Apologies I've been gone so long. Honestly, I've taken on too many projects in this last year alongside my new job and it's all been a little overwhelming. I had to take a break and completely change up how I go about things for the sake of my wellbeing.
Updates will still come to this story, but I won't be rushing to get things done anymore.
...
Now, talking about the story, there are two directions I'd like to take things in from here and I'd like to read your input.
Would you rather we go down the canon route and have Michael go with Louise to the Charming Fairy Inn? Or, would you prefer we do something more original and have Kirche's former lovers challenge Michael to duels in the school's upcoming annual tourmanent?
A Louise or Kirche-focused route? Which would you prefer?
Leave a review and let me know.
...
Guiche trudges through Lenore's streets in the hopes of finding solace in his favourite bookshop.
Fouquet's Seduction
Guiche de Gramont trudges through Lenore's waterlogged streets, his constitution matching the late evening weather all too well.
The rain has only intensified since his fight with Monti, and the wind has picked up, turning the already chilling temperature even colder.
The rainwater is also making it difficult for him to keep his eyes open, and the wind is making it even harder.
His heart set on finding refuge in his favourite bookshop, a small but elegant place just across from the Charming Fairy Inn, the young nobleman presses on.
The cold has caused his teeth to chatter, and his body to shake, and he can barely feel his toes or fingers any more.
Finally, the familiar storefront comes into view, and the boy sighs with relief.
He then breaks into a run, hoping to make it inside as soon as possible.
The bell chimes as he enters, and a wave of warm air washes over him.
"Thank the Goddess," the boy whispers, shaking off some of the excess water.
A gentle, unfamiliar voice calls out to him from across the room.
"Welcome, sir. Please, come inside," it offers warmly.
Wiping the water from his eyes, Guiche's vision clears and he looks around.
The shopkeeper, a tall and beautiful woman with light skin and piercing eyes hidden behind wide-framed glasses sits at her counter, smiling at him kindly.
Guiche looks around the small shop. It is almost empty save for himself, the young lady behind the counter, and an elderly man sitting in the far corner.
He turns his attention back to the woman and flashes her a grateful smile.
"Much obliged, madam," the soaked-to-the-core student offers before making for the young bookkeeper.
He stops to run his drenched fingers along a selection of erotic books and bites his lip as he regards the girl at the counter, a plan formulating in his still-lovelorn mind.
"Is there anything in particular I can help you with, sir? Are you in the market for new books, perhaps?"
Guiche tilts his head and winks at the attractive woman. She then blushes and smiles shyly.
"Not especially, though my thirst for romance is of the stronger sort now," the young chevalier sighs out, wiping the water from his forehead with the sleeve of his drenched coat.
Thinking of Monti's and Michael's betrayal, a rage flares within him. "My poor, delicate sensibilities can hardly cope with this injustice and loveless indifference."
The girl nods and pouts in a cute, innocent sort of manner. She then makes her way over to him and pauses, her eyes darting across the high bookshelf they are currently standing before.
"Certainly sounds like a need for a good story," the girl observes with a polite smile as she does. "Are you interested in any genres?"
Guiche takes a hearty moment to look the young lady over whilst she examines the shelf.
She stands with an air of quiet authority, her long, platinum-green hair tied into a long ponytail. A pair of delicate, silver-rimmed glasses rest on the bridge of her nose, the lenses reflecting the dim light of her surroundings. Her eyes, a deep amber with hints of gold, shine with a sharp, analytical gleam as she scans the bookshelf.
Adorned in a long black cloak, the girl shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She then moves her glasses to the edge of her delicate, slender nose and begins running her index finger across the books' spines.
"Romance, actually," Guiche replies, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. "Although, I'd much prefer to learn your name if you're happy to oblige."
Remaining facing forward, the beautiful, youthful lady purses her soft, pink lips. She hums aloud and then flashes the adolescent noble a small, humble smirk.
"My name is Fouqu- Felicia," the young woman quickly corrects herself.
With the correction unnoticed by Guiche, the young lady then turns her eyes up towards the young noble. A dark blush spreads across her pale, ivory skin.
"F-Felicia Fontiare," she offers, her tone wavering with a sense of endearing hesitation. "What about yourself, dear sir?"
The young blond mage closes his eyes and smiles fondly.
"I am Guiche the Bronze," he proudly proclaims, slicking his soaked hair back to look more presentable.
Felicia giggles softly, her voice smooth and bewitching, and Guiche cannot help but stare.
"A pleasure, Mr Gramont," she says politely before placing her index finger upon the spine of a dusty, but ornate-looking romance paperback.
Still turned to the bookshelf, Felicia reaches out and takes Guiche's hand in hers.
The touch of her hand sends goosebumps up his arm and Guiche shivers.
"... And what kind of romance are you looking for?" the bookkeeper asks, gently squeezing his hand.
