Work Text:
Jessamine woke up slowly, a pale, cool ray of the rising sun tickling her fluttering lashes. She blinked awake unhurriedly, for once with no rush to get up, get dressed, hurry to some meeting, a speech, a formal breakfast. The first meeting of the day had been cancelled last evening, Lord Ichabod having fallen sick suddenly, and Norine, Emily's nanny, bless her soul, had immediately volunteered to take her out for an adventure camping in the gardens for a night (with guards present at all hours of course, but at her age Emily thankfully did not take notice of such trivial interruptions to her adventure). Though she could have saved herself the cheeky wink at the suggestion.
With a very quiet groan Jessamine stretched, careful to avoid jostling the precious form sprawled next to her over the large bed. Corvo so rarely spent the night with her now, and even more rarely slept longer than her. He'd never been a heavy sleeper and as much as it grated her, she couldn't afford him to be. But today... Just today. She could enjoy this image for a little while. A picture so wonderful Anton could have never hoped to capture it (not that she would have let him, this was for her, and her alone. Or at least certainly not for the old Tyvian bear, he had annoyed her one too many times with his sly comments). Corvo, draped almost enticingly over the pillows, the blanket just so covering his hips and leaving his upper body entirely nude, lean chest open for her viewing pleasure, not that it did anything to hide the muscles of his thighs either. But the most delightful, the most wonderful thing was his face. Entirely relaxed in sleep, his lips just slightly parted, he looked ethereal, untouchable, as if he might dissolve back into the dream he came from if she dared to touch him. And yet he wouldn't, was hers to touch and admire, even as rarely as they got to enjoy each other.
And enjoyed each other they had last night. Jessamine smirked, even as her thighs ached. She'd made sure to get her fill after they'd barely managed so much as a kiss for months, with Emily too young to be left alone for long and with politics still in some upheaval over the idea of a bastard daughter inheriting the throne. She had no regrets about her choices, not with Corvo and not with Emily, but there were still consequences to carry. She would carry them gladly for the two lights of her life. And for however long it would take, well, she would simply make the most of the few occasions they got.
Gazing over the still form of her love, only his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath, Jessamine's smile softened. How lucky she was for this to be her reward for her greed. That not only did he willingly, lovingly give himself to her, in so many more ways than she could have ever rightly asked of him, after it all, after she'd taken all he could give and a bit more, she got to enjoy this image of perfection. This picture of peace and quiet and serenity. This side of him that she only got to see when she'd thoroughly, entirely exhausted him the night before.
Slowly, carefully, she reached out to trail her finger down his jawbone, her touch featherlight so as to not wake him just yet. Gently she followed the line of his throat, down the ridge of his chest and over the expanse of his stomach until she reached the edge of the blanket. He never so much as stirred. It was good, she thought, that no one was here to expect her to speak, for in that moment nothing could have possibly gotten past the adoration, the gratitude, the love that almost choked her. She'd seen him turn and block a sword in milliseconds after barely a breath of wind to hear, had seen him jump to take a bullet for her, fired by a gunman on an entirely hidden rooftop, had caught a pickpocket who'd barely even lifted his hand to her belt. That he slept at all in her presence, that he slumbered through her hands on his body, no matter how gentle, spoke of a trust so monumental she barely knew how to conceive of it.
Tenderly she traced the scars littering his nude skin, some soft, some rougher, some small, some large, some she knew the origin of and some she didn't. He'd tell her if she asked, and perhaps she would someday, but in this moment she was simply content to feel his warm skin under her hand, the rise and fall of his chest, the slow, calm beating of his heart. Assurance that no matter what happened before, he was alive now. For her.
Jessamine gently brushed her thumb over a particular scar over his hip bone down to his pelvis. (A sword strike meant for her, that had had him very nearly bleed out in her arms in the middle of the street. She'd slapped Anton when after the surgery to save him he'd seen fit to joke about the nearly endangered chance of a second heir.) It vanished down under the blanket, away from view, and a tantalising idea sparked in her mind. Just how much could she get away with without waking him?
A quick glance up to his (stunning, beautiful, divine, void what did she ever do to deserve this gift) face assured her that he was still blissfully slumbering, and with a deft hand she carefully tugged the blanket down his legs. No need to soil the sheets even further. Much, anyway. Lightly, very lightly, it wouldn't do to give the game away so soon, she drew just the tip of her nail through the patch of dark curls between his legs and down his soft cock.
Corvo drew in a deep breath and Jessamine froze, her hand still lightly resting on his crotch, but after a moment he merely sighed and settled again. Jessamine nearly giggled at the unexpected thrill of the game she'd started and bit her lip. Emboldened by her success she lowered her hand again and tenderly pressed the palm of her hand into his groin, keeping her eyes fixed on his face. She could feel him grow hard under her hand, but the real prize was the way his brow furrowed, eyes just barely tight.
