Author's Notes: So, the deed is done. How do I know this? I am the author. XD So much buildup for many different things in this story...and the big one that many have been waiting for! XD I hope it's...um...satisfactory? XD

WARNING: This chapter is rated M. for Sexual Situations. You have been warned.

Love or Blood

Chapter Sixty-two: The Little Death

xxxx

We were traveling back to the Imperial City. Lucien believed most if not all of the required ingredients could be purchased there. I was simply lucky that the weather proved dry enough for travel. I was also lucky that Lucien was patient and offered for me to bathe prior to our leaving. He needed to resupply in Cheydinhal, regardless, so he was kind enough to rent me a room for a few hours so that I could wash while he shopped, then he returned and cleaned himself as well after. It was not much of a sacrifice on the assassin's part, despite him trying to make it seem so. Lucien did indeed hate shopping, but our baths robbed me of the excuse of filth - this pleased him greatly.

I had no more tricks to deter him and I was trying not to make any. I felt it was time to quell the assassin's worries and give him his desired 'acted passion'. Still, the thought shook me. I was in no way prepared to accept Lucien Lachance, but I knew I was treading a fine line with him. I had to secure myself. Since Vicente instilled doubt in his mind, I worried. Although he seemed his normal self, I minded my person and tried my best to be utterly open. I did not want him to think that I was hiding anything. Lucien Lachance was the very last person on Nirn that I wanted cross with me. It seemed I only made enemies, I did not want to make one out of my anointed protector.

Holding him tightly as Shadowmere carried us further and further away from Cheydinhal, I felt my pulse quicken at the prospect of lying with the assassin. He was handsome and I was curious, but Lucien Lachance proved to be a very dark and interesting individual, who was prone to dark and interesting actions. He held no qualms over doing the unexpected and devious. It was in his smile, his touch, and his kiss... I prayed it did not carry over to other aspects of the assassin but I knew that to be a useless hope. As such, I could not help but to fear Lucien's methods. The man killed to abate tension, played with blood and body parts for his 'science and alchemical pursuits', and took trophies from his kills. I did not know how often he did such a thing but receiving a bloodied baker's cap months prior still spoke volumes.

Since the loss of my amulet, most if not all of my playing with the assassin came to a grinding halt. I refused to bait him now out of fear of his reaction. The necklace had instilled a remarkable amount of security within me and made me nearly bold. I was wrong for having taunted him so, but truth be told, I had enjoyed it. It was a remarkable circumstance, something I had never known. To be with a man that could not harm me...so long as I was not blatantly offensive. I did miss the protection but its absence proved to me that Lucien Lachance would not tackle me at first opportunity. The amulet had broken a day after I had received it. I was alone with him when it had occurred as well. He could have easily done whatever he wanted. Anything. That in itself was frightening...but now I was attempting to welcome his desires. Desires that he had apparently harbored for months now.

I did my best to shrug off the severity of sex. I tried to tell myself that it was not as critical or frightening an act as I thought it to be. It could mean nothing, it could be a social task, much like a conversation. So many on Nirn, including the assassin, could sleep with another for purely recreational purposes. I did not have to worry so, it was not a horribly significant process. It was nothing. I only needed to lie there and stare up at him, and endure him, and feel him in me...

It was horrifying. I did not know how sex could be considered impersonal. It was the closest I could ever physically be to another. Being on the receiving end, I greatly feared Lucien Lachance. He had the control, and allowing him to exact his desires was quite the chilling prospect. What he had done to me in Leyawiin had been shamefully pleasurable, but that was a sexual act, not the act of sex in itself. Initiation was very different in comparison to sex, and although I was nowhere near an experienced woman, from my time with the Count I learned that 'lovemaking' was a reflection of one's self.

The Count and I had only been together twice, but much like the vampire who I cared for, the act was an incredible mix of pain and pleasure on both occasions. It matched him. It was forceful - though totally consensual - but not unkind. Again, it matched him. The Count, although mostly harsh, could not outright be called particularly cruel. He was, however, an astonishingly imposing man. He was stern and burdened with a remarkably poor temper, but he was ever passionate. There was gentleness to him once, and it had shown beautifully when were together. All of his strength, all of his power, all of his severity, and passion melted into a beautifully intense union. I trusted him not to hurt me more than what was unpreventable. That, of course, was before. His actions in the Green Room plainly showed all the negative sides of his strength, power, severity and even passion. The Count was plagued with two extremes, and it was the latter that I ran from.

Being that sex seemed an echo of one's inner person, I again cringed at the impending Lucien Lachance. He seemed so very suave and charming, vying for my attention and pleasure. But, I knew of his darker side too. I had been introduced all too well to the assassin's 'other half'. If that was what was in store for me, I was unsure if I could handle it.

My thoughts were wild and made me terribly anxious. There was far too much I was not ready for. Despite not wanting to make any more excuses to the assassin...I did. Inwardly panicking, I tugged on his cloak lightly. "Could we camp tonight?" I asked, inwardly cursing the tightness to my voice. Sleeping in an inn along the road felt like I was off to my doom. I did not know why, but I believed residing in a tent would be 'safer'. Less room, perhaps too cold to remove clothing. We would be busy setting up the tent, as well. The assassin also had a great affinity for astronomy, claiming that certain celestial bodies were better for magic, others for murder. Both disturbing and fascinating, much like him. It could be a distraction. "I-it is a beautiful day. Surely the night will be nice as well...?"

Lucien glanced over his shoulder at me, smiling slightly. "Prolonging the inevitable?" Lachance purred in question, causing me to gulp and look away, feeling caught and embarrassed. "I have no love for shopping either but we will have to face the Imperial City eventually, you know." In an instant, I was lifted, grateful that my dislike for the city saved me from being terribly obvious. "I suppose a small detour will be more than acceptable. I prefer the outdoors, at any rate."

"Thank you." I sighed, thinking myself to be remarkably clever for once. My multitude of anxieties had saved me. I merrily went along further with his assumption. "Your fort is terribly stuffy too. We could use the air."

"You will need to grow accustomed to it, my dear. I have many havens but my ruined sanctum is a personal favorite. Close to town, close to work, and I enjoy the weather. The crisp air is vital to my pleasant disposition." I scoffed, fearing for myself and the masses should the day pass that Cheydinhal grew muggy. "Though I am considering the construction of a proper house. I have the gold and the permission from the ever blissfully spineless Count Indarys. But I confess, I am a touch conflicted over the idea."

"May I ask why?" I pouted at his back, feeling very curious as to why the assassin would not want himself a home. Who would not desire a decent place of their own? It was very strange.

"Certainly. A house implies extreme stability - whereas I tend to prefer travel. It also requires a great amount of work and commitment. I have much to focus my attention on, as is. I would need decent help with its construction. The layout, the room count, stocking, finishes, and furnishings...I am not easily invested in such matters. Materials bore me. I fear I would grow weary of the tedium, get distracted and abandon all in its entirety. An embarrassing shell of House Lachance...The idea is uncomfortable."

