This fan fiction about Bishop takes place while he is still working for the Luskans, before the tragic events of Redfallow's Watch and Neverwinter Nights 2 OC.

Please note that the material you are about to read is definitely rated as Mature/Restricted for scenes of violence, sexuality, BDSM and nudity. You should be 18 years old or older before continuing on as adult themes are explored. Please do NOT continue if any of these makes you uncomfortable. There are graphic and descriptive scenes in this narrative.

Quel Fara – Part IV

By Ryoushi © 2007

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, holding him to her gaze. His liquid amber eyes flickered momentarily. In fear? Confusion? "Oh Bishop," she sighed. "You make life terribly difficult for yourself." She sat back up and looked at him with a vague, distracted kindness, "No matter…if you can not give yourself absolutely to someone else, then I'll just take you from yourself..." Her fingers trailed to the small wound in his chest, the blood already dried. She touched skin, opening the wound so that the dark red liquid sprung to the surface again. She lifted herself so that she was now on all fours, her hair falling like a curtain around her face. Bishop watched her svelte movements as she leaned down and kissed him. For all her fierce words, her mouth was soft – almost shy. Her sudden tenderness surprised Bishop and he could do nothing but respond in kind. He realized with a jolt that she was still just a girl, barely younger than him. She was embracing him with a quiet lonely ache, of one who lives alone, who is alone in a world; a private ache Bishop understood all too well. Who was this girl, seducing him, bewitching him, entangling herself with him, slipping inside his mind?

Her small hands were now gripping the sides of his face, rubbing the coarse stubble against her fingers. Her kisses were quickening, her mouth pressing harder against his. Her eyes were closed, her brows furrowed in her concentrated passion. She ran her hands through his tousled brown hair, forcing his lips against hers. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth, desperate to have some part of him inside her – any small sliver of flesh would be better than nothing. She sucked on his tongue, pulling him deeper in. He felt the blood engorging him fully and arched his back, hoping to feel her body against his but she was keeping her body mercilessly away from him. He growled frustratingly and jerked violently again against his restraints.

She was kissing his neck now, trailing down past his chest to his navel. He felt tugging on his trews. He lifted his head and looked down and saw her working the laces loose with her teeth, her hands feverishly tugging the leather lower with every inch of freedom she gained. Bishop closed his eyes momentarily, steadying himself; the sight of her, crouched animalistically over his bulging erection with a fervid singleminded determination – it was almost too much. With a final tug, she had his pants down to his knees but could go no further because of the ropes. Bishop moaned at the sudden release from his clothes. He was thick, hard – ready for her and whatever love or abuse she was to inflict upon him. Her mouth was traveling up his thighs; he could feel her breath on his sensitive skin and then without warning, her lips were around him – warm and wet. Bishop groaned and lifted his hips, wanting to feel more, wanting her to take him deeper in her throat. He wanted to have his calloused hands on her smooth skin, he wanted to press her down into the dirt beneath him – he wanted her like he had never wanted another woman. And it seemed as though he wouldn't be able to have her. The restraints were holding him fast and she had made no move to untie him.

Her mouth was working furiously upon him, her tongue sliding along his entire length, her hands kneading where her mouth was not, and he felt himself building to his release. By the gods, that was quick, between her skilled lips. He heard his voice, drift in the night air between them, begging faintly, "Please…" Please what? Stop? Keep going? "Please…" He wanted to pin her between his legs and hold her to him but the ropes did not allow him that freedom of motion. She wasn't slowing her movements and he knew she meant to take him all the way.

Let go, Bishop. Let go.

Let.

Go.

The first wave of pleasure hit him in the very core of his being and washed out over his bound limbs. The heat shot out and coursed through his blood and muscles, before exploding in his head. Her sweet succulent lips never stopped moving; they tightened on him as he writhed. He could feel himself, all of him, spilling into her. He was heaving with each breath, the air from his lungs coming in short, sporadic bursts. His bondage did not allow him to thrash with each successive roll of pleasure and he found the sensations piling up – doubling back - redoubling – until he was left spent and whimpering, his muscles shaking. Oh gods…The pleasure echoed through him, ebbing as she slowed her assault. He caught a gleam of pleased satisfaction in her eyes before she seductively lowered her eyes.

Bishop rested his head against the ground, eyes closed. He felt her slip away from him, the hem of her dress brushing against his legs. He heard her move to the fire-pit and within minutes, felt the warmth of a blaze. Bishop sighed, content, and stretched…

...and the ropes holding him captive suddenly fell away.

Let go first and then I'll let you go.

