A tale of artists, intrigue, and the magical renaissance

Twisted Smut 13 – Lignarius Frederica {Frederica, Woodworker}

Icaro Curti opened his eyes and thought of the girl. She was often on his mind, these days, but recently she was so ever-present that her smile was the first thing he thought about when he awoke, and the last before he fell asleep. Sprawled out on a bed fit for minor royalty, tangled in his sheets, he reflected that he would settle for a pile of rags on the ground if he could share it with her.

He tilted his head and closed his eyes again to focus, and imagined she was there beside him. She would be quietly slumbering, naked and with only the silk sheet covering her, chest rising and falling in time with her breath. Icaro imagined the scent of her hair on the pillow next to him, imagined that he could reach out and brush a finger along the line of her jaw, then down the curve of her neck… He was almost sure he had been dreaming about her, and he frowned trying to cling to the dream…he had taken her to the balconies overlooking the city, and then taken her on the balconies overlooking the city…

Much as he struggled, the pleasant dream slipped from him. He sighed, but his mood wasn’t dampened. Fantasies of the girl were all well and good, but he would have her actual company this morning, and that was even better.

“Clothes, please,” he called, bounding from his bed in good spirits, not that anyone but his Echo would hear him. His daughter Marble Eyes had clearly noticed when he had awoken, because she was already approaching, a prospective outfit draped over each of her marble arms. He indicated the red, and then stepped into the water closet and under the rainsluice.

“Good morning Icaro,” Ica said sleepily from the room, “are your plans are still the same for the day?”

“Still the same,” Icaro responded cheerfully, “you’ll be able to spend the day with your friends.”

“Excellent,” although she had asked just the day before, Ica sounded more relaxed already. “I’m just going to change, I’ll be back in a bit.”

Marble Eyes was laying the outfit out on the bed as Icaro emerged, shaking out his long red hair to dry it.

You’re in bright spirits today, Father, she signed, a small smile playing about her lips.

I have an appointment with Frederica this morning, Icaro signed back, what better reason to be happy?

What better reason indeed, Marble Eyes’ smile had grown to a full grin now, would you like me to try to hunt down Timpatelli and try to purchase a trinket of some kind? At the very least I can find a small bundle of flowers, perhaps?

Icaro had to finish putting on his tights and then pants, one of his simplest pairs, before he could sign back. I appreciate the thought, but trinkets and flowers…no, I don’t think they would quite be her style.

A girl in the court who doesn’t like flowers? Marble Eyes signed with amusement, what have you gotten yourself into, Father?

As Icaro shrugged his jacket on, his gaze fell on the small desk in the corner of his room, a place for the scraps of ideas and designs that came to him in the night. An old book rested on its surface, and he passed a hand over the cracked leather of its cover thoughtfully, “what have I gotten myself into,” he muttered aloud, “what indeed.”

***

He took Marble Eyes and Marble Sound with him, their arms linked as they followed him and Ica down the golden hallways to the library. There was a bit of personal pride to walking the palace as a Calaetor, even though he wasn’t a Master, and Icaro wasn’t above showing off. Sure his girls were flawed in their way, but he was proud of them, and he suspected having a following of two beautiful marble creations everywhere he went did wonders for his reputation in the court.

When he turned the corner to the library wing, Frederica was standing by the giant double doors. Every single time he saw her, Icaro swore to himself that he would compose himself better next time, but he hadn’t been expecting her by the doors yet. His heart pounded, his breath caught in his throat, and he almost forgot how to walk, his confident stride faltering for a moment.

How smooth, he thought to himself furiously. Frederica had definitely seen him stumble, but her expression was neutral. Behind her, the wooden girl Freja was grinning at him. Alright, calm down, there’s nothing to be done about it now. I’ll do better next time.

“Lord Curti,” Frederica said, inclining her head slightly.

“Lady Maple,” Icaro smiled.

“I’m not a Lady,” the girl frowned, but he could tell that she liked it when he called her by her studio name. “You’re late.”

