I'm back! I know, finally, right? Well, here is shiny, new, chapter. I've rewrote this three times because I wanted to get it just right, and I'm still not sure if I did. Let me know what you thought of it in the comments and make sure to check the extended/explicit version by following the link (instructions, more like it) on my profile.
(Or don't, it has about 1200 extra words of pure smut, it might not be your cup of tea.)
Enjoy!
Miraak could taste blood.
Malvina's anger was not a thing of feminine delicacy, after all, but a force to be reckoned with, and she did not make a habit of holding back. Especially not with him, not that he would ever want her to.
Miraak took hold of her hand and pushed her flush against the length of his body, a growl caught in his throat. She bared her teeth to him in answer, her eyes aflame and her skin warm. The air around them vibrated with the combined power of her restless magicka and his ancient Thu'um.
"Malvina-" His voice was a warning, spoken low and clear and with the barest hint of force, just enough to scare any sane person away. Not Malvina, though, never Malvina.
She responded by grabbing hold of his shoulders and pushing her mouth to his ear. "How dare you?" The Breton hissed against the side of his face. "What right do you have to presume-"
"Presume what?" He cut her off in a deadly voice. "That you went running after your precious red-head like a dog in heat? That you laid with him mere hours after you almost let me do the same?" He could hear the hoarseness in his own voice as his control slipped. Malvina was impossible to read, her expression hidden against his neck, but he could feel her rapid breaths against his skin.
"Is that not what happened? Are you not always inclined to indulge your disgusting weakness for flesh? You were always wanton, desperate enough for it that you've bedded me; or was that not what led you into my bed to begin with, Dovahkiin?" He bit out, with too much emotion, too much spite.
Malvina struggled to free her hand from his grip and made a sound like a chocked laugh against his throat. "Oh, you are disgusted now?" She hissed, her neck bent awkwardly as she tried to look up at him. "Not what you were saying when I took you into my mouth two nights ago, was it?" Her words were filthy and her voice trembled— with anger, most likely— and Miraak tried not to let them affect him. "Regardless if I bedded Brynjolf last night or not, you have no right to talk to me that way. You have no right to... I am not yours, am I? How could I ever be yours?" She goaded him, fingernails digging deep into his shoulders, and Miraak growled lowly. Just because Malvina was not his, just because she did not want to be his, did not mean he would just lay down without a fight. Everything Miraak had ever claimed in his life, he had conquered, and why should this be any different?
He was a doomed man and he had nothing to offer her but he wanted her and he would have her, and he did not care if it was unfair or messy or temporary.
Miraak pulled her away from his neck in response, just far enough to be able to stare her in the eye, his grip around her right wrist like a vice and his eyes glowing black around the edges. "I do not care for rights!" He snapped. "I will not share. And I will fight you for it if I must."
For a moment, Malvina stilled, her eyes unnaturally wide.
"You will fight me?" She repeated, flatly, almost as if she could not quite figure out what he meant. "You will fight me? You unbelievably conceited arse!" She said a second time, this time with cutting anger. "You think I am some sort of prize to be won? You do not want to share, as if you were a child and I were your bloody toy?" Her chest heaved and she held him in place with the strength of her gaze alone. "What is this about, Miraak?" She demanded. "First you accuse me of being disgusting and wanton and next you tell me you want me for yourself? Either you find me disgusting or you want me." She pushed him away, with enough force to send him half-way across the room and knock the air out of his chest.
Miraak stumbled, and only just managed not to tumble to the floor.
"Which one is it?" Her eyes burned him when he straightened and met her gaze. "Because it cannot be both!"
…
…
…
Miraak's black eyes were focused intensely on her, but Malvina was not intimidated.
No, Malvina was angry and she was disappointed and she was confused, but she was not scared. She had come back to Honeyside instead of catching up on her much-needed sleep in one of the Guild's many available beds, even though The Ragged Flagon was as much of a home as Proudspire Manor or Breezehome for Malvina. She had bothered returning to Honeyside because that was where she'd left Miraak, and because she'd wanted to— she wasn't even sure what, anymore. To finish what they'd started the previous night, maybe? To be there to tease Miraak when the consequences of the previous night's drinking hit him when he woke up? To sleep in his arms? Whatever it was, it was not this: it was not being accused of sleeping with another man and the monstrous fight that followed.
