Chapter Text
Brynjolf took in a deep breath, doing his best not to let the others hear. He leaned against the wall of the cave, in what he hoped looked like a relaxed posture, as water continued to drip from his clothes. He watched in silence as Karliah gave Anaya very clear instructions about returning the skeleton key through the Pilgrim’s Path. Both Dunmer wore the same garb as he, and if he didn’t already know the women were dark elves, he would have been none the wiser.
Pain shot through his side, and for the first time since he donned the ridiculous outfit he was glad it hid his face. There was no need for them to know the full extent of his injuries at the moment. With any luck, and that luck should be swinging in their direction as soon as that key was returned, they would never know at all.
“So you're sending me in there alone?” Anaya’s voice was rough from coughing up water.
“I don’t dare show my face to Nocturnal after my failure to protect the key.”
“And one of us has got to get back to the guild to keep order,” he added from his place at the wall.
Anaya’s eyes flashed dangerously from behind the mask at the two of them, but she remained silent, not having the energy to question them so soon after being nearly drowned.
“Fine,” she said instead, “We should get going then. No use lingering around here when we’ve got Daedra to please.”
He could only imagine the twist of her lips behind the leather.
Aye lass. I’m not thrilled about this either, he thought to himself.
He watched them make their exit, then carefully pushed off the wall and followed suit. It took more strength then he thought it should to walk normally, which wasn’t an issue ten minutes ago as they emerged from the flooded ruins, all of them doubled over, gasping for air. But the initial escape had passed and now it was time to act as a proper member of the Guild. Time to act as a Nightingale. Brynjolf glanced down at his feet as he maneuvered over the uneven terrain of the cave, and noticed for the first time the blood mixed in with the water that continued to drop down his pant leg.
Shit.
They waited for him at the cave entrance and he made sure to stay away from the edge of the snow as they gathered their bearings.
“I’ll see you two back at the Flagon. Luck be with you, lass.” He tipped his head in Anaya’s direction, hoping she wouldn’t need any.
Of all the Guild members to get caught up in this mess, it had to be her. Then again, he couldn’t think of anyone else who’d have the stomach to survive what she had so far. He knew there was something special about her when he first caught sight of her in the Riften marketplace months ago. Even if she was a terrible pickpocket, he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he didn’t recruit her, they’d all be missing out.
He turned to head towards the road hoping they wouldn’t look down and see that he was leaving more than footprints. With each step, he wondered if he would even make it to the road. The best scenario he could think of was to steal the first horse he could and find the closest safe house. But the further he walked, the more he could feel where the cold water ran, and where his hot blood gushed.
He was well clear of the cave entrance by the time his knees gave out, his body forcing him to accept that the damn Falmer got him better than he realized. Those buggers were ruthless. Their blades, arrows, and magic as lethal as the claws on their hands and the sharpened teeth in their mouths. All it took was one thrust of a blade that he’d been too slow to dodge out of the way from. Well that and the fact that he’d been bleeding out for the last hour. At least the blade hadn’t been poisoned.
And that’s when he realized he couldn’t actually feel his legs anymore.
So much for that cheery thought.
I guess they’ll be looking to recruit another Nightingale soon, he thought as he closed his eyes against the glare of light off the snow. This was definitely some sort of sick joke for trying to sell ‘Genuine Falmer Blood Elixirs’. Gods, he hated the Daedra and their sense of irony.
It took a minute to realize that the pounding he heard wasn’t the beating of his own heart, but running footsteps. His eyes snapped open just as darkness descended around him and he fumbled for the blade strapped to his side as if he’d never drawn the thing before in his life.
The hand that pressed against his own as he failed to unsheathe the weapon was small, and unmistakably gentle. That more than anything else is what stopped him from turning into a cornered animal in the space of a few seconds.
“Brynjolf!” Her voice was still raw, but there was no mistaking the worry in it.
“Easy, lass,“ he said more to calm himself down than her.
“What in the-? Why didn’t you tell us?” Her eyes darted erratically from the pool of blood in the snow to where she thought the wound might be.
“Idiotic male pride?” he offered, as another spasm wracked his body.
“Fuck,” she said softly, jumping over him and moving so that she could grab him from behind. “We need to get you back into the cave. Can you stand?”
“No, lass. I can’t feel anything from the waist down.”
