open rp post

[troubleyan]

🏹 texts/epistolary 🏹 prompts 🏹 ota*

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[firstbornstorm]

"Mmm, maybe." His amusement was colored with his own heady desire for her, but Daemon, at least, had enough experience and self-control to make it worth her while. Blessed be all of those Dothraki war matrons who'd taught a wild Westerosi bastard-prince how to please a woman.

Evelyn pressed her face in his neck and Daemon gently held the back of her head, letting her rock and move as she needed, pulling her a little higher astride his thigh. He'd give her enough to hold her until dinner, he wasn't quite bastard enough to leave her miserable and aching for the next several hours.

To that end, the swarthy assassin slipped his free hand between the Herald's spread thighs, skillful fingers finding their way into her trousers. A shift, a hitch, and he gently sank teeth into her earlobe as two of those roughened fingers pressed into her, thick and tight, just to make her writhe.

"Ride 'em, Evie," he purred beneath her ear. "Buck all you want..."

[troubleyan]

She knows he'll answer her challenge as soon as she feels the hand curl over the back of her neck, a soft inhale betraying how much that affects her. A softer moan escapes her lips when he brings her more firmly again him, her legs spreading naturally, her weight pushes onto the tips of her toes just to stay astride him like this.

"Oh fuck," just whooshes out of her, as his hand slips inside her pants - thank fuck for the pants she wears in Skyhold, devoid of the usual laces and belts to get in the way, because she has a whole fortress between her and any possible enemy; thank fuck, too, for the fact that her smalls are abysmally thin, and easy for him to navigate into.

"Oh - oh fuck," again, breathy this time, leaning away from his shoulder to meet his gaze with hers, the green of her eyes almost emerald dark now. If the way her lips part, her skin flushes with a blush, her eyes wide as he fills her isn't telling enough, then the fact that he slides inside so easily, her cunt slick since the moment he first kissed her, should convince him.

He tells her to ride his fingers, and she sucks in a breath and rocks her hips forward, rubbing herself against his thigh and rocking against his intruding fingers. "Maker - please..."

[firstbornstorm]

Daemon's own eyes are just as dark, nearly cobalt instead of their normal bright sky-blue hue. Dilated and hazy, they met hers without waver, not even when she began to rock back and forth on his impaling fingers, pressed deep in her heated slick.

She already began to beg, and he soothed her gently, soft easy kisses as he guided her further, in no hurry to make her climax but wanting to prolong her pleasure, to make her writhe so prettily in his arms. "Easy, my girl," he whispered, feather-light against her mouth. "Ain't gotta rush, Evie, just let go, baby - I got you."

Just to tantalize her further, to make her head spin, he sinfully rubbed his thumb against her clit, sharp little strokes in contrast to his softer words.

[troubleyan]

Her breaths come out in soft, almost quiet pants, close to his lips - close enough that when she feels a moan coming, she closes the distance between them and kisses him again to muffle it, the sound coming out needy regardless.

This has happened before. Her not realising just how tightly wound up she was until he touched her.

She tugs at his bottom lip with her teeth, rocking against his fingers again, riding him as he told her to. What was that thing he mentioned about his men being close to returning from whatever errands had them away? What would any of them say to find him with the Inquisitor pinned against the stone wall, his fingers inside her, the slick sounds of her filling the room?

Oh - who cares? At this point, she might even tell them to stay and watch or fuck off. If she manages words, that is.

"Fuck, y-yes, right there, that's - mmmmmhh..." That might be the full extent of her verbosity right now.

[firstbornstorm]

In all actuality, none of Daemon's companions would have lifted an eyebrow at the scene currently progressing in their adopted tower. Qotho, for one, might have hedged to join in if given the chance. And to be honest, their impending return was the last thing on Daemon's mind at the moment.

He was far more focused on the armful of squirming woman currently undulating against him, her lips pressed to his, nipping at his lower lip like the siren that she was. He licked at her mouth in return, thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth in the same rhythm that his fingers penetrated her slick cunt.

Feeling her clench around his hand drew a sinful chuckle, and he pulled his mouth from hers only to growl, "That's a good girl, Evelyn. Such a good girl for me..."

[troubleyan]

There it is, finally. The praise melts into her, and she clamps around his fingers tightly, hips twitching, her throat tight around a moan as she tries frantically to get more friction, more fullness, more anything.

