Eventually Delvin shifts the pair onto their side, his chest still to her back, arms and legs wrapped around the other. The Breton grabs at the snow bear fur down by the foot of the bed- how that managed to not end up on the floor, the man would never know- and pulls the soft material up over their entwined bodies. Mainly it was because he was cold, and that would be the excuse he would use if asked, but the male thief would be damned if someone tried to ogle his Guild Master through the window.
"A welcome home greeting I certainly wasn't expecting," the woman murmurs, slowly rolling over to face him so as to not completely untangle themselves. "I know I was supposed to feed you, Del, but that went above and beyond what I was thinking."
She feels his fingers reach up and brush back some of the tousled red strands of hair from her line of vision, the rough fingertips soft against her sweat glistening skin. "Do you regret it?" Delvin inquires quietly, the vibrations in his chest causing her to somehow manage to curl up closer.
"What we just did? No."
"But?"
A sigh, then "But... I suppose I'm...disappointed. Not in your performance- gods, that was more than satisfactory. I'm disappointed that I can't hope for a repeat performance."
"Well...not right now," he goes, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish expression on his face. "I'm not as young as I used to be, Aisling. I can't go as many rounds as those half my age." His hand drops to her side and his fingertips start to trace seemingly random patterns against pale skin. "But, as I told you, all of my skills are at your disposal and therefore, I would not be against making this a regular occurrence."
The young woman doesn't say anything, just gently maneuvers her body free from his hold and slips out from under the warm fur. Topaz orbs stare at Aisling's naked body, taking note of every scar, every blemish, every mark on the pale skin. He wanted to know and experience her in ways he never had with another person, and his once flaccid cock twitched in agreement at the prospect. Well then, maybe Sapphire was right. You can teach an old dog a new trick. Just need the right treat. Her bare feet tread quietly on the wood floor, and the only way Delvin could figure where she was going when he heard the creak of the stairs leading to the basement. She's not leaving again...is she? When the Nord returned carrying nothing save a small bottle in her hands, the trainer gave a silent sigh of relief. "What is that?"
"Something that I got the recipe for from two...associates of mine over in Whiterun- Vilkas and Farkas. They call on me when the job is a bit more questionable than they'd like to do, or if they need to get their hands on things that are somewhat difficult to obtain. I get more than a fair cut of the payment, they don't gripe about how I get their items- it's a very symbiotic relationship. And then there were other benefits." Aisling carefully places the corked vessel on the end table before slipping back under the warm white blanket covering the bed.
"Other benefits?"
An eyebrow twitches slightly in amusement. "Yes, Mallory, the kind of benefits that involves me being fucked against a wall...or a table... or in a chair. Did you seriously think I was still a virgin at my age?"
Images of him taking Aisling over every possible surface in the Flagon flew through his mind. "And are you still... Involved with them?" Or anyone else? Hung in the air, unasked.
"Gods, stop skirting around the issue and just ask the question. You want to know if I'm currently fucking anyone. The answer is, no, I'm not. Before tonight, the last time I had been with anyone was..." Her nose crinkles slightly as she thinks for a moment, "...right before Irkngthand. I didn't know if I was coming back alive from the fight with Mercer, even with Nocturnal's blessings upon myself, Bryn and Karliah. I almost didn't, truth be told. I suppose that's when I put things into perspective. Though I'm not sure why my nightly romps under the furs are any of your bloody business, Del, or anyone else's for that matter. It's not like I ask you who you've fucked the last few months."
"That was well over a year ago, when you chased Mercer into that ruin. But I don't care who you've fucked or who fucked you," Delvin growls out as he rolls them over, trapping her underneath him. His larger hands latch onto the younger woman's arms and pull them over her head, saying "But I do know that I am going to be the one satisfying you every night, every morning, and all times in between. No one else."
"You? Seem mighty damn sure of yourself there, Del... And here I thought Brynjolf had the biggest ego of the males in Riften." Stormy blues stare into smoldering golds, locked in a battle of wills. Then a slight smirk crosses Aisling's face as she moves her right leg slowly upwards against his inner thigh. "What was that you said earlier? Something about not being able to have a repeat performance right away? Seems like you've just got proven wrong there, Mallory."
"This is all your doing and you know it. My question is what do you plan on doing about it."
She carefully frees her wrists from his grasp over her head, then leans him back so that he's supported by the other pillows next to her. As she slides herself back on top of him, a thought occurred to her. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be glad to be indebted to your brother." A moan escapes the redhead's lips as she lowers herself down, sheathing him inside her once more. "And maybe Ulfric. Not sure about that one just yet."
"Glover?" Delvin looks up at Aisling as if she had just grown two heads. "Did you hit your head tonight and I not know it?"
A soft chuckle escapes the Nord's mouth as she begins to move, batting away his too eager hands from grabbing onto her thighs. "You know damned well I don't like heading up to Windhelm unless I have a damned good reason. The one thing that will have me go there on a whim is because that is the only place where I can get a boat to Raven Rock. Glover might have made some questionable decisions, but he can and has given out some sage advice...if he likes you well enough. I was going to go see him to figure out the best way to pull your head out of your ass...or if I should just let it go altogether and try moving on."
