Chapter 1: Persuasion
“Y-you’re sure?” Farkas blinked bewildered. “Absolutely?”
“Yes. I brewed the potion twice. And twice it changed color. I’m pregnant.” Caye assured, joy creeping up at her little cruel face.
“I… wow.” Her husband uttered, sitting next to her on a rough wooden bench at Jorrvaskr training grounds. Finally! After over a year of intense (and sometimes kinky) efforts she was pregnant!
“Oh treasure,” she said, shuffling closer, “I am as speechless as you are. It’s still sinking in for me.”
They stared into the distance overtaken by bliss. Farkas said nothing, only gently squeezed her tiny hand. Caye relaxed, returning the gesture, already making plans for the weeks to come. And she had a lot of things to wrap up before she needs to devote all her time to her new family.
“I’m happy.” He finally said. And he needn’t say anything more.
“So am I.”
“I’m, uh… really horny right now.” He confessed, embarrassed. The knowledge of their child growing inside her this very moment and her body soon adapting to be a mother got him rock-hard.
“Take me home, then.” She laughed, once again endeared by his bluntness.
Nothing disturbed the stillness of their bedroom as they embraced tight, panting and sweaty.
“I still can’t believe we’re going to be parents.” She whispered, stroking his rough cheek. “This… this is everything I wanted. Something… quiet and good. Just for us. I’m a bit nervous, actually.”
“We’re going to be fine.” He assured, lazily running his hand up and down her back. “You’re going to be a great mom. And I won’t leave your side, promise.”
“Where have you been all my life?” Caye sighed.
“You’re something like seventy years older than me.”
She giggled in a way she only allowed herself around him. Carefreely and full of pure joy.
“I’ve been thinking…” She began, sitting up with her legs crossed, her perky breasts resting against her knees. “Before we settle down and become dull old ma and da, is there anything you’d still want to try in bed?”
“Apart from all the kinky things we’ve already done?” He wondered, resting on his propped elbow, his impressive canines exposed in a wide grin.
“Yes, aside from our debauched little games, is there anything you’d still like to taste? Within reason, of course.”
Farkas bit his lip, looking away, struggling whether or not he should reveal before his little wife the one thing he was still curious about, but never had the opportunity to indulge in.
“Um… I’ve never slept with a man.” He confessed, looking her in the eyes, immediately growing red in the face and yet feeling odd relief now that he said it out loud.
“Men!” She exclaimed excitedly, then quickly covered her mouth seeing the horrified look on her husband’s face. She kept forgetting Nords weren’t as sexually liberal as Dunmer. “I’m sorry. But I’m so glad you shared something this personal with me. Tell me, would you prefer to be giving or receiving?”
“I… Damn it, Caye.” He rumbled, his cheeks blooming even redder. She was always so well-mannered and proper but when it came to sex she was everything but prudish. “On top. I want to be on top. Then if I’d like it I’d consider being on the receiving end… maybe. I dunno.”
“Do you have anyone particular in mind?” She purred sweetly, indulging in the moment. This evening was so exciting!
“No. I mean…” Her husband coughed nervously, buying time to gather his thoughts. “I was always a bit curious, but never pulled through with it. Never had the opportunity. There were a few guys that might have been interested, but I’m not really close with them anymore. You know how it is.”
“I know a few people who might be interested.” Caye suggested, mentally going through her list of contacts, growing excited at the very thought of any of them receiving Farkas’ rough and yet loving affection.
“Yea? Like who?” He asked curiously, resting back on the pillows, beckoning her to join him.
“Do you remember my friend Erandur? Perhaps you’d like to taste male Dunmer?” Caye proposed, her cheek nuzzling against her husband’s hairy chest.
“The priest?” Farkas recalled the oddly melancholic priest of Mara as he ruffled her red hair. He couldn’t remember much details past Erandur’s face as the man wore modest monk robes with hoods, hiding his hair and figure from the rest of the world. “Uhhh… no. I don’t really find men of cloth attractive. And can we keep it closer to home? A kinsman?”
“Of course! How about that young lad, Erik? You like red hair and he’s a fighter so you won’t have to worry about harming him.”
“The Slayer?” Farkas rubbed his chin, remembering the aspiring adventurer from Rorikstead. Yeah, the lad had a good posture and was talented with a battleaxe. Strong arms, windswept red hair, blue eyes and that boyish charm. A bit too boyish for his tastes. “I mean… he’s cute, but how old is he?”
“I think he’s twenty or so.” Caye recalled, unsure if twenty was enough for a Nord to be considered an adult. Humans and their short lifespans could get confusing.
“That’s way too young for me.” Farkas shrugged. “Let’s keep it closer to my age.”
“So, a kinsman between their early to late thirties, yes? And red hair is preferable. Oh!” Caye abruptly sat up again, pressing her clenched fists to her cheeks, shaking with exhilaration. Yes, by Azura she found the one! “I think I have just the man!”
“My friend from Riften. Brynjolf.”
“The thief?!” He rumbled, accenting the word like a particularly obscene slur.
He met the guy once. In High Hrothgar, where all sorts of people gathered to negotiate a temporary truce in the civil war. The whole meeting was a confusing and boring pain to go through, but somehow a tentative truce was reached. The Companions, with Caye as newly appointed Harbinger, could summon a dragon to Dragonsreach, capture it and then interrogate. Good times.
The thief arrived unexpectedly, lurking in the shadows during the whole affair, pestering Caye whenever she was alone, until she grew tired and asked Farkas to never leave her side. Finally, after she somehow convinced Jarl Ulfric and General Tullius to accept her propositions for new Jarls of Riften and Markarth, she took Brynjolf aside for a long talk, gave him some letters and told him to deliver them to a few people in Riften. He did not look pleased, but took the letters nonetheless and was on his way. Farkas hadn’t seen him since.
He was a criminal. But… not unpleasant to look at, from what Farkas remembered. Nimble, but by no means feeble with dark red hair and striking green eyes. Charming and radiating confidence… a bit too much confidence actually, just enough to be a step from cockiness. Farkas wondered how would the red-haired thief look with his clever mouth full of his cock. At the very thought, his member twitched with anticipation.
“Treasure, that’s so crude of you… He’s also a conman.” Caye said innocently, ending her husband’s musings.
“Still a criminal.” He reprimanded, shooting her a stern look, but his fattening cock betrayed he was already giving into the idea. “I thought you were done with the Guild. You know I don’t like the thought of my wife stealing. Even if you did it just for fun.”
“You asked me to stop taking jobs for my own amusement and I did.” She swore solemnly, remembering the heat of shame she felt when Farkas caught her red-handed on a small job in Windhelm. And the spanking she got afterwards. “But I still have friends in Riften. Friends that I deeply care about.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” He pressed, not getting fooled by his wife’s smooth words.
“I’m the Guild’s fixer.” Caye stated bluntly, deciding to come clean. “If they have a problem I step in and take care of said problem. But please, let’s get back to more pleasant topics.” She tempted, hoping to divert the conversation from her dirty deeds.
“Does he even like men?”
“He likes people in general.” Caye assured.
“Do you think he’d want to sleep with me?” Farkas kept wondering, rubbing his chin. He knew women found his rugged looks appealing, but he was not so sure how men felt about him.
“I’m positive.” She promised, her black eyes glimmering. The speculative glances Bryn kept giving Farkas in High Hrothgar when the warrior was not looking said it all. “I just need to convince him to come over.”
“By adding you into the mix?” Farkas guessed, his brows crossing, a hint of jealousy in his tone.
“Oh, I will be present, of course! As open as I am I will not leave you alone with him.” She possessively wrapped her arms around his much thicker arm. “You’re mine!”
“So… do you want me to introduce you two? I will be heading out to Riften soon, I’ve been meaning to check in with my friends. But first I need to visit Faralda in Winterhold, I’m curious how she’s handling being Arch Mage. And I also need to see a few people in Windhelm.” She enumerated, kicking into full work mode.
“You shouldn’t be travelling in your state.” He sighed concerned, knowing well how stubborn she could be when she had work to do.
“I just need to visit a few friends and break the news to them before I’ll grow so big that I’ll have to settle down. I won’t do anything risky, I promise.”
“I have to stay here and keep an eye on our new whelps. Vilkas will go with you.” He said in a tone that cut any protest short. “Go visit your friends, wrap your things up and come back to me, okay?”
Papers. Stacks of them. An endless stream of things to do with a deadline for yesterday. Not that he hadn’t had tons of work when Mercer was around, but ever since things turned for the better for the Guild and he was the new Guildmaster, Brynjolf was swamped with work. Well, the Guild was his life, so he did not complain. But he could use a breather.
He looked up to glance at Mercer’s severed head, mounted above the entrance to the treasury. It was missing.
“Nocturnal’s tits!” He jumped when the previous Guildmaster’s head was placed right in front of him by no one other but his former protege. He let out a disgusted choke, having a closer look at the thing, Frey’s dead glassy eyes staring back at him, his face forever frozen in shock and anger.
“Mercer needs care.” Caye said unceremoniously, pulling up a chair to sit opposite to Brynjolf. “You don’t look good.” She stated without blinking, reaching to her heavy travel bag to retrieve embalming potions and instruments which she placed in front of herself in a neat, straight line.
“And I have you to thank.” He grunted, bending back on his chair to be as far away from Mercer’s head as possible. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, regaining his cool, observing the petite Dunmer pour some unknown alchemical solution over a metal comb before turning her attention to the head.
