#tarnished!reader

You shudder from his mere size, exhaling lightheadedly as you take in the redhead. Messmer seems nervous, his golden eye taking you in as if slowly unravelling you with his mind alone to have you undressed.

Taking the hint, your hands dance over your collarbones, over the nightgown that is hiding all from Messmer's gaze, before one of his hands stops you. "Prithee, allow me," he murmurs with tenderness in his tone. You notice the way he is shaking, his hands visible hovering over you and uncertain where to even begin. "Are you..." you begin to ask, but he is already nodding, as if he knows what you are asking.

"Ah, forgive me for mine own lack of experience." He says, his wan skin rouging with colour as he looks away. You gently bring him back, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's alright, we can take it slowly."

Messmer is pleased to know you're not disappointed in his lack of conquests, though you do wonder how someone of Marika's stock, a prince who could have anything he wished for, did not have his fair share of those who wished to lie with him. Perhaps, it distracted him from his true purpose of Marika's ideals.

You jolt suddenly, your thoughts distracted and your mind goes blank when you feel a hand gingerly hold your left ankle, hovering upwards on your thighs. "I wisheth for thee to cometh undone from me first." He confesses earnestly, and it has your chest squeeze from how he wishes for your wants first.

Messmer himself, fears if he dares even look upon your naked form, he will combust.

You allow him to take his time in getting used to this new vulnerability, for you do not doubt that he is simply terrified of opening up to someone else. Obliging, your head lays back onto the pillow, sighing dreamily as he takes his time, loving the way his hands feel as they map over your body.

It is different from what you can remember of Godwyn's touches; his rough hands groped you when you sat in his lap, always needing to touch you in places you didn't wish to be touched. Messmer, however, was softer, touching you like you were fine glass, afraid you'd crack under pressure.

Messmer looks over every curve, scar and dip, from the way your skin glows beneath the candlelight, to the way your body reacts to every little touch. Messmer can feel himself growing excited, not even from seeing your naked form, even whilst his hands explore higher, he takes in every small movement that comes from you. He gauges your reactions, from the way your mouth hangs open slightly, to how you spread yourself a little more for him to get further access to you.

He gropes at your inner thighs, leaving your weeping sex alone for now as he dares not to pull up your nightgown despite how tempting it may be. He is a man of patience, and even he is impressed by how much is holding onto this longing.

"I has't seen many treasures, artefacts and wonders, but none has't did impress me as much as thee doth, mine starlight." His voice comes out hoarse, wetting his lower lip as he continues to inspect you. His hand reaches up, over your hips, along your stomach and hovering lightly over one of your perk breasts.

Your breath hitches, watching him silently, waiting patiently as you can for him to touch you there, only when he does, do you let the sweetest of moans that he's ever heard come from you. His large hand encompasses your breast, the perfect size for him as he massages it through the thin cloth of the shift, feeling the nipple harden beneath his palm. 

Messmer sighs musingly, swapping sides to give the other treatment, feeling you grow more fidgety beneath him the more he touches and gropes. 

He takes note of it, but continues his teasing, enjoying the way you squirm, your body reacting to him just as the way he anticipated. It does a lot to him to hear the way you whine, moan, and whisper his name in the sweetest of songs he's blessed to hear. "Messmer-" you whine, taking hold of the hand at your breast and redirecting him to cradle your face.

Messmer obliges, leaning over you to kiss you softly, enjoying the way his mouth feels against yours, your tongue darting over his bottom lip as he allows entrance. You're more than surprised to feel the long, slender tongue he has, and the way you feel completely consumed by him as the two of you deeply kiss, touching one another with urgency.

Eos and Fos hover above you, inspecting you, though, you do not feel overwhelmed by their presence, rather, acknowledging that they're one with Messmer and they don't make you feel uncomfortable. Eos moves so he's peering over from Messmer's left side, whilst Fos moves closer to you, flicking their tongue towards your salty skin.

Messmer pulls back to allow to give you room, his attention back to you, and with some permission through his facial features and your approval, he slowly raises your gown, giving him a full view of the lower part of your body. 

