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With the monarchy in such turmoil, parts of the city quite literally ablaze, and the noble class thrown into utter chaos, unsure of who to trust and who to stab, it wouldn't do to have a strong moral stance on anything. With King Minas dead, the newly minted Queen Persephone vanished off to one could only guess where, and Lord Elias sequestered in the palati itself, there was only so much a person could do in such cases. This was precisely why Elysia chose to carry on as though her husband’s life and allegiance were in no danger whatsoever. If one lost one’s wits every time a monarchy collapsed, one would be forever tiptoeing around.
She knew well enough what was going on. Cicero did not keep things from her and she rarely kept anything from him, unless it was in her best interests to do so, and therefore, his best interests not to know. They were one in the same, after all and if you couldn’t occasionally lie to your spouse, what was the point? Though she knew the current situation, she chose not to allow it to affect her routine she’d set for herself.
For the morning, she awoke, dressed, preened in front of the mirror, and swept out into the city to greet the sun, to pray in the temple of Hera, and then to do her scheduled ‘Selfless Task’ which was usually bringing little cakes to some of the destitute families in the Unfortunate District, as she thought of it. After that, she was back home, sorting through letters and writing to her correspondents. To neglect them was rude in the highest extreme. In a few hours, she’d allow her children to be brought to her, but for now, she wanted only her own company. There was nothing so fine as one’s own thoughts.
On this morning, that was nearer to noon than not, she was prettily situated in a chair beside the open doorway that led out onto the balcony. White light streamed in through the delicate white curtains fluttering in the soft breezes sweeping off the ocean. The blue line of the Aegean sat glittering on the horizon, in near constant view in this room that she used as her personal ‘study’. Her husband’s study was similar, though far more masculine in color scheme. In this space, klines covered in luxuriant pale fabrics were placed across from each other. Pillows in hues of lilac, dandelion, and pink windflower sat on the klines, inviting any visitors she might have to sit and take their time in socializing and speaking.
Bookshelves constructed of sturdy wood lined the whole of the wall across from the door, but were not so eye catching as they might have been, since she’d had them painted white, like the rest of the walls. The center of the white marble floor was relieved by a plush carpet that boasted threads of cerulean and lavender and gray, giving the impression of a watery sunset if viewed from the ocean floor. The entire point of the room was designed to calm the inhabitants. Brilliant flowers set into vases were meant to add the scent of serenity and with the calm, relaxed state her friends were sure to be in, their guard would be down and their tongues loosened. This room was made of secrets.
Her quill scratched across the parchment in long, flowing strokes of exceptionally elegant handwriting, abruptly stopping at the knock on the door. Elysia looked up as her steward opened the door and popped his aged head around the frame. ”Excuse the interruption but Lord Elias is here to see Master Cicero. I brought him here instead, madam.”
Elysia smiled and nodded. “Thank you. Yes, show him in.” She set down the quill and brushed her fingertips against her dark hair, checking to ensure it was still attractive and pleasing. After that, she stood, clasping her hands in front of her and waited for Lord Elias to appear, where she would give him the proper curtsey once he showed his beautiful face.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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With the monarchy in such turmoil, parts of the city quite literally ablaze, and the noble class thrown into utter chaos, unsure of who to trust and who to stab, it wouldn't do to have a strong moral stance on anything. With King Minas dead, the newly minted Queen Persephone vanished off to one could only guess where, and Lord Elias sequestered in the palati itself, there was only so much a person could do in such cases. This was precisely why Elysia chose to carry on as though her husband’s life and allegiance were in no danger whatsoever. If one lost one’s wits every time a monarchy collapsed, one would be forever tiptoeing around.
She knew well enough what was going on. Cicero did not keep things from her and she rarely kept anything from him, unless it was in her best interests to do so, and therefore, his best interests not to know. They were one in the same, after all and if you couldn’t occasionally lie to your spouse, what was the point? Though she knew the current situation, she chose not to allow it to affect her routine she’d set for herself.
For the morning, she awoke, dressed, preened in front of the mirror, and swept out into the city to greet the sun, to pray in the temple of Hera, and then to do her scheduled ‘Selfless Task’ which was usually bringing little cakes to some of the destitute families in the Unfortunate District, as she thought of it. After that, she was back home, sorting through letters and writing to her correspondents. To neglect them was rude in the highest extreme. In a few hours, she’d allow her children to be brought to her, but for now, she wanted only her own company. There was nothing so fine as one’s own thoughts.
On this morning, that was nearer to noon than not, she was prettily situated in a chair beside the open doorway that led out onto the balcony. White light streamed in through the delicate white curtains fluttering in the soft breezes sweeping off the ocean. The blue line of the Aegean sat glittering on the horizon, in near constant view in this room that she used as her personal ‘study’. Her husband’s study was similar, though far more masculine in color scheme. In this space, klines covered in luxuriant pale fabrics were placed across from each other. Pillows in hues of lilac, dandelion, and pink windflower sat on the klines, inviting any visitors she might have to sit and take their time in socializing and speaking.
Bookshelves constructed of sturdy wood lined the whole of the wall across from the door, but were not so eye catching as they might have been, since she’d had them painted white, like the rest of the walls. The center of the white marble floor was relieved by a plush carpet that boasted threads of cerulean and lavender and gray, giving the impression of a watery sunset if viewed from the ocean floor. The entire point of the room was designed to calm the inhabitants. Brilliant flowers set into vases were meant to add the scent of serenity and with the calm, relaxed state her friends were sure to be in, their guard would be down and their tongues loosened. This room was made of secrets.
Her quill scratched across the parchment in long, flowing strokes of exceptionally elegant handwriting, abruptly stopping at the knock on the door. Elysia looked up as her steward opened the door and popped his aged head around the frame. ”Excuse the interruption but Lord Elias is here to see Master Cicero. I brought him here instead, madam.”
Elysia smiled and nodded. “Thank you. Yes, show him in.” She set down the quill and brushed her fingertips against her dark hair, checking to ensure it was still attractive and pleasing. After that, she stood, clasping her hands in front of her and waited for Lord Elias to appear, where she would give him the proper curtsey once he showed his beautiful face.
With the monarchy in such turmoil, parts of the city quite literally ablaze, and the noble class thrown into utter chaos, unsure of who to trust and who to stab, it wouldn't do to have a strong moral stance on anything. With King Minas dead, the newly minted Queen Persephone vanished off to one could only guess where, and Lord Elias sequestered in the palati itself, there was only so much a person could do in such cases. This was precisely why Elysia chose to carry on as though her husband’s life and allegiance were in no danger whatsoever. If one lost one’s wits every time a monarchy collapsed, one would be forever tiptoeing around.
She knew well enough what was going on. Cicero did not keep things from her and she rarely kept anything from him, unless it was in her best interests to do so, and therefore, his best interests not to know. They were one in the same, after all and if you couldn’t occasionally lie to your spouse, what was the point? Though she knew the current situation, she chose not to allow it to affect her routine she’d set for herself.
For the morning, she awoke, dressed, preened in front of the mirror, and swept out into the city to greet the sun, to pray in the temple of Hera, and then to do her scheduled ‘Selfless Task’ which was usually bringing little cakes to some of the destitute families in the Unfortunate District, as she thought of it. After that, she was back home, sorting through letters and writing to her correspondents. To neglect them was rude in the highest extreme. In a few hours, she’d allow her children to be brought to her, but for now, she wanted only her own company. There was nothing so fine as one’s own thoughts.
On this morning, that was nearer to noon than not, she was prettily situated in a chair beside the open doorway that led out onto the balcony. White light streamed in through the delicate white curtains fluttering in the soft breezes sweeping off the ocean. The blue line of the Aegean sat glittering on the horizon, in near constant view in this room that she used as her personal ‘study’. Her husband’s study was similar, though far more masculine in color scheme. In this space, klines covered in luxuriant pale fabrics were placed across from each other. Pillows in hues of lilac, dandelion, and pink windflower sat on the klines, inviting any visitors she might have to sit and take their time in socializing and speaking.
Bookshelves constructed of sturdy wood lined the whole of the wall across from the door, but were not so eye catching as they might have been, since she’d had them painted white, like the rest of the walls. The center of the white marble floor was relieved by a plush carpet that boasted threads of cerulean and lavender and gray, giving the impression of a watery sunset if viewed from the ocean floor. The entire point of the room was designed to calm the inhabitants. Brilliant flowers set into vases were meant to add the scent of serenity and with the calm, relaxed state her friends were sure to be in, their guard would be down and their tongues loosened. This room was made of secrets.
Her quill scratched across the parchment in long, flowing strokes of exceptionally elegant handwriting, abruptly stopping at the knock on the door. Elysia looked up as her steward opened the door and popped his aged head around the frame. ”Excuse the interruption but Lord Elias is here to see Master Cicero. I brought him here instead, madam.”
Elysia smiled and nodded. “Thank you. Yes, show him in.” She set down the quill and brushed her fingertips against her dark hair, checking to ensure it was still attractive and pleasing. After that, she stood, clasping her hands in front of her and waited for Lord Elias to appear, where she would give him the proper curtsey once he showed his beautiful face.
Day by day, Elias of Stravos lamented in the capacity for his people to keep secrets from him. Choice senators were being trailed, those who continued to show resistance and uprising at the idea of Elias' rule. The city was in turmoil, Athenia both literally and figuratively burning in the wake of riots that threatened to destroy everything. However, in Elias' opinion, great reformation could only come from a cleanse of the greatest magnitude. The people were rioting only to be put down. The senators were lamenting the silence that the Stravos continued to force upon them. All of Athenia was under the Stravos' thumb as he manipulated the existence of turmoil that he'd inadvertently caused.
I didn't mean for any of these things to happen. Inexperience on the throne, however, hasn't proven entirely detrimental. There are no souls that are more bared to scrutiny than those exposed to the darkness of Hades. My enemies are exposing themselves, nails in wood begging to be beaten to submission.
Protest of Elias' 'ineptitude' were spoken as whispers, but only as such, for the fear of the throne hampered but could never totally mute such pathetic outbursts. The would-be king would hear their pleas, but first he allowed the world to sour just that little bit more before he'd bring everything to right. However, before that could transpire, however, he needed more.
The spies aren't doing well enough. They've heard whispers, offer conjecture, but there's not enough to advance or abate the efforts to come. Fortuitous though they might be, there's need for greater access to secrets. Cicero, he'd mused.
The regent understood that the Spymaster was the best at his job, the keeper of Athenia's secrets, but he'd refrained from speaking to him so soon. There was little reason to believe the man's loyalties were his, but, as funds began to pool from the Stravos efforts to re-fit the fleets of Athenia, his ambitions were to become bolder still. While the city burned and the people starved, Elias' people remained comfortable. Though many might look to Elias as incompetent, he certainly took care of his own. At least, to the extent that he could.
The young man carried himself not with the pride of his station, but clinging to shadow. Elias of Stravos was not meant to be on the move. His actions were covert, and some work simply could not be given to his spies and soldiers to enact. There were, after all, some efforts that required a decidedly... personal touch. Elias was disappointed to learn that Cicero was unavailable. Again and again his excursions were at inopportune moments, but how else could one leave the palace unseen? And moreover, while ensuring that the innocent, naive Emilia wasn't exposed to toxic corruptions while he was gone.
While Cicero wasn't present, the steward alerted Elias of the fact that Elysia, Cicero's wife, was available. Of course he'd accept Elysia just as readily. While many of Athenia's women were to be looked at and not heard, there were the precious few who showed a hint of common sense. Above and beyond that, there were the shrewd and intelligent ones that overshadowed men and their flaws. The fairer sex, when armed with the mind of a man was a dangerous thing, indeed.
"Lady Elysia,""
Elias of Stravos, as she curtsied towards him, offered the woman a bow. The study they were in was immaculate, with its sturdy shelving storing what could be an immense compendium of notekeeping spanning over years of the husband and wife duo's careers. Elias couldn't help but be fascinated, wanting desperately to peer into the depths of tome after tome. However, doing so without permission, while certainly within his power, simply wasn't what he was there for. Elias did not need books, he needed allies, and having a Spymaster, or technically two...
It's of the utmost importance, he reassured himself. If allowed, Elias sought to take a seat. In his hand was a bottle of a particularly choice vintage he'd scoured out of the palace cellars.
"If you'd indulge me in some chatter, I have drink to make the time pass by... better?" he offered. The Stravos' lips formed into a smile, one that spread contagiously about his beautiful visage, an expression that demanded affirmation of his request. He stretched out his arm, intent on offering the bottle to Elysia for her inspection. The Stravos found it difficult to remember that Elysia wasn't a noble, for her tastes and demeanor seemed to reflect that heritage. Fascinated, and more than a bit pleased to speak to her rather than her husband, he prepared for time spent within her home, so long as she allowed it.
For some, a strong-arm tactic is required. Threats are incredibly effective. But, there are some whose loyalty is better purchased with good graces.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Day by day, Elias of Stravos lamented in the capacity for his people to keep secrets from him. Choice senators were being trailed, those who continued to show resistance and uprising at the idea of Elias' rule. The city was in turmoil, Athenia both literally and figuratively burning in the wake of riots that threatened to destroy everything. However, in Elias' opinion, great reformation could only come from a cleanse of the greatest magnitude. The people were rioting only to be put down. The senators were lamenting the silence that the Stravos continued to force upon them. All of Athenia was under the Stravos' thumb as he manipulated the existence of turmoil that he'd inadvertently caused.
I didn't mean for any of these things to happen. Inexperience on the throne, however, hasn't proven entirely detrimental. There are no souls that are more bared to scrutiny than those exposed to the darkness of Hades. My enemies are exposing themselves, nails in wood begging to be beaten to submission.
Protest of Elias' 'ineptitude' were spoken as whispers, but only as such, for the fear of the throne hampered but could never totally mute such pathetic outbursts. The would-be king would hear their pleas, but first he allowed the world to sour just that little bit more before he'd bring everything to right. However, before that could transpire, however, he needed more.
The spies aren't doing well enough. They've heard whispers, offer conjecture, but there's not enough to advance or abate the efforts to come. Fortuitous though they might be, there's need for greater access to secrets. Cicero, he'd mused.
The regent understood that the Spymaster was the best at his job, the keeper of Athenia's secrets, but he'd refrained from speaking to him so soon. There was little reason to believe the man's loyalties were his, but, as funds began to pool from the Stravos efforts to re-fit the fleets of Athenia, his ambitions were to become bolder still. While the city burned and the people starved, Elias' people remained comfortable. Though many might look to Elias as incompetent, he certainly took care of his own. At least, to the extent that he could.
The young man carried himself not with the pride of his station, but clinging to shadow. Elias of Stravos was not meant to be on the move. His actions were covert, and some work simply could not be given to his spies and soldiers to enact. There were, after all, some efforts that required a decidedly... personal touch. Elias was disappointed to learn that Cicero was unavailable. Again and again his excursions were at inopportune moments, but how else could one leave the palace unseen? And moreover, while ensuring that the innocent, naive Emilia wasn't exposed to toxic corruptions while he was gone.
While Cicero wasn't present, the steward alerted Elias of the fact that Elysia, Cicero's wife, was available. Of course he'd accept Elysia just as readily. While many of Athenia's women were to be looked at and not heard, there were the precious few who showed a hint of common sense. Above and beyond that, there were the shrewd and intelligent ones that overshadowed men and their flaws. The fairer sex, when armed with the mind of a man was a dangerous thing, indeed.
"Lady Elysia,""
Elias of Stravos, as she curtsied towards him, offered the woman a bow. The study they were in was immaculate, with its sturdy shelving storing what could be an immense compendium of notekeeping spanning over years of the husband and wife duo's careers. Elias couldn't help but be fascinated, wanting desperately to peer into the depths of tome after tome. However, doing so without permission, while certainly within his power, simply wasn't what he was there for. Elias did not need books, he needed allies, and having a Spymaster, or technically two...
It's of the utmost importance, he reassured himself. If allowed, Elias sought to take a seat. In his hand was a bottle of a particularly choice vintage he'd scoured out of the palace cellars.
