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Fredas was always a tough day for Nadine. Usually it meant deadlines for college work—check-ins with professors, or hand-ins of work—and then a gruelling shift at the coffee shop. There was a time where she would have come in from it all, showered and dressed up and headed back out to paint the town red, but that was losing its appeal fast the older she got.
What did sound appealing was some takeout from the Nibenese place next to her work, a bowl when she got back home, and fucking herself so hard and so thoroughly she forgot her own name.
She was well on her way to accomplishing the first two when her phone rang, the electronic faux-Nirnroot chime singing out into her bedroom. There were only two sets of people who actually phoned her, and if it was her parents on the other end, she’d wait until tomorrow to speak to them.
Thankfully, it wasn’t them, and her heart leapt when she saw Brynjolf’s name flash across the screen. He’d been gone for a while—something work-related out in Solitude, which he’d kept vague and Nadine hadn’t pressed him for details on. That was their usual strategy—she knew he was involved in something less than legal, and delving would only cause her to face things she’d rather not, so she opted to be as unaware as she could about these things. Plus, it wasn’t like they were serious. Not a couple, officially. Especially not an exclusive one. Exclusivity had never really worked for Nadine, and Brynjolf, unlike other men her age, didn’t seem to have a problem with that.
So… friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. Some kind of label like that probably fit them best, and that suited Nadine fine. She smiled, stretched out, hit the green accept call button.
“Hey, Bryn.”
“Hey, lass," he said, voice honeyed and gorgeous even over the phone. “How’s things?”
“Better now that I’ve finished work and had dinner,” Nadine said. “And a smoke. How about you?”
“Bit shite, but it’s work,” he said lightly. “Just Mercer being Mercer. Job didn’t need three of us to do, but he insisted as manager I go and oversee the others.” The sound of boots being shucked off clunked in the background, and Brynjolf let out a satisfied sigh. “The other two lads would have been fine. More than capable. Mercer needs to lay off and not micromanage.” He took a swig of something, the sound of liquid swilling in a bottle clear over the phone. “Anyway, I’m sorry. Didn’t phone you so I could moan your ear off. What’d you get for dinner?”
Nadine grinned. “Steamed buns with pork and crispy river fish,” she said, licking her lips. “From that really good place we ordered from that time, y’know, Father of the Niben? It’s just around the corner from my work.”
“Oh Gods, that was good,” Brynjolf agreed. “I just had a plate of stew from a nearby tavern. We should go when I get back. Even got you a bottle of spiced wine while I was up here, could always crack that open too.”
“Oooh, are you going to wine me and dine me—”
“And sixty-nine you?” She could hear Brynjolf’s grin. “Whatever you want, lass.”
What she wanted was him, right here with her, wrapped up in his arms or his rope, or him under her thighs and lips, and fuck, it’d been too long—
“How long’s it been?”
Shit, did I just say that out loud? “How long’s what been?”
“Since you’ve come,” he said, amusement lacing his voice. “How long?”
“What kind of question is that?”
Brynjolf chuckled. “I love when you get all indignant, lass. Simple question with a simple answer.” Nadine squirmed on the other end, trying to decide whether she wanted to call him out or actually answer the question. “Been about five days for me.”
“Wait, really?”
“Aye, really. Told you, I’m with two other lads, and Mercer’s too cheap to spring for separate rooms.”
Nadine snorted. “You mean you don’t all sit in the hotel room tossing each other off when you’re done for the day?” She sat up, running her braid through her fingers. “Shame. That was one of my fantasies, too, and now you’ve dashed it.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” he said dryly. “Answer the question, Rielle.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “A week, and I’m going out of my fucking mind, Bryn.”
“You mean you don’t just wank yourself senseless when I’m not around? Now you’ve ruined one of my fantasies, lass.”
“That actually was my plan for the evening,” Nadine said, “but then you called, so I’ll just have to put those plans on hold—”
“Or,” Brynjolf said, voice heated, “you could keep those plans, and stay on the phone to me while you’re doing it.”
Nadine’s skin flushed, heat pooling in her core. “What about the guys you’re sharing a room with?”
