Rook was in full flirtation-and-flattery mode and Emmrich was far from immune. It flattered him greatly that Rook was attracted to him. That wasn't a rare occurrence, but it had been some time since someone he'd been interested in had shared that interest. And it had been far, far longer since someone was so clearly interested. Emmrich could not write this off as pure flattery and playfulness, not after this evening.
And not after that last comment, either. He'd seen Rook's delight at the use of his magic, and hearing that... well. Emmrich was only human.
"Would you?" he asked, smirking.
Emmrich summoned up tiny threads again, grateful that he needed precise care when working with corpses, very aware of how he should never mention that particular detail. He was so very tempted to undo Rook's shirt, but he'd barely touched the man so far. Instead he guided the force magic to his vest and opened the top button before the magic faded away.
"Like that? Or were you thinking of something else?" It was time to rectify the other matter. Emmrich hadn't stopped touching the man's arm, he didn't think he was capable of it, but his other hand went to rest on Rook's heart before he traced the buttons of Rook's shirt upward, slowly, with long fingers until he reached the top one.
"This, for instance?" Two can be forward. Two would have to be, to get anywhere near where Emmrich would like Rook tonight.
It was gratifying for Rook to see he was making headway in the direction he had hoped the evening would since accepting the dinner invitation. Maybe it wasn't an attractive feature, depending on who you asked, but Rook could talk up a potential partner with relative ease. If he didn't want to spend the night alone, chances were typically in his favor. The frightening that — the thing he's never done before and still gives him pause — is he'd never wanted to be with anyone for more than a night.
— Emmrich was uniquely and wholly apart from that rule Rook foisted upon himself so many years ago.
"Would I ever?" Rook's voice dropped a pitch as he set his wine glass down after one last pull. The rich taste was heavy on his tongue but not enough to make his head feel lighter as he watched phantom silver threads materialize and undo Emmrich's vest and button, which only revealed a stripe of flesh along his pale throat. Maker, the man wore his shirt collars far too high.
"You're certainly on the right track..."
Rook watched Emmrich's hand trail up his chest to his collar. Where Emmrich went north, Rook took a bolder approach and slid his hand up Emmrich's toned yet slender thigh, coming to rest on the red sash cinched around Emmrich's waist, hooking a finger under the fabric and starting to toy with a shirt button underneath. All the while, he kept eye contact with Emmrich. Watching for any signs he was moving too quickly. The man had been equally coy about his romantic history, and Rook was just as mindful not to overstep.
He's been the first for people before, and they've never had the level of confidence that Rook was now showing. It was impressive. And arousing. Emmrich may have been the one to suggest wine but he's lost all interest in it; he wants his hands otherwise occupied.
Emmrich inhaled sharply as Rook began touching him in return. Confident indeed. And oh, the way Rook looked at him, pupils blown out and yet still focused, intent.
He stopped touching Rook so he could move on the lounge and straddle Rook's lap, bringing them face to face. Gently he cupped the side of Rook's face with one hand.
"If anything we start to do is uncomfortable, or something you don't completely like, please speak up, my dear. I give you my word that I will not be offended or upset. Stop me at any time. If there's anything you prefer, please say that as well. The best times result from clear communication. ...and if your mouth is occupied and you want something to stop, pat me anywhere twice."
The last note is needed, because with that Emmrich is moving in to occupy Rook's mouth with a slow, careful kiss.
If Rook had been confident earlier, the moment Emmrich shifted and fell into Rook's lap with quicksilver fluidity, he was downright assured the night was going well. His hands gripped Emmrich's thighs to keep him balanced, but the other man seemed to keep steady on his own. Rook noted he must have excellent flexibility and core strength and tucked that little tidbit of information away for later use.
"You're sweet," Is as much Rook can get out before his mouth is slotted against Emmrich's in a kiss.
The kiss is tender and wonderful but too shallow, too hesitant. Emmrich's words struck him then, and Rook wondered if when he mentioned Emmrich was his first relationship led the other to conclude something else entirely. Rook could have explained himself better, or he decided to see if he could test the limits here and tease without going too far. Of course, he went with the latter.
— Rook tapped Emmrich on the small of his back in two distinct thumps before pulling back.
"Just wanted to ask," Rook said evenly, though the mischievous smile stayed on his face, "Do you like clove — no allergies, anything like that? I've always used a clove oil that I keep in my pack for my blades." He even risked a waggle of his brow, "Really eases the way."
'Sweet' feels an odd word choice, but perhaps that's simply Emmrich's habits of being more careful with his words speaking.
Rook's hands are warm on him, holding him, making him certain that this is wanted as the kiss stays careful until Rook taps him. Emmrich pulls back instantly, concern on his face. If that was too much, he's entirely misreading some signals and needs to re-evaluate his approach.
Before he can gently inquire further, Rook's talking and it doesn't make sense. A clove oil that...
Emmrich tilts his head, blinking, trying to readjust how those words fit in with everything else. They only fit if he disregards what Rook said at dinner.
"You said this was your first time," he half-says, half-asks. "Have we miscommunicated?"
The concern on Emmrich's face wasn't the reaction Rook had hoped for, but admittedly, he was navigating blindly now. If this were anyone else and any other time, there wouldn't have been the wine, the dinner, or even much in the way of conversation. All Rook knew was rushed encounters to — well, bluntly and coarsely put, scratch an itch. That isn't what he wanted with Emmrich, not at all.
"You didn't, I did." Rook tried for a disarming chuckle only to clear his throat and reassess. "When I said I'd never been with anyone romantically — I meant just that. Romantically."
There was that gripping fear again of looking foolish from revealing too much. Rook wanted to fidget, but that would have been a disastrous idea with Emmrich in astride his lap. He didn't want to add accidentally bucking the man onto the ground to his growing list of mistakes.
"The evening was going so well that I wanted to— well, I didn't want you to think that I was a— but..." On a sharp exhale, Rook shook his head and tried again. "I wanted to make it clear that I wasn't looking for another notch in the bedpost. Now you probably think I'm crass and we can stop if you want. Maybe I should stop talking."
"Oh," said Emmrich, as it started to sink in. "Oh."
Now everything fit into place, the confidence and the nervousness, the reactions, the jokes. His expression turned soft and warm and he ran a thumb along Rook's cheekbone.
"I would never be on the lap of someone I find crass." And he wasn't about to move off of Rook, since he was still fairly certain that Rook wanted him here. Emmrich considered his next move, eyes drifting down Rook's body openly now. His smile transformed to something made far more of smirk and arousal.
"Normally I'd say you should never stop talking, my dear, but I do fear I'm going to need to get in the way of you talking for a time." This time the kiss is hungry, with Emmrich nipping Rook's lower lip. He drops his hands down to the buttons of Rook's shirt, feeling rather sure that this was wanted.
At first, Rook barely suppressed the urge to flinch, not sure what to make of 'Oh.' Tension bled out of him when it became clear the realization that Emmrich came to wasn't that he had made a mistake.
