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Positioning your knees on either side of Zenos’ waist on the stairs of the beautiful throne room in Ala Mhigo, your resolve seems to falter. Zenos, who should rightfully be at the pointy end of your sword, lays disheveled beneath you, too impatient to make it to his seat and taking you down on the steps with him, beautifully bathed in the pale moonlight coming in from the windows on the sides of the room that casts gentle shadows across the soft curves of his face; a sight to make your chest flutter with excitement, but doubt yet chips away at you. From the self-satisfied grin that breaks on Zenos’ lips, he can read it plain on your face.
“What is it, my friend?” It’s cute that he should still try to look world-bored and unimpressed as is his usual will, you think absent-mindedly as your hand snakes to his hair and pulls his head backwards, to the point his eyes have to strain to look back at you while you dive into his neck to take a bite of the snow white flesh under his jaw. “Has your guilt caught up with you yet?”
You pull his hair harder, just for the sake of watching him close his eyes in pleasure. Of course it has, and of course he already knows; yet are you not there, with him? Are you not actively trying to coax sweet sounds out of him and feeling him stiffen behind you? “Doubtless were Lyse to see me now, she’d rue the day she found me in the Twelveswood, all those moons ago. She and my friends have already lost so much at your hands; to be seen in your company…” The word feels bitter in your mouth - you cover the taste with that of the skin that stretches from his collarbone all the way up his long neck. Zenos makes not a sound, but you can tell his hunger will not be sated with only kitten licks. “Could I ever go back to the fight, then?” Only when your teeth sink into the flesh of where his shoulder meets his neck to the point of drawing blood does Zenos moan loudly and obscenely, like he had been waiting for exactly that.
Summoning you to the palace of Ala Mhigo after dark, to the very corner where his throne sits, wearing not his usual bulking armor in favor of one of a simpler design but still apt to do its job should you decide to turn on him, nonetheless looking intimidatingly bigger than you, he had to have had a mind that the night would take such a turn before you so much as deigned to accept his invite, dismissing in preparation of your arrival the guards that would otherwise be posted around the room and its vicinity. Instead, you are keenly aware of the absence of people on this side of the palace – save for you, and Zenos beneath your weight. You look at his infuriatingly smug smile and distantly wish you had put up more of a resistance once you’d figured out his scheme, if only for show of virtue. But it doesn’t change that he hums low, and in a likewise low voice he says, “Whether or not this Lyse sees you matters little to me, my beast… I wonder, will you still be able to face your comrades, come morning? Knowing you that they will be going into battle against the very one whom you had only the night before…”
You slap him across the pale skin of his face, the metal of your ring leaving a nice, definite imprint where your palm leaves a vague red outline instead; infuriatingly, he does not raise a hand to soothe his pain but rather rejoices in it, if the wild look in his eyes and the way his mouth falls open around a smile are of any indication. “Silence,” you say, “You’re irritating. Perhaps you’re undeserving of me.”
A hand snakes on the back of your thigh, touch featherlight as it traces candidly the path from the back of your knee all the way up to your hip, and beneath the linen fabric of your dress you feel the heat he leaves in his wake; his fingertips are soft and you so badly wish he’d touch you everywhere – you very nearly thread into dangerous territory thinking, Maybe another time, but catch yourself in time, or so you think until Zenos smiles in an unmistakably mischievous way that makes you wonder if he can read your mind after all. His hand, meanwhile, continues to wander across your stomach, eventually reaching your right breast and squeezing lightly. “And you’d deny yourself the pleasure only to teach me a lesson?” He asks, and the wicked smile doesn’t falter. “How noble of you.”
“Oh, no. Nothing as noble, I assure you,” you reply, but as he toys with one nipple above the linen of your dress, you can’t help yourself from moaning and grinding down once on his hardness. “In fact, I have half a mind to put your mouth to work. I’ll shut you up, and get what I came here for in the meanwhile. Yes, two birds, and so on…” And with that, you bring one of his big hands – so much bigger than yours, you note in a daze – to gently feel between your legs for where you’re wet; he’s gentle as he touches you through your smallclothes not as if he’s intent on bringing you over the edge you’re teetering on, but rather like he’s teasing you. You grin as your fingers skirt suggestively around his neck, careful not to give him what he wants in favor of settling down on his chest instead. Bastard, you think.
“So scantily clad,” he mocks while he plays with the skirt of your dress. “One would think you stupid and reckless to come into the enemy’s lair wearing only a dress and the smallclothes underneath.”
Rising briefly to your feet to divest yourself of the very clothes Zenos was making fun of, you laugh. “Oh, ‘tis only a glamour, love,” with a yank to his long hair, you tilt his head towards your core and kneel so that his tongue can reach you, “Despite countless evidence to the contrary, I quite value my life.”
