Chapter 1: Intro
The Rat's Nest. A lovely little shack of a bar in Llomerryn, wonderful place to get a drink and be left alone if you don't mind the rodents. True to her name, the Nest, as the locals call it, is home to most of the rats that find their way off the passing ships and on to shore. The owner, Zeak, keeps his prices low and the fighting to a minimum; it's the only reason the tiny dump is still in business.
The Nest is also the prime location for shady deals and illegal trade on the island south of Rivain. Zeak's setup couldn't be more appealing to the lower organizations of society. Several entrances in and out, quiet tables in dark corners and crevices distant enough from each other so as not to be overhead. The only sounds you'll hear are the scurrying rats, watered down beer being poured into empty mugs, or the sweet slide of coin across the table.
The sight of the hooded figure in the far corner of the tavern wasn't out of the ordinary, and neither was the Crow that entered shortly after. He was known around these parts for swiftness and discretion, though very few knew his name. Why he chose to make the trip to Llomerryn from Antiva every week no one was really certain, but bets were now placed on whether he'd arrive the next week or not. Would he survive each contract that he'd accept? Or would someone finally end his lucky streak? Zeak didn't know, didn't care; he received a cut of the betting pool either way.
Zeak bowed his head to the bronze skinned elf that approached him. A quick nod to the back corner let the assassin know where his next contract would come from. He slid the chair out from the table and turned it around, extracted both daggers from his back, and then sat down placing the weapons on the table. The hooded figure presented weapons as well; fine daggers that brought a sparkle to his golden eyes. "Such fine weapons you carry," the Crow complimented. "Might I have a closer look?"
A silent nod gave him permission as he lifted one of the blades, admiring the beauty and the expensive steel. "A true work of art," he said as he studied the handles of intricately laced leather and clear red gems. "Though I doubt you are willing to part with them, I would wish to make an excellent offer."
A low sultry voice replied as the owner of the blades pulled back the hood of her cloak. "Complete the task I have for you, and they are yours."
His eyes left the weapons to study the face of the person seeking his skills. He knew her face, had seen it before. Realization came to him swiftly as she pressed a finger to her lips. "You know why I am here," she said to him. "We may not have been formally introduced, but I know you as much as you know me."
"Zevran Arainai, or Zev to my friends, though I do not believe this will end well enough for us to be friends," the Crow stated.
"Are you saying you are not skilled enough to complete this task?" the woman asked, picking up her weapons from the table as if preparing to leave.
Zevran placed a hand over the blades. "It is not my skill that I am concerned with my dear," he said to her arrogantly. "Rather it is the target that may be a complication."
"You are the best out there, are you not?"
"Ah, play to my ego, beautiful and intelligent," Zevran smiled. "I may need some time to think this through. You are aware your husband is a known associate of the Crows; this could get ugly for the both of us."
The woman sat back in her chair, finishing her full mug of beer in two swallows. "The name's Isabela," she finally said to him. "And I assure you I can handle myself. I only need you to…make it a bit more interesting."
"Ahah," Zevran said intrigued. "Now you have peaked my curiosity."
Isabela leaned forward on the table, her shirt offering him enough cleavage to leave nothing to the imagination. "I'm sure I can peak much more than your curiosity," she offered, placing a hand on his.
Zevran gave her a wry smile. "My dear Isabela, I never mix business with pleasure," he said, then paused, then laughed loud enough to disturb the tavern. "Oh who am I kidding, you have yourself a deal."
"Excellent," she said standing up, retrieving her weapons and returning them to their safe keeping on her back. "The Siren is docked here for the next week getting repairs done. You'll find what you need there."
He watched her leave the bar, as did Zeak and the other patrons, unable to tear their gaze away from her swaying hips and perfect bottom.
Zevran put his head on the filthy table and sighed, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.
Chapter 2: Permission
Antiva City this time of year was hotter than other; the sun beating down on the golden sand reflected warmth and light throughout the capital. Children would hop through the streets, the intensity of the heated ground stinging their feet, and the women would carry fancy umbrellas to shield themselves.
