Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Neven: Slower than usual? I didn't actually. I just wrote more for "Blickwinkel" but since that one is in German you didn't profit from it:-) Ah well I didn't take too long with this chapter… no dingo yet, but I really think the idea is rather appealing. You would do illustrations??? (starts jumping up and down excitedly) And there I thought I was asking how to bribe YOU! I'm afraid I wouldn't do to well if I tried illustrating anything though, so I'll have to think of something else. Any requests?

Amber eyes meet lavender ones in the attempt to try and read his intentions. I'm a bit confused though by what I can see. There certainly is the familiar half suppressed desire, but he seems insecure about something. It may be the startling lack of his usual hatred that has caught me off guard. Has he forgiven me then? How interesting. But has he forgiven himself? I have no way of telling right now and I need to remind myself that I don't even know what exactly it is that he wants yet.

"Have you been forging ties with the Serpent these past months?" He asks with half hearted disdain, half looking away to escape the close scrutiny and I almost suspect he's trying to stall by making useless conversation. I'm close to just grabbing him, but restrain my urges and answer with a mocking grin.

"Me? Ties with a grey elf?" I ask running an openly hungry gaze up and down his slim body. "I have better things to contemplate."

In fact I have considered that very possibility, but in the end I've decided that this one has too many enemies for me to lead a reasonably long life in his service and thus made no move to establish contact. I have no whish to engage in idle chitchat and so I ask bluntly: "Why have you come?"

He is looking away. Again. Seemingly very interested in the few other patrons, who are doing their best to ignore us, or the decoration. Trying to gather his courage is he?

"I…" He hesitates.

"Yes?"

"You are not making this easier for me."

"Really?" I smirk. He looks so tempting like this, consumed by some inner struggle, nervously tugging a stray strand of white hair behind a pointy ear. Of course I will enjoy every second of it. "I'm so sorry."

This earns me a glare and a growled: "Fine. Let's go upstairs then."

That said he turns abruptly and stalks up to the upper level, leaving me to follow with raised eyebrows. A bit touchy today, are we Do'urden? Well, I don't mind as long as things continue in this rather promising fashion.

In spite of my increasing certainty about his intentions I hesitate briefly before following him through the door to enter the small, unassuming, but mercifully clean room. One can never be too careful. But I needn't have worried in this case, for as soon as the lock has clicked shut his hands rise to open the first button of his shirt. I see. What has caused this change of heart, I wonder and decide to put him to the test.

"Stop this." I say sharply.

He stares, his shocked expression almost comical and I have to work hard to keep up my cold mask of indifference. So he really does want to do this. He is not so skilled an actor that he could produce such an unfeigned picture of utter surprise on purpose and convince me with it.

"B-but… don't you… I thought that…"

Do I want to torture him further by forcing him into an explanation? The thought of watching him squirm is certainly tempting, but so is the notion of finally being able to touch that soft, black skin. Touch wins after a short internal debate and I step forward until there's only a hands breadth of air between us. I'll not ask any further questions. His reasons are his own and not my responsibility.

"Stand still." My low menacing tone leaves him shivering and silent, just as I intended. The predatory smile which is probably gracing my features right now should make my intentions more than clear. Let the games begin. Slowly I walk around him, circling him like a cat would do with helpless prey, making sure he can hear my steps as I leave his range of vision.

"Do you wish for me to touch you?" A seductive whisper.

When he only nods I grab the half opened collar of his shirt from behind harshly yanking him backwards so his back comes to rest against my chest.

"How much do you want it?" I want to know. Until he tells me I'll not lift a finger I promise myself. I nearly break this promise though at the sound of his soft moan.

"Tell me!" A sharp hiss.

"Please." It's a very soft plea, infused with desperation, but I guess it will do for now. I finally allow my fingers to tangle in the white mane, but not doing anything else yet, determined to make this a drawn out experience. He seems disinclined to follow my wishes in that point and turns around after a short time to tempt me into a kiss. Of course I can't withstand his offering and while I harshly claim his lips my hands slide up to divest him of the bothersome shirt. He seems a little surprised to find it gone when I scratch lightly down his chest, in a promise of what's still to come, leaving goose bumps in my trail. Not been paying attention have you Do'urden?

What a blessing that he has obviously decided to skip the usual moral discussion I reflect hazily, had I been forced to use that spell on him I wouldn't bee able to hear those rather interesting noises he's making now.

"Kneel." I snap suddenly, smirking when he does so his expression vaguely confused, but obedient nonetheless. Good! I take a step backwards and regard him. The usually sparkling eyes slightly glazed and fixed on my every move, is he aware that he is licking his lips now? My hand glides under my own shirt tantalizingly lifting the hem only a bit to reveal what I know to be velvety golden skin.

"Do you want to see more?" I ask softly, teasingly.

"Yes." He croaks hoarsely.  Ah no, that will not do! He has come to me and that means he can be made to ask nicely.

"Yes what?" I inquire with narrowed eyes, making him swallow once before he meekly repeats: "Yes please."

"Very well."

I proceed to undress in the most languid, deliberate way I can contrive, making him watch from the distance unable to do anything but kneel there until he is unconsciously biting his lips. By the time I am ready to drape myself invitingly on the bed he's twitching slightly, fists clenching and unclenching, but silent.

"Your turn drow."

The wicked gleam in his eyes tells me that he fully intends to match my efforts. Well, as far as I'll let him. It is truly a sight to remember. The scant light of only two candles fighting against the darkness of what has by now become a full blown snowstorm, flickers over the graceful angles of his limbs enhancing the contrast between skin and hair and in the end I enjoy every second of it, finding the sound of the howling wind outside to be strangely appropriate to this scene. Once there is nothing more to remove he comes to me, his body radiating warmth like a fire, the scent of arousal in the air, intoxicating to me like sweet wine.

I take the time to slowly relearn every single contour, every curve of him, first with my fingers and later with lips and tongue, taking immense satisfaction in hearing the stifled gasps and moans when he cannot hold them back any more. He has made some preparations I discover to my great pleasure, seeing a small bottle filled with what I assume must be oil, almond scented oil, as far as I can discern when putting it to good use a short time later.

"Take hold of the headboard." I murmur and watch delightedly when he does so without a seconds hesitation. Then I lean back withdrawing all contact which has him utter a low moan of protest that puts an evil smile on my face.

"No. Please!"

Kneeling between his parted legs I lean over him, still smiling so that only strands of my hair tickle his stomach, but nothing else. Deprived of sensation he begins to fidget, but wisely keeps his hands on the dark wood, like I told him to. I don't have to wait for long before he grows impatient and desperate.

"Rashiel. Please I beg you, do something!" He whines, wide eyed and panting.

That is rewarded by a single still oily finger stroking lightly upwards on the inner side of one trembling ebony thigh.

"And what exactly would you have me do?"

He glares at me through a haze of aching need resenting the fact that I would make him beg further.

"You know what I mean." Ah so there is still some little remnant of that moral reserve left, but not for long. Even tough it is hard for me to keep back when he is lying there, looking every inch like a delicious ripe fruit ready to be plucked, I do my best to appear calm and unfazed when I ask: "Do I?"

An exasperated groan follows my question.

"Take me! Damn you."

Ah, long sentences seem unmanageable in his current state I take it. Of course I'm only too happy to oblige in this case.