"You - yeah - all for you," she breathes out, not all together quietly. Dennet might have heard that one.

"I love...mmhh...love being a good girl for you..." slips out of her mouth unbidden, exhaled as she gets closer to the edge of what promises to be a very good orgasm.

[firstbornstorm]

His chuckle was pure velvet and sin, slithering from quirked lips. Feeling her getting even closer, Daemon lifted his knee, shoving Evelyn even higher astride his thigh. His other arm slid around her waist, arching her back, and he added a third finger to the two working inside of her, and scraped his thumbnail roughly across her clit.

Then, "--come for me," left his mouth, a guttural command that brooked absolutely no disobedience. "Right-fucking-now, Evie."

He was hard as a foundation rock in his own trousers, but nothing was more important than making her reach that peak with just his hands and his voice. He'd have her screaming, by all the gods.

[troubleyan]

Screaming is exactly how he has her. Her hands grabbing desperately at his shoulders, one leg coming up over his hip to open herself more - to make easier the range of movement his hand has inside her trousers - and it all couldn't be better timed. Her breath catches when the third finger fills and stretches her, then releases with a sharp cry.

Right-fucking-now -- she lets out a keening sound and arches into it, head thrown back as much as the wall behind her will allow it, her slickness dripping around his fingers as she squeezes him tight and comes and comes and comes.

On command. Fuck, she's not hearing the end of that one.

[firstbornstorm]

She won't hear the end of it, and he'd take it as a personal point of pride just how responsive she was to him. Daemon continued to fuck her through her climax, whispering all sorts of naughty things in her ear, just to prolong her pleasure. Watching her in the throes of orgasm was delicious; it seemed to honestly be the only time the poor woman didn't have to wear some sort of mask.

Daemon relinquished his hold on Evelyn's neck and fisted his hand in her thick hair instead, tugging a little sharply as she continued to spasm around his fingers and astride his thigh. Despite his own aching desire, tight and thick behind his trousers, he nevertheless grinned a sly roguish grin, a low sinful chuckle rumbling deep in his chest as she at last began to come down.

[troubleyan]

Leave it to him to prolong the pleasure as long as he can - and he can, he absolutely can. Her teeth sink into her lower lip to keep her lewd, needy little sounds as silent (or subdued) as she can, but her body is anything but subtle about how much she enjoys this.

Later, spent and loose-limbed, her heartbeat thunderous in her ears, she hears him chuckle and lets out a groan, slumping forward against him.

"You asshole," she whispers, making the word sound like high praise. "Oh, Maker, everything tingles, Daemon - you have no right being so good at that..."

[firstbornstorm]

Daemon cradled her close, chuckling soft and dark at her ear. "Blame it on my upbringing," he joked, the wry humor hiding years of torture, mistreatment, and pain. But at least he'd learned from his imprisonment and refused to let it break him. If anything, he'd come through it strong as a mountain and with his will as indomitable as the tides.

To Thedas' benefit, apparently.

Holding her with one arm, the smarmy assassin slipped his hand from the Inquisitor's trousers, lifting it to his lips and, making sure to catch Evelyn's eye, cheekily sucked his fingers clean one by one, savoring her sweet, heady flavor with a few sinful moans.

"Mmm..." he purred afterwards, rake enough to even wink at her, "...delicious."

[troubleyan]

Absolutely he is a rake. It does something to her to watch him suck his fingers clean of her arousal, one by one. Her pussy still throbs from the way he pounded it, from the way she came.

When he purrs his delight later, she lets out a soft growl and yanks him closer by the front of his leather armor, kissing him deeply, tasting herself on his tongue.

She needs to stop. He needs to stop winding her up, too. But it's hard to let go and leave, almost as hard as she can tell now he is.

[firstbornstorm]

His amused chuckle swallowed by her mouth, Daemon nevertheless wound both arms around Evelyn's waist and pulled her close and tight, kissing her back with just as much ferocity as she. They were fire and lightning, two blazing elements crashing against the other as often as possible, and leaving forest fires in their wake. He'd have it no other way.

An eternity later, the need for air broke them apart, and he slacked his hold just enough for her feet to slide back to the floor, then he finally let go entirely and took a single step back.

"Halamshiral," he stated, referring to the reason she'd come up here in the first place. ...or so she said. "Who else did you choose for this suicide run, other than me?"