His quiet footsteps echoing in the long hallways of the Keep, Dorcha strides along the hardwood floor as he makes his way back to his office. Though showing his usual silent and stoic façade, the dimming of each set of lights above him as his presence draws near was a clear indication of his displeasure at being held to such a late hour. Especially due to the fact that it had forced him to delay his evening with his beloved.
"Damnable fools of a Council... Whoever let those peons into power deserves a hiding."
He grumbles inwardly, glancing at the stack of files in his hands detailing the Council's latest failures in leadership that they've foisted off onto another. Shaking his head as he passes by one of the black uniformed Council Guard, he sees a curiously odd smile on her face as she looks at him, nodding politely as he walks by.
"Lord Faileas."
Dorcha returns the polite gesture, but is nonetheless suspicious of the expression they'd displayed at the sight of him. A few steps longer and he finds himself at the doorway to his office, and halts with his hand reaching for the ornate handle.
His door was open.
By the barest of cracks, admittedly, but still not the way he had left it when he stepped out beforehand. Casting a further suspicious glance back down the hallway to the statuesque woman standing there, his hand slides beneath his jacket and takes hold of the hilt of the blade concealed within as he shoulders the door open slowly. Sensing another presence within his office he steps into the room and scans what he can see, trying to spy any hidden dangers before a smile breaks upon his face and his posture relaxes.
There on his desk was a small basket, covered in a familiar red and white cloth, with the ever more wholesome scent of freshly baked goods wafting into the air from it. Letting go of the blade, Dorcha draws his hand from within his jacket. Closing the door behind him as he crosses the floor to the desk, the Impetus lays the stack of files down as he examines the basket, picking up the small note that sits on top.
"You're not the only one who can be sneaky. - Emmeline." It says, marked with the lipstick of a familiar kiss.
A small chuckle escapes him as he draws back the cloth from the basket, revealing a small stack of his beloved's trademark baking. He casts off his jacket and picks one from the top, taking a bite of the still warm dessert and sighs contently, leaning against the desk as he does so. He stands there for a few quiet and peaceful moments while he finishes off the first of the treats left by his lovely lady, before he then sits in his high backed chair, finding it too is nudged slightly out of place than he had left it. Slowly he draws it back to where he normally sat, and pushes the basket aside as he sets to work on the files he had been given.
He spends the next few moments with his pen scratching across the paper, when he feels a strange sensation. Fingers grasping at his belt buckle, seeking to undo it. Raising an eyebrow he leans back in his chair and looks beneath his desk, and sees a wonderfully familiar face grinning up at him as she succeeds in unbuckling and unbuttoning his trousers.
"Not the only sneaky one indeed... Might I inquire what you are doing, my dear Emmeline?"
He asks of his lady, as she begins to draw down his clothing. An impish smile is returned to him as she frees his manhood from within, the shaft already beginning to harden as she wraps a hand around it and begins to lightly stroke along its length.
"Well I couldn't just let those buns go to waste, Dorcha." She says with a mocking pout, her hand continuing to caress his member in an attempt to bring it to full size.
"Plus you've been working so late recently, you're just
