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“Here again, Penance?”
The Siracusan judge is in the same spot you often find her after a stressful day’s work- at the cantina’s bar. Lights dim, she sits alone on a bar stool with one leg crossed. Chin rested upon her open palm, brow furrowed, it’s clear she’s mulling something as she nurses a high-ball of amber liquor. Your words don’t quite get through, but when the heel of your shoe hits the hardwood floor with an announcing *clack* , her ears flick.
And she finally blinks, the glower gone when she looks in your direction.
“Oh, mi dispiace, I didn't see you there. If you're all done with work, how about joining me for a drink?”
Penance, Lavinia Falcone, waves at you. Not one to turn down a friendly offer from your most diligent assistant, you pick a stool beside the Lupo woman.
“You know what they say about those who drink alone?” You pointedly ask with a teasing smile. No, this isn’t the first time you’ve found her in the bar, and hopefully you won’t have to carry her back to her quarters after another particularly enlightening debate session. Those amber lupine eyes narrow at you though, her ability to read you not dulled by the drink - yet-
“...Why that look in your eyes? I'm not an alcoholic. But everyone needs some liquid assistance every now and then, whether for fatigue or for suffering.” With deft hands she expertly pours you a highball of the amber liquor before sliding it to you. “Ecco. It's on the strong side, so sip slowly.”
Yes, it’s a dangerous mixture of sweet and strong and nothing like the usual wine she usually partakes, but Lavinia delights in your shocked reaction from that first taste… and how you go for a second to confirm. A sweetness with bite, but a scent that makes your nose wrinkle… but it’s a pleasant sort of warmth.
“It’s… good.”
“Bene! Then I won’t have to drink this whole bottle myself, will I?”
“...because you are not an alcoholic, right Signorina Falcone?”
“Not yet, at the least.” Lavinia smiles with a shrug of her shoulders. She raises her glass slightly, holding it out to you. “Salute.”
“Salute…” you repeat, clinking the glasses gently before taking another deep sip together. Eyes closed, her ear and tail twitch when the taste hits her, and when the glasses clack against the countertop Lavinia lets out a deep and contented sigh.
“Back in Siracusa… I often turned down opportunities to drink with others…” Lavinia says wistfully as she takes another soft sip. “Many of my peers, old friends and colleagues… they would always invite me out.”
“You were just busy, right? I’ve read the reports of your work changing the legal system-”
Lavinia cuts you off by shaking her head and clinking her glass to yours- a sign for you to drink too as she takes another.
“That is not quite the truth, Doctor. While yes, I did… bury myself with my work… I was always suspicious that they would attempt to influence my decisions.”
“I understand the caution. To be a judge in a place like Siracusa-”
“No… not just in Siracusa- to be a defender of law requires …” She looks deeply into the amber, the muscles on her face twitching but she still holds her stoic demeanor. “I… failed that ideal once before.”
“So sharing this drink with me, I suppose that means you believe what I am doing is just?”
“Mmm… Just or not… remains to be seen, but what I do know is that working here… I feel…” Lavinia hangs on the word, “Un momento, queste parole richiedono pensiero.” She takes another long sip of her drink, eyes closed as she thinks. Her expression darkens, the beauty mark on her brow becoming punctuation to the line of frustration creasing her forhead until the alcohol finally loosens her thoughts.
“Hope…” Lavinia nods, “Yes, hope is the right word.”
Her words are… surprising to say the least. You know that her work in Siracusa jaded her somewhat, her chosen codename being the greatest evidence of that… but a woman of her conviction never seemed to need reassurance.
“That is what we want Rhodes Island to stand for. It’s not just me, it’s Amiya, it’s Kal’tsit, it’s… all of our operators and staff that keep us running- and yes, that includes you, Lavinia.”
Lavinia blinks once, golden eyes shimmering for the briefest moment before she covers her face with her glass. There’s an embarrassed flick of her tail, but she hides her blush well when she clacks the now-empty glass back down.
“That you can say that with such boldness, mio buon Dottore, is a sign of your absolute vindication.”
