Summary: Sometimes the luck of people runs dry at the most inappropriate times. In Cynric Endell's case, it was the worst time for Lady Luck to turn her back on the thief.
Author's note: I've wrote this story for the new release of Thief, so I've renovated it to post it on here. This is just purely smut and, I'd say, during either a bad turn of a job Cynric has experienced. Hope you all enjoy~
~*~*~
The hooded Breton grunts from his forced position - hands bound behind his back with his feet tied securely together, arse sticking promptly up in the air.
Cynric growled around the cloth stuffed into his mouth as a hand gripped the back then pulled down his thin leather trousers, exposing his ghost pale rump. His teeth tears at the gag, his burning dark eyes strained to glare at the bastards who dared ambush and restrain him.
A hand boldly lands on a porcelain cheek, testing out the succulent flesh in a rough, scratchy palm.
In no time there were multitudes of intrusive hands, ranging from small to large, petting and groping bare skin; thankfully his upper body was shielded by the dark leather and cloth of his gear.
The thief struggled more with his bounds as an oil-slicked finger encircles his back entrance before slinking past the strict ring of muscles. He hisses at the initial and growing burn. The fine-boned digit wriggles around before being joined by another, thrusting and scissoring and rubbing the insides of the thief. He realises with disdain albeit with slight relief that one of them was prepping him for what is to come.
A while later the mercenary was satisfied with his work after inserting and pumping all three of his fingers into the now slack hole, glistening in the warming glow of torches and shimmering sliver rays of the moon. Calloused grey hands took hold of his narrow hips, aligning them then pulling them towards another pair of lean hips. Cynric's rounded buttocks touched feverish damp and hot flesh, oddly a silky quality for a brute, tensing from the feel of the moist mushroom-head pressing into his anus.
It took one thrust for the Dunmer to be fully hilted within the bounded thief.
The rapist groans in pleasure at the divine heat and snugness enveloping his cock. Cynric groans in displeasure and outrage at being breached. After a few moments passed the bastard elf began to rock and roll his hips, grasping more at the waist of the fuming Breton.
Audible sounds of flesh slapping flesh emit from the rutting, grey against white, bouncing off the grimy walls of the dank alleyway. Gasps and moans and sighs spilled freely from the sell-sword whereas the thief's own guttural sounds were muffled by the sodden cloth.
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timeasmymeasure
Sorta Misfire MPC/MPCS - Cynric/Mercenaries - Misfortunate Events (1a/??)
Date: 2014-04-10 06:00 pm (UTC)Kinks - non-con, double penetration, gangbang, oral, anal, cumshots, rough sex, humiliation, exhibition, public, forced orgasm, multiple partners, bondage, spanking, hair-pulling.
MPCs; race:Breton; race:Dunmer; race;Imperial; race;Bosmer; race: Redguard; es:Skyrim
Author's note: I've wrote this story for the new release of Thief, so I've renovated it to post it on here. This is just purely smut and, I'd say, during either a bad turn of a job Cynric has experienced.
Hope you all enjoy~
~*~*~
The hooded Breton grunts from his forced position - hands bound behind his back with his feet tied securely together, arse sticking promptly up in the air.
Cynric growled around the cloth stuffed into his mouth as a hand gripped the back then pulled down his thin leather trousers, exposing his ghost pale rump. His teeth tears at the gag, his burning dark eyes strained to glare at the bastards who dared ambush and restrain him.
A hand boldly lands on a porcelain cheek, testing out the succulent flesh in a rough, scratchy palm.
In no time there were multitudes of intrusive hands, ranging from small to large, petting and groping bare skin; thankfully his upper body was shielded by the dark leather and cloth of his gear.
The thief struggled more with his bounds as an oil-slicked finger encircles his back entrance before slinking past the strict ring of muscles. He hisses at the initial and growing burn. The fine-boned digit wriggles around before being joined by another, thrusting and scissoring and rubbing the insides of the thief. He realises with disdain albeit with slight relief that one of them was prepping him for what is to come.
A while later the mercenary was satisfied with his work after inserting and pumping all three of his fingers into the now slack hole, glistening in the warming glow of torches and shimmering sliver rays of the moon. Calloused grey hands took hold of his narrow hips, aligning them then pulling them towards another pair of lean hips. Cynric's rounded buttocks touched feverish damp and hot flesh, oddly a silky quality for a brute, tensing from the feel of the moist mushroom-head pressing into his anus.
It took one thrust for the Dunmer to be fully hilted within the bounded thief.
The rapist groans in pleasure at the divine heat and snugness enveloping his cock. Cynric groans in displeasure and outrage at being breached. After a few moments passed the bastard elf began to rock and roll his hips, grasping more at the waist of the fuming Breton.
Audible sounds of flesh slapping flesh emit from the rutting, grey against white, bouncing off the grimy walls of the dank alleyway. Gasps and moans and sighs spilled freely from the sell-sword whereas the thief's own guttural sounds were muffled by the sodden cloth.