"If you'd indulge me in some chatter, I have drink to make the time pass by... better?" he offered. The Stravos' lips formed into a smile, one that spread contagiously about his beautiful visage, an expression that demanded affirmation of his request. He stretched out his arm, intent on offering the bottle to Elysia for her inspection. The Stravos found it difficult to remember that Elysia wasn't a noble, for her tastes and demeanor seemed to reflect that heritage. Fascinated, and more than a bit pleased to speak to her rather than her husband, he prepared for time spent within her home, so long as she allowed it.
For some, a strong-arm tactic is required. Threats are incredibly effective. But, there are some whose loyalty is better purchased with good graces.
Day by day, Elias of Stravos lamented in the capacity for his people to keep secrets from him. Choice senators were being trailed, those who continued to show resistance and uprising at the idea of Elias' rule. The city was in turmoil, Athenia both literally and figuratively burning in the wake of riots that threatened to destroy everything. However, in Elias' opinion, great reformation could only come from a cleanse of the greatest magnitude. The people were rioting only to be put down. The senators were lamenting the silence that the Stravos continued to force upon them. All of Athenia was under the Stravos' thumb as he manipulated the existence of turmoil that he'd inadvertently caused.
I didn't mean for any of these things to happen. Inexperience on the throne, however, hasn't proven entirely detrimental. There are no souls that are more bared to scrutiny than those exposed to the darkness of Hades. My enemies are exposing themselves, nails in wood begging to be beaten to submission.
Protest of Elias' 'ineptitude' were spoken as whispers, but only as such, for the fear of the throne hampered but could never totally mute such pathetic outbursts. The would-be king would hear their pleas, but first he allowed the world to sour just that little bit more before he'd bring everything to right. However, before that could transpire, however, he needed more.
The spies aren't doing well enough. They've heard whispers, offer conjecture, but there's not enough to advance or abate the efforts to come. Fortuitous though they might be, there's need for greater access to secrets. Cicero, he'd mused.
The regent understood that the Spymaster was the best at his job, the keeper of Athenia's secrets, but he'd refrained from speaking to him so soon. There was little reason to believe the man's loyalties were his, but, as funds began to pool from the Stravos efforts to re-fit the fleets of Athenia, his ambitions were to become bolder still. While the city burned and the people starved, Elias' people remained comfortable. Though many might look to Elias as incompetent, he certainly took care of his own. At least, to the extent that he could.
The young man carried himself not with the pride of his station, but clinging to shadow. Elias of Stravos was not meant to be on the move. His actions were covert, and some work simply could not be given to his spies and soldiers to enact. There were, after all, some efforts that required a decidedly... personal touch. Elias was disappointed to learn that Cicero was unavailable. Again and again his excursions were at inopportune moments, but how else could one leave the palace unseen? And moreover, while ensuring that the innocent, naive Emilia wasn't exposed to toxic corruptions while he was gone.
While Cicero wasn't present, the steward alerted Elias of the fact that Elysia, Cicero's wife, was available. Of course he'd accept Elysia just as readily. While many of Athenia's women were to be looked at and not heard, there were the precious few who showed a hint of common sense. Above and beyond that, there were the shrewd and intelligent ones that overshadowed men and their flaws. The fairer sex, when armed with the mind of a man was a dangerous thing, indeed.
"Lady Elysia,""
Elias of Stravos, as she curtsied towards him, offered the woman a bow. The study they were in was immaculate, with its sturdy shelving storing what could be an immense compendium of notekeeping spanning over years of the husband and wife duo's careers. Elias couldn't help but be fascinated, wanting desperately to peer into the depths of tome after tome. However, doing so without permission, while certainly within his power, simply wasn't what he was there for. Elias did not need books, he needed allies, and having a Spymaster, or technically two...
It's of the utmost importance, he reassured himself. If allowed, Elias sought to take a seat. In his hand was a bottle of a particularly choice vintage he'd scoured out of the palace cellars.
"If you'd indulge me in some chatter, I have drink to make the time pass by... better?" he offered. The Stravos' lips formed into a smile, one that spread contagiously about his beautiful visage, an expression that demanded affirmation of his request. He stretched out his arm, intent on offering the bottle to Elysia for her inspection. The Stravos found it difficult to remember that Elysia wasn't a noble, for her tastes and demeanor seemed to reflect that heritage. Fascinated, and more than a bit pleased to speak to her rather than her husband, he prepared for time spent within her home, so long as she allowed it.
For some, a strong-arm tactic is required. Threats are incredibly effective. But, there are some whose loyalty is better purchased with good graces.
She smiled at the term ‘lady’. Because of her home being situated in one of the richer districts, and because she was at the palati so often, people tended to forget that she was not, in fact, noble. Noble blood ran in her veins, of course, through her mother, but without a named father, it meant nothing. Of course, with Zeus likely being her father, she was half goddess, was she not? And with a face and body like hers, there were very few who would disagree with that assessment.
Admiring Lord Elias’s sweeping bow, she waited until he’d straightened himself before moving toward the klines. Despite the disturbing rumors swirling about the current would-be-king, there was nothing at all upsetting about his appearance. She rather thought of him as a walking piece of art. His was a face that should be remade into statues, if possible, and placed all over Athenia. It was a pleasure to look at him and she didn’t mind his presence a single bit. Who could? Having the absolute pinnacle that personified all that was male beauty in her study was just the sort of delight her afternoon required. So what if his morals and personality were lacking? Being that beautiful, one wasn’t required to be morally upright.
Alighting herself on one of the klines, she motioned for him to take the one opposite her and her smile grew as he moved. Truly, he was a vision. She loved her own husband very much, of course, and had no wish to leave Cicero’s house for any other man’s. But Elias was moving art. It would be an affront to the gods not to admire him, which she planned to do thoroughly. Her gaze swept his form and then strayed to the bottle in his hand, though she did not ask about it. He’d come to that in his own time and Elysia was nothing if not patient.
"If you'd indulge me in some chatter, I have drink to make the time pass by... better?"
Elysia laughed and then made a waving motion to the steward who lingered in the doorway like a watchful parent. “Glasses, please,” she formed the order as a request because she’d found that servants preferred to be treated like people. When servants were happy, they were much more likely to be loyal, and Elysia valued nothing so much as a loyal servant. Her steward disappeared and came back in short order with two glasses, setting them down on the table for Lord Elias to pour his vintage wine at his leisure. Then Elysia gave an almost imperceptible nod for the steward to disappear. She didn’t want him hovering about like a nanny any more than she assumed her guest wanted him.
While the steward had been gathering glasses, Elysia had taken the bottle from Elias’s outstretched hand and looked it over. “This is a generous thing to share with me, my lord,” she said. “Though I assume you meant it for my husband instead. I do hope fairer company is more to your taste, as he is, unfortunately, away from home for the whole of the afternoon. You can wait for him, of course, but he will be many, many hours before he is back.”
Cicero tended to be at the university library when he wasn’t needed elsewhere. Lost in a book for the afternoon, sometimes the man didn’t come home until well after dark. That left Elysia the sole mistress of her home more often than not. All of this, she said to Elias, since he’d asked for chatter.
She handed back the bottle when the steward arrived with the glasses and once the door was closed, she raised her glass and let the wine breathe a little bit before she tasted it. Touching her fingertips to her lips, she smiled. “This is lovely, my lord. I have not had its equal in some time.”
Though she was burning with curiosity as to the reason for his visit, because it was most certainly not to share superior wine, she did not hurry him along. That would be rude, and besides, she was perfectly prepared to entertain him as long as he wanted. Nothing was as pressing for her time as what Elias of Stravos wanted. With his position in the kingdom being what it was for the moment, he was arguably the most important person to please, and please him she intended to do, trusted that she was already doing. He’d get to his reasons eventually.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She smiled at the term ‘lady’. Because of her home being situated in one of the richer districts, and because she was at the palati so often, people tended to forget that she was not, in fact, noble. Noble blood ran in her veins, of course, through her mother, but without a named father, it meant nothing. Of course, with Zeus likely being her father, she was half goddess, was she not? And with a face and body like hers, there were very few who would disagree with that assessment.
Admiring Lord Elias’s sweeping bow, she waited until he’d straightened himself before moving toward the klines. Despite the disturbing rumors swirling about the current would-be-king, there was nothing at all upsetting about his appearance. She rather thought of him as a walking piece of art. His was a face that should be remade into statues, if possible, and placed all over Athenia. It was a pleasure to look at him and she didn’t mind his presence a single bit. Who could? Having the absolute pinnacle that personified all that was male beauty in her study was just the sort of delight her afternoon required. So what if his morals and personality were lacking? Being that beautiful, one wasn’t required to be morally upright.
Alighting herself on one of the klines, she motioned for him to take the one opposite her and her smile grew as he moved. Truly, he was a vision. She loved her own husband very much, of course, and had no wish to leave Cicero’s house for any other man’s. But Elias was moving art. It would be an affront to the gods not to admire him, which she planned to do thoroughly. Her gaze swept his form and then strayed to the bottle in his hand, though she did not ask about it. He’d come to that in his own time and Elysia was nothing if not patient.
"If you'd indulge me in some chatter, I have drink to make the time pass by... better?"
Elysia laughed and then made a waving motion to the steward who lingered in the doorway like a watchful parent. “Glasses, please,” she formed the order as a request because she’d found that servants preferred to be treated like people. When servants were happy, they were much more likely to be loyal, and Elysia valued nothing so much as a loyal servant. Her steward disappeared and came back in short order with two glasses, setting them down on the table for Lord Elias to pour his vintage wine at his leisure. Then Elysia gave an almost imperceptible nod for the steward to disappear. She didn’t want him hovering about like a nanny any more than she assumed her guest wanted him.
While the steward had been gathering glasses, Elysia had taken the bottle from Elias’s outstretched hand and looked it over. “This is a generous thing to share with me, my lord,” she said. “Though I assume you meant it for my husband instead. I do hope fairer company is more to your taste, as he is, unfortunately, away from home for the whole of the afternoon. You can wait for him, of course, but he will be many, many hours before he is back.”
Cicero tended to be at the university library when he wasn’t needed elsewhere. Lost in a book for the afternoon, sometimes the man didn’t come home until well after dark. That left Elysia the sole mistress of her home more often than not. All of this, she said to Elias, since he’d asked for chatter.
She handed back the bottle when the steward arrived with the glasses and once the door was closed, she raised her glass and let the wine breathe a little bit before she tasted it. Touching her fingertips to her lips, she smiled. “This is lovely, my lord. I have not had its equal in some time.”
Though she was burning with curiosity as to the reason for his visit, because it was most certainly not to share superior wine, she did not hurry him along. That would be rude, and besides, she was perfectly prepared to entertain him as long as he wanted. Nothing was as pressing for her time as what Elias of Stravos wanted. With his position in the kingdom being what it was for the moment, he was arguably the most important person to please, and please him she intended to do, trusted that she was already doing. He’d get to his reasons eventually.
She smiled at the term ‘lady’. Because of her home being situated in one of the richer districts, and because she was at the palati so often, people tended to forget that she was not, in fact, noble. Noble blood ran in her veins, of course, through her mother, but without a named father, it meant nothing. Of course, with Zeus likely being her father, she was half goddess, was she not? And with a face and body like hers, there were very few who would disagree with that assessment.
Admiring Lord Elias’s sweeping bow, she waited until he’d straightened himself before moving toward the klines. Despite the disturbing rumors swirling about the current would-be-king, there was nothing at all upsetting about his appearance. She rather thought of him as a walking piece of art. His was a face that should be remade into statues, if possible, and placed all over Athenia. It was a pleasure to look at him and she didn’t mind his presence a single bit. Who could? Having the absolute pinnacle that personified all that was male beauty in her study was just the sort of delight her afternoon required. So what if his morals and personality were lacking? Being that beautiful, one wasn’t required to be morally upright.
Alighting herself on one of the klines, she motioned for him to take the one opposite her and her smile grew as he moved. Truly, he was a vision. She loved her own husband very much, of course, and had no wish to leave Cicero’s house for any other man’s. But Elias was moving art. It would be an affront to the gods not to admire him, which she planned to do thoroughly. Her gaze swept his form and then strayed to the bottle in his hand, though she did not ask about it. He’d come to that in his own time and Elysia was nothing if not patient.
"If you'd indulge me in some chatter, I have drink to make the time pass by... better?"
Elysia laughed and then made a waving motion to the steward who lingered in the doorway like a watchful parent. “Glasses, please,” she formed the order as a request because she’d found that servants preferred to be treated like people. When servants were happy, they were much more likely to be loyal, and Elysia valued nothing so much as a loyal servant. Her steward disappeared and came back in short order with two glasses, setting them down on the table for Lord Elias to pour his vintage wine at his leisure. Then Elysia gave an almost imperceptible nod for the steward to disappear. She didn’t want him hovering about like a nanny any more than she assumed her guest wanted him.
While the steward had been gathering glasses, Elysia had taken the bottle from Elias’s outstretched hand and looked it over. “This is a generous thing to share with me, my lord,” she said. “Though I assume you meant it for my husband instead. I do hope fairer company is more to your taste, as he is, unfortunately, away from home for the whole of the afternoon. You can wait for him, of course, but he will be many, many hours before he is back.”
Cicero tended to be at the university library when he wasn’t needed elsewhere. Lost in a book for the afternoon, sometimes the man didn’t come home until well after dark. That left Elysia the sole mistress of her home more often than not. All of this, she said to Elias, since he’d asked for chatter.
She handed back the bottle when the steward arrived with the glasses and once the door was closed, she raised her glass and let the wine breathe a little bit before she tasted it. Touching her fingertips to her lips, she smiled. “This is lovely, my lord. I have not had its equal in some time.”
Though she was burning with curiosity as to the reason for his visit, because it was most certainly not to share superior wine, she did not hurry him along. That would be rude, and besides, she was perfectly prepared to entertain him as long as he wanted. Nothing was as pressing for her time as what Elias of Stravos wanted. With his position in the kingdom being what it was for the moment, he was arguably the most important person to please, and please him she intended to do, trusted that she was already doing. He’d get to his reasons eventually.
Of course Elysia of Aetea was no Lady, but even the incomparably vain Stravos could give the meaningless title so long as the word served his purposes. To elevate those of ignoble birth and wrap them in a facade was his asset. To grace those with his presence was his prerogative, and to sway them to his directives was his purpose. Elias of Stravos reveled in his position, for it set him in front of those with power with the ability to look down at them for being lesser to him. Rumors and conjecture might oust Elias as a monster, but never could those that spoke to him arrive at that assessment. Elias' words were blades coated in nightshade, lovely to the senses but imbued with venom that one might not feel until their back is turned.
Elias, of course, caught every bit of Elysia's admiration. It was so impossible to miss it once she'd cued him to sit in front of her. The would-be king drank in the unstated praises, relishing in the attention as he offered her that bottle of wine. Immediately, it went to the slaves, who Elias had no eye for. Of course, there was no shying away from Elysia's visage. For one a decade older than he was, she was stunning, a beauty surely born from the Gods. But, Elias had no cause for envy, for his blessings were many more than she might ever match. As the two Greeks drank one another in, Elias might have forgotten his purposes for arriving. Heady desire was a tantalizing thing, and the Stravos took his time getting to his purposes.
Elias listened to Elysia's honeyed voice split the silence, a chuckle escaping his lips as he shrugged his shoulders. Many, many hours? Elysia had no cause to let him know just how long the wait might be. The thought of her admiration paired with those words brought that desire back, resurfacing only to be quelled by the necessity of purpose. Elias of Stravos might have struggled, at one time, to deny his libido, but for now... he kept himself collected. "You'd be right, of course. But, as you say, Cicero might not make such intriguing company. Also, I have reason to believe, my dear, that you can serve the crown just as well as he, if not better,"" he completed, a tease in his words before he moved on lest those lingering sentiments become too obvious.
"Isn't it?" he mused, catching her words with an airy tone of his own. He raised his goblet, letting his fingertips dance along the surface of it. Elias leaned back in his chair, allowing his chest to rise and fall with a steady breath before he drained his glass.