“I wanted to pay you a visit to see how you were doing.” She stated, combing Mercer’s greying hair. “Your recent letters didn’t raise my concerns at first glance, but your shift in penmanship…” she lifted her gaze from her trophy, her black eyes met with his. “It betrays troubles.”
“There are no troubles, the Guild is doing better than ever.” Brynjolf involuntarily made a face, avoiding her unblinking gaze. She always made him a bit uneasy.
“I’m not asking how the Guild is doing. You’re in charge so I’m confident everything is in order. I’m asking about you. You’re my friend and I’m concerned. Do you get your sleep?”
“Are you also this concerned about Karliah?” He snarked. Caye and her perfect undisturbed professionalism could get under his skin.
“Karliah is more cunning and capable than the two of us combined. She does not need my concern. But I did meet her for tea just now. She stole a divine blend from the East Empire company, she has excellent tastes.” She smirked ever so slightly.
“Let’s get down to business.” Brynjolf sighed tiredly, rubbing his face. He did need some sleep. And a shave. “What do you need?”
“Are you still interested in sleeping with me?” Caye struck without warning, now rubbing some odd, slightly glowing ointment into Mercer’s leathery skin. Her face remained perfectly tranquil, as if she was not making a pass on him.
“Lass, are you proposing we have an affair?” He asked shocked. He was one of the few people who knew she was married. And she didn’t strike him as the unfaithful type.
“No, of course not. I’m proposing you join me and my husband in bed. He confided in me that he would like to try sleeping with a man. And you’re just the person. I think you’re experienced enough to please him. How old are you again? Forty?” She teased, the corner of her mouth jerking upward.
“Pushing forty!” He corrected, offended by her insinuations.
“Well, you look great.”
“That is true.” He agreed, tugging a strand of lose hair behind his ear.
“You’re charming.” The elf went on.
“It’s a burden I must bear.” He sighed, his ego stroked but not enough to dull his wits.
“And Farkas really likes red hair.”
“Oh, lass. I’m honored. I’d love to be a sex toy for your man.” He snarked, but he was already entertaining the idea of bedding the two.
He conjured up the memory of Caye’s husband. What a lad! He was in awe the first time he saw him. Tall and broad, even by Nord standards, Farkas was the perfect picture of a Companion. Calm and quiet with a rugged charm so characteristic of experienced warriors. That dark hair and those bright icy-grey eyes, like a husky! Brynjolf had to admit, he was drawn to that odd… feral appeal the warrior seemed to unknowingly radiate.
“You’re not saying no.” Caye noted, giving her trophy a few finishing touches.
“I would need to think about it. And I have work to be done. Give me a few weeks.”
“I’m pregnant and I need your answer now. I want to have some fun before I get all bloated.”
“I…” He blinked, wanting to say something smart but no words came to mind. Pregnant? Her? The woman who decapitated Mercer Frey and was keeping his severed head as a trophy for the entire Guild to see was planning to be a mother?!
“Yes or no?” Caye pressed, waving at one of the nearby footpads to fetch Mercer and put him back at his honorable spot.
“Damn, you can’t just dump all this information on me and expect me to drop everything to hop into bed with you two!” The Guildmaster grunted when the underling left with Mercer.
“Yes or no?” She repeated, her tone perfectly measured and polite, despite the lewd nature of her offer.
“Yes.” He gave in and although he wanted this, he couldn’t hide his displeasure at being pressed like that. “When?”
“Next week Sundas.” Caye instructed, smiling ever so slightly. “We’ve just finished building our summer house in the Great Forest and I’d love to have you over. Falkreath It’s beautiful this time of year, you can see the entire stretch of lake Illinalta from the porch.”
They sat in silence for a longer moment, Brynjolf processing what he was just told, Caye reaching over to take a look at the Guild’s business ledger. She read the recent entries, nodding with approval, glad that everything was in order.
“Congratulations on the baby.” He said, realizing congratulations were in order.
“Thank you. Now, I’d love to stay for longer, but I’m getting sleepy and I need to start taking better care of myself. And I don’t think hanging out in a sewer is good for someone in my state. Can you get someone to walk me to the inn? I don’t want to pry you away from your papers.” She said with a barely noticeable jab.
“Sure thing. Vipir!” He called out at the passing by master pickpocket. “Walk her to the inn.”
“I hope to see you soon.” She bid, gathering her tools. “Oh! Just one more thing, what type of wine do you like?”
“Red. Dry. If you serve me sweet wine I’ll leave immediately and never speak to you again.”
Chapter 2: Retrospection
“Are you still interested in sleeping with me?” Caye’s words echoed through his head as he rode through the great forest of Falkreath hold.
He had his chance, but blew it. That night when he came back to the Cistern and found the entire Guild waiting for him. He hadn’t suspected a thing and when he realized her scheme it was too late. The clever little Dunmer got everyone on her side and convinced to view him as the new Guildmaster. She had a whole speech prepared, choking’s Brynjolf’s protest immediately, rallying all of the thieves in support for him. He was left dumbfounded by what happened whilst the entire Guild went to party, celebrating his new position.
“You seem agitated.” She noted, when he finally caught her alone in the training room after his ‘coronation’ ceremony.
“You think?” He grunted, barely able to control his voice. He knew she was not caught off guard and was purposely waiting in the training room to speak with him in private, ever the prepared one. “This was not the plan!”
“This was not your plan.” Caye corrected, unaffected by his ire. “You’re angry with me. And I understand, this is not what you wanted. But you’ll soon realize this is all for the best. For the Guild, for you.”
“And for you.” He grunted, getting dangerously close to her, but the little elf had no intention of backing away.
“Correct.” She confirmed, her black creepy eyes staring back at him without a trace of emotion, so still that he could see his own reflection in them.
“Damn it, have you actually paused to consider my offer? Think about it! You in charge with me at your side. We can build a criminal empire stretching throughout all of Skyrim, maybe even beyond!” Brynjolf envisioned, truly hurt she could reject something this grand.
“Tempting. But I must decline.” Her tone hadn’t shifted the slightest.
“Fine. If you don’t want to be in charge, then don’t. You can take over my place as the third.” He swore, crossing his arms.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. I need to leave first thing tomorrow morning. Take Cynric, he’s perfect to join Vex and Delvin. And he looks good in black.”
Brynjolf felt like someone slapped him in the face. He took a step back, turning around to look away from her before he said something brash. He paced around the room frustrated, breathing deep and slow, trying to gather his bearings and calm down, knowing he had no chance against her if he keeps winding himself up.
“What makes you think you can just leave? You’re in too deep to have a way out. And we took an oath, remember?” He said slowly after he’d cooled down enough.
“I remember. If either you or Karliah need me, I’ll come to you. Always. Because,” she finally moved, reaching to touch his shoulder, “despite you making it challenging for me, I’ve grown to think of you as my friend. However,” her hand retreated before his surprise of the unexpected familiarity could last, “if this friendship is to last I need you to realize one thing. I am not your protégé and you were never my mentor. We sought each other out, because you needed some help with your dirty deeds and I needed to get on the Guild’s good side to find Esbern in the Ratway. I was never some poor street urchin you took under your wing, like Rune. We used each other and were civil enough to make that clear.”
“Then why did you come back?” He dared, his pride wounded. He had a personal connection with all of his recruits. Mercer used to say he doted on them too much, but Brynjolf didn’t care. He knew how to spot and nurture talent.
“I needed a distraction. I hoped everything would end once I reunited Esbern with his… friend. But I was wrong. I came back to you, because I knew you’d rope me into some new mess so I could take my mind off my own problems.”
“Don’t act like I didn’t paid you well.”
“Look at me, do I honestly look like someone who needs to steal?” She asked, smoothening her robes fit for a master mage – her favorite disguise. “I like to be up to no good. It’s fun.” She confessed and for the first moment that night Brynjolf could see a trace of emotion on her face – mischievous pride.
“So, are you leaving now to be up to no good somewhere else?” He prodded, hoping she discloses more.
“No. It seems I am needed to do something heroic for a change. And I need your help, actually.” She revealed, tensing up ever so slightly, unsure if he’s going to cooperate.
“Oh?” His brow rose, unsure if he was going to like what he was about to hear.
“I need to ask you a favor. First day of the upcoming month, can you please meet me in High Hrothgar?”
“What business would you have there, lass?” He asked, confused. The venerable monastery was the last place he would expect her to end up at.
“I’ll explain everything once you arrive. But trust me when I say it’s important. And you do not want to miss out on what is about to happen. Can I count on you?”
“Sure.” He agreed, knowing resistance was futile.
They stood around awkwardly, each deep in their own thoughts. Now that the agitation was wearing off, both felt the weight of the recent weeks come crushing down on them.
“Would you like to spend the night with me?” She unexpectedly asked with a barely visible smirk, tilting her head to the side.
“What?” He asked unsure if he’d heard right.
“Sex. Would you like to have sex with me?” She explained, snapping back to her perfectly poised and casual self. “The last weeks have been pretty stressful for me. I could use some comfort and so could you. I trust you can be discreet and won’t disappoint me. I can be pretty demanding.”
“Get on the hay, then.” Brynjolf instructed, reaching to undo his armored jacket.
“Not here, you savage!” She hissed, slapping his shoulder. “In a sewer?! Who do you take me for?”