"I don't know," Rook smoothed his hands back up Emmrich's legs and up his flank to settle on his back, "I think I could persuade you to be a little crass here shortly."
Rook was glad to stop running his mouth when Emmrich occupied it with his own then. He gasped when teeth pinched at his lip and only wanted more; he wanted Emmrich's hands on bare skin and the taste of him on his tongue. Rook tilted his head, and after some awkward seconds of teeth clacking together, he was able to deepen the kiss. He moaned happily and greedily as he started to pull at the sash wrapped around Emmrich's waist.
—And pulled, then tugged at the other side of Emmrich's waist. Maker's breath, and Rook thought it was difficult to take his plate mail off in a hurry. How many layers did Emmrich have on? If he yanked any hard, he might tear something or throw Emmrich off, and by the fine feel of the fabric, he wasn't sure what Emmrich would be more upset about.
"Sorry—" Rook pulled back, breathless. "Sorry, but would you be kind enough for a little help?"
At any other time he might attempt an explanation about the difference between being crass and temporarily acting it, but he had Rook's tongue invading his mouth shortly thereafter and much preferred this over discussion.
The man's hands moved on him and he made an approving noise into the kiss even as he started to work Rook's shirt open. He needed the man's neck bare. There was exploration to indulge in.
When Rook pulled back and apologized Emmrich blinked at him, trying to process what was being asked for. Help how? The tugging on his clothing clued him in and he had to shake his head in amusement. Emmrich wanted to tease. Emmrich wanted to tease so very badly. But Rook had been nervous the whole evening, so Emmrich does not.
Instead he leans a little back and unbuttons his vest, slides it off his shoulders, unfastens the chain of his sash and unties it, and resists the urge to fold both before dropping them on the ground. He'd love to fold them. But he has a new partner to entertain instead, so he makes a slow show of unbuttoning his shirt and opening it, baring his chest for Rook's eyes.
The chaise wasn't so large as to make two people determined to undress the other an easy task. At one point, Rook felt as if he'd have to dislocate his shoulder just to make getting out of his shirt easier with how wedged he was between Emmrich and the back of the chaise. Not to mention those damnable layers on Emmrich — one after the other, they seemed endless.
Blessedly, Emmrich got the message and graciously offered his assistance. The sight had Rook's groin warm and tightened in the confines of his fatigue trousers. Rook mentally cataloged each state of undress for future reference, almost like formulating a plan of attack. By the end, he almost expected the rest of Emmrich to be just as adorned in gold. That wasn't the case, but Rook was thrilled by smooth skin over lean muscle and a tapered waist he couldn't wait to get his hands around with pressure to bruise.
"Better than better," Rook said, awed at the sight laid out before him.
He hadn't just sat there and stared as Emmrich undressed. When the other man had leaned back, Rook took advantage of the little extra wiggle room and worked on his own state of overdress. They had been the same fatigues he'd always worn off duty in the Wardens, and he could get them off in short order. With a couple of jerking motions, he shouldered off his padded vest and shirt.
It was only then he idly wondered what Emmrich thought of tattoos. The griffon that snaked up the length of his left arm could always be seen from the forearm, but not the griffons on his chest or ones on his back. Privately, he hoped they would impress as he was fond of their artistry even when some of these were sun-damaged or altered by scars.
"You're gorgeous," Brought back to the present, Rook wound his arms back around Emmrich's waist and pulled him close, and started to press firm, hungry kisses on Emmrich's neck and shoulder.
Emmrich knew he was attractive, but the way Rook looked at him truly made him feel it. He was desired.
But he wasn't the only one. As Rook undressed he revealed far more art on his body than Emmrich had imagined, and a plethora of scars that the professor wanted to know the stories behind. He'd scarcely had the time to begin tracing one piece on Rook's chest before he was pulled firmly against the man and Rook began kissing him.
"As are you," he replied in a lower voice than before, tilting his head so Rook had full access. His hands explored the man's muscular back, tracing along what scars crossed his path. There was such power to Rook's form, and he'd clearly survived so much.
Emmrich rocked his hips experimentally, rubbing his half-hard cock against Rook's stomach just because he could in this position, seeking to find out if Rook was in a similar state yet. To be fair Emmrich had been a little turned on since kissing the man in the Memorial Gardens, but he doubted that had done much for Rook.
His touch lingered on a longer scar on Rook's back and he followed it again with fingertips deliberately. A claw of some sort, he thought, just based on the jagged nature. A claw from something big. He'll ask for stories after, he decided, because, as evidenced by a quiet, breathy sound, he was very much enjoying how Rook was putting his mouth to use currently.
"Your body is a marvel that I want to explore," he said in Rook's ear, low and intent.
Desired only scratched at the surface of what Emmrich was to Rook at that moment. In the couple of months that Rook had known Emmrich, the draw had been near-instantaneous and hadn't wavered since. The attraction had startled him nearly as much as their introduction. Rook had been honest about the fact that magic was new to him and that he had grown up in a culture that feared it. You couldn't get more far removed from his comfort than necromancy, but Emmrich was a surprise.
In a short amount of time, Rook had come to associate Emmrich only with safety and compassion. The moment Emmrich entwined their hands together, that time in his lab, and pulled back the veil on death. Even before the Gardens, Rook knew he had fallen for him. Rook had never felt this way about anyone; he had avoided any chance before. Now, it thrilled as much as it terrified. If this is what falling in love felt like, it was incredible.
Rook arched his back into Emmrich's touch, knowing where those fingers were tracing the raised scar tissue raked across his back courtesy of a shriek in the Deep Roads. He shivered at the sensation but found it strangely pleasant, even intimate. No one's taken the time to touch him like this, he realized. He shuddered again at Emmrich's words hot against the shell of his ear. Oh, two could play at that.
"Wanted the same since that evening in Gardens," Rook's voice was a hoarse whisper, needful as it was demanding. "Brought myself off so many times that night thinking of you. I swear I thought I went blind afterward."
The hand at Emmrich's back slid up to cup the back of his neck, holding him firm.
"What do you imagine the gods would think if I took you against one of those murals of their smug faces on the wall over there? Or bend you over the piano, the keys striking every time I thrust into you so you'd never be able to hear a note being played without going weak in the knees. We've got all night. We might not even have to choose."
He felt Rook shake against him and smiled, turning the scar exploration into a caress. Pieces were continuing to fall into place -- no relationships before, and thus likely, based on that and how Rook responded to intimate touch, no partners that took their time with him. There had been no possessiveness to the thought that he'd be Rook's first sexually, but now there's a fierce, protective spark amidst the growing feelings he has for Hugh. He's going to make sure the man gets touched how he needs to be, deserves to be. He's going to make sure Rook feels cherished with him.
Emmrich shifted to whisper something along those lines to Rook and was beaten to the punch as Rook went filthy. A full-body shudder ran through him at the thought of Rook coming to thoughts of him, jerking himself off on the other side of the wall from where Emmrich slept.