There was something enchanting about seeing what she could do to him like this, to have him entirely helpless under her, with none of the barriers that always stood between them, no matter how hard they tried to forget them for a night. There was no pretending here (not that she thought he was pretending, she knew him well enough to know that he could never lie to her), no careful balancing of roles, not even the sweet distraction of emotions, only the sensations she could give to him as he lay asleep and unaware.
Heat pooled in her belly and her breath came heavier.
It took effort to keep herself under control, to not pounce on him as she had last night, kiss him awake and straddle his hips to take him here and now. The itch only added to the thrill.
Without averting her eyes from his deliciously scrunched up face she curled her fingers around the base of his shaft into a loose fist. His breath hitched even as his knees shifted outward and he unconsciously spread his legs for her, giving her better access to his already half hard cock.
For a while she simply rubbed her thumb in lazy circles over his smooth, warm skin and watched the creases around his eyes crinkle and his jaw grow lax. It was likely the only smooth part of her Royal Protector's body, the rest of him covered in scars and other marks life left on him. Nothing like the noble boys she'd practiced on in her younger years with their featureless porcelain skin. One day, when they were both less desperate, she would tie him to her bed for at least a few hours and explore every nook and cranny of him, map every mark and blemish on his skin with her fingers and her tongue and whatever else could think of. But for now it was enough to have him here next to her, to feel him in her hand and watch him melt under her touch without even being aware of it.
Once he was entirely hard she moved from slow finger movements to light squeezes, careful to watch for any sign of him waking. She could feel his pelvic muscles tighten even as he remained fast asleep, lost in whatever dream his body was conjuring to make sense of the sensations. Oh how she ached to know what it was, what his mind constructed from her hand on his cock. Did he dream of her? Of his own hand between his legs as she watched? Or something else entirely?
The thought sent lightning through her own core.
Unable to resist anymore she pulled herself from where she'd been lying and sat next to him, gripping him with both hands. He twitched against her palms and a quiet groan rumbled through his chest. It was intoxicating the way Corvo was lying underneath her, entirely slack except for his warm cock in her hands that only seemed to grow harder.
Jessamine stroked his length, once, twice, and each time his throat spasmed and his thighs trembled, his face growing more and more twisted. Eager to see what else she could get out of him she moved one hand to cup his balls, lightly pinching the sensitive skin the way she knew drove him crazy.
By the void he whimpered. High pitched and helpless and Jessamine nearly moaned herself at the sound. Corvo had never been particularly vocal, in bed or otherwise. She'd made it a sport to hunt down any sound she could force him to make, all the strangled moans, the quiet gasps, the whimpers and cries and choked noises. Only once had she been able to honestly make him sob in bed, and it was a high she'd ridden for days and still chased.
With the precision of experience she kneaded his balls, gently scratched the inside of his thighs around the base of his shaft until he was gasping, his eyes screwed shut, arms trailing where they layed against the mattress. His cock twitched and yet he never bucked his hips. Well-behaved for her even unconscious.
She could only hope there would be enough time to get herself off once she was done with him, because there was no way she could step into parliament as wet as she was.
Unwilling to end the game just yet she let up on pressure, loosened her hand and moved on to gently smoothing two fingers down the soft underside of his shaft, barely grazing the tips of her immaculately manicured nails around the base. She could feel the muscles in his thighs flex and didn't have to look down to guess his toes were curled with enough force to turn the joints white, and yet he remained stoically silent.
At a pace she knew he found agonizingly slow she dragged her fingers back up, and reaching the head closed her fist again and dragged her thumb lightly over the precum moist slit. To her delight she was rewarded with another noise, strangled and pleading, somewhere between a moan and a keen.
She wondered if in his dream he was begging by now.
The thought sent shivers through her body and without quite meaning to she clenched her fist. His cock throbbed in her hand, hot and desperate, and his breath turned shaky and ragged, his face twisted into something between agony and ecstasy.
It was an expression she'd seen on him, and put on him, many a time.
The rush of emotion was dizzying.
Finally it became all too much and Jessamine took pity on him as well as herself. Without releasing her grip she layed back down on her side, propped up on one elbow and kissed his jaw, unfortunately the only part of his face she could comfortably reach in this position, the ridiculous beanpole, while pumping him, her fingertips gently digging into his skin the way she knew he liked.
"You may," she purred against his skin, and as if she'd said a magic word he shuddered under her touch and spilled himself over her hand.
