ch: robert lutece

A Promise Is a Promise (SMUT/SELFCEST WARNING) Lutece Fanfic

I have not written ANYTHING, fanfiction, non-fiction, poetry, what have you in ages. AGES. Figures something as brilliant as Bioshock Infinite would be the one to snap me out of my writer’s hibernation period. Enjoy.

Rated M (And when I say “M” I mean Romance Novel-esque Porn but not as terribly written with bad metaphors.)

Robert always liked to see her smile. Soft fiery golden tresses pulled back tightly as she bit her lip, deep in thought pen poised above the inkwell.

“What are you thinking?”, He wondered aloud, softly, almost as if she wasn’t meant to hear it.

“The mechanics of probability over possibility, whether or not fate is pre-determined, or entirely up to constants and variables”, She replied absentmindedly.

He moved up against her, pressing into the small of her back, she could already feel his slightly hardening member underneath his trousers. She smirked, purposely shifting so as to brush more aggressively into him. A white silk clad arm wrapped around her waist,  as if to support her latest endeavor.

“It sounds awfully fascinating, but I had other interests at the moment,” Robert lowered his face into the nape of her neck, she being exponentially shorter, something he liked.

“I feel like this instance would fall under the pre-determined category would it not?” She quipped amicably, turning into his embrace, the top buttons already undone, revealing ample cleavage.

Robert’s eyes dragged up and down her torso, hands gripping her breasts, feeling her nipples harden through the fabric.

“ I do believe that was rhetoric”, he mused as she bit back a gasp of surprise as he rubbed his finger over the hardening nub. She arched her back, hands already busy with his shirt, buttons hurriedly undone  as he picked her up and placed her on one of their many unused lab tables.

She kicked off her heels, as he finished shedding his silk shirt like an unwanted second skin and he bunched her skirt and hiked it up and became very still, his green eyes widening.

“Lace? You never did tell me what you were doing in the Ladies department.” His eyebrows raised a quarter of an inch, “It accentuates the soft curve of your womanho-“

“For god’s sake Robert, get on with it.” Hissed through gritted teeth.  Rosalind was never one for patience, and was promptly tugging on his belt as if to further prove her point. He obeyed and swiftly undid his trousers and belt with a couple motions, and stood, erect as she glanced down, licking her lips subconsciously, something he found exquisite.

His fingers, nimble and calculating, touched her wetness through the lace covering, as she mewled burying her face into his shoulder. Rosalind’s hips bucked upwards involuntarily, and he chuckled while removing the offending garment between them. She grasped his length, already rock hard, as he grunted in approval and slid one, two, three fingers within her, as her wet  and slick passage was already ready for penetration.  He closed his eye for a millisecond, just feeling how extraordinarily warm and tight she was around his fingers, and it made him all the more harder at the thought of those muscles wrapping around and clenching his member, the thought almost made him came.

“Robert!” a cry, stifled. He knew what it meant.

Robert withdrew his hand, licking the fingers with lust filled gaze into her own green eyes.

“Robert.” A plea.

With sudden strength and agility, he pushed open her legs, relishing at how ripe she smelled and how her lower lips seemed to part, like some soft nature hewn flower, meant only for him. His member leaked a little at the top, as she grasped him again, this time more determined and guided him to her entrance. He teased her, sliding his cock across her entrance, her swelling clit as she gasped and moaned, bucking her hips again in frustration, him feeling pleasure at how wet she was making the tip of his head.

He pushed inside, grunting. So tight. So fucking tight. Unethical as vulgar words would be in such a holy communion between the two of them, he felt that the use of such words were only appropriate. He slid deeper, feeling her walls clench around him, as she cried out, his abdominals brushing her soft and taut belly, her fingers scratching down his back, compelling him to thrust harder and harder into her, her lower lips now swollen, her clit now fully engorged and feeling every single movement his member made within her. She felt whole, felt stretched, completely and utterly satisfying so. No science could perfect what they were doing. It was pure instinct. He pushed against her yet again, as her legs wrapped around his behind, pushing him impossibly closer, hitting that soft spot within her, making her cry out.



The friction between the two could only last so long as he felt her climax, her walls milking his member as he came furiously within her. She continued to press her hips against him, riding out both of their orgasms. Robert collapsed against Rosalind, holding her up with what little strength he had, as she buried her face once again into his shoulder, this time to rest, both breathing heavily from exertion.

“I love you.” She smiled, a rarity usually only bestowed upon him.

“I always have. I always will.” He promised.