anathemafiction

Spicy Q&A — Part Two (Mature)

Added 2024-03-13 16:16:40 +0000 UTC

To all the ROs: “Are there any turn OFFS I need to be aware of? I want you to feel comfortable and have a good time, after all."

It's hard for Hadrian to think of anything that turns him off on you. It's almost inconceivable. He's happy, enthusiastic, really, to do anything as long as it's with you.

But when you ask him to hurt you, Hadrian freezes, eyes blown wide and hips mid-thrust. "W— What?"

You dig your nails deep into his shoulders. You feel his shudder inside you. "It won't hurt me."

"I can't."

Your eyes crack open, and you're lost enough that you start begging. "Please."

But this man above you, always eager to please, to worship every inch of your body, shakes his head. "No, I— I can't." He lowers himself, and plants a sweet, apologetic kiss on your brow. "I won't."

Alessa does not like to be demeaned, nor does she enjoy demeaning you. You are her darling one, the only one who has come close to her heart. She may not always praise you, but she will never disrespect you.

Especially not in bed. "Ask me not to debase you," she whispers in the dead of night, her cold hand sprawled on top of your heart. "Nor do you ever degrade me."

Your lips tilt to the side. "Do you think I have a death wish?"

She raises her head, and her light-brown hair seems silver in the moonlight when it cascades down her slender back. You can count some of her freckles and feel the weight of her breasts against your chest. "One can never measure the lengths your mouth can run."

You lean forward to softly press your lips to hers. "I would never, Alessa."

You feel her smile against your lips, but you don't have long to savor it before Alessa slips her tongue past yours.

Alain cocks his head, considering. "Hmm." He hums, eyes narrowed... and then, the nobleman snaps his fingers. "I got it. Sweat."

You're taken by surprise. "Sweat?"

"Sweat. I don't mind it during, you see. It means I'm doing a good job," Alain says, sending you a wicked grin. "But before? I can tolerate a lot, but not a brutal assault on my senses. I like my partners groomed and clean – preferably wearing some kind of perfume."

"So, you'll refuse me if I come to you bloody and sweaty?" you tease him.

"I'd get you a nice bath, sparrow, and after you change the water, I might even join you."

"What if we're on the road?"

He waves a hand. "There are inns on the road. What kind of world have you been living in?"

"The one that's not of the nobility," you say, your voice serious once more.

Alain notes the shift immediately. He walks closer, extending a hand for you to take. After a moment, you do. "That'll change now," he murmurs, putting his cheek next to yours. His other arm drags along your back to rest on the curve of your ass.

You feel his cheeky smile when Alain squeezes. "What can I say?" He lowers his chin and nuzzles his nose against your throat, inhaling deeply. It makes heat poll between your thighs. "I like to smell roses, sparrow. Right now, I like to smell you."

You lean your neck back when he gently bites you.

Ysabella is like Hadrian but in reverse.

"I don't like pain, dearest," she tells you, the white blanket slipping from her left shoulder to reveal a delicate collarbone. Manicured, soft fingers play with your hair as Ysabella lays on her side.

The morning light illuminates her from the back, and beams of gold slip past her curls like melted honey. You find yourself transfixed with the image. "Of any kind," your noble is saying.

Your eyes lower to her long neck. "So, those bruises..."

Ysabella giggles. The sheet drops a bit more, and now you see the top of one breast. "You're gentle with your bites. They don't hurt. You know I like it."

"I do," you say, reaching over and pulling the sheet down. Her whole chest is uncovered, as is her belly. You lean forward to rest your head on her breasts. "And I won't hurt, Bella."

She drags her nails down your scalp and giggles again when you kiss a nipple. "I know," she repeats your words. "I will never hurt you too."

The Pirate King rubs the tip of his beard. "I'm more interested to hear about what you don't like."

But you shake your head. "This isn't about me. I—"

"It's always about you," he interrupts. His tar-like eyes roam you from head to toe. "I'm the scoundrel of the sea, the brute with the axes. I'm the one who accommodates you."

You roll your eyes and lean on the desk beside him. "Yes, because I'm a poor, shielded lady who knows nothing of this terrible world."

The Pirate chuckles, looping an arm across your waist until you're leaning against his chest. "You're still a treasured find," he says, lips lingering behind your ear.

You settle against his hips and turn your face to kiss his cheek. "As are you," you whisper. "So, tell me."

The Pirate sighs dramatically, but his hands are busy, slipping underneath your blouse. His skin is calloused and harsh, the texture all the better when it envelops around your breasts. "I have a forbidden area."