"It's so very rare that I'm able to enjoy it. The vintage isn't so meager that it's justified to waste it only on oneself. But, with you, perhaps there's nothing that's so precious," he added, letting every bit of his admiration become apparent. His gaze was direct, climbing upward from her legs up and along her abdomen to catch her precious gaze. Some might feel ashamed for such an unabashed gaze, but Elias of Stravos never felt shy about expressing his desire for the married and untended to. His memory dashed for a moment to the times of his barony, when business and wine mixed so and lesser men fell to the bounty only to leave their wives for the debauched Stravos to seduce in his reveries. Such times were amusing memories, for when Elias grew more ambitious, the regretful stares he'd receive from such women were delicious mementos of happier times.
At least, happier times for Athenia. Though Elias of Stravos was the victim of unparalleled stress, there was no attainable position he'd rather be in than his own.
"Though, returning to business. With Emilia so unwell and incapable of coming into her own on the throne... there are necessary securities to ensure. You and Cicero are privy to a wealth of proprietary information... Information that I'd prefer in our pocket than in anyone else's. Is there anything, Elysia, that stops the both of you from supporting the throne? And, if so, what can be done to secure loyalty in these tumultuous times?"
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Of course Elysia of Aetea was no Lady, but even the incomparably vain Stravos could give the meaningless title so long as the word served his purposes. To elevate those of ignoble birth and wrap them in a facade was his asset. To grace those with his presence was his prerogative, and to sway them to his directives was his purpose. Elias of Stravos reveled in his position, for it set him in front of those with power with the ability to look down at them for being lesser to him. Rumors and conjecture might oust Elias as a monster, but never could those that spoke to him arrive at that assessment. Elias' words were blades coated in nightshade, lovely to the senses but imbued with venom that one might not feel until their back is turned.
Elias, of course, caught every bit of Elysia's admiration. It was so impossible to miss it once she'd cued him to sit in front of her. The would-be king drank in the unstated praises, relishing in the attention as he offered her that bottle of wine. Immediately, it went to the slaves, who Elias had no eye for. Of course, there was no shying away from Elysia's visage. For one a decade older than he was, she was stunning, a beauty surely born from the Gods. But, Elias had no cause for envy, for his blessings were many more than she might ever match. As the two Greeks drank one another in, Elias might have forgotten his purposes for arriving. Heady desire was a tantalizing thing, and the Stravos took his time getting to his purposes.
Elias listened to Elysia's honeyed voice split the silence, a chuckle escaping his lips as he shrugged his shoulders. Many, many hours? Elysia had no cause to let him know just how long the wait might be. The thought of her admiration paired with those words brought that desire back, resurfacing only to be quelled by the necessity of purpose. Elias of Stravos might have struggled, at one time, to deny his libido, but for now... he kept himself collected. "You'd be right, of course. But, as you say, Cicero might not make such intriguing company. Also, I have reason to believe, my dear, that you can serve the crown just as well as he, if not better,"" he completed, a tease in his words before he moved on lest those lingering sentiments become too obvious.
"Isn't it?" he mused, catching her words with an airy tone of his own. He raised his goblet, letting his fingertips dance along the surface of it. Elias leaned back in his chair, allowing his chest to rise and fall with a steady breath before he drained his glass.
"It's so very rare that I'm able to enjoy it. The vintage isn't so meager that it's justified to waste it only on oneself. But, with you, perhaps there's nothing that's so precious," he added, letting every bit of his admiration become apparent. His gaze was direct, climbing upward from her legs up and along her abdomen to catch her precious gaze. Some might feel ashamed for such an unabashed gaze, but Elias of Stravos never felt shy about expressing his desire for the married and untended to. His memory dashed for a moment to the times of his barony, when business and wine mixed so and lesser men fell to the bounty only to leave their wives for the debauched Stravos to seduce in his reveries. Such times were amusing memories, for when Elias grew more ambitious, the regretful stares he'd receive from such women were delicious mementos of happier times.
At least, happier times for Athenia. Though Elias of Stravos was the victim of unparalleled stress, there was no attainable position he'd rather be in than his own.
"Though, returning to business. With Emilia so unwell and incapable of coming into her own on the throne... there are necessary securities to ensure. You and Cicero are privy to a wealth of proprietary information... Information that I'd prefer in our pocket than in anyone else's. Is there anything, Elysia, that stops the both of you from supporting the throne? And, if so, what can be done to secure loyalty in these tumultuous times?"
Of course Elysia of Aetea was no Lady, but even the incomparably vain Stravos could give the meaningless title so long as the word served his purposes. To elevate those of ignoble birth and wrap them in a facade was his asset. To grace those with his presence was his prerogative, and to sway them to his directives was his purpose. Elias of Stravos reveled in his position, for it set him in front of those with power with the ability to look down at them for being lesser to him. Rumors and conjecture might oust Elias as a monster, but never could those that spoke to him arrive at that assessment. Elias' words were blades coated in nightshade, lovely to the senses but imbued with venom that one might not feel until their back is turned.
Elias, of course, caught every bit of Elysia's admiration. It was so impossible to miss it once she'd cued him to sit in front of her. The would-be king drank in the unstated praises, relishing in the attention as he offered her that bottle of wine. Immediately, it went to the slaves, who Elias had no eye for. Of course, there was no shying away from Elysia's visage. For one a decade older than he was, she was stunning, a beauty surely born from the Gods. But, Elias had no cause for envy, for his blessings were many more than she might ever match. As the two Greeks drank one another in, Elias might have forgotten his purposes for arriving. Heady desire was a tantalizing thing, and the Stravos took his time getting to his purposes.
Elias listened to Elysia's honeyed voice split the silence, a chuckle escaping his lips as he shrugged his shoulders. Many, many hours? Elysia had no cause to let him know just how long the wait might be. The thought of her admiration paired with those words brought that desire back, resurfacing only to be quelled by the necessity of purpose. Elias of Stravos might have struggled, at one time, to deny his libido, but for now... he kept himself collected. "You'd be right, of course. But, as you say, Cicero might not make such intriguing company. Also, I have reason to believe, my dear, that you can serve the crown just as well as he, if not better,"" he completed, a tease in his words before he moved on lest those lingering sentiments become too obvious.
"Isn't it?" he mused, catching her words with an airy tone of his own. He raised his goblet, letting his fingertips dance along the surface of it. Elias leaned back in his chair, allowing his chest to rise and fall with a steady breath before he drained his glass.
"It's so very rare that I'm able to enjoy it. The vintage isn't so meager that it's justified to waste it only on oneself. But, with you, perhaps there's nothing that's so precious," he added, letting every bit of his admiration become apparent. His gaze was direct, climbing upward from her legs up and along her abdomen to catch her precious gaze. Some might feel ashamed for such an unabashed gaze, but Elias of Stravos never felt shy about expressing his desire for the married and untended to. His memory dashed for a moment to the times of his barony, when business and wine mixed so and lesser men fell to the bounty only to leave their wives for the debauched Stravos to seduce in his reveries. Such times were amusing memories, for when Elias grew more ambitious, the regretful stares he'd receive from such women were delicious mementos of happier times.
At least, happier times for Athenia. Though Elias of Stravos was the victim of unparalleled stress, there was no attainable position he'd rather be in than his own.
"Though, returning to business. With Emilia so unwell and incapable of coming into her own on the throne... there are necessary securities to ensure. You and Cicero are privy to a wealth of proprietary information... Information that I'd prefer in our pocket than in anyone else's. Is there anything, Elysia, that stops the both of you from supporting the throne? And, if so, what can be done to secure loyalty in these tumultuous times?"
Elysia smiled at his tease, but let it go at that. If a woman was to believe every compliment that fell from a man’s lips as absolute truth, that woman would be a fool indeed. She and Elias both knew that Cicero could serve the crown far better than she could, and she knew precisely what he meant, but did nothing to acknowledge it, just as he didn’t say anything at all about her husband being gone for the entirety of the afternoon. There was no need to bring it back up. That would be crass.
She watched him consider his wine goblet as she lifted her own to her lips, letting the sweet liquid linger in her mouth for a few moments before swallowing. Elias, it did not seem, want to enjoy his. He drank the entire thing quickly. Elysia dropped her gaze to his knees, listening quietly as he bestowed yet another compliment to her. She leaned back on her kline, keeping her goblet pressed to her breast, one arm draped over the Kline’s back, with her legs tucked neatly on the cushion beside her. A demure lounging pose. She was at ease and did not presume that he was going to discuss business with her...though she wanted him to.
Glancing up at him in time to catch his wandering gaze, she did nothing to dissuade him from looking and merely took another long drink from her wine. He could look if he liked. It was vain, but she liked being admired. She watched his mouth as he spoke, the words forming themselves perfectly on his lips as he discussed the very thing she’d desired he would. A smile graced her own lips when he mentioned the princess being unwell and she hid it by taking another long drink of her wine. Soon the wine would be gone and she would have to ask for another. This vintage was exceptional.
“My lord,” she said, shifting her legs so that her feet dipped to the floor and she now sat completely facing him. “My husband and I support the throne completely. Our loyalty, I must hope, could not be in question. It is not for me to put you in the difficult and, I might say, anxiety inducing frame of mind that we require either coin or favors. How may I prove that we are nothing but loyal to the throne? What would set your mind most at ease?”
She watched him over the rim of her cup and drank the last of the wine before delicately placing the goblet on the table between them. Smiling, she kept her fingertips on the glass’s stem. “May I trouble you for more?” she asked, lifting one brow.
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Elysia smiled at his tease, but let it go at that. If a woman was to believe every compliment that fell from a man’s lips as absolute truth, that woman would be a fool indeed. She and Elias both knew that Cicero could serve the crown far better than she could, and she knew precisely what he meant, but did nothing to acknowledge it, just as he didn’t say anything at all about her husband being gone for the entirety of the afternoon. There was no need to bring it back up. That would be crass.
She watched him consider his wine goblet as she lifted her own to her lips, letting the sweet liquid linger in her mouth for a few moments before swallowing. Elias, it did not seem, want to enjoy his. He drank the entire thing quickly. Elysia dropped her gaze to his knees, listening quietly as he bestowed yet another compliment to her. She leaned back on her kline, keeping her goblet pressed to her breast, one arm draped over the Kline’s back, with her legs tucked neatly on the cushion beside her. A demure lounging pose. She was at ease and did not presume that he was going to discuss business with her...though she wanted him to.
Glancing up at him in time to catch his wandering gaze, she did nothing to dissuade him from looking and merely took another long drink from her wine. He could look if he liked. It was vain, but she liked being admired. She watched his mouth as he spoke, the words forming themselves perfectly on his lips as he discussed the very thing she’d desired he would. A smile graced her own lips when he mentioned the princess being unwell and she hid it by taking another long drink of her wine. Soon the wine would be gone and she would have to ask for another. This vintage was exceptional.
“My lord,” she said, shifting her legs so that her feet dipped to the floor and she now sat completely facing him. “My husband and I support the throne completely. Our loyalty, I must hope, could not be in question. It is not for me to put you in the difficult and, I might say, anxiety inducing frame of mind that we require either coin or favors. How may I prove that we are nothing but loyal to the throne? What would set your mind most at ease?”
She watched him over the rim of her cup and drank the last of the wine before delicately placing the goblet on the table between them. Smiling, she kept her fingertips on the glass’s stem. “May I trouble you for more?” she asked, lifting one brow.
Elysia smiled at his tease, but let it go at that. If a woman was to believe every compliment that fell from a man’s lips as absolute truth, that woman would be a fool indeed. She and Elias both knew that Cicero could serve the crown far better than she could, and she knew precisely what he meant, but did nothing to acknowledge it, just as he didn’t say anything at all about her husband being gone for the entirety of the afternoon. There was no need to bring it back up. That would be crass.
She watched him consider his wine goblet as she lifted her own to her lips, letting the sweet liquid linger in her mouth for a few moments before swallowing. Elias, it did not seem, want to enjoy his. He drank the entire thing quickly. Elysia dropped her gaze to his knees, listening quietly as he bestowed yet another compliment to her. She leaned back on her kline, keeping her goblet pressed to her breast, one arm draped over the Kline’s back, with her legs tucked neatly on the cushion beside her. A demure lounging pose. She was at ease and did not presume that he was going to discuss business with her...though she wanted him to.
Glancing up at him in time to catch his wandering gaze, she did nothing to dissuade him from looking and merely took another long drink from her wine. He could look if he liked. It was vain, but she liked being admired. She watched his mouth as he spoke, the words forming themselves perfectly on his lips as he discussed the very thing she’d desired he would. A smile graced her own lips when he mentioned the princess being unwell and she hid it by taking another long drink of her wine. Soon the wine would be gone and she would have to ask for another. This vintage was exceptional.
“My lord,” she said, shifting her legs so that her feet dipped to the floor and she now sat completely facing him. “My husband and I support the throne completely. Our loyalty, I must hope, could not be in question. It is not for me to put you in the difficult and, I might say, anxiety inducing frame of mind that we require either coin or favors. How may I prove that we are nothing but loyal to the throne? What would set your mind most at ease?”
She watched him over the rim of her cup and drank the last of the wine before delicately placing the goblet on the table between them. Smiling, she kept her fingertips on the glass’s stem. “May I trouble you for more?” she asked, lifting one brow.
There was no substituting the hard-won and honed acumen that Cicero possessed. While Elias brought flattery, both Elysia and he knew that it simply wasn't the case that she could equal her husband. However, Elysia's was a presence far more comforting to the eye. The Stravos' flattery, of course, wasn't entirely disengenuous. Elias knew a lesson many of his married subjects might never see, however. While the Stravos' charms worked to his favor in seeking comfort in the night, he'd found it equally of use in business. The married man was the head of his household, but it was his wife that turned the head in the direction of her choosing. From his own mother, Circenia's hold on his father to the many dutiful and lovely wives of those who held positions of influence. Earn her trust, and she'll bring his to you, was the axiom, and he intended to claim that trust for Elysia as well.
The full-bodied wine he'd brought from the palace held a robustness to it that rarely saw an equal. However, he'd had much to say and the drink eased him into such utterances. As he awaited an answer, he nursed his empty glass in his hand, his gaze intent as Elysia shifted from her lounging position to one more suited to the conversation. Her voice lavished him with his title and the sayance of their loyalties. Of course, such words were merely that, and her mention of needing proof of her good graces was, perhaps, appropriate. The question was logical, but also quite unexpected from Elias. He'd figured Elysia might try to broach about the subject, play up her husband's importance or perhaps even balk at the idea of their possible waning loyalties. Instead, she questioned him on the how.
Then, she asked him for more wine.
Elias of Stravos let the chuckle escape from his lips as those honeyed hues gazed upon Elysia's exquisite features. Was what it about a married woman that plucked at Elias' sensibilities so? He rose from his own kline, his glass in one hand and the bottle of wine in the other. He offered a nod towards Elysia before he sat himself down next to her. The Stravos set his glass down, reaching out for Elysia. He sought not to take her glass, but insteas let his hand surround her closed one. His fingertips kneaded lightly into the flesh at the back of her hand as he raised his bottle. Carefully, the Stravos poured her a glass. Then, he did the same for himself. Rather than standing up and allowing proper distance between them, however, he stayed in place.
Elias leaned into the back of Elysia's kline, letting the freshly poured wine settle into the glass. As a conspirator might, Elias leaned forward, to place his words direclty into the woman's ear, "Lady Elysia," he began, using honeyed tones to breathe the flattery out. "Consider it but a professional courteousy for me to be so frank in my questions. It's no secret that the Stravos name has taken a beating. Brutal accusations and terrible fabrications pushed towards me have led me to assume that once-friends might have swayed under the weight of them all."
