AN: ...Enjoy...
Ethine shivered as Nephamael stroked her cheek lightly, enjoying the warmth of his skin. His eyes were strange; it was as if he were looking not at her, but through her, as though she were made of delicate glass that he was contemplating whether to break or not.
It was thrilling, being alone with him. She herself had requested his company, telling him to meet her someplace they wouldn't be seen. Apparently Roiben had found out, and had been quite upset. She would have to talk to him soon, before things got out of hand.
For a moment she wondered how Roiben knew, who had told him, but quickly decided it didn't matter. What mattered was that she was alone with Nephamael, where no one would see them.
"What do you desire?" Nephamael asked her very quietly, still gazing a little beyond her, as if his lovely voice might break the glass too soon. His hand had ventured lower now, sliding down her neck, gently grazing her collarbone.
She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, not responding, just letting him touch her. He began to use his other hand to play with her hair, threading it through his long fingers.
He was taunting her, she knew, but she couldn't say she wasn't enjoying it.
"Release," she whispered, still not opening her eyes as the hand in her hair slid down past her neck, below her collarbone, just above her breast.
"I can give you that," he invited. He was very close to her now; she could feel his breath on her neck.
She opened her eyes at that, to find him close enough to kiss her...again. Instead, she leaned forward and flicked her tongue against his slightly parted lips teasingly.
"Oh," he breathed softly, as if surprised by her sudden, heated advance. "I take it you've accepted my offer...?"
She licked him again as a response, but this time he flicked his tongue out against hers, catching her by surprise. They pulled back for a brief moment, each hesitantly but hotly gauging the other's reaction. He let his hand slip down between her breasts.
Ethine flushed with pleasure as he stroked there for a lingering moment, then he wrapped his arm around her waist. She leaned forward tentatively, as if contemplating another advance, but pulled back as if unsure. His other hand disentangled itself from her hair and pulled her to him.
He chose to amuse himself with her game, kissing her until her tongue brushed across his lips then pulling back until she attempted to pull him to her and reclaim his mouth, then licking her and pulling back again. This was clearly torturing her, but her desire seemed to rise with the torment.
When he finally allowed her to have her way with him, she kissed him aggressively, surprising him with her passion. Soft little moans came from her throat, and she slipped her arms up under his cloak to feel the warmth of his body...
What she felt instead were thorns, thick and sharp, scraping her skin mercilessly. Instead of the usual pain she had come to expect from such things, she felt an intense jolt of pleasure throughout her body. She stopped kissing him and whimpered, letting her head loll back and allowing him to slowly lick her neck, from her collarbone to her jaw. She shuddered and moaned again, letting the strange fever wrack her body.
Her arms, shocked into numbness, dropped from him lifelessly. She was like a poison-filled pleasure-doll, her silvery eyes glazed and gazing glassily. She might have seemed dead were it not for her the way her breath came in quick gasps, her skin so hot it almost burned to touch her, but Nephamael had grown used to burning long ago.
He could have done anything he wished to her at that moment, but was tiring of this little game. Now she was all limp and boring, and there was nothing left to amuse him. He gave her one last slow lick and left her alone in her state. May her brother have the pleasure of finding her.