I laughed some, hearing the genuinely unsettled tone dance in his words. It was comical how something most would be overjoyed to do troubled the assassin. I could not imagine owning, nevermind designing, my own space. I doubted my capacity to do either well, but I knew most be glad to try. "Could your Family help you? They are very...loyal. I am certain they would lend you a hand. Perhaps you could compensate them, too?"

Lucien grunted before giving a firm shake of his head. "I am afraid not. Only two of my Family know where I mainly reside now. Should I summon the initiative to build a home, it will be done in secrecy and as a civilian, not as a Dark Brother. They need not know where I live. Too much openness is not good for an assassin, no matter how high his station or position of power. I may open my fort to them, as a place of meeting...we shall see. I quite like my fort. I do not relish the thought of sharing. It is comfortable for me. Very humble, dark and cold."

I only shook my head, still smiling slightly even as he brought a hand down upon one of my own, lightly caressing me. "Will that be how you model your hypothetical 'proper' home? Dark and cold?"

"Possible. That depends on you."

"On me? Oh..." I blinked then paused at the realization of Lucien implying that I was to design his potential residence. Such a notion certainly caused discomfort to me, but I was unsure why it did so greatly. Not knowing what to say, I simply eyed the road and felt his hand. I chewed my lip, fearing he would not like my silence and lack of response. I quickly sought an alternative deterrence beside my normal 'ignore all' tendency. "B-but you yourself said you are unsure."

"True, but should we agree to it, I would task you with holding my attention or making the decisions entirely. My only stipulations: four bedrooms and the bones of a decently sized basement. I may not be materialistic, but I do require an area for research and practice. I am at my most comfortable in the dark."

"Four bedrooms seems to be oversized..." I mumbled, trying to continue the conversation in spite of the oddness and extreme difficulty that I suddenly felt towards it. It seemed that lying with the assassin was not the only thing I was dreading. His impending organization and inclusion of myself to his place were strange to me. It made all much too real. I was to live with Lucien. Technically, I had been, but this felt far more definitive. He wanted to build a home with me in mind.

Sensing my obvious discomfort, Lachance chuckled. "Do not tense so. This is all talk. Purely conjecture, if you will." I found myself nodding despite his inability to currently witness the action. "And four bedrooms would meet our needs comfortably. If we were to build a house, it would be of fitting size."

We? I certainly did not like that. Still, I nodded, silently emitting a little sigh as I did so, trying hard to not fall into silence. I would try to be optimistic - but towards what, I did not know. I tried to see my inclusion as a good thing. It was a good thing. "So...an estate-?"

"No." He interrupted with surprising sharpness, causing me to nearly jump from surprise. I stiffened against him and watched his profile, noting the tensing of his jaw as he glared off at nothing for the briefest of seconds. Not even a moment later, he then cleared his throat before continuing with his usual smoothly rich tone. "Not so large, no. Just a sizable house." I continued to stare, noting the smallest 'tells' on the assassin's features. The oddly twitchy appearance, stiffening limbs, and flexing of his fingers along the reigns and my knuckles...it was much like looking into a mirror and witnessing my constant fearful state. Extreme apprehension - it was a condition I knew all too well. Something irked him greatly.

In an instant, Lucien's words rang out in my mind and all clicked, leaving me intrigued. 'An estate. I was born on a very large estate.' The assassin quickly calmed but remained remarkably quiet. I pitied his anxiety, knowing that perhaps I should not. Perhaps his fears were owed. The man killed, I should not sympathize with him in the least for feeling mildly uncomfortable...but he had been a boy then, and he was still irritable over the memory as a man now. I could not help but to empathize, even if only slightly.

Knowing my best form of comfort from fear to be a distraction, I decided to endure the uncomfortable talk of home construction for the assassin. "I-I prefer white stones on the outside of our hypothetical home. And much greenery. Roses scaling the walls too."

The assassin quickly took my offering. It was almost warming. He often distracted me from my woes, I supposed I owed him. "White and red? A fine combination. I approve. Construction will be easy, at this rate. Anything else?"

I offered what I could.

XXXX

Hal-Liurz had been quite confused once summoned by the Count around high noon. However, she dutifully went to answer his call. The Stewardess would openly admit that the Castle itself felt much less tense to her with Abigale Lynn's absence. She did not have to actively watch and worry for the girl - but worry for her she did, whenever a moment was spared. The Maids Quarters seemed oddly darker without the fiery hair and pale skin of the young woman. Abigale Lynn had a tendency to 'glow' once she fell into one's path of vision. Despite the underlining darkness of the situation, it was a bit nice. Hal-Liurz was not gnawing on her talons once the clock struck eight, out of fear that Janus Hassildor would snap and make a meal out of the girl...again.

Said Count's manor proved to be the only exception to the Stewardess' 'peace'. The grandeur turned oppressive. All had reverted back to its post-slave state. Nothing had been touched or brushed against. It was the utter absence of life. Although the Count did not remain in a corner during Abigale Lynn's leave, he seemed to wear holes in the rugs from his usual paths. Despite having an infinitely big manor, never mind the rest of the Castle, Janus Hassildor could not be bothered to pull from his normal habitual routines. He would do County work, practice his magic or alchemy, read, order things, feed and rest. He had lost almost all desire for talk. Before Abigale Lynn, he would occasionally strike a conversation with the Stewardess, mainly inquiries about the workers and their comforts or the general gossip of the town. All was a need to know basis, however. Still, it was something. Now without an order, there was absolutely no conversation to speak of.

So as she pushed open the door to his bedchamber, which was much stiffer than usually due to its lack of use, she was not surprised by the black look she received upon entry. The Count, in appearance, seemed very much like himself. Richly dressed, well-kempt, and among his finery. It was his face that gave away his exceedingly poor disposition. None of this was new or shocking. However, she was very surprised to be suddenly accompanied by the Count's rather elusive Steward, Mercator Hosidus. The man had been away on some sort of errand for the Count - which was quite literally a poor excuse of a task just to send the stubby man away - and only recently returned a few days prior. Thankfully, the Imperial still shirked his work and remained utterly useless. He claimed to be far too busy with other matters to attend, most of his duties suffered, leaving the Stewardess to pick up the slack. She very much preferred it that way.

"Lord Hassildor, you rang for me?" Mercator more drawled than asked, his head turned up and smile oily. The Stewardess kept her face utterly expressionless as the Imperial sauntered far too close to the Count. The man had worked for Castle Skingrad for a little less than a decade and in that time his manners towards the Count had hardly improved. He learned nothing of the Count's preferences. Most knew not to draw to close instantly as Janus Hassildor was a figure of extreme authority and the help was not his equal. Pompous Mercator had already walked in hot water by literally overstepping. Hal-Liurz audibly groaned behind her stoic appearance, then hid the action behind a small, false cough.

The Count, whose utterly dark look worsened by the arrogant placement of his Steward, stiffened more in the worst if ways. Naturally choleric, the Count's body language turned hostile. This, of course, was unbeknownst to little Mercator. Hal-Liurz could not help but contemplate such ignorance. Perhaps it could be nice. "It has come to my immediate attention that a parcel from the Mages Guild was delivered, signed and return. This implies interception of my personal documents. Being that it was sent by the Arcane couriers and not my own, this is unsurprising. Nevertheless, I cannot aptly express my frustrations. If it did not reach my hand, I would very much love to know on whose authority it left my Castle..."