Elias allowed a flicker of emotion to dance in his amber eyes as he raised a hand. No longer was propriety Elias' focus. He utilized every aspect to his advantage. His fingertips danced along Elysia's jawline, his index finger tracing the vein at her pulse before he lowered his hand. His words bled in with what was once very real worry, his cadences carefully measured as if the weight of the world was upon his shoulders. "It would be quite foolish of me to assume such a terrible conspiracy to be without any rotten fruit born from it. If your loyalty is truly mine, Elysia, then allow Cicero's services to the crown continue. However, rather than speak to the Spymaster himself... I'd prefer present company to be the envoy of Cicero's findings, and that you report them directly to me."
Perhaps it was wanton longing that had the Stravos crave more of Elysia's company. But, his efforts were not without purpose. The power of the crown was Elias' to hold, but for Cicero to meet with him for royal matters would lend credence to Emilia being of increasingly less relevance to political affairs. Placing himself in the limelight, while being his preference, simply wasn't beneficial to the realization of his ambitions. Those with eyes and ears to his actions might, after all, find talking to the lady of the house a romantic affair rather than the honing of political weaponry. And, if all went well, it would be both.
"Is that agreeable?"
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There was no substituting the hard-won and honed acumen that Cicero possessed. While Elias brought flattery, both Elysia and he knew that it simply wasn't the case that she could equal her husband. However, Elysia's was a presence far more comforting to the eye. The Stravos' flattery, of course, wasn't entirely disengenuous. Elias knew a lesson many of his married subjects might never see, however. While the Stravos' charms worked to his favor in seeking comfort in the night, he'd found it equally of use in business. The married man was the head of his household, but it was his wife that turned the head in the direction of her choosing. From his own mother, Circenia's hold on his father to the many dutiful and lovely wives of those who held positions of influence. Earn her trust, and she'll bring his to you, was the axiom, and he intended to claim that trust for Elysia as well.
The full-bodied wine he'd brought from the palace held a robustness to it that rarely saw an equal. However, he'd had much to say and the drink eased him into such utterances. As he awaited an answer, he nursed his empty glass in his hand, his gaze intent as Elysia shifted from her lounging position to one more suited to the conversation. Her voice lavished him with his title and the sayance of their loyalties. Of course, such words were merely that, and her mention of needing proof of her good graces was, perhaps, appropriate. The question was logical, but also quite unexpected from Elias. He'd figured Elysia might try to broach about the subject, play up her husband's importance or perhaps even balk at the idea of their possible waning loyalties. Instead, she questioned him on the how.
Then, she asked him for more wine.
Elias of Stravos let the chuckle escape from his lips as those honeyed hues gazed upon Elysia's exquisite features. Was what it about a married woman that plucked at Elias' sensibilities so? He rose from his own kline, his glass in one hand and the bottle of wine in the other. He offered a nod towards Elysia before he sat himself down next to her. The Stravos set his glass down, reaching out for Elysia. He sought not to take her glass, but insteas let his hand surround her closed one. His fingertips kneaded lightly into the flesh at the back of her hand as he raised his bottle. Carefully, the Stravos poured her a glass. Then, he did the same for himself. Rather than standing up and allowing proper distance between them, however, he stayed in place.
Elias leaned into the back of Elysia's kline, letting the freshly poured wine settle into the glass. As a conspirator might, Elias leaned forward, to place his words direclty into the woman's ear, "Lady Elysia," he began, using honeyed tones to breathe the flattery out. "Consider it but a professional courteousy for me to be so frank in my questions. It's no secret that the Stravos name has taken a beating. Brutal accusations and terrible fabrications pushed towards me have led me to assume that once-friends might have swayed under the weight of them all."
Elias allowed a flicker of emotion to dance in his amber eyes as he raised a hand. No longer was propriety Elias' focus. He utilized every aspect to his advantage. His fingertips danced along Elysia's jawline, his index finger tracing the vein at her pulse before he lowered his hand. His words bled in with what was once very real worry, his cadences carefully measured as if the weight of the world was upon his shoulders. "It would be quite foolish of me to assume such a terrible conspiracy to be without any rotten fruit born from it. If your loyalty is truly mine, Elysia, then allow Cicero's services to the crown continue. However, rather than speak to the Spymaster himself... I'd prefer present company to be the envoy of Cicero's findings, and that you report them directly to me."
Perhaps it was wanton longing that had the Stravos crave more of Elysia's company. But, his efforts were not without purpose. The power of the crown was Elias' to hold, but for Cicero to meet with him for royal matters would lend credence to Emilia being of increasingly less relevance to political affairs. Placing himself in the limelight, while being his preference, simply wasn't beneficial to the realization of his ambitions. Those with eyes and ears to his actions might, after all, find talking to the lady of the house a romantic affair rather than the honing of political weaponry. And, if all went well, it would be both.
"Is that agreeable?"
There was no substituting the hard-won and honed acumen that Cicero possessed. While Elias brought flattery, both Elysia and he knew that it simply wasn't the case that she could equal her husband. However, Elysia's was a presence far more comforting to the eye. The Stravos' flattery, of course, wasn't entirely disengenuous. Elias knew a lesson many of his married subjects might never see, however. While the Stravos' charms worked to his favor in seeking comfort in the night, he'd found it equally of use in business. The married man was the head of his household, but it was his wife that turned the head in the direction of her choosing. From his own mother, Circenia's hold on his father to the many dutiful and lovely wives of those who held positions of influence. Earn her trust, and she'll bring his to you, was the axiom, and he intended to claim that trust for Elysia as well.
The full-bodied wine he'd brought from the palace held a robustness to it that rarely saw an equal. However, he'd had much to say and the drink eased him into such utterances. As he awaited an answer, he nursed his empty glass in his hand, his gaze intent as Elysia shifted from her lounging position to one more suited to the conversation. Her voice lavished him with his title and the sayance of their loyalties. Of course, such words were merely that, and her mention of needing proof of her good graces was, perhaps, appropriate. The question was logical, but also quite unexpected from Elias. He'd figured Elysia might try to broach about the subject, play up her husband's importance or perhaps even balk at the idea of their possible waning loyalties. Instead, she questioned him on the how.
Then, she asked him for more wine.
Elias of Stravos let the chuckle escape from his lips as those honeyed hues gazed upon Elysia's exquisite features. Was what it about a married woman that plucked at Elias' sensibilities so? He rose from his own kline, his glass in one hand and the bottle of wine in the other. He offered a nod towards Elysia before he sat himself down next to her. The Stravos set his glass down, reaching out for Elysia. He sought not to take her glass, but insteas let his hand surround her closed one. His fingertips kneaded lightly into the flesh at the back of her hand as he raised his bottle. Carefully, the Stravos poured her a glass. Then, he did the same for himself. Rather than standing up and allowing proper distance between them, however, he stayed in place.
Elias leaned into the back of Elysia's kline, letting the freshly poured wine settle into the glass. As a conspirator might, Elias leaned forward, to place his words direclty into the woman's ear, "Lady Elysia," he began, using honeyed tones to breathe the flattery out. "Consider it but a professional courteousy for me to be so frank in my questions. It's no secret that the Stravos name has taken a beating. Brutal accusations and terrible fabrications pushed towards me have led me to assume that once-friends might have swayed under the weight of them all."
Elias allowed a flicker of emotion to dance in his amber eyes as he raised a hand. No longer was propriety Elias' focus. He utilized every aspect to his advantage. His fingertips danced along Elysia's jawline, his index finger tracing the vein at her pulse before he lowered his hand. His words bled in with what was once very real worry, his cadences carefully measured as if the weight of the world was upon his shoulders. "It would be quite foolish of me to assume such a terrible conspiracy to be without any rotten fruit born from it. If your loyalty is truly mine, Elysia, then allow Cicero's services to the crown continue. However, rather than speak to the Spymaster himself... I'd prefer present company to be the envoy of Cicero's findings, and that you report them directly to me."
Perhaps it was wanton longing that had the Stravos crave more of Elysia's company. But, his efforts were not without purpose. The power of the crown was Elias' to hold, but for Cicero to meet with him for royal matters would lend credence to Emilia being of increasingly less relevance to political affairs. Placing himself in the limelight, while being his preference, simply wasn't beneficial to the realization of his ambitions. Those with eyes and ears to his actions might, after all, find talking to the lady of the house a romantic affair rather than the honing of political weaponry. And, if all went well, it would be both.
"Is that agreeable?"
Her pulse quickened as his gaze roamed and she knew precisely what he was thinking. She just hadn’t decided for herself, yet, if she needed to go that far. There were consequences to every action and non-action. Possible outcomes of this afternoon, whether Elias stayed for some time or left within the next few minutes spun around in her mind. As the lord chuckled and rose from his kline, her eyes followed his every movement and she thought of Cicero.
Elysia sat down beside her and she watched his hand close around hers. Her eyes sought his. He leaned toward her and she turned her head away only to feel the heat of his breath against her ear. She studied the shapely wine bottle and could detect hints of the wine itself while he spoke of the trouble his family was having. She knew all of what he was saying but she liked to have it confirmed by his own admission.
She’d been there the day that several people testified to the senate that Elias was a traitor. Cicero’s wealth had not been directly affected by the pirate’s sinking of merchant ships but she had friends whose husbands still felt the loss of ships keenly. Her thumb curled around his, giving him a return gesture to show she understood what he was saying. That there didn’t need to be a break in her husband’s duties; that they should, in fact, continue as before, only with the addition that Elias, himself, would know it all too.
Eliase alluded to the accusations but called them lies and Elysia turned her head to look directly into his eyes while he spoke. Their noses almost touched as his fingertips grazed her jaw, gliding down her neck and then he took his hand away, but she could still feel where he’d traced her lifeline. She knew exactly what he was playing at, using her husband the way he was trying to.
By not cleaning house and keeping everything much as it had been, that made much less of a fuss and gave no rallying point. If the government appeared to be uninterrupted, that made it easier to take control, slowly but surely. Rumors could persist all anyone liked, but unless Elias was held held to account, they were just words. All Elias had to do was shore up allies. The more he had, the more powerful he became. Cicero was a key component, but not an immovable one. He was more useful where he was than not but he could be replaced. What Elias was asking her was to make sure that he was informed of who his enemies were, what they were doing and that would go quite a long way towards a feasibly defensible position within the palati.
She did not need her husband here to know what he’d say. She knew the man well enough.
“We have an understanding, my lord,” she said and used her free hand to lean just enough away from him to curl her fingers around the stem of her empty cup. Resuming their close proximity, she placed the cup down in the minimal space between their thighs on the kline. “Fill my cup, please.” Her gaze returned to his and she waited to see what he would do and if that answer was enough.
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Her pulse quickened as his gaze roamed and she knew precisely what he was thinking. She just hadn’t decided for herself, yet, if she needed to go that far. There were consequences to every action and non-action. Possible outcomes of this afternoon, whether Elias stayed for some time or left within the next few minutes spun around in her mind. As the lord chuckled and rose from his kline, her eyes followed his every movement and she thought of Cicero.
Elysia sat down beside her and she watched his hand close around hers. Her eyes sought his. He leaned toward her and she turned her head away only to feel the heat of his breath against her ear. She studied the shapely wine bottle and could detect hints of the wine itself while he spoke of the trouble his family was having. She knew all of what he was saying but she liked to have it confirmed by his own admission.
She’d been there the day that several people testified to the senate that Elias was a traitor. Cicero’s wealth had not been directly affected by the pirate’s sinking of merchant ships but she had friends whose husbands still felt the loss of ships keenly. Her thumb curled around his, giving him a return gesture to show she understood what he was saying. That there didn’t need to be a break in her husband’s duties; that they should, in fact, continue as before, only with the addition that Elias, himself, would know it all too.
Eliase alluded to the accusations but called them lies and Elysia turned her head to look directly into his eyes while he spoke. Their noses almost touched as his fingertips grazed her jaw, gliding down her neck and then he took his hand away, but she could still feel where he’d traced her lifeline. She knew exactly what he was playing at, using her husband the way he was trying to.
By not cleaning house and keeping everything much as it had been, that made much less of a fuss and gave no rallying point. If the government appeared to be uninterrupted, that made it easier to take control, slowly but surely. Rumors could persist all anyone liked, but unless Elias was held held to account, they were just words. All Elias had to do was shore up allies. The more he had, the more powerful he became. Cicero was a key component, but not an immovable one. He was more useful where he was than not but he could be replaced. What Elias was asking her was to make sure that he was informed of who his enemies were, what they were doing and that would go quite a long way towards a feasibly defensible position within the palati.
She did not need her husband here to know what he’d say. She knew the man well enough.
“We have an understanding, my lord,” she said and used her free hand to lean just enough away from him to curl her fingers around the stem of her empty cup. Resuming their close proximity, she placed the cup down in the minimal space between their thighs on the kline. “Fill my cup, please.” Her gaze returned to his and she waited to see what he would do and if that answer was enough.
Her pulse quickened as his gaze roamed and she knew precisely what he was thinking. She just hadn’t decided for herself, yet, if she needed to go that far. There were consequences to every action and non-action. Possible outcomes of this afternoon, whether Elias stayed for some time or left within the next few minutes spun around in her mind. As the lord chuckled and rose from his kline, her eyes followed his every movement and she thought of Cicero.
Elysia sat down beside her and she watched his hand close around hers. Her eyes sought his. He leaned toward her and she turned her head away only to feel the heat of his breath against her ear. She studied the shapely wine bottle and could detect hints of the wine itself while he spoke of the trouble his family was having. She knew all of what he was saying but she liked to have it confirmed by his own admission.
She’d been there the day that several people testified to the senate that Elias was a traitor. Cicero’s wealth had not been directly affected by the pirate’s sinking of merchant ships but she had friends whose husbands still felt the loss of ships keenly. Her thumb curled around his, giving him a return gesture to show she understood what he was saying. That there didn’t need to be a break in her husband’s duties; that they should, in fact, continue as before, only with the addition that Elias, himself, would know it all too.
Eliase alluded to the accusations but called them lies and Elysia turned her head to look directly into his eyes while he spoke. Their noses almost touched as his fingertips grazed her jaw, gliding down her neck and then he took his hand away, but she could still feel where he’d traced her lifeline. She knew exactly what he was playing at, using her husband the way he was trying to.
By not cleaning house and keeping everything much as it had been, that made much less of a fuss and gave no rallying point. If the government appeared to be uninterrupted, that made it easier to take control, slowly but surely. Rumors could persist all anyone liked, but unless Elias was held held to account, they were just words. All Elias had to do was shore up allies. The more he had, the more powerful he became. Cicero was a key component, but not an immovable one. He was more useful where he was than not but he could be replaced. What Elias was asking her was to make sure that he was informed of who his enemies were, what they were doing and that would go quite a long way towards a feasibly defensible position within the palati.
She did not need her husband here to know what he’d say. She knew the man well enough.
“We have an understanding, my lord,” she said and used her free hand to lean just enough away from him to curl her fingers around the stem of her empty cup. Resuming their close proximity, she placed the cup down in the minimal space between their thighs on the kline. “Fill my cup, please.” Her gaze returned to his and she waited to see what he would do and if that answer was enough.
A moment's hesitation was all that separated Elias of Stravos and Elysia's lips from meeting. Though, from which side it had transpired, the Stravos couldn't be sure. Or, perhaps both had pulled back, and it might've been an amusing thought exercise for Elias to consider if he wasn't busy with so many other details to consider. Of course he saw Elysia's gaze follow his every movement. It was only appropriate that she absorbed each and every one. The Spymaster's wife held silence as her tool, taking in the Stravos' words as if attempting to discern the truth from them. But, Elias of Stravos played his hand well. Lies held close to his chest, twisting within the pit of his heart until even he believed them to be facts.
I am the victim, ousted from my schemes to claim what I deserve. The people will believe what I instruct them to believe, he affirmed as he held the woman's stare, his honeyed hues reflecting the light that spilled into her home. So close they were that if Elias leaned forward, he'd catch her lips in an ardently desired kiss. But he abstained, far more engrossed in seeing how she reacted to his conditions as they laid them into speech. Elysia's silence was long, and the Stravos figured that she was piecing together his ploy. In this moment, truth and fiction mattered very little, for the considerations for Elysia and her beloved husband were straight-forward.
