Work Header


Work Text:

She is unbelievably warm, despite her lack of clothing. Usually seeking every smoldering ember she can, now, the Ashen One wishes she was in Irithyll, lying down in the snowdrifts and gazing up at the stars. She cannot see, a thin scrap of aromatic black cloth shielding her eyes from the Princes, taking away the ability predict what they might do. It frightens her, yet Lothric gives a pleased purr at the flush spreading from her chest, all the way up her slender throat and to her cheeks, an obvious sign of arousal. The Unkindled can feel the fire that imbues Lorian's sword at his hip, far too close for comfort. If he moves another inch, she's going to end up with a nasty burn along her bare shin. She hopes against hope that he is more coordinated than he looks.

"As of this day, you belong to us," Lothric says, dragging a long finger over her unusually rosy cheek. "We three will watch the fire fade, undisturbed in our paradise."

Her own heart pounds in her ears, awaiting touches that could bring either pain or pleasure, perhaps both. Lorian moves, weight shifting around her on the bed, and grasps her wrists, cold armoured gauntlets sending a shiver along her arms. She feels her nipples tightening, too and as the elder prince pins her hands above her head with just one of his, Lothric traces slow and gentle circles around the now stiff peaks. A soft and shaky sigh bubbles up from her chest and before she has the opportunity to breathe again, cold, firm lips press against her own in a surprisingly loving endeavour. Not too much, nor too little, but displaying a raw passion she had not expected from either of them all the same.

"My brother has taken quite the liking to you," Lothric muses. She can almost feel his eyes upon them as they kiss, Lorian's brass helm brushing against her nose. The younger prince teases her, lightly touching her erect nipples with delicate fingers and the Unkindled squirms, her sex aching for something, anything. She receives it shortly after, when Lothric pinches a nipple, just the way she likes, and she is forced to break the kiss to gasp as her hips arch upwards - right into Lorian's sturdy thigh. A whimper follows shortly after, her clit seeking the same pleasurable sensation, but it's difficult to recreate the suddenness of it, the surprise that made her heart flutter.

How desperately she wishes Lorian could speak, could talk to her as Lothric does. She imagines his voice would make her shiver in an entirely different way to his younger brother's. Alas, the Unkindled is willing to simply listen to his breathing, deep and steady for now, although she hopes that will change later.

He still pins her wrists to the pillow as a cold, more delicate mouth that can only belong to Lothric touches her own. It's barely a kiss, but he smirks all the same, fingers still lightly plucking and twisting her nipple. She pants, already breathless and begging. Relaxing is becoming a little easer with the pleasure, but just as she begins to become somewhat comfortable, letting her guard down to focus on the way Lothric takes her lip between both of his, a searing, blinding pain makes her scream. The flat edge of Lorian's burning blade is then withdrawn from her hip and the smell of smoldering flesh assaults her nostrils.

Still held down, the Ashen One struggles, tears falling from her eyes as the overwhelming pain consumes all of her senses. The younger prince closes a hand over her mouth to quiet her cries and Lorian gives a strange groan as though he is somehow forlorn, displeased with his own actions.

Then, soothing tingling makes her sigh with utter relief. A sound like tiny bells echoes through the still air and the wound begins to heal as Lothric uses a restoring miracle, mending the damage.

"Forgive me, brother..." he murmurs as he continues to cast the spell. "I know it must pain you to hurt her, but what better way to give unrivaled bliss?"

Lorian's larger hand presses to the spot where his blade had been moments ago. It is supposed to be comforting, an apology she supposes, but it makes her flinch first of all before he strokes cool, armoured fingertips over the flesh. Steadily, her muscles unwind with a combination of Lothric's magic, a strangely pleasant sensation, and Lorian's gentle touches that seek forgiveness. The Ashen One wants to see what they're doing, assess the damage to her skin because her warrior's instinct is telling her to look, but instead of removing the blindfold, Lothric leans down to kiss the salty tracks along her cheeks.