"I will not tolerate you parading around with other men while I have you in my bed. I will not stand for such impertinence." He hissed menacingly, gracefully avoiding answering her earlier question, still somehow out-of-breath from how hard she'd shoved him moments before. The distance she'd put between them by pushing him away was not enough that Malvina could not see how serious Miraak was about what he was saying, how much he meant it.
He really thought that she was still chasing after other men.
Malvina had not slept in a day and a half and she had rushed back to Miraak because she wanted him so much she didn't know what to do with herself, and Miraak-
The stupid man still thought she wanted anyone else but him, as if she was even capable of it anymore. As if he had not thoroughly ruined her, her mind completely focused on the other Dragonborn no matter her company.
The Breton didn't realise she'd started laughing— a loud, uncontrollable, almost hysterical sort of laughter— until she felt her body shake with it.
Miraak's face suddenly became blank, but his uncertainty was obvious in the tension of his shoulders. "I do not see the humour in this." He said coldly, taking one step towards her. "You may be used to fools that do not care whose name you call out during sex, but I am Miraak. I am ancient and I am Dovahkiin and I will not stand for you giving me less than your full attention." The finality in his voice, the solemnity there, only made Malvina laughed harder. Because this— everything— was just so ridiculous.
She had been fantasising about Miraak naked in her bed all the while she and Brynjolf had checked on their operations, she had just barely refrained from abandoning her duties as Guild Master to go back and fulfil said fantasies, and Miraak thought that there was a danger of her calling someone else's name during sex.
Gods, the two of them were such a mess.
Her laughter died down as quickly as it came, and Malvina bit down onto her bottom lip as she caught her breath, contemplating what to say next. "You are an idiot." Was the first thing she settled on, her tone deadpan. "I cannot believe you're jealous." Was the second, and she enjoyed the way Miraak's posture straightened at the accusation, shoulders stiff.
"Malvina..." He cautioned, the glow around his eyes and the dark scowl on his face warning her away. Her name on his lips had Malvina fighting down the desire to smile and she crossed the distance she herself had put between them only moments before.
She reached for him with her right hand but he took a hold of her wrist before she could touch him. "What game are you playing, woman?" He snarled, eyeing her outstretched arm as if it might bite him. "Are you truly that desperate for touch? Are you truly that insatiable that you want to go again?" He asked, cruelly, but Malvina only stared blankly at him, unconvinced, because she could see how his whole body shook with the effort not to pull her closer.
"Oh, just shut up you idiot." She said, rolling her eyes, and this time she used her considerable strength to pull him forwards, crashing her mouth onto his. This kiss was different than the ones they usually shared: fast but soft, more of a brush of lips that a clash of mouths. "You want me." She said when she pulled away, but it came out almost like a question, and she saw something shift in Miraak's gaze as he looked down at her. His eyes were glowing again, but there was equal part determination and resignation in the way he looked at her.
"I do." He admitted softly. "Which clearly does prove I am an idiot." The second sentence was spoken in a less gentle tone, a cutting edge to his words. Malvina laughed quietly at his gloomy expression. He tightened his bruising grip on her wrist in response, and there was anger in the way he looked at her again. It should have worried her, but Malvina found herself savouring it instead.
The Last Dragonbon knew that she could easily deflate Miraak's dark mood by simply telling him that she had not in fact slept with Brynjolf— nor anyone else for that matter, at least not since the other Dovahkiin had made his appearance in her life— but a part of her, a large part of her that enjoyed the ferocity of Miraak's expression and liked seeing him jealous because it meant he was not indifferent, made her swallow the words and blurt out something else entirely:
"Show me." She challenged. "Show me why you deserve my full attention." And she leaned in to kiss him again.