The warmth of her hands, and the feeling of her fingers brushing his, sends a wave of longing through Guiche's young body.
He lets out a deep sigh, and then answers, his voice breaking slightly.
"Something sweet. Something with a happy ending," the young man replies.
He swallows, his throat suddenly dry.
"Do you, err... Do you have anything like that?"
The young man thinks back to his misfortune and his lost love.
"Some tale with a happy ending that will grant me some measure of moral absolution after... Well, the trouble I've been through in recent days."
The young woman flashes a gentle smile, then leans in and whispers conspiratorially in his ear, her warm breath tickling his ear.
"I'd suggest this one," she breathes, tapping the spine of a particularly rustic-looking volume.
Guiche turns his head.
Before he can even react, the pretty girl presses her soft, luscious lips to his cheek.
The young blonde, stunned at her brazenness, stands frozen.
"Guiche de Gramont, the third son of Duke Gramont, hmm?" she sighs into his ear.
Guiche tenses.
"Hey, how do you know...?"
Felicia strokes the spine of a dark blue, leather-bound paperback lovingly. She then turns and gives her new customer a teasing grin.
"Your family name rings loudly in fair Tristain, good Sir," the young bookseller coos warmly. "That, and that lovely golden rose emblazoned upon your lapel rather gave you away, despite the pouring rain."
At this, Guiche reflexively touches the cold metal badge. He can't even remember putting it on earlier with everything that has transpired today.
"Yes, and I suppose my stunning good looks and suave charm would not make concealing my identity all the easier," he muses, flashing the younger girl a roguish smirk.
Felicia titters playfully, her laughter reminiscent of that of a delicate lark.
"You are awfully smug, monsieur. And oh so bold in the presence of a lady your elder."
His ego swelling, the blonde noble leans his elbow on the shelf.
"Age is relative when speaking of such radiant young maidens as yourself, my dear," he quips suavely, drawing a look of pleased surprise from his mark.
To his delight, the girl flushes a deep shade of crimson and meekly averts her eyes.
"G-Goodness... Rather forward, aren't you, Sir Gramont," she hums, reddness spreading across the expanse of her entire face.
The pain of his earlier humiliation dampening and his body absorbing the delightful warmth emanating from his mark, Guiche clears his throat and gives the blushing clerk a dashing wink.
"...When it suits me, yes," the young noble affirms, oozing confidence. "Besides, you ought to be flattered. A young lord such as myself giving such free compliments to a commoner and all."
Flatting her hood against her neck, the rosy-faced bookseller takes a respectful step toward him.
"I-I certainly am," the lovely woman stammers shyly.
Here, she quickly collects herself and swallows back a burgeoning whimper.
"Erm, anyway, since the shop is so quiet right now," the flirtatious bookseller hums, a small, hopeful smile pulling at the corners of her peach-hued lips. "...Would you like to, say... go into the back and read together?"
Pride pulsing through his veins, the young man smiles roguishly.
"Indeed, my pretty miss. Indeed I would."
Smiling awkwardly, Felicia nods her head and begins leading the wet-through and bedraggled young mage by the hand. The pair stop before a wide door not unlike a sliding closet of sorts.
Keeping Guiche's hand in her palm, the petite young bookseller opens the door and enters.
Moments later, Guiche steps within as well.
Here, his heart swelling with the sweet rush of victory, the young de Gramont smirks.
If Montmorency will not have him, after all, he has given to her, then he will claim a real woman for himself...!
Fouquet, her mission to ensnare the young Gramont progressing oh so easily, leads the youth up the flight of stairs to her rented room.
Halting before her door, the sly mage smiles, and presses her back into the corridor wall.
"H-Hey, careful," Guiche yelps, mindful of the danger to his damp clothes.
This is thwarted moments later by the soft press of a woman's lips. Fouquet, still ever so cognisant, and not like to let a single thing escape her attention, shifts the position of their kiss.
Their passion escalating rapidly, the 'bookseller' slides her hand around the back of Guiche's neck and deepens the connection.
The naive Gramont's lips part, and his tongue darts into the intoxicating, foreign abyss within.
Fouquet, keen to escalate matters before the boy stumbles and becomes too afraid to continue, guides his hands lower.
...Until those eager, if uncertain, fingers close around the fabric of her plain white undergarments.
"I've, err... only gone this far with one other before, Miss Fontiere," Guiche manages to utter through his kiss.
Pursing her lips, the nimble thief nods and feigns understanding. She then cups the young man's face with her palm and eases the flustered blonde boy forward.
This gets the chevalier moving and he wastes no time in burying his tongue into the older woman's mouth. As the boy tries, his partner holds back, all the while pressing herself subtly forward against him. This keeps him from pulling back.
"Hmmm," Guiche moans, trying to reign himself.
After a moment he pulls back and looks at her.
Fouquet, her left breast freed from its confines, nods breathlessly. She has found in such scenarios like this that appearing to be inexperienced and reluctant works wonders when luring an insecure fool.