“Or it’s the drink.” You joke back, lifting your glass in thanks before another warming savor of sweet liquor splashing your tongue. You’re trying to catch up with Lavinia, thinking that the blush on her face isn’t totally from her bashfulness. The seriousness lingers like the trailing whisps of a long cloud before Lavinia laughs, deeply, heartily- the kind of unexpected mirth from a woman once so stern and aloof.
“That is what I like about you, Doctor…” She says with what sounds like a warm purr to her voice, all before she tops off both of your glasses again.
“Forgive my boldness… but you are to me, like… a ray of light.” Lavinia admits, holding up her glass to the light. Through it, she peers at you, “A single, glimmering ray that pierces the rainclouds of my shame.”
“That’s… quite the compliment, Lavinia.”
“The truth is an admirable thing, Doctor.” Lavinia smiles softly at you as she emerges from behind the glass. “Be it a famiglia, a society, or a country, people are often bound by mutual interest… I used to assume this was the way of the world, but Doctor, you showed me a different path. I hope we can share this mutual trust long into the future.”
Her words… are resolute, spoken like an oath, and you feel the sudden urge to affirm them.
“ Alla nostra salute.” You answer, raising your glass to Lavinia’s. Her ears perk up, surprised at your handling of her native tongue before it melts away into the warmest smile you’ve yet seen on Lavinia Falcone.
“Alla nostra salute-” she answers, leaning that little bit closer to you and clinking her glass. Both of you take long sips, glasses clacking the marble at the same time. There’s a bit of a buzz to Lavinia, a tension you can feel in the rising of her tail-fur and the twinge in her ears. The blush on her face is a deeper red now, and her hands fidget on her lap as she rubs the hem of her skirt.
“It is… not often I speak my mind like this, Doctor. Le mie scuse.”
“It’s refreshing to hear, Lavinia, honest.”
“Ah… you with honesty!”
“You are a judge, Lavinia. To not tell the truth before you is a crime, is it not?”
And perhaps it’s the drinks that have loosened the both of you, but Lavinia… pouts at your teasing of her. She clinks her drink to yours… pushing it back at you with that furrowed brow.
“Come, Doctor. Mal comune mezzo guadio- surely there is something you wish to get off your chest too?”
And given an opportunity to speak your mind… the words come tumbling off your intoxicated lips.
“I love it when you speak Siracusan, Lavinia.”
Once more she perks up, her tail twitching along with her ears… before it seems like her face is going to burn up.
“P-Perhaps I have drunk too much. It sounded as if you were… f-flirting with me?”
“Perhaps we have drunk enough,” You say, finishing your glass and dropping it besides Lavinia’s. The amber liquid, sweet yet harsh, is a lot like Lavinia, and just like Lavinia, it has emboldened you.
“I am flirting with you.”
There’s a sort of expectation, a denial or rebuff of your audacity, the harder facade of Lavinia bubbling to the surface.
Instead, she’s taken aback. Eyes wide and astonished, ears perked, tail rigid, hands over her breasts as she sits up.
“That is… b-but… I-” She stammers. Perhaps it’s her body going on autopilot, but she shakily reaches for her glass… and downs the rest of it.
“Lavinia?”
Eyes shut tight as she sucks down the last of that sweet poison, the judge quickly slams the crystal glass down like a gavel, her decision made.
And she grabs you by the collar, reeling you in.
Lips mash clumsily together with that blatant disregard that only drunkenness could excuse. Despite the sloppiness and seeming inexperience of it, Lavinia is still nonetheless passionate as she hungrily devours your lips like a wolf starved for affection.
Probably because she was. At some point you stop tasting the Amaretto and just get nothing but Lavinia’s personal sweetness, her tongue lavishing and twisting with yours as you jockey between mouths.
“Th-that was my first kiss, oh miei dei-” She mumbles, touching her lips. A range of emotions flit across her face faster than her blush.
“Pardon me, that was unbecoming and-”
“You are pardoned, Lavinia.” You interrupt her, reaching out for her cheek. “Would you… like to try again then?”