Zevran never minded the heat. In fact he relished in it, often laying on rooftops to soak in the rays. Today he was allowed no such luxury. Today he had to meet with the Guildmaster of the Crows. His location always changed throughout the week; either off in the leather district, or buried deep within the vineyards outside the city. Zevran was lucky he didn't have far to go, his schedule already dangerously tight.
He approached the home of Celestina Volmero, a known associate of the Crows, and often foster mother to the younger recruits. If the Crows were lucky enough to acquire infants and toddlers, they would be sent to Celestina to raise until they were old enough to begin training.
Celestina sat on the porch of her home in a rocking chair, feeding a baby no more than six months old. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sloppy bun, random strands of hair brushing her dark-skinned face. Zevran approached quietly, not wishing to disturb the child, and bowed to Celestina. She smiled brightly at the assassin but said nothing, only nodded towards the door approving his entrance. Zevran bent down and kissed the womans forehead, and then the childs, before entering the home.
On the surface the home seemed like any other; sitting area, kitchen, and a few bedrooms. Something spicy was cooking slowly on the fire unattended, and Zevran dared to stick his finger in the mix for a taste.
"She'll slit your throat if she catches you," a male voice said behind him.
Zevran sucked the sauce slowly from his finger, turning to look at the man. Twice as old with black hair threatening to gray, the man was as handsome as he was intimidating, towering over Zevran by at least a foot. "It would be worth it to die with such a delicious flavor upon my lips," Zevran responded, and then extended his hand. "It is good to see you Seve."
Severiano Conti clasped his fellow Crow's hand. "It has been some time since you sought him out," he pointed out. "Trouble?"
Zevran shook his head as he followed the man down the stairs to the cellar. "Me? Trouble? Surely you jest."
"I suppose I do," Severiano said, "you have been on your own for quite some time. Lost some money over that, you surviving this long."
Zevran laughed heartedly behind the man. "You should have included me in your bets Seve, we could've made a large profit and split the winnings. Had I known you bet against me, I would've changed your mind."
"I learned my lesson," Severiano replied honestly. He approached the false door in the cellar and tapped a series of coded knocks. Seconds later the empty wine rack moved aside and they were allowed entrance into the room.
Three men stood in various corners, Zevran recognized them instantly. Triplets, a rarity in any culture, the bodyguards of the Guildmaster stood watch. Alarico, Basilio, and Ciraco, their last name Zevran never managed to find out. Any meeting with the Guildmaster recquired toleration of those three glaring at you, waiting for the slightest hint of trouble before daggers would be thrown and blood would be spilled. Zevran never minded their attentions, in fact he had more than one dream of them in his bed.
The Guildmaster stood and walked from around the table he was seated at, extending a hand to Zevran. Zevran knelt on one knee and took his hand while bowing, a simple gesture of respect that was always demanded. "Maestro Emygdio, thank you for seeing me."
"Zevran Arainai," Emygdio spoke his name with the thickest of accents. He pulled his hand away and crossed his arms, waiting for Zevran to rise before speaking again. "I must admit I am a bit surprised you had asked to meet with me."
Zevran stood with his hands folded in front of him, a gesture that showed the triplets he had no intention of going near his blades. Emygdio stood within inches of him, a bit careless Zevran thought, but also a touching gesture of trust. Zevran tilted his head back a bit to look up to the man, tattooed and scarred cheekbones surrounding brown sunken eyes. "A formal request for a personal contract Maestro," Zevran explained.
Emygdio placed a hand upon his chin as he returned to his seat behind the table. Zevran changed his pose to place his hands behind his back, a move he was aware the triplets were watching. "I see," Emygdio said rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Target name?"
"Luis Massari," Zevran replied, ignoring the gasp from Severiano behind him.
"Hmm," Emygdio muttered as he leaned back in his chair. "Massari is an associate of the Crows Zevran, clearly you know this by coming to me."
"I do," Zevran nodded.
"Not your typical style of job," Emygdio prodded for a reason.
"No," Zevran replied, not offering any explanation.
