Chapter Text
Their first meeting the touch had been brief. Contrasting in nature, Bellara had embraced the proffered handshake with vigor, excitement. But Rook? Glancing, delicate, he held the professor’s hand like glass for the barest second. Emmrich wondered at it back then. Quick as it was he could still detect the coarse skin, the strength of the fingers, the abysmal arthritic state of them. What life led to those hands on one mid-thirty?
Best keep an eye on him.
That had been his first thought for Rook. Or perhaps the second. The first had been in that glance, a curiosity, a flicker of delight at fresh-faced company down in the Shrouded Halls. No matter the nature of the man, no matter the distracting air about him, Emmrich swore that look was simple inquisitiveness. But the second, the one that lingered, had been concern.
“Ah, shit!” Rook shouted from down the street.
Many of the thoughts remained ones of concern. Emmrich sighed, gave a nod to the vendor he’d indulged and walked in the direction of the shout. He didn’t wonder at Rook’s first weak handshake anymore. The Warden took care with others. Would note the myriad of rings, it wasn’t even a matter of hurting Emmrich, the man knew his strength well. No. He hadn’t wanted to dull the gold.
He could see him now, shaking his hand, momentary grimace on his face as he stuck the offending thumb in his mouth, bleeding again? Never a care for himself. How could one be so mindful of a stranger’s rings, while simultaneously being so flippant with their being? Gold could be polished. The healing of tendons was less absolute. Emmrich’s grip tightened on the skull staff, briefly pinched the bridge of his nose as a heavy breath escaped, prepared himself…
“Emmrich!” Ah. Rook heard that. Or felt the judgment upon him, uncanny knack for that. The Warden was beaming pure joy at him over the reunion of mere minutes. The necromancer’s gaze gentled, not quite a smile, but content, as he wove through the thoroughfare to the beckoning man.
At the start of their night, hours past, he hadn’t recognized the Warden. Dressed as he was in the finest Treviso offered. Emmrich had convinced him to have it tailored a week ago. It baffled Rook, ‘it fit fine’, well now it did. The Warden could feel the difference, it could be seen in his posture. Certainly felt dashing as well, there was a difference in stride, he deserved it. And there. Pinned to lapel, a lilac boutonnière, he’d thought it good luck. Brought Emmrich a matching one. The necromancer’s hand briefly went to his, he did smile then.
Rook still bit at his thumb as Emmrich approached, spoke through it clear somehow, “Check this out…” reached his free hand out towards the mage. An offer Emmrich nearly took hold of, but he pressed his staff into those calloused fingers instead of giving an answering embrace.
Rook’s brow furrowed a moment, confused as he took hold of the staff without a word. He turned his head at Emmrich, questioning clear. The necromancer merely motioned for the thumb in Rook’s mouth.
“Oh.” The Warden’s face flushed, embarrassment clear as the thumb dropped and he wiped it on his pants. Emmrich winced, grabbed it before the wound could be further exposed and brought it chest height. Rook cleared his throat as the mage towering over him inspected the damage, a soft firm touch, no hint of a waver. “Good knives here.” Rook shrugged, half a grin working to smile it off.
“Hold still please.” Emmrich gave a tut, this wound was deep. Spirits how did he get near bone, it was still bleeding. He had half a mind to dress it and let the Warden deal with natural healing, but as the thought passed in mind he noted the smattering of knicks and scratches further coating the skin. Best not risk infection, Rook wouldn’t tend to it properly. Emmrich sighed, felt the wince in the man through his fingers.
“Rook…”
The Warden would’ve scratched his head at such a tone if he wasn’t in charge of the mage’s staff, instead he blurted out the words.
“Yeah yeah, I know, more care. But you gotta test the edge somehow.”
Emmrich languidly raised his head from his inspections, looked long into Rook’s eyes and arched a single brow.
“Darling, do you plan to test every potential purchase in such a manner?” All he had to do was throw a single look to the table at the side, vast array of blades on display, before returning that dark gaze back on Rook.
The rogue chuckled, nerves hitting, “Well, no…but…”
Emmrich smiled then, the look in his eyes softening, “You’re capable of numerous testing methods, my dear.” With that said he led Rook by the hand, even and steady, to a nearby alcove, in but apart from the bustle of the market.