"Be still, Unkindled One," he says, trailing his lips to her ear. She wonders what he means, worries for a moment that she's going to receive another burn. Instead, the weight on the bed shifts as Lorian moves between her legs, hands gripping her thighs before his tongue traces a scar on her belly. Their mouths are cold, Lothric kissing and nipping her earlobe as Lorian dips lower, making her tremble with anticipation. Long fingers find her hair and tug and this is exactly the kind of pain she likes, pain that sends twinges to her clit.

"Please..." she begs quietly as Lorian licks her inner thigh.

She wants to see his eyes, knows that they are dark and intense just like he is, but he will not remove his helmet just as Lothric will not remove her blindfold, even as his tongue takes a long swipe along her sex. With her back arching, one of Lothric's hands returns to her breasts to toy and tease, the other still pulling her hair back as he claims her lips once more.

The Ashen One is having difficulty returning the kiss, gasping and moaning in pleasure. She begs, pleads with them to take her and Lorian sucks on her sensitive clit, pleasure forcing her to arch upwards again. Her legs are over his sturdy shoulders in a heartbeat and he is relentless in his attentions, fingers bound to press bruises into her thighs as he grips her tightly. The coil in the Unkindled One's gut is growing tighter. Every muscle is tight and it will only take a little more to push her over the edge. When Lothric sets his mouth against a pert nipple, grazing it with his teeth, she can deny her body the peak it craves no longer.

Every nerve is set alight, tingling with bliss as she gives a long, thoroughly pleasured groan into the still air. She has not felt the pleasure of release for longer than she can remember and it feels divine, like it's everything she's ever wanted. Living on this sensation alone would be easy.

Her breathing is heavy when the bliss begins to fade, chest heaving and heart threatening to burst. The weight on the bed changes, the sound of clinking metal echoing around her. The soft sliding of leather through a steel buckle is unmistakable; Lorian removing his belt is, by far, one of the most arousing noises to ever grace her ears. The Unkindled One cannot believe that she has gone from being terrified to desperately horny in such a short space of time.

It is Lothric who now holds her wrists above her head. He is not strong. She could escape his grip easily, if she wanted to, but they all know she won't try. His hands are there as a reminder to be obedient. She recognises the differences in their hands and lips, wants the younger prince to kiss her again so she can feel the softness of his skin on hers. Instead, she feels hot, heavy throbbing against her thigh.

By Caitha, Lorian is big. She expected no less, she supposes, but she knows she's going to struggle to take his length without even looking at it. His hands grip her legs and adjust them until the heat of his erect cock is pressing inside her. The recent orgasm has made her a little more relaxed, more prepared, but there's still an incredible stretch as he sinks further in that's uncomfortable. She's on the brink of asking him to stop when Lothric uses that soothing, healing miracle and she hears the gentle wind chimes again. She succumbs to the pleasant warmth, sighs with bliss and ceases squirming as the younger prince plants a delicate trail of kisses along her cheek.

"Give yourself to us, Unkindled One," Lothric murmurs in her ear. "Let us give to you what no other ever has."

She already belongs to them. He'd said so himself, but it isn't until Lorian is fully seated within her, hot member throbbing, that she realises what he means; Lothric wants her to willingly submit. The Ashen One imagines he was rather spoiled as a child. Getting what he wants on command is probably what he's used to. Why bother taking something when it's much easier to have it handed to you on a silver platter?

The stretch is no longer painful, although it makes it difficult to relax, anticipating discomfort despite how good it feels to have a man inside her. Her arms are beginning to ache and just as she thinks they're tingling with disuse, Lothric releases them and Lorian leans down kiss her like before, slowly and firmly. Instinctively, she cups his cold, smooth cheeks and is positive she hears him sigh contentedly. She cannot see him, but the way he presses his cheek against her palms to increase the contact as much as possible makes her think he enjoys it. How long has it been since Lorian was touched like this? The Unkindled One is rather glad that she can give him some form of pleasure. She pities the elder prince, in a way. Crippled and muted by his brother's curse could not have been very pleasant, neither could seeing Lothric cherished beyond belief, despite his own achievements.

Lorian stops kissing her to appreciate the feel of her skin on his. She wonders if she feels warm or cold, like them. The first rock of his hips has her gasping, hands clawing at his armour as Lothric twists a nipple between his forefinger and thumb until she cries out. Again, Lorian withdraws and pushes forward, his member far deeper than any she's taken before.