She doesn’t recoil, instead leaning into your touch. With a timid nod you both gravitate towards one another again. Less fierce this time- at first. Sweet little samplings that grow in their boldness. Licks and tastes, nibbles and suckles of the bottom lip, tongues once again coming out to dance a far more coordinated tarentella. Her finger play with your hair, tug at your scalp to try and get you closer, grip the edges of your coat-
And she pushes you back suddenly and sharply. There’s a moment of pause, like Lavinia is contemplating once more, though it will be anything but a dignified decision. She’s staring hungrily at you, collar crooked and loose, bountiful chest heaving as she pants. A swish of her beautifully full tail, a flick of her ornamented braid jingling past as she turns her back to you.
Leaning against the counter, Lavinia looks back at you with a face burning bright. No, she more than leans… she rests her bulk against it, raising her hips and perking her hind to give you a scandalous peek beneath her skirt- and what an audaciously short thing it is for someone so upstanding! Her thigh-highs have done an amazing job at really disguising it, but when she poses like this, well, there’s not much length there to conceal the black lace that clings to her curves.
“Lavinia,” you half-gasp, half-growl in delight at what she’s offering, taking that instinctive step towards her. When your hands land upon that firm curve, they naturally glide up towards her hips, taking what remains of her skirt up with them. Lavinia’s creamy skin is revealed, along with a sensuous black triangle that contrasts in a perfect two-tone against her. The silky-soft wings of her panties hug so hungrily to her hips, embroidered with lace roses and thorns- how like her.
“Doctor…”
Lavinia’s tone catches you in your lustful daze, yanks your attention to where she’s brushing her bangs from her eyes. Braid draped over her shoulder, bottom lip quivering, she reaches back between her legs…
“Scopami e basta…” Lavinia gasps desperately, pulling her last bit of virtue aside.
Pink petals pulsating, a clear shimmer as they stickily pull apart.
You are against her the very next heartbeat, fumbling belt and trousers. Her hearing heightened, yet intoxicatingly captivated by the heat of the moment, each little sound of your dropping trou makes Lavinia whimper in anticipation. When you step between her legs, she instinctively widens her stance; when your heat presses against hers you can feel her shudder. Placed between her sticky lips, your lather your shaft with her thick, warm liquor in teasing pumps. One pump, two pumps, and on the third she mewls as you reach between her legs to run fingers through a thick tuft of fur. She twitches and wiggles out of instinctive embarrassment, but you don’t give her a chance to retreat now- not when your fingers gently peel back her hood to find the treasure beneath.
Your touch makes her tail flick, has her suck in a sharp and excited breath as she starts to rock with your subtle rhythm. Back and forth, she rolls from heel-to-toe to paint your length until… your tip catches to her. The path your length goes diverts as you roll your hips upward and she down- and you smoothly glide through hot, tight, pleasurably pleated walls-
You both gasp at the sensation, though Lavinia seems far less prepared for the stimulation. Her back arches as you ride through her flesh, and when you touch against your final destination she lets out a deep and hungry groan against the marble counter.
Nails unable to find purchase against the smooth stone, Lavinia grips the edge instead as she tries to work her finely-toned hind against your crotch. When she’s unable to fit any more of you in her, she growls her urgent need instead.
So you swiftly oblige her, not wanting to miss another second of this drunken dream you two are partaking in.
You both grunt when you bottom out into Lavina’s coiling, strangling depths, the thrust taking her to her tip-toes… and when she comes back down, her heels clack against the tile.
Like a gavel strike.
The judge opens her mouth, tries to give her proclamation, but all that comes out is a deep, rumbling moan of satisfaction as you strike at her hind again with that sensually wet *plap!* . Lavinia drags her cheek across the cold stone, managing to lift her head for a second to retain some dignity before you drive into her once more.
“Nn-ahn!” She gasps, the shock of the thrust traveling up her spine and causing her to arch her back in pleasure. As stalwart as she normally is, the drink has broken down her pillars, swept that rigidity from her, leaving her unconsciously spreading her legs for the passion she desperately wants, slinking back into your grasp for more.
And so you fuck Lavinia Falcone right there over the bar. Scandalous, damning, the kind of blackmail that her enemies would love to defame her with, but they will have to wait until you are done dragging her virtue through the dirt.
The taps of her heels on the tiles are like tiny gavel strikes, slammed rapidly like she’s trying to get the court’s attention, each one sentencing her to another thrill of sinful pleasure lancing through her as you thrust.
