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golden-kinks · 2 years

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Corset Piercings

This only took a zillion years no big. It ended up being a present for @piceuscelus, with love. Once again, babe, you inspire me to smut when I don’t think I’m capable.

Um. It got long. I should maybe put together an ao3 to match this account but for now have an un-proofread 10k of piercings and Ciri/Eskel feminization.

Lambert and Geralt teased Eskel vigorously for the two rows of rings marching up the small of his back. It wasn’t like either of them really had room to talk, with their own hardware: Geralt had a face full of metal - ears, lips, tongue, nose, eyebrows, and Lambert had a series of bars up the length of his cock and another through the underside of the head.

Unfortunately for Eskel, this in no way stopped them from asking which of his noteworthy conquests he'd gotten himself done up like some lady for, who wanted to lace him in the illusion of a corset. Ciri, sharp-eyed, caught the way Eskel ducked away from this ribbing in a way he ducked almost nothing else, and while she let him be while still in the baths with the other two, she made plans.

She came to him for this. Ciri had had her Wolves for long enough that they weren’t afraid to come to her if they wanted her, and she'd told them to fuck off enough times that they knew she would if she needed to and she knew they would listen. This new thing she wanted to try with Eskel, however, she knew she would have to be the one to offer.

He called her in easily when she knocked on his door, putting down his book and standing to kiss her hello with obvious delight.

"What can I do for you, sweetheart?" Eskel asked, body and voice both open and easy. Ciri loved him like this, he was so eager to please that all it ever took for her to get her way was to ask with a little bit of steel in her voice. She never needed the metaphorical stick with him, and quite frankly she had to twist his arm to get him to take the carrots too. Ciri had never had anyone else where she had to convince him to accept the things he wanted by telling him how much she wanted to see him like that. However, by now she was an old hand at making Eskel take the things he wanted, and she was prepared to do so again tonight.

"Well, to start you can take off your shirt and get on the bed." This was the easy part, and Eskel smiled at her a little indulgently as he did as he was told. How many times had Ciri started off exactly like this when her goal was nothing more complicated than to ride him til her legs stopped holding her up? She was not yet asking for anything he hadn’t already let himself have a hundred times over.

With Eskel settled on the bed, Ciri stepped closer and pulled off her own shirt to match him. She smiled back, meeting his eyes and watching him relax a little. Another woman might have felt bad about how she was about to disrupt that relaxation, but Ciri knew him well, and was confident he'd be the best kind of overwhelmed on the far side.

Pulling a small bundle from her trouser pocket, Ciri let her gaze wander hungrily across Eskel’s familiar features. She'd noted a few new scars in the baths before, but she noted their places again for good measure. Heat began to kindle in her belly as she studied his face, then worked down to inspect his torso. Pierced nipples, those were familiar, though perhaps the metal in place was a new set of rings. Likely they matched the rings on his back, now that she thought about it, and Ciri stopped herself from squirming in anticipation.

Having examined Eskel in silence for long enough, and delighted as always by his patience, Ciri spoke again. "Geralt and Lambert may have no taste, but I quite liked the look of those new piercings you have, and I was hoping you'd let me play with them."

Eskel’s eyes cut to look at the bundle that Ciri had withdrawn and that he had mostly ignored in favour of staring at her face or possibly her tits. It wasn’t a secret, however, so Ciri held it up. It was satin ribbon, dyed the same red as Eskel’s gambeson, the shade Ciri always associated with him.

Now realizing what Ciri wanted, the apprehension she had expected began to gather on Eskel’s face. He hid it well, but Ciri knew him too well, and he was always just a little less guarded during their bedroom games. She let him think. She'd presented her intentions as a thing she would enjoy, and she wasn't even lying. Eskel had a very poor estimation of his own appeal, but Ciri was ready to soak through her underthings just imagining him squirming under her as she wove ribbon through the rings embedded in his skin.

Eventually he acquiesced, as Ciri had known he would. Silently Eskel rolled onto his belly on the bed, and leaned up on his elbows to look at her. Ciri smiled at him, and could see the helpless way he returned it.

"Want me to take your trousers off too before I start?" In theory, Eskel could want to keep his pants on the whole time, and Ciri would be quite happy to just decorate him in red satin and pet his skin for a while and leave the orgasms for another day. In practice she had never once known any Wolf Witcher to turn down the chance have her come on cock and fingers and tongue until she couldn't feel her legs, so Ciri was fairly confident in how Eskel would answer.

Sure enough, he nodded at her, and shifted and wriggled a little on the bedcovers to work his remaining clothing off. Ciri stepped closer to assist, and once Eskel was naked, he reached out to pluck at Ciri's waistband as well.

"You too?" Eskel asked, and Ciri could hear the way his accent was beginning to slip into the slightly broader vowels and elided consonants of his original hillfolk. She never ever pointed this out to him lest he stop if he knew what he was doing, but every time it happened, Ciri was unreasonably charmed, both by the accent and the way it signified he was surrendering to her will and whim.

Pleased that Eskel had asked for something he wanted so directly and without prompting, Ciri shucked her trousers quickly and swooped in to kiss him warmly, cupping his square chin in one of her small hands to tilt his face up to hers. He went where she directed without resistance, and licked into her mouth like she was the best thing he'd ever tasted, which was always gratifying.

"Very good for me," Ciri told him when she finally freed her mouth, and watched the praise twitch across Eskel’s skin. With her hand no longer holding him in place, Eskel laid flat on the bed and wrapped long arms around a pillow into which he then buried his face.

With a touch to the narrowest part of his waist to warn him, Ciri slung a leg over Eskel’s hips and settled herself over his ass. No doubt he could feel how wet she already was, and she rather expected that she would be literally dripping onto him before she was done. Not like he didn't know already, really. He could smell her, after all.

Settled in place, Ciri surveyed her living canvas. The two rows of piercings actually curved towards each other in a V shape as they worked down Eskel’s back towards his tailbone. The bottom of the V ended right at the narrowest part of his waist, right before his thighs and ass curved back out again. Ciri had thought, time and again, that she might kill to have curves like his; as it was, she was lanky and never packed on fat, let alone muscle. Whoever had done Eskel’s piercings had been a visionary, however, as the placement drew attention to how small his waist got, emphasizing the narrowest parts of his back, and providing contrast by directing the eye downwards to his round backside.

Ciri made a mental note to formally thank whoever had given Eskel this idea, and reached to stroke down his back once before she set to work. With nimble fingers she drew the smooth ribbon through the bottom two rings, letting the satin brush over Eskel’s skin as she did. He still hadn't relaxed entirely, and Ciri could see muscle shift in reaction to the feeling of her gentle touches. Lacing him up was going to be a lengthy process though, and she planned to take it slowly, which would give him time to settle.

As predicted, before she was halfway up his back, Eskel had stopped tensing at every touch, and was breathing slowly, almost basking in her attention. Ciri had the sudden thought that it was a little like how he relaxed into her touches when she was wrapping rope around his torso, except with the added sensation on his end from the tug of piercings through his skin. With that, she kept an eye out for the next stage he would sink into when she tied him up, where he would begin anticipating what followed.

In a matter of minutes Eskel was trying not to squirm, but the small shifts beneath her told Ciri how worked up he was becoming. Smiling down at him, even though he couldn't see, Ciri said, "Very good." When that provoked a small shudder, she smiled even wider, and continued. She was very nearly finished lacing Eskel up, and the vivid ribbon against the warm brown of his skin was gorgeous, so she told him so.

"Look at you, sweetheart." Turning his favorite endearments for her back around onto him never failed to make him jolt in surprised pleasure, and Ciri loved to see it happen. "All laced up for me now, you look so pretty."

With his face hidden as it was in the bedclothes, Eskel nearly managed to muffle the whine he made at that. Nearly. Ciri had good ears, though, and wasn't in the habit of letting her Wolves hide from her when she had them like this, so she caught the desperation woven through the noise. Time to push on that reaction just a little, she thought.

As much as she hated to look away from her handiwork across Eskel’s back, Ciri did want to see his face for this. She rose up on her knees, and tapped his hip, saying, "roll over." Obediently, he twisted, careful of his back, but unconcerned by the way his hips brushed the hot skin of her inner thighs. He didn’t look directly into her face, and Ciri didn't look at his either, as she settled back down atop him, seated so his cock just brushed her buttock. She let her gaze wander across his torso, soft with winter, and catch on the silver bars adorning his nipples. The dip and curve of his waist was prominent from this side too, the breadth of his chest and his generous tits made the contrast obvious.

Once Eskel was settled and Ciri had looked her fill, she spoke. "I don't say things I don't mean, you know that. I want you to be pretty for me, and you're doing perfectly already." She paused then to let him absorb that. As always, what she had to say would come easier to him if she made it about her first, and gave him a bit of time.

"I want you to be pretty for me, and you want to be pretty for me, honey, we both know this. But here's what I think, and you can tell me if I'm wrong, but I want you to think about it first, okay?" When Eskel nodded slowly, Ciri continued. "I think you might want to be pretty for you too. No!" She interrupted before he could do more than open his mouth. "Think about it first, like I told you."

He subsided warily, and Ciri could see him chewing it over, all but physically holding the concept at arm’s length. She let him take his time, and stroked gently across his belly and arms in soothing passes, reminding him that she was there, but not trying to distract him. Eskel’s face worked it's way through a half a dozen expressions, most of them resistant, but Ciri had seen this before, and waited it out. The fact that he had to think this hard was a sign that the answer wasn't a hard no, frankly.