For once, both Steward and Stewardess shared an irked glance. Hal-Liurz had not been her usually perceptive self once it came to the Count's very personal missives. In truth, she had been avoiding them like the plague. Janus Hassildor had been writing back and forth with the High Chancellor so frequently, she had considered them penpals, which was oddly satirical. That little amusement had fast faded once she glimpsed the context of their letters as she opened it before the Count. Marriage and Divorce. The Count had 'legally separated' from Rona long ago to remove her from the interest of the public eye. Most believed she had left the Castle to live comfortably on another property owned by the Count and had since passed on. This was years prior. All knew Janus Hassildor to be a powerful wizard. Thusly, it was normal to have the longevity of an elf. Rona was no such sorceress and so naturally slipped from gossip, most thinking she succumbed to age. This left the Stewardess to dread why the Count needed the logistics of Marriage and Divorce.

Interestingly enough, three years before, the Count had received a few marriage proposals. One from the Countess of Chorrol, offering her daughter - who had since married the Count of Leyawiin - and another from the Countess of Bruma. That had been an interesting read. The Countess of Bruma was as demanding as Janus Hassildor in her lengthy missive as to why they made a good match. She was more interested in uniting their Counties. She had no intentions of living in Skingrad or having the Count live with her in Bruma. It was all for political gain... On both occasions a well-thought-out letter was sent, it's composition flawless, 'No' littering the page in the most delicate manner.

Lost in her musings, the Stewardess only looked to Mercator, the other fool in their situation. Being that the man had the attention span of a Skeever on Skooma, she was not in the least surprise that such a thing slipped by him as well.

Their steadily growing silence further provoked the irascible Count. His upper lip began to curl ever so slightly as he spoke. "I require implicit obedience. Absolute and unwavering attention. I have no patience for anything less. I have two of you in my employ, and as you stand before me now - pitifully vacant and slackjawed - I think myself to be the fool for entrusting either of you with any matters. The most insignificantly unimportant duty would be better tended to at the hands of a newborn! This incompetent disorganization is appalling. You both should be ashamed."

"I apologize, my Lord. I have been busy tending to the Castle change." The Stewardess tried gently, which was a very honest statement. Along with her normal duties, she had been busy with the odd catharsis - the strange shift of ease to the servants. It seemed a mysterious weight had lifted. Without the presence of the Count's Personal Assistant, everything fell back to its norm. The women of the Maids Quarters had been remarkably tense when Abigale Lynn resided among them. It was again up to Hal-Liurz to keep the now carefree workers working.

"That is not a satisfactory excuse, Hal-Liurz. And I believe myself to be the most affected by our current 'Castle change'. Here I stand before you now, the Count, and the only one who knew of such inefficiency. This is a matter that should fall to my Stewards. This is an inexcusable embarrassment." The hostility to his tone made the Stewardess grateful for Mercator's company. She was pleased that she did not have to bear the Count's wrath alone. Janus then turned his critical gaze to the Steward, head tilted and eyes ablaze. "So, what is your poor justification?"

Mercator tried to offer a kind smile, something Hal-Liurz knew was an incredibly foolish thing to do. The Count would see his grin as a condescending action. The Stewardess could not blame Janus, as any expression that left Mercator seemed false and arrogant. "My Lord, I am simply overcome with all that gathered while I was away. It must have slipped by me. I am pulling much slack as it is."

"Slack? What slack?" The Count demanded, looking remarkably affronted. "Your duties were evenly divided during your absence and I did not hear a word of complaint from those saddled with the extra responsibilities. Have you grown incapable of even the simplest of tasks? Sort. The. Mail. What is so incomprehensible?" Too soon after the Count had finished, Mercator foolishly countered.

"Lord Hassildor, I am only human."

Hal-Liurz pinched the bridge of her snout, shooting the Steward with a narrowed glare from the corner of her eye. The gap between the Count's words and Mercator's response was too brief a pause. One statement melted into the other and it had yet to be the Steward's turn to respond. And being that the Count was a vampire, Janus Hassildor was more than provoked by the mention of humanity, as he greatly lacked the element. Hal-Liurz readied herself for the verbal beating, all the while mentally cursing her coworker. Wrong wording...oafish Imperial.

"Keep your head down until I grant you permission to speak!" It woefully began, needlessly venomous and loud. The Count was more prone to violent outbursts as of late. Truthfully, he always had been. However, recently, he seemed to search for reasons to lash out. Simple Mercator had gifted him several great ones. "How dare you presume to interrupt me. Me! I am your Count! You are more of a fool than you look. A jester in the garb of a Steward, it seems. Have you grown further soft in more than just your midsection during your leave? I will not tolerate your insolence." Janus snarled, fangs bared, another recent constant no matter his mood. On moment teeth were flashing for seemingly no cause, the next they had vanished. It made both Steward and Stewardess remarkably tense, far more than his words ever could. "Your manner is deeply offensive to me - your Count, as it seems I must remind you now. I pray you understand that this will not happen again. 'This' implying your being spared from further punishment than a dock in pay... Oh yes, it shall be cut. Give me that look again and your gold will not be the only thing I render from your person, Hosidus."

The Imperial went completely silent. He averted his gaze and gave a curt nod. The Count waved him away before speaking once more. "Leave me now before I lose my temper." Mercator bowed and quickly scampered off. The Stewardess turned to follow him out, already sufficiently tense and quite finished with their lesson. "Hal-Liurz, stay." The Count suddenly snapped before forcing politeness, voice rigid. "Please." Ever dutiful, the Stewardess turned to face the still very irate Janus. He beckoned her to join him as he made the brief walk towards his desk. She followed, albeit grudgingly.

The Count quickly retrieved the top scroll from a stack of neatly filed parchment. He passed it quickly to the Stewardess' hand and stood motionless as he waited for her to open it. She complied and in an instant, Hal-Liurz deeply regretted what she had read. Again, she internally groaned. The Count was further pushing Abigale Lynn's station, it was no secret to the Stewardess, although she knew he meant to hide the deed until now. Why he wanted to apply more pressure to the girl upon her return was beyond Hal-Liurz's grasp of comprehension. To her, it seemed utterly foolish. He had already anointed her as a lady...now, she was apparently a Mages Guild Evoker.

Janus hovered over the Stewardess as she read carefully, absorbing all with slow recognition. The Count was up to something and she was not sure she wanted to be so involved. "Do you understand the context?" He asked seconds after she pulled her eyes from the paper.

"Regrettably, yes," Hal-Liurz mumbled, sighing as she handed the scroll back to the Count. "Why did you feel the need to show me this?"

"I believed it obvious." Janus countered, running a free hand through his hair as he placed the parchment back to its original position. "Once Abigale Lynn returns to me, I will require her to be of higher status. She needs more freedoms. She needs more power and authority. As much as I possibly can I need to make her equal to me in her station." Hal-Liurz quirked her brow as the Count turned to fix her with an oddly pointed stare, red eyes piercing. "...and all that happens to imply."