“May have slipped them a couple of septims and told them to fuck off for a few hours,” Brynjolf said sheepishly.
Nadine grinned. “Ah, so you were calling for more than just a chat, then?”
“Called because I missed you.” He took another swig of his drink. “If you’d like, I can tell you exactly what I’ve missed.”
“Mm, I’m listening.”
“Good,” Brynjolf said, voice dipping low. “Well, I’ve missed that beautiful face of yours, and the way your cheeks flush when you’re flustered. Missed your pretty pink lips... especially how they look wrapped around my cock. Missed every single soft, gorgeous curve of your body.” He spoke deliberately, drawing out each filthy word in that sultry voice of his, and a flush worked its way across Nadine’s skin. “Missed the taste of your cunt, the way your thighs clench around me when I eat you out. Your fingers wrapped in my hair, pulling me further in, so desperate, so greedy.”
Nadine swallowed. “Anything else?”
“Plenty. Missed the way you look when you’re all tied up and rope drunk, or when you’re so fucked out you can barely string two words together. The way your pretty arse blooms red when I spank it, and the way you squirm. The way you look, sound, feel when you come. Really missed that.” The wet noise of lips being licked was clear over the receiver, so vivid it was like Brynjolf was right next to her. “Oh, and I’ve missed that thing you do where you kinda clutch at your collarbone like you’re trying to hold yourself together when you get all hot and bothered. Bet you’re doing it right now, aren’t you?”
“No.” Nadine’s hand flew from where it was resting on her clavicle.
Brynjolf chuckled darkly. “You’re a terrible liar, lass. Anyway, why don’t you tell me what you’ve missed about me?”
A snarky retort rested on Nadine’s tongue— bold of you to assume I’ve missed you —but she knew before speaking just how unconvincing it’d sound. Brynjolf was right. She was a truly awful liar, and he seemed to know every one of her tells: the way her breath quickened, the way her voice quavered just a little, the way her tone dropped to something heated and tense.
And, given the circumstances, honesty seemed like the preferable option. “Missed everything about you. Your arms around me, your voice, the scratch of your stubble against my skin.”
Brynjolf made an approving noise. “Are you touching yourself right now?”
“Not yet,” Nadine said. “Kind of idly fondling my tits, but—”
“Touch yourself while you’re telling me what you miss.”
Nadine pulled up her skirt, let her fingers trail across her stomach. “Missed your lips, your mouth, on mine, everywhere.” Thumbed her nipple through the fabric of her dress, inhaling sharply as she felt it stiffen under her touch. “Missed the smell of you, how your sweat mingles with your aftershave, and just—mm, the smell of you? ” Let her fingertips trail back down, rubbing over the soaked fabric of her panties before dipping inside. “Missed the way you look at me like you want to fucking devour me. The way you bring me right up to the brink and make me beg for what I want, tell me I’m a good girl. How fucking skilled you are with your hands and mouth—fuck, and how everything you say and do just turns me into a puddle, reduces my world to nothing but you for that moment—”
“How wet are you right now, sweet lass?”
Nadine slid her fingers between her lips, already slick and gliding across her clit. “Pretty fucking wet.”
“I wonder what you’ve been thinking of that’s got you so excited,” Brynjolf purred, and she could hear the clink of what sounded like a belt buckle. “Why don’t you tell me?"
It was more of a command than a question, and Nadine felt herself give to the part of her that ached to submit. “Thinking of when you get back—” Her fingers circled her clit exploratorily, skin burning hot. “Fuck, all the things I want to do to you, everything I want you to do to me.” Slid lower down, let her fingers hook into the tight clench of her cunt. “Want to—shit, want you to spank and fuck me so hard I can’t sit down—” A wretched little noise escaped Nadine as she ground onto the heel of her hand, pent-up and needy.
Brynjolf hummed, low and gorgeous from the back of his throat. “Well, I promise that’s going to happen as soon as I get back,” he said, voice beginning to waver. “But I’m sure I’m not the only one you’ve been thinking of, lass.”
