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girlwiththepapatattoo · 3 years

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Chiaroscuro: Illuminare

Warnings: Oral sex (male and female receiving) tension, banter, Damiano being himself, references to a less than stellar way of meeting (if anyone has guessed the easter egg with Ann yet I will give them a digital cookie lol)

Tags: @whoreschach @reclusive-cat-lady @limerami @saekkos @kshandra @rocket-dancer @bakedbybeelzebub @blood-ghuleh @jitterbugs927 @inferuscorvus @ptite-shit @scriptor @localmusicrocks @dragonsfire8780 @thedaddytamer @maidenismyreligion

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The night air was cool against her overheated skin, and if she focused, she’d probably be able to piece out which songs were floating along from the various clubs and venues that dotted the Avatar Country streets.

If only focus were possible.

Not for the first time in the last fifteen minutes did she look up at the stern face of the half-demon/half-man striding next to her, his mismatched gaze fixed firmly ahead, his arm wrapped tightly around hers, keeping her trapped next to him, forcing her to match his gait. He hadn’t spoken since he’d told her she was good company and asked her to walk with him. He’d never told her she was good company, ever, in all the time she’d known him. And the last time he’d asked her to do anything, rather than simply demanding her compliance…well, that had been the eleventy-fucking-fourth of never.

“What is wrong?” she asked quietly as she looked away from him again, trying to figure out where they were headed.

“You’ve asked me that already. Several times. If something were wrong, I would have said as much.”

“Yes well, I don’t think I believe you.” His only reply was a snort. After only a few minutes more, she said, “I want to know what’s going on.”

“You will. Shortly.”

“No, not shortly. Now.” When he didn’t respond again, she pulled at him, trying to release her arm from his vise grip. His forward momentum tugged her along, but only for a few more steps. She planted her feet, clad in black biker boots, braced herself and yanked, hard.

He stopped, hard, and whirled on her. “Ilaria—”

“You’re freaking me out and I want to know what’s going on.”

His gaze darted around, taking in their location. “Not here, in the middle of the street like mannerless heathens.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t much humor there. “Then I guess I’m a mannerless heathen, because I want to know, right here. And if you won’t start talking, then I’m heading back to the church.” He glared at her. “All right then.” She spun on her heel and speed-walked off, just this short of sprinting.

She didn’t get far.

“Do you not trust me?” he asked, and the words brought her up short.

She shut her eyes, sighing in annoyance...but mostly with herself. “Yes, I trust you,” she bit out, “and you know I do.” She turned back to face him, hands on her hips, her face lit up red from a nearby neon sign. “But trust doesn’t mean I’m not tired. You are...insufferably arrogant. If this has something to do with...with me--or with us--then I want to know now.”

He raised his eyebrow, before he sighed and stepped up to her. “Very well.” His arm wrapped around her waist, and the icy feeling of his powers slid over her skin. They were teleporting somewhere.

Only once they landed did she open her mouth to scold him about how that wasn’t any sort of answer, but the words died on her lips. They were in a forest clearing. Hundreds of tiny orbs of light floated around, setting a warm light in the trees. Soft music was coming from...somewhere, a gentle spring composition. And in the middle, a picnic was set out on a blanket, a bottle of wine chilling next to plates of delicious-looking food. “...this is...the last thing I expected,” Ann breathed, any anger long gone. His only response was a cocked eyebrow and the hint of a smirk as he led her over to the blanket and helped her settle next to a bowl heaped with grapes. “There’s enough food here to feed fifty people.”

“I can assure you no one else will be joining us,” he replied with a scowl that skittered across his face as he scanned the blanket area, realizing as he did so that one of the main reasons he’d never done picnics on blankets was ...he didn’t particularly care for sitting on the ground.

“Then why have so much? It seems...wasteful,” she murmured as he gingerly sat across from her.

“Why do you always do that?” At her questioning look, he continued, “Pick everything apart until it’s lying in metaphorical ruins.”

Startled, she looked at him, then out in the distance. “I...didn’t realize I did.”

He sighed softly, picking up the wine bottle and popping the cork. “You do. Usually, it is not a bad trait,” he explained as he poured them both a glass. “In fact, it makes you an exceptionally good assistant to me. But...sometimes, you could turn it off. The world will not go to shit, I can assure you.”