The Stewardess again eyed the paper, several things suddenly falling into place in her mind. Raising the girl's status was quite the red flag, but now the marital papers made sense, too. Terrible sense. Awful, terrible, ridiculous sense. "...You are...you intend to marry Abigale Lynn?"

"Indeed I do."

Hal-Liurz stared, confounded and appalled. She thought of all that transpired the night before Abigale Lynn had left, and all that lead up to that violence. Abigale Lynn's face on the eve of their parting was not something easily ignored. She was so small, so defeated... "B-but you cannot!" The Stewardess sputtered, her initial shock quickly fading to anger and outrage. "You cannot do that to her! Why would you force her hand so? Hasn't enough damage been done?!"

The Count remained quiet until he walked around to his desk, shuffling some scrolls about before answering. "This will not be force, as it was already agreed prior to her leaving. Her compliance was a requirement to her going away."

This only further outraged the Stewardess as she stared at the man before her. "A requirement?! That is force. What do you not understand?"

"...Do you really wish to know?" He questioned, looking more intrigued than angry, a poor mask to conceal his inner frustration. "I shall gladly tell you." The Count drew in nearer, hands splayed out on the surface of his desk, head bowed, eyes up. "I simply cannot comprehend what most fail to see in regards to ownership. Ownership is control, a title, a physical state, literal power over another individual, land, or good." He continued, his gaze sharpened, his face contorting into a hateful scowl. "Servitude goes hand in hand with ownership. Let us go further and be quite honest in our truth and expectations: slavery. Slavery denotes bondage. Bondage. To be bound...What does she not UNDERSTAND?!" In an instant, he brought a fist down onto the furnishing, splintering the polished wood before pushing himself away from the desk, only to pace about like a madman. "She is mine! I own her! My slave, my servant, my woman, mine! What eludes you and all else?! Does this truth mean nothing? How am I in the wrong for doing as I am entitled? I was not so cruel!"

Hal-Liurz stiffened but let him rant and rave without too much fear. She had seen worse fits, much worse, but she could openly admit that he looked more confused than angry, as though conflicted by his own outburst. Regardless, the Stewardess summed up the courage to meet his wild gaze and spoke as evenly as she was able. "But you have been, Sir. You have been. Stating otherwise will fool no one in this room."

Thankfully, this loosened the Count some, his pacing stopped as he gave a bitter nod in agreement. "...She drove me mad. It was all my doing. I expect things. However, I was not cruel prior to her complete withdrawal. I housed her, fed her, clothed and pampered her, I cared, tended, loved..." He gave an angry shake of his head before pointing to his bedchamber door. "She would not speak to me for days on end! She shut herself down the hall and hated me for being true. I told her of my pain and what did she do? She mimicked it! She withdrew like Rona, Hal-Liurz! How long was I to sit by idly and stare at the stone?!"

"You continue to stare at stone for our Countess. Perhaps more than a few days would have been compassionate."

"Compassion..." The Count scoffed, eyeing the Stewardess strangely, almost looking defeated in spite of his grim manner. "I am out of it." His shoulders slumped, he stared off a tapestry. "She does not wish to return to me. She has grown close to an another...another living man. A mortal man. A Dark Brother."

The Stewardess blinked, finding the Count's resolute tone worrisome, along with his words. Although she could not blame the girl for attaching to another after the Count's poor treatment. Still, a Dark Brotherhood cutthroat seemed to be another level of extreme. She did not want to believe it and hoped the Count only came up with such a conclusion due to his insecurity. "How can you -"

"How can I know? Because she is mine and I marked her thusly. It means nothing now, it seems. She fears me so greatly that she has a mind to stay with him. I can feel her conveying this to me in the dead of night, though I doubt she realizes her actions echo with such magnitude." Janus shook his head, gaze narrowing once more. "I am trying to feel for her plight, allow her to make her own decisions and mistakes. Let her know the other she finds oh so very curious... But I will not be letting her go. I told her I relinquished nothing. I wonder if I should remind her. I wonder if I should end this folly and bring her back..."

The Stewardess again feared greatly for Abigale Lynn. She considered her to be safer with the dark cult, despite her utter hatred for the group. The Count was still in poor states. He was volatile. She worried what would happen should Abigale Lynn return too soon...

Feeling defensive, the Hal-Liurz straightened and placed her hands upon her hips "So what will you do, my Lord? Drag her back and force her hand in marriage?"

To her chagrin, the Count's brow only quirked curiously, his face contemplative. "I may do precisely that."

xxxx

We made camp in the Great Forrest close to sundown. I was still quite nervous over all but somehow felt more confident over our situation. Our camping excursion seemed to be an appropriate deterrent for my cowardly approach to sex. I sat upon the grass and dirt, marveling at the orange sky above as its radiance seeped through the many leaves of the trees. It was beautiful. However, Lucien suddenly entered my visage. He stood behind me and bowed his head towards my own, grinning, as ever. "Slacking? I thought I asked you to gather kindling, my dear."

I could not help but smile slightly at the ridiculous image of an upside down Lachance. "I already did," I said as I fought my mirth, patting the decently sized stack of dried twigs and brush to my side. "Is this not a sufficient amount?"

Lucien turned ever so slightly to eye the pile appraisingly. It seems he wanted it to be lacking, as to grab my attention with a request. I did not grant him the opportunity and felt so very smug for it - this though, I hid from him. "I suppose it will serve. May I ask what you are doing, though?" He questioned, again following my path of vision to the golden dotted canopy above, quickly deducing my careless activity. "Hmm, I prefer stargazing, as you know. If you are desiring a better view, the sky is much clearer by the firepit, especially if you so wish to watch the sunset. Too many trees above you here."

I shrugged and leaned past him slightly to newly watch the pretty hues peeking through the lush branches overhead. "This is lovely here too, though. The tree swaying is nice, like a dream." Lucien straightened to watch for a moment, soon making a contemplative sound.

"...It is disorienting." He deadpanned, focusing his attention back to me.

"Perhaps a bit," I admitted. In truth, it was why I so enjoyed the view. It was a little escape, captivating and beautiful. One could almost call it hypnotic. I greatly liked watching.

"I confess, not my favorite view or activity. What is presently situated by my feet is a much more pleasing visage." Lucien offered, moving to further insert himself into my line of sight. I tutted and again inched past him to watch all slowly dance over his shoulder. "...If you so long to be confounded, allow me." He said kindly before tapping my forehead with rapid succession. I blinked and twitched on reflex before swatting him away with an audible huff. He, of course, looked very pleased with himself. "There, thoroughly discombobulated. Happy?"

"I was moments before." I groused, rubbing the tender area between my eyes with a frown. It was partly amusing but more so annoying. And oddly enough, it was thoroughly disorienting. Surprisingly so. Only one so strange as Lucien Lachance would do such a thing to disrupt another's concentration. Still, I decided that the man apparently desired my stare, so I gave it to him. "Any particular reason why you just assaulted my forehead?"

