They stayed like that for some time, content to simply hold each other while they regained their senses. It might have been awkward, had either of them cared to think it through. Arya, at least, chose not to – that line of thought would lead to accepting that their liaison was one step closer to a bloody end.
Eventually Miraak stood with a sigh, allowing himself to slip out, a trail of come following close behind. He smirked at the sight. “Ah, if only I could mark you as mine in the realm of the living.”
“Perhaps we’ll find a way,” she mused, and allowed him to gently remove her legs from around his waist.
“You truly believe you'll find a way to end this without bloodshed, don't you?” He gave her one last lingering kiss before pulling his trousers back up and refastening his robes. “Your naïveté is endearing.”
“And your condescension is irritating.” She slipped to the floor carefully, legs still wobbly. Thankfully, her clothing did not make it very far. “Do you expect me to believe that you don’t care about me now?” She waited for him to make eye contact before continuing. “I may not know how to speak Dragon, but…”
“Do you want me to stay here until Mora discovers my plot?” He closed the gap between them to stroke her cheek, though his gaze focused on her lips. “Do you want him to kill me, likely in the most painful way he can imagine? Or worse, do you want him to ensure I have no hope of ever escaping this nightmare?”
Arya contemplated her options as he traced the small scar on her jaw, the one she’d earned in a particularly rough scuffle with her older brother.
“You remember what you said the first time you stole a soul from me?”
He paused, but still did not make eye contact.
“You asked me if I thought it hurt to have one’s soul ripped out like that. I never answered, but I think it does. It probably hurts in the same way that devouring a soul gratifies.” She took his face in her hands. “That’s what you want to do to me?”
He shuddered involuntarily, before gingerly moving her hands away. “Now who is being manipulative?”
“I’m serious.” Her eyes were misty again, but she was strong, by the divines, and there was still hope. “I promise you, I’ll find a way to get you out. I swear by Hircine!”
“Oh, wonderful, another Daedric Prince is getting involved,” he snorted. Still, her pleas must have had some effect, because his expression softened quickly. “I don’t have that kind of time. If you hadn’t ensnared me so, I would have killed you the moment you first arrived in this plane.”
She straightened his belt buckle. “But you didn’t. Why was that?”
Rather than answering, he turned away, but not before a peculiar rosy hue colored his high cheekbones. It was enough to bring a smile to her face.
“Give me one week. If I don’t have a solution by then, I will be back for this grand battle you have planned.” It wasn’t enough time, there was no way it could be, not when he’d spent thousands of years exhausting every other option, but she would not give up. They both deserved that much.
“One week,” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the words. “That may be too long, but… I will wait. For you.”
She nearly bounced with glee, but settled instead for planting a quick peck on his cheek before heading towards the Black Book to return to Nirn.
“And one more thing, Dragonborn. Tell that elf that if he touches you, I’ll kill him.”
“Fuck you,” she laughed.
“Bring me home, and I’ll get right on that.” There was an unusual mirth in his tone, and Arya couldn’t stop grinning.
“One week, I promise,” she called, and then the Black Book took her home.
Re: "Reparations" Miraak/F!Dragonborn Part 9/9
Eventually Miraak stood with a sigh, allowing himself to slip out, a trail of come following close behind. He smirked at the sight. “Ah, if only I could mark you as mine in the realm of the living.”
“Perhaps we’ll find a way,” she mused, and allowed him to gently remove her legs from around his waist.
“You truly believe you'll find a way to end this without bloodshed, don't you?” He gave her one last lingering kiss before pulling his trousers back up and refastening his robes. “Your naïveté is endearing.”
“And your condescension is irritating.” She slipped to the floor carefully, legs still wobbly. Thankfully, her clothing did not make it very far. “Do you expect me to believe that you don’t care about me now?” She waited for him to make eye contact before continuing. “I may not know how to speak Dragon, but…”
“Do you want me to stay here until Mora discovers my plot?” He closed the gap between them to stroke her cheek, though his gaze focused on her lips. “Do you want him to kill me, likely in the most painful way he can imagine? Or worse, do you want him to ensure I have no hope of ever escaping this nightmare?”
Arya contemplated her options as he traced the small scar on her jaw, the one she’d earned in a particularly rough scuffle with her older brother.
“You remember what you said the first time you stole a soul from me?”
He paused, but still did not make eye contact.
“You asked me if I thought it hurt to have one’s soul ripped out like that. I never answered, but I think it does. It probably hurts in the same way that devouring a soul gratifies.” She took his face in her hands. “That’s what you want to do to me?”
He shuddered involuntarily, before gingerly moving her hands away. “Now who is being manipulative?”
“I’m serious.” Her eyes were misty again, but she was strong, by the divines, and there was still hope. “I promise you, I’ll find a way to get you out. I swear by Hircine!”
“Oh, wonderful, another Daedric Prince is getting involved,” he snorted. Still, her pleas must have had some effect, because his expression softened quickly. “I don’t have that kind of time. If you hadn’t ensnared me so, I would have killed you the moment you first arrived in this plane.”
She straightened his belt buckle. “But you didn’t. Why was that?”
Rather than answering, he turned away, but not before a peculiar rosy hue colored his high cheekbones. It was enough to bring a smile to her face.
“Give me one week. If I don’t have a solution by then, I will be back for this grand battle you have planned.” It wasn’t enough time, there was no way it could be, not when he’d spent thousands of years exhausting every other option, but she would not give up. They both deserved that much.
“One week,” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the words. “That may be too long, but… I will wait. For you.”
She nearly bounced with glee, but settled instead for planting a quick peck on his cheek before heading towards the Black Book to return to Nirn.
“And one more thing, Dragonborn. Tell that elf that if he touches you, I’ll kill him.”
“Fuck you,” she laughed.
“Bring me home, and I’ll get right on that.” There was an unusual mirth in his tone, and Arya couldn’t stop grinning.
“One week, I promise,” she called, and then the Black Book took her home.