When he finally began to speak again, Ciri gave him all her attention. She'd let him hide again in a moment. "Don't stop?" Eskel asked, in the tone of someone who expected this to be taken away simply because he liked it, and Ciri's heart ached.

"Of course not, sweetheart, you're not about to stop being pretty, so we'll call it even."

He made an expression like he would be blushing if he could, and continued, voice firming as he spoke. "You can keep going with what it was else you want, then. I'll tell you if I don't like something, that's the same."

Ciri beamed down at him, delighted. "Why don't we get you back on your front then, beautiful and I'll keep admiring our handiwork."

Turning as soon as she spoke, Eskel wasn’t quite far enough over to hide the look of shock and delight that crossed his face at the word "beautiful". He’d get used to it soon enough, Ciri was on a roll if she did say so herself.

Once he was laid back out before her, Ciri let her hands wander all up and down his back, plucking sometimes at the ribbons to make the piercings pull just a little bit, which made Eskel hiss beneath her. For a while it was the next best thing to a massage, as Ciri stroked and gentled, letting her hands dip into the curve of Eskel’s waist and wander low enough to cup his generous ass and squeeze just to hear him breathe that little bit harder. The whole time she made sure to tell him how lovely he was, all laid out just for her to play with and admire. How soft his skin was, how pretty the ribbon through his shiny piercings, how beautifully he reacted to her touch and her words.

The stream of praise was constant, as was the motion of her hands, after some time, during which Ciri knew she had begun to drip, there came a point where Eskel’s little hitched breaths and muffled gasps and repressed twitches stopped being specific reaction to anything she said or did. He was truly putty in her hands now, and as always when she played with him, Ciri marveled a little at the gift that was. Who else could say the Wolf had surrendered to their hand?

Ciri took a moment then, to refocus and remember what she was aiming for. Eskel wanted to fuck, or else he wouldn’t have asked for both of them to be bare. Where to begin, however? Ciri only noticed that her hips had been rocking gently where she was perched over top the backs of Eskel’s thighs when he huffed gently and wriggled intently, his ass pressing back to brush against the front of her thighs just enough to bring back the sense memory of the motion she’d stopped moments before.

Grinning with all her teeth, Ciri decided she’d had enough of a moment.

“Sweet thing, want me to touch you?” she purred in Eskel’s ear, draping herself across the length of his body.

“Please,” he breathed, and Ciri kissed his neck, pleased. He leaned into it easily, so she did it again, pressing kisses and the occasional sharp bite across his neck and shoulder. Eskel squirmed beneath her, and to keep her balance Ciri rolled her hips easily, then decided she liked that so much she wanted to do it again. For a few moments they moved in an easy pantomime of fucking, down to the way her dripping cunt smeared all over her thighs and his, albiet with the traditional roles reversed in a way that left Ciri breathless for how much it mirrored her vision of the final result of the evening. She had no idea if Eskel realized how they looked, but she hoped that he did, hoped that some of the desire-soaked sounds that fell from him were because he recognized Ciri would treat a sweet, pretty thing like him right.

With one last sharp bite to Eskel’s shoulder blade, Ciri sat up a little and brought her hands round to slide along his waist one more time, just because she loved to see it happen. She then moved further down and helped herself to handfuls of his ass, cupping the muscle and squeezing as Eskel leaned in to the motion and groaned happily.

“Should I take care of you first, beautiful?” Ciri asked, not expecting him to agree, really, but ever hopeful.

Sure enough, the answer came. “Let me… Let me?” It was a promising sign that Eskel was too scattered to come up with full sentences or specific plans, and Ciri flattered herself that she could get him this way by just her smell if she was hot enough and wet enough. No doubt she was both tonight, but Eskel seemed to also greatly enjoy the ribbon she’d decked him in, so she was gonna chalk herself up a point for this plan as well.

“You gonna flip over for me, then?” As much as Ciri hated to hide the beautiful handiwork on his back, they were going to have to rearrange in order for him to have his way. “Actually, how does this sound,” she said, and Eskel cocked his head to listen to her, as she thought things through, “why don’t we trade around. If we get me against the pillows and you facing me, I can still see your pretty decorations, and you can make me feel good.”

In short order they were rearranged to Ciri’s satisfaction, and Eskel’s as well, clearly, given the way he immediately set to work. Ciri’s thighs spread wide to fit his broad shoulders, exposing exactly how soaked she was, as if he didn’t already know. Eskel looked delighted at the evidence of her excitement, and immediately ducked down to nose his way across her thighs where she was already making a mess. A quick tongue darted out to lap up a taste, and he hummed in pleasure, deep enough in his chest that she felt it more than she heard it.

To Ciri’s surprise, instead of licking his way up her thighs and setting to, Eskel raised his head after a moment, and brought his arms forward instead, so he was propped up on his elbows, and he could reach forward to run gentle hands up her thighs to her belly.

Eskel was a vision like this, tucked up so his arms framed his tits, pushing them together so his cleavage outdid hers, then over his shoulder the soft curve of his back all the way down to his waist, then out again at his hips. The flash of the ribbon set off his dark skin gorgeously in the warm firelight, and Ciri could have stared at him for days on end. She reached down and cupped his cheek for a moment, stroking her thumb across his skin as he licked his lips, balanced perfectly between coy shyness and wicked promise. Knowing her urge to devour Eskel was bold in her eyes, Ciri slid her hand up to card through his hair instead. She didn’t pull, but he shivered a little anyway when her fingers sifted through the silky black in just such a way that made it obvious she was thinking about it.

“Beauiful,” Ciri said. “Perfect for me.”

That made Eskel duck away out of reflex, but he returned to his task of stroking over her hips and thighs, then slid a finger down to slide across the mess of her cunt, so Ciri thought she could find it in herself to forgive him.

Once begun, Eskel set to work with a will. One finger wandered, seeming aimless until he brushed past her clit and Ciri twitched, at which point he stopped wandering in favour of doing exactly that thing again, brushing just lightly enough that Ciri’s blood lit on fire, and she couldn’t help but moan. She had spoken not a word of lie, he was very good, and knew how to play her body expertly. The moment a finger barely touching her clit wasn’t enough, he was removing the finger, sticking it in his mouth instead to taste her, while his other hand took its place, stroking down to her slit where she was drenched, then back up and across her clit, back and forth more firmly.

Ciri could feel her thighs begin to tremble, and Eskel’s eyes locked onto her tits as she panted, while his hands worked by feel. One finger in her throbbing cunt, crooking up in the same rhythm as the one stroking her clit, and Ciri’s hand in Eskel’s hair made good on that promise to pull, tightening into a fist.

As her orgasm raced toward her in a [shaking, rolling wave], Ciri began to babble, praise and pet names and demands for more interspersed with gasps and curses. No matter how in charge Ciri had started, Eskel knew how to make her fall apart, and did so as often as he possibly could. This was no different, the expression on his face was glowing as he looked up at her and met Ciri’s eyes until her back arched and her eyes closed and the oncoming wave rolled over her.

Eskel gentled Ciri through the orgasm, humming softly up at her, and petting across her mound once she began to come down. When her eyes opened, he shamelessly raised a hand to his lips and began to lick the taste of her off his fingers, then his palm, and then he leaned down to chase the slick dripping down his wrist, which was almost enough for Ciri to throw her head back once more.

As her heart and breath slowed a bit, Ciri took stock. Eskel was still bashful when she told him he was lovely, but not distressed, it seemed largely a habit for him to duck the compliment but he hadn’t asked her to stop. Her tongue hadn’t ran away with her when she came, which was sometimes a risk, so while Eskel was surely going to apply himself to making her come a second time in short order, generous soul that he was, for now Ciri had her wits about her to bring in the next part of the game she was playing at her own leisure.

Unhurried, Eskel shifted on his elbows between Ciri’s thighs, and slouched down a little closer to the bed. To her disappointment, the view of his chest was much reduced, but he lay his head on her thigh and pressed a few soft kisses wherever he could reach, so Ciri wasn’t exactly bereft. She’d have to tell him how lovely his round tits were later, then, she could wait. For now, with the hand still in Eskel’s hair, she tugged him towards her gently, which he rightly took as a cue to begin again.

This time Eskel mouthed over her cunt, kissing and licking his way to her core, and rekindling the fire within her expertly. As he worked, he purred gently, happy as a clam to have his face between her thighs while Ciri panted and cursed and pulled at his hair. His tongue explored her as thoroughly as if this was his first time, as if he didn’t do this on a regular basis, and Ciri throbbed, torn between wanting to come just from this and needing something inside her. As if reading her mind, one of the hands that had been tucked around her thighs to pin them in place let go and snaked back around so a broad finger could slide easily into her soaked cunt. Two thrusts curled past all of the best nerve endings inside Ciri, then a second finger joined the first, stretching her wide, just as Eskel’s tongue fluttered perfectly across her clit, and that was enough.

While she clenched hard on the fingers filling her, Ciri noted distantly that Eskel wasn’t slowing at all the way he had the first time she came. Oh dear, she thought, and then the thought was washed away in the sparks bursting behind her eyelids and the rush in her ears that drowned out the volume of her own wails.

Sure enough, Eskel didn’t give her a break, and the pleasure went on and on as Ciri soaked his face and hand, as well as her own thighs and the bedsheets beneath her. She was beyond caring, however, nothing mattered but the feeling of Eskel’s mouth on her clit, the way he looked up at her with wide, pleased eyes when she could gather herself together enough to look, and the feeling of two (or maybe three? She’d lost track) fingers stuffed inside her keeping her full.

