Spicy Q&A — Part One (Mature) (Patreon)

• Hadrian getting pampered by Romanus.

He's hot and heavy in your palm.

You take a moment to simply hold him, marveling at the weight, your fingers set at the base of his manhood. You feel it twist, see his Adam's apple bob, and decide then, to take pity on him. Beginning slow, you wrap your fingers around his length, your hand deep in his pants, and smile at the muffled groan from above.

"Lord in Heaven," Hadrian whispers, voice hoarse and tight and delicious to your ears. You peek under your lashes and see his eyes trained on you. They're usually so green, but now, all you see is pitch black. Hadrian's cheeks are bright red, his jaw set, and his hand has your forearm in an iron grip. "You, uh—"

You sweep your thumb over the tip.

"Oh, God."

You don't want him coherent.

"Hush, Hadrian," you say, stepping closer so you can pump him up and down. You keep your touch light and gentle, fingers almost teasing as you go back to the base. He sways before you but obediently snaps his mouth close. You can see his eyes glazing, but Hadrian narrows them, focusing on your face. It's as if he fears you'll disappear if he closes his eyes.

That has your smile widening. "Does this feel good?" you ask, leaning forward to drop a light kiss just under his breast. You part your lips to brush your tongue on the skin. A quick flash, but it has him inhaling sharply all the same.

Your hand never stops working. You grab him more firmly, twisting your fingers the opposite way now. "Hadrian?" you ask, peeking up at him again.

His mouth hangs open. "Huh?"

You want to kiss his silly lips, but you just smile. "Feels good?"

"Oh, yes," Hadrian mumbles. He swallows in dry, and his hand lets go of your forearm to play with the ends of your hair. "It feels good. No. It, uh. God, feels better than that. What's the other word? Better than good? It feels that."

Hadrian leans down, hand cupping your nape, but just before his mouth finds yours, you turn your head away. He ends up kissing your temple, and you bite your lip at the way he blinks in confusion at you.

You love this Hadrian so much. "None of that," you chastise, taking him out of his pants. He springs free to the air, hard and big, and Hadrian.

"What do you mean? I can't kiss y—" You hold him with both your hands and start to pump. "Fuck."

Hadrian falls back against the wall, gulping down air. You take advantage to lean forward and kiss his chest again. Leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses as you work him with your fingers and save every last one of his moans to memory. "Tonight is about you," you say between kisses. Raising your head, you kiss a path to his nipple, and gently take it between your lips. "Just you."

"I—" You suck on it as your thumb sweeps over his tip again, and Hadrian almost chokes. "Lord have mercy."

You smile against his skin, letting go of his nipple to keep kissing him up. You kiss his heart, then his breastbone, and then you sweep your tongue over his collarbone. Hadrian doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. They go from your hair to holding your elbows, to wander down your back. He keeps touching you, but when you take another peek at his face, Hadrian has his head thrown back with his eyes shut tight.

Finally.

His chest heaves up and down as he turns red all over. You kiss his heart again before you slowly start to kiss down. His abs, the trail of hair under his belly bottom. One hand lets go of him to pull his pants further down as you go to kneel—

Hadrian's hands clamp on your elbows. "What're you doing?" he asks, voice so coarse, it sounds more like a rumble of thunder.

You look up to see his eyes wide on you. "What do you think?" you ask with a raised brow.

Hadrian gulps. "You don't— You don't have to. I haven't even done anything. It's my turn to—."

You pump him once to shut him up.

Hadrian's mouth snaps close. "Hadrian," you say and gently disentangle your arms from his hands so you can kneel before him. He's so close to your face, and you lick your lips at the precum you see gathering on the tip. "Let me take care of you," you whisper.

You hold him again, both hands at the base as you lean forward and gently, so lightly, drop a kiss on the head. Hadrian hisses, hands flying to your head but then stopping mid-air. He pushes them almost violently against the wall and curls them into tight fists.