“Then where?” He groaned impatient, yet somewhat amused by her uncanny outburst.
“Riftweald Manor. I want to do it on Mercer’s bed.” Caye demanded with a spiteful spark in her eye.
“You and every other footpad within the last few weeks.” He said with a shrug. “It finally got so bad that I had to have a stern talk with the lads to keep them from breaking in and fucking on his bed. I’m pretty sure that the sheets are so crusty by now, that you could prop them against a wall.”
“Relax. I changed the sheets in the morning.”
“How thoughtful. Did you plan this in advance too?”
“No. I did plan to sleep in the manor tonight, but inviting you over for some fun popped into my head just now. Now come on before I change my mind.”
They slipped out of the Cistern unnoticed, due to the majority of the Guild too drunk to pay them any mind. Minutes later they were entering the abandoned house through the upper story door, Caye picking the lock effortlessly.
He wanted to take it slow, knowing this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to get to know this odd woman on a more intimate level. They cracked open Mercer’s finest vintage and talked, slowly relaxing and getting too warm and comfortable to keep their eyes open…
… Brynjolf woke up the next morning on Frey’s bed. Fully clothed, cradling an empty bottle.
“I fell asleep?” He sighed, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head already feeling a headache approaching.
“It would seem so.” Caye noted, picking up her knapsack, ready to hit the road.
“Damn it. What a shame.”
“If it will make you feel any better, I enjoyed your company last night. I like talking to you when you’re not throwing a fit.”
“The pleasure was all mine. Don’t suppose I could convince you to stay for a bit longer?” He dared ask, not expecting much success.
“No. I’ll see you in High Hrothgar.”
His horse halted before a freshly built manor overlooking lake Illinalta. He whistled impressed at the craftsmanship.
“You came!” Caye called out from the upper story balcony, so uncharacteristically cheerfully. “I’ll be down in a moment!”
“You look radiant, lass. Positively blooming.” He praised once she came to greet him. Was she smiling? And since when did she wear white?
“How many times have you actually seen me in the daylight?” She teased, leading him and the horse to the small stable. “How was your trip?” She asked politely, waiting for him to unburden his horse.
“Good. I ran into some freelancers on the road, though. Nice setup they have, a ‘toll gate’ of sorts. Two archer watchpoints between a suspended bridge. They even have a trap with falling boulders! I needed to take the long road to avoid them. ”
“Do they concern you?” She inquired, her business sense already tingling.
“No, of course not.” He smirked, smoothening his hair. “I respect entrepreneurship. But they forgot to pay their tribute to the Guild. I’ll send Thrynn and a few lads to explain the misunderstanding, you needn’t worry. So… is your husband home?”
“He’s on his way. I was all alone here the entire day.” She sighed insincerely, flawlessly mimicking a bored housewife form a cheap novella. “Come, I’m sure you want to freshen up and prepare for the evening. And you must be hungry.” She said in a more matter of fact tone, leading him to the house.
Chapter 3: Introduction
“I hoped you’d dress in something more alluring for this occasion.” Caye sighed, pouring her guest a glass of Argonian Bloodwine.
“My Guild armor is alluring. And I had it thoroughly cleaned and oiled before coming over.” Brynjolf replied with dignity, swirling the wine in his glass. He took a sip, pleased at how tart it was on his tongue.
“Caye!” Farkas called out from the hall, heavily slamming the door behind him. “I’m home!”
“Treasure!” His wife called back, racing to greet her husband. “By Azura, you’re covered in blood! What happened?” She gasped, noticing fresh splashes of red on his ebony armor and fur coat.
“I ran into some bandits on my way.” Farkas sighed tiredly, putting his sword on the rack and his helmet on a dresser. “Bastards set up shop in the middle of the road, preying on travelers. But don’t worry, I got of every last one of them.”
“Did you go back to the Jarl to get paid?” She asked faster than she could think, making a mental note to later tell Bryn that no action from the Guild was required anymore.
“Caye…” Her love grumbled with disapproval.
“You’re right. If word got out that a Companion was nearby, but did nothing it would not look good for us. Ah!” She squeaked surprised when her husband pinched her side.
“You’re sometimes too clever for your own good… Is he here?” He changed the subject, his tone betraying apprehension.
“Yes, he’s fed and fresh from the bath, already helping himself to our wine. All that is missing is you.” Caye promised sweetly, her eyes glimmering. “But he doesn’t know the twist yet, I wanted to wait for you.”
“Good, good.” He gulped nervously. “Are you… okay with this? You really don’t mind?”
“Of course not! Now stop stalling, you’ll do great. Go get him!”
Farkas cleared his throat, nodded and the two entered the main hall, where their guest was waiting for them in a comfy chair in front of the fireplace, casually sipping on their wine.
“So, you’re the guy.” Farkas said as a hello, towering over Brynjolf, his hand wrapped possessively around his wife’s waist.
Brynjolf held his breath for a second. Nocturnal’s tits, Farkas was huge! The impression was magnified by the fact that Brynjolf was sitting, but it had not been diminished in the slightest once he got up to properly greet his host. How did that beast of a man knock Caye up without crushing her?
“It’s been a while since High Hrothgar, eh lad?” He said with a confident smile that quickly gave into surprise when Farkas unceremoniously closed his hands around his hips and lifted Brynjolf into the air like he were picking up a cat.
“Decent weight.” Farkas assessed with approval, slowly raising and lowering the shocked man. “He’ll do.” With that, he gently lowered their guest to his feet.
“What the…?” The thief uttered bewildered, whilst Farkas sat in the chair opposite to him, Caye standing at his side attentively.
“Sit.” The host instructed in a tone that although calm, demanded obedience. “Kitten, go get me a drink.” He addressed his wife, not taking his light grey eyes off Brynjolf.
“Yes, Daddy!” The lady of the house said obediently, off to get her man some mead.
Wait. What did she just call him? And what did he call her? What was going on here?!
“So, you came here to sleep with my wife.” Farkas said, taking off his heavy ebony gauntlets.
“Well, not exactly. I heard you’re a curios sort and want to taste some rough, manly affection. I’m flattered, really, that the lass asked me to be your mate for tonight.” The thief played coy.
“I’m not the prize you’re after.” Farkas stated bluntly, accepting the bottle from Caye, who quietly sat down on the floor next to his chair. Her head resting on his lap, like a kitten indeed. “I’m just an added bonus.”
“Now hold on, I’m not sure what you were told, but-”
Farkas snapped his fingers loudly, forcing the words back down Brynjolf’s throat. The thief closed his mouth, feeling like he was being silently reprimanded for something. Like a lad. This… was not what he was used to. Usually, people were holding on to his every word, allowing him to play them however he wanted. But not this one.
“I wasn’t finished.” Farkas said quietly, yet the thief felt like he was being scolded. “But you’re our guest and my wife’s friend, so I’ll be nice and patient with you. Kitten, give him the rundown.” Wasting no more words he drank his mead, combing his fingers through Caye’s red hair, sending pleasant shivers down her spine.
“Well… there is a twist.” The Dunmer began outlining, giving Brynjolf a disturbing smile. The thief could not make out if it was more promiscuous or mischievous. “What I told you before was true. Farkas wants to taste a man before our baby comes. And I was more than happy to arrange this meeting. Why, just the prospect of you two…” Her voice fell into a coo as her thoughts trailed off to some lewd place, her black eyes matted, a blush cheeping up her cheeks.
“Kitten.” Farkas chastised without raising his voice. “Keep it short and sweet.”
“Farkas and I are into dominance and submission games and we’d love to have you as our playmate tonight. With Farkas as the dominant one.” She revealed, biting her lower lip with anticipation.
So this was it. This was why he felt this odd atmosphere ever since Farkas walked into the room. They were already playing their erotic game with him. And Caye planned this from the start, tempting him with the promise of picking up where they left that night he fell asleep in Mercer’s bed like the drunk idiot that he was. Devious little thing, of course she was into some kinky stuff! Almost all Dumner were!
“So, you lured me here all the way from Riften to have me as your bitch tonight?” Brynjolf grunted, figuring out their plans for him.
“So rude!” Caye gasped, clutching at her chest.
“No one is going to treat you like a bitch.” Farkas corrected, putting the empty bottle aside. “Some doms do that, but I don’t. I look after my sub. You be good and you’ll be rewarded. You misbehave and you get disciplined. If that’s not your thing, then no hard feelings. Just seeing you out of your element was worth it.” The warrior smirked ever so slightly, tenderly stroking his wife’s hair.
“I’m not out of my element!” Brynjolf protested defensively.
“You’re blushing.” Caye pointed out, having a blast herself. She loved how easily humans with red hair could blush. And how Bryn squirmed when he couldn’t charm or lie his way out of a situation. She had him right where she wanted him – confused and frustrated, but too intrigued to storm out.
“You’re not helping.” Their guest grunted, looking away, reaching to drink his wine and gather his thoughts.
“There’s no pressure, we want you to come willingly. But if this is more than you can handle, then we can spend the evening just drinking and talking. We’re discreet and I promise you that whatever you choose I’ll never hold it against you.”
“I’m no prude. And I can take it. Now, you needn’t manipulate me further. I’m game. Do I get a collar?”
“Yep.” Farkas confirmed, dead serious.
