Irisviel Von Einzbern | Fate/zero

The air in the mansion, usually a sanctuary of quiet elegance, hummed with an unspoken anticipation. Irisviel von Einzbern, bathed in the soft, pre-dawn light filtering through the tall, leaded windows, traced the condensation on her glass of chilled water. Her long, flowing silver hair, a silken cascade against the simple white robe, seemed to absorb the nascent dawn, hinting at the latent power and passion that lay beneath her composed exterior. Even in repose, the gentle swell of her bosom beneath the thin fabric spoke of a woman in her prime, a MILF of exquisite, almost ethereal beauty. She was a creature of grace, a queen in her own right, yet tonight, a different kind of kingdom was on her mind, one ruled by the primal instincts that had long been held in delicate check.

She felt his presence before she heard it, a subtle shift in the atmospheric pressure, a familiar warmth that always seemed to radiate from him. Saber. The thought sent a tremor through her, a blush that crept up her neck and painted her cheeks in hues of rose. He was her knight, her protector, her… more. The lines had blurred so irrevocably in the crucible of the Holy Grail War, forged in shared battles and whispered confessions in the dark. The formal titles, the knightly vows – they seemed so distant now, so quaint compared to the raw, undeniable yearning that pulsed between them. Tonight, however, the war was a distant echo, and the silence of the mansion was a canvas for their unspoken desires.

He entered the room, his presence filling it with a quiet, potent masculinity. His armor was absent, replaced by simple, practical attire, but the aura of strength and nobility remained, a beacon that drew her gaze. His eyes, usually alight with the fire of battle, were softer now, filled with an earnest tenderness that made her heart ache. He stopped a few paces away, a hesitant smile gracing his lips. "Irisviel," he began, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within her. "You are awake."

She met his gaze, her own eyes sparkling with a mixture of vulnerability and burgeoning desire. "I could not sleep," she admitted, her voice a soft melody. "The silence… it amplifies everything." She gestured to the empty space between them, the air thick with the unspoken. "Even the thoughts I try to keep hidden." A playful glint entered her eyes. "Though, I confess, some thoughts are more pleasant to dwell on than others."

He took a step closer, then another, until he stood before her. The scent of him, a clean, crisp aroma like rain on stone, enveloped her. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, a silent invitation. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing a stray strand of her hair from her cheek. The simple touch sent shivers down her spine. "And what thoughts have occupied you, my Irisviel?" he asked, his thumb caressing the curve of her jawline. The intimacy of the gesture was disarming, stripping away the last vestiges of their formal roles and leaving them exposed, vulnerable, and intensely aware of each other.

Her breath hitched. "Thoughts of you," she whispered, her gaze locking with his. "Of your strength. Of your… passion. I have seen it in battle, Saber. The ferocity, the unwavering resolve. But I have also glimpsed it elsewhere, in stolen moments, in the way your eyes linger, in the quiet moments when we believe we are unobserved." She leaned forward slightly, her chest brushing against the soft fabric of her robe. "I wonder," she continued, her voice dropping to a husky murmur, "if that same fire burns just as brightly when you are not fighting for the fate of the world."

He responded not with words, but with action. His hand moved from her cheek to the nape of her neck, his fingers weaving into the thick strands of her long hair. He drew her closer, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was at once tender and demanding. It was a kiss of years of unspoken longing, of shared danger, of a love that had blossomed in the most unlikely of circumstances. Her lips parted beneath his, a soft moan escaping her throat as his tongue danced with hers, exploring, claiming. She surrendered to the embrace, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until the world outside the mansion ceased to exist.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers, his breath mingling with hers. "Irisviel," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea. The fire you speak of… it has always been for you. In the heat of battle, it is your safety that fuels my strength. In the quiet darkness, it is your presence that ignites my very soul." His eyes searched hers, a profound sincerity in their depths. "And yes," he admitted, his voice a low growl, "it burns for you now, brighter than any star."

