Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
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It's not exactly the same as a yes, but she'll take it. Maeve licks her lips, trying to find her words, but coming up short. She's tired and he's moving around her like he'll combust if he stays still. So Maeve stands to get out of his way, wandering over to her bed, but not settling there either. He's nervous and it's making her nervous. She just... needs to take control of the situation. That's all. She can do this. It's her job. This is the one thing she knows how to do.
Maeve moves over to him, catching his hands so he has to stay still for more than five seconds. "Tea would be nice, but I mostly just want to lay down and I'd like for you to lay down with me." There are more words she wants to say. To tell him to stop overthinking. To just be here with her. To relax. Except she can't say any of those things.
This doesn't feel like work and that's a problem. Part of her wants to get over herself and just fuck him. That way things would be clear. Then they wouldn't have to feel weird about the fact that she sells sex and he hasn't gotten anything even remotely like sex from her. She needs to fix that. "Then after I rest... You can fuck me like you want to, okay?"
Poor little girl still waiting for her happy ending
He freezes when she grabs his hands, eyes wide for a fraction of a second as he looks down at her. He gives her a little nod, expecting her to lead him to the bed so they can lay down. But she doesn't, not right away at least. Locke isn't sure why what she says catches him off guard but it does, a little bit. It does.. reframe the whole situation though. They don't need to be friends. He doesn't need to care, right? They can just flirt and fuck and exist. Probably for the best honestly.
Locke raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk. "Like I want? Aren't we doing what you want? Think you wanna fuck me. Did promise I'd show you how good I could use my mouth when I came back though, didn't I?" It's a little bit of a dangerous game they're playing but it's fine. He lets her hands go and pulls away, kicking his boots off before crawling onto the bed.
He holds his arms out for her, so she can cuddle up against him. He can't even remember the last time someone cuddled him.
There. That's better. He's already stopped panicking. She can see it in his eyes. Instead he's turning her words over in his head and coming back at her with ones of his own. This is what they need. Not... Not everything else. Just this. Maeve hums softly, head tilting to the side thoughtfully as she lets her eyes settle on his mouth. He did promise that, didn't he? "Maybe I want you to fuck me the way you want to." She says with a shrug, turning towards the bed when he lets her go.
Maeve crawls after him, coming up to nestle herself against his side. Her head finds a resting place on his chest, head tucked beneath his chin as one arm settles across his waist. He's warm and solid against her. Smelling of the salty air and a hint of sweat. Maeve takes a deep breath, finally letting her body relax after everything she's been through.
Poor little girl still waiting for her happy ending
It's as much of a non-answer as the one he gave her earlier and he deserves it. He doesn't say anything else, just lets her curl up against him. He wraps his arm around her, letting his eyes flutter closed for a moment. She's soft and small and smells like lavender, maybe a hint of vanilla? It's nice either way. Slowly, he tarts to lightly run his fingers up and down her side. He's tempted to see if he can find skin but doesn't.
He doesn't quite drift off, he's still very much aware of her, but he tries to relax. No point in being freaked out right? Especially since he might get laid. That's always a good time and she does it professionally so it's gotta be even better. He's a little nervous he won't be good enough somehow but that's for later. His hand moves up her side to tangle into the hair at the base of her neck. He runs his fingers through her hair, watching the way it falls against her shoulders. It really does look nice like this. Could use some cleaning up but it's fine for now.
Maeve closes her eyes against the soft candle light in her room, focusing instead of the way Locke's chest rises and falls beneath her cheek. Slowly, her breathing matches his and the tension she's been holding in her body eases. His fingers seek to touch her and trail over her side. His touch is featherlight at first, but eventually grows more sure. He doesn't find skin. Even though there is plenty of skin to find. One shift of her robe would reveal the small camisole and sleep shorts she's wearing, but he doesn't look.
Instead he just holds her and lets her rest. Which she does do. At some point her breathing grows slow and heavy with sleep as she lays in his arms. It's in short bursts. Little cat naps that never last more than ten minutes at a time, but she does rest. Just like he says she should. When his fingers eventually find her hair, she hums, nuzzling herself closer to him. "Feels nice..."
Poor little girl still waiting for her happy ending
"Yeah?" He keeps combing his hand through her hair, feeling her relax against him. She sleeps and he wishes he could but it's fine. He'll sleep when he gets home, probably. He's not sure how long they've been laying there, it's clear she's not working because no one else has come to get her. Or even check on them. Is that something they do here? He's not sure. But he is pretty sure people know better than to mess with the girls here. Between their regulars and the Madam. And most Torchers just.. don't really fuck with other Torchers. Always easier to scam someone from somewhere else.
Locke is perfectly content to lay here for the rest of however long he's paid for but she did have a secondary request. He shifts a little, sneaking his free hand under her robe to finally find skin. There's only thin cloth separating them and he didn't realize how little until now. Her skin is soft under his rough hands and he almost feels bad. But he pushes himself up on his other hand, hovering over her.
"Lay on your back and just relax. Let me take care of you, okay?"
