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The Ragged Flagon was busy. Even six months ago, such a thing was unheard of — yet, here it was again for the fourth week in a row, filled and chirping with its resident thieves displaying such joviality an onlooker could almost mistake it for camaraderie. It all started with Brynjolf’s newest recruit, whose solution to the Guild curse was good old fashioned team bonding. Through alcohol. Despite Mercer Frey’s insistence that the Guild is not a social club, the weekly drinking sessions caught on quickly, and tonight there wasn’t a spare seat in the house. Of course, what Anrel didn’t mention was that without the drink to help break the ice, she found every single one of the thieves far too intimidating to be around. Still, she was drawn to them all the same, and the Mead Method was clearly working. They would drink, loosen up, and she could finally be herself without agonising over her every action as they’ll surely forget all about it by the morning. Meanwhile, her single, unfinished tankard of mead went largely unnoticed every time. It was perfect.
That said, tonight was shaping up quite differently. The Guildmaster of all people had joined them in the Flagon for the first time. He still looked as disgruntled as ever and largely drank in silence, but Anrel was elated. The man radiated presence even when standing completely still, and while our hero would never admit it, he was the very image of the tense, oppressive promise of danger which she found so intoxicating about the Guild. Mercer’s presence was likely the reason, then, why our hero accepted Vex’ challenge and proceeded to down a row of the strongest spirits Vekel had to offer. What was the worst that could happen?
Half an hour later, it was as if a switch had clicked into place. The top layer of her Guild leathers lay discarded and forgotten, and everything seemed infinitely more exciting. The world would whoosh past every time she turned her head, and she could barely keep to herself. She was talking; enjoying herself like the rest of them, and the usually critical voice in her head silent and forgotten. Sharing tales, sparking raucous laughter, her alcohol-addled self was very much enjoying the change, as was the rest of her roguish company.
Everyone, that is, except for the Guildmaster.
Her eyes would settle on him after every anecdote, every joke, in search of some sign of his favour, only to receive absolutely nothing. It was infuriating, and her normally placid internal monologue grew obnoxious and insistent. Fuck that guy. He has no idea what he’s missing.
"Cynric, have I ever mentioned that I find hoods incredibly attractive?"
"Your hands, Brynjolf; they're huge."
"You practically run this place, Delvin; it must be stressful."
The only Guild member spared from the 'compliments' was, intentionally or otherwise, Mercer Frey. Whether or not he cared, or even noticed, for that matter, was not something she cared to dwell on. The subsequent hours were a blur, but by the time the thieves were turning in for the night, she had completely forgotten about the prickly head of the Guild. The only thing that mattered was that she enjoyed herself and spent her time with people who actually appreciated the company. All in all, the evening counted as a win.
The walk back to Honeyside, however, was proving to be more difficult than expected. Even with all of her attentions focused on putting one foot in front of the other, it was as if her legs outright refused to walk straight. Her bare arm brushed against an adjacent building, which she trailed with her hand to remain on course. She could see Honeyside in the distance, just a little further..
Calloused hands, a brisk, timely pull, and her back slammed against a wall, far from the dim lights illuminating the main streets. A knee pressed sharply between her thighs, followed immediately by a strangled groan which sounded far too much like her own voice. As she belatedly moved her arms in front of her to push her attacker away, her wrists were collected into one hand and pinned above her head. Warm breath ghosted over her ear before biting down on the sensitive tip. She yelped, surprised by her own reactions as her back arched, intense, coiling heat spreading through her.
"Carry on like that and the entire Guild will hear," She knew that voice. Those ground, resonant cadences had been tormenting her since she first joined the Thieves Guild, but never once did she expect them boring into her like this. He chuckled directly into her ear, forcing a shudder as a fever shot straight to her midsection.
"G-Guildmaster..," she could hardly believe her own voice; quavering, but deep and clearly indicative of her arousal; something that, given the circumstances, she wasn't quite comfortable with him hearing. Every time she tried to regain some control over the situation, her faculties were mired down in a dense haze of intoxication and heady, simmering want, each sensation amplified tenfold. She could not draw her attention away as Mercer trailed sharp bites down her neck, each one searing like a brand against her hypersensitive skin.