When at last Eskel let up and allowed her to catch her breath, every one of Ciri’s grand ambitions were slow to return. She lay, panting and twitching for long moments, sure that Eskel was distracting her from something but he was succeeding quite thoroughly. It was only the glimpse of red satin and shining metal that reminded her in the end. Just as Ciri remembered this, Eskel bent his head once more, clearly intending to work her over some more and knock the thoughts right back out of her head, but she gripped his hair and pulled him away instead.

“No, sweet thing, time to switch it up again. You did very well so far, but I’m not done with you yet.” Although, for all her bold words, Ciri’s knees were reluctant to hold her when she levered herself up to shift around again. Sitting up, Eskel offered her a hand so she could get her balance, and Ciri leaned in to kiss him in thanks, cupping his face warmly, before she leaned back to look him up and down and decide how she wanted him next.

How was Ciri to decide between having him on his back so she could see his darling face open and his sweet tits heave as she took him apart, and putting him on his front so she could help herself to his ass and keep admiring the lacings across his back? The waist was the same from either side, Ciri noted, though that didn’t help her choose. Instead, the decision came from the way Eskel had placed himself when he sat up. Sitting on his heels, his knees spread wide, his torso upright while his head leaned into Ciri’s touch like a large, affectionate cat. He was already perfectly arranged, he couldn’t have done better if she’d asked, and she told him so.

Letting go of Eskel’s face, Ciri let her hand trail down to stroke over his neck and collar, as he basked in the touch and attention, then further down to tweak his nipple and help herself to the soft handful of his chest. His eyes flew open from their previous lazy half-close, and Ciri grinned at him.

“Let me play with your pretty tits for a little while, sweetheart?” Eskel gulped and Ciri didn’t take her hand away, but she stopped fondling until he leaned back into the touch.

“Yes, please,” he managed to whisper, and Ciri couldn’t help but kiss him again, briefly, leaving him chasing her lips as she drew away.

“Very good, darling. I missed seeing your gorgeous tits while I had you on your front, so I want to make up for lost time.” And with that, Ciri brought her other hand up to begin working at Eskel’s other tit, cheerfully neglecting the way his cock twitched and dripped between his thighs.

Honestly, Ciri had been a little surprised at how quickly Eskel took to this further step in her game, although perhaps she shouldn’t have been, considering how he’d so enjoyed everything else she’d done in her process of working him up. He wasn’t at all stupid, and she’d showed him several things already that Eskel had decided he enjoyed, so perhaps he’d come to the point he found sometimes where he forgot all the reasons to deny himself pleasure, and Ciri got to play with him constrained only by what he truly and honestly liked and didn’t like.

To Ciri’s disappointment, she couldn’t actually make Eskel come just by playing with his nipples the way he could to her, although she had given the matter some very thorough experimentation, so the time she spent on his chest as he panted and squirmed for her would remain only a tease. However, Ciri could be suitably revenged for the way Eskel had driven every thought from her head with his mouth previously, and so she kept at him until he was well and thoroughly incoherent.

Only when Eskel had forgotten himself so much as to whine and beg for her did Ciri let up, and the tension in him came loose as he slouched, although he still swayed into her, following as she knelt up herself and shuffled round to settle behind him. As she moved, she made sure to keep her fingertips in contact with him, to give him an anchor. Her fingers traced across Eskel’s collarbone, and her arm wrapped around his shoulder, so that once Ciri was resettled she could pull him into her arms, and press easy kisses to the side of his face and down his neck to his shoulder. He sighed and leaned back into her hold, and in a fit of small mischief, Ciri reached down to tweak once more at his sensitive nipples, to make him yelp.

Teasing Eskel was fun, but she did yet have an agenda, so Ciri slid her hands south, skimming over his waist where she paused to hold, reminding herself unnecessarily of the curves she’d been savouring all evening. She hoped that he got as much out of her smoothing over the round of his hips as she was, part of why Ciri did so was in hope that Eskel got a little thrill out of being touched sweetly. The whole evening was in the hope that he might enjoy getting to sweet and beautiful and feminine for Ciri, so any chance she got to lean on that a bit, she took.

Letting go of his waist with some reluctance, Ciri slid her hands lower, helping herself to handfuls of Eskel’s round ass, only to realize that the oil wasn’t within grabbing distance. With a silent curse for her lack of foresight, Ciri slid fingers between his cheeks anyway, brushing over his hole and prompting a shudder from Eskel.

“Let me get you all wet and open and I’ll give you my cock, how’s that sound, beautiful?” Eskel shuddered again, and turned his face towards Ciri, seeking to kiss her wherever he could reach.

Laughing softly, Ciri turned to meet his lips, for a moment, then said, “I’ll take that as a yes, then?”

“Mhm,” came the reply, and Ciri allowed herself to feel slightly smug for tying Eskel’s tongue.

“Can you reach the oil, sweetness?” Ciri asked, having spotted it on the far side of the bed from her. Much to her delight, Eskel bent at the hips to stretch long so he could reach the little vial without removing his ass from her hands. Ciri was sure he’d never looked better in his life, with his knees splayed, back decorated in ribbon and metal rings, and his torso lithe as he lay flat, ass higher than his head, obeying her every request. The arousal Ciri had been ignoring in favour of playing with Eskel came rushing back.

Clutching Eskel’s hips tight, Ciri rolled her hips against him, and he wriggled his ass back at her in return, leaving Ciri thoroughly impatient. To her disappointment, he sat upright again once he had the oil in his hand, but she wasted no time in drenching her fingers and beginning to work the first one into him. Eskel was gorgeous squirming on her fingers as well, it turned out, strong thighs flexing as his hips worked to chase her hand. His spine flexed and curved as Eskel writhed, and Ciri watched every sinuous motion greedily, even as she assessed how he moved.

Perhaps it was time to take the plunge, Ciri thought. The things she had leaned on so far had been well received, she thought, and to her eyes, Eskel looked like he was leaning in himself. The way he moved his hips, the coy twist to his shoulders and the look in his eyes when she told him how sweet and beautiful he was, talked about the dip of his waist and the swell of his tits and hips, all of it added up.

Thus decided, Ciri opened her mouth and finally let her tongue run away with her. Every compliment she had given him until now, she revisited, lingering on how beautiful he was under his hands, how perfect he was being for her. Eskel’s tits were perfect handfuls, his waist exactly shaped for her to wrap her hands around and bring him where she wanted him. His hips were round and plush to match his ass, and as Ciri spoke she reached a hand between her own thighs, to collect some of the slick dripping from her and work it into him as a supplement to the oil that he was already wet and open with.

The compliments get filthier: “Look at you, you’re already soft and open and wet for me, beautiful? You’ll even smell right by the time I get done with you, don’t worry.” That earns Ciri a jolt, as Eskel realizes that she’s fingering him open with her own wetness. “You’re not the first who needs a little help with the slick, sweetheart, no shame in it. Everything else about you is perfect, from tits to waist to hips, now your cunt will match, isn’t that right?”

Before the words are even entirely out of Ciri’s mouth, she’s interrupted with a long and desperate moan, which lights her up. When was the last time she managed to draw such a needy noise from Eskel? Has she ever made him sound like that? In the moment she can’t remember, and it’s far more important that she pay attention to the body trembling and panting in her arms. Ciri had been hoping and expecting that Eskel might enjoy this, but the reality of the strength of his reaction was more than she dared hope. She looked down, and Eskel’s neglected cock twitched, unable to get any more flushed or wet, but he looked like one more well-placed word might send him over. Well –

“That is right, then? My sweet girl, being perfect for me, letting me finger you so when I fuck you it’ll be easy and good for you?” Ciri could by now hardly hear herself over the volume of Eskel’s cries, and her fingers never stopped inside him. She knew where exactly to aim (or avoid) to bring him over the edge when she wanted just from her hand, but she truly had underestimated how much Eskel liked being called her girl.

Eskel’s body clamped down on Ciri’s fingers, rolling his hips frantically and moaning like a wild thing, as his cock painted the sheets beneath him. This was not what Ciri had planned, exactly, but she was the last person to begrudge him his pleasure, and the best thing about Witchers was that they could keep going just about as long as she could. With that in mind, Ciri didn’t slow the motion of her wrist even as Eskel’s moans slowed and the come leaking from him slowed from the frantic jets it had been to a slow drip.

Thinking that perhaps it was Eskel’s turn to be thoroughly distracted by a rapid sequence of orgasms, Ciri sought his prostate once more, but after only a moment of that he began to wriggle away from the touch rather than towards it, and he thrashed gently.

“Please… Please, I – please,” he couldn’t find the end of the sentence, but Ciri slowed and stopped her fingers inside him anyway. She wasn’t actually interested in avenging herself or pushing him to his limits, really. There was a difference between pushing Eskel just a little so he didn’t talk himself out of something before he even allowed himself to want it, and truly dragging him somewhere he didn’t want to be, doing something he didn’t want done.

For the moment Ciri kept her fingers tucked inside Eskel, though she watched him carefully as he gulped in a few heaving breaths and calmed enough to be able to speak properly. As soon as she had stopped moving he had stopped trying to get away from the stimulation, and in her experience a sudden change from full to empty was at least as distressing to him.

“What’s wrong, Eskel? What needs to change?” Ciri felt a little bad breaking away from the endearments that she honestly wanted to give him all the time, not just in bed when she was treating him sweet, but there was always the possibility that that was one of the problems. Furthermore, she wanted to make really sure Eskel got the message that she was serious in her question, and expected equal seriousness in his answer, so the change of tone to his bare name was a signal.

One more big lungful of air, and Eskel said, “I’m just, I’m. It’s – it’s too much of a good thing. Just, just one at a time, please?”

