Failed Endeavor — Alain & Ysabella (Mature) (Patreon)

You have both legs around his hips.

Your hands clasp the sides of his cheeks and neck, thumbs pressing on the corners of his mouth, and little fingers playing with the curls below his ears. You're raised on your knees, legs bend on the cushions, standing taller than him so you can tilt his head back and make him look you straight in the eyes.

"Oh, hello," Alain says in his usual nonchalant way as if he's having a casual conversation about the weather, and there isn't a half-naked mercenary spread over him. His hands, however, don't seem capable of playing it aloof. You feel his palms brush over the outside of your bare thighs and then curve inwards until he gets two full handfuls of your ass.

He squeezes greedily, and your eyes flutter close when he pulls you flush against him. "Someone's eager," he rasps. You crack your eyes open to catch his cheeky grin as Alain kneads your flesh between his fingers.

You smile back because you can't wait to rip that grin off his face. "You do this to me," you say in a breathy voice, teeth biting on your bottom lip as you bend closer. Alain's grin widens, but you see his eyes darken as he tilts his chin to meet you halfway.

"I can't resist you," you whisper right against his lips, making sure to brush them with yours. Your fingers flex, tightening on him, pulling his face the last few inches. Alain's grip tightens too, one hand traveling the curve of your spine while the other keeps hold of your bottom.

And as he sits there, brown eyes almost black, deep golden skin contrasting beautifully with his dark green robe, and a grin that fits him so well, you almost forget you spoke just to bait him. Because right now, you really can't resist him.

"Don't feel too bad, sparrow," Alain says. "Very few can."

And just like that, the moment shatters.

"Of course." You jump right in, your left hand following his throat down to his chest. You drag your nails on his skin and feel a thrill when he shivers. Yes. "How can anyone resist such a powerful nobleman?"

Alain opens his mouth, but you're done talking. You clamp down on him, crashing your lips together in a frenzied kiss. "Hmm," Alain's moan vibrates inside your mouth, and you close your eyes as heat comes to life within you. Alain tries to grab your hair, his fingers brushing your nape, but you rise higher on your knees and push him hard against the sofa so that all he can grab is your shoulder.

You don't want him to have control. Your hand squeezes his face, pulling his mouth until Alain opens it, and you feel his jolt of surprise when you plunge your tongue inside. You're merciless. You want to drink all the air from his lungs. You kiss him long and sloppily, delighting in the little sounds he's making. Just a bit more. Just until you feel his body melt under you. You lick behind his teeth and suckle on his tongue, your fingers pull on his curls as your knees close tightly around him.

"Fuck," Alain lets out when you part for air, a string of saliva connecting you still. "What has gotten into—"

You kiss him again, shutting him off with teeth and lips and, of course, with your ass when you sit heavily down on his lap. "Ahh," Alain moans. You smile, tangling your fingers on his nape to pull as if it's reins as you start to undulate against him. You can feel him hard and heavy with each thrust of your hips, your knickers rubbing on him. Lord, but he's delicious. It'll be hard to stop, but you will. You will right...

Alain was taken aback, but the nobleman suddenly finds his footing. Just as you were about to tear yourself away, he grabs your wrist and tugs you hard, and when you lose your balance, Alain's arm locks behind your back. Your spine is arched against him, your chest pressed on his, and Alain doesn't let you break the kiss.

He takes over. His tongue tangles with yours, dancing a dance that has your lower stomach burning and your nipples aching.

Alain's hand on your ass squeezes until it's almost painful while his other hand grabs your hip. You find yourself gasping when he bites your bottom lip. Alain's tongue finds its way into your mouth. He tilts his head, and you follow his lead, allowing him to delve deeper.

No.

This isn't right. You were supposed to—

"Just like that." His whisper melts against your skin, his hands caressing your thighs, up and down. When you feel his fingertips slowly inch closer to your core, your whole body ignites. Yes. "Just like that, sparrow. Stay still for me. I'll take care of you."

(if Romanus is female)

His fingers reach between your legs, and Alain gently rubs you over your knickers. "So wet already," he notes. You're breathing shallow breaths, head bent over, and you open a slitter of your eyes to see him smiling at you. Alain drops a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Just be a good, pretty lady, will you?"

