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It had been a lovely, grab-it-yourself dinner at the Lighthouse, and Emmrich was lingering with the last of the pureed eggplant and a flatbread he had agreed to share with Bellara. Rook approached, an apple from the fruit bowl in hand, and leaned in next to his ear.“Emmrich, darling,” they spoke softly, cheek millimetres from his hairline, keeping their words private, “if you're free this evening, I'd like to see you naked.”Well. That was quite something to retain one's composure about at the dining table.“Whatever's prompted that, my dear?” he asked, tearing off another small portion of bread. Rook sat back against the edge of the table and bit into the apple, looking him up and down.“Nice food, Nevarra's finest…”Emmrich felt his lips purse as he flashed them his Marilys, stop teasing stare. Rook grinned. The expression nearly always drew that reaction. They stayed seated and ate more of their fruit, rubbing the high shaft of one of their maroon leather boots against his calf. What could Emmrich do except keep eating, too? For all his fingers tingled in anticipation of what else they might say, taste nullified on his tongue. It was a while before they were alone, or at least until Bellara had finished eating across the table and begun to ferry dishes to be washed. Rook stood again and tossed their apple core into the food waste bucket several feet away, with the same precision with which they threw their alchemical grenades. They stepped forward to Emmrich and placed a hand on his shoulder, finding the seam and thumbing it.“...and I've spent pretty much the entire meal calculating exactly how many buttons I'd have to undo to achieve that. Unless you were planning on loving me fully clothed from here to eternity?”Emmrich swallowed. Hard. It was certainly true that Rook’s exposure to his body had been limited. The base of his throat when he had loosened his collar; enough stomach as was required to untuck his shirt; as much thigh as it took to free himself from his trousers, his small clothes, when they… That part of him, of course. But the rest he had kept under wraps until now. It wasn’t through lack of self-appreciation, not quite. Emmrich had always been, admittedly, proud of his body. He took time and care over it, through light physical exercise, diet, careful application of products from the pomade in his hair to the talc on his toes. Over the years, he'd never had a partner say a bad word against it - but there was the rub. Years. He wasn't fully aware of Rook’s romantic experience, but he sincerely doubted that a man of his age was amongst their number. Call it vanity, but for all his efforts, he knew his body could not compare to that of someone several decades his junior, and that made him reticent. Rook was… insistent. Lips feathering along his cheek towards the edge of his finely kept moustache.“You raise a valid point,” he acquiesced, turning his face just slightly to capture their roving lips in a light peck. He felt Bellara's gaze - light and smitten, capturing inspiration for the serial she was drafting - as she made another pass for dishes from the table. He raised one hand to Rook's jaw, aligning their eyes. The violet of their irises was just lovely, offset with matching powders in purple, lavender blue and pink. “Would you mind dreadfully if we took this… elsewhere? Outside the Lighthouse. Feign some excuse for how we both need to leave for the night-”“People know we fuck, Emmrich.” Ah, wasn’t that true? The acknowledgement burst from his chest in a single laugh that made Rook grin. It was tempting to stay, but-“Forgive my sentimentality, sweet one, but this strikes me as somehow more intimate. I'd much rather be somewhere-” More private, secluded, known. Somewhere where, if things should not go as planned - should Rook, sweet Marilys, decide that they no longer wanted him, once they'd seen him full exposed - they could go their separate ways with a greater distance than just a single wall between them.“Usual place?” Rook asked.“I'll meet you in an hour.”#The veilfire urns in the Memorial Gardens blazed, throwing shadow and glorious light in equal measure. Marilys - as Emmrich insisted on calling Rook during their private moments - waited as usual at the base of the stairs, leaning against a pillar rather than sitting on any of the available benches. They had changed their outfit. Neither their casual Mourn Watch livery, nor their current favoured armour set. A high collared tunic in a rich, dark blue, over trousers of the same material, belted with black leather and sashed with woven gold. Not metal: it was a delicate flowering grass, whose stems resembled golden wire. It was lovely.