Nothing could stop her then from leaning up and finally kissing him properly, softly and leisurely, no need to rip him up now, his panting breath on her lips. Her hand, slightly sticky now with his spend, but she'd never cared much about that, she left on his chest, feeling the beating of his heart and rapid rise and fall. And she could feel the moment it changed, ever so slightly, and his eyelids started fluttering.
Corvo hummed against her lips, a leisurely rumble in his chest. As if she was lying on a giant purring cat.
He swallowed her rising giggle with a kiss of his own, and for a while they simply stayed like that as the soft morning light fell through the window. There was something immeasurably comforting about the mundanity, about the slow, comfortable kiss, even the slightly stale taste of his unwashed mouth. For a moment they could simply pretend to be anyone else, someone with no large responsibilities, someone the Empire didn't care about.
Someone who could afford to stay in bed and have some fun a little longer.
Eventually Corvo pulled back a little, just enough to lazily blink up at her through hooded eyes and those silly, wonderfully full lashes of his. He shifted a little, stretching out sleep heavy limbs.
He froze.
Shifted again a bit.
The fire in her gut flared up again, a hazy, almost devious glee in her veins as she watched the thoughts race behind his eyes. He didn't grimace as he noticed the mess, didn't make much of a face at all, but Jessamine knew him, knew how to interpret the little creases around his eyes, the minute ways that his muscles shifted with his breath under her hand on his chest.
She was suddenly enticingly aware of the way her breasts pressed against his warm flesh.
"Ah," he licked his lower lip, eyes shifting slightly, they way he always did when something surprised him just slightly enough to unsettle him from his usually unshakable calm. "This is... Much nicer than being woken up for shift change."
Jessamine laughed. "I would hope so, or I would have to ask what you do for shift change." He didn't respond to her tease, merely smiled up at her like her laugh was somehow the most beautiful thing in the world, and how she loved him for it, when he himself had compelled so many of them.
She also felt his right hand slowly stroke up her naked leg.
With a smirk she reached down and grabbed his hand, large and rough and oh so tender, and pinned him down. She had no illusions that he could easily free himself if he wanted to. The only time he ever had had been when she'd had him pinned into a nook in the hallway to kiss him silly, too desperate to wait for her quarters, and the curtain rod had come loose right over her head. Instead of her it had nailed him in the forehead, leaving a nasty bruise for the rest of the week. He'd patiently let her herd him around as an exhibit in her crusade to improve work safety standards in the tower by day and had equally patiently endured her apologetic kisses at night.
Now he simply watched her, arm slack in her grip and breath even, his gaze delightfully expectant.
She playfully shushed him. "In a moment, dear."
When she slid off him Corvo stayed obediantly down, watching her reach for the bowl and cloth on the nightstand. She took her time cleaning up, wiping away any trace of her little adventure and then kept going some more. She enjoyed the little twinkle in his eyes at her teasing too much to not chase it whenever possible.
When she finally put the cloth back down his smile was all too much again and there was no resisting the temptation of his lips. Her elbows next to his head she kissed him again, slow and languid but demanding. She gripped his hair in one hand, tugging on his beautiful locks with just a touch of pressure, until she felt more than heard the quiet moan in his throat.
Eventually she pulled herself up, propped up over his face and so close she could lean down and kiss him again at any second.
"We have about," she threw a glance out the window to the ever rising sun, "15 minutes until Clarabella knocks on the door to dress me for parliament." Not until Clarabella entered the room of course, her handmaiden did usually grant her a few minutes of grace. Not a lot, but workable. She smirked. "So, do you have a suggestion how we could use that time?"
For a few beats Corvo didn't rise to the obvious bait, even as his own smile grew just touch more devious, and for a moment Jessamine feared he would tease her over it. Deserved, certainly, but fire was burning between her legs now, and she very, very much wanted him, and wanted him now.
She needn't have feared.
From one second to the next, before she could even properly register his movement, he rolled on top of her. A very undignified squeak escaped her throat at being shoved over like a sack of flour, before dissolving into equally undignified giggling as his weight settled over her, warm and familiar. He was still grinning, the rare spark of mischief in his eyes kindled a very different kind of warmth in her chest. If only she could keep this expression on his face forever, this levity and joy.
When he started pressing his lips to her jaw, then lower, down her throat, her chest, it wasn't hard to guess his destination, and the anticipation of finally having him between her legs again burned almost as sweetly as his moans had.
He worked his way down slowly and meticulously, leaving soft kisses on her skin, with the occasional nip that had her laughing breathlessly again. No marks though, that was a lesson they'd learnt quickly. It had been a close call to explain to Clarabella why she'd had bruises sprawling all over her hips and thighs.
Corvo pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh, opened his mouth and started licking slow, deliberate circles, putting alternating pressure into the strokes, while deftly ignoring her aching core. She tried to shift his attention, pushed her thigh into his head to get him to move, shimmied against the sheets to move herself, but anything she tried went entirely unheeded, and he continued licking at her thigh like he was trying to clean his dinner plate.