That “one at a time” could mean orgasms or games, and Ciri asked. First, however, she wrapped her free arm around Eskel’s flushed chest and cuddled him close, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Very good,” she said, “that’s absolutely what I needed you to tell me.” Eskel melted into her hold once more, and Ciri’s arousal had ebbed some with the change in mood, but the warm rush of affection that surged through her more than made up the difference as she held him. “Just one orgasm at a time, then? Or do you mean not to push you right after you come if I’m also sweet-talking you like that?”

“Both?” Eskel offered, and Ciri was sure one day she’d get past his hesitance to ask for anything, but for now she was entirely pleased that he was telling her what he wanted, and more to the point what he didn’t, at all.

“Absolutely.” Then, because Eskel was being so good about what he didn’t like already, Ciri asked, “Do you want me to stop talking you up like that at all? It’s something I thought you might enjoy, but if you’re not enjoying it, then I won’t be either.”

Eskel hummed a little, thoughtfully, and nestled himself more comfortably in Ciri’s arms, while she maneuvered carefully to not move her fingers within him in the process.

After several quiet moments spent thinking, which Ciri approved of, Eskel stirred again.

“Don’t stop that part, I think. Just. One at a time, like I said.”

“Of course, beautiful,” Ciri said, giving in with relief to the endearments that had been bubbling in her chest. “Anything for my girl.”

Just as she’d hoped, Eskel shuddered and whimpered a little in her arms, twisting a little to tuck his face into her throat, and Ciri felt her grin creeping back onto her face. “You had enough time after your first, you think, sweetheart?” Eskel moaned louder at that, and wriggled his ass once experimentally, then again with more purpose. Ciri took that as a yes.

Nudging Eskel away from her body a little so she could have more room to work, Ciri sweetened the pot by turning his face towards her so she could kiss him messily over his shoulder as her fingers began to twist and thrust slowly. His mouth was uncoordinated and Eskel spent almost as much time gasping against her as he did kissing her, which left Ciri smugly pleased.

When Eskel stopped having enough coordination to kiss Ciri at all, she let him go and urged him to sit up, so she could look her fill. He was flushed and sweaty, his cock full once more, and his hair mussed. The ribbons lacing up his back set off his skin just as well when it was pink like this, and Ciri congratulated herself once more for choosing a colour that worked so well.

As Ciri stared, she finally told Eskel all the things she had been holding back. How much she adored his hourglass figure, the tiny waist contrasting his perfect tits and round ass. The way the corset laced piercings made it so she couldn’t look away from how gorgeous her girl was. Ciri wanted to put him in a corset properly someday, she’d dress him up in lace and silk, more than just a single ribbon. Although, clothing would be hard put to compete with how glorious Eskel was in no more than skin and sweat, wearing her hands and the blush she had put there. Who in the world had a sweeter girl than Ciri, reacting so beautifully to every compliment and every touch.

Between their bodies Ciri kept her touch gentle, knowing that there was a chance she’d get Eskel off again by her words and a few barely-there touches. That deserved its own round of praise and filth too: Ciri’s sweet girl was so responsive to every touch, her hole was wet and open and so soaked Ciri could smell it.

With that, Ciri reached between her own legs to once again coat her fingers in herself, ignoring Eskel’s bereft whine at the loss of her fingers, because she returned them soon enough. Ciri’s nose wasn’t nearly as good as a mutated Witcher’s, but the air in the room was heavy with the smell of sex, and every possessive instinct Ciri had wanted Eskel to smell as claimed as she sometimes did when he was done with her. Let Lambert complain. After all, his helpful commentary was part of why Ciri was here with Eskel in the first place.

The stream of commentary from Ciri paused for a moment while she took a breath and decided she should give Eskel a moment to relax back down a bit. Instead, she heard an intentional sort of noise from him, the one he made when he wanted to speak but wasn’t sure if he would be interrupting.

“Go ahead,” she said, and stroked a hand down his flank.

“Fuck me?” Eskel asked, bold at last with what he wanted, and Ciri had to control a shudder of enjoyment.

“With pleasure,” she said easily, and held him close as she pulled her fingers from inside him.

Wasting no time, Ciri stood to fetch her cock and its harness, pressing the thing to her heated skin to warm it up. There was no fun in startling her pretty thing with cold when Eskel had already asked for one thing at a time.

Turning back to the bed, Ciri found Eskel still up on his knees is more or less the position she had left him, and cocked her head.

“Do you want to be on your front or your back, lovely? Or do you want me to decide?”

Eskel looked as torn as Ciri felt. On his face she would be able to see those piercings that had gotten them here, and the arch and curve of his back as he writhed on her cock, but if she put him on his back she could watch his face fall apart and play with his pretty little tits.

“You decide?” Eskel said, and Ciri smiled at him easily.

If she put him on his back then the piercings might catch the bedsheets and pull in a way she couldn’t control. Face down it would be, then, and she told him so. Eskel went easily, enthusiastic in a way that made Ciri just want to eat him up. Showing all her teeth, she lubed up her cock and fastened the leather harness securely, enjoying the smell of leather mixing with heady arousal, and the feeling of the straps on her thighs.

As she began to press the head of her cock into him, Eskel made the sweetest sounds. Sharp and needy, and perhaps higher pitched than normal. He was definitely louder, and Ciri was enormously pleased with herself and with him about that. All evidence pointed to her success at giving Eskel something he didn’t know he wanted, and that he was over the moon enjoying it now that he knew. Ciri was ready to give this to him any time he asked, and probably some times he didn’t as well.

Once Ciri was seated deep within Eskel, she paused to admire him once more, reaching down and plucking at the ribbon to hear him whimper and jerk beneath her at the tug to his piercing as well as the change in the angle of her cock inside his soaked hole. She stayed leaned forward, the better to drip filth and praise into his ear, as her hips began to roll, at just the same pace as she had moved so much earlier. Each thrust was long and deep, slow friction that Ciri knew dragged over every sensitive nerve ending Eskel had, lighting a slow burning fire that could keep going for ages. Ciri was strong and fit, she could hold herself over Eskel and fuck him like this until he begged for mercy if she wanted.

As it happened, begging wasn’t her particular goal, but for a time Ciri didn’t pick up her pace at all. Eskel, his torso draped across the sheets and his ass raised to meet her hips, writhed beneath her, clutching at the sheets and shuddering every time Ciri reminded him about how he was her girl and told him how much she was enjoying herself. He reacted gorgeously when she told him he was beautiful and sweet and perfect for her too, but the combination of feminization and Ciri expressing her own pleasure was the real winner.

It was in no way an exaggeration either. Ciri had put her arousal aside some to be able to focus on fucking Eskel and taking him apart the way she wanted and the way he deserved, but never once had her cunt stopped dripping down her thighs. She felt a little like she didn’t dare let herself go before she was sure she had given Eskel everything he deserved, because the moment she let go of her control, Ciri was sure she would be entirely useless, swamped in her own desire.

Even that train of thought was dangerous in its own way – Ciri was all of a sudden thinking a little too hard about the things Eskel was doing to her with the way he shimmied and bounced under her hands and cock, and it was rapidly getting harder to ignore the heat licking through her core.

Ciri’s hips snapped a little harder, no longer quite so perfectly controlled as she struggled to not let herself become overwhelmed, and that became another feedback loop of pleasure. The base of her cock pressed to her mound as she thrust, and while the stimulation wasn’t direct, she was having a hard time ignoring the slow build of it. Blessedly, Eskel seemed to revel in the more forceful motion of her inside him, rocking back into every thrust, and gasping out little curses as he buried his face in the bedsheets.

Doing her best to wrestle herself under control once more, Ciri tuned back in to the things she was telling Eskel pretty much on autopilot.

“That’s my girl,” she said, letting her thumbs stroke Eskel’s hips where she had a hold of him, “taking me so well. Your wet little hole was just made for this, hm? Likes nothing better than to be filled with my cock, laid out and beautiful underneath me, isn’t that right?”

The broken off noises from Eskel sounded reassuringly like agreement, and Ciri rewarded them with a hard thrust, aimed just where she knew Eskel liked it best before she returned once more to pacing herself and him both.

Continuing, Ciri said, “Only thing I miss is getting to see your tits and face. I want all of you, sweetheart, I want to see every part of my girl all at once. I want to have your dripping hole and see you laced up and decorated for me just like this, and I want to play with your pretty tits and watch your face while you fall apart on my cock, all at once. Maybe next time we do this I’ll put you on your back and fuck your tits first, what do you think?” Eskel was practically melted into the sheets, and Ciri suspected he was very close, which was all for the best, because the string by which she was holding onto her control was rapidly fraying.

Giving in to temptation, Ciri adjusted her angle and gave up on drawing things out any further. Every thrust hit Eskel exactly where he couldn’t resist, and with each snap of Ciri’s hips he gave a sharp cry, his hands clawing desperately at the sheets as he tried to anchor himself against the storm of pleasure Ciri was the centre of.

It didn’t prevent his orgasm at all, however, because in moments every one of Eskel’s muscles tensed and held for one, two more thrusts, then let go. He was as liquid as the mess he had no doubt left on the sheets beneath him, and Ciri slowed her motions to a gentle roll through the last few twitches and shudders of Eskel’s release, then stopped entirely before it began to hurt him.

“That was amazing, my beautiful one, just perfect.” Ciri let her hands wander aimlessly, stroking to soothe while not letting her hips move at all. She’d pull out in a moment, but Eskel could stand to be full for a few minutes more. “You were exactly what I wanted, my sweet girl, I’m so glad you let me touch you and make you feel good.”