“Oh my,” Emmrich purred upon sighting them. “I'm afraid I didn't realise we were dressing up. You look incredibly handsome.”Marilys beamed and presented a small bouquet of flowers from behind their back, and a single spray they tucked under Manfred's backpack straps. A sweet little gift.“Just raising myself to the standard of the present company,” they said, accepting a kiss on the cheek which Emmrich had to lean a little down into. “What was your excuse tonight?”“Oh, just some ‘stuffy old academic’ nonsense,” he replied with a delicate wave of the hand. Something vague enough to avoid suspicion, but which accurately described how he felt at that moment. Accompanied through the gardens by such a gorgeous, young thing. Rook wouldn't have needed an excuse - they were known for coming and going of an evening. They took Emmrich's arm and led him on a slow loop around the meditation bells. Exquisite torture when he wanted nothing more than to take them back to his apartment, and equally dreaded that impending actuality more with each step.“Might we…?” he asked, motioning to a secluded pergola dripping with night-scented vines. Marilys stepped underneath it with him, while Manfred occupied himself in friendly, hissing conversation with some local wisps.“This is making you nervous,” they surmised correctly. Emmrich stroked his moustache and summoned a very small smile.“It's been rather a while since I brought someone back here, not least anyone as-” supple, youthful, radiant, spirited, “-special as you.”He stroked one gloved finger down the back of Marilys’ neck, the other hand folded in their sash, pulling them close. They had even swapped their eye makeup for a subtle charcoal sheen, lined with a heavier, more pronounced wing of kohl than usual.“Oh, gorgeous. You’ve dressed up so well for me.”The inevitable kiss was sweet, and deep. Emmrich positively swooned every time their lips touched, though he kept his back straight. In control. Drawing in their affection as some kind of internal support, reminding himself: they like me, they desire me, they ask only that I give myself. With those thoughts in mind, and breaking apart at the sound of other visitors approaching on the gravel, it became easier to continue their walk.Emmrich’s apartment was in the Upper Mortuary; he'd lived there for years, amongst the other senior academics and Mortalitasi. Even with lodgings now at the Lighthouse, he came back periodically. His camping trip with Harding had done nothing so much as remind him that he was a young man no longer. He liked his comforts.“Where do- ah, did you live, prior to your adventures with Varric, dearest?” he asked out of genuine curiosity. About the only thing he knew about Marilys’ service to the Mourn Watch was how it had temporarily ended, and that they had never taken any advanced level classes - else he would have met them before now.“Oh, Chapel of Rest Adjacent,” they said with a slightly wry smile. “I expect you haven't been down that way in a long while.”Emmrich was blushingly embarrassed to admit that was true. Barely above the novices in their shared dormitories, as these things went. He turned his key in the door and let them in.At first, he was worried that Marilys would be intimidated. There was a lot of life within these few rooms, even compared to all he had decanted to the Lighthouse. Again, more of himself on display than had been shown hitherto. The anxiety seemed baseless, however, as his new partner showed interest in his curios - especially the ones towards which Manfred directed their attention - and passed pleasant comment on his decorating style. As they moved around his space, he couldn't help but wonder what they might look like as a permanent feature. Dressed as they were, as elegant and refined as any of the drapery; as he would like to dress them, in gold and jewels if they'd let him. Undressed as he had already seen them, exposed over this piece of furniture or that. Undressed as they desired to see him. And was that something about from here to eternity they had mentioned? His mouth was dry, and his cock was in dire need of a stern talking down already.“Shall we perhaps have a drink first?” he offered as he unstoppered an Orlesian crystal decanter. A tipple of tonic wine he hoped to invigorate his spirits. Marilys’ face while they sipped it was a delight.“Knock knock.” Myrna announced herself in words as well as taps on the woodwork, the same way she had since she was a bright young student, and maintained now as Keeper of the Seals. Smiling and well kept as ever, she greeted Manfred and Marilys both fondly. Maker - though Emmrich was always loathe to invoke that oath - but he'd known her since she was a child, and realised now that the age gap between her and his beloved, who was definitely the younger of the two… He sipped his wine through a painted smile. It didn’t bear thinking about. “One junior Watcher available for the evening ward rounds?”Manfred was delighted to leave. Emmrich swirled his wine around the small glass, and wondered how long he could drag out the final inch of liquor. He supposed that Marilys must have had some hand in the invitation, or else that the wisps had been talking.