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pearlywritings · 1 year

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Behind the wall of falling snow we love

synopsis: Pierro is a mysterious man, the kind that guards his secrets well. One of them is being you, his lovely wife, his heart, his everlasting lover. And tonight he is finally stealing you from your duties and bringing you to his residence where you can drop the masks you wear for the people of Snezhnaya and be just a married couple.

pairing: Pierro x fem!reader

tw: smut, established relationship, immortal lovers (you and Pierro are Khaenri’ahns), religious themes, sliiiight a/b/o feature, oral, biting, unprotected sex, obviously size difference

word count: 8.1k+ words in total

author’s note: the words of prayer are actually a translated and altered from French song Ave Maria Païen from Notre Dame de Paris musical.

Ave Tsaritsa, please pardon me, if in your house I have come begging.

The Cathedral of Tsar the Saviour is a majestically built and decorated temple, having been honoring the previous Cryo Archon in the past, and now being full of prayers offered to the Tsaritsa. Today the official designation is the only reminder of in whose name it was founded, as every last piece inside and out was completely replaced with symbolism of the new deity, and Pierro personally made sure of it, solidifying her position and showing what a good and valuable asset he was.

And still is.

Ave Tsaritsa, no one ever taught me about kneeling.

Half-truth and half-lie. The people of Khaenri'ah had their ruler, to whom bowing heads and, on occasion, getting down on their knees was an etiquettish must. But they never had a god to humiliate themselves before. Even now, he doesn’t quite do so, always proudly standing akin to a frozen statue near the goddess, that is not his. Nor yours.

Ave Tsaritsa, please will you keep me from the misery, madness and fools, who rule this evil world?

That's what the purpose of the Harbingers is - enlightening the Snezhnayan people according to the wishes of Her Majesty Tsaritsa and ensuring that nothing can undermine their faith in her and push them off the intended path. Who knew that religion can be such a powerful instrument? Too bad it ended up in his and your hands. Of that he also made sure.

Ave Tsaritsa, I'm a stranger and you're my last recourse.

You were strangers to this snowy land; weakened and exhausted by the curse were your bodies the first time you ever saw your future salvation. Back then the kindness in her eyes wasn’t hidden behind a veil, and the heart, not yet frozen, tightened at the display of your tightly intertwined fingers, the stubborn desire not to let go of each other’s hand touched the deepest parts of her immortal soul. Nowadays Pierro may call it a memory that’ll never be proven existent, because the only person capable of telling it has locked herself in the Zapolyarny Palace, rarely appearing in front of anyone, and The Jester, despite the folly of his code name, is not an idiot to go and flaunt around about his dear one.

Ave Tsaritsa, please can't you hear me? Please take down all these walls between us. We all should be as one.

A wall between a follower and an Archon…foolish to try and break it. But the Cryo Archon heeds as she is fond of your singing, and you can hardly call yourself her follower, having willingly become an instrument in the silver-haired wise and cunning man’s hands. You became the holy wonder of Snezhnaya - a maiden, who hasn’t grown older a day over the centuries, and many generations came to witness your divine service and had your voice stuck in their minds, piercing their very souls. And the man could claim with certainty - you were loved by the people.

Ave Tsaritsa, please watch over my life night and day.

She really doesn’t, but Snezhnayans do, however it was by your wish and with your consent, that he put you before so many watchful eyes, and the Archon’s ones as well. But then again, if you want to hide something precious, you should put it right before the seeker’s nose. He made you adored, he secured your safety with the right deeds of yours - all Abyss would break loose if something happened to their cherished high priestess and no one would like to incur the wrath of the Tsaritsa and the Harbingers.

Ave Tsaritsa, oh please protect me. Please guard me and my love; now I pray.

His stone heart flutters for how softly, how tenderly have you sung of who your heart is beating for. Not for the deity, no - it’s pumping blood for the very man who is standing in the shadow of a wide pillar, gazing at you from behind a mask and holding a thick cape similar to his own, with his plans quite evident.

Tonight you are leaving with him.

Ave Tsaritsa. Amen.

You breathe the last words of the song against your hands, clasped together in front of you in a prayer, and the sound seems to infiltrate every corner of the grand catholicon. Your figure is ethereal, kneeling on the steps before the huge stained glass of the Cryo Archon your words were directed to. Basking in the light of the moon, pouring through the glass and painting you in the sacred blues of Her Majesty's robes, you look like a holy being, and had Pierro not known you were a sinner like him, he would've been tricked by your false chastity. Whiteness of the high priestess’s robes is pure, much purer than the snow outside, but now tainted by the colors of the Archon you both swore to serve.

Even if she doesn't, Pierro watches you, and his gaze will never waver.