“If I were truly late, the doors would be open,” he pointed out, “the librarians are always very punctual.” It had taken some doing, looking past her constant frowns and strangely focused demeanor to see the girl underneath, but once he’d seen it he couldn’t see anything else.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Just like that, she apologized. No backpedalling, no arguing, as straightforward as could be. It was sad that it meant so much to Icaro, and he knew he was spending too much time with Milian court girls that the honesty was so refreshing. As they waited, Frederica looked the pair of marble creations up and down with the eye of a fellow Calaetor. Icaro wanted to ask her about her impression of his work, but the doors the the library opened, and the moment had passed.

Even for one who was used to it, the library was vast enough to take his breath away. The arched ceilings were so high that shadows lurked in their corners, and the railings of several floors’ worth of books stretched above them where they stood. The air was full of the must of ancient knowledge, and both of the Calaetors took a deep breath.

“I’ll take my leave now,” Ica curtsied, but she looked anxious to join her friends, waiting for her a floor away. Icaro nodded to her, then turned to his marble daughters.

“Stay quiet and respectful, obey orders you’re given unless they conflict what what you know I would wish,” he said, signing at the same time for Marble Eyes’ benefit, “but beyond that you may amuse yourselves and read what you wish. When you’re ready to go, seek me out…or rather, wait here for us to finish.”

He mentally kicked himself. Today could be the day when he mustered the courage to tell Frederica how he felt about her, and he didn’t want his girls to accidentally interrupt him…but he hoped that she hadn’t noticed his misstep. She was sending Freja off, and if she had noticed she made no mention of it, and the pair of them found themselves a secluded corner of the library to work, sitting together at one of the tables laid out for study.

“What are we studying today?” Frederica turned to him, her eyes bright with the excitement that her face didn’t show, “another day of Ezechiel? Or do you have someone new in mind?”

“Actually, since you mention it,” Icaro reached into the pouch at his side and withdrew the leather book from his desk, “today I would like to study a different first-generation Calaetor. His name was Soccorso Curti.”

“Curti,” Frederica remarked, opening the book carefully, “a relation of yours, I take it?”

“My great-uncle,” Icaro watched her with a smile, the way she handled the book with respect without even realizing it.

Her delicate fingers traced the spidery handwriting, and she focused with a frightening intensity, as usual. “What are the odds that two master Calaetors would come from the same family line?” she murmured. Icaro blushed, unsure whether or not she was aware of the compliment she had given him.

“It’s the reason he left his notes to me, when he died,” he said, “of course, I’ve had them recopied…which is why I would like to give you this book. I think you would find use of it.”

Frederica turned to fix him with her customary look, guarded and neutral.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “I will make use of it.” Icaro chuckled, and Frederica tilted her head to one side. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re not going to modestly refuse, say something like ‘oh no I couldn’t dream of it’?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Do you think I don’t want it?” Frederica asked, “or am I supposed to believe you’d take it back?”

“No…no on both counts,” Icaro said, “you just have a very straightforward way of looking at things, that’s all.”

“Mmm,” Frederica made a noncommittal noise, staring at him for a moment as if trying to read his face, then turned back to the book. They went from page to page in the silence of the library, both of them studying the text within, but after an hour or so, Icaro began studying Frederica instead.

Her face was even cuter when she was focused, her furrowed brow highlighting her piercing eyes. She probably didn’t realize that her lips moved ever so slightly as she read, or that whenever she turned a page she would brush a strand of brown hair behind one ear.

The dress she wore was somewhat plain, but in perfect fashion for the court that season, and it clung to the curve of her waist in a very distracting way. Even worse, it hung just low enough that he could follow the gentle curve of skin, could see hint of cleavage between her breasts before it vanished tantalizingly beneath the fabric.

“What’s an Acocella curl?” Frederica asked suddenly, and Icaro jumped guiltily.

“What?”

“An Acocella curl,” Frederica pointed, “I don’t know that one.”

“Really? I’m surprised,” Icaro pulled a pencil from his bag and held it like a knife, “it’s when you cut like this, but then tilt the blade at an angle halfway through…here, I’ll show you.”

He didn’t know why the idea had never occurred to him before. Icaro moved closer and took Frederica’s hand in his, giving her the pencil and guiding her arm.

“Like so?” Frederica attempted the motion, and he held her hand as she did so, trying to ignore the pounding in his heart.

“Just so,” he murmured. She was close, so close that he could feel the warmth of her body against his.

“Lord Curti?” Frederica extracted her hand and turned to him suddenly.

