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littlegrrl7 · 3 years

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A Dance for Three

Ikemen Vampire Big Bang 2021

Pairing: Comte/Leonardo/MC

Smut with plot 18+ NSFW

Masterlist for 7 chapters 17k words

read on Ao3

Chapter 2- Temptation

The stiff crinoline of Niamh’s skirts crinkled in the tight confines of the carriage. She crossed her legs again in a rustle of mauve taffeta and starched black lace, drawing Leonardo's attention. Comte had picked the day dress for her to wear on the outing. The neckline was a low oval that left her feeling like the tops of her breasts were on display, like an offering. The day was far too hot for a wrap, but she had brought one anyway, draping it over her shoulders for some bit of modesty. She could feel his eyes skim over her quivering flesh at every bounce of the carriage. Niamh struggled not to blush, but it was an uphill battle.

Suddenly, the carriage pitched backward, tossing her into his lap. Apologies log-jammed in her throat as her face pressed against his broad chest.

Niamh breathed in.

Ahhh, the scent of him, that sweet tobacco and clove that clung to his skin. Her hands fisted in his lapels, trying to right herself.

“Easy, cara mia, the road can be rough here. Would you prefer to sit next to me? I’ll hold you steady.” Leonardo's strong arms lifted her, seating her next to him on the poorly sprung leather bench. Leo held her close, his arm casually laid over her shoulders, drawing Niamh into his chest. She breathed in again, god how she had missed the virile scent of his skin. They had never gone beyond a single passionate kiss; Leonardo had put up too many walls. But she had missed him holding her close.

“Thank you.” She settled her gloved hands awkwardly in her lap.

“Is there a reason you wanted to come to town with me today, Niamh?” He lit a cigarillo and slid the small window open, flicking the ash out of it.

“We haven’t spent much time together lately. To be honest, I’ve missed your company.” She looked up at him, her pale blue eyes so earnest. “We never did speak of what happened.”

“Did you feel a need to? You seem content.” Leonardo lounged, long legs stretched out before him. He inhaled again, blowing the smoke out a small window.

“I am... we are. But you didn’t expect me to remain in this time, did you?” She was still looking up at him, but he slid his eyes away, gazing out at the passing streets.

“Comte is a good man and my oldest friend. You make each other happy, it’s enough for me to be happy for you.” She didn’t miss the small bitter twist to his lips. Niamh studied his profile a moment, from the sweep of his ash-brown hair to the tenseness of his jaw. Inevitably, his gaze returned to hers.

Her breath hitched at the longing in his burnished gold eyes.

“The two of you have a good thing,” Leonardo continued, taking her hand. He brushed a light kiss over her knuckles, warming the silk of her glove, “I know he will always cherish you.” Then he released her to gaze again out the window and said no more. The only sound within the carriage was his inhaling as he took the soothing smoke from his favorite vice into his lungs.

Niamh watched Leonardo fix things from a park bench across the way. His usual crowd of admirers surrounded him. That familiar ache had never gone away, the loss of him. She closed her eyes for a moment remembering the first night she had met Leonardo. She had been in such a panic, stirred up over her predicament. Falling back in time two hundred years into a den of vampires? It had been too much.

Then he had kissed her, surrounded her in his comforting warmth, and her plight didn’t seem so bad. Niamh remembered the feel of his broad chest pressed to hers. The safety of Leonardo's arms around her like corded steel, lifting her to him. The softness of his lips caressing her mouth, teasing her lips open. And oh, the taste of him, virile strength, she had melted against him, her body surrendering to his whims.

But he had asked for nothing but her companionship. They had so many good memories together. But he had never let their relationship progress, even when it was obvious they both wanted more.

Her eyes opened, and she watched as another person thrust some broken thing at him to mend in the park square. That was him, fixing the broken, always giving, never taking anything for himself.

Not even her when she offered.

Niamh blinked back tears at the familiar pain of the night he turned her down. Oh, Leo had been gentle enough, but he still made it clear she should return home. It was Comte who found her crying in the gardens later that evening. Comte, who gently took care of her, who soon confessed his love to her, who eventually asked her to stay.

Niamh gazed up at the bright blue summer sky of Paris, watching the birds flit from tree to tree in the park. It had been over a year; she loved Comte, he was a sweet, attentive man.

But she never forgot her feelings for Leonardo.