Your archbishop’s crown reflects the light and diamonds gleam coldly, just like they are. The long veil hides your soft pretty hair he loves running his fingers through so much. It soothes him, reminds him of the times he used to witness you braiding them in the morning and unbraiding in the evening, sitting on the edge of your shared bed and talking about everything and nothing.

Now this became a privilege, one you are granted only once every couple of months. Sometimes separation is unbearable, but the different flight of time immortals experience makes it more tolerable. And you both know - it’s a small price for the power you managed to obtain.

Slowly you open your eyes - breathtaking cosmic crystals, that shine with pretensive innocence and have fooled and enchanted much more mortals you care to count. You are already doing so much for them, no need to try and remember every single one, it’s the clerics’ job and they fulfill it excellently under your guidance.

Pierro thinks this position suits you. You are not stupid, far from it, while leading others along the path he wants, you see right through it, never forgetting your homeland, never forgetting who you are, never forgetting the pain. You always were like this, even half a millenia ago your ingenious character intrigued him and pulled him to you like a magnet. Winning your affections and uniting your destinies by marriage is still one of his biggest personal achievements.

Despite being cursed, he is a blessed man and was one long before the doom was brought upon his nation. You are his eternal blessing.

You descend more gracefully than the deity behind you ever could in Pierro's eyes, because you were descending to him. Robes and the veil flow behind you magnificently - a sight he witnessed thousands of times, yet it still gets to steal his breath away, because you look like a lovely bride to be wed.

And I would marry you again, in every other world or timeline that is existent.

That’s what you told him when he admitted the reason for his awe-stricken expression during your first century of living in the land of snows. Even now, the cold and terrifying advisor of the Tsaritsa feels the same.

“Have you waited for long?” You start speaking not even halfway close to him. The question echoes in the majorly empty space, and prompts the man to step out of his hiding spot, becoming the victim of the moonlight as well.

“No, I have not,” his answer is short, but only because he doesn’t like getting personal before you two are back in his manor, where he knows no one can interfere. You simply nod at that.

“I’ll go and change. Will you wait for me, Lord Pierro?”

Always.

“Of course, Your Eminence,” he doesn’t ask you to take your time, and you know that while he is an embodiment of patience, you don’t have any second to waste.

Putting the crown on the pedestal and laying out your ceremonial clothes for the trusted deaconesses to take care of tomorrow, you can't stop the excitement pouring from your heart. Two months ago you couldn't meet due to the passing of the Eighth Harbinger - you were busy with the memorial service to commemorate La Signora and your beloved was stolen away by his duties and complications, caused by her death. While you did not hold anything against the fair lady, your thoughts were far from mourning, only thinking of the wasted time with an edge of bitterness. It happened before, and you learnt to bear with that, but even with all your practiced patience you'd never want the repeat of that three-year long occurrence when you haven't seen or heard from him at all due to your respective occupations.

You sigh in relief when the heavy fabric and furs are brought upon your shoulders, hiding the elegant, yet simple outfit, reserved for your outings. The weight of his big gloved palms is also welcomed and the deep sound of his voice washes like calming waves over you.

"Should we be on our way?" You don't see him, but you know the glow his eyes possess. Usually unreadable, they glint with emotion, the one - you can proudly declare - reserved only for you.

"Yes, we should, My Lord. We have quite a number of things to discuss and settle."

The staff of the Jester's manor know that their master and the head of the priesthood have business to discuss and under no circumstance should they be interrupted for the night and the next day. Fireplaces are lit and fresh wood is prepared. The room, that became your personal chambers in his estate, is cleaned and readied for your most comfortable stay, and the servants make sure to move as far away from the West wing, where it and the living room you use for your discussions are located. Eavesdropping is akin to a death sentence, but many would consider themselves imbeciles for trying to sneak on the two most respected and praised people in the whole country.

How fortunate it is that the Jester's personal chambers are in the same wing, just at the other end of the corridor? Servants have just one part of the building to avoid during those times, not worried about accidentally doing something wrong in regard to him and you.

Little do they know what exactly happens behind the closed door, since no one is allowed near them during these particular times. They can’t even fathom the sins your bodies bask in, perfect images crumbling down and revealing the real yous, wild and yearning, drinking up each other's touch like a life-saving water of the oasis, work talk replaced with sweet moans and low grunts and long-forgotten names occasionally slipping past your parted lips.

This is why the sheets get burnt after every stay of yours. Staff members know that's being done to prevent anyone from feeling tempted to steal and sell the fabric, touched by the skin of the Saint. In reality no one needs to know of the reasons behind torn holes and stains.