"You were not paying adequate attention to me. You know I am needy." He teased, eventually seating himself by my side. He grabbed at my ponytail, wrapping several locks around his finger as he started up his habitual whistling. I mindlessly began to play with some of our kindling as I attempted to ignore Lucien's great like for my hair. He kept the bit he had severed in a sewn pocket of his belted leather vest. It was...unsettling. I tried my best to view it as a touching sentiment. I tried harder still to disregard its 'secretive' existence. "What shall we eat?" He asked me suddenly, still twirling my hair.

"Whatever you prefer. I am not very hungry."

"When are you ever?" He countered, more as complained over my lack of input. I confessed on multiple occasions that I did not care what I was to eat. Food was something to keep you going. I found little joy in it. It was a daily task to function and nothing more. Having been so poor and hungry once drastically changed my opinion on all things edible. I had my preferences, but they were of little consequence. It was hardly important. "Well, I purchased us decent provisions...or I can kill us something. Or we can fish." He scratched his chin in thought as I watched him, finding his deeply contemplative state over our dinner amusing. "I think I'd much prefer fish this evening. Far easier to hunt, kill, clean and cook. Some parts you can even eat raw. Highly efficient, gloriously nutritious, and also indescribably revolting." He chuckled at my sudden change of expression to his words. Growing up in Anvil, I heard of such things but never personally knew anyone foolish enough to try it.

"Why would you eat anything raw?" I asked, still very appalled and mildly amazed that the man before me did not succumb to some terrible illness. I also thought of the blackened sludge that he enjoyed drinking in the morning and deduced his stomach to be remarkably strong. Made of iron or steel...

"Are you forgetting that I had to assist in raising two Argonians?" He questioned, recovering from his chuckle. "I did not know what to feed them and assumed fish to be the best of options. I grew creative with their meals. They ate nothing but salmon, slaughter and whatever else I could procure." Lucien shrugged before looking almost sheepish. He gave me a nervous smile. "This went on for about a year straight until I learned to expand their diet. To this day Ocheeva cannot stomach even the finest cooked fish. I think I ruined their palettes."

I laughed at the severity with which he spoke. This was a genuine concern and it was astonishing that the assassin worried over something I assumed he would find trivial. "Why did you think they could eat nothing else? Why not ask an Argonian for help?"

"I am proud...and all was very daunting. Suddenly being told, 'here, make sure these things don't die'. Quite the opposite of my usual work. Very, very daunting. Gratifying, but daunting, nonetheless."

Again, I offered a small smile. "So you have said."

"And will continue to do so." He grunted as he laid himself down on the grass, hands behind his head, staring up at the 'disorienting' canopy. I was quite tempted to slap his head as he had mine...but greatly feared doing something - even something so small - to even physically tease him. It seemed unwise. Instead, I hummed in thought and labeled him ridiculous, as I had done many times before.

I guiltily eyed the reclined assassin. Long, lean, muscular, and though not terribly young, he was certainly not old. He was a man. I could not help but wonder his age once two Argonian children were placed in his care. Truthfully, I could not help but wonder much about Lucien Lachance. His true age, his history with the Dark Brotherhood - though the diluted and brief synopsis - and his parentage. "...How old were you then?"

"Hmm, your age?"

I nodded, wanting to ask a great many things but knowing better than to try. Anything regarding Lucien's history that did not have to do with the Dark Brotherhood agitated him. I witnessed it again earlier in the day. I did not want to make him uncomfortable but I was very curious. "I-I like your stories," I confessed, wanting very much to inquire more on his past but knowing better than doing so.

"I know," He grinned. "And I yours. The one about the wolf struck a cord within me. Poor thing... If we stumble across one, I will gift you his hide after its most gruesome end. And I will lovingly soak the pelt in its blood. I will make a red fur somehow, for you."

"That is...sweet of you but it is hardly required," I answered fast, frowning slightly as one of Lucien's hand came out from behind his head to fall upon my knee.

"I demand blood from whatever harms you, my dear. Required or not, all will tremble at my presence." Although striving to be humorous, I felt his admonition to be a tad dark, as I knew it was truth. It was as I wanted, I needed a protector. Still, it was very odd to hear. I could only nod at him and seek a change of subject.

"T-thank you... But if you are hungry you should fish soon before it gets too dark. And I...I think I am a bit hungry too..."

xxxx

Some hours went by and the evening grew dark and cold. I sat by the campfire, avoiding the tent at all cost with Lucien sitting on its opposite side. I tried to smile at assassin and the conclusion of his tale. Another crude yet humorous memory, this time of the overly decorated Khajiit in Elsweyr. Too many piercings, he thought. Shamefully, I dreaded the story's end. I feared him proposing sleep. Being so close and confined with him seemed very unwise. He glanced toward the tent and opened his mouth to speak, I interrupted him quickly, hoping to further avoid the inevitable suggestion.

"Lucien w-what did you say those stars were again?" I asked, soon pointing overhead to indicate...any star.

The assassin quirked his brow and smiled politely. "The Mage, my dear." He answered easily without so much as glancing towards the heavens. The ease with which he spoke unnerved me, although I was unsure why it did so. In an effort to keep from being silent and fidgeting, I turned my gaze towards the cloudless, black sky and attempted to appear fascinated and casual.

"Oh, yes, you mentioned that. I have great trouble keeping track with the passing months." I nodded to myself, again feeling clever with my bit of deception. I ran with my small portion of confidence and hoped it aided me. "They all go by so quickly..." The fire suddenly popped rather loudly and broke my resolve the slightest bit, as I jumped. After recovery, I glared at it.

"That is what makes the sky so very useful. It is the greatest clock and map." Lucien offered all too calmly once more, recapturing my attention. I watched him, slightly puzzled as he stood and sauntered over to me. He sat himself by my side and tossed a few twigs into the still loudly crackling fire before leaning back the slightest bit. He glanced at me and smiled, the look curiously sweet. "I have something that I must bring to your attention. It has been on my mind since this morning..." He began, voice rich and smooth, as it always was. I watched him expectantly, my openness faltering greatly once his hand fell to my knee, much like several hours before, his gaze intensifying the slightest bit upon contact. "Did you really believe stars and trees to be adequate distractions for me? Do not delude yourself, I will be having you." The words left him clearly, both confident and chiding. A sweat threat and stern promise.

I froze and stared, my body instantly going rigid as I watched Lucien's smile, very much aware of his warm hand splayed out over my leg. I thought of deterring him somehow, perhaps lying to him in order to not appear so cowardly, but decided against all. There was no point to deception now. "I am sorry." I blurted, voice small and nervous, as I was unsure how to take his expression. He continued to stare, continued to grin. I cursed my permanently fixed pitiful appearance. I could not change it. "I-it is just...I am -"

"Nervous, unsure, and having second thoughts?" He offered, and although accurate, all had me very afraid to nod in agreement. I did not want to frustrate him so I only continued to stare. Telling him that I was afraid of the simple idea of him touching me would not end well. Instead, I mumbled something unintelligible about being 'cowardly' as he drew in nearer. Lucien's brows raised humorously at my nervous stammer. He chuckled as his hands began to travel, one giving the tie to the front of my overdress a sharp tug, loosening the bow slightly and causing me flinch. I cursed my clothing change in the inn, thinking the gown with the buttons that I had forgone to be better suited, as it was more complex. "Pity, perhaps if we had more Absinthe, you would find your courage."