“Cara mia,” Niamh looked up, and he stood before her haloed by the sun, his ancient golden eyes so warm. Leonardo held out his hand to her with a smile, “Let’s get you some lunch, yea? You can’t be ogling me all day on an empty stomach.”

She swatted at him with her tiny purse. “The conceit! I wasn’t ogling you.” Niamh placed her hand in his, relishing the warm roughness of it. So different from Comte’s smooth gentleman hands.

“Scusa,” he grinned that jackass smile of his, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm as they strolled down the street, “and what would you call it?”

“Merely appreciating a master at his work.” She glanced sideways at his handsome profile, a grin tugging her lips.

He patted her hand consolingly. “If that is what you would like to call it-“

“Leonardo!”

His grin got wider.

Leo paused, studying her a moment as she huffed at him in mock affront. She had always been adorable. He loved getting Niamh all stirred up, seeing her fiery side lit. Unconsciously he steered her toward her favorite outdoor café, one they had been to many times. Sweet memories of the two of them flitted through his head as he held the chair out for her. Leonardo’s eyes roamed again over her figure; his fingers lightly brushed her bare shoulders as he pushed her chair to the table.

“You look lovely today, Niamh, that dress is an attractive color on you.” His eyes weren’t on the mauve dress, but on the way the black lace framed the mounded curves of her breasts that swelled over the cusp with each breath.

“Thank you, Comte picked it out this morning.” She picked up the menu, her eyes moving over the script.

Leonardo busied himself with a napkin in his lap.

Comte, what are you doing to me? Why send the woman you love out dressed like a tempting confection?

He breathed in. Niamh smelled of crisp linen and lilacs. After breakfast she must have bathed, eradicating the enticing scent of her morning pleasure to be replaced with the sweet innocence of her own perfume. Leonardo’s eyes skimmed the bare curve of her neck, the skin unblemished. At least Comte had healed her before sending her out into society. It wouldn’t do to have lover’s marks on display in public for all to see. His gaze wandered downward, wondering if the stiff cloth of her expensive dress hid any private marks. Visions of undressing her filled Leonardo’s thoughts. His lips covering her flesh where Comte’s had, tasting him on her skin, that heady mix of arousal and possession overtook him, and he could feel his cock stirring. It pressed uncomfortably against the confines of his pants.

“Are you getting anything, Leonardo?” Her eyes were still on the paper menu, pink lips pressed together in thought. He remembered the pillowy softness of her lower lip as it was sucked. Leo shifted in his chair, sliding the napkin over his tenting trousers.

“Dessert, the apple tarts here are delicious.” It wasn’t the sweetness that he desired, but it would have to do. He gave her up, a decision he would have plenty of time to regret. He might as well enjoy the day with her, pretending for a short time that Niamh could be his again if only in his mind.

Her meal came and with it the blissful peace of not having to make conversation. Of being able to covertly watch those luscious lips accept food, watching her enjoy each mouthful. Niamh’s expressions of pleasure were so unrestrained he could only imagine if she was like this in public how much more so she would be in private.

In his room...

Straddling his lap while he made love to her.

Leonardo tore his eyes from her, spooning another bite of the apple tart into his mouth. It tasted of ash. Nothing had brought pleasure since he denied himself her. He looked out into the park with its perfectly groomed pathways and rose hedges. Couples walked conversing, children played; it was an idyllic afternoon to spend with someone you cherished.

He cleared his throat.

“Comte tells me you are thinking of restarting your travel tour business?” Leonardo covered the rest of his dessert with his napkin, leaving it unfinished. Niamh raised one perfectly arched brow.

“It’s a consideration, I was going to start with guided tours of Paris and see where it goes from there.” She finished her meal, taking a sip of her drink. “I’m trying to talk Comte into hiring a few maids. It’s ridiculous to expect Sebastian and me to manage the entire mansion and its residents. That should free me up to pursue my own interests.”

“Would you be giving these tours yourself?” Leonardo paid for the meal, then taking her hand, he tucked it into the fold of his arm. They'd walk along the river, Leo decided. Somewhere it was quiet so he could enjoy her company alone for a short time.

“Well, initially, yes, but eventually I would want to manage a staff.” Niamh looked down at the cobbled path, her dainty black boots peeking and disappearing from her voluminous skirts as they walked. They were as fashionable as everything else she wore, Comte made sure she wanted for nothing.