You close your eyes at his ministrations, feeling your core start to tighten. "What is it?" you ask breathlessly, and roll your bottom against his hips, earning a hiss.

The Pirate puts his mouth right next to your ear. "Stay away from my ass."

You blink and burst out laughing.

Neia, not surprisingly, struggles with relishing control.

The specter rolls one sore shoulder and peeks at you from under her elbow. "You can do whatever you like," she says, scar pulling the top of her lip. "If I don't like it, I'll stop you."

You swing your leg back and forth, watching her stretch on the ground in front of you. Her back is broad and powerful, made of pure muscles. You drink in her bare skin — you could say it was made of ivory if it wasn't for the scars and marks made by hundreds of battles.

Your lover was forged in fire and hardened to steel. "You're deflecting," you say, poking Neia gently between her shoulder blades with the tip of your foot. "Why?"

Neia pauses and looks over her shoulder. You smile at those yellow eyes. You like how her white hair hangs onto her forehead when she's exercising.

"Don't feel like telling you," Neia says, spinning on the ground to face you. She rises on her knees and crawls until she can put both her hands on either side of you.

You frown. "Why not?"

Neia's scar makes her smile look dangerous. "Because," she says, mouth looming over yours. Her hands close on your waist, her breast band pushing against your shirt. "I like keeping you guessing, sweetling. You look pretty on your toes."

And, of course, she won't tell you that.

Lance pauses and slowly lifts his head from your chest. "Now?" the bard asks, his blue hair tied back, and his bottom lip swollen. "You need to know now?"

You nod against the pillow, your hands lightly trailing shapes on the top of his shoulders. Lance has your knees locked in his hips and one steading hand on the curve of your waist. "I've been wondering about it."

His fingers tap your waist in a soundless melody. "That is what every man wants to hear, yes? A causal question while he's trying to provide you pleasure."

You smile at his sour tone. "Don't be like that," you say, reaching over to sweep your thumb over his lip. Lance licks your finger, and you laugh. "You know I enjoy your touch. Very much so."

Lance doesn't seem convinced. "Do you compose poetry whenever I'm inside you?" You laugh louder at that, and he can't hold his smile any longer. "Tell me, do you consider the merits of Church doctrine when I kiss you? Recall the correct word for 'sex' in Latin?"

"I think of how much I desire you," you say, pulling him to you. Lance acquiescent, and for a moment, you lose yourself in his lips. The kiss is deep, hungry, Lance's desire poking your inner tight. The bard comes up for air before he starts kissing just below your throat, down your neck...

"Then allow me to continue," he whispers, moving to your chest, where he was before.

You roll your hips against his. "Tell me while you kiss me."

Lance pauses again. "What?"

"Tell me."

The bard hesitates. You see the familiar glint of uncertainty in his eyes and give him space to decide. "I— I have none," Lance says at last, kissing just above your belly button. His tongue swirls, hot and moist. "I do not know yet, my mercenary."

Lance kisses your navel, and then each side of your hip. "I want time to find out what I like and dislike." Your head is soaring, but you look down and see his eyes on you. His look is of pure adoration. "For now, I need your patience."

Lieutenant Vallen is almost glued to you, but no part of her touches you. She tilts her face to look you in the eyes. "When you doubt yourself," she whispers like a secret.

Your eyebrows scrunch. "No, I mean in the bedroom. Right now."

"I know," Vallen answers, her hazel eyes roaming every inch of your face. "And my answer stands."

You cock your head, watching her as intently as she watches you. There's no moon in the sky, barely any light comes from your window, but Vallen seems to carry a light of her own. Her bare body shimmers, like a star itself. You reach for her waist, and while she looks cold, her skin is warm and giving.

Your other hand moves blond hair away from her forehead. "What are you saying, Vallen?" you ask. She tilts her mouth, inviting you to kiss her, but you don't. "Speak plainly."

Vallen's smile is nothing like her sweet ones. It has not a trace of innocence. "When you falter, when you hesitate, when you wait for permission." Vallen cups your cheek with one hand, while the other trails down your stomach to brush against your crotch.

*if female

Her fingers dip inside you, slowly, and when you gasp, Vallen kisses you hard. "Take," she demands, opening her lips for you to deepen the kiss.

*if male

Her fingers wrap around you, tugging, and when you gasp, Vallen kisses you hard. "Take," she demands, opening her lips for you to deepen the kiss.

