Bloodbag At The Vampire Orgy

Brynjolf had anticipated it. That when her cycle hit the phase she'd warned him about she'd be easier to arouse, far easier to fluster. He'd made excuses at the Guild that they'd be taking a few days away from the Cistern for unspecified 'personal business'. He'd planned jobs around their absence. No point in mentioning that their little retreat was only to Honeyside - Brynjolf didn't want anyone intruding.

He hadn't expected his Guild Master sobbing into the pillow because she needs more. She's slick with cum and sweat and Brynjolf's lower body is nearing exhaustion but she still isn't sated. He can't stand the sight of tears sliding down her cheeks, moaning his name and begging him for more.

"Stop pulling out." She whines, grabbing blindly for his hand. Brynjolf tries to laugh but her cunt tightens around him, like every bit of her body's trying to convince him.

"I have to, lass." He gulps, too tempted by her back arching. She's throbbing around him, muscles loose from an endless string of orgasms but it still isn't enough.

"Fuck me 'til I'm full." God, she has a way with words. Brynjolf fights to ignore how good that sounds. "Bryn, please. Need you, need your cum."

He hadn't expected days spent in bed. Falling asleep with his Guild Master nestled into his chest, bodies limp from hours spent fucking. Waking to her body grinding against his and the shape of her teeth imprinted across half of his skin. They've been intimate dozens of times but this is different, like there's a fire under her skin only he can extinguish.

Brynjolf doesn't bother thinking of anything other than pleasing her. He presses her knees to her chest, encouraged by the soft smile when her ankles cross behind his head. He's trying to remain present but she's determined to fuck him senseless.

"Yes," she gasps and her obvious arousal strokes his ego. "Bryn, keep going, just like that."

"Hurry up, lass." He urges, thumb rubbing over her clit. "Y'know I won't last long with you like this."

"Please, please, please." She pants again, hips twitching up toward his and Brynjolf knows exactly what she wants. He grips the headboard and forges past the ache in his lower back, fucking her with whatever energy he can scrape up.

"No, baby." He murmurs, kissing the overheated skin of her ankle. "I'll do a lot for ya but I can't do that."

Brynjolf's poor Guild Master sobs through her orgasm, exhausted body twitching but thankfully sated for now. He pulls back, too aware of her disappointed whine as he finishes on the ruined bedsheets.

"You'll thank me in a few days, lovey."

The Guild Master swears she's going mad. It's like she's sick, constantly feverish and needy. Never before has she begged for anything but right now she'd get on her knees and crawl if Brynjolf asked.

She's thankful he's such a good man. He's exhausted and somewhere in her addled brain she feels guilty but he never complains. He hauls her closer, carrying her to the bath when her legs are too sore to work.

"Bryn," she says it like a prayer, like it's the only word she needs. She wants this moment to remain sweet but it's already back, that insistent arousal pooling deep in her gut. Brynjolf looks too pretty seated in a steaming tub to simply ignore.

"Yes, lass?" Gods, even his voice is enough to heat her blood. She clambers easily into his lap, not bothering with decorum. Warm water swirls around their bodies and he accepts the eager kiss, large hand curling so sweetly around the back of her head.

She loves Brynjolf in every way possible. He's responsible, smart, funny, he's everything she's ever desired and more. He's the love of her life. Sometimes she wonders if Brynjolf is her soulmate, if the gods made him purely for her to adore. But right now she wants him to be worse.

She wishes the tender hand supporting her head would wrench her closer. Twist deep into her hair and bite. To fuck her hard and mean, like he hates her. Like she's nothing. Her cunt's throbbing at the mere thought but she can't voice it, can't admit that. Not when Brynjolf is pressing such sweet kisses everywhere within reach.

"Already, lovey?" He teases, allowing her hands to run over his chest. Her cheeks are heating even if there's no bite behind those words.

"I can handle it -"

"No." Fuck, that stern refusal is too hot. Brynjolf's hand urges her hips onto his and she nearly faints from the stiff cock brushing against her cunt. Brynjolf thrusts once and it's enough to unravel her.

"You will not handle this yourself." He speaks directly against her ear. Brynjolf's urging her hips to roll against his and somehow the friction of his cock dragging along her cunt without actually entering it feels nearly as good as being fucked.