, sobbing long into the night until dawn broke the next morning.

It was never going to be you. That was just how things were, and how they’ll always be.

The days have gone by in a blur, repeating the same endless cycle of the sun rising in the East and setting in the West. You hadn’t stepped foot outside of your home much, foregoing your usual visit to the market and instead handing Viria a list to check off. She tried her best to put you in higher spirits, bringing you fresh flowers and your favorite fruits from her shopping trips, but it was no use. The frown remained permanent on your face, and your appetite had dwindled since the night of the banquet, not being able to keep anything down besides liquids for the most part.

Your father inquired about your change of attitude, and the only excuse you could offer was worry from the hecticness of the empire, the rapid changes around you frequently making your head spin. He didn’t bother probing more than he thought necessary, reminding you to maintain your strength unless you wished to plunge your household into despair due to your insolence. That night, you forced yourself to eat a loaf of bread and a side platter of cheese, leaving the dish clean despite the urge to throw it back up.

Senator Lurio was on his way to another trip for political matters out of the safe confines of the city. You almost had half a mind to ask your father to take you with him, to grant you some space from Rome, another sight that wouldn't bring so much anxiety. He declined, as you expected, waving you off and ordering you to pray for his safe return. At least you no longer had to play pretend when it came to your sadness and heartbreak, Viria grew concerned for your well being regardless of the number of times you brushed her off and sat at the fountain feeding the koi fish, fingers strumming the water for hours.

The night was silent and empty, your mind a contradiction to the serenity your domus should provide. The silk slip you threw on for bed helped keep you cool from the warm air, massaging oil into your damp skin before coursing the wooden brush through your hair in mindless passes. A knock at your door caught your attention, placing your brush down at your vanity and coming towards the entryway of your bedroom, opening the door to find Viria on the other side of the threshold.

“Viria, it is late,” you stated, looking at her in slight confusion with no hostility in your tone. “Should you not be resting?”

“I should be, my lady, but you have a visitor.”

“A visitor? Who would be in their right mind to come at this hour?” You had tried to think of who would come late into the night and request your presence specifically. Perhaps it was a messenger for your father? Or worse, an intruder.

Another pair of footsteps to your left forced your head to turn, eyes widening at the sight of General Acacius removing his black hood from his head, meeting your gaze. You stood frozen as you looked at him, reminded of his presence after busying yourself trying to forget him the past couple of days. Wiping your face of the initial shock, you huffed out a breath; the anger you’d dimmed ignited once more.

“No.” Shaking your head defensively, you positioned yourself to turn inward to your bedroom, threatening to shut the door behind you. “I do not wish to speak to him. Send him away.”

“My lady, if I may,” Viria spoke up, always persistent to show you reason when you’ve lost your way, “the General comes as a guest. He seeks to speak with you and swears he will not bother you again if that is what you request of him. I believe you should pray for an open mind and listen to what he has to say.”

Your nostrils flared out as you glared at Viria and then at Acacius, who stood idly by. He didn’t say anything as he waited for you to come to a decision, his body rigid with his hands to his back. A soldier’s stance, at the ready for your command, as if you were the one to dictate his actions and not the other way around. Admitting defeat, you dropped your shoulders with a sigh and stepped to the side.

“So be it. But he is to leave soon after.” You affirmed, ignoring Viria, who gestured for Acacius to go into the bedroom with you.

He whispered his thanks to her as she closed the door, leaving you alone in the room with him. You instinctively put some distance between you two, standing closer to the middle of your bedroom while he remained by the entryway.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, General?” Sarcasm dripped from your lips; the intention in your opposing behavior didn’t go unnoticed by the man before you.

“I came to apologize and to ask for your forgiveness,” Acacius said calmly, his broad shoulders widened as he spoke.

“And what for?” Your body itches with anxiety, the endless pit in your stomach fluttering along with the beat of his words. “You have done nothing wrong. You simply acted in the way a man of your stature would.”

“I do not understand,” he switched his weight from one foot to the other, hands flexed in antsy fists. “There are very few men who act as I do, or who have the title and honor I carry.”

“I am not speaking regarding your title, General.” You take a breath, fingers toying with the fabric of your slip. “You may have honor, but at the core, you are still a man with urges who seeks to release them somehow. Whether it be on the battlefield or in the brothels, the drive of men is natural and cannot be avoided.”

Acacius took your words personally, becoming slightly defensive as he caught your insinuation. To think he simply goes and sticks himself into whoever he finds convenient when you know nothing of what went through his head or how much you occupied his mind was offensive, to say the least. He thought the time you two spent together and crossing the line of boundaries dividing you would be enough to show how he truly felt. He thought wrong.

“That is something I do not spend my limited time doing,” he voiced, growing frustrated with your refusal to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Do not generalize me with other men in this city because of the social customs they engage with. We are not all alike; you must know that despite your naivety.”

“You speak of honor and virtue, and yet you come here to lie in my presence.” This time you chuckled bitterly at him; the fierce green flare in your eyes burned holes through the General. “You toyed with me for some time and found another that is more willing to provide what you need. Is that not what you men do?”

“If you would allow me to explain—”

“There is nothing left to explain, Acacius!” You threw your hands up exasperatingly as your voice increased in volume. “I understand why things happened the way they did. You sought some enjoyment from me, and once you grew bored, you went to seek companionship elsewhere. No need to elaborate on that when I know this is how things were always meant to be.”

“And that is far from the truth.” He took a step closer to you then, and another while your feet were planted to the ground. “You merely saw one side of things. Is that how you truly see me? A man who seeks to take advantage of you? After the time we spent together?”

“How else do you wish for me to see things, Marcus?!”

At the shout of his first name, his eyes widened, mostly in surprise rather than anger. You took yourself off guard as well, stammering at the usage of his name in such an informal manner, he should have your head for it.

“General, forgive me. I should not have—”

“No.” The word came without pause, and you expected him to retaliate, to strike his hand over your cheek and put you in your place. Instead, he came as close to you as he could without startling you, his hand lifting to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The act of softness shocked you, eyes misty as you struggled to face him.

“I am not angry with you.” He spoke softly to you now, much like he had always done since the start of your relationship with him. “I do not wish for us to argue, to throw around false accusations. Speak to me honestly; let me understand you.”

“I felt hurt. Betrayed.” Your bottom lip wobbled, trying to find the right words to describe your emotions to Acacius, who was as patient as he was considerate. “I saw you with that other woman and…I was convinced your affections towards me had changed.”

He hummed at your words, staying silent for a beat longer, working to find the best way to explain his side of things without having you jump to more conclusions.

“The woman I was with at the banquet is a friend of mine, not a lover. She is not fond of men in particular, but…she favors the female form. We have an arrangement when we need to maintain our roles at these festivities. She is nothing more than a friend whom I respect and aid when needed.”

You felt stupid.

“Oh.” You faltered in your answer, ruminating on the fact that Acacius had left you with no other message to show you otherwise. “Then why did you leave so suddenly? You were here one day, and the next had disappeared into thin air with no regard for me when you returned.” He exhaled then, looking off to the side.

“After that first night together, I was sent on another campaign that very morning. The Emperors refused to give me the proper time to depart, to write a note to you. The campaign itself…it went on longer than it needed to. I lost men, saw more blood lost in the vain ambitions of the empire, and…it drained me. But this is my duty; this is the burden I must carry, you know that better than anyone.”

You hung on to every word he said, silently looking at him to continue with an encouraging nod.

“When I returned to Rome, I was sure that all I would do is put you in danger. Leaving you day and night to wonder whether or not I would make it back safely, to worry you to such an extent…I could not bear doing that to you. I convinced myself that it was easier to push you away, to let your father wed you off to someone else. And yet the thought of you being with another man vexes me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, pulse spiking as you caught part of his confession. He felt the same way? Maybe there was a chance. Maybe you weren’t crazy for being fond of the General after all.

“Is that true?” With a raised eyebrow, you inquired for more, seeking more of his candor.

“Yes. It is.” His hand now tenderly cupped your cheek, thumb wiping at the tears that streaked down your face. “On my travels, you consume my mind so often it overwhelms me. I see you in my dreams, in my prayers…I look for you in every corner I turn. I desire you, dove. I crave to want you, to kiss and touch you. You are not mine to have, and it pains me that I cannot have you the way I want.”