"Hmm," the Guildmaster repeated. "The consequences of a fulfilled contract such as this could be more trouble than I wish to take on at the moment," he thought out loud. "We can not afford a rift with the Armada, and Massari is a wealthy friend to have."
"I can assure you the Crows will not be connected with his death," Zevran promised. "I also swear to you no trouble with the Raiders will come from this request."
The Guildmaster considered his words. "Your assurances also hint at no profit," he noted. "You ask a lot with nothing in return. Who is your contact?"
Zevran shifted his weight, not wishing to divulge the answer but clearly not winning favor with Emygdio. "I would rather not say, unless you command it Maestro."
Of course Zevran underestimated the Guildmaster in his need for knowledge that he was already aware of. Emygdio grabbed a piece of vellum and began making a list. When it was completed, he handed the list to Zevran. "Convince the wife to get these names taken off the Armada's list of monthly dues, and you are free to kill her husband and keep whatever reward she has offered you," he concluded.
Zevran took the vellum and folded it, placing it securely in his pocket. "Consider it done," he said bowing, before making a hasty exit. While he never considered himself afraid of the Guildmaster, his presence was always intimidating, and Zevran was thankful the meeting had ended in his favor.
Convincing Isabela to accept his demands however, Zevran thought, would be much more difficult.
Chapter 3: Freedom
Isabela was not one for being "in love" or devoted to any one man or woman. She had always been rambunctious as well as promiscuous. She liked her life just fine, until Luis spotted her in Llomerryn and decided she was some prize to be had. Her mother gave her up for a few coin and livestock; the heartless shrew could die for all Isabela cared after that.
Marriage wasn't all that unpleasant however. Her husband kept her on the ocean in his trade. Now that was something to fall in love with. Below deck she was a bit claustrophobic. But on the port bow of The Siren's Call she was free. The smell of the ocean, the wind in her hair, that was love in it's purest form. The saltwater smoothed her darkened skin, and the soft rocking of the waves calmed her soul.
Her husband bestowed lavish gifts upon her whenever they docked in whatever city his job landed them. Isabela didn't mind having the finer things; she earned them, deserved them. She allowed him the pleasure of her company and in return expected to be well cared for. Extravagant jewels were her favorite, almost as much as her weapons.
Isabela spent her time on shore entering tournaments of skill with her blades. She was known throughout the eastern seaboard as "the sharpest blade in Llomerryn." When the Siren docked, the city buzzed with excitement and duels were setup throughout the week. This was her second love. The adrenaline rush from a fight, the speed and accuracy in which she would wield her blades over her opponent, and the victorious feeling when she won; it was better than sex.
Her life at present was consistent; and in truth it was becoming tiresome. She wanted a ship of her own, wished to taste the freedom to be with any man or woman she chose, and longed to travel south or west to discover new places. Isabela had felt like this for a while, but it wasn't until her husband suggested she "entertain" his friends that she felt the need to take drastic measures into securing that freedom.
She searched the docks for him, the useless assassin she had hired a week ago. There had been no sign of him, no tragic death to pretend to mourn over. Each day she had hoped was the last she'd feel her husbands callused hands on her. She took her frustration out on many poor sods that wished to duel her that week. If only they knew what they were getting into.
But as the lines were pulled and the anchor brought aboard, Zevran hadn't surfaced. Disappointment crushed her heart, and Isabela prepared herself for another week with her husband.
Zevran crouched in the belly of the vessel preparing his poison and coating the blade that would kill Captain Massari. As far as jobs went, this was one of the easier ones. Sneaking aboard the ship had been a breeze; the large crew that boarded to man the oars was the perfect cover. A little pre-planning on his part to slip the weapon and poison into one of the food crates brought aboard this morning, and he was ready.
The Captain and his Chief Officer would be on deck preparing for their departure, and the remainder of the crew settled into their positions to take off. During that time Zevran made his way towards the lower cabins and snuck into the Second Officer's quarters. He then skillfully unlocked the mans private chest, found a roll of socks, and wrapped the vile of remaining poison within. A shirt sleeve became the perfect hiding place for the sheath of the dagger. Carefully he locked the chest again and exited the room.