She blushed faintly and shrugged. “It’s something I have to work on, I guess. After you kidnapped me--”

“I prefer to think of it as ‘liberating’ you, actually,” he muttered, but quieted down when she glared at him.

“Anyway. After you kidnapped me, I just felt like everything was out of control. I had no idea what was going on for months, even as you taught me how to work for the Church. I guess I just...overcompensated.” She took up her glass but didn’t drink right away, looking pensive.

He watched her for long moments, gently swirling the wine in his glass with a practiced twist of his wrist. “Has it been so horrible? Being with the Church...with me?”

“It’s been better than a kick in the head.” She caught the look on his face before he carefully schooled it away, and she immediately felt guilty. “Of course it hasn’t been horrible. Just...not what I was expecting my life to be like.”

He nodded, then looked away from her. “Do you ever wish to leave?”

“I did...those first few months. Off and on sometimes, even after I got accustomed to things. But I haven’t felt like that in a long time.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He looked down, seemingly wanting to say something. For long moments he warred with himself, before he finally burst out, “I’m sorry. For how I...recruited you. I regret now how I did it. Toward the end of my reign, I was not very kind.”

“This is better?” she mumbled under her breath.

Ignoring her quip, he went on, “And the last thing that I want is for you to regret your time here. You are the very last person that I want to hurt, Ilar-- I mean. Ann.”

The use of her real name shocked her so much she spilled her wine all over the blanket. “Ah, shit, I’m sorry, you just. You’ve called me that one time, and it was to tell me how boring it was.”

“And I stand by that sentiment,” he sniffed, then softened. “But if you prefer it....then I will use it. In private.”

She set the glass down. “Ok, what in Satan’s name is going on? Are you sick? Am I? Are you...are you…” She took a deep breath. “Are you sending me away? You are, aren’t you? Why? What did I do wrong? Did I…” She choked back the start of a sob, goddammit she would not cry, at least not in front of him. “No, don’t tell me, I don’t need to know what I did. It doesn’t matter.” She took a shuddery breath as he carefully set his wineglass down. “Okay, so. When do you want me to go? Tomorrow? Tonight? I’ll need to pack, I--”

He pulled her to him and kissed her.

She froze in his arms, before relaxing into the kiss, as she always did. The tears stinging in her eyes were ignored as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He kissed her as if starving for her, clutching her to him like she was going to disappear right that moment, and it was only when she was gasping into his mouth that he released her. “You silly girl,” he murmured fondly, cupping her cheek. “I never want you to leave. I brought you here to…” He trailed off for a moment, before a faintly annoyed look crossed his expression. “You know that softness does not come easy to me. But I want to, with you. I would see you happy, with me.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ann. I love you.”

She stared, incredulous. “I...I don’t know what to say, I…”

“Typically, I’m told the other person usually says ‘I love you’ in return. Unless, of course, you don’t.” His tone frosted up and his body tensed. “In which case, naturally--”

She pushed against him. “For Satan’s sake, Damia, I’ve been in love with you for so long I don’t know what it’s like to not be in love with you! But you can’t just waltz in and act like your brother on a tear and expect me to not be shocked and confused. You’ve got to give me a minute to get my feet under me, jesus.”

Silently cursing Dante’s suggestions, he cleared his throat. “So...you do… One moment. What did you call me?”

She grinned, trying not to laugh. “I was trying out a pet name. Do you not like it?”

His eye twitched, exactly the reaction she was hoping for. “...even if I say no, could I stop you from using it?”

She did laugh then, leaning against his chest, and most of his ire cooled at the sound of her mirth. “Not a chance!”

He simply kissed her again, silencing any more foolishness.

Eventually, he did remember dinner, and he kept her snugged up against him as they ate, taking turns feeding each other the delicious food the castle cooks prepared. The background music was soft accompaniment, quite the change from the blistering Rammstein show they’d just seen.

What little conversation they shared drifted off until they were simply sitting together, her head on his shoulder. Finally she said, “I know you’re counting down the seconds til you can stop sitting on the ground.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’m not--”

She lifted her head and gave him side eye. “You are. You’re squirming like a toddler on sugar.”

