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sheepwithspecs · 7 months

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30 Day NSFW Challenge: Day 3

|| PLvsAA || Rated M || (1 /29)

Ao3 Link

A NSFW collection based off the 30 Days OTP NSFW Challenge prompt list on Tumblr: all Barnham/Darklaw. Different ratings, universes, etc. but it's all varying levels of NSFW content.

Day 3: First Time

“I can’t show you!”

“Why not?” Zacharias Barnham was a man who prided himself on patience. After all, it was practically the first tenant of knighthood. But his patience—or lack thereof—was his weak spot, and now it was being sorely tested by the one person on the island whose opinion truly mattered: his girlfriend.

Eve had summoned him at the last minute, all but demanding he make the lengthy journey across the island to her home. Never mind that he’d worked a full shift in the bakery that day, or that he’d spent the better part of the evening training with his squire. Never mind that he’d only just showered, and changed into his nightclothes, and collapsed onto the bed with an exhausted groan. No, he must come, and his many questions must go unanswered until the moment he arrived on her doorstep. But now that he was here, having gotten dressed, saddled his horse, and raced across the fields in the dusky twilight, she refused to see him.

Or, rather, she refused to let him see her.

“What am I meant to do?” he huffed, throwing up his hands as the last shreds of his patience began to fray at the seams. “Stand here until dawn?” The lady’s maid that had accompanied him upstairs shrugged her shoulders, the very picture of disinterest.

“Your guess is as good as mine, sir.” She leveled a brow at him, the corner of her mouth quirked in a half-smile. It was as though she dared him to try and take the reins from Eve’s hands, to regain some control of the chaos. But how could he possibly do that, when he had no idea what the problem even was?! “In any case, good luck.” Before he could say a word she was halfway down the hall, washing her hands of the whole situation with a toss of her braid.

“Ugh….” Stumped, he turned back to the locked door. “I’ve had a long day, Eve, and I’m tired. If you refuse to open the door, I’m returning to the bakery and—”

“No! Please, wait.” The lock clicked, but when he moved to open the door he found it braced from the other side. There was a muffled thump and a small sigh; he could only imagine Eve leaning against the door, her cheek to the solid wood as she held it shut. “I’m worried you might… laugh at me.”

“Trust me: I am not in a laughing mood.”

“See? You’re already upset. What if you get even angrier when I show you?”

“I—” He sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth, willing his temper to die down before he proved her point. “I am not going to be angry,” he promised, once he was sure he could speak without raising his voice. “Now let me in, or I’m going home.” The door finally opened just enough to show a single, beautiful eyeball gazing mournfully at him through the crack.

“Promise you won’t laugh at me.”

“I swear it.” The crack widened until it was just large enough for him to squeeze through. He hesitated only a moment, wondering why she saw fit to hide behind the door instead of greeting him with her usual enthusiasm. Normally she was wont to tackle him the moment he made his presence known, pawing and pouting until he obligingly bent low enough for a kiss. Had something changed? Was she already growing tired of their newly fledged relationship?

Of course not. With a firm shake of his head, he purged the fleeting doubts before they had time to take root. Eve cared for him and valued his good opinion; she would not be so worried about his laughter or his anger, were it not so. And, were she planning to end the relationship today, why would she bother waiting until so late in the evening? Why would she invite him into the comfort and privacy of her own home? She could have just as easily met him at the Courthouse, or the tavern, or the Square. No, she had not called him here for that; though rusty with disuse, his inquisitor’s sense told him something more was at play here.

“D-Don’t turn around just yet.” He obediently stopped in the center of the room, staring at the wide four poster bed on the opposite wall. A white cardboard box lay open at the foot of the bed, tissue paper and ribbons thrown in disarray across the neatly turned bedsheets. His brows creased as he added this new piece of information to the puzzle, newfound curiosity at war with his honor as a knight, a boyfriend, and a man of his word.

“Did you visit the tailor?”