"Thou art divine." He is at a loss for words, saying your true name in the softest of voices, taken aback by the sight of your puffy lips and slickness, not a singular touch has been given but around it. He leans closer to your sex, inspecting it, leaving you flushed as a finger lightly touches the hood of your clit. You jolt upright, causing the both of you to lightly chuckle; it felt nice for the mood to not be so tense.

Propping himself on his elbows, Messmer gives you one look for final permission, "May I?"

You nod, hair slick to your forehead from the heat of the room to the tension building. With a kiss to your inner thighs, Messmer leans close, experimentally pressing his mouth to your slick folds.

"Oh, Gods." You cry, squeezing the sheets surrounding you, your sex quivering to the delighted sounds of Messmer, groaning from your taste. Messmer the Impaler is eating you out; The demigod who conquered all the land for this mother's name is moaning from your taste, begging for more. 

It is all that is needed for him to delve in, hearing your cries of approval; tugging your lower body closer to him as he begins his conquest. His long arms hooked underneath your thighs, giving extra room to continue to touch both your breasts as he sucked lightly on your folds, switching between that and licking your clit. The pleasure was intense, crying out his name as you clung to what you could.

"Gods! Messmer-"

"-There is nay God here, dearest," Messmer mumbles into your sex, looking up to make fervent eye contact with you before continuing. Your head rolled back to the pillows, trying your best not to squish his head with your thighs as he ate you out like a man starved. It didn't help the noises he made, groaning deeply as he swallowed your essence, drinking it up as if you were the finest of liquids, poured by the divinity.

The winged serpents ended up in between the two of you, tasting the air to the cries of intertwined sounds.

It didn't take long for the pressure to build in your lower stomach, the pressure building and building so quickly, that you didn't have time to catch up. "Fuck, wait, I'm-"

Your moans increased as your orgasm hit you, legs twitching and sex trying to get as much of Messmer's tongue as you came down from your high. Messmer didn't stop from his act, simply bringing you down from your high as he kissed your quivering sex. He pulled away to look up when your orgasm calmed, his mouth and chin were slick with you, but he didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

"Dearest, thy cries art the sweetest." He groans, touching his clothed bulge, desperate to be consumed by you.

It was hard not to notice how big he was, even when he was still fully clothed. You knew it must've been painful, that he needed to feel appreciated too. Propping yourself on your elbows, you reached towards him, taking in his nerves. "Allow me." You mused, placing your over his hand that was on the bulge and slowly replacing it with yours. He tensed, his cock twitched as soon as you made contact and he let out a long hiss. His clothed cock was heavy in your hand, tucked away but begging to be released. Straightening yourself up, you sat close to him on the edge of the large bed, slowly beginning to tug on his outer clothing, begging with your eyes to ask if you were allowed to do so.

Messmer followed, tugging first off his red fiery cloak, kicking off his sandals and greaves until he was left in the chainmail and breechcloth covering his erection. His fiery red locks were dishevelled, his skin flushed with colour as he nervously tucked his arms inwards to make himself look smaller. "I want to make you feel good, Messmer." You purr, stroking slowly over the bulge, watching as Messmer lets out a shaky exhale. Gritting his teeth, he widened his legs for better access, before muttering. "T'is... different."

You realise what he means, but it doesn't stop you. "That's alright." You slowly edge his breechcloth to the side, pulling forth the full length of him out. It sprung forth, and you couldn't help but immediately have a watery mouth. It was long and thick, maybe around eight or nine inches, with a long, thick vein that wrapped around the shaft. The head was weeping with precum, a bulbous head that to you, looked completely normal.

By now, Messmer was a mess, embarrassment had seized his body, his breathing shallow as he watched intently, trying to keep his hands to himself but failing terribly. "Dearest-"

"-You're so beautiful, Messmer." You speak, which earns him to have cheeks that match his hair. Stroking him lightly earned the most delicious of noises to come from the demigod; garbled whines, whimpering of your name and other things that were incoherent. The heat that came from his cock was immense as if you had dunked your hand into a pool of still-cooling lava rocks and they were scolding to the touch. 

"Prithee, I'm already so close. I cannot-" His moans were the prettiest thing: airy and light. Messmer bucked his hips in time to your strokes, crying out as he tried slowing down. "I shall cometh undone."

