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You've been waiting to get off all day, an unremitting heat having settled in your loins that seems intent on pervading your every thought. After a long day's trek, you've set up camp in a sheltered clearing, seemingly devoid of any enemies, and tended your gear until it got too dark to see. Now that you're settling into your bedroll under the stars, you're eager to take the opportunity to give your body what it needs.
You've long since crossed the threshold of pleasuring yourself in less-than-ideal locations during your time in the Lands Between. You just like to be confident you won't be happened upon. You're as safe here as you'll probably ever be in this wretched land, you think, so you slip your fingers under the waistband of your pants with an excited hum. Before long, your thoughts lead you to back to the other thing occupying your mind recently.
That damned war surgeon...
You've met a lot of interesting people in the lands between, but something about Varré has left you almost obsessed. It started when you realised you were probably too eager to earn the approval of the older man, strange as he was. Your crush quickly spiraled to the point of no return and now he's the only thing you can think about when you do this. Charismatic bastard.
Even just the thought of him sends a pleasant warmth through your body, and you let out a soft groan. You begin to pick up the pace a little, imagining his gloves on you, his pleasant voice in your ear, even the way that he teasingly insults you. Your abdomen clenches in that familiar way, your breath falling out of rhythm. How does he feel about you? Would he be flattered? These questions often occupy your mind lately, not that you've come any closer to a resolution. Does he have many suitors? Or even someone already? You know that you're far from the first desperate Tarnished he's taken under his wing, and yet a small part of you holds out hope...
Mumbling something that sounds like his name into your bedroll, you try to banish those complicated thoughts and focus on the task at hand. You splay your thighs a little further, as far as the bedroll will allow you, and cant your hips up for better access to yourself. It's embarrassingly wet, and even through the fog in your mind the wet sounds as your circle your clit don't escape you.
Your thoughts stray back to him, inevitably, as they always do. You can almost feel the way his gloves would slide up your abdomen and up your sides to knead your breasts, and you tweak a nipple through the rough fabric of your tunic with your free hand, tearing a gasp from your throat. And what kind of lover is he? Something gives you the idea he's the passionate and attentive kind, which makes you smile, but something else makes you wonder whether he would be the type to overpower you and tease you relentlessly. That thought has your insides fluttering and your fingers start to move faster, drawing little moans and whines out of you.
That familiar warm feeling is starting to build up low in your belly, and you let yourself get a little louder. Whining his name again, you curl in on yourself and move your fingers faster as your mind races. Just a little more, and...
At that moment, a voice from the darkness makes you start.
"Is there something I can help you with, my lambkin?" The unmistakable ire in that familiar voice makes you stiffen. You sit upright and place your hands atop your bedroll, trying to appear casual as ice-cold shame floods your bloodstream.
"Varré! I- um..."
"Yes?" He appears next to you, boots planting themselves squarely next to your bedroll. Peering up at him, you can make out his hands clasped in front of him and the mask staring down at you.
You blank completely for what to say, hoping there's some small chance he hasn't caught on to what you had been doing. Clearing your throat, you settle on acting as if nothing is wrong. "I'm j-just surprised to see you here, Varré... How are y-"
Varré cuts you off. "I asked if there was something I can help you with. Seeing as you were calling out my name so earnestly..."
"Oh! I... I'm, um, not sure w-what you-"
"Don't play dumb with me. Do I have to spell it out for you?" He crouches down on the grass, so the black eye holes of the mask are closer to your eye level. "If you were trying to hide the sound of your masturbation, you utterly failed. One would have to be deaf to not hear the wanton sounds you make. And not to mention, calling out my name in such a lewd way..."
You avert your gaze and your grip on your blanket tightens. "I-I'm sorry..."
"I knew you were a vulgar lowborn," he deadpanned, "but I had no idea you harboured such... perverse tendencies. And while I am... flattered, it does inspire concern, if you're to be making such a scene where anyone could happen upon you..." He leans slightly closer, "Unless that is your intention?"
