It wasn't a long kiss.
For all of Malvina's shamelessness, she was the one to pull away first, not quite willing to put on a show in the middle of the inn— not when she knew most of the people there, and did business with quite a few of them.
Miraak let her pull back without a fight, but the look in his eyes told her he was in no way done with her for the evening, and he didn't move his hands away.
Truly, Malvina should not find that as exciting as she did.
He had just kissed her breathless in full view of everyone at the inn that night, in front of people she knew. The whole thing should have left her angry and flustered, but it only managed to turn her on.
Damn her own desire for that stupid man and damn his stupidly hot kisses.
"Alright, Nord, that's enough of that." She said, in what was meant to be a no-nonsense kind of voice but still sounded a bit breathless because he had his hands on her sides and his fingers were edging dangerously close to her chest.
Drunk Miraak was a pervert. Good to know.
She detangled herself out of his arms and tried to glare at him disapprovingly, but the fact that he looked incredibly aroused— his eyes were dark with desire and his full lips were still parted slightly, still somehow red from their earlier kiss— did not help her cause. Getting back to Honeyside became suddenly all the more urgent, and she came back closer to the First Dragonborn to catch his arm.
"Come on." Was all she said as she linked their arm together, and he followed her obediently.
The trip back to the house was quiet.
Holding onto Miraak's arm as they walked the empty streets felt strangely more intimate than the many of the things they've done in the past. His proximity and the heat of his body chased away the chill of the early-autumn night, his presence strangely comforting.
Had anyone accused Malvina that she would be able to feel comfortable alongside Miraak a few months previous, she might have hit them over the head with a blunt instrument. This development, this attachment of hers…It was not something she saw coming, and it was not something she quite knew how to handle.
She wanted him, and not in the way she'd wanted people before: impulsively, indulgingly, just for the fun of it. She wanted to keep him. She wanted everything, and she wanted it for more than a day, or a month, or however long it took him to finish the book.
She wanted to see his stupid smug face in the morning, every morning, and she wanted to bicker with him about the worth of reading Plitinius Mero over Stem Gamboge —because yes, when it came down to it, 'The Real Barenziah' would always be better than the official biography in her mind, and he would always argue against it ('Too fanciful. Too much unreliable information.', he'd say with a sneer). She wanted to sink her teeth into his flesh each night, and she wanted to claim every piece of him she could – even his darkened soul, yes, especially that— and she wanted his to be there to roll his stupid black eyes at her when she did something foolish. Or childish. Or both.
She wanted his kisses and she wanted his sneering remarks and she wanted his silences after he saved her life for some reason he himself could not explain and neither of them would address.
And-
It terrified her.
It terrified her because she knew, in the back of her mind, that going back to meaningless, rushed, dalliances might not be enough to satisfy her after he was gone. Because being with Miraak felt right, it felt real, and she'd never realised how much she'd craved a real connection before. Honest in its rawness, if not in words.
It terrified her because she'd not realised how isolated she'd been until he was there, the one person on Nirn who was the closest thing to her equal. The one person on Nirn who understood all of her, and not just the human parts. The one person she was never afraid to be her true self around— ugly and impulsive and hungry— because he knew the urges just as well as she did. It terrified her because, were she any other woman, she might have confused that thing that made her chest feel tight when she thought of giving him up with love.
And love was messy and frightening and something Malvina did not do.
Sure, the Last Dragonborn loved books, and knowledge, and a good fight. She liked precious gems and she liked beautiful men. She had friends, to an extent.
She did not fall in love, though. She did not feel about others with the ardour and selflessness wrote about in books. Not as a child, in the guise of an innocent, sweet crush; not as a teen, brief and explosive and scarring; not as a woman, not really. Malvina'd had passions, of course, but she had always been able to part ways with will all who shared her bed with no suffocating pressure weighing down on her lungs.
The Breton had always been grateful for that, took pride in that, even. She was the one to twist men's heads and hearts and shake her head in amusement as they pledged themselves at her feet. She was the one who read about great stories of love and laughed, and not swooned.
She did not ache at the thought of never seeing her lover again, she did not daydream about his voice or their conversations, and she did not fear him leaving.
That was not who she was. That was never who she was before—before this whole deal with Hermaeus Mora, before Solstheim, before Miraak.
The word 'before' loomed over her like a dark cloud.
After all, where there was a before there was always an after, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what that entailed.