She's not surprised that they don't come and check on her. If anything happens they know exactly who to look for. Besides, while they Madame may have a soft soul it is well known not to mess with her girls. No one would dare raise a hand against any of them. Not only would they have the Madame after them, but not to mention some of the regulars too.
Maeve isn't sure how long she rests there in his arms, but it's some of the best rest she's had since being back. Maybe because the last lingering physical effects from the ordeal are gone or maybe just because it's him. She doesn't know and she doesn't think about it too much. Nor does she think about it when his hand finally shifts beneath her robe, thumb barely grazing along her hip bone. He has callouses on his fingers and the rough slide of them makes her shiver. Then he's suddenly above her, speaking in hushed toes as her eyes slowly focus on him.
Her cheeks heat and she can't help the way she squirms just enough to be noticeable. Maeve presses her thighs together as his words warm her belly, curling there and settling in a heap of anticipation. Her tongue peeks out to wet her lips as she nods slowly, voice barely a whisper between them, "Okay..." The response is barely a thought in her head as it pushes past her lips. Instead her mind swirls as her eyes find his in the soft light of the room. She can't wondering if he actually wants this too.
Poor little girl still waiting for her happy ending
This is a dangerous game they're playing. At least it is for him. He's not setting up his usual walls, not casually shoving away the intimacy that comes with things like this. He should just leave but part of him thinks sex will make it better. But another part knows it won't. She knows him too well, somehow, without even really knowing him. Sure, they've talked but were either of them really telling the truth? He doesn't know.
But he's always been a bit of an idiot and he doesn't plan on stopping now. He settles over her, kneeling between her legs as he leans down to push her shirt up. Her tummy is pale and soft looking and begging to be kissed, so that's what he does. He starts at her hip and works his way up to her breast, pausing only to bite at the delicate skin. He meets her gaze, holding it as he leans down to lavish attention on her tit. They're small, palm sized and perfect. There's an audible pop as he leans back up, finally really looking at her. Maeve really is beautiful, especially with a blush painted across her cheeks. No wonder she's popular.
Leaning down, he presses a kiss to her throat before working his way back down to her hips. Locke tucks his fingers into her shorts and starts to slowly pull them down, holding her gaze as he does so. She's welcome to stop him if she wants.
This isn't rough or fast or anything like things go normally with her clients. Some of them like doing this, but it isn't always at the top of their list. It's almost too much. The way he looks at her from beneath his lashes as his hands ruck up the thin fabric of her camisole makes her swallow thickly. She's fully dressed yet feeling utterly exposed beneath his gaze. Maeve shifts, slipping her arms out of her robe where its already tangled beneath her.
It isn't until his lips alight on her skin that she makes the first sound of many. It's breathy and soft. An exhale that hardly constitutes as anything. He has a hint of stubble that brushes across the sensitive skin of her belly and the feeling of it makes her eyes flutter closed as her fingers twist into the sheets beneath her. Teeth sinking into skin earns him a hiss as she squirms, back arching for a moment before finding the mattress again. Green eye open just in time to meet hazel just as his tongue finds one of her nipples. It's hot and rough and enough to make her moan softly under the attention.
Maeve hasn't ever been overly concerned with the size of her breasts, but she's finding herself happy that they're so small. Especially when he seems intent on fitting the whole thing into his mouth. When he pulls back to gaze down on her she can't help blushing. It goes all the way down her neck, stopping at the tops of her breasts that heave slightly with her breathing. Thankfully he stops staring in favor of tasting her skin again. She felt she was going to melt under his gaze had he not looked away.
Her pulse flutters beneath his lips and her head falls back, exposing more of her throat to him before he's kissing down her body again. He pauses between the valley of her breasts and slowly makes his way to her hips. Maeve can barely think as his fingers finally curl at the waistband of the small sleep shorts, dragging them down her legs. She doesn't dare stop him even as she shyly closes her thighs.
Poor little girl still waiting for her happy ending
The soft little noises she makes really do it for him. He hopes he can draw more from her. It's another thing he's added to his list of arbitrary goals. At least he'll be able to mark it off tonight, hopefully. The other thing? Just a flight of fancy likely. It's fine. He hooks his fingers into her shorts and slowly pulls them down before tossing them to the side.
If she weren't so.. beautiful she'd probably look silly. She still kind of looks silly. Her shirt is pulled up so only one tit is out and now her shorts are gone. But he kind of likes it, feels real. Less like he's paying for her time and more like he just has it. She isn't putting on a facade to be sexy for him and that's sexier somehow. Yeah, he thinks he likes her like this.
He trails kisses down her belly, pausing to bite along her hip bone before finally settling between her legs. He watches his hands run across her legs, the tan of his skin against the pale of her's is doing something to his brain. They're relatively unblemished and he wants to change that. So he does, leaning down to kiss at her inner thigh, sucking a small mark into her skin before meeting her gaze again.
He's nervous again, just a little bit, under all of the lust. What if he's not actually that good at this? What if she's had better? Does it even matter? He forces his gaze away from her's, afraid he'll get lost in his thoughts. The first swirl of his tongue is delicate, barely there, testing the waters. Then he presses more, drawing lazy circles around her clit with his tongue as his fingers dig into her thighs. Yeah, no. He's good at what he does, and if he isn't, well he's got stamina.
