Monday, December 14, 2015

A Brynjolf Lemon -- Peerless

Character: Brynjolf

Fandom: Elder Scrolls: Skyrim

OC: Lenore, Guild Master, Nord, sophisticated, sly

Inspiration: Brynjolf decides that a little late night heist is just what he needs to give him the perfect excuse to get into his guild master’s pants.  ;)

The Guild was far from empty, and Lenore wanted peace.  Normally she enjoyed the rowdiness of her friends – parties among thieves were always fun – but tonight she could not allow herself to give into those happy feelings.  Darkness was looming in the sky.  Alduin’s reign was growing stronger every day, and she had finally found the path that she would take to kill him.  But the more she studied it, the wearier she got.  She knew it would be hard from the very first moment, but this?  Impossible.
A sharp laugh cut above the squalor and the voices from within the bowels of the sewer.  Familiar warmth flooded her at the sound, accompanied by an also familiar hesitance.  There was another problem.  Another reason to keep her distance.  Brynjolf.
He did not understand her duty to Skyrim.  She couldn’t blame him.  He had always been a thief – an honorable thief, but a thief nonetheless.  The only loyalty he had was to his Guild, to himself.  But she…Lenore held the fate of the country in her hands.  She could not afford to be selfish.  And so she had told him to mind his own damned business and leave hers alone…except Brynjolf didn’t take orders very well.  Something she’d learned from the very first meeting.
Which was why, when she felt a presence come up silently behind her, Lenore knew it was him.  It didn’t stop her from sweeping her leg out and knocking him over of course.  Nor did it stop her from straddling him and expertly pressing a knife to his throat, her eyes narrowed in amusement.
“Och, lass,” he muttered, leaning back and exposing his throat to her without care.  “You’ve proved you’re lethal with the knives.  Now up you get…unless of course this was all part of your cunning plan to get close to me.”  She rolled her eyes.
With a flick of her wrist, the dagger was sliding back into its sheath with a shhhck.  Brynjolf sat up, rubbing his throat idly, and said, “Now you know the boys like it when you join the party, lass.  What’re you doing all the way up here?  And without ale?”  And, lifting his hand, Brynjolf showed off two unopened bottles of Honeybrew mead, somehow unbroken even after his tumble on the stone.
Lenore eyed them for a moment, then muttered, “Damn it – gimme that, then, and leave me in peace.”  She grabbed at the bottle, but Brynjolf just tugged it back with a sly smile that she knew very well.  Too well.
“Nah ah ah,” he said with a grin, “I cannae allow such treachery from our guild master.  I suppose there’s only one thing for it – I’ll have to sit up with you.  Make sure you keep a good vigil over our festivities.”  He winked at her, and handed her a bottle after he’d gotten settled across from her.
The night was balmy, dry, and fragrant.  It hardly got much colder than that in Riften.  The flagstones beneath her were cool, though they offered very little comfort.  It was alright.  She enjoyed sitting up here, like a guard watching over the Guild’s front door.  No one ever came to the cemetery, and the walls of the mausoleum ensured that any passing guards would not notice their presence. 
She popped open the bottle and took a swig.  The fuzzy layer of earlier consumed alcohol had long disappeared with the help of the fresh air and silence, and she rather liked the idea of refueling it.  She had been thinking far too hard tonight.  Worrying far too much.
“You should’ve brought the Argonian wine,” she told Brynjolf, nudging him with the tip of her boot.  He raised a brow and caught her ankle between his shins, and his smile grew with every failed attempt to untangle herself.  “Brynjo – “
“Ah, wine?  Alas, Delvin’s already gotten into it.  But,” he leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper as his eyes gleamed into hers, “I know where we can find more, if you’re interested in a little late night shopping.”
Lenore pursed her lips, holding back a laugh that was threatening to make its way into existence.  She leaned in too, until her face was mere inches away from his, and whispered, “Oh dear, Brynjolf, you wouldn’t be suggesting that we steal it, would you?  Whatever would my mother say?” 
His grin turned boyish.  Those wicked green eyes flickered down, sweeping over her mouth and leaning in even further.  Their lips just barely brushed together – and even that made her crazy with insatiable desire. 
“I think she would praise you for finding such a practical man,” he murmured, the burr of his accent getting the better of him.  Her eyes flashed, filling with a challenge that Brynjolf immediately took note of – and accepted.  Her challenges were always worth it.
