Fire Emblem: Fates Fan-fiction || Corrin/Camilla || NSFW
This brief addition to an existing work was written at the request of one of my patreons! \o/ thank you for your support! And, as always, you can read it over on AO3
As always, I appreciate comments more than–OH GOD AM I TURNING INTO THE DE FACTO AO3 DRAGON GIRL??
Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Corrin. 😮
(slight warning for rough-er than average sex, but i don’t think it’ll trip too many ppl up o_o)
“And now that you’ve ably demonstrated your understanding of that lesson.” Camilla took a brush from the table. “Let’s return to strategy, shall we?”
Corrin stroked sweat from her brow and ran the back of her hand against her lips, still damp and redolent of Camilla’s cunt. “Is now the proper time? I’d like to bathe before—”
“We’re finished when I say we’re finished, dear.”
Camilla swirled her brush in a pot of black paint. Wet, soft bristles tickled down the hollow of Corrin’s throat. “When it comes to your defenses, you’re vulnerable here.” The horsehair tip outlined of her left nipple. “And here.” Then the right. “And here as well. Not to mention…” Camilla refreshed the brush, and, after the requisite pause to ensure she had Corrin’s full attention, swept it in a squiggle down Corrin’s side. “And your flanks, of course, dreadfully exposed.”
“Camilla…” whispered Corrin.
“Tut tut, not now,” Camilla replied. With a light push between Corrin’s breasts, she guided her to recline atop the table. “I’m trying to keep you safe, after all!”
Corrin’s lower lip shivered with the spill of her breath. Her petite cock bobbed gently with the squirm of her hips.
“Very good,” Camilla said with an adroit nod. “Moving on.” The place of a figurine, a cobalt pegasus knight, in the hollow of Corrin’s breasts. “We know how you love your winged riders.” A sly little smile. When Corrin opened her mouth to protest this implication, Camilla silenced her by placing one of the small figurines between her lips. “I’m not jealous, mind. A Pegasus has her place just as—” Fishing up an emerald wyvern figurine from the table, she placed it lightly at the base of Corrin’s cock. “Just as a wyvern has hers.” A flash of her red eye. “Would you like this wyvern to take her place?”
Corrin groaned, the figurine between her lips glimmering, imprisoning of her darting tongue. Camilla reined her, gloved hands closing firm around sprouting horns. “Restrain yourself, my lord.”
Corrin did. Camilla sat astride her, sweeping the lightest touch of the ready lips of her cunt like a whisper against the cherry red tip of Corrin’s cock. Corrin faintly yowled, her mouth growing wide in passion-mad grin, showing sprouting fangs. Camilla cooed, instructing the motion of Corrin’s hips with the patient stroke of her own. “Mind your defenses, my lord.”
With the aching release of her thighs, she descended.
Her warmth rippled around Corrin’s, soothing energy. With Corrin’s jaw trembling beneath a moan of passion, the figurine slipped from the grip of her teeth, and a cascade followed as all the other figures tumbled away with the shudder of her painted body. Corrin’s fingers gripped at Camilla’s flanks, dreadfully exposed as they were, sharpening nails scraping down Camilla’s opulent flesh. Camilla shivered, the shake of her body inescapable, piercing even her immaculate control. “Mind your… defenses… my lord…” She said, again. “Or…” A gasp, at the rippling pressure inside of her. Her cunt pulsed, cajoling Corrin to further stiffness, the soft lavender of her pubic hair tickling the base of Corrin’s shaft. She gasped, red eye gone wide, lip seized between grinding teeth. Gloved hand braced around Corrin’s nape for leverage. “Prove you’ve the offense to…” Dart of tongue over wanton lips. A squint of effort, at the corner of her eye. “Compensate…”
At this tacit implication, Corrin could hold no longer. With a roar of bestial intent, she flung Camilla onto the table. Pieces of cast ceramic, carved wood, agate and amber tumbled away with the shuddering impact. Camilla’s body hitched upwards, offering herself, and she giggled through panting breath.
A squeal, as the surge of Corrin’s body met hers. Corrin’s weight fell upon her; she drove herself to the hilt. Camilla moaned, her hips recoiling into her lover’s. Her cheek rocked against the rough felt that served as plains on the war table.
They clashed with the stunning impact of soft flesh and hard muscle. Corrin’s hands thumped down on either side of Camilla. The wild lengthening of her nails into claws stripped the table’s felt, but she held firm. This time, Corrin did not resist the change, she managed it.
She embraced it.
“Yes!” Camilla cried out. “A strong lord is nothing without a mind! Without control!” Gloved hands struck out for balance, finishing the job Corrin started, scattering priceless artifacts of strategy and war over the table, to smash and clatter against the floor like so much worthless crockery. “Show me!” She wheezed with excitement and pride. “Show me you’ve the will to protect what you love!”
The relish of her intent exploded from her core. The full protrusion of her horns, the tear of her wings from her shoulders. She panted with eldritch energy, the heat of her body burning Camilla’s painted lines from her skin. She fell forward, cloaking Camilla with her smaller shape. The brusque pounds Corrin’s hips lurched Camilla forward, sensitive nipples grinding through the downy fuzz of simulated grasslands as her breasts lodged themselves between the dueling peaks of artificial mountains. With every rampant throw, Camilla cried out beneath her. A hand reached back for Corrin’s hip, gripping her close, inward, into the warm comfort of her lover’s embrace.
Corrin grunted with each thrust, focusing on a welling pool of sweat between Camilla’ shoulder blades. It became her locus, her fetish, her center. Urged on by glove and cunt, Corrin made use of the body before her. Pain criss-crossed her body in seismic lines. So what? Let it. It was nothing worse than she’d endured a hundred times before, a thousand, in other situations, in other places, without someone like Camilla to keep her…
“Camilla!” Corrin cried out, the name barely discernible through her fanged mouth. With a climatic thrust, she spilled herself loose into Camilla, sharp fingernails scrawling a welting miss of lines over Camilla’s back. The body beneath her took her to its absolute limit, and met her thrust with eager push to achieve that goal. Throat bobbing, lips fluttering, her body seized, she began to shake, her arms grew weak, and then her legs, and then, quite soon after, came a terrible clatter as the world split and shot upwards in Corrin’s vision…
She woke with a wince. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but Camilla had already dragged Corrin’s shaking body, cold with sweat, into her lap by the horns. They sat together, leaned against one of the massive table legs.
“Camilla.” Corrin whimpered. “T-that hurts.”
“Terribly sorry.” Camilla’s touch immediately fled the curve of one of Corrin’s horns. Coming to her senses, Corrin jerked away, as if to flee. “Don’t look at me,” she wanted to say.
But her speech was silly, and slow, from fangs not yet retreated. Before she had the words out, Camilla had her around the face, gripping her tight to screw their gazes together. Stifled, Corrin sucked uncertain breaths through her nose, dizzied by the crimson glint of Camilla’s eye, and the warm balm of breath over skin, as Camilla said:
“Try and stop me.”