Pierro destroys them personally in the morning, as you calmly sip on your tea, seated in the armchair of his bedroom with nothing but the silk bathrobe covering your body (replaced by just his shirt occasionally). Only then you devote some of your time for actual discussions and planning, while having an amazing supper and regaining your strength for another couple of rounds, that do not even have to include the bed.

Sometimes, though, the discussion starts when servants leave you till the next evening - the time you inevitably shall depart.

"Anything notable on your side?"

You hum, plucking a pristine white petal from the water surface and twirling it between your fingers. The large floor-installed pool is enough to fit at least three people of your lover’s complexion, but there is only you, water up to your collarbones and pleasantly hot against your skin. Hundreds of petals float around you, covering your body from two piercing eyes and occasionally bumping against your bent knees, and you don’t even want to think how many flowers the servants wasted just to “please” you.

“Nothing much, and nothing of concerning importance” you admit with a huff. Church is actually a pretty good source of information; with Snezhnayan being such good believers and followers it is not hard to gather intel through confessions and later pass the concerning ones to Pierro for him to see if it actually can cause harm. But as of later it was very calm.

“Though I must admit, one young lady really caught my interest,” you throw the petal away and sink a bit deeper, water pooling around your neck now. You lift a leg, stretching a little, and from the corner of the eye watch the half-naked man, seated on the edge of the pool, following with his attentive gaze the path the droplets make down your smooth skin before they disappear somewhere at your thigh.

“And that is?” Oh, these eyes. If you were standing, you’d certainly sink onto the nearest piece of furniture, unable to fight its magic even hundreds of years later. His mostly bared body becomes the next victim of your fascination, and you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling that tingling sensation at the tips of your fingers.

“Well…” you hum again, holding his inquiring gaze and slowly, teasingly lowering your leg back into the water. “If you take all of your clothes off right now, I might tell you."

'All of his clothes' is an open shirt and a pair of pants, both made of a very light fabric. He probably abandoned the robe while walking through your bedroom, and the mask was most likely taken off there too.

"Oh?" His chest shakes with a deep chuckle, that has that specific dark edge to it, that makes you aware of why people submit to him. "It seems the information is really not of such a great importance, if you are asking me to undress in exchange."

"Mmm, you saw through my intentions. But can you really blame me? It's been so long…" Your voice trails off and you sigh, diverting your eyes elsewhere, sight quickly obscured with the images of your last encounters, making your heart clench. You must stay unbothered, but this is so excruciating, being trapped in the land of raging blizzards and frozen landscapes and the loving touch becoming not an everyday thing, but a seldom occurrence. The memories of what it used to be like are almost non-existent at this point, having been wiped out of your mind with the new reality.

Gaze falls onto your wrist and a small smile tugs onto your lips. An intricate band of the metal one would never find again and the stones that lie deep down in the mines of the miasm-contaminated homeland, rests against your skin, gleaming beautifully in the light. The same is wrapped around Pierro's wrist, just a bit wider than yours - one Khaenri'ahn tradition you were allowed to preserve - the symbol of your marriage, which in the broad daylight stays hidden under your long sleeves.

The rustle of clothes doesn't register in your brain right away, but when it does your head whips to the side, just in time to see the silver-haired man sit back down, carelessly dumping his nightwear near the side of the tube.

"Happy now?" All sorrowful thoughts leave your mind instantly when all of his body is on display for your hungry gaze. With a soft splash you lift yourself slightly, enough to get on your knees and move closer to him. His braceleted hand immediately takes a hold of yours and you comfortably lean your chest on his thigh, using an elbow to create support for your head to look up at him.

"Yes, I am. Thank you, my love."

My love. Sometimes Pierro thinks you are just a dream, a pretty, nostalgic dream, where love is not just a concept. Snezhnaya and the closeness to the Cryo Archon affected him far more than you. He toughened up, his gaze got heavier and frown deeper, lips are always drawn in a tight line and voice is even and cold, lack of emotion coming straight from his almost destroyed heart. Just one part is still alive, and warm, and capable of feelings.

This part is loving you.

"Do I deserve to be told what caught your interest?"

You smile at that, happy that he is willing to engage in a chat that doesn't relate to your plans at all. It's one of the things that serves as a reminder that you are special to him, more special than anyone and anything else, be it the Tsaritsa or your scheming.

"Oh, that's a funny thing!" Beaming, you trace one of the scars on his abdomen with your finger, noting with a smirk how it tenses under the touch. "One of your colleagues gained a faithful admirer. Quite a hopeful one, if I am being honest."

Pierro hums, showing that he is actually listening, and reaches his hand to gently pat your hair. You are so pretty, leaning on him, breasts pushed against his leg, back arched and fingers caressing his stomach, which soon becomes an absentminded gesture as your unkissed mouth moves in speech.

"She's been coming every week for three months already, lightening candles for his safe return."