"That, err, that feels nice," she hesitates.
Keeping one hand loosely pawing at his trouser's hem, the dastardly woman clumsily wrestles her other appendage back into her bra, the whole while feigning great trepidation.
"J-Just relax, mon cher..."
Taking Guiche's hand in her weaker-seeming one, the crafty thief plays coy and presses his palm around her bosom, her tone earnest.
"Oooh... Be still my beating heart..."
Guiche, his eyes lighting up like two beacons, swallows thickly. He shifts his stance a little, then, and leans forward a tad, his confidence rising.
Sensing weakness, Fouquet does not miss a beat and offers out her pinkish lips eagerly.
For his part, her flummoxed target hesitates only a second before diving in, his earlier desire now manifest.
The villainess, used to pretending to be an innocent ingenue, moans and forces a light trembling into the kiss.
"Mmmm..." the actress hums eagerly.
She pushes forward a touch, mewling contently when Guiche responds just as wanted by mirroring her fervent action.
Allowing him to take control, Fouquet moves both arms in front of her slightly frilly brassiere and cups herself with an amateur's enthusiasm.
Guiche, all too eager, moves his free palm to grip her left side.
"Huhh," Fouquet sighs contentedly, eyes shut.
"My young squire..."
The false bookseller then withdraws her tongue and uses the action to brush the sensitive edge of the youth's lips in a sweeping, sucking motion.
Guiche, responding enthusiastically to this subtle hint, mirrors her motions, though a bit more sloppily.
Blushing, Fouquet chuckles and gives a playful pant, signalling her submission.
The pair stand facing each other, silent and with laboured breathing as the still air warms around them.
Licking her lips in the manner that most lustful men found so oddly stimulating, Fouquet locks her arm around her foolish target.
"H-Hurry, come...I can't wait any longer... To my room..."
Guiche, his passion flaring ever greater at her eager willingness, releases a flustered whine.
"Uuh, y-yes."
...
Seated upon her bed with Guiche, Fouquet strokes his damp blonde hair and presses her body firmly back into the wall.
For several long minutes, they sit in a compromising position. Then, breaking the silence of the empty chamber, Fouquet murmurs softly and begins leaning forward, using the dazed teen's weight to support herself as she does so.
Her lips caress the skin of the mage's forehead and she smiles playfully.
"Ohhh," he rasps, seemingly hypnotised by their current proximity.
Itching with the thrill of accomplishment, the despicable thief kisses Guiche's brow before shifting herself onto her knees. She does this, and slides her hands downward, applying more pressure as she descends in an almost teasing manner.
"There we are..." she whispers, bringing down the young man's underwear smoothly.
Here, just to fan his ego, the devious young maiden pretends to feel intimidated by her bold charge's manhood, her expression a mixture of trepidation and admiration.
"That's - Y-You have..."
Guiche smiles stupidly, nodding.
"Ah, yes... I trust you find a man of my standing... satisfying?"
Appreciatively gazing her partner's manhood, the criminal hums with awe, her tone rising an octave.
"Oooh!"
With this, she wraps both quivering hands around the young man's pulsing erection. Then, breathing in sharply, she squeezes tighter.
Guiche gasps and closes his eyes, mouth agape.
"Ah, that's... Please, Miss Fontiere... I'll spill prematurely if you do not take it easy," he protests weakly, his restraint obviously fraying at the edges already.
Pretending to be cowed, the young woman shifts her attentions to her charge's tip.
Her soft, moist tongue slips from her lips and hovers just a hairs-breath away, her hot, steadying breath washing over its sensitive, pale pink surface.
A bead of anticipation weeps from her target's swollen crown.
Chuckling excitedly, the devilish young mage then sends her silken tongue flicking across the moist opening, causing him to tremble, the physical manifestation of his intense arousal.
Reactively, her amorous captive's manhood stiffens and his breath catches.
"Mphhh!" Guiche gasps, his spine straightening from the sudden jolt of bliss.
After this, careful not to shock the youth, Fouquet then makes firm, slow swiping motions with her tongue that run parallel along her partner's turgid shaft, her movements becoming gradually more rapid.
And, despite her initial revulsion at being made to carry out this mission, Fouquet cannot deny the heat building betwixt her thighs.
Now entirely in sync, and growing more impatient as her self-control ebbs and her womanhood grows wet, the conniving thief delivers a steady series of kisses to her sexual partner's quivering endowment.
Then, drawing back suddenly, she flashes a mischievous grin at the astonished Guiche.
"To think a young man of your standing would allow me, a simple commoner such... indulgence... You truly are magnanimous, Mister Gramont," the scheming vixen plays along, her tone giddy.
Oh yes, Fouquet will carry out her mission as per Lord Wardes' desires.
And she will do it for herself.
A pathetic young man or no, at least the youngest Gramont will provide her some satisfaction.
To be continued...
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