Work Text:
Dearest Hus
My Beloved
Honorable Imperial
It's embarrassing to have known you for such a long time, yet I still have no idea how to address you. Somehow, it's far less terrifying to face down a battalion with merely a bow and a paltry amount of arrows than to figure out how to start an... intimate letter to my husband.
I think the Survey Corps discovered a new flower today during our survey this morning! It was on the outskirts of Dedriu, so we are sending one of the assistants over to the Alymyran Embassy to validate the novelty of the finding, but to the best of our knowledge, it seems to be unknown to the Almyrans as well.
It's a beautiful carnivorous plant, pitcher-like but completely black. It reminds me of you. Your fingers to be exact. It's not the slick blackness of ink but the entrancing void of a Miasma that lingers on your fingertips.
I miss your fingers. Not that Bernie doesn't miss the rest of you. Desperately. But, I can imagine your voice. The scent of that bitter drink you love that Almyrans prefer surrounds me during meals. If I wrap your cloak around me, I can almost pretend you're with me here, Hubert. Yet, it's your fingers that somehow linger out of the reach of my senses.
I remember how you blindfolded and held me down against the sheets the night before I left. How you threw a silencing spell across the room, so my senses muffled so all I could feel was your touch. I think that was the cruelest thing you had ever done to me. Being deprived of every sensation but your touch and even that was agonizing. By the time, your fingers brushed against me, I was soaked.
I touched myself last night. Well, Bernie tried to touch herself last night. It wasn't the same. My fingers have callouses in all the wrong places. They're slimmer but also frustratingly shorter than yours. I need to focus on my clit or my cunt, but Bernie can't do both. I came, eventually but I felt so empty and exhausted, and my hand was sore afterward. My love, I don't taste the same unless I'm on your fingers. I miss your fingers. I miss you, Hubert. I miss all of you. One of the aides is calling for me; hopefully, it's not the same one who managed to poison himself twice thus far on this expedition.
Ink. Quill. Blotting paper along with the crumpled handkerchief that Bernadetta used to mop up the ink she spilt before she was called away from her writing. Yet, the letter is nowhere to be found.
"Oh no, oh no. Oh no no no no noooooo," Bernadetta wailed softly as she went frantically tossing odds and ends about the interior of a tent. Did she leave it by her bedroll? Or maybe she just shoved it into one of her journals for safety? "Bernie, why did you do that? Why of all things to write, it was that shameful, licentious writing that will shame your entire house?"
"I think only a few insignificant parties would be shamed, the Dowager Vestra would be pleased to hear that we're working diligently towards a grandchild," Hubert drawled unfolding himself from a chair in the dark corner of the tent. He closed the gap between them, a piece of parchment loosely clutched in a gloved hand. "That being said, she would have few concerns that your preferred body part isn't conducive towards that matter."
Bernadetta flushed.
"You said you were going to be held up in the capital! And I love other parts of you as well!! Your cock is wonderful as well and--" she squeaked out reaching frantically toward the parchment that quickly vanished into the abyss of Hubert's robes. "Give that back!"
"There was a change in schedule, and it seemed that this letter was addressed to me unless you managed to acquire another husband in my absence," he replied, at this point crowding her against the wall, one of his hands cradling the base of her head.
"I would never--mmm", any defense slipped out of her head as Hubert slanted his mouth across hers, soft and warm.
"Then, perhaps," he murmured huskily into her ear as he kissed down the length of her neck, slowly hiking her skirts over her hips as he wedged a thigh between her legs. Bernadetta shuddered. His height forced Bernadetta onto her toes just to stay close which also took away any leverage for her to grind her now slowly aching cunt against him. Truly, he was so so cruel to Bernie at times. “We can go over in greater detail how fond you are of my fingers. As gifted as you are with words, I prefer to hear them from the source."