And that was nothing compared to what followed. Emmrich forgot himself enough to moan at the images Rook presented, realizing the man absolutely could bend him over anything with ease. The hand on the back of his neck made that very, very clear.
He was almost always the one making the calls in his sexual encounters, almost always the one deciding and taking initiative, and this possible reversal was thrilling. Sure, he'd had some fantasies about being bent over things before, but he'd never had opportunity to try it.
"Both," he pants, knowing he's being needy but they're being intimate; it's only right to be open in this setting.
Emmrich slides a hand between them, getting a nice feel of Rook's abdomen, before he's searching for whatever holds Rook's pants closed.
He'd started this with thoughts of slow love- making in a refuge away from it all, and now he wants so badly to be fucked.
Confidence and apprehension balanced on a knife's edge as Rook knew exactly what to do but wasn't entirely sure how to be 'romantic' about it. He cared too much about Emmrich to rush through the motions and take him like they were about to be caught. The man deserved something out of all those stories he read or dreamed about, and while Rook knew he wouldn't pass muster there, he had to make an effort at least.
"I can do both," Rook said roughly. He would do anything Emmrich as of him at that point, even if the man wanted him on his knees and begging. Actually, now that the thought crossed his mind, he wouldn't be opposed to that in the slightest.
The hand at Emmrich's neck slid down his back and moved to help with the belt. The buckle was large, made of iron, and unwieldy. Rook made a noise that sounded like 'let me' as he pulled at the latch. His movements were graceless with need because, by now, his arousal was painfully constrained in his smalls.
The belt is pulled off fast as a whip and thrown aside with the rest of his clothes. After an uphill battle with the leather laces, Rook could have sobbed with relief when he tugged his aching cock out of his small clothes and let it sit erect against his abdomen.
"Wait a moment," Rook said on a drawn-out exhale as he reached over the chaise.
The half-filled wine glass now in his hand was swirled once before Rook took a measured sip and set the glass back down again. With a hungry look in his eyes, Rook put his back around Emmrich's neck and drew him firmly, almost roughly, into a kiss. The purpose is made clear when his tongue plunges into Emmrich's mouth, and the berry-tart taste of the wine fills both their mouths. Scarlet red rivulets of the mouthful that didn't pass Emmrich's lips run down Rook's chin. When he's sure Emmrich managed to swallow, Rook pulls back and wipes his widely grinning mouth with the back of his hand.
"Wanted you to try the wine before we got...distracted."
He might be asking too much, but he's aware that fantasy rarely becomes reality and will not hold Rook to anything promised in the building heat of arousal. Though he'll definitely dream.
And oh, what a shape his dreams suddenly take when he sees Rook's cock. Emmrich has never sought out... larger... experiences, he takes his partners as he finds them, but the fact that this is a part of Rook makes it something he craves.
Wait, Rook says, and somehow Emmrich does, watching this man's every movement with quiet hunger that matches the look now shining in Rook's eyes. Tongue and wine alike spill into his mouth and he groans, relaxing at the mix of flavors. Rook absolutely knows what he's doing. And Emmrich would gladly get drunk off kisses like that. Perhaps another time.
"How considerate of you," Emmrich says warmly before leaning in and licking a drop off Rook's chin that escaped the wipe. He's going to be so very distracting.
The first part of that is the most straightforward -- Emmrich reaches down to take Rook's cock in hand and truly feel the girth there. His pupils blow out as he strokes it; there is a non-zero chance that he will have trouble walking tomorrow. With his other hand he unfastens his own trousers and starts shoving them down a little, along with the red silk smalls. It's difficult with just one hand, while his legs are spread, but he eventually manages to get himself out.
Emmrich leans in for a hard, sucking kiss at Rook's neck as he presses his cock to Rook's and strokes them both together.
The impulse to remark upon Emmrich's palpable surprise at the proportionate size of him was a fleeting one. He's had encounters before that ended more abruptly than usual simply because the other person found him...uncomfortable to accommodate. Rook didn't want to shoot himself in the foot now. Although he wasn't such a saint, he tried and failed spectacularly to hide the self-satisfied grin that broke across his face.
Emmrich quite literally wiped the smirk off Rook's face. Looking momentarily taken aback, only for his expression to shift to something starved, desperate to know what else that clever tongue could do.
Instead, Rook first became acquainted with Emmrich's hands. All higher thought was punched out of him with a low moan when Emmrich soon wrapped his fingers around them both. It was a bit funny to hear the tinkling of jewelry every time Emmrich stroked him like little bells. Rook then realizes he's never going to be able to hear bells again without finding his trousers tighter.
He watched with interest as Emmrich's conductor-fine, gold-bangled hands worked on the fastenings on his own pants. His mouth watered first at the sight of silken smalls as red as wine, and for a moment, he wanted to get his teeth around those. That attention shifted to the slimmer, nicely sized arousal Emmrich slid out of silk.
"Wait," All sense of control gone, and back in Emmrich's court, Rook could only whine as he was brought closer to the edge and dropped his head on Emmrich's shoulder, "Want to...want to prep you, make love to you, can't last long like this— please."
He drank in every reaction he got from Rook, memorizing the noises and responses for future reference. The moan in particular got a brief, satisfied smirk from him -- the sound felt better than even the feel of his cock against Rook's.
Emmrich closed his eyes, starting to lose himself in the friction, until Rook spoke. They had had some sort of plan. If not for 'make love' and the 'please' in there Emmrich might have argued for this, but both are enough that he pulled his hand back and nodded shakily.
"Right. Right." For that... He opened his eyes and found Rook's pack with his eyes, casting force magic again to yank it over to them and put it down within Rook's reach. It would be impolite to go through it without permission.
In the meantime he does what has to be done and gets up even though he immediately misses the feeling of Rook against him. Rook has become such a craving, such a constant desire, in so short a time. It would be terrifying if it didn't seem like Rook was equally lost.
Emmrich removed his boots, socks, trousers, and smalls so that he was naked and re-straddled Rook, now set for whatever position they wind up in. Quickly he wrapped his arms around Rook's shoulders and set himself to kissing the man's shoulders and collarbones, worshiping his body as much as he could.
"Anything you ask for, my darling," he murmured against Rook's skin.
At Emmrich's mercy, Rook is able to step back from the precipice of early release. Even still, he shudders at the loss of contact as if the room was plunged into the depths of winter without that warm body pressing against his. His hand made a weak gesture as if trying to draw Emmrich back in, but it dropped beside him. Right, he had asked, and for a reason.
Before he even gets his head on straight, Emmrich has used magic to send Rook's pack flying over to him. Despite being achingly hard and desperate to get his hands back on the man, Rook had to hand it to him.
"Convenient little thing, that," He said with an impressed whistle.
Rook then quickly discovers it's next to impossible to rummage through his pack for one small vial tucked amidst the chaos of his lack of organizational skills quickly on a good day. On a day, he's also watching Emmrich undress, and the sight of those ruby red silk smalls get pulled down those leanly toned legs? He wouldn't be so dramatic as to say he was fighting for his life trying to find that bottle, but it was getting pretty damned close. After nearly dropping the small green bottle not once but twice Rook set it aside just as Emmrich returned to his lap.