Eyeing the head curiously, you stepped it up a level. Leaning over his lap, the heat from his cock was almost overwhelming. "Wha- what art-" He did not have time to finish his sentence as you had given the tip of his cock a kiss, before taking the tip into your mouth. Messmer's head fell back, the grip on the sheets nearly ripped them to ribbons, his surprise came out as a whimper. You swirled your tongue over the head, taking in the warmth from his cock and the saltiness of the precum. You hummed lightly, twitching in your mouth in response.

Using your hands for the areas you couldn't reach, you began to take his cock in deeper, almost gagging when you reached halfway down his shaft, stroking the rest with your hands in time. One of Messmer's hands came to your hair, stroking your locks as he didn't put pressure on you to try and deepthroat him. Instead, you took as much as you could, with Messmer gathering your hair and lightly guiding you.

"Fuck." It surprised you how he would curse, the feeling going straight to your core. You carried on despite the pain in your jaw, all to hear his lovely sounds. "Ah, wait, if thee keepeth going, I shalt-!"

He surprised you by just how much he would come. You barely had time to pull away, luckily Messmer foresaw this and pushed you off his cock in time, cum erupting from his cock and shooting up so high, you thought it would hit the ceiling. Messmer came down from his high, his cock bobbing as ropes and ropes of cum came forth, landing on him, on your hands and thighs, narrowly missing your face and hair. You watched in stunned silence as he stilled, letting out a shaky "phew".

"Witchcraft." Messmer is just as stunned as you as you cannot help but erupt into quiet laughter. He was quick to wipe himself off, all the while, his cock still stood stiff, solid as a rod. You leant back down to lie down, hair spraying across the pillow, spreading your legs for him to see your glistening sex. "You may have me, Messmer."

He didn't need to be told twice, removing the rest of his clothing until he was naked as a babe, springing into action as he climbed above you. He helped remove your nightgown, throwing items of clothing to the ground, all whilst kissing you deeply. He spread your lips with his fingers, drinking in your moans as he worked your clit softly. His other hand stroked his cock in time, before he rubbed it along your slick folds, wetting his cock as he teased your entrance for as long as he could. 

"Art thee ready?" He murmurs against your lips, pushing lightly against your hole when you give the nod, Messmer's mouth falls open in a soft "oh" shape the moment the head begins to slowly push its way inside you. "Oh, fuck," he whines, appreciating your soft moans for him, his girth is taken by you, and you're thankful you're not a virgin, "Thee art... tight." He grunts in the back of his throat, stilling himself from ejaculating too early.

There is a warmth you've felt before, one that is currently snug in your walls. You wrap your legs around Messmer's waist, pulling him tighter, and closer. The redhead groans again, his arms visibly shaking as he ducks his head to hide in the crook of your neck. "If I move, I shalt-" He's muttering incessantly to himself, pushing his hips with tentative and shallow thrusts; he's fearful he will cum too soon.

"It's okay." You tell him reassuringly, that it is rather sweet he is trying to hold out for as long as possible for you to feel some pleasure. And indeed you are, his size is something that is unlike anything you've felt, but you somehow managed to fit him there thanks to the pleasure he gave you and for taking his time.

Messmer gives a small thrust after some minutes, gasping out words as he tries to get used to being inside you. His body language betrays him, the lull for pure, raw pleasure takes over a part of his mind, controlling some primal part of him he didn't know he had. He needs to mark you, needs to fuck you, but the fear of hurting you screams in the back of his mind. You place a hand upon his cheek, your thumb grazing the soft contour of his cheekbone, telling him all is okay, it is natural.

He intently watches your face for discomfort, finding none but the way your face contorts, for all words abandon, your mind a blank slate and nothing more than trying to fathom how Messmer is now fucking a Tarnished. And it feels amazing, not even a third of the way in, but both your bodies yield to the other, an electrifying passion overtakes you.

Clawed fingernails leave divots in your skin, not enough to leave marks or draw blood, but you hiss deeply, pushing your hips higher so Messmer has better access and control over his thrusts. It's only when Messmer pulls slightly back to inspect you, that his winged serpents have twisted around him, eyes on you and staring directly at your stomach.