“Lavinia-” You moan, feeling how she twists and coils within in response. Unchecked, frantic, feral, you both drive against one another in that uncontrollable instinct to breed. Societal constraints, rules and laws and taboos mean nothing when partaking in such base pleasure with a woman as beautiful and strong as Lavinia. Mating, claiming, marking-
And you dare to grab hold of her braid, yanking it. The affront exposes her-
“Fuck!” Lavinia howls heavensward, fingernails clawing at the granite countertop.
Each thrust bends her, has that heavy chest she conceals beneath the coat flop against the countertop, makes her squeal in drunken delight as her body constricts so pleasurably against your entire length. Being taken so wildly, with such disregard for decorum… how absolutely unbecoming of a woman of her public renown-
And yet her lurid moans echo through the Rhodes Island bar, and they only further your desire for Lavinia’s primordial desire. When your hands eagerly travel more of her, you find that beneath the padded cups there is a weight, a depth and perky pliability that begs to be set free. Her hiked skirt dangles from a deceptively trim waist that flares to wide, generous hips that scream to be grabbed like handholds as you dig Lavinia’s pleasure out. Each impact of you against her ass sends energetic ripples, proving that not only is it curvaceous, but tight- a tightness that is reflected in her thighs as well.
Growls and moans, hasty whispers for more, for you to take her harder- that she can take everything.
A pulse, a telling throb as you let out a strained groan… and Lavinia’s body grows hotter in response. Even as her body unconsciously coaxes your release, she looks you in the eyes, pleading.
“Ou-outside-” Lavinia’s hoarse voice strains- just as you slam into her judge’s chambers. Tip kissed to cervix, the pleasure surges forth before your drink-addled mind can rein it-
The first spurt of warmth into her womb makes her cry out in pleasure, her walls going wild for more of your thick milk, but she instantly sobers as the second shot roils up into her. Shocked from the force of her own orgasm, she pushes you away, your manhood slipping free on creamy white as the third viscous string of white pumps onto her backside.
You stumble back in a stupor, staring at Lavinia as she slides off the counter and onto her knees. Both of you struggle to find breath, letting the charge and heat between you two slowly dissipate.
“A-ah…” Lavinia mewls, looking down between her legs. She reaches down in a daze, little tremors of pleasure still spasming her, fingers scooping what is pushed out of her petals. Milky white, sticky, and all-telling evidence of your crime-
“Sono troppo tardi…” She says softly, rubbing her fingers together like she is testing its virility. There’s a stern glare over her shoulder- one that is sober and clear- before she closes her eyes and sighs, “Quel che sarà sarà …”
She beckons you over with a single curl of her finger, all the authority and gravitas of her suddenly coming crashing down upon you. Like a gentleman, you offer her your hand to help her stand on still-shaking legs, throw your coat over her shoulders to disguise the white stain settling on her back, the sudden post-coital clarity grabbing you by the tiniest twinge of guilt and shackling you to Lavinia.
“Grazie-” Lavinia says politely, but there’s no cordial smile on her face, no coy little rosiness to her cheeks like when you’d do those things for her normally. In fact, the thank you is the only thing said as Lavinia straightens herself out, placing both your glasses and the emptied bottle of amaretto behind the counter-
-the counter that you had just fucked her over-
She slips past you silently, though… her tail brushes against your hand as she does.
And when she gestures for you to follow, it certainly feels like you’ve already been sentenced.
Lavinia’s pace is swift, her normally graceful gait unusually stiff as you follow behind her in invisible fetters. Those you do pass in this long march must see something frightful on the judge’s face, because they all quickly get out of her way before casting a worried glances at you.
It’s like that all the way to the dorms, through the Siracusan common room, and eventually to her personal space. The blinds are partially closed, the light coming through just small slits.
“Sit.” Lavinia commands as she points to the edge of her bed, not bothering to turn the light on. With that tone and ferocity, well it’s clear who is in charge right now. As you sit, Lavinia strides to her closet, dropping your coat unceremoniously on the ground before shedding her own.
Before you can be titillated though, she makes it clear she’s inspecting the… “damage”.