Zevran then returned to the center of the ship and waited for nightfall; it was at that time the ship would stop and drop anchor for the morning. Again Zevran maneuvered his way through the ship to the main level, stepped into one of the storage units, and hid himself from any prying eyes with a few of the supply barrels.
He chose this unit for the large window where he could see the view of the anchor; it's chains would pass right by from the upper deck. Zevran waited patiently as the anchor was slowly lowered into the water until there was no more movement, and then climbed out the window. He placed the poisoned blade between his teeth and climbed the chain to the top of the ship.
The Captain stood at the wheel with his back towards Zevran. A quick glance confirmed that no one had seen him, and Zevran held on to the chain with one hand and grabbed the murder weapon with the other. One quick flick of his wrist and the blade soared through the air, turning several times, until it embedded itself into the back of Massari's skull. The man didn't even let out a gasp as he slumped over the wheel, blood pouring from the wound.
Zevran climbed back down the thick chain as he heard the sound of the Captains body hitting the floor and his Chief Officer yelling at the crew to return to their quarters. Within the next hour all cabins would be searched, the poison and dagger sheath found, and a man would be locked in the brig for the murder of his Captain. The wife no doubt would be distraught and beyond consoling.
All in a days work, Zevran thought as he lowered himself into the water. His disguise as a crew member was easy enough to swim in; the loose-fitting tan pants and short sleeved olive green shirt didn't weigh him down at all. He would have to swim for about an hour to meet Severiano who had been following the vessel a good distance behind. Zevran didn't mind though; the warmth of the water and the reflection of the moon above was a beautiful ending to a very successful and profitable day.
Chapter 4: Payment
Antiva City docks; normally busy with the comings and goings of merchants, importers, exporters, and slavers, seemed quieter than usual today. The Siren's Call pulled into port and the Chief Officer quickly descended the ramp and scurried into the dock masters office. Moments later the city guard accompanied the Chief Officer back on board.
The prisoner would be brought to the city jail, the body prepared for a funeral, and the grieving widow would make an appearance to thank the community for their support. Zevran kept a close eye and ear on the situation, making certain that his name, as well as the Crows, wasn't connected to the murder. The rumors among the city confirmed that Zevran's setup was a success; the Second Officer was hoping for an advancement and had killed poor Captain Massari to secure a promotion. Foolish young man, leaving evidence in his belongings.
There would be no trial, and justice would be swift, at the behest of the Captains widow. Zevran dared enough to attend the services of the dearly departed; a fitting burial at sea as fire-lit arrows set aflame the small boat carrying the Captain's body. His widow remained strong yet silent; those that knew her knew her quiet reflection was her way of grieving. Zevran nearly felt sorry for the woman, until he saw the hint of a satisfied smile as the burning ship disappeared into Railto Bay.
One month later…
Zevran cast a quick glance at the setting sun as he moved through the quiet streets of Seleny. It wasn't often he found the time to come "home" to the cottage he owned within the city walls, but after three completed contracts in as many weeks he needed a break. His cottage was set in the far northwest corner of town; the only dwelling around for a mile on all sides. Shielded by large trees and protected by numerous traps and tripwires, it was his own personal sanctuary that none in the town dared to approach.
The citizens of Seleny protected Zevran as much as he protected them, and so when he needed a break from his job it was here he felt the safest. Even the Crows were unaware he had procured this camouflaged hovel in the Antivan city, though that still didn't stop him from sleeping with both his daggers nearby.
Zevran approached the front door to the cottage, skillfully evading the sporadic traps he'd set around the property. A warm bath and a long nights rest was all he had planned for the immediate future, until a swoosh went passed his head followed by a thunk as a dagger came out of nowhere and impaled itself into the wooden door.
Zevran immediately went for his weapons and crouched down low behind the nearest bush, looking in the direction the weapon had come from. He tracked the movement in the shadows as he quickly extracted a vile of poison to apply to his blades, until the corner of his eye picked up a red glowing gem in the dagger that nearly took his ear off.