“This always has a chance to sting.” Emmrich muttered soft and low, his thoughts traveling to the deeper realm the incantations kept. The necromancer tilted his head, brought Rook’s palm up, and whispered to it. Trite few movements of his fingers danced over the injury, a quick ritual, and a handful of soft green light dripped from his fingertips. The light congealed over Rook’s thumb, melded into flesh, wove and knit, dance sparking, heating, then spilled from once bleeding epicenter to ripple across the hand, soothed the myriad of cuts and cracks it passed, left whole flesh in its wake.
Rook nearly dropped the staff, ended up biting at his cheek instead of preferred hand as his toes curled in his shoes. The spell, stinging as it was, allayed more than surface pain. He was capable of ignoring the constant aches, couldn’t remember life without them, but to have the burden whisked away all at once caught his breath. The relief overwhelmed him as the rolling green faded. Thankfully the groan never came to air, but Rook could see a smirk starting on Emmrich’s face.
The necromancer gave the hand a pat, turned it to kiss a knuckle gentle, look in his eyes saying stop biting here. Then released his hold and retrieved his staff from Rook’s loose fingers, infuriating smirk still lighting a smile in his eyes.
“Might I suggest utilizing a testing method that doesn’t risk infection?” The mirth mixed with fading concern could be heard, but Rook barely noticed, a wide smile plastered on his face as he laughed full and resounding.
He shook out his hand, flexed, looked down at his fingers unbelieving. His chuckles still traveled in his chest, merry as he spoke, “As if any infection from Treviso could fight against what I grew up with in Darktown, you worry too much.” The words more mumbled thought than rebuttal, he reached out and cupped Emmrich’s face with that healed hand. Pressed a heavy kiss to the soft cheek, a joyous crush of nose and face and smile into loving skin, voice a low whisper, “Thank you. Truly.”
Emmrich felt his cheeks go warm, everything went warm, “Darling…” he meant to say more but his word came out mildly scrunched.
Rook couldn’t stop from pressing into his cheek, mumbled more words into skin, “...for everything tonight…” more pleasant hum than legible speech.
Laughter in his throat, Emmrich replied a still mushed, “It was my pleasure.” He could feel Rook’s delightful smile on him. It had been a sincere pleasure. No time, no thought, no amount spent on this was wasted.
Emmrich recalled Rook demanding it. Demanding a date at the very least, and feeling guilty over having not planned the last one. But his idea had been…‘ I’m taking you to dinner and a show before the ritual alright! You deserve a fun night out. I found a place in the drowned district with decent enough beer and an acro… ’ he had cut off the Warden then. Offered an alternative, intrigued as he was to try the other at some point, it didn’t suit the mood.
Thankfully Rook had acquiesced when an opera was mentioned. Emmrich felt a flutter at the memory, the light that sparked in the rogue’s eyes, the hesitant doubt, the sheer joy at confirmation. That had never been an option, had it? It would be.
It had surprised Emmrich at first, with those rugged hands, the astonishing scars, a general desperate air about the man, but manner meant nothing, Rook adored the arts. Specifically story and song.
He could feel him now, Rook was still glowing, and Emmrich didn’t doubt it was due in part new music’s effect. The man never sang, but once or twice Emmrich had stumbled on him whistling. He wasn’t shy about it, but the moment Rook knew he was being heard he’d stop. A private affair of some kind. Emmrich would catch the trails of scales far off, but knew if he dared edge closer they’d cease altogether. Emmrich imagined favorites from tonight might join that secluded practice. Oh the ways in which he…and then Rook was a breath away, hand dropping from Emmrich’s face to reach for the necromancer’s hand.
Rook found the fingers as if they were his own, laced his with them. Let go of a full weighted breath, the release of it trembling down his arm into Emmrich, he squeezed hard a moment. Turned his head and spoke warm truth to the ever listening ear inclined his way,
“I’m in love with you…”
Emmrich’s eyes went wide, he turned his head, Rook waited there, raised their joined hands to his lips, kissed gentle, let his sincerity speak in that longing look peering over their joined hands, voice soft and spoken to skin, “Don’t say a thing, just let it be, don’t stress, okay? I had to say it.” One more press, and he dropped their hands.
Took lead in leisurely walking away from the alcove, left with the mage tight to his side, moved from held hands to looped arms as they wandered the market.
It was a good thing he took charge then, Emmrich’s breath had caught, all he could hear was ringing, a thumping in his chest, where the stomach had gone was anyone’s guess but he felt light, and heavy, and hot at the collar. A sudden shiver, clawing cold gripping at throat as he tried to summon a word. Nothing came but a quivering to his hands, he clung to Rook's arm, squeezed tight. The best reply he could manage in that first shuddering. His eyes felt warm, he tried to clear his throat, nearly choked.
