Chapter 7: The Silence is Broken


Warning: Smut near the end.


"Oh, thank the gods," Lumen says as she and Cicero enter the sanctuary. The Keeper's jokes and riddles had kept her blessedly distracted from the storm that was closing in on them, but she is still glad to be home at last. Cicero tried to convince her to wait out the storm in the house that belonged to the recently dispatched vampires, but Lumen had told him that she'd feel more comfortable underground.

"Did you think we would not make it?" Cicero asks, sounding indignant. "I told you we would! In fact, I told you exactly five times that we would make it home in time."

"Four of those five times were unnecessary."

"Yes, well- Lumen seemed as if she needed a little reassurance and sweet Cicero reassured," he purrs from behind her, close enough that his breath tickles her ear. "You should have told Cicero that you were made of moon sugar and would melt in the rain."

Lumen scoffs, but the smile does not leave her face. That is, until she and Cicero descend the stone staircase and see Astrid standing near her desk. Lumen stops in her tracks, and Cicero almost runs into her back but he skirts around her at the last minute.

Astrid approaches the two of them, though her eyes are fixed on Lumen. "Go pack your things," she says tersely. "We leave for Volunruud at first light." Then, without another word, she turns away and strides back into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

"Ah, Volunruud… That is where the contact is waiting yes? Funny that a person wishing for death would be waiting for an assassin in a tomb. How very poetic! Cicero likes this Motierre fellow, yes he does." Cicero follows behind Lumen, chattering away as they make their way through the sanctuary and to the hallway that leads to the communal sleeping area. Lumen stops just outside the doorway and turns to face Cicero. His smile fades when he sees the uneasy frown settling over her face.

"I'm a little worried about meeting the contact," she admits, not able to meet his eyes. "What if he isn't there?"

"Oh, have a little faith, Listener! You heard our Lady's words, did you not? Mother will not lead you to your death so soon after choosing you," Cicero chuckles, though his brow does wrinkle in concern. Clearly he is thinking the same thing Lumen is. If Motierre is not in the tomb, Astrid will probably kill her.

Lumen picks at a loose stitch in her armor. "Faith never did me any good in the past."

"Perhaps it will serve you well in the present," Cicero says, bending to meet Lumen's eyes since she won't look at him. She smiles for his benefit, though her good mood has dissipated with the news that she will be traveling with Astrid tomorrow. Lumen had entertained the thought of picking up where she and Cicero left off in the forest, but at this very moment, she certainly didn't feel like it. Her mind is too preoccupied with worry.

"Way to kill the mood, Astrid. Thanks for that." Lumen thinks bitterly, then says, "I guess I should try to sleep, though I doubt I'll be able to."

"Oh, yes, of course!" Cicero chirps. "Get some rest, We will talk when you return. This will be the first official contract the Brotherhood has done in years, maybe the first one ever for this sanctuary, and Cicero will be very excited to hear all about it!"

However lacking her faith may be, at least Cicero has enough for the both of them. After bidding him goodnight, Lumen attempts to sleep, but it does not come. The weight of what the next day might bring weighs heavy on her shoulders, slowly tightening around her neck like a hangman's noose. If Volunruud is empty, she will have to run. That thought brings her more pain than she expects. After spending so much of her life running away, it had been nice to have somewhere to run to.


The Pale is as cold and miserable as ever, though it's almost warm compared to Astrid's glacial demeanor. Most of their journey has passed in relative silence, with only a few words spoken here and there. The uncomfortable silence has given Lumen plenty of time to think, though she would rather not. Whenever she's inundated with uncomfortable thoughts she usually erases them with copious amounts of drink or whatever seedy potion she can get her hands on, but she doesn't have access to either of those at the moment.

It's not often that another person worms their way into Lumen's thoughts, but Cicero has done just that. The memory of the kiss they shared in the forest demands her attention. She'd wanted to do that for a while, and she was so tired of resisting. Not that she has any real reason to resist. There are no rules about fraternization in the Brotherhood; Astrid and Arnbjorn are married, and Babette had once gleefully told Lumen about the time she stumbled across Gabriella and Nazir in a rather private moment.