Rook was quick to run his hands along any part of Emmrich he could, warmed to be called 'my darling.' Emmrich was quick with a word of affection; Rook learned and was finding himself spellbound by it.
"Anything?" he asked as his self-assurance started to stoke back to life, and his eyes darkened. Rook put his hands underneath Emmrich's thighs and, with little warning or fanfare, stood up.
Without any risk of insulting the man, Rook determined that Emmrich weighed near the same but less than his full plate and broad axe with the shield. Once he was on his feet, it hardly strained his abilities to carry Emmrich no more than ten paces across the foot and set him on top of the closed piano case.
"Bent over the piano," Rook huffed as he placed his hands flat on either side of Emmrich and leaned in close til their noses touched, "That was one option on the table, yeah?"
"Magic serving man," he quipped at the comment. Emmrich wasn't powerful in any field of magic save Necromancy, but he had precision. Small things were therefore easy to move around and it was an incredibly useful thing when one needed a book from the shelves across the room.
The return of Rook's hands was incredible, and Emmrich was already wondering how he could manage to get more of this. He hadn't realized quite how much he'd wanted to be touched until this thing started up. It was one of the things he'd set aside in preparation for his future and he rather hoped there was a way to still at least sense touch as a lich. There had to be.
"Anything," he confirmed as he tried to shut down thoughts of the future. There were senses still, he knew that much... though would they compare to the way it felt to suddenly be lifted almost effortlessly, hear the promise in Rook's voice, and to see the heat in his eyes? The piano lid was cold and hard underneath him, he was folded in half, and he had no complaints.
Emmrich reached up to caress the side of Rook's face, and brush his fingers through the man's hair. "Yes, my dear. It was." His voice was heavy. Emmrich linked his ankles behind Rook's back and used that to urge Rook completely against him.
"Until, I believe, I never hear a piano again without desiring you." With his other hand he traced a scar on Rook's chest, memorizing the shape of it. There was no way to kiss it from this position, but exploration of the man's skin is on the list of future things to do. He shifted to tracing around one of the many griffons on Rook's body, the fine details permanently and precisely inked into his skin. He wondered how it would look when Rook finally fucked him, when he was working his core muscles. Would it look like it was in motion? If not, it was such a missed opportunity.
"Oh, I'd the rest of that part of the Chant. I wouldn't mind you 'ruling over me' one of these days," Rook had all but purred before he realized that might be too much, or Emmrich could take it poorly as a mage. "Well, in a manner of speaking."
They hadn't discussed much of their different backgrounds. Rook did often wonder what Emmrich made of him. He doubted Rook was difficult to read as inscrutable as Emmrich sometimes was to him. Rook was a Ferelden, after all, and what little he knew about magic until now came from Warden mages recruited from the Circles. So, in the grand scheme of things, he knew practically nothing.
The problem was what little he knew offered him next to no insight into who Emmrich Volkarin was. It wasn't as though the man was a closed book, but Rook was hesitant to admit that he couldn't understand what Emmrich happily explained to him at times. Rook knew Emmrich was a kind man, excitable and lively with the heart of a romantic; he was a warm fire on a cold winter's day to those around him. Emmrich the Necromancer was harder for Rook to wrap his head around. For example, since the Gardens, he still wasn't clear on lichdom beyond its importance to Emmrich, but he was afraid to ask. His ignorance was an established trait by now and he hadn't wanted to offend.
—Rook was torn out of his own head by the heels of Emmrich's feet pressing into the small of his back. Rook blinked and was drawn instantly back into the sight spread out before him. It marveled he could have been distracted, even for a moment, away from something so gorgeous. Emmrich, prone beneath him, with tousled hair and pale skin stark against the gold bangles on his arms and rosy flush to his face.
Rook would never have said or even thought Emmrich was good-looking 'for his age' or something like that. It would imply he wasn't just as enamored by the smile lines, the creases around the eyes when Emmrich smiled, or the grey dominating the streak of black in his hair. Those were earned and gracefully so, and Rook envied something as common as getting older. That would never be in the cards for him, so he enjoyed the beauty of it in Emmrich instead.
"You're so beautiful..." Rook spoke up almost with a sense of reverence as he traced his fingers down the length of Emmrich's throat to his navel. Almost as if he were in a trance where he hadn't even heard what Emmrich was saying.
"Lay on your back, relax." The oil was still on the chaise, so Rook started to pull away with great reluctance after kissing the inside of Emmrich's palm. "I'll take care of the rest."
His eyes went slightly wide at that for a half-second. From someone Tevene, Dalish, Dwarven or Nevarran, Emmrich would consider that casual blasphemy to be unsurprising. From someone Ferelden? He can't even believe that Rook isn't religious when the only thing Rook still wore was a chain with two pendants on it, one of them Andraste. Later he might have to think about it more, or ask. That would wait for a time when Rook wasn't gazing at him like he thought--that.
Emmrich swallowed, hard, as Rook's fingers took the same path as his eyes. He wanted Rook to indeed take care of everything, and start soon here, but Emmrich's heart also wished they had somewhere comfortable where he could slowly indulge them both. Another time. Another time he would make this a seduction, and he'd enjoy this too.
With another swallow he laid back and relaxed, feeling oddly on display here as Rook pulled away. Why even... ah. Right, Rook couldn't have carried everything. And yanking a fragile jar over with force magic was risky even with care. Emmrich deliberately pushed past the weird feeling and let his legs fall open. He wanted Rook looking. He wanted Rook back here, touching him.
"You say, leaving me here," he teased gently, looking up at the ceiling. "Perhaps this is my own fault for thinking about having you on the table in my rooms. I've tried not to let my mind wander there, but you are magnetic."
Emmrich trailed fingertips down his own body, wondering if Rook was watching, grazing a nipple, tracing along the bottom rib, heading down to his hip. "Do come back." He could only do this because how certain he was Rook wanted him. Otherwise he'd be far too in his head for it. "The sooner the better."
Casual blasphemy was a habit he picked up in the Wardens, but only when he wanted a reaction out of someone. Never let it be said that Emmrich Volkarin wasn't very...reactive. Admittedly, Rook had started the evening bracing himself for either gentle rejection or Emmrich taking control. The latter scenario Rook wouldn't be opposed to even if he truly did lack experience there. Maybe Emmrich would like to revisit that if the rest of the night went well.
— A task that was now on Rook's shoulders and one he intended to approach with due diligence. He wanted to take care of Emmrich, to do everything in his power to return even a modicum of affection the older man showed him in the months they had grown closer.
"Have you now?" Rook didn't even bother to mask the note of self-satisfaction in his voice at hearing about what Emmrich fantasized about in his spare time. "I might have let my mind wander here and there — mostly wondering over the structural integrity of your desk or the bookshelves."