Malvina used the warmth of him at her side to pull herself out of her thoughts. Her sensitive ears tuned in on the sound of his heartbeat, strong and close and reassuring, in ways she barely understood and he would never—must never— know. She shook away her thoughts and buried them somewhere deep, alongside the flutter she felt in her stomach when he kissed her and her true feelings about how close he was to disappearing from her life forever.
Attachment might have made her weak but she would die before she would risk Miraak figuring out what was going on. She still had her pride, after all, and she would not have him look at her smugly if he did find out.
"Here we are." She found herself stating the obvious as they reach Honeyside. The house itself was empty by then, the Housecarl long since gone, as agreed. Iona was not someone Malvina interacted much with, though the Breton supposed the war-maiden seemed decent enough; Malvina's position in Riften meant that she couldn't afford having the other woman around when she was in town with business, especially when it involved Guild business.
The two Dragonborns didn't spoke more as they entered the house. Miraak was still visibly out of it, which was understandable, considering that he'd drank half of Talen-Jei's reserves of alcohol by himself.
Malvina turned to face him once she reached the doorway separating the small entrance hall and the main bedroom. Honeyside was unique when it came to its layout because the main entrance let straight to what should have been the second floor on a house in any other hold, which meant the first actual room you walked into was Malvina's bedroom— there were, of course, some amusing story to tell thanks to that. What should have been the first floor, where the alchemy and enchanting labs were, was actually in the basement, and so was the second bedroom. "I'll show you where the spare room is now if yo-" The rest of her sentence caught in her throat because Malvina had not expected Miraak to be so close behind her when she turned on her heel, close enough that she could smell the alcohol on his breath. "-if you follow me, I mean." She managed to finish her thought.
Miraak didn't answer her, not with words. His mouth clashed down on hers for the second time that night, just as sudden and unexpected—unexpected because Miraak was never the one to approach her like this before, not really—and just as efficient at distracting Malvina from what she was doing.
"I want to sleep in your bed." He said, breathlessly, once they pulled back to speak, and it took Malvina a moment longer than it ought to process what he'd said. When she did, though: "Okay." she agreed. She reached out to kiss him again, and brought her hands to his hair, pleased with how long it had gotten over the last months, just perfect for her to run her fingers through it. "Ok…ay." She said again, her voice hitching as he responded by moving the two of them backwards, straight into her bedroom, and Malvina had never loved Honeyside and its unique layout more.
They tumbled into bed without much grace, and the Breton let out a soft hiss of pain that turned into a genuine laugh as Miraak collapsed on top of her with all of his weight in his hurry to join her. The Last Dragonborn couldn't deny that Miraak's sudden display of enthusiasm in the bedroom made her happy, even if he was acting so because of how much he'd drunk. Her thoughts from the days before still haunted her; she had been worried about the fact that she'd always been the one to set things in motion before, and it was good to know the attracting she felt for the stubborn man was not as one-sided as she'd feared. He was still drunk, but she felt reassured by the knowledge that alcohol lowered inhibition, but rarely created desire out of nothing. If he had not wanted her in some small way anyway, they would not be where they were.
His hand fumbled with her belt, visibly less capable than usual, and Malvina took pity on him and moved to help him. She kissed him once more, distracting him from his task as he was really only getting in the way. The distraction worked, and soon he put his hands to much better use, fingers digging into the flesh of her hips to hold her close.
He reacted to the kiss ardently, with almost bruising desperation, and it genuinely took Malvina's breath away. When that kiss was done, she'd managed to pull her upper armour and undershirt out of her lower armour, and she was panting already.
"Wow." She managed to articulate, laughingly, as she looked up at him. Alright, so maybe he was asking her to let him have the main bedroom that night—her bedroom with the good linens and the much bigger bed—, but she didn't mind sleeping in Iona's room later if it meant he kept kissing her like that. The laughter died down immediately once she noticed the strange expression on her fellow Dovahkiin's face, though. For a moment, he looked sober— grim, even— and Malvina had to wonder if something was wrong.
Before she could ask, he brought his head down again, and the Breton instinctively closed her eyes, expecting a kiss. She was surprised when, instead of feeling the heat of his mouth on hers, she felt him rest his forehead on top of hers. Her eyes snapped open in confusion, but also in curiosity.
"I want you."
His voice was low, deep, the way it sometimes sounded during sex. His gaze was filled with that same strange intensity she'd seen earlier, and she had no luck deciphering it better the second time around. Malvina wasn't quite sure what he expected her to say.
She wanted him too, of course. The way she was clinging to him was testament enough. Divines, the way she'd been throwing herself at him for weeks was testament enough.
