Disclaimer: Don't own anything except for my OC; all else belongs to Bethesda. No profit made from this either.
Summary: A drunken Vex sends the Dragonborn on a rather special burglary assignment that involves a tall, dark and handsome Justiciar and a pair of smalls.
A/N: This took forever but I started messing in the Kink Meme sandbox and look what popped up. What I don't understand is why my Muse won't pay my other Dragonborn a visit too. Anyway, I hope this will whet your appetite. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! The main course will be served shortly.
The Burglary Job
Rinn froze, her eyes went wide and she felt the hand groping the lower curves of her buttocks still. Then, before she could draw her next breath, she was flipped onto her back so fast that her head spun. Blinking, she took in the vision above her. Ondolemar's blond hair spilled down past his shoulders, glimmering softly in the light, pale and delicate in contrast with the angry green shards that his narrowed eyes had transformed into. The angular features of his face, which she had privately sighed over and deemed as the most handsome she had ever seen in Skyrim, suddenly seemed razor sharp and unforgivingly harsh. He looked positively ferocious. Rinn, who had surmised that gentlemanly Ondolemar—while a fierce warrior and a wily player of the political game—was essentially harmless with a humane core of empathy that he hid beneath the guise of an Aldmer zealot, was suddenly beginning to think twice about her assessment.
She would have shrunk away, pulled back if she could have. Except that there was a rather solid wall of stone pressed against her back. His grip on her forearms was bruising, even through the enchanted leather of the Nightingale armour. Earlier on, she had thought him heavy when she had dragged him across the room and heaved him up on the stone bed. Now, she knew had an even better idea of his weight because he proceeded to sit astride her while he leaned further down, putting increased pressure on her arms, so close that the tip of his nose was inches from hers. White teeth flashed from sensual lips curled in a half snarl. "What?"
Somewhere inside the recesses of her brain, Rinn felt her inner voice collapse into a blissful, hormone-induced coma. Where this particular Mer was concerned, a furious elf was an incredibly sexy one and Rinn whimpered in silent despair, bemoaning the fact that she shared her inner voice's perverse tastes.
"Aerindis, did you just tell me that you are married?"
She doubted that he could have sounded more disgusted if he had caught her erecting statues of Talos in every corner of Markarth. In fact, she was quite sure that he might have found that less distasteful than her Sanguine-induced marriage. Every instinct that she possessed screamed at her not to answer. Unfortunately, the other side of Rinn, the side that induced her to steal not just the Elenwen's files on the Blades and Ulfric but every septim, potion and even a Stone of Barenziah from Elenwen's own bedside while she had triumphantly evaded the Thalmor Embassy guards, the same side that had caused Brynjolf to almost get a heart attack when she had spontaneously roared out a Thu'um before throwing her ethereal form off a short but steep cliff just to see if she could, that side egged her on and she blinked again, almost helpless to stop her mouth from opening and giving an answer that she was sure to further ignite Ondolemar's apparent fury.
"It's true. The wedding was just last month—" She squeaked as a flash of gold streaked past the corner of her eye, and flashed like fire through the air as Ondolemar hurled the elven dagger against the room. The resounding clatter sounded like thunder in the tense silence of the room.
"Don't lie to me!" he growled. "If you think that will make me spare you—" He sunk a gloved hand into her dark hair and Rinn shivered when she felt his leather-clad fingertips brush her scalp as he gathered a fistful of locks at her nape and tugged sharply.
"I have the ring to prove it," she yelped, wondering vaguely just how many more hairs she was going to lose this evening. He lifted an immaculately groomed brow at her, a somewhat mocking expression replacing the anger on his face for the moment. "I do," Rinn insisted hotly, glaring back at him. Nice Altmer or not, when Ondolemar wanted to play the arrogant Thalmor, he could be as haughtily condescending as the best of them—and that meant Elenwen. Not even Mercer in his finest arrogant 'No Debates No Discussions You Do What We Say When We Say' bastard mode could quite match the gold-skinned Mer.
'Well, that's not all he failed to match them in. Although I'll confess nobody does scruffy and unkempt quite the way Mercer does,' her inner voice suddenly quipped.
'By the Daedric Princes, did you seriously just say that?' Rinn howled silently at the retreating figure of her inner voice. 'Did you just confess to ogling Mercer 'Let me stab you in the gut' Frey?!'
'Well, that was before Snow Veil Sanctum! And shouldn't you pay attention to what Ondolemar is doing?'
That successfully diverted Rinn's attention in time for her to realise that the elf had lifted her left hand and was eyeing it with amusement. "I think you and I both know that you are not in possession of any such ring," he said smoothly and Rinn tried not to pay attention to the fact that he was running his thumb over the base of her ring finger. Weakly, she tried to tug her hand free; he tightened his grasp on her wrist. Then, before she could stop him, he leaned forward and, without taking his eyes from hers, parted his lips as he sucked the tip of her slender digit into his mouth.
Her heart jumped so hard it slammed into her ribs before sinking down into the rapidly melting recesses of her belly. 'Oh my gods,' Rinn thought faintly as all the strength left her arm and possibly the rest of her body. Not that Ondolemar cared; he was preoccupied with sliding more of her finger along the wet heat of his tongue and Rinn felt each flick and stroke right down to the southernmost region of her body where she was sure her smalls had disintegrated to ash, or possibly just vanished out of existence like those strange Psijic sorcerers who made it a habit of popping in and out of her life to order her on various quests. 'I have to stop him.'
'Tell him you married a woman,' her inner voice piped up slyly. "You don't really like men."