Rook squeezed Emmrich’s arm back. “I don’t want you to have to force it alright?” He was heading slow to their final destination for the night. Used touch to ground, motion to distract. Couldn’t bare a firm denial, didn’t want a coerced confession. For now, he did a firm trailing scratch on the nevromaver’s arm, “I want to hear it natural. You know…that moment it just has to be said. Like what a night?” He tilted his head into Emmrich’s shoulder, maybe rambled so the silence wouldn’t feel a need to be filled, “Never would’ve…”
“Rook…”
“Don’t. I know that tone.” Rook spoke in such an endearing manner, one might think he spoke sweet nothings instead of a firm, hush now in those words. A kind command in the next. “Don’t you dare be fool enough to apologize.”
Emmrich felt his heart settle, the trembling calm into a comfort at Rook’s gentle touches here and there. The need to say something, anything, was gone. The Warden seemed pleased, content to have said it, and went to a mood bordering joy. Desperate to pull Emmrich down that path with him fears be damned because, “I know it’s in your throat. This is the best way I could have it. Let me be selfish and love you all on my own for a bit.”
No time for fears when you had time for fun. Rook rolled the word around in his mouth. Love. Teased it now. ‘Look what I’ve got that you haven’t’ mischievous sparkle in those dark eyes. Emmrich laughed then, anticipated the rogue’s next actions. Rook started to lean up on tiptoe, and the necromancer surprised the rogue by turning his head to meet that glancing peck aiming for his cheek with his lips. He cupped Rook’s chin in hand, held him there, the rogue nearly leapt into the embrace, hands immediately clinging to the mage’s lapels as he drew himself up, Emmrich could feel the sigh of need flow to his throat as Rook took as much as he could. Emmrich had to draw back first, breathless.
Thankfully their lodging wasn’t far. Rook was dragging Emmrich down the street, ten seconds from scooping him up and running, but allowed the necromancer some decorum until they got in the door.
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The room was lit by the soft glow drifting from the window. Emmrich stood near the dresser of the lavish rented apartment, free of bangles he started removing rings one by one, placed them with care in a wide bowl provided. He didn’t turn to look, but he could hear rustling behind him. Thump of shoes, swearing at infernal buttons, possible tear of a stitch, a vest landed in a heap at the edge of his vision. Quick succession of more various thumps and choice words at the fit of tailored pants and tight socks until various tiny hills of fine clothes littered the floor. The amusement on Emmrich’s face was gentle, a mild shiver coursing through him as he removed the last ring from a pinky.
He heard him before he saw him, for a rogue Rook never had light footfalls. He came gliding behind the necromancer, skin bare and prickling in the night air. Emmrich’s breath caught as the man’s defined arms wrapped around his waist.
“Need help with those buttons?” The Warden’s voice was heavy at his ear, teeth nipping at the lobe. Emmrich felt warmth course through him, a flush traveling through from the flashpoint of Rook’s grazing teeth. He swallowed, kept in mind the meditative, Rook pressed closer, steadied the red in his cheeks to pink.
“No dearest, I intend to wear this again.” Emmrich nodded towards a loose button near his foot, a victim witness to the crimes that might be committed by the rogue if allowed such a chance. Rook heard not a word, but had moved on to other matters.
“How about those laces?” He buried his head in Emmrich’s back, stifled the husky words in the vest while his hands wandered to the edge of shirt at waist. The mage set his skull pin aside, started at more buttons. Rook's fingers maintained polite wandering, Emmrich could feel the strain it took the man. Every moment a shudder instead of smooth. Jerking as instinct burned to grab and dig where he must glance and wait. And then he felt the forehead pressed in his back roll, twist in place with a heavy groan. Emmrich closed his eyes, took a breath through the nose, found words in the exhale.
“Rook, if you’re having difficulty controlling…” a whine answered into his neck, the Warden still moving and close as he could from behind, “...let me assist.” For a moment the hot body behind him went still. Emmrich turned his head, peered over his shoulder and looked down to meet Rook’s ravenous gaze. The Warden was eager, but a question knit his brow.
“Yes…” words slow, difficult to call forth, register shifted more for grunts, “...how?”