You kiss him again, having your first taste of him. "I want to worship you." And then you open your mouth, and Hadrian flies straight to heaven.

• Alessa being manhandled.

She would not call it rough.

'Tis not harsh, nor it is punishing. But there's a strength in the hands that hold her, and a purpose to the lips that swallow her, and Alessa would not call the thigh that pushes between her legs brutish, but it has her mewing all the same.

You plunge your tongue into her mouth, long strokes maddening and conquering, and she grabs your shoulders unless she falls down a cliff. Alessa holds on for life as you snap your hips forward, driving your leg against her core at the same time your tongue ravishes her mouth. She cannot breathe. She sinks her nails in your shoulders, trying to tell you she desires air, but all it does is make you more frenzied.

You tilt your head, and now teeth clamp down on her bottom lip, and Alessa cannot even gasp because you steal the last bit of air from her lungs. You pull her lip between yours, sucking it, claiming it as your own.

Your palms are like iron clasps on her waist, guiding her back and forth relentlessly against your thigh, pulling pleasure from her. Demanding it. Her chest is flushed against yours, her hands helpless in your hair, your back, your shoulders. Wherever she can hold on because you are like a storm she has no hope to ever beat.

And your lips. Your lips do not cease their assault.

She has never felt so. You have never behaved so. But Alessa would rather confess her love to the pretender God than have you stop. "Darling one," she gasps, at last, throwing her head back as you assault her throat. You bite the pale skin, littering it with deep bruises. "What has gotten into you? What—"

You snap your hips again, and she rocks back against the wall. Alessa's arms loop around your shoulders when you squeeze her butt, hard, pinching the cheeks. "Missed you," you growl, teeth clamping on her lips once more. Alessa whines pathetically as you haul her up. "Do you know how many fucking times I thought about you, Alessa?"

She has her legs around your waist and her back pressed against a cold wall, and you are like a barrier, trapping her. "Do you know how many times I wanted to do this?" you ask, pushing your face into the crook of her neck.

Alessa's eyes roll back. "I— I do not."

"Well, too many times," you say, raising your head to look at her. She is not a blushing idiot. She is not some... soft, helpless woman you can take and use as you desire. She is strong, she has pride. She is... "Too many bloody times."

She is yours. Alessa leans in and kisses you chastely on the mouth. "I am here," she whispers against your lips. Her voice is like a soft fool, but she cannot help it. Perhaps she is a fool for you. "Do as you desire, darling one."

Your eyes blow wide. Your nostrils flare, and Alessa is being thrown over your shoulder and carried to your bedroom as if she weighs like a sack of feathers.

• A snippet with The Pirate King.

He presses you from behind.

The desk digs into your thighs, but all you feel is the pressure of his hips against your backside, pinning you in place. His rough hands squeeze your waist as The Pirate leans over, chest pressing along your spine and beard tickling the skin of your throat. "Now, what have I caught here?" he rumbles, lips grazing the shell of your ear. You shiver and open your mouth, but he thrusts forward, and you gasp instead.

He's hard.

"Sneaking into my cabin?" His voice booms from his chest into yours, but he leans away so he can press a hand at the end of your spine. The Pirate then drags it upwards, pushing you down as he does, so when his fingers wrap around the base of your neck, your chest is flushed to the desk. You feel bolts shoot down to your core when his hand squeezes just a little bit. "Do you know what I do with thieves, peach?"

Through half-lidded eyes, you can see one of his axes resting on the desk beside your head. The gold handle is shaped like a naked woman, and the blade shines sharp by the light of the candles. His hold tightens on your neck, and he rolls his hips against you again. "I asked a question."

A warm pressure sparks low in your stomach. "I know what I'd like you to do," you say, rocking your hips right back. You can feel him, and you smirk then, at his groan. "The problem is—"

You move your head, and your pirate immediately slackens his grip so you can look back at him. He stands there, his shirt half opened, his chest wet from the rain pouring outside, and his eyes completely black. He's so striking, so dark. But you have no fear. "Are you man enough to do it?" A pause. "Captain?"