"It that-" You realise what he's doing, shifting his hips as he penetrates deeper, earner a deeper moan to come both of you. It's enough to feel how deep he is now, but how you tightly squeeze around him. You wonder if the grip on his cock is overwhelming, but Messmer is so caught in the moment, his focus is directly on feeling how big he is inside you.

Messmer's thrusts are faster, deeper, giving into the carnal pleasure that you both wrapped up, you don't realise how loud you both are, certain the entire keep could hear your wanton cries and skin slapping. You're surprised how long Messmer is lasting for his first time, but it is a given since he is no ordinary man, blessed with longevity by his mother.

Ever the gentleman, Messmer finds your clit, matching the time to his sloppy thrusts. You suspect he's close, but it's the pleasure that's being torn from you so suddenly, the size of him and the way you've been curled with your legs practically on his shoulders. "Fuck-- I can't-- if you keep doing that-"

"-Doing what?" You realise it's not a question; he knows what he's doing. From the way his golden eye is intense and there is a sensuous half smile, his tone is part playful, part coy. The tone alone has you flexing your hips at him, trying to directly continue to pleasure building, shamelessly holding him for dear life as an orgasm is stolen from you.

"Oh fuuuuuck, Messmer, ah!"

The look he gives you almost brings you to your end; his hands find purchase in holding your thighs upright, driving himself into you as he sings the softest of pleasures only your ears are blessed in hearing. 

"Oh, Tarnished... grabbing me so well... so wet," he's not making sense, but from the way, he's not holding back, to the way his voice is growing louder and louder in pitch, he's completely and utterly close. The next thrust he drives into you is abrupt, he lurches forward, biting his bottom lip as his orgasm is ripped from him, the sounds of pleasure you both share as you feel the warmth that fills you whole. There is too much cum to even think, gushing out of you as you try to clench around him to keep it inside, failing when it falls down your thighs and onto the sheets.

His body relaxes as the two of you catch your breaths, Messmer stays inside you as he gives shallow thrusts to bring him down from his high, before he calms, letting go of your legs to manoeuvre you. Cradled from behind, his long arms cage you in.

"Art thee hurt?" He asks, kissing your forehead misted with sweat, his lips glossy with what looks like some bleeding from when he bit them too hard. His expression has softened as you look over your shoulder to look back on him. Shaking your head no, a sense of relief washes over him, as well as a tiredness you both didn't realise had taken over. It was after all, late still, and you didn't know how long into the night it was.

Getting comfy, Messmer pulls a blanket over you, a warmth surrounding you as your eyelids grow heavier. You can feel his serpents lethargically move around to watch you, certain that Messmer asked them to protect you whilst he slept.

Sleep is heavy on your mind, cradled in the arms of a demigod keeping you safe.

-

Messmer snorts through his nostrils, casting a glance your way, his large fingers finding yours to intertwine. "I had dreamt of this very moment, with thee in mine own sheets." His fingers dance across your skin, skimming over your hips and across your waist, dipping close towards the inner part of your thighs.

"Oh, you were waiting for this?" You tease, rolling over closer to him, enjoying the way his much larger hands pull you closer. Messmer pulls you close so that you are practically sitting on his lap, giving him the perfect view of your bare chest. Your heartbeat picks up, and your nipples pebble from both the chill and his charming gaze.

Memories of last night come to you, the noises and feeling of being taken by him flood your mind, and you find yourself growing shy in front of him. Messmer picks up on this, a quirk in his eyebrow as he grinds himself up from below you. "Getting shy?"

You hum coyly, trying to bite your lip from letting a moan out, feeling his growing cock nudge beneath you. You stare down at him through your eyelashes, boldness growing through you. "I'd like to give you pleasure again."

"Oh?" He hums, intrigued, allowing you the chance to roll off him, his golden eye watching hawkishly, the serpents taking you in. 

You pull back the sheets to reveal his bareness, but he is not affected by the chill as you are. His skin feels flush, warm as a growing flame, and you are wholeheartedly drawn to it like a moth. His cock is semi-hard, but long and thick that it impresses you that you could take him. Languidly running your hand along his length, you take your time teasing him, gauging his reactions.

Messmer leans his head back into the pillows beneath him, basking in the new pleasures. "Oh, lover, thy touch is wicked."

