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Chapter Text

The vanity had long been one of Julian’s favorite pieces in the house. Delicate, lacy Prakran filigree, white and yellow gold wound into irises and lilies, flawless marble and etched glass, polished to a mirrored shine: it was truly a marvel of craftsmanship, a gift from the Prakran royal family to Iris for their wedding all those years ago. Julian couldn’t have counted the number of times he’d watched Iris sit in front of it, powdering her face for the day ahead or applying her vast array of creams and oils before bed, the gold frame of the mirror raying her face as if she herself were the sun, any more than he could have counted the number of times they’d made love, counted the number of times he’d woken up next to her, could have counted the breaths he’d taken in this new life he vowed to her.

And yet, he’d never been this close to it, kneeling in front of it now, chin on the cushioned stool; there were so many details he’d never noticed before, vines and tiny leaves and birds with fluttering wings, even miniscule eyes with whisper-thin eyelashes, a Prakran custom he’d long forgotten – protection for the newly married, against those with will-ill, who’d wish for the marriage to fail. Amazing, he thought. All this time, and he was still finding new things to marvel, to marvel and hold close and treasure.

A sharp tug at his wrist brought his wandering mind back to attention – dreamy violet eyes, lined with more than a decade of love and laughter, waited for him, watching with a wry smile as sturdy amber fingers tied the final knot in the silken restraints around his wrists. “Comfortable, Ilya?” Asra purred in his ear, lips just brushing against the skin. Julian couldn’t help the shudder that shook him if he tried, and Asra’s purr revved into a quiet, rumbling laugh, fingertips dragging up Julian’s arms, twisted as they were around the stool, wrists tied to the legs.

(It would have been so, so easy for Asra to wave his hands and have Julian on his knees, bound with his magic – but he knew it was the ritual of it that Julian craved, the feeling of hands on him, the drag of the silk against his skin, the whispered commands and the murmured praise.)

“An answer, Ilya.” Asra’s baritone voice lowered, inching towards warning, and Julian swallowed, his heart pounding. He was already stirring.

“Yes, master.”

“Good boy.” For his obedience, he earned a kiss on the lips, the softest drag of ringed fingers through his hair, before Asra alighted, crossing the bedroom to their shared bed. Julian had to crane his neck to look back at him, indigo sleeping robe slipping from his tawny shoulder as Asra lounged back, grinning wickedly.

“Patience, honey. She’ll be done soon. Until then… let me look at you like this.”

Julian pinked, and shifted his weight distractedly – Asra had been kind to his aging knees, pillows under both as he knelt, and still his joints protested at the contortion, the pain sweet but bright. This earned him a dark chuckle as foxlike eyes raked down his naked back, sinuous muscles on full display, and Asra touched his fingers to his own lips, the prettiest hint of what was to come. “Oh, beautiful, Ilya.”

“Beautiful?” They both startled at Iris’s musical voice, lit up with quiet amusement. There she stood in the doorframe, a vision, hair dripping and skin damp from her nightly bath, sleeping robe diaphanous against her curves, a bemused smile stretching across her cheeks. “What’s all this, then?”

“Nothing but a little gift for you, my heart.” Asra crooned, leaning back on the bed, his eyes dark as they drifted from her to Julian.

“A gift?” Iris was looking at Julian now, and he could feel all the color rising to his ears, his cheeks, his neck – his cock was already standing at attention, just looking up at her as she approached him, her fingers drifting fondly across his cheek. “What’s the occasion?”

“Do I need an occasion to spoil the both of you?” Asra’s voice was liquid now, liquid and hot and teasing; Julian’s own voice hitched into a whimper as Iris’s nails raked up to his scalp, and her own smile turned impish.

“And you had no ulterior motive for this?” She teased Asra, but she was looking straight into Julian’s eyes, indigo gaze as mesmerizing as a snake charmer’s.

“Careful.” Asra’s voice lowered again into that cautionary octave, even though Julian could hear the smirk in his voice. “Or I’ll keep him all to myself.” Julian trembled at the thought, and Iris let out a low hum.

“Oh, we can’t have that.” She leaned down and kissed him, soft and slow, her tongue just tracing his lips, tracing his tongue, before she pulled away, and made to sit, facing Asra and Julian, so close that Julian could smell the scent of oranges and irises lingering on her skin, so close that Julian could almost taste the sweetness of her on his tongue as he craned towards her, a devotee ready to receive.

“No, heart.” Asra’s voice was absolutely wicked as Iris paused, eyes wide, as Julian’s heart hammered in his chest, as his cock thudded, throbbing, against his stomach. “Turn around.”

Julian didn’t miss the way Iris’s breath hitched, the way her indigo eyes flitted to his and then back to Asra’s, her soft lips lifting into the smallest smile. “I see.” Carefully, she shifted, sure to let the satin of her robe slip against Julian’s cheek as she shed it slowly and settled into the stool, facing the mirror.

