Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rook paced the floor of her increasingly comfortable room. The Lighthouse had started off, to her, as a strange, cold hideout of an enemy. But over the past month or so, she’d found herself looking forward to finishing a mission so she could head back to somewhere that, quite surprisingly, was beginning to feel like home. Home was certainly a place where one fretted frequently over their own pathetic inability to stop daydreaming about a coworker, right? A coworker who was possibly twenty years her senior. At the very least.

She’d never asked his age. Was afraid to know the answer, as if finding out a certain number would lock her out forever, even damaging her sad little fantasies. It was easier not to think about specifics. Specifics were imagination killers. And she needed her imagination desperately, seeing as she was painfully awkward around Emmrich in all their Real Life Interactions. She was more awkward than Manfred stumbling around the kitchen with a spatula, trying to cook everyone breakfast. She was more awkward than Taash during one of Bellara’s impromptu dance parties in the living room.

The biggest problem was this: Emmrich was intimidating. He was a professor. He was well-learned. He was graceful and posh and handsome. His eyes focused intensely on her whenever she spoke, so it was hard for to meet his gaze without blushing. After the first week of this, she’d assumed such embarrassing reactions to him would wear out quickly. One can only keep up the energy of an intense crush for so long when faced with constant interaction. But no.

No, the heat in her cheeks never faded when he looked at her. Her rapid pulse never calmed when he entered the same room. Her ability to have a dream in which he was not the erotic star never improved. Rook was completely (utterly, annoyingly) very much into her necromancer coworker of unknown age. So she paced in her small but cozy room and almost didn’t hear the knock when it came softly at her door.

Another knock, of an easy and polite nature, and then, “Sorry to bother you, but do you have a moment?”

Rook’s chest clenched uncomfortably. He was at her door again. He kept doing that, more and more often. Coming to her after the rest of the Lighthouse had settled in for the night, checking to see if that scrape she’d received on her temple during a skirmish had healed well, asking if she’d like a cup of tea, since he’d “just put on the kettle.” She was positive these check-ins were innocent. If he’d known the way his attention made her skin tingle, surely he would have had some mercy. He wouldn’t keep calling on her like this.

She braced herself, smoothing her hair and pulling the fallen strap of her undershirt back over her shoulder, the bothersome thing. She breathed, in and out, steady does it. And then she crossed to open the door, suddenly self-conscious of her bare feet, but too worried about keeping him waiting to take the time to locate her slippers.

The door creaked when it opened. It seemed Solas had not considered well lubricated hinges a necessity when creating his hideout.

As expected, Emmrich was standing there, looking much the way he’d looked when they’d all said goodnight about half an hour before. Except now, the laces at his collar were loosened, revealing a sharp hint of a collarbone. And a lock of his silver hair was hanging forward, the ends dampened from his nightly routine of washing his face. He smelled faintly of peach blossoms (from his soap) and mint (from his toothpaste) and Rook could feel her cheeks pinkening at a breakneck pace.

“Emmrich,” she greeted with as much nonchalance as she could muster. “What can I do for you?”

Oh, the things she could do for him, if he’d only ask.

He had the audacity to lean against her doorframe and prop a hand on his hip. He was effortless. If she wasn’t so besotted with him, she might hate him for the elegance in which he moved through her world.

“I was passing by on my way from the washroom and thought I would bid you one last goodnight,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth and tinged with concern. “Please don’t take offense, but there was a matter I wanted to discuss in private. It’s been bothering me these past few weeks, and I think we are comfortable enough with one another now for me to bring it up.”

“Um, oh? What is it?” Rook did not move from the doorway, did not invite him into her room. That would be too much. Plus, as often was the case when Emmrich was standing before her, she was frozen in place.

He lowered his voice before he continued, probably seeking discretion, since he was polite and thoughtful and Rook was a mannerless idiot who couldn’t even invite the man into her room. “It is a health concern.”

“Are you sick?” she asked, in a sudden panic. Her fingers itched to reach for him, but up to this point they had seldom touched, and she couldn’t bring herself to do it now.

“Dear Rook, the concern is not for my own person.” It was then that Emmrich stepped forward, gently sidling past her and stepping fully into her bedroom. He took a moment to turn and pull her door closed. Again, the hinges groaned. And so, very nearly, did Rook herself.

He turned back to her, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, his pupils sparkling with the reflection of the lit lanterns on the wall. “It’s you I’ve been worrying about,” he said, his voice still low, despite their newly attained privacy.

