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Character of the Season
Once known as the Butcher of Whitebrim, he's now The Butcher of Dygra, stepping forward as the first created demigod of the Ancients. There is no question that Astaroth casts an intimidating silhouette. Tall, domineering and dangerous, if looks could kill you'd be dead already, but to get up close and personal with the Grounds' resident cannibal tells a much different story. Dripping with charm and clad in only the finest attire, Asta is a gentleman monster, as polite as they come and committed to his role as security for the Dusklight and those who have earned his loyalty. Be careful of that smile, though - those teeth are sharp.
Congratulations, Asta!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
OG Skinning provided by Kaons, with functionality and many custom plugins made by Neowulf!
"They'll believe it," Jack purrs, his devilish smile hidden by the way his lips press to the soft skin against her inner thigh. It isn't as though most of Torchline doesn't know he's a phenomenal fuck - ask at any of the brothels, anyway. "Not that I wasn't plannin' to." Fuck her, he means, the captain smoothly unhooking her leg from his shoulder so he might rise to his feet, already unbuttoning pants that feel about three sizes too small.
Around them her thoughts spark and pop like multicoloured bubbles in champagne, and while Jack doesn't add anything further to the room, Flora can feel free to conjure up whatever furniture (or bonfires or sand) she likes as he unbuttons his shirt and shrugs out of it. Drawing her back into a hungry kiss as he reaches back to unclasp her bra, he lets her taste herself on his lips, all the while guiding her hips forward and against his own so she might feel for herself the sort of reaction she's provoked in him.
Whatever the motivation for it was, there was something so fucking hot about a man who could put a woman's pleasure above his own. Never mind that that wasn't actually what Jack was doing.
Not minding the lack of surroundings—it was one thing to conjure them to feign putting on a show, but it was another entirely to try and trick a man who could see inside her mind that an audience of her own making did little for her—Flora did coax down a chandelier above them. As Jack removed her bra, the Doubletake's winter sun skin was bathed in prismatic light rays from above that seemed to want to hug her curves rather than disappear into the darkness of the captain's mind.
Curling her arms around his neck as her lips met his, Flora's kiss turns crooked and shallow as she feels the insistent hardness of his cock pressed against her. Letting one of her arms drop from around his shoulders, the Doubletake reaches out to encircle his erection between her fingers. "Is this where I learn that the infamous captain Jack likes to make love instead of fuck?" She whispers playfully, the colours of her thoughts taking on a mischievous shade of violet. "Or that he likes to just be pet and cuddled?" Aemond
Raising an eyebrow at the appearance of the chandelier but not disliking it, Jack hums something greedy and insistent against her lips as her hand drifts between them, though as they part he can only lift his chin at her and tilt his head, his expression one of dry amusement. "What I like is all around you, love," he tells her, and gods if it isn't a strange thing to say out loud at last. "Everthin' you see and hear, I feel as well." Every flush of arousal, every cresting wave of pleasure, every phantom press of hands and tongues and teeth.
Shifting to kick off his pants and leaning in to capture her lips a second time, his hands grip her in the gentle yet possessive sort of hold he's learned Flora enjoys, clasping her against him. "However you like to be fucked is how I like to fuck," he whispers, lips dragging against the curve of her jaw. "If you feel like making love, we make love. If you feel like hanging from the chandelier, we hang from it." He draws a hard stop at petting and cuddling, though, but of that much the Doubletake will already know.
Looking at him skeptically, Flora glanced over her shoulder as if half expecting to see the room suddenly filled with prostitutes enacting the captain's greatest hits. When the world remained a dark canvas smeared with the texture of her thoughts, the Doubletake turned back, her confusion a blurred watermark of blue. "Wait, so—" But then he's filling in the gaps, and as he reaches for her, the room is drenched in a sudden tide of wine punctuated by islands of shimmering garnet that appear in perfect unison with the pulse of her heart.
"It really is just pleasure?" Flora whispers, wonderingly. The leather chaise has expanded so that they might not have to worry about fucking around the confines of the little couch, as the queen leans back, she drags Jack with her. "It's not...I dunno, pain or control, or...?" He'd said what he said, but forgive Flora for thinking that someone who was as self-professed as a bastard like Jack might not get off on some of the other sorts of emotions he was capable of siphoning out from those in his orbit.
Raising his eyebrows as if to say see? as the world around them bleeds into something deep and red and hazy in response to Flora's arousal, Jack spends a moment claiming the soft space beneath her ear with his lips, before she's drawing back and asking questions and it's with a quiet sort of frustration that he pulls his thoughts into enough of an order to answer her. "Pain hurts," he points out a little obviously. "I block out other people's all the time. So unless you're into it, why would I be?" Everyone's got a kink, as they say, and Jack's just happens to be whatever yours is at the time.