“Dare I speculate what the favour cost?” he asked.“Dare I wonder why you're stalling?” they countered with a wicked smile. Even in the city of the dead, time was not eternal. Emmrich downed that last finger in one. Manfred would have left them well alone, if instructed. He was safe in the Necropolis. But he'd said that he wanted privacy, Marilys had arranged privacy, and now…“Can you really blame a man?” His last ditch attempt at delay as his resolve all but crumbled. “I've-”“Grey hairs older than me? So you keep reminding me.” Marilys stood from their chair and crossed to his. “Have I told you that I want to see every single one?”A knee either side of his lap, one hand stroking, respecting, the combed sweep of hair from his forehead, the other tracing the fine lines that radiated from the far end of his lash line, down his cheekbone, across to his jaw and down again to hold him by the chin. Maintaining perfect eye contact as they tilted his head back to press a kiss to his softened, though slender, submentum. Every marker of age made something special under their touch. The flattery and praise they cooed at him but icing on an already sweet cake. Emmrich placed down his glass and set his hands on the top of their hips. The way that soft silk draped over what little curve there was at the side, with considerably more at the rear.“How many buttons was it that you counted, darling?” he asked. Marilys kissed their way up to murmur the answer into his ear. Close, but… “Perhaps you ought to count them again.”#Emmrich stood with Marilys still on his lap, their legs wrapping around his waist in a way they would have to replicate sometime. He nuzzled against their ear, enjoying the metallic tickle of their pierced dowry against his cheek.“My dear, I do not think this old back can carry you all the way-”“-to the bedroom? Let me lead, then.”Dropping lightly to their feet, the rogue’s touch, they pulled Emmrich forward by the waistcoat chains. An image came to him unbidden, how he might manage to carry them in a bridal style- though that was wrong. A spousal style? Another yank on his vestments, this time one finger crooked through the placket, set him stumbling over his feet like a halla on ice - for just a second before they steadied him.“It's the, ah, door on the left- Over there,” he stuttered, as if it wasn't flamingly obvious. It was the only door open from the combined parlour/study, a hint of a four-poster visible through the frame. Marilys led him there, as they'd said, let him through the door first then shut it behind themselves.“Well, this is nice…”The kisses they offered were sweet with intent. Hands at his collar pin, his waistcoat buttons, walking him ever closer - backwards - to the bed until the mattress pressed into his knees from behind.“Oh…” It was more of a gasp than a statement, as his rear hit the counterpane and Marilys continued to advance. Kneeling over his lap once more and pushing him down until they were horizontal. Emmrich kicked off his boots and scrambled further up the bed in a most unartful fashion, hungry for more of this attention, this exploration now he had opened himself to it. Marilys bit their kiss swollen lip, still on their knees, and he wondered - oh he wondered - what they saw, what they thought of him so prone and wanting. He was an open book with them. Marilys slipped off their shoes too, then drew the curtains round the bed. Emmrich conjured a few floating illuminations to sparkle above; flattering light, he hoped, in this den of absolute privacy. Marilys crawled over and straddled him again, fingers in the buckles of their own belt.“How about we go piece for piece?” they offered, removing the wide strip of leather and placing it on the bed. “You take a piece from me, and I take a piece from you. Would that be fair?”“That would be delightful,” Emmrich agreed.First he removed the golden sash, and Marilys his waistcoat. One no longer bound by the belt, the other already unbuttoned. Just that single layer less of fabric between their bodies was… potent. Next, he found the rope ties of their tunic, hidden in the wrap fold, pulling on each one properly, fully. The soft fabric fell apart, revealing such smooth and tender skin. All but unmarked despite their close-combat fighting style and the wounds he'd known them endure. More alchemy at work. Marilys set her fingers to his cummerbund, and there Emmrich tensed a little. It was stylish, correct for the attire, but also served a purpose. Even with proper physical conditioning, there was a certain… slackness that came to one's skin with age. It was vain, but he liked the extra support, the girding, the woven sash provided. A slimmer, firmer line. Before, Marilys had only edged it as far out of the way as was required to unbutton his trousers. Now… They undid it, unwound it sensually. Folded it neatly and placed it to one side, on top of the shimmering pile that was their sash. Emmrich tried not to get romantic about the mingling of the fabric, but Marilys did not make it easy, rolling up his shirt, lowering him back to the bed from where he had risen to sitting, kissing and thumbing and… loving along all the skin thus far exposed. That was what it felt like. Lips turning the soft flesh to jelly, fingertips fluttering at the top of a tight trail of hair which started a little south of his belly button.