'Not Arlechino, not Columbina,' he notes, attempting to distract himself from the image before him, but still noticing every single detail about his perfect wife. Hand slides to graze the side of your face and put a stray lock behind your ear. You glance up at him and, holding his gaze, turn your head in the opposite direction to press a kiss to the inside of his wrist, just above the wedding band. Pierro sharply inhales.

"Either way, she's been confessing her affections and, as the priest described it, did so "in a dreamy voice a young girl would talk about upcoming marriage". You think I spoke to my parents the same way about you?"

Your gaze turns curious and the notion of your question finally manages to return his focus. It's not often that you voice the things from the past, but on particularly calm days like today it just slips.

"I don't know. Did you?"

"I don't remember…"

Yes, that is why. And sometimes it just hurts.

"But no matter. Honestly I am quite surprised that people like her are a rare occasion. I mean, all of the Harbingers have qualities that might make you fall in love with them."

"Do many live or get close enough to witness those?" Pierro raises a brow and you roll your eyes, poking his side.

"Fair point. That's probably why she chose to fall for Childe. Young, energetic and outgoing he seems to wear his heart on his sleeve."

"Tartaglia, huh?" Makes sense, if he thinks of it. "But a marriage? Already?"

"Of course not! All I said she sounded like that, the only way the wedding is happening is in her imagination!" You burst into giggles at your lover's silly assumption, not missing him huff and tighten a hold on your hand.

"You are quite talkative today."

"I haven't seen you for four months! I missed you! You can't seriously expect me to be silent just staring at you with wide lovesick eyes."

As the man watches you dig your elbow in his thigh to push yourself off of him to stand up with the most fake offended look on your face, he thinks that his life would've ended had you succumbed to the fall of Khaenri'ah. You are the one keeping the part of him alive, cradling his heart in your loving hands, passing your warmth and aligning his heartbeat with yours.

Pierro loves you with everything left in him, and he himself can't measure if it's a lot or a little. He doesn't remember what it's like being humanly soft - but you tell him he is doing enough. And he chooses to believe you.

When a shadow is cast upon him his attention is stolen back by the present. Even with his huge complexion he has to crane his neck a bit to look at you, standing at your full height and staring down at him.

"But you are right," white lashes flutter when a warm palm cups a scarred side of his face, but he doesn't let himself succumb to the peaceful feeling, not yet, "it's time to finish with the conversations for today. Let's move to the bedroom."

Pierro is convinced that your body was created for worship. So soft, skin smooth despite all your hardships, locks thick and heavy, cascading down your shoulders, lips plump and sweet, lower one seductively caught between pearly teeth as you lead him back to your room, holding his wrist with both of your hands.

You are bared to each other, and can sense the space filling with the heat of arousal your bodies radiate. Every step closer to the bed ignites a small fire in the pit of your stomach, fueled by anticipation. Just a couple of meters and he'll push you down and pin with his weight, caging you with no thoughts of letting go for a long while, oh, you can already feel it with every cell.

With an abrupt stop you tug him closer so his body practically bumps into yours, and, releasing his wrist, cup his face instead.

"You are so handsome," you smile, standing on your tiptoes to reach and plant a kiss in the corner of his mouth. "And I bet you'd look even better on top of me."

Tempting, but he has other plans for now.

Your eyes grow wider, but a sparkle of excitement is clear in them, when the tall, broad man slowly, not breaking eye contact, gets down on his knees. Well, he did say your body was created for worshipping, so it makes Pierro your most devoted follower.

His lips are a relief against your heated skin and you sharply exhale, sliding palms to the back of his head. The kiss lingers against your stomach, the only 'ugly' part of your divine body. The place where the curse decided to bloom, circling your waist akin a wide belt, variations of dark splotches creating a bizarre picture on the canva of the skin. Still it is lesser than his is, but the price you paid for it was a devastating one.

"You are beautiful," he whispers, pressing another kiss, and then another, and then some more, leading a path down your pelvis. "So, so beautiful…"

"So now we are exchanging compliments?" Your fingers play with the longer strands of hair at the back of his neck as you are looking down at him, not missing a move, not missing the way his eyelids slide close, when he is almost there.

"Rather speaking truth," is his short answer, before his hands start prying your thighs apart.

"One leg on my shoulder," the command sends shocks through your body and you immediately obey, almost too excitedly throwing your leg over his shoulder. A kiss to the inside of your thigh is your reward.

"Now stand still, and once I secure my arms, put the other one too."

The anticipated display of physical strength makes you lose your voice for a moment and all you can do is quickly nod.

"Words, my dear, I need your words."

"I-I understood."

"Good girl."