As he stood from his hiding spot another dagger came spiraling through the air, imbedding itself a foot apart from the first on his door. Zevran scowled, staring into the shadows. "I see my payment has finally arrived, though I am not sure what my door has ever done to you."
Isabela stepped out from behind a tree, dressed in navy colored leather armor with two new daggers strapped to her back. "I apologize for the delay, but I do owe you my gratitude. And perhaps a little more for the added bonus of getting rid of Raniero."
"Ah yes," Zevran said moving towards her, "the Second Officer with an appetite for your bosom."
Isabela crossed her arms over her chest. "How did you…"
"Among his personal belongings were several of your, shall we say, more revealing outfits," Zevran informed her, closing the distance between them. "What he was doing with them I do not think I want to know. Do you?"
"Not really," Isabela said unfolding her arms and reaching for her blades. "Right now I have something else in mind."
Zevran stopped walking and studied the pirate. "Have you come to kill me then?"
Isabela laughed loudly as she turned sideways in a defensive stance. "Of course not. I have come to duel you."
Now it was Zevrans turn to laugh, though he instinctively reached for his weapons as well. "Ah, the saucy little minx wants to know if she can best a Crow does she?" He turned sideways to mirror her actions, daggers at the ready, awaiting her move. "We should wager on our duel then, no? Is that not how you prefer it in the big cities?"
"I prefer to win," Isabela said as she wasted no time lunging towards Zevran. He moved out of the way of her blades with ease, a quick step to the left sent Isabela stumbling forward, though she recovered gracefully with a somersault and was back on her feet before Zevran could turn around. His left hand brought his blade near her stomach, which was instantly blocked when she met his dagger with hers. She pushed to move the locked blades aside as she brought her other towards his torso which was then deflected by his second weapon in his right hand.
The two locked positions several times; meeting each other head on, blocking, pulling back, repositioning, and then lunging again. The dance went on for several minutes as beads of sweat formed on both their foreheads and their smiles turned into concentrated scowls. Both skillful rogues managed to cause their opponent to lose a blade as hidden ones surfaced, and soon the front of Zevrans property was littered with daggers of all shapes and sizes.
Isabela had managed to push Zevran against his front door, her hands grasping at the hilts of his new/her old daggers still in the door. While pinned beneath the out of breath pirate, Zevran seized the opportunity that presented itself. He wrapped his hands around hers that were still struggling with the blades, and moved in to take possession of her mouth.
He felt her startle and then go still as her lips trembled beneath his, and he slid his tongue along the soft seam, demanding entrance. The salty taste and warmth of his mouth on hers brought a soft moan from her that vibrated throughout his body, and Zevran knew in that moment he had to have her.
Chapter 5: Reward
Zevran wasted no time devouring her soft mouth, the heat of her thrilling him beyond measure. He pulled away only momentarily to catch the nape of her neck and draw her head down towards his, eyes questioning hers. He wanted to give her the chance to pull away, to leave with services rendered and begin her life as a free woman. He didn't want to push her, but he knew if they continued now, there was no turning back for either of them.
Isabela didn't relax but she didn't resist either. Her copper eyes with specs of flames were tempting and inviting. Her lashes fluttered and immediately his mouth was on hers again, her lips supple, hot, and demanding. There was no coaxing, no further convincing, as she opened for him and Zevran moved in. The world slid away until there was only the two of them.
The heat of the duel cooled in the evening breeze, but the fire between the rogues was only just beginning. She loved how he tasted like freedom. He loved how she tasted like the ocean. Zevran felt the tension within her fade, her defensive posture subsiding, and she relaxed into him. Isabela was embracing the freedom that he had given her, and he would be rewarded.
He reached up to pry her hands off the hilts of the daggers still embedded in the door. She complied as he moved her hands behind his back, pressing into her and pulling her closer. Their tongues continued to dance, long deliberate strokes only stopped by a tugging of a lip here and there, as Zevran reached for the door knob behind him.