“Scusa, cara mia, but there are parts of Paris that are quite unfit for a lady.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be giving a tour of those parts, silly.” She gave him a playful swat, and his heart fluttered. Niamh’s blue eyes sparkled brighter than the June sky. “Besides, I could always ask one of the residents to come along, I am sure Napoleon or Jean wouldn’t mind escorting me.”

Her skirts rustled seductively against his legs as she walked beside him. The scent of Niamh’s perfume cradled his senses, igniting his fantasies of being tangled with her in the throes of passion. Her breast brushed his arm, where she leaned into him, and every nerve felt inflamed. The tingling of desire chased around his body to tighten things low in his groin.

“I would do it,” Leonardo’s voice came out edged with need. He turned to face her, pausing them under the long, secluding branches of a willow tree. His burnished gold eyes didn’t hide the affection he still held for her.

“That is very sweet of you, Leo.” Niamh smiled again, and it held all the warmth of the summer sun. Impulsively, she stood up on her toes, brushing an affectionate kiss over his cheek. “I could always count on you.”

Leo turned his head, capturing her lips; he shouldn’t, she wasn’t his to kiss. But she was there, and his, if only for this moment in his mind. God, she was so warm. The taste of her was even sweeter than he had remembered. Leonardo brought his hand up to tenderly cup the back of her head, his other hand pressed the small of her back, holding Niamh close.

To his surprise, she didn’t pull away or resist. She melted against him, her mouth opening to his gentle pressure. Her hands gripped the lapels of his jacket, she teased and tasted and then moaned so softly against him. Leo explored her slowly, feeling every bit of her, sucking Niamh’s pouty lower lip, as he had dreamed of doing. He took a breath, leaning his forehead against hers.

This was his oldest friend’s lover, he shouldn’t-

Niamh threaded her hands through his hair, pulling him back down to her. Her mouth angling over his, greedily. Sharp teeth grazed his lip, and he let out an anguished cry before she soothed him with her tongue. Leonardo buried his hands in her strawberry blonde hair, ravaging her lips, and she returned his attentions passionately. He leaned her back against the tree, pressing his full body to hers. Niamh’s thighs opened, and he stood in the crispness of her skirts, desiring the fabric gone so he could feel the press of his flesh against hers.

“Leonardo…” His name traveled out on a breathless gasp. How many times in his fevered late-night fantasies had he dreamed of his name on her lips as he pleasured himself? And now here she was in his arms…

But she’s not yours…

An annoying voice echoed in his head, he couldn’t do this. Leonardo reluctantly pulled away from her heated embrace.

“Apologies, Niamh, I forgot myself. Let me escort you back to the carriage to take you home.”

In her eyes was the same disbelieving look she gave him the night he said he wouldn’t be her lover. Her face flushed as anger replaced it. She took a step away, straightened her clothing, then the stinging slap came.

He deserved that. Leonardo turned his face from her. He let the pain of it coat his cheek and stab into his heart.

She’s not yours, and never will be.

Niamh's leather shoes clacked an angry staccato against the cobblestone path as she returned the way they had come. Reluctantly he trailed after her, damn Comte to hell for ever putting him in this situation. And damn himself for not showing a modicum of restraint when entrusted with another man’s woman.

When they reached the carriage, Leo put out a hand to help her up, which she ignored in favor of awkwardly wrestling with her skirts. She sat ramrod straight, eyes ahead as he watched her from the door. With a long sigh, he asked the driver to take her home, repeated the address, and closed the door, watching the carriage depart.

Maybe he was a coward, but he couldn’t sit for over an hour with her in that tight, confined space. He couldn’t smell her perfume on his clothing, taste the heat of her passion, and pretend nothing had happened. This made the previous kiss they had shared pale by comparison. Leo raked a hand through his hair. He had undoubtedly botched this. He should have continued to stay in the shadows.

Niamh stared out the carriage window as they pulled away. He wasn’t coming?

Fine.

It was all just fine.

How could he kiss her like that? What right did he have? And dammit, why the hell did she kiss him back? It would have been easy enough to pull away, to act shocked, to laugh it off. To do anything but what she had done.

She melted into his arms like she belonged there.

Damn it.

Niamh tapped her fingers along the wood frame of the window. How was she going to tell Comte this?

Oh, by the way, I snogged Leo today. It was every bit as delightful as I thought it would be. Tea? Baguette?

Perfect, just perfect. Comte was loving, attentive, romantic, he fulfilled her every need - why on earth would she ever look outside her relationship with him?

To something that was…

Unresolved.

She crumpled the delicate fabric of her skirts in her hands, unconsciously turning them into a wrinkled mess.