The praise makes you blush and is enough of a distraction from what he is in the process of. But not a minute later, both your legs are on his shoulders, their broadness giving you enough room to keep your thighs spread. The globes of your ass are literally resting in the crook of his elbows, arms reaching up your back and palms splaying against your shoulder blades, creating a perfect support to lean into.

Your breath hitches when his warm breath ghosts against your slicked folds and heart begins violently beating with your body realizing the sheer strength of its partner and future pleasure this man is going to provide. And oh Archons, centuries proved how masterful he is in both.

First shudder wrecks your body when his thick tongue traces along your slit, coating it with saliva and teasing you with flicks of the tip. You blissfully sigh, closing your eyes and enjoying the small shocks sent down your spine with every drag of his wet muscle, before he steals your breath away by dipping it inside.

Pierro hums, content with tasting you again after so long, and you are so pliant in his arms, putting an ultimate trust in him, that his own sex swells at the thought. The tip of his tongue catches against your clit, which makes you gasp and tighten your hold on the back of his head, involuntarily bucking hips forward. But he is not going to give you everything right away, no, he is going to show you his faith slowly, so you can understand every single notion behind his actions of praise and worship.

That is why he is drawing his face away, smirking at your needy whine. Attention shifts on your thighs - the last time he thoroughly marked them, so harshly in fact, so you would’ve still had them aching for days to remember the time spent together. Now your flesh is so pristine clean, that he hardly suppresses the urge to bite you right away. Instead he wills himself to plant kisses, sucking the skin occasionally to leave the blooming spots to darken later in beautiful hickies, undeniably hidden by your long and many layered garment. The hairs of his beard tickles you, contrasting with the slight tingles of pain, when he decides to lightly catch the skin between his teeth and urge you to pant and squirm in his hold.

"Stop teasing me…" You try to turn his head back into the direction you most need him in, but yelp, when he digs his nails in your back and bites on your other thigh. "Pierro!"

He only groans, flexing his shoulders to shift you in a more comfortable position, licking the stinging spot he's just abused.

Biting your lip, you have half a mind to reach a hand and touch yourself since he doesn't, but the man knows you well. He glares up at you, the dangerous glint in his eyes doing not much to scare you, but that's not his intention. It's a warning.

"Don't look at me like this," you huff, still taking one of your hands from behind his head, but reaching to cup your breast instead, "I can take a little bit of teasing, but not when you give me a taste and then ignore my aching."

The way you roll the erected bud between your fingers ignites fire in the pit of his stomach, leaving his cock half hard. Who is the one talking about teasing?

A soft cry leaves your lips, when he finally dives back in. Your lover sucks on your clit like there is no tomorrow, pressing the tip of his tongue against it hard. It twitches in his mouth from stimulation and your back arches, fingers grabbing and messing his hair from the intensity he's attacked you with.

Pretty moans and deep groans fill the room as he delves his tongue into the hole - rubbing against your walls deliciously. Slick gathers at his chin and slowly drips down, just a couple landing on his twitching length. You taste divine, in all the years of his life he's never drunk anything that would come close in comparison to your nectar. He grinds his face deeper into your pussy, beard tickling the insides of the thighs and nose nudging the swollen nub, as he savors you.

Your heels dig in his back, your own arches into his arms, and you feel so so heavenly. The palm pressing on his head is as secure as his own hold on you, not letting him back off this time, so unwilling to lose this building pressure in your belly, that'll soon explode, giving you the sweet release you've been yearning for.

Pierro relishes in your throaty whine when he drags the first orgasm out of you, gulping down whatever your spasming cunt has to offer. He feels your legs trembling, but he also knows that this tiny form of relief is nothing compared to how strongly he can actually make you cum on his fingers and cock, when you writhe and thrash under him, begging for no more, or when you are stuffed to the brink and unable to move, weakly clawing at his shoulders to stop. He wonders where tonight will lead you two to.

With an oof your back hits the bed, and his arms slide from under your body. Your hand drops to your side, as the one that was fondling with your chest rests on it, feeling your heart beating against the outstretched palm.

"See, was it so hard?" You smile at him, rising to his feet and wiping his glistening mouth and chin. "Maybe I should sit on your face more. It brings you to action faster."

Wordlessly Pierro grabs your waist and shifts you higher on the bed, climbing onto right after. He lets you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer, slotting your mouths together and sharing a kiss full of unspoken passion. He presses himself on you, pinching your hip and making you gasp, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth. You taste yourself and moan, sliding your own appendage against his, licking at it playfully.

Only you make him feel like this - hot, bothered, desperate, thoughts reigned by you, - everything the Jester is not, but your husband is. Only your touches and your embraces can comfort and relax him, only your kisses steal his breath away and cloud his mind, only your softness against his sturdiness is a perfect match, one that makes so much sense. Only with your heart his agrees to synchronize, sharing one beat, one melody. Only because of you he still knows what love is and that this is the feeling you two share.