“Well…” Eve shut the door behind him, the lock clicking back into place. “Sort of,” she muttered, creeping up to stand directly behind him. Loose curls tickled his arms as she pressed her forehead against his spine, embracing him from behind. Her forearms were bare, a rare sight for someone so cold-natured.

“May I see?” he asked gently, chaffing the back of her palm with his thumb. She tightened her grip, nails digging into the fabric of his polo shirt. “I did promise,” he reminded her, taking her hand and squeezing it in his own. “There is nothing you could wear that would make me think less of you—unless ‘tis some variation of that absurd outfit Foxy dares to call armor.” The remark earned him a watery chuckle.

“Alright.” She pulled away with a resigned sigh. “Turn around, if you must.”

He turned, fully expecting to see some outlandish, poofy, patterned abomination that would make anyone immediately burst into laughter at a glance. Something with a bustle and petticoats and yards upon yards of neon-colored lace, polka-dots and pinstripes: in short, everything that belonged beneath the wide stripes of a circus tent. In truth he nearly fell to his knees in shock at the sight before him, practically glowing with embarrassment beneath the chandelier. There was lace, to be clear, and it was patterned, but—

“Why—?” he choked, his voice failing him in his astonishment, “W-Why did you think I’d laugh?”

“Because I look ridiculous!” Eve crossed her arms, shaking her head so to better hide her humiliation behind a curtain of dark curls. “I’ve never bought anything like this before, and the lady at the shoppe assured me this was the newest style, but—” She averted her eyes, everything from the tip of her nose to her collarbone mottled with shame. “I look as though I’m wearing my great-grandmother’s lace curtains….”

“You look….” He faltered, uncertain of what he might say to help allay her fears. Stunning? Ethereal? He didn’t want to frighten her off with prose. Beautiful? Mind-blowing? No, she might mistake that for teasing. Gorgeous? Better off sticking to words he could easily spell…. “You look sexy.”

Blathering, brainless idiot! He winced, cursing his tactless tongue. Of all the words in all the dictionaries of the world, he had to go and choose the cheapest, most inefficient, the one that all but stated outright his—

“R-Really? You really think so?” Eve risked a shy glance, peering at him through her eyelashes. “It’s not… you don’t think it’s too much?”

“No, not at all!” he quickly agreed. “It’s… may I have a closer look?”

“I mean… why do you have to ask?” she mumbled, letting her arms fall away reluctantly. “It’s for you, isn’t it?”

“Eh? Is it?”

“Wh— Who else would it be for?!” She glared at him now, further embarrassment fueling her ire. “Aren’t girlfriends supposed to buy cute things to wear for their boyfriends?”

“Hmm? Are they?” he asked absently, his eyes roaming every spare inch of exposed skin and hands fisted at his sides. He didn’t trust himself to touch, at least not until he was acclimated to the sight of her.

Eve wore a lace robe that was clearly meant to be seen through, tied at her waist with a silk ribbon. The white lace formed elegant patterns on her bare skin, the scalloped hem brushing against the tops of her thighs. Beneath the robe she wore a matching black lingerie set, solid fabric edged with more lace. In truth, he was not thinking much about curtains at all. The only thing on his mind was the way the fabric pushed her breasts together, a soft pillow he’d be more than happy to bury his face in. And her thighs on full display, creamy against the pale lace… he cleared his throat, reminding himself to breathe.

“I’ve never bought anything like this before,” she repeated, venturing closer. He reached out, taking the edge of the ribbon and rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. “But I used to think about it… before…. Buying something pretty and wearing it to the Courthouse, letting you see and pretending I didn’t notice.” Another step. “I used to wonder what you would think to know the High Inquisitor had a reason to wear lace… and was shameless enough to wear it to work. It would have been our little secret.”

“I never looked under your skirt,” he protested, tugging at the ribbon until the knot slid undone with a whisper of silk.

“Never?”