She is pulled from her thoughts when Astrid slows Shadowmere to a trot so Lumen's horse can catch up with them. Rather than sharing a horse for the entire journey, Lumen had purchased a new horse at the Whiterun stables. The tension between Lumen and Astrid has been so strong that even Shadowmere seemed agitated, and putting some distance between them has relieved some of that.

"We're getting close, but we need to leave the main road. Try to keep up," Astrid says, not bothering to look up from her map.

Lumen nods, her eyes scanning the horizon as she follows Astrid. Off in the distance she sees a very familiar windmill and a very familiar farm - the Loreius farm. Where she met Cicero all those weeks ago. She can't help but smile at the memory of the frustrated jester dancing around his broken wagon, but her smile fades when she remembers who else she met that day. So much has happened to her between that day and now that she'd forgotten all about the farmer's beautiful, Altmer wife. Oh, it really has been too long since Lumen had a proper victim. The thought of spending hours with the lovely Altmer and drawing out her pain for her own pleasure is intoxicating. Utterly and completely dominating her and controlling the precise moment she breathes her last.

The temptation to leave Astrid behind and ride to the farm is almost too much, but she manages to tear her eyes away from the windmill, preferring to watch Astrid ride ahead of her instead. Lumen kicks at her horse, urging him to carry her further away from the farm and closer to Volunruud. If she makes it out of the tomb without a knife in her back, she'll be sure to plan a visit to the farmer's wife.

It does not take long for Lumen and Astrid to arrive at Volunruud, and her heart sinks at the sight of it. There are no tracks leading to the mound and there are no horses. There is absolutely nothing to indicate that anyone is inside, and once they enter the tomb and find no one in the main chamber, the situation seems all the more bleak.

"Well, Listener. I don't see anyone here," Astrid says, sounding almost pleased.

"Maybe they're off in one of the side-chambers," Lumen suggests, trying to think. If she were going to wait in a ruin, which are normally infested with draugr and all manner of nasty creatures, where would she wait? Certainly not in the deepest depths of the tomb. It would have to be somewhere close, but closed off and safe. "There," she says, pointing to the small chamber closest to the main entrance, "let's try this one first."

She pushes the door open and inside they find two men, one in heavy armor and the other dressed in fine clothes and - thank the Night Mother - a recently completed Black Sacrament.

Lumen and Astrid share a glance, then Astrid asks, "Are you Amaund Motierre?"

The Breton gasps and steps forward, much to the dismay of his Imperial bodyguard. "By the almighty divines! This dreadful Black Sacrament thing actually worked!"

"You have opened a door to darkness, Motierre," Astrid purrs, attempting to sound confident.

Motierre grins at her. "Oh, I know. I know. But I am so glad you're finally here. I would like to arrange a contract. Several, actually. I daresay, the most important work your organization has had in, well- centuries."

"Indeed?" Astrid folds her arms. "Go on, then. You have my full attention."

"Good. As I said, I want you to kill several people. You'll find the targets, as well as their manners of elimination, quite varied. I'm sure someone of your disposition will probably even find it enjoyable. But you should know that these killings are but a means to an end. For they pave the way to the most important target. The real reason I'm speaking with a cutthroat in the bowels of this detestable crypt. For I seek the assassination of the Emperor."

Lumen can tell that Astrid is just as surprised as she is, but Astrid clears her throat and says, "Leaders rise and fall. Business is business."

"Oh, wonderful. You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that. So much has led to this day. So much planning, and maneuvering. It's as if the very stars have finally aligned. But I digress. Here, take these to your, um- superior." Motierre says, and his bodyguard steps forward, handing Astrid a sealed letter, along with a very large, expensive-looking amulet. "The letter will explain everything that needs to be done. The amulet is quite valuable. You can use it to pay for any and all expenses."

Astrid pockets the items. "Where can we contact you? I doubt you will be staying here any longer."

Motierre snorts. "You are right about that, assassin. Rexus and I will be at the Bannered Mare in Whiterun. You may contact me there, but for Mara's sake, please be discreet."

"I understand the value of discretion, Motierre." Astrid says, sounding annoyed. "We'll be in touch."

Astrid is silent as they leave the crypt and it is only when they near their horses that Astrid turns to Lumen and pulls her in for a crushing hug. "By Sithis, if I hadn't seen Motierre and the sacrament with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. But-" she steps away from Lumen, holding her by the shoulders with a brilliant smile on her face. "If we pull this off the Dark Brotherhood will know a fear and respect it hasn't seen in centuries."

