#viarook

An hour later, Rook ascended to the Crows’ headquarters before Teia sent for him. Just short of the reception area, he stopped beside one of the polished wooden pillars and surveyed the space ahead. The two Talons were alone, their attendants dismissed. Viago leaned back in his chair, touching the small ink stain on his index finger. Teia sat on the edge of the table and thumbed through a ledger. She confidently tossed out a vicious remark.

"I could have daggers in a hundred necks by nightfall."

Viago put on his leather gloves. "No doubt. But more necks would present themselves tomorrow."  

Teia shut the ledger and placed it on the table.

"I have other daggers."

Worn armored boots scuffed across the floor. As Rook approached the two Talons, they rose from their seats. Rook pasted on a social smile and spoke up.

"Am I interrupting?"

Viago interlaced his gloved hands behind his back. His fingers tightened as he replied calmly.

"You’re a Crow and a de Riva. You’re expected."

It came as a declaration, not unlike the letter from over six months ago. Rook bit the inside of his lip, careful not to show it. An unreasonable sense of relief was painted over by resistance, dusted with a fragile wish. He cursed himself. What a moron. 

Viago glanced at the sleeve of Rook’s deep purple jacket before speaking again.

"Forgive Teia. You know how she gets when a contract is delayed."

"He’s apologizing for you?" Rook asked. "Strange days."

He shifted his attention pointedly to her, but Viago pressed on.

"On that, we would agree."

Teia planted the heel of her boot squarely on Viago’s instep. Without so much as a flinch, he added, "And perhaps more."

Rook wondered whether the Fifth Talon had started drinking this early. Or perhaps an overdose of his daily poison. He rubbed the back of his neck and addressed Teia.

"Your message said it was time to prove the Antaam wrong. So what, exactly, do you want from me?"

"You want help against the gods. We want Treviso free. We now think they may be the same problem. The occupation has a face. The Antaam commander, Kithlord "Butcher" Daathrata. But Viago thinks killing him outright is shortsighted."

Viago continued her explanation. The Butcher had seized control of the city suspiciously fast, and Viago figured he had assistance. Until they exposed that collaborator’s existence, they couldn’t deal with the problem at its root. Rook needed to find Dareth first and get information from him. Dareth was usually spotted in the Drowned District with his cousin, Jacobus.

"I’ve noted where Dareth and Jacobus are most likely to be found."

Jaw still gritted so that he was worried he might crack a tooth he glanced a look at Lenore. She seemed entranced with the performance, not even having noticed that her gown had slipped slightly to reveal a pale shoulder and the tiny mole just above her breast that he loved most to kiss.

By the Maker, how much longer did this damn opera have to go. He listened, trying to catch a note above the pounding of his heart. This was the last aria, he realised, thanking the Maker. He'd just have to get through that and then the finale and the bows and then he would drag Lenore back into the

As it turned out he had gotten his arias mixed up.

Which was why he was practically picking Lenore up and dragging her away from their seats, flinging closed the curtain that sheltered the entrance room from the exterior of the box. She let out a squeak of alarm as he lifted her up to sit on some expensive and historical side table.

"Viago!" She protested.

"What?" He asked, pressing frantic kisses to the underside of her jaw, "you tease me for hours and now you're going to ask me what I'm doing?"

"Viago, watch- the beading, it will snag!"

"I'll buy you another dress with ten times the beads, I'll buy you an entire closet filled with them."

"Viago!" The tone of her voice made him pull back, dropping the skirts he had just been pulling up, though he continued to suckle a bruise into the crook of her neck.

"This dress was expensive, liefje," she chided, fingers combing through his hair, tilting her head back to give him better access to her neck.

Viago wanted to cry out at her protestation- at the thought of being made to wait just one single more second. But he was Fifth Talon, and surely his long career as a Crow had prepared him for something nearly as torturous as this.

And yet… he knew Lenore's opinions of wastefulness, they had talked often of how such things would stay knotted up in her belly. She had grown up with little and hated anything going to useless ruin.

It was this reason why he kept his breathing steady as he stepped back, offering her his hand as she hopped down from the sidetable. It was why he watched her every move as she undid the clasps of the belt which kept the otherwise loose overdress cinched. It was why he only watched as she draped the belt over the back of the chair, slender fingers ensuring it would not slip from where she had placed it.

It was why he only watched as she slipped each sleeve of the sapphire blue overgown off a shoulder, letting it fall and pool at her feet on the plush purple carpet. And it was why he just watched as she stepped over the fallen fabric with a tiny wobble on her heeled shoes, bending down to pick it up and drape it next to the belt.

