Work Text:
The Sepulchral Forest wasn't exactly Rook's favorite place to be on any night, but a moonless night was the worst by far. Technically, this part of the Necropolis was deep underground—so deep, in fact, that the flora here were prone to luminescence—but it seemed the Forest hadn't gotten that memo. The world around them was black as pitch, obstacles just barely lit by glowing mosses and flowers that pulsed in time with some long-forgotten metronome.
"We should have waited to take care of this haunting," Rook grumbled.
Emmrich sounded distant, though he couldn't have been more than a couple of steps behind. "We're already here."
"I know. I'm not saying we turn back. I just wish I'd thought about the time when we left. Time of day and—ow!" Rook's foot collided sharply with a fallen stele, hidden by vegetation and the eerie lighting.
"Are you alright?"
"Fine," Rook squeaked. "I've got other toes, right?"
Emmrich's hand was warm on the small of Rook's back, even through the leather and linen. "Stay close," he murmured. A shiver skittered down Rook's spine. "The Veil is weak here."
They dispatched the haunting easily enough, Emmrich firing off a few spells while Rook closed in with weapons cutting through the darkness. It was weaker than most of the other hauntings. When the imbalance was corrected, the flowers around the small clearing began to pulse brighter.
They were beautiful. Rook had never seen such pretty flowers. The petals swayed gently in a breeze Rook couldn't feel. They begged to be caressed, to be touched, to be admired. The heads of the flowers swayed to the side, exposing long, slender stems perfect for picking. Even the leaves that framed the bloom enticed Rook's fingers and made them itch.
Rook's hands sank into a bloom so large it could have been used as a bed. It was as soft as silken sheets, as plush as a goosedown mattress. Pistils drooped to touch Rook's face, and images sprang unbidden to mind of bare skin and discarded fabric and the soft clink of gold on gold.
"Emmrich?" Rook asked, feeling suddenly drunk.
"Rook, what—oh, no." Emmrich seized Rook's wrist and hurried away from the cluster of gorgeous flowers. "Darling, look at me. Oh, you've something on your face."
His eyes were pretty, veilfire green with flecks of gold like the grave-dowry to his soul. He had a pretty soul, too, layers of kindness and compassion wrapped like soft petals around the dormant hurts of his past. The silk handkerchief he produced came away dusted with bone-white, and Rook seized it without thinking.
"Rook!" Emmrich admonished. "Please, darling, let—" He faltered, fingers closing around Rook's wrist in an attempt to stop the theft. "Let me take that. These flowers are a danger to us here."
"I feel fine." Rook's own fingers looked so foreign in the gentle light, curled as they were into Emmrich's coat. "Amazing, really. Do you feel it? It's so nice down here."
Emmrich stood straighter, giving up the fight for the handkerchief. His gaze burned where it struck Rook's body. He cleared his throat. "R-rook. We really must— must be going."
Rook tugged on Emmrich's vest, pulling him along. Nothing obstructed their path, until Rook's back met the rough stone of a small mausoleum whose sepulchra were covered with ivy. Dimly, the thought occurred to Rook that this was out of order, uncalled for, incorrect. "Emmrich, I— what— what's happening?"
"Osteorum aphroditum," Emmrich murmured. His hand rested against the stone next to Rook's ear, and he seemed to be transfixed by Rook's mouth. "It's—powerful. Grows where death rules, to—" He took in a gasp, like a man catching a brief breath of air while drowning. "Promote life."
Rook's mind felt thick and hazy. "What— does that mean?"
"It means—" At his side, Emmrich's hand made a fist, and then he put it behind his back quickly, closing his eyes. "We need to leave."
"Yeah," Rook breathed.
Emmrich pushed away from the wall, but as he stepped back, his fingertips trailed along the plane of Rook's cheek. They left fire in their wake, a match on a thin stream of lantern oil that shot down into Rook's belly, sparking an inferno.
Rook caught Emmrich's hand before it got out of reach and kissed his palm. "It's so peaceful down here." The murmur tickled Emmrich's hand, and his fingers twitched, tips connecting with Rook's skin and burning with electricity.
"Rook," Emmrich rasped. "We— we have to go."
"I want to stay."
"That's the osteorum talking, darling."
"I want you to stay with me."
"The flowers—"
"Please," Rook begged. "It isn't the blighted flowers, I promise. You've fascinated me since the day we met, and if the flowers are making me talk it's only because I can't stand to keep it to myself any more."