“Why not, Acacius?” your cheeks were heated from his confession, your hand holding his wrist to ground yourself. “You have the will to do as you please.”

“Your father would disapprove of me. He is a man of politics, and he has his stake in funding the army. They will call it a conspiracy if the General of the army he pays for is engaged with his daughter. I cannot do something that would put you in harm's way, I would never forgive myself.”

“I do not care.” You declared, pressing your body to his and tilting your head upwards. “I refuse to let my father control me and my choices any longer. If you truly desire me, then show me.”

“Dove—,” the General eyed you, placing his hands on your hips to hold you steady. “If word got out of this, you would be damned and punished for your actions.”

“Am I not damned either way? To let a hypothetical husband whom I have never met dictate my existence is suffocating. I cannot keep depriving myself of so much in fear of my father’s judgment when all I care for is being with you.”

Hands creeping up to the brooch holding his black hood, you gripped onto him tighter, gently tugging him towards you in an act of persuasion. His brown eyes swirled with the torment of fulfilling your mutual impulses, to give in to the temptations you both felt towards each other.

“Please, Acacius.” You were so close you could smell him, the familiar scent of almond oil hitting your nose. “Let me control the one thing I have that is mine. I want it to be you; I only want you.”

His breath could be felt on your lips, the anticipation building like a live wire. He kept his eyes on you, watching you closely with his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. The hand on your hips turned into one strong arm around your waist, bringing you flush to Acacius’ strong body, a shiver rolling down your spine. He leaned his head closer, the tip of his nose lightly grazing yours and his free hand holding the side of your jaw.

“Dove…” It was a plea, so hushed one might consider it a prayer. Your fingers dug into the thicker material of his hood, tilting your chin to welcome him.

“Kiss me.” Close to begging now, he focused his attention on your mouth, plump lips parting as the distance closed in. “Please kiss me.”

Acacius’ resolve snapped, meshing his mouth with yours in a passionate kiss, yelping from the force he used. He kissed you fiercely, keeping you pinned to him and cradling the back of your head, his fingers spreading over the expanse of your skull. He didn’t let you part for air, granting him entry into your mouth so his tongue curled around yours, reclaiming his place. You willingly gave up control, running a hand up his thick neck and scratching along his scalp, gripping the curling gray strands you were enamored with.

You panted against him, sharing the same breath as the hand on your back shifted down to cup your rear, pawing at you greedily in a way that sent a moan pouring out of your mouth, one that Acacius happily swallowed. He overpowered you and took you off guard, expertly taking off his black hood and tossing it to the floor, never taking his hands off of you.

His lips parted from you, trailing to leave kisses on your cheek and jaw. Tossing your head back, you gasped at the sensation of his facial hair brushing over your skin; the faint tease of a bite on a spot behind your ear made you whimper.

“Acacius,” a rumble settled in his chest at the sound of your voice, airy and needy. The strap to your slip fell down your shoulder, his lips following the piece of fabric to place another kiss.

“I want to see you,” he proclaimed, grasping at the silk material that covered your body, a silent question hanging in the air. “Will you let me see all of you?”

“Yes,” it was effortless to answer him, craving more of his touch. “Please.”

Stealing one more kiss from you, he held your silk nightgown and pulled it up to your thighs and torso, lifting it above your head and letting it fall to the ground. Standing bare under the warm candlelight of your room, you didn’t take your eyes off him, waiting for his next move. He took a step back to take you in, shamelessly raking his sight over your naked body from head to toe.

Predatory in his perception, Acacius walked around you in a slow circle, taking more of you with every step. You stood in place, anxiously following him as he spun, breasts rising and falling with every nervous breath. He remained silent, catching your gaze once or twice, mischief in his brown eyes with the smallest hint of a grin tugging on the corner of his lips.

He stops to stand behind you, his broad back shadowing your figure. You could feel his presence, hear his breathing, and sense his eyes pinned to the back of your head. The ghost of his touch ran down your spine, a knuckle drifting to the nape of your neck and down your back, teasing your tailbone. Your eyes fluttered closed, slightly arching towards the touch.

“Acacius…” At the call of his name, he beckoned forward, pressing himself against you from behind. The linen fabric of his tunic rubbed over you, his proximity making you gasp. A large hand came to your hip, your head leaning against his shoulder as he kept you close.

“Beautiful,” Marcus whispered, blood rushing to your cheeks at his words. “So beautiful, little dove.”

“Touch me.” He hasn’t done anything, and you were already growing impatient from the teasing, the center of your body tense, seeking release.

“I will, sweet girl,” Acacius nipped at your ear, guiding the both of you closer to the bed.

You expected to have him hovering above you, doing the things you’ve heard from married women in passing, to have pain between your legs as he claimed you for himself. Yet he surprised you, sitting on the edge of your bed with you perched on his lap, your back to his chest and your thighs over his, keeping you spread. Opening your eyes, you were met with your reflection in the full-body mirror positioned ahead of you, Acacius’ head hovering in the crux of your shoulder.

“W-What…what are you doing?” You asked him, voice trembling from anticipation.

“I want you to see what I see,” Acacius rasped in your ear, both hands on your hips as your breath caught in your throat. “I want you to watch yourself when I touch you for the first time, my darling.”

He continued with his generous kisses on the side of your neck, craning your head back to invite him for more. The curve of his nose stroked the column of your throat, threatening to leave a mark for you to find in the morning. One of his hands reached to cup your breast, kneading your skin in a gentle squeeze. He pinched at your nipple, rolling the stiff nub between his pointer finger and his thumb, one of your free hands stretching to the back of his head for another rough kiss.

He took his time touching your chest, familiarizing himself with the weight of your breasts in his sword-worn palms. The texture of his skin against yours felt too good for you to ignore, looking in the mirror to watch how you fit just right in his hands, whether that be him palming your chest or holding the side of your ribs and hips. You were a perfect fit, and in the back of your mind, you thought of how else you would mesh together.

Acacius’ touch was drawn elsewhere, his fingertips trailing down your sternum and towards your stomach, ghosting along the skin under your belly button right above your pelvis. You could feel yourself pulse above him, your body lacking what you didn’t know you needed. Sneakily, your hips shifted upwards, chasing the tingling sensation of his fingers treading closer to where you wanted him most.

“Easy, little dove,” Acacius said beside you, tapping the skin of your mound with his other hand grasping one of your thighs, holding you in place. “Do you wish for me to touch you?”

“Yes, yes, please…I cannot bear it any longer.” He was satisfied with your pleading, a grin on his face as he kissed the back of your neck.

“Watch yourself,” he commanded, black engulfing his brown irises as he observed your reflection. “Look in the mirror as I touch you.”

Finally, he gave you what you wanted. A broad hand reached towards the most sensitive part of you, thick fingertips lining your slit, coated in the wetness of your arousal. The tips of your ears burned from the sensation, watching his hand move between your thighs in the mirror in front of you. He flicked his wrist upwards, the tip of his pointer and middle finger swiping your sensitive clit, rubbing in circular motions as your thighs shook from his touch.

With a whimper, you clasped at his arm, one hand holding his wrist and the other swaddled around his arm. You were entranced by your reflection, mindlessly widening your legs more, angling your hips to chase his calloused fingers circling your clit.

“Look at you,” he murmured beside your cheek, dark eyes sweeping over your figure, diligently rubbing your sensitive nub counterclockwise. “So wet and eager for me. Thought of touching you like this for so long.”

Your empty walls clenched under his touch, nails digging into the muscle of his bicep, and your head lolling to the side. You struggled to focus on your mirror image, the pleasure amounting to a level you didn’t anticipate. It was different than last time, more of a constant slow build versus the previously rushed movements of your hips grinding over his thigh. He had full control over you, pinned to his chest and at his mercy, hearing him purr sweet nothings in your ear as he rapidly brought you to your climax.

“Acacius, please…so close,” you gasped out, the tempo of his motions increasing in pace, heat boiling in your lower gut as the rope of tension wound tighter, ready to snap.

“Come for me, dove. Come for me, and I will make you mine.”