The Pirate blinks. And then, his jaw hardens, and you wish you could see the way his pupils blew for more than a glimpse, but you're being pushed hard onto the desk. You gasp, the air leaving your lungs as his hands tear at your clothes. "Oh, you've done it," he growls beside your ear. You laugh as he pulls your pants down, hands quickly slipping beneath your shirt to grope at your breasts.

It's not gentle, the way he presses into you, but as you arch back, sparks flying behind your eyelids, you don't want gentle. Your nails dig into his forearms, racking deep red lines as The Pirate sets a punishing pace. "Peach, you've done it."

The desk shakes and jolts, your mouth hangs wide open, head snapped back by fingers clenched in your hair, and spine arched by a palm that holds you in place. Stars explode all around you, making the world dizzy as the Pirate takes his booty. As he makes his claim.

-

His skin glistens by the moonlight.

You play with the dark hairs on his chest, feeling it gently rise up and down. Your cheek rests on top of his heart, and you can hear it beating, ever so faintly, right underneath. "Just for the record," The Pirate says, his voice still husky. He takes a long drag of his pipe, and his eyes shine at you through the curtain of smoke. His other hand plays with the curve of your waist, your bare feet intertwined under the sheets. "This isn't how I deal with most thieves."

You smile, burying your nose in his chest. His bed smells exactly like him: a hint of smoke and salt and sea. "Does this mean I'm special?" you ask, the tone teasing.

He cups the back of your head, fingers stroking your hair as he bends down to kiss your forehead. "Your ass sure is special,” he whispers as if he’s reciting you a love poem. “Haven't seen many thieves with your assets.”

"Oh!" you exclaim in surprise, popping up to smack him in the chest. The Pirate laughs, the sound a low rumble that shakes you with him. "You're terrible!"

He reaches over and pinches your bottom, then, yanking you against his leg. "And you're ravishing," he says, spitting the pipe to the side to catch your lips with his. The kiss is sloppy and doesn’t quite work because you’re both smiling. But when he grunts and pushes his tongue between your lips, you close your eyes and give in.

You let him roll you over, his weight heavy and enveloping and exactly where it’s supposed to be: on top of you.

You've missed him, and you've missed this.

The Pirate settles between your legs, hard against your thigh, his kiss deepening until it steals all the air from your lungs. You drift down, willingly, gladly downing again in a sea made of smoke and salt and so very him.

• Romanus being sweet, affectionate, and soft towards Neia and calling the shots. I get a feeling she's usually the one that calls them and is intense.

Her teeth graze your collarbone.

You're trapped between a pair of scarred, strong arms, wrapped around you like chains made of metal. But unlike shackles, you don't have any wish to set yourself free. You fall back against her chest, so hard too, hard like the palms that sprawl on your stomach and knead your flesh.

And her teeth, sharp and long, dig ruthless red lines along your collar. Neia was never one for mercy, after all. She doesn't show you any as she works your mind out of your body.

You let out a low whine when she reaches the base of your throat and sinks her teeth into your flesh. Pain shoots through you, but it's intertwined with pleasure when her tongue presses the spot. Neia then opens her mouth wide and suckles the skin, and your lips fall open as your head drops hopelessly on her shoulder.

You feel her smirk against you, feel the deep rumble on her chest as the Dawnseeker pushes her nose behind your ear and inhales deeply. It has shivers shooting down your spine. She feels and acts like a predator, like a feral, dangerous animal, but by the God she worships, you don't have the will to fight even a single second of it.

Let her devour you.

Neia's hands come to life. They press down on your belly, grabbing handfuls of your flesh before she pushes them up at the same time. Nails drag along your side, not long but demanding, tracing the curves of your hips and the gentle slopes of your ribs before Neia pushes them forward and large, rough palms cup your breast. "Neia," you whimper, eyes squeezing closed when she bites your earlobe.