Emmrich’s body followed the turn of his head, he reached, tilted Rook’s chin with gentle touches of his fingers towards his mouth, kissed him, and the Warden almost jumped up, clung to the embrace of their lips as if it might fill his lungs. His hands went instantly to Emmrich’s waist, pulled the mage to him. But the gentleman broke the kiss, left both their chests heaving, pressed together, he could feel Rook’s erection hard on his thigh. Emmrich let his head fall once more, tilted to the side instead of meeting Rook's lips, bit at the top of the man’s ear. Voice low, hungry, lurking threat,
“Force. If necessary.” The heat that flushed to Rook’s skin nearly burned the mage. Emmrich felt trapped in his clothes, frustratingly warm while the rogue’s gaze undressed him. He swallowed some unbidden noise in his throat, did exercise in mind to ignore the maddening pressure of his straining cock. For a moment he considered laces and buttons be damned he could be free of it and take those begging eyes abed. “If it pleases you?”
Instead his voice came out at once, a pressure release, a shudder before going still. Key words said, this was a game they’d played before, rules and boundaries set. Rook smiled, no grinned, teeth flashing in the dim light. Aching growl escaped, “Yes please.”
Rook instantly readjusted grip, fingers curling into the edge of trouser to find purchase for a good tear, finally a chance to rip it all free. Emmrich shouldn’t have time to stop, but he gasped mid-movement, clenched hands weak on the hem in spasm, a sudden gripping, soft, smooth, gliding pressure on his cock, and then Emmrich’s hand was there as well.
The rogue nearly doubled over, bit hard at his lip, whined despite the effort. Emmrich, aided by some quick spell, stroked him, hand firm, knowing just, how, to touch. The mage was a quick study, and they’d been with each other enough for him to make an art of it. The Warden melted in his grasp, still he attempted to straighten, maybe he could…and a palm fell on the back of his head, vice-like fingers curled, gripped, and guided him up and back by hair, too fast, stumbling back until his legs met the bed. Gasping, aching,
“Fu…” Emmrich drove Rook’s head forward to meet him, ate the word in a fervent kiss before it could finish. Drove his tongue deep as if to clean the throat that dared utter vulgarity. Panting he separated, dragged the bottom lip in a soft bite, slowed his strokes, then stopped, the hand on cock lifted to cup the rogue’s chin, wet, sticky, dripping traces of pre.
“You’re beautiful,” he stroked Rook’s bottom lip with his thumb, half between whisper and purr, eyes locked deep on each other, “don’t sully it.” Emmrich smirked, and the fingers of his hand went into the Warden’s mouth. Rook closed his lips over them, unbidden sucked, then seemed to remember the game, growled low, nearly bit, and was dropped, pushed far back onto the bed. The fingers danced high above, a wave farewell and incantation as one. Rook flexed, made to stand, but his wrists and ankles were pinned by a soft glow. Emmrich stepped away with a tut and a hum.
“Cheating bastard.” Rook growled but it ebbed into a shivering moan, from where he lay sprawled. Emmrich was already steps away, his voice light and amused as he washed up at the stand provided. “You barely fought this time Rook.” There had been a few others, as much as they could take with their pressing schedule and cramped quarters. Emmrich sighed, looked over his shoulder at Rook. “I’d say you’re exactly where you want to be.”
The glance had to be fleeting. He could barely get those words out. The sight of him there, back arching, voice pleading. Emmrich swallowed. He was glad of the space, there was a slim chance Rook couldn’t hear the labor in his breath. At this point the delicate movements were to prove he could manage himself.
“Fuuuuuuuuck…could you be any slower.” Rook groaned from the background. “Pllease Emmrich.” Twisted in place to try and view the man. Almost had the necromancer dashing over when he saw the angle Rook was willing to put that shoulder in, he was adding to that spell later. He finally finished with the buttons on the vest, folded, and laid it on the dresser. Teasingly, he let his hand drop to another drawer of the dresser.
“The night is lovely, you could practice patience awhile, I could get something else on, get desser…”
“Don’t!” Rook shouted, made Emmrich jump, that was real panic. But a breath later the man huffed calm, thoughts taking shape after fear chased them out. “Wait…you wouldn’t.” Rook looked at the ceiling, kept still and straight in annoyance. Couldn’t tease him on this one. The rogue’s voice was a real threat this time, and Emmrich somewhat doubted if the bonds would hold at current strength if he did cross Rook on it, “You wouldn’t dare get dessert without me.”
Emmrich couldn’t help it. He laughed. Rare and deep at the absurdity of it all as he slipped out of his shirt. “No Rook. No I wouldn’t.” The need to be on him was greater than before. He could feel his movements quickening, folded as he went, the laces in his pants were already undone. He was stepping out of them along with his underclothes when he heard a quiet thought from behind. Rook’s voice suddenly somber.