Brynjolf choked on his wine. He rasped, catching his breath, staring back at Farkas with his mouth agape. The warrior remained calm and still, his face indecipherable.
“Noo! You got blood on my new dress!” Caye suddenly squeaked jumping up, spreading the lacy white hem to reveal a dark smear of red on the side.
“Take it off, then.” Her husband advised casually. “I’ll get you a new one, promise.”
Pouting, Caye pulled the dress over her head, revealing to all present company that she was wearing nothing underneath. Nothing save for her wedding band on a short chain around her neck, connected by two smaller rings from both sides – perfect to pull at or have a leash attached to it. She was petite and nimble, with a bouncy round butt and small, perky breasts with divinely large areolas and thick nubs just waiting to be sucked and bitten. Her waist was still flat, though, her pregnancy too early to show.
Brynjolf felt a drop of sweat rolling down his temple and his cock already fattening with anticipation. He had a chance to see her like this sooner, and alone. But he blew it. He felt hot, but it wasn’t the fire. Mara’s mercy, when was the last time he slept with someone? He made some quick calculations, but just couldn’t remember if the last time he had sex was this year or the last.
“Your bath is getting cold.” Caye chatted, ignoring their guest, wiping the drying blood off her husband’s armor with her ruined dress. “You could use one.”
“Are you trying to be smart, hm?” Farkas crossed his brows. His heavy palm lightly slapped her behind, conjuring another squeak, her round cheek bouncing from impact.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She apologized, but didn’t seem remorseful in the slightest, wantonly wiggling her ass, silently asking for another slap but none came. Disappointed, she knelt between Farkas’ massive laps, her back facing Brynjolf, letting him study how the warm light of the fire played on her ashen-blue skin. She continued cleaning her beloved, knowing well the thief was watching them, growing both aroused from seeing her naked for the first time and frustrated by being denied attention himself.
“Alright, alright, my armor is as clean as it can get.” Farkas protested when she was taking her sweet time, her back arched seductively and her ass sticking out provocatively. “Go fetch the collar.”
“Which one? The black one or the red one?” She inquired, standing up and turning around, stretching lazily, making sure Bryn got a good look of her front this time.
“Should I call you ‘Daddy” too?” Brynjolf joked when they were left alone.
“Only my Kitten has the privilege of calling me that. You’ll have to work for it.” Farkas said as he got up, gesturing at the thief to do the same.
There was half a foot of height difference between them. The warrior gazed down at Brynjolf, the icy-grey eyes inscrutable, accented by the black warpaint. The thief realized he was holding in his breath, but wasn’t sure if he could exhale in a way that didn’t betray his nervousness. What was this?! He stole trinkets from nobles and framed priests for murder, why was he feeling this bare in front of the warrior?
“Relax.” Farkas said quietly, his voice calm and assuring. He slowly reached up to seize Brynjolf’s chin, his thumb gently rubbing the thief’s lower lip. “The safety word is ‘Goldenglow’, Caye said it has meaning to you, so you won’t forget it in the heat of the moment. Say it if you stop having fun or if you feel you can’t take it any longer. I’ll stop immediately. Nod if you understand.”
Brynjolf nodded, finally exhaling loudly through his nose. Damn it, he felt like a lad, despite being a few years older than the warrior. Farkas made no note, bowing his head for a kiss. He tasted like mead, with some unknown undertone, something feral. Brynjolf welcomed the warrior’s thick tongue in his mouth, not realizing when he grabbed Farkas by the hips, pulling himself closer, gasping as the ebony chestpiece hit against him. He ignored it, tilting his head to the side with his eyes closed. Farkas was a damned fine kisser, was this really his first time with a man?
“I got the collar.” Caye’s trembling voice pulled him back to reality. He never heard her voice tremble.
“Good.” Farkas murmured, pulling away much to Brynjolf’s disappointment. “Put it on the table for now and help me undress him.”
Wasting no time, the two worked their guest’s many buckles and fastenings to free him out of the tight set of black leather. The thief trembled, heat on his cheeks unbearable. His heart raced when Farkas pushed his armored jacket off his shoulders. He gasped when instead of unlacing his shirt, the warrior tore it off him as it were made out of paper. Meanwhile, Caye undid his pants from behind, sharply pulling them down, playfully squeezing his ass. The gauntlets he took off himself, managing to keep his hands from shaking.
“I love your tattoo.” Caye made note, brushing her fingers against an old tattoo Brynjolf had on the left side of his ribcage – a key crossed with a dagger.
“You should see Cynric’s. He’s got an impressive collection from all the prisons he’s been to.” He replied, kicking off his boots and pants, remaining only in his underwear.
“Less chatter.” Farkas addressed them both, snapping his fingers again, Brynjolf tensing at the sound. “Now, let’s just get rid of these…”
Deftly, he unlaced the front of the thief’s shorts, letting them fall to the floor. Possessively, he reached to take Brynjolf’s half-erect cock in his hands, giving the flushed shaft a few quick strokes to assess the length and girth. He grunted with approval, releasing to reach for the collar; a simple padded piece of leather with a ring in the front. Brynjolf held his breath in again, seeing the look in Farkas’ eyes – calm confidence coming from being completely in control.
Gods, this evening was not turning out to be what he expected and he was not in control of the situation. But fuck it, he didn’t care.
The warrior put the piece of leather around his neck, whilst Caye’s arms wrapped around his waist as she pressed herself against Brynjolf’s back, her hard nipples teasing his skin. Her hands wandered his abdomen just below the navel, but daren’t reach lower without Daddy’s permission. Nocturnal, this was torture.
“Are you comfortable?” Farkas asked, sliding his fingers under the collar to make sure he didn’t put it on too tight, his other hand on the thief’s shoulder.
“Yes.” Brynjolf confirmed breathlessly, unsure who’s touch he craved more.
“Good.” Farkas grinned. “I’m going to thoroughly enjoy making you beg.”
“For me. Now come along you two, Daddy needs a bath.”
He separated the two without warning, Caye mewling with disappointment. Unbothered by her selfish protest, Daddy hooked his fingers in the rings around their necks. Whistling a tune, he led his pets towards the stairs leading to the washroom.
Caye and Brynjolf’s eyes met. She smiled, biting her lower lip. The thief gulped loudly.
Chapter 4: Admiration
They entered the washroom where a walk-in wooden tub was already waiting. Farkas dipped his finger into the lavender-scented water, testing the temperature. Caye said nothing, only huffed, knowing well the water was barely lukewarm. Given Nord and Dunmer racial resistances to cold and fire respectively, it was difficult for the both of them to agree on a perfect temperature for a bath.
“Well… maybe just a bit warmer,” he assessed. “Can you take care of that, Kitten?”
“Of course!” She said sweetly, flexing her fingers. “And what are you waiting for? Go undress Daddy!” She addressed Brynjolf sharply, slapping the thief’s ass.
“Alright, alright, I get the message.” He muttered, rubbing his sore behind. Her hand was small, but she knew how to work her wrist to deliver just enough impact to sting.
“Let me explain one thing.” Farkas brows crossed as he pulled Brynjolf closer by the collar. “I’m on top. Then there’s Kitten. And you’re at the very bottom. So, from now on you don’t talk back to her unless you want to be punished. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.” Brynjolf swore, ignoring a glimpse of Caye from behind Farkas. Devious thing was heating up the water with a weak fire spell whilst staring back at him, sticking her little sharp tongue out.
“Good. Now help me out of my armor.”
The thief assisted the warrior out of the heavy set of ebony with some effort. Thankfully, the padding underneath was much easier to take off. Finally in the nude (wearing only his own wedding band on a chain, just like his wife) Farkas stretched lazily, then scratched himself on the back, allowing Brynjolf to ogle him freely. And there was a lot to ogle at. Farkas was the perfect blend of muscle, veins and body hair, carrying his imposing figure with calm, relaxed confidence. Probably because he knew it would be difficult for anyone to top him in physical grandeur.
Brynjolf bit his lip, his gaze slipping from the warrior’s broad chest and defined abdomen down to his thick, vascular dick. Nocturnal… it was still limp, but already impressive. How was his wife still able to walk, being married to a man who carried a monster like that between his legs? The thief’s mouth got watery at the realization that he was brought here to experience that cock inside him. Gods, he was going to travel back to Riften on foot for sure.
“The temperature should be to your liking now.” Caye interrupted, swirling the lavender-scented water around with her charged hand, conjuring a steady stream of bubbles.
“Good girl.” Farkas praised before hopping in, the excess water immediately overflowing out of the tub and onto the tiles. He exhaled with relief, sinking neck-deep into the water. “Ahhh… This feels great! Could be a bit cooler, though. Be a good Kitten and wash my hair, will you?” He addressed his wife with a playful wink.
“With pleasure, Daddy. Would you also like a shave?” Caye offered, ignoring the remark about the temperature. Not that it was her place to argue.
Farkas mused if he should, rubbing his scruffy chin. “Nah, I’m good. Lad, get over here. I had a tough day and could use a backrub.” He beckoned, resting his elbows on the sides of the tub.
Brynjolf inhaled sharply. Lad? Seriously?! This was Caye’s idea! Oh, she must have been waiting for this moment the entire evening. He bit his tongue, fighting a curse forming at the back of his throat, approaching the tub. Shooting Caye a death glare, he closed his palms on Farkas’ broad shoulders, applying pressure and working out the knots on the warrior’s muscles.