He returned the gesture with an intensity that she wasn't prepared for, but welcomed anyway. His free hand found its way into her hair, holding her in place, and he finally let go of her wrist to circle her waist with his arm, allowing her enough movement to start clawing at his chest through his robes. He angled her head to kiss her deeper and lifted her clear off the ground. Malvina moaned into the kiss, surprised and appropriately aroused at his display of strength, and Miraak swallowed the sound greedily.
She was not surprised when she felt the broken frame of her bed dig into her backside. His hands stripped her of her leather armour with hurried movements, familiarity and heat as he traced the curves of her body over her clothes and still somehow managed to set the skin aflame. He pulled at the latches holding her armour together with too much force, with impatience and single-mindedness, as if he needed to bare her skin to his eyes or he would drown.
By the time that he got her out of her upper armour, Malvina had managed to push her breeches down her hips herself; the sudden rush of cold air made her legs tremble just a little, or maybe the way Miraak's mouth descended onto her arched neck was to blame.
Soon, Malvina could feel his body heat through the thin shirt she wore underneath her armour; she could feel his fingers against her ribs, his palm on her stomach. The heat and weight of his hands made the woman's breath quicken, it made her back arch, her body gravitating towards his touch.
He moved to kiss her and Malvina met him half-way, pushed her tongue into his mouth eagerly and wrapped her legs around his middle, bringing him closer. Malvina was eager and fierce and she was sure he could read the impatience behind the gesture clearly.
She expected Miraak to shove her hard into the furs under her and take what he wanted. She expected his bruising kisses and the heaviness of his arms pinning her down.
What she got was different, though. What she got was his hands gripping her waist carefully, almost as if she might disappear if he squeezed too hard, and his mouth moving with such intent— no, not hunger, something else, something slow and searching and almost intrusive, almost as if he was trying to kiss his way to her soul— against hers, and Malvina felt her heart do strange things inside her chest.
They pulled away, both breathing heavily, wild-eyed and shaking, and he pulled the long undershirt over her head: slowly, too slow, his feather-like touch a torture on her senses, but Gods, she never wanted it to stop. Miraak kept his eyes on her as he undressed her and Malvina knew she could easily drown in the burning darkness in his gaze if she allowed it. He kept looking at her as he moved back, he moved down her body until he could press his mouth to her stomach, and then lower, trailing kisses down her legs, to the softer skin on the inside of her thighs. Malvina felt her fingers itch with anticipation, she felt the need to touch him like a physical thing, but she had asked him to show her, to prove to her why she should want him, and the fact that she already wanted him so desperately did not mean she wanted to miss out on being convinced by interrupting. Certainly not when he was doing such a good job at it.
She forced down a loud keen when he pulled back and he moved his hands away from her body. Pushing herself further up on her elbows to better see what he was doing, Malvina bit down on her bottom lip when she saw him kneel by the edge of the bed and start to carefully undo the laces of her boots. He worked quickly, efficiently, and his fingers brushed the back of her legs teasingly as he finished with each of them. He placed one kiss on each of her knees before he pulled her breeches the rest of the way down her legs, so she was finally naked.
"Miraak?" She asked, a bit breathless, when his mouth started to kiss his way up her legs again, starting from her knees and getting closer to the space between her legs each time. Her voice betrayed, not trepidation per say, but a sort of uncertainty, as she looked at the other Dragonborn, still fully clothed, standing between her legs and staring at her with those impossible black eyes. His lips were full and his eyes were hungry and it made her think of wicked, half-forgotten dreams and waking up in a cold sweat with his name on her tongue.
"Look at me." He said, heated breath upon her skin that made her shiver. "You will look at me and you will think of only me because I am the only one worthy of it." His hands held her steady, warm and solid as he moved them up and down her legs, but Malvina knew his voice alone was enough to hold her in place. "I will show you that no one else even compares." He punctuated the end of his sentence by bringing his mouth close to her sex and blowing hot air over her already heated skin, and Malvina knew that this— challenging him like this— was either the best idea she had ever had or the absolute worse.
...
...
...
