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The lock on the laboratory door cracked like a whip in the silence of the room, but Emmrich couldn’t hear it over the pounding in his ears. Couldn’t feel the slam of the deadbolt sliding home over the heat coiled low in his abdomen. He rested his forehead against the cool metal door, praying to the Maker for something, anything, to ground him. To pull him back from the abyss he was about to fall into. But the coolness didn’t calm him, or relieve any of the stiffness of his cock.
Rook hadn’t done anything spectacular. Nothing that anyone else would consider remarkable or out of the ordinary. But never, in all his years, had he seen someone that fought like her. Someone who could blend magic and combat so seamlessly. And, maker preserve him, the way she had smiled at him after the last Venatori had fallen? He was ruined. Doomed, by the way her smile illuminated her entire face, the way it made her eyes sparkle. Her hair burned in the afternoon light as she walked away to check on Bellara, leaving him to try to piece himself back together.
And hide the sudden hardness that had risen. Which hadn’t lessed or faded for over an hour.
He tore himself away from the door, reaching up and tearing off his skull collar pin, which he threw in the general direction of his desk, not paying attention to where it landed. The collar stays followed, and then his glove. The bangles on his arm chimed erratically as he tore the top buttons of his shirt open, then his vest. He sank into the tall chair by the fire, head falling into his hands with enough force his bangles chimed a second time.
What was wrong with him? He was 17 years her senior. And a senior necromancer. Not some rowdy teenager who couldn’t control himself. But he was still so hard it ached, all this time later. Nothing had been able to relieve it; breathing exercises he'd been doing since his tenth nameday, mentally reviewing the autopsy procedures from his classes, even thinking about the few festering wounds he had seen on a newly deceased body.
His mind kept wandering back to her. The way her hair curled at the nape of her neck, the way she smelled faintly of lavender and orange, the way her arse looked as she jogged ahead of him…
His head fell back against the chair. A young woman like her would never be interested in a lecherous old man like him. And if, miraculously, she was interested, she deserved more from him than this. More than filthy, depraved thoughts from a man nearly old enough to be her father.
She deserved much more. She should be courted, be dressed in gold and fine silks, never to want for anything for the dest of her days. He would be lucky to be on his knees before her, reciting sonnets about her beauty and wit until she blessed him with a smile.
But his traitorous hand fell to his length. Even the barest pass of his palm drew a quiet hiss out of him. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. Rook deserved better.
Yet the buttons of his trousers gave so easily, the clasps giving the barest whisper as they slid through the holes, and his small clothes must be faulty, they nearly slid down by themselves, truly he had barely touched them.
His length sprang free, flushed a darker red than he’d ever seen, and already weeping at the tip. He stared down at it, desire and shame warring within his very soul. And then his hand, his damnable hand, wrapped around his cock, taking the moisture smeared over the head down his shaft, and his eyes fell closed as the pleasure coiled in his abdomen exploded.
His hips twitched up to meet the loose jerks of his hand immediately, and he barely caught the moan that tried to escape him.
Her skin looked so impossibly soft. He’d only caught glimpses, her wrist when she removed the glove of her armour, her ankle last week in the lighthouse courtyard. Until last night, when she leaned forward to reach for the bottle of wine Lucanis had set on the table and her collar shifted just enough to reveal the length of her throat.
He’d managed to will the erection away last night. Tonight, it was impossible. Shame still lurked at the back of his mind, but its voice was nearly silent as visions of her danced before him. He was fully fucking his fist now, hips leaving the chair to meet his hand.
She had nearly caught him staring at her on the way back to the Eluvian. He’d averted his gaze away the mere moment before she looked back at him. He nearly thought he’d seen her smirk at him, somehow caught in the act. But he must be imagining things.
Must be…
Emmrich wondered if her skin was that soft and smooth under her collar. Down her chest and lower, to her breasts. Her nipples would be a dark blush across white skin, and if he placed his mouth one one and sucked? He would give his favorite skull to Andraste herself to hear what kind of sound she would make…
She would be under him, bare, flushed, one breast in his mouth and the other in his hand. It would be so soft, the flesh spilling out between his fingers as he kissed and bit his way lower. He would worship at the altar of her thighs. Her legs over his shoulders while he grasped her ample hips to press her more firmly against his mouth.
Her slick would taste of ambrosia, he had no doubt. And he would not budge from his post until she came on his tongue twice. Three times, if her hands ended up in his hair. And if she cried his name when she came.
He was gasping, mouth opening and closing as his feet shifted along the floor erratically, trying desperately to give himself more leverage. His bangles were audibly chiming as he neared the edge, but he didn’t give a shit in that particular moment.
Emmrich knew once he slid his cock inside her, he would never leave her. She would be tight, so wet and warm he would be lucky not to spill at the very first second. He would wrap her legs around him and aim deep, searching for that spot that would make her clench around him.
Or maybe he would sit back on his knees and pull her hips flush to him, running himself over the front of her until she begged. Begged him to never stop fucking her, to sob with pleasure, to tell him that she loved him.
And then she would come. Shatter while his cock was buried impossibly deep, she was trying to pull him inside and keep him there. He would let go, spending himself, and she would feel all of it. Make her take every drop and keep him, only him, inside of her…
He wasn’t able to bite back the low sound that he made as he came, spilling all over his fist as he finally broke. The pleasure burned as it shot down his spine, washing over him far longer than any orgasm he’d had in years. His heart was pounding furiously in his chest as reality set back in.
What had he done?
He was afraid to look down. That orgasm was strong enough he knew it was going to be a mess. He would be lucky if the stain came out of his trousers.
But even worse than that, he had been so disrespectful to Rook. She would never forgive him if she knew. She would be disgusted, rightfully so. And then she would ask him to leave, send him back to the Necropolis in shame, as he deserved.
And how could he ever dream that she would return his affections? She deserved so much better than some anxious old man who behaved like a teenager the minute he was alone. Better than him
His vision blurred as he finally opened his eyes and looked down. His hand was covered, and so his trousers, just like he feared. The bulk of the mess vanished with a flick of his wrist, but that somehow only made his shame worse. He tucked himself away with more force than necessary, rising to head to his bathing chamber, to take a painfully cold bath, as if that would somehow absolve him of his sins.
Emmrich couldn’t look at the chair beside the fireplace the next morning, or Rook at breakfast. He made it a few days before he found himself again seated in the chair with his cock in hand. She had called him dapper, and touched his forearm as she leaned in to speak to him, to flirt with him.
She was just being charming, he was sure, but his focus had been ruined all afternoon. All he could think was how soft her hand would feel wrapped around his cock instead of his own, and it was mere seconds before he broke just as hard as he did a few days ago, condemning himself even further as he came with her name on his lips.