The husband and wife’s eyes met in a moment of silent agreement. She was right, the thief was fun to watch when he was squirming in frustration. Chuckling softly, Caye poured a small amount of lavender solution on her husband’s head before tenderly combing it into his dark hair. Farkas murmured pleased, tilting his head back, his spine tingling from having her small fingers massage his scalp and Brynjolf working out the kinks of his shoulders.
“Is this good?” She asked, hungry for praise, enjoying every second of caring for him.
“Very nice. Wash my face while you’re at it.” Farkas muttered, closing his eyes, enjoying her slender hands lather his face, washing all his warpaint off. This evening was proceeding quite nicely.
He ducked unexpectedly, completely submersing himself. He then resurfaced, standing up in all his naked glory, splashing water all around. Caye let out a sigh of admiration and Brynjolf could not help but share her awe at the sight of water dripping off the man, his light skin wet and slick. He gazed hungrily at the muscles on his back, going lower to the curve of his back and the ripe apples of Farkas’ ass. As if sensing the thief’s lustful stare, Farkas looked over his shoulder, combing his wet hair back and giving his subs a knowing smirk.
“Should we lather you up, Daddy?” Caye asked, but her tone was more that of an eager plea.
“Oh, Kitten. So eager to please. But I think the Lad is feeling left out. He’ll wash me while you watch.”
“But!” Caye pouted, hurt by being denied the pleasure of thoroughly lathering and scrubbing her Daddy.
“Patience, Kitten. There’s plenty of me to go around.” He assured, resting his palm on his hip, amused by her mewling for attention.
“Then perhaps I could rinse and dry you off? Please?” Caye bargained, pressing her clenched fists to her chest, her voice stricken with want.
“No. Go sit down. ” Daddy declined calmly, yet firmly. “Lad, are you done gawking? I’m not getting any cleaner from you watching my ass.”
“Yes, right away.” Brynjolf quickly said, reaching for the laid out washcloth and soap.
He lathered the rag generously, pleased that finally he was being the one getting more attention from Dadd- Gods, he was already lost in the game. He exhaled a silent laugh, not believing his own eagerness. He took Farkas by the wrist, lifting his arm and running the cloth the length of it; from the forearm to the shoulder, where the warrior had an old scar left by the jaws of some large beast.
Brynjolf kept on going, applying enough pressure to be efficient and yet mindful not to graze the skin. He pampered Farkas, taking his sweet time to wash the man’s back and ass, feeling through the wet soapy cloth how the bulging muscles reacted to his touch.
When it was time to wash Daddy’s chest and abdomen the thief bit the inside of his cheek, avoiding the man’s gaze. He liked a wide spectrum of men; from nimble and lean like Cynric to blunt and burly like Thrynn. But Farkas was entirely something else. By the Gods, he wanted Farkas to smother him under his bulk, grab him by the hair and throat and pound his ass until he comes inside Brynjolf and leaves him raw and gaping. But not before ramming the length of his thick cock down the thief’s throat.
“Everything alright, Lad?” The warrior asked, Brynjolf jumping at the sound of his voice.
“Yes.” He nodded, dragging the rag across Farkas’ broad chest, not daring to look him in the eyes.
“Are you sure?” Farkas’ voice was low and hoarse just next to the his ear.
“Positive.” Brynjolf lied, unable to gather his thoughts, so close to Farkas. His hand gripped the cloth tighter as it went lower to give the abdomen some attention. He swallowed, forcing himself to focus on the chiseled stomach of the warrior and not look at his dick again. Which was even more difficult when he fell to one knee to give Farkas’ legs some attention, the tantalizing cock mere inches from his face.
“You’re hard.” Farkas noted offhandedly. “I didn’t say you can get off yet.”
The thief’s eyes dropped down to see that indeed, his own cock was standing at full attention, the pink head peeking from under the hood. He abruptly stood up, covering his erection with the rag. When did that happen?!
“I’m sorry!” He said faster than he could think, instantly humiliated by two facts. First, that he got an erection from merely giving Farkas a massage and bath. And secondly, that he apologized immediately, like a lad caught pitching a tent in his pants.
“It’s alright.” Farkas assured, patting the thief on the shoulder, like a trainer talking to a difficult pupil. “Go sit and cool down. Kitten, you can rinse and dry me after all.”
Caye sprung up from the bench with a wide smile. Her eyes locked with the thief’s as he walked past her to sit down in her place. He avoided her triumphant look, fighting to keep his cock from drooling and mentally beating down his humiliation.
“You’re a good Kitten, aren’t you?” Farkas rumbled, taking a moment to pat her head whilst she rinsed the thick lather off him. “You know how to behave.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” Caye cooed, melting under his caress.
“You can me bratty, though. I saw the look you gave the Lad. Be nice, it’s his first time.” He chastised, stepping out of the tub, wringing his hair whilst steadily dripping water.
“I can’t help it. I get jealous.” She sighed embarrassed, quickly attending to him with a large, fluffy towel.
“Don’t overdo it. I want everyone to enjoy themselves.” Farkas warned, seizing her chin to look into her eyes to let her know how serious he was.
Brynjolf realized that Farkas could snap her neck effortlessly, she was so petite in comparison. And yet, the huge warrior’s touch was incredibly gentle.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be good.” Caye promised.
“Glad to hear.” Farkas replied pleased, planting a quick kiss on her forehead, much to his Kitten’s delight. “Hurry up an dry me off, I’m starting to get cold.”
She obeyed, tenderly wiping him with the dry towel, whilst Brynjolf managed to calm down to a semi-flaccid state. He watched the couple, unable to take his eyes off them. Both were alluring in their own way; his nimble, agile old friend and her strong, towering husband. Damn, he wanted them both equally now. He hissed, pinching himself on the sensitive side of his upper arm before he could get hard again. He couldn’t concentrate, hoping that it was mostly due to the stuffiness of the steam-filled washroom, not his will melting under lust.
“Lad!” Farkas called out from beyond the cloud that settled over the thief’s mind. “Come along, we’re going to bed.”
Chapter 5: Consummation
Brynjolf followed the couple out of the washroom. Miraculously, he kept himself from grinding his teeth, noticing them holding hands. What about him? Didn’t he deserve some attention? Moments later the three entered the candlelit bedroom. Farkas gestured at his pets to sit side by side at the foot of the grand bed, hulking over them and trying to make up his mind about something.
“Now, which one of you should I play with first?” He wondered out loud, his eyes darting between the two.
His subs were smart enough to remain silent, knowing that whichever would dare speak first was the instant loser. Farkas smirked amused, heading to a nearby dresser to pour himself a drink and see how the situation unfolds when his back is turned for a second. Seizing the opportunity, Caye quickly twisted her hand into Brynjolf’s hair, sharply pulling his head back. Before he could say anything she reached to stroke his cock with her other hand, a cruel look on her little sharp face. The thief’s nails dug into the mattress as their eyes met; her glossy black against his vibrant green.
“Wench.” He mouthed silently, aware how desperate his position was.
Being at the very bottom of the hierarchy he was screwed whether he dared protest or take the torture passively. But he couldn’t complain, finally feeling her touch on his thickening shaft, her nimble fingers sliding down his foreskin to reveal his flushed cockhead so desperate for her touch. Against his better judgement, he closed his eyes, his hips rocking into her warm palm. His lips parted and like a dumb young stud he let an embarrassing low moan escape his mouth.
“Daddy, he’s doing it again!” Caye snitched, as her hands retreated immediately.
And then came the spine-chilling snapping of fingers.
Brynjolf’s eyes opened wide, looking directly at Farkas, who was staring back with disapproval. The thief shut his legs in panic, but Farkas already saw him spreading them wide apart, mouth agape and cock proudly pointing at the ceiling.
“Lad…” Daddy grunted with displeasure, putting his drink aside and approaching the bed slowly, Brynjolf’s stomach doing a flip. “You’re not making things easy for yourself. Do I need to get you a cock cage to keep your prick in check?”
“I can go get one!” Caye offered excitedly, pleased by the mischief she had caused.
“I was not talking to you Kitten. And I’m no fool, I know you’ve teased him when I wasn’t looking.” Farkas crossed his arms, addressing his wife equally sternly. “Which hand did you tease him with?”
Caye bit her lip, extending the offending palm. Farkas took her by the wrist, taking a wide swing, slapping her hand with merciless momentum. Caye yelped, squirming out of his grip, clutching her stinging palm to her chest.
“There, you’ve earned that. Now move up to the pillows, we’ll need some room. Lad, stand up and rest your hands on the edge of the mattress. Legs wide and ass up.” Farkas instructed, rubbing his palm.
Caye whimpered, scurrying to the head of the bed to rest on the impressive mound of pillows. Brynjolf did not protest either, a second later his pale cheeks directed straight at Daddy. He lowered his head, avoiding looking at Caye, waiting for the inevitable.
He trembled when Farkas’ rough palm ran the length of his back, pausing on his ass. Offhandedly, the warrior squeezed and kneaded his cheeks, making the thief’s erection even more hopeless. He fought another moan when Farkas went lower, his fingers merely brushing the cleft of his ass. He almost yelped when the warrior’s thick fingers closed in a tight ring around the base of his cock.
“You’re already leaking.” Farkas pointed out, tightening his grip. “I hope you don’t plan to blow your load here and now. I have plans for you.”