“Not… intentionally.” Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his waist and tugged him until they stood chest to chest, scant layers of cloth and lace separating their bodies. He gulped, praying that she wouldn’t realize just how hard he was beneath his trousers. From the way she pressed herself against him, lifting onto the balls of her feet to grind against his thigh, it definitely had not escaped her notice.

“Want to know another little secret?” Resting her chin on his sternum, she plucked teasingly at his belt. “Every time you caught a little glimpse, it was because I wanted you to see.”

“I… um… I figured as much,” he choked, a blush rising to his own cheeks. He had faced countless foes in the Witch’s Court without batting an eye, his iron will strong despite the challenges. And yet how quickly she could reduce him to a stammering mess, with nothing more than a smile and a flutter of her lashes. It was astounding, and he’d yet to find the magic spell that would stop him from melting into a puddle at her feet.

“Did it make you hard?” she whispered with wicked glee, practically climbing him where he stood. He caught her before she could fall, blushing even harder when she wrapped her bare legs around his waist.

“I-I don’t remember.” For a split second he feared her to be drunk. It wasn’t like her to be so forward with her questions, especially when they had never moved beyond the occasional heavy petting. But there were no empty bottles in sight, and her eyes were clear. If she was drunk on anything, it was on her own renewed confidence. Not that he was complaining….

“Are you hard now?” she purred, toying with his collar. As if she didn’t already know, the clear evidence trapped against her. “You know, I was going to send it back, but if you really like the outfit all that much—”

“Don’t send it back,” he interrupted, adjusting his grip on her thighs as he carried her to the bed. “I like it… but right now, all I can think about is how much I want it off.” It was her turn to be shocked, eyes widening at the blatant confession.

“Then get to work.” He shook his head, his brow creasing as he tried to work out how to lay her on the bed without letting her go flying.

“I know you haven’t forgotten our agreement. Six months of dating before we move to the bedroom.”

“You agreed to it,” she argued, prodding him in the chest with one finger. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind since then.”

“Is that the case?” She nodded. “Well, you may have changed your mind, but I have not. Besides, what’s another four weeks?”

“An eternity!” She was pouting again, refusing to let go even after he laid her gently on the center of the bed. “Will you at least hold me?”

“That, I will do gladly.” He collapsed to the mattress beside her, gathering her in his arms and burying his face in the join of her neck and shoulder. If he played his cards right, he could lull her to sleep with his body heat. What he wouldn’t give to spend the night in this featherdown heaven, fast asleep in the arms of his most beloved angel….

“And kiss me?” Eve was not to be deterred, tugging at his collar until he lifted his head. He kissed her slowly, trying to relax rather than arouse her, but his own body continued to betray him. Against his better judgement he ran his hand down the scratchy lace, finding the scalloped edge and sliding beneath it to better feel her smooth skin. Kissing was still new, and they had only made out twice in their few months of courtship—three times, if they were counting that one frenzied moment in the stairwell of the bell tower. But judging by the eager sounds she was making, and the way she buried her fingers in his hair, he wasn’t doing half bad for himself.

He found her silk-clad breast and squeezed, grinning when she squeaked in surprise. His trousers were tight to the point of pain, but he ignored the discomfort in favor of rolling his thumb over her nipple—something he found she’d rather enjoyed during their last exploration. Immediately she began to squirm, thighs clamped around his leg and nails scratching at his scalp.

“What if—” she gasped as he repeated the motion, grinding hard against his thigh. “What if I were to… to do something and… um… and you watch me?” Her teeth worried her lower lip, back arching as he bent to kiss the hollow of her throat. “Would that break the agreement?”

“Maybe that depends on what you want to do.” He lifted his eyes to hers, heart thudding painfully in his chest. “And to whom.”

“T-To myself.” She carefully pushed him to the side, crawling to the head of the bed and rummaging in the bottom drawer of the bedside table. She glanced over her shoulder at him, waiting for his nod before revealing a slender device. “Do you know what this is?”