“M-me?” Rook asked. Grunted, really.

“Your cheeks,” he said. His hand hovered at his side, his fingers curling and uncurling. “I’ve noticed they’re quite red. Have you been suffering with a frequent fever of some kind? Please, allow me.”

Before she could allow or deny him anything, his hand reached all the way to her face and cupped her cheek. He tutted, his lips turning into a pronounced frown. “You’re very warm,” he muttered, as if to himself. His hand left her cheek and pressed against her forehead instead. “Have you been to a proper healer lately? You don’t have to pretend like nothing’s wrong. If you’re hurting, I would be happy to accompany you to—”

“I’m fine!” Rook yelled. Yelled, because, as stated before, she was painfully awkward in front of this man on her best days, and now he was touching her and she was on fire. “Just a bit flushed. I blush easy. It’s not anything serious.”

“Ah, is it a blush, then?” he asked, something in his voice making her blush even harder. “What’s bringing this blush about? Are you still shy, even after all this time together?”

“I’m not shy,” Rook argued. “I just…blush sometimes. When…when…”

“It’s okay to be shy, Rook,” Emmrich said sweetly. “But it must be a strain on you, to blush so fiercely, so often. Is there anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable?”

An unstoppable laugh burst from her throat and she clasped a hand over her mouth. Emmrich arched an eyebrow at her. It was no wonder. She was sure she must look absolutely mad, which would not be an unfair assessment.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Rook said. “It’s really not an issue. Not a health concern, I mean. I’m just, um, weird, I guess.” His hand was still on her forehead and this did not escape her notice. Maybe it didn’t escape his either, though, because his fingers began brushing a few errant strands of hair off her clammy skin. Excellent. She was now pink-cheeked AND clammy.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about me,” Emmrich whispered, and why was he suddenly whispering? “But I rather like weird.”

“You,” Rook rasped helplessly, “like weird?”

“My cherished companion is a necromanced skeleton whom I’ve taught to make Eggs Benedict.”

“Oh.”

“And my other cherished companion is a much younger woman whose cheeks turn a delightful pink every time I enter the room.”

WHAT?

Rook’s legs gave out. They actually, literally, stopped working, and she would have crashed to her knees if Emmrich had not swiftly caught her up in his arms and kept her aloft.

“Apologies for the forwardness, dear,” he said, whispering once again, this time right into her ear. “But one of us had to do something about this and we both know it was never going to be you.” His hand tucked under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Cradled in his grasp the way she was, Rook could hardly look away. Finally, she felt allowed to look, to really look, and maybe, to her total surprise, she noticed a faint blush on Emmrich’s cheeks, as well.

“You’re not wrong,” she answered.

Chapter Text

Outwardly, she was a mess. Pink-cheeked, sweating, harried breath. Inside she was…equally a mess. Emmrich was holding her, and he was moving his face closer and closer, and he was whispering things that didn’t make sense!

“Hmmm, see? There they go again.” The fingers beneath her chin smoothed up to once more press against her blushing cheeks. “What are we going to do about this?”

Rook didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. Her only response was to let herself fall even more thoroughly into Emmrich’s hold.

“What’s this? Have you lost all your strength?” He stopped touching her face in order to wrap both arms tightly around her waist, giving her a squeeze.

“Oh!” she gasped.

“Oh? Is this a proximity issue? Should I keep my distance, for the sake of your poor cheeks?” He began to pull away.

And that. That was the moment Rook finally decided. Yes, she was awkward and nervous. Yes, she was blushing furiously. And yes, she was feeling a tad humiliated in this situation. But Emmrich was not going to get away from her, not when she knew what it was like to have him so near. So, as he tried to stand straight and slip his hands from around her hips, she pushed forward, grabbed hold of his loosened collar, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth forcefully to his.

His mustache tickled her skin. The scent of peach blossoms and mint was heady. His lips were softer than she’d imagined, but his kiss was hardly soft. Instead, he met her crushing intensity with an enthusiasm to rival her own. To rival any and every kiss she’d ever had. His fingers bruised against the swell of her hips, dragging her roughly against him. Her back arched as he leaned into her, her hitch of breath swallowed up by his mouth. Maker, he was tall, and she was beginning to strain where she kept her toes tipped dramatically towards him, trying to eliminate any inch between them.

And then, abruptly, the kiss stopped. Or rather, Emmrich stopped the kiss. Outrageous.