“Though…I, you’ll still join me right?” That’s right. Emmrich stood and froze. Naked in the cool glow of night. Took a moment to observe the ‘product’ of all his rigours. The daily temperance, constant management, the diligence to maintain, and that would be over. Wouldn’t it? Take a different form. Along with sharing the taste of dessert. His brow furrowed. Pressed his hands together a moment, chased it from mind, now wasn’t the time. Instead he spoke low and sure as he crossed the space.
“You’ll never be rid of me.” Emmrich made his way back to Rook, climbed slow onto the bed, made his way crawling, from leg up chest, until he settled even with Rook, rested on his elbows above the man below, and buried his head in that strong neck. Bit gentle. “My taste for you will never fade.” Words through teeth and lip. He moved lower. Kept kissing the whole line down, took a moment to hold to skin longer as he felt Rook’s shudder, “Relax, all will be seen to.” As he moved he started massaging, and a green started to light at his fingertips.
Wordlessly he counted the scars, lavished them, traced them with that light, it would pool and gel here and there. Strong fingers eased aches with practiced pressure, kneaded those pools of magic I deep into the skin, the pressures moving deeper with Fade then hands could manage. Aided such Emmrich felt within tissue, traced the knots, located the strain. Smoothed the wrinkles in a rug only he could. There, a small slice from not long ago, but the skin was tight, and the waves rippled into it, bated with aid from a rub of the palm and trickling ebb. Rooks writhed and eased towards Emmrich, breath short, sounds animalistic as the magics and massaging brought pain mixed pleasure. Relief as it passed.
The light pulled then at a particularly nasty spot on Rook’s side, something twisted close to surface must feel like a stitch, the scars above indicated injury from rough shivs. Emmrich’s ministrations there snapped something free with a reach only Fade might provide. Rook bucked at that, ever groaning, his fingers clenching to fists, his voice wordless thanks.
The Necromancer worked long on the marred flesh, thoughts on what a life might be that led to this, felt a sudden desperate need to avoid their future from resembling this . Here, he traced his fingers, dragged along with his nails where the outline of darkspawn claws lay, Hurlock. The flowing magic followed the draw of his nails, soothed something almost alive, he shuddered at the touch of it but Rook made a pleased noise.
The ache in his chest grew, the calm adoring study turning to some manner of worry, it would take all night to catalog, to aid what could be seen this way, “Darling,” the words seemed close to tears, but Emmrich had drawn back, put his hands on Rook’s hips, and then bowed down to navel, spoke with his forehead pressed just below sternum, “your flesh deserves kinder worship, you flagellate.”
The words nearly sent the Warden as Emmrich spent special attention to a particularly gnarled knot on the rogue’s hip. Both hands worked, the mage focused. Emmrich could hear the groans above, and within, so close to ear. But he dug deeper, finally felt that ‘pop’ of release. Rook let out a deep cry, hips jerked.
“Emmrich...” and then the necromancer felt a large rough hand at his ear, he paused, eyes flitting up. Rook’s voice tender, a delighted thrum, “thank you...stop your worry…I think I finally figured you out.” That second rough hand went to the opposite ear, felt cool against the heat burning. Rook’s words a rolling thunder against fast pulsing in his head. Oh. That faded.
The mind reeled, he’d been distracted, Rook was drawing him up with a hold on the ears. A thought occurred, he had boasted a mastery of the finer points of anatomy, but he wasn’t alone. Rook had studied, but the rogue would know just how little force it took to tear an ear from a skull. Emmrich could feel that intimately, Rook’s strength was firm, guiding, the mage followed before he knew he would, this was a man that had torn ears from numerous scalps. He used that intimate knowledge now, edged up to that line, utterly in control. That shiver coursing through him, was that fear? Excitement? An odd noise left his throat as his chin passed Rook’s navel.
“Every sweet something is a confession.” Rook’s smirk was knowing now, “Control, all that praise, such an aching thirst for the forbidden, that’s what you want.” Emmrich’s lip quivered, throat gone tight, mind trying to slip back to mediation, but a scream in his chest dulled it yes . Mouth and eyes open, distantly he could feel his body arching into Rook, yes please .
