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The Mad Dinner Party	By : WonderMint Category: Final Fantasy XIV > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 3345 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Final Fantasy XIV: ARR is owned by Square Enix and based on the creation of Hironobu Sakaguchi. May they ever walk in the light of the crystal. I own no right to the characters and settings herein and seek no profit therefrom.

Chapter List
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A/N: Well. I'm farther in Heavensward now. ._. And that is all I can say about that. Since the moment I published the last chapter, I've been working on this one. It's been slow going, a paragraph here and a paragraph there, trying to figure out how to wrestle everybody into compliance (and just think, one of them is even tied down. I shudder to think how hard it would be if he were allowed to run wild). I assure you that I do not intend to abandon this fic, crack though it may be. It just takes a bit longer to cook, with a little more salt.
One reason Aymeric is hanging around is to throw another guy into the mix for male adventurers to project onto. In addition, because I need to keep the player character a little bit of a blank slate, a third character makes a good canvas for the emotional interaction that I'll lose interest without. Another bonus objective is to try another personality on Aymeric. I fear I made him too sappy and innocent in Bellyachin'. While I'm not sure how his character could develop to allow this precise mix of shamelessness and shyness, it is at least fun, and that's what crack is all about, after all. Take that, war on drugs.
Oh. I probably haven't mentioned this before, but I find screwing with religious symbols to be kinda sexy. So a warning for that, I guess, if blasphemy against the Fury is something that bothers you.
A WORM. A WORM TO PLUCK FROM AN APPLE. SLAVES OF THE WROTH ONE!

Reviews:
Lili: I stopped that chapter... so that I could write this one. I just ended it the only place that made sense given how long this one was going to be. While I in no way intended to taunt you, your cries of anguish are music to this author's ears. Thank you so much for your encouragement!
Yunachan: Yes, it is sinful. Very, very OOC. Except I dunno, maybe Haurchefant is halfway plausible, in my sick twisted imagination. Definitely crack though.
Guest: Ever since I received it, I've found myself favouring a certain black chocobo over even my own. I think I fell for him, hard. I'm glad that you like my version of him, strange though it may be. He also features in another story of mine in the M/M section if you're interested. Thanks for taking the effort to review, I appreciate it!
Elo: Thanks for letting me know you're reading! It really helps to hear that it's enjoyed, otherwise I just hear the rattling of my own brain. And I'm also glad my wacky versions of the sad boys in snow are doing it for you and that you also want to burn down the See. That Papsque, amirite?
Daisy: Sorry for teasing you! There's more yet planned. Thanks for the complements. I always think the buildup is as fun as the action, especially with characters like these. Haurchefant is very important to me. I think he'll be with me... forever, actually. I think by writing him, I truly fell in love with him.
And ever onward we go. Cutscene 2/4-ish... by which I mean I intend to write more, never fear.

Haurchefant looked positively overwhelmed by your non-verbal agreement, and for a moment he could do nothing but hug you tightly, murmuring sweet nonsense into your ear. Your mind was filled briefly with vague visions of marmalade and strawberry cream, dancing moogles and unicorns. You interrupted to run your hands down his back and across his stomach to remind him that there was more on the to-do list than faery-tales. He pulled away to look at you sheepishly, and you gave him affectionate peck on the tip of his nose.
He smiled, full of the warmth and joy that he always seemed to have when he was with you.
Ser Aymeric cleared this throat. He was staring at you both in not a little irritation, which was a bit intimidating as you were sitting in his lap. “Are you just going to leave me here while you run off to your assignation? Perhaps you mean to torture me to death with your sweet sighs?” He rattled the chains behind his back restlessly for emphasis, and you were sure that even his playful pout was sexy, especially when the corner of his mouth turned up into a foxy grin at the last moment, as if he quite liked the idea after all. You couldn't help but give his clothed hips a little squeeze with your legs, which he answered by pressing firmly against your warmth and making a pleased little rumble. Nonetheless, he remained un-distracted, narrow eyes accusing Haurchefant with predatory fascination that could have been mistaken for malice.
“Do I have your assurances you'll behave?” came the teasing answer. The lord stood from his chair by your hip to move behind you, arms about you possessively, returning the glare with grim amusement. He leaned over and laid his chin on your head, pressing your shoulders to him but restraining himself from further contact until you remembered you had to encourage him. You arched your back against him, a slow languid stretch, and he stiffened to feel your spine against his groin. Stiffened everywhere, from what you could feel, arms tightening around your chest in surprise and stilling his hips, as if afraid of his growing erection. You were sure the look on his face must have been priceless, and wished dearly that you could see it.