Zenos, to your surprise, starts working his tongue between your folds in earnest without so much as a word of protest, licking and sucking in all the right places so that you wonder wherever he learned to please women quite like this. His right finger comes to tease at your entrance as his lips close around in a kiss at your clit; shamelessly you moan for him, and from how his eyes flicker to your face you gauge that his ego has been thoroughly stroked, though you frankly can’t bring yourself to care so long as his deliciously thick finger keeps pushing into you. “Would that your guard could see you now. Their liege under that savage beast they aid you in hunting– so unbecoming for one of your standing–” you cut off on a moan when he adds another finger to the first one and inside you they hit the spot that very nearly makes you howl. Lost in pleasure, you pull harder on his hair and grind on his mouth as well as his nose, the thought of him missing air from where he’s closed off between your thighs almost enough to bring you to your peak.
“Perhaps they’d hang their heads in shame at walking in on you during a private moment such as this. But mostly, I think they’d be embarrassed that…” You briefly lose your train of thought when the two fingers move faster in tandem with the tongue that works circles on your clit, savoring the moment without forcing yourself to come up with jabs at Zenos’ expense – it’s short-lived, though, for when he feels bold enough to grope one of your cheeks it falls to you to remind him of who’s in charge. You absent-mindedly wish he would behave, although if he ever did, you more than likely wouldn’t be there in the first place. You look down at him nonchalantly, but flutter around his fingers nonetheless. “Embarrassed that their Lord is a filthy traitor for bedding the Warrior of Light of all people. Oh, I bet they wait in line for you back in Garlemald, but your rightful place lies not in that godsforsaken city, but rather under me, at my mercy…”
Your orgasm hits you the second Zenos gives you the promise of a third finger entering you, and for the entirety of its waves you ride it with the help of his hand and mouth. Even as you start shivering in overstimulation he seems reluctant to let you go, which is, admittedly, really quite endearing – so much, that you’re almost tempted to bring yourself to another orgasm on his face. But you do take pity on him and his lungs which must surely be struggling for air, and move to sit back on his lower stomach again, albeit with shaking legs and very much distracted by Zenos’ lips glistening with your juices and his spit mixed. A finger – your right index – comes up to run on the plump lower lip and presses softly into his mouth alongside another one; his tongue deftly licks and lavishes your digits with attention as he maintains steady eye contact as though to him this is the norm and therefore has no reason to be embarrassed before you. Licking a path from its base to its tip, Zenos takes the chance to grip your arm and take your hand to kiss a path from your fingertips all the way up to your elbow, focusing especially where your pulse beats in your wrist, kissing and licking and biting until you gasp and he moves on. Never before had you thought your hands exceptionally sensitive, but under Zenos’ attention you believe any nook and cranny of your body would send sparks coursing through your veins.
It’s right unnerving.
Looking like the cat that got the cream at your moaning, Zenos smirks and before you have the time to ready yourself, he pulls you forward so fast that you’re forced to brace your hands roughly on the stairs to avoid slamming your forehead on his own. “I’ve waited for you, my savage. My prey. My enemy. My best of friends.” Your nose turns up in disgust at the pet names. “Knowing the day will come we’ll be on opposite sides, weapons drawn, I could hardly contain my excitement.” He drives the point home grasping your hips and driving them towards where he’s still clothed but regardless hard to grind against you. He moans, lost in fantasies of the future until you see fit to bring him back to where you lagged behind; your hand lays on his neck and your nails dig into its sides and leave behind half-moon shapes when you better adjust your grip to slightly cut off the flow of air to his lungs. Zenos grins, because you’re sure that was his will all along.
“Is that so?” You ask, pretending to be oblivious to the way he twitches wildly under you. “I’ve fought many before you. What makes you think you would stand out from the rest?” You unlace his pants and your hand grabs at the hem to pull them down enough for his cock to spring out. It’s thick, curving slightly towards his trim stomach, frankly unlike anything you’ve seen before in its sheer size, and every bit as intimidating as the man himself. “I’d leave the battlegrounds and your corpse behind, thinking that mayhaps my energies would have been better spent elsewhere, say, for example in aiding the Mol in preparation for the next Naadam…” A bead of precum rolls down his shaft and you only just barely refrain from retracing its path, and therefore from touching him, content for now to just feel his expectant gaze on your face. “I’d leave, and think to myself, How utterly pathetic.” Zenos’ cock jumps again as the words leave your mouth, and his own curls into a nasty grin.
“And yet, at Rhalgr’s Reach–” you leave him no chance to finish what he’s saying before your palm strikes his face again – his grin doesn’t drop and in spite of your better judgement, you feel yourself growing wet again at the sight of it. The red mark, this time, seems to take slightly longer to fade. “You should know better, Zenos, than to speak out of line like so.”