Breathless, and utterly relieved that her superior is once again pleased with her rather than livid, Lumen asks, "so, we're really going to do this?"

"You're damn right we are! Do you think I'd abandon and opportunity to lead my family to glory?" Astrid walks away from Lumen, patting Shadowmere on the neck before hauling herself atop the horse and settling on the saddle.

Lumen shakes her head, smiling. "So what's next?" she asks, stepping toward her own horse.

"We're going to Riften. We need to get this amulet appraised. I have a friend there, he's a fence, and he can tell us all we need to know. So hurry up and get on- uh- what did you name your horse?"

"I didn't," Lumen says, gripping her horse by the reigns and settling on the saddle. "But I think I'll call him Felix."

"How very Imperial."

"It means 'lucky'." While Cicero might chide her for not having faith, and he might claim that the will of Sithis kept Motierre waiting in that tomb after who knows how many days. Lumen knows that she is damn lucky to be leaving Volunruud in one piece.

"I like it. So are you ready to go?"

"I'm ready."


The Ratway is aptly named. It's damp and disgusting, full of insects, skeevers, and well- rats. Grit drifts in the thick, murky air and moisture clings to the stone walls, making them shiny and slick. The Ragged Flagon is little better. The scent of leather, sweat, and mead hang heavy in the stagnant air, but it's almost pleasant compared to the reek of sewage which permeates rest of the Ratway.

"Now there's a face I haven't seen in a while," purrs a bald, Breton man with a thick High Rock accent. He and Astrid embrace, and Lumen watches the exchange with interest. They stay connected for far too long, and his hands drift a little too low for this to be just a simple hug between friends. After a moment, the man pulls away from Astrid and asks, "Come to see me for business or for pleasure?"

"Just business today," Astrid says, before turning to Lumen. "Go have a drink while I talk to Delvin. This won't take long."

Lumen doesn't need to be told twice, and she steps up to the bar to order a tankard of mead. She is barely able to hide her revulsion when the man behind the counter cleans her tankard by spitting in it, then wiping it down before filling it with mead. He places the drink in front of her and Lumen can't help but scowl down into it.

"Don't worry lass, Vekel doesn't have anything contagious," comes a voice to her left, and she looks up to see a handsome, red haired Nord smiling down at her.

"That's good to know- hey, I know you! I've seen you in the market hocking those shady potions."

"Shady!" the Nord laughs, and places his hand over his heart. "You wound me, lass. I only sell genuine Falmer blood elixirs."

Lumen wrinkles her nose. "Who would want to drink Falmer blood anyway?"

"You'd be surprised," he murmurs. "So you're one of Astrid's, right?"

"Who wants to know?" she asks, sparing a glance at the table where her superior and Delvin discuss business. Although, truth be told, it looks more like they are flirting than discussing the cost of the amulet.

The man seems pleased by the invitation to introduce himself. "Name's Brynjolf. And you are?" Lumen hesitates to speak, and he presses on. "Oh, come on lass. Our organizations work together from time to time, so we may as well be on a first name basis."

"My name is Lumen," she tells him, finding it difficult not to be swayed by his charm. She's always been partial to redheads, but his eyes are a little too warm and kind for her tastes.

"Well, Lumen, you should come find me if you ever want a job with a little less bloodshed and a lot more coin."

"Uh- I'll keep that in mind," she says, amused. Unable to imagine herself settling well into a life as a thief - it's much easier to take someone's things after you kill them. Lumen finally chances a sip of mead when she feels a gentle tug at her elbow, and she glances to her right to see Astrid standing beside her, telling her that it's time to go. Lumen says a quick goodbye to Brynjolf and follows Astrid out of the Ragged Flagon.

The two women spend the night at the Bee and Barb before taking to the road again. Both are eager to go home and share the exciting news with their family: they are going to kill the Emperor of Tamriel, and they are going to be rolling in Septims when all is said and done.