With that, he took another swing, slapping Brynjolf’s ass hard, leaving a red print of his palm on the pale skin. The thief gasped, blood rushing to his head. Farkas continued administering the punishment, alternating between the cheeks equally, whilst his other hand maintained a firm grip on the thief’s painfully hard cock. He was kind enough to go slow, though the force of his slaps enough to the jerk thief forward with each hit, leaving him itching.
Caye watched the two, growing wetter and hotter with every second. She knew Brynjolf was the perfect match for Farkas, his charm and confidence giving away to enticing sexual frustration once he was not in control of the dynamics in the room. And Farkas, although firm as a dom, was also patient and empathic enough to control the thief without breaking him. Redheads had the most responsive skin indeed, in the candlelight Caye could see clearly the marks her husband’s heavy hand left. Unwillingly, she reached to cup her breasts, her skin so sensitive to the touch.
“Kitten, don’t.” Farkas ordered without looking at her, slapping Brynjolf’s raw ass harder, finally conjuring a low, humiliated cry from the redhead. “I’ll be with you in a second.”
He released the thief’s cock. Brynjolf fell to his knees, burying his burning face in the mattress, clenching his red ass tight.
“Lad, don’t get too comfortable.” Farkas warned, sitting heavily next to the panting thief. “You’re going to suck me off for my Kitten. Get between my laps and get busy.”
Brynjolf lifted his gaze at the warrior, a roguish spark dancing in his green eyes, despite his flushed face. “Oh, it’s going to be my pleasure.” He swore with fire, itching to demonstrate his blowjob skills. “Thank you.” He added more humbly, when Daddy’s brow rose, obviously unhappy with his boastful tone.
Ignoring his irritated skin, he slid to his knees between Farkas’ massive laps, eagerly reaching for the man’s cock. Looking up to meet with the grey eyes, he began steadily stroking him, his other hand cradling Farkas’ heavy sack. The veins on the shaft thickened and pulsated in response to his touch, the warrior finally getting nice and hard. Brynjolf hoped they had enough lube, because this cock was going to be a challenge. He was looking forward to it.
“Is this good?” The thief made sure, pulling the skin down to reveal the glans; the tip pointed for quick insertions and the sides slightly jutting, ideal to graze the insides of whoever had the chance to be under Farkas.
“Very good.” Daddy praised, combing his fingers through Brynjolf’s red strands. “Now use your mouth. Slowly, I don’t want you gagging.”
The thief smirked. The concern was nice, but he knew his way around a cock, no matter how big. Savoring the moment, he licked the underside of the shaft, from the base to the tip. His tongue encircled the glans before gently sliding into the wetting slit, lapping at the first drops of precome. Gods, the flavor was something he had never had before. Something rich and primal. He puckered his lips into a ring, slowly sliding his head down Farkas’ length, taking his time to adjust before going deeper.
“You look cute from this angle.” Farkas admired, running his fingertips against a scar the thief had on his left cheek. “Look at me. Yes, that’s nice…” He grunted hoarsely, his hand wandering to pat the back of Brynjolf’s head.
“Is he good?” Caye demanded to know, wrapping her arms around her Daddy, tightly embracing him from behind, looking down at Brynjolf with jealousy.
“Very.” Farkas muttered, nuzzling his scruffy cheek against hers.
“Oh? And is he better than me?” She kept pressing, tightening her grip, though with her small frame it wasn’t much of a display of strength.
“Different.” Farkas said diplomatically, tenderly ruffling Brynjolf’s hair whilst the thief eagerly and loudly sucked his cock, delighted to be the center of attention for a change.
Kitten huffed, sliding off the bed to kneel behind the redhead. Unceremoniously, she grabbed Brynjolf by the back of the head, pushing him hard against Farkas’ cock until she met with resistance. The redhead gasped, his throat so suddenly penetrated by the thick shaft. He gagged fighting for air, yet endured, managing to contril back his gag reflex, breathing slow and deep through his nose. Relaxing his jaws completely, he looked up at Daddy with a proud look in his green eyes.
“Nicely done.” Farkas said impressed, bending back on the bed, letting his wife jerk the thief’s head up and down his cock, as if their guest was nothing more than an elaborate sex toy. “Kitten, I think he likes it rough. Go faster.”
Caye smiled, pushing down harder on the thief. Brynjolf gurgled, but adjusted to the relentless pace the elf commanded, taking the whole thing down his throat, to the very base. He smirked amused at her efforts to make him look like a fool in front of Daddy.
“Oh, lass. The stories I could tell you about my dirty exploits.” He thought, hollowing his cheeks and sealing his lips tighter.
Farkas exhaled a pleased sigh. Having a man suck him off was different, but felt good. And Brynjolf was making sure it felt as good as possible, the artist that he was with his mouth. The view was priceless; the red-haired thief on his knees, taking his entire shaft down his throat, Caye behind him equally jealous and excited, doing her best to push Brynjolf over his limits.
“That’s enough. You did good, Lad.” He praised briefly, patting Brynjolf on the cheek. “Both of you, stand up. Kitten, get in the middle.”
The elf blushed, getting between the two men, facing her husband. She suffocated an embarrassing moan getting this close and personal to them. Gods, they were both so broad and tall and smelled divine. Oh, she so hopelessly loved Nords!
“My poor Kitten, you hate it when I don’t give you enough attention, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been acting up.” Daddy murmured, gently stroking her soft cheek with the knuckles of his hand, so big in comparison to her little face. “You’ve earned some affection too. Lad, take her by the wrists and pull up.”
Caye cried in surprise as Brynjolf’s hands closed around her wrists and her arms rose into the air. Azura, he was fast. Eagerly, she threw her humble chest forward, her behind grinding against the thief. Farkas seized her by the chin, leaning for a kiss. Caye felt her mind and pussy melt, being kissed by her husband, whilst her old friend restrained her, his hot breath so close to her ear and his drooling cock staining the small of her back.
This was perfect.
“Having fun?” Farkas asked, releasing her chin to twist her nipple, his other hand trailing down her waist, the pace agonizingly slow.
“U-huh!” Was all she was able to stutter, pressing and rubbing her thighs with anticipation, some of her wetness already leaking.
“I didn’t tell you to close your legs. Spread them for me. Good girl.” He whispered hoarsely, cupping her sex.
“Please…!” Caye mewled miserably, grinding her crotch against his flattened palm, leaving a glistening trail. “I-I can’t wait any longer. I-I need…!”
Farkas loomed over her, his closeness choking her pleas down into an incoherent whine. “What do you need? Don’t be shy, tell me.” He encouraged as he slipped one finger inside her hot, dripping pussy ripping a high-pitched wail.
“You! I want you! And I want him to watch!” Caye cried, fidgeting in their grasp, now a second finger stretching her slippery walls. “Mercy…” She panted, getting dizzy, resting her head against Brynjolf’s chest, hearing the thief’s heart race in sync with hers.
Farkas took a step back and grinned with pride marveling at his handiwork; his wife pleading and whimpering and his new playmate equally strained. Both staring back at him with misty eyes, trembling with anticipation at who gets to experience him first.
He was firm, but he was never cruel.
“Oh, Kitten,” he softly said, sitting back at the foot of the bed, outstretching his arm, beckoning her to join him. “Come here… Lad, let her go and sit down on the carpet. I want you to have a good view.”
Once the grip on her wrists eased, Caye threw herself at Farkas, scrambling onto his laps, clinging to him desperately. Her mouth found his, connected in a wild, sloppy kiss. Farkas grunted, reluctantly slapping her behind for misbehaving before abruptly breaking off their kiss to take her by the hips and turn around. Caye quickly caught on, her feet resting on his laps and back braced against his chest. The head of Daddy’s meaty cock brushed her glistening lips, her juices mixing with his precome.
Brynjolf clenched his teeth tight, his own cock hard and demanding attention. He buried his fingers into the thick carpet, breathlessly watching Farkas take his wife by the hips to slowly lower her onto his manhood, inch by inch until she sat at his very base with a pleased groan.
Daddy gave her a moment to adjust before effortlessly lifting her up to about half of his length and began thrusting into her, slowly at first. Caye let out a long, low moan, welcoming his girth inside her, digging her nails into his thighs.
“Azura, yes! I thought I was going to go mad if you’d make me wait any longer.” She cried, needy and ecstatic, grinding her hips. “More, please, more!” She begged shamelessly.
Farkas laughed amused, making a series of quick, shallow thrusts, conjuring another series of teary moans. This was good, but he had to speed up the pace before their guest completely loses his mind. “Lad, come over here. Help me make her come. Hands only.” He beckoned.
Brynjolf scrambled up to them. He licked the tips of his fingers, closing them around the elf’s clit, rubbing the hard pearl not so gently. But she didn’t seem to mind the rough treatment, her dark lips squeezing her husband harder whilst she looked down at her thief friend. The look on her face – wild, lewd indulgence – was priceless. He shot her a confident grin, playing with her clit harder, reaching up to grope her tits. Damn, Dunmer skin was incredible to the touch – dry and warm, much smoother than human.
“Are you holding out?” Farkas guessed, his palms cupping her behind from below. “I can feel you’re tensing up, you’re not fooling me I can tell when you’re close. You want to hoard all the fun for yourself, huh?”