“My apologies,” very clearly, there is not a sorry bone in his body, but the words are good enough for you. “My lady,” he breathes, and perhaps more for your sake than his, you line his cock with your entrance to lower yourself on it, albeit at a much slower pace than you’d like due to his abnormal size. You doubt that were you not so wet you’d be able to take him at all, much less glide down ilm by slow ilm until you can seat yourself fully in his lap without straining the muscles in your thighs to keep yourself upright. Once at your ease, you huff out a slight chuckle. “Doubtless were Garlean maidens to learn that at this very moment you could be planting the heir to your beloved empire in me, they’d be up in arms to take me down themselves.”
Inside of you Zenos swells ever so slightly, pulling at your seams in a way you didn’t think possible, bringing overwhelming pleasure despite the slight burn of the stretch. He scoffs. “Beloved empire… I’d sooner see it all go down in flames than oversee it.” Bracing his foot on one of the steps, he starts thrusting upwards into you quick and shallow, not enough to send you crushing down on your orgasm but well enough to make you all the more wet for him. Incessantly he buries himself within you over and over again until you take his hand from where it’s still resting at your hip and bring it to your clit for him to massage, only to have him deny you with a cruel smirk and capturing both your wrists in his big hand, ensuring that you don’t bring yourself to completion either. The arm that hugs your waist escapes your notice at first, taken as you are with the steady rhythm he keeps in hitting the right spot inside you, but you grin when he uses it as leverage to raise you higher and consequently to drive his cock into you that much harder. In between moans, you barely manage to sweetly say, “Taking initiative. I quite like that. I was growing somewhat bored of you laying limp and leaving me to do all the work.”
“It is good that you don’t hand me the satisfaction. It only serves to spur me on,” he confesses, “I am sure that is exactly your angle.”
“Oh, don’t stop on account of my teasing,” you struggle to gather your words when he feels so good inside you, under you and around you, his scent and his touch nearly overpowering your senses. “Why, I’m perfectly content with the half decent job you’re doing of fucking me. Now, unhand me,” you say, but before he relents his grip on your wrists you still rake your nails on his sculpted chest, your attention torn between the beautiful red of the scratches and the muscles under your fingertips flexing – without a doubt he’s watching your movements with a shite-eating grin plastered on his face, but it doesn’t concern you overmuch when all you’re preoccupied with is touching and groping and scratching every bit of his wide chest that you can reach.
“And should I say no?” Zenos asks, a terrible smirk all too audible in his lilt.
“You don’t give up easily,” you reply, bracing yourself to take control of the pace again, forcing Zenos’ thrusts to a halt as you sit on his hips, “It’s adorable, truly.”
You don’t grace him with a real response before picking up a languid pace that doesn’t really satisfy either of you; more than looking to bring yourself to completion, you revel in the sight of Zenos’ brows furrowing slightly as you slowly, slowly rise and sit back on his cock until you stop altogether and still again. The feeling of him twitching inside you, so close to finishing and yet not quite there yet has you sighing and moaning softly, closing your eyes to commit it to memory. “Come on, Zenos,” you say with a wicked grin to match Zenos’ own, “Show me your might. Show me why I should remember you after I take you down.”
If the way his hands shoot to your hips to grip them as he starts thrusting up into you in earnest is any indication, he’s sufficiently taunted by your words – good, for that was your intention saying them. You smile; behind the bored mask, he’s incredibly easy to rile up. Or maybe, you’re just that special. He snakes a hand to the back of your neck to pull you down and kiss you, the very first kiss he’s given you. He’s rough, passionate, and to be honest when he bites your lip and then licks into your mouth it makes your stomach churn in disgust and arousal both. You can feel yourself practically drip on him; suddenly hyper-aware that you are effectively fucking your worst enemy, you can’t help yourself from coming the second his finger unexpectedly caresses the spot between your legs that makes you see stars.
Zenos looks you directly in the eye as he continues to thrust into you, the overstimulation so maddening and yet so delicious and his breathing grows heavier by the second, obviously as close to his own peak as he’s gotten all night. All it takes is for you to hover over his face and nonchalantly look down on him, clucking your tongue in disapproval at him – all a ruse, of course, up until now you even had troubles opening your eyes at all from the force of the orgasm that rocks through you even now – and suddenly he’s coming, inside you, pushing himself ever so deep and fucking you through both your orgasms. For a moment, you wonder if you could come from the feeling of him spilling into you alone, but as soon as he pinches both of your nipples with the selfsame hands you never noticed he took off your hips, you wonder no more and positively howl as another orgasm rips through you.
Zenos simply lies beneath you, the same position he’s been in since you got to the stairs, and looks up at you with a sort of awe you never thought he’d be capable of, given his preternatural disposition to look unimpressed with life as a whole, and you get the feeling he has no intention on moving – or pulling out, for that matter. On his lips an evil smirk still.
A hand comes up to brush your sweaty hair from your forehead and behind your ear. “My beast,” he says, and it seems to you that what he really wants to say is that he’s not quite yet done with you.