Later, after she concluded that that was indeed the best idea she'd ever had, they laid on their side on the broken bed tangled into each other, their breathing slow and deep, and Malvina didn't try to stop the quiet sound of contentment that rose from her chest. Neither of them made any attempt to move away, touching and holding each other in a manner that was intimate in exactly the sort of way that would have had Malvina running away in the past, but the Breton found herself smiling all the same.
His skin smelled like ink and paper and old mysteries and the Last Dragonborn found herself drowning willingly in it as she pressed her mouth against the First Dragonborn's throat.
Once they managed to catch their breath, Malvina lifted her right palm to his face and cupped Miraak's cheek. He tensed at that, but despite the guarded expression that returned to his face he leaned ever-so-slightly into her touch, and Malvina felt a sort of warmth in her chest that she'd not felt in a long while.
"I didn't sleep with Brynjolf." She admitted; not because she owned him an explanation, but because she did not want Miraak trying to kill the other man in the near future. "I prefer you." The second thing was not something she'd meant to say, but it was just as true, and it was worth saying if only for the way Miraak's eyes came back to life hearing it.
"Of course you do." He responded, pleased and haughty and with the most deliciously sinful smirk on his face, and there was really no way she could stop herself from leaning in for another kiss.
What started as something quick and playful quickly turned into a fight for dominance that left them both breathless once again. Malvina moved her fingers through his hair and traced the seams of his lips with her tongue. Miraak's knee pressed firmly in the space between Malvina's legs and his palms cupped her breasts, and they only pulled away when they could no longer go without air.
The silence that followed was long but comfortable, and Malvina hummed quietly as she traced his side with a few of her fingers. Miraak watched her for the longest while, the expression on his face reminding her of the way he'd looked the night before, when he was drunk and eager and he told her that he wanted her.
"I'll miss this." He said eventually, quietly. One of his hands was in her hair again and one laid heavily on her hip, and his dark eyes were warm in a way she'd not seen before. Malvina felt her breath catch in her throat at his words, felt the world tilt slightly on its axis. His voice was clear, soft, sincere, and Malvina believed him. She did. "I will miss…" He stopped himself short, but his fingers tightened around her, and Malvina felt the world tilt on its axis again.
And did that mean— did he mean he might miss her? The way he'd touched her that day, the way he'd kissed her, the sense of time running out, it made her brave.
Because, to Oblivion with it, she would never know unless she spoke the words, and she was never one afraid of a gamble.
"Then stay." She told him, forcing her voice to be steady and unshaken, as if what she was asking him was not as monumental as it really was. "I want you to stay."
Miraak stared at her blankly in response, for what felt like an impossibly long moment, and Malvina waited, not moving, barely breathing, and Miraak—
"Shit." He hissed, wide eyes and furrowed brows, his hand moving away from her hair. And Malvina felt like she'd been punched in the stomach.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Malvina asked, anger and confusion bubbling to the surface. She latched on to the anger, because of course she would, and she hoped her disappointment— her bitterness and hurt and everything in between— did not show on her face. Because of course, of course he didn't want to stay with her, what was she even thinking? Since when did she imagine herself being lo-
She ended that trail of thought abruptly and squeezed her eyes shut for a few brief seconds. They snapped open when she felt Miraak shift, felt him pull himself away and push himself up on his elbow, and she refrained from looking at him out of fear that she would start screaming. She heard him inhale deeply, drawing air in to speak, and prepared herself to punch him in the face, but what come out of his mouth froze her in place.
"I finished the book a few hours ago." He said, almost guiltily, but it took a while for the words to register.
Malvina blinked, staring straight ahead for a few seconds before she finally looked up at his face.
He looked just as much at a lost about how to proceed as she did, and Malvina, well…
"Shit." She agreed.
And... another cliffhanger. Damn, I am the worse. Sorry guys, but I've been imagining this scene ending with dialogue for a long while and I could not help myself.
So, what did you think? And did anyone catch the reference to an earlier chapter that I put it there? I don't think i was very subtle. I'm bad at being subtle.
Also, two more chapter to go guys! WOOH!
Review, it keeps me going!