Besides, as a self-professed bastard in every area of his life, why would Jack deny himself anything, especially pleasure? Glancing over her shoulder at the chaise as it seems to have grown to accomodate some very interesting acrobatics, he clutches her close again as if being apart from her for even a moment longer is the real cause of pain here. (Which, of course, is what he suspects is exactly what she wants). "If I say I'll answer your questions after, will you let me fuck you now?" he wonders.
It likely won't miss the captain's attention that Flora is absolutely enjoying the hell out of forcing the captain to delay, but even she can understand that a bit of mischief doesn't compare to the toe-tingling satisfaction of being fucked.
Even though Flora has already worried that everything the captain did was purely for her benefit, in the moment it didn't bother her the way it might in the light of day. "Say please." She purrs wickedly before shimmying herself further back onto the leather bed/couch and then rolling over. Shards of light danced across her ass as she turned her chin over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow.
Yes sex before with Jack had always been good, better than with anyone else certainly, but now knowing the entire point of it was for her every desire to be met? (At least, that's how Flora was interpreting it). Jack had likely been the best sex of more than a few lives, but who had been the best sex of his? On the way toward love, maybe that was another goal for Flora to work toward.
Hopefully it doesn't bother her in the light of day, either, because Jack can assure her that what he's about to do next is entirely for the benefit of them both. Sharp blue eyes greedily take in the constellations of colour that twinkle and dance across Flora's skin, his head tilting and lips twitching in a mix of impatience and resignation at her demand. "Please," he drawls, the word almost bitten in two between his teeth.
It would be both disingenuous and also not entirely wrong to say that every time is the best time for Jack - the captain's mind is simply too busy to compose a Top 10. But there might be something to Flora's train of thought; the places Jack's mind goes when he's alone in his bunk, for example, or bored at a meeting, or on a long journey aboard the Ark.
Alas - thoughts for another time, because Jack follows her onto the bed(?) and spends a good few moments worshipping the soft swell of her ass and the smooth arch of her back, hands and mouth taking it in turns to write promises he intends to keep with his cock. Just when he's likely annoyed them both with delayed gratification does the captain finally grasp her hips and thrust forward, entering her roughly and with a bitten back curse on his tongue, filling her completely.
Flora might have begged the captain to fuck her if she wasn't well aware that he knew precisely the torture he was imposing on them both and was choosing to do it anyway. Arching her back beneath his hands in an effort to look a certain way, the Doubletake realized belatedly that it wasn't Jack she needed to pose for, but herself. Rather than tensing her stomach until it hurt or holding her limbs in uncomfortable positions for the sake of Jack's gaze, Flora instead let herself settle on the bed, relishing the cool firmness of the leather beneath her skin and basking in the imagery of how good she knew she looked, and one he seemingly was able to walk without any difficulty.
The quintessential reds and burgundies that wafted around the room like silk curtains caught in a breeze abruptly darkened as Jack's fingers found their way into the curve of her hip and he thrust himself forward. "—Jack" The word was forced from her mouth with the force of him, her lips already in the shape of his name. Flora liked it possessive-rough, but not rough-rough, a line she was grateful she didn't have to articulate to Jack.
Beneath the colourful spray of her own thoughts and with her fingers clutching the black leather of her bed, Flora felt as victorious as she did beautiful. Pressing herself up onto her knees, she reached for Jack's hands that she might press one between her thighs while the other she snaked across her breasts. Only when his palm had ghosted over her nipples sending shivers down her spine did she tilt her head back against his shoulder, curving his hand across her throat.
Feeling a wolfish smile curl across his lips as Flora, after gods knew how many times they'd slept together, gets it, Jack's hands clasp and fit around her body as if made for it, fingers gliding between her thighs and against her clit and circling her throat with just enough pressure for a suggestion or a whisper of danger, nothing more. "Good girl," he rumbles against her ear, the thrust of his hips hard and fast in an effort to take the Doubletake in such a way that she feels desired to the point of recklessness.
"Some people down there are still thinkin' about you," he whispers darkly, and now it doesn't matter whether or not he's being literal, because the picture is painted all the same. "Touchin' themselves under the tables, wishin' they had you like this." Huffing out a laugh that's punctuated by a nip against the side of her neck. "But they can't," he mutters into her salt slick skin. "Because you're mine."
Flora's moans leave her lips in staccato refrains that map exactly onto the rosettes of cherry red that bloom and pulse all around her. Nearly melting against him, gods but he knew exactly what to say, the Doubletake felt her cheeks burn as he stroked not only her clit, but her need for approval and praise as well. Panting his name in desperate little whispers, Flora clawed her fingers raggedly into his hair.