He extricated himself (though his hands remained firmly on her hips) and studied her, his pupils blown huge. When he didn’t speak, she was forced to, needing to know why he’d stopped.

“Why did you stop?”

He laughed. A thrilling sound, deep and airy. It sent little shocks all down her spine. “I thought I’d check the state of you.” His eyes squinted as he playfully leaned in, appraising her as if she were one of his rare and valuable tomes. “Still blushing.” He took one of her hands, his thumb rubbing over her wrist and then pausing, pressing into tender flesh to take her pulse. “Heartrate is high. Troubling.” He hummed to himself as he continued his inspection, his hand sweeping over her clavicle and down, where his fingers fanned assertively over her heart. She felt herself pounding against his touch. “Hmm…”

“Hmm?” she asked, flustered.

“Hmmm, indeed,” he replied. Next, his hand swept lightly down the side of her breast, barely touching, smoothed across her abdomen, and finally came to rest at the heated junction between her legs. His broad palm cupped her, his fingers teasingly tapping. “It seems you are blushing here, as well. It’s quite warm to the touch.”

“Emmrich!” Rook threw both her hands over her face and tried to steady her breathing. But breathing became impossible when Emmrich’s fingers began to move, inching over the fabric of her sleep pants until all fabric was cast aside and he was touching hot skin and a smattering of hair. Maker, and he didn’t stop at that. One long finger searched until it could dip and slide.

“Dear Rook,” he said. “You should have told me how much you ached. I can feel how wet you are.”

“I—I didn’t think you were interested,” she replied, breath stuttering. He had not removed his finger yet. It was still slipping back and forth between her folds at a maddeningly slow pace. “You’re so much older than me, um, not that I think you’re very, very old, really, and I thought—”

“You thought what, exactly?”

“I thought I would be a bother to you,” she admitted. It would not be the first time she’d proven to be a bother, to a paramour or otherwise.

“I see. And do I seem bothered, by your estimation?” His finger stopped sliding and, instead, pushed.

Rook gasped. Her hands clutched at his shoulders.

“Do you think I’m bothered by how tightly you’re squeezing me?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

He crooked his finger and she bucked backwards. It was only his quick forearm bracing around her waist that kept her from falling. “Do you think I’m bothered by how ready you are for me, when I’ve barely touched you?”

That brought a furrow to Rook’s brow. “I wouldn’t call this ‘barely’ touching me.”

Again, he laughed, and accompanying the melodic rumble was the thrusting of his finger. He surged into her, retreated, surged upwards again, breaching her again and again, without pause.

He bent forward as he worked, silver hair falling over his eyes. Rook hid herself into the crook of his offered neck, her parted lips panting hot breaths against his skin. His rhythm was sure and practiced, and the width of a single finger was more than she was accustomed to, so when he slipped in a second, she couldn’t stop the groan that tumbled from her mouth. Honestly, it had been longer than she would ever admit to, and the girth of a modest two fingers stretched her greatly. Almost hurt, in fact.

“I have been bothered by you, if I’m being honest,” Emmrich confessed, his lips moving against her hair, the side of her face, all he could probably reach with the way she was buried into the crook of his neck. “You’re not the only one who’s been wanting. I might be old enough to hide my blushes,” he said, suddenly stopping his aggressive thrusting in order to wrap his fingers around her wrist. “But I’ve been aching, too.” He guided her to the crotch of his trousers, letting her fingertips brush the stiffness there before forcing her whole hand down to grasp him. “Are you bothered by me?”

“No,” Rook panted, feeling him throb against her palm. “No, no, I’m not bothered.”

“Isn’t it easier this way? Admitting our feelings instead of hiding them? Hmm?” His hand was covering hers, making her rub against his prominent erection, the thin material of his trousers letting her feel the heat of him. “Don’t you feel better?”

“I do,” she agreed, though she would have agreed to anything he said in that moment.

“Do you want to unlace my trousers?” he prompted, his hips giving a slight thrust forward, his bulge pressing against her palm.

“Yes,” she whispered, afraid if she spoke any louder her voice might crack from the sheer excitement racing through her. “I want to.”

“A pleasant coincidence. I want you to, as well.”

This was a different side of Emmrich, one she’d not anticipated. He radiated gentleness even as he pulled her hand towards his laces. His eyes burned as he leveled her with a lusty stare, but his voice was soothing as he hummed his approval. She felt as if he was totally in control of her, but she also felt an awareness that he was watching her carefully. It was as if he knew exactly how much she needed him to tell her what to do, knew she was too timid to dare try it on her own. She was no trembling, timid thing on the battlefield. In a fight, she was always quick to join the fray, her double daggers flying and slicing. She never balked to make life or death decisions. But in this? In this, she desired his guidance. And he seemed eager to provide it as he urged her to her knees.