Eskel’s breathing slowed gradually, and after a moment he shifted to try and lean into her hands petting his flanks, only to stop with a noise of discomfort when he jostled Ciri’s cock inside him. Taking the cue, Ciri placed a hand at his tailbone to warn him, then slid out slowly and easily. Eskel made another little noise, some combination of oversensitive and sorry to lose the feeling, if Ciri had to guess, but once she was out he collapsed, boneless as a cat and heedless of the fact that he had to be lying in his own wet spot. Indulgently, Ciri stroked over his back for a few minutes longer, much the same as she would a cat, and wondered idly if he’d purr like one too, then stifled that thought before she dissolved into giggles. She hadn’t come and was still wound up and ready to go off like a shot, and feeling a little hysterical with it.

Though he had flopped more or less in the same place he had been while Ciri had fucked him, Eskel had shifted to unearth his face from the bed, and from the half she could see, he looked ready to doze off then and there, so thoroughly had she apparently worked him over. While that was more or less exactly what she had hoped for, Ciri was a little disappointed that she had to take her own last orgasm into her own hands. It wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened, though it wasn’t common, and Ciri hardly begrudged Eskel his relaxation when she spent so much time trying to convince him to take his own pleasure and make it a priority. He’d given her enough orgasms, and he was so glorious lying there, sweaty and dishevelled, oil and her slick glistening between his cheeks, worn out by her ministrations, that it was going to take next to nothing for Ciri to come just looking at him.

When Ciri took one hand away from Eskel’s skin to begin unfastening the straps of the harness around her thighs, he cracked open one eye to figure out what was going on. Not quite so ready to sleep, after all, Ciri thought, tugging at the leather one handed, and resisting the urge to rock her hips so that the arm reaching across her body might pin her cock in place and let her grind on the base of the thing. So distracted was she, that when Eskel heaved himself upwards with clumsy arms, she was surprised to see him move.

“Your turn again,” he murmured, sitting up once more and reaching to help free Ciri from her confinements. An involuntary whimper dropped from her lips before she mustered herself to speak again.

“Gonna return the favour, pretty girl?” Eskel gave her a look under his lashes, somehow, despite being taller than her, and in his eyes was an incredibly exciting mix of the shy sweetness he’d been wearing so much of the evening, and the intent of a predator. Ciri could only hope that the looks she gave him were ever as affecting as the one she was on the receiving end of. She shuddered hard, and the molten heat pooling between her hips flared high once again.

“Can I lie you down?” Eskel asked, and as much as Ciri loved to ride him, she was still somewhat concerned about his piercings catching on something. Not to mention, she had held it together to run the show so far, and now lying back and being serviced a little more sounded delightful. Ciri spared a moment to worry that it might be too soon for Eskel to be ready to go again, but she dismissed that quickly – he had already asked her not to push that way, so he wasn’t about to go back on his word.

With a situational awareness Ciri wasn’t sure she would have possessed in his place, Eskel guided her to lie on the side of the bed away from where he had left a mess, because no matter how much he loved the smell of himself on her skin, some things weren’t worth it, and lying in the wet spot was one of those things.

Once she was laid down, Eskel wasted no time entering her, and Ciri knew she wasn’t going to last very long at all. It was amazing how quickly the desire she had been holding back came roaring back the moment she let the floodgates open. It was almost like something was making up for lost time, Ciri thought wildly, as her skin lit up with every touch Eskel gave her. She wanted to keep the game going just a little longer, tell Eskel how even like this, over her and filling her and surrounding her, he was still her perfect girl and she wasn’t gonna let go, but the words were beyond her. All she could hope was that he knew.

The way Eskel moved stole Ciri’s thoughts with the kind of efficiency she would envy if there was any room around the heat roaring through her body and mind. There was no need to think, nothing in the world that could possibly steal Ciri’s attention from the body above her, looking like everything she could possibly want, who had played her game with her in perfect concert, who touched her like the only thing he needed was her to feel so good her skin couldn’t contain it.

He was succeeding at that last, handily. Each thrust left Ciri awash in pleasure, sure that this at last would be the thing to tip her over the edge into the orgasm she could taste between her back teeth. Eskel’s big hands held her, letting his fingers wander to brush over her nipples, stroke her collarbones, trace her lips, even as Ciri whimpered and chased every feeling he gave her. At last, one of those hands crept downwards to fit between them and brush over her clit, and at long last Ciri flew apart, shattering into a million shards, and as she did, she heard her own voice, distantly, calling for her “sweet girl”.

As she came down, some unnamed amount of time later, Ciri spared a moment to worry about whether Eskel needed anything more. He had been hot and hard within her, despite how she had thought he was done for the night once she’d worked him over. On the other hand, given the pace of a Witcher’s circulation, he always took a while to soften when they finished, and he wasn’t taking a hand to himself now that she was done, so Ciri felt confident in assuming that he hadn’t asked because he didn’t need anything more. She did understand, there were times when one more orgasm became more effort than it was worth, and all that was left was to let blood cool and arousal fade away.

Instead, Eskel had tucked himself into her arms, and was pillowing his face comfortably on her breast, which he kissed occasionally. In a moment Ciri would have to get herself and him up to undo the ribbon, and try to pull the wrecked bedsheets back into something resembling order, and get the two of them cleaned up enough to sleep, but for the moment, Eskel had more than earned a rest. Ciri wanted to treat her girl sweet, after all, Eskel was the type that could use it.

#golden piercings #golden pseudo incest #golden feminization #golden praise kink #golden ciri x eskel #dead dove

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golden-kinks · 3 years

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While writing my last one the idea of Ciri and Morvran calling Coen “Daddy” moved in and settled down to live rent fucking free so. Here. I use Coen’s name literally like once idk y’all it’s just daddy kink smut

Ciri squirmed on the bed, trying to be patient as the cold air tightened her little nipples and prickled her skin. Next to her, Morvran was doing an even worse job of holding still and waiting, his prick hard and bobbing against his belly while his hands twisted in the sheets beneath them both. Sometimes in his fidgeting he would brush up against Ciri’s side, and she would gasp all out of proportion to the touch, but after so much waiting she felt like every part of her was so ready to be touched that any little contact was so much more important.

Where was he? He said he wouldn’t make them wait too long, but by Ciri’s counting it had already been several thousand years too long. Morvran was nice and all and she was glad to have him here waiting with her, but they’d been told they couldn’t start playing without Daddy there and she was so ready, they both were.

At long last the door to the bedroom opened, and Coën stepped through in all his glory. Ciri’s breath caught at the sight of her Daddy, his shirt off to expose dark skin and his luminous green-gold eyes looking over his boy and girl spread out on the bed for him. Ciri looked right back, no longer squirming as she stared at her Daddy’s broad chest, his strong arms that held her tight and close and safe, then down to where the thin, soft linen of his braies strained to cover the tenting of his cock. She shivered, somehow even more desperate to be touched, now that Daddy was so close she could smell him.

He stepped forward towards the bed, and Ciri just stopped herself from reaching out to him. She was going to be good and wait for Daddy, just like he said! Once again, Morvran was that much less patient than her, and went as far as to lift his arm before remembering himself and slamming it back down between him and Ciri, making her gasp yet again as he brushed past her hip. Daddy’s sharp eyes caught the motion, but he didn’t comment, instead leaning over and cupping Ciri’s and Morvran’s faces each in one big palm.

“Have you waited patiently for me, little ones?” Between his touch and his voice, Ciri’s eyes closed and she shuddered, already overwhelmed. She could hear Morvran reacting just as strongly beside her, and pried her eyes open again to see Daddy’s indulgent smile down at both of them.

“We were good, we - we didn’t play while you were gone,” Ciri stammered out, her pulse racing at how close her Daddy was after waiting so long for him.

His smile grew, and the only thing preventing Ciri from ducking her head was his hand still holding her cheek.

“Very good, sweetheart, I’m proud of you both.” And as if that wasn’t enough, he leaned down to kiss them both, one at a time. First Morvran, who made a choked little whimper and clutched ever tighter at the sheets by his side until Ciri couldn’t resist anymore and took his hand instead. She told herself that it was alright now, he said they couldn’t play while he was gone but Daddy was here now, and holding hands wasn’t even playing –

A warm mouth landed on hers, and all of Ciri’s thoughts fled her brain. She was never ever going to get used to the taste of her Daddy’s mouth or the feel of his tongue. Ciri would have had more sympathy for the noise Morvran made when Daddy kissed him, if she were able to think anything around the way Daddy’s lips and tongue and teeth felt like he was going to devour her whole and give her everything she ever wanted.

Another little whine sounded beside her, and the tightening of Morvran’s fingers against Ciri’s managed to break into her world, and she didn’t pull away from Daddy’s mouth, but her eyes opened, and she caught a glimpse of movement beside her out the corner of her eye. When Daddy finally released Ciri’s mouth, she pouted, but that didn’t stop her from turning her head to see what was going on next to her.

While he’d been kissing her, apparently Daddy had let his hand on Morvran’s cheek wander some, and was now stroking over his chest, while Morvran wriggled and squirmed and arched his back into Daddy’s touch. Ciri sighed in some combination of arousal and jealousy as broad fingers passed over one of Morvran’s nipples and he squeaked at the feeling.

“I haven’t forgotten you, sweet girl,” Daddy murmured in her ear, and she shuddered again as his hand stroked downwards past her collarbones and began to take up a path matching the one on Morvran. Her hand twined with his clutched tight as she took her turn arching into Daddy’s perfect hands. Every time he brushed over her little tits she cried out, wanting more so badly it hurt, and she didn’t know how to get it other than to lie there and writhe.