His compliment goes straight to your core, the slickness within your legs grows heated, and your mouth salivates at this next step. Leaning over him, you cage his powerful thighs, sitting between them as you stare down his cock, your hand continues to stroke him slowly, feeling the way he twitches in your palm.

His cock grows heavy in your hand, and you love the way it begs for more. The head is weeping precum, and Messmer is softly muttering to himself, enjoying your touches as he awaits your mouth.

You lean over and waste no time trying to get as much of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue over him as you bob your head up and down. Messmer shuts his eye, a groan escaping his chapped lips as he cradles the back of your head, gauging how much you can take of him as you try to deepthroat him. 

"Thy body is not of this world, dearest." He hisses, and you taste the saltiness on your tastebuds. "Rather, a temptress who hast cometh to undo me."

You close your eyes as you get into your element, swiveling your head and continue to take as much of him in you, moaning softly around him as you feel him growing further and furth undone from you. His moans, the softness of his touches, he is close, you can tell-

His cock pops out of your mouth with a loud smack, startling you as you feel hands on you, suddenly flipping you on your hands and knees. You yelp from the abruptness of it all, turning your head to glance back over Messmer, a quirked smile lifting his face, playfulness dancing in his gaze. "Apologies dearest, I can hold back nay longer."

"Wha- Oh!"

Messmer wasted no time in leaning over from behind you, pressing his nose and nuzzling between your parted legs, his mouth finding your entrance. Shaking from bliss, the pleasure shoots through you, and you fall forward into the sheets, arse up and head down.  "Oh, fuck, Messmer-" 

The redhead presses himself into you further, grabbing you by the hips as he delves his tongue inside, earning the illicit moans to grow louder from you. You feel yourself growing close, but that falls quickly from you, your orgasm denied as Messmer pulls back, his touch leaves you yearning for more. "Messmer-"

"Yes, lover," Messmer kneels over you from behind, grabbing you by the hips, his large cock teasing your entrance as it rubs against your clit deliciously, "let me take thee."

Messmer takes after his title in this moment, for he has truly impaled you. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, the feeling of being speared by his cock is a familiar yet overwhelming feeling. His cock fills you beyond anything once more, and your thighs shudder as you try to hold yourself up, feeling how it feels like he is moulding your insides to fit him perfectly.

Messmer thrusts shallowly inside you, earning the both of you to release your cries, and it feels that Messmer has taken on a much more feral approach to taking you. Thanks to his large height, he easily reaches over to capture your lips as he continues his thrusts, his tongue swirling against yours as you swallow each other's moans.

From behind, Messmer's cock drives almost further and deeper inside you, reaching places that make you see stars. It didn't take long before you could feel your orgasm rising, your voice rising as your slickness helped in making Messmer fuck you deeper and harder.

"Messmer-please, fuck, I'm-"

"Come undone, my starlight," he hissed, helping you draw out your orgasm as his thrusts grew sloppy, hinting at his end. 

His noises drew to an end, and his cock stopped thrusting as he emptied himself deep inside you. The cum flooded you greatly before you even had a chance to register how much there was, already some was leaking from your aching hole as he shifted above you. 

Catching your breath, Messmer stilled as he pulled you back into him, still inside you and rock hard. It was obvious from leaning back into him and being spooned that he was not done, as if something had awoken inside him to make him obsessed with fucking you. His behaviour was changed too, and the way he kissed the intimate area of your neck, his teeth grazing along your throat.

"Prithee," he whined, thrusting softly as the squelching noises of your mixed cum echoed in the room, "more, I needeth more."

The black knights that guarded just outside Messmer's chambers eyed each other, hearing the obvious moans and bed creaking that echoed down the hallway. Pretending to pay no mind to it, they both stood stoically, sworn to protect their Lord and now, the Tarnished that Messmer had decreed recently.

-

It is not too difficult to not spot him, from his red hair that looks to be flames itself, how vibrant it looks. He is fire-made flesh, and you admit to yourself he looks ethereal. Now that he's closer to you, you feel his mere size, how he almost engulfs you sitting side by side, but it is a comfort you've grown yearned for.