And then there she was, seated against him – he nosed into her ass, inhaled, smelling that scent he knew so well, the sensuous bath oils, her familiar perfume, but also that luscious scent of her skin, dark musk that left him dizzy, cock throbbing again. Her skin was so soft, so smooth, so sacred there that it hurt his heart, even as he dragged his tongue down her cleft and between, earning him a surprised huff, almost a giggle, of pleasure.

She leaned forward a little to give him better access, and looked back over her shoulder, her dark eyes sparkling and lidded. He dove in in earnest now, watching her with wide eyes as his tongue traced and tugged at the rosy ring of muscle, a practiced ritual, but not like this, never like this – the arch of her back above him as she cooed and hummed, her palm smoothing up her neck, through her short, damp hair. He was lost, lost in the scent, in the feeling of her skin against his cheeks, in the sounds she made, now blooming into quiet whimpers and little whines as she relaxed, loosening just enough for him to prod the tip of his tongue into her, to feel the heat of her.

“Iris.” Asra’s voice – how quickly Julian had forgotten Asra was watching them – was dark and deep with arousal. “Don’t forget your skincare, my heart.”

Iris laughed, her voice musical, as she turned back to the mirror. “I see what this is.” She shifted ever so slightly, still poised carefully on the stool, as she reached for her creams, but a sweet twinge of pride shot straight to Julian’s groin as her fingers trembled while he pressed more firmly into her.

He loved every part of her body – her breasts, still supple and firm, the taper of her waist, the thick of her legs, the velvet of her cunt. But he so rarely got do undo her like this, got to taste her like this, her breath wavering with each of his careful, teasing, movements as she slowly applied her creams, her oils, one by one by one, watching Asra watch her in the mirror, no doubt touching himself to the sight of them. He could feel the little clenches of her muscles, the flutter of her cunt, with each little mew, little wild cry, as she slowly, slowly, pampered herself while he pampered her.

Then – she set the final vial down with a little, ungraceful rattle, she whimpered, almost totally undone - “Asra – can I…?”

“Y-yes.” Asra’s voice was firm, even as it hitched – there was no doubt in Julian’s mind now, that Asra was touching himself, slowly, edging himself to the precipice only to walk it back, preparing himself for what came next.

Iris’s voice was high, bright, as she reached down between her legs – Julian could just imagine the way her fingers slipped between slick, swollen lips, frantically circling her clit. She leaned forward, hard, on her elbow, panting, and Julian could only increase his pace to match, his movements becoming clumsy as Iris rocked against him.

He didn’t know, he didn’t know if it was moments or minutes that they were like that, his head spinning with giddy arousal, his breath coming to him in short, vision-blackening bursts as they moved together. When Iris finally gasped sharply, tensing, throwing her head back, he could feel her muscles clench around his tongue, over and over and over again – the sounds, the sounds alone of his beloved crying out in surprised, heavenly pleasure were nearly enough for him to ascend.

They were both panting, Julian was kissing any skin his mouth could reach, as Iris slumped, giggling, against the vanity. Hands, a strong hand in his hair, whispered words of praise he could barely comprehend, the other amber hand snaking up Iris’s waist to grab at the softness there. She whimpered, gasped, as Asra kissed the inside of her thigh, urging her legs open as he knelt in front of her, his eyes flashing, wicked, wicked, as they caught Julian’s, that sly smile he loved so, so much, splitting across his skin like orgasm.

It was going to be a long, sweet night.

Chapter Text

On some level, Iris was aware of the water. She was aware of the way it slipped against her bare thighs like a silk robe, warm as a midsummer night; the was aware of the slow susurrus of it, licking gently, rhythmically, against lacquered tiles, against sweat-slicked skin, as if she were a sloop moored, rocking, on the Whispering Sea; she was aware of the scent of it, the intoxicating, heady slick of rose oil, the slippery, delicious tang of Nevinese salts, the luscious crush of rose petals, picked from Nadia’s own garden. She was even aware of the constellation of rose petals that had plastered themselves against her skin, her hips, her stomach, her ribs, her calves - she had watched the servants pick them, then scatter them by the armload into Nadia’s private baths, until the water was blanketed in their velvety plush, one bath sanguine red, another a flushed, virginal pink, another a salacious magenta the color of the sky in the final orgasm of sunset.

It was this bath Iris found herself in now, soaking wet and covered in petals, covered in hands, filled with both her lovers, filled with the sounds that echoed through the bath, the hushed splash of the bathwater as it churned, the voices of so many others in ecstasy, so many that Iris recognized and so many she did not.