When he breaks apart, chest rising and falling in sync with yours, he can't help but focus on your neck - another canva begging to be painted and who is he to decline? Your head falls back as his teeth graze down your throat. Legs, having a mind of their own, spread, and Pierro doesn't miss a chance to use it.

Your cunt is still sensitive when he plunges a long finger inside. Walls flutter and tighten around sudden intrusion, and the skillful thumb starts drawing slow circles on your clit.

"So tight…" He growls into your skin, leaving a tenth hickey on your neck and collarbones. "In four months you must've forgotten the shape of me…"

"I'll be quick to remember, mmm," you bite your lip, when he starts moving and curling his digit, all the while switching his attention to your full breasts. Your moans grow louder than before as he teases your pebbled nipples with his tongue, enveloping them in his mouth, gently sucking and releasing with a wet pop, blowing cool air on them right after only to feel you squeeze his finger.

Pierro is working your open with one and then two digits, not forgetting to play with the bundle of nerves, making the slick gush that soon even you could hear the squelching noise your pussy is making. What would've made you shy and embarrassed on your first couple of nights with him, now turns you on more than anything, prompting you to roll your hips to meet his own movements. Sometimes you feel his hard dick brush against your thigh and you gaze at him in silent question. He shakes his head, declining your help, and adds the third finger.

Now that's a really tight fit and he has a hard time dragging three fingers against your gummy, but resisting walls. You attempt to relax, but there is little you can do with how big everything about him is. Your body grows restless and fingers dig into the pillow above your head, back lifting off the mattress in a sensual arch and feet planting to bend the knees. Once or twice his real name drips like honey from your swollen lips and the man's heart skips a beat or two, your own name whispered between your ribs as kisses are pressed against the skin of your stomach.

When his mouth envelopes your clit again your moans get louder and thighs twitch to close around his head, but he uses his now free hand to push them away and pin you by the lower stomach down. Your fingers reach in his hair again, tugging on silver strands when he sucks particularly hard or curls his digits and brushes that delicious spot inside, that makes you see stars bright enough to outshine the ones in the sky.

Pierro loves when you grab onto him, doesn't matter where or how, he just loves having your hands on his body: holding, caressing, palming, squeezing, cupping… Every single touch makes him aware of your mood and desire to have him, which makes bringing you to mind-blowing orgasm even more satisfying. You inevitably scratch him, leaving a mark of your own.

He softly hisses as you dig your nails in the back of his neck, almost breaking skin to draw blood, and with a trembling scream cum. Pierro fingers you through your high, feeling your walls spasming and slick running down his hand and your thighs, soon to ruin the sheets, and watches you shudder, mouth hanging open and sweet noises creating a pretty melody. Could anyone witness a scene more divine? He can swear he is the only one.

You bite your lip when he plants a kiss to your clit and slowly pulls his fingers out, leaving you so empty, and more yearning than before.

"I want you," is your breathless demand, hands reaching for him. The man quickly grabs them, bringing closer to his mouth to kiss every single knuckle.

"Patience, my dear," is his quiet murmur, which makes you grimace.

"What is here to wait for? I've been waiting for so long, I have patience of a saint!" Literally. "Tonight is the only time I can forget about it, please don't take it away from me, I know you want me too."

And you are right. After having your taste and getting to feel the welcoming softness of your pussy he wants nothing more to sink in and mold you back to the shape of his cock.

Then why wouldn't he do just that? Taking wife's lovely advice never hurts.

He places a large hand above your head to steady himself, preventing him from crushing you with his burly mass. You hold your breath in anticipation, when the big mushroom tip parts your lips and presses against your opening. With a deep inhale Pierro grits his teeth and pushes inside, stomach immediately flexing when your walls swallow an inch. His gaze is on your face, making sure you are alright as he is slowly working his massive dick into your cunt. He knows you can take him, even if sometimes after big breaks your body screams that it can't, but the habit of checking on you just never died.

As he finally fully settles inside, he understands that his ability to move is to be cruelly tested. Your walls have an almost vice grip on his girth and the man above you groans as you tighten even more with sweet moans falling from your lips. Hair disheveled, hands fisting the shits beside your head, legs desperately trying to wrap around his wide waist but to no avail. Your struggle - to embrace his body, to take in his girth, - amuses him, but he has some pity for his dear wife, as his big scarred palms slide down your hips, leaving a trail of fire igniting sensations on your skin, and up to your knees, grasping under them and securing your legs where you want them, where he wants them. You cannot escape, you are his.

"If you don't relax, I won't be able to move."

"But it's-" you mewl when he experimentally rolls his hips.