"I think I'm fine," you mutter, though you're not sure if you're saying it to him or yourself. You hope your words can ease the silence of the room, but it still feels strange how all of this is happening. You clench and unclench your fingers, the cold takes forever to thaw from them no matter how close to heat you are. "This is all part of the cycle."

"T shouldn't has't to beest," Messmer's voice is quieter, it draws like a hiss from his lips. They form into a hard line, face scrunched. You glance over at him, eyebrows etched in confusion. He continues, "thee shouldn't has't to endureth yond."

"You'd wish I was dead?" You ask, a jest, but it doesn't lighten the mood. The look Messmer gives you could be a mixture of hurt and a scowl. You can tell he's not taking any of this well. His serpents have coiled into him, enjoying the warmth of the room, making his presence smaller, more gaunt. His skin appears to look brighter in contrast to the light cast from the fires, but you can still look beyond it to see just how done he looks. Without the red of his infamous war cloak, he looks certainly more like royalty than a soldier.

"Nay," he seems genuinely shocked you would ask that, "thee doth not knoweth what I did see."

You feel something lurch within your chest, witnessing his vulnerability. You know he is trying to hide this with a shield but cracks are forming. "Messmer-"

"Thee... died." His voice is a mere whisper, and you notice that on his hands, even in the soft darkness of the room, there is still a tinge of red that stains his skin and his fingernails. It seems this has all taken a toll on him, and he is silently absorbing it all alone.

You can remember it all, through your life slipping through his hands, the way he cradled you to his chest, the way he gave you solace in your dying breaths. The vulnerability you both shared was one you still feel, how his ghostly touches are still felt on your skin, the feel of them stroking your hair out of your face.

You try to console him, "I live now." You try to give him a small smile, but it feels foreign to you to be comforting someone over your death. Tarnished are never mourned, so why does it feel so odd to be given this chance to be grieved finally?

"Thee liveth anon, but what if the next is the lasteth? What then?" Messmer asks, making you think: when could it all be taken away? Could your final moments happen the next time?

It would be poignant if Marika had finally been done with you, tearing her guidance from your body with no final warning. It did make you realise how reckless you'd been. Or perhaps, death hadn't been as frightening as when you knew you would come back? You realised how right Messmer was, how careless you had been this entire time, treating dying to play a roulette game.

He continues, "I feared thee wouldst never awaken. Yond mine own mother's direction hadst died 'alongside thee."

"I'm sorry-- I didn't know-"

"Yond is correct," he raises his voice in a hiss, "thee didn't knoweth. Thy recklessness couldst beest thy downfall, what then shalt those doth if thee art not here?" It's when his golden eye softens, he retreats slightly when he spots how his raised voice has made you noticeably flinch.

He sighs tiredly, averting his gaze. "Forgive me. I has't hath said too much."

"Messmer, wait-" You don't think he'll listen to you, so you do one thing you can think of. Leaning with enough force, you manage to grab his hand before he's too far away. The warmth of his skin is expected, yet it always surprises you just how hot his blood runs with the serpent within. You think he is even warmer than the heat of the flames.

The redhead looks down on you with genuine surprise, his eye watching you warily. "Please, stay."

Messmer's breath catches in his throat, but he relents, sitting back down, a bit closer to you now.

You speak up finally. "I... you are right. I was reckless, childish even. I wasn't thinking." You glance at him quickly, catching his gaze already looking at you. "I had... there was still so much I had to do, to apologise to you, and gods, they kept me up there, locked in my own mind, torturing me so I could not-"

You freeze, realising you had to elaborate on the chosen words you used. Messmer is intrigued. "Locked hence thee sayeth? By what?"

Swallowing the bile in your throat, you hesitate. You cannot stop thinking about the false Godwyn, fighting him, to seeing a young Messmer. Even now, you can see such similarities: the boyish youth frozen in time on his face. He is forever a man changed by all and he can only continue and not look back. "I do not know where to even begin."

"The hornsent kneweth of mine own whereabouts," Messmer answers, "t'is not the first those has't cometh for me."

It is when Sir Ansbach's words draw you to reality: to remember the crucial part of it all. Miquella is using it for a greater purpose, even better than his mother's.

