A tale of artists, intrigue, and the magical renaissance

Twisted Smut 10 – Mortalis Opus {Mortalis Work}

The best mornings were those filled with birdsong and the smell of the breeze through an open window, ones in which the dark that surrounded him didn’t feel quite so dark. This morning was cold and overcast, and he knew it was overcast because of the ache in his joints, the heaviness on his bones. It made even the warm oats and cinnamon taste dull and grey, and Siricio struggled to put the upcoming day into some sort of perspective.

Cicily wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight, the warmth of her body reaching to his heart. A spot of warm in a wintery world.

“Don’t look so sad,” she murmured, kissing him on the cheek. “I’m the one who has to spend the entire day on edge waiting for you to get back, if anything I should be the one looking glum.” Siricio smiled and scooped the last of the oats into his mouth.

“I wouldn’t have been quite so cruel if I had known how late in the morning it was,” he said.

“Liar. You would’ve been just as mean, and enjoyed it more.”

“I can’t say I’m disappointed that my wife will be out of her mind with lust when I get back.”

Cicily hugged him once more, pressing her breasts into his back before she let him go. She smelled like the cinnamon she had used to make his breakfast, and her hair brushed against the back of his neck. The sounds of her bustling about turned the single room of their house into a home, stoking the fire, moving the pot beneath the rainsluice, humming beneath her breath. Siricio took a deep breath, savoring every sense he could while he was still in the sanctuary of his own home.

“Time for me to leave,” he said finally, rising and holding out a hand. He waited patiently until Cicily took it in her own, then pulled her close to him. He kissed the top of her head, ran a hand along the curve of her cheek down to her chin.

“I love you, Siricio,” she murmured, “you leave me with a lonely heart. And,” she punched him in the shoulder playfully, “with an aching and frustrated cunt, you bastard.”

“I’ll remedy that when I get home, don’t you worry.”

“I might just take care of myself before you have the chance,” Cicily stepped away with a haughty tone to her voice, but Siricio chuckled.

“You’ll wait for me,” he said, “you always do.”

“One of these days I’ll prove you wrong on that.”

“Not today.”

“Not today,” Cicily agreed, pressing his cane into his hand and giving him a quick peck on his lips. As soon as the door opened he could tell that his intuition had been right. Cold and wind wrapped around him, but he squared his shoulders and stepped out into the day.

 


 

A soft stream of thin brittle leaves fell between Siricio’s fingers and into the bag in his cupped left hand, their rasping rustle a comfortably familiar sound. When he had poured out an eighth of a libbra he put the rest back into its jar, tying the bag and setting it carefully in line with the others. He rested his finger on the machichlora, and waited.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today, Livia,” he said to the quiet room.

“Oh!” His companion sounded startled, “I was just…just watching you work. I find it fascinating. I guess I was a little distracted.”

Beneath his index finger, the machichlora began tapping out the next order, the nib spelling out the client, ailment, and priority. Siricio followed along carefully, noting it well before he moved to fill it.

“We’ve worked together for near two months now Livia,” he said, “surely by now watching me has lost its novelty.”

“Of…of course, yes.”

Siricio sighed. The girl was so transparent that he could hear right through her, and noting that she was blushing was just as easy to tell from her voice as it would have been were he holding a hand against her cheek. He could tell by the shifting noises that Livia had returned to her bagging, but by his count it was only the fifth order she had done today. He believed that she had been distracted, but there was something else on her mind, and that something would ruin their output if she didn’t get it off of her chest.

“So, what is new in your life Livia?” he asked, brushing his fingers gently across the tops of the glass jars on his desk. He picked one up and uncorked it, breathing in the scent of lavender to make sure it was the right one. “Anything of note?”

“My mother is considering buying a machine for sewing clothes,” Livia said, “it would cost a lot to have it brought in from Florezia, but can you imagine such a thing?”

“She may well make a return on her money. I’d imagine a fair few of her customers would like the idea of wearing clothes sewn by a machinator device.”

“Aye, that’s what she says as well. I just hope it’s worth the money she’s to pay for it.”

The avenue of conversation exhausted, Siricio went back to bagging up the mixture of lavender and sage. The rustling of Livia’s work slowed again, and by the time he set the bag down in it’s place he could hear that she had stopped completely yet again. Perhaps it was his imagination that he could feel her gaze on him, but either way he determined to try again.

“Have you heard any new gossip lately?” He tried, resting his hand on the machichlora again.

“Oh yes…at least, gossip of a sort…but I’m not sure I should share it with you, for your sake.”