Just as her frustration reached a point that Ciri was ready to cry, Daddy stopped stroking and took himself a handful of tit, pinching at the nipple. She could just barely see past the blinding want to notice him doing the same to Morvran, and they cried out in twin voices, high and needy as Daddy gave them more.

It was good, it was so good, and Ciri could feel herself dripping where her legs were spread how Daddy liked, but it still wasn’t enough. Her scattered mind was no help at all, she had no idea how to ask for the next thing, could only barely conceive what was next because of the heat and clench of her cunt around nothing felt so wrong. Putting that into words, however, was far beyond Ciri, the only thing she could possibly think to say being directionless begging.

Hands never stopping, Daddy leaned up just a little bit, and looked back and forth between Ciri and Morvran as they panted and moaned and pleaded beneath him.

“I think Ciri gets Daddy’s cock first tonight,” he said, and Ciri yelped in a desperate mix of need and thankfulness that he’d figured out what she wanted. “I thought you might like that, sweetheart, and you were even more patient waiting for me, I could see.” Even as he spoke he kept one hand on Morvran while beginning to shove down his braies with the other, letting his cock spring free and making Ciri’s mouth water. “Morvran got the first kiss, so Ciri can have my cock first, and then Morvran after, how’s that sound.”

When the pair on the bed made another twinned set of moans, he smiled down at them. Ciri’s entire world was made up of that smile on her Daddy’s face, and the tight grasp of Morvran’s hand in hers as Daddy kept playing with his little nipples, and the way Daddy reached down to hold his cock steady and brush it over Ciri’s wet little lips, passing over her clit and making her feel so good she was ready to burst. He rubbed over her twice more like that, as Ciri moaned and thrashed, then finally, finally began to press into her and she wailed.

Daddy was so good to her, so good, and Ciri never wanted to be anywhere other than under him as he thrust in to fill her little cunt with his big hard cock and light her up like a firework. She probably begged during that first long press, she wasn’t sure, it may not have been actual words that made up the noise she knew she was making, but she didn’t care, she had her Daddy and he was inside her and smiling as he leaned down to kiss her, and nothing else in the world mattered.

Once he was all the way inside her, Daddy began to thrust, slow and powerful, as Ciri fell apart, holding Morvran’s hand like a lifeline and only barely aware of the way he was turned towards her, watching her face scrunch up in pleasure. With one particularly hard thrust, her Daddy managed to make her little tits bounce, and the motion caught Morvran’s eye and kept his attention. He brought the hand not holding Ciri’s over to trace over her tit, circling around her nipple experimentally. Somehow the feeling of it didn’t get lost in the wash of pleasure Ciri was drowning in, and nor did her Daddy miss her reaction as her cunt clenched down on him.

“Very good, baby boy,” he murmured, not at all winded by the thorough fucking he was giving, and Ciri felt Morvran’s hand twitch in surprise and delight at the praise from their Daddy. “You can pinch and twist a little, she likes it, there you go. I’m here now, so you can play.”

With that encouragement, Morvran’s fingers set to work, less expertly than their Daddy’s on her other nipple, but no less enthusiastic. For a few minutes, Ciri felt herself wind tighter and tighter, with Daddy’s cock filling her perfectly, and Daddy and Morvran playing with her tits, but it wasn’t quite enough somehow, she was sure there was still higher she could go. Just as she was about to break and try to ask for something, Daddy’s hand left her tit, and before Ciri had the chance to whine about it, that same hand was between her thighs, pressing at her hard, swollen little clit.

That was the last thing she had needed, Ciri realized, as she raced frantically towards that higher she knew was there. Daddy’s fingers circled and flicked, matching Morvran’s on her tit, and Daddy’s perfect, beautiful cock hit her right where she needed it inside her. With a long scream, Ciri came so hard her vision blacked out as Daddy and Morvran kept playing with her just right.

It would always be too soon for Daddy to pull out of her, but he gave her a minute or two to come back down before kissing her gently, and moving over to see to Morvran. Ciri felt thoroughly limp, but she kept her hold on Morvran’s hand, and rolled over to watch better as Daddy made sure Morvran was wet and open enough before beginning to fuck him slowly and powerfully, the way he’d begun with Ciri.

Morvran panted and moaned and whined and cried out as their Daddy fucked him, probably at least as loud as Ciri had been, and his face was fascinating to watch, creased in bliss. She shuffled a little closer, tucking her knees up as she cuddled in against him, not concerned by the way Daddy’s thrusts jostled both of them. With her face pillowed on Morvran’s shoulder, Ciri brought the hand not still twined with his over to trace idly across his chest, realizing as she did that she was returning what Morvran had done for her while she was being fucked.

At that realization, Ciri became more intentional about playing over Morvran’s nipple, looking up at her Daddy as she did, to make sure this was okay.

Daddy nodded encouragingly, and said, “That’s right, sweet girl, it’s good of you to play nicely with him like he did with you.” A little warm thrill shot through Ciri at even more praise from her Daddy, and she set to work enjoying the sight of her pale fingers against Morvran’s skin and the feeling of his nipple tight and hard under her touch.

It seemed almost too soon to Ciri before Daddy was reaching down to stroke Morvran’s little prick and make him come too, but she trusted that Daddy knew when Morvran had enough, and she was happy to watch his face scrunch tight and then open as he relaxed in the wake of it. He still hadn’t let go of her hand, and once his prick was done twitching, Morvran angled his neck so he could lean his head against Ciri’s, still too tired and wrung out to curl over to cuddle against her properly. That was alright, Ciri could do the cuddling for both of them, and snuggled even closer as their Daddy stood over them and looked down at them while stroking his hard cock. It was only fair that both of them end up covered in come, after all, and Ciri hummed happily when the first drops landed on her hip and belly.

Ciri closed her eyes, knowing that Daddy would get them cleaned up and into bed eventually, but for now she could curl up with Morvran, knowing that Daddy was there to take care of them.

#golden daddy kink #golden pseudo incest #golden ageplay #golden underage #could be either/or for those last two dealer's choice #golden ciri x coen #golden ciri x morvran #golden ciri x coen x morvran #dead dove #like sorta

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golden-kinks · 3 years

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Celus holy fuuuuuuuuck 😳😳🥴

Since we're On our Ciri x Wolves bullshit, and definitely Ciri learned some things from her Mama Yen, I would like to suggest we let her peg. Just,,, Ciri having the time of her life with a squirming mess of witcher at the end of her strap, and everyone gets like minimum 4 orgasms apiece. With love, 😘💋

i asked for numbers on what prompt to work on and this was the winner! have a wholeass fic juuuust skating by under my ao3 posting word limit of ciri/lambert, in which lambert is the one getting wrecked for once.

dom/sub vibes though nothing concrete, top ciri, bottom lambert, pegging, multiple orgasms (as usual), enthusiastic if a little unclear consent

enjoy 😘

She’s not really sure what tips her over the edge, all told.

It could be the bitter, biting cold. It could be the repeated sword drills Vesemir is running her through, things she could do in her sleep. It could be her sore arms, shoulders, legs, entire body that aches because of the sword drills from yesterday.

It could be Lambert’s continued snark from across the courtyard, all jeering snorts and sharp, veiled insults in Toussaintois that he thinks Ciri doesn’t understand.

...it’s definitely Lambert.

She doesn’t hear exactly what he mutters when Vesemir first puts them together for yet more sword drills, but she does catch something about little girl, and that immediately sets her teeth on edge, remembering all the years that he told her she was doing well for a girl, and I can’t believe a girl can do that.

But Vesemir and his sword drills don’t care about Lambert’s bad mood – or hers, for that matter – so she ignores the prickling of her anger and takes the correct stance, waiting for Vesemir to motion them to start. They go through the drill perfectly, of course, both of them so well trained it’s even deeper than muscle memory, and then years of sparring with each other mean that they’re able to compensate for each other with the same kind of skill.

Lambert, though, seems determined to keep it up with the snark, so when they finish the drill and Ciri curses and leans against a nearby barrel, he’s opening his mouth again.

“Glad to see your footwork isn’t as piss-poor up close as it looked like it was,” he says, and Ciri rolls her eyes and makes a rude gesture, but doesn’t rise to the bait.

Vesemir seems irritated, too, at least, but once again his sword drills are much more important, so he barks an order and they’re back to stances. Ciri pretends she doesn’t see the scowl on Lambert’s face, and further pretends that she doesn’t notice his “slip” as he tries to trip her; they go through the drill just as flawlessly as before, and Vesemir tosses them both full waterskins and gestures to the short barrels across the way.

Ciri takes the offer to rest and practically runs, collapsing onto one of the barrels and draining the waterskin in a handful of greedy swallows, some escaping down her chin and neck to wet her shirt. That doesn’t help with the cold at all, but she’s grateful for the water all the same.

“Who raised you,” Lambert mutters as he joins her, taking a sip of his own waterskin that looks entirely too prissy. Intentional, probably. Ciri just snorts and doesn’t give him the pleasure of a reply.

He knows damn well who raised her, and getting a little water on her face after a drill session is hardly passé when Geralt is the only Wolf Witcher who regularly eats his food with utensils.

Entirely too soon, Vesemir is calling them back, and this time for proper sparring instead of just the drills. On one hand, it’s much more engaging to actually spar versus going through repetitive drills, but on the other, she’s tired and aching and Lambert’s already in a pissy mood, which means that he’s going to put her through her paces and then some.

She sighs, but readies herself all the same, and tries to ignore the way Lambert spits something more in Toussaintois again, too quick to catch, but the little girl is still clear. She grits her teeth.

“If you’re going to insult me, at least say it to my face and in a language we share, Lamb.”