"Take."

Rafael frowns. "Nothin'."

You cross your arms. "Nothing?"

He shrugs. "Yeah."

"Rafael!" you say, tugging his arm to make him face you. "I'm serious. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

The bastard laughs. "There's no way in hell ya gonna make me uncomfortable," he says, dexterous fingers trailing up your spine. "You can do what the hell you want. I mean it."

But you can't accept that answer. "Surely, there's something."

"No."

"What if I were to..." You struggle to come up with something. "Choke you?"

Rafael's eyes blow wide. "If ya want."

Lord's nails. "Or... call you names?"

"You do that already," Rafael dismisses. "What was that about choking?"

"I don't call you names!" you object. "You're my bastard," you say, cupping his stupid, lovely face in your hands. You squeeze to make his mouth pinch. "You like it when I say that."

"Yeah, and you're my idiot," Rafael says, tooth gap on display. "See? I call ya names, you call me names. You choke me and I—"

"No one's suffocating anyone!" you yell, pushing away from him.

But Rafael grabs your wrists and pulls you right back. Your chest bumps into his, and he takes advantage to loop his arms across the small of your back. "No choking, then. Forget it. What else do ya have in mind?" Rafael asks, lips grazing your cheek to nibble at your earlobe.

You hold your breath. "This was supposed to be about you," you say, biting your lips when he licks the skin below your ear and mouths at your throat.

"Forget me," Rafael says, guiding you towards the bed. "Tell me what you want."

How would you react to seeing Romanus wearing your shirt… and nothing else?

Hadrian's jaw hangs open. "It's, uh. Large on you," he mumbles as he takes a few stumbling steps forward.

"Oh?" you ask, looking down at yourself in pretend admiration. "Would you like me to take it off?"

"No!" Hadrian raises his arm to stop you, even as you don't move to take off his shirt. It pools on your thighs, and you have to hold the collar to keep it from slipping off your shoulder. "Keep it."

You lift your chin. "Why?"

Hadrian's green eyes are dark. "Just... keep it."

And you can say no more before a hulking ex-Templar has you in his arms.

Alessa crosses her arms, trying very hard not to smile. "And what are you attempting to do?"

You spread your arms wide. "Seduce you, of course," you say, ignoring the way the shirt cuts off at your belly button.

Alessa tries, but she can't help it. She laughs, from deep in her belly, her cheeks flushing with red. "You are a fool," she says, putting cold hands on your chest. “You silly, endearing fool.”

“Am I also a sexy fool?”

She quiets you with a kiss.

Alain leans back on his seat and spreads his legs wide. His brown eyes are glued to you, drinking in your shape with more gusto than he dons his wine.

"Is that my shirt?" Alain asks when you stalk closer, your bare legs crossing in front of the other.

"Maybe," you say coyly, looking at him through your lashes.

"You know the punishment for theft," Alain says, but the noble can't contain himself. He palms his crotch, and you know he wants to spring to you.

"What is it?" you ask, playing with the hem of the shirt.

Alain pats his lap. "Let me show you."

And what else can you do but obey?

*if Romanus is male

Ysabella's giggles can be heard from the hallway.

You tighten your jaw and do your best to look dignified while wearing a floral corset that it's too tiny to go all the way around your waist.

"I—" Bella doubles over, her golden cheeks red with laughter. "I have never seen..."

She explodes in another fit of laughter, and you toss the bloody thing aside with a huff. "Forget it."

"No, no!" Ysabella raises a feeble hand to try to stop you, but she gives up mid-way because her whole body shakes. "Oh, merciful God!"

You need to suffer through another five minutes of laughter until the noble can finally make another sentence. “I’m sorry,” she says with tears in her eyes.

You clench your teeth hard. “No need.”

“No, I meant it,” Ysabella grabs your forearm when you try to pick up your clothes. She holds your hand in hers and stands on her tiptoes to kiss your jaw. “I just didn’t expect it, dear. I’ve never seen a man in a corset before.” She smiles. “You ought to wear it more often.”

You exhale, not caving in just yet. “After that reaction? I think not.”

Bella hugs you, putting her chin on your breastbone. “I admit, I find you like this…” She glances at your naked chest, and her hands travel down to your behind. “A bit more desirable.”

She kisses you, then, with a quiet hunger that awakens your own.

*if Romanus is female

The moment she opens her door, Ysabella gasps. "Oh," she says, gloved fingertips pressed against her mouth. She stays still, looking at you in a dazed silence.