They separated only for a moment as they both ducked into his cottage. The scent of leather, earth, and cloves permeated the air and Isabela took it all in. So accustomed to the sea and her smell she found herself surprised that she enjoyed this scent. She wasn't given much time to consider why as she was thrust against a wall and her mouth absorbed again.
Zevran found himself overwhelmed with the desire to have her. One hand clung to the back of her head, fingers tangled in her soft dark chocolate hair, as the other began attacking her armor. He wanted to feel more of her, touch her, feel her softness without the boundaries between them. He pressed into her to keep his own balance as his one hand skillfully undressed her of protection, and she didn't fail to notice he was already heavily aroused. As he continued with the offensive knots and buckles, Isabela began to do the same. It suddenly became a contest of who could remove the others armor quicker, and seconds later Zevran triumphed, all with one hand.
As he released his hold on her mouth and took a moment to appreciate her now swollen lips, she lifted each leg behind her to pull her boots off. She stood in front of him now in only a breast band and tight shorts, which surprised him considering she was only wearing armor over such delicate cloth. Isabela grinned mischievously as she teased him with her movements, slowly bending her knees. She lowered herself to meet the bulge in his smallclothes, but paid no attention to it. She tapped his boot quickly twice, snapping him out of whatever fantasy he had begun to have in his mind, and he lifted his leg so she could remove the leather footwear. After both boots were removed, she lightly grazed his skin as she ran her hand up his leg from his ankle, to his knee, inner thigh, and then gently grazed over his growing length.
Zevran allowed the moan to vibrate his own lips before grabbing her hand as she stood. Isabela was pulled into the bedroom and thrown on the bed, and she awaited her punishment for her teasing. He stood over her, capturing her legs between his own, and tangled his hands within her hair again. She put her hands on his chest, spreading her fingers wide and moved up and down his well formed muscles. Tattoos and scars marked his flesh, and she traced them with the pads of her fingers.
His heart raced with a pounding that matched the heat in his groin, and he pushed her down on the bed with surprising force. Her eyes went wide as he reached under the bed and pulled out two thick leather straps. He then lept on to the bed and mounted her, claiming her mouth again with his own. As they enjoyed the taste of each other again, he tied her wrists with the straps and then secured her to the posts of his bed. Zevran then pulled away from her and sat up, a victorious twinkle in his eye, as he pulled a small knife out from behind his back.
"Do I even want to know where you've been keeping that one?" Isabela asked breathlessly, looking up to observe his handiwork at her restraints.
"I have many secrets, my dear," Zevran responded, bringing the knife to her throat. She closed her eyes as the cold metal lightly grazed her skin, moving down her neck, and then rested between her breasts. With a quick flick of his wrist, the tight breast band was split in two, revealing her heaving bosom. He pulled the remaining cloth out from underneath her back and tossed it aside with the dagger.
Isabela gasped as her chest was now free, her aching breasts crying out for attention. Zevran had other plans however as he moved himself off of her. His fingers slid into the top of her shorts and pulled them down her long legs, gently caressing her outer thighs with his fingers as he removed the remaining garment. He moved to one of his many chests and opened one, retrieving a vial of honey colored liquid. "Antivan warming oil," he advised her. "I am sure you are familiar with it."
Isabela was beginning to struggle under her restraints, the anticipation of what was to come nearly consuming her. "I'm afraid my late husband wasn't very...attentive in this department," she admitted. "His needs were what was important."
Zevran shook his head at her confession. "Such a beautiful woman should be treated as the goddess she is," he said as he walked back towards her. "You will find this particular substance to be...quite pleasurable I imagine." He poured a small amount of the oil into his hand and then rubbed both his palms together. He leaned down between her legs, his breath warm on her bare thighs as he began to place soft deliberate kisses along her skin. She could hear her heart pounding within her ears as his fingers began slow seductive movements up and down her legs. The oil and warmth of his hands soaked through her skin as he caressed her inner and outer calves and thighs. Each time he would get near her core, she would try to push herself down to him, but found her restraints would not allow her to move any further.
