Hello Internet, I am still alive, and still working on my older stories. So bear with me, because I do intend to finish all of them.


The minx knew exactly what she was doing as she began running her hands over her body. She needed convincing? This kind of convincing? He would be happy to convince her all night long if tumbling her was all it took.

"I'm certain I have the necessary qualifications," Brynjolf said, licking his suddenly dry lips and giving Emeline his best smile.

She laughed, and took a few steps back, further into her home. He saw a bed behind her and, hoping that had been her goal, swept her up quickly and deposited in her upon the soft mattress. She recovered quickly, moving so she was facing him, her feet on the floor, her body braced up on her elbows. Emeline smiled at him, and quirked one eyebrow in unspoken challenge.

Brynjolf was not a man to back down from a challenge like this. Especially not one as delicious as Emeline promised to be.

"We'd best be certain about the terms of this... convincing, lass." Brynjolf said, stepping forward. His knees bumped the edge of the bed as he stood between her thighs, enjoying the view. "What, preciselydo I need to do to convince you?"

Emeline quirked her head to the side, seemingly contemplating the terms of the "convincing" that was about to occur.

"You're wearing too much clothing for me to think properly," She said with absolute certainty. "I'm afraid you're going to have to remove something before I tell you what it will take."

Brynjolf laughed. She was a tricky one, his Emeline. He brought his hands to the last few fastenings of his cuirass. Her gaze was riveted to him, watching him move. He worked at the buckle, had it nearly undone, and then paused.

"I think we're going to need to keep this even, lass. If I take something off, you need to take something off as well."

"You first," her grin widened crookedly as she openly appraised him. "If I like what I see, I may be inclined to honor your request."

Brynjolf snorted. He didn't know how he could possibly have been so wrong about the minx. She was a tricky one, not the silly innocent he had expected for so long. Brynjolf let the cuirass clatter to the floor. Emeline smiled, and offered him one booted foot. The offer was clear in her eyes; he could undress them both, one article of clothing at a time.

His hands slid over the supple leather covering her calf. He tugged at the lacing slowly before sliding the boot off and dropping it as well. Emeline sighed softly, and fell back on the bed, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes.

"Lose the shirt."

Brynjolf smiled and began to remove it slowly.

"To be clear," Brynjolf said as he tugged his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor beside him. "If you are thoroughly convincedthen you will assist my guild?"

He caught her ankle, slid his hands up her calf. She blinked at him slowly, her gaze on his face. She smiled at him crookedly.

"I do not know yet. There is simply too much... to be considered."

His fingers stilled as he thought about it. Really, he should leave the Lass where she lay and wait until he was sure his "convincing" would work. Really he should get her worked up and half-crazed before leaving.

But he wanted Emeline. Wanted her writhing beneath him whether there was a professional benefit or not. Getting her into the guild this way was just a... perk.

He drew the second boot off, slid his hands back up her leg, drawing her skirt up with it. Her skin was soft and bare beneath the generous fabric.

He expected her to squirm away, to demand that he remove some other article of clothing. Instead she let her head fall back as his hands found her bare hips.

She wasn't wearing any undergarments.

The realization dawned on him as she caught his gaze and smiled once more. The minx was doing it deliberately. Setting up this whole damned day to tease him.

And yet, he couldn't be properly upset about it.

His hands continued to stroke her warm flesh for a moment before he caught her by the hips and pulled her closer. She responded by sitting up and kissing his belly right at face-level.

And then her hands were on his belt, and his trousers, baring him to her gaze.

His hardened cock sprang free and was almost immediately seized in a warm, wet mouth.

"Emeline," he groaned. "Lass," He battled himself, his own need. He wanted to keep playing her game, but he didn't want her to stop and he couldn't focus with her tongue stroking him like that.

One of her hands gripped his ass, moving him in time with her. The other hand was elsewhere until it wasn't, and she was stroking his balls gently.

She bobbed her head with more finesse and enthusiasm than some of the ladies of loose morals he'd lain with in the past. It was a strange thing to reconcile; the innocent Emeline vs this experienced vixen who was making him weak in the knees.

"Lass, I'm gonna-" he was like a schoolboy again, spilling his seed with little warning. She caught it all in her mouth, swallowed, and smiled up at him.

"A gentleman returns the favor," she informed him, sliding the bodice of her dress down to her hips and exposing more creamy skin to him.

He grinned. He would gladly return the favor.