Only Haurchefant could have engaged in such vulgarity so openly but been nervous of you touching him, sight-unseen, through multiple layers of clothing. He was positively daft. Aymeric seemed to agree, glare dissolving into a warm chuckle, tinged with desire.
“If you release me, I promise not to kill you,” he returned with an easy grin. “In fact,” he said with slightly more seriousness, “I'll leave if you want.” He seemed less sure at the last statement, embarrassment creeping back into his posture and coloring his face, as if his predatory self-assurance were an act for your benefit.
That seemed to break Haurchefant from his indecision. “I never told you you could leave,” he growled, naked aggression in stark contrast to his gentle treatment of you. He released you in favor of darting forward to collar the knight's throat roughly, the other hand winding around his jaw. You didn't get to see the kiss, finding yourself pressed forward between them, where you contented yourself with stroking the firm body arching towards you and feeling the shuddering of Aymeric's lungs beneath your ear. Pushed against his chest you could hear his every reaction, deep needy growls mixed with the tiniest of high-pitched whimpers, sounds so soft you could only have heard them this way.
Finally the lord took pity on him. He drew his hands gently down your sides, as if he could not bear to part contact with you for so long, then wound his way behind the chair. You heard metal clink against metal, and then Aymeric pulled one arm forward roughly, eyes glued to the other man and exposing his throat to your gaze. Haurchefant still held him back, chain wrapped around his wrists, and he pulled the captive arm into his embrace to massage it tenderly. His expression had a strange softness, and the knight relaxed to allow the ministration, hooded eyes watching him guardedly.
You had to kiss that vulnerable neck, nudging aside the cool rosary beads to make room for your searching lips. Quickly his gloved arm lashed out to wrap around your waist, pressing you against him and giving him license and leverage to move against you repeatedly, biting and growling at your ear. You could feel him dragging along the length of your labia in quick, stuttering movements, making space for him behind the thin fabric of your smallclothes as if your body were unaware of the barrier, ever impatient to receive him. Occasionally an erratic thrust brought him again into tight friction with your clitoris, accelerating the wetness accumulating between your legs and soaking a tiny bit into the man's trousers. Somehow the wild activity distracted you from his throat for long enough to snare you in another bruising kiss, and you had the brief impression that he was dominating you completely, despite him being the one restrained in irons.
“I told you he was a beast,” you heard Haurchefant say from somewhere beside the chair, growling subtly with desire as he watched the display. “Though, I am sorry to say my dear, that you had best stand back. It will take some effort to control him. I promise you can play with him more once he's secure again.” The last was murmured against your neck, though he moved away quickly when Aymeric broke from your lips to snarl at him, baring his teeth in imitation of a wolf though he lacked the fangs. In response the lord grinned like a child with a nameday present, tugging again on the short chain and gently persuading the holy knight to release you.
Reluctantly you pushed away from him, noting with pleasure now the prominent bulge in his pants as you stood and backed away a few paces and leaned against the table. Aymeric was regarding you coolly, with a sparkle of dark mischief in his icy gaze. You knew logically that there was nothing to fear from him, but the savagery he displayed was electric, making you hold your breath nervously in anticipation. Haurchefant knelt again, smirking with self-satisfaction, to release the second bolt.
Immediately the knight charged forward, the hound after the hare.
He made it less than a yalm before he was stopped abruptly, head snapping painfully backwards from a hand gripping in his hair, his arms still held securely by the chains in Haurchefant's hands. As promised, he had been ready. Quickly he closed the distance between them and yanked hard on the man's scalp, exposing his throat for him to bite. Aymeric stopped struggling then, dropping his head further back in pleasure and making a noise somewhere between a growl and a purr. Haurchefant relaxed the bite after a long moment, tongue lapping flat against his skin to soothe, then pressing a few tender kisses against the long throat. The bite wasn't vicious enough to draw blood, but it left an angry red crescent mark, bright with the promise of pain and possession.
Chains still held securely around one of his wrists, his other hand moved to the back of the knight's neck, where it tangled into the rosary beads and caused the short loops to constrict around his throat like a tight collar. Aymeric stiffened then, standing taller, eyes wide and unfocused as if the move had shocked him completely. Whatever license allowed him to behave with such wanton abandon evidently stopped at the rosary, the physical boundary between the sacred and the sinful.
“You will behave,” Haurchefant spoke coldly into his ear. There was no volume to it, a statement that carried enough authority that those he commanded would strain to listen.