“Please, call me Icaro.”

“If you want. Are you trying to bed me, Icaro?”

Icaro’s eyes widened, and his face flushed red. Of course she knew how he felt about her, she wasn’t stupid, and here he was fumbling with her hand like an idiot. He turned to see the reaction of her Echo, but thankfully he was stepping away from them, looking down from the railing to the main floor below.

“I…I apologize for my forward behavior, Lady Maple,” he began, trying to slip back into the courtly manners he was used to using around everyone but Frederica, “it seems I’ve forgotten my place in the-”

“I understand that manners, in Milia, are an art in themselves,” Frederica interrupted, “but this opportunity, the opportunity to learn about Master Calaetors from a masterful Calaetor, it’s meant a lot to me. All of this, the teaching, the gift of the book, has it been because you want to study with me, or because you want to bed me? Mixing in Milian courtship if you’re trying to show me Calaetor Masters seems…inefficient.”

A hundred answers raced through Icaro’s mind, deflections and assurances, but they withered in the face of Frederica’s frank stare. She was able to be so honest with him, she deserved honesty in return.

“I’ve enjoyed spending time with you more than I can say, and I really do want you to have the book,” he answered, “but I also…I find you very beautiful. Both inside and out. So…both, I suppose. I’m trying to study with you and trying to bed you.”

He winced in anticipation of her response, but Frederica only nodded. “Don’t you think it would be more efficient to focus on just one at a time?” she said.

“I…” Icaro was at a loss, struggling to keep up with the conversation, “I don’t understand. Do you mean it’s alright to court you, but not here?”

“I mean,” Frederica said patiently, “that we won’t be able to focus on the art as long as you’re distracted by me, and I’m distracted by you staring at me.”

“I didn’t realize that you noticed,” Icaro wasn’t used to being so turned around in a conversation, and the feeling was disorienting.

“You’re less subtle than you think you are,” the corner of Frederica’s mouth twitched as she rose from the chair, smoothing out her dress as she spoke. She turned and approached her Echo. “Fred, you were wandering this floor the other day, are there any stacks with a single entrance?”

Fred nodded towards one of the long rows of books, “do you want me to keep watch?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

It was only when Frederica reached out to take his hand that Icaro realized the implications of her actions, and his heart almost stopped. He followed her in a haze as she pulled him down the long row of books, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

It was happening. His mind couldn’t process the situation, and every time he tried to catch up with what was going on it got stuck. They turned down another row, and then another, until finally they reached the end of the stack, and Frederica turned around. She fixed him with a searching look, a smile playing on her lips, as if waiting for him to say something.

“You’re smiling,” he finally managed after a few tries.

“Do I not smile enough?” Frederica frowned and tilted her head to one side.

“I don’t mind…I mean, I like…it makes them even more perfect when you do smile-”

She interrupted him with a kiss, grabbing him gently but firmly. Her lips were soft, but her body was softer as she pressed against him, and his heartbeat hammered in his chest at the feeling. Icaro didn’t recall a decision to move to the ground, but before he knew it they were there, the soft carpets cushioning them as they descended in a rustle of clothing.

The uncertainty and confusion were gone now that his lips were pressed against hers, Icaro was hungry for her, wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman before. Her hair was silky but scentless when he ran his hands through it, her skin not smooth but warm, everything different from his fantasies and yet so much better than he had imagined. After trailing his fingers from her hair down her neck, he slid the shoulder of her dress down a fraction of an inch, pausing to see if she would object.

“The longer we’re back here, the more chance of being interrupted,” Frederica whispered, her voice beautiful even when quiet.

“Are you saying you want to stop?” Icaro all but held his breath.

“I’m saying that the goal is to not be distracted for the rest of the day while studying. If we want to not be interrupted before we reach that goal, we’d best be more efficient.” As she spoke, Frederica reached down and slid her fingers beneath the folds of his clothes, brushing her hands across the skin of his stomach. She shrugged her shoulder to help Icaro slide her dress down her arm. There were freckles on the tops of her breasts, and he could barely wait for her to shift off of her other arm to see how far down the freckles went. When he tugged at the corner of it, the fabric strained.