You shake all over, from your legs to your arms, to the tips of your fingers. You're grabbing her forearms tight, but you wonder if she even feels it. She's exploring your breast, starting from the bottom, massaging the gentle flesh before she presses a single finger over one nipple.

You arch, spine shooting out like a spring, and hear her chuckle against your throat. "Neia," you beg again, feeling heat all over. It seeps into your mind and clouds your thoughts, and you can't think. You can't think a single thought.

Neia bites your jaw, then drags her tongue down your neck. "What? Use your words, sweet thing," she answers at last. Her white hair spills over your shoulder, and in a quick flash, you catch the yellow of her eyes. Neia holds your gaze, her smirk tearing her face open before she squeezes your breast.

Whatever you were going to say turned into a wail.

"Sweetling." You hear her call, but you can't make sense. You're flying and drowning. All you feel is her hands and her lips, and the heat from her irradiating onto your back. Her legs bend around you too, fully clothed, in stark contrast to your naked skin. "I'm so used to taking."

You blink when you feel her press a chaste kiss on your cheek. " Most of what I have, of what I had, I've taken. My title, my conquers, my own damned life. I've had to take it all," Neia says, her breath washing over your lashes. You turn your head to see her watching you. Yellow eyes on yours. "And there's nothing wrong with that. You take or you're taken. That's God's earth."

You're not sure what she means, but you can tell by the tone that it matters. Neia has stopped moving. She still holds your breasts, but her fingers are motionless, and her smirk has vanished. All that twists her lips now is her scar, raising them in an eternal snarl. Neia lifts a hand to cup your jaw and leans closer until her eyes are right in front of yours. "There's no sin in that. Do you understand? I never felt bad about it. I never fucking will."

She stops, and you crack your mouth open. "I understand," you lie. You don't. You're sweating all over, and there's an ache between your legs, and you just want her to touch you again.

But Neia doesn't seem done. You've never seen her like this. She's not frowning, but her brows furrow. "I take," she says, voice low. She sprawls her hand over your pulse point, the gesture possessive, but the touch is... almost gentle. "That's what I do, but I don't want to do that with you. Do you get it? I don't want to take you."

You lean away so you can turn in her embrace. Neia allows you, slacking her grip for you to face her properly. "I want you, Neia," you whisper. You hesitate but then hold her cheeks. Neia’s right eye twists, but she stays still. "I promise."

She's silent. Your heart beats in your chest, and something presses down on it. Something makes a knot in your throat. Something has you leaning in and gently kissing her lips. Neia takes a small inhale, fingers jerking on your back, but when you press a little bit closer, deepening the kiss just a tiny bit, Neia opens her mouth and welcomes you in.

You close your eyes as your tongues intertwine, as your hands move to sink into her hair, your nails desperate on her scalp. Neia grunts into your mouth, hands sprawled over your back and pulls you into her. Your breasts flush with hers, but even as sparks ignite your core again, your kiss is... slow.

Slow and wet and so very deep. Neia lets your tongue explore her mouth, passing over her sharp teeth. She tilts your head, grabbing a handful of your hair, but stays still as you set the pace. When your lungs burn for air, you lean away, a line of saliva connecting your lips as you both gasp down air.

"Let me show you," you plead. She doesn't react. Her face stays as if made of stone, staring back at you. You'll take that as a yes. "Just... stay still."

You hold the collar of her tunic. With slow fingers, you unwrap the straps as you lean forward again. You kiss her one more time, lips rolling over hers before you kiss the side of her mouth, then down her chin to her jaw, then to the hollow of her throat. You feel her fingers jerk, but otherwise, she stays completely still. You brush her hair to the side as you kiss a path down to her collarbone.

Neia's eyes bore into yours when you look up... and then pull her shirt over her head. And you see her in all her glory. Scarred, harsh, pale skin. Beautiful, beautiful skin. Your hands move on their accord, roaming down her broad shoulders to her arms, then up her sides, over her taunt stomach and powerful hips. She puts her hands behind her, leaning back as you explore her.