“You… really don't mind, do you?” he breathed, close enough to the Watcher calming pace as to count as meditation. Marilys smiled against his skin.“Mind? Emmrich, I'm over the moons.” They definitely sounded it.Something came over the necromancer then, a wave of confidence from their words. He sat up and brought them with him, forcing their kisses up over the fabric of his shirt; they retaliated by tonguing his buttons, and met him at the top in an admittedly lustful kiss. He may have been ‘old’, worried about his appearance, his desirability in contrast… but his blood pumped the same as it always had. In this kiss he could have been Marilys’ peer, their union snatched and greedy between classes, several storeys down below. He put his thumbs in the gathered waistband of their loose trousers, no fastenings as such, and pulled. They ceased straddling him to remove them entirely, then made short work of his, too.“Oh?” Marilys’ voice was a mix of surprise and admiration. One palm gripped each of his thighs, twisting and turning as they traced the words of the Mourn Watch, in intricate, embellished Nevarran script, banded permanently in ink.“I had a phase,” he dismissed with a casual wave of his hand that nonetheless made Marilys flush with interest. Emmrich's cheeks were warm too. He'd had many phases, and more than one had left its mark on his body.“Mmh,” said Marilys. They tipped his knees out wide, evidence of his arousal straining so hard against his fine-weave boxers that he nearly sprang out. An obvious wet spot where the very tip of his head had begun to leak. “Oh, darling…”Marilys worked their way up his body, littering kisses and cooing praises as they went. Undoing buttons and his concentration with soft, soothing words. He pressed a hand to his forehead like some easily overcome maiden. He couldn't take this.“Would it be easier on you if I was filthy about it?” Marilys asked from right near his nipple, the nub of flesh and fabric soon between their teeth. He sighed, a breathy, exasperated edge to the sound which even he found erotic.“Whichever way you do it, I'm afraid I’m-” His entire shirt was open now, every inch of his torso on display. Every curled grey hair that Marilys sought, peppered here and there with the original black. They traced the whorls across the vertical line of his sternum.“Gorgeous? Beautiful? A work of art?” they proffered as endings to the sentence which had faded on his lips. A small laugh erupted from the spot beneath their fingertips. Now, those were words Emmrich hadn't heard in quite some time - not that he'd had a relationship for a few years. Not since the last had fizzled out. There were works of art in his likeness, from his younger years. He might even own a few, out of vanity. But, no, the words wielded as flattery had changed with age. Distinguished was the one he heard most, these days. It did not have quite the same ring. He grabbed their hand and stilled it against his chest.“Darling. Do you truly think I'm… Hot?” He cringed; he knew his expression, if he could see it, would be pathetic. Marilys, in the enchanted light, fluttered those smoky eyes at him, an indulgent smile spreading across lips he'd long kissed clean of stain. Was that even the word in use these days, by anyone their age?“Consider me a candle, because I melt in your presence,” they whispered right against his ear, with exactly the same florid, lustful cadence he'd employed on them more than once. It worked. Their support band came off readily - a charming, utilitarian style they favoured over anything feminine or frilly - and from there it was nothing but several moments of mutual nipple play and well-breathed arousal. “We all have our own insecurities, Emmrich. I know I do - but however I see myself, I have no doubt about how you see me. Will you let me love on you this way?”Emmrich's heart skipped a beat. The first time the L word had crossed Marilys’ lips as something they wished to lavish on him, even if it wasn't a direct admission of being in love itself. The things he saw as flaws, lost youth? Those were who he was. If this was how he was meant to be loved; the age he was meant to be loved at… This darling creature could lavish it on him any which way they chose. Marilys had wanted to see him nude, and now he felt bared. Bold. He drew them down into a luxurious kiss, delighting in their warm, full-body weight atop him. Undulating with pleasure.