That had been aloud. And those encompassing hands holding him bound by ear shifted in a flash, Emmrich felt Rook’s leg hook just so, and then he was tumbling, rolling, on his back with the heaving form of the Warden above him. Rook paused. Emmrich wasn’t sure how, wasn’t sure when, but the rogue had both of his wrists clenched tight in a single hand, and brought them above his head. He could feel Rook’s gaze on every piece of him, “ You’re beautiful…” their touch almost rabid, as Emmrich’s moan was swallowed by the hungering mouth above.
Rook broke off, didn’t move so far, laid his cheek against Emmrich’s nose, groaned against it, whole body tensing, pressure on wrists tightening, “Let’s get those other thoughts gone.”
The Warden dragged his way down that face, breath hot, Emmrich felt the words at his throat, in the hollow of chin, “I love you.”
Heard a choked cry, hips and dripping cock jerking up into Rook’s waiting thigh. He could feel the wide grin as that mouth caught the noise through skin at apple, Rook’s own desperate moan shaking that pathetic plea as it rose to air.
Emmrich continued to grind against the touch and pressure Rook provided, face pinched, brow beaded. His hands clenched where held, everything clenched as his chin drifted up and let Rook bury his head at neck. The Warden doted there, bit, kissed, and sucked as he pressed his own firm cock against Emmrich. Long moments of worship as Rook tasted everywhere he could reach, then panted, grip loosened.
“I’m going to let your hands go.” Punctuated by a peck on the jaw. “Don’t move them.” Followed by bite to the same spot. “Don’t move at all.” Rook growled that one as he released his hold, shifted, moved further up the bed. Emmrich kept still, only stretched in small plying aches. He heard a clatter, moments later he felt the heat of that body return.
“You listen so well.” Rook chuckled as he slid back along him, positioned the supple mage onto his side and held him from behind. Emmrich quivered, felt the weight and wetness of Rook’s cock twitching against him. “Always so kind…”
One of the Warden’s arms wrapped around his chest, the hand stroked his neck with glancing touches. The other digging, leaving a red irritation down his back, nothing lasting, but it made Emmrich curl out gasping, his hand above twitched down, ached to touch himself, but Rook’s rumbling voice against his back noted the movement. A single pinky pressed at Emmrich’s pulse on his neck.
“No.”
Hands where you left them, I said don’t move, a complete sentence in the simple command. A pleased hum answering as Emmrich stilled, the clawing hand on his back continued it’s trail, came to the small of his back, felt down spine, “I’m no expert ,” Rook still hummed, “but this anatomy is so delicate…” he tapped one of Emmrich’s vertebrae, “...make a man lame here.”
Emmrich could guess where he headed now, felt his teeth digging into his lip, “Darling,” spirits did that sound like begging, “...if you could…”
Rook gave a tut. “Oh patience…” he put his palm to Emmrich’s back, just above the liver, “...death without a mage should you pierce here…anywhere really for the gut…” Rook was breathing fast as well, Emmrich could feel the heat sticking to his back as the scarred chest scratched pleasurably against him. “But that takes too long doesn’t it? Fights are seconds, less than that, we need instant, not soon.”
Rook moved further, gripped hard, groaned full as he kneaded Emmrich’s ample ass in hand. He might’ve stayed there, he surely tarried. Touch desperate enough to be a hair from bruising, but move he did and slid to inner thigh, pushed those legs apart as he traced along the path of femoral artery. “Here. Here might suffice if you can’t strike heart.”
The hand left a moment, Emmrich heard the cap of a bottle, and then the fingers returned. Lubed, and generous in attention as they coasted back to Emmrich’s now easily accessible hole. Rook’s excitement traveled down his body, the shudder shaking Emmrich where he lay. “Still too slow. Someone bleeding out that way nearly killed me…” Rook was gentle at first, pressing. Slow circles as he worked at the rim. He paused, lifted his head up and over to catch Emmrich’s eye, question writ there. The necromancer almost missed it, but the moment he heard that inquiry hanging in the air, he nodded.
Rook’s entire body seemed to lift, and then, “Here is better.” Emmrich gasped at a pinch on his neck, the Warden’s hand there distracted, as soon as the mage relaxed a breath from the surprise Rook pushed the first finger into him. Emmrich arched, whining in the throat, Rook moved slow, testing, entranced by the strained noises coming from the necromancer.
“Your voice .” There was the second knuckle in, “It consumes me Emmrich. ” That shudder felt close, the Warden was jerking against him a moment, panting, but he found himself, steadied, moved that finger back out, then deeper, circling, stretching. Curling. Emmrich jumped, Rook chuckled low, “Found it.”
