This tavern smells like piss. Then again, if the places I frequent don't reek of questionable fluids, I don't even bother feeling lucky. It just means that whatever poor sap I'm supposed to murder that night is going to manage soiling himself before I'm out of the splash zone. This is where I might say, "At least I get paid good money for this." And, well-- I won't pretend to know your piss history (or pisstory, if you will) but if you're acquainted with the burden at all, you're either one freaky son of a bitch (good for you), or you know that I sure as hell don't get paid
enough
.
As I weave through the crowd, I try my best not to get my floor length wrap-around crimson skirt snagged on any wayward daggers. I try even harder not to let any of these stinky beasts touch me at all; I literally just washed my hair. Once I reach the bar, I take the opportunity to hoist my short frame up onto one of the raised seats, so that I can hopefully get a better look at the crowd. As I scan through the faces and absent mindedly order my drink, I mentally repeat my target's description to myself.
Tall, dark, and broody -- you guessed it-- dark elf. Darkest gray skin. Long hair, usually braided in some way, the color of ravens feathers. A face that screams, "
I'm very mean and very scary, so don't bother opening your mouth near me unless you plan on wrapping it around my cock.
"
Honestly, sounds like the kind of guy I usually prefer to fuck, not kill. But I learned a long time ago that mixing business, especially my kind of business, with pleasure is a huge no. Consent gets kind of murky when the other party doesn't realize they're about to die. I might be a lot of things, but I'm certainly not whatever that would make me.
"Pity, really." I whisper to myself, sinking back down into my seat with a slight pout on my lips.
"Anything I can assist you with?"
I shriek so loud from the low, gravel filled voice at my ear that the entire bar quiets for a brief moment, dozens of pairs of eyes shooting me dirty looks before returning to their own conversations. I manage as much ire into my own eyes as I can manage as I turn to my right, my heart picking up despite myself, the sinking suspicion settling in that my target ended up finding me this go around.
There's no way my night could be that convenient.
But as I faced him, I saw the most roguish, despicably handsome male I had ever seen.
Bingo bango bongo.
He leaned into his elbow against the bar top, his body the definition of feline grace as he stared at me with a mixture of amusement, condescension, and heated desire behind his black eyes. He wore all black, because duh, and his hair was let loose, the ends of it just barely tickling his shoulders. I don't realize how hard I'm ogling him until I hear the sexiest, most luscious chuckle I have ever fucking heard, and feel a single deft finger curls beneath my chin, gently closing my gaping mouth.
Well, it
'
s your lucky night buddy
-- turns out I
'm too mortified to kill anyone but myself right now.
But I clear my throat, trying my damndest to pull myself together. "Huh?"
And failing, clearly.
The corners of his mouth just barely quirk up before he responds to me in a voice that one might use with a child who's been caught with their hand in a forbidden cookie jar. "I heard you mentioning a pity of some sort. I asked if you needed assistance."
"Oh, right, well--" I clear my throat again, giving the bartender a million copper smile as he arrives with my wine, which I shoot down in one go like it's whiskey before ordering a second. When I meet the dark elf's gaze again, he's got one eyebrow raised in that incredibly hot, incredibly infuriating way that his type always does.
Gods, he is beautiful.
Then his other eyebrow shoots up, and now he almost looks like he's concerned for my mental well being as he echoes me, "Well...?"
I groan irritably, whether at him or myself I'm not sure. Likely both. With a sigh I thrust my open hand out towards him in invitation. "I'm Ali."
"Ah, she speaks." He's got the firmest gods damned hand shake I've ever felt, and when he winks at me with that roguish grin of his I nearly combust. "Davahn. Pleasure to meet you, Ali."
...
I walk cautiously into the dark elves' modest room, which is barely bigger than some of the closets I've seen of my wealthier targets. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears as I take in my surroundings. The bed lies in the center, just barely big enough for two, and besides that and a small bedside table, a slightly larger eating table with two chairs, and a currently dead fireplace-- the room is empty.
When the door clicks shut behind me, the room goes almost completely dark save for the moonlight streaming in through the open window, and I'm not dumbstruck horny enough not to realize that I'm at an immediate disadvantage to his dark elf eye sight. With painfully precise slowness, I hear the sound of his nearly soundless footsteps coming towards me, stopping only when there's barely an inch between his chest and my back. My breath hitches when I feel his hand weave beneath my hair at my neck, his knuckles running soothing circles of molten flame slowly down my spine.
"Do I make you nervous?" His gravelly, stupidly low voice is the most heavenly caress, his lips just barely making contact with the shell of my ear as he speaks. When I shake my head, fearing that if I speak I would flounder just as hard as I had been all night, he gives me a breathy, brief chuckle. Heat pools at my core from the delicious sound. "Good, lovely. I don't want to make you feel nervous, I want to make you feel more pleasure than you have ever felt in your short life, more than you will ever feel again." I can't tell if he purposefully licks my ear, or if the tip of his tongue just accidentally brushed it as he was talking, but he seems pleased by the fact that I sink into him because of it either way. I can already feel a rather --impressive-- imprint against my ass as his mouth gently ghosts down my throat, his hand at my back snaking around my waist to run equally torturous circles across my tummy. When I feel his teeth nip at my neck, I let out one of the most embarrassingly loud moans of my life and immediately smack my hand over my mouth, earning me another sinful chuckle from old scary hot pants behind me. His free hand circles my wrist like an iron chain before yanking it away from my mouth and placing it around his neck.
"Oh no, lovely little Ali." Davahn simultaneously lays his tongue flat against the base of my throat and his hand flat against my stomach, both traveling upwards with painful slowness until his hand reaches my breast and his mouth is pressed against my ear once more. As he kneads my breast in his large, strong hand, my nipple hardening into a painful peek beneath the thin fabric of my off the shoulder blouse, he practically growls at me, "I want to hear every pretty little sound you make when I tease you. And when I take you completely--" He bites my ear then, harder than he's bitten me before, and a noise I don't even recognize as me bubbles up from my chest and past my lips. "-- I want this entire fucking