The Bounty Hunter opened his eyes many hours later. There was a slight whistling noise that pitched high and low. It took him a moment to realize what the sound was. Someone was snoring. She was snoring.
He raised his head and glanced down at the table where he had left the doctor the previous evening. She was sitting at the table, her head against its surface, a hand was dangling down. Her beaked head was turned to the side, her book was opened beneath it.
Tardif was slow to sit up, his bones cracked and his muscles screamed in protest. He grunted and realized as he stood up that there was blood all over the floor. There was a large pool of it beneath the table that made him grimace. There were organs all over the table and the cadaver looked completely different. She had done a number on the corpse.
He whistled to himself as he approached the sleeping doctor. She was surprisingly blood-free. He leaned over her and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. Her snoring evaporated and she jerked to a sitting position. She groaned and he stepped back from her as she reached up and pulled on her mask. He was curious to see her.
She yawned loudly and stretched. His eyes were focused on the unkept raven hair that almost stood on end as she exposed herself to him for the first time. He found that she looked completely different then what he had fantasized about. Her hair was short, messy and black instead of long, curly and red. Her eyes, glassy and crusty from sleep, were the same dark shade as his. Freckles covered her face and concentrated over the bridge of her nose and across her cheekbones, he found he rather liked that and wondered if they covered her entire body. Her mouth was small with thin lips, and her nose was slightly upturned.
He studied her face intently before he grabbed her chin in hand and raised her face. She let him, her mouth parted and the tip of her tongue licked over her dry lips. His heart pounded in his ears and he swallowed, his adam apple bobbing with the effort.
"Good morning," she muttered, her voice hoarse. A gloved hand reached up and ran her fingers through her short hair, trying to control the mane and failing miserably.
Tardif said nothing as he stared down at her, and then without warning he bent forward and pushed his mouth to hers. She stiffened and her hand closed around his wrist near her face. He reached around her shoulders with his other arm and pulled her to her feet and against his bigger body.
She squeaked and molded against him, her palms flattened against his chest, she did not shove him away. She moaned and he pushed his tongue passed her teeth to touch hers. She mewled, licking at his mouth and was panting by the time he raised his head.
Her cheeks had rouged, enhancing her large eyes, her breath came and went unsteadily. Her hair was still a mess, and stray strands stuck to her cheek and mouth. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen at that moment. He lowered his head again, he moved deliberately, giving her plenty of time to reject him.
She met him halfway and moaned as her gloved hands reached up to grab his head. Her mask dropped to the floor unheeded. His chest rumbled and he walked backwards, leading her back to his bed roll, away from the blood and gore. She followed after him.
He didn't say anything, not wanting for her to think about what they were going to do. He continued ravaging her mouth, he removed his gloves and dropped them at their feet. His large hands grabbed her clothed hips and pulled her closer.
They separated long enough for her to draw a desperate breath of much needed air. He remained silent, his eyes devouring her face. The skin around her lips had turned red from rubbing against his stubble and he found himself hardening painfully. He wanted her.
She gasped as his fingers dug into her ass, pulling her harder against his erection. Her hands fluttered along his chest and settled on his wide shoulders.
"I…" he stopped whatever words she had been about to say with a finger against her lips. He rested his forehead against hers and sighed heavily before he stepped away from her and started removing his scale mail shirt.
"No words," he growled, stripping his armour.
She didn't even pause and started struggling with her robe, trying to pull it over her head. He chuckled as she trapped herself within and cursed angrily. Tardif tugged on the material, freeing her from its confines. She gasped and swayed on her feet. He dropped her robe on the floor, beside his armour and undershirt. His hand locked on her wrist and he pulled her naked body to his.
The breath left her lungs as she made contact with the solid wall of his hairy chest. His head lowered and his lips stole the rest of the air. She was dizzy, unable to tell up from down as the room spun dangerously. Vertigo assailed her unmercifully. Paracelsus wrapped her arms about his thick neck and pressed herself closer to him, to his heat.
He banished the cold of the cellar momentarily, until he ran his hands down her back, over her ass and down her thighs. She squeaked when he picked her up, wrapping her legs about his waist. Their mouths never parted as he turned them around and sat her ass on a cold wooden crate. She made a high pitched noise that he swallowed. He palmed her ass with both hands and pulled her as close as he could to his erection.
Tardif grunted as her legs parted around him. He reached down between them and pulled on the drawstring holding his pants up. His fingers closed on his erection and he moved to rub the tip of his cock over her wet folds. He mimicked with his tongue what he planned on doing with his dick and she melted against him.
There was no resistance from her body and he sunk his teeth in her lower lip. Her legs tightened around his waist, he grunted and spread his legs wider as his pants dropped to his ankles. Sweat rolled down his back and he flexed into her warmth. He grunted and tried to keep himself under control as he hilted himself in her heat.
Fuck ! His eyes clenched closed and he buried his face against her sticky throat. The sound of his skin slapping against her was obscene. Her cries of pleasure peppered it perfectly, sending him careening over the edge of the knife. He was not going to last at this rate.
He pushed her down on her back on the crate and grabbed her breasts with both hands. She moaned as his mouth locked over one of the pink nipples. His tongue laved the bud while he suckled, his thumb and forefinger rolled the other just this side of too hard. Her legs tightened about his waist and her pussy contracted around his cock. He moaned against her skin and grinded against her, pushing his pelvic bone against her pleasure pearl.
Paracelsus saw stars as her orgasm crashed over her. Her gloved hands buried themselves in his dark hair and pulled. He growled and pumped against her harder, faster, deeper. She arched back against him, lost in the sensations of pleasure that slammed into her. His teeth clamped on her sensitive nipple at the same time as he pinched the other hard . Her legs squeezed around him tightly and she keened loudly, uncaring who heard.
His muscles locked and he pushed deep as he could. He moaned as he ejaculated deep within the Plague doctor, his senses were swimming. With his release, all the stress he'd harboured oozed off him as though he were shedding a second skin. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him as he panted against the soaked female beneath him.
"This is by far the best idea, I've ever had!" He paused as her words washed over him and he raised himself on his elbows to look down at her. Her skin was red where his stubble had rubbed at her skin. She looked like a woman well satiated. He smirked down at her, the corner of his lip lifting a little.
Tardif would have never guessed in a million years that the annoying woman that had first captured him in a lousy game of cards, would be lying beneath him, his cock buried to the hilt in her warm cunt. He had wanted to kill her originally. He was of a different mind now, had been for a while.
The bounty Hunter had to agree with her, this had been a very good idea.
He was slow to move off her, even slower to dress and arm himself. It wasn't until she was fully dressed, mask and all, and standing next to him that he realized she was uncharacteristically silent. His attention was drawn to her wringing hands. He placed a gloved hand on hers and stilled her.
"You want to stay with me down here?" He asked and then added, "or the barracks with everyone else?"
"Oh I was worried this was a one time thing!" She gasped, her tension easing. He tensed as she jumped in his arms, unprepared for her sudden enthusiasm, and hugged him tightly. "With you!" She almost screeched.
He grunted and nodded. He would help her clean up the blood and gore later when she was finished with her examination. A shiver of apprehension crawled down his spine as the plague doctor released him and returned to the corpse of the bloodsucker.
She was as mad as a hatter, and he was enabling her. She would be the death of him.