Monarchs came and went, and it was for the rabble to fight for their pittances that their allegiances need change in whichever direction. The Spymaster possessed wealth and power, but all things could come to an end. Elias of Stravos wished not to dismantle the lives of those who prospered in Minas' rule lest they understand the change in the world that was his rule. Vying for power had been the last four years of his life, with its incredible pitfalls and lofty heights, the heir to Stravos would have his day if it was the last thing he did. But, he needed those alliances to exist, and it was more effecient to garner the trust of an existing power than to wait for or even foster his own replacement. So, when Elysia stated her understanding, the Stravos was pleased.
Yes, drink to me, Elysia. Know the hand that feeds you, he encouraged her. However, her meager agreement wasn't quite enough to satisfy his inquiry. The Stravos almost spoke out to insist on a more comitted answer, but then she immediately caught his attention elsewhere. Of course the Stravos followed the path of her goblet until the stem rested directly between her thighs. Elias of Stravos allowed his fingertips to play along the flesh of Elysia's thigh as the other hand reached back. Daring was the name of the game and Elias of Stravos sought to win every contest.
As he reached back to take the bottle the fingertips of his other hand kneaded along that flesh, making all the more apparent. When he had his hand on the bottle, he released the woman's thigh, only to guide the base of the bottle up her leg and towards the goblet held between her flesh. Slowly he poured out the fine spirit, filling her glass nearly to the brim before he released the bottle to let it land safely on the ground next to them. He plucked the glass from between her legs, placing it within Elysia's grasp before he claimed his own goblet. The Stravos took a slow sip, allowing his honeyed hues to hover their gaze along each feature that created Elysia's expression. He took in her full, wine-stained lips, then her eyes, which seemed to hide so much away. How he sought to learn every secret that they held away. Voracious was his hunger for them, but the moment turned his hunger elsewhere.
A hand rose up, trailing a feather light touch against the fabric of Elysia's chiton before he leaned closer still. Intent upon turning Elysia's head just a tad to the side, he brought his lips just beneath her earlobe, letting them settle for a heated moment against her neck before he raised them to her ear. "That understanding is enough, then," he assured her as an arm wound about the woman's shoulders. Elias of Stravos pressed forward with the intention of laying a claim. Lips sought to entangle with hers, the fresh taste of wine staining against them as he pressed his chest against Elysia's in turn.
For now.
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A moment's hesitation was all that separated Elias of Stravos and Elysia's lips from meeting. Though, from which side it had transpired, the Stravos couldn't be sure. Or, perhaps both had pulled back, and it might've been an amusing thought exercise for Elias to consider if he wasn't busy with so many other details to consider. Of course he saw Elysia's gaze follow his every movement. It was only appropriate that she absorbed each and every one. The Spymaster's wife held silence as her tool, taking in the Stravos' words as if attempting to discern the truth from them. But, Elias of Stravos played his hand well. Lies held close to his chest, twisting within the pit of his heart until even he believed them to be facts.
I am the victim, ousted from my schemes to claim what I deserve. The people will believe what I instruct them to believe, he affirmed as he held the woman's stare, his honeyed hues reflecting the light that spilled into her home. So close they were that if Elias leaned forward, he'd catch her lips in an ardently desired kiss. But he abstained, far more engrossed in seeing how she reacted to his conditions as they laid them into speech. Elysia's silence was long, and the Stravos figured that she was piecing together his ploy. In this moment, truth and fiction mattered very little, for the considerations for Elysia and her beloved husband were straight-forward.
Monarchs came and went, and it was for the rabble to fight for their pittances that their allegiances need change in whichever direction. The Spymaster possessed wealth and power, but all things could come to an end. Elias of Stravos wished not to dismantle the lives of those who prospered in Minas' rule lest they understand the change in the world that was his rule. Vying for power had been the last four years of his life, with its incredible pitfalls and lofty heights, the heir to Stravos would have his day if it was the last thing he did. But, he needed those alliances to exist, and it was more effecient to garner the trust of an existing power than to wait for or even foster his own replacement. So, when Elysia stated her understanding, the Stravos was pleased.
Yes, drink to me, Elysia. Know the hand that feeds you, he encouraged her. However, her meager agreement wasn't quite enough to satisfy his inquiry. The Stravos almost spoke out to insist on a more comitted answer, but then she immediately caught his attention elsewhere. Of course the Stravos followed the path of her goblet until the stem rested directly between her thighs. Elias of Stravos allowed his fingertips to play along the flesh of Elysia's thigh as the other hand reached back. Daring was the name of the game and Elias of Stravos sought to win every contest.
As he reached back to take the bottle the fingertips of his other hand kneaded along that flesh, making all the more apparent. When he had his hand on the bottle, he released the woman's thigh, only to guide the base of the bottle up her leg and towards the goblet held between her flesh. Slowly he poured out the fine spirit, filling her glass nearly to the brim before he released the bottle to let it land safely on the ground next to them. He plucked the glass from between her legs, placing it within Elysia's grasp before he claimed his own goblet. The Stravos took a slow sip, allowing his honeyed hues to hover their gaze along each feature that created Elysia's expression. He took in her full, wine-stained lips, then her eyes, which seemed to hide so much away. How he sought to learn every secret that they held away. Voracious was his hunger for them, but the moment turned his hunger elsewhere.
A hand rose up, trailing a feather light touch against the fabric of Elysia's chiton before he leaned closer still. Intent upon turning Elysia's head just a tad to the side, he brought his lips just beneath her earlobe, letting them settle for a heated moment against her neck before he raised them to her ear. "That understanding is enough, then," he assured her as an arm wound about the woman's shoulders. Elias of Stravos pressed forward with the intention of laying a claim. Lips sought to entangle with hers, the fresh taste of wine staining against them as he pressed his chest against Elysia's in turn.
For now.
A moment's hesitation was all that separated Elias of Stravos and Elysia's lips from meeting. Though, from which side it had transpired, the Stravos couldn't be sure. Or, perhaps both had pulled back, and it might've been an amusing thought exercise for Elias to consider if he wasn't busy with so many other details to consider. Of course he saw Elysia's gaze follow his every movement. It was only appropriate that she absorbed each and every one. The Spymaster's wife held silence as her tool, taking in the Stravos' words as if attempting to discern the truth from them. But, Elias of Stravos played his hand well. Lies held close to his chest, twisting within the pit of his heart until even he believed them to be facts.
I am the victim, ousted from my schemes to claim what I deserve. The people will believe what I instruct them to believe, he affirmed as he held the woman's stare, his honeyed hues reflecting the light that spilled into her home. So close they were that if Elias leaned forward, he'd catch her lips in an ardently desired kiss. But he abstained, far more engrossed in seeing how she reacted to his conditions as they laid them into speech. Elysia's silence was long, and the Stravos figured that she was piecing together his ploy. In this moment, truth and fiction mattered very little, for the considerations for Elysia and her beloved husband were straight-forward.
Monarchs came and went, and it was for the rabble to fight for their pittances that their allegiances need change in whichever direction. The Spymaster possessed wealth and power, but all things could come to an end. Elias of Stravos wished not to dismantle the lives of those who prospered in Minas' rule lest they understand the change in the world that was his rule. Vying for power had been the last four years of his life, with its incredible pitfalls and lofty heights, the heir to Stravos would have his day if it was the last thing he did. But, he needed those alliances to exist, and it was more effecient to garner the trust of an existing power than to wait for or even foster his own replacement. So, when Elysia stated her understanding, the Stravos was pleased.
Yes, drink to me, Elysia. Know the hand that feeds you, he encouraged her. However, her meager agreement wasn't quite enough to satisfy his inquiry. The Stravos almost spoke out to insist on a more comitted answer, but then she immediately caught his attention elsewhere. Of course the Stravos followed the path of her goblet until the stem rested directly between her thighs. Elias of Stravos allowed his fingertips to play along the flesh of Elysia's thigh as the other hand reached back. Daring was the name of the game and Elias of Stravos sought to win every contest.
As he reached back to take the bottle the fingertips of his other hand kneaded along that flesh, making all the more apparent. When he had his hand on the bottle, he released the woman's thigh, only to guide the base of the bottle up her leg and towards the goblet held between her flesh. Slowly he poured out the fine spirit, filling her glass nearly to the brim before he released the bottle to let it land safely on the ground next to them. He plucked the glass from between her legs, placing it within Elysia's grasp before he claimed his own goblet. The Stravos took a slow sip, allowing his honeyed hues to hover their gaze along each feature that created Elysia's expression. He took in her full, wine-stained lips, then her eyes, which seemed to hide so much away. How he sought to learn every secret that they held away. Voracious was his hunger for them, but the moment turned his hunger elsewhere.
A hand rose up, trailing a feather light touch against the fabric of Elysia's chiton before he leaned closer still. Intent upon turning Elysia's head just a tad to the side, he brought his lips just beneath her earlobe, letting them settle for a heated moment against her neck before he raised them to her ear. "That understanding is enough, then," he assured her as an arm wound about the woman's shoulders. Elias of Stravos pressed forward with the intention of laying a claim. Lips sought to entangle with hers, the fresh taste of wine staining against them as he pressed his chest against Elysia's in turn.
For now.
Before her fingers ever closed around her wine glass, she’d known she had his complete attention, though she hadn’t yet decided what would happen. Elias had. He made his intentions abundantly clear as his fingertips caressed along her thigh, his eyes darting back and forth between her own. She imagined he saw himself reflected in her own gaze, just as she saw her own image against the deep, dark, fathomless black of his irises. Her lips parted and she placed her hand over his to stop his progress upward. There were lines she knew probably should not be crossed, and this was one. There were other ways to get information and to gain his trust, but nothing as expedient and if she stopped him now, his trust might be permanently broken...but then again, maybe not. Could he afford to be without useful friends?
No, he couldn’t. But he could install useful friends, and therein lay the issue. Her chest rose and fell as he poured wine into the glass, deliberately full. She broke eye contact first, looking down to accept the cup when he lifted it for her. Her own features rippled across the liquid, scarlet and indistinct. Without looking at him again, she took a deep drink of the wine, savoring the sweet flavor and the taste of the alcohol beneath it. If one wasn’t entirely careful, one could get drunk pretty quickly on this kind. Elias drank his own and she felt the weight of his gaze on her. She did not blush at it. She found no discomfort in being looked at.
Her glass was half empty by the time she looked at him again and by then his fingers were pushing along her chiton. The fabric slid up against her thigh in a soft whisper and his lips were close to hers, though she turned her head at the last. Whether she did that because she wanted to or because he wanted her to was unclear but her eyes closed at the soft press of mouth to her skin. She pushed her glass onto the coffee table to save it. Elias’s arm snaked around her shoulders, drawing her against him. Her own hands had been at her sides but now one rested on the outside of his thigh, and the other on his arm that surrounded her.
The hand on his thigh pushed against him as he pressed his chest against hers and for a few moments, she could feel his heart beating, as though he was a real flesh and blood being. Like he had thoughts and feelings and desires, instead of being an ambitious, cold, enigmatic figure. Her lips parted and she made a sound that came out in a sigh. It might have been a protest, it might have been an expression of want, but whatever it was, it was cut off by his lips on hers.
The decision was made.
Her hand on his bicep slid down his arm until she found his wrist. Opening her mouth to him, her tongue sought his, and she tilted her head, kissing him in return. Her intent, when she moved his arm, was to take his hand and place it on the curve of her hip. With his arm removed, she leaned back away from him, breaking the kiss, and grinning, tongue peeking out at him between her teeth. “You require so little, my lord,” she teased. “Just an understanding. I’m shocked at your generosity. I would not be so kind in your place.”
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Before her fingers ever closed around her wine glass, she’d known she had his complete attention, though she hadn’t yet decided what would happen. Elias had. He made his intentions abundantly clear as his fingertips caressed along her thigh, his eyes darting back and forth between her own. She imagined he saw himself reflected in her own gaze, just as she saw her own image against the deep, dark, fathomless black of his irises. Her lips parted and she placed her hand over his to stop his progress upward. There were lines she knew probably should not be crossed, and this was one. There were other ways to get information and to gain his trust, but nothing as expedient and if she stopped him now, his trust might be permanently broken...but then again, maybe not. Could he afford to be without useful friends?
No, he couldn’t. But he could install useful friends, and therein lay the issue. Her chest rose and fell as he poured wine into the glass, deliberately full. She broke eye contact first, looking down to accept the cup when he lifted it for her. Her own features rippled across the liquid, scarlet and indistinct. Without looking at him again, she took a deep drink of the wine, savoring the sweet flavor and the taste of the alcohol beneath it. If one wasn’t entirely careful, one could get drunk pretty quickly on this kind. Elias drank his own and she felt the weight of his gaze on her. She did not blush at it. She found no discomfort in being looked at.
Her glass was half empty by the time she looked at him again and by then his fingers were pushing along her chiton. The fabric slid up against her thigh in a soft whisper and his lips were close to hers, though she turned her head at the last. Whether she did that because she wanted to or because he wanted her to was unclear but her eyes closed at the soft press of mouth to her skin. She pushed her glass onto the coffee table to save it. Elias’s arm snaked around her shoulders, drawing her against him. Her own hands had been at her sides but now one rested on the outside of his thigh, and the other on his arm that surrounded her.
The hand on his thigh pushed against him as he pressed his chest against hers and for a few moments, she could feel his heart beating, as though he was a real flesh and blood being. Like he had thoughts and feelings and desires, instead of being an ambitious, cold, enigmatic figure. Her lips parted and she made a sound that came out in a sigh. It might have been a protest, it might have been an expression of want, but whatever it was, it was cut off by his lips on hers.
The decision was made.
Her hand on his bicep slid down his arm until she found his wrist. Opening her mouth to him, her tongue sought his, and she tilted her head, kissing him in return. Her intent, when she moved his arm, was to take his hand and place it on the curve of her hip. With his arm removed, she leaned back away from him, breaking the kiss, and grinning, tongue peeking out at him between her teeth. “You require so little, my lord,” she teased. “Just an understanding. I’m shocked at your generosity. I would not be so kind in your place.”
Before her fingers ever closed around her wine glass, she’d known she had his complete attention, though she hadn’t yet decided what would happen. Elias had. He made his intentions abundantly clear as his fingertips caressed along her thigh, his eyes darting back and forth between her own. She imagined he saw himself reflected in her own gaze, just as she saw her own image against the deep, dark, fathomless black of his irises. Her lips parted and she placed her hand over his to stop his progress upward. There were lines she knew probably should not be crossed, and this was one. There were other ways to get information and to gain his trust, but nothing as expedient and if she stopped him now, his trust might be permanently broken...but then again, maybe not. Could he afford to be without useful friends?
No, he couldn’t. But he could install useful friends, and therein lay the issue. Her chest rose and fell as he poured wine into the glass, deliberately full. She broke eye contact first, looking down to accept the cup when he lifted it for her. Her own features rippled across the liquid, scarlet and indistinct. Without looking at him again, she took a deep drink of the wine, savoring the sweet flavor and the taste of the alcohol beneath it. If one wasn’t entirely careful, one could get drunk pretty quickly on this kind. Elias drank his own and she felt the weight of his gaze on her. She did not blush at it. She found no discomfort in being looked at.
Her glass was half empty by the time she looked at him again and by then his fingers were pushing along her chiton. The fabric slid up against her thigh in a soft whisper and his lips were close to hers, though she turned her head at the last. Whether she did that because she wanted to or because he wanted her to was unclear but her eyes closed at the soft press of mouth to her skin. She pushed her glass onto the coffee table to save it. Elias’s arm snaked around her shoulders, drawing her against him. Her own hands had been at her sides but now one rested on the outside of his thigh, and the other on his arm that surrounded her.
The hand on his thigh pushed against him as he pressed his chest against hers and for a few moments, she could feel his heart beating, as though he was a real flesh and blood being. Like he had thoughts and feelings and desires, instead of being an ambitious, cold, enigmatic figure. Her lips parted and she made a sound that came out in a sigh. It might have been a protest, it might have been an expression of want, but whatever it was, it was cut off by his lips on hers.
The decision was made.