"You're delirious," Emmrich murmured. His breaths came ragged and shallow, and Rook could see his control slipping with each and every one. Perhaps, with enough stalling, he would give in.
Rook reached out, intending to trace the lines of Emmrich's features, or caress his jaw. He caught the invading hand, and as a result, Rook's fingers closed sharply on Emmrich's chin. His eyes were nothing but a void surrounded by a thin line of green that pulsated in time with his breaths.
"We cannot. We must not."
"Why?"
"We're both compromised."
"I don't give a flying fuck about that," Rook growled, pushing off the stone, still holding Emmrich's face. "If I thought it would work, I'd have had you drunk in my bed months ago."
Emmrich wrenched Rook's hand away from his chin. His grip ground Rook's bones as his eyes flicked back and forth over Rook's face. "You can't possibly mean that."
"Why not? Maybe I have a thing for older men. Maybe you've got more game than you think. Or maybe, just maybe, I like you for who you are: the most compassionate, clever, adorable spirit guide this side of the Fade." Rook got a hand in Emmrich's shirt and pulled him close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. "Are you going to shut the fuck up and kiss me, or did you want to fight about it a while more first? Because I'm good to go either way."
Emmrich let go of Rook's hand and tried to step back, but tripped instead over a mess of petals and leaves. He landed impossibly softly in the greenery, looking for all the world like a man who desperately needed to be sat upon—and far be it from Rook to leave him wanting.
He didn't protest when Rook sat on his thighs, or when Rook tugged open his coat, or when Rook tugged at the buttons of his vest. It took far too long for Rook to realize Emmrich's hands were still thrown wide, nowhere near Rook's body as they ought to have been by now.
Rook's hands stilled on Emmrich's vest. "I'm sorry," Rook said with difficulty. "I—I shouldn't—"
Emmrich's eyes were unfocused, and his chest heaved as he said, "Don't stop."
"Are you sure?"
"I'll tell you if I want you to stop, unlikely though that may be." His hand came to rest on Rook's thigh, slender fingers digging briefly into the leather.
Rook resumed plucking the buttons from their nests, and then undid the shirt, too. Emmrich's chest heaved, and his breaths came more and more ragged as Rook worked. Rook's fingers shook and fumbled with anticipation, but the reward was well worth the work. Beneath the layers of fashion and finery, Emmrich was unfairly well-toned. Fine dark hair dusted his chest, tapering to a thin trail and disappearing for a couple of handspan before resuming just in time to vanish beneath the waistband of his trousers.
Rook's hips rolled of their own volition, shifting to grind against his thigh with a poorly-stifled moan. "Not fair," Rook murmured, rocking as more of Emmrich's finery came undone.
When there was nothing left to unbutton or untuck, Emmrich sat up so fast his forehead nearly crashed into Rook's nose. "May I have a turn?" he murmured as he mouthed just above the collar of Rook's shirt.
"Gods, yes." Rook fell back into the plush petals, dust billowing around them. Every brush of Emmrich's fingers felt like fire, every deliberate touch an inferno, all drawn straight between Rook's legs. "Touch me," Rook demanded.
"I am," Emmrich murmured into Rook's sternum.
"No, touch me."
"All in good time, dear," Emmrich said, stripping away fabric and leather alike.
Rook arched upward, seeking his thigh, his hip, anything, but he was too clever, too evasive. A whine escaped Rook's throat. "Please."
Emmrich let out a low, pleased sound like a purr that turned into an amused chuckle. "How can I refuse such excellent manners?" His fingers skated over bare skin until they reached Rook's trousers, and then they continued to skim over the fabric.
Rook's hips thrust up into Emmrich's palm greedily, hungry for the friction. Emmrich's nose brushed Rook's cheek, yet another spark on the blazing need. His lips found Rook's, and Rook moaned pathetically at the softness of his mouth. He was warm, and wet, and so very accommodating. Rook's tongue darted in, sliding against Emmrich's, mimicking the rhythm of Rook's hips against Emmrich's hand.
"We should leave," Emmrich said weakly.
"Later," Rook murmured. "I need something first."
"Anything, darling."
Rook sat up, meeting and holding Emmrich's ravenous gaze. "Anything?"
"If it is in my power to give, consider it yours."
Rook's hands slid over Emmrich's hips to his backside, resting one on each of Emmrich's cheeks, holding him close. "I need you to do to me whatever is going on behind those gorgeous eyes of yours."