“Tis a… erm… a vibrator.” To his credit, he’d taken the initiative to educate himself on the modern world of sex following their sixth month pact. If he planned to be intimate with Eve, he wanted to be as ready as possible for anything she might throw at him. Clearly, the research was to his benefit. He would never have recognized the toy otherwise, or been able to discern its particular use.

“Well?” she asked, when he made no further comment. “Is it cheating?”

“No.” The word left his mouth before he could really consider it. “I mean… what difference does it make? You would use it even if I weren’t here. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.”

“If that were the case, I don’t know that I’d last six whole—” She stopped, cheeks burning bright red. He watched silently as she fell against the pillows, rolling onto her back and propping up her knees. Despite the comfortable position her body was tensed, eyes swimming with nervous energy as she waited for—what, his signal? Taking pity on her, he pointed to the vibrator in her hand.

“How do you turn it on?”

“Oh, you just—” In the time it took her to flip the switch he was beside her on the bed, leaning with his elbow propped on the same pillow that held her up. She jumped, gazing up at him with a shaky smile that revealed her panic.

“Eve, you don’t have to—” She cut him off with a shake of her head.

“I want to… I do, I’m just… I really haven’t done anything like this before,” she rambled, chewing her kiss swollen lips. “I don’t know how to start.”

“From my understanding—limited though it may be—one simply….” He took her hand in his, the vibrator trapped beneath their laced fingers, trailing down the center of her body. He watched with interest as the hair raised on her arms, a full body shiver running through her as they reached the edge of her panties. His hand stayed above the fabric while hers slipped beneath, fingertips grazing the damp silk before sliding back up to caress her stomach.

“Zack….” He groaned a wordless answer, aching and almost desperate enough to grind against her mattress for some semblance of relief. “Keep watching,” she demanded, pleaded, lifting her hips from the mattress with a whine.

“I am,” he promised hoarsely, teeth at her throat and hand sliding up to tease her breasts again. She gasped, chest heaving as her legs fell apart, and he found himself speaking before he realized it. “Do you think about me? When you do this?”

“Who else would it be?” He hummed noncommittal under his breath, sliding his hand back down to press against hers. The vibration thrummed through his fingers, made stronger by the way she bucked against their combined touch.

“You don’t always have to think of any one person… sometimes you can simply think of nothing at all.”

“Don’t you think of me when—oh—when you’re—”

“Who else?” he parroted, releasing her hand just to see if she would keep the pressure going on her own. She squirmed, thrusting against the air, almost dangerously quiet. “Eve? Breathe!?” She obeyed with a gulp of air, only to hold it again as a fresh wave of sensation caught her by the throat.

“I thought about you even then, before,” he murmured, only half aware that he was even speaking aloud, content to let her chase her pleasure. His attention was solely on the minute changes in her expression, in the way her lashes fluttered and jaw clenched each time his fingers found a new, even more sensitive area to explore. “Every time you flashed me in that short skirt, I thought about you for days and hated myself for it.”

“Don’t.”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t hate yourself for it,” she scolded, the words all jumbled together. “I was worse. I did it in the office. At my desk.”

“While I was there?” He nipped at her lips, coaxing her into a deep kiss.

“Sometimes,” she admitted breathlessly, the moment she was able to answer. “I can be quiet.”

“Well… don’t be.” His hand found hers again, pushing hard enough that she lifted from the bed with a sob. “Show me what I’m missing.” She obliged beautifully, grinding against his hand as she unraveled with a cry. He kept his hand tight against hers, kissing every inch of her that he could reach until she twisted away from him, over sensitized. He fumbled with the soaking wet vibrator, finally managing to turn it off.

“…turn, Zack?”

“What?” She opened her arms, beckoning him to join her again with a sleepy, sated smile.

“I asked if you wanted a turn.” Her hand slipped down to the front of his trousers, eyebrows lifting as she squeezed the full length of him for the first time.