He stopped fidgeting and looked down at her. “I want you to enjoy our outing, Ill-- Ann.”

“And I am. But we don’t have to stay here.”

“You are sure?”

“I am sure.”

“Oh, thank Satan,” he sighed in relief, and blinked them both back to their shared rooms in the castle. Her feet had scarcely hit the floor before he was kissing her again, his arms tight around her, and this time the heat was unmistakable. She moaned his name, her hands already going to work on his buttoned-up vest. They were no strangers to each others’ bodies, but this time, after Damiano’s confession, felt...different. Charged with an energy that hadn’t been there previously.

When her fingers fumbled on the second button, he gently grasped her hands and brought them to his lips. “Slowly, my love, we have all night.” He kissed her fingers. “And I’m going to make love to you.” Kisses on her palms next. “Every inch of you.” Her wrists. “I’m going to worship you the way you deserve.”

She let out a shuddery breath. “O-oh. Okay…” her voice trailed off as he lightly kissed up her arm. He chuckled softly, his lips against the curve of her shoulder, and she was happy that she’d decided to wear a sleeveless shirt that night. She shivered at the sudden, gentle scrape of teeth on her flesh, and her eyes fluttered closed. As much as she wanted to hurry, to get him naked and worship him in turn, she knew when to slow down, to bask in the sensations he raised in her.

“Have I ever told you before how beautiful you are?” he murmured as he worked his way up the column of her throat.

“I-I don’t t-think you have, no,” she whispered back, fingers curling into the material of his shirt.

“Well, I’m a fool. You are stunning, my love.” He lingered over the pulse point on her throat. “Your skin, your eyes, your hair.” He finally moved to her jawline, then traced a soft line to her ear with his lips. “Your laugh, the way you move,” he whispered, “you entrance me.”

Tears slid down her face. He’d never spoken like this before, and she didn’t even realize she needed him to until he did. “I do? Really?”

“Like a sorceress of old.”

A beautiful smile spread across her lips, and she pulled him down for a grateful, tender kiss. To her surprise he seemed almost...unsure of what to do with such a gentle touch directed at him. Of course, Damiano being who he was, he adapted quickly, keeping it tender even as his hands slowly drifted down her arms, down her torso, before reversing course and taking her shirt with it. They only parted to pull the cloth over her head, and he tossed it away without thought or care for where it ended up. That surprised her. This man was normally so meticulous with his (and since she represented him, with her) clothes, that for him to be so careless...Tonight is full of firsts, it seems, she thought with a smile.

“Why do you smile?” he asked, his own lips curving upward just slightly.

“Just...I’m not used to this side of you,” she said, dropping her gaze. “It’s...it’s a little unnerving. I’ve dreamed of this, and now it’s happening...it’s like it might not be real. Like...like I’m going to wake up and find out…”

He placed two fingers under her chin and tilted her head up, catching her gaze once more. “I swear you are awake.” He kissed her. “And this is real. Now…” he said with another kiss and the hint of a grin, “where was I?”

“I think--”

“Ah, that was more of a rhetorical question,” he interrupted as his hands moved to her shoulders, fingers stroking her soft skin down her sides. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

She shivered, lips parting as her body started to bloom under his touch. “Don’t I know it,” she replied, a hint of her usual sass in her tone.

“Ahhh, my dearest, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He chuckled, lowering his head to nip at her cleavage. “I pride myself on leaving you satisfied every time...but just wait until I show how I treat those I truly care about…” His fingers tangled in her hair as he sucked a mark into her skin. “You’re going to be begging me to stop…”

She gasped, desire punching deep into her core. “P-Please, Damia, I need you...”

He grinned darkly against her. “I know, my love. And you’ll have me. When I’m good and ready to give you what you need.” His fingers went to the fastening on her pants, but he took his time, drawing out each motion as he popped the button and lowered the zipper.

He slid one finger just inside the lace edge of her panties and let it glide along her skin, and hummed as her body twitched and twittered at his touch. “Satanas I love the way you shiver against me. So responsive.” His other hand slid around to her back, inside her jeans, cupping her ass. “I can’t believe how thoughtless I have been.”