The Breton lets out a low moan as he feels her inner walls tighten around him and he thrusts up into her, smiling as the woman above him lets out a gasp of her own. "Please don't tell him. I'll never be able to live it down..." Brown eyes take in her figure poised on top of him- the unbound waves of red cascading around her shoulders, toned muscles rippling under pale skin. Calloused fingers reach up and brush lightly against some of the scars he could reach, one of which either started or ended dangerously close to her heart around the inner part of her ribs. "What caused this...how did you survive it?"
He feels her stiffen above him, a haunted look appearing in her eyes as she refuses to meet his gaze. Finally one word escapes her lips. "Mercer." She tries to stop the stream of words from her mouth, but fails miserably, "When we went to Snow Veil Sanctum. If it wasn't for Karliah's arrow," here Aisling points at a scar just above the original scar in question, "I'd have bled out and died... Needless to say, the bastard died to a matching wound in the second confrontation. Almost wish I could have dragged his body out of Irkngthand, found a necromancer, and brought the son of a bitch back to life a few times just to kill Frey over and over." She doesn't look at him when she asks the question that's been weighing on her mind for many months while she was running around the entirety of Skyrim. "Does that make me a monster?"
"No. Mercer was a threat and you dealt with it accordingly, no one in the Guild would call your actions into question." The topic of what exactly happened when Aisling and their former Guild Master went to Snow Veil Sanctum was never discussed. Not that it was forgotten, more like it got tabled until that traitorous son of a bitch was dealt with, then with the rebuilding of the guild and bringing it back to the greatness it held more than thirty years ago. Eventually, for most of the members, the events of Frey's treachery faded to the background. Never did they think of how it affected their current Guild Master- not that she ever said anything. "I'm sorry, Aisling... I wouldn't have asked if I had known." His normally warm eyes become icy, hardening at just how truly close they had come to losing her.
A slow grind of her hips snaps the male's attention back to her, the cold expression melting into one of lust. "The man is dead. If he wasn't I'm sure we would have heard something about it by now, with all the eyes and ears we have everywhere."
When she goes to grind her hips against him a second time, Delvin grabs onto her waist and pulls her body flush to his. "We can discuss everything later," he orders as he rolls back on top of her. "The only thing I want coming out of your mouth is my name, nothing else."
The pair start moving again, the motions changing from teasingly slow strokes and strong, rhythmic thrusts that, had there not been pillows behind Aisling, would definitely had her hitting her head once or twice on the wall behind them. His strong hands wrapped around her shoulders from behind, her legs trying to bring him even deeper than humanly possible- they were lost in each other, wanting to force away the negative feelings brought up by the mention of Mercer's name.
She lets out a whimper as he drives into her, somehow yet again finding a sweet spot- the spikes of pleasure spreading out through her body and turning her limbs into a mass of goo. Her sore muscles tighten once more, causing her back to arch upwards off the mattress. A breathy moan escapes Aisling's mouth, followed by "Please Del...want...need..."
"Tell me what you need, Aisling," the man above her murmurs into the soft skin of her neck. He looks at her when he doesn't receive a response, brushing a lone tear from her cheek. "Tell me," he repeats softly, "Ask it of me, and I will move mountains to give it to you."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," the ginger whispers, more to herself than to him.
A wry smirk crosses Delvin's face as he taps her nose lightly. "I'm a thief. I make things happen...for a price." His face becomes serious once more as he repeats "Tell me."
And I can see that price being you walking out and never coming back... "You, Del... I just want you. I just need you, nothing else. It's only been you, Mallory, that I've wanted since Irkngthand."
The Breton's eyes blink slowly as his brain attempts to process what she told him (it's not his fault most men are programmed to only use one head at a time!). "Oh Lass..."
And then, everything just...stopped.
"Get. Out."
"What?"
"You heard me, Mallory. Get the fuck out, before I show you exactly what I was learning up at High Hrothgar."
A confused look flickers across the Breton's face as he takes the woman's chin in a soft hold. "Aisling... What did I do?"
"If you really have to ask, then you're not the man I thought you were," she tells him, her voice cracking betraying the cool mask of indifference she forced onto her face. "Now, I'll ask nicely, one last time. Please leave."
"Not like this, Aisling, please. Tell me what's wrong!"
Soft fingers cup a scruff laden cheek as watery blues meet pleading browns. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry."
"Whatever for?"
A sigh, then she responds with "This." She presses a kiss to his mouth, tongue slowly slipping in between parted lips. He breathes out a moan as the sensual action causes his mouth to tingle slightly.
It was when the tingle started spreading from other parts of his body that the Breton thief knew something wasn't right. If anything, he likened the feeling to sitting on his leg and it becoming numb due to lack of circulation. When Delvin tried to rub his fingers in the hopes of getting rid of the odd sensation, he realized that not only could he not move his arms, but his legs were useless as well.
What in the name of Nocturnal?
The last thing the Sneak Trainer sees before his vision clouds over was Aisling gingerly pushing him off of her body and onto the mattress, pale cheeks streaked with tear trails, and the only thing he could wonder was why.
A/N: Welp, you done fucked up royally Delvin. And you were doing so well!