You open your mouth, an attempt at a plea deal on the edge of your lips when she holds up a single silencing finger. She shifts her hips, putting a tempting little pop to them, but again, it’s not to entice, but so that she can check to see just where the backside of her skirt was stained too.
“I expect that you will pay for the dry cleaning,” She says simply, undoing the white cravat around her neck.
“Of course-”
She tilts her head, giving you a long side glance of acknowledgement.
“Though… as a… thank you for all the times you have brought me back here when I was… less-than-presentable,” Lavinia announces tersely, “I will forgive your transgression… within me.”
‘But…’ You can practically hear her say as her eyes narrow at you.
“Do you know what else they say about us Siracusans, Doctor? Besides the usual?” Lavinia asks nonchalantly. A loaded question, clearly rhetorical, and all there is to answer with is locking eyes. Lavinia matches your gaze though, the pale gold of her irises waiting to see where on her curvaceous profile you’d slip to first. Her tail? Her breasts? Her thighs?
But you manage to hold your stare with the former judge, letting the silent path be your answer, even as the desire wells up below.
“To our enemies we might be savage, fierce, brutal even ... but as lovers…” Lavinia purrs low as she takes a single stalking step forward. Her shirt falls from her, the buttons of her blouse undone before you even noticed, her skirt’s zipper pulled so the loosened linen hands from her hip, her black-lace bra loose before as she takes another step towards you. It all sloughs off of her as she leans in with a tilt to her head and a grin on her face that gives a rare flash of her fangs.
“Well… perhaps we are still fierce as lovers… but we… are… passionate.” With each word she closes in until she lunges at you.
The Lupo pushes you back, pins you beneath her as she locks her lips with yours- a way to smother any protest… if you were to protest. Her tongue drags yours out of your mouth, draws you into a rough and frantic dance as she straddles your waist. You can feel her warmth on your abdomen, the humidity as she claws at your clothes, fueled by a savage desire as you are quickly laid bare before her. Needy growls coalesce between you, the panting and smacking of lips and tongue proving too much as you both pull away to breathe cool air once more.
“I have never asked for much-” Lavinia manages to say between breaths as she quickly raises her hips. Her hands yank your trousers down, undergarments and all, leaving your firm girth to come slapping back up against your abdomen.
“-but I must take this moment… for myself. For once… I must think of myself, and I expect you to take responsibility for it, il mio amato Dottore- ”
Lavinia’s golden glare imprisons you, shackles you to the floor, leaves you absolutely enthralled as she does something depraved. You can feel her grab hold of you, hear her hastily pull her panties aside once more, watch as she drops herself down-
Heat. Tight heat. A constricting, pulsing, passionate heat.
And not once does Lavinia Falcone blink until your girth fills her completely. Only when you strike deep, her crotch kissing yours, does she tense up, eyes squeezed closed, braid spilling down upon your chest, a primal groan rumbling off lush lips;
“Ohhhh…”
“Lavinia-” You sing back to her, harmonizing her pleasure with yours. Hearing her name… puts a smile on hers as she gazes down on you.
“Chiudi gli occhi e siediti qui…” She whispers headily, placing a hand on your chest as she rocks her hips. The stirring sensation squeezes sticky delight into your sensitive skin, pulling a well deserved moan from your lungs. Another swing of those bewitching curves, the delight of her sweet flesh tastier than any tarfuto, richer than any panna cotta, and that’s all before she drags your length through her and drops herself back down. She rides atop you, testing herself, finding where you grind her just right- and when she finds it, you can feel.
Fingernails into your chest, walls coiled tight, her body jumping in surprise before she sucks in a sharp, exhilarated breath. All of that frantic need is channeled, disciplined, honed into sultry sashays of her hips. Each sensual roll strikes deep within her, has her walls rippling their delight into your length as she builds a tempestuous tempo.
Free from her stifling coat, Lavinia’s full voluptuousness bounces before your eyes, swaying their weight as she fills herself. Yes, two massive appetizing profiteroles just calling for you to grab hold and take a nibble-
“Doctor!” Lavinia moans when your first unfettered movement is to greedily claim those creamy mounds of doughy delight for yourself. When you knead, her movements grow more fierce; when you suckle upon one of her perfect pink nipples she lets out an almost motherly coo; and when your tongue circles that stiff bit of pleasure Lavinia sways her hips to match.