“I- ahh, just a bit longer, please!” She mewled pathetically, looking up at him and writhing like a bitch in heat, faintly realizing Bryn will never let her forget that he’d seen her like this. But she didn’t care. She wanted to be like this as long as possible; her husband thrusting into her from below and her closest friend taking the display in whilst playing with her clit and tits. Azura, what wouldn’t she give for Daddy to allow Brynjolf to use his sharp tongue…
“Come now or you’re in time out for the rest of the night.” Farkas warned without raising his voice, possessively taking her by the hips and assaulting with a series of quick, hard thrusts.
She mewled and whimpered, so close to climax and yet selfishly wanting to get out of this moment as much as possible, knowing this arrangement was a once in a lifetime opportunity. She gazed down at the thief, his face both transfixed and mischievous from watching her usual collected self acting like a spoiled little slut. She bit her lip, impulsively reaching for his hand, stuffing his wet fingers into her mouth to loudly suck on them, generously coating with her saliva. The thief breathed in loudly, his other hand closing harder on her breast, leaving the crescent impressions of his fingernails on the ashen skin.
Caye’s black eyes narrowed. She bit down at Brynjolf’s fingers before pulling them out of her mouth to grab him by the hair instead. “Make me come.” She commanded, forcing him to direct his attention to her little pussy, spread and stretched by Farkas, her luscious lips enveloping his cock tight, her wetness slicking him to the very base.
“As you wish.” Brynjolf said sweetly, closing his wet fingers on the hood of her clit, rubbing it with the thumb of his other hand.
The elf panted, the touch of both of them driving her over the edge, heat and pressure in her abdomen growing too much to bear. She rested her head on her husband’s shoulder, reaching behind to pull him for a kiss, not caring that she was out of line. Farkas locked lips with her, an amused grunt vibrating into her mouth as Caye grinded her tongue against his, uncaring how undignified their kiss was.
She tensed, hips jerking forward as her orgasm shot down from her navel to her sex. She clenched her love tight, legs shaking and clit throbbing into her friends fingertips. She was hot, she was wet, she was melting… Azura, yes! Caye broke off the wet kiss, her black eyes half-shut, her mouth agape, unable to form any words, a strand if red hair sticking to the corner of her mouth.
“Oh, love.” Farkas whispered hoarsely into her ear, pressing his hands to her sweaty belly. “I can’t wait when your pregnancy starts to show. I can only imagine how even more beautiful you’ll be.”
Gently, he bent back to let his exhausted wife roll off of him onto the mattress, then sat up turning his attention to the red-haired thief. Gods, despite fucking his little wife senseless Farkas was still hard and ready to take on a man.
“Can I suck your cock first?” Brynjolf asked hoarsely, hungrily gazing into Farkas’ eyes.
The warrior nodded and the thief impatiently reached for the wet shaft, ramming it down his throat. His tongue stuck out to grind against the underside, lapping away the flavors of Caye’s pussy. This was probably as intimate as he could ever get with her. Gods, he didn’t know his own motivations anymore, only that he craved as much of Farkas as possible. He grunted in protest when the warrior pulled out of his mouth with a wet pop and gently tilted his chin to look into his eyes.
“Hands on the bed and ass out, just like before.”
Seconds later he was prodded by Farkas’ greased up fingers, his ass pushing against them and his cock bobbing between his shaking legs. He was a seasoned thief, a refined conman, Guild Master and Nocturnal’s Nightingale… But at that moment he moaned without restrain like a common whore, begging to be fucked like one.
“I can’t take it anymore!” He rasped stricken with lust, resting his cheek on the mattress to reach behind and shamelessly spread himself.
Farkas iron grip closed around his wrists, the warrior’s pointed glans aligning with Brynjolf’s hole. But he had not penetrated him yet, no. He wanted some answers first.
“What did you come here for?” Farkas asked quietly, not moving an inch.
“Her.” Brynjolf confessed humiliated, burying his face in the sheets, the truth burning down his throat.
“And what do you want now?” Farkas prodded further, unbothered by the confession, ever the patient one.
“You!” The thief practically screamed into the mattress.
Pleased with the answer, Farkas sharply pulled him by the wrists and with one powerful thrust hilted himself in Brynjolf entirely. The thief cried in surprise, being spread by the thick, vascular cock he never thought he would long for this much. Cursing and grunting he bucked against Daddy, letting him thrust into him with unrelenting pace and force. He could feel the sides of the cockhead grazing him from the inside, bound to leave him red and gaping for days.
Farkas released his wrists allowing Brynjolf to brace himself against the bed. He then took the thief by the hips, pumping faster, their sweaty skin slapping against each other. A choked cry escaped the thief’s mouth as he struggled to maintain balance, each thrust pushing him forward, his leaking prick springing up and down from the momentum. He was almost there, almost… just a minute or two…
As if he were reading his mind, Farkas released his hips, one hand wrapping tightly around his throbbing cock. The other grasping his throat forcing Brynjolf to rest his head on Daddy’s shoulder.
“Who does this ass belong to?” Farkas breathed into his ear, easing the grip to allow the thief to speak. “Tell me and I’ll let you come.”
“Y-you!” Brynjolf cried abandoning all of his pride, giving in completely, desperate for release. “This ass is yours, Daddy! All yours! F-fuck just let me… Damn it, please!!”
He let out a humiliated groan of pleasure when Farkas grip lessened on his base, instead turning into quick, steady jerks. Muttering half-understandable thanks he rocked his hips into Farkas’ hand whilst Daddy thrusted into him as he pleased.
All the time Caye watched with a dreamy smile.
“Maybe I should come inside you, hm? Would you like that” Farkas teased, rubbing his thumb against Brynjolf’s swollen glans.
“Please…!” The thief hissed through clenched thief, wiggling his ass impatiently, semi-consciously shocked that he wanted his ass bred by this man.
“Good lad.” Daddy muttered affectionately, nuzzling his hoarse cheek against his. “Just hold back a bit longer and don’t come before I do. It won’t be long.”
Chapter 6: Satisfaction
Brynjolf choked, barely able to hold himself together, inches from climax, yet obediently waiting for his dom to finish first. Though, the hand jerking his cock did not make it easy. Farkas grunted next to his ear unsettlingly feral, rutting into him like a beast, his length spreading the thief to the limits. His pace and grip increased, his breath ragged and shallow, betraying he was about to come.
“Come on, I want it! So, so bad…” Brynjolf groaned as encouragement. He was not playing, the words just came out of his mouth, he spoke them without thinking.
He gasped being shoved forward, then smothered by Farkas. The warrior practically growled, tensing up, his teeth closing on Brynjolf’s neck. He pushed his hips forward, violently ejaculating inside the redhead, filling him with his rich seed. Brynjolf moaned with pathetic glee into the mattress, releasing himself, coming in short, hard spasms, his come sinking into the sheets. His mind melted away as Farkas kept coming, filling him up with his hot load. Gods, yes! He hadn’t it this rough and good in a long time!
Stretching his orgasm into one last slow and deep jerk, Farkas jaws eased on Brynjolf’s shoulder. He pushed inside until he couldn’t push even an inch further, some of his generous load squirting out. The thief groaned in protest, immobilized by the bulk pressing down on him. Farkas murmured pleased, reluctantly withdrawing and slowly pulling out, his cum gushing out of Brynjolf’s gaping asshole, running down the thief’s thighs in hot streaks.
Sore, exhausted and sweaty, Brynjolf pulled himself up the bed, resting flat on his stomach next to Caye. He closed his eyes, trying to wait out the pounding in his chest and lightheadedness.
“What the fuck?” He breathed into the pillow, unable to recognize himself from just a few moments ago. Nocturnal… he was whining like a whore, begging to be fucked stupid. He called another man ‘Daddy’ unironically. He literally begged for him to come in his ass. And worst of all, he liked it.
The entire bed shifted as Daddy heavily laid between them. Brynjolf jumped when Farkas’ hand gently rested between his shoulders, caressing his skin.
“You did great.” The warrior assured, lazily running his hand all the way to the thief’s abused ass. “Are you alright?” He asked, gently taking the collar off, silently signaling the game was over.
“I need a drink.” The thief groaned with strain, realizing how dry and sore his throat was from the deep throating and choking.
“I’ll go get the refreshments.” Caye said, once again her cool, organized self. “Anything else I should bring?” She inquired, getting up.
“Soothing balm.” Farkas requested, brushing hair off Brynjolf’s face.
“It’s right next to you on the nightstand.” She informed patiently before leaving the room.
“You roughed me up good.” Brynjolf grunted, spreading his legs so Farkas could wipe him dry with a handy towelette. “Was this your way of telling me to stay away from your wife?” He joked, slowly regaining his composure.
“I could bludgeon you. But you have a mighty fine arse, so fucking you senseless was more fun.” Farkas replied calmly, gently spreading the cool balm on the other man’s swollen pucker and cheeks.
“Do you two… play it this rough all the time?”
“You thought that was rough?” Farkas laughed, putting the ointment jar aside and getting comfortable on the pillows. “You should see what happens when she’s on top!”
“Treasure!” Caye entered the room with a platter of drinks and snacks. “You’re making me out to be some sort of deviant!”
Heaving a sigh, Brynjolf rolled on his back, accepting a bottle. The ale he was offered was cold and rich, just the thing he needed for his sore throat.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Caye addressed her husband, pouring herself a mug of raspberry juice.