She wouldn’t mention it. Niamh doubted Leo would say anything. It was a mistake, an error. She was only human, after all.

She could still feel the heat of the passion he held for her in his kiss. The way his large calloused hands had stroked over her, pressing her body firmly to his. Leonardo’s sweet tobacco scent still clung to her clothes, overloading her senses with desire for him.

Just perfect.

#ikevampbigbang #ikevamp comte #ikevamp leonardo #angst #ikeman vampire

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niteowlnest · 6 years

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A Word A Day: Swindled

Thorin Oakenshield X fem!OC

Summary: A chance meeting of a different kind took place in the Prancing Pony

A/N: About a year ago, I started doing daily writings based on the Word of the Day prompts from the Dictionary.net app. It didn’t last long, but I want to start doing it again. Some of which will undoubtedly be Hobbit related, so here’s one with Thorin.

Word of the Day (5 March 2018)

Peculate: to steal or take dishonestly (money, especially public funds, or property entrusted to one’s care); embezzle

Enjoy!

The Prancing Pony, abuzz with whatever the sloppy, rain-soaked road had spit up, nearly rattled under the strain of the noise of its jubilant patrons. One, not so jubilant, felt the pulses deep within his head, strengthening the preexistent pounding of his temples. He would have walked on with the rain pattering on the hood of his cloak and tinking off the weapons in his bag were his stomach not calling for relief from scant road rations. And so he entered.

Humans kept the place tonight; only occasionally did someone Thorin’s height actually pop out from the crowd, and no one of his kind. He eyed a halfling with a lopsided, ale-drowned grin heading passed him toward the door and out into the night. Just short Men, these Bree-hobbits, and just as strange. Thorin carried on, pulling his bag close to his side. He dared to toss back his hood, exhausted of the raindrops sliding off his leather hood and onto his nose. What were the chances of someone recognizing him in here anyway?

As he made his way through the overtaxed dining room, Thorin was bumped at least half a dozen times. He grimaced. What a way to spend his first night in civilization after weeks in the wilderness: reeking of that foul concoction known as Men’s ale before he could even take a sip. He shoved a few drunkards aside, taking no responsibility for what happened after his hand left them.

Catching a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, he reached out, accurately latching onto exactly what he was looking for. The barmaid stared at his large hand wrapped around her arm, slightly afraid and otherwise affronted by his move. Her body was drenched head-to-toe in sweat, her wayward brown curls pulled back from her round face. She was charming. Thorin toned down the growl that he had readied to use. “Whatever you have that’s cheapest,” he said, sliding his hand down to her wrist and placing four coins in her palm. “Keep the rest.”

She stared at the pieces as if she had been handed rubies, nodding vigorously. All ire melted from her face. “Right away, Master Dwarf.” She scurried away with haste, as if her original path had never been interrupted. Thorin grinned as he watched her, turning away to scout out a place to sit.

As if all the luck he had not had his entire journey away from home had accumulated in this one instance, he found a small table by the fireplace unoccupied. He set his things against it, settling on the hard wooden chair with his back to the flames. The warmth seeped into his body, pushing away the chill of the March rain. Needing something other than the rank interior of the tavern in his lungs, he struck a match and pushed some leaf into his pipe. The sweet haze swirled around his head, and his indignation manifesting into shaking hands drifted away with the smoke. His nerves calmed, and he embraced the relaxation he had been deprived of for some time now.

After sitting for only a moment, the flustered barmaid arrived with a plate of dry but warm bread, potatoes, and cheese with a sloshing tankard. “Anything else you need, just holler,” she told him above the dull roar of the room.

He nodded. “Thank you.”

As soon as she left him, he dug into his meagre but filling meal, allowing his eyes to drift over the room. Despite the dim lighting, he noticed everything. All the movement would have overwhelmed him had the leaf not been coursing through his body by now. He could ignore it all with food and drink accompanied by a roof over his head, if just for the time being.

A hand suddenly appeared around his shoulder, reaching for his plate, and he nearly jumped from his seat to the moon. Before he could realize what was happening, one of his potatoes had disappeared, sating the grinning woman of Man that now sat in the chair across from him. Each movement she made was so fluid, he blinked only once in the time it took her to settle comfortably with her dark brown gaze on him. It was an irritant, but hardly causing nearly as much resentment than when he recognized the face in front of him. The semi-pleasant mood chasing away the disparaging results of his latest trip had been promptly stomped into the ground then tossed into the fire. “You,” he rumbled, his voice like an earthquake.