With his words you fell apart, keeping his arm between your legs and threatening to shut your shaking thighs from the impact. A loud wail of his name echoed through the walls of your bedroom, your eyes closing as Marcus held your legs open so he could watch you convulse. He milked your orgasm for as much as you could handle, your release soaking his hand and dripping onto his thigh.

Once the wave of your climax had ended, Acacius drew his hand away from between your legs, leaving affectionate kisses on your shoulder to ease you through the cooldown. There was a small smile on your face when you looked at your reflection again, meeting his gaze from behind you.

“And how was that?” He inquired, not stopping you from standing on quivering legs and straddling over his lap to face him with blown pupils.

“Perfect,” you replied breathlessly, leaning forward to catch his plump lips in a kiss, tugging at the collar of his toga.

You could feel him under you, his muscular legs, and the bump of something else poking at your thigh. Instinctively, you gyrated your hips over him as you littered kisses along the side of his neck, nipping playfully at the thick vein that poked out. The groan that escaped him from deep within his chest graced your ears, pulling back to kiss him more passionately, the heavy weight of his hands sweeping along the curve of your back to guide your movements.

Acacius held your thighs and flipped you both around effortlessly, causing you to lie on the bed with him hovering above you. Your legs were hooked around his waist, hands on his broad shoulders as you looked up at him, heart stirring, wondering what was going on in his mind. Expertly, he grabbed one of your pillows, placed it under your head, and kissed your forehead. He dropped kisses over your nose and cheeks, giving you more on your lips in small pulses, bringing a laugh to your face.

“You are radiant when you laugh,” Acacius noted softly, the heat in your cheeks persistent as he glanced at you with adoration.

“Will you spend the whole night toying with me, General?” You jested, curling a finger around a gray strand by his forehead that fell out of place.

“I will toy with you however I see fit,” a cheeky smirk appeared on his face, chuckling together. “If that is what you still desire from me. We can always continue this another time.”

Ever the considerate man, your chest warmed at his suggestion of doing more another time, not needing to rush the experience if you had changed your mind. But you knew deep down he was what you wanted, and you didn't want to waste another moment longer without having him.

“I want you,” you confessed honestly, thumbing the scar on his cheekbone. “I want you to make me yours…if you will have me.”

He sealed his promise with a kiss, repeating his familiar pattern of caressing your jaw and neck with his lips, pinning you to the mattress, and mouthing at your collarbones before arriving at your chest. Two kisses were left on your skin, one on each breast, a third right where your heart was beating rapidly.

“Then let me worship what is mine.”

Acacius’ lips enveloped one of your nipples, sucking the nub while flicking the other with his fingers. Your back arched at his touch, fingers coursing through his hair to keep him in place, gasping as the sensations ran through you like an electrical current. From one breast to the other, he lavished his attention on the stiff peaks, blowing on your wet skin when he was done with them.

He continued with his passage down your body, holding your waist and mouthing your sternum and stomach, kissing under your belly button and curling his hand around your thigh, bending it over his shoulder. You sat up on your elbows to watch him, lustful eyes meeting his dark ones, gasping when he smooched along the side of your inner thigh, biting into your skin hard enough to make you jolt.

“Acacius,” your fingers dug into the silk sheets of your bed, the suspense growing in your body, not knowing what else to expect.

The man before you kissed the crease where your inner thigh met your hip, then your mound, skimming the soft skin of your lower lips. Spreading your legs to welcome his head, Acacius placed a tentative kiss on your clit, the contact sending you reeling and your hips shaking. He went back for another kiss, licking a broad stripe up your cunt, humming at the taste of you invading his mouth.

“You are perfect, little dove,” he groaned against you, both hands wrapping around your thighs to keep you secured in place. “And you taste divine, the sweetest ambrosia.”

You didn’t hear what else Acacius had to say when he dove in to feast on with ravenous hunger, your back curving over the bed with a whine. Squeezing the pillow under your head, you closed your eyes and focused solely on how Marcus was pleasing you, flicking his tongue over your opening and collecting more of your slick into his wanting mouth. He was a greedy man, lapping at you like he could never get enough, a man thirsty and living in a drought, seeking replenishment from the oasis that was left to be unclaimed between your thighs.

The sweetness of your arousal filled his taste buds, reminding him distantly of fig and honey, a combination he often favored during the summers of his youth. The curve of his nose pressed further into your pussy, seeking more of your desire for him and slipping his tongue inside of your cunt. Your breath hitched in your throat, hands winding in his hair to ground yourself, bucking your hips into his face as he fucked you with his tongue.

“Oh, oh Gods…Acacius,” you stuttered on the call of his name as the General grunted in response, the vibrations shooting up your back.

You were unprepared for this kind of gratification in the bedroom. Sure, you were somewhat familiar with what happened behind closed doors, at least from what Viria had told you in private when your father refused to teach you anything else. There were always rumors of what happened in the brothels, how the workers easily wooed the men they entrapped, pleasing them in ways that were still misunderstood by you. But this, being worshiped in such a gluttonous way by a man so willing to get on his knees for you, was something unheard of.

You would think once again that General Marcus Acacius was an exception to the rule.

In the throes of his audible slurping, the General focused on sucking at your engorged clit in concentrated pulses. Meanwhile, his finger teased your twitching entrance, clutching at his head as he delved it deep inside you with minimal resistance. You keened at the feel of him filling part of you, quickly drawing the thick digit out and thrusting it back inside. He repeated the action a few times, concentrating on watching your face contorting in delight once he inserted a second finger, coaxing you to cry out into the room.

Breathless moans escaped you, the last bits of shyness and shame leaving you as you gripped the back of Acacius’ head, grinding your hips towards him with a receptive growl. He knew you were getting close to having another release, your walls pulsing around his fingers with every nudge he gave you. He curled the two digits inside you, burrowing them down to the knuckle and hitting a spot you didn’t know existed, tears in your eyes at the ferocity of what you felt hurtling towards you.

“Please, please…Marcus!” You didn’t know exactly what you were begging for, whether it be for release or mercy; Acacius understood it well.

Deepening his steady pumping, he sucked at your nub harder and moaned against you, sending you falling headfirst into your second climax. This one was more drawn out than the first, a tingling that started at the tip of your toes and spread from your quaking thighs, rushing to your head. Your nails scratched at his scalp as he coaxed you through your release, prolonging it for as much as he could until your body grew too sensitive for more. With a gentle tug of his head, Acacius drew away from your twitching pussy, leaving one last kiss on your clit. He pulled his fingers out of your hole and slipped them in his mouth, cleaning up what was left of your arousal before straightening his back and standing to peer at you.

You were still catching your breath from your climax, thighs trembling on his hips as he massaged your skin in an attempt to soothe you. Tears ran down your cheeks, not from pain but from being overwhelmed in the best way, your lower body throbbing from how the General treated you. When you focused on Acacius, the tip of his nose, lips, and chin were stained with your arousal, meshing in with the prickly gray of his mustache. His eyes gaped at you voraciously, licking his top lip as he stared down at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked you, nodding as you tried to bring him back down to your level.

You dragged him in for an eager kiss, licking at his bottom lip and hunting the taste of you on his tongue. He sighed against you, pressing himself over your body, letting you feel the length of him poking incessantly on your lower stomach.

“Will you let me see you as you have seen me?” You suggested to him in a low murmur, gazing at him with lust-blown eyes. It only made him want you more.

“Anything you wish,” Acacius said, backing away from you to stand on the edge of the bed, using your arms to sit upwards to watch him.

The black hood he wore was already discarded in your earlier pursuit of kissing him, his big hands grabbing at his linen toga and hauling it above his head, tossing it to the ground. You instantly gawked at the expanse of golden skin now exposed to you, kissed by the sun, and marked by scars from years of training and fighting in wars. He appeared to be even more broad without the bulkiness of his armor constantly weighing down on him, his body as strong as it was soft, a reliable vessel blessed by Mars.

Ogling him closely, Acacius went to remove his loincloth; the last piece of fabric shielding him from your view dropped to the marble floor with the rest of his clothes. Trailing your eyes down his body, your sight landed on his thick length bobbing against his stomach; the graying thatch of hair at the base caught your eye, your cunt flexing in response.