You lick your lips and try not to get discouraged. "Hello," you say, smiling at your lover. Ysabella's corset is a bit loose on the chest, but you think it doesn't look too bad on you. You hope it doesn’t.

But why won't she say something?

"Do you like it?" you ask to break the silence.

Bella must have heard the shyness in your tone because she snaps out of her reverie. She steps closer, the picture of feminine beauty, and grabs both your hands in hers. "My love, you are.... magnificent," Ysabella in an awed voice.

Your face heats up. "You don't have to overdo it."

Ysabella shakes her head of curls. "I'm not," she says, tilting your chin up so you can't avoid her eyes. "You're beautiful."

She kisses you, then, with reverence, so delicately that she makes you believe her.

The Pirate King exhales the smoke through his nose. It rises around his nostrils in a facemask made of liquid grey but through it, you can see the black beads of his eyes piercing you.

"I stole it," you confess, smiling a crooked smile. His gaze on you is addicting. "I don't think a pirate would mind."

He smirks. "Get my boots too," he says, pointing with his pipe to the foot of the bed. "And get over here."

"As my captain commands."

Neia lifts a white eyebrow.

You strut in place, arms crossed on your chest to keep the long black robe of the former Inquisitor from slipping out. "You're finally here," you say as Neia lurks in the bedroom door.

Silence.

And, finally, Neia steps in, closing the door behind her. You square your shoulders as she comes near, tall, and broad, and beautiful. "Is this familiar?" you ask.

Neia quirks her lips. "If you want me, sweetling," she says, and the world turns upside down when she picks you up and throws you over her shoulder. "All you need to do is say the word."

Lance does a double take.

You're playing with his flute, wearing nothing but his sleeveless jacket. You've strategically placed yourself beneath the window, and rays of sunlight filter through to bathe your skin in gold.

Lance steps closer.

You hide your smile and play a lonesome note.

It comes out wrong, but you pay it no mind. Mimicking what he's done a thousand times before, you play a few more, trying your best to look regal.

His soft laughter echoes in your ears. Lance sits right in front of you, with his legs crossed.

You pause, looking at him quizzically. "That's it? You sit down?"

Lance's smile is like another ray of sunshine. "Please, continue," he begs. "I... I have not ever seen a more exquisite spectacle."

Vallen tilts her head, blond braid tumbling down her shoulder.

You sit in her bed wearing only a padded robe of the Red Guard. It falls down the middle of your body, revealing your shoulders, your arms, and your legs to the calves.

The young guard starts walking towards you, and you've only ever heard tales of big cats to the east, but she resembles a house cat, gliding across the room.

"I was getting cold," you lie to her. "You don't mind, do you?"

In one fluid, graceful movement, Vallen slips into your lap. "Does this mean you'll be joining?"

You chuckle. "No. This just means I want you exactly where you are."

Vallen smiles brightly, stretching up to peck your lips. "Pity," she says, little hands slipping beneath the robe to palm at your skin. "You look good in red."

Rafael watches on with a slacked mouth.

You circle him, making him rotate on the spot so that he doesn't lose track of you. "Your coat is surprisingly comfortable, Rafael," you say, patting the long sleeves. It's grey, of course, but it's durable and soft underneath. "I always wondered what it was like to wear it."

"Ya can wear it," Rafael says dumbly.

You continue to circle him. "I know. I'm wearing it." He nods, and you're sure he doesn't follow a single word that you're saying. "Do you like how it looks on me?"

Rafael nods again before he tries to close the distance.

"Ah, ah!" You lift a hand, making him halt. "Not until you answer me."

"What?" Rafael mumbles. "What d'ya need?"

You bite your lip not to laugh. God, but he's adorable sometimes. "Do I look good?"

Rafael's eyes focus. "Is the sky fuckin' blue?" he barks.

You laugh again as, this time, you accept his embrace. Rafael hugs you from behind, face snugged on the crook of your neck. "Wear it outside," he says, and then his grip tightens. "With other clothes! Don't need more bastards putting their eyes on you, but... ya can wear it outside. If you want."

Between the ROs and Romanus - who would win the bet to abstain from... sinning the longest?

I'm not going to compare it to Romanus because they can be very different! I don't know how long your individual Romanus can or is willing to go without sex, so I'll rate the ROs instead.

This is if they are in a relationship with you. If they're single, the order changes a bit. This also doesn't necessarily translate to libido but is rather based on who can better resist your wiles. 😋

From the ones who cave instantly to the ones who last longer: