rem

“D-Darling,” Aymeric all but whimpers as you find yourself in his lap, hands snaking in his hair to pull him in for another kiss.

Despite the protest in his voice, it’s half-hearted at best as his hands remain planted firmly on your hips. One look at his face confirms this suspicion, his eyes slipped shut as his mouth splits open, a soft groan spilling forth. It isn’t often you’re afforded a moment long enough to spare away to Ishgard, let alone one that coincides with a gap in Aymeric’s schedule as well. You’d be a fool not to spend it beside him, or, better, on top of him. Your lips fall onto his naturally, and it is he who takes the invitation to slide his tongue between them, desperate to taste you. Between your thighs, you can feel him growing hot and heavy as you slot your core over him.

A man so long repressed, Aymeric is alluringly eager to accept every ounce of pleasure you bestow upon him. So gracious to not only save himself and his country, the very notion that you felt the same way about him had ignited within him a want so strong it all but consumes him. All you’ve done is kiss him and laid yourself a top of him, but it’s more than enough to make him breathless and handsy. You feel them now, unrestrained finally from his cumbersome gloves and calloused from years of wielding a great sword. They ghost up the curve of your sides, squeezing at the softness of your love handles before continuing their track upward, stopping just beneath the swell of your breast and groping there.

His kiss is hot and feverish, one he only breaks to take in a lungful of air. The sight of him is more than enough to send a wave of moisture to soaked underwear. His cheeks are flushed a soft pink, his eyes so heavily lidded he looks almost tired if not for the rapid rise and fall of his chest and glossy, plump lips. You move your hips experimentally, delighting in the way his eyes flutter shut almost instantly and he releases a soft, unrestrained groan that reverberates deep within his chest.

“My dear Warrior,” he pants out, fighting to collect himself despite the way his hips lift subconsciously, seeking more friction, “might you have pity on me yet?”

“Mhm,” you purr, threading your fingers into his hair as he brings his face to your chest, “but where would the fun be in that?”

Aymeric hums some noise of agreement, content to suffer in his pleasurable torture as he lays open mouthed, wet kisses against the swell of your chest that’s uncovered. He might try to protest, but truthfully there’s no greater fantasy to him than being taken by the Warrior. To be used as a conduit for your pleasure alone had more than fueled him on several sleepless nights, when the persistent throbbing between his thighs refused to wane. He’s being a curd just to shove his face between your breasts now, and surely once this lust has passed him he’ll feel the inevitable shame, but even Halone herself could not make him part from you now.

“Can I?”

You let out a breathless chuckle as you feel his fingers ghost around the hemline of your chemise, eager to go forth but unwilling without your explicit permission. Instead you let your fingers wrap around the chains on your neck that keep the garment in place, lifting them from your head as the chest piece falls away, leaving you bare. You move your hips atop his again, moaning softly as you feel him perfectly through the layers of clothes, throbbing and twitching as he pushes upwards, chasing the friction. The hand at your side trembles as he reaches up to cradle the swell of your breast, thumb ghosting over your hardened nipple. His eyes creek open slowly, still only half open as his free hand fights its way beneath the slit in your skirt.

“You’ll be the death of me like this,” He whined softly, shaking his head as the softness of his wavy hair brushed against your chest.

Still, he cannot resist the urge to take a nipple into his mouth, lathing over it with his tongue before sucking gently.

“Ah,” you sigh softly, delighting in the feel of his mouth as you drag your hips faster over his head, “but was it not you who said this was all you could offer me?”

“I take it back,” he declares against your chest, “I think I will die if I cannot have you in the next minute.”

It takes little work to free him from the constraints of his pants. You caught him at a most opportune time, right before he was set to bed down for the night and already free of the heavy, constrictive armor. When you’ve pulled the ties apart, he all but springs free. It’s truly a gorgeous sight to behold, standing fully erect and flushed, with a pearly bead of pre-cum forming at the tip as a sparse spread of dark hair outlines the flushed base. If there was an award for the prettiest cock in all of Eorzea, you’re all but sure Aymeric would take home grand prize. What a shame he’d been so terrified of sex, burdened by the outdated doctrine of the Holy See.

He hissed softly as you take it within your palm, guiding it to your entrance as you slip your underwear to the side. On any normal occasion, you’d prefer to take your time with this and preferably in the comfort and space of a bed rather than his desk chair, but the idea of getting up to move now in the midst of everything is laughable at best.