She could feel the evidence of how much he wanted her between them, as well, but she couldn't help but wonder why he decided to be vocal about it in that moment. Miraak was rarely talkative, especially when they were messing around like that.
Whatever Miraak had been waiting for her to say, she mustn't have been fast enough, though, because soon his eyes returned to that dark, unreadable expression he often put up around Malvina.
Malvina couldn't help but think she had missed something, she had-
His palm cupped one of her breast through her shirt and the line of thought was quickly discarded.
He pressed his mouth to her neck and played with the sensitive skin under her jaw, teasing her with lips and tongue and teeth. Soon, she heard him tell her again that he wanted her, whispered against her skin, and it made her want to laugh, giddy and wanted as she was.
Malvina pulled him up to kissed him, with renewed confidence and hunger because Miraak had finally admitted he was attracted to her, and even if he had needed to get drunk to say it, and even if he meant it in a purely physical way— because really, in what other way could he possibly mean it?— it was something to celebrate. Maybe he had had the right idea about being more vocal after all. She was certainly enjoying the small change in routine.
He tasted of alcohol and his magicka, something sour and delicious and familiar, and when she pulled away, she did so reluctantly.
…
...
...
He'd said it. He'd actually said it.
"I want you." He'd said, as he trapped her in bed with his body.
It felt good to admit it, in a way. Speaking the truth could be rewarding in a strange kind of way.
"I want you." He told her a second time, even if she hadn't acknowledged it the first time and he knew deep down that he wasn't supposed to reveal such weakness to Malvina. In that moment though, his pride and self-preservation instincts were forgotten. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that he was so close to having his soul ripped away from his body— a weak and mortal body that craved her almost as much as the rest of him. Maybe there really was something about speaking the truth.
Whichever the case, it was done, and Miraak was still just drunk enough that he didn't care.
He did want her.
And it wasn't fair, and it wasn't safe, and it didn't really make sense— except for the fact that they were only two people on Nirn capable of surviving each other at their worst, and her touch was burnt forever on his skin and when her bare body pressed against his it made all the sense in the world—, but it was what it was and the book could be done in a few days and so what did it matter that she knew?
Would it make a difference if she knew that she made him want to live as a man again when he had not even considered the possibility in all of the centuries he'd been plotting his move against Hermaeus Mora? The plan had always been to come back as a god or die trying, and he had been so prepared to die, until she came along. And now he wasn't so sure anymore. Now he wanted her, even if it meant being mortal again and suffering through illness and bad food and the need to sleep.
It was infuriating that she could do that to him, and he still couldn't make himself not to want her, not even when she did not want him the same way he did.
Pulling back from their latest kiss, he tried to catch his breath to say all of that and more— he really, really needed to never drink again because he was aware of the stupidity of what he was about to do, but that failed to discourage him in his current state— when he felt her push him away. Gently, almost.
"I cannot stay." She told him, and Miraak took in her apologetic expression with a blank one of his own. "Not tonight. I have business to do tonight." And she moved effortlessly to the edge of the bed, one hand going to fix her out-of-place shirt.
"With Brynjolf." Miraak found himself saying, the words heavy on his tongue, his tone flat.
Malvina smiled briefly at him, pushing her messy, half-undone, braid over her shoulder. "Yes."
He couldn't make himself say anything else, but he watched the movements of her hands in the dark room, his eyes darkening more with each moment of silence that stretched between them. He watched her as she dressed and told himself that he wasn't trying to memorise the shape of her as if it was the last time he would see it.
He tried to remember when he stopped wanting for it to be the last time.
"Don't wait up; I'll be out late and I'll probably take the spare bed when I come back in the morning." She told him, as she finally stood up, and Miraak felt as if she had slapped him. "You can have this one tonight."
Her smile widened, looking sincere, and Miraak tore his eyes away before he did indeed say something he would regret.
He sat in silence as she searched the room for a few of her belonging, and then as she headed towards the small hallway they came in through. "I'll try not to wake you when I came back in." She said, hesitating in the bedroom doorway, but Miraaak said nothing.
What was there to say, after all?
The sound of the main door closing behind her as she left the house echoed in his ears for a long time, and then he went to sleep.
So, that was it for now. Please, please let me know what you thought of this chapter? I'll admit I am a bit worried about this one for a few reasons. Is it confusing? Did you like the sort of parallel between the first time Malvina got drunk and the first time Miraak did? Is that too cliche?
I'd love to hear about it!
Until next time! (I'm afraid it will probably a lot longer until my next update, though. Sorry!)