Her hand on his bicep slid down his arm until she found his wrist. Opening her mouth to him, her tongue sought his, and she tilted her head, kissing him in return. Her intent, when she moved his arm, was to take his hand and place it on the curve of her hip. With his arm removed, she leaned back away from him, breaking the kiss, and grinning, tongue peeking out at him between her teeth. “You require so little, my lord,” she teased. “Just an understanding. I’m shocked at your generosity. I would not be so kind in your place.”
Elias of Stravos could see the conflict in Elysia's eyes as she seemed to debate whether or not to fall into the temptation that both of them were weaving into reality. A temptation engineered by the Gods themselves, the Stravos held a deep satisfaction in every time that the loyalty of a wife was tested by his beauty. It was a spiteful thing, to press Elysia as he did, but the desires buried within Elias were not so easily quelled. It was far more convenient to pull others into the Stravos' debauchery than it was to attempt to restrain himself.
When Elysia raised her goblet to her lips and let the sweet wine pour down her throat, Elias wondered to himself exactly how much the wine was twisting her to his design. He always wondered how much the liqueuer did to throw others into a sort of submission, or if they threw themselves into it just to make themselves feel better about their betrayal. The temptation hung in the air for a long moment before Elias at last broke through the silence with his kiss. It seemed that it was enough to tear apart her resolve, for the sound that had escaped her, muffled against his lips seemed a whimper of desire that the Stravos had every intention to satisfy.
In an eager lash of tongues and lips, Elias of Stravos stole away the last of Elysia's inhibitions. The woman took his kiss in stride, shifting his arm to place his hand exactly where it wanted to go. His fingertips kneaded the flesh of her hip as she broke from the kiss, grinning at the Stravos before teasing him with her curious words. A chuckle escaped the royal's lips as he listened to her, leaning forward to press his chest into hers for a brief moment before he pulled away. Elias rose to his feet, pulling Elysia up with him. The kline was no longer the place he wanted her in, and there was far too much in the way for his desires for her to meet satisfaction.
Claiming Elysia's lips in an eager kiss, his chest set into hers, his hands sweeping slong the woman's thighs before roaming the flesh of her back. His fingertips kept moving upward, intent upon toying with the fabric of her chiton, loosing it bit by bit from her shoulders as the Stravos manuevered the woman closer to the nearest wall and away from freedom of mobility. He'd press her into the surface as he threw his digits into her tresses, a gentle but firm hand pulling her head back as he whispered in her ear,
"Kindness is the luxury that comes with my position, my dear. I can be kind, if you can be cooperative," he assured her. Then, the Stravos used his free hand to pull the chiton from her shoulder entirely, baring her breasts to his gaze. His eyes drifted down to look between them, pleased by the beauty in what he saw before his grasp in her hair tightened, just enough to make his point as he told her,
"I require much, but I expect a lady of your intellect to understand those expectations without them being stated directly. Ally yourself with me, Elysia, and nothing will be able to worry you," he encouraged her just before he turned her about in his hold. Hands settled on the woman's breasts, toying with the supple flesh as his lips painted a path along her pulse.
"Take us somewhere, my lady," he commanded her.
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Elias of Stravos could see the conflict in Elysia's eyes as she seemed to debate whether or not to fall into the temptation that both of them were weaving into reality. A temptation engineered by the Gods themselves, the Stravos held a deep satisfaction in every time that the loyalty of a wife was tested by his beauty. It was a spiteful thing, to press Elysia as he did, but the desires buried within Elias were not so easily quelled. It was far more convenient to pull others into the Stravos' debauchery than it was to attempt to restrain himself.
When Elysia raised her goblet to her lips and let the sweet wine pour down her throat, Elias wondered to himself exactly how much the wine was twisting her to his design. He always wondered how much the liqueuer did to throw others into a sort of submission, or if they threw themselves into it just to make themselves feel better about their betrayal. The temptation hung in the air for a long moment before Elias at last broke through the silence with his kiss. It seemed that it was enough to tear apart her resolve, for the sound that had escaped her, muffled against his lips seemed a whimper of desire that the Stravos had every intention to satisfy.
In an eager lash of tongues and lips, Elias of Stravos stole away the last of Elysia's inhibitions. The woman took his kiss in stride, shifting his arm to place his hand exactly where it wanted to go. His fingertips kneaded the flesh of her hip as she broke from the kiss, grinning at the Stravos before teasing him with her curious words. A chuckle escaped the royal's lips as he listened to her, leaning forward to press his chest into hers for a brief moment before he pulled away. Elias rose to his feet, pulling Elysia up with him. The kline was no longer the place he wanted her in, and there was far too much in the way for his desires for her to meet satisfaction.
Claiming Elysia's lips in an eager kiss, his chest set into hers, his hands sweeping slong the woman's thighs before roaming the flesh of her back. His fingertips kept moving upward, intent upon toying with the fabric of her chiton, loosing it bit by bit from her shoulders as the Stravos manuevered the woman closer to the nearest wall and away from freedom of mobility. He'd press her into the surface as he threw his digits into her tresses, a gentle but firm hand pulling her head back as he whispered in her ear,
"Kindness is the luxury that comes with my position, my dear. I can be kind, if you can be cooperative," he assured her. Then, the Stravos used his free hand to pull the chiton from her shoulder entirely, baring her breasts to his gaze. His eyes drifted down to look between them, pleased by the beauty in what he saw before his grasp in her hair tightened, just enough to make his point as he told her,
"I require much, but I expect a lady of your intellect to understand those expectations without them being stated directly. Ally yourself with me, Elysia, and nothing will be able to worry you," he encouraged her just before he turned her about in his hold. Hands settled on the woman's breasts, toying with the supple flesh as his lips painted a path along her pulse.
"Take us somewhere, my lady," he commanded her.
Elias of Stravos could see the conflict in Elysia's eyes as she seemed to debate whether or not to fall into the temptation that both of them were weaving into reality. A temptation engineered by the Gods themselves, the Stravos held a deep satisfaction in every time that the loyalty of a wife was tested by his beauty. It was a spiteful thing, to press Elysia as he did, but the desires buried within Elias were not so easily quelled. It was far more convenient to pull others into the Stravos' debauchery than it was to attempt to restrain himself.
When Elysia raised her goblet to her lips and let the sweet wine pour down her throat, Elias wondered to himself exactly how much the wine was twisting her to his design. He always wondered how much the liqueuer did to throw others into a sort of submission, or if they threw themselves into it just to make themselves feel better about their betrayal. The temptation hung in the air for a long moment before Elias at last broke through the silence with his kiss. It seemed that it was enough to tear apart her resolve, for the sound that had escaped her, muffled against his lips seemed a whimper of desire that the Stravos had every intention to satisfy.
In an eager lash of tongues and lips, Elias of Stravos stole away the last of Elysia's inhibitions. The woman took his kiss in stride, shifting his arm to place his hand exactly where it wanted to go. His fingertips kneaded the flesh of her hip as she broke from the kiss, grinning at the Stravos before teasing him with her curious words. A chuckle escaped the royal's lips as he listened to her, leaning forward to press his chest into hers for a brief moment before he pulled away. Elias rose to his feet, pulling Elysia up with him. The kline was no longer the place he wanted her in, and there was far too much in the way for his desires for her to meet satisfaction.
Claiming Elysia's lips in an eager kiss, his chest set into hers, his hands sweeping slong the woman's thighs before roaming the flesh of her back. His fingertips kept moving upward, intent upon toying with the fabric of her chiton, loosing it bit by bit from her shoulders as the Stravos manuevered the woman closer to the nearest wall and away from freedom of mobility. He'd press her into the surface as he threw his digits into her tresses, a gentle but firm hand pulling her head back as he whispered in her ear,
"Kindness is the luxury that comes with my position, my dear. I can be kind, if you can be cooperative," he assured her. Then, the Stravos used his free hand to pull the chiton from her shoulder entirely, baring her breasts to his gaze. His eyes drifted down to look between them, pleased by the beauty in what he saw before his grasp in her hair tightened, just enough to make his point as he told her,
"I require much, but I expect a lady of your intellect to understand those expectations without them being stated directly. Ally yourself with me, Elysia, and nothing will be able to worry you," he encouraged her just before he turned her about in his hold. Hands settled on the woman's breasts, toying with the supple flesh as his lips painted a path along her pulse.
"Take us somewhere, my lady," he commanded her.
She let him pull her up from the kline, not fighting him in the least now that she’d decided to let him do what he wanted. Having Elias of Stravos close was much better than earning his mistrust. Besides, with the wine warming her body and his lips moving with hers, she couldn't deny that this would a pleasurable alliance they were forming. If alliance was the right word. Elysia knew what Elias was really after but it was hard to focus. The room had taken on a white glow and she was being moved ever backwards. Elias was in total control of where they were headed and she was content to let him dictate what was to happen how and as he saw fit. There were so many things she decided in her every day dealings that she sometimes liked for others to take choice away.
She sighed against his lips as his hands trailed up her body, leaving heated trails along her skin. This could all stop now, of course, she thought to herself as her own fingers moved along his chest and down his abdomen and lower, teasing his erection through the safety of his clothes. Time must have been sliding away from her. She didn’t realize how fast this was turning into less a game and more reality as Elias’s hand slid all the way up her spine and tangled lightly in her hair.
With his arm under her clothes, she found herself pinned against him. His mouth left hers as he forced her head to turn a little bit so that he could whisper in her ear. "Kindness is the luxury that comes with my position, my dear. I can be kind, if you can be cooperative.” A shiver tingled along her spine and she couldn’t decide if she liked the slither of fear or not. Her eyes found his as the fabric of her dress slid away entirely. Elias was not watching her face. His gaze was on her neck and her breasts, and she wondered if he intended to stay dressed or not. What she did not do was answer him. She knew enough to understand that he wasn’t after banter anymore, if he ever had been.
"I require much, but I expect a lady of your intellect to understand those expectations without them being stated directly. Ally yourself with me, Elysia, and nothing will be able to worry you.”
She would have lifted her chin if he’d not had ahold of her hair, and she merely looked at him instead, lips parted. He gave her no time to answer more than that. As soon as he pulled his hand away enough to spin her, her loosened dress slid to the floor and she found her back pressed against his chest with his lips along the curve of her neck. The words spoken directly against her skin made her eyes close. No. They weren’t going to leave this room.
Her arms drifted back, hands lightly playing with his hair on the nape of his neck as she arched her back so that her bottom pressed against his groin. “Here,” she opened her eyes and looked at the wall ahead of them.. Her heart raced and she tried to breathe evenly but the heat of his body and the feather soft feel of his lips on her pulse were a little too much to handle at the moment. “I want you here.” Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was not being touched often, or maybe it was because she intended to use Elias as much as he was going to use her. Either way, she wanted him right now but there was no way on this earth that she would take him to her bedroom, for a multitude of reasons. No, he could have her in this room. Her room.
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She let him pull her up from the kline, not fighting him in the least now that she’d decided to let him do what he wanted. Having Elias of Stravos close was much better than earning his mistrust. Besides, with the wine warming her body and his lips moving with hers, she couldn't deny that this would a pleasurable alliance they were forming. If alliance was the right word. Elysia knew what Elias was really after but it was hard to focus. The room had taken on a white glow and she was being moved ever backwards. Elias was in total control of where they were headed and she was content to let him dictate what was to happen how and as he saw fit. There were so many things she decided in her every day dealings that she sometimes liked for others to take choice away.
She sighed against his lips as his hands trailed up her body, leaving heated trails along her skin. This could all stop now, of course, she thought to herself as her own fingers moved along his chest and down his abdomen and lower, teasing his erection through the safety of his clothes. Time must have been sliding away from her. She didn’t realize how fast this was turning into less a game and more reality as Elias’s hand slid all the way up her spine and tangled lightly in her hair.
With his arm under her clothes, she found herself pinned against him. His mouth left hers as he forced her head to turn a little bit so that he could whisper in her ear. "Kindness is the luxury that comes with my position, my dear. I can be kind, if you can be cooperative.” A shiver tingled along her spine and she couldn’t decide if she liked the slither of fear or not. Her eyes found his as the fabric of her dress slid away entirely. Elias was not watching her face. His gaze was on her neck and her breasts, and she wondered if he intended to stay dressed or not. What she did not do was answer him. She knew enough to understand that he wasn’t after banter anymore, if he ever had been.
"I require much, but I expect a lady of your intellect to understand those expectations without them being stated directly. Ally yourself with me, Elysia, and nothing will be able to worry you.”
She would have lifted her chin if he’d not had ahold of her hair, and she merely looked at him instead, lips parted. He gave her no time to answer more than that. As soon as he pulled his hand away enough to spin her, her loosened dress slid to the floor and she found her back pressed against his chest with his lips along the curve of her neck. The words spoken directly against her skin made her eyes close. No. They weren’t going to leave this room.
Her arms drifted back, hands lightly playing with his hair on the nape of his neck as she arched her back so that her bottom pressed against his groin. “Here,” she opened her eyes and looked at the wall ahead of them.. Her heart raced and she tried to breathe evenly but the heat of his body and the feather soft feel of his lips on her pulse were a little too much to handle at the moment. “I want you here.” Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was not being touched often, or maybe it was because she intended to use Elias as much as he was going to use her. Either way, she wanted him right now but there was no way on this earth that she would take him to her bedroom, for a multitude of reasons. No, he could have her in this room. Her room.
She let him pull her up from the kline, not fighting him in the least now that she’d decided to let him do what he wanted. Having Elias of Stravos close was much better than earning his mistrust. Besides, with the wine warming her body and his lips moving with hers, she couldn't deny that this would a pleasurable alliance they were forming. If alliance was the right word. Elysia knew what Elias was really after but it was hard to focus. The room had taken on a white glow and she was being moved ever backwards. Elias was in total control of where they were headed and she was content to let him dictate what was to happen how and as he saw fit. There were so many things she decided in her every day dealings that she sometimes liked for others to take choice away.
She sighed against his lips as his hands trailed up her body, leaving heated trails along her skin. This could all stop now, of course, she thought to herself as her own fingers moved along his chest and down his abdomen and lower, teasing his erection through the safety of his clothes. Time must have been sliding away from her. She didn’t realize how fast this was turning into less a game and more reality as Elias’s hand slid all the way up her spine and tangled lightly in her hair.
With his arm under her clothes, she found herself pinned against him. His mouth left hers as he forced her head to turn a little bit so that he could whisper in her ear. "Kindness is the luxury that comes with my position, my dear. I can be kind, if you can be cooperative.” A shiver tingled along her spine and she couldn’t decide if she liked the slither of fear or not. Her eyes found his as the fabric of her dress slid away entirely. Elias was not watching her face. His gaze was on her neck and her breasts, and she wondered if he intended to stay dressed or not. What she did not do was answer him. She knew enough to understand that he wasn’t after banter anymore, if he ever had been.
"I require much, but I expect a lady of your intellect to understand those expectations without them being stated directly. Ally yourself with me, Elysia, and nothing will be able to worry you.”
She would have lifted her chin if he’d not had ahold of her hair, and she merely looked at him instead, lips parted. He gave her no time to answer more than that. As soon as he pulled his hand away enough to spin her, her loosened dress slid to the floor and she found her back pressed against his chest with his lips along the curve of her neck. The words spoken directly against her skin made her eyes close. No. They weren’t going to leave this room.
Her arms drifted back, hands lightly playing with his hair on the nape of his neck as she arched her back so that her bottom pressed against his groin. “Here,” she opened her eyes and looked at the wall ahead of them.. Her heart raced and she tried to breathe evenly but the heat of his body and the feather soft feel of his lips on her pulse were a little too much to handle at the moment. “I want you here.” Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was not being touched often, or maybe it was because she intended to use Elias as much as he was going to use her. Either way, she wanted him right now but there was no way on this earth that she would take him to her bedroom, for a multitude of reasons. No, he could have her in this room. Her room.
