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She awoke to a pleasant warmth. Immediately she knew where she must be - she needn't even open her eyes. Skin-warmed satin and the heavy pressure of a sleeping figure against her back were telling enough. That was the trouble with subterranean temples, as she often remarked to Sceleritas. They are just so fucking cold . Servants of Bhaal deserve creature comforts as much as any other. Though she supposed the chill air had, on more than one occasion, nudged her toward spilling blood earlier than planned if only to feel the warmth of her victims' lives comfort her as they slipped into the beyond. That pleased her father greatly, she was sure. Still, she had long since felt the others leaned too heavily into the aesthetic of a murderous cult allowing the putrid stench of rot and stale blood to permeate their home. Orin and her corpse dollies were the worst of it.
As often as she could, without giving undue fodder to wagging tongues, she availed herself of the extravagant luxury in Enver's chambers. To her delight, he had an almost moral hatred for filth and squalor. There was an often-disquieted part of her that longed for the comfort of her former life - before the Wide, before Sceleritas, before her birthright. That's why she favored Enver, she told herself. Through allowing this alliance, her father had returned to her the affluence she so coveted... in his own way. And Enver himself - well... he was malleable and more than eager to cater to her every whim so long as their aims aligned, and she remained out of his limelight. That really worked for her.
A grin split her face as she felt his arm tighten around her waist, hand palming her bare breast despite being tangled in his latest gift. She, too, ran her fingers along the intricate chain, tugging lightly and feeling the resulting pull along her neck and hips as the dangling rubies brushed across her skin. It had shimmered so prettily in the prior night's firelight, sparking a gleam in both their eyes and winning him a night full of bruises, bites, and the beginnings of a languid ache in their spent muscles.
Though... she may not have drained him as thoroughly as she thought if the prodding at the backs of her thighs was any indication. Her grin turned sharp. Perhaps there was cause to continue expressing her gratitude and teach a valuable lesson while she was at it. It was reckless, really, to sleep so soundly with a butcher in your bed.
Carefully, she unwove his fingers from the chain that ran down the length of her torso before arching her back away from the face thus far nestled between her shoulder blades. He wasn’t a particularly light sleeper, but she was confident his wine-drunk mind would stay buried for the time being. As she stretched, her body inched its way around until she faced him. He had become something of a pet project in their time together and a most willing one, at that. At her behest he had taken to grooming himself much more thoroughly – slicking back his usually shaggy hair and having a servant lather him in scented lotions. Gone was the scraggly pauper playing dress up. She had done a fine job creating the image of a duke in him.
Leaning in, she let the sharp edges of his morning scruff scrape against her cheek before she buried her face in his neck. The rich scent of amber and black tea filled her lungs as she nuzzled into him.
What to do, what to do...
The temptation was there to nip and lick her way down his body, scraping along the bruises and marks she left the night before. Laving him with her tongue until he moaned himself awake. She could imagine his face as he registered the feeling of her mouth on his cock, her tongue dancing across the vein that spanned its length. He would groan out her name and twist a hand into her hair. She would bare her teeth in warning lest he try to do anything more than hold on. A delicious game... But as debauched thoughts filled her mind, her patience fled, and she needed to feel him inside her now .
It was almost too easy to maneuver him onto his back. He barely stirred, only murmuring something incoherent before falling silent again. There was something she found so enthralling about vulnerability. The trust he placed in her and the ease with which she could end him filled her heart with a dark pleasure.
He should know better, she thought.
Straddling herself across his hips, each hand reached to close around something. As her left guided his warm cock into place against her, the other hand wrapped around the cold pommel of the dagger she kept beneath her pillow. Savoring the stretch, she sank down on him and moving as slowly as she could tolerate, she watched his face for any signs of waking. Ideally, he would be buried as deep as she could take him before his mind registered anything at all.
Once she was fully seated, she stilled her hips – instead turning her attention to his torso and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss in the center of his chest. Resting there a moment, with his chest hair tickling her cheek, she reveled in the feeling of him. It was only allowed when she was sure he was none the wiser. He could never know just how soft she was capable of being.
What would he sense first, she wondered? The hot heat of her grinding against him or the cold press of her blade on his skin? Her tongue caught between her teeth as her smile turned almost giddy. She couldn’t wait to discover the answer. After a moment, she lifted herself enough to drag the edge of the blade up his arm where it extended across what had previously been her side of the bed. It was almost cute the way he reached for her, and she found herself wondering if he did so on nights when she didn’t grace his chambers. The thought startled her into sitting up fully and she took a moment to shake it from her mind.
Stop. You know what happens to pets when you get too attached.
A soft sigh escaped her as she turned her attention back to the sharp steel clenched in her fist. Despite her sudden movements, he continued to sleep peacefully beneath her – none the wiser as to the precarious position he was in.
Her grip relaxed once the blade hovered over his skin again. After all, she was nothing if not delicate with her craft. His abdominal muscles quivered involuntarily as the sharp edge glided over him and she felt herself squeeze around his length with each pass. A sharp intake of breath sounded from the head of the bed. Her eyes flicked back to his face just as the anticipated groan tore from his throat and his eyes fluttered open.