Emmrich's eyebrows rose, and then his face morphed into a wry smirk, eyes ablaze with hunger. "Lie back."
Rook did as instructed. Emmrich's hands made short work of the laces on Rook's breeches, then pulled them off in one fluid motion. The air in the Sepulchral Forest was just cool enough to be a refreshing contrast to the heat of Emmrich's mouth as he trailed kisses upward from Rook's knee.
Rook lost all sense of time then, the world falling away in waves of pleasure as Emmrich's mouth worked a kind of magic that wasn't found in the Fade. His hair was impossibly soft between Rook's fingers, and he didn't seem to mind when his ministrations made Rook pull a little harder than intended.
"Wait," Rook gasped from beneath the looming shadow of a climax. "W-wait, I—" The shadow exploded into light behind Rook's eyes, pleasure flooding every fiber, every sinew, from head to toe. Rook's chest heaved, fingers tightening for a moment in Emmrich's hair.
Emmrich dragged himself up, hair in complete disarray from Rook's hands. He wiped his mouth with a coattail. "Marvelous," he breathed, kissing a trail of fire up to Rook's mouth. He tasted different, his usual soft warmth mixed with Rook's own vintage. For a man slender enough to be a skeleton, Emmrich was so very soft. His hair, his hips, his mouth—all rivaled the plushness of the huge petals under Rook's back.
Rook's hands wandered over the exposed skin of Emmrich's torso. The coat, vest, and shirt hung open, giving Rook an unobstructed view of him. "How—how do we—" Rook stammered between kisses. "Mmf— the flower— is there a cure?"
Emmrich's fingers traced Rook's collarbone. "It isn't toxic. Merely—" He dipped his head to press a kiss to the hollow of Rook's throat, eliciting a gasp. "Merely a powerful aphrodisiac." He trailed the tip of his nose up the line of Rook's throat. "As I said, we ought to leave." He kissed Rook like a hungry man, a drowning man, a dying man—like one whose only salvation was the kiss of his lover.
Boldly, Rook's hand moved from Emmrich's hip to the front of his trousers, palming the hard length of him. Emmrich's breaths went ragged again, and Rook pushed him over, rolling both of them until Emmrich lay supine in the bed of flowers. Rook pushed the coat and vest and shirt as far open as they would go, off of Emmrich's torso, and sat on his thighs. Fingers traced the soft, dark hair down his middle to his breeches. Rook palmed him again, stroking over the taut fabric.
"Darling," Emmrich breathed. "Have a care."
Rook leaned down, hips rolling against Emmrich, and murmured in his ear, "Not for another few minutes at least." Rook hooked a finger in Emmrich's waistband and tugged gently. "May I?"
Emmrich gave Rook a curious look, as if the question surprised him. The bemusement lasted only a moment, replaced quickly with the hunger that made Rook want to tear him asunder and be torn apart in turn. "Please," he rasped. The roughness of his usually velveteen voice sent a shiver of pleasure through Rook. To have reduced such a dignified figure to this felt like a triumph.
Rook unlaced the breeches slowly, then tugged them down to free Emmrich's cock. Rook perched on Emmrich's thighs, rocking as one hand stroked Emmrich slowly. Despite the stiffness of his cock, he was soft here, too, velvety shaft rising out of dark down. Fingers dug into Rook's hips as Emmrich's breathing grew more ragged still. "I want you," Rook murmured.
Emmrich's breath caught. "Another time," he said quickly. "I fear I'll not— hah— not last long."
Rook's hand pumped faster, hips keeping time as Emmrich's hands gripped them. His climax came suddenly, soaking Rook's hand and the edge of the trousers that hadn't quite gotten clear. Rook stroked him down off the climax, then used one of the soft petals strewn about the clearing to clean up.
Heat still simmered low in Rook's belly, and as the two of them set about putting themselves to rights, Rook saw hunger dancing in Emmrich's eyes. "How long do you think it'll last?" Rook asked, trying desperately not to think about what it would be like to be one of Emmrich's many rings. What it would be like to take them off, one by one, with nothing but tongue and teeth. What it would be like to throw him back into the pile of flowers and fuck him properly.
"I don't know," Emmrich said, picking up his staff. He came to stand toe-to-toe with Rook, fingertips tracing Rook's jaw. His fingertips still left fire in their wake, though it burned a little less wildly now. "We must leave here, before desire consumes us again."
"And after we leave here?"
Emmrich gave Rook a languid kiss like a promise. "Then, dearest, desire may consume us all it wishes."