But the thing that Iris was most aware of, more than anything, were her lovers - Asra’s curls drenched against his glistening honeyed skin, his perfect mouth soft and round as he panted, the rings on his beautiful hands pinching against the soft of Iris’s thighs as he pushed them up into her chest, against her breasts, his violet eyes dark and starry as the night sky as his gaze roved over her with so much adoration, so much naked need.

Beneath her, Julian whined, the hum of it vibrating against Iris’s neck as he arched, his chest pressed to her back - the change of angle, sharper now than the incline of the sloped tile he laid against, wrested a whimper of her own from Iris’s lips. Julian’s hand found her breast, elegant fingers rolling against a pert nipple as he thrust up into her slowly, almost the rhythm of Asra above her, but not quite, off just enough that the pleasure crested in her like a wave, first in her ass, Julian’s cock plunging deep, deep, then Asra filling her cunt, the stretch of him rubbing against Julian through the girdle of muscle that separated them, then the water, that warm slick rushing over her skin, kissing her everywhere, her fingertips, her waist, her belly, her clitoris, wrenching from her a wavering moan, a knowing hum from Asra, another whine from Julian. His other hand snaked from her waist down the pillowy slope of her stomach, reaching desperately for the swollen bud of her clit - only to be slapped away sharply.

“Ilya, dear.” Nadia purred, glossy lips curling into a smirk. “I didn’t give you permission to touch there.”

Julian drew a shuddering breath, his hips stuttering in their slow roll against Iris’s. “Countess, please…” He whimpered. “I - I can’t, I can’t, I’m g-going to -”

“Already, sweet Ilya?” Nadia’s grin turned foxish, her eyes growing dark and lidded as her hand danced up Asra’s chest, long fingers twining around the gilded chain that dangled from his pierced nipples. “You’re not even the one with a cock in your ass.” She tugged the chain in time with a particularly sharp thrust into Asra, who arched like he’d been struck by lightning, groaning so licentiously that Iris felt it surge through her like electricity. It was Nadia who set their pace, her thrusts rocking Asra into Iris, Julian meeting them with his own movements.

Julian responded with a moan of his own, his hand tightening on Iris’s waist as he slowed his hips even more, a desperate attempt to quell the release bubbling up, hot and fast, in his groin. Iris could imagine him behind her, his lovely, shapely neck arched long, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, the swirling bathwaters slicking his auburn waves against his sharp features, storm-gray eyes blown black as they rolled with another pointed swell of pleasure. “Please.” He babbled. “Please, Countess, I-I want… her to come…I want to make her come…”

Nadia chuckled darkly, her grip on Asra’s hip tightening, the other skimming over his chest, his shoulders, his neck, until she was dragging her fingertips over parted, tawny lips, drawing a shudder from Asra, from Iris as she watched. “What do you think, Asra? Can Ilya make Iris come?” She murmured, before laying a long, lingering kiss on the dip where graceful neck met muscular shoulder.

Asra arced, trembling against Nadia’s torturous ministrations - but still, the very corners of his mouth lifted, his voice as dark and lush as velvet. “Not yet, I think.” He crooned, and Nadia smiled widely against his skin. Under her, Iris felt Julian groan piteously, his trembling hands sliding over her skin as he pulled her even closer and buried his nose in her damp hair.

“Very well, pet.” Nadia’s garnet eyes glimmered as her gaze drifted to Iris, glimmered with what Iris had come to learn was an indulgent fondness. “Perhaps… we could let them kiss?” She kissed him again, now the sacred space behind his ear, as if apt punctuation of her request, and Asra melted, putty in her hands, nodding wildly.

Julian wasted not a moment, his long fingers twining around Iris’s chin and wresting her face towards his, his desperate lips pressed firmly against hers as she moaned, as he moved, his gasping breath hot on her flushed skin as their tongues danced.

The change of viewpoint reminded Iris they were not alone, her gaze sweeping around the hazy bathroom, the air sultry with the scent of crushed roses, the sweet, smoky musk of sandalwood and oud incense. Iris counted no fewer than 8 other groups, all in various states of undress and entanglement. Not far from them, Nazali sat on the edge of the bath, their hands twined through rivers of long black hair, slick with the oils of the bath, as some dazzling, dark-eyed androgyne sucked them off with wild abandon; in the corner of the white rose petal bath, Valerius was bent over the smooth tiles, getting fucked from behind by Muriel while eating out the pretty palace sommelier; Lucio was laying back on the floor, his calves still in the bath, intertwined with no fewer than four others, riding his cock, his fingers, his face, his thighs.

“Iris.” One of Asra’s hands slid from her thighs to her hair, pulling her gaze to his - Julian’s lips slid down her neck to her collarbone, mouthing hungrily at her smooth skin. “Are we boring you, my heart?”

Iris opened her mouth to answer, but Julian ground into her with renewed vigor, making her cry out and grasp harder at his hair, drawing a grimace, a whimper from him. Asra chuckled, his thumb brushing over her lip, and she opened her mouth willingly, sucking the digit into her mouth.