"Miquella." Your words loom a great deal of dread through Messmer, but he is silent, allowing you the moment to speak. "He is ascending to godhood, to become a far greater God than your mother. Mohg-- he's using his corpse for something, a vessel of some sort."

You continue, "There is more. Needle Knight Leda said that there was a purpose in me finding you, to hunt you." You wrack your fingers together nervously. "Your flame, they need your flame for-"

"The sealing tree," Messmer answers for you. You know what he talks of, in the Ancient Ruins of Rauh, the thick, blackened twisted vines that block entrance to the tower; that no normal flame could burn down. "Those needeth mine own kindling to enter."

He's oddly calm beside you, and you realise he must've accepted his demise a very long time ago. It makes you wonder how many have come to have their vengeance, how many times his life has been on the line and how often he has thought what comes after his death. Would he be so willing to risk his life and flame? What if the only way to open it was for him to be killed?

Messmer senses the way you've tensed up, the way you have disassociated from your thoughts. He nudges you lightly to bring you back, and you know he's looking at you and trying to find the best possible thing to say. There is an acceptance that is heavy in his words when he speaks to you.

"If 't be true t'is mine own flame thee needeth, thee shalt has't t. But I only asketh for thy blade to endeth mine own life."

You turn to him in bafflement, realising just what he had said. "No way am I going to kill you. Just because your kindling is needed, doesn't mean I need it. Leda can search all she can, but it will not stop me from harming you."

Messmer laughs wryly, "Wherefore wouldst thee wisheth to keepeth me safe? A wretched soul did bind to this form, cursed." He stares down at his clawed hands. "Mine own life hast known nay loveth, nay warmth, only the serpent inside twists and wishes wishes for freedom."

You tell yourself if you confess now, it may ruin everything between you two. That professing all would take back everything you tried to mend. You can't just not say it though, it calls to you, and you wish for him to know just how much he is cared for.

Placing a hand over his, you draw his attention by gently directing his face to look over at you. "Your men look out to you, Messmer. They would start a war in your name. Miquella is frightened of the threat you stand as. He would be a fool if he did something so soon."

"And thee? What is thy purpose as a Tarnished? If 't be true not our deal, what doth thee standeth for?"

"I stand with you because I want to. Because... I care for you and your safety. If they could send hornsent assassins, what more could come? You were alone and I-" You catch your breath in your throat, "I was scared to lose you."

Messmer seems to let his guard down, his face is not as scowled or scrunched up as it normally looks, rather, it has softened upon hearing your words. "I feared for thee, the moment I did hold thee in mine own arms." He gasps audibly, lost in the moment. "Forgive me, this all doth feel so much."

"It is alright," you murmur and the two of you sit in a comfortable silence, looking over the flames. You feel your heart racing, excitement and fear tears at you and your mind races. You cannot stop thinking about his touches and how you wish for more. Would that be too much to crave?

It's only now do you realise how handsome he looks in this light and those feelings are bubbling to the surface. His face seems so close yet not close enough, his strong straight nose makes him look more regal and angelic that you find it too hard in instinct to brush part of his red hair back, catching him off guard.

His own eye is boring into you, mixed emotions you could not ever know what he was expressing, and almost on instinct, your eyes move from his eye downwards, glancing so shamelessly down at his lips. Messmer's throat bobs nervously, noticing your glances but keeps his eye trained on you. You feel like a squeamish girl, giggling over crushes and blushing at comely princes and knights. Maybe it is courage or the heat of the room that is making your body feel flush, with the need to just be closer to him.

In the heat of the moment, you slowly begin to lean closer.

Messmer, rigid in his spot, looks hesitant too as you lean slowly up to his face, before he corrects himself quickly, "Swear to me thee shall not risketh thy life again?"

Your nose awkwardly bumps against his chin from backing out from doing something foolish, pulling back and averting your gaze from him. How you thought he would like you like that would jeopardise the entire friendship you had built with him, trying to knock those walls down of his only for your fears to spill over.

You nod shyly, noticing the familiar warmth that is flushed to his cheeks as well. 

"I swear it."

It's a different night when he finds you again, with a head in the book in the dead of night; consumed in the darkness of the storehouse.

"Art the books of interest for thee did miss dinner?"

