Skyrim Page 3 - "Either you're naked, or I'm drunk. Maybe both."

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Beyond the Ice and the Fire (Spectral Assassin/F!Dunmer) - 17/?

[(Anonymous)]

A single fluid motion saw Lucien's robe shrugged off and tossed aside, to lie in a pool of sable fabric near the bedding. Beneath it, he wore fitted breeches and a loose-laced shirt, both in a more service-worn black that had faded to charcoal.Rich chestnut hair and barely-lined skin marked his age at no more than the early part of his third decade, but his darkly glittering eyes, as always, gave the lie to any such assumption.

They held the experience of over two centuries of service to their Lord of the Void and his handmaiden, the Night Mother, and all the pain and cruelty such an existence entailed.

But they also held a keen understanding and care that stirred the heart in Riva's chest, and a hunger that heated the blood in her veins.

There was a strange feeling of extra exposure as he made his way back to her and prowled around her naked form – typically, if he chose to bind her, it was to something solid that she could brace against. Here, her bonds were suspended by a chain long enough (with the cuffs themselves set low enough) that she could easily take a few steps in any direction, if she so dared. Somewhat paradoxically, perhaps, for an assassin, that relative freedom of movement felt far more perilous than would a set of firm ties to which she could simply surrender... and knowing Lucien, that was likely the point. He was perversely fond of requiring an active choice at every turn – not simply the choice not to speak the word that would call an end to their game, but the choice to obey, and how, and how quickly. Whether to speak. What to say. The choice to resist her instinct to turn as he paced around her, now.

Until, that is, he paused just behind her, breath brushing warm and soft against her neck, as deceptively gentle as the hand that snaked around her hips and across her belly to turn her around to face him. She shivered at that leather-clad caress, eyes rising to meet his as the hand withdrew.

Lucien smiled, showing teeth, and stepped back to tug off his gloves, revealing elegant, talented fingers. Riva wasn't sure whether she was glad or disappointed to see the leather go.

Tucked into his belt, now, was a carved ivory handle of... something, likely a knife of some sort, by the size, and he held a small jar of something that he shifted from hand to hand as the gloves came off, which she eyed with curiosity.

The words, a bit tame tonight, no? rose to her lips, but she knew better than to speak them. His smirk said he heard her thinking them, anyway.

“You don't know what this is, do you?”

Riva shook her head.