“Mhm.” Farkas muttered as confirmation, downing his mead in one gulp. “Was fun. Did you like it?”
“Immensely!” She exclaimed, her eyes glimmered. “I will forever cherish this night. Would you consider doing something like this again?” She asked laying at this side, offhandedly stroking herself on the stomach.
“Maybe. Let’s focus on us the two of us for now.” He replied, pleased to see her this happy and relaxed.
“I’m still here!” Brynjolf reminded, offended he was being ignored now that they had their fun with him.
Caye rose on her elbow with a sly smirk. “Well aren’t you attention starved! Oh, don’t pout, I’m only teasing. Will you stay for dinner tomorrow?”
“I shouldn’t leave the lads alone for too long.” The thief sighed, his thoughts already drifting to his responsibilities. “But I wouldn’t mind enjoying your hospitality for another day.”
“Splendid! We have mammoth steak. Though for now I brought something lighter. Let’s eat and enjoy ourselves.”
The three feasted and drank, making light conversation, relaxing completely until the hour grew late and they fell asleep in the massive bed.
Caye rolled to the side with a soft purr as the first rays of sunlight slipped through the curtains to caress her face.
“Ah, Treasure…” She murmured tenderly, reaching to caress her beloved’s jawline. “What a wonderful dream I had…”
There was a low, suffocated groan in response. A groan Farkas would never make. Caye’s eyes snapped open as she realized she was resting next to Brynjolf. The thief laid on his back, grasping the headrest firmly, whilst Farkas held him by the thighs, unhurriedly fucking the man like it was no one’s business.
“Farkas!” Caye yelled shocked, abruptly sitting up.
“What? I want to enjoy him as much as possible before he leaves.” Her husband replied patiently, pulling out with a pop only to plunge inside Brynjolf once again, this time fast and hard. The thief arched his back in response, tilting his head back.
“You’re unbelievable!” Caye huffed, jumping out of bed. “Well, have your fun, I’ll be outside with breakfast after you two are done.”
She stomped out of the room, leaving the two men to continue. Farkas looked down at the redhead with a predatory glimmer in his grey eyes. Brynjolf smiled through glazed eyes, ignoring how sore and tender he was from last night. It didn’t matter, he wanted more. Against his wits, the thief hooked his legs around the warrior’s waist and dug his nails into Farkas’ back. Muttering dirty words of encouragement, he clung to the man until they both came.
“F-fuuck…!” Brynjolf stuttered as he went numb under Farkas, his own cum staining his stomach and chest. “Mercy, I can’t take no more.”
The warrior withdrew, his morning cum lazily spilling out of the thief. “You’re alright… for a criminal.” He judged, getting out of bed. “But seriously, if you ever try to make a move on my wife, I’ll rip your heart out and eat it.” He warned, for a second exposing his uncannily large canines in an unsettling wolfish grin.
“I hear you.” Brynjolf panted, reaching for the towelette to wipe himself dry.
“Such a fine day.” Caye sighed pleased, tucking behind her ear a strand of hair that somehow slipped out of her braid.
She nodded, content with how she arranged the table and sat down, awaiting for the two to be done with their morning tryst and come join her for breakfast. She adjusted the folds of her fresh dress and poured herself her favorite morning tea, admiring the view from the porch. The lake glimmered in the distance, illuminated by the morning sun. Somewhere nearby a bird sang, a woodpecker echoed throughout the forest.
Life was good.
Her husband closed the door behind him, unhurriedly approaching. Perspiring, naked and disheveled he looked completely satisfied after the night of debauchery.
“Morning, love.” He muttered tenderly, leaning to kiss her on the cheek.
“You smell like sweat and mead.” Caye crinkled her nose, raising her gilded cup to mask the smell with the aroma of lemon and chamomile.
“Mhm. And I had a lot of fun getting this sweaty.” He grinned, snatching a sweetroll from the table. “I’m off for a swim in the lake, don’t wait up for me. Do you want me to catch you anything?”
“Some salmon would be nice.” She requested with a smirk.
“Sure thing. I heard there’s a travelling bard staying in Falkreath. Talsgar… something, something… ah never mind, I never remember the names bards give themselves. Anyway, do you want to go to the inn in the evening to hear him sing?” He proposed lightheartedly.
“I’d love to!” She said enthusiastically, feeling her heart swell with affection for her man.
She drank her brew, following his slowly shrinking silhouette with her loving gaze. Azura, she did not deserve someone this kind and patient.
A few moments later Brynjolf emerged from the house, dressed only in his pants and hastily flung on jacket. Caye smirked, dipping her lips in her tea, gesturing at the chair she laid out for him with a soft cushion. The thief cautiously sat down, cleared his throat and fished out of his pocket a beautifully crafted pipe, a trinket he stole from an arrogant noble years ago.
“Are you really going to smoke before eating?” Caye asked, shooting him a disapproving look.
“I always smoke before breakfast. Do you mind?” He asked, the pipe already between his teeth as he hopelessly searched through his pockets for his flint.
“I do. But that’s not going to stop you.” She sighed, snapping her fingers to conjure a weak flame between her fingers.
“Thanks.” He muttered, shifting closer, avoiding looking her in the eyes.
He bent back in the chair, inhaling slow and deep, then exhaling thick aromatic smoke through his nose. He admired the view, though the look on his profile was far from tranquil. Caye knew exactly what was eating him.
“If you’re thinking about what happened and what was said last night, then rest assured. This will stay between the three of us.” She assured respectfully, when the silence drew awkwardly long. “Although, I’ll never forget this experience.” She smiled sweetly, remembering the sounds Brynjolf made and how he reacted to being dommed by Farkas.
“Yeah, I’m sure you had your fun watching me squirm.” He muttered, focusing his eyes on the smoking tip of the pipe. There was a silent grievance hanging in the air between them and he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to address it.
“What is that frown I see? Did you not have fun?” Caye asked, leaning over the table, her black eyes studying her friend’s slightest movement.
“You had me convinced I’d have you as well.” He spoke, crossing his arms, not bothering with hiding the disappointment in his tone.
“No. I simply asked if you were still interested in sleeping with me. I made no promises about offering myself to you. You’re just so used to getting whatever you want from people, that you assumed you could indulge in both me and Farkas.”
“I feel cheated.” Brynjolf complained, angry at himself for believing something that was too good to be true.
“Bryn… you thought you could just have sex with me right in front of my husband? Are you this confident in your charm or that daft?” Caye sighed, shaking her head.
He puffed another cloud of smoke for a second obstructing his entire face. “Fine, fine. I guess I was leading myself on, score for you.” He confessed frustrated. “But I can’t shake off the feeling there was more to last night. Why did you really invite me?”
“I told you. We wanted to experiment before settling down.” The elf replied smoothly. Too smoothly to be speaking the truth.
“I know you. You always have more than just one angle. Come on, just tell me.” He insisted, piercing her with those green eyes.
Caye’s nose crinkled ever so slightly. Carefully, she put her cup away, preparing for a longer conversation. Yes, this was a good time to address some issues and clear the air between them.
“Fine. Aside from helping my husband indulge in his curiosity I also wanted to tease you a bit. And to help you with your own problems. Firstly, by offering you a nice, lewd getaway from your work. And secondly, to help ease the infatuation you have with me. Now,” she raised her palm to silence his immediate protest. “I know you’re not losing any sleep because of me. But I know that the curiosity of what would happen if you hadn’t fallen asleep in a drunken stupor that night is eating at you. So, I gave you a substitute. You didn’t get to sleep with me, but got to see me in a more intimate setting. You have wildly nimble fingers, by the way.” She smiled, blushing barely noticeably.
With that, she poured herself another cup of tea, allowing Brynjolf to process her words. The thief put out his pipe, reaching for the food. He ate slowly, trying to indulge in the taste of the divine treats he was served, but instead his thoughts drifted to how things could have turned out differently.
“Do you wonder what would happen if we would spend that night together and if you’d stayed in Riften by my side? Not as lovers necessarily, but as partners in crime?” He asked on impulse, lifting his gaze form his plate to look into her eyes.
“No, because I know the answer.” Caye calmly shot down his question. “I’m over one-hundred years old, I know myself. And I know you. We would elevate the Guild beyond your wildest dreams, because we work incredibly well together. But you wouldn’t like my methods. We would constantly butt heads and you’d slowly grow to resent me. Trust me, I would make you utterly miserable. And that’s the last thing I’d want…” She shuffled her chair closer, so that she could put her hand over his. “You’re my friend. You’re dear to me and I care for you, even if my affection is not of the romantic type.”
“He doesn’t seem miserable.” Brynjolf pressed, pointing his chin at the lake.
Caye looked away, for a moment struggling whether she should bare her heart in front of him.
“He’s different.” She confessed quietly. “I’m… honest with him. He made me grew a damn conscience, I can’t never lie to him. He actually makes me feel some shade of remorse for all my illicit habits. Me! I have no idea how he did it, but he completely disarmed me. And he didn’t even try!” She huffed, raising her arms into the air.
“You’re hopelessly in love lass.” Brynjolf said with a sort of affectionate amusement, his characteristic smug smirk back.
“Oh, shut up. Next time you try to give me lip I’ll remind you what you called my husband and how you practically begged him to mount you.”
“Hey! Be nice to me.” The thief warned, raising his finger.
“Or else what?” She smirked with dare.
“Or else I’m going to seduce your husband and run away with him.”