As the tip of his cock passes through the first tightened ring of muscle, neither one of you is unable to fight the long drawl of a moan that passes your lips. Every time you take him, you get stun locked momentarily by the perfectness of it. The way he so easily slots himself inside, the perfect fit always with the right mixture of friction with which to make your legs squeeze together in delight. Aymeric tosses his head back against his chair, eyes cloudy with pleasure as your name parts from his lips like a prayer. He plants his fit against the ground, sinking lower into the chair as he adjusts his hips, sliding himself deeper as you fall into him, content to let him take over.

Your lips return to his, and he eagerly opens his mouth to accept your tongue, groaning softly all the way. His hands slid down to capture your hips, squeezing once before lifting you just slightly. His entire body quakes with the first few soft, exploratory thrusts. Each drag is slow and you can feel every ridge and vein as he feeds in the last few inches. Already you shiver with the feel of him, the sense of fullness as you push against him, dragging your clit against him with a soft whine against his mouth. Aymeric melts into the chair, taking you with him as he begins to pull out, capturing your bottom lip between his in a gentle nip.

“More,” you whine against him, pulling away to catch sight of his face.

“Oh but you only need to ask, I am your servant,,” he sighs, a dreamy, almost sleazy smile across his face as he begins to thrust in earnest, giving way to pleasure.

It takes him no time to locate your g-spot, clutching at your hips in an almost bruising manner to continue spearing his cock against it. The wet shlick and smack of skin against skin filled the room as he bounces you a top his lap. It wouldn’t take much for someone to discern what was happening, but propriety be damned. Who was he to deny the servant of Hydalyn, to deny the woman he loved, the pleasure she so desperately craved? Who was he to deny his own, boiling at the pit of his stomach as he pulls away, eyebrows knit together in euphoria.

He can feel the slick as it gathers around his base and balls, losing himself to feel of you pulsing and constricting around him. He won’t last long, not like this but he could never selfishly chase his own pleasure without giving you your’s first. He adjusts his grip on your hips, your chests flush together in a way that allows your clit to grind against his abdomen with each thrust. Every part of him is dampened with some fluid, be it the slick that spills from your between your thighs and down his thighs or the sweat gathering at his temples, wetting his bangs just slightly against his forehead. Yet it isn’t enough, selfish to his own desire Aymeric’s lips find your’s again as he delivers a particularly rough thrust to your g-spot that leaves you scrambling for purchase, the embers of your orgasm beginning to heat. He’s sloppy in the way he kisses you now, not the practiced, almost chaste way he might kiss you in the office, or whenever he fears you might be seen. No, every part of it now is fully obscene.

With each ghost of his tongue, it’s like he can’t get enough, coming back again with a deep moan as his thrusts speed up. It’s all consuming, lighting a fire in you that’s not easily quelled but so mind-numbing to chase. Aymeric is, if anything though, a tentative, intuitive lover. Even lost in the pull of his own impending orgasm, he does not neglect your own as he lets one hand reach down, collecting at the slick that gathers near your entrance before swiping away softly at your clit.

“A-Aymeric,” you moan, grasping at his shoulder’s as you feel the sneaking grasp of an orgasm.

“Oh please,” he beseeches you, voice haggard and desperate as he pleads, “I need to feel you cum around me.”

He speaks the last part quieter, none to accustom to dirty talk but it serves enough to send you over the edge, pulling him by the hair to stifle your moans of ecstasy against his all too willing lips. His finger continues gliding over your clit with unmistakable confidence in effort to prolong your orgasm, his cock continuing to push against your g-spot as you gush around him. It takes only a few more practiced thrusts before he pulls out, grasping at his shaft quickly before you feel the warm burst of his seed against the skin of your back. Horny as you are, neither one of you is quite willing or wanting enough to chance bringing a child into the world.

His kiss slows, but he continues to ride out the pleasure of his orgasm with gentle tugs at your hips, merely grinding against you with soft, choking moans that are just barely audible over the crackle of the fire. For a moment, you sit there in the after glow, feeling him soften inside you as you release his lips finally.

They’re swollen, but part nearly instantly in a soft, pleased smile as Aymeric cracks his eyes open to look at you. Shame be damned, he thought to himself, if he was to be damned for bringing pleasure to a goddess such as yourself than he would gladly walk into the enteral fire. He could think of no such being as worthy of both pleasure and comfort as yourself, and the idea that you would share it with him is enough to make his heart warm with yearning. A thousand lifetimes would never be enough, he already feels cheated to have met you now at thirty-two and not so much sooner. Would that he have saved you from unnecessary hardship, but the past was better spent not dwelled upon.