"I want my wits." I forced with a small shake of my head. I needed to watch the assassin. It dawned on me as he began to continue untieing my lace with his usual diligence, that I was to lie with him tonight. My mouth went dry at the thought, my gaze fixing on his handsome face and the flickering shadows from the fire upon it. His looks, though pleasing, were not enough to remove my fears. Not in the least. I had long found him curious and appealing - in a lustful sort of way. I had even been willing to let him touch me. However, now, with his hand brushing against the skin of my collarbone as he nimbly worked the confounding knot of lace, I felt wholly dumbstruck and petrified.

"We are in agreement there." He offered calmly, as though discussing the weather or something of equally light context. I failed completely in distancing the severity attached to intimacy. My heart began to race along with my mind. My hands soon shot up on instinct to grab his wrists, not enough to inhibit his actions, but enough to make my hesitance known plainer. He stopped, glancing down to my grip with clear disdain before bringing his attention back to me with a blatantly false smile. "Being apprehensive is quite normal, Abigale. It will steadily ease as we move forward."

"H-how presumptuous of you." I tried, attempting to exude some measure of confidence and control over the situation, all efforts being easily thwarted by the twisting of his grin and lecherous stare.

"We have been in this situation before, and you have had me firmly rooted in this lustful purgatory for some time. A harrowingly long time. You can no longer say that this desire is one-sided, either. You seem well acquainted with your own lust now. For what purpose would we stop?" Lucien took both of my hands in one of his own and held them firmly in my lap. He then loosened the tie in my hair with his freed hand, foregoing the troublesome knot of my bust, fingers running through my locks with apparent appreciation, though his stare remained fixed on me. "I remember that little face of yours, I know the look you give when you are wanting...it stares at me now. I can further persuade you, but I cannot promise it to be gentle persuasion."

I swallowed hard, feeling the tips of my fingers grow cold from his grip. I cursed the night and how it could make him ghoulish when he had a mind to intimidate. In truth, it was unrequired. Poorly as I felt towards all, it was as I deserved. The concept was horrifying, no doubt the execution would match, but I felt it was time to face him. Lucien wanted a partner, I wanted a protector. He enjoyed and cared for me and I liked him - to a degree. We were an odd match but a match nonetheless, and I felt it was time.

Being so frightened over the impending situation, I was tempted to ask him many things. A great many things. But my questions were far too embarrassing to word, and so I said nothing.

"Don't fear me," Lucien advised, his voice already growing thick as he brought me nearer. I nodded dumbly and mutely, limbs stiffening as he drew in to kiss me, an act that should not have rattled me so as we had embraced countless times the night before. It should have been old. I should have grown immune to the terrible mixture of excitement, terror...and regret. "If you are still unable to accept me say so now before I attempt to proceed."

This gave me pause. I stared, more than surprised that Lucien granted me the option to stop what I felt was essentially carved in stone. I considered this, I considered him, as I had done so often now and wondered what would transpire with the dawn if I said no. He would probably be cross, but we would go about our day and his pursuit would not stop. Would I deny him every night for the rest of my life? Would he really allow me to do so?

The assassin did not wait for me to respond as he dipped his head down to my neck, delicately kissing and suckling at what little skin the parting of my dress had to offer. "The suspense is torturous." He mumbled into me, releasing my hands so that he could cup my face with one of his own, the other settling to my hip. He tasted and nipped up and down the length of my neck, holding me to him, his thumb running along my cheek. In comparison to what I had known and the cold midnight air, his mouth was pure fire, something I was not yet accustomed too. His every touch was tamed and yet not. I was completely overpowered by sensation. I found myself squeezing the ground beneath me so tightly that I had pulled up grass in little clumps. I tried to remain quiet, I tried not to feel him. It was impossible. My mind wandered to another, his face and his fanged smile in my very soul...

Tears blurred my vision, I pushed away the Count's image from my mind as I reached up to grip the assassin's shoulders. It was done, I made my choice, I only had to stand by it now. I let him pull at me, clutch me to him. I found myself holding him with as much force as I could muster, afraid that if I released him, I would run off into the woods. Stifling sobs in all their entirety while cursing the few tears that escaped me, I found myself utterly repulsed by my own pale hands and how they wandered Lucien greedily. They were supposed to touch another, and only one other...

The assassin pulled away from my neck and I quickly tried to cover myself. I managed to dry my tears but I could do nothing about the naturally intensified gleam of my gaze, and Lucien saw it easily, scowling as he held my face in his hand. There was no false sympathy. No gentleness. There was only a glare and the slightest shine of his teeth as his upper lip curled back. "I am done with his intrusion. I would kill him a thousand times over if it would bring you peace and stop this sorrow." He declared, sounding vicious, the words bloody and honest. His grip went to my shoulders. I wondered if he would attempt to shake 'sense' into me. "I have no words to comfort you and no more compliments to pay. This emotional anguish must go now and I cannot further aid in its passing. Understand that you are perfection and must be treated thusly. You are above all... Now let this be."

"H-how?" I asked fast, my voice wavering as I let my hands renew their roaming, desperate for distraction. He was right in regards to being unable to aid me in my sadness. There was nothing on Nirn anyone could do to ease my sorrow. Actions and words could not be erased. All burned beneath my skin like an internal brand; a brand that seemed to glow under the assassin's ever black stare. A great part of me lusted for Lucien intensely. I purely wanted him but already felt ruined by just this knowing. It hurt, it was agony. I did not think anything the assassin could do would cause me more pain. He could bring his blade over my every inch and I would only weep for wounds unseen. It angered me. It was unfair. I grabbed him tighter. "Show me how, please."

Lucien pressed his mouth to mine, much more roughly than I had ever remembered him doing, startling me by destroying what I expected to be tender. I tried to silence my rekindling fears of him as his lips bruised my own and his fingers marked my arms. The assassin's kiss was near violent and purely desperate, very unlike what he had shown me thus far. I did my best to meet him and not pull away so. The mixture of his soft lips, coarse facial hair and fierce passion was a potent and deadly blend. The intensity of all aided in diverting me from my sorrows, even if slightly.

Lucien eventually tore himself from my mouth, his attention moving swiftly down to the ties of my dress. All of his usual diligence shown to the detailing of my garb vanished entirely as he pulled at the lace, soon swearing as it further knotted. There was the soft sound of metal echoing his curse, and a gleaming dagger was suddenly brought to my attention. The gasp that escaped me was sharp and mortified, despite feeling that he would not hurt me, I went to pull away. In an instant, the assassin wrapped an arm around my body quickly, to hold me in place. "Be still," He commanded, and although I was entirely bewildered as to what possessed me to obey him - obey him I did.

