"Lucien," she murmured, her hands tracing his hardened body as it moved with grace and deliberation against hers. HIs mouth turned up in a smirk against the skin of her neck before he saw fit to nip at it, elliciting another blessed moan from her lips.
The room was darkened, their old home in the Elven Gardens District, and Lucien had just gotten back from a contract, his assassin leathers peeled off in haste and discarded on the floor. He smelled of the sea, of Anvil, and she tasted the salt on his skin, could smell it in his long hair. Any coherent thoughts she might have had after that were banished as her beloved assassin traced a teasing path down her body, his mouth teasing her nipples, the curves of her breasts, as he went. She writhed and whimpered under his lips and hands and tongue as he traced over the curve of her hip, deftly avoiding where she most wanted him.
A loud and embarrassing gasp escaped her throat as his mouth finally settled at her core, hot tongue flicking out to taste her, fingers joining in on the fun after a while. Gods, how long had it been? She was getting so close so fast, raising her hips to meet the thrust of his fingers, the flick of his tongue. The pressure build higher and higher and hotter until she shuddered, climaxing around his digits, crying out weakly at the force of her pleasure. He didn't stop right away, tongue still insistent, fingers still delving, forcing her to ride out her orgasm until sobs broke from her and he knew she could take no more.
His face was satisfied and wet when he loomed over her again, capturing her mouth in a fervent kiss, forcing her to taste herself and groaning when she made a show of enjoying it. His body was a fever against her, and Elisif moved a hand down, coaxing his member ever closer to her entrance. Lucien needed no such encouragement, seating his hips against hers and thrusting roughly into her painfully tight and thoroughly soaked heat. His mouth consumed her scream, his hands holding hers at her sides as he thrust steadily, working up a punishing pace, one that her body had been craving for far too long. Try as he might to keep her from participating, she still met his thrust as best she could, grinding up against him.
She could feel it; so close, so very close to completion, only needing just a little more. Her lover seemed to notice this, releasing her hands and pressing one of his own to her throat, squeezing just enough to send a panic through her, just enough to topple her over the edge. There were no screams, for she could not with his interference. She sucked in air like a drowning man just pulled from the water, and her lover tightened his grip, choking her in earnest.
Her head pounded as she struggled, her thin hand clawing at his, but it might have been a child swatting at him for all the good it did. As her vision dimmed, she looked into his eyes, barely visible in the candlelight, but there it was: the emotionless gaze of a trained assassin. Not her Lucien's eyes, but the calculating stare of the Brotherhood's finest. The Speaker. Slowly her eyes closed, a weariness overtaking her, the horror of suffocation drifting away into the nothingness of sure death-
Her eyes whipped open as she sat straight up in bed, only to slam shut once more as the light from the windows pierced her vision, covering her eyes with her hands and slumping back into the pillows. Someone stirred in the room.
"Pull the curtains." Elisif rasped, her throat raw and throbbing. The person in the room obeyed instantly, silently darkening the room and awaiting her orders.
The room smelled of herbs and old parchment, the bedding too lavish and soft to be her waterfront shack; the room was far too silent. Her voice carried in the vaulted ceilings. A large, warm hand took one of hers and held it comfortingly, and she reluctantly opened her eyes and groaned.
"Glad to see you're awake, Arch-mage." Raminus spoke easily, passing a chalice of mulled wine in her direction.
After she drained the glass she frowned and cleared her throat. "How did I end up here?" she glanced down, suddenly curious. "Did you undress me?"
"How dare you, Elli!" Raminus mocked, "You know I got someone else to do that. Had to be done though, you were filthy!
"Anyways, some patrolling guards found you on the banks of the Rumare, down at the Waterfront, unconscious and covered in blood. Once they recognized you, they rushed straight here. Do you have to get attacked like this in the middle of the night? I was having the most wonderful dream of bare-breasted Bosmer women feeding me grapes." As Raminus chuckled a bit at himself, a plush feather pillow slammed into his face. "Alright, alright."
Raminus watched his longtime friend and fellow mage, traced the planes of her face. So close. They'd been so close before. Fellow students with the same tutor (how many times had he set her hair on fire?). She had practically been an open book for him to read, so trusting and happy. Not so now. No, now she was guarded, careful. Cold.
Yet she seemed to trust him well enough. Her hand came up to rest on his face, so close to her own, and she leaned her forehead in against his, a weary grin on her face.
"What would I do without you, my friend?" she whispered hoarsely, and he did not return her smile.
"Wake up in the Imperial Prison, most likely."
Sorry for the lack of update. My burlesque troupe had a show this past weekend, and it's been hectic preparing. This week has just been FUBAR. I hope this story hasn't been terrible! I've got a direction I'm planning to go in, and I hope you all will like it.