Turning her nose into the vibrations humming out from his throat, Flora's lips parted in a silent whimper that coincided with the graze of his teeth against her skin. I am, her mind roared in agreement; perhaps not necessarily in the way she'd started the evening wanting to be, but certainly there was no part of the Doubletake that didn't feel as if she wasn't firmly a coveted piece of Jack's property. And for tonight, that was just fine. Feminism was for the daylight and given that Flora had been abandoned by more than the sun, she cared little for standards or ideals when the captain's fingers were pressing in against her throat.
"Make me cum again." Flora pleaded, her body now writhing against his hands expertly placed though they might have been. "Gods, fuck, Jack."
Coveted - now that's something Jack can get behind. (Something he is behind, if we're being literal, but let's not look at the logistics too closely). Feeling his own pleasure start to mingle with Flora's in a way that the captain is heedless to resist, the Doubletake's orgasm is the siren song that will herald his own, and at her demand of him, he shifts them enough that he might use his own knees to force her legs to spread further, giving him better purchase with which to fuck her and for his hand between her thighs to roll a relentless rhythm against her clit.
"I could fuck you like this all day," he whispers against the shell of her ear, though the relentless pounding of his hips and the sweat beading down the length of his back suggests otherwise. But this isn't the honesty olympics any more - this is sweet nothings and saying all the right things to get them both off, and the cherry black of her thoughts and feelings are a high he'll chase to the end of the world. "Cum for me, then."
Having experienced enough of what it was like to have sex with other people, Flora could attest to there being something charming in youthful fumbling and the sweetness that came from inexperience. She could also attest to the inclination to fake things to please someone else, or simply to get things over with quicker. So it wasn't just that Jack knew how to make her feel good, it was that her feeling good was all that seemed to matter. Once Flora got over the ingrained idea that focusing on her pleasure was selfish, the rest came easily. (As would she).
For once Flora didn't need to supplement the moment with lurid tableaus that existed only in her mind in order to help bring her to orgasm, nor was she even inclined to line the room with mirrors to see just how perfectly Jack was fucking her. It wasn't about how it looked, but how it felt, and as Flora closed her eyes and sunk into the sensations, she was amazed at just how immense her own feelings could be on their own. So it was that Jack would be treated to pure and unrefined emotion from the Doubletake, stripped entirely of her usual mental ornamentation.
Pulling at his hair, Flora's free hand moved to her own throat, blanketing his hand and squeezing. Her second orgasm rose from the embers of the fire, roaring to life in a way that had the Doubletake's body shaky with needy anticipation before it had even begun to nip at her toes. As it rose her moans were strangled by the fingers around her throat, though it was still Jack's name that her thoughts painted in mile-high cursive letters.
"Fuck--" It isn't often that Jack is taken off-guard by the force of the pleasure he's been trying to draw out from another person, but gods if Flora's climax doesn't white out the room with its intensity. His fingers flinch against her throat even as her hand presses over his own, and there's no small possibility that he'll leave a necklace of bruises in his wake after this. Not that it matters - utterly seized by her thoughts and feelings, Jack pitches forward, lost to his own orgasm for a weightless few seconds during which nothing else seems to matter - not what Flora knows nor what it means nor their proximity to one another - and all grows blissfully silent.
Aware only of the panting of his own breath for a long few beats afterwards, around them Flora's extensive palette of emotion will seem to flare and fade in time with the captain's pulse, as if even his magic has reached a threshold of oversensitivity, needing distance from the force of the Doubletake's feelings. Pressing his forehead against the crook of her neck, Jack's eyes close and he huffs out something close to a laugh, as if unsure what has just happened between them.
There are tears in Flora's eyes, but not for the reasons you might think.
She isn't a sappy fuck like her father after sex, and nor was Jack's dick so good that it brought her to tears. Instead, the silent tears that bead against her closed eyelashes are born from relief. Of finally, for maybe the first time in her life, actually not giving a damn about anyone else and letting both someone else as well as herself, put her first. Only when she opened her eyes was the Doubletake away of the lingering wetness, but rather than feeling bad about it—and subjecting Jack to such a bitter aftertaste—Flora mentally shrugged and let herself bask in the weightless release of not just her body, but her mind.
"Fuck you," she laughed once she felt as though she could speak, shooting the captain a wry look over her shoulder, as if meaning to scold him for making her feel so good. Beneath them, the leather melts into something much more plush and refined, while remaining cool to the touch. Silk sheets suddenly pool around their legs as the bed begins to rock gently back and forth, as if cradled by the sea.
"You don't have to spoon me, but we're definitely cuddling. Lay down."
