Dinner with a Rogue

"Believe me, my lady, a meaty broth and some fresh bread from the carts are all you'd want from this one anyway," he made a theatrical choking pantomime as Bugg left the room which set her to giggling. Somewhere inside she felt herself being swept off her feet, but the reality of her situation hadn't left the back of her mind. When Roland was distracted by a long inspection of his soup, she slid one of the bread knives into her sleeve. She felt strange about this ploy, like she was betraying something, a chance at a better life. Could she wound or kill Roland to escape? Escape to what? Back to her father's indifferent clutches? Chills crept down her spine at the thought of that.

They ate the meager supper together, finishing off the wine and another carafe on top. The house was swept with darkness as night fell. Their friendly camaraderie concluded, like a cold, iron anchor falling back into the world as Roland remembered the finer details of their situation. He stood up fast, wobbling slightly, "Please accompany me, my lady, lets make this simple for both of us," he felt pained.

She allowed him to escort her down the hall to a bedroom that was modestly furnished. A large, comfortable looking cotton mattress was against the far wall, it wasn't the scary dungeon he had mentioned before. She was grateful not to be spending the evening in there. Laying on the bed was a set of manacles. The sight was sobering, and Pelafina felt her heart race, her hand playing at the knife concealed in her sleeve. She saw the look of dismay and uncertainty on Roland's face as he worked one of the cuffs through an iron post at the head of the bed. When he was finished he gestured at the bed, and she sat demurely on the edge, placing her hands in her lap.

"Do I have to do this?" Roland asked, her as much as himself it seemed, holding the other cuff in his hand up toward her for inspection.

"That depends," she said, reaching inside for steel, or fire, something of substance, but she just wanted to reverse time, back to the charming dinner she had just had. "On whether or not you want to use me, like my father, like all those terrible suitors," she finished, staring straight ahead.

Roland hesitated, then stepped close and grasped her shoulders, pushing her gingerly back onto the bed. She let out a soft cry of surprise as her head thumped lightly against the mattress. His hand moved to her wrist as if to place it in the cuff. She felt the moment had arrived, roiling with dread and adrenaline, she loosed the knife in her other hand and raised it behind his back, trembling. When his fingers locked neatly with hers, he pushed his lips against her mouth lightly, slowly adding more pressure until they were locked in a deep soul kiss. The jolt she had felt on initial contact faded into a warm buzz that separated her limbs from her body. After a moment of shock she pushed back against him, opening her mouth to greet him warmly.

A metallic clattering startled them both from their kiss, she had dropped the knife onto the hardwood floor. Roland looked down at it, shock writ across his features. "No!" she exclaimed, grabbing his face in her hands and pulling it back to her mouth. He pulled away again, in disbelief, "You were going to stab me!?", he yelled out.

"You were going to cuff me!" she fired back.

"Oh, did I then?!" he retorted.

Dazed by the exchange, she started to formulate another accusation, but before she could bother, he leaned in close, forcefully kissing her again. She locked her wrists behind his head and gave in sweetly, teasing his aggressive motions with delicate feminine grace. She rolled her head back as his mouth eagerly feasted upon her neck and collarbone, her hands digging and undressing at his armor and clothing as he went, in response, he leaned back between her legs and quickly undid a few buckles, tossing the whole ensemble aside. She gasped at his naked torso.

It was toned nicely for a man of his age, and absent of hair, yet what made her react so vocally was the web-work of scarification. As he leaned back in, she pressed her hands against his shoulders to examine him briefly, tracing her fingers across one long ugly gash that looked several years old.

"You've been at this a very long time haven't you?" she asked.

"Bedding women?" he grinned.

"No... stealing, being a thief," she replied.

"Coins, gold, valuables, hearts, I have stolen them all," he said, taking her hand in his and kissing it.

"Am I your next target then?" she asked, suddenly grave in the passionate moment.

"I don't think I have committed any crime here, my lady, this is a duel, not a robbery," he smiled deeply again. She returned it eagerly. "We'll see, I don't think you're quite the expert anymore, especially without your armor," she pinched him playfully as his hands worked at her dress. He found himself intoxicated with wine and desire, making him slightly incapable of the task at hand.

"It's a bodice," she said, "you have to untie it-", but before she could finish, he grabbed the knife from the floor and expertly cut her loose from the contraption. She spilled free of it with a start. Giggling at the feel of the cold, dull side of the blade against her skin as he expertly disrobed her.

"You're lucky the Bog's Bastard was so fond of shapely concubines! Though, I daren't say any as shapely as you perhaps," he said, squeezing her breasts in his soft hands and massaging them as she arched her back slightly, letting the rest of her clothes fall to the floor off her waist. She pulled him close once more, wrapping her bare legs around his waist and kissing him again.

She opened her mouth to speak, to say something to his dazzling blue eyes, but at that moment, she felt him slowly enter her, locking perfectly into place, his hips flush against hers. He held fast and stared back into her own fiery emerald orbs. The way her lambent locks spread across the bed set his heart ablaze as he began a rhythmic pace that steadily increased with each wanton bite, and delirious claw across his back. She gripped him tight and rode the wave of pleasure until it subsided, not leaving her feeling sated, but hungry for more.

She pulled him hard against herself and rolled him onto his back. Grinning down at him lasciviously as she climbed atop his hips. She leaned down to feast upon his mouth, his tongue, his neck, and over again, her hand reaching between her legs to guide his hard cock back inside of her. When she felt the head pierce her eager flesh, she pinned herself against him and began to grind hard, riding as deep and fast as her body would allow. His mouth found its way to her chest. He bit and sucked at her erect nipples, driving her over the edge once more. During the crashing wave of her climax, she yelled out as she felt him pulse and quicken inside. Their blazing point of contact becoming flush with warm liquids.

Sated at last, she toppled over on him, her head swimming and buzzing, she felt him embrace her, his hands doing slow circles across the middle of her back. They slept as such, connected intimately in more ways than one.

He woke to her head upon his shoulder, her fingers delicately tracing some of the scars that crossed his chest. She leaned up to kiss his jaw, needing no other greeting. After a long moment of idyllic silence, her curiosity got the better of her, "What's this one?" she asked, going over a jagged scar on his abdomen.

"Axe. Right to the stomach. Luckily I had chain mail on. Most of it popped and the blade still bit me pretty good, but I didn't leak my guts out into the darkness," he said.

"And this one?" she asked, her finger tracing against his sternum.

"A scimitar, I barely escaped being cut in two. He got the worst of that exchange..." he said, taking her hand in his, and moving it to his other shoulder, "Got that one from a crossbow dart. You know who fired it? My best friend. There's no honor among thieves, Pelafina," he concluded sadly, "I need to get out of this game," he sighed.

"What if I told you that I knew for certain where Lady Bremmerton and her famous ruby amulet would be on a certain day in the near future," she said wickedly, "and that house Lostorot is cordially invited to the affair," she teased, kissing at his neck.

"I would say...," he replied, "that perhaps every thief has one more job in him..." he staggered through the sentence, thinking of what that amulet could fetch.

"Do they now?" she asked, sliding her hand across his stomach and under the sheet across his waist, "maybe they do at that," she purred, "Where did this big one come from?" she giggled.

"Oh, my mother, she was a saint, a true saint," he babbled, as she kissed down along his chest.

"We're going to be fantastic partners," she muttered matter-of-factly. The enormity of her insinuation was too much to process however, he simply closed his eyes and saw a passionate shade of red, a mixture of Pelafina's hair and shining rubies strewn within it.