"Don't tell me it's too much. You've taken it for centuries, don't tell me you can't take your husband's cock now," the man smirks at the way your eyes light up, and the hand with a bracelet on it reaches out to him. He lets himself a moment of vulnerability, leaning forward and into your palm, eyes sliding close and hips stilling, pelvis pressed impossibly close to yours. You feel the hairs of his beard grazing your skin, and softly run the thumb over his lips, usually drawn in a tight line. Breath chokes when he opens his mouth and bites the tip of your finger, gently catching it between his teeth. Your heart skips a beat and you tighten again, eliciting another groan from him and prompting the jaws get a little bit tighter too.

"Relax," sounds more like an angry order, but you know it's just because the man is slowly but surely losing control because of your body.

"What, can't you take your wife's pussy?" You cheekily shoot his words back at him and instantly regret it.

Because Pierro lets go of your poor thumb and launches forward, crushing you a little with his weight, and closes his mouth on your neck. Your whole face goes red from how lewdly you moan when teeth bite hard on that special place that makes you go absolutely wild once stimulated. You still haven't figured out the cause of these, and making you a subject of Dottore's research is the last thing Pierro would do in his life. You discovered it after the curse settled in your bodies and just decided to embrace this new feature, since it proved not to be causing any harm. Quite contrary, it brings you unimaginable pleasure.

Your whole body heats when he tightens his jaws a little more and you claw at his back. You have no idea what you want - him to let go or stay like this, but the unbearable need for him to move gnaws at your insides.

The man smirks when you arch into him, breasts pressing to his chest and pelvises flush against each other. He rolls his hips again, and this time his cock slides smoothly between your walls.

"Good job, love," you shudder and whimper when hot breath ghosts against your ear. Pierro murmurs quiet words of consolation, licking at the bruised place, where the dents of his teeth are already becoming pretty pronounced. He doesn't forget to thrust into you, setting a steady pace and trying some angles to find the perfect one to hit all your favorite spots.

It takes a bit of time, but he figures it out, grabbing you under one knee and pushing it forward to put you in a position that lets him reach deeper, tip kissing your cervix. From now on he grows relentless with only one thought in mind - to satiate you. He fills you over and over with his length, bulging veins caressing your walls, eliciting the sweetest noises your throat is capable of producing, each one sending shivers down his spine.

"More… Please, more…"

You look truly debauched under him, so different from the serene and gentle expression everyone is used to. Only he can see you like this and it feeds his ego, eyes glinting with lust and thrusts growing even more relentless, each bursting pleasure. Skin slaps against skin, sound mixing in you joined noises of bliss. Pierro is grunting above you, pace hard and deep, driving you closer for the third orgasm. He releases your knee, but throws that leg on his shoulder instead, leaning on you even more, so you practically scream when thick hairs on his abdomen start rubbing against your neglected clit.

“Just like that…” he murmurs, both palms firmly planted on both sides of your head as he practically pistons his dick in your cunt. You can only wrap your hands around his arms to steady yourself at least somehow, but it all comes crashing when the tight knot in your stomach snaps.

Your eyes grow wide in the mind-numbing orgasm and your head falls back. It’s almost embarrassing how fast you reached your high this time, your stamina failing you, absolutely destroyed by your husband’s actions. He is still moving inside, helping you to ride it out, snug between your walls, where he belongs.

However you both know it’s far from the end. Suddenly he picks his speed, changing deep and hard pace to a fast one, driving himself into you almost wildly, chasing his own high this time. Your grip onto him only gets stronger, nails biting in his skin as your pussy tightens every time he pushes in. Pierro’s name flows from your lips like a mantra and he lets out a growl-like grunt of your own name. The loud squelches that your recently milked cunt make are clouding his mind and making his reddened cockhead leak with arousal.

Your gaze is hazy from overwhelming pleasure, but even in such a state you could see his tense jawline, blown pupils, drops of sweat sliding down the side of his face and flaring nostrils. The sight makes your pussy contract especially hard, forcing the man to choke and halt in his movements. He feels the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching, and knows, that you are hanging at the brink of yours as well.

“Cum with me,” you frantically nod at his request, heating up from the way he grunts, rutting into you, nudging your pulsing cervix as he fills you with his hot cum. It triggers you and with a loud moan of his name you let the orgasm wash over you again.

Your lover is gentle, grinding slowly, pushing out just a little and then all the way in to keep his load inside. He pants heavily, shoulders dropping and head lowering to press his forehead against your knee, eyes sliding close to catch a small break from the first long-awaited release he’s just experienced.