She was not affected. In fact, she smiled wider. “Me.”

“What do you want?” His fist, now resting on the table, inched closer to the grip of his sword leaning beside him. He did not fear that his life would be threatened. But if this encounter resembled their last one, he would need to nip any brazen efforts in the bud. This was the best way he knew how. “Have you followed me?”

She tsked, eyeing his plate again but making no move to reach for it. “You know, it was this exact attitude that earned you your comeuppance on our last meeting.”

“Comeuppance for what? I did absolutely nothing to you.”

Her eyes rolled to the ceiling in a movement that almost looked painful. “That’s the point. Your negligence cost you dearly, I’m afraid. But where are my manners? Greetings, kind sir. I failed to introduce myself the last time we crossed paths.”

“I don’t care to know who you are,” he snarled, lip twitching. “Leave.”

Mischief danced over her heart-shaped face, enhanced by the smattering of brown flecks across her nose. Her youth emboldened her. “Whether or not you want to believe if, I am free to enter this establishment to my heart’s content. I am a paying customer, after all.”

“Then move to the opposite end of the room. I have nothing to say to you.”

She had become disgruntled with his impatience. Good. “All the same, you dwarves, with your furrowed brows and your spitting insults. Do you think I sat here just for the fun of it?”

His hand slammed on the table, though it hardly disturbed the festivities. “Last time I allowed you to share my space, your friendly conversation turned out to be a scam.”

“Hm.” She stroked her hairless chin. “I remember it quite differently.”

The breath rushed from his nose. “Fine. You attempted to seduce me and stole my purse.”

She nodded, then giggled. “Attempted? Oh, considering I got the coins at the end of it all, I’d say I succeeded. You weren’t exactly oriented enough to know I’d swiped it until I was already on my horse. It was quite easy, actually. I’d suggest finding yourself a lady at some point.”

His head dropped into his hands. He was done with this. This girl was as bullheaded as they come. With his hands scrunched into his damp hair, he mumbled, “Leave.”

Her sigh was loud enough to be heard across the table, and so was the thud that followed. There happened to be the clink of coins mixed in with it. He peeked, then lifted his head. Sitting in front of his plate was a leather pouch tied with a dark blue cord at the top. His pouch. When he glanced up at her face, she nodded at it, and he reached for the purse. The contents filled it to the very top, almost barely contained by the little tie. All of it was silver, just like what had originally been in it. Except this was about three times as much of what was in there when she swiped it. He glanced up at her again, the question clear on his face.

Hers was neutral. No more mirth, no treachery. Just a hint of bashfulness. “All yours.”

He cocked his head. “What?”

She sat back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest. “Before I found you six months ago, I’d sold all my wares and still had hardly a piece to feed myself with. Your generous donation went toward keeping myself alive just long enough to get back on my feet. My business flourished, and I’m no longer threatened with having to beg for kitchen scraps. It was always my intention to pay you back, and I’ve carried that pouch everywhere I went, hidden at the very bottom of my sack, just in case I ever ran into you again. I’m astounded that it happened here, of all places, but it’s certainly the opportunity I’d been waiting for.”

He stared at the girl, dumbfounded, his eyes occasionally straying to the full purse sitting between them. What could the purse she had taken from him have done for his family so many years ago, when he was in that same place, scrounging around for the littlest morsel? He would’ve called it a gift from Mahal. What kind of a difference could it have made for a young girl barely surviving?

All the difference.

“So there you are, Master Dwarf,” she sighed, rising from her chair and tossing her hat back onto her head. “Your reimbursement, thricefold. Something tells me it’ll come in quite handy for you in the near future. Call it a hunch. Be careful out there. If you can be bested by a woman of few skills and talents, I’d say you’ve got a long road ahead of you.” Before he could call out to her, she slipped into the crowd, disappearing like a wraith into the night. For a brief moment, he wanted to get up and chase after her, follow some deep urge that begged him to keep her there, just for a little longer. Find out more. Seek her. But there was nothing in her wake except inebriated tavern guests.

Slumped in his seat, he fought the sudden melancholy taking him over, filling him with loss. Then he saw it. Inside the pouch, pressed against the side by the quantitative amount, a small piece of parchment stuck out against the dark leather of the bag. He slipped it out, glanced at it, then smiled.

#thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #thorin #thorin x oc #word of the day

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