"I married a woman," Rinn blurted out before she could contemplate the wisdom of listening to her inner voice whose only goal in life was to bed Ondolemar, never mind that a rapacious ancient dragon-god was flying across the land and resurrecting an army of dragons to help him destroy all of existence. To quote Rinn's inner voice, she never sweated the small stuff.
Teeth scored delicate flesh and Rinn cried out. "It's true! She's quite beautiful." That was an awful lie. Even a dragon would be a finer looking specimen than that Hagraven. Sithis and the bloody Void, even other Hagravens she had slaughtered were better looking than that Hagraven. The look of devotion in the bird-hag's eyes still made chills run down her spine. She had not been able to bring herself to do more than stun the creature with a blow to the head before ripping the ring from her hand and running off into the rocky, steam-filled wilderness. Rinn hoped the grimace on her face would be passed off as pain as Ondolemar ruthlessly nipped at her again.
When he finally released her finger, it felt as though there were no bones left in her body. Rinn made a valiant effort to topple Ondolemar off but he had his legs pressed firmly against her sides and she ground her teeth in thwarted frustration as he shook his head knowingly at her. "I suppose your sudden liking for women is the reason why you almost kissed me after I saved your life," he purred and she wanted to smack his face.
'That's not the best starting point. I would suggest beginning with his posterior—'
Her inner voice was like Barbas; it was loud, pushy and got in her way at the most inconvenient moments. And like Barbas, she was just going to grit her teeth and ignore it. She had a drugged and horny elf to take to be—to take care of.
"I did not almost kiss you. You grabbed me in an embrace I did not solicit and you were the one who almost lost control," she snapped back.
"I see. So that explains why you were clinging to me like a barnacle to a ship's hull and the look of profound disappointment on your face when I did not kiss you, as you were so obviously trying to get me to do."
Had he just likened her to those little pests that sailors spent hours scraping off the bottom of their ships? Rinn snatched her hand back. "Well, if I looked disappointed I didn't stay disappointed for long. I'm Thieves Guild, right? And if there's one thing the men in that Guild are well-known for, it's their nimble fingers and clever tongues and I can certainly vouch for that—"
Perhaps if Rinn had known exactly what Angeline Morrard had put inside the sex potion or the effects of consuming a fragment of the Lover Stone, she might have been more forgiving and a lot more cautious. With his inhibitions badly frayed to the point of nonexistence, his five senses heightened to the point of almost painful sensitivity and his every nerve sparking like wildfire because of her scent, her taste, her body beneath his, and a powerful ancient enchantment coursing through his veins that demanded he bed this woman who had snuck her way into his heart and refused all attempts at eviction, Ondolemar snapped.
Rinn barely had time to contemplate her mistake when he hauled her up and off the ground with a savage growl. Instinct surged to life with a vengeance and although her arms were practically immobilised, her legs were free. Lifting them, she kicked straight out, both feet together and buried her heels in his gut. The tough Nightingale boots punched through the protective layers of his Thalmor robes and Ondolemar dropped her as he doubled over. Rough cold stone scratched her hands as Rinn twisted in mid-air, landed on all fours and scrambled up to make a wild dash for the door.
She was in the process of hauling it open when she heard a sizzling crackle fill the room. "Oh shit—"
That was the furthest she got. The force of the spell was strong enough to throw her forward against the door and she was caught in the midst of a blindingly bright glow that suffused her body and made her squeeze her eyes shut in spite of herself. Then, the light disappeared and at that moment, Rinn knew exactly what spell Ondolemar had cast on her.
She had never found a book to learn it, or found the time at the College of Winterhold to get someone to teach it to her. But she had heard about the Paralyze spell and how useful it could be for the wielder and how particularly nasty it could be for the victim. A strangled cry of alarm, more like a whisper really, escaped her lips as the magic siphoned the very strength from her bones and Rinn crumpled to the ground like deadweight. She might have been hurt, if not for the arms that caught her just before she hit the stone floor but she could hardly be expected to show her captor gratitude. No matter how hard she tried, she could do nothing more than just watch as he kicked the door shut. Then, he withdrew a key from a hidden pocket in his robes, one that she had refrained from ever picking—a fact that she was now cursing herself for, apart from cursing him—and proceeded to lock the door before scooping her up in his arms.
"Ondolemar," she whispered, struggling to get her tongue to shape his name and her lips to part. The effort to carry out that previously simple task rendered her nearly breathless. What finally knocked the remaining air from her lungs was the realisation that he was carrying her towards the stone bed.
"I would strongly advise that you shut up, Rinn," he hissed, the gentleness with which he laid her out on the bed forming a strange contrast with his angry words and voice. "You are, after all, going to need whatever strength you have left."
She almost choked when he kissed her, crushing his mouth to hers as he roughly cupped her cheek and pressed his thumb against her chin so that her lips parted from him. Rinn could never be sure but she thought she heard herself moan as his tongue swept in and mated with hers, stroking and rubbing, pressing so intimately that the heated tremor which flared up over her heart and streaked right down to her toes would have curled them, if not for the spell. She could taste something else on his tongue, faintly musky and sweet, and knew it was the remnants of the blasted potion she had fed him.
He bit her lips, ran his tongue over the spot to soothe the sting left by his teeth. Rinn's sigh feathered his mouth when he finally ended the kiss and for a moment, she could have sworn his lips lifted in the barest of smiles. "When you return to your Guild, I guarantee that you will have something else to vouch for."
That was when she heard the sharp click of the first of her buckles being undone. The blood rushed from her face before it returned in a burning blush that she knew had turned the fair tips of her ears red as well.
Dear gods, he was stripping her.