There is a clear imbalance between their state of dress. With her shorts gone she's left in only the thin scrap of material that makes up her camisole. It's sheer and light and hardly leaves anything to the imagination. Even that is barely covering her at the moment. With the way he has it pushed up so only one of her tits is out and the other is haphazardly covered. It makes it incredibly clear that this isn't about his pleasure. Not at the moment, at least.
The realization makes her stomach twist with nerves and her heart beat hard against her ribs. She's never been so nervous before. Never so concerned that her partner would enjoy her because they always do when they're using her. Except he's not using her. At least it doesn't feel that way. Which is incredibly problematic. She doesn't know what it means to not be used for someone's pleasure. All of her sex has been like that. From her very first time up until now.
Before she can dwell too much longer on those thoughts, his lips are on her skin again. Dancing over the soft skin of her belly and paying special attention to her hips. He seems to like them with the way he keeps kissing them. The roughness of his palms is a sharp contrast against the smoothness of her legs and it makes her shiver when he finally spreads her thighs.
The blush on her cheeks somehow growing darker when he marks the pale flesh of her thigh. Her breath catches in her throat as he dips his head to breathe her in and for a second she forgets how to breathe all together at the first swipe of his tongue. Barely enough pressure to do anything, but it makes her squirm, hips shifting restlessly beneath his mouth. She's rewarded when his grip tightens and his tongue becomes more insistent where it's found her clit. Maeve moans. The sound seeming loud in the quiet of the room. Her fingers clench into the sheets and she can't help the way her hips stutter forward in search of more friction.
He really does know how to use his mouth.
Poor little girl still waiting for her happy ending
He isn't using her. Well, maybe a little bit but he thinks she's having a good time. He's not sure why he's so hellbent on making her just fucking enjoy it but here he is. Maybe it's because he's been on her end of the transaction. Knows how it is to feel used, like an object and not a person. Then again, is what he's doing any better than any of the other people who've been in this bed? He likes to think so but he's not sure. Philosophical debates were never his thing.
Having his head between someone's thighs though? Very much his thing. Or he likes to think it is. He's got a soft spot for oral. And he just kind of likes making his partner feel good. And Maeve seems to be enjoying herself so he must be doing an alright job. He settles himself in for the long haul, he's going to get her to cum from just this if it kills him. But with the way she's moaning, he has a feeling it won't take too long. Part of him wishes he had two mouths so he could tell her how good she's doing. Maybe when he's done.
Locke gives her what she wants, pressing just a bit more, making more direct contact with the little bud as he moans in return. One hand trails up her side to grab a palmful of tit, squeezing lightly as he works her up. His own heart is racing already and he's been hard since he sank down onto the edge of the bed. Although the matter is pressing, he doesn't expect her to take care of it. It's not the goal.
A number of things are running through her head. All of them centering around the man between her legs. She's trying so hard to stay in control. To keep herself from thinking this is anything more than work. It's just work. That's all it is. Work. Work. Work. Work. Work. Except he settles at her cunt like he's there to enjoy a meal. Like there is no other thing he'd rather be doing or tasting. It fucks with her head more than it should.
The noises that push past her lips are at times strangled and breathy. Words she doesn't let take form while he takes her apart with his tongue. Which is what he's doing. With each little stroke, lick, and suckle. He's taking her apart and reducing her to nothing but a bundle of nerves close to falling apart. Finally the hands that are twisted in sheets find his hair. Her grip tight and almost unforgiving as she keeps her eyes squeezed shut.
It's needy and depraved and she can't help it when one of her legs hooks over his shoulder to pull him closer as she whimpers beneath him. Then the words come. Unbidden and unhinged. "Please.. please.. Locke- I-" They're cut off by a moan and her hips jerk, thighs beginning to tremble around his head as she writhes beneath him. "I'm going to- just- keep going! Please.." The final please is desperate and closer to a sob mixed with a plea than something else.
These words aren't soft and pretty. Not her normal begging that's dotted with moans and breathy sighs meant to stoke the ego of her temporary lover. They're raw and unfiltered and real. That's what he wants, right?
Poor little girl still waiting for her happy ending
At first he's unsure how hell he's doing, then her moans turn breathy and low, more natural. He's heard plenty of fake ones and these just aren't that. Sure she's probably well versed in this kind of thing but it's working for him. Especially when she tangles her fingers into his hair. It earns her another moan as he shifts forward to press against her more if that's even possible.
He desperately wants to sink into her, to feel her properly. To see what other lovely sounds he can draw from her lips but that might be too far. Maybe another time. Except in the back of his head he knows this will be the last time. (As if he hasn't told himself that a million times.) Maybe that's why he's so keen on enjoying it, on making her enjoy it.
She begs him to keep going as if he can stop. She's got his head wedged between her thighs and her grip on his hair is unreasonably strong. Not that he'd try to move. He finally opens his eyes, letting them rove over her body. The deep red flush of her chest, the way she trembles around him, the expression on her face? All burned into his memory.
This is what he wants. Or it's what he thinks he wants.