Ah, at last we get somewhere. “You can hardly expect me to not be curious, with a hint like that,” Siricio smiled encouragingly, “it was about me then, I take it?”

“Not exactly about you, no…but it has to do with you.”

“I’m on the edge of my seat.”

“I was talking to Gabriele two days ago, and he told me…no, I shouldn’t say.”

“Livia, we’ve worked together long enough for me to know what you’re doing.”

“Wh…what?”

“You’re trying to make me drag it out of you. It’s something you want me to know, but you don’t want to be the one to say it.”

The room fell into silence for a few moments. Siricio measured out more herbs, crushing or smelling them to ensure no order was filled out incorrectly, as he waited for the girl to respond.

“Am I really so obvious that a blind man can read me that well?” she finally said.

“Perhaps I just know you that well already,” Siricio smiled. It would’ve been perhaps more honest to say that he could do so because he was blind, but that was a hard thing to explain. He was quite used to seeing more in the sounds and scents than anyone he knew, to say nothing of all he learned from the brushes of breeze on his skin, the unexplained sense he had that told him when something was just in front of him.

“Well…you’re right. I was talking to Gabriele, and he told me that about a month ago he saw your wife letting another man into your house.”

Siricio dropped one of the seeds from his cupped hand, snatching it from the air before it hit the desk. Various excuses ran through his head, but he couldn’t stand the thought of lying to the timid little thing, even though he knew it would be easy. Perhaps because it would be so easy.

“Gabriele might have been misinterpreting what was really going on-”

“He saw them kissing! In the doorway of your own home!” Livia blurted, and Siricio sighed again. “I’m sorry Siricio, I know how happy Cicily makes you, I wish I didn’t have to be the one to tell you…”

He supposed there was nothing for it. “I know about the man.”

“Oh.”

“It’s alright. My wife and I have an…arrangement.”

“Oh…I thought…oh. But then…oh.”

“Indeed.”

“The both of you have an arrangement?”

“Yes, although lately she’s had more opportunity to take advantage of it than I have.”

“Well do you…I mean…never mind.”

There occasionally arose moments, like these, in which Siricio did regret that he couldn’t see her. Livia’s embarrassment and curiosity were almost palpable, and he could only imagine how pink her face must be. What did she do when she was embarrassed, he wondered. Did she curl up on herself, shooting him quick glances through long lashes? Did she bite her lip, watching him when she thought he wasn’t looking?

At least he knew that her curiosity would overwhelm her timidity soon. Siricio measured the next bag carefully.

Ten…Nine…Eight…Seven-

“So you…you can just have any woman you want? And she doesn’t get mad?”

“Nor do I get angry when she kisses men in my home, although we should probably have talk about her doing it where Gabriele can see her.”

Livia’s silence was more expressive than her words could be. It hadn’t taken much of his intuitive ability to discern how the girl felt about him; the altering of her schedule to fit his, the comfortable rambling chatter that only happened when they were alone. Siricio was quiet and reserved, and the only thing that had shocked him more than her infatuation with him was when he realized that she thought she was keeping it a secret from him.

“What if…” Livia started, then paused again. Siricio carefully continued with his work, as if not to scare away a frightened animal. “What if that girl was me? Would your wife be angry if you and I…kissed?”

“Livia!” He raised his eyebrows, “I had no idea you felt that way!”

“I think you did,” Livia said quietly. “I think you have ideas of a lot of things. Even if you don’t think other people know.”

Siricio actually was surprised at that. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. And it’s alright if you don’t like me in that way…like that-”

“Livia.”

“You can forget I said anything, I just thought…”

“Livia,” Siricio held out his hand, and after a few moments Livia placed hers in it gingerly. He held her hand carefully, brushing his thumb across the back of it. They sat in silence in their seats next to each other, reaching across to hold hands. “I would like very much to kiss you.”

Livia’s breath was shallow, as if she were afraid to breathe, and as the silence between them stretched Siricio tried to think of what to say to let her know that everything was alright. He settled for running the tip of his thumb across her wrist in a way he hoped was gentle and comforting, where her pulse pounded. She suddenly yanked her hand from his and stood, the click of her footsteps on the floor breaking the silence. “Livia, wait, I didn’t mean…” Siricio began, but he wasn’t quite sure how to finish the sentence. Didn’t mean to touch her like that? Didn’t mean to  He had ‘meant’, he had ‘meant’ very much in fact, but he had been under the impression that she ‘meant’ too.