His eyes snapped open and he tentatively lowered his arms and bent his knees. He turned his face to her; she was standing in the middle of the clearing, the fire casting eerie shadows across her face. Her head was tilted back slightly, her expression unreadable except for the raw desire sitting upon her parted lips and half-closed eyes as she ran her gaze along the full length of his unclothed body. He sat up and caught her eyes; he saw her muscles tense and she froze on the spot.

His lips curled in a slow smile as he kicked off his trews. He saw her eyes dart to the dark woods beyond the glade then back to him, her mouth curving up into a ready, challenging smile. Bishop crouched carefully, the light of the fire flickering off every defined, sinuous muscle. But now, the predator has become the prey, has she not? Bishop could feel the adrenaline in his blood; he could feel his desire renew. He had come all this way to capture her and he would.

The night hung between them as the moment stretched out like eternity…

Her eyes met his squarely. She was still, like a rare deer in the tall grass, watching the wolf, waiting for the inevitable. She was doomed to be his the moment the ropes fell away.

Wait.

Wait for it.

He pounced.

She sprung in escape.

The chase was back on only this time Bishop knew he was the hunter.

His outreached fingertips brushed the edges of her skirt and as he grabbed the fabric, she darted for the woods. The flimsy dress tore and came off in his hands but slowed her breakaway. She jumped through the undergrowth, giggling wildly. Bishop crashed after her – he had to keep her in view…

Suddenly she shimmered and blinked out of sight. He heard the leaves rustle as her small shifted animal form darted through the woods. Bishop stopped, ears alert. "I played fair with you earlier…but if that's how you want to do it, I won't be so nice to you when I catch you." He felt himself twitch with arousal at the thought of punishing her body, leaving pink welts on her curved bottom. He heard her laugh again, somewhere ahead – she was back to human form. He ducked against a tree, using the darkness of night to hide himself as well as he could in his nakedness. He crept forward, sniffing occasionally. She wasn't running anymore; she was hiding somewhere. He glanced up. The moon was starting to descend but still provided enough light that he would be able to see her voluptuous feminine figure amongst the straight trees.

He squinted between two saplings. They were swaying gently in the night breeze but what was between them was not. It was unmistakable; he could see her pale hunched figure, her hair hanging loosely around her breasts. She had not seen him yet and appeared to be eyeing the camp. He could see her calf muscles flexing; she was getting ready for a mad dash…

She bolted, her expert footsteps barely making more than a hushed padding sound. Bishop sprang from his hiding spot, crashing through the trees, ignoring the whipping branches and snapping twigs – he could intercept her by the time she reached the glade.

They both reached the edge of the glade at the same time. Bishop lunged and grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her up over his shoulders. He smiled as he heard her squeal indignantly. "Put me down, ranger!" Her legs were kicking in the air, her hair tossing belligerently in a tangled mess around her face.

"As you wish." He dropped her onto her bedroll by the fire but she was agile and deftly landed on her feet. She made a quick scramble to get away but he was ready, wrapping left arm around her waist and right arm under her arm and across her chest. He held her back to his chest. His hand cupped her breast and squeezed possessively, feeling the erect nipple between his fingers. He heard her sigh imperceptibly even as she continued to struggle against his hold. He murmured lowly, half-mockingly, in her ear, "What, has no man tamed you yet?" He ran his lips up the back of her neck, and then forcefully turned her face to him. He kissed her with his savage desire and she returned this kiss frantically, with her body still straining against his grip, her hands desperately trying to free herself. Her fight was fueling his want. He felt himself grow harder and he pressed himself against her body. He chuckled and whispered roughly, repeating her words from earlier, "Let go first and then I'll let you go, Shapechanger." Only he would never truly let her go, oh no – he always trapped for keeps.

Without waiting for an answer, he slipped his left hand between her legs and smirked as he felt her buckle under him, uttering a low throaty moan. She was hot and wet, her body honest with him even though her actions were not. He tightened his hold on her before she slipped to the ground, the muscles of her legs giving out. He nudged his stiffened shaft between her legs, rubbing against her, teasing her, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of his body until he heard her beg. Her breath was coming in short staccato gulps, hot against his face and his insistent urgings seemed to have taken out all her resolve to fight him. His lips sought the soft supple flesh of her cheeks and her slight jawline; he trailed his tongue down her neck tasting her salty sweat and her sweet skin. His teeth found the gentle slope of her shoulder and he barbarically pierced her flawless skin, feeling a drop of blood fall onto his lower lip. A gift returned. He would not be the only one marked from this meeting. She arched her whole body against him, her hands reaching back and pulling him by back of his head to her. "Oh gods, Bishop, you're an animal."

Was he, now? Then he would have her like one.