The bastard was teasing her.
Trying her hardest to keep a stern face even as she could barely stop her giddy laughter Jessamine reached as far as she could and whacked him over the head with the palm of her hand. He stayed admirably, and frustratingly, quiet, but she could see how his shoulders shook and feel his laugh in the way his lips quirked against her skin and his breath turned choppy. How fortunate that he still had his face buried between her legs, because there was no way she could have possibly hidden the smile on her face.
Finally, by the Void finally, he went where she wanted him, nosing into her wet folds. He took to the task as he did with everything he did, with diligence and enthusiasm and with just enough snark to be indetectable to anyone but her. He lapped at her clit and mouthed over her labia, the sensation almost drowning out everything else, if it weren't for his cheeky nails digging into her ass. A satisfied hum rumbled through her chest and she smirked, delicately slinging her legs over his shoulders before tightening them around his head and pressing her heels into his back. He obediently kept at his ministrations, gently massaging her soft flesh while he licked and sucked. The chapped texture of his lips, the callouses of his fingers and even his hair against the bare skin of her thighs caused a delicious friction, a lazy, comfortable warmth coiling between her legs.
It was nothing like the urgency of last night, no hectic scramble for touch, for pleasure, for release, only the slow, familiar comfort of each other. A different kind of pleasure, but no less enjoyable.
Without conscious thought she tangled her fingers in his hair, wrapping the strands around a finger at a time and gently scratching his scalp. A low hum deliciously reverberating through her core was her reward.
For a while they stayed like that, heat coiling leisurely through her lower body, as her limbs tingled. She watched him work through hooded eyes, framed by her thighs, her hand in his hair, breathing growing ragged as he lapped at her, all calculated broad strokes and precise pressure. How easy it was to lose herself in him, whatever he did.
Then came the knock.
Jessamine ripped her eyes open and stared at the door. Corvo froze, his face still between her legs, every muscle suddenly tight, like a predator preparing to pounce. Though what he intended to do if the door did open, she had no idea.
The thought nearly had her moan out loud and with all the willpower of a practiced politician she swallowed down any and all indecent sounds stuck in her throat.
"Your Majesty? Are you awake?" Clarabella, as expected. Jessamine shoved down the irrational resentment bubbling up within her. Her handmaiden was only punctual and didn't deserve to bear the brunt of her displeasure at the interruption.
"Yes, Clarabella, thank you. Give me a few minutes, please," she responded, struggling to keep her voice neither tight nor breathy. A feat worthy of praise in her opinion with Corvo's face still firmly planted against her cunt.
Clarabella, bless her soul, genially agreed without much fuss. "Of course, your majesty. I will help Norine with dressing the Lady Emily then." Her steps retreated down the hallway, presumably to help poor Norine convince Emily she couldn't stay in her no doubt grass stained night clothes.
As soon as nothing could be heard from outside the chambers anymore, Corvo took up his task again, licking at her with a fervour that had Jessamine nearly yelp in surprise. She pitied the loss of their casual closeness, but he was clearly determined to make it up to her with enthusiasm and intensity. He shifted just enough to free one of his hands, pressing one digit, two, into her, until she was a barely constrained puddle in his hands, only just so managing to quieten her moans so they wouldn't be heard through the door.
Far sooner than she would have liked the heat in her stomach uncoiled, her orgasm rushing through her with enough force to arch her back off the mattress as he patiently worked her through her climax.
Eventually she sagged back into the mattress, breathing heavily, and he finally climbed back up to her, his face flushed and glistening in her fluids and his smile so derpy she couldn't help but laugh again. She reached for the cloth on the nightstand and flicked it at his face, to his own delight judging by the shaking of his shoulders as he started cleaning.
It truly was a shame that they had to finally get up, dress back in the roles of Empress and Royal Protector, but as she kissed him one last time before leaving him behind to clean herself up in the bathroom she knew there was nothing she would have done any differently to lead them here.
"I love you, Corvo."
"I love you too, Jess."
Out in the hallway Clarabella shook her head as she carried the young princess's earth stained nightgown away to be cleaned, much to the girl's loud displeasure, thinking in pity to the poor laundresses who would undoubtedly receive yet another unannounced load of royal sheets to wash. Really it was a mystery to her how two people as intelligent as the Empress and Royal Protector could be so stupid as to think they were being secretive when half the Tower's servants had already been tasked with cleaning up after their escapades. Not that she could blame her Lady Empress, the Lord Protector always had been quite a sight for sore eyes. It was only right someone got to enjoy that, she thought, and it did after all make for such interesting gossip.