You couldn’t help but let your mouth water at the sight of him.

Acacius shuffled forward to hover over you again on the bed, his knees digging into the mattress as he went. Your hands itched to touch him, to get a real feel of him for the first time, but your nerves were starting to eat away at you. Gently, he reaches for one of your hands gripping the sheets, kissing the inside of your palm, each finger, and your inner wrist before placing your hand on his chest right by his left pectoral.

“You can touch me.” He coaxed, not letting go of your hand as you went on your journey to learn his body. “Feel all of me.”

Your touch continued down his bare chest, grazing along the scars you found on his freckled skin. Some were freshly pink, others were faded with age and mixed into the rest of him. You wondered what were the fables of each of these markings, the moment he experienced that imprinted onto him for the rest of his life. You went along the path he set for you, your fingertips reaching his belly button and the soft hair lined underneath it.

With Acacius’ help, you enclosed your hand around his aching cock, the heavy weight of him warm in your hand. You marveled at the sight of him, his skin smooth, twitching at the feel of you giving him a testing squeeze.

“You are big, General.” You commented with a lilt in your voice, the smallest hint of a smirk on your face.

“And you are a tease, little dove.” He played along with your game, guiding your movements with his larger hand, showing you how to touch him the way he liked. Though he was sure he would give you a more in-depth lesson next time.

He groaned at the touch, tentatively jerking him with a flick of your wrist, doing what felt natural to you. To your surprise, he grabbed hold of your jaw and kissed you fervently, fondling him until he took your hand away and urged you to lie flat on your back.

Swathing your arms around his shoulders and keeping him close, Acacius held your thighs, spreading you open and placing your legs on either side of him. His hard cock rested on your pussy, grinding his length between your lips, coating him in your wetness. The tip of him bumped into your slick pearl with every shift of his hips, clenching around nothing and whimpering as you seek more of him, to finally be his.

“Please, Marcus, take me. I want to feel you,” you pleaded, waiting for his next move. Grabbing hold of the base of him, he notches himself at your entrance, his free hand on your hip to keep you steady.

“I will go slow,” he assures you, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours, breathing with you. “You will hold onto me and tell me if it is too much or I hurt you. Understand?”

“I understand,” you echo with a dry mouth, your eyes beating closed as your nerves wrack through you.

Slowly, he rolls his hips and eases himself inside you with a careful thrust, pushing into you with control. Your breath hitches when he manages to get halfway before meeting resistance, fingers clinging onto his shoulders at the slight tinge of pain from being breached for the first time. He tried to thrust into you again, making you whimper from both pain and something else, moving his hips away to lighten the pressure before attempting to drive another inch into you.

“Too much?” He droned, and you nodded shakily. “Breathe for me, sweet girl. You are doing so well.”

The kisses and words of praise he gave you did little to alleviate the stinging tightness you felt from Acacius sliding into you for the first time. You were grateful he had been so attentive before, the fullness of him enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your head. He coaches you to breathe in through your nose, and out your mouth, and once your body was relaxed enough, he plunges into you in one go.

You yelped at the sudden intrusion, the stretch of him bringing tears to your eyes, huffing out a breath and holding onto him tightly, shielding your face in his neck. He stayed still on your behalf, giving you time to adjust, all while caressing your back in the process.

Acacius drew his head back to look at your face, an expression of worry and concern etched on his features. His thumb wiped at the tears that fell from your eyes, kissing you with affection as you leveled your breathing.

“Marcus,” you mumbled at him, looking at him wantonly. “It’s so much…”

“I know, dove. I know it is.” He felt you fidget your hips just a bit, panting from the change in angle. “Just keep your eyes on me, look only at me.”

Following his command, you did your best to focus on Acacius, shuddering when he pulled his hips back, missing the stretch of him already. He lunged himself back into you, down to the hilt, punching a rough moan out of your mouth as he carved room for himself in your cunt. He maintained his slow and even pace, not doing too much to aggravate your body as you adapted to taking him.

The more he moved, the more you craved him. Every push and pull of his hips felt like a kiss from the inside out, his cock hitting spots you didn’t know were a part of you. The depth of his languid strokes and the angle were done with precision, reciprocating his advances and instinctively meeting his thrusts halfway. You didn’t realize how vocal you had become, senseless keens pouring out of you with your arousal coating Acacius’ cock with every shove into you.

“There she is, my little dove.” You pulsed at the way he said it, possessive in his tone and his handling of your body. “Tell me how it feels. Tell me how you want me.”

“Full, so full…” Your voice grew to a higher pitch as you spoke, his eyes rapacious as he watched you. “Please, give me more. I need more.”

He didn’t keep you waiting any longer; grabbing hold of one of your thighs, he raised it to his shoulder, driving into you even deeper. He upped the tempo of his thrusts, sending your head craning into your pillow. Acacius took advantage of your position, laying his entire weight over your body and biting at the skin of your neck as he fucked into you intently, filling you to the hilt and doing it repeatedly.

“That’s it. Take it all, taking me so well.” He grunted into your ear, a hand coming to grapple the back of your head, grabbing your hair in a tight fistful. You were coerced to face him, lamenting with glassy eyes as he had his way with you. “This is what you wanted? To know what it felt like to be mine?”

“Yes, yes,” it seemed to be the only word in your vocabulary, rendered speechless from how Acacius was fucking into you so intimately. “Only yours. Only yours.”

He couldn't hide the wide grin on his face, locking his mouth over yours in a possessive kiss with a snarl, swallowing all of the sounds that poured out of you. The same tingling sensation from earlier sneaked up on you, your slick walls tightening around Acacius’ cock. He altered his bucks against you, hitting as deep as he could, making sure to leave his claim on your body from the inside out.

“Acacius, please…mercy.”

You could barely breathe being smothered under him, your sharp nails scraping at the nape of his neck and down his shoulders, tearing through his skin and marking him for yourself. He licked at his thumb, bringing his hand down to where your bodies met, and rubbed at your slicked nub, a cry forcing its way out of your throat.

“Come for me one more time, little dove,” he pounded against you so vigorously, that you would think he was purposefully trying to break you, the bed creaking under you. “One more for me, mea columba. Give it to me; let me feel you soak me.”

With a wail, you fell over the edge a third time, stars shooting under your eyelids as you shook violently and soaked Marcus entirely. You couldn’t handle the intensity of your orgasm as it slammed into you, all the blood rushing to your head, leaving the rest of your body numb. It felt like you were floating, swimming even, the warm breeze of a shoreline hitting your skin under the blazing sun.

It was euphoric, a sense of nirvana that you’ve prayed for so many times before, and here it was given to you freely and openly by a man that should be held at arm’s length.

Acacius was getting close to meeting his end; you could tell from the way he thrusted more frantically against you, groaning loudly in the curve of your neck. A few more drives of his hips, and he forced himself out of you, fisting his cock rapidly and spilling his seed over your stomach, tainting your clammy skin. You studied him with half-lidded eyes, how he heaved with sweat cascading down the side of his forehead, thick fingers holding his length in his hand to claim you, some of his release dotting your mound.

The General held himself up with one thick arm, closing the distance between you to kiss you much softer than the previous times, your lips plump and bruised from his prior aggressiveness. You reciprocated his affection happily, bringing him closer with a hand winding the back of his head, sighing contently against him.

“You amaze me, General.” You remarked, a dopey smile and wet streaks on your cheeks from the experience he granted you. You silently hoped the other servants in the domus weren’t disturbed by the loud noises coming from your room, but you had a feeling Viria would be able to cover for you.

“And you amaze me. Did so good for me, my sweet girl. So good.” Acacius praised, standing up to reach the bathing basin on the farthest corner of your bedroom. You eyed his broad back as he stepped away from you, catching the red scratches you left embedded in his skin staring back at you.

He turns and smirks when he catches you looking at him, taking the damp cloth to clean his spend from your skin. You slightly hissed when he wiped between your legs, a muttered apology falling from his mouth as he cleansed himself, tossing the rag back in the bowl and sauntering towards you.

You thought he would put his clothes back on and flee into the night, leaving someone to wake you in the morning. Instead, he came to your bed, slipping under the sheets and pulling them back to signal for you to join him. Without a word, you threw the sheets over yourself, a small inch of space between you and Acacius, staring at him curiously as if he had not just taken what remained of your innocence.