“So eager.” Nadia murmured into Asra’s ear. “Do you want to touch her, Asra?”

Asra swallowed, but couldn’t stop the needy hum, almost pitching up into a whine, that escaped his lips, as he watched Iris suck needfully, mindlessly, on his finger. “Of course I do, Countess.”

“Do you think you’ve earned touching her?” Nadia crooned, her smile wicked as she mouthed teasingly against his ear, slowed her hips to a languid roll, one that must have brushed against Asra’s tenderest places inside, because he arched, gasped, gorgeous, dusky color rushing to his cheeks.

“Haven’t I been good?” He murmured. “Haven’t I taken your strap well, played your games with you? Let me touch her, Countess, please.”

“Have you been better than Ilya, who’s waited so patiently? Have you been better than Iris herself, taking both of your cocks?” Nadia’s voice was so warm, so teasing, still threaded through with that little degrading chill that sent Iris’s heart spiraling, the heat in her surging. “Perhaps Iris should be the one who touches herself, gives herself her orgasm.”

“I don’t care.” Ilya groaned piteously. “I don’t care, I just want her to come, I just want her to feel good…”

Nadia chuckled darkly. “You mean, you just want to come, Ilya, darling.” Her gaze locked with Iris’s now, her garnet eyes stormy as she gave Iris a wry, lopsided smirk, just the one corner turning up gently, an inside joke, a shared secret, and Iris whimpered. “Do you want to touch yourself, Iris?”

Iris’s eyes fluttered closed as she moaned around Asra’s thumb - she nodded, only, once, her hands gripping desperately in Julian’s hair, against the edge of the bathtub. She was very close now, she knew it, the water, the rocking, the fullness, the teasing - it wouldn’t take much, not if it was her touching herself -

Nadia’s smile widened, warm, indulgent. “Go on then, my dear. You earned it. You’ve all earned it.”

Iris’s hand flew between her legs, furiously circling with three fingertips, it was all so slick, the waters so sweet and warm - she knew Asra was watching her, a heated growl rising up from his belly as she clenched around him, the beginnings, the beginnings, of orgasm rocking through her - below her, Julian whimpered, his touch swimming all over her now, her breasts, her waist, her hips, her neck, like the bathwaters that lapped and licked against all of them, she was drenched, she was sweaty, she was whining, panting -

Then it surged, hotter and wetter and sweeter than any touch, any word, any thrust of that night, pulsing, gripping, moaning, Asra released his thumb from her mouth to cup her cheek and Julian pulled her closer, kissing a long line down her neck as she cried out through her full body orgasm, her back arching, legs shaking, release blooming through her in hot, riotous petals of pleasure. Human warmth flooded her pussy, Asra’s mouth dropped round, gasping, his shoulders and arms shaking as his gaze never broke from hers - and Julian, sweet Julian, he came too, with a shuddering, satisfied sigh, his thrusts growing languid, lazy, as he rocked her through the final throes of her orgasm.

Nadia chuckled indulgently, her eyes warm, satisfied, as all three of her charges quivered in their comedown, their bare limbs, trembling hands, tangled deliciously together. She gripped Asra’s hips and pulled out slowly, drawing from him a licentious grunt, a little whine at the lack, but he collapsed forward onto Iris, kissing her fully, their tongues tangling with the hazy need of closeness the after brought. Julian went limp under them, a taut bow that had finally loosed its nocked arrow, his elegant hands finding Asra’s back, rubbing long, soothing strokes up and down the sweet ridges of his lover’s spine.

Iris didn’t know how long they lay intertwined like that, the bathwaters rocking rhythmically around them, the sounds that had been dampened by her release coming back to her again, the murmurs and whispers, the tremulous moans of pleasure, the ecstatic cries of orgasm. It was only when Nadia brushed the petal-soft, kiss-bruised plush of Iris’s lips, guiding her gaze away from her lovers, did Iris fully come back to reality. Nadia sat perched on the edge of the bath, strap discarded; her mahogany skin gleamed from the bathwaters, the oils, and her luscious, muscled legs were spread suggestively, invitingly.

“We’re not quite done here, Iris.” She purred, her pupils blown dark, her grin wicked. “I let you come, now you'll make me come.” Her grip around Iris’s chin tightened, pulled her closer, and Iris responded with a sudden surge of want, her tongue reaching out to receive the thick, sweet slip that coated her Countess’s vulva, licking a long line up to her swollen clit, relished the fine tremor that shook Nadia’s legs as she wrapped them around Iris’s shoulders, her ringed, beautiful hands finding Iris’s slicked hair. Behind them, Julian and Asra began to kiss, their touches needful as their greedy hips circled against each others, already stirring, ready for the next round of unknown pleasures that awaited them all.

It was just the beginning of the first night.