With another smirking grin, Brynjolf shuffled to his feet, the bottle of Honeybrew hanging deftly from his fingers.  He reached a hand for her to grasp, and pulled her up alongside him with a smartly raised brow.  “Now then,” he murmured, leading her out of the mausoleum by that hand, “I believe it’s this way.”  He didn’t let go of her until they were walking through the gates of the temple, and by then, Lenore was able to wriggle out of his grasp.  It wasn’t any fun being overly affectionate.
Riften at night was vigilant.  Its history of thievery kept the nighttime watch on their guard.  That, and the recent issue with the vampires, made it difficult to conduct any unsavory business.  But Brynjolf knew these streets like the back of his hand, and with him at her side, they shuffled past guards and watchful eyes without even being noticed.  It was great fun, having him pull her into the stone walls and fading away into the darkness – fun, and a little something more, if she was being honest.  Of course, Lenore wasn’t known as an honest woman, so it was a moot point.
“We wouldn’t be making our way toward the Blackbriar meadery, now would we?” Lenore asked quietly, half amused that he would have the gall to steal from their most important benefactor, but mostly just amused for the hell of it.  Maven had it coming, really.  She was a total bitch.
Brynjolf put a finger to his lips and sent her a saucy wink that made her giggle.  “She should supply her thieves with a bit of drink once in a while, don’t you think?” he asked, and she could only smirk widely and nod.  She didn’t have the heart to disagree, not when her mind was pleasantly muddled and Brynjolf was making her feel so very warm and, dare she say it, happy.
When they sidled up near the meadery door, Brynjolf inched up to glance through the window.  There was a soft light coming from inside, but no one appeared to be at the counter.  A guard would probably be coming around the corner at any moment, by Lenore’s guess (she happened to know their patrol rounds fairly well by now), and so it was a good thing Brynjolf was a master with his lockpicks.  As he knelt in front of the door and began working at the lock, Lenore smirked and murmured, “Mmm…you know, I’ve always loved a man with steady hands.” 
Brynjolf only grinned.  Her flirtatious ways didn’t surprise him.  Neither did the gleam in her eyes – the one that told him she was checking him out right about now.  He chuckled, jiggled the lock, and heard the telltale clink of it giving in.  He had a few ideas as to how to spend the night, for sure – and they involved plenty of alcohol and her.
“Come on then, lass, in you get,” he said, ignoring her interest for now.  If they were caught by guards, then there’d be no fun at all.  He could be patient if he wanted to be, and now was the perfect time to enlist said patience. 
Lenore raised an eyebrow at him but obeyed, slinking into the shop and pausing carefully to listen for footsteps.  Brynjolf slid in behind her and quietly shut the door, Maven would definitely question him about the broken lock, but he’d toss the blame onto whatever rogue thief happened to terrorize Riften next.  Stupid amateurs, they were, always leaving a trail of lockpicks behind them like idiots.  So he decided he’d do that too, and put a pick down by the door.  Maven wouldn’t suspect the guild for such shoddy work, for sure.  She knew they were trained far better than that.
Lenore, noticing the breadcrumbs, grinned at him.  He winked back, then reached for her hand and pulled her silently to the doorway.  One quick glance around it, and they were both sneaking over the carpeted hallway towards the cellar.  It was where the brewing process took place – and where the best of the batch could be found.
Lenore let him lead her, for once not minding remaining behind him.  She couldn’t complain about the way he clutched her, either.  His calloused fingertips held hers firmly, ready to pull her into the shadows should anyone come their way.  But no one did, and they made it safely to the cellar without a problem, hearts thumping wildly at the danger.
The cellar was fairly clean – only the far end of it was littered with hay.  There was furniture shoved up against the walls too, creating a haphazard that perfectly mirrored her beating heart.  She went to check it out, ensuring that they were indeed alone, while Brynjolf snatched some of the expensive wine from a nearby alcove.  He was already taking a deep sip of it when he strode back to her side.
“Mmm…our dear benefactor does know how to make good wine,” he said, handing Lenore the bottle and watching with sharp eyes as she tilted her head back to taste it.  Blackbriar was known for its mead, but its wine was superb, it not wildly expensive.  For some reason, it tasted even sweeter with that knowledge.  Lenore grinned and leaned against a dusty table, eyeing him.