“Fuck,” she swore again.
Using more strength than he knew she possessed, Anaya began to drag him back the way he’d just come. It wasn’t easy moving across the boulders and steep hillside. He was honestly surprised he’d made it as far as he did from the cave in the first place before dropping like a rock. The sharp edge of a stone hit him mid back, and he grunted from the suddenness of the sensation.
“I thought you couldn’t feel anything.” She huffed while looking over her shoulder in the direction they were moving.
“Don’t worry, lass. There’s still plenty of me that can feel every stick and stone you’re trying to break me with.”
“Oh I’m not worried about that.” She glanced down at him quickly, her eyes still the only part of her he could actually see through the Nightingale uniform, “And when I want to break you, it won’t be with sticks and stones.” He swore he saw something more in her dark red eyes, but convinced himself that it was only his pain-addled imagination.
It felt like it took too long before he saw the overhang of the cave entrance. His eyelids struggled to stay open. Even as she dragged him out from the open wind, the cold made its way into every part of him that he could still feel. By the time Anaya got him to the inner chamber, he was shivering like a leaf.
“Dammit, Bryn.” She tore her mask and hood off, her moonlight pale hair creating a halo around her head, despite still being half wet and tied back.
Aye. I’m dying all right.
She wasted no further time, working on the intricate fastenings and clasps that made up the coveted Nightingale armour he wore, nor was she gentle about it. Anaya flipped him over onto his side, reaching between the flaps of leather that hid more of the hooks and buckles that kept the piece together. Her deft fingers were quick and in a matter of moments she peeled the leather away from his body, leaving everything above his britches bare.
“Lass, if you wanted me out of my leathers that fast, all you had to do was ask.”
“Shut up,” she said, her face a mask of seriousness as she focused her attention on the wound above his hip.
He took a quick glance at it, but could only make out redness and blood. Lifting his head caused a wave of nausea he wasn’t expecting and he turned his face hoping he’d be able to keep his last meal down.
“This isn’t good.” He heard her say as his body heaved involuntarily. Luckily he managed to keep everything in, but the pain had done its job.
His next breaths were deep and fast, and despite being frozen, he could feel a sheet of sweat start to cover his skin. This wasn’t how he thought he would go, but he supposed there were worse ways. At least he could still feel Anaya as she brushed her fingers across his torso, pushing against him, assessing.
She let out a breath in frustration, and he opened his eyes in time to see her looking around the cave, seeking something. Her search apparently came up empty and she angled her face towards his. Her expression said everything.
“Just stay with me, lass,” he said in resignation, “If there’s nothing to be done about it, then just don’t let me go by myself.” His left arm snaked out with some of the last of his strength and gripped her wrist like a vice.
Her body tensed up immediately and she closed her eyes as a pained look took over her features, as if weighing a bad choice against a worse one. Brynjolf worried she was getting ready to refuse his last request. Technically he didn’t really know her. She was Guild, yes. But that didn’t mean she had to stay and watch him perish. Although he did expect a little more from her, considering he’d been the one to recruit her in the first place.
“What if there was a way to save you?” Her eyes opened slowly, focused on the still bleeding wound.
“I beg your pardon, lass? I think I misheard you.”
“Would you accept an alternate way to save your life?” She glared at him, gravity in every word.
“I’m not making any more deals with Daedra. Nocturnal apparently already has her claws in me.”
She shook her head. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Stop asking me questions, lass! Either let me die in peace or-”
“Can you keep a bloody secret?” she shouted while lunging forward, her face hovered dangerously close to his own.
“Easy lass,” he whispered, as her eyes bored into his. “Aye. I can keep a secret.”
“Good.” She retreated back down his body, “This will hurt.”
That’s all the warning he got.
Her hand slammed into his abdomen the same time as the light exploded from her palm. If he thought dying felt awful that was nothing compared to whatever this was. His back arched up off the ground and his hands dug into whatever was closest to hang onto. He felt as if his blood were burning it’s way out of his veins, and every nerve in his body had suddenly been set on fire. All in all, this is what he was expecting death to feel like.
Brynjolf had no concept of how much time passed, but when she finally removed her hand, he flattened himself against the ground gasping for air like he had just broken free of the falmer ruins for a second time.
“Dammit lass! You sure you’re not trying to kill me?” he wheezed out between lungfuls of air.