He blanketed an arm around your waist, beckoning you closer to him, and you rested your head on his chest, calmed by the steady beating of his heart. You silently caressed his side while he ran lines up your spine, his touch comforting and welcoming, palming your head and running his fingers through your loose hair. There was a nagging question tearing at your spirit, wondering what would come of this, what you meant to the General whom you just gave your virtue to on a silver platter.

“Do you plan to stay?” You asked him, raising your head to look back at him with your chin to his chest, his brown eyes already on you.

“I will be here until dawn breaks, and we will figure everything else out after.” He confirmed, bringing you close, kissing the crown of your head and again on your lips, petting your cheekbone. “Rest now, little dove. I will be here when you wake. I swear it.”

With your body against his, you breathed in his scent; the serenity your body felt beside him eased you to slumber. As you slept against the General, he stayed awake for a while longer, taking in your sweet face as you dreamed of whatever manifested in your pretty head. A part of him grew anxious about what to expect from your blooming relationship, how best to work around your father’s scrutiny, and protect you from the hardships that came from his demanding position in society.

But he knew what he wanted; he knew that whatever this was between you was something he was willing to fight for. And so he held onto you a little tighter, joining you in the land of dreams and fantasizing about you, as he usually did when he was away. Only now, part of his dream became a reality, and he had you by his side, safe in his arms.

©️ ovaryacted 2024-2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics.

Latin Translations: Vale - farewell/goodbye. Mea columba - my dove.

#marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #ovaryacted fics #ovaryacted fics: guilty as sin #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

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druidwolf21 · 1 month ago

Text

Chivalrous

Lion El'johnson/ f reader.

Tw: derogatory language, rough handling, sexual content, jealousy.

Lion doesn't appreciate other men looking at what is rightfully his.

Tags:Tags: @beckyninja @moodymisty @thisuserislilsilly @jaghatai-khock @echo-of-damnation @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lemon-russ @astrohymn @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @incrediblethirst @kit-williams @iluminatka16 @meervalv0

Lion was familiar with the feeling of fire in his belly and rage flooding through his veins.

But this?

This was...new

The primarch watched as you smiled at the officer, your hand raised to your mouth as you smothered back a laugh, the soft emerald satin of your dress shimmering slightly in the soft light. Unmoving with his back pressed to a wall, he spotted you easily through the mass of people as they danced and swayed to the soft music.

He allowed his gaze to rake across your figure, eyeing every curve under the iridescent fabric before dragging his sight back to the inquisitor, scowling as the idiot pulled another soft laugh from your lips.

Who the hell do you think you are entertaining this fool.

You must've felt his gaze. Turning you catch his eye, raising your glass towards him slightly with a soft smile playing across your lips. Your companion follows your eye line, growing pale under the furious scowl of the primarch.

Lion watched with silent glee as the man leaves, offering a rushed excuse as he back peddles away from you into the crowd, Fighting back a smile he watched as you picked your way through the crowd towards him.

"Can I help you, my lord?"

The primarch remained still, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume as you leant back against the wall next to him, swirling your goblet between your fingers before looking up at him.

"Only, my friend seemed to think you had need of me"

I have such a need for you

"Not at all. Merely watching"

He waved his hand vaguely towards you.

"The dress suits you well."

You ran your hands down the silky material, gripping it as you swished it softly.

"Yes, it's beautiful, I was surprised when I found it in my chambers. I didn't realize Primarch's had such exquisite taste, thank you again."

His jaw tightened as you laughed, soft and sweet.

"I apologize, I am being a poor host"

He hummed, ignoring the tightness in his chest as you spoke.

"Not at all"

"I assumed you had grown tired of my company in the week you have been here, Lord El'johnson"

"Your family has been gracious in allowing my chapter to resupply here. As for your company, it has been... Unexpectedly enjoyed"

He finally looked down at you, his breath catching as you looked up at him with sparkling eyes and that sweet smile still spread across your painted lips. His green eyes follow the line of your neck as he spoke, down to the exposed skin of your chest and the curve of your breast beneath the deep cut of your dress.

"I've enjoyed your company too"

He felt his hearts jump in unison as you spoke, watching as you turned away from him to watch the dancers as they span across the ballroom.

"I'll miss you when you leave, I think."

"Oh?"

You nodded, refusing to look at him.

"We've spent so much time together this last week."

You chuckled, sipping at the wine in your glass.

"It's silly, I turned down an event the other day so you could show me around the invincible reason"

With a sigh, you swallowed the last of the scarlet liquid, wincing slightly at the taste.

"so much time, and then tomorrow, it'll all be over"

Before he could respond, his attention was dragged away by the sound of approaching feet. A young man decked in military regalia slowly approached. Lion grimaced as the smell of liquor overpowered your scent. The young man balked slightly under the primarch's shadow, but refused to back down.

"If I may be so bold, I would like to request a dance from the lady"

He smothered a growl in his throat, grappling with his desire to tear the man apart, piece by piece.

How dare he.

How dare he try to interrupt.

You were HIS.

You were hosting HIS sons. This last week, your attention has been undivided on him, laughing with him, smiling only for him. You were wearing the dress he bought you, in his damned colours, you-

"Of course, my lord"

Blinking in confusion, he stared as you took the young man's hand.

"You don't mind, do you, Lord primarch?"

Blood boiling in his veins, he waved you off with a grunt, predatory gaze watching as the boy led you to the dance floor and a foreign fury rising in his gullet as the lordlings hand rested on your hip, swaying you to the music.

Lion El'johnson stood, stewing in silent rage as the song finally ended, glaring as the boy held you close, whispering in your ear before pulling away and bringing your knuckles to his lips.

Before he could stop himself, he pushed himself away from the wall, prowling forward as the crowd parted for him. He could hear your heart beat as he stepped closer, smell the sweat on your skin and the wine in your lips, see you reeling away from the touch as you man leant towards you, pressing forward for a kiss.

"I need to discuss something with you"

El'johnson gripped your shoulder, his hand tingling as it touched your warm skin, dragging you away from the embrace before it could land.

Without allowing you to answer, he led you away, ignoring the blustering of your dance partner as he practically dragged you from the ballroom, out into the hall and towards your room.

You shuddered under his grip as he clutched your arm. You tried to catch his attention as he stormed along the dimly lit hallway, his grip on your arm bruising tight.

"Lord El'johnson what-"

You stammered into silence as you finally reached your room, the door was thrust open and you were roughly pushed through, the hulking man stepping in after you, kicking the door closed.

"What on terra are you-"

"Are you doing this deliberately?"

Your jaw hung open slightly, bewildered at the question.

"Doing what?"

Lion took a step forward, towering over you with wild eyes.

"Dont play games with me"

"I swear I'm not do-"

A large calloused hand gripped your jaw, silencing you.

"You parade around in my legion colours, but allow other men to touch you like they own you"

You gaped up at him, chest heaving with anxiety as he growled at you.

"This whole week, have you just been toying with me?"

You try to shake your head, your jaw starting to ache from the pressure of his fingers.

"N-no I didn't mean to, I didn't realize"

The grip on your cheeks tightened.

"Didn't realize? Or did you just enjoy being desired by a primarch"

Lions voice was bitter as he spoke, his jaw clenching with each word he spat.

"You...want me?"

He froze at your words, releasing his grip. You remained unmoved, blinking up at him beneath fluttering lashes. He breath came in short bursts as you stepped towards him, raising your hand and placing it against his stomach.

A sudden burst of movement and you wheezed, thrown backward flat on your back, sprawled across your mattress, your arms resting useless above your head.

"Is this what you wanted?"

He climbed over the bedsheets, towering over you as you lay gasping beneath his broad chest. He bent low, his blonde hair tickling your neck as he bit your ear lobe before running his tongue along your jaw and down your throat, his fingers finding the fat of your hip.

You flushed, turning your head and squeezing your eyes shut at his words. His hand pulled away for a moment, only to find your jaw again and force you to face him.

"Is it?"

Your eyes fluttered open as he spoke, he was staring down at you, forest green eyes searching your face, desperate yearning creasing his face in a single tender moment of confirmation.