So when you playfully bite it, she growls at you. She had let you off the leash once and is keen to put you back in your place. Your sin of gluttony is punished by far more of what you could possibly devour. Yes, all Lavinia needs to do is rise on your lap enough to lean forward, smothering you beneath her delectable mounds. Your hands sink into them, far more of her that you’re capable of handling as you fight with literal tooth and nail…
But, she is Siracusan. Though she veils herself in the thin cloak of civility, she is ferocious.
“Su, finiscilo!” She purrs as she plays with your hair, massages your scalp, eases the sensation of suffocating on overabundant affection. It’s when your protests grow weak, humbled by her raw desire, that she sits up once more. Tall, proud, casting a long shadow over you, you finally see Lavinia’s personal sin in her eyes.
Yes, you feel it when she drops her full weight on your lap.
The way her walls drag you in, cling to you even as she raises herself upon her high bench again-
Greed.
She bares her fangs as she claps her flesh against yours.
“Tonight… you are MINE !”
Her flesh pulls at yours, sucking you deep within, drooling down your length with that slavering stickiness
You know her; a life spent devoted, following the word of law in a land that was governed by the ruthless, she never… gave in. A woman who walked forward into the darkness alone to come out the other end covered in mud and filth, head still held high despite it all.
But it gnaws at her.
Doubts, contempt, hate and loathing-
It has all weighed on her for so long, and you can feel it as she claims you as her own. You know that in this moment, she is insatiable-
You try and hold onto her- clawing at her leggings in a vain attempt to signal your flagging resistance, grabbing hold of her waist to try and tame the tempo, dragging her down to passionately kiss only to find yourself absolutely overwhelmed by her voracity-
Even when her flesh constricts, her body tensed and shivering from the joys of another climax, she still devours you over and over again. Her growls rumble deep through you, every impact of her hind bounces you on her bed and right back up into her- who knows if you’re even moving your hips at this point?
She claims your mouth again and again, licking, nibbling, biting, savoring you as she brings herself to another groaning, clawing, visceral orgasm.
“Lavinia!” You cry out in a vain attempt to bring her to her senses, but your voice is drowned out by the bed’s groaning protests and the wet, carnal claps of Lavinia against you.
“Lupoone mio! Tesoro mio! Riempimi! Fill me!” Lavinia howls in return.
She feels your heartbeat pounding deep inside of her and she takes one last seat upon her bench, ready. The entryway to her courtroom is open to you, you need only… accept her judgment. Her full weight is unmoving, the gravitas of everything Lavania was, is, and wishes to be set firmly in her decision.
Your hips buck upward, but her devotion holds you down.
A hot flash, electrifying and exhilarating-
The breathtaking outline of her, a final snap-shot image before your sentencing; her hands placed over both your hearts, sinking into the swell of her breasts as she thrusts her chest out. With a deep breath in, Lavinia bares her fangs, ready for her dramatic crescendo.
Her scream of joy harmonizes with your deep and guttural moan as lighting strikes.
Your cream pumps up into her, your piping bag squeezed greedily by Lavinia’s writhing pleasure. Thick and virile, it fills her like the most generous cannoli-
Pulse after greedy pulse, her orgasm milking your own.
The opera of bliss sung so long that both performers are left hoarse and gasping.
A passionate Pizzica leaving both dancers exhausted.
Your Lupine lover falls into your waiting arms. Panting, sweaty, spent… and satisfied. Freed from her own chains, if only for now, Lavinia curls up against you, nuzzles herself close, blankets you with her unburdened affection. Wordless devotion expressed in soft kisses, fondness conveyed through delicate touches, not an ounce of regret or trepidation as you simply relax in the warmth.
Eyelids heavy… the feeling of Lavinia’s chest rising and falling against yours… the softness of her tail brushing against you… tranquility after the rains.
And when your eyes finally close, a soft voice whispering as a softness graces your lips;
“You're sleeping? There's nothing more valuable than these rare moments of peace. Conserviamo questi momenti… mio amato-”