How Elias of Stravos danced between threat and reward, toeing the fine line between the pair of them while in Elysia of Aetea’s presence. There was rumour that she was a daughter of Zeus, though the excuse was not so rare when a noblewoman was impregnated by peasant garbage. The truth of the matter, however, didn’t matter in the slightest. Elysia was a feast for the senses, from the aesthetic of her beauty to the sensation of her bared breasts against his palms and onward to the warmth of her flesh that seeped through his chiton and heated his chest. The lips that traversed hers first and next along the expanse of her neck carried with them a hum that vibrated against her skin. Every moment that the Stravos spent was a slow indulgence, for purposes that were legion.
It was evident to Elias that Elysia’s obedience in movement was no mere surrender to authority. Perhaps the Spymaster was too negligent, too far gone and away from his home to remember the treasure that was his wife’s body. A body that in addition to being a standard for the beauty of mortal women also had needs that required satisfaction. It was incredible to Elias that even the busiest of men could allow a body like hers to fall into neglect. It was a travesty that Elias of Stravos would rectify, but not on her time. He listened, heady desire pounding heated blood through his skull. His hands made playthings of her breasts, kneading them in his hold before index and middle fingers took to either side of the woman’s nipples.
“I want you here,” she said, contradicting his command and making the world smaller still. Where Elias had expected the need for his eyes to guide him in pursuit of her, they no longer needed to see much of anything at all. There was a sense, after all, that was far more prevalent. No longer did Elias of Stravos speak, truly a feat for anyone to manage, for he so loved hearing himself talk on and on. No, instead of vocalizing speech, the low hum against her flesh persisted, only to be broken by a groan solicited purely by lust, a sound that poured itself lasciviously into her ear as her rear pushed itself against the rigid outline of him. Earlier, Elysia had toyed with the clothed flesh from above his chiton, a worthy effort that paled in comparison to the needy motion that desire brought out of her. Elias reveled in each moment that she fell further and further to his ends, though in a moment of clarity he might’ve wondered Elias was truly the instigator of her extramarital excursion.
But such thoughts were far off any away. Elias of Stravos had supple flesh between his digits and pressing up against the rigid flesh of his member, still clothed and hidden away from the woman who wanted it. He grinned against her flesh before he released her breasts. He guided them a step forward before pulling back abruptly. An arm curved around Elysia’s waist as the other sought to turn her body to face him. The Stravos held her close to his chest, a visceral claim laid against her lips once more as his eyes decided to work with him properly. He guided the pair of them towards the nearby wall, pushing Elysia against it with some degree of force as his tongue entwined with hers. Heady was the desire that bubbled within, boiling higher and higher until he broke from their kiss.
”Undress me,” he commanded her, his lips curved into a smirk as honeyed hues allowed him to catch her gaze once more. Even as he placed that command, Elias was no creature bound to stillness. He’d wait until Elysia shifted to obey before he allowed his fingertips to wander. The digits of his left hand played along her abdomen, drawing lower and lower until they wove between the woman’s thighs and found the passage they craved access to. Two digits impaled Elysia of Aetea, a shift of his wrist driving them deeper within as the chiton fell from his shoulders. His lips kept their proximity to hers all the while, a deliciously delicate brush felt between them before he sought them in force yet again. By the end of their time together, Elias of Stravos might find his lips raw from contact, but it scarcely mattered as the voracious need sought to overwhelm the senses. Diplomacy, scheming machinations, and all of the world outside of the walls of Elysia’s house were gone as his fingers took her, as his lips claimed hers. As he claimed her.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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How Elias of Stravos danced between threat and reward, toeing the fine line between the pair of them while in Elysia of Aetea’s presence. There was rumour that she was a daughter of Zeus, though the excuse was not so rare when a noblewoman was impregnated by peasant garbage. The truth of the matter, however, didn’t matter in the slightest. Elysia was a feast for the senses, from the aesthetic of her beauty to the sensation of her bared breasts against his palms and onward to the warmth of her flesh that seeped through his chiton and heated his chest. The lips that traversed hers first and next along the expanse of her neck carried with them a hum that vibrated against her skin. Every moment that the Stravos spent was a slow indulgence, for purposes that were legion.
It was evident to Elias that Elysia’s obedience in movement was no mere surrender to authority. Perhaps the Spymaster was too negligent, too far gone and away from his home to remember the treasure that was his wife’s body. A body that in addition to being a standard for the beauty of mortal women also had needs that required satisfaction. It was incredible to Elias that even the busiest of men could allow a body like hers to fall into neglect. It was a travesty that Elias of Stravos would rectify, but not on her time. He listened, heady desire pounding heated blood through his skull. His hands made playthings of her breasts, kneading them in his hold before index and middle fingers took to either side of the woman’s nipples.
“I want you here,” she said, contradicting his command and making the world smaller still. Where Elias had expected the need for his eyes to guide him in pursuit of her, they no longer needed to see much of anything at all. There was a sense, after all, that was far more prevalent. No longer did Elias of Stravos speak, truly a feat for anyone to manage, for he so loved hearing himself talk on and on. No, instead of vocalizing speech, the low hum against her flesh persisted, only to be broken by a groan solicited purely by lust, a sound that poured itself lasciviously into her ear as her rear pushed itself against the rigid outline of him. Earlier, Elysia had toyed with the clothed flesh from above his chiton, a worthy effort that paled in comparison to the needy motion that desire brought out of her. Elias reveled in each moment that she fell further and further to his ends, though in a moment of clarity he might’ve wondered Elias was truly the instigator of her extramarital excursion.
But such thoughts were far off any away. Elias of Stravos had supple flesh between his digits and pressing up against the rigid flesh of his member, still clothed and hidden away from the woman who wanted it. He grinned against her flesh before he released her breasts. He guided them a step forward before pulling back abruptly. An arm curved around Elysia’s waist as the other sought to turn her body to face him. The Stravos held her close to his chest, a visceral claim laid against her lips once more as his eyes decided to work with him properly. He guided the pair of them towards the nearby wall, pushing Elysia against it with some degree of force as his tongue entwined with hers. Heady was the desire that bubbled within, boiling higher and higher until he broke from their kiss.
”Undress me,” he commanded her, his lips curved into a smirk as honeyed hues allowed him to catch her gaze once more. Even as he placed that command, Elias was no creature bound to stillness. He’d wait until Elysia shifted to obey before he allowed his fingertips to wander. The digits of his left hand played along her abdomen, drawing lower and lower until they wove between the woman’s thighs and found the passage they craved access to. Two digits impaled Elysia of Aetea, a shift of his wrist driving them deeper within as the chiton fell from his shoulders. His lips kept their proximity to hers all the while, a deliciously delicate brush felt between them before he sought them in force yet again. By the end of their time together, Elias of Stravos might find his lips raw from contact, but it scarcely mattered as the voracious need sought to overwhelm the senses. Diplomacy, scheming machinations, and all of the world outside of the walls of Elysia’s house were gone as his fingers took her, as his lips claimed hers. As he claimed her.
How Elias of Stravos danced between threat and reward, toeing the fine line between the pair of them while in Elysia of Aetea’s presence. There was rumour that she was a daughter of Zeus, though the excuse was not so rare when a noblewoman was impregnated by peasant garbage. The truth of the matter, however, didn’t matter in the slightest. Elysia was a feast for the senses, from the aesthetic of her beauty to the sensation of her bared breasts against his palms and onward to the warmth of her flesh that seeped through his chiton and heated his chest. The lips that traversed hers first and next along the expanse of her neck carried with them a hum that vibrated against her skin. Every moment that the Stravos spent was a slow indulgence, for purposes that were legion.
It was evident to Elias that Elysia’s obedience in movement was no mere surrender to authority. Perhaps the Spymaster was too negligent, too far gone and away from his home to remember the treasure that was his wife’s body. A body that in addition to being a standard for the beauty of mortal women also had needs that required satisfaction. It was incredible to Elias that even the busiest of men could allow a body like hers to fall into neglect. It was a travesty that Elias of Stravos would rectify, but not on her time. He listened, heady desire pounding heated blood through his skull. His hands made playthings of her breasts, kneading them in his hold before index and middle fingers took to either side of the woman’s nipples.
“I want you here,” she said, contradicting his command and making the world smaller still. Where Elias had expected the need for his eyes to guide him in pursuit of her, they no longer needed to see much of anything at all. There was a sense, after all, that was far more prevalent. No longer did Elias of Stravos speak, truly a feat for anyone to manage, for he so loved hearing himself talk on and on. No, instead of vocalizing speech, the low hum against her flesh persisted, only to be broken by a groan solicited purely by lust, a sound that poured itself lasciviously into her ear as her rear pushed itself against the rigid outline of him. Earlier, Elysia had toyed with the clothed flesh from above his chiton, a worthy effort that paled in comparison to the needy motion that desire brought out of her. Elias reveled in each moment that she fell further and further to his ends, though in a moment of clarity he might’ve wondered Elias was truly the instigator of her extramarital excursion.
But such thoughts were far off any away. Elias of Stravos had supple flesh between his digits and pressing up against the rigid flesh of his member, still clothed and hidden away from the woman who wanted it. He grinned against her flesh before he released her breasts. He guided them a step forward before pulling back abruptly. An arm curved around Elysia’s waist as the other sought to turn her body to face him. The Stravos held her close to his chest, a visceral claim laid against her lips once more as his eyes decided to work with him properly. He guided the pair of them towards the nearby wall, pushing Elysia against it with some degree of force as his tongue entwined with hers. Heady was the desire that bubbled within, boiling higher and higher until he broke from their kiss.
”Undress me,” he commanded her, his lips curved into a smirk as honeyed hues allowed him to catch her gaze once more. Even as he placed that command, Elias was no creature bound to stillness. He’d wait until Elysia shifted to obey before he allowed his fingertips to wander. The digits of his left hand played along her abdomen, drawing lower and lower until they wove between the woman’s thighs and found the passage they craved access to. Two digits impaled Elysia of Aetea, a shift of his wrist driving them deeper within as the chiton fell from his shoulders. His lips kept their proximity to hers all the while, a deliciously delicate brush felt between them before he sought them in force yet again. By the end of their time together, Elias of Stravos might find his lips raw from contact, but it scarcely mattered as the voracious need sought to overwhelm the senses. Diplomacy, scheming machinations, and all of the world outside of the walls of Elysia’s house were gone as his fingers took her, as his lips claimed hers. As he claimed her.
She’d assumed that he would keep her facing the wall, making this well and truly impersonal. Something that she was very comfortable with. What she didn’t want and didn’t need from Elias were lying confessions of love or even real promises. She wanted his trust. This was the easiest and most pleasurable way to earn it. When he turned her back around, capturing her mouth again, she let out a surprised sound, opening her mouth to him. An arm slid around him, not unwilling to receive some sort of semblance of interest, but not needing it, either. Still, sex was nicer if there was at least pretend affection.
Elias pulled away just enough to command her to undress him. Her eyes found his and she arched one eyebrow with a, “As you wish, my lord,” on her lips. There was no way to ignore the sensation of his fingers trailing along her abdomen and she pressed her hips against his as she kept her eyes focused on his face. Her fingers slid along his chest, up to his shoulder, unclipping the fibulae there to allow his chiton to slip away.
Her breath caught when his fingers drifted lower and she tipped her head back against the wall, parting her legs for him. She had expected him to think only of his own wants and not hers. Had been more than prepared for that, truth be told, and might even have preferred it. That kept things simple if she didn’t enjoy this all that much, but that was proving not to be the case. Her pulse raced and her nails dug into his flesh as his face neared hers again. The brush of his lips, the feel of his tongue sliding against hers, this was as alarming as it was thrilling. None of this was supposed to be enjoyable and she felt a little guilty at the moan that escaped into his mouth. She smoothed her hands across his hips, circling them around to his lower back, drawing him tighter against her. Her thigh came up, against his hip in a silent plea for more than his hand.
There was only the most distant concern in her mind about what she was doing, but she rationalized it. This was for the good of Athenia. If Elias trusted her, spoke to her, was unreserved with her, she’d be able to learn so much more than she would at a distance. She wanted words to form on his tongue, for him to spill into her his plans and ambitions. She wanted to know all of it. The darkest, most evil things he was intending. The lightest, dullest things. Everything Elias of Stravos thought or did, Elysia needed to know it before it happened, and stop it if necessary.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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She’d assumed that he would keep her facing the wall, making this well and truly impersonal. Something that she was very comfortable with. What she didn’t want and didn’t need from Elias were lying confessions of love or even real promises. She wanted his trust. This was the easiest and most pleasurable way to earn it. When he turned her back around, capturing her mouth again, she let out a surprised sound, opening her mouth to him. An arm slid around him, not unwilling to receive some sort of semblance of interest, but not needing it, either. Still, sex was nicer if there was at least pretend affection.
Elias pulled away just enough to command her to undress him. Her eyes found his and she arched one eyebrow with a, “As you wish, my lord,” on her lips. There was no way to ignore the sensation of his fingers trailing along her abdomen and she pressed her hips against his as she kept her eyes focused on his face. Her fingers slid along his chest, up to his shoulder, unclipping the fibulae there to allow his chiton to slip away.
Her breath caught when his fingers drifted lower and she tipped her head back against the wall, parting her legs for him. She had expected him to think only of his own wants and not hers. Had been more than prepared for that, truth be told, and might even have preferred it. That kept things simple if she didn’t enjoy this all that much, but that was proving not to be the case. Her pulse raced and her nails dug into his flesh as his face neared hers again. The brush of his lips, the feel of his tongue sliding against hers, this was as alarming as it was thrilling. None of this was supposed to be enjoyable and she felt a little guilty at the moan that escaped into his mouth. She smoothed her hands across his hips, circling them around to his lower back, drawing him tighter against her. Her thigh came up, against his hip in a silent plea for more than his hand.
There was only the most distant concern in her mind about what she was doing, but she rationalized it. This was for the good of Athenia. If Elias trusted her, spoke to her, was unreserved with her, she’d be able to learn so much more than she would at a distance. She wanted words to form on his tongue, for him to spill into her his plans and ambitions. She wanted to know all of it. The darkest, most evil things he was intending. The lightest, dullest things. Everything Elias of Stravos thought or did, Elysia needed to know it before it happened, and stop it if necessary.
She’d assumed that he would keep her facing the wall, making this well and truly impersonal. Something that she was very comfortable with. What she didn’t want and didn’t need from Elias were lying confessions of love or even real promises. She wanted his trust. This was the easiest and most pleasurable way to earn it. When he turned her back around, capturing her mouth again, she let out a surprised sound, opening her mouth to him. An arm slid around him, not unwilling to receive some sort of semblance of interest, but not needing it, either. Still, sex was nicer if there was at least pretend affection.
Elias pulled away just enough to command her to undress him. Her eyes found his and she arched one eyebrow with a, “As you wish, my lord,” on her lips. There was no way to ignore the sensation of his fingers trailing along her abdomen and she pressed her hips against his as she kept her eyes focused on his face. Her fingers slid along his chest, up to his shoulder, unclipping the fibulae there to allow his chiton to slip away.
Her breath caught when his fingers drifted lower and she tipped her head back against the wall, parting her legs for him. She had expected him to think only of his own wants and not hers. Had been more than prepared for that, truth be told, and might even have preferred it. That kept things simple if she didn’t enjoy this all that much, but that was proving not to be the case. Her pulse raced and her nails dug into his flesh as his face neared hers again. The brush of his lips, the feel of his tongue sliding against hers, this was as alarming as it was thrilling. None of this was supposed to be enjoyable and she felt a little guilty at the moan that escaped into his mouth. She smoothed her hands across his hips, circling them around to his lower back, drawing him tighter against her. Her thigh came up, against his hip in a silent plea for more than his hand.
There was only the most distant concern in her mind about what she was doing, but she rationalized it. This was for the good of Athenia. If Elias trusted her, spoke to her, was unreserved with her, she’d be able to learn so much more than she would at a distance. She wanted words to form on his tongue, for him to spill into her his plans and ambitions. She wanted to know all of it. The darkest, most evil things he was intending. The lightest, dullest things. Everything Elias of Stravos thought or did, Elysia needed to know it before it happened, and stop it if necessary.
