(1068 words.

This chapter rated M.)

"This isn't what I came here for," Daud says, though the protest probably loses something from the way his hands go automatically to Billie's hips as she settles herself on his lap.

Billie shrugs. "But it is what you paid for, and I don't like owing people. You never know when or how they're going to try to collect." She tilts her head and smirks. "Besides, I'm curious what dirty little things the infamous Knife of Dunwall likes."

Daud has had more than a few jealous wives and husbands hire him for killings at the Golden Cat, and the jobs often involved more details than he really needed to know. "Compared to your regular clients, I'm sure you'll find me boring."

She laughs, dipping her head to press her mouth against his neck. "That might be a nice change of pace," she murmurs against his throat. Her hands slip from his shoulders and begin to work at the buttons of his shirt, moving methodically downward. She stops when she reaches his belt, letting her fingertips trail teasingly over the newly exposed skin just above. "You said you had a proposition for me?"

Daud closes his eyes and breathes deeply. "Yes," he says, tightening his grip on her waist. Her undergarments are edged in lace, and he runs his fingers roughly along that delicate fabric. "I think you'd do better killing for me than continuing the work you do here."

She lifts her head to frown at him, and he can feel a quiver of tension in her fingertips. "That's a pretty different set of skills," she says to him. "What makes you think I'd be any good at what you do?"

"Because I know who you are." He presses one hand flat to her stomach, then slips it down beneath the lace. "Three years ago, the Grand Guard swarmed through Dunwall looking for a murderer, some mad street rat who had killed the duke's son, but they never managed to track her down." He grazes over the wet heat between her thighs, and she inhales sharply, fingernails digging into his hips. "She was clever enough to evade them for a while, and then she found a place to hide in plain sight. She changed her look, changed her name – what is it you're calling yourself now? Meagan, was it? A much more common name than Billie Lurk."

Her nails dig into his skin again, hard enough to come off like a warning, before she shifts and moves her hands back up to his shoulders. She rocks her hips forward, rubbing herself against the heel of his palm. "You know an awful lot," she says, letting one hand slip back behind his neck.

Daud can hear the soft scrape of metal on wood by his ear, but Billie's arm does not move again. He nods. "I know a great deal," he says softly, leaning in like he's passing on a secret. He shifts his hand, and his fingers slide inside her easily, slick and ready; the knuckle of his thumb presses hard against her clit. Billie's eyes flutter briefly shut, and he enjoys the quiet noise that escapes her lips. "I know you spend your days serving clients you loathe," he continues, fingers curling within her. "You swallow down your hate while you charm Dunwall's wealthiest men and women, then dream of killing them like you did the duke's son, wishing you could get away with it again."

Billie's breath is hot and shallow against his throat, and her expression is mingled arousal and wariness. It's more appealing to him than he would be willing to admit aloud. Her arm by his head suddenly tenses, and he reaches up quickly with his free hand to grab her wrist and pull it into view. She tightens her fingers around the handle of the short blade in her grip – a poorly made, decorative thing, but it would do the job against a less skilled opponent – and her dark eyes widen.

"If I had come here meaning to kill you," Daud says, sliding his hand up and overtop of hers, "I would already be collecting payment for your corpse."

Billie shudders and slowly loosens her grip on the blade, letting Daud slip it from her fingers. "Then what do you want from me?"

Daud trails the knife lightly down her body as he lets his hand come to rest at her thigh. The blade's point settles just below the curve of her hip. "What I've already told you: I want you as one of my assassins." He flexes the fingers of his other hand, drawing another sharp gasp from her lips. "I'll train you to do it right, to kill quick and clean or slow and lingering, and the Watch will never come close to finding you."

She rolls her hips, letting the tip of the blade press into her skin, drawing a bead of blood, and forcing Daud's fingers deeper inside her. "And what do I get from this?" she asks, a little breathless, tightening her hands on his shoulders to brace herself as she moves. "A cut of the pay? I already earn enough coin to get by without putting myself back on all the city's wanted posters."

"I know it's not the coin that interests you. We get paid to take down the rich and powerful that nobody else can touch. You fight for me, and you'll be killing people like the ones who've hurt you." He presses his thumb back to her clit, rubbing small, swift circles in time with the rocking of her hips. Her head tips back, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, and he leans in closer, voice rumbling in her ear as he promises, "You'll have your payment in blood."

Billie lets out a low groan, bucks her hips roughly forward, and then she is clenching and shuddering around his hand. Her nails dig sharply into his arms for a moment, and then the tension slips from her body. She lets her head fall to rest on his shoulder, breathing heavily against his neck.

"Teach me to do what you do," she says eventually, her lips moving against his skin, "and I'll slit the throat of every damned noble in the city if you want."

Daud smiles, satisfied. He slowly pulls his hand from her, trailing wet fingertips over her stomach. "Then we have a deal."