Perhaps it was the look in that gaze of hers – perhaps the alcohol running through his system.  Perhaps it was even the excitement of their current heist (if he could call it that) which went to his head.  Whichever, Brynjolf didn’t particularly cared.  All he knew was that his Guild master was giving him the look – the one that told him she was very lonely over there by herself and in need of company.  He, of course, wouldn’t deny a woman anything.  Especially not her.
He slowly stepped closer, so close that he was practically leaning into her.  Inches disappeared, transforming into breathes of space and nothing more, until Lenore smirked up at him and put the bottle down on the table.  She heaved herself up onto it next, curled her legs around his waist, and murmured, “Brynjolf.  I’m tipsy and we’re in Maven Blackbriar’s cellar.  I think we should have sex.”
Well then.  He smirked too and put his hands on the edge of the table, leaning his weight against it as he closed the space between them yet again.  But he didn’t kiss her.  No, that wouldn’t be any fun, not yet.  Instead he merely raised an eyebrow and muttered, “I suppose there’s no better time, is there?”  Let her be in control…for now.
Lenore chuckled quietly and tugged on the front of his armor, curling her finger around a buckle and dragging him in.  Her breath wavered over his mouth, and he looked down at her lips as she said, “I’ve always wanted to see how you were in bed.”
He chuckled too, pushing forward to nip at her bottom lip before kissing her more deeply.  She grasped him tightly and wrapped her legs more firmly around him, pushing her body to his and enjoying the talented way he kissed her.  Made sense that he was an excellent kisser, really.  He did have a way with the ladies.
“What a compliment,” he joked, dragging a trail of kisses down her neck.  She tilted her head back and bit her lip, feeling a fire stir within her.  He certainly wasn’t shy about touching her.  His fingers were quick with her armor too, though he didn’t take anything completely off.  They were breaking into Maven Blackbriar’s meadery after all.  “A real shame we don’t have access to an actual bed.  Perhaps we’ll have to continue this later on, hmm?”  He had no idea how much she liked that idea…
The standard guild leathers were fairly thin.  Heavy enough to offer some semblance of protection but nothing more.  It was riddled with extra pockets and places to store daggers and such, with a multitude of buckles that connected it all together.  A real hassle to put on, but much easier taking off.  Brynjolf had the leather of her greaves loosened within moments, and his hand was soon inching between her legs and moving past her cloth underwear to get to the wet folds of her core.
She wasn’t quite as wet as he wanted though.  A shame he didn’t have time to really romance her into it.  He’d much rather take his time with her, show her a good time.  But there was something very beautiful about this hasty danger – something that sparked him on and made him immediately sink to his knees in front of her.  Well, he knew several ways to make her ready for him, and Lenore didn’t seem to be complaining.
She shimmied halfway out of her greaves, leaving them at her knees.  Brynjolf smirked at the sight of her, desire pooling in his gaze, and said, “Lean back there, love.  That’s it.”  She lowered herself onto her elbows and he pushed her thighs up, bending his face to her core and immediately sinking his tongue against her.  The quiet moan she gave immediately after had him sucking her in earnest, wanting to hear more.
His thumb lowered to her clit, circling the bundle of nerves at the top as his tongue lapped at her.  She watched with bleary eyes.  Every pass of his tongue had her aching all the fiercer, getting wetter and wetter.  Funny, really, that he was making her so turned on when they still had their clothes on.  But the alcohol had gone to her head, and she arched herself forward and into his face impatiently.  She wanted more, and while his tongue was certainly pleasant, it wasn’t the same as what she knew was growing between his legs.
“Bryn…” she muttered, half passion half warning.  He looked up at her and winked, then took one of her folds into his mouth and sucked harder than before – hard enough to have her gasping out and clutching at his hair.  Damn these leathers!  She wanted to enjoy him without their restraint…she vowed silently that they wouldn’t be returning to the guild until after they’d rented a room at the tavern.
He kept at it, spinning her higher and higher, rolling his tongue over her with almost furious ease.  It was so easy to get her worked up.  Probably an effect of the alcohol, at least in part, but definitely partly because of him.  It definitely would’ve made Brynolf more than happy to continue all night – except he really didn’t have that kind of patience.  Neither, it seemed, did Lenore.
A tug on his hair, and Brynjolf chuckled and pulled away, leering down at her with a smirk that made his green eyes shine.  “But you are a wildcat, aren’t you lass?”