He pulls your knickers aside, and electricity shoots up your spine when he dives a finger inside. "Shut up," you rasp, holding onto his shoulders for dear life.

Alain laughs. You hate the sound. You love it. "You don't think I knew what you were doing, hmm?" he says, turning his head to bite you on the side of your neck. You mewl as his thumb brushes your bundle of nerves. "You think I'm that dumb, sparrow? To fall for empty praises?"

He adds another finger inside you, his other hand dragging from your hip, up your ribs, and cupping your breast. All you can do is moan as Alain works you like a master. His fingers plunge inside and out while he kneads your breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it. "Alain," you gasp.

He bites you again, in the curve between your throat and shoulder, and then his tongue flattens over the sting. "But you know what?" he says, adding yet another finger inside you. He bites your shoulder next, then the outside of your other breast. You jerk but can do nothing as his fingers fuck you steadily. Alain's lips close on your nipple, his hand kneading the other, and you're in heaven. You have to be. Why did you ever want to—

(if Romanus is male)

His fingers reach the outside of your underpants, and Alain rubs you over the fabric. You were hard already, but now you're achingly so. "All this for me?" he teases. You're gulping down deep breaths of air, head bent over, and you crack an eye open to see him smiling up at you. Alain drops a gentle kiss on your jaw, teeth grazing the skin. "Just be a good, obedient lord for me, will you?"

He pulls your underpants down, and electricity shoots up your spine when he laces his fingers around you. "Shut up," you growl, hand fisting his hair.

Alain laughs. You hate the sound. You love it. "You don't think I knew what you were doing, hmm?" he says, turning his head to bite you on the side of the neck. You groan when he starts to pump you up and down. "You think I'm that dumb, sparrow? To fall for empty praises?"

He twists his wrist around the head, and you hiss out air through clenched teeth. His other hand drags from your hip, up your ribs, to play with the hard muscles of your chest. He starts to pump you faster, thumb sweeping on the slit, while his fingers pinch your nipple and roll it. "Alain," you gasp.

He bites you again, in the curve between your throat and shoulder, and then his tongue flattens over the sting. "But you know what?" he says. He bites your shoulder next, then the outside of your other pec. You jerk but can do nothing as his hand fucks you steadily. Alain's lips close on your nipple, and you're in heaven. You have to be. Why did you ever want to—

-

"Two can play this game."

Alain stops, and you barely have time to blink before you're flipped over. "Ah!" you cry out, landing heavily on the sofa. Alain moves like a snake. He pulls your arms, and suddenly you feel something silky and smooth twist around your joined wrist. You look up and see that he's tied your wrist with a rope, looping it on the side of the sofa. "Alain?"

You look back at him, sitting now on your lower stomach. His robe is opened, and his chest is bare before you. There's sweat going down his stomach, to the happy trail below. You bite your lip, watching his curls in disarray, and the shine in his brown eyes. He looks so handsome. "I'm going to take you to the edge again and again," he promises darkly, pulling his gold handkerchief out of a pocket. Your mouth hangs open as he brings it to your eyes and ties it to the back of your head. "But you'll only cross it once, sparrow."

Your world is plunged in gold. You feel his hands caressing your sides, lazily brushing over your nipples only to drag down your belly and hug your waist. You feel him bend over then, and now gentle lips kiss you in a sweet, lingering peck. "Hang on tight."

Alain straightens up, and you do as he tells you. You grab onto the rope, anticipation burning your nerves, and ready yourself because you know that tone: this will be a long night.

- - -

Truth be told, you could suckle on them forever.

Ysabella's breasts are a thing of marvel. They're voluptuous, like she is all over, shapely and full. They're the perfect teardrop form, round like her hips and heavy. They sway whenever she moves, teasing you, and as much as you spread your hands open, they can never grab them in full. Warm, perfect brown skin spills from between your fingers, the base sitting like a weight on your palm, and God's scorched earth, they really are akin to perfection.

Her nipples are darker than her skin and tight, sitting proudly and perky. When Ysabella first undressed for you, stripping layer upon layer of noble garments, she left her panties and her chest bindings for last. You'll never quite forget that image: Ysabella smiling at you, standing almost bare in the middle of the carpet with the glow of the fireplace making her golden skin shine, and her lips seem even fuller, with her thick brown curls falling free down her back. You've never seen an angel before.