A second finger entered and Rook’s pace quickened. Here and there, at the arch of it, he gave attention to that spot that made Emmrich squirm in hand. Voice stuttering, mind blank a moment, sometimes moaned his name.
The Warden answered with a hush, “It’s okay.” Emmrich felt a loving kiss press into the back of his neck, the fingers pumping now, spreading, widening. A third joining after who knew how long. Emmrich couldn’t hear a thing with the sound of his and Rook’s heavy breaths, but he was pretty sure he still blubbered something incomprehensible. Felt in the moments that hand on his neck rubbed soft, went to his chest, pinched at a nipple, rubbed and grabbed, massaged back to neck while Touching and loving as the hand below prepared and played against his prostate.
“Mmmm…” if a hum were a hungry song of adoration, “... Emmrich …” Emmrich jolted, desperate to touch his leaking twitching cock, burning, driven to blubbering dishevelment as Rook withdrew his hand and wound both arms around him in an all encompassing squeeze.
“ I need to be in you.” And the actions spoke truth, the feeling of the boiling man wrapped around his lithe form was akin to submerging in a hot bath, Rook filled every space he could, would sink further if possible, eager to press into the skin, join fully at every point.
Further words weren’t needed, Emmrich was already angling for such, and Rook was moving again. He seemed loath to create any distance, his movements more rapid, less gentle, as he sat on his knees and flipped Emmrich to his back. Spread the mage’s legs around him, drew Emmrich down and up until his cock rested against the well loved asshole. Rook stroked himself, pressed the head of his penis against that hole as he did, made sure hips were in line, and then, looked up. Emmrich’s head thrown back, hands still above his head. His own leaking dick unattended.
“Look at me.” Rook whispered, the tone loving as he enclosed down and around the necromancer. Emmrich looked then, found Rook close to him, deep brown eyes black in the night, swallowing him, embracing, adoring, and they stayed. Didn’t close. Knew him, and knew those deep wants, desired that for him, for them, and for once he was able to utter a word, hand moving of its own accord to touch the Warden’s chin, “My love.” Deep, resounding, the waves of its sound felt between them, and then gasping as Rook entered him.
The moan in Rook traveled down, rolling, Emmrich could feel it as the head of the penis pressed in. Rook shuddered, followed Emmrich’s urging moan for more. The rogue was always gentle at first, and especially now when endowment might harm a lover. He groaned, easing further in, pulled back, and then in further once more. Movements a bit broken, fear of need overwhelming him to take Emmrich too fast.
He came down, elbows at either side of Emmrich on the bed, head at his neck, and the necromancer whispered at his ear, “Darling, there’s no need to hold back.” He brushed the curls clear from Rook’s gaze, let the sincerity speak in that hazel. Excitement looked back at him, and Rook pushed his face down into the mage, Emmrich met him, mouths joined with shared breath as noses crushed together, nostrils flared at the labor, too busy playing with each other’s lips, sucking, biting, a final push of the tongue exploring and separated wet. Panting, Rook, sat back up. Emmrich still lay on his back, legs spread and up. The Warden readjusted a moment, one hand on the bottom of the mage’s thigh, and embedded himself in one smooth motion. Emmrich let out a cry, quaked at the fullness, bit at a finger that had flown down from above his head.
“Absolutely gorgeous.” Rook paused, admired the view of the florid gentleman writhing on him with erect leaking cock, red and bruised from kiss and nail, hair disheveled, chest heaving, sweating, drool at lip, bed beneath sodden mess, “Fuck.” He groaned, started to move his hips, “How are you real...”
Emmrich sighed, eased down, nestled against the rogue as delight blossomed deep in chest for the full and complete feel of him within. As Rook began to drag out he shuddered, clamped down, held tight in response, the groan in response enough for him to repeat actions of a kind as the rogue began movement in earnest. Gasping, now, all exercises for control or constraint long gone by both.
Thoughts might try to enter. Is this the last? Rook’s ferocity chased that out. Should it ever be? Spirits that stroke glanced against… Will he love me without this? The quick kisses to his neck promised it. The labored breathing above him professing it again and again. Emmrich had time for nothing but clinging, wordless muttering exiting to air as Rook drove him further up the bed. The Warden was sweating, labored, a rhythm like rowing as his hips worked in rolling motion. Hard, deep, filling space Emmrich didn’t know he had.