With your hands, of course, but your lips too. You kiss her wherever you can reach, tasting the salt on her skin. You kiss the valley between her breasts, and then you turn your head and nuzzle into one. Flashing a quick glance upwards, you see Neia watching you silently.

Her face like stone. Her eyes like burning pyres.

Hiding a pleased smile, you dart your tongue out and lick the side of her breast. And she doesn't make a sound, but you feel the way the muscles clench on her stomach, and she stiffens beneath your palms. "I want you," you repeat, licking her breast gently, tracing a path to the center. Your hands grope her hips, then the waist of her pants, fingers teasing the skin of her lower stomach.

You pause and look deep into her eyes. Neia, the former Dawnseeker watches you like a predator. Like a beast. But, at this moment, a tamed one. Tamed only by you. "All of you."

You part your lips and take her nipple into your mouth, closing your eyes in bliss when she grabs your hair— fingers pulling at your scalp with a pleasant burn.

You'll show her. You'll leave no doubts.

• ROs favorite positions?

Hadrian likes the missionary position the most. The closer you are, the better. He likes to put his elbows on both sides of your face, hands tangling in your hair, leaning down to look deep into your eyes as he pumps you nice and sweet. He wants to feel every inch of your skin, dragging against his with every thrust of his hips, and watch your mouth fall open in bliss. Hadrian likes to see your eyes glaze by his doing. He likes to have your lips nearby, available for him to kiss whenever he feels like it.

-

Alessa likes to be wrapped around you. Whether it's on the bed, against a wall, or hanging from a couch. If she can squeeze you to her chest and dig her nails into your shoulders, or grab handfuls of your hair to pull, then Alessa is happy. If she can use her legs? Even better. She likes to wrap them around your waist and squeeze you between her knees as if she's never going to let you go.

She likes using her mouth too, anywhere she can reach, so she rather be facing you. And she likes when you use your mouth too. Anywhere: her lips, her throat, her cheeks, her breasts, her hips. Kiss her, that's her favorite.

-

The Pirate likes to vary and do it often, but he supposes his favorite position tends to be you on your knees with his hands full of your ass while he thrusts from behind. He likes to hold you down and pluck sweet sounds from your lips. He likes to haul you up and hitch your breath or lower you to the mattress and draw out long, needy moans. He likes to go slow and deep, rolling his hips almost lazily against you and smirk wide at your whinny begs to hurry.

Or go fast and hard and watch you bounce. Most of all, he likes to prop you on your knees, and flush your back to his chest so he can pistol so deep, you lose the ability to speak. The Pirate likes that. He likes to fuck you out of your mind.

-

Neia's favorite position is anything that allows her to bite your neck. Preferably with you beneath her but she's not opposed to having you draped over her lap either. Teeth sunk in as her fingers dive in and out of you, ears filled with your gasp and moans. Teeth on your shoulder, tongue licking the skin as her thigh thrusts between your legs, and she feels you losing coherency. Teeth on your inner thigh, marking a path to that sweet center, and then teeth there too, careful and light but holding just the tiniest bit of threads.

Neia isn't very picky, really. As long as you're naked and she can touch you, she doesn't mind much which way your body happens to be bent. But something about marking your neck has her yellow eyes blowing black.

-

Alain likes to have you on his lap. He likes to sit back, head resting on the bedframe or the edge of the couch or the wall, if you're going at it on the floor, and watch with an indolent grin and half-lidded eyes you bouncing on top of him. He likes to drag his hands over your sides, play with your nipples, stick his thumb between your lips and press down on your tongue until you suck it.

He enjoys you riding him as his palms set the pace on your waist. Slow and deep, fast and animalistic. Depends on the mood.