Her fingers fidgeted clumsily with the laces for a moment, before she finally managed to shimmy his trousers over his hips and release him. She was spellbound for a few fluttering heartbeats. She’d seen only a handful of naked men in the past, and no cock compared to the one mere inches from her face. The greying patch of wiry hair at the base of him gave away his maturity, as did the slight drag of the sack beneath. She couldn’t help but touch him there, the downy of hair making it soft. As for the shaft, there was no softness to be found, besides perhaps the velvetiness of his skin. She could not claim to know what a man in his fifties (possibly sixties) usually looked like below the belt, but Emmrich’s cock was flushed pink with full arousal, and nothing much belied his age besides the silvery nestle of hair entrancing her forward.

The scent of him was concentrated here. His soap and his natural musk, the faint bitter notes of spent magic. She breathed him in, her lips ghosting over his length. With a sudden smile, shy and uncertain, she glanced up at him. Mostly because she was desperate to see what he looked like from this angle. “I didn’t expect this when I opened my door,” she said.

“No? It’s what I expected when I knocked,” he replied, smirking. Then, after a beat, the smirk fell from his face and his eyes softened. “It’s what I hoped, rather.” His hand found the crown of her head and he patted her soothingly. “Rook. You are dear to me. Do you know it?”

She shook her head, blinking rapidly to ward off the sudden threat of tears. “I had no idea.”

“Tsk, tsk,” he replied, the smirk returning to his face with an elegant twist of his lips. He stopped patting her head and urged her forward instead. “See for yourself how much you mean to me.”

She parted her lips against his head, her tongue darting out to taste him. He leaked onto her tongue and she moaned at the flavor of him. Salt and sweetness and more bitter notes of old magic. She delighted in the feeling of him in her mouth, widening her lips in order to suck him deeper. His fingers combed against her scalp, tugging sweetly at her hair, encouraging her. She flattened her tongue, took him in deeper, and tried to keep her lips plush and tight as she began to bob up and down. She had never been a master at this, and her self-consciousness made her heart race, but with every twitch of his cock and every moan from his lips, Rook’s confidence grew in her ability to please him.

“Oh, good girl,” he sighed. “Is this what you thought about, when you were blushing? Did you like thinking of me sliding between your pretty lips?”

She groaned in the affirmative, happy when his hips started hitching slightly forward.

“You enjoy this? I wonder what else you’d like,” he pondered, his voice growing more breathless by the moment. “A moment, my dear. Come up, come up.” He pulled her off, his cock falling from her lips and bouncing up against his stomach. A tad thunderstruck, Rook let herself be gathered from the ground. “If I was a few years younger, I’d have you right here on the floor. But I fear this stone would be killer on the knees.”

Rook nodded. Her own knees were suffering from their time spent on the floor. “I can invest in a carpet.”

“So smart. That’s why you’re the leader,” Emmrich praised. “Now, come to the bed. I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll never stop blushing.” He paused, raising an eyebrow at her. “If you’d like, of course.”

Rook felt her eyes growing wider, felt her knees knocking together, felt the hot touch of Emmrich’s hands as he pushed her towards the mattress. “I would like,” she said. And then, softer, “I like you.”

He eased her down to the bed, onto her back, hovering over her with a suddenly serious expression. “I like you, too.”

He kissed her. Then stopped.

“You know, I really am quite a lot older than you. Are you sure that’s not a—”

For the second time that evening, Rook surprised him with a kiss. “I like it,” she whispered against his cheek, which now felt nearly as hot as her own. “I like that you’re older,” she kissed along his jawline, “and that you’re all grey,” she suckled at his throat, “and I like the little crinkles around your eyes when you smile at me.” She kissed his lips again, felt him shudder against her. “Emmrich,” she whispered. Not because she had anything else to say, just because she wanted to say it.

They gazed at one another, and it was the last moment of calm before they both broke apart with need. Emmrich shrugged off his shirt, then pulled his trousers the rest of the way down, over and off his feet. Rook rid herself of her blouse, then her undershirt, baring herself to greedy eyes. Emmrich helped her with her pants next, stripping her down and tearing away her smallclothes, which were now damp with how much she wanted him.