"You are a pretty thing..." Lothric tells her, stroking a fingertip over the hard nub he'd been pinching only moments before. She cannot think to fathom a reply with Lorian's steady, consistent thrusting. "I'm almost contemplating making you beg, but I fear my brother is growing impatient."

She was glad of that.

"Hm," Lothric dismisses his own disappointment. "There is always tomorrow. Or the day after. Or indeed, the day after that."

The Ashen One gives a needy groan at the prospect of being pinned beneath them day after day. There is a twinge of fear at the thought they could hurt her quite easily, but this pleasure is second to none. She rolls her hips in time with Lorian's thrusts, head thrown back to expose her neck to his lips. He picks up speed promptly, breathing harder than before as she surrenders her own mouth to Lothric, his kisses gentle and soft in comparison to the bruises that Lorian leaves along her throat. Their hair tickles her skin, setting nerve endings alight as her body begins to tense up once more, preparing for another climax.

Lorian's movements are becoming rough and impatient, forcing cries of unabashed pleasure from deep within her. She begs between kisses, the hot itch at the base of her spine more prominent by the second. The Unkindled One is so close she can no longer keep her eyes open, only able to cling to the elder prince and allow him to bring her to her peak.

When it happens, she falls apart from the inside out, intense bliss seeping into every limb as she gives an exhausted sigh of delight. She feels good, the weight of her duty lifted from her shoulders in the most unlikely of ways. It's all warmth and pleasure, lasting for a long, drawn out moment in which she hears nothing but her own heartbeat. When it's over and she tries to regain control of her breathing, Lorian reaches his end with another hard, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt and giving a heavy sigh against her neck.

There is a strange span of time in which none of them move, slowing breathing echoing in the vast room. The silence is chilling, uncomfortable and the Ashen One squirms a little under Lorian's chest, desperate for something, anything to break the stillness.

"You are crushing her, brother," Lothric warns, mistaking the source of her discomfort entirely. Nevertheless, the words have created a more pleasant atmosphere.

Lorian pushes himself up, although he's in no hurry, movements sluggish with blissful exhaustion. He lies on his side, pulling her to him and at last, Lothric removes the blindfold. She blinks, her eyes sensitive to light after so long without it. When her vision clears, the younger prince is barely in an inch from her, so close she is positive they are sharing the same air. The Unkindled is transfixed by his eyes, his smooth, pale skin and thinks that he is beautiful. The slightest of smirks graces his face and he lifts a hand to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

"Gather your strength, Unkindled One," he says softly as Lorian curls an arm around her waist. "You will need it."

Her eyes close as a tiredness overtakes her, oddly cosy nestled between the two brothers. It does not take long for her to fall into a deep slumber, more peaceful than she's had since she first crawled out of her own grave. At some point, she wakes, a little stiff and sore, but contented despite the betrayal of her duty. She stretches without thinking, arms wide after spending so long sleeping alone. Just barely conscious, she gasps in surprise as Lorian gently catches her wrists in one large hand. There is no pressure behind his touch, just a soft grasp that makes her twist her neck to give him a confused frown. Only when she looks back at her arms does she realise they are only a short distance from Lothric's shoulder.

Even in sleep and with no threat of hostility, Lorian protects his brother with the utmost seriousness. The Ashen One breathes a quiet hum and curls her arms back in to her chest. She considers she might have hurt Lothric, albeit accidentally, and makes a firm mental note to be more careful from now on. He is frial, but so peaceful in sleep, almost sweet. After observing the gentle rise and fall of his chest, she mirrors Lorian's own position, slowly draping an arm over Lothric, trying as hard as she can not to wake him. Her actions earn her a gentle kiss to her shoulder and she assumes that the elder prince is pleased.

Still seemingly asleep, Lothric tucks his head beneath her chin and the three lay as such for hours. The Ashen One no longer cares that the world is slowly losing light. The twin princes are powerful and gentle in equal measure, frightening, yet capable of tenderness, too. She does not want to leave their arms. She supposes she will never have to, and thanks all the Gods for it.