Moments like this - away from his duties, with you in his arms, filled with absolute bliss, - remind him happiness is possible, that he can rest in your embrace and be caressed by your love, be it in the form of emotional connection or the primal need to mate through sex. Sometimes one thought of you is enough to make his day brighter. Seeing each other is a blessing, since he doesn’t have time to hide in the shadows of the Cathedral to watch you speak to the Tsaritsa’s people, and you have no opportunity to slip out unnoticed and unquestioned to go and visit him. This is why every touch of your hands, every kiss, every thrust, every word exchanged in the privacy of his manor matters, and you try to go as long as your bodies are able to.

Only when you let go of his wrists and relax in his hold, does he stop his movements and carefully drop your leg back onto the bed. Then, ignoring your protests, he slowly slides out, mesmerized by your gaping hole, desperate to be stuffed again by his still hard cock, so wet with your juices it almost shines in the dim light of the bedroom.

You scowl at him for leaving you empty, but your gaze doesn't lose softness reserved for this man only. The amazed way his eyes are glued to you warms your heart and lessens the ache in your core from being ripped of the opportunity to cockwarm him.

"See something you like, my dear?" You flash him a knowing grin and run one of your hands sensually down your body. Star-shaped pupils dart at the movement and immediately sharpen, when two fingers reach and spread your folds. "Do you, perhaps, like the mess you made of me?"

"I do," he breathes out. "Always do."

With a sweet smile you reach to his shoulder, gently sliding an open palm over tense flesh. You are far from satisfied, desire igniting even brighter in you, so you use his moment of distraction, lure him in with your moves, only to gather your strength and roll your bodies, reversing the position. Galactic eyes widen slightly, when his back hits the mattress and your body hovers over his.

"My turn," you lunge forward and bite on his neck, pride stirring in your chest when your lover's self-control slips and he actually moans.

"You…" You hum at his low growl, lapping at the bitten place, knowing that the job to arise his hunger here is done.

"Yes?" With a cheeky grin you face him, closely watching his expression, loving the way his lips parted in silent pants.

"A wicked woman."

"Wicked? How rude and salacious calling a high priestess such names."

"Not her," a big scarred hand reaches forward and cups your cheek. So warm. "But the woman I married."

"Oh? So it's a good thing?" You lean happily in his hold, rubbing against wide palm. Pierro slowly lifts his upper body, steading yours on top of his with the hold on your hip, and takes the sitting position with you settled on his thighs. Hot breath brushes against your lips and you let your eyelids slide close.

"The best."

As he indulges you with a fervor-filled kiss, you reach between your bodies and graze just the tips of your fingers against his cock. Two sets of eyes fly open at the same time, but while he stares at you with yearning, your eyes crease in mischief. Simple caresses soon turn into your palm wrapping around his girth and slowly sliding up and down his semi-hard length. The bite you've granted him just moments ago does it work magnificently, turning him on the same way it was with you. Attempts to restrain his hips from jerking up to thrust into your hand don't go unnoticed by you and you tug on his cock roughly to elicit a groan out of him and bury your tongue in his mouth.

Palm which was resting on your cheek up to this moment abandons its place and drops to your other hip. Thumbs smooth over the night sky painted skin of your waist, soothingly rubbing. It makes you hum in content, caressing the cavern of his mouth languidly.

Palming and groping continues for a while, shift in pace obvious after the previous round (if you were to count by the times your lover came). His cock finally stands proudly against his toned stomach once again and you lift yourself with his help, lining the tip to your hole.

Pierro feels how his own semen drips down onto his length as you position your body the most comfortable way possible given the challenging stretch your thighs have to endure because of the wideness of his figure, including the hips. Pussy inevitably releases thick white substance, coating him and surely ruining the sheets even more.

Your walls show no resistance when he slides back home. How fascinating this part of your body is - molding to his shape quickly no matter how much time has passed since the last time. He knows he is big, he's made you drool and cry and mindless plenty of times in the past (he still can, but it takes more rounds and much rougher behavior), yet your pussy always takes him.

As if to prove the statement, you press a palm against your stomach and feel an outline of him, nestled deep inside your heat, a prominent bulge appearing whenever he shifts.

"I missed this…" You admit with a smile, rubbing up and down, absolutely enjoying the view of his greeted teeth, heavily rising and falling chest. “Mmm, I can feel you twitch inside…” Your teasing voice is so beautiful and the man can’t help it but lean forward and kiss the column of your throat.

“I missed this too…”

“Then let’s take the most we can from this night, shall we?”

As your lips meet in another kiss and hips start rocking again, Pierro silently agrees, secretly, just like every time, praying to no one in particular for the night to never be over.

taglist: @we-wo-we-wo, @secretartisanclodhairdo, @eiscoathanger

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #pierro x reader #pierro x fem!reader #jester x reader #pierro genshin #genshin impact smut #moonlit pearl stories #my longest fic so far

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