It was for Lenore that he stumbled backwards until his back was against the wall, head tilting back and exposing the column of his throat as he watched her work the buttons of the underdress open in the middle of the gilded room. It was for her that he waited until the silk underdress too had been carefully folded and placed on the seat of the chair. And it was for his beautiful wife that he waited in flushed agony as chiffon and corset followed suit, until she stepped back up to him, dressed in nothing save for her stockings, shoes and gloves.

It was for love of her that then, only then, did he surge forwards, scooping her up into his arms. With one hand around her waist to steady her against him, the other dipped into her core, relishing the hitching gasp it drew from her. He spun them round, pressing her to the wall, rushing to get the ties of his trousers undone only as much as was needed to free his cock.

He pressed his lips to hers, swallowing her gasp as he entered her, toying with her clitoris between thumb and index finger. She was hot and wet and she clenched so tight around him that he spilled on the second stroke, before he was even fully sheathed within her. Her buried his moan in the plush skin of her cleavage, though even then, he knew if there was anybody still left in the next box over, they were likely to have heard him as he came.

No, no, its best to get this over and done with so Viago can prepare for what she can only presume will be the worst sex of his life. "No, Viago, just. Stop. Wait," he obeys her instantly, which for reasons she does not have time to examine, sends a new wave of heat between her legs. "I've only been with one person, a woman, and um…"

"That does still counts you know."

"No, I know it does! Just. Um. Well. We didn't get very far. And it was only one time and-" She hates the way the words soud the moment they leave her mouth; her worries juvenile, not that of a 34 year old woman.

Viago looks at her seriously though (or, well, more serious than usual). "What are you worried about?" He asks the question so directly it cuts through her worrying in a way only he has ever managed.

"I don't want it to be bad for you…"

"That's not all, Lenore, I can tell. Come now, tesoro, I won't not laugh or tease."

"Should I make you sign a contract?"

A twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips and a mirthful lilt to his gaze. "I can get the contract lawyer in here if you want, but I do warn you, it might ruin the mood for he is nearly 90 years old and not much to look at."

"Ah well, some other time then."

"Is a Talon's word good enough for now then?"

Lenore can't think of any other clever diversions, save just running away, and despite it all she doesn't want to leave Viago's side. She has never seen the man so… undressed before; never had so much skin waiting to be touched.

"Will it hurt?" She asks, "when you…" she glances down at the direction of his crotch which she realises is extremely tight to the extent that she wonders if it is hurting him right now. "When you…" she takes shelter in familiarity, which in her case is the science of anatomy. "When the phallus enters the, um, canal. So to speak."

To his credit, Viago's mask barely slips. All he shows is a brief raise of the eyebrows and a subtle tilt of the head before he schools himself back to neutrality. "We don't have to go that far. Not if you don't want to."

"But- I want this to be good for you! I don't want you to have to have terrible sex with me because I'm- oh by the Maker's damned void." She's hiding her face in her hands again, even though she thought she was long past the 'if I can't see you, you can't see me' phase of her life.

"Oh tesoro," he whispers against her skin, "I do not think there is any universe where this could be bad for me. In fact, I am worried that if anything you will go to Teia tomorrow and she will find out how I spilled without a single touch from you, and my reputation will be ruined forever."

"You promised you wouldn't tease."

He laughs, and the sound is strained in his throat, "Lenore, believe me when I say I am in no way joking or teasing." He took her hand in his own, guiding it down to his crotch. He doesn't press her hand flush against him, and as much as he can, does not grind against her palm or seek anything more than she is willing to give.

Lenore runs her fingers along the firm press of his cock against his britches. She is tentative at first, unsure of what she is doing and doesn't press too hard. And perhaps this is worse (in the best way) for him, because by the second pass he is unable to contain himself, groaning and half collapsing against her, forehead flush in the crook where shoulder meets her neck.

"Perhaps," he manages to get out in a strangled voice, "if that would assuage your fears as to the likelihood of my enjoyment? I would prefer to leave this encounter with my pride at least a little intact, rather than coming in my smalls like a randy teen?"

She still feels uncertain, but the sight of him so utterly undone from such a simple touch from her… Her entire body feels flush, ready to vibrate out of her skin. She moves with slow purpose, laying back on the bed, fingers going to the ties of her skirts.

Viago takes a few breaths to regain himself, let his muscles stop trembling with the cessation of Lenore's touch. But it is only a few breaths and then he is crawling atop her. He takes her hands in his own, stilling her work on her clothing. "If you will allow me?" He whispers.