But you saw one when she untied the chest wrappings and her beautiful, God-touched breasts first revealed themselves for you. You had dropped to your knees, smiling as she tilted her head back and laughed gleefully. You had crawled until your palms looped around her waist and dragged them reverently upwards, worshiping the silken skin until you cupped her breasts. You gently measured their weight and shape, kneading the flesh until her giggles turned deeper and hoarser, and Ysabella’s soft little hands grabbed onto your shoulders, and you closed your eyes in bliss when you bent forward and got your first taste.

You had swept your tongue over the outside first, tasting the slight saltiness of her skin and her perfume and oils. Then, you closed your lips around her nipple, and her gentle hands turned harsh when she pulled on your hair and yelled your name, and ever since then, you've been lost.

Like a disciple, you revere them. Her perfect breasts. Yours to adore.

It's them you're focusing on now. Ysabella lays with her back on the bed's frame, naked apart from white lacey stockings that hug her thighs and make her toes slimmer. She has a book in one hand while the other absently plays with the hairs on the back of your neck. You hum whenever she grazes her nails on your scalp, encouraging her to do it again.

A bright, cheery sunray slips past the open window where a light breeze comes to kiss at your skin. It kisses Bella's cheeks too, its soft chilly touch soothing the deep, red flush that spreads across her whole body. "Y—Young lovers, greeting the spring, fling themselves downhill," Ysabella reads from the small poem book. Her voice pitches, as breathy as the breeze, but to your disappointment, it's still coherent. You have to make her incapable of speech. "Making cobblestones ring, with their wild leaps and arcs, like ecstatic sparks, struck from coal."

You're laying between her legs, your arms circling around her middle, and your head rests on her bosom. Ysabella's nails drag across your scalp, and you hum again, the vibrations traveling from deep in your chest, past your mouth, and straight into her nipple, sucked between your lips. "What is their—"

Ysabella gasps, the words tumbling, and you smirk as you pop her nipple free. Truth is, you could stay here forever, lapping at her breasts, stealing her warmth to yourself as you lay on top of her body. You usually take your time, gently suckling and nursing the skin. But alas, the poem is halfway to the end, and you don't have time to waste.

You turn your head to her other, neglected breast, nose nuzzling the round side as you inhale deep. You feel her shiver as you carefully close your teeth on the skin, taking a small bite to the underside of her breast. One of your hands leaves her back, where it caressed her spine, and comes to grab her other breast. You glance up, pride flashing when you see Ysabella staring right at you, the book forgotten.

Her eyes are glazed and beautiful, and her lips part in inaudible gasps.

And then, you attack.

You sweep your tongue over her nipple, as your hand harshly squeezes her other breast. You know her intricately now. You know just how to play her and play Ysabella you do. She mews loudly, body contorting under yours as you pinch, bite, suckle, squeeze, and lick. Her whole chest heaves up and down under your ruthless caress. "What— What is their brazen goal?"

Ysabella is back to reading the poem. It seems she won't give up that easily. "They grab at whatever passes, so we can only hazard— oh!" Bella spams under you. She hits her head on the board, and you're concerned for a moment before her hand goes to your back, leaving deep red lines on your skin. "Oh, beloved!"

You pull her down, making her rest her head on the pillow to avoid any injury, and settle your hips squarely against the apex of her legs. But even still, Ysabella has the book clutched in hand and her unfocused, shiny eyes struggle to keep reading. "But they rear like prancing steeds, raked by brilliant sp... spur..."

You thrust your hips.

(if Romanus is female)

Your cores are only separated by the thin layer of your knickers. You can feel her heat and her slickness, however, and Ysabella moans when you press against it. You bite down on her nipple, harsh and cruel and full of teeth. Bella's hand shakes as it roams all over you, and the hand holding the book shakes too, but for all your efforts...

(if Romanus is male)

Your erection is only separated from her heat by the thin layer of your underbreeches. Ysabella moans, opening her legs wide on instinct, grating you access. You bite down on her nipple, harsh and cruel and full of teeth. Bella's hand shakes as it roams all over you, and the hand holding the book shakes too, but for all your efforts...

-

"Spurs of need!" she yells when you thrust your hips against her again.

And you lift your head, going to kiss her, to cheat your way to victory and steal all her breath so she can't utter another word, but Bella turns her head to the side and shouts: "Young lovers!"