"N-no!" You're not sure if your face can get any redder. Varré chuckles and you realise it wasn't a serious question.
"Well then, I'd like to ask you something. What do you suppose you should do now, my lambkin?"
You're silent for a moment. You can tell from his smug tone that he's trying to lead you into something, but you have no idea what it is. If you think about it, you suppose you had assumed he was going to leave, and you would be left alone to stew in your own shame.
"Uh, I'm not sure...?"
"Well, I'll tell you what you are going to do." He's crooning like the cat that got the cream. "You're going to keep touching yourself until you finish. Then, I may permit you to stop."
Your heart is pounding in your ears. He wants you to ... And... He wants to watch? "O-oh, but... But-"
His tone becomes flat suddenly. "No buts. If you're to behave like a hussy, you'll be treated like one. You didn't seem to have an issue with making a spectacle of yourself before..."
He's clearly not going to take no for an answer... Asshole. Sexy asshole, a voice at the back of your mind reminds you. The worst part is, you don't even care to stand up to his humiliation of you, as long as it gets you somewhere, anywhere, with him.
You can't bring yourself to say anything more to him, so you hope he understands your agreement by your lying back once more and propping yourself up on one elbow. He just watches you intently. You turn your gaze away from him as you push your fingertips back below your waist and between your lips once more. Your breath stutters as soon as you make contact with your clit, and you find your hips pushing up of their own accord to increase the contact.
You try to keep your breath even despite the shivers running through your body already, not wanting to show Varré how much pleasure you're getting out of this. It's not your fault... You've been desperate to cum all day, and it seems to keep being snatched out of your grasp. At the same time, it strikes you just how bizarre it is for you to try to maintain any semblance of modesty while pleasuring yourself in front of a man you've only spoken to several times, and you huff out some approximation of a laugh.
Chancing a look at him, he seems pleased so far, cocking his head and staring at the point your hand disappears under the blanket. Is he really getting something out of this, you think, or is he more just into humiliating you for the sake of it? You'll probably never know, you decide, and cease the thought.
Soon, that desperation begins to build up once more, and you allow yourself to lean into it, breathing shallowly as you try to work yourself to the end. Just as soon as it came, however, that warmth seems to ebb away, leaving your body feeling emptier. You grumble, repositioning yourself and trying to settle in to the rhythm again. Your peak continues to elude you, however, and you try to mask your frustration.
Varré seems to have clued in to your worry, however, and cocks his head toward you. "Is there an issue, my lambkin?"
"Um... I'm trying, but... I can't, um-"
"Oh, dear..." He shuffles a bit closer and seems to think to himself for a second. "Well... You have done very well for me so far. I can offer you some assistance-" he holds up his hands and waves his fingers, "- if you so desire."
You cough and flush harder, somehow. He's going to touch you? On the one hand, you feel like you're crossing some sort of line here. Not with him, but with yourself in some way. On the other... Well, it wasn't exactly like you had any modesty left to lose. And maybe you would finally, finally be able to get off.
You withdraw your hands from yourself and shuffle out from the bedroll a ways. "P-please! If you don't mind..."
He chuckles and moves closer to you, making to help you remove your pants. You lean back on your elbows and raise your hips a little for him to slide them off, and he hums in approval.
His fingertips, still confined within the smooth leather of his gloves, glide teasingly down your abdomen before coming down to press against your pussy. You huff, and he pushes forward to brush a knuckle over your clit, making you whine. He smirks audibly, and you realise it's because of just how wet you are. "Oh, my! No wonder you couldn't help yourself. What has gotten into you, lambkin?"
"A-ah... It's nothing..."
He chuckles again and pushes his fingers further down your slit. "You poor thing."
You feel so exposed, even in the almost-complete dark - your tunic has ridden up and your pants are haphazardly shoved down around your knees. Varré, on the other hand, ever poised, is shrouded head-to-toe by his garb.