“Th-thoughtless?” she managed to say with only the slightest skip in her voice.

“Mmm, indeed, thoughtless. I should have taken my time with you like this long before now.”

A giggle escaped her lips. “I’m not sure I could have survived it, to be honest.”

He captured her lips with a kiss. “And there’s still a possibility you won’t survive it now either.” Her eyes widened a little at his words. “Don’t worry, I have faith in your abilities.”

“Oh I’m so...glad...oh,” she whispered as he slowly sank down to his knees.

Her pants hit the floor, and he gently helped her out of her shoes and socks. Then, he leaned forward and grabbed the waistband of her panties between his teeth, making devastating eye contact as he pulled them down her legs. She gasped his name, feeling herself beginning to drip down her thighs. “Mmmm...you’re mouthwatering, my love,” he all but growled, closing his eyes as he pressed his tongue to her skin, slowly lapping the juices from where she’d dripped. Her fingers curled around his head, and she had to suppress a giggle as part of her wished he had some hair she could grab on to.

His hands slid up and down her legs as his mouth gently cleaned her thighs before he began to nibble at her flesh. He stopped short of sucking or biting marks into her skin, just took dozens of little love bites while his hands made their way slowly up from her ankles and calves to just under the roundness of her ass. He moved his head just enough so that he could look up at her, watch her melt into him, anticipate his next move.

She could scarcely breathe through the arousal coursing through her. “Please, Damia, my love. Please make me come.”

His eyes closed for a moment, and he sighed in pleasure. “How wonderful it is, to hear you call me love. I hope you never stop, Ann.” He stood and swept her into his arms, carrying her over to his plush bed, laying her down amongst the pillows. He didn’t even undress before pulling her legs over his shoulders, hands cupping around her breasts, and he dove into his feast.

She let out a keening cry when his tongue swiped along her entrance, slowly, and he savored the feel of her against his mouth, his lips. Her hips lifted, meeting his mouth, and he hummed with approval. His hands squeezed her breasts, thumbs stroking over her nipples, drawing sighs out of her before he licked her again.

He was masterful in his technique. Licking, sucking, even gentle nibbles ramped up her ecstasy, higher and higher. She felt like she was flying, fingers cramping in the sheets she gripped, trying to tether herself to the earth. And he hadn’t even touched her clit yet. She thought she might die if he didn’t though, and she begged him, words dripping from her lips, much like she was dripping for him. He chuckled, pulling away ever so slightly so that he could murmur, “I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to keep you waiting forever.” And he latched his lips onto her clit.

Pleasure sizzled up and down her spine, arching her back and pushing a scream out of her throat. “Papa!” she wailed, and he smiled against her flesh -- when she called him Papa without any sarcasm or attitude, they were getting down to the real emotions between them. He sucked on her clit, firm draws, encouraging her hips to move in time, knowing she teetered on the edge of orgasm. And he knew just what would tip her over.

Three fingers slid deep inside her, and he gave a long, slow lap at her clit at the same time he made a similar motion with his fingers on that special spot on her front wall...and she exploded. She shrieked his name, and her muscles were no longer under her control as she arched and writhed and slammed her thighs shut around his head. He didn’t mind, in fact he reveled in it, and he growled into her cunt, letting loose with all his skill, sucking and lapping and finger-fucking her until she thought the pleasure might literally kill her. She wasn’t sure if she’d come more than once, or if it was one long, drawn-out climax...and she didn’t really care. It was too good, too overwhelming.

He drove her higher and higher, wringing every bit of pleasure out of her, drinking in everything about her, until she was limp and nearly in tears. When he finally broke away, licking his lips, guiding her back down to the bedding, he smiled. “You’re absolutely beautiful when you fall apart. Taking you to that point is one of life’s greatest pleasures.”

She tried to respond but all that came out of her mouth was a breathless laugh and a whimper.

He rose from the bed as she tried to catch her breath, padding over to his bar and pouring some water. He came back to find her sitting up, giving him a soft smile as he handed her the crystal glass. “Thank you,” she said gratefully, and sipped slowly, never taking her eyes off the half-demon before her. “That was incredible.”