-

Ysabella loses herself when you press close from behind, both your bodies turned sideways on the bed. She likes you spooning her body, your lips peppering her neck with kisses, the back of her ear, her shoulder, her cheek. One hand playing with her ample breast, fingers teasing a nipple while the other plays with the pearl between her legs. Ysabella's mouth parts open in unspoken bliss as you methodically work her from behind, reaching deeper and deeper.

She likes to feel every inch of you, and then she likes when you push one of her knees up, your hand so strong, and lean forward, pressing her beneath you and—

Oh. She sees stars then. Completely loses herself.

-

Rafael likes it dirty. He likes it deep and not necessarily fast, but the bastard isn't usually one for teasing. Most of all, though, he likes your ass. Very much. Biting it from behind while he's buried deep within you, teeth and lips marking the round flesh. Or palm it while you squirm on his lap. He likes to hold your cheeks with both hands as you move above him and watch them bounce at the crack of his palm. Feel the flushed skin as he caresses it after, a wide smile on his face as he kisses you with tender lips, readying for the next spank.

Rafael also really likes to go down on you. If he can do it while he kneads your delicious, round bottom? One happy thief indeed.

-

Lance... Lance is a tricky one. I know what his favorite position is, but he does not. Yet. I will say that, if he has to pick one now, right now, he'd say he'd do anything that has you facing away from him.

Anything that has you in the dark. Perhaps he can tie a cloak over your eyes? Or come to you in the depths of night, with no candles and no moonlight, and your hands bound somewhere because he...

Lance tightens his jaw and looks away. He'd rather not think about this, after all.

• ROs from loudest to quietest?

Ysabella — By far the loudest. She can't control herself. She'll mewl and moan and gasp, and right at the edge, right at that delicious fall, Ysabella has been known to yell.

Rafael — It's not that he's loud, per se. Rafael actually makes a conscious effort to try and keep quiet. His problem is that he cannot stop talking. He'll talk. A lot. Praising you, and cursing you, and cursing himself. He'll just be constantly running his mouth. The challenge is to get him to shut up. 😄

Hadrian — Prayers. Lots and lots of mumbled, breathless, blasphemous prayers fall from his lips. He'll use the Lord's name in vain, and then some. It's not loud, but it's frequent. He'll say your name a lot too. Groaning it, mixing it with his grunts.

Lance — Very similar to Hadrian, except God isn't in his vernacular. But Lance will mumble your name and let out low drawn-out groans. They're quiet, picked by your ears only, but even in such a state, you can hear the musicality in his voice.

Alain — It's not that Alain is very loud, but, like Rafael, he enjoys talking too. Unlike Rafael, however, he's controlled and coherent. Alain likes to compliment you, praising how pretty you look as you take him. He praises you a lot, oftentimes with a grin. But it's when you get him to hiss out air through clenched teeth, a groan resonating from deep in his chest, that you can consider it a victory.

Alessa — Alessa isn't one for big displays, even when in the throes of passion. She keeps her lips pressed and shows her fervency through her hands, nails, and teeth rather than her throat. Alessa will sigh when you kiss her gently, hand on your scalp as you mouth the hollow of her throat. But when you're really going at it? When galaxies expand behind her eyelids, Alessa tends to clench her jaw as tight as she squeezes her eyes shut.

The Pirate King — Not much sound here. He'll let out a grunt or two when he's going especially hard: if he's holding you up or setting a challenging pace. It's when you use your mouth on him that The Pirate will be more vocal. He'll caress your hair as he guides you, growling little praises and incentives. Overall, you'll hear his deep breathing near your ear, but apart from the occasional pet name, little else falls from his lips.

Neia — As close to a specter as one can be. She's very silent whenever you're intimate. She doesn't like to talk much, doesn't gasp or moan or even grunt. It's almost eerie, the control she has over herself. It's a feat very few were ever able to pull: to get Neia to lose it. You may try... and if you ever succeed, what a sight it'll be. But, in general, Neia is extremely quiet.

• How would the ROs feel about Romanus being a virgin?

Spoilers! I'd rather you experience this in-game. 😋