He squeezed her, watching the blood on her shoulder. "No more than you." She gave him a slight smile, acknowledging his true words and Bishop needed no other prodding. He lowered her to the ground slowly, his chest still adjoining her back. She sank to her knees, utterly yielding to him as he gently bent her forwards until she was on all fours. He kissed her shoulder blades, the curve of her spine and the small of her back. He used his knees to spread her legs, positioning himself between them. His hands were on her hips, guiding her back onto his erect member - he pushed his swollen tip inside her, feeling the slight resistance of the folds of her flesh and hearing her exhale slowly. He closed his eyes and held her steady, neither pushing further in nor pulling her body onto him. He could feel her trembling beneath him in anticipation; he could feel her readiness, her desire to take all of him in.

She tossed her hair back and looked at him questioningly over her right shoulder.

His voice was a growl, "I want to hear you beg."

Her eyes narrowed and he felt her pride welling up in her. With a snarl, she drove backward, attempting to impale herself fully upon him, but his hands on her waist forcefully stopped her momentum. She boldly reached back between her legs to grab at him, to push him in manually. Bishop yanked her wrists away from him. He leaned over her back, pinning her hands to the ground, his eyes piercing as he whispered in her ear, "Beg. Or I'll hold you like this all night." He thrust once inside her, hard and quick, and watched as she gave a satisfying shudder; then, cruelly, he withdrew himself, keeping the head of his shaft barely touching her.

He could see the conflict on her face, and he smiled his cool Bishop smile. Holding her with his left hand, he used his right to trace a line from the nape of her neck down the middle of her spine. He could see goosebumps form where he had touched her – he smirked – seems as though he had his own magic after all. He let his fingers meander lazily down her hips, to her thighs, avoiding the wet heat between her legs, letting her aching desperation build. He stroked her upper arms, leaning forward and planting short, abrupt kisses on her back. He let his chest rest on her back and nuzzled into her neck. She could feel his dark lashes brush against her skin every time he slowly blinked. Bishop wrapped his arms around her from behind in a powerful embrace, her body tucked neatly against his. He inhaled her soft, pastoral scent. She was all earth, sky and water rolled into the delicate shape of a woman. He pressed his hand between her thighs, finding the centre of her warmth. "Beg, and I'll give you anything you want."

You just want to control somebody into controlling you. I know you. I understand you.

She exhaled softly and he saw her face relax as she surrendered to him, all the willful edges of her limbs draining into his touch. Her voice was quiet but he would have heard her across a battlefield. Her words caressed his ear, "Bishop, please…please, I need to feel you. Bishop. Please. Take me."

Still holding her to him, Bishop pushed himself firmly inside her, his breath catching in his throat. She was tight and he inched forward, savoring the way her flesh gave before him. He held himself inside her, feeling his thickened member stretching her. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, her breathing heavy – Bishop felt the pulsating fire in him flare as he relished her complete submission.

He slowly let himself slide out, his body protesting and missing the snug warmth of her womanly walls. He felt her brace her arms against the ground below him, readying herself. This exquisite creature before him was all his for the taking.

Let go, Bishop. Let go.

His first savage thrust into her nearly knocked her to the ground; Bishop saw her fingers scrabble and dig into the dirt and she spread her legs, bracing them, to hold her up against his onslaught. She was crying out his name with each impact of their two bodies together, entreating him to move faster, harder, the sound of her passionate pleadings accentuated by the smack of hot flesh against hot flesh. Her skin was glistening with sweat, shining in the firelight, giving her an otherwordly crimson glow. Bishop held her hips, guiding her delicious movements, feeling the way her breasts jolted with every insert. His eyes took in the narrowing of her waist, to the slight flaring of her shoulders. But he wanted to see her face; it was pure greed – he wanted to see the pleasure he was giving her.

Bishop lifted her commandingly, and spun her around so that she sat facing him on his lap. Her legs instinctively wrapped around him as he lowered her onto him. There was a narrow trail of blood from the bite on her shoulder, sliding across her breasts. Bishop carefully wiped the blood away, letting his fingers brush against her pink areolas. He bent down, his moist tongue flicking against the pointed nipples, removing the last of the blood. She sighed openly; his touch was a wonderful torment, offering no release from her tension, but just teasing, mocking like the man himself. She began grinding against him, feeling the girth of his organ. She kissed him, vehemently – her hands feeling every inch of his tanned skin. He was an animal – all muscles and violence and wants and insatiable desire. And he was a man – commanding, selfish, passionate. His hands were on her shoulders now, forcing himself deeper with each decisive drive and she was just as greedy as he, spreading herself further to take more of him in. She wanted all of him, to take him into the deepest part of her, to ride him to the end of pleasure. She was leaning back and he could see the fine lines of her body; how her breasts were upturned, her flat stomach, her elegant collarbone. Her pupils were dilated with arousal, her eyes smoldering with a smoky ardor; he could hear her muffled moaning as she pressed her lips against his neck.