You relaxed under his touch, taking his hand in your own and brushing your lips across his scarred knuckles.

"I want you, Lion"

His hands moved up along your side, trailing down your collar until they found the neck of your dress and in one fluid movement, shredded the garment in half.

The tenderness gone as he let his appetite take control.

Growling, his lips locked onto your breast, his tongue running across your nipple as you arched into the touch. His canines grazed your sensitive flesh and you whined as he pulled back.

"You want me to fuck you so bad? Are you really so desperate for my cock? So desperate to be thrown around by me?"

You shivered beneath his touch as a calloused fingers trailed up your thigh, gently tracing the line of muscle and fat until he found your core.

"Little whore, so wet for me already. This is what you wanted all along wasn't it"

His breath was hot against your neck as he spoke.

"Trying to make me jealous, just so i would take you as my own."

Your voice lilted as his finger ran across your folds, gathering the slick before teasing your entrance.

"Listen to it, it wants me so badly, wants to be fucked and filled, such a needy little cunt"

"L-lion please"

You whined as his finger pressed inside you, curling upwards into the soft spot that lit your nerves. He huffed as you ground your hips against his palm pushing the heel of his hand against your clit, his eyes lighting up as you whimpered.

"Are you going to cum, just from my finger" he scoffed, biting down his own groan as he felt your walls spasm around his digit.

Nodding, you bit your lipas he pressed and stroked at your hot walls, you stomach tensing as your climax crept up.

You choked back a sob as he pulled away, denying your finish, lion smirking as you twitched beneath him. Unbuckling his trousers and stripping his shirt, he revelled in watching your gaze trail down his body, leering over the toned muscles of his chest and down his stomach, along the trail of blonde hair to his cock. His ego doubling as your eyes bulged at his size.

"you can come when you've earned it" palming his dick, he slid himself against you, gathering your juice along his shaft before notching his tip against your hole.

"it won't fit" your voice hoarse as you spoke, still staring at his length.

You winced as he pressed in. feeling a burn as he stretched you to your limit, you clawed at his forearm as he leant over you, slowly sliding himself in. You head spun as he pressed chaste kisses to your lips, whilst whispering filth in your ear.

"You wanted it, whore, now take it" he groaned, seating himself inside you fully, your heels digging into his hips as he settled between your thighs.

You barely had a moment to adjust before he began moving, dragging himself almost all the way out, before thrusting back in. You felt like the air was being punched from your lungs as his dick dragged along your cunt, hitting every spot that had you seeing stars as he fucked you.

"Lion! throne, I'm gonna cum"

Your breath hitched as he gripped your hip, lifting your ass slightly as he pounded into you, hitting a new angle that made your toes curl.

"Cum for me" he growled, balls slapping into your rear as he chased his own end. With a strangled cry, you came, your body spasming as your orgasm ran through you. You felt lions thrusts falter for a moment as you clenched around him and he snarled as you writhed.

"you're gripping me so tightly" he groaned, his forehead resting against your collar as his thrusts became erratic.

"Inside, please" you whispered, cupping his cheek, feeling the bristle of his beard burn against your palm.

His eyes went wide, pupils dilating at your words and his mouth caught yours, drowning your moans and breaths in a deep kiss. His tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you as with a final thrust, you felt him finish inside you,his dick pulsing as his cum filled you up and began leaking.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, inhaling deeply before pulling out of you, smiling softly as you huffed at the sudden emptiness.

You lay still as you listened to him stand up, feeling his cum slowly leaking from your aching body.

"You're not a whore"

You lifted your head tiredly as he spoke, cocking an eyebrow at his back as he turned away from you.

"what?"

He turned back to face you, a faint pink blush creeping over his face as he looked you over.

"I don't think you're a whore. I was...not thinking clearly"

He stepped next to the bed, offering you a hand as he pulled you to sit upright before taking a seat next to you. You sat silently next to him, allowing him to gather his thoughts as he pulled the blanket over your shoulders.

"I wrongly perceived our shared time together as a mutual desire, and I reacted poorly when you turned your attention to someone else."

He paused, waiting for a reaction. You remained still for a moment, before leaning against him, reaching out to grip his hand.

"you weren't wrong"

You squeezed his hand, nuzzling your head against his arm.

"I wanted you. But I didn't think you would want me"

"I do"

You both sat in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the company, before Lion spoke again.

"Come with me"

You looked up at him, with that same soft smile that started this whole mess.

"Again? Sure, but can I have another minute to recover?"

With a low laugh that rumbled through his chest, he pushed you backwards on the bed, hovering over you and running his thumb along your cheek.

"I meant when I leave"

You gripped his face in your hands, laughing with him and leaning into his touch, so tenderly soft from how he held you earlier.

"I know"

A look passed over his face as he closed the distance pressing his lips to yours, his fingers already dancing along your aching body again.

"But you did agree, and it has been a minute"

"Lion!"

#warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer x reader #warhammer #warhammer 40k #lion el'jonson x reader #lion el'jonson #lion El'johnson/reader

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acmelxvr · 10 months ago

Text

Take A Seat, Inquisitor

Pairing: Female Lavellan x Solas

Summary: Solas finds the Inquisitor in desperate need of some relaxation in the Winter Palace. And, well, he can provide.

Genre/Tags: Explicit, Canon Compliant, POV Third Person, Spoilers for Dragon Age: Inquisition, Drunk Sex, No Penetration Though, Thigh Riding, Praise, Dirty Talk, Ear Licking, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Biting, Premature Ejaculation, Mentions of Oral Sex

Word Count: 3,900

Notes: This is my first Solas fic so be gentle pls...I also posted it on AO3, you can read it there by clicking this link if you want :3

“And that’s how I ended up hunting wyverns in the Frostbacks with only two pairs of breeches!” All the nobles and Inquisition personnel in the small circle laugh at the lord’s story, some more forced than others. The ball at the Winter Palace wanes into the early hours of the morning now with no end in sight. Although drinks and food are still being served, the massive crowd has thinned into small packs of chattering lords and ladies who would dare not make the faux pas of leaving too early.

“I think I’m going to explore the library.” Lavellan murmurs to Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen. The excuse is enough to dissuade the rest of the crowd from protesting the Inquisitor’s departure from the group, but her three advisors are unconvinced.

“Take me with you.” Cullen pleads through gritted teeth, smiling a bit too wide as he barely follows along to the conversation taking place. Josephine tuts at the Commander but simply nods at Lavellan.

“Good idea. You might find some of the more intellectual attendees who would be interested in learning more about the Inquisition.” Josephine’s eyes twinkle at the possibilities, and the Inquisitor nods politely.

“Yes, I will most definitely be doing that.” She says flatly, causing Cullen to snort and this time earn a light kick from Leliana that could easily be passed as a stretch of the knee. As Lavellan begins to take her leave, the Spymaster grabs her arm and turns to speak over her shoulder to avoid any eavesdroppers.

“You did well tonight.” She starts. “You are a complete natural at The Game, despite the many forces working against you.” Lavellan smirks at the praise, knowing Leliana probably thought she would trip over her own two feet. “You’ve earned a respite, even just for a few hours before our work starts up again.” The last part she fully whispers, leaning in conspicuously. “For once, I will advise you to not listen to Josephine.” She smiles knowingly before dropping the Inquisitor’s arm.

Lavellan chuckles. “You read my mind.” She takes small steps through the ballroom towards the vestibule, occasionally saying hello to people she passes. Her mind spins with the possibilities of her alliance with Empress Celene; what it means for the Inquisition, for the Dalish, for herself. The Inquisitor is still deep in thought when she looks up and realizes that her body seemed to auto-pilot her straight into the Grand Library. The guards that used to be stationed near the entrance have disappeared, gone hours ago once the threat against the Empress’s life was neutralized. She worries over this for a moment, before dropping her shoulders and taking a deep breath as she remembers Leliana’s words.

Her fingers trace over the many titles packed into the various shelves, some in languages Lavellan doesn’t even recognize. She smiles softly as she picks up a book by a professor in the Free Marches collecting Dalish songs and tales. She leans against a desk, facing away from the Grand Library entrance, while she flips through the pages and remembers a much simpler time.