Lenore wrinkled her nose and him and muttered, “Just take your damned pants off, Brynjolf.  I don’t like waiting.”  His eyes flashed at the order, but even he couldn’t deny her.  Didn’t want to anyhow.  Not when she had so much delicious authority in every order, and not when it promised him pleasure as well.  So he just raised an eyebrow and stepped back, unbuckling his pants with slow precision that had her impatience getting worse with every moment.  He pretended like he didn’t notice.
As he removed his pants, Lenore dealt with hers too, shuffling them the rest of the way off so as not to hinder them in the future.  She kicked them off just in time to watch Brynjolf pull his down, and she turned to stare at him with slightly wider eyes.  Well.  She’d figured he was decently big, considering the female following he had, but…Divines.
He smirked and stepped back between her legs, pulling her forcibly to the edge of the table and against him too.  A short, shallow gasp flew from her lips as her core made contact with his.  He was hard and hot – a lovely combination of the two that had her head spinning.  If she wanted him before, it didn’t compare to how much she wanted him now.
“Like what you see, love?” he purred, unwinding the top of her armor because really, he wanted to see the rest of her.  Even if they were trespassing.  Lenore didn’t argue.  She even helped him unbuckle the last of it, pulling the armor open to reveal her chest to his roving eyes.  He gave her a boyish grin and cupped them, squeezing a little harder than she was expecting – but she wasn’t complaining.  His thumbed over her nipples and she tugged his head back eagerly, kissing him with all the passion she could muster.  It was quite a lot.
His hands lowered, dragging her hips against his as he stood in front of her.  Experimentally, he sunk one finger into her folds, and the answering whine had Brynjolf shuddering against her.  He didn’t bother asking if she was ready – she quite clearly was – and just guided his member into her without preamble. 
She moaned quietly as he hilted himself inside her.  The first few thrusts were slow and almost shaky, opening her to him and sinking as deeply into her as he could.  But once he established a pace, he all but pinned her down, shaking the table as he took her.  Lenore clutched at him, enjoying the wildness of his movements, the way he seemed to lose himself in the abandonment of the moment.  She shifted her mouth over his, then down his jaw.  The stubble on his chin scratched at her, and his hands rose up to once more clutch at her breasts. 
The sheer girth and size of him was delicious and she would have easily given into his ministrations had a commotion not sounded from the floor above them.  Loud voices rose.  A shout.  Brynjolf immediately stopped, looking over his shoulder and silently waiting for the danger to pass – but neither of them were stupid, and they didn’t take chances like this.  Lenore started to move away from him but he held her firmly in place, giving her a not so subtle look over and a wink.
“Brynjolf – “ she started to whisper, suddenly worried that they were about to get caught.  But he merely scooped her up into his arms, pulling her very close and hilting himself once more inside of her, and walked them into the shadows - a tight little alcove that she hadn’t even noticed until she was being pressed inside it, sinking down into Brynjolf’s lap as he carefully seated himself on the floor.  Then with a quick reach, he snatched up the leathers they’d tossed away and fit them into the space along with them, just in time.
“Definitely a break-in,” someone was saying as they walked into the cellar.  There were two people, judging by their footfalls.  Lenore listened closely, her breath mingling with Brynjolf’s in the confined space.  There was hardly enough room to move.  His knees were up behind her, pressing into her back, and he held her very closely as he tried to make them as small as possible.  Close enough that she didn’t have much in the way of movement…but she had enough to circle her hips into his a little bit.
Brynjolf pursed his lips tightly at this, pleasure flaring through him.  A dangerous game, the lass was playing.  But Talos he liked it.  She still managed to make him breathless and crazy even in the midst of all this delicious danger.
One of the men muttered something unintelligible and then said, “Long gone, I’ll reckon.  Left a pretty trail though.  Idiot.”  The other barked a laugh and responded with a drawled, “Ain’t nothing but mead in here.  No idea what the thief was thinking of, breaking into a meadery.”
“Mmm…did you hear that, Brynjolf?  Man called you an idiot,” Lenore very quietly breathed into his ear, shaking her hips over his and pulling his member in an out of her.  Brynjolf strained his head into the wall behind him, clenching down hard on her ass and dragging her closer.  He wasn’t certain if he was trying to spur her on faster or make her stop, but at this point he doubted it really mattered. 
