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ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.

I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.

The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3

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"Bandit: A Love Story" -- 1b/? -- F!DB/M!Bandit

[(Anonymous)]

She was learning quickly that when someone gave her advice like “Don’t walk in a den full of bandits alone” she should perhaps heed their warning.

The bandit leader smiled maliciously, his surprisingly white and straight teeth flashing once more against his dark face. Bright blue eyes sparkled in the light from the nearby fire. There was a day’s stubble on his cheeks. His dark hair was braided, one of them teased her face, brushing her cheek as it swung free.

She meant to head-butt him. Really.

Kissing him was an accident. She was sure of it. She just...

Who was she kidding? Kathryn had been struck by just how attractive the man was, and she’d kissed him.

She didn’t think it through. Didn’t think of the consequences, or what might happen down the line. She had just been overwhelmed with a rush of adrenaline and need.

Sure it distracted him, and if she’d been thinking, she might have realized that he would be at his most vulnerable if she seduced him. And later, she might even claim that it had been a ploy. But what had truly happened had been more primal, harder to explain, harder to accept. She might regret it later. Kathryn was known for her rash decisions and all the regrets those had caused.

But right then, kissing him had felt too damn right.

She nipped at his lower lip, just a little nibble as she caught it between her teeth. And then her tongue slid over the spot, soothing any soreness away. And he was kissing her back, his mouth demanding more of her, his tongue pressing forward into her mouth and claiming.

Kathryn arched against him, her hips knocking him off balance. She used what leverage she had and sent him rolling off her. He landed on his back and she got on top of him, pinning him with ease. He had apparently decided it was worth his time to let her; she had no doubt he could toss her again if he wanted to.

Her hand found the buckle on his cuirass. His eyes smoldered as he glared up at her, daring her to continue. The first buckle fell open. Her fingers found the second easily. Buckle by buckle, she unfastened his armor.

The thing about Nords, she’d learned, was that they always wore the same damn armor. The buckles and cinches and other bits were always in the same place, so once you’d learned one sort of armor, you knew them all. Which theoretically helped to prepare an army; nobody had to figure out alien fastenings on someone else’s armor.

But it left them vulnerable, too.

In moments like this, she was grateful for some of her youthful habits. She’d fallen into bed with more than one Nord warrior in the past. Something about them attracted her like a moth to flame. They were so big, strong, and manly. They exuded masculinity from every pore.

Under the worn leather of his cuirass, his chest was bare. Perhaps he’d had a shirt once, before necessity and hard living had caused him to sacrifice it to another purpose. Or perhaps he simply preferred to wear only armor. It was impossible to say, and Kathryn was hardly complaining. The ease of access was appreciated.

Her hands ran along his chest, touching bare skin, scars, and hair alike. The hard planes of his chest were dusted with hair, but his skin was, overall, smoother than that of most Nords.

He was smiling at her still, but it was not a smile of mirth.

It was the look of a predator.

One hand caught her hips, holding her in place as he bucked against her. The movement caused friction between them, heat and need building low in her belly. She made a noise, just the softest hitch in her breath, and his smile grew. He did it again, rubbing against her in just the way her body craved.

This time, a moan escaped.

He growled then, the sound low and threatening. She shivered, and his smile grew more wicked still.

She knew his type, and though she couldn’t help the niggling fear at how dangerous this man was, she still found him intensely erotic. She wanted him. Needed him.

She got her hand between their bodies, and began working on the buckle to his pants.

He caught her hand, stopped her. Then rolled so he was on top of her. His fingers set to work on her armor, unfastening it almost as efficiently as she had his. But her gear was simple, and common.