“The poison should be gone. Now to seal the wound.”
He watched with wide eyes as her fingertips lit up. Instead of slamming into him again, this time she gently placed each digit along the cut and he felt a pleasant warming sensation. He managed to raise up onto his elbows and saw as his flesh knit back together bit by bit. His eyes were still bugging out of his head by the time she finished, her hand losing all of its previous luminous properties.
“It was deep. I’m not able to prevent the scar.” Her head shifted, and she looked at him like she just wanted to sleep. “You can stop looking at me like that.”
“When in Oblivion were you going to mention you practiced the Clever Craft?”
“I wasn’t. And if you recall, you said you could keep a secret.”
“Aye, lass. I remember.”
Suddenly he was exhausted, and the fight to keep his eyelids from closing felt like an unwinnable battle. She shifted around him and grabbed the leather armour, draping it across his naked chest.
“Rest. I’ll see what I can do to get us some supplies.”
“Aye lass.” He’d lost the battle already, and could only hope that she didn’t sneak off for good while he slumbered like a bear in a cave.
When he awoke, it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the firelight causing the shadows to dance on the walls around him. He was underneath possibly the scratchiest blanket he’d ever encountered, but between that and the fire that crackled nearby, he was at least warm. Brynjolf rolled his head to the side and noticed two sets of armour set up to dry beside the fire.
He suddenly realized why he could feel every inch of the damn blanket.
He shifted the other way.
Anaya.
She had a similar blanket wrapped around herself, while she dozed propped up against the wall. She looked younger when she slept, but who actually knew how the Dunmer aged. He was certainly no expert. She could be older than him for all he knew. He squinted up at her wondering for the first time about these things.
His shifting didn’t go unnoticed apparently as her eyes opened like she was about to murder the person who’d disturbed her. When she focused on him, the promise of death faded and was replaced with something much softer.
“You live to see another day,” she said with a smile on her lips. “Or night, in this case.”
“Not for lack of trying.”
“I did my best given how bad it was. I don’t know that I would have been able to do anything at all had you waited much longer.” She frowned, scolding him.
“How did you find me, lass?” He asked instead, ignoring the reminder about how close to death he really was.
“I was about to cross the stream when I saw you fall.” She gave him a look that said stupid man. “Karliah was already gone.”
“And where’d you learn those neat tricks?”
She opened her mouth to answer, then paused, as if deciding if she really wanted him to know. “My family sent me to the College in Winterhold when I was younger. I was tasked with mastering the school of restoration so I could act as our House’s healer.”
“And now you’re a thief.”
“Among other things.” She shrugged, “Doesn’t mean I didn’t take what I learned seriously. This isn’t the first time it’s come in useful.”
“And do all of your patients wake up with their head in your lap?”
“Only the ones I’m partial to.” One of her hands found its way into his hair, lightly smoothing the auburn locks away from his face.
“I’ll count myself a lucky man then.” He closed his eyes, savouring the feel of her fingers on him. Not pushing and assessing this time, nor trying to cure him of poison and near certain death. They were surprisingly soft and gentle for someone who wielded swords with the ease she portrayed, taking their time as they traced a path across his head and down the side of his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched like that.
The sensation went straight to his dick.
He freed one of his arms from the confines of the blanket and took hold of her hand, stopping her from exploring any further.
“You better be sure lass,” he said looking up at her again.
“I’m a thief, Bryn. I take what I want.” Her voice became low and husky, while she leaned over slightly.
Fuck.
He sat up too fast, making himself a little dizzy as the blanket slid down his torso, pooling at his waist. He twisted around where he was and caught her appraising his backside. That’s when he noticed the blanket only covered part of her, leaving her legs completely bare. He’d been semi hard before, but now he stood at full attention.
“Last chance lass,” he warned.
In response, she let the blanket fall open.
He wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but they crashed together, mouths ravaging each other like they were starving. She nipped his tongue as it pushed past her teeth and he pulled away startled.
“So you like it like that, do you, lass?” he asked as he immediately went to sink his teeth into the junction of her neck and shoulder. The primal groan that escaped her made him smile into the bite.