Rook would readily admit that he overly enjoyed showing off his physical prowess, still enough to want to play at being the hero. Maybe Bellara was onto something with her predilection for books where shirts were being routinely ripped open. Perhaps he should sit in on at least one book club meeting, but that was an issue for another time.
Right now, all his attention was solely focused on the man draped over the piano like a piece of art. Bottle in hand, Rook nearly dropped it as he watched Emmrich writhe and touch himself in a way that really made him want to be more than just casual with blasphemy.
"Stunning," He whispered as he moved back between Emmrich's spread legs, running one hand up his chest while the other squeezed at his inner thigh after setting down the bottle. Rook thumbed at the raised, rosy bud of a nipple as he let his darkened eyes rove over the man beneath him. "Are you comfortable?"
"The mark of good furniture is stability and reliability," he said in a slightly dazed voice. It was still taking him work to wrap his brain around the fact that Rook wanted him, seriously wanted him, and desired him to the point of thinking about being with him. The way Rook looked at him convinced him of the truth of that, though.
Emmrich breathed in as he was complimented, only for him to stop breathing temporarily when he's touched again. Rook's hands were so warm on him.
"Nn," Emmrich said to the question and brush of his nipple both. "I am now. And you can be less gentle if you'd like."
As he spoke he wrapped his legs around Rook and linked his ankles behind the man, bringing him closer. Emmrich's gaze met Rook's. He reached up to loop his arms around Rook to pull him close enough for a hungry, needy kiss. Rook was about to find out exactly how flexible Emmrich was, something that the older man was looking forward to showing off. Yes, Rook was clearly stronger, significantly so, but Emmrich was not without his strengths as a lover.
Fingers went up to tangle in Rook's lovely thick hair, tangling and twisting as Emmrich's heart resumed its faster pace.
"You are gorgeous, my dear," he murmured. "Truly exquisite in form. And the artistry upon your body is a visual feast."
"Well then, I suppose we're going to thoroughly judge the quality of this piano frame by the end of the night," Rook couldn't resist making that crack, mostly because it amused him Emmrich could be in such a state and still have the mental wherewithal to argue the quality of his furniture. The man was so effortlessly charming in the grace in which he carried himself when laid bare and prone beneath another.
"I'd like that terribly," he managed before Emmrich's toned legs securely wrapped around him. Rook moaned into the kiss against the hint of friction of his cocked pressed into the warmth of Emmrich's thighs. He'd seen the older man fight but never felt him bent and pliable around him. Oh, he was gone for this man truly.
"I hope you don't just mean the tattoos," Rook teased as he canted his head, almost inviting Emmrich to twist his fingers tighter and pull. "Can I put you on your stomach? Would ease the way, and I'd love to see how I can get you to bend before you break."
An eyebrow goes up, inviting Rook to take the opportunity to be more rough. Emmrich's had many partners in the past but he's never fallen as fast as he has for this man, never been down as hard, never wanted so badly to see and feel all the man could do to him.
"I mean you entirely," he said. The head tilt seemed an offer and Emmrich took it, tugging harder and testing out how Rook would respond. "Your shape, form, tattoos, and scars deserve to be fully explored and appreciated." Which he cannot do on his stomach. Very well.
"I suggest a compromise. Yes, put me on my stomach and..." Emmrich closed his eyes and nodded, struggling to finish the sentence. "But after, we return to the lounge so I can take my time seeing and touching you."
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And not after that last comment, either. He'd seen Rook's delight at the use of his magic, and hearing that... well. Emmrich was only human.
"Would you?" he asked, smirking.
Emmrich summoned up tiny threads again, grateful that he needed precise care when working with corpses, very aware of how he should never mention that particular detail. He was so very tempted to undo Rook's shirt, but he'd barely touched the man so far. Instead he guided the force magic to his vest and opened the top button before the magic faded away.
"Like that? Or were you thinking of something else?" It was time to rectify the other matter. Emmrich hadn't stopped touching the man's arm, he didn't think he was capable of it, but his other hand went to rest on Rook's heart before he traced the buttons of Rook's shirt upward, slowly, with long fingers until he reached the top one.
"This, for instance?" Two can be forward. Two would have to be, to get anywhere near where Emmrich would like Rook tonight.
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— Emmrich was uniquely and wholly apart from that rule Rook foisted upon himself so many years ago.
"Would I ever?" Rook's voice dropped a pitch as he set his wine glass down after one last pull. The rich taste was heavy on his tongue but not enough to make his head feel lighter as he watched phantom silver threads materialize and undo Emmrich's vest and button, which only revealed a stripe of flesh along his pale throat. Maker, the man wore his shirt collars far too high.
"You're certainly on the right track..."
Rook watched Emmrich's hand trail up his chest to his collar. Where Emmrich went north, Rook took a bolder approach and slid his hand up Emmrich's toned yet slender thigh, coming to rest on the red sash cinched around Emmrich's waist, hooking a finger under the fabric and starting to toy with a shirt button underneath. All the while, he kept eye contact with Emmrich. Watching for any signs he was moving too quickly. The man had been equally coy about his romantic history, and Rook was just as mindful not to overstep.
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Emmrich inhaled sharply as Rook began touching him in return. Confident indeed. And oh, the way Rook looked at him, pupils blown out and yet still focused, intent.
He stopped touching Rook so he could move on the lounge and straddle Rook's lap, bringing them face to face. Gently he cupped the side of Rook's face with one hand.
"If anything we start to do is uncomfortable, or something you don't completely like, please speak up, my dear. I give you my word that I will not be offended or upset. Stop me at any time. If there's anything you prefer, please say that as well. The best times result from clear communication. ...and if your mouth is occupied and you want something to stop, pat me anywhere twice."
The last note is needed, because with that Emmrich is moving in to occupy Rook's mouth with a slow, careful kiss.
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"You're sweet," Is as much Rook can get out before his mouth is slotted against Emmrich's in a kiss.
The kiss is tender and wonderful but too shallow, too hesitant. Emmrich's words struck him then, and Rook wondered if when he mentioned Emmrich was his first relationship led the other to conclude something else entirely. Rook could have explained himself better, or he decided to see if he could test the limits here and tease without going too far. Of course, he went with the latter.
— Rook tapped Emmrich on the small of his back in two distinct thumps before pulling back.
"Just wanted to ask," Rook said evenly, though the mischievous smile stayed on his face, "Do you like clove — no allergies, anything like that? I've always used a clove oil that I keep in my pack for my blades." He even risked a waggle of his brow, "Really eases the way."
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Rook's hands are warm on him, holding him, making him certain that this is wanted as the kiss stays careful until Rook taps him. Emmrich pulls back instantly, concern on his face. If that was too much, he's entirely misreading some signals and needs to re-evaluate his approach.
Before he can gently inquire further, Rook's talking and it doesn't make sense. A clove oil that...
Emmrich tilts his head, blinking, trying to readjust how those words fit in with everything else. They only fit if he disregards what Rook said at dinner.
"You said this was your first time," he half-says, half-asks. "Have we miscommunicated?"