Zevran took the oil and placed a few drops on her stomach, then brought his hand down to massage it into her skin. He spread his fingers wide over her stomach and drifted over her pelvis, the soft curls under his touch enhancing the sensation. Each movement of his fingers with the warmth of the oil sent tremors throughout her body. He lowered his head again and brushed kisses up her leg to her stomach, nipping at her skin as pleasurable moans escaped her lips.
Isabela then took in a deep sharp surprised breath as Zevran's warm, oiled lips found her nipple. The sensation shot from her breast to her womb as she trembled, her flesh rising with small satisfied bumps.
His tongue moved in circles around one nipple as a slick palm satisfied the other simultaneously. She bucked under him, calling out his name that he seemed to ignore as he relentlessly went to work on her breasts. Her hips jerked and she shuddered as he sucked, pulled back, nipped with his teeth, and then consumed again. Her begging and pleading grew louder and louder as his groin pulsed in response.
Her breathing was ragged and broken as she called his name once more, followed by a moan of need. She swallowed hard as his hand moved down her stomach again, slid between her legs, and found her heated core. He leaned in to kiss her, robbing her of whatever breath she had left. His finger began to circle her sensitive bud and she cried out in his mouth, a strangled pant of pleasure. Zevran smiled as he lifted his head to look once again into her eyes. "Shall I stop?"
"Don't you dare," Isabela whispered, eyes shut tight as he continued his movement of small gentle circles between her legs. Her temperature rose and she couldn't stop bucking on the bed, writhing under his assault. It felt so good it was painful, and she didn't think she would survive without him inside her much longer.
Neither did he. Zevran was as worked up as he had ever been, and he was finding it hard to continue to pleasure her with his own growing need. His control was slipping fast, the intensity of his need nearly destroying his trained self-discipline. He quickly positioned himself between her legs again, this time allowing his hands to grasp her hips as he lowered his head to her core. His name left her lips again as his tongue swept over her, the pleasure nearly sending her into hysteria. Her fingers dug into the leather straps that stretched above her, and she began pulling with all of her strength to free herself in a wild frenzy.
Zevran ignored her attempts at escape, wanting to taste her and enjoy the scent of her. He licked and sucked, took his time with long deliberate strokes, and then dove straight in with his tongue. When her writhing became frenzied and he knew she was close to the edge, Zevran would pull back before allowing her that release. He had a firm grasp on her hips even though she was jerking and twisting her lower body. Isabela cried out loudly, begging him to finish her off.
"Patience my sexy pirate wench," he called to her.
But she had no more. Isabela pulled with all of her might against the leather that held her and immediately sat up when free. She pulled Zevran down on top of her, reaching between them for his length. The surprise move shocked him as much as the warm hand that reached under his smallclothes and gripped around him, and Isabela wasted no time moving up and down his large shaft. He quickly pulled off his remaining clothes, allowing her full access, as her other hand held his head close to hers, his moans now mixed with hers as their tongues met once more. The feel of her soft hand around him forced him to surrender any control he may have had, and the intensity of her kiss did him in.
He spread her legs and lifted her hips as he maneuvered his heavy erection towards her entrance. She released her grasp on him as he slowly entered her, pressing into that fiery heat he had just tasted. She was tighter than he anticipated, her scorching hot sheath barely allowing his invasion. Zevran couldn't withhold his own gasp as he pushed his way into her and she tightened down around him. He felt Isabela moan against his lips until she pulled her head back and struggled for air. He took the opportunity to kiss her neck as he buried himself within her, penetrating her deep. Her tightness was nearly his undoing.
Zevran grabbed her hips again, though they moved on their own accord now, thrusting up towards him as he pushed into her. Isabela continued to clench down around him, every small movement of her body sending a hot flame to the center of his groin. He plunged into her over and over, dragging his thickness across her most sensitive bundle of nerves. She might not have a tremendous amount of experience, her husband and one other if he recalled, but she was naturally sensual and every movement of her body sent him careening closer and closer to the edge.