“You’ll rip something,” Frederica smiled again and pushed him back, sitting up and reaching behind her to untie the many lacings that held the wretched dress in place. Icaro watched her, mesmerized, his eyes roving from her bare shoulders to the blush across her face, down the slope of her breasts, and back up to her pretty little smile.

She slipped out of the dress and her smallclothes at the same time, rising and leaving the fabric behind her in a movement so graceful that it took his breath away for the second time that day. Without the dress to hug her in tight he could appreciate the natural curves of her body, less of an hourglass than the other girls at the court or of Icaro’s marble creations.

“Well?” She asked, her voice more unconfident than he had ever heard her. She hugged herself, and her arms pushed her breasts together, larger breasts than he had imagined, decorated with freckles. The freckles trailed down a little further, onto their stomach, ending just a bit above the short brown hair that framed her sex.

“I suddenly realize why you’re so focused on art,” Icaro breathed, “when you’re a work of art yourself.”

Frederica rolled her eyes and knelt, straddling his legs as she did so. He blushed, but at least the courtly compliment seemed to have removed her hesitance. Without preamble or comment, she slid her fingers beneath both tights and breeches and slid them both down to his knees, and his member, already straining against the fabric, sprang to attention as soon as it was released.

“The next time we do this, we can spend more time on preamble,” Frederica said, brushing her hands back up his legs and gently up his shaft before leaning back.

“Next time?” Icaro grinned.

“Of course, ‘next time’,” Frederica leaned forward until she was on her hands and knees over him, his cockhead brushing the undersides of her breasts, “you and I are still going to study, after all. This will reduce the distraction for now, but I’m sure we’ll both be…distractible, later on.”

“That’s true,” he murmured. “And next time I’ll do more work, I promise.”

She chuckled, a throaty sound that he hadn’t heard her make before, and slowly crawled forward. He didn’t know whether to stare at her beautiful breasts which hung down over his member, or at her intense, excited eyes as she moved, watching him close. His head slid down her body as she moved, leaving a wet trail of precum down the middle of her stomach.

“We’re being quick and efficient, remember?” she was face to face with him, her breathe a whisper on his skin, and the sensitive skin of his head brushed through her pubic hair, “you’d move too slowly if you were doing the work.”

“What, you don’t think I can be quick?”

“I think you’re about to be,” Frederica said without a trace of doubt, reaching between her legs to guide his shaft to her wet slit.

“You seem confid-” before he could finish, Frederica lowered herself on him with a jerk, and he gasped. It hadn’t been very long since he’d last bedded a woman, but her…

Frederica didn’t slide him out again, she simply moved her hips in a steady circular motion, slow enough that he could feel every sensation as his cock stirred in a circle inside of her body. She was tight, so tight that her velvety walls should have hurt, but she was so wet that all he felt was pleasure and pressure and warmth.

He reached up to grab her breasts, his fantasies of them nowhere near to the reality. Her nipples were already hard, and when he rolled them gently between his fingers Frederica made a small sound, so quiet he could barely hear it. Icaro closed his eyes, forcing himself to hold back through sheer power of will.

Filling her so completely, it was easy to tell when she came. It almost did hurt then, her snatch trembling, clamping down on him too hard, too tight even for how wet she was. Icaro was beyond caring, the sight of Frederica arching her back on top of him, her face flushed, biting her lip to keep a cry back, was more than he could take.

He came just as her sex stopped quivering, letting out a moan. Frederica covered his mouth with a sweaty hand, smiling fondly and continued to rock her hips forwards and back, milking his shuddering shaft with her slit. For a few seconds of euphoria all Icaro could hear was the squish of his cock sliding into her, all he could smell was the scent of sex and sweat and books, and all he could see was the sweet smile of a naked Frederica above him.

She let his spent member slip out of her and leaned back, and for long moments Icaro breathed deeply and looked over her sweaty, flushed body, committing it to memory.

“Well, that certainly will make it easier to focus,” he finally said. “How are you feeling?”

“I think we can go back to studying…I’m feeling particularly satisfied,” Frederica stretched, reaching both arms high above her head in a way that made her breasts hang even more attractively, and between her legs his cock twitched. The corner of her mouth twitched, and she reached down to run a finger across his limp shaft. Somehow managing to look wicked with only her eyes, she glanced at the mix of her fluids and his cum on her finger before putting it in her mouth.

“For now,” she added.

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