When the two assassins arrive home, Astrid calls everyone to the kitchen to make the announcement, which is met with a mixture of disbelief and elation. This is the biggest contract the Brotherhood has taken on in years and Nazir decides it's something worth celebrating. Soon, he's pouring everyone a glass of Stros M'Kai Rum. Even Arnbjorn seems happy, the hard edges of his near-constant scowl softening as the night, and everyone's overall sobriety, wears on.

Lumen sips at her rum. Content to sit quietly and listen to her family regale each other with tales of past contracts. Astrid and Gabriella discuss the time a man named Gaston Bellefort broke into the sanctuary. But he was caught by Veezara and subsequently fed to Babette's pet frostbite spider, Lis. Arnbjorn, Festus, Nazir and Veezara have involved themselves in a rather raucous game of cards, which Babette watches with mild curiosity. Everyone is here, except for Cicero, who is suspiciously absent. Lumen can hardly believe that Cicero would miss an impromptu party.

She slips away from the gathering, glad to be away from the heat of the kitchen. The rest of the sanctuary is blessedly cool in comparison, and the chilly air helps to clear her muzzy head. After a short walk through the sanctuary, Lumen finds Cicero in the chapel, humming to himself as he dusts the Night Mother's coffin.

"Hey," she says, leaning against the door frame. "You're missing all the fun."

Cicero doesn't answer immediately. Instead he neatly folds the dust cloth and tucks it back into a pouch on his belt. For a moment, Lumen thinks he didn't hear her. But then, without looking at her, he says, "Cicero will live."

The bite in his words surprises her, and even through the soothing haze of drunkenness Lumen feels a little uncomfortable. "You're angry," she says simply. "Why?"

He looks at her, and there is so much bitterness in his gaze. Cicero takes a step toward her, then another, until he has closed the distance between them. He's close enough that she can feel the heat of his breath ghosting across her lips. His glare is intimidating most of the time, but from two inches away it's almost terrifying.

"Cicero has been thinking," he says slowly, as if he's desperately trying to keep his temper in check. "And I wonder how long you would have let Motierre wait."

"What are you talking about?" Lumen stammers, utterly confused.

"I think you were waiting for Astrid's approval." He pauses, watching her reaction. "I think you would have ignored Mother's words if Astrid ordered you to do so."

Lumen is taken aback by Cicero speaking in first person. His jester persona momentarily falling to the wayside can't be a good sign. "T-that's not true at all!" she says, pressing her shoulder against the door frame for support and wishing she wasn't so tipsy. "Why in Oblivion are you angry about this? We talked to Motierre and we accepted the contract. Everything is fine, Cicero."

"Everything is not fine!" he snaps, folding his arms across his chest. "Not when the Listener is content to lay at the Pretender's feet! Perhaps if you are lucky, she will trade her sheepdog for a lapdog."

Lumen sucks in a breath. Cicero's words unknowingly striking an old, still open wound. Lapdog. Pet. "You go too far, Keeper," she growls.

"Why? Because I speak the truth?" he asks, and Lumen shoves him. Hard enough that he takes a step backwards, but he grabs her wrists and pulls her to him. His voice dropping low when he says, "Humble Cicero only wants the Listener to be aware of the viper in her midst. You have threatened Astrid's hold on this sanctuary whether you wish to acknowledge it or not, and it is only a matter of time before she strikes at you."

Lumen says nothing, and Cicero continues, "The Night Mother chose you, a mere initiate, to be her Listener, and whether the others believe it matters little. They will come around. But just by leading Astrid to Moteirre, and to the most important contract the Dark Brotherhood has had in centuries, you have brought her authority into question. Perhaps the others will not say it, but Cicero can see it. They are questioning her and she knows it."

Lumen rests her head against Cicero's shoulder, fighting off a sudden wave of dizziness. The room spinning violently from the alcohol, and from the severity of what he's telling her. "Well that wasn't my intention."

"It does not matter what your intentions were, dear sister. All that matters is that you have set something in motion. Change is on the horizon." Cicero pauses, then in a lighter tone he says, "Lumen, please do not be sick on poor Cicero... This is his favorite shirt."

"I'm not going to be sick," she says, then sighs, "I'd like to sit down, though."

Cicero helps Lumen over to one of the unbroken stone benches, and nervously hovers around her. "Should Cicero get a bucket just in case?"