He notices that in the darkness of the large room, you're simply dressed in a nightgown, a silk red shift covering you from the chill. He averts his gaze when he notices he's staring too long at your bare collarbones on display, the way your skin looks so soft; the rise and fall of your chest as his eye drifts to the curvature of your breasts-

"I didn't know you were waiting for me. Rather, you'd prefer to enjoy your meal alone." You speak, your voice soft as your eyes drift from the pages to look up at him. He has now found a seat beside you on the floor, resting his back on the bookshelf, careful not to shuffle the books as he leans over to look at what you're reading, pulling away when he realises he can see very clearly down your nightgown.

You know you've been avoiding him to allow for you to not make a fool of yourself, only further pushing him away from you. You realise that you've stepped over the ledge, and surprisingly, it is Messmer who is showing he has not pushed you away. 

"Is't too much to sayeth yond I did miss thee?" He asks, making you realise just how close he is this time to you, you can smell something citric on him that you cannot place, "T doesn't frighteneth thee??"

"No." You lean into him, and he does not pull away this time. You realise up close that he's just as nervous as you feel, his skin is flush, and his cheeks too. You look to his shaking hands, before noticing he wishes to do something. You catch his eye once more, silent yet begging internally. It's then that you see he too looks down your face, towards your lips before looking up to your eyes again.

"Thee shall engulf me whole one day," Messmer confesses softly, saying your name. "Though, t'is not something I wisheth to fleeth from."

"I do not wish to be away from you." You confess, watching his throat bob nervously.

From the candle that shines dimly in the darkness, the two of you finally feel whole.

You don't know who kisses who first, for his mouth is quick to connect against yours, pulling away quickly upon realisation. He doesn't pull away fully, only enough to ask with his gaze alone if this is alright, if he has made a mistake. You do not pull away, this time pulling him back as he lurches forward, clumsily holding you by the shoulders as you capture his lips to yours.

His lips are chapped, but warm, allowing you to kiss back and take charge. You realise he is hesitant, his hands are clumsy and are unsure where to hold you. You show him where, his golden eye eager to learn as you place his large hands along your waist, allowing him to pull you closer to him. 

He readjusts you a few times due to his height, finally settling with him almost leaning over you, moaning heartily against your lips when you nibble on his lower lip.

"Thee shall beest the death of me." He mutters against your plush lips, his breath hot as you consume his lips before he can continue, feeling the way his limbs shake with either nerves or excitement. It makes your heart swell to know you're maybe his first, or that he's so flustered that he cannot keep his hands off you.

It is Messmer who gains the courage to pull you over him, your thighs caging him as you straddle his waist, not taking a break from kissing him. His scent envelops you, his clawed hands finding purchase on your hips, and you're aware that you're sitting directly above his groin from the way you shift and he lets a long groan out. 

You pull back suddenly, thinking you've hurt him when you notice how red his cheeks are. His eye is blown wide, dilated and taking you in. Your nightgown has been tugged upwards, giving him a view of your thighs, and your sleeve has fallen off your shoulder so he can see more of your skin.

"Thou art fine art," he marvels, tugging you back for a kiss, soft moans leave your lips from his compliment. "A goddess hast did bless mine own eye."

You now blush at his words, fidgeting in his lap, feeling the warmth spread through your chest downwards, to grow hotter between your legs. "Messmer-" You whine, your body twitching and jolting upright, now feeling something warm and large below you.

Messmer groans against the clothes' friction, whispering against your heated skin as he moves you slowly on him, feeling the way the tent rubs deliciously against you. "Starlight, thee feeleth most wondrous." He groans, and you move in tandem with him, the friction has built that it feels too good between your legs.

The two of you continue to make out like horny teenagers, groping, teasing, gyrating against one another until your legs are slick with need. "I need you." You whine against his lips and Messmer makes a noise in the back of his throat in reaction, jolting his hips upright to meet yours with need.

"Thee has't me, thee has't me." He repeats like a chant, suddenly pulling back to look into your eyes to see if he has your permission, the consent to continue this further. There is a hesitancy to all that you notice in him, but you know he wishes to please you. "Prithee, alloweth me showeth thee what kindness I can giveth."

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