"Funny how we've barely spoken," his hand snaked underneath her shirt, cupping her breast as his thumb brushed over her nipple, "yet it only takes a few words for you to recognise me." Whatever she may have had in response died in her throat as his hand trailed along her ribs. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" His voice was low; he was practically purring in her ear, "all those stolen glances," he followed the curve of her waist, the nails scraping lightly along her skin like rough blades scoring her flesh. "You were practically begging for my attention earlier." Slipping under the seam of her leggings, his hand curled around her inner thigh. He released her wrists -- an action that went completely unnoticed by the inebriated thief-- and gripped her chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "Let's give you a few more things to remember."
His kiss was perfectly timed with two fingers sinking into her folds, his lips muffling the cry from her throat. Her hands fell onto his shoulders, clinging to his leathers as he viciously delved into her with fingers and tongue. If it weren't for his weight pinning her to the wall, she would have collapsed to a quivering puddle to the ground. Overwhelmed with so many sensations, she couldn't keep her reactions in check; something he pushed mercilessly to his advantage. Her moans were interspaced with whimpers as he pulled away, digits alternating between slow, languid thrusts and fingers curled inwards to stroke against her walls with methodical precision. She couldn't stop her eyes from rolling back, hips rocking instinctively to meet his ministrations.
"If I didn't know any better," his free hand undid the laces holding her shirt closed, exposing more of her chest to his branding tongue and teeth, "I'd say you were enjoying this."
"Stop..," she could barely form words in between her ragged cries, "stop talking."
His fingers stilled inside of her, the assault grinding to a halt.
"That's no way to speak to your superior." She visibly shuddered, a chill running through her as he pulled himself away, with only his fingers connecting the two of them. "Unless you'd rather I leave you like this."
"No!" She burst out, long before she had a moment to collect herself, "no, no please," her voice cracking as if to punctuate her desperation.
"Then beg." His command rang sharply in her ears, his hand working against her with just enough pressure to keep her in a frenzy. "Beg, and I might even indulge you."
Agonising seconds ticked on as she attempted to regain herself, but his fingers made sure that pleasure was on the forefront of her mind. The alcohol through her system was like smog; acrid heat which clouded any possibilities of reason, and every moment pinned under his scrutiny chipped away at whatever stubborn pride she may have had left.
"P-please..-" her breath caught in her throat as his thumb brushed agonisingly close to her clit.
"Please, what." he gripped her chin like a vice, forcing her sight up to meet his own.
"Please, Master Frey..-," she creaked, eyes darting away as she bit her lip.
"You'll have to do better than that."
"Oh gods--, Guildmaster, please," she whimpered, pleas soaked in desperation.
"Go on," he smirked, just enough to flash a hint of teeth.
She couldn't think; she could barely force air into her lungs, body thrumming with such intense, seething need. Heart pounding in her ears, tingling extremities, the fog in her mind latching onto her only hope for release. Following a sudden, precise quirk of fingers, something in her mind snapped.
"F-fuck me! Please-, please, Guildmaster, I--" Situation be damned, pride be damned, none of it mattered as trembling appeals poured from her swollen lips. "I need more-, Master Frey, I need you, please!"
And indulge her he did.
Her scream resounded against the walls as he slid into her, legs wrapped firmly around his waist. Her back dug against the wall as he surged into her, teeth latching onto her earlobe.
"How often have you thought about this, hmm?" One hand supported her seat, the other toying roughly with a breast, "did I take you against a wall, like this?" She buried her face into the crook of his neck, her cries only partially drowned out as she rolled her hips to meet his, "or was it bent over my desk, in the Cistern?" He growled in her ear between just audible breaths, leaving jolting bites along the shell, "or did I break into your house, and take you bound to your own bed?" Latching onto the slope of her neck, he sucked, hard, drawing blood to the surface of her skin, thrusts intensifying with each passing drive. "Maybe next time I'll put that mouth of yours to good use; show the Guild who's really in charge."
It only took a few well timed tweaks with his fingers to send her hurtling over the edge, body arching as she screamed in wild abandon, cling for dear life as she tensed around him. He kept up the assault, plunging into her without mercy as a second orgasm coursed through her. As he approached release, he bit down onto her neck, hard enough to draw blood and leave jagged indentations in its wake. He pressed her into the wall, spilling inside her as he stifled a howl of pleasure.
A few moments later, he was already removed from her person, leaving her breathless and still trembling against the wall.
"Try not to get into trouble," he sneered, the smug sense of self-satisfaction coming off in waves. He was already completely composed, as if just returning from a leisurely stroll. "I expect you early in the morning," was his final order before soundlessly disappearing into the shadows.