He tangled one hand into her hair to drag her head to his, lips moving veraciously with hers in silent punishment for her words.  He nipped hard enough on her lower lip to draw blood, and Lenore responded in kind, sinking as deeply onto his length as she could and circling her hips in that maddening way.
The men started walking around the cellar.  “Must’ve thought Maven kept her valuables here.  As if.  Treats us like scum, she does.”  A muttered curse and a faint, “Guess we should search the place anyhow though, just in case.”  The words had both thieves stiffening, eyes wide as they stilled their brash movements.  The voices were closer now, close enough to their hiding space that even Lenore stopped her teasing and waited.
The wine.  The wine was still on the table.  She glanced toward it and then back at Brynjolf, silently trying to convey the message.  But he was already looking at it – and at the figure of one of the men who was standing beside it.  Thankfully, his back was turned, but they were close enough.  To close for comfort, definitely.
“Wellll lookie here.  D’ya think the thief just wanted a free drink?” the man asked with an amused, dark guffaw.  The other one stepped up to the table with a glower and rolled his eyes.  “Nah.  Probably just a worker trying to drown out the misery of working for that bitch.  Don’t say you’ve never done it.”
Lenore looked at Brynjolf.  She raised an eyebrow and he smirked.  These lowlifes were obviously lacking in common sense, though she couldn’t complain at the moment.  She locked eyes with her rogue lover and shifted her hips again, boldly dragging him back into the roiling waves of dark pleasure.  Her brashness made him want to groan, and he bit his lip hard to stop it.  They were hardly five feet away from the men! 
“Huh.  Did a shoddy job covering it up then,” the other man muttered, grabbing the bottle and leaning against the table.  Their hiding place must have been superb, because neither of their oblivious voyagers even noticed they were there.
Brynjolf clenched down on her ass, hard enough to leave bruises, but Lenore didn’t stop.  She thumbed a finger over his chin and leaned in, laying her lips flat to his and breathing him in as she shifted her hips.  Dark desire sparked through her, pushing her closer to an end that she had to deny, for now.
“Should we tell Maven about this?” one of the asked, scratching his neck.  Brynjolf kissed her harder, lips dragging against hers and wondering if she’d use one of those Shouts in her arsenal.  Maybe she could just knock them out or something – then he could fuck her without worry until she screamed.  Divines he wanted to do that.  Punish her for this torture.  But thankfully the other man just shrugged and said, “Don’t see nothing gone.  What’s the use of reporting a burglary when nothing was stolen?  Let’s just go to the Bee and Bard and get a drink.” 
Their footsteps receded, and Brynjolf let out a sigh of utter relief.  Lenore smirked and peered around the corner, waiting until the door of the cellar had swung shut before she turned back to him.  He was ready for her.  With a growled heave, Brynjolf had her splayed out on the floor, throwing her legs around him and pushing his length into her deeply – and without remorse.  She threw her head back and gasped breathlessly.
“Brynjolf – “ she whispered, trying to be quiet about it.  He thrust hard, fast, his pace relentless and desperate.  So close – so close to his finish.  He’d be punishing her later, for sure, but right now all he could think about was getting to his end.  It wasn’t long in coming.
With a soft groan, Brynjolf bucked into her.  She tightened around him, feeling her own orgasm blossom, but he wouldn’t let her get to it before he did.  He murmured her name and spilled himself into her, thrusting quickly and hilting himself with each one.  Then he closed his eyes and chuckled, and when he opened them again, Lenore was glaring at him.
“What’s wrong, love?” he asked, though he knew right well.
“You didn’t let me come,” she dryly informed him, glowering up at him as she did.  But even as she said it, she had a feeling that Brynjolf would make it up to her.  She’d make him, if need be.
He chuckled again and raised an eyebrow.  “You deserved it.  Evil wench that you are.”  A joking wink and another laugh.  Lenore closed her eyes, feeling very unsatisfied.
“Oh alright then,” Brynjolf said after a moment, standing up and grabbing his gear.  As he slipped into his armor and started buckling it back on, he gave her a jaunty smirk.  “Shall we go find a less dangerous place to finish this?”
It was Lenore’s turn to growl at him.  “Finish it?  We’re only getting started, love.”
Divines, he hoped so.



  1. Fantastic, as always, Strangely xD
    -Night Minds

  2. ohhh tha was warm and so fantastic! beautiful!

  3. Wouldn't mind another Brynjolf lemon ;)

  4. That ending was great! Bastard! finished off and sketched a great little portrait of that ginger scalawag. Enjoyed the lusty Guild mistress too. Yum yum.