The nickname is intentional. Maybe if she can get him to snap, Vesemir will call off the training and they can all go inside. Ciri wants to take a very long, very hot bath, and Lambert can go cool off in his alchemy lab, or whatever the fuck he wants to do that isn’t being a pain in Ciri’s side.

No luck, though. At least not yet.

“Fine,” Lambert sneers. “I said: I can't believe I’m the one stuck sparring with the little girl again.”

Ciri frowns, but doesn’t reply, because Vesemir picks then to snap, loud and quick, and she and Lambert are both moving on instinct.

He wouldn’t actually aim to hurt her, she knows, but she can also tell that he’s not pulling his blows, which is a dangerous game to play. If Vesemir sees it, he’s not saying anything, and she sucks in a harsh breath and backs up, parrying each of his strikes as she walks them around in a circle til they’ve switched sides. It gives her the barrels to her back, which would be a problem except that she plans to spin them again, once Lambert makes the mistake of getting close enough.

And he will make that mistake, Ciri knows, because he always makes that mistake when he’s practice sparring.

Exactly as expected, once she’s in position, he advances on her. It’s clear he’s planning to press her back into the barrels and make her lose her balance, but he doesn’t expect her to duck under her own parry and his arm, spin around, and grab him by the hair with a sharp yank.

He makes a high, startled noise, and drops his sword as he tries to reach back and get a hand on her; it’s easy to avoid the grasp and, with a kick to the back of his legs, shove him to the ground. Another yank at his hair pulls his head back, throat exposed, and she sets the flat of her blade against where his Adam's apple is bobbing.

“Yield,” she says, clear and firm even though she’s panting a little.

Lambert scowls, clearly prepared to be a brat about it, but she just pulls harder at his hair, enough to force him off of balance, and leans down close to his face.

“I said yield, little boy,” she murmurs, in perfect Toussaintois.

Lambert sucks in a breath, eyes going wide, and Ciri can smell the change in the sweat on his skin, the uptick in his heart rate. Vesemir makes a disgusted noise from where he stands a few paces away.

“Really?” Ciri asks, unable to stop herself from laughing a little as she tosses her sword to the side. “That's what you wanted, Lamb?”

“Fuck you,” Lambert says, but unlike his snarking from earlier, there’s no bite to it. In fact, his voice is breathless and pitched low, and despite the fact that Ciri has abandoned her weapon, he stays on his knees and doesn’t fight her grip on his hair.

Vesemir makes that same disgusted noise again. “I don’t want to see it, you two,” he mutters. “Training’s done for the day. Find a bedroom.” He stomps away, steps echoing on the cracked flagstones.

Still, Lambert doesn’t move, clearly waiting for Ciri’s word. She grins and nuzzles against his ear, breathing in the sweet-sharp of arousal on his skin and watching the veins in his neck jump.

“Are you going to be good?” she asks, twisting her fingers in his hair to pull just a little bit harder, and he whines, fists clenching.

“Y-yes,” he finally gasps, and she hums, dropping a chaste kiss to the corner of his jaw and letting go of his hair to pet through it, scratching gently at his scalp.

“Good boy.”

– – – – –

She doesn’t even have to tell him to follow her up to her room, he just does, looking a little dazed and more than a little lovestruck every time she turns back to make sure he’s still behind her. She’s giggling about it when they finally get in, the door slamming as she leans against it, and all it takes is a gentle push at Lambert’s shoulder and he’s on his knees again.

“Good,” she coos. “You’re much nicer when you get what you want, aren’t you?”

She start to pull at the laces of her breeches, and Lambert swallows hard, eyes flickering down to her hand and then rapidly back up to her face. She just grins at him and tugs her pants open before shimmying them down her hips. He reaches up to help, then, pulling them down to her feet and helping her out of her boots before tugging them off and tossing them to the side.

As he settles back onto his heels, hands in his lap, she threads a hand through his hair again. It’s soft and a little tangled, but clean and not dyed, this far into winter. She twists some of the curls around her fingers, and the tugging motion makes Lambert shudder, eyes fluttering closed before he sucks in a sudden breath and opens them again.

“I think you should put that filthy mouth to good use,” she murmurs, and watches the shiver that ripples through his whole body before he’s inching forward, eyes on her face the whole time to see if he’s allowed. She just obligingly lifts a leg, letting him press up close so she can drape it over his shoulder as she pets at his head. “Yeah, there you go. Right where you belong, hm?”

He doesn’t reply, but he does make an agreeable sound as he shifts until he can get his mouth on her. She moans, rolling her hips to give him more access and shivering when his hands come up to her hips.

The first exploratory little lick is barely more than a tease but it still sends lightning up her spine. The second is more, Lambert’s tongue dipping inside of her before it flicks up to curl around her clit, and she jerks a little with a sharp gasp, head thudding against the door. He squeezes her hip, a silent question, and she laughs breathlessly.

“Fine, I’m fine, fuck, don’t stop,” she pants, and he hums his acknowledgement right against her clit, making her thighs spasm and hips jerk. “Oh! Oh, fuck yes, Lamb….”

He makes another wordless sound, more of a rumble than anything else, and one of his hands slides from her hip across her ass, massaging at the firm muscle before it slips between her thighs so he can trace around her cunt. She groans, needy, and bucks her hips again and again, until he gives in and gives her the two fingers teasing at her hole, one smooth thrust that sinks them into the knuckles.

She wails, clenching around them and making a mess of his face and the floor, her other hand dropping to his hair so she can grind needily against his face. He lets her, encourages her, even, fingers hooked and rubbing mercilessly at that soft, sensitive spot just inside her as she whines. At some point, his mouth closes around her clit again and he sucks none too gently, making her practically thrash where she’s half-standing, pleasure roaring through her sharp and startling.

“Oh, oh, fuck, yes – Lambert, fuck.”

He allows her a few moments to settle from the first orgasm, but only a few; as soon as her knees aren’t trembling anymore he’s moving again, fingers moving faster as he fucks her and tongue working against her clit, her labia, dipping inside to tease alongside his fingers.

She shudders and rocks along with his rhythm, eyes rolling as the pleasure builds again, too quickly but so fucking good she doesn’t do anything except moan his name again and grind against his face, his knuckles. At some point, he gets her other leg up on his shoulder so he’s holding her up against the door, arm twisted to keep fingerfucking her and face buried in her cunt as if he has no desire to come up for air.

As she tumbles rapidly into a second orgasm, she’s not certain she’ll ever let him. Her whole body rolls, back arching to press her hips against his face, the grip she has on his hair a counterpoint to keep him close, and he just moans in response, starting to fuck her on his tongue, too, and letting her grind against his face until he’s messy and his arms are trembling slightly.

“Bed,” she demands, even as she rolls her hips against his mouth. “Want you to fuck me.”

Lambert whimpers, turning his head to bite softly at her thigh before he’s pulling back and letting her down, stumbling drunkenly to his feet. She stops him before he can turn and fumble his way to the bed, tugging him down to kiss her, heedless of the mess she’s made of him and the salt-tang taste of her own cunt on his tongue.

“Such a good boy,” she murmurs, right against his lip, and grins when he just whimpers and paws at her, mostly useless. “On the bed.”

He goes, shedding clothes haphazardly as he does, and she quickly divests herself of the rest of her own before opening the chest at the footboard. Lambert perks up at the sound, eyes going wide, but she just grins wickedly at him.

“It’s a surprise,” she says, setting the leather harness and its additional pieces down next to the side, where he can’t see unless he crawls over to look over the edge of the bed.

That taken care of, she crawls onto the bed with him, getting an arm around his shoulders so that when she lays back he comes with her, only just managing to get an elbow underneath him so he doesn’t fall entirely on top of her. She just wraps the rest of her limbs around him and pulls him down into another kiss, gasping into his mouth when the rough scars on his chest press against her sensitive nipples.

“Fuck me,” she orders. “Wanna come on your cock, too.”

Lambert makes a high, broken noise at that, burying his face into her throat and biting softly as his hips jerk, grinding his leaking cock over her thigh and belly. She just hums, the laugh in it clear as day, and pets his back, his shoulders.

It takes a handful of moments, but he eventually gathers himself again, licking apologetically over the bite at her throat before he shifts up, realigning their bodies so they’re closer together, his cock slotting against her slit perfectly. They both groan at that, and he reaches down to hold himself there as he rocks a little, grinding the head of himself against her clit.

“Fuck, fuck,” Ciri gasps, clawing at his shoulders. “Hn, inside, now.”

He nods and leans down to kiss her again, sloppy and open-mouthed as he adjusts and presses the head of his cock to her hole, the pressure entirely too good before her cunt gives away and he thrusts, gentle but sure, all the way. She bites at his lip, sucks softly at where it splits on her teeth, and he jerks, grinding deeply enough that she jolts with the ache.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, letting her head fall back. “Yeah, just like that. Make me come.”

He makes a sound, a wordless garble of something, but then he’s moving, hitching one of her legs higher and angling his hips until she whines, then using the hand he’s not balancing over her on to press against her belly. With just a little pressure, she suddenly feels like she’s about to explode, lost for a long moment to anything that isn’t the feeling of his cock inside her, each movement grinding him perfectly over that burningly sensitive little spot.

“La – ah, ah, Lamb, Lambert, fuck,” she babbles, hands still curled into claws at his shoulders. He just makes another wordless noise, soft and soothing but encouraging, as well, and kisses over her throat. Soft, wet little presses of lips over her jumping pulse, along the tendon that’s always startlingly sensitive when she’s already overwhelmed like this, tracing across her collarbone. It’s that, ultimately, that makes her come the third time – the wordless reverence he shows her, even as his cock makes obscene noises as it slams into her.

