The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Varisia Primfana]

"Coquette," his wife says with a kind of exasperated amusement, taking her hand away briefly to bop his nose with the pointer finger of the ungloved hand. "It makes it very hard to check on your condition when you do that," she chides him, leaning forward a bit further to tuck a pillow under her wife's head.

[Coquette Blacquin]

He stills, then, letting her resume her peering into his eyes... long enough to suddenly jerk and headbutt her in the forehead. 

[Varisia Primfana]

And finds his head locked in place three inches from contact. Varisia finishes moves the pillow, her expression turning sad even as her eyes start to smolder with a twisted mix of arousal and rage. "You don't seem to have any trouble focusing your eyes, your breathing is even and smooth and your temperature is, if not perfectly right, then close enough I can't tell without fetching the thermal-sense crystal. So."  She closes those last three inches to press a kiss against Cedric's lips, an awkward thing given the ballgag. Then she takes his lower lip in her teeth and starts to bite down. Gently, at first, then harder and harder, until he can taste blood.

[Coquette Blacquin]

Cedric arches his back with a hiss, refusing to cry out. I've taken worse. 

[Varisia Primfana]

Humming with pleasure, the lady drow blood takes happy advantage of this to rub her breasts again his own. Briefly anyway, as she soon let's go of his lip with a faint sigh. "I find myself rather liking the slimness of your waist and limbs, but I do hope that bearing a child helps round out your tits and ass."

She leans back, running her fingers down his torso. One leather clad, one bare, both far too aware of how to touch and tease his flesh to wrong out a hateful reaction. "If that doesn't work, we could always look into getting some alteration magic," she muses. "Wouldn't that be nice, my lovely Little Bitch? Nothing absurd of course, you're my wife, not some fuck toy, but certainly a good handful and a half, mmh?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

I hate you, he vows. I'll never let you change me. Never. I will fight you until the day I die. Strap in for the fight of your life, fucker. 

[Shisou]

Dinner between Zevran and Shisou goes well. Shisou fills him in on a lot of the house gossip, including the broad strokes of Coquette's backstory: sold by her father, unwilling but making the best of it, the way her moods seem to be mercurial and the theory the Twins have that it's her way of coping with being in her own special hell. 

On the walk back, Shisou offers to show Zevran his lizard -- "N-n-n-n-not a e-e-e-euphm-m-m-ism, I sw-sw-swear!" -- before settling on, of all thing, fashion. "I t-h-th-ink a Touk-kami sty-yle out-t-tfit w-w-would s-suit y-y-you."

[Zevran]

Zevran hums softly, a thoughtful sound, as he slows to run  his fingers over some flowers growing on the side of the road. And, coincidentally, get a quick look of the surrounding landscape. A stream, looks wild, not artificial. Good to keep in mind. "Other than 'lots of silk' and 'robes but not robes' I don't know much about Toukami fashion, truth be told."

[Shisou]

Shisou launches into a long, halting explanation of hakamas and a sort of split skirt that they're worn with, making up formal wear. "It w-w-w-ould a-a-add b-b-b-bulk, y-you're v-v-very l-l-l-ean, b-b-but y-you h-h-h-have c-c-clean l-l-l-lines. L-like N-Nath-th-than-iel."

[Zevran]

Zevran turns to face Shisou directly, a flicker of a smirk showing. "Clean lines? Oh, I assure you, sweet Shisou, that vast majority of my lines are very rigidly filthy." Okay. 'Filthy' is easy, that one makes a lot of sense. Even 'rigidly' and 'sweet' make at least some sense. But how the fuck did he make 'vast,' 'lines' and even 'assure' sound lewd and suggestive?

[Shisou]

A blush creeps across his cheeks. "O-o-o-o-oh," he stammers, then grins. "I-i-i-s th-th-that s-s-s-s-o?"

[Zevran]

Well well, more passion there than I first thought. "It is so," he agrees with a nod. "But I believe you owe me a lizard showing?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

Meanwhile, back at the house, Madam Noire was doing paperwork when Bull stepped out to get more tea, but when he returns, Coquette is pacing, hands behind her back. Or his back, judging by the two words he spares for Bull when the man returns: "Bull. Good." 

[The Iron Bull]

"Damn right I am, boyo," Bull says with a grin, then points at finger at Cedric. "Oh, sorry. You. Handsome."

[Coquette Blacquin]

Cedric grins as he rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes. Close the door, I plan to go out tonight and I've got a favor to ask you."