He gently guided her away from the window, towards the plush velvet sofa. As they sat, he continued to hold her close, his arm draped protectively around her shoulders. The robe she wore, she realized, was little more than a suggestion of modesty. She felt the subtle shift of his hand, the way his thumb brushed against the curve of her breast through the thin material. A shiver of anticipation ran through her. This was no longer a battle for the Grail; this was a battle for their hearts, for their bodies, for the release of emotions held captive for far too long.

His gaze dropped to her lips, then lower, to the tantalizing swell of her breasts that the robe so generously displayed. His breath hitched. "You are… magnificent, Irisviel," he murmured, his voice husky. He slowly, deliberately, reached for the tie at the front of her robe. Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic drumbeat against the growing silence. She didn't stop him. Instead, she leaned into his touch, a silent assent. The knot loosened, and the soft fabric parted, revealing the breathtaking expanse of her décolletage. Her breasts, full and round, spilled forth, their peaks already hardening in anticipation of his touch. The moonlight caught them, bathing them in an ethereal glow. He gazed at them, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and desire, before lowering his head.

His lips, warm and soft, brushed against the sensitive skin of her cleavage, sending jolts of pleasure through her. He traced a path downwards, his tongue laving a delicate trail, eliciting soft moans from her. She arched her back, her head falling back against the cushions, her hands finding his hair, her fingers tangling in the dark strands. He lingered on the swell of her breasts, teasing them with soft kisses, his breath warm against her skin. Then, his lips found a peak, and he gently enclosed it in his mouth. A gasp escaped her lips as he began to suckle, his tongue swirling, his lips a hot, insistent pressure. Waves of exquisite sensation washed over her, her body thrumming with an intensity she had rarely known.

He moved to the other breast, repeating the blissful torture, until she was trembling, pleading silently for more. His hands began to explore her body, his touch gentle yet firm, tracing the curves of her waist, the swell of her hips. He pulled her robe further open, the silk sliding down her arms, until she was bare from the waist up. The cool air on her skin was a delightful contrast to the heat that now coursed through her veins. He looked at her, truly looked at her, his eyes burning with an emotion that made her feel utterly cherished, utterly desired.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. He lowered his head again, his lips finding her nipple, his tongue teasing it, then drawing it into his mouth with renewed fervor. She cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. Her other breast was also being attended to, his hand caressing it, his thumb circling the hardening tip, sending waves of pleasure through her. She was losing herself in the sensations, the world reduced to the feel of his mouth on her skin, his hands exploring her body, the pounding of her own heart.

He moved his attention lower, his hands sliding down her stomach, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of her abdomen. She shivered as his touch grew bolder, venturing beneath the hem of her robe. Her legs were still covered, but she felt the heat of his gaze, the unspoken anticipation of what was to come. He paused, his fingers tracing the outline of her thighs, before slowly, deliberately, moving upwards. Her breath hitched as his fingers brushed against the soft, silken fabric of her panties. He lingered there, teasing, prolonging the exquisite torture. She moaned, a soft plea escaping her lips.

"Wait," she managed to whisper, her voice trembling. "Please… let me…" She didn't know what she wanted to say, only that the anticipation was almost unbearable. He understood. He withdrew his hand slightly, his eyes locking with hers, a silent question in their depths. She reached for the tie of her own robe, her fingers fumbling slightly with nerves and desire. With a soft sigh, she let the fabric fall away completely, revealing her naked form to his appreciative gaze. Her long, slender legs were revealed, her milky-white skin shimmering in the dim light. Her pussy, a dark, enticing mystery, was now fully exposed to his adoring eyes.

He let out a soft, reverent sigh. His gaze swept over her, lingering on the curves of her hips, the gentle slope of her belly, and finally, on the intimate folds that pulsed with unspoken invitation. A raw, untamed desire flared in his eyes, a reflection of the passion that blazed within her. He reached out again, his fingers tracing the delicate lines of her vulva. Her entire body tensed at the touch, a wave of pure sensation washing over her. She whimpered, her hips instinctively tilting upwards.