She dug her nails into his upper back and arse while pressing her hips forward, grinding against his cock, trapped between them. Brynjolf eased away from her neck, taking a moment to admire his handy work. Even on her darkened skin, the beginnings of the bruise was visible. He pressed his lips against the spot one more time, followed by a quick swipe of his tongue.
She tasted of salt, and he wanted nothing more than to sample every inch of her.
He ducked his head lower, pushing his lips against the column of her throat, while he alternated between licks and nips of his teeth. As he worked his way to her other shoulder, she pushed him back. He landed hard on the rough ground and let out a groan, his body still sore from its injury, but he had no time to react as Anaya straddled one of his legs, rubbing herself against the coarse hair.
“And what do you intend to do with me, thief?”
“Now who’s asking too many questions?” She didn’t wait for a response but instead leaned over while grabbing hold of him. A man of his years should have been embarrassed by the sound he made, but there was no time to think on it as her mouth descended on him, covering his length until her nose nuzzled into the red curls of his pubic hair.
It was warm and wet, and she applied just the right amount of pressure with her tongue to making him impulsively lift his hands into her hair.
“Fuck, lass.”
She pulled up, his cock springing from her mouth with a lewd pop sound. “I believe that’s what we’re doing.” And then she was on him again.
If she hadn’t killed him yet, she might soon with the pace she was going. One of her hands cupped his sack, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger, her other fingers lightly touched whatever skin they could. Up and down she bobbed, making slurping sounds like he was the best meal she’d ever had.
She slowed and made a show of running her tongue along the underside of his dick, swirling it around his head when she got to the top. Then she plunged down, taking all of him. She did that three more times before he pulled her up to him and flipped them, so that almost all his full weight rested on top of her. His mouth was on hers once more, devouring her. He could taste himself on her as their tongues danced, and he ground his hips into hers, wanting to feel as much friction as possible.
Gods, he didn’t realize how badly he had wanted her until now. It wasn’t unusual for Guild members to sleep together, but after what happened with Gallus and Karliah, he’d found his pleasures elsewhere. The risk seemed too high, especially with the ill luck that had befallen them, unbeknownst to them because of Mercer’s actions.
But now he wasn’t willing to wait any longer to find out how she tasted. In an instant, he was nestled between her thighs, staring at the stark white hair that covered her. For some reason he found it surprising that she matched. Not many blondes he knew did, but then he’d didn’t have much opportunity to bed dark elves. He wiggled a little more against the hard ground, adjusting so that her legs were draped over his back.
He ran his finger along her, right down the middle, stopping only when the tip entered her slightly. He kept it there, undecided whether or not he should breach her with his hand or his tongue first. Her hips shifted as she tried to force him to move, and so he traced circles inside her instead, making sure not to go any deeper than he already was.
She moaned his name, and he immediately decided he wanted to hear more of that. Without a second thought, he wedged his free hand under her ass and lifted her up, dipping his tongue through her folds. Now this, this was an elixir worth its weight in gold. He quickly began lapping at her, circling her clit a couple of times before sinking his tongue inside her, as far as could. He pressed his mouth flush against her, trying to get in further, but he was as far as he was going to get.
She writhed around him, and the arm that wasn’t trapped beneath her wrapped around one of her thighs and pushed down on her stomach, in an attempt to keep her still. Brynjolf feasted on her like this was his last supper. The hand that held her down moved until he was able to reach her clit, and then he worried at it until her cries started to bounce off the wall, and she almost bucked him off her completely.
“There’s a good lass,” he said, resting his chin on her pubic bone, when she finally stilled. “How many times can I make you sing for me tonight?”
“I do a lot of things, Brynjolf.” She raised herself up onto her elbows, chest heaving. “But singing isn’t one of them.”
He graced her with a wicked smile. “It is now.”
Before she could protest, he’d gotten his legs underneath himself, lifted her left leg, and flipped her onto her stomach. He wouldn’t have called the sound she made graceful, but it was enough to make him smirk, being far too pleased with himself knowing she would let him manhandle her how he wanted.
She’d gotten her arms underneath herself to push upwards, when he came down on her back, preventing her from going anywhere. It took only a second to move her hair away from her neck before he got to work on it with his mouth again.
“If I had known your lips were this talented, I wouldn’t have waited until you tried to die on me to take you for a ride,” she panted.
“Is that so?” he replied between kisses.
“Mmmmm.” Was all she managed in response.