Two fingers breach your entrance and find their way in further. With the gloves, they're thicker than anything you've had in who knows how long, so the stretch isn't completely unnoticeable, even despite your arousal. You can't contain your eagerness, though, and push your hips into him until his knuckles are pressed against you. Varré seems to get the idea, and begins to move his fingers, rubbing and stroking your inner walls in a way that makes you sigh. He must be experienced, because he seems to have no trouble finding that spot and using it to his advantage.
"A-ahh... Fff..."
You hear him smirk at your noises. His gown is parted in a convenient place as he kneels, and you can see from the tent in his trousers that he's definitely hard. And it's so close to your face too... God. That's not what this is, though, you remind yourself.
Your thoughts are interrupted when he angles his hand so that his thumb bumps against your clit, before pressing against it more firmly. You can't help but whine his name loudly. He shushes you, though his amusement is apparent. He begins to move his thumb, at the same time expertly rubbing and massaging that spot inside you. Goosebumps erupt up your arms and you throw your head back. Oh god, you think, he really must be experienced. This is so much better than what you could do... There's no way you'll last like this.
Another minute, and you can't hold back your loud whines and mewls. Varré, who seems to have given up on reminding you to be quiet, brings his other hand to gently but firmly cover your mouth. He's clued into exactly what you like, and continues to lay into your most sensitive spots in a way that has you twitching and moaning into his palm.
He looks down at you, and you peer to make out the features of his mask. "I must say, my lambkin... What a pleasant turn of events this is! Even for a Tarnished, you're a debased thing indeed..."
You want to scoff. How can he say such things when he's the one making you feel this good? Your indignance is lost on him, though, as all you can do is let out a huff against his glove. The position does make you feel somewhat debased, on the other hand - with him hunched over you, one hand flattened against your mouth and the other fixatedly working at your nether regions, you're utterly subject to his ministrations, and something about that makes it all the more exciting for you. You wriggle your hips against him again, desperate to come at this point.
He seems to be able to tell, and begins to more roughly stimulate your clit while crooking his hand so his fingertips punch into your g-spot. You're almost there... yet something feels different about it this time. Exactly what, you can't say. Something you've never felt before. It doesn't matter to you, though, because you're so, so close-
Varré leans down, then, to mumble into your ear. "Be a good girl and come for me."
His words are just what you need, as white-hot pleasure erupts from your centre and floods your body to its extremities. You've never come so hard, and it takes a second to realise you're shouting into Varré's glove as you arch your back and curl your toes. He hums contentedly, and lets off when the feeling becomes too much and you begin to whine. The comedown makes you shiver pleasantly, your whole body feeling relaxed and warm as he withdraws from you. Letting out a last shaking sigh, you sink back down against the bedroll.
Until you feel something that makes you grimace. You're... really wet. In fact, it feels like something has not only coated you between your thighs, but has also dripped down and settled uncomfortably under your ass. What...?
It also occurs to you that Varré is unusually quiet, for once. When you look at him, you can see he's examining his gloved hand intently - the same one that was in you a moment ago. But why would he... Oh. Ohhh.
You flush positively crimson.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to- I mean, I didn't know-"
"Do not apologise, my lambkin." He stops you. "How darling indeed... And you say this hasn't happened before?"
"No, I don't think so.."
"Well." He's clearly very pleased with himself. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. And you're welcome to stop by if you find yourself so inclined, rather than..." His tone drops for a moment, "debasing yourself in the open. But, I should be making my way." With that, he moves to stand up.
"Wait..." You reach for his arm. "Varré... Thank you very much." You can't help the coy smile that makes its way onto your face. After what happened, you're having a hard time meeting his gaze.
"Anytime, my dear. Actually, before I go, I have something for you."
"Yes?"
He fishes something out of his satchel, and presses it into your waiting palm. A handkerchief.
"I believe you will be needing this."