His gaze was hazy at first, unfocused and searching. But then, it turned out, she was wrong on all accounts. Her face was the first thing he noticed – smiling down at him with a deceptively sweet look in her round eyes. His own grin twisted its way across his face while his hand trailed up her thigh. He moved to speak, but she quickly pressed a finger from her free hand against his lips. Her walls clenched around him just as the bite of her blade nipped against his skin. It was then realization hit him. All at once, he tensed, and his eyes rolled back as a heavy moan ripped from his throat.
He knew this game well. There were times when she was all too happy to play the innocent for him, the seductress, anything he asked for – anything he pleased. And then there were times she felt the need to remind him of her power. Every pleasure she gave him was by her grace. She was nigh on godhood and he was only a man – practically a stray she had taken in and placed in the lap of luxury. It grated against everything he was, everything he tried to be. And yet, his cock twitched every time. Not daring to move, he allowed himself only to strengthen his established grip on her thigh as she began to move against him. Her dagger retraced its course, gliding back up his body until it pressed into the soft flesh under his chin. When she was sure the unspoken threat had taken root in his mind, she lifted herself slightly on her knees before sinking heavily back down. The pace was slow but forceful, with each stroke just managing to hit her favorite spot.
Sweat tinged her brow and her legs had just started to ache when she saw the muscles in his neck flex with the effort of keeping himself still. He knew better than to move, not with her dagger less than a moment from bathing them both in his blood. Even so, she shifted to grinding herself against him, writhing as she leaned down once more to place delicate kisses along his jaw. Her tongue darted out and licked a quick line across his neck – marking where she would slit him if he didn’t watch himself. A half-strangled groan pushed past his clenched jaw and her eyes fluttered closed at the sound.
His blood was rushing, throbbing in his veins. She could sense it, feel it even as she clenched around him. With her eyes shut as they were there was no light to distract from the abstract vision of his sweet, sticky essence pulsing through his body. Every delicate, branching pathway was known to her. Each artery, vein, and capillary lit up in her mind's eye pressing a beautiful map of potential against her eyelids. The steadying hand pressed to his chest felt the frantic beating of his heart and suddenly the simmering pool of heat deep in her belly was at war with the red mist gathering behind her eyes.
A creeping sensation wriggled up her spine only a moment before she felt his thumb draw a quick circle across her clit. She gasped and tried to move the blade away, but it was too late. Even before her eyes opened, she smelled the metallic tinge of blood. He had hissed when she nicked him and the woman wanted to peer at his face, make sure he was alright, berate him for being so careless... but the Urge was locked on the large droplet forming where his skin now separated. She clenched suddenly around his length, whether from the added stimulation of his hand or the sight of blood now dripping down his neck onto the sheets he wasn’t sure – and truthfully neither was she.
She needed to stay in control, but his thumb continued to stroke firm circles across her clit. His panting moans filled her ears – or was that her? There was no focus, only deep, building pressure and the thickening haze in her mind. She had to release the dagger, do something before the mist filled her vision. It was already pooling at the base of her skull. If she didn’t...
Red. Sticky, sweet, glittering red spraying across everything – bejeweling anything in reach with droplets like liquid rubies. The lewd sound of damp skin against skin drowned out by his guttural cries as she plunged the blade into him again and again. Slicing, cutting, reaming... She wanted to ride him as he died. She wanted the last thing he heard to be her crying out in ecstasy, the last thing he felt to be her climax as his blood soaked through his hard-won finery.
A truly cruel part of her wondered if Bane would reward her treachery against his chosen. In that moment, she managed to loosen her death-grip on the dagger. She launched it across the far side of the bed, out of her own reach to ensure she didn’t reach for it again. It may have embedded itself in the distant wall.
Her anticipation of it didn’t lessen the shock of white-hot pain that lanced through her mind. His death was imminent, poised on the edge of great pleasure, and she spared him . Pathetic. She collapsed against his chest, groaning in pain and only vaguely aware of him shifting. Leveraging his hips, he picked up where she left off, pounding into her from below. Slowly, the creeping coil of her orgasm cut through the aching haze of her mind, and she noted the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. She had sunk her teeth harshly into his shoulder and bitten hard enough to draw more blood. Not that he seemed to mind all that much. As far as she could tell, his hips hadn’t even stuttered and as she soothed the fresh wound with her tongue, she registered the gentle pressure of his large hand cradling the back of her head.
She could have wrested control back from him, punished him for nearly getting himself killed by her hand. Maybe she even should have, but if she was honest those bare few moments of fighting back the bloodlust were exhausting... and Enver was more than talented enough to finish what she had started. So, she relaxed, letting him cradle her against himself even as he continued to pound into her.
He kept her firm rhythm, reaching deep inside her with each thrust as his thumb continued its winding journey. It could have been moments, it could have been hours, her addled mind wasn’t sure – but all the same the coil in her belly tightened and tightened until at last, she felt the tension break and let out a low plaintive moan against his shoulder. Her walls constricted enough that his hips stuttered, and he just managed to bury himself completely again before releasing with an accompanying moan.
They laid like that for some time, still joined together with one of his hands cradling her head and the other tracing soft lines over her back. She listened as his pounding heart slowed to a normal beat and when she finally remembered to glance at his neck, the blood had already congealed. This was fine. So long as she had the excuse of being exhausted, she could allow herself this closeness... right? He shifted, rolling them to the side, but refusing to pull out of her. She let him bury his face in her neck, grazing his teeth over her pulse point before pressing a firm kiss to it instead. The gruff tinge of morning hadn’t yet left his voice when he spoke next.
“Good morning to you, too.”