"No. I'm just a little dizzy," she explains. Then wonders if it's considered bad form to throw up in front of the Night Mother. "Would you sit down? Your hovering isn't helping."

At her request, Cicero sits down on the far end of the bench, keeping his distance. His eyes focused on the floor when he says, "Cicero made you angry."

"Let's just drop the subject for now."

"No. This is important." he says firmly, much to Lumen's surprise. "Cicero made Lumen angry, but Cicero was angry because he is- concerned." He leans close to her, and says, "promise Cicero that you will be on your guard around the Pretender."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever makes you happy." Lumen says, waving her hand dismissively. "You shouldn't call her that, though."

"Oh, do not worry. Cicero will not call her that name, or any of the other names he has for her, to her face."

"I guess that's good enough."

They sit in companionable silence for a time. Cicero hums a soft tune and admires the candlelight flickering across the golden gilding of his boots. Lumen watches him, her eyes half hidden by her unbound hair, as she considers what he said to her earlier. She's never seen him so angry and something tells her that she should take his words to heart, but she so desperately wants to believe that things will be all right with Astrid.

The sparse candlelight casts deep shadows along the hollow of his cheeks, amplifying the curve of his hard cheekbones and the sharpness of his jaw. Lumen always found his strong Imperial features attractive, but it's difficult for her to focus on them when her eyes are drawn to the tendons in his neck, the bob of his throat, and the way his hair spills across his shoulders like rivulets of blood. She drags in a breath, ragged with a hunger that none of the Dark Brotherhood contracts could ever sate.

When she joined the Brotherhood, she'd hoped the contracts would distract her from her fixation with killing Altmer, and in a way, they had. Right up until she and Astrid passed by the Loreius farm. Ever since then, the desire to kill has become intolerable. She is at least a half-day's ride away, but Lumen can't wait. The urge is too strong, and she's afraid if she tries to suppress it any longer she might hurt someone. A brother or a sister, or Cicero. That thought is sobering, and she stands so suddenly that even Cicero is startled.

"Feeling better?" Cicero asks, his eyebrows raised in a worried kind of amusement.

Lumen nods stiffly. "Yes- and no."

"That is not much of an answer at all."

"I- need to go- clear my head," she says, more to herself than Cicero, and she strides out of the chapel.


Cicero watches Lumen dart through the chapel doors and run away once again. He stares at the now empty doorway. He is bewildered. Frustrated. Hoping against hope that Lumen has more sense than to wander the forest in the middle of the night, half-drunk, and alone. But the distant scrape of the Black Door closing dashes those hopes away.

"Cicero has his work cut out for him with this one," he mutters, and stands to follow her. But from a distance this time. Lumen didn't seem to be in the mood for company and would likely argue with him if she knew he was coming along, and poor, annoyed Cicero is in no mood to deal with yet another argument. His only wish is to keep the Listener safe and alive, and able to Listen.

He can see that she's a capable killer, everyone in the Brotherhood is, but she has a long way to go before he'd ever consider her a capable assassin. She's reckless, letting the thrill get in the way of caution. But Cicero will help her. Cicero will show her. He will make her understand that a distracted assassin is a dead assassin. He giggles, thinking of how much fun it will be to sneak up on Lumen and frighten her. She'll be angry, of course. Anger seems to be her default emotion. Cicero wonders if she might scream. Or even cry. He doesn't know, but he's itching to find out.

The pine forest is dark. The deep shadows cast by the trees made darker in contrast to the light of the twin moons streaming through the canopy, dappling the forest floor in pools of silver. Lumen is quick and quiet. Anyone else would've missed her in her silent, shrouded armor, flitting from shadow to shadow. Fortunately, Cicero spent most of his life perfecting the art of pursuit, and it doesn't take him long to find her shape within the shadows.

Lumen slows to a stop when she reaches the edge of the forest, where the trees give way to the gravestones of Falkreath's cemetery. Torch bugs flicker amidst the plentiful Nightshades which sweeten the damp, unusually warm air. It's peaceful and quiet, and Cicero has to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing with excitement and giving himself away. He edges closer to where Lumen is, but he stops when he hears the door to the Hall of the Dead creaking open.

