“Well if we knew where the money was we could get it back, but those that knew are all dead.”
“Well, it’s not like things are going badly. No worse than before.”
Receding footsteps. The door to the Flagon closing.
“Ah!”
“Oh fuck.”
Dyce groaned. “Gods finally,” he practically sobbed.
“Ngh! I thought they would never leave.” Freed from their silence, they gasped and bucked against each other.
Dyce bit at Brynjolf’s chest. “You look so very delicious,” he said. “But I honestly don’t think I could take that much more waiting.” He squeezed Brynjolf’s hips between his legs. “I just want to come,” he confessed.
“Lad, you- yes.” Brynjolf raised his head, “How? Which way? I don’t, I really don’t care.” His hands hadn’t stopped kneading at Dyce’s arse.
Dyce smirked, “Since you like it so much, you can have it.”
Brynjolf jerked his hips up, “You just want this.”
“Maybe.”
“Top left hand drawer.”
“Seriously? You dirty bastard.” Dyce finally pulled himself away from Brynjolf and crawled out on his hands and knees from under the desk before kneeling and opening the required drawer and pawing through the bits of paper, quills, bottles of ink, old coins, bits of string-
Brynjolf loomed over him, and reached past his shoulders, and into the back corner of the drawer.
“Got it. Hold still.” With his free hand he tugged Dyce’s trousers and pants down around his knees. Dyce didn’t argue, he just spread his legs as far as he could with his armour still half on.
Brynjolf was sloppy and in a hurry and Dyce didn’t care because he was in a hurry too and probably wouldn’t have complained if he hadn’t bothered at all - at least, not until he felt just how big Brynjolf was.
Brynjolf wrapped an arm around Dyce’s chest and with his other hand guided his cock into the Breton. Dyce nearly came then and there, and if Brynjolf had touched his cock he would have. He hissed and gasped and steadied himself. Brynjolf didn’t sound much more collected, and he held himself still for a few moments, shuddering with the repressed desire to move.
“Ready now, lad?” Brynjolf rumbled in his ear.
“Please.”
Brynjolf slipped a hand around Dyce’s aching cock, and started to move. He managed to thrust into him once, twice and then he lost it and Dyce flung his head back and tried not to lose his teeth on the edge of the table as those muscles he’d admired earlier flexed as he was fucked just on the edge of painfully hard for breathless, desperate seconds and then Brynjolf and his gorgeous cock fucked him right over the edge and he came as he felt the Nord swell and thrust one last time and come inside him, a ‘yes, oh, right there, you wonderful bastard you gorgeous-” and then Brynjolf ground his teeth around Dyce’s earlobe and Dyce could only moan breathless agreement as he spent himself.
Dyce let go of the edge of the table and they toppled back onto the floor. For the first time Dyce realised how filthy it was. And how filthy they now were. Didn’t matter.
“We should get up before someone else comes in,” Dyce said.
“Yeah.”
They pulled themselves upright and Dyce also pulled his trousers up. They looked at each other, half appreciative and half amused at the state they were in.
“You know, we should do that again,” Dyce said. “Somewhere like the Jarl’s throne room.”
“Right under the throne,” Brynjolf added.
“While she’s sitting in it.”
They laughed and Brynjolf wrapped an arm around Dyce’s shoulders, “Come on, I owe you a drink.”
Mead and Sympathy M!DB/Brynjolf 6/6 + tags
“Well, it’s not like things are going badly. No worse than before.”
Receding footsteps. The door to the Flagon closing.
“Ah!”
“Oh fuck.”
Dyce groaned. “Gods finally,” he practically sobbed.
“Ngh! I thought they would never leave.” Freed from their silence, they gasped and bucked against each other.
Dyce bit at Brynjolf’s chest. “You look so very delicious,” he said. “But I honestly don’t think I could take that much more waiting.” He squeezed Brynjolf’s hips between his legs. “I just want to come,” he confessed.
“Lad, you- yes.” Brynjolf raised his head, “How? Which way? I don’t, I really don’t care.” His hands hadn’t stopped kneading at Dyce’s arse.
Dyce smirked, “Since you like it so much, you can have it.”
Brynjolf jerked his hips up, “You just want this.”
“Maybe.”
“Top left hand drawer.”
“Seriously? You dirty bastard.” Dyce finally pulled himself away from Brynjolf and crawled out on his hands and knees from under the desk before kneeling and opening the required drawer and pawing through the bits of paper, quills, bottles of ink, old coins, bits of string-
Brynjolf loomed over him, and reached past his shoulders, and into the back corner of the drawer.
“Got it. Hold still.” With his free hand he tugged Dyce’s trousers and pants down around his knees. Dyce didn’t argue, he just spread his legs as far as he could with his armour still half on.
Brynjolf was sloppy and in a hurry and Dyce didn’t care because he was in a hurry too and probably wouldn’t have complained if he hadn’t bothered at all - at least, not until he felt just how big Brynjolf was.
Brynjolf wrapped an arm around Dyce’s chest and with his other hand guided his cock into the Breton. Dyce nearly came then and there, and if Brynjolf had touched his cock he would have. He hissed and gasped and steadied himself. Brynjolf didn’t sound much more collected, and he held himself still for a few moments, shuddering with the repressed desire to move.
“Ready now, lad?” Brynjolf rumbled in his ear.
“Please.”
Brynjolf slipped a hand around Dyce’s aching cock, and started to move. He managed to thrust into him once, twice and then he lost it and Dyce flung his head back and tried not to lose his teeth on the edge of the table as those muscles he’d admired earlier flexed as he was fucked just on the edge of painfully hard for breathless, desperate seconds and then Brynjolf and his gorgeous cock fucked him right over the edge and he came as he felt the Nord swell and thrust one last time and come inside him, a ‘yes, oh, right there, you wonderful bastard you gorgeous-” and then Brynjolf ground his teeth around Dyce’s earlobe and Dyce could only moan breathless agreement as he spent himself.
Dyce let go of the edge of the table and they toppled back onto the floor. For the first time Dyce realised how filthy it was. And how filthy they now were. Didn’t matter.
“We should get up before someone else comes in,” Dyce said.
“Yeah.”
They pulled themselves upright and Dyce also pulled his trousers up. They looked at each other, half appreciative and half amused at the state they were in.
“You know, we should do that again,” Dyce said. “Somewhere like the Jarl’s throne room.”
“Right under the throne,” Brynjolf added.
“While she’s sitting in it.”
They laughed and Brynjolf wrapped an arm around Dyce’s shoulders, “Come on, I owe you a drink.”
Tags: char:M!DB char:Brynjolf relationship:slash race:breton series:dyce kink:frottage kink:public_sex kink:anal