For all the machinations Elias of Stravos held against his chest and for all of the blood spilled at his behest, he was far from cold. If one knew all of the things he had done for power, the reasons for his bloodshed and the motivations that propelled him towards the throne, one could hardly come to the assessment that he was capable in any way of being impersonal. No, all that Elias of Stravos did carried with it heat and passion, hatred and aggression. Elias of Stravos was a being moulded with fire and he sought to engulf all that stood in his way or behind him in support in flames at different distances. Enemies might see that flame from a distance, their homes, their possessions, or their children engulfed in them before the blade in the dark stole their light from them at last. For his allies and lovers, the flame was adjacent, an impulsive roar that warmed them to the bone.
Elysia of Aetea might feel it this night, the proximity of fire that swelled from Elias’ presence. His kiss was visceral in nature, hungry for the pleasure and tastes she could offer. The feast for the senses was whelming, and Elias of Stravos devoured eagerly, claiming her lips, grasping her hips, plunging his digits deep within her core. In the moment, his heated fingertips worked within her, his palm at her pelvis as his thumb slid along the sensitive nub of flesh that so heightened the intensity of sensation. As he toyed with her, he obeyed him, letting his chiton fall to the ground as hers had, baring the both of them to one another in the complexity of feeling. There was no love in Elias’ motions, no overt affection present. No, this was indulgence and desire that sought to tame, but never douse, the visceral flames of passion. The moan that poured against Elias’ lips was proof enough of how Elysia responded to his touches, but there was more to experience.
Elysia’s thigh slid upward, brushing against his own leg before settling square against his waist. He got the hint immediately, his lips curving into a grin against hers as he pushed the woman firmly into the wall as, at last, he withdrew his fingers from within her. Slick from her arousal, Elias allowed a moment to let himself feel the moisture that clung between his digits, separating them before that same hand moved to grasp at her risen thigh. The other matched the movement, his chest pinning Elysia against the wall as he wrenched her from her footing and shifted his hips. He was certain that he need not tell her to coil her legs about his waist, and when she decided to do so, he let one hand slide between their bodies to guide the rigid member to her. The swollen head parted her folds, and at last Elias deigned for a slowness to take to him. He brushed that tip along the expanse of her slit before one movement engulfed the head within her. Here, he maintained that slowness, allowing each inch of his swollen length to invade her, relishing in each moment that had him penetrate deeper within the wife of the Master Informer.
Elias of Stravos laid his claim, piercing her with his length, pushing their bodies firmly into the wall before he deigned it appropriate to uncoil her legs from about his waist. He freed himself for the movements that were to ensue, and there the slowness ceased. Elias allowed a pace to form, thrusts pushing Elysia’s back into the wall as precise movements filled her only to withdraw to the head. His chest brushed against her breasts, his unblemished flesh rubbing against her nipples with his every movement. Slow breath had quickened, his pulse raging against her as his eyes closed to mere slits. The pleasure washed over his senses as his lips sought not her own, but the woman’s neck, teeth grazing the crook of her neck before his lips painted a trail of fire about the line that was her pulse. His fingertips kneaded against her thighs as he held her against the wall, all too pleased with the woman’s surrender of control to him. After all, Elias of Stravos knew what they both wanted, and he was more than eager to comply with their mutual demand. His pace grew quicker and quicker, fully intent upon ravishing her body offered up in sacrifice for the goal of his trust. Perhaps Elysia would earn it, or, perhaps, she’d been made a pawn to his desires. Either way, only time would tell, and he had no intention of offering secrets to her this day. No, there was carnal indulgence, an outpouring of passion as the flames engulfed the both of them in the infernal pursuit of ecstasy.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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For all the machinations Elias of Stravos held against his chest and for all of the blood spilled at his behest, he was far from cold. If one knew all of the things he had done for power, the reasons for his bloodshed and the motivations that propelled him towards the throne, one could hardly come to the assessment that he was capable in any way of being impersonal. No, all that Elias of Stravos did carried with it heat and passion, hatred and aggression. Elias of Stravos was a being moulded with fire and he sought to engulf all that stood in his way or behind him in support in flames at different distances. Enemies might see that flame from a distance, their homes, their possessions, or their children engulfed in them before the blade in the dark stole their light from them at last. For his allies and lovers, the flame was adjacent, an impulsive roar that warmed them to the bone.
Elysia of Aetea might feel it this night, the proximity of fire that swelled from Elias’ presence. His kiss was visceral in nature, hungry for the pleasure and tastes she could offer. The feast for the senses was whelming, and Elias of Stravos devoured eagerly, claiming her lips, grasping her hips, plunging his digits deep within her core. In the moment, his heated fingertips worked within her, his palm at her pelvis as his thumb slid along the sensitive nub of flesh that so heightened the intensity of sensation. As he toyed with her, he obeyed him, letting his chiton fall to the ground as hers had, baring the both of them to one another in the complexity of feeling. There was no love in Elias’ motions, no overt affection present. No, this was indulgence and desire that sought to tame, but never douse, the visceral flames of passion. The moan that poured against Elias’ lips was proof enough of how Elysia responded to his touches, but there was more to experience.
Elysia’s thigh slid upward, brushing against his own leg before settling square against his waist. He got the hint immediately, his lips curving into a grin against hers as he pushed the woman firmly into the wall as, at last, he withdrew his fingers from within her. Slick from her arousal, Elias allowed a moment to let himself feel the moisture that clung between his digits, separating them before that same hand moved to grasp at her risen thigh. The other matched the movement, his chest pinning Elysia against the wall as he wrenched her from her footing and shifted his hips. He was certain that he need not tell her to coil her legs about his waist, and when she decided to do so, he let one hand slide between their bodies to guide the rigid member to her. The swollen head parted her folds, and at last Elias deigned for a slowness to take to him. He brushed that tip along the expanse of her slit before one movement engulfed the head within her. Here, he maintained that slowness, allowing each inch of his swollen length to invade her, relishing in each moment that had him penetrate deeper within the wife of the Master Informer.
Elias of Stravos laid his claim, piercing her with his length, pushing their bodies firmly into the wall before he deigned it appropriate to uncoil her legs from about his waist. He freed himself for the movements that were to ensue, and there the slowness ceased. Elias allowed a pace to form, thrusts pushing Elysia’s back into the wall as precise movements filled her only to withdraw to the head. His chest brushed against her breasts, his unblemished flesh rubbing against her nipples with his every movement. Slow breath had quickened, his pulse raging against her as his eyes closed to mere slits. The pleasure washed over his senses as his lips sought not her own, but the woman’s neck, teeth grazing the crook of her neck before his lips painted a trail of fire about the line that was her pulse. His fingertips kneaded against her thighs as he held her against the wall, all too pleased with the woman’s surrender of control to him. After all, Elias of Stravos knew what they both wanted, and he was more than eager to comply with their mutual demand. His pace grew quicker and quicker, fully intent upon ravishing her body offered up in sacrifice for the goal of his trust. Perhaps Elysia would earn it, or, perhaps, she’d been made a pawn to his desires. Either way, only time would tell, and he had no intention of offering secrets to her this day. No, there was carnal indulgence, an outpouring of passion as the flames engulfed the both of them in the infernal pursuit of ecstasy.
For all the machinations Elias of Stravos held against his chest and for all of the blood spilled at his behest, he was far from cold. If one knew all of the things he had done for power, the reasons for his bloodshed and the motivations that propelled him towards the throne, one could hardly come to the assessment that he was capable in any way of being impersonal. No, all that Elias of Stravos did carried with it heat and passion, hatred and aggression. Elias of Stravos was a being moulded with fire and he sought to engulf all that stood in his way or behind him in support in flames at different distances. Enemies might see that flame from a distance, their homes, their possessions, or their children engulfed in them before the blade in the dark stole their light from them at last. For his allies and lovers, the flame was adjacent, an impulsive roar that warmed them to the bone.
Elysia of Aetea might feel it this night, the proximity of fire that swelled from Elias’ presence. His kiss was visceral in nature, hungry for the pleasure and tastes she could offer. The feast for the senses was whelming, and Elias of Stravos devoured eagerly, claiming her lips, grasping her hips, plunging his digits deep within her core. In the moment, his heated fingertips worked within her, his palm at her pelvis as his thumb slid along the sensitive nub of flesh that so heightened the intensity of sensation. As he toyed with her, he obeyed him, letting his chiton fall to the ground as hers had, baring the both of them to one another in the complexity of feeling. There was no love in Elias’ motions, no overt affection present. No, this was indulgence and desire that sought to tame, but never douse, the visceral flames of passion. The moan that poured against Elias’ lips was proof enough of how Elysia responded to his touches, but there was more to experience.
Elysia’s thigh slid upward, brushing against his own leg before settling square against his waist. He got the hint immediately, his lips curving into a grin against hers as he pushed the woman firmly into the wall as, at last, he withdrew his fingers from within her. Slick from her arousal, Elias allowed a moment to let himself feel the moisture that clung between his digits, separating them before that same hand moved to grasp at her risen thigh. The other matched the movement, his chest pinning Elysia against the wall as he wrenched her from her footing and shifted his hips. He was certain that he need not tell her to coil her legs about his waist, and when she decided to do so, he let one hand slide between their bodies to guide the rigid member to her. The swollen head parted her folds, and at last Elias deigned for a slowness to take to him. He brushed that tip along the expanse of her slit before one movement engulfed the head within her. Here, he maintained that slowness, allowing each inch of his swollen length to invade her, relishing in each moment that had him penetrate deeper within the wife of the Master Informer.
Elias of Stravos laid his claim, piercing her with his length, pushing their bodies firmly into the wall before he deigned it appropriate to uncoil her legs from about his waist. He freed himself for the movements that were to ensue, and there the slowness ceased. Elias allowed a pace to form, thrusts pushing Elysia’s back into the wall as precise movements filled her only to withdraw to the head. His chest brushed against her breasts, his unblemished flesh rubbing against her nipples with his every movement. Slow breath had quickened, his pulse raging against her as his eyes closed to mere slits. The pleasure washed over his senses as his lips sought not her own, but the woman’s neck, teeth grazing the crook of her neck before his lips painted a trail of fire about the line that was her pulse. His fingertips kneaded against her thighs as he held her against the wall, all too pleased with the woman’s surrender of control to him. After all, Elias of Stravos knew what they both wanted, and he was more than eager to comply with their mutual demand. His pace grew quicker and quicker, fully intent upon ravishing her body offered up in sacrifice for the goal of his trust. Perhaps Elysia would earn it, or, perhaps, she’d been made a pawn to his desires. Either way, only time would tell, and he had no intention of offering secrets to her this day. No, there was carnal indulgence, an outpouring of passion as the flames engulfed the both of them in the infernal pursuit of ecstasy.
A surprised, unhappy cry left her mouth when her bare back met the cold stone of the wall, but was cut off by Ellias forcibly taking her other thigh up. Forcing her to depend solely on her own hold around his shoulders, she watched him pin his chest against hers, keeping her flush with the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, using the leverage to get herself more comfortable and situated. When his hand slid between then, grasping his cock to guide it, she resisted flinching. It was impossible to ignore the smooth, hardness moving against her and she took a deep breath, knowing that in a few seconds, there was no going back. Possibly she could stop this right now, but even as she thought it, his tip brushed against her and he slid partially inside.
The words to stop him died on her tongue as she watched his beautiful face. There were rumors that he was blessed, and she’d noted it before, but with him this close, his physical beauty kept her lips merely parted, as she drew in deep breaths, her chest rising and falling with each one. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders as he took his time, being slow and oddly gentle. None of this was what she expected of him and if he’d chosen to make it hurt, she’d have accepted it. Again, it would have made her plan for him quite a bit easier. Instead, she found her breath quickening and her eyes fluttering closed once he was fully seated inside. She whined when he dropped her legs, finding herself being forced to stand on her own and she brought one leg back up, hooking it back around his waist again, finding that easier.
His lips neared hers and she leaned out to kiss him, but he pressed kisses along her neck instead and she closed her eyes, shivers running the length of her body. She murmured something against his shoulder that wasn’t quite words as his teeth nipped at her before he rewarded her with another kiss at her pulse. Elysia moaned at it, hand drifting into his hair, clawing in it and pulling to get him to stop, but she wasn’t successful. Elias did what he wanted and she began to pant, shaking her head a little. He’d kissed her there as almost a threat earlier, and she thought it might be the same now, yet, perversely, that didn’t bother her the way it should have.
“You’re cruel,” she whispered. “This isn’t supposed to be nice.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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A surprised, unhappy cry left her mouth when her bare back met the cold stone of the wall, but was cut off by Ellias forcibly taking her other thigh up. Forcing her to depend solely on her own hold around his shoulders, she watched him pin his chest against hers, keeping her flush with the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, using the leverage to get herself more comfortable and situated. When his hand slid between then, grasping his cock to guide it, she resisted flinching. It was impossible to ignore the smooth, hardness moving against her and she took a deep breath, knowing that in a few seconds, there was no going back. Possibly she could stop this right now, but even as she thought it, his tip brushed against her and he slid partially inside.
The words to stop him died on her tongue as she watched his beautiful face. There were rumors that he was blessed, and she’d noted it before, but with him this close, his physical beauty kept her lips merely parted, as she drew in deep breaths, her chest rising and falling with each one. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders as he took his time, being slow and oddly gentle. None of this was what she expected of him and if he’d chosen to make it hurt, she’d have accepted it. Again, it would have made her plan for him quite a bit easier. Instead, she found her breath quickening and her eyes fluttering closed once he was fully seated inside. She whined when he dropped her legs, finding herself being forced to stand on her own and she brought one leg back up, hooking it back around his waist again, finding that easier.
His lips neared hers and she leaned out to kiss him, but he pressed kisses along her neck instead and she closed her eyes, shivers running the length of her body. She murmured something against his shoulder that wasn’t quite words as his teeth nipped at her before he rewarded her with another kiss at her pulse. Elysia moaned at it, hand drifting into his hair, clawing in it and pulling to get him to stop, but she wasn’t successful. Elias did what he wanted and she began to pant, shaking her head a little. He’d kissed her there as almost a threat earlier, and she thought it might be the same now, yet, perversely, that didn’t bother her the way it should have.
“You’re cruel,” she whispered. “This isn’t supposed to be nice.”
A surprised, unhappy cry left her mouth when her bare back met the cold stone of the wall, but was cut off by Ellias forcibly taking her other thigh up. Forcing her to depend solely on her own hold around his shoulders, she watched him pin his chest against hers, keeping her flush with the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist, using the leverage to get herself more comfortable and situated. When his hand slid between then, grasping his cock to guide it, she resisted flinching. It was impossible to ignore the smooth, hardness moving against her and she took a deep breath, knowing that in a few seconds, there was no going back. Possibly she could stop this right now, but even as she thought it, his tip brushed against her and he slid partially inside.
The words to stop him died on her tongue as she watched his beautiful face. There were rumors that he was blessed, and she’d noted it before, but with him this close, his physical beauty kept her lips merely parted, as she drew in deep breaths, her chest rising and falling with each one. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders as he took his time, being slow and oddly gentle. None of this was what she expected of him and if he’d chosen to make it hurt, she’d have accepted it. Again, it would have made her plan for him quite a bit easier. Instead, she found her breath quickening and her eyes fluttering closed once he was fully seated inside. She whined when he dropped her legs, finding herself being forced to stand on her own and she brought one leg back up, hooking it back around his waist again, finding that easier.
His lips neared hers and she leaned out to kiss him, but he pressed kisses along her neck instead and she closed her eyes, shivers running the length of her body. She murmured something against his shoulder that wasn’t quite words as his teeth nipped at her before he rewarded her with another kiss at her pulse. Elysia moaned at it, hand drifting into his hair, clawing in it and pulling to get him to stop, but she wasn’t successful. Elias did what he wanted and she began to pant, shaking her head a little. He’d kissed her there as almost a threat earlier, and she thought it might be the same now, yet, perversely, that didn’t bother her the way it should have.
“You’re cruel,” she whispered. “This isn’t supposed to be nice.”