He graduated from her neck to the tops of her shoulders, and finally down her back when he decided more teeth were in order. The gasps she made at each unexpected bite sent all the blood in his body rushing to his dick, and it throbbed, wanting to finish what she had started earlier.
He wedged his knee between her legs, making room to settle himself in.
“You know this possibly isn’t the best spot for this.” She said, turning her face to the side, trying to get a glimpse of him.
“And why’s that lass?”
“Stones.” She pulled one of the offending objects out from underneath herself, then threw it at him.
He laughed as he dodged. “You might not use sticks and stones to break someone, but I do.”
She smiled up at him, “And just where are the sticks?”
“Right here.”
Then he lifted her hips, and rutted forward, entering her on his first try. She gasped again and pressed her face into the ground as he fucked her. He pulled out, his cock slick with her, then slammed forward, burying himself inside her, wondering why he waited so long for this. He watched the junction where they were joined, as his cock disappeared inside her, over and over again, becoming hypnotized by the sight.
It was like velvet heat every time he pushed forward, and he shifted again, changing the angle to get deeper. He must have gotten the right spot as she gasped suddenly on the next thrust. Her arms shot forward, as she tried to gain purchase onto anything. She kept her chest on the ground, now resembling a cat stretching forward, and he leaned over, wanting to feel her skin against his own.
“Sing for me Nightingale.” Brynjolf whispered in her ear.
“Fuck, Bryn! Stop trying to sweet talk me.” She managed between breaths.
“Where’s the fun in that?” He snaked an arm around her waist, hand feeling between her legs until he found her clit again. “Now sing.”
And then he started pushing down on her, fingers lifting only to get back to the top of the hood that covered the gem inside, before pressing down again. Her reaction was instant, the sounds coming out of her mouth being the music he was hoping for. Each unintelligible word pulled him closer and closer to release.
He could feel the beginning of his climax approaching, but Anaya was still writhing and mumbling incoherently beneath him. His hips sped up their pace, cock pumping in and and out of her cunt, while his fingers started a trick he learned from a lass in Markarth. Her cries turned shrill, and he worried for the briefest of moments that they might attract unwanted attention from whatever roamed outside the cave.
But his worries were forgotten as soon as he felt her clenching around him. She jerked and started bucking again, almost dislodging him when his hips were mid pull. He slammed himself forward, his own movements now becoming jerky themselves. She sang his name, probably the only coherent thing she was able to manage since he commanded her to, then sagged beneath him.
Brynjolf pushed himself upright, grabbing hold of her hips for a few last thrusts before pulling out, cock in hand, and spending his seed all down her back.
“Did you really just?” She asked, still catching her breath.
“Aye lass.” He sat back on his heels, hands still on her waist for support. “It paints a lovely picture.”
“I never took you for an artist.” She pushed herself up onto all fours and turned her head towards him, “Although there’s no need for that, should we find ourselves in a similar position again.”
His dick twitched at the thought of more, but he was reasonably spent. However her words opened possibilities he didn’t previously consider. He’d have to think carefully about what he wanted. Whether or not this was a risk he’d take again.
He let go of her finally, and leaned over, grabbing one of the blankets that were within reach. As she mimicked his position, sitting up on her knees, he went to wipe his mess from her skin. She jerked, not expecting it, but quickly relaxed beneath his hands. It didn’t take long, and once he’d dropped the blanket, he wrapped his arms around her, pressing up against her back.
This time she stiffened and didn’t loosen up.
“Thank you, lass.” He kissed the bruise on her neck, a mark he was far too pleased about, then let go. Her reaction made it obvious this was beyond what she found acceptable.
“For what?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but there was tension in the question. She stood and went for the other blanket that had wound up dangerously close to the fire.
“For saving my life. I thought that’d be obvious.”
“Don’t mention it.” She settled herself back where she sat earlier, blanket wrapped around her shoulders again. “Seriously.” She looked at him humourlessly.
“My word to you is my bond.”
“Good.” She relaxed, “Now get back over here. The cold sets in quickly without a personal leg warmer.”
He grinned, grabbing the other blanket, and settling into the same position he woke up in. Neither of them spoke as the fire burned down. He fell asleep with her hands twinned in his hair and thoughts of what could be.
When Brynjolf awoke next, the fire was down to embers and Anaya was gone.