She came suddenly, her back arching – the muscles of her body uncontrollable and throbbing as she shook against him. The burning in her depth flared and burst and she felt the rush of pleasure drown her senses. He was pure ecstatic rapture inside her and she held him close. Her fingernails were digging with hot gratifying pain into his back, drawing more blood. He felt her tightening and pulsating against his manhood and that was it - she pushed him over his threshold and he fell with a euphoric collapse. He groaned and quickened his thrusting; the ripple spread violently through his body as he emptied all his passion into her. She was still shuddering against him, drawing out all his lust into her. He felt the weeklong pursuit culminating to this point, to each moment that he was engulfed by her; all his memories of the days and nights, of the forest and this glade, disappeared and then there was only her. Bishop slammed into her with his entire length again and again…there was only her.

Bishop awoke first. The sun was high in the sky, its beams streaming prettily through the leaves; it was well past midday. He surveyed the scene. The glade was quiet, peaceful. The fire had died out hours ago.

The Shapechanger was sleeping besides him, nestled into his body. There were leaves and twigs in her hair, her hands were covered in dirt, the skin on her legs was lacerated from running through the woods, small bruises were appearing where he had kissed or gripped her too hard in his excitement. She was beautiful.

Bishop looked around again and spotted the elven cords she had used to capture him. They were within reach – he could grab them, subdue her before she awoke, take her back to the Hosttower, finish his mission…He traced her lips tenderly. Could he? She was tame to him now. He picked up one length of rope – the flimsy silky material was deceptive in his strength, as he had found out last night.

He looked back down at her face and saw that she was awake, watching him and the rope he held in his hands. His heart gave a squeeze. Guilt? She spoke calmly, as one who is resigned to their fate, "You gave yourself to me last night and in return, I gave myself to you, Bishop, to do what you would. But if you cared for me, if you have any ounce of mercy at all, you will slit my throat before you bring me to the Luskans." Her breathing was steady but her eyes were sad.

The silence was stretching between them when she made a quiet motion. He looked up and saw that she was offering him her dagger. "Use this, if you have to – so the memory does not carry on your own blade." He took the blade gently from her and stared at the keen edge. Last night, it had been an instrument of her passion – and today – would it be an instrument of her own destruction?

No, Bishop – that would be you…

What would await him, if he let her go and returned to the Luskan border, having failed his mission?

Death, if he was lucky. Torture, if they were in a good mood. Both, if they were not.

He turned to her. Her eyes were wet but she was not begging him today. Not today. She lay there besides him, relaxed. He was shocked when he felt the burning start behind his eyes – no, he did not cry. He was no longer some simpering farm brat. He would not cry. Not in front of her.

He raised the blade, "I love you."

And brought the cold steel down deep inside her chest, impaling her much differently than last night. She made only a small quiet gasp, her eyes never leaving his.

He withdrew the dagger and gathered her dying body in his arms, brushing her hair out of her face and picking out the leaves. She was so small. The blood was spilling freely down her breasts, and he was shocked at how red it was, how much there was in such a small frame.

"Oh gods, gods…" He called out to gods who would not listen, who did not care about the ranger and his love. He pressed his hand to the gaping wound, trying to stop the steady outpouring of her life. What had he done? She smiled at him, "It all right Bishop. You are to play an important role in the Realms in the future." She closed her purples eyes for the last time. "I love you too."

She gasped and gave a forceful shudder only once. He felt her body drop in his arms and she was gone. Her face was forgiving, a pale frozen mask of beauty in death. He tenderly wiped the trickle of blood from her lips and kissed her, feeling her warmth leaving already.

Those Luskans would pay with their lives.

He was back at the tavern, nursing his fifth – or was it sixth? whiskey since he awoke an hour ago. The half-elf had just stopped by, telling him in a condescending tone how pleased they were at his acquisition of the Shapechanger (like she was some sort of object) and how it really was too bad she was not alive but ah well, what can you do with uncivilized beings like her? The messenger had then given him a small envelope with a flourish, saying "We'd like to reward you for your good work and loyalty to the Hosttower."

Bishop had remained silent through the whole conversation, fingering her dagger which he kept at his side now. Wouldn't it be fitting to kill the sniveling half-elf with it? The messenger had once again seemed to understand his hostile intentions and had left abruptly. Bishop was now staring at the new missive directing him to go to Red Fallow's Watch. So…apparently it was time for his initiation into the good old Luskan assassins squad.

Well, now.

This ought to be interesting.