“Nice try.” He batted her hand away, kissing her palm even as his body ached for her touch. “But I can take care of myself.”

“Oh… can I watch?”

#30 day otp challenge #barnlaw #plvsaa #my writing #zacharias barnham #eve belduke

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sheepwithspecs · 7 months

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30 Day NSFW Challenge: Day 1 + Day 2

|| PLvsAA || Rated M || (1 /29)

Ao3 Link

A NSFW collection based off the 30 Days OTP NSFW Challenge prompt list on Tumblr: all Barnham/Darklaw. Different ratings, universes, etc. but it's all varying levels of NSFW content.

Day 1 + Day 2: Cuddles & Kissing (Naked)

Eve never thought that she would enjoy someone sharing her bed. And there were times where she didn’t like it, and wished that she could sleep alone without hurting her partner’s feelings.

Sometimes it was midsummer, and the breeze was stagnant, and the lake was so thick with mosquitoes that the servants dared not open the windows even an inch. No expense was spared for comfort’s sake, and yet no amount of dehumidifiers or air conditioners or electric fans could stop the nightgown from sticking to every crevice of her body, nor prevent the sweat from dripping into her eyes. On those nights, her poor knight was banished to the outermost edges of the mattress in the hopes that his immense body heat wouldn’t be able to reach her. He took the isolation in stride, but sometimes she wondered if it was even worth the hassle. After all, she could still feel the heat radiating off his body, even with yards upon yards of cooling sheets and ice packs between them.

Sometimes she was collapsing into bed at the end of a stressful day, and even the thought of sheets brushing against her skin was too much to bear. The slightest noise grated on her eardrums as though it were magnified tenfold. Strands of loose hair felt like glass knives against her shoulders, but she did not dare tie it into a bun, knowing it would be somehow worse. No position was comfortable, and—though she would have loved being squeezed into a cube like a bunch of recycled cans—the thought of being held made her skin crawl with disgust. On those days, she could not stand the sound of her own breathing, much less anyone else. She was not sure where he went—to the tavern, perhaps, or the bakery, or even to a spare bedroom—but he knew to leave her alone… at least until she was ready to face the world.

But sometimes it was good, too.

Sometimes she woke up to find herself cradled in strong arms, her spine flush to his chest, solid and warm and comforting. Nimble, calloused fingers kneading her bare flesh beneath the blankets, massaging and prodding, testing her give the way she watched him test raw dough in the bakery. Sometimes, if he knew she was awake, his hand would find its way between her legs, teasing her to full attention. Sometimes her sleep-addled brain would try to make some sort of connection between slick thighs and olive oil and focaccia, but never enough to voice the thought aloud. He’d probably scold her for it, having inherited his boss’s opinions on the gravity of baked goods.

Sometimes, when she was really tired, she would simply lie still and let him play with her, for lack of a better term. He seemed to never tire of running his hands over her ribcage, squeezing her hips, tracing patterns over her skin with his fingertips, weighing her breasts in his palms. Soft lips kissing the crown of her head, her shoulder, the back of her neck, tasting and nibbling until she squirmed. Just roll me over and kiss me properly, she often thought to herself, but he never did. He was content to hold, to touch, gentle caresses just lazy enough that she often drifted back to sleep long before he was finished.

And sometimes she was awake enough to tease him, to arch her back and grind until he was hard and needy, his breath a low grunt in his throat. Then there was the inevitable conversation that follows, barely audible, the please, now and condom first and I take pills, you know that and ‘tis for the mess that always ends up with him rummaging around in the darkness for the box in the bedside table. Her spine cold, her ears cringing from the crackle of foil, almost too loud after the back and forth of hushed whispers. But the wait is worth it, and the cold makes the warmth even warmer once he’s wrapped himself around her again, his fingers on the rise of her hip, his breath hot against her ear, and then—

Sometimes it’s nice, sharing a bed.

#30 day otp challenge #my writing #barnlaw #zacharias barnham #eve belduke

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