The sound of my dress ties being severed was oddly crisp and brittle, coupled with a little 'pop' towards the final snaps. Much like he had displayed before once wielding a weapon, all was done with an almost otherworldly grace. It was one fluid motion, the blade came up and my overdress fell away. I swallowed hard, wondering if such a display was needed as the dagger soon vanished into his boot. I said nothing, quite shaken by all. Lucien fixed me with a sly smile. "I shall buy you another. Relax." I wished he had not brandished his blade as my body turned to all jitters as he again placed his mouth on my own, this time the action much slower and pleasing. He cupped my face anew as though I was a precious treasure. This lasted for quite a lengthy amount of time, something akin to atonement for his earlier abuse and the fright he gave me. This was meant to soothe and it was shamefully effective.

Again he pulled away but remained very close. He plucked at my chemise before slipping his hand under its collar and to my breast. Again I stiffened. Once he came into contact with my brassiere his hand deftly moved beneath that as well. It posed no hindrance. I sucked in a breath upon contact. Fear had made me colorless but the feeling of his coarse fingers prompted a deep flush, my cheeks turning a dark shade of pink before he had even grasped me fully.

He planted many more kisses to my chest, the hollow of my throat and back up to my chin, refusing my mouth with a wicked smirk as he worked little sounds from my throat with his ministrations. The movement was constant. He rolled my flesh in his palm and between his fingers. Soon his nimbleness returned even more so as his touch slid between my shoulder blades and my brassiere fell away, pooling in my lap between us. Rough attention to my bust continued. His freed hand at my back traveled lower and formed into a fist, knuckles pressing painfully into my skin, causing me to wince and arch away from him in confusion. The assassin then sank his teeth into my shoulder as I went to remove myself from his grasp, the sudden anchor of this sharpness caused me to yelp. For all the wrong reasons, I did not mind the pain of his teeth in the least.

Lucien soon released his hold. He laved the mark he had made with his mouth before sealing his lips over it again. He exhaled deeply, the sound the smallest bit frustrated. I watched the roll of his shoulders as he hunched them, startled once he grabbed me, pinning me down to the ground beneath him. For a moment he stared, eyes darting over my every feature as he ran his hands through my hair over the grass, looking entranced by the feel. I only listened to the fire crackle as he slowly retracted to remove his leather doublet and tunic. Although not frantic, he wasted no time and came to me once his chest was bare, joining me on the ground, taking his weight on one elbow as his free fingers pulled the neckline of my chemise down. With my breasts exposed to the night air, I could not help but turn away from him the slightest bit, nervously moving to cover myself. Confusion, shame and misery burned and simmered inside me like acid. I stifled it and forced my arms to the side before the assassin could even make an attempt to.

My clothing was in complete shambles but he showed more skin than I and it was strangely reassuring. He attended me with intensity. Lips, tongue, teeth and caresses. I tried to welcome him, feeling my own desire surfacing at his exposed, heated flesh. My hands wandered little trails, testing the harsh muscle and the delicate faded scars that streaked across him. The marks were so very faint to view but unmistakable to my fingertips. Having touched and held his naked torso countless times, I found my enraptured stupor to him now surprising. He was meticulously sculpted and I had witnessed his means to make himself that way. It was terribly fascinating to appreciate his work rather than shy away or tell myself he was repulsive.

As he continued to crush his mouth upon my own, I felt his hands wander to the hem of my gown. He hiked up my skirt, his fingers dragging along my thigh. He continued to lift it, far higher than I expected him to require it to be. I quickly realized he had a mind to strip me naked in the middle of the woods. Although he greatly lacked decency in his movements and expectations...I allowed it. I sat up ever so slightly and held my arms above my head for him. Once exposed to Lucien and all of Nirn, my smalls and shoes the only articles that remained, I watched him stare. His look intensified as he settled me back down under him. Lucien grinned, dark irises and pupils melting together to make a pool of black that stared into me, piercing deeper and deeper into my very soul. I was unsure of all we were doing and feared continuation, but I refused to let him know this. He held enough conscious power over me as it was. So, once he came down to me, I accepted him again.

I closed my eyes, lip between my teeth as he mouthed my breast. He suckled hard, causing me to twist from the discomfort. He did not ease his actions even as I pushed at his shoulders. I whimper and instinctively grabbed his hair. The assassin made a sound akin to a growl before coming up to tackle me with his mouth once more. His hand darted between our bodies and to my sex, easily slipping into my undergarments. My breath caught as his fingers toyed with my most sensitive areas. His movements were swift and baffling. He worked his hand with aching slowness, performing a steady continuation of practiced pleasure. He did not quicken once he found his preferred pace, but he altered his targetted zones, showing ample attention to my womanhood. Despite the frigid air that surrounded me, the heat inside surely increased - a combination of desire and shame. It was almost appalling how effective his movements were. He succeeded in turning me into a mewling mess in moments. I was embarrassed by my reaction to his skill, biting back as many sounds as I was physically able. Somehow, blessedly, I managed to keep from ending at his hand.

Lucien stopped and I was grateful, feeling humiliation, knowing that I would not have been able to keep my poor resolve much longer, should he have continued. The assassin hovered over me, looking much like an animal ready to pounce and sink his claws and teeth into me - a comparison I often made when looking at him. He steadily moved over my body, kissing my heated flesh as he traveled further down. I jerked and flinched slightly at the tickling feel of him against my ribs and belly, or when he grazed me with his teeth. I whined as he ventured ever lower, hands falling to his shoulders, tangling in dark-brown hair, my own head falling back into the dirt with a moan. His lips closed over my sex, causing me to whimper loudly. "P-please not that," I begged, knowing that if he dared continue to pay attention to my sex, I would not last.

The chuckle that resounded from between my thighs caused my already burdensome blush to worsen, his breath on my sex making my hips jump to him in spite of my plea. "You are giving me very mixed demands." He teased, hands coming up to again torment my sex. I yelped, moaned, and whined, before managing to pull from him. Panting, I let my hands fall above my head, making a conscious effort to somehow stop my climax. I screwed my eyes closed, focusing on the smell of soil and nature to drag me away from carnal bliss. I did not know why I endeavored to do such a thing, but I had somehow rationalized it as important. I wanted control too. He aided me in gathering my wits as my smalls were being slid down my legs. "You look like a living statue made of pure gold by the firelight..." I swallowed hard as his eyes scraped over me appraisingly. I was still attempting to catch my breath as he continued to admire, his eyes openly roaming my every inch. I managed to pull myself up and onto my elbows as Lucien discarded my undergarment with the greatest satisfaction, sighing happily. "My living fantasy."

When he moved to straighten himself I flinched, the sudden transition a tad too quick, which again caused an ever smug grin to grace his features, paired with a pleased little laugh. "You will not run away, will you?" He asked, still looking devious as he unfastened his belt, an action I remembered liking very much. I felt my heart skip as I shook my head. He nodded approvingly, letting the belt fall away from us as he untied his own black lacing. I quickly averted my gaze once he released himself, my blush somehow managing to darken as I caught a glimpse of him from the corner of my vision. He did not bother to hide in any manner and thus presented himself boldly, not a bashful part about the man, evidently.