You actually wondered if Aymeric would object then. You could almost see him considering it, as he held icily still, letting only his eyes wander first to you, then to the side where Haurchefant lingered just out of his sight. But the moment quickly passed, the knight closing his eyes and dropping his head in a submissive stance. Miraculously, the tension and fear seemed to drain from his shoulders. He nodded silently. He would behave.
You wondered if Haurchefant would demand a verbal agreement from the broken knight, a wicked malice still glittering in his too-blue eyes. Instead, he pressed his lips to Aymeric's neck softly, a single kiss that made the man shudder with some kind of emotion. “Very good,” the lord murmured, his voice low and dark. “This way, pet.” He gave enough of a shove to make the knight look slightly unsteady and bewildered, but was overall patient and cautious as he guided Aymeric towards the bedroom with his hand still looped tightly in the string of beads. You followed dumbly after, feeling as if you were having some manner of out-of-body experience.
When you reached the doorway you stopped to observe, feeling a little out of place. It was a small room, the apartment being as efficient as the rest of the castle, built for tactics over comfort. The bed was the main piece of furniture, taking up most of the room, large enough for two without seeming ostentatious, soft and cozy with a thick rolanberry duvet. Worn wooden posts at each corner of the frame gave it a sturdy look, as if the walls could crumble around it and its occupants would still sleep soundly. The rest of the chamber was sparsely decorated, the lone splash of color aside from the bedspread coming from the royal blue fabric pooled against one wall. Apparently this was where Aymeric's clothing had gone off to, heaped next to an upended chair and a plant that required a new pot. You nudged into the room with care, silencing your steps as if you were interrupting a mass instead of a seduction. You leaned against a wall with a view to the side of the bed, where the two men were preoccupied.
Haurchefant had released his grip enough enough to turn the knight around and sit him on the soft mattress, while still holding the rosary from the front. He no longer held the chains, allowing the taller man to move and relax with his hands behind him on the bed. He was secure enough in his control now, idly stroking the underside of Aymeric's chin with his forefinger. The knight was looking back up at him with an unfocused air of affection, eyelids heavy, almost enraptured.
Not for the first time you wondered if they had done this before. But neither possibility seemed to make any sense. Haurchefant was entirely too forward, and Aymeric too willing for it to be as sudden as he had hinted, but the reactions the knight gave at each fresh advance seemed spontaneous, shocked and pleased as if he had never imagined he could enjoy such a thing.
It was a mystery, and it was beautiful. It was almost a shame that you were there to interfere, but there wasn't a primal strong enough to make you leave without their request.
A small kiss on the knight's lips ended the tender moment. The lord grabbed a few cushions near at hand to pile them at the head of the bed. Then Haurchefant pushed him firmly to recline against the pile, the hand at his neck wrapping around his throat with fingers still threaded into the rosary. You heard a small sound of discomfort, brief and shallow as if Aymeric were having difficulty moving much air through his lungs, but he betrayed no visual distress. He merely relaxed against the pillows, sinking a little into the plush comforter, watching his captor impassively.
It shouldn't have surprised you with how much ease Haurchefant affixed one chain to his bedpost, giving you another piece of sturdy furniture to destroy should you feel the need to rescue him. But there it was, another odd piece of a most bizarre puzzle. Aymeric's arm bent comfortably to his side, open palm level with his head, leaving him pinned but with room to relax. The lord took his time running his hand down the knight's elegantly gloved arm, then he climbed over him to straddle his chest. He curled both hands around the long throat, and paused meaningfully, sharing a look with the man below him and seemingly unaware of you or aught else.
And then the moment ended, and there was a flurry of motion. Haurchefant released the beads with both hands and sprang for Aymeric's free wrist, but whatever agreement they had had was gone, flown along with propriety and decency and good sense. The knight resisted, flailed and bucked under his captor, and for a moment you were afraid that they would be injured, violence foretold by the small circular bruises forming around the prone man's neck. But you needn't have worried. It was only a moment before Haurchefant regained the upper hand, pinning the wayward wrist against a cushion. He crouched over his victim, and once again shocked you by grinding his pelvis against the man below him. The lewdness of the action could be heard in both of their voices, the lord's soft moan blending into the coarse gasp that tumbled from Aymeric's lips, signaling once again that their combat was play, and that their play was serious indeed.
There was another clink of metal against iron and wood. When they parted, mere moments having passed, the other arm had been properly secured. A flush of exertion colored Aymeric's cheeks, though he had becalmed his breathing. His gloved arms spread out like a pair of black angel's wings, his long bare fingers forming delicate feathers, and you were starkly reminded of the beauty beneath his savage demeanor. He seemed to sense your eyes on him now, turning to you and giving you a coy glance, blush deepening slightly.