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"You didn't, I did." Rook tried for a disarming chuckle only to clear his throat and reassess. "When I said I'd never been with anyone romantically — I meant just that. Romantically."
There was that gripping fear again of looking foolish from revealing too much. Rook wanted to fidget, but that would have been a disastrous idea with Emmrich in astride his lap. He didn't want to add accidentally bucking the man onto the ground to his growing list of mistakes.
"The evening was going so well that I wanted to— well, I didn't want you to think that I was a— but..." On a sharp exhale, Rook shook his head and tried again. "I wanted to make it clear that I wasn't looking for another notch in the bedpost. Now you probably think I'm crass and we can stop if you want. Maybe I should stop talking."
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Now everything fit into place, the confidence and the nervousness, the reactions, the jokes. His expression turned soft and warm and he ran a thumb along Rook's cheekbone.
"I would never be on the lap of someone I find crass." And he wasn't about to move off of Rook, since he was still fairly certain that Rook wanted him here. Emmrich considered his next move, eyes drifting down Rook's body openly now. His smile transformed to something made far more of smirk and arousal.
"Normally I'd say you should never stop talking, my dear, but I do fear I'm going to need to get in the way of you talking for a time." This time the kiss is hungry, with Emmrich nipping Rook's lower lip. He drops his hands down to the buttons of Rook's shirt, feeling rather sure that this was wanted.
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"I don't know," Rook smoothed his hands back up Emmrich's legs and up his flank to settle on his back, "I think I could persuade you to be a little crass here shortly."
Rook was glad to stop running his mouth when Emmrich occupied it with his own then. He gasped when teeth pinched at his lip and only wanted more; he wanted Emmrich's hands on bare skin and the taste of him on his tongue. Rook tilted his head, and after some awkward seconds of teeth clacking together, he was able to deepen the kiss. He moaned happily and greedily as he started to pull at the sash wrapped around Emmrich's waist.
—And pulled, then tugged at the other side of Emmrich's waist. Maker's breath, and Rook thought it was difficult to take his plate mail off in a hurry. How many layers did Emmrich have on? If he yanked any hard, he might tear something or throw Emmrich off, and by the fine feel of the fabric, he wasn't sure what Emmrich would be more upset about.
"Sorry—" Rook pulled back, breathless. "Sorry, but would you be kind enough for a little help?"
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The man's hands moved on him and he made an approving noise into the kiss even as he started to work Rook's shirt open. He needed the man's neck bare. There was exploration to indulge in.
When Rook pulled back and apologized Emmrich blinked at him, trying to process what was being asked for. Help how? The tugging on his clothing clued him in and he had to shake his head in amusement. Emmrich wanted to tease. Emmrich wanted to tease so very badly. But Rook had been nervous the whole evening, so Emmrich does not.
Instead he leans a little back and unbuttons his vest, slides it off his shoulders, unfastens the chain of his sash and unties it, and resists the urge to fold both before dropping them on the ground. He'd love to fold them. But he has a new partner to entertain instead, so he makes a slow show of unbuttoning his shirt and opening it, baring his chest for Rook's eyes.
"How's that? Better?"
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Blessedly, Emmrich got the message and graciously offered his assistance. The sight had Rook's groin warm and tightened in the confines of his fatigue trousers. Rook mentally cataloged each state of undress for future reference, almost like formulating a plan of attack. By the end, he almost expected the rest of Emmrich to be just as adorned in gold. That wasn't the case, but Rook was thrilled by smooth skin over lean muscle and a tapered waist he couldn't wait to get his hands around with pressure to bruise.
"Better than better," Rook said, awed at the sight laid out before him.
He hadn't just sat there and stared as Emmrich undressed. When the other man had leaned back, Rook took advantage of the little extra wiggle room and worked on his own state of overdress. They had been the same fatigues he'd always worn off duty in the Wardens, and he could get them off in short order. With a couple of jerking motions, he shouldered off his padded vest and shirt.
It was only then he idly wondered what Emmrich thought of tattoos. The griffon that snaked up the length of his left arm could always be seen from the forearm, but not the griffons on his chest or ones on his back. Privately, he hoped they would impress as he was fond of their artistry even when some of these were sun-damaged or altered by scars.
"You're gorgeous," Brought back to the present, Rook wound his arms back around Emmrich's waist and pulled him close, and started to press firm, hungry kisses on Emmrich's neck and shoulder.
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But he wasn't the only one. As Rook undressed he revealed far more art on his body than Emmrich had imagined, and a plethora of scars that the professor wanted to know the stories behind. He'd scarcely had the time to begin tracing one piece on Rook's chest before he was pulled firmly against the man and Rook began kissing him.
"As are you," he replied in a lower voice than before, tilting his head so Rook had full access. His hands explored the man's muscular back, tracing along what scars crossed his path. There was such power to Rook's form, and he'd clearly survived so much.
Emmrich rocked his hips experimentally, rubbing his half-hard cock against Rook's stomach just because he could in this position, seeking to find out if Rook was in a similar state yet. To be fair Emmrich had been a little turned on since kissing the man in the Memorial Gardens, but he doubted that had done much for Rook.
His touch lingered on a longer scar on Rook's back and he followed it again with fingertips deliberately. A claw of some sort, he thought, just based on the jagged nature. A claw from something big. He'll ask for stories after, he decided, because, as evidenced by a quiet, breathy sound, he was very much enjoying how Rook was putting his mouth to use currently.
"Your body is a marvel that I want to explore," he said in Rook's ear, low and intent.
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In a short amount of time, Rook had come to associate Emmrich only with safety and compassion. The moment Emmrich entwined their hands together, that time in his lab, and pulled back the veil on death. Even before the Gardens, Rook knew he had fallen for him. Rook had never felt this way about anyone; he had avoided any chance before. Now, it thrilled as much as it terrified. If this is what falling in love felt like, it was incredible.
Rook arched his back into Emmrich's touch, knowing where those fingers were tracing the raised scar tissue raked across his back courtesy of a shriek in the Deep Roads. He shivered at the sensation but found it strangely pleasant, even intimate. No one's taken the time to touch him like this, he realized. He shuddered again at Emmrich's words hot against the shell of his ear. Oh, two could play at that.
"Wanted the same since that evening in Gardens," Rook's voice was a hoarse whisper, needful as it was demanding. "Brought myself off so many times that night thinking of you. I swear I thought I went blind afterward."
The hand at Emmrich's back slid up to cup the back of his neck, holding him firm.
"What do you imagine the gods would think if I took you against one of those murals of their smug faces on the wall over there? Or bend you over the piano, the keys striking every time I thrust into you so you'd never be able to hear a note being played without going weak in the knees. We've got all night. We might not even have to choose."
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Emmrich shifted to whisper something along those lines to Rook and was beaten to the punch as Rook went filthy. A full-body shudder ran through him at the thought of Rook coming to thoughts of him, jerking himself off on the other side of the wall from where Emmrich slept.