An elderly Altmer steps out onto the porch. The priest of Arkay sighs and rubs his back, the golden pulse of a healing spell flickering across his robes as he tries to ease the pains of old age. Cicero notices that Lumen is watching the priest, her eyes wide and lips slightly parted. He's seen her like this before. A few months ago when they first met on the road. When sweet Lumen convinced the farmer to help poor Cicero. He hadn't known what to make of it then. But now he recognizes that look for what it really is; hunger in its purest form.

With his hand resting on his back, the priest steps away from the Hall of the Dead and turns to look up at the clear, night sky. Admiring the aurora and turning his back on Lumen. "Foolish, very foolish indeed," Cicero thinks, and his grin widens when he sees Lumen advancing on the priest. In two swift, silent steps, she's behind him, looping her belt around his neck like a noose. The Altmer makes a choking sound when Lumen tugs the noose, and yanks him back with surprising strength, dragging him into the forest so she can finish her work under the cover of trees.

"I am sorry, old man," she says, without an ounce of regret. It's difficult for Cicero to make out her words over the crunching of twigs and the rustle of leaves as she drags the priest deeper into the trees, finally stopping in a patch of moonlight. "You're not really my first choice. It's just that she is too far away and I can't- I can't wait any longer."

Lumen drops the priest to the ground, throwing the belt aside as she sits on his chest. He grabs at his throat in a vain attempt to ease the discomfort of being choked as his ragged, wet coughs fill the air. The priest cries out when Lumen draws her daedric dagger, the inky, black blade gleaming like oil in the moonlight.

"W-wait! Please don't-" the priest's voice dissolves into a wet, bubbling, gasp as Lumen drags the serrated edge of the blade across his throat. Bright red arterial blood spurts from the wound with every fading heartbeat. But that is not enough to satisfy Lumen. She pulls the blade across his skin again, snaring flesh and sinew alike, and splattering red across the trunks of nearby trees and filling the air with the scent of blood.

It's like watching an artist create a masterpiece, and Cicero is utterly fixated, too terrified to blink lest he miss some important detail. As the Altmer's blood drains, so too does the tension bleed from Lumen's shoulders. She stops stabbing him when her knife becomes too bloody to hold, and then- she smiles. It's always been easy for Cicero to see through her smiles, to discern the transparent from the genuine. Most were of the transparent sort, but then, so were most of his. But here in the wake of the Altmer's death does a genuine smile grace her lips, and it is intoxicating.

"Now this is interesting," he says, stepping out of the shadows. "Sweet Lumen could have simply told Cicero that she wanted to go kill a priest. Cicero is always up for that."

Lumen flinches at the sound of his voice, which pleases Cicero. He'd wanted to frighten her, and while he didn't get to leap out of the shadows at her, a little reaction is good enough for him. "I hadn't planned on killing the priest," she admits without looking up at him. Her eyes are focused on the blood seeping from the Altmer's throat.

"Not regretting it, I hope?" Cicero asks.

"Of course not," she snaps, finally looking up at him. "I only regret not having a plan. I can't leave the body here."

"Ah, yes. Cicero suspects the people of Falkreath will miss their Priest of Arkay, and it's never wise to leave evidence so close to home." He taps his finger against his chin as he thinks of how to dispose of priest. "Well, it's a good thing Cicero is here to help you, yes?"

"It's only a good thing if you actually have a plan."

"Oh, ye of little faith. Of course Cicero has a plan!"


Together, Cicero and Lumen move the priest's body deeper into the forest. Deep enough that if and when it's discovered, the scavengers of the forest will have dismantled the carcass beyond recognition. With Lumen's fears of discovery assuaged, the two assassins walk back to the sanctuary in silence. Lumen falls behind, and Cicero is happy to lead, but he's stopped by a tug at the back of his motley jacket.

"What is it? We are nearly home now-" He turns and is greeted by Lumen's blood-slicked hands cupping his jaw and pulling him closer. The Altmer's blood feels cold and sticky against his skin, but the iron-rich scent and the feel of Lumen's warm lips pressing against his quickly dispels any discomfort. The scent brings back the memory of watching his Listener kill, and reminds him of his many kills in the past. That, combined with Lumen's firm, demanding kisses, has his cock hardening almost instantly.

"I don't want to go home yet," she murmurs against his lips, pushing him against a large, moss-covered rock and shoving her thigh between his legs.

