Disclaimer: See Chapter One. Nothing has changed. Still own nothing.

Author's Note: Ahead there be slight kink. Thank you for not flaming. Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts on how the story is progressing. I really appreciate feedback.

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Chapter Two

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Katrin relaxed a little with his promise. Ever since she'd first arrived in Riften and helped him to frame the Dunmer shopkeeper (which she still felt a touch of guilt about, to be honest), he'd always played straight with her. He'd done his level best to protect and help her, even coming on some of her jobs. So, if the big red-haired Nord promised to help her get out whatever was inside her, she knew he'd succeed. "Think of it as pickpocketing with a twist," she offered breathlessly.

Brynjolf chuckled. Trust his protégée to try to lighten the mood. Standing, he stripped off his jacket, tossing the leather over the chair beside her bed. Rolling up the sleeves of his tunic, he climbed back onto the mattress, though now he was kneeling between her shapely thighs. "Nice, lass. Now, I'll try to cause you as little discom-" he began.

Katrin rolled her eyes and lifted her head off the pillow. "Bryn, by the Eight if you don't start working, I'll filet you," she ground out, already feeling the object inside her starting her back on the course of slow burn.

Brynjolf shook his head, smirking, but turned his attention to the job at hand. And what a job, he thought, sliding his hands up her inner thighs. The flesh quivered underhand and he tried to ignore her sharp, rasping intake of breath. Pickpocketing indeed, he thought, finally reaching the junction of her thighs. Whomever had trussed her up and dressed her (he was fairly certain that the gown on Katrin wasn't something she'd be wearing to bed alone and asking her at this juncture might be tantamount to suicide) had found a lovely pair of undergarments to match. "I'm going to need to cut these off," he warned, glancing up to meet her gaze.

Katrin nodded. "Do it, Bryn," she groaned, willing herself to be still. Not exactly easy since she now had the dual sensory imputs of Bryn's touch and that THING inside her.

Brynjolf nodded and, with a quick flick of his dagger, soon had shredded the sides of her undergarments, the cloth falling away to give him a clear view of the target. That's right, old man, he scolded himself. Think of her as nothing more than a safe to crack or a lock to pick. Tugging the cloth free, he tossed it aside. "Relax, lass," he ordered with a smirk.

Katrin closed her eyes at the first touch of his hand. His fingers slid over her nethers, carefully parting her enough to reach her channel. His touch was just as she had imagined—sure and warm and intoxicating. Slowly he inserted a finger inside her, sawing it back and forth to moisten her further. "Gah," she groaned, arching against his touch as he added a second and then a third finger inside her. "Bryn."

Brynjolf took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Just another job, he reminded himself, before he pushed his fingers further inside her passage. The heat and damp and pressure were amazing and Brynjolf felt himself get harder than he already was. It didn't help that the woman he was currently plundering was cooing and moaning above him. "Don't feel anything yet, lass. Going just a wee bit further."

Katrin nodded, eyes closed as she felt the sensations washing over her. She didn't think she was capable of speech at just this moment and found herself pressing against his questing fingers, chasing his touch.

Brynjolf frowned as he slid deeper inside her clenching channel. He could sense it—whatever it was—just beyond his reach. "Just a little deeper, love," he murmured, sliding his fingers as deep as they could reach. Finally, he brushed metal. His fingertips ran over the markings on the object and he finally found what he was looking for. Even though the object was deep inside her, whomever placed it within her would have had to have used some sort of handle. And he had found it. Fingertips grasping, he began to slowly pull it out. "Got it," he grinned as he slowly pulled it from her channel and into the light of her bedroom for his first look at it. Dwemer. That much was certain. Standing, he put the device on the floor and slammed his boot heel down on it, his smile grim as he watched it shatter into dozens of pieces. "Alright, lass."

Katrin slowly opened her eyes, meeting the grinning face of Brynjolf. "Thank you, Bryn."

Brynjolf chuckled, shaking his head. "I would say my pleasure," he began, already reaching for the ropes that bound her. This time his knife sliced through the ropes with a satisfying ferocity and he tucked his blades back into their sheaths.

The flying tackle that sent him sprawling onto the mattress came as something of a surprise. Blinking owlishly, he found himself staring up into the flushed face of his Guild leader. "Oh, but it can be, Bryn," cooed Katrin, her lips grazing his ear before her fingers dragged his tunic up and over his head. Her hands moved over his pectoral and abdominal muscles before descending to the waistband of his trousers. "Can I go just a wee bit further?" she whispered, her fingers sliding teasingly down to cup him through his leathers.

Brynjolf swallowed, feeling her settling her weight on his thighs as she straddled him. "Who am I to resist a beautiful woman," he replied with a grin.

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