And that was nothing compared to what followed. Emmrich forgot himself enough to moan at the images Rook presented, realizing the man absolutely could bend him over anything with ease. The hand on the back of his neck made that very, very clear.
He was almost always the one making the calls in his sexual encounters, almost always the one deciding and taking initiative, and this possible reversal was thrilling. Sure, he'd had some fantasies about being bent over things before, but he'd never had opportunity to try it.
"Both," he pants, knowing he's being needy but they're being intimate; it's only right to be open in this setting.
Emmrich slides a hand between them, getting a nice feel of Rook's abdomen, before he's searching for whatever holds Rook's pants closed.
He'd started this with thoughts of slow love- making in a refuge away from it all, and now he wants so badly to be fucked.
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"I can do both," Rook said roughly. He would do anything Emmrich as of him at that point, even if the man wanted him on his knees and begging. Actually, now that the thought crossed his mind, he wouldn't be opposed to that in the slightest.
The hand at Emmrich's neck slid down his back and moved to help with the belt. The buckle was large, made of iron, and unwieldy. Rook made a noise that sounded like 'let me' as he pulled at the latch. His movements were graceless with need because, by now, his arousal was painfully constrained in his smalls.
The belt is pulled off fast as a whip and thrown aside with the rest of his clothes. After an uphill battle with the leather laces, Rook could have sobbed with relief when he tugged his aching cock out of his small clothes and let it sit erect against his abdomen.
"Wait a moment," Rook said on a drawn-out exhale as he reached over the chaise.
The half-filled wine glass now in his hand was swirled once before Rook took a measured sip and set the glass back down again. With a hungry look in his eyes, Rook put his back around Emmrich's neck and drew him firmly, almost roughly, into a kiss. The purpose is made clear when his tongue plunges into Emmrich's mouth, and the berry-tart taste of the wine fills both their mouths. Scarlet red rivulets of the mouthful that didn't pass Emmrich's lips run down Rook's chin. When he's sure Emmrich managed to swallow, Rook pulls back and wipes his widely grinning mouth with the back of his hand.
"Wanted you to try the wine before we got...distracted."
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And oh, what a shape his dreams suddenly take when he sees Rook's cock. Emmrich has never sought out... larger... experiences, he takes his partners as he finds them, but the fact that this is a part of Rook makes it something he craves.
Wait, Rook says, and somehow Emmrich does, watching this man's every movement with quiet hunger that matches the look now shining in Rook's eyes. Tongue and wine alike spill into his mouth and he groans, relaxing at the mix of flavors. Rook absolutely knows what he's doing. And Emmrich would gladly get drunk off kisses like that. Perhaps another time.
"How considerate of you," Emmrich says warmly before leaning in and licking a drop off Rook's chin that escaped the wipe. He's going to be so very distracting.
The first part of that is the most straightforward -- Emmrich reaches down to take Rook's cock in hand and truly feel the girth there. His pupils blow out as he strokes it; there is a non-zero chance that he will have trouble walking tomorrow. With his other hand he unfastens his own trousers and starts shoving them down a little, along with the red silk smalls. It's difficult with just one hand, while his legs are spread, but he eventually manages to get himself out.
Emmrich leans in for a hard, sucking kiss at Rook's neck as he presses his cock to Rook's and strokes them both together.
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Emmrich quite literally wiped the smirk off Rook's face. Looking momentarily taken aback, only for his expression to shift to something starved, desperate to know what else that clever tongue could do.
Instead, Rook first became acquainted with Emmrich's hands. All higher thought was punched out of him with a low moan when Emmrich soon wrapped his fingers around them both. It was a bit funny to hear the tinkling of jewelry every time Emmrich stroked him like little bells. Rook then realizes he's never going to be able to hear bells again without finding his trousers tighter.
He watched with interest as Emmrich's conductor-fine, gold-bangled hands worked on the fastenings on his own pants. His mouth watered first at the sight of silken smalls as red as wine, and for a moment, he wanted to get his teeth around those. That attention shifted to the slimmer, nicely sized arousal Emmrich slid out of silk.
"Wait," All sense of control gone, and back in Emmrich's court, Rook could only whine as he was brought closer to the edge and dropped his head on Emmrich's shoulder, "Want to...want to prep you, make love to you, can't last long like this— please."
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Emmrich closed his eyes, starting to lose himself in the friction, until Rook spoke. They had had some sort of plan. If not for 'make love' and the 'please' in there Emmrich might have argued for this, but both are enough that he pulled his hand back and nodded shakily.
"Right. Right." For that... He opened his eyes and found Rook's pack with his eyes, casting force magic again to yank it over to them and put it down within Rook's reach. It would be impolite to go through it without permission.
In the meantime he does what has to be done and gets up even though he immediately misses the feeling of Rook against him. Rook has become such a craving, such a constant desire, in so short a time. It would be terrifying if it didn't seem like Rook was equally lost.
Emmrich removed his boots, socks, trousers, and smalls so that he was naked and re-straddled Rook, now set for whatever position they wind up in. Quickly he wrapped his arms around Rook's shoulders and set himself to kissing the man's shoulders and collarbones, worshiping his body as much as he could.
"Anything you ask for, my darling," he murmured against Rook's skin.
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Before he even gets his head on straight, Emmrich has used magic to send Rook's pack flying over to him. Despite being achingly hard and desperate to get his hands back on the man, Rook had to hand it to him.
"Convenient little thing, that," He said with an impressed whistle.
Rook then quickly discovers it's next to impossible to rummage through his pack for one small vial tucked amidst the chaos of his lack of organizational skills quickly on a good day. On a day, he's also watching Emmrich undress, and the sight of those ruby red silk smalls get pulled down those leanly toned legs? He wouldn't be so dramatic as to say he was fighting for his life trying to find that bottle, but it was getting pretty damned close. After nearly dropping the small green bottle not once but twice Rook set it aside just as Emmrich returned to his lap.
Rook was quick to run his hands along any part of Emmrich he could, warmed to be called 'my darling.' Emmrich was quick with a word of affection; Rook learned and was finding himself spellbound by it.
"Anything?" he asked as his self-assurance started to stoke back to life, and his eyes darkened. Rook put his hands underneath Emmrich's thighs and, with little warning or fanfare, stood up.
Without any risk of insulting the man, Rook determined that Emmrich weighed near the same but less than his full plate and broad axe with the shield. Once he was on his feet, it hardly strained his abilities to carry Emmrich no more than ten paces across the foot and set him on top of the closed piano case.
"Bent over the piano," Rook huffed as he placed his hands flat on either side of Emmrich and leaned in close til their noses touched, "That was one option on the table, yeah?"
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The return of Rook's hands was incredible, and Emmrich was already wondering how he could manage to get more of this. He hadn't realized quite how much he'd wanted to be touched until this thing started up. It was one of the things he'd set aside in preparation for his future and he rather hoped there was a way to still at least sense touch as a lich. There had to be.