“Oh, Marilys. My sweet one.”While they writhed, Emmrich removed his grave dowry, casting the gold haphazardly towards the head of the bed. The shirt and his stave-glove could not come off without it, and whilst he might usually take much better care… When Marilys peeled off his boxer shorts and socks, leaving him exposed in all his aged glory, it was not a moment too soon. The only halting point came when he reached for the waistband of their underwear - a tighter cut than usual, he noticed - and Marilys froze.“Oh! Ah. Leave them on tonight, please,” they flustered, a sudden dark cast to their smitten features. “It's not a good… time of the month, for me.”Ah. It had been a long time since Emmrich had had to factor that into his lovemaking, whether through his partner’s age or anatomy. He was ashamed not to have considered whether Marilys…“If you don't want to- If there's anything you need-”That clouded expression broke into a very dirty smile.“Emm,” the first time they'd used a shortened version of his name, and he was… quite okay with it. The thing a sentence in its own right. “Do I look like I don't want you?”And, no, it was rather obvious why not. Emmrich's erection was rock hard and wanting, and more specifically had already been wrapped in Marilys’ palm. No motion, yet, but a strong sense of ownership in the grip of it. Lips slicked and parted, a silent question in their eyes as they lowered themselves towards it. He answered with a nod. A touch less than a handspan, he’d explained - by which he meant eight inches. Eight and a quarter if the measurer was generous. Thick - easily another inch or more in diameter - and Marilys… Oh, Marilys could take most of it. A slow, deep tease as they swallowed him; two words he wished he'd never said to them that way, as they took to them like a Mourn Watcher to ritual. Their mouth, their throat, was warm and wet; the bedroom air cool by contrast when they broke away.“I have some things I need with me, and more at the Lighthouse. I hate it, but it's fine. Just…”“Let you love me?” The words came out unculturedly hoarse. A slight different phrasing than Marilys had used, but one they didn't deny. While they lavished attention on his head - fine, detailed tonguework and extra light teeth - he fit his own palm underneath and pumped once or twice. “Sweet one, why don't you let me love myself? You can… watch.”It wasn't a rebuttal of their affection. They'd asked for this, once. To see how he did it, and, now he'd warmed to the general idea of the evening, he wanted to show off. Marilys repositioned themselves against the pillows, first picking up the discarded gold with reverence, placing it with care on the folded cummerbund. Emmrich wanted all of a sudden to see them wearing it, but he accepted being lowered back against their body in a supported cuddle of a lean. Nuzzled and surrounded by a partner who was clearly, clearly enraptured.“Is this what you imagined? What you wanted?” he asked, working himself with a smooth, firm action.“It's what I want.” There was a throatiness to the response that he knew meant Marilys was very turned on. That drop in pitch that sent his pulse through the roof. He was throbbing for them, and yet his hand was not quite providing what he needed, after the warmth and wetness of their mouth.“Oh, do excuse a man his comforts…” he muttered as he rolled onto his side, reaching under the curtains and into the bedside table for a small bottle of lubricating oil. He droppered a small amount onto his shaft and returned it to the drawer, before taking grip again.“I've done this often, thinking of you,” he confessed, with a lovesick, horny smile on his face. He was glad they were not at the Lighthouse now. The noises that soon came out of him were inelegant at best, and Taash had made their views on that matter clear. Emmrich could not have strung together a silencing spell if his life depended on it. Marilys wrapped their hand around his, echoing every action. Hips tilted against his body despite their personal circumstances. Moaning along with him. The way their fingers interlaced with his, worked with him as he went faster, slower, lighter, harder! And all the while, in between the tight breaths and the long, low, almost-growls, they murmured such sweet, hot, appreciative things… His release came shockingly fast with that encouragement. A final surge of pleasure which left him, frankly, a little dizzy. Silky smooth and wax-melt hot. Although he hated the cleanup, it was a joy to spill his seed onto his stomach that way, with them alongside. Every time before now had been in their mouth, its own special thrill, but this he could do and feel nothing lacking. Only adoration, connection, gained.