For a man who believed discipline was everything, it was shocking to be so out of control. His name from her lips was orgasmic in itself, and her moans and small strangled sounds filled him with satisfaction. He loved how he had brought her to this point, to push through his restraints just to touch him, or to bring her own release, he didn't really care. Her head continued to toss on the pillow, her face flushed and contorted beautifully as he brought her the pleasure she had been seeking for so long.
Zevran shifted position slightly, pulling Isabela closer, throwing her legs up and over his shoulders. He set a harder, faster pace, reaching her deeper now as she struggled to catch her breath beneath him. She was gripping and clawing at the sheets of his bed, which was now soaked with oil and sweat, and he could think of no sexier sight than the woman who was once again calling out his name. He was so close to his own release and he knew she was as well, the heated friction between them immeasurable.
Isabela felt the pressure nearing it's climax within her core. Zevran had brought her so close countless times, and that sweet release was just seconds away. She embraced it as she closed her eyes, the sensation beginning at her toes and rolling through her like the very seas she loved. It seemed to increase in pressure as he stretched her, drove deep, touching her in places she never had imagined possible. She couldn't quite catch her breath, the ever-building pressure of the orgasm hovering just out of reach. It seemed each nerve ending had its own agenda, and suddenly one by one they exploded in overwhelming ecstasy.
Her body clamped down around him, the pressure nearly destroying her as he grew even larger within her. She grabbed on to him, nails digging into the flesh of his back, as he got lost in his own violent release. In that moment the edge of the sea and sky collided, and both were sent sailing and soaring into pure bliss. Zevran pressed his mouth to hers as he continued to push into her, slower now, riding out her orgasm with his and her shuddering convulsions. Her bones seemed to be nonexistent and her body melted into his, and she struggled for several minutes trying to catch her breath. Her body rippled with pleasure, with each soft stroke of Zevran's hand as he caressed her neck down to her ankles, knowing her body was still tingling from release and oil.
Once he felt some strength return to his arms, Zevran carefully moved to settle beside her. Isabela still convulsed under his light touches on her skin, which he continued until her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep, utterly exhausted.
Isabela woke to the morning sun caressing her face through the window of Zevran's bedroom. A new scent lingered in the air, the sweet intoxicating smell of her evening spent with the assassin. A yawn and a well planned casual stretch landed her arm on an empty side of the bed. She propped herself up on an elbow to survey the room, blinking blindly at first as her eyes adjusted to the dawn light.
Leather straps hung loosely from the posts at the head of the bed, torn from some unknown strength she found within her. The sheet she rested on was still a bit damp; while disgusting to most it brought a smile to her sore lips. Her underclothes remained where they had been thrown, and she could see her armor and boots through the open door in the hall.
No response came and she frowned, hoping for a bit of morning fun before taking off. Isabela pulled herself out of bed carelessly wrapping the sheet around herself. She stubbed her toe on the small dagger laying on the floor, the one she was delightfully threatened with the night before. She winced at the pain as she bent down to pick it up and proceeded to search the cottage for Zevran.
His armor was noticeably missing from the hall as well as his boots. Isabela made her way to the front door and opened it with ease, embracing the strong wind that hit her face. Her payment to him was no longer embedded in the door; her old blades gone with the way of the Crow.
An unexpected sadness washed over her as she retreated back into the cottage and began gathering her belongings. Her armor was a bit uncomfortable without the support of her breast band, but she'd have to make do until she could return to her ship. She pocketed the dagger she had almost stepped on, and shut the door behind her as she exited the house.
He watched her go from a distance. He was excellent at hellos but had little experience with goodbyes, considering those he spent his nights with were usually dead by his hand in the morning, so he remained in the shadow until she slipped out of sight. With a sigh he returned to his cottage and prepared some water to freshen up. Off to fulfill another contract this evening, he had little time to get ready. When he entered the room to get a change of clothes, a smile graced his handsomely tanned face.
She had not only stolen the dagger he knew was left on the floor, but the vial of warming oil was also nowhere to be found.