"Anything," he confirmed as he tried to shut down thoughts of the future. There were senses still, he knew that much... though would they compare to the way it felt to suddenly be lifted almost effortlessly, hear the promise in Rook's voice, and to see the heat in his eyes? The piano lid was cold and hard underneath him, he was folded in half, and he had no complaints.
Emmrich reached up to caress the side of Rook's face, and brush his fingers through the man's hair. "Yes, my dear. It was." His voice was heavy. Emmrich linked his ankles behind Rook's back and used that to urge Rook completely against him.
"Until, I believe, I never hear a piano again without desiring you." With his other hand he traced a scar on Rook's chest, memorizing the shape of it. There was no way to kiss it from this position, but exploration of the man's skin is on the list of future things to do. He shifted to tracing around one of the many griffons on Rook's body, the fine details permanently and precisely inked into his skin. He wondered how it would look when Rook finally fucked him, when he was working his core muscles. Would it look like it was in motion? If not, it was such a missed opportunity.
"Have me, Rook."
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They hadn't discussed much of their different backgrounds. Rook did often wonder what Emmrich made of him. He doubted Rook was difficult to read as inscrutable as Emmrich sometimes was to him. Rook was a Ferelden, after all, and what little he knew about magic until now came from Warden mages recruited from the Circles. So, in the grand scheme of things, he knew practically nothing.
The problem was what little he knew offered him next to no insight into who Emmrich Volkarin was. It wasn't as though the man was a closed book, but Rook was hesitant to admit that he couldn't understand what Emmrich happily explained to him at times. Rook knew Emmrich was a kind man, excitable and lively with the heart of a romantic; he was a warm fire on a cold winter's day to those around him. Emmrich the Necromancer was harder for Rook to wrap his head around. For example, since the Gardens, he still wasn't clear on lichdom beyond its importance to Emmrich, but he was afraid to ask. His ignorance was an established trait by now and he hadn't wanted to offend.
—Rook was torn out of his own head by the heels of Emmrich's feet pressing into the small of his back. Rook blinked and was drawn instantly back into the sight spread out before him. It marveled he could have been distracted, even for a moment, away from something so gorgeous. Emmrich, prone beneath him, with tousled hair and pale skin stark against the gold bangles on his arms and rosy flush to his face.
Rook would never have said or even thought Emmrich was good-looking 'for his age' or something like that. It would imply he wasn't just as enamored by the smile lines, the creases around the eyes when Emmrich smiled, or the grey dominating the streak of black in his hair. Those were earned and gracefully so, and Rook envied something as common as getting older. That would never be in the cards for him, so he enjoyed the beauty of it in Emmrich instead.
"You're so beautiful..." Rook spoke up almost with a sense of reverence as he traced his fingers down the length of Emmrich's throat to his navel. Almost as if he were in a trance where he hadn't even heard what Emmrich was saying.
"Lay on your back, relax." The oil was still on the chaise, so Rook started to pull away with great reluctance after kissing the inside of Emmrich's palm. "I'll take care of the rest."
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Emmrich swallowed, hard, as Rook's fingers took the same path as his eyes. He wanted Rook to indeed take care of everything, and start soon here, but Emmrich's heart also wished they had somewhere comfortable where he could slowly indulge them both. Another time. Another time he would make this a seduction, and he'd enjoy this too.
With another swallow he laid back and relaxed, feeling oddly on display here as Rook pulled away. Why even... ah. Right, Rook couldn't have carried everything. And yanking a fragile jar over with force magic was risky even with care. Emmrich deliberately pushed past the weird feeling and let his legs fall open. He wanted Rook looking. He wanted Rook back here, touching him.
"You say, leaving me here," he teased gently, looking up at the ceiling. "Perhaps this is my own fault for thinking about having you on the table in my rooms. I've tried not to let my mind wander there, but you are magnetic."
Emmrich trailed fingertips down his own body, wondering if Rook was watching, grazing a nipple, tracing along the bottom rib, heading down to his hip. "Do come back." He could only do this because how certain he was Rook wanted him. Otherwise he'd be far too in his head for it. "The sooner the better."
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— A task that was now on Rook's shoulders and one he intended to approach with due diligence. He wanted to take care of Emmrich, to do everything in his power to return even a modicum of affection the older man showed him in the months they had grown closer.
"Have you now?" Rook didn't even bother to mask the note of self-satisfaction in his voice at hearing about what Emmrich fantasized about in his spare time. "I might have let my mind wander here and there — mostly wondering over the structural integrity of your desk or the bookshelves."
Rook would readily admit that he overly enjoyed showing off his physical prowess, still enough to want to play at being the hero. Maybe Bellara was onto something with her predilection for books where shirts were being routinely ripped open. Perhaps he should sit in on at least one book club meeting, but that was an issue for another time.
Right now, all his attention was solely focused on the man draped over the piano like a piece of art. Bottle in hand, Rook nearly dropped it as he watched Emmrich writhe and touch himself in a way that really made him want to be more than just casual with blasphemy.
"Stunning," He whispered as he moved back between Emmrich's spread legs, running one hand up his chest while the other squeezed at his inner thigh after setting down the bottle. Rook thumbed at the raised, rosy bud of a nipple as he let his darkened eyes rove over the man beneath him. "Are you comfortable?"
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Emmrich breathed in as he was complimented, only for him to stop breathing temporarily when he's touched again. Rook's hands were so warm on him.
"Nn," Emmrich said to the question and brush of his nipple both. "I am now. And you can be less gentle if you'd like."
As he spoke he wrapped his legs around Rook and linked his ankles behind the man, bringing him closer. Emmrich's gaze met Rook's. He reached up to loop his arms around Rook to pull him close enough for a hungry, needy kiss. Rook was about to find out exactly how flexible Emmrich was, something that the older man was looking forward to showing off. Yes, Rook was clearly stronger, significantly so, but Emmrich was not without his strengths as a lover.
Fingers went up to tangle in Rook's lovely thick hair, tangling and twisting as Emmrich's heart resumed its faster pace.
"You are gorgeous, my dear," he murmured. "Truly exquisite in form. And the artistry upon your body is a visual feast."
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"I'd like that terribly," he managed before Emmrich's toned legs securely wrapped around him. Rook moaned into the kiss against the hint of friction of his cocked pressed into the warmth of Emmrich's thighs. He'd seen the older man fight but never felt him bent and pliable around him. Oh, he was gone for this man truly.
"I hope you don't just mean the tattoos," Rook teased as he canted his head, almost inviting Emmrich to twist his fingers tighter and pull. "Can I put you on your stomach? Would ease the way, and I'd love to see how I can get you to bend before you break."
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"I mean you entirely," he said. The head tilt seemed an offer and Emmrich took it, tugging harder and testing out how Rook would respond. "Your shape, form, tattoos, and scars deserve to be fully explored and appreciated." Which he cannot do on his stomach. Very well.
"I suggest a compromise. Yes, put me on my stomach and..." Emmrich closed his eyes and nodded, struggling to finish the sentence. "But after, we return to the lounge so I can take my time seeing and touching you."
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