“For future reference, I really don't mind being the one who's painted with it,” Marilys whispered against the back of his ear, teeth to the upper cartilage.“Oh, I couldn't-” They ran their tongue over the spot where their teeth had been. It made Emmrich shudder and his spent cock twitch.“I must insist you do, at least once…”Emmrich's smile, his small laugh, was equal parts sated and curious. “Only if you'd attempt to return the favour one day,” he said. Marilys laughed too, and wiped up a stray rivulet that was making a run for it with their thumb. Emmrich mopped up most of the damage with a pressed handkerchief he retrieved from his discarded waistcoat pocket.“If you'll excuse me a moment, my dear,” he said. He twisted up to them with a moustache-forward kiss that never failed to make them blush. “I really best had…”The apartment had a small dressing chamber off the bedroom, with space for a copper bathtub and a well-equipped wash stand, where Emmrich cleaned himself with care. Rubbing a wet flannel over skin which just minutes before had made him feel, well, not young, and now reminded him of no much more than how… adored he was. How happy with Marilys. How easy it was just to be himself with them, a rarity when his persona was so well cultivated in other areas of life that adopting it felt more natural. He caught sight of himself in the long-length mirror his vanity had - once upon a time - demanded and smiled. Not young, but-“Still hot,” he told himself, and the laughter the word roused this time carried him all the way back to his room. Whatever Emmrich was expecting, it was not for Marilys to be in a soft lilac night shirt, tucked within his sheets. Through some miracle of speed and forward planning, or perhaps his own slow nature where grooming was involved, they had also removed their makeup, and brushed out and re-bound their hair into a single, loose braid.“You're not planning to return to the Lighthouse?” he asked, with a casual air which rang false even to his ears. Marilys snickered.“Dressed like this?” they countered. “Like that will get tongues wagging any less than if we both happen to return at the same time in the morning. Unless you'd prefer to sleep here alone…”Emmrich would not. The fact he never slept nude was about the only thing stopping him from jumping in beside them, then and there. He sought his own, plain night shirt and a floor length, navy dressing gown with matching slippers, belting the waist with Marilys’ gold sash. Just because he was feeling a little saucy in the afterglow.“In any case, I must check on Manfred first - see whether Myrna has brought him back yet,” he explained. “He has his own room next door, you see. He doesn't sleep, of course, but he knows not to intrude during the night. I just like to make sure he has everything he needs-”“I'll be here,” Marilys assured him. “You know, if you were interested, they do family suites. When I was small, Vorgoth and I-”Emmrich cut them off with a chaste, but well intended, kiss. A brief thing, on the lips, when he did not need those lips to keep coming up with propositions he found so, so attractive. Other desires for which he'd more than once considered himself too old. Marilys and Manfred and family was a bit too much for his well-sexed brain to take. “I'll be back soon,” he said.Manfred was fine, occupied with a solitaire set he'd found somewhere, and Marilys was dozing when Emmrich returned. They stirred when he climbed into bed beside them - without the heart to tell them that they were on his side - and rolled their body towards him. Night shirt to night shirt, they were fully covered anywhere private and yet it could not have felt more intimate. Emmrich had almost forgotten - had willed himself to forget - this part. Had it always felt this natural, the times he thought had ‘been it’ before? He had kept his bangles off but replaced some of his rings; Marilys traced them with their fingertips, a secret smile on their half-asleep face. Emmrich was glad that the candles were dimmed, as an ungentlemanly blush flamed his cheeks. He knew exactly what they were remembering.“As soon as you're able, my love,” he said, “and anything you need in the meantime-”“I will teach you.”“I'd be delighted to learn.”Without really thinking it through, he pulled a simple gold band from his right pinky finger, and slipped it onto their index finger instead, curling his hand around the gift afterwards. Marilys kissed him, and he knew that whatever it had meant was accepted. There was a heaviness to their form, and Emmrich was certain he would be awake to watch them sleep all night.“Emmrich?” Marilys whispered, when he was sure they had started to dream. “You are hot.”“Oh, shush,” he said mildly, but in their embrace, he felt it.