He was saying things, speaking tongues, he wasn’t sure what, but Rook looked delighted by it, hungered for it. The rogue returned his own praises, aching desires, and oh how good Emmrich was and fuck how amazing he felt, and gods had he been shaped for this cock because he gripped every inch. More elegant than the whimpering puddle below, he was insatiable, a starving man discovering a feast before him after a life on scraps. Emmrich yearned for that look, knew he wore it mirrored, desperate, pathetic, stained, and worn, but all of it love. Vulnerable , safe to lose that ever present control. Love would remain after every weakness bared.
They both felt it then. That catch, the fast stutter, and suddenly Rook pulled out, Emmrich might’ve mourned, but the man was quick. The mage gasped again, sudden heat, warmth, and more enveloping his cock as Rook took hold of them both. Large hand held them together, no easy task, stroked fast and firm in final groaning moments until they both came on Emmrich’s abdomen.
Rook leaned back, long moments for breathing, nose pointed to ceiling, “Fuck…shit…I…sorry…” He took some moments to catch his breath. Emmrich lay flat back, nose also pointed that way, but his eyes glanced, peered down his face to look at that specimen apologizing to him. He had only to settle, find strength in his limbs, and he could have his hands on that chest, those arms, those thighs, spirits on that softening sopping…Rook caught that gaze grinning. “I was going to give you the blow job to end all others after,” the Warden gestured to the mess before him, Emmrich could feel the cum dripping into navel, “but you seemed as ready as me.” A grin. Oh he was playing with him now.
Emmrich didn’t answer. Not yet. He closed his eyes. Smiled. Took a moment to be. He could hear Rook shuffling on the bed. Didn’t wonder too much what the man was up to. No need to worry over it. Whatever it might be would …the bed jolted him. Rook had thrown himself down beside him, went purposefully high to cradle the necromancer’s head. Emmrich sighed at the bounce, but tilted his head into the man as Rook’s hands made their way through hair and worked at scalp.
“Offer remains open whenever you’re ready.” What tone was that? Not spent, but surely tired, and joyous, steadying. Perhaps powering up for whatever waited. Something of that feel, thoughts still came a little slow.
“My dear, nothing would please me more.” Emmrich’s voice a smile, there was plenty more to get to, the night wasn’t long yet. They could order a snack perhaps, some drinks. Chocolates of course, a few of the finest as Rook preferred, he’d packed a few books for just this occasion. The thinking sped as his heart settled in his chest. But he hadn’t noticed the fingers playing with his hair and scalp had left in all that thought.
“Time to wash up, you’re a mess.” When he opened his eyes and looked for Rook at his side he found the Warden absent, turned his attention the other way to find him standing near his side at the bed. The rogue was smiling, impish. And then he was on him, arms wrapping, grasping, lifting. Emmrich felt the bed fall away as Rook hefted him up, bridal style.
“No thoughts!” he proclaimed with a shout once he got his legs beneath him, mood jovial of all things. Emmrich held still, afraid to do more should Rook topple with them both. But the rogue was solid. Likely practiced for this.
“Rook, darling, please…” Emmrich did move then, a single hand to the cheek, turned the Warden’s head in his direction.
He was eager to turn, grinned at the mage. Didn’t kiss Emmrich, but leaned forward and simply bumped his nose with his own. A quick squish, and then he turned ahead, Emmrich gave start, clung to him. But the Warden squeezed his arms around him reassuringly, as if proving the reserves of further strength and started walking away from the bed, “I’ve got this tonight, alright?”
“My only concer…” Emmrich started, but paused at the sight of a lilac. Rook’s boutonnière. He’d seen it safe to a bowl at his dresser. All those rich clothes and fancy buttons flung to the floor, but here, this. This he treasured. He could hear the rogue’s voice in a way he hadn’t before.
“Exactly. Exactly ,” Said in a near mimic of the professor’s tone and rhythm as they left the room and entered the hall, then he dropped a register, his own serious tone. Though there was a mirth to it. “Professor Volkarin, you are in a constant state of concern. I suggest ‘no thoughts’. Trust mine, yeah? Relax a bit.”
Emmrich understood the tone then. Levity mixed with a hint of gravity, an outreach, love, let me lead here and have some fun. He felt a deeper warmth in his chest. Rook was talking about the bath being big enough to swim in, he’d never seen the like, maybe swimming lessons? Emmrich rested a moment in those arms as Rook kicked open the door. Spirits, the Warden might drown. He almost felt that prick of worried thought, but Rook was shaking him with the laughter of his delight. Emmrich smiled, said not a word, thought instead of how lovely that sound was.