The last line of the poem. You lost.

“Damn it,” you mumble, letting your cheek fall on top of her bosom. It’s such a perfect pillow. Your heart hammers and there's an incessant, maddening heat burning in your lower stomach, but right now, all you feel is disappointment.

Which rises when Ysabella laughs merrily into the air. Her laugh is throaty, at the very least, her voice on the verge of cracking, but it stings, nonetheless. "I won!" she says, giggles rising like smoke. She throws the book to the side and joins both hands on your dampened hair. "I told you I could read the whole thing. I have excellent focus, my dear."

You grumble. Her massage feels good, but you're too gloomy to answer right now.

Bella waits for a beat, and then she laughs again. "You were quite close though," she says, hands gently cupping your cheek, and turning your chin upwards. You let her guide you and lift your eyes to lock gazes with her.

Bella's smile softens. She is so beautiful. "Very, very close," she whispers, leaning down to meet your lips. You return the kiss after a moment, your lips rolling over each other.

"You don't have to make me feel better," you say when you part, bumping your nose with hers. "I'm a big boy/girl. I'll get over it."

Bella giggles, and you kiss her again. "I do so hope so," she says, and your eyes narrow at the new tilt in her voice. Ysabella’s eyes twinkle in mischief, her smile curling at the edge. "Because I won, dashing mercenary, so that means..."

She moves surprisingly fast. Her hands latch on your shoulders, her strong thighs close around your hips, and Ysabella spins to the side. You go rolling onto your back with her on top.

(if Romanus is female)

Your breasts are squeezed by hers as Ysabella leans down to lick your earlobe. "It's my turn," she says and kisses you deeply. You whine around her tongue as it pushes past your lips and feel her soft hands grab your wrists and lift them above your head.

Ysabella parts the kiss, teasingly sucking on your bottom lip as she does, and looks down at you. Her hair falls like a shimmering curtain, her pupils blown wide as they stare at your chest. She licks her lips, watching your boobs bounce when she tugs on your wrists, and then looks back into your eyes. "Stay very still, will you, darling?" she asks in a sweet voice, before letting go of your arms.

You get the message. You're to keep them here. You nod, and she smiles before Ysabella leans down again. The pressure on your core is almost painful when soft, plump lips latch gently on your throat and suck. "Ahhh,” you moan, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets to keep from moving.

Ysabella kisses down your breastbone to your stomach, lapping at your belly button before she grazes her teeth on your waist. As she moves, she pulls your knickers down your thighs, exposing you to the chilly air. She leaves butterfly kisses along the sharp curve of your hip, and you bite your lip when she pauses and glances up from between your legs.

Her smile is bright and wild, and free. "If you move, I'll stop," she warns, before diving her tongue between your folds, and you can only dig your head deep into the mattress and cry your pleasure to the world.

(if Romanus is male)

Her breasts squash against your chest as Ysabella leans down to lick your earlobe. "It's my turn, handsome," she says and kisses you deeply. You welcome her tongue as it pushes past your lips and feel her small hands grab your wrists and tug them up.

You do as she wants, lifting them above your head. Ysabella rewards you by sucking your bottom lip before parting away. Her hair falls like a shimmering curtain, her pupils blown wide as they stare at your body spread below her. She licks her lips, watching the muscles on your abdomen harden and flex, and then she looks back into your eyes. "Stay very still for me, will you, darling?" she asks in a sweet voice and lets go of your arms.

Once again, you understand the message. She wants you to keep your hands where they are. You're mildly amused, but you nod, and she smiles. Ysabella leans down, then, and you throb inside your breeches when soft, plump lips latch on your throat and suck.

"Fuckkk," you hiss between your teeth, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets to keep from moving. Ysabella kisses down your neck, nipping as she goes, and then she licks over your nipple, sending a jolt straight to your manhood. She giggles as she lowers herself along your body, kissing your belly button, and the trail of hair right below. As she goes, she pulls your breeches down, and you spring free into the air. You're breathing hard when she pauses and glances up from between your legs.

Her smile is bright and wild, and free. "If you move, I'll stop," she warns, before grabbing you by the hand and guiding the tip to her mouth. Warmth envelops you, and you can only pull on the sheets as your heels dig onto the mattress and pleasure flashes your vision white.