“You’re welcome, my love,” he replied, more than a hint of smugness in his tone. He lay down next to her, stroking a soft hand up and down her thigh. “Are you satiated? Or would you like more?”

She shivered, both at his words and touch. “I think...that maybe I’ll give my clit some rest. What about you?” Her brow furrowed in concern--he was sporting a rather impressive erection.

“Ah, but this evening is about you and showing you how I feel about you,” he said softly. He took the glass from her hand and set it aside, drawing her down to lie next to him. His hands stroked her skin slowly. “My pleasure can wait.”

She smiled and shook her head a little even as she moved into his hands. “You do realize that your pleasure and my pleasure are the same thing, right? At least that’s what you’ve been telling me the entire time I’ve known you.”

His laugh was uncharacteristically warm and soft...genuine. “Defeated by my own lessons, is it?” She nodded, letting her hand trail down his side. “I don’t suppose I should argue, it could ruin my reputation.”

She laughed with him, already turning over to lay down between his legs. “Yes, your reputation is what’s at stake right now,” she purred, quirking an eyebrow and puffing a hot breath over his cock. “And not me giving you the best blowjob of your life.”

His eyes closed for a moment, unused to feeling so overwhelmed already. Then he smirked, opening his eyes and tangling his fingers in her hair. “Ah, that would be second best, my love. Even you cannot compete with our Dark Lord.”

She blinked in surprise, wondering just how good that would be, before chuckling. “Well, fair enough. I suppose I will have to settle for the ‘best blowjob from a human’ title.” And she licked a long, slow stripe up the length of him.

He let out a slow breath and gripped her hair tight, but then he remembered he wasn’t running a scene -- it was just him and this beautiful woman. There would be time enough for domming and subbing and kink and all the many things he loved to indulge in--lifetimes of it. But tonight...this was a once-in-a-lifetime moment and he intended to savor every second. He loosened his grip on her hair and found himself caressing her head as she licked his shaft again and again.

Her eyes flicked up to his. She wasn’t used to this softness from him. It was...a little unnerving...but good. Really, really good. She shivered slightly and sighed as his fingers gently rubbed her scalp, before wrapping her lips around his tip and suckling. He groaned her name, her real name, and it made her toes curl into the comforter balled up at the end of the bed. She let go of his tip and lowered her mouth, sucking gently on his sac just the way he liked, and his hips bucked a little, unable to stop the motion.

She hummed happily, loving his reaction, the naturalness of it. Her hand moved to his shaft and stroked him from base to tip and back again, and his breathing slowly grew harsh as he held himself back from taking control of her movements. Her name was a low chant and she reveled in his pleasure.

She slipped her lips back around his tip and slowly, slow enough to make him ache, she took him into her throat. Her lips closed around his base, and he bellowed her name as she carefully swallowed around him, and he was gone. He emptied down her throat, shocked both at the strength of his orgasm and how quickly it came, but she worked him through it.

Slowly, he came back to himself, to find Ann grinning smugly, her cheek pillowed on his thigh. “I’ve never heard you whine before.”

He froze, narrowed his eyes at her. “...I do not whine.”

“Would you rather I call it a whimper?” Her grin widened. “Because, I mean, that’s just as accurate.”

“Woman.” He growled and tensed slightly. “I’ll show you whines and whimpers…” Then he relaxed back into the mattress. “As soon as I have recovered.” He reached for her and she moved up and into his arms. “Satanas, you’ve undone me, my darling.”

“You’re welcome.”

He chuckled. “So smug. Enjoy it while you can, love.”

“Oh I totally intend to.” A pause. “I love you.”

A fond smile. “I love you too.”

Later, when Dante came in to check the spell, he poked his head into his brother’s room to make sure they hadn't actually killed each other. He blinked in pleasant surprise to see them sleeping, tangled in each other’s limbs, Damiano’s hand buried in her hair. The younger Emeritus grinned and flicked his hand, and the comforter at the end of the bed slipped up to cover them. I wonder if I can make him say “Dante was right” in front of the entire congregation, he thought gleefully before gently shutting the door.

#the band ghost #papa emeritus ii #character: ann/ilaria #our writing #chiaroscuro fic

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