Nadine bit her lip. “I—have this regular, in work—” Her voice stuttered for a moment as she throbbed against her own hand. “Older, blonde hair, kind of a severe ice queen vibe… she came in today, and the entire time I was serving her I—” Words tangled in her mouth and mind as her need built hotter, faster, hungrier.
“That’s it,” Brynjolf crooned, “keep going.”
It took some effort, but Nadine finally made the words unspool. “I couldn’t stop imagining her taking me back to her place and having her way with me.” Nadine arched up, pushing her fingers deeper into her cunt, fevered. “Telling me what to do, chaining me to her bed, riding my face until she’d taken her fill—oh, fuck —”
The distinct sound of something slick echoed out in the background. “Easy, lass. Not yet. Tell me what else.”
It felt good, too good, and Nadine had to force herself to slow down and breathe so she could form coherent words and thoughts. “When I was studying in Winterhold, I—” It was beginning to work, but then a surge of memories came to her and she felt every little sensation pulse through her again, lurid and overwhelming. “I had a professor. Illusion mage. Used to sit in his class—” A little moan escaped her before she could go on. “Used to imagine him calling me into his office so he could bend me over his table and spank me, or fuck me, or—” Moaned again, especially when she heard Brynjolf’s breath ragged on the other end. “Just keep me underneath, invisible and muffled, sucking him off—” Couldn’t stop herself from grinding slightly against her hand, slick-soaked and solid and the only thing anchoring her down. “Want you to do that to me. Want you to use me like that.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged.” His voice was something vulgar, heated and honey-tipped, slowly working Nadine undone. “Could moonlight as my secretary. Then I could take you hard and fast over my desk any time I liked, and send you on your way, cum soaking through your panties and dripping down your thighs—”
“Fuck, Bryn—” Nadine rutted against her hand, involuntary and unhinged, like a woman starved. “Please, I’m so close—”
“Or maybe I could let you watch while I fucked one of my colleagues? Maybe even let you join in if I was feeling generous.” She could hear him working himself faster, heard the tell-tale waver in his voice that told her he was getting close, too. “One of the lads I’m away with, he seems like he’d be your type. Soft-spoken, with a tight, fuckable little arse.” He breathed heavy down the receiver. “Could let you prepare him for me. I bet he’d come apart so pretty.”
“Please—feels too good, I need to—”
“Are you going to come apart for me, pretty thing?”
“Fuck—” Nadine gasped, feeling herself begin to come undone. “Gods, please, yes—” And then she was gone, orgasm ripping through her like a grotesque revelation, all-consuming and throbbing and so, so fucking good. She panted down the phone, stuttering against her hand, cunt clenching around her fingers. Aftershocks spiked through her and she breathed through them, ragged and wrecked, hearing Brynjolf come undone on the other end, a guttural growl drawn from the back of his throat. Kept fucking herself through it, the obscenity of it driving her closer to coming again, driven forward by Brynjolf’s panted breaths and the sound of tissue being torn.
“Good girl,” Brynjolf drawled, voice afterglow-soft. “How you holding up?”
Nadine ground against the heel of her hand, another orgasm sinking its glorious jaws into her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” Whined into the receiver like an animal in heat. “So fucking good, shit, I’m a mess—”
“I bet you are.” Fuck, even after all this, his voice still made her shake. “If I was there, I’d clean it all up for you, but you’ll just have to do that yourself, won’t you?” Nadine squirmed, somewhere between fucked out and pent up. “Suck your fingers clean, lass.”
With a wretched whimper, Nadine withdrew her fingers, the sensation of their tips brushing across her clit enough to make her convulse and throb. She took her slick-soaked fingers into her mouth, licked and sucked and laved at them with a performative sort of vulgarity, the taste of her own arousal strong on her tongue.
“Fuck me, you’re delicious,” Brynjolf breathed down the phone, filthy and reverent.
Hours later, the response I will when you get back blared in Nadine’s head, neon-bright and painfully obvious. She’d be annoyed, but she doubted anyone did their best thinking half-stoned and post-orgasm.
“You’re… fuck, you’re too good at this,” she gasped instead. “Glad you called. Think we both needed that.”
“Aye,” Brynjolf said, still slightly breathless. “Think we did.”