“Please,” she begged, reaching around his hips to grab the meat of his backside. He was lean there, but not completely lacking something to squeeze. His morning calisthenics with Manfred evidently did wonders for his physique.

He did not waste another second, because she was ready and so was he. He took a moment to stretch her thighs wider, situated himself between them, and guided himself inside. The tip of him felt wider here than it had in her mouth. She gasped, tightening too much. He hushed her, his hand brushing down her side, calming her.

“Breathe,” he said, ducking his head until she would meet his eyes. “Let me in.”

Fuck, it really had been a long time. She was tense, but she wanted it so badly. She breathed in deeply, then sighed, relaxing enough so he could slip deeper inside. “Emmrich,” she whined.

“You’re doing a beautiful job. You feel so good,” he said. “I’m going to keep going, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, her hands still squeezing his backside.

He leaned down to kiss her, then stayed down, his bare chest so warm against her. That’s where he stayed when he pushed forward again, this time all the way, until she could feel the bristle of his shorthairs against her skin.

“Ah!” It knocked the breath out of her. Her hands stopped grabbing his butt and wrapped around his back instead, relishing in the feel of his body. His skin was soft and his muscles were lean, but not overly so. It was a subtle power that she traced up and down his back.

“Maker, you feel good,” he praised, claiming another kiss.

She kissed him back, enjoying the weight and heat of him deep inside her. And when he started to move, to rock slowly into her, deeper and harder, she kept kissing him. His tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting her. She exhaled heavily through her nose, matching his fervor. She could hear herself, the wet slap of skin, and she might’ve blushed over that, but she was too busy trying not to scream. Because Emmrich was truly pounding into her now. His thrusting was so powerful, the strokes so precise and delicious, Rook closed her eyes so he could not see them rolling back in her head.

“What a bother this is,” he joked breathlessly, and it was Rook’s turn to laugh. High and bright and full of pleasure, ending on a sharp inhale.

“Oh!”

“How does that feel, my dear?” he questioned, aligning his hips and doubling down on another angled thrust that made her yelp.

“D-don’t s-stop, please.” She was aware she sounded a whole new level of Pathetic Mess but it was well past time to care. “Emm…rich, ah!”

He grabbed her leg and yanked it higher, then brought his forehead to hers as he worked his hips against her. For several blissful, sweaty minutes, they did nothing but writhe together, exchanging breathless, sloppy kisses, grunting out their pleasure, making more eye contact than Rook had possibly ever made with someone she was having sex with.

When Emmrich’s hips began to stutter, he finally broke the silence with a labored, “I know an excellent contraceptive spell. Could I--?”

“Yes,” Rook answered right away. “Finish inside me. Please.”

With a moan so deep and pleasured Rook would never forget the sound of it, Emmrich pushed inside her a dozen more times, then seemed to go impossibly deeper, and then, finally, stilled.

Rook trembled beneath him, pulsing hard as she felt him empty inside her. So dangerously close already, Emmrich reached a hand between them and thumbed at her sweetest, most sensitive spot until she was shattering. A cry sounded from her lips before he clamped a hand over her mouth and hushed her, not unkindly.

“Not so loud. Manfred might hear and he’s already so jealous of you.”

“Please tell me you’re not sleeping with Manfred, too,” Rook mumbled beneath his palm.

“How ridiculous,” he chided, replacing his palm with his lips in a sweet kiss, though far from chaste. “Manfred is proudly asexual. But he does not care for the extra attention I’ve been giving you.”

“I suppose there have been signs,” Rook said. “You have been knocking on my door quite a lot.” She considered. “Was that more or less obvious than my inability to stop blushing around you?”

“Wait a moment…,” Emmerich said in awe, staring down at your face. His fingers brushed against your cheeks. “Amazing.”

“What is it?” Rook asked, beginning to wiggle uncomfortably. Emmrich was still buried inside her, and he was still hard, from the feel of it.

“My dear, you’ve stopped blushing.” His hips gave a little kick and Rook gasped. “We can’t have that, can we? I need that sweet little blush.”

“Oh, are you—oh,” she huffed as he began a slow rhythm inside her.

“There are those pink cheeks,” Emmrich said, rolling his hips at an unhurried pace. He was staring at her again, and she, of course, was blushing under his gaze. “I might love that about you.”

Rook didn’t close her eyes, chose instead to return his intense gaze. “How bothersome,” she said, smiling against his lips when he moved to kiss her.