His eyes didn't remain long with you, being quite distracted by the blue-haired demon astride him. Apparently a subtle roll of the lord's hips had translated into something quite pleasurable, because Aymeric's eyes fell closed and his mouth dropped open in a silent plea for more. It was granted, and the knight lifted his hips to return the gesture, a sharp buck that pushed Haurchefant backwards and briefly revealed his face from beneath the shower of his tussled hair. It was nothing like how he looked at you, eyes sharpened to deadly slits and teeth showing beneath his lips, and it made you shiver. Nonetheless, the sound that accompanied it soon after was pure enjoyment, a long rumbling sigh as he leaned back and pulled at Aymeric's belt.
The knight made a noise of protest, almost an indignant squawk. No longer sinking into the pillows, broad shoulders had tensed slightly and his eyes were focused now with precision, no longer hazy with lust. Neither did he look quite as relaxed, though you noted he was far from panicking, still flushed and a little wanton, a little this side of sinful. Haurchefant slowed his movements, scooting backwards a few ilms to stroke Aymeric with his hands, through the other man's trousers and over his flat stomach.
When Haurchefant spoke, it was quietly enough that you weren't sure you'd been intended to hear. “Does my pet object? I thought he wanted his reward.” He kept his fingers moving, but ignored the knight's belt to wait for his reply.
To your surprise, Aymeric only looked to you questioningly. It seemed it was meeting your eyes that made him blush, a touch of color returning to him. “My lady...” His voice was like fine sand beneath your fingers, soft and warm and inviting, even as it shifted beneath your touch.
Of course. He was worried for your virtue, once again. Unbidden, your hand covered your mouth and you giggled at the ludicrous thought, causing him to flush even more deeply and turn away in embarrassment. It was a far cry from his aggression earlier and you wondered if this was his more natural demeanor, and if so, just whom he was attempting to fool.
Of course, Haurchefant had followed Aymeric's attention to you, understanding that it was you who held the permission he sought. He was the picture of innocence now, smiling sweetly, only a single raised brow and perhaps the location of his hands revealing the mischief he planned to work. They rested lightly on the knight's hips, and occasionally stroked the length of the man's erection with his thumb.
You nodded, trying to ignore the warm prickle of your own cheeks. You had no shyness of your own, but seeing them together, that was truly a sinful delight. But it was what the two of them seemed to want, after all. You were perfectly willing to come along for the ride.
That was all that was needed. Haurchefant let his smile unfold slowly, a long scroll writ with evil deeds culminating in the emergence of the tip of his tongue. He was quickly back at his task, unbuckling the heavy belt as Aymeric watched him with stilled breath. Next came a series of buttons, and then the lord was scooting backwards and pulling the trousers with him, smallclothes and all. The prone knight lifted his hips to assist, an ordinary movement rendered into art, revealing more pale skin than you had ever imagined and making you burn hot all over. He wasn't just giving himself to Haurchefant, you realized. He had asked your permission. He was giving himself to you.
You weren't sure what to do with him other than look. He was lying limply against the cushions now, embarrassment or something else keeping his eyes closed and skin flush. Aymeric was always beautiful, but now he was otherworldly, wreathed in chains and laid out for your eyes. You let yourself look at him properly, taking in the long legs that parted around Haurchefant's crouching form, leading to a shapely ass and the sinful weapon between his legs. He was at least half-hard now, more long than thick but seeming to grow beneath your gaze, encouraged by the other man who was running soothing circles on his sides and pressing soft kisses along his stomach.
It was plain to see they wanted more of each other, given the chance. As if to confirm, the mad lord made a sweeping movement downward, moving back to focus on Aymeric's groin. He turned to the side enough to meet your eyes with the corner of his, winking with amusement, and lapped out with his tongue to lick a long wet stripe up the underside of the knight's shaft. Aymeric tensed and shook his chains, responding with a long gurgling moan and trying to wiggle away from the lord's tongue. Trying and failing completely.
When he opened his eyes, panting and flushed, it was to look at you. He was naked and wanting, and you suddenly felt guilty for just watching the show, no matter how entertaining.
But Haurchefant's attention was also on you. And so were his hands. He had closed the distance between you like a stalking panther, nearly leaping from the bed and pacing the floor with two long strides. His hands though, they were gentle as always, cupping the slight curve below your rear and tracing upwards as if he were afraid his touch would bruise. You met his eyes and they glittered with warm mischief, the way they had ever since your first adventure with him. You mirrored his tiny, soft smile with your own, and grasped his hands at your side. Gentle, but firm. He stilled obediently, awaiting your command, lips parting involuntarily and turning him into the picture of anxious anticipation.
Seeing his face then, there was no question that you wanted him. And you knew he would respond in kind.
You wouldn't make him wait any longer. You bent one leg around his and guided his hands under the slit in your dress, placing his palms on either side of your bare thigh. Ilms away lay skin sticky with your own fluids, bestirred by the man who was currently watching you from the bed with parted lips and hazy eyes. You thought at first that Haurchefant would be so overwhelmed as to kiss you, but he just fluttered his lashes in wonder and watched as you guided his hands upwards. Together you pushed aside the creamy fabric to reveal your white panties. White for innocence, rendered a lie before they were even seen. You replaced his fingers on your opposite hip and motioned for him to keep going, certain that he needed your urging as much as he needed you.
He did. His touch was softer than the vanya silk moving against your skin as he brushed up your back and pulled the dress over your head. He draped it carefully over the discarded chair, and when he turned his gaze back upon you it was with an expression of awe and reverence you would have supposed reserved for his goddess. Reluctantly he tore his eyes from yours to wander your body, as if he required permission. When you unhooked the thin wrap covering your breasts to reveal them to his eyes, it was to remind him that it was granted.
Haurchefant exhaled a note of surprise, a breathy gasp that quickly choked to nothing as he gathered you in his arms. His embrace came in stages, first encircling you and only then slowly constricting to a firm hold, ever treating you as fragile though you could break him without a thought. Finally he allowed himself a kiss, heady with desire but with a touch of innocence. He would be good to you, he promised with his lips. He would light you on fire, he demonstrated with his tongue. Though you could not taste it, you could almost feel the sensation of Aymeric's skin against his tongue, thrilled by the knowledge of what you had witnessed moments ago.
You allowed him to make whatever statements he wanted, loving his attention and glad that he was beginning to abandon his shyness. On the other hand, he was wearing far too much. You stroked down his back to reach your fingers beneath his elegant tabard, and he didn't flinch when you circled to his warm stomach. It was hard like Aymeric's, though Haurchefant was not as lean and lithe. With a shrug of your shoulders you lifted your arms to push his shirt slowly upwards and away, pleased with the strength that lay beneath as he was revealed to the light.
The lord blushed adorably under your gaze, but didn't hide from you. Not even when you pressed your hand to his groin and his eyes slid to sleepy slits, a puff of air escaping his lips with a soft, abrupt gasp. He was already quite erect, but you could feel him hardening further beneath your palm, and you encouraged him with a firm squeeze. You weren't sure which was the act, his shyness with you or his dominance of his 'pet.' You weren't sure if you wanted him to abandon either, only that you wanted him.
And again, you reminded him of the fact, pulling him closer and drawing his hips to yours. He seemed to be searching your eyes for something, an odd war taking place just beyond his vision, deep in the recesses of his mind. This time you kissed him, and guided his hands to your chest for good measure. You felt his fingers twitch against your skin before he relaxed and cupped a breast in each hand, letting his palms slide slowly against them as he stretched to feel every ilm. He found your nipples with his thumbs after only a moment of hesitation, already a little stiff in the slightly chill air but soon hard and sensitive from his exploration. You sighed into his mouth in encouragement, making him press against you with his hips, and you wondered how much longer you could endure the foreplay.
You wanted him, and you wanted him to know you wanted him. You lifted your leg to wrap around his hip, drawing back from the wet kiss to give him a scalding look. “Stop holding back,” you told him quietly, your voice smooth and dark like melted chocolate. He had apparently perfected the art of astonishment, eyes wandering from your gaze to your bruised lips and fluttering his lashes in wonder. His breath seemed to catch in his throat for a long moment, like a firefly in a jar. And then his arms moved to encircle you again, pulling you close and lifting, allowing you to grab him between your thighs and cling to him with your arms about his neck.
There was a swirl of motion, dizziness following you like milk swirling into a cup of coffee, and then you were on the bed. The duvet was soft, but your pillow was warm and firm. You heard a soft hum that reverberated beneath your head and emerged to your left, confirming that you lay on Aymeric's stomach. He was staring down at you a little wonderingly, though you hardly thought he should be surprised. Perhaps it was simply anticipation. Yes, you planned to give him everything he wanted, and you tried to show it with a knowing smile and smoldering glance. He had the decency to blush and turn away from you again, though he couldn't hide the corner of his mouth worming into a shy grin.
Of course, you hadn't forgotten what else you lay in reach of, but first you needed to deal with Haurchefant. The lord was fighting with the buttons on your dress shoes, making blood flow into your ankles as he slowly unbound them and tossed the offending articles to the ground. You briefly imagined the face Redolent Rose would make at the gesture, and you didn't care; they were in the way and they had to go. You wiggled your hips impatiently, reaching with your hands to deal with the unpleasant barrier of your remaining clothing. But no, Haurchefant put his hands over yours to still them, leaving your panties askew but otherwise in place, and went to work on the clasps holding up your stockings. Then he gripped the edge of one stocking and slowly pulled it down the length of your leg, bending it up towards his shoulder as he went. He seemed use this as an excuse to touch every ilm, with fingers and occasionally lips, and this was just fine. Until he got back to your feet. He kept hold of your ankle as he dropped the gathered material, and then turned his attention to your bare foot with a smirk.
You weren't sure you liked that smirk.
Oh, who were you kidding? You loved that smirk.
Even if it meant he would do what he was doing now, which was kissing the sensitive sole of your foot. It was too much sensation, too strange, too personal and perhaps too dirty. You wiggled a bit, grimacing to indicate he should stop, but that just made him glance to you in disbelief, as if you were telling him not to eat a cookie that you had yourself placed in his grasp. With the air of one who knew precisely what rules he was breaking, he brought up both hands to hold you still, and then quickly drew several toes into his mouth.
You were not proud of having done it, but you shrieked. You just barely managed not to kick him in the jaw as you wrestled your foot away from him, the wet sensation having traveled down your leg and rebounded across your body in ways you weren't quite pleased with.
“You said not to hold back, sweetness!” He was pretending to look contrite, which did not look contrite at all. You just blushed and poked him in the temple with your big toe, and he gave a more convincing act of taking it as a punishment, putting up his hands and ducking away as though slapped, though he laughed. “Fine, you can have your precious feet. I'll just have to eat something else.” The last line was delivered with the sort of relish you'd only heard when he had spoken to Aymeric, and you thought perhaps you were finally getting somewhere.
The rumble beneath your head suggested that the knight agreed. Or possibly that he was annoyed at not having gotten to eat much of his dinner.
Speaking of eating. Content in the knowledge that Haurchefant no longer required supervision in order to express his ardor, you had your own task to attend to. You turned your head to the left, which was not the direction you were busy thinking about, but you needed to see Aymeric's reactions just now. He met your eyes easily, amusement still dancing behind his own though it was soon replaced with a question. You felt your other stocking slowly being removed, the feathery touch of fine linen followed by a path of ladybug kisses, and you shivered at the sensation but otherwise ignored it. Instead you lifted an eyebrow at the naked knight, and spread your right arm behind you until you met his leg.
Aymeric flinched at the contact, but soon recovered, letting his lips part slightly as your hand traced closer to where your head lay. You wanted to look, but it was more fun like this: letting his eyes follow you, his apprehension and excitement increasing and communicating how close you were to your goal.
When your fingers finally found his cock, you knew just a moment before, because he turned away at the last second with a dark blush. Then you felt hot steel wrapped in silk, and he threw his head back and gasped, almost a lusty bark of pleasure.
At that moment, you too gave a little shriek, though it was more out of surprise. Haurchefant's clever fingers had wound beneath the band of your smallclothes, and were moving against you so slowly as to almost seem frozen in time. But they were moving, pressing so painfully near your clitoral hood, wet and intense but indirect enough for you to want far more. His other hand did the work of removing your panties, sliding them down your thigh to your knees where you wiggled and kicked until they had slid free, trusting his warrior's instinct to dodge your flailing feet.
If the wiggling encouraged the subtle motions of the man's hand, neither of you felt the need to object. Instead you threw each of them one final glance, Aymeric watching you almost guiltily through half-closed eyes, Haurchefant seeming to drink in the sight of you as he knelt between your legs and kissed your inner thighs. And then you turned away from them both, to the warm cock in your hand, and let your tongue taste whatever it willed.
It was too much to process. As your tongue reached out to stroke the head of the knight's penis, you simultaneously felt a similar sensation between your legs. Wet, hot, and incredibly soft. You tried to gasp, tried to suck more air into your lungs, but the space was taken up by Aymeric, and so you breathed him instead. You drew him into your mouth far enough to taste, running your tongue around the ridge of his glans, mapping out the shape and texture and tasting every ilm. By his reactions he seemed to feel much the same as you, a fluttering and twitching of his stomach as he groaned speaking of just how much he was attempting to hold back his pleasure. Yes, that was how Haurchefant was making you feel, as well, because his tongue had found your clitoris and did not seem inclined to let it go. He was lapping at you with broad movements, slow but terrifyingly direct, soft but electric. His fingers had moved to trace along your vulva, parting your labia and teasing gently with his fingertips. His other hand held your left thigh secure to his shoulder, ensuring that no matter how intense the stimulation became or how tempting Aymeric's delight, you could not wiggle away from his hold.
In truth, you could not begin to want to. It felt strange to allow somehow, even if he obviously wanted it. You were no maiden, but you felt almost as if he were, too innocent and noble to be corrupted by your wanton wiles. Of course that was ridiculous, especially as the way he moved spoke of long experience, and the way he commanded Aymeric suggested even more sinful delights. You paused in your torturous exploration of the knight, gratified by the wet gasp he emitted as you released him to run your tongue lazily along his shaft, and guiltily you looked down to simply watch. Haurchefant seemed to be in heaven, though in reality it was merely between your legs. He didn't seem to be afraid to get dirty. Rather the contrary, he had moved closer to kiss you, enveloping the sensitive area completely in his hot mouth and stroking the entire region erratically with his tongue. His drooping eyelids sang of his own pleasure, overcome with focus. But after a moment, he did notice you, eyelashes beating like the wings of a butterfly as he regarded you in mild surprise, then coy amusement.
It was then that his fingers began to slide home. With trembling caution, he explored your inner recesses with just the tips of his fingers, first one and then two, swirling around the sensitive entrance and teasing your inner labia with gentle, wet sliding. All of it, wet, with your own fluids, and with his saliva. It was heavenly and sinful all at once, but it tilted toward the sublime as his fingers slowly burrowed deeper, pushing forward and pulling back, then a little farther forward again. The motion against your clit was unrelenting, though, the rhythmic stimulation coloring your entire lower body in a warm bath of pleasure, giving the searching of his fingers dramatic context and painting every movement with desire for more. Oh, you could hardly wait to feel him inside you instead, cautiously delving deeper just like that, his eyelids drooping not just from the thought, but the sensation.
But just now you were being incredibly selfish. Aymeric was panting in short gasps, as you hadn't let up with the light stroking of your hand and tongue, but it was not nearly what he deserved from you. A quick glance in his direction, though, showed that he was not disappointed. His eyes seemed locked on Haurchefant's ministrations rather than yours, only breaking away to look at you once he felt your eyes upon him. The blush seemed to have become permanent, a sign now not of embarrassment but heavy arousal, and he didn't hide from your sight. He merely breathed a sigh through a mouth parted to pleasure and longing, urging you on without words.
You would have felt overcome at the sight even if Haurchefant's tongue hadn't been so skilled, but as it was, you could not help laying your head back against the welcoming skin beneath you and moaning openly, warm and triumphant, no longer able to contain the sounds that had thus far been trapped within your throat and breast. You could hear Haurchefant's approval then, feel it pulsing through his tongue and the grounding rod of your clit, now swollen enough for him to access directly. He attacked it greedily, making your desire continue to grow, making you clench around his deeply stroking fingers, making you need... more.
You found it quickly, rolling to the side in a violent motion and taking Aymeric deep into your mouth, urging him forward with a guiding hand and a frenzied tongue. The knight made an incoherent noise of pleasure, a shout of surprise merging with a gurgling sort of moan that tried in vain to become a string of words. You couldn't tell if he was urging you to stop or press onward, but the lusty pitch of his voice was clear enough. You relaxed your jaw and widened it to accommodate him, your tongue abandoning the precise swirl around the sensitive head to instead undulate and lap along the side of his shaft, stretching and searching. You wanted him deep inside you, and the jerk of his hips as he mumbled incoherently indicated his ready agreement, giving way to an exultant moan when you drew back and then plunged forward again. You were consuming him over and over, like the temptation of Tantalus in reverse. It was heaven, in a way. A heaven with sin as its reward.
It should not have come as a surprise how quickly pleasure had built in you, feeding off the sensations in your mouth and your ears as surely as that between your legs. But somehow it did, Haurchefant having doggedly held on to your thigh with an iron grip, keeping you from twisting away from him completely even as you writhed to attack the knight beneath you. It would have simplified your job immensely if you could simply flop over, and you considered briefly that Haurchefant would likely find just as much pleasure in the view of your ass wiggling in his face, but the gentle probing of those fingers held you back. The way they crooked just so to rub against your vaginal wall, seeming to connect with the liquid fire spreading through your clitoris and deep into your body, you could not give that up even if it meant twice the effort in pleasing the knight.
And please him you would, regardless of the trouble. It was your quest now, superseding all else, even the tingling that was spreading through you and making you hot and wanting. If anything, that only spurred you on, made you more single-minded in accomplishing your task.
Aymeric's encouragement may also have played a role. He was beyond reason now, reduced to a mess of carnal need faster than you had thought possible for such a stoic, self-possessed man. His vain attempts at forming words had died completely, giving way to deep, rhythmic breaths that carried whispers of pleasure and longing to the surface with every exhale. You could hear it submerged beneath as well, hints of moans and growls that were buried so deep that they resonated throughout his body like the wooden box of a stringed instrument, low and sonorous and more echo than sound. He was making no effort to control himself now, rather he seemed to be grasping for something. Panting and shaking with need. Striving for release, for you.
And oh gods would you give it to him. It would have been delightful to draw it out, but you knew that you didn't have the time, not with the desperation in his beautiful voice, not with Haurchefant's clever tongue and caring fingers, not with the sins that waited still to commit. So instead you nudged closer to him still, relaxing your throat and clearing your mind of your body's objections, taking him so deeply that your nose nuzzled into the course black curls found below. And against his will—surely—he bucked into your throat in astonishment, letting loose a high-pitched whine before stilling his hips and growling, deep and loud, naming the agony of his restraint.
Pain was ordinary to you. But Aymeric was extraordinary, and you would give him the attention he deserved.
“Fuck,” he hissed, through pants and gasps that he seemed to fight through like dense brambles. He was wandering like a blind man in the dark, and it was painful not to see it written on his face. “Oh, my Lady,” he moaned, less sure now, less steady, and you realized that it was a warning as well as a request. It did not go unobserved by the man who pleased you in turn, either. What had started with soft hums of pleasure became low, wanton mewling, vibrating against you as he worked his magic, making you want to count the seconds until you could please him as well.
Soon, soon. Oh, so soon. You didn't mind Aymeric's lapse of control, far from it. Instead you repeated the effect, easing away and then sliding forward again, ignoring your body's protestations and reveling in the control you held over the man. Then you eased back, easily tasting his slick fluids and knowing there was so much more to come. You ran your tongue around him again, pressing firmly and swirling against every ilm of skin, sucking and enjoying the sweet gasps he still made, the last bout of calm in the eye of the hurricane.
And then you brought it to an end. You grasped his shaft firmly in your hand, a living thing, hot and wet and twitching. And this time you didn't bring him deep, no. You twisted your head to the side, awkwardly but with the ease of a woman who does not allow anything to stop her from achieving her goals. And, tongue extending to caress as much as you could reach, you sucked his tip against the roof of your mouth, grinding the sensitive skin against your palette and sucking hard, applying more friction than his nerves knew what to do with.
He broke, then, though he seemed to fight it, seemed to want to take you down with him as he flailed for breath. You felt him twitch violently in your hand and mouth, and his voice snapped along with his restraint. His staccato cries were hoarse, loud and bright, as if being restrained and unable to touch you, his voice was the only tool he could use to bring you to pleasure. It was glorious, raw and musical. So much so that you hardly noticed the earthy taste of his seed, aware only of his broken gasps of pleasure as you lapped and swallowed everything he gave you, refusing to let up until he wriggled and whimpered in discomfort. Too much sensation on his softening cock, and all you could think of was wanting more.
But reason prevailed, and you released him at last. You felt sticky and disheveled as if you had played in a warm summer rain, but it didn't matter because you could look now, could see the utter satisfaction on Aymeric's face, and the astonished admiration on Haurchefant's.
“Magnificent,” said the lord, a quiet echo in a palace of wonder. He had let up with his tongue at some point to watch, probably the only reason you had not followed the knight over the precipice, though he still stroked you gently with his fingers. It was nothing like the sensation you had felt before, but it still spoke of it, still kept you warm and wanting.
Aymeric seemed to hear this, whimpering in embarrassment beneath the lord's attention. “That it was,” he agreed quietly, an echo of pleasure still riding on his breath. But he refused to meet your eyes, seeming to want to shrink into the pillows, even as he ran his tongue over his teeth and panted shallowly in satisfaction. You envied Haurchefant then, for having seen him come undone, but he was lovely even afterwards: hair wild from thrashing and matted with sweat, aristocratic brows relaxed even as his eyes were squeezed shut, skin flush and vibrant in the cool air.
But then you looked to Haurchefant, and he looked a little contrite, perhaps truly regretting his lapse. “Forgive me, he was just too beautiful. You made him sing.” You could see the desire in his eyes as they flicked between you, licking his lips innocently though they shined with your own fluids. How aroused he must be, the only one present still clothed, content only to give pleasure and watch.
You would change that, you thought. He might not have asked for it, but you would give it to him anyway. You would make him sing as well. Whether he knew it or not.
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The Mad Dinner Party