The sound of the door’s latch sliding closed was unmistakable, as was the unmistakable flit of the wooden shutters being drawn across the windows. Siricio pictured the familiar room growing dark, imagined how Livia would be looking at him right now, shy and eager and almost afraid of her own daring.

“You’re…you’re sure this is alright?” she asked. Siricio stood and made his way around the desk and towards her, moving as effortlessly in the dark as he would have in the light. Livia jumped when he took her hand again, but he could almost feel her smile in the dark. He took her chin in his hand and lifted it.

“It feels alright to me,” he murmured, and pressed his lips against hers. The girl pressed against him as if the kiss was melting her, and as he wrapped his arms around her he finally began to feel what it was that Livia looked like. Her body was curves and warmth, her clothes soft. She pressed against him, so hard that he could feel the contours of her hips and breasts against his body. As the kiss deepened his hand wandered upwards, tracing the curve of her back, the arch of her neck. When they finally broke apart, he ran a gentle hand down her cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly.

“You’re a good kisser,” Livia said. “I…I mean to say…you’re handsome too, but I already knew that…I mean I see you every day…” Their faces were so close together that he felt the warmth in her cheeks and forehead as her face flushed, and Siricio smiled as his member stirred against her. “Oh!” Livia gasped, and Siricio’s smile grew even wider. His hand travelled back down her back, and he grabbed her backside to pull her even closer to him. In response she squirmed, and the heat of her against him was irresistible.

It was in Siricio’s nature to tease, to play and torment until both parties were panting with lust, but feeling Livia warm against him, feeling the hammering of her heart through the dress she wore, his restraint was failing him. The fingers that had been squeezing her plump rear now tugged at her skirts to lift them, and Livia did the rest, pulling them up and bustling them around her waist as she leaned in to kiss him again.

Her kisses tasted sweet, like a fruit that was as yet unknown, and her bare skin was hot against his fingers when he reached down to explore the curve of her legs. Fumbling with his pants, but still grinding her hips against hers, Livia truly was panting now, and Siricio was drunk on her excitement mixed with is own. His fingers brushed through hair, and she let out a breathless whimper that made his shaft press hard against the restraining fabric.

When she pushed his pants down his length sprang into her hands, and she broke away from the kiss with another gasp.

“In me…please,” she whispered.

He had only just begun to slide his fingers lower, to brush their tips against her swollen clit, already wet with her juices. Normally he would wait, would torture with attention and pleasure, but she gently tugged with a plaintive whimper, and he couldn’t bear it any longer. The months they had spend working side by side had been enough teasing for both of them.

With both of them to guide him in, he slipped inside of her easily. Her sex was tight, but wet enough that he sank in to the base. Livia arched her back, rolling her hips and gasping, and Siricio planted kisses on her neck and between her breasts. After a few thrusts she leaned backwards to rest her back against the door, and he moved to pressed against her. The room was quiet, Siricio’s heavy breathing and Livia’s light moans the only sound.

He came first, his hips shaking, breathing in the scent of her sex, the scent of her body, holding her so tight that he could feel every curve, every inch of her. He thrust so hard that a small part of him worried he would hurt her, but when she cried out he knew she had been waiting for it. Even as he felt himself growing soft he continued to push into her, and just as he slipped out of her slit she shook, her fingers dug into his back, and he had to hold her up as her orgasm tore through her as well.

The scent of herbs and wooden boxes that normally filled the shop was overtaken entirely by the smells of sweat, of sex, and of Livia. Siricio was fairly sure that no one else would notice, and wasn’t particularly bothered by the aroma.

“That was…” Livia trailed off, leaving Siricio to guess the contented smile that went along with the statement, “and it’s really fine? This isn’t the part where you tell me this was revenge against your wife, and we can never do that again?”

Siricio found her by the sound of her voice, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “You should come by for dinner, tomorrow, and you can meet her,” he said. “And I would be very sad if we never did that again.”

Once the shutters were opened and the door unlatched, the cold slowly seeped back into the room that they had so recently made overly warm, but Siricio didn’t mind. Every so often he would reach over and brush his thumb against the skin of Livia’s hand, keeping the greyness at bay with another spot of warmth in a wintery world.

 


 

 

To be continued…

 

2 responses

  1. lucinthius

    Yay for office quickies!

    Like

    2015-03-02 at 4:00 pm

  2. Typo:

    her hips against hers
    _______________

    his?

    I don’t know how you would grind your own hips against each other, but I think it would involve very uncomfortable folding motions.

    Like

    2016-12-16 at 9:36 am

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