His smile turned vicious as he moved ever nearer. Lucien settled his hands upon my shoulders before sliding his touch downward, from my collarbones to the peaks of my breasts, then down my sides with aching slowness, soon drawing my hips away from the grass and to him. He held me there, my lower half hovering away from the ground and in his hands. He ran his thumbs along the sharpness of my hipbone. He eyed my sex, he eyed me. I felt more as though I was to be consumed rather than loved. I gulped, the action visible from miles off, no doubt. His chest swelled, his eyes darkened, gaze so intently fixed on mine that it was unnerving. He aligned our bodies and my breath again caught in my throat. I bit into my lower lip in an attempt to stop any and all protests. My mind again wandered to another, both so very different in their approach to everything...

My thoughts were obliterated at the feel of him against my entrance. It was astoundingly foreign. Hot. I raised myself the slightest bit to see him, almost unbelieving over the heat of his sex. I was then made to watch the literal act itself as Lucien disappeared within me. Deliberate and impactful, he forced his way in. I could feel the terrible resistance of my womanhood as he fought for completion inside of me. I cried out, certainly not expecting an intrusion so abrupt or painful. I sank back to the grass, my body all shivers as his hands slid to my thighs, pulling me flush to him, still keeping my bottom from the ground. I tried to find the smallest measure of comfort and shifted on him, a soft groan slipping from the assassin as I did so, alerting me to the realization that I was not alone in feeling.

I turned my attention back to Lucien Lachance, tempted to glare but still too flabbergasted to pull any expression that was not inadvertently made by sensation. With the fire at his back and my body in his hands, he looked terribly imposing...but good. He did not wait for my adjustments or make an inquiry over my comforts. No, instead, he retracted his hips before pushing himself back into me, pulling my legs down to him simultaneously. I gasped, groaned, eventually biting my lip newly just to keep quiet as he moved within me. This was repeated until a pace was made, but the sensations proved too much for my body. It hurt. It still hurt and I did not know why. I was no virgin, not anymore. Although the pain paled in comparison to my first time, it was till pain, nonetheless, and it was not welcomed.

Thankfully, alongside the great discomfort was pure pleasure. It worked its way into me with each calculated thrust of the assassin's hips and formed that dire need. A need that already demanded to be assuaged in its entirety. Another whimper caught in my throat as I fought to stifle my shameful wanton cries. My breath then hitched once a particularly harsh buck from the assassin was administered. "Hold back nothing from me." He commanded, his voice guttural yet somehow still so silky, dark and rich and smooth. It was maddening how many things suddenly bubbled to the surface, things that I had long liked but stifled and stamped out. They were reborn and it was terribly satisfying to now bask in them.

I managed a nod at his order, wincing slightly as he settled our joined bodies back to Nirn, hovering over me. He brought his mouth again to my own, his tongue flicking at my lips and lightly probing and pressing beyond them. I closed my eyes and met him kiss after kiss, moaning into him once he again began to move. He demanded me to be unrestrained, so I allowed every small sound of pleasure to escape me. The moans seemed to feed and guide him. The unbearable heat continued to plague me, now from both our sex and kisses. It spread throughout my body and was near overpowering.

A coil wound tightly in the pit of my belly, treacherously close to snapping, each move of Lucien's hips pulling it further and further taut. I was teetering, on the edge of euphoria, being ushered on with our swaying bodies. It as too cruel, being so close and held there. It was torturous. I grabbed him, breath turned ragged. Everything building and tightening, the pain and pleasure combining until I could take no more. I cried out once more as the sweetest release washed over me, powerful and painfully long. I was overcome with the tightening, heat, and pleasure that I only panted and whimpered as he continued to thrust into me. Nirn melted, nothing but sensation existed. It was bliss. It was extasy.

I went limp, aching everywhere as Lucien continued to move, he groaned lowly as my climax persisted in massaging him. He took my leg in his hand, pushing it to his waist as a signal for me to wrap myself around him. I obliged but whined all the while. Locking my legs around him seemed to increase the pressure, pressure my overly sensitive sex no longer wanted. I longed for his release and so yielded to his desires. I dug my fingers into his back as his momentum increased, rocking forcefully into me. "Lucien, please." I whimpered, biting back my cries for mercy and substituting his name instead. I could not stand it. It was too much sensation, good and terrible all at once. I was baffled as I felt the pull of another impending release, desperate for it to stay away. One so quickly was enough, my first came swiftly and showed my likes for him with embarrassing transparency. Another would only fuel his ego further.

His moves grew sporadic. He worked a fist into my hair and pulled me away from his body just enough to crush his mouth with mine once more. His hands slipped beneath me, one to my bottom pinning my sex even closer to him, the other splaying out against my back. He growled, grip bruising, thrust painful, soon finding a violent release withing me with an astoundingly harsh thrust. He continued to buck without rhythm as he groaned, more near unbearable heat rushing and filling me with his climax. It was too much, all far too much and he felt it too. After coming down from his euphoria, he settled me again into the grass, hovering over my body, still buried deeply in me.

His breath was labored but he continued to shower me strong kisses. My nakedness hardly registered as I closed my eyes and allowed Lucien's hands to continue wandering my body freely. I made small noises as he stroked and caressed places that my mind and ravished body had trouble linking. All was sore but somehow felt wonderful, melted into one sensation. I did not exist in parts but was whole, no limbs or hair - just tingling flesh, dowsed in the lightest sheen of sweat. I swallowed hard as he pulled himself from my skin to stare me down. I was suddenly shy and unsure. How did this happen? I looked up over his shoulder at the night. This felt almost too familiar, much like a dream...

He kissed me again as he pulled himself from my body. I whined, still feeling bewildered but I shook all thoughts away as aches and pains soon presented themselves. I winced as I sat up fast, groping the grass mindlessly for my underdress, Lucien watching me all the while, perched on his side. I could feel his stare, again unnerved by the intensity of it and by what we had just done. I pulled my dress over my head quickly and hugged myself, suddenly cold and full of panic. I glanced over to the assassin who continued to watch me, a familiar smile forming on his lips. "Going somewhere?"

"I'm cold," I admitted, eyeing the tent as though it were a haven. He righted himself, situated his lacing and stood, aiding me in rising, a polite gesture that I tried to appreciate. No sooner did I enter the tent did I bury myself in the mat and blankets. I had a mind to hide from the assassin, still in shock over all that transpired. It felt almost unreal but the soreness of my groin and the lingering, unmistakable presence of his climax were very honest reminders of what just occurred.

The confusion over the entire situation exhausted me. Lucien joined me in the blankets and again kissed whatever bits of my flesh he desired. "You are mine forever now. Do not worry. So much good lies ahead of us." He worked his hand beneath the blanket and laced his fingers with my own, the action was not romantic, it was done to make a point. To make his words ever more clear. "Wait and see, beloved. All of Nirn is at our feet, and I will carve us the prettiest of lives."

Author's Notes: The most awkward pillow talk ever! 8D Were you not entertained?! XDXD