“I figured you’d be hiding in here.” The voice makes her jump, yelp, and drop the book at the same time. She quickly turns with her hand over her hidden dagger strapped to her thigh, only to sigh when Solas snorts with laughter. “The Inquisitor should not be so easily caught off guard.” He exclaims, the two flutes of champagne in each hand shaking as he chuckles to himself.

“Yes, well, forgive me if it pleases you.” She snips, then grimaces when Solas raises his eyebrows slightly at her short tone. “I’m sorry. I had finally escaped from all those people out there…I guess I got a bit caught up in what I was reading.” Her explanation is jumbled, but Solas places the two drinks on the desk before waving her off.

“Do not apologize. I’m certain you’ve had a much busier night than I. I can leave, if you wish.” He points towards one glass as an offering. Lavellan nods gratefully before grabbing the thin spine of the delicate piece and holding it close to her chest.

“Please, stay.” She says. “You’re good company.” Solas smiles and shakes his head as another laugh escapes him. He heads towards the shelf Lavellan previously occupied, now examining the tomes himself. With his back towards Lavellan, she can’t help but take in Solas’ form. He towers over her a bit and his broad shoulders also help distinguish Solas from the Dalish elves she’s used to. Even in the alienages, Solas stands out as…bigger.

Lavellan coughs, a flush climbing her cheeks as her mind wanders to more depraved thoughts about Solas’ body. Solas was certainly free with his verbal affections, but they had only just started engaging in physical affections recently. Even then, they had only kissed. Lavellan didn’t mind waiting, of course, but it felt as though every time it developed into something more that Solas pulled away.

Solas clears his throat, bringing the Inquisitor out of her thoughts as though he has eyes on the back of his head and can see how she’s examining him. Or maybe being a mage with a speciality in the Fade lets him read minds. Lavellan’s eyes widen as the drink begins to take hold. Can Solas read minds? She thinks, half seriously. “Inquisitor?” Solas asks.

“Yes!” He turns to fully face her as he holds a book in his hand. “Yes, sorry. Long night.” She mutters, taking another sip. She can feel Solas’s gaze on her as she redirects her vision to a different corner of the room. The shadows dance along the wall as the various candles around the room burn low. There’s a moment of silence, as though Solas is deciding to address the tension in the room.

“I asked whether you enjoyed your time in the Winter Palace tonight.” Solas leans against the bookshelf, a sly smile gracing his face. “The way you managed to navigate the nobility, the ballroom floor, and an assassination attempt was particularly stunning.” He swirls his beverage in one hand as he flips through his chosen book. Solas’ choice of words cause Lavellan to finally bring her attention back to him. She scrutinizes him for a moment, furrowing her brow as her eyes rake over his stature from head to toe. Finally, she smiles too.

“Solas, are you drunk?” She asks. She giggles as Solas opens his mouth to give a quick retort, but closes it when he realizes he doesn’t have one. He shakes his head in slight embarrassment and drops his eyes as the Inquisitor continues to quietly laugh. “I guess I need to catch up.” Lavellan murmurs as Solas regains his footing in the conversation.

“I will admit to partaking in more drinking than I usually allow myself. All the power, intrigue, danger, sex…” He notices how Lavellan crosses her legs when he pauses. “Well, I suppose it’s nice to go unnoticed for an evening. To engage in behavior that is unbecoming of me.” Lavellan shakes her head, alleviating his fears that she thinks less of him now. “You haven’t answered my original question.” He states, placing his book back on the shelf.

“Enjoyed is not the word I would use.” She pauses, thinking deeply on her answer. “I’m glad I was able to play The Game well enough. It was almost satisfying being able to talk circles around humans.” Solas nods ruefully, staying silent. “But I was on edge the entire time. Constantly waiting for something to go wrong. And when the Grand Duchess was dragged away…” She trails off.

“Power can be suffocating, sometimes.” Solas finishes Lavellan’s thought. They’ve both finished their drinks at this point, the flush on Lavellan’s face indicating that she’s just as tipsy as Solas is. “There are times when a decision needs to be made. Even the correct choice is never an easy one.” Solas’s expression turns serious, and Lavellan cocks her head.

“So you think I made the right choice? Going with Empress Celene?” She asks. The candles in the Library have dimmed even further as the moon creeps higher above Halamshiral. Solas tilts his head back against the fine wooden shelf, crossing his arms and looking down at the Inquisitor.

“Is my praise necessary for you to feel at ease?” His question makes Lavellan laugh, a true laugh that comes from her stomach. It’s infectious to Solas, a smile creeping onto his face replacing the scowl he had moments before. “Briala and Celene could never have ruled together, and Gaspard is a disaster when it comes to court. In the Fade I’ve seen whole nations crumble because someone would rather force a compromise than make a real decision.” He moves towards Lavellan, all social grace completely lost, and places a hand on her shoulder. “You made a real decision, ma vhenan. They are never easy.”

Lavellan looks up at Solas, who is only now an arm’s length away. “Ma vhenan?” She restates, teasing Solas now. “That is an odd way to pronounce ‘Inquisitor’, Solas.” Her hand creeps up to rest on top of Solas, the space between the two elves shrinking as he moves to grip her waist.

He rests his forehead against Lavellan’s, rubbing her shoulder with his thumb adoringly. “You looked breathtaking tonight. You were magnificent, awe-inspiring. You’ll forgive me if I drop your title. I couldn’t bear to hide how I feel for you any longer.” He pulls back momentarily to kiss the top of her head, one hand moving to the small of her back. She leans into his touch, and for some minutes the pair is silent, their embrace only betrayed by the soft skitters of someone passing through the hallway.

The trance is broken as Lavellan gives a soft push to Solas. “I should head back now. There are people probably looking for me.” She groans and rolls her shoulders, her muscles tensing back as she recalls what it feels like to have a dozen pairs of eyes on you at all times. She turns to leave, but Solas captures her arm.

“You’ve played your part for the night, vhenan.” Solas pulls Lavellan flush against him, her backside against his groin. Solas forgets his inhibitions as he pulls her collar back to plant a kiss on her neck, making Lavellan gasp. Another kiss and a roll of Solas’s hips makes her groan louder, planting her hands on the desk. “Relax with me. Forget your duty, even for a moment.” Solas’ words cause a small pit of guilt to form in his heart, but it retreats when Lavellan moans again.

“Josephine would personally see to our executions if we were caught having sex in the Winter Palace.” Lavellan’s skin is practically lit on fire with every single one of Solas’s touches, his fingertips dancing down her waist. “And I think the Orlesian nobility would die from heart attacks if they found two naked elves here.” She turns to face Solas, who stops momentarily to grin wildly, showing his sharp canines.

“I haven’t said anything about being naked.” Their faces are inches apart, both of them breathing heavily as arousal sits heavy in their stomachs. “There are many things one can do to relax without being naked, if their imagination allows it.” Solas whispers in Lavellan’s ear. He pulls away and guides Lavellan to a plush couch in a dark corner, far from any immediate entrance into the library. Solas lets go of her hand and sits on the couch, spreading his legs wide. He leans back on the couch, throwing one arm over the velveteen, and pats his thigh, beckoning Lavellan to sit.

To sit on him.

Lavellan swallows as she takes the sight in. She’s imagined, dreamed of sex with Solas dozens of times, but this was something entirely new. Something she hadn’t even begun to consider, but was still enticing nonetheless. “Is this something you want?” She asks him.

“Yes.” Solas answers so quickly that Lavellan is taken aback. “Nothing would bring me more pleasure right now than to give you pleasure.” He holds out a hand for Lavellan to grab, and tugs her on top of him. “It is selfish of me to admit, but I do not kiss you the way I do solely for your benefit.” He rolls his thigh up causing Lavellan to cover her mouth as she moans. “I do it because I also enjoy it. No, enjoy is too simple of a word.” He turns his head to think while Lavellan grips his shoulders with both hands. “I relish it. Feeling you against me, with only some layers of clothing to separate us…Fenedhis, ma vhenan. You’ve undone me. I haven’t been this overcome with desire in a long time…You make it difficult to control myself.” He plants his hands on her hips. “Let me guide you. Let me show you what I mean. We can reckon with our indulgences in the morning.”