She giggles breathlessly when the clenching rhythm of her body yanks him along, the startled noise he makes as he whispers, “Oh, shit, Ciri,” and spills. He whimpers through it, quiet, hurt little noises as his entire body pulses along, and she mumbles soothingly at him, petting his hair and his back, down over his ass and then back up.

They settle together for a long moment, Ciri luxuriating in his weight overtop her, his cock not even going soft inside her. For his part, he keeps petting her; her sides, her legs, her hair, and back again. When she’s finally got her breath back, though, she pets pointedly over his ass again, fingers tracing the very edge of the split.

He shudders, head pressed into her shoulder, and cants his hips back against her hand, finally slipping out of her cunt.

“Hm?”

He nuzzles further against her throat, mouthing at her collarbone, and murmurs, “Yes, please.”

“Good boy,” she praises. “Let me get everything.”

He makes a vaguely disgruntled noise, but, with one last sucking kiss to her neck, allows her to slip out from under him so she can gather the harness, its toy, and the oil. She puts the oil and the toy onto the bed and starts unbuckling the harness so she can step into it, but Lambert’s hands on hers stop her, and it’s not difficult to guess what he wants.

She grins and kisses his forehead. “Go ahead,” she offers, and hands the harness over. He clambers off of the bed and then goes to his knees again, fumbling for a moment with the straps until he gets them undone and straightened. She waits patiently, just watching him, then steps into the harness when he’s ready, letting him pull it up to her hips and buckle it securely. He fusses with the straps for a bit, making sure they sit flat and tight but comfortable on her thighs, over her hips and waist, but it doesn’t take long for that to devolve into him kissing at her skin where the harness reveals it, fingers tracing the lines.

“So perfect,” she murmurs, shivering as he drags open-mouthed kisses over her inner thigh. “C’mon, want to fuck you now.”

He shudders visibly, lashes fluttering as he ducks to rest his forehead against her belly for a moment, but then he’s nodding and climbing back onto the bed, grabbing the oil as he goes.

“Gonna put on a show for me?” she asks, grinning, and he nods, eyes half-lidded as he watches her attach the toy to the harness. “Good.”

She gets onto the bed once the fake cock is secured, but stays sitting on her knees near the edge, watching as Lambert pours oil over his fingers before turning onto his belly so he can reach back and press them to his hole. He’s stretched out to do it, chest to the bed and hips only just raised, and Ciri can’t help but reach between her legs to stroke at her clit as she watches.

He’s anything but hesitant as he opens himself up for her, starting off with two fingers and adding a third quickly enough that Ciri knows it has to sting. But he’s clearly enjoying it, moaning open-mouthed into the bed as his hips buck back against his fingers, thigh muscles jumping.

For a moment, she entertains the thought of getting off right here, watching him, but she knows that orgasm four would make her entirely too sensitive to grind up against the harness for any amount of time, so she indulges in a few more slick touches before taking her hand away and instead crawling up the bed to where Lambert has his legs spread obscenely.

“Good boy,” she murmurs, dropping the first kiss to the back of his hip. The next is lower, and then lower, until she’s kissing at his wrist as he twists his fingers inside himself. He makes a weak, desperate little sound, and she giggles, biting at his ass cheek before she grabs the oil and pours a healthy amount of it over her own fingers. He cedes control to her instantly, easily, and she rewards that with three of her own fingers, sinking them into him with ease.

He outright keens, both hands fisting into the sheets and hips jerking back. She can’t get her fingers any deeper, so instead she just curls them down, tucking her thumb under her hand to press at his taint. The sudden, inescapable pressure on his prostate makes him keen again, leg kicking as he shudders hard enough to rock the whole bed. She grins and keeps it up, until his entire body is shaking and each breath he takes is accompanied by a pitchy whine.

“Yes or no,” she says, soft but just loud enough to be heard over his helpless noises. He thrashes, making a sharp little noise that’s cut off as she presses harder against his prostate, but then he’s gasping, “Yes, yes, fuck, Ciri, please – ”

She leans over far enough to bite at the nape of his neck, the angle also forcing her fingers harder against his prostate, and revels in the way he wails for her. “Just like this, be a good boy,” she murmurs, licking at the indents of her teeth on his skin. “Come for me.”

It only takes a few more moments before he’s doing as he’s told, seizing and clenching so hard around her knuckles it almost hurts as he comes again, definitely too soon for even his reduced refractory time. She coos at him as he whimpers, slowly gentling her touch until finally she slips her fingers out of him, moving her hand down to gently pet over his balls where they’re still throbbing, and then his cock, only half-hard as it spurts.

“Fffffffuck,” he gasps after a long moment. She laughs and kisses along his spine.

“Still want more?”

“Please.”

“Always so needy when you get like this,” Ciri teases, but each word is so saturated in affection the effect is mostly lost. “On your back.”

It takes a bit of struggling, but eventually Lambert ends up on his back, legs still spread wide to allow Ciri between them. His hair is a mess, face blotchy red and streaked with drying tear tracks, but when she leans close he grabs at her, yanking her in for a messy, uncoordinated kiss. She gentles him down slowly, sucking at his lips and stroking his sides, until he finally stops trembling and pulls back to pant softly.

“Look so good like this,” Ciri murmurs, ducking down to suck at one of his nipples. He whines, but arches up against her mouth, so she leaves that one with a hard suck before biting her way to the other. “Being so good for me.”

He makes a vaguely agreeable sound in reply, one of his hands sinking into her hair. He doesn’t try to direct her, just seemingly holds on, and she grins, kissing over his chest, down his belly, then back up to his mouth before she sits up.

Immediately, he’s lifting his hips into her lap, clearly eager even though he’s mostly soft and covered in his own mess. She wraps one hand around his hip, the other around her fake cock, and slowly, carefully presses into him, eyes flicking between where he stretches around the toy and his face, watching for any discomfort.

She never finds any. The more of the cock she shoves into him, the more limp he goes, until his head is lolling back against the sheets, his mouth wide open as he pants and makes needy, desperate little noises, eyes rolled back.

Each gentle thrust of the toy makes her shudder, the harness built perfectly so she can grind against it with each movement, and each time she shivers, Lambert does, too, a feedback loop of pleasure between them. Finally, when she’s finally sunk to the hilt, she slides her hand up to his chest, then this throat.

She knows that his instinct, when she wraps a hand around his throat, is to fight. The fact that she does it now and all he does is press his head back to give her more room and moan is a heady rush, and she can’t stop herself from leaning down to kiss him, too, the movement making her hip shift, grinding her just a little deeper into his body.

He’s panting wildly but willingly gives up his air for her kiss. She feels him swallow against her palm, feels how his pulse is picking up again, senses the thrum of his body as he carefully rolls his hips to feel her cock inside him.

“P-please,” he pants against her mouth, and she hums, squeezing his throat just slightly before sitting back up and moving.

The first thrust makes him moan, and the second makes him whine. After that, as she starts to move faster, he’s reduced to a jumble of noises, all high and broken. She’s not much better, grinding against the harness and seeing him fall apart caught on her plenty to get her going, never mind the three orgasms she has under her belt.

“Look so pretty getting fucked,” she murmurs, leaning back down so she can mouth at his throat, his shoulder. “Every single time, Lamb. Fuck, feels so good to fuck you, too, gonna come again just from this, shit.”

Lambert whimpers, higher and needier than the others before. “Please,” he gasps brokenly, “fff, Ciri, please, oh, fuck – ”

She shoves a hand between them, feeling where his cock is valiantly twitching back to life, and grins. “You like that,” she whispers, right into his ear. “Like that you make me feel good, like that I’m so close to coming inside you?”

He jolts, cock throbbing hard in her palm, and nods frantically. “Yes, yes, oh fuck – ”

Her eyes roll as she hits a perfect rhythm, and she bites at Lambert’s ear. “Yeah, yeah, just like this – gonna come, Lamb, you’re going to make me come again, ffffuck, yes!”

She jerks as the pleasure crashes through her, grinding into Lambert with no rhythm as her cunt clenches around nothing, entire body going white-hot for a split second before her senses start to come back. Lambert is clinging to her and whining, fucking himself back on her cock as he waits for her to come back down. The movement is shocky and too much against her, but she grits her teeth and moves, short, sharp thrusts with her hips angled just right as she starts stroking his renewed erection.

He’s clearly just as sensitive as she is, keening and thrashing with each thrust, clenching so tight around her cock that she can feel it, feel how hard it is to pull out and push back into him.

“C’mon,” Ciri encourages in his ear. “Wanna feel you come around me just like this.” She moves a little faster, squeaking with her own oversensitivity.

Lambert whimpers, the sound long and drawn out and shaky, and comes again, entire body shuddering with each pulse as he makes a sticky mess of their bellies. Ciri leans down and kisses him through it, heedless of how erratic his breathing is or how uncoordinated the kiss ends up, their lips just smearing together as both of them pant.

“Fuck,” he hisses emphatically when he finally comes down, even though his legs are still twitching. “Fuck, Ciri.”

She hums and slowly pulls out of him, just to flop onto her back and yank him in to cuddle against her side. He comes easily, wrapping around her and nuzzling against her throat.

“Feel better?” she asks after a moment.

He snorts softly and nibbles at her collarbone, but after a moment he nods. “Yeah,” he admits. “...thanks.”

“Mm,” Ciri turns her head to kiss his temple. “Try asking next time.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Her hand makes a satisfying thud when she whacks his back, but she’s laughing, too.

#golden reblog #golden pseudo incest #dead dove #babe babe oh my g o d

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