"You are so perfect, Irisviel," he murmured, his voice thick with adoration. His fingers gently parted her labia, revealing the glistening entrance to her desire. He stroked her clitoris with a feather-light touch, and she gasped, arching her back with an involuntary cry of pleasure. He continued his ministrations, his touch becoming more insistent, more demanding, as he felt her body respond. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her moans filling the quiet room. She was lost in the exquisite sensations, her body burning with an urgent need.

He lowered his head, his lips finding the most sensitive part of her. She cried out, her hands gripping his head, her fingers digging into his scalp. He suckled gently, his tongue swirling and teasing, driving her further into a state of blissful madness. The world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of pleasure, the only reality the feel of his mouth on her, the exquisite friction, the building pressure. She felt herself spiraling, her climax approaching with an irresistible force.

With a final, desperate push, she surrendered. Her body convulsed, waves of pure ecstasy crashing over her. She cried out his name, her voice raw and broken, as she tumbled over the edge. She clung to him, trembling, her body still alive with the aftershocks of her release. He held her close, his own body taut with suppressed desire, his lips still lingering on her swollen, sensitive flesh.

As her tremors subsided, he raised his head, his eyes filled with a profound tenderness. He kissed her gently, a kiss that spoke of shared intimacy, of a bond forged in both fire and passion. "Now," he breathed, his voice a low rumble, "it is my turn." He stood, and with deliberate slowness, removed his own clothing. She watched him, her gaze appreciative, her heart still pounding with the aftermath of her pleasure. His body was lean and muscular, a testament to his warrior’s life, yet there was a vulnerability in his gaze that mirrored her own.

He returned to her, his skin hot against hers as he gently shifted her position on the sofa. He parted her legs, his gaze drinking in the sight of her, still flushed and glistening from their shared intimacy. He positioned himself between her thighs, his erection thick and hard, throbbing with pent-up desire. She reached out, her fingers tracing the length of him, marveling at the power and heat he radiated. He groaned at her touch, his hips nudging forward, seeking her.

With a deep, ragged breath, he entered her. It was a slow, deliberate penetration, her body welcoming him with a gasp. She felt him fill her completely, a perfect fit. The sensation was overwhelming, a profound sense of connection and surrender. They remained still for a moment, savoring the intimacy, the deep, resonant pleasure of being joined. Then, he began to move. Slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, his hips rocking back and forth, their bodies moving in a primal rhythm.

Her moans mingled with his deep groans, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Her long hair cascaded around them, a silken halo against the dark velvet of the sofa. Her large breasts swayed with their movements, their tips brushing against his chest as he thrust deeper. She arched her back, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging in with each powerful surge. The intensity of the encounter was breathtaking, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through her. She felt him pushing deeper, filling her with his strength, his passion.

"Saber…" she whispered, her voice a broken plea as the climax began to build again. He grunted, his movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. He was nearing his own release, his body taut with the effort. She met his thrusts, her own body responding with an urgency that mirrored his. The friction, the deep penetration, the raw power of their connection was overwhelming. She felt the prelude to his climax, the tension in his muscles, the hardening of his grip on her hips.

And then, with a guttural roar, he came inside her. She cried out as his seed filled her, a wave of intense pleasure washing over her, different from her own climax, yet equally profound. Her body convulsed around him, welcoming his release. They remained locked together for a long moment, their bodies trembling, their breathing ragged. The silence that followed was not an empty one, but one filled with the echoes of their passion, the lingering warmth of their shared intimacy.

He collapsed against her, his forehead resting on her chest, his heart hammering against her own. She held him close, stroking his hair, her own body still humming with residual pleasure. The dawn had fully broken, painting the sky in hues of rose and gold, but the true light, the light of their shared passion, burned brightest within the confines of the mansion. They had found a new kind of battlefield, one where love and desire were the only weapons, and the victory was sweeter than any conquest. In the quiet embrace, surrounded by the lingering scent of their lovemaking, Irisviel von Einzbern and her knight found a peace, a fulfillment, that transcended the fate of the world, a testament to the enduring power of their love.