Solas’ words have Lavellan dripping. she nods, and plants herself fully onto Solas’ thigh, moving her hands to Solas’ neck and jaw. He starts pushing her back and forth against his leg, adjusting the pressure by examining the way her face contorts just so. She moves to cover her eyes but Solas stops her. “You are so beautiful right now, vhenan. Do not think about how you might look, but focus on how you feel.” She obliges Solas and slowly drops her fingers back to his jaw. Solas notices how his words make her quicken the pace, if for a moment. “Ah, so you do need my praise to feel at ease. Very well.”

Solas keeps one hand on Lavellan’s hips, and moves one to the back of her head, entangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her down so he can whisper to her. She gasps as he presses up into her, causing her to roll her hips on her own. Although she can’t see it, she knows Solas is smiling with pride right now. “Just like that, perfect. You are a natural at this, vhenan.” His lips move against her ear as she forms a rhythm, her moans forming a perfect harmony with Solas as he groans from the pressure building in his own sex. The slight push and pull causes him to rub against the smooth fabric, making him knit his brow in concentration to ensure he somehow doesn’t cum before she does. He can’t remember the last time he did something like this with someone else; and while he’s relieved himself plenty of times since meeting the Inquisitor, he didn’t allow himself to think their relationship would get this far.

Lavellan whines loudly when Solas grinds up against her clit, the wet patch on his thigh exciting him more than before. He pulls Lavellan so that way they’re face to face, and kisses her like it’s the first time. She heaves against him, pressing her chest against his to get a better angle. Solas groans, louder this time as Lavellan’s knee presses up against his erection. Like everything else about Solas, it’s somehow bigger than she expected. “If you keep stopping, Inquisitor, you will inflate my ego. And getting you into this position has made me prideful enough already.”

He kisses her again, sloppily this time, the alcohol ignoring any expectations of how their first time together would go. Solas presses his tongue against Lavellan’s, his eyes rolling back at the vibration of her moans. He finds her chest with one of his palms, kneading her and finding a nipple with ease. She yelps when he pinches and rolls, her thighs beginning to shake. Lavellan’s pace has quickened to a point where her thighs burn, the strain of muscle mixing with her pleasure. She begins to chant his name, panting and whining when Solas lets go of her nipples and moves his hands to her backside, massaging Lavellan and gripping her with a strength she didn’t know he had. “Do you know how many times I’ve finished thinking of this exact situation? How I’ve dreamed of having you completely?” Lavellan shakes her head. “Thirty four times I’ve spilled myself over my own hand thinking of how beautiful you’d look like this. For the first time in my life, my dreams cannot compare to the real thing.”

Lavellan gains confidence through Solas’s words and leans forward, almost coming in for a kiss but at the last second, she moves past Solas’s lips. Instead, she focuses on his ears; she licks a long strip from his jawline to the tip of his ears, noticing how Solas shivers and making him wonder how the hell she figured that out. She laughs while still moaning and gasping for more. “I knew you were sensitive here. Had to be, because I noticed how you pulled away the first time we kissed when I went to grab you,” She moves her thumb just underneath the other ear, making Solas jump in shock and pleasure. “Here.” She finishes, returning her mouth to latch onto Solas’s helix. She licks a circle around the apex of his damned ears, running her tongue up and down the ridge before returning to his lips. “Imagine what else my mouth can do.” Her breath mixes with his as both of them pant, although Solas does close his eyes momentarily to see the picture she’s painted.

Solas bites his lip, almost drawing blood by how close he’s come to cumming over himself. Both of them are sweating now, Lavellan’s pristine hair stuck to her forehead. “Fenedhis–” She presses her knee against Solas’ cock again as she moves her clit down onto him, “–Fuck–”, he groans loudly as her pace quickens and she begins to babble quietly in his ear. If someone had walked in on them, Solas was too preoccupied to notice.

“I’m going to–I think I’m gonna–” Solas nods approvingly while Lavellan’s release reaches its peak. Solas closes his eyes, tears forming in the corners as he pleads with himself to hold off for just a bit longer. In a final move of complete desperation and arousal, Solas latches onto Lavellan’s neck.

And bites.

Lavellan yelps and it’s what finally sends her over the edge. She cums on Solas’s thigh, stuttering and gripping onto him while he licks at the marks his teeth had left. Both of them are moaning, although Lavellan has the sense to cover her mouth. When she finally comes down from her orgasm, Solas leans back to examine his work. Lavellan looks down and breathlessly laughs. “I made a bit of a mess.” Is all she says, and Solas lifts her momentarily to examine her handiwork.

Solas’s thigh is so soaked that Lavellan’s juices had even begun to pool next to Solas in those final moments. He smiles softly and pats Lavellan approvingly. “It is an easy enough task to warm my hands and dry my clothes, as I have done before. Do not worry.” Lavellan moves to get up off of Solas and onto her knees in front of him, but he stops her. “As much as the thought entices me, and believe me when I say it does, I’ve stolen enough of your time tonight.” She crinkles her brow in confusion, and gestures towards Solas’s groin where his erection is clearly visible, and pre-cum has even started leaking through his trousers.

“Ah.” He says, and while he does entertain the thought longer than he should have, he still shakes his head. “This was for you, not for me. And besides,” He stands up and kisses Lavellan. “I can’t imagine there won’t be more opportunities for me to catch up.” Lavellan snorts, giving another kiss to Solas before smoothing down her attire and hair.

“How do I look?” She asked sarcastically.

“Magnificent.” Solas responds, moving closer to brush her hair with his fingertips. He plants a gentle kiss on her forehead. She seems to be remembering something and laughs; Solas tilts his head in a silent question.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse like that. I didn’t think ‘fuck’ was even in your vocabulary.” Solas’s cheeks flush red and he coughs in surprise.

“Yes, well…” He stammers underneath Lavellan’s stare. “You bring out a part in me I thought I put away long ago.” Solas smiles lightly. “And that part is inclined to curse, occasionally, when underneath a fascinating woman such as yourself.” This time, Solas is the one to let go. He nods towards the Library entrance, and Lavellan sighs before squeezing his hand and stepping quietly into the hallway. He waits until he can no longer hear her footsteps before sitting down and throwing his head back against the couch. The late hour and sudden physical activity has him utterly spent.

The elf looks down, his cock practically bursting against his leg and begging to be taken care of. “I’m not that depraved.” He murmurs. Solas’s eyes close, and while he tries to think of more important matters, he can’t remove the image of Lavellan on top of him from his mind. The way she bounced on his lap, how her mouth felt against him, makes Solas bite his knuckles to hold back a moan. How she jittered when he marked her, claiming the Inquisitor all for himself as her neck bloomed with purple splotches from his sharp teeth and how quickly her release came from an action that felt as natural to Solas as blinking. Solas breathes in, then out through his nose, attempting to bring himself back to reality, but he can’t help but recall the offer she left on the table before Lavellan took her leave. Her lips would look so pretty wrapped around him, gagging and moaning as she would try to take him all the way, his tip hitting the back of her throat—

Solas jolts suddenly as his orgasm hits him like a slap against the face, the dark stain of cum now spreading down his thigh. Solas bites down hard on his palm, unable to fully hold his voice back as the smallest movement against his trousers prolongs his release even further. When the immense pleasure finally subsides, Solas opens one eye hesitantly to assess the damage. He groans into his hands, a conjured flame able to dry his clothes but not the Orlesian, and definitely expensive, couch.

It’s hours later when the morning sun rises over Halamshiral that the Inquisition takes their leave. Solas blearily rubs his eyes and yawns, although when he catches Lavellan’s smile he can’t help but reciprocate despite his weariness. The Iron Bull looks between the pair before laughing and slapping Solas on the shoulder. “Sleep well?” He asks simply, although Solas knows the Bull well enough to know that his questions are never simple.

“No, I had a long night.” Solas quips, eager to head back to Skyhold and be as far away from the Winter Palace as possible. The unspoken part being that he is more eager to finish what he started mere hours before.

“Yeah? Spend some time cleaning in the library?” The Iron Bull asks, looking at the way Solas and the Inquisitor blanche before guffawing loudly. As he walks away he shakes his head. “You guys are not fucking subtle.”

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