"This seems familiar," Cicero says. Recalling the last time they killed together and kissed beneath the trees. Only it had been interrupted, much to Cicero's immense frustration.

"Clear skies tonight," she tells him, as if she could read his thoughts somehow. Lumen's gloves drop to the ground. With one hand she begins to unlace his trousers, the other pressing against his chest and holding him in place. Her fingers slip beneath the hem and close around him, and Lumen captures his mouth with hers again.

Well, if she isn't going to waste time with the niceties of seduction, then he won't either. In a way, he is grateful for her urgency. It's been so long since Cicero has been with someone, and he's not certain he could endure a lengthy foreplay session. Maybe next time - assuming there is a next time - they'll do this dance properly; with soft furs beneath their bodies and a roof over their heads.

He grabs her wrist, stilling her busy hand in his trousers. "Help Cicero with this damnable armor of yours," he says, his voice rough and thick with desire.

Lumen kicks a boot off as Cicero frees her belt and tosses it next to her gloves. His gloves follow shortly after. Then, he grabs her by the waist and spins her around, pressing her body against the rock as she manages to free one leg from her leather trousers. Impatient and desperate, Cicero cuts her smalls away with his dagger.

"Hey!" Lumen protests, grabbing his hat and flinging it towards the pile of discarded clothes. "I don't have so many smalls that you can just-" she gasps, unable to finish her sentence as Cicero's fingers slide between her damp folds.

Cicero chuckles. His fingers pressing inside of her and his thumb circling around her clit. "If Cicero knew this was all he had to do to silence that venomous mouth of yours, he would have tried it sooner."

"Oh, shut up," she says breathlessly, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips as she hooks her naked leg around his waist. Cicero doesn't say another word when he grips her hips and drives himself into her. He squeezes his eyes shut. A shiver of pleasure running through his body at the sensation of being enveloped by her tight, wet heat. He takes a deep breath, wrapping an arm around her waist and bracing himself against the rock with the other.

Lumen's mouth is against his neck, biting and sucking as her fingers twine in his hair, gripping hard for leverage. Her leg curls tightly against him and he moves his hips against hers. Slowly at first, until instinct takes over, and he thrusts harder and deeper until she's moaning softly. Lumen hooks her ankles together, the heel of her soft, leather boot digs into his back, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything except that Lumen has her legs wrapped around him and she's coming undone because of him.

Cicero runs a hand over the swell of her breasts, which are unfortunately still hidden beneath her leather armor. But Lumen hums appreciatively at his attentions, her breath hitching in anticipation when his hand travels further down her torso and stops between her legs. He presses his thumb against her clit, and he's inordinately pleased with himself when her soft moans become louder and rougher.

Normally, assassins loathe nights where the moons are full and bright, but not Cicero. Not tonight. Otherwise he'd never be able to see Lumen looking so utterly ruined. Her skin glossy with sweat; her tousled hair clinging to her cheeks and neck. Cicero knows his would be too if it weren't for Lumen's fingers carding through his hair.

A well-placed whirl of his thumb has Lumen arching her back and crying out. Her legs flexing around his hips and her body clenching tight around him as she comes. Cicero is not far behind her. After a few quick thrusts his release hits him hard, and he buries his face in the crook of her neck, spilling into her with a muffled groan. He slowly withdraws with a shiver, but he doesn't move away from her. Preferring to rest against her until he catches his breath and the fuzziness in his head clears.

"Cicero?" Lumen's voice is barely above a whisper, and she touches his face with a gentleness he didn't think she possessed. He lifts his head to find her watching him with a self-satisfied smile on her lips. Looking very much like the cat who got the cream. "Oh, good. You're awake."

"Barely," Cicero admits, grinning as he pushes away from Lumen. They clean up and dress in near silence, the only words exchanged are soft murmurs of thanks when Lumen hands Cicero his hat, and when he recovers her boot from a nearby bush.

"Well," Lumen says, smoothing down her tousled hair. "Shall we go home?"

"Lead the way, Listener."


Notes: Well it's about time they did something about all that sexual tension... Heh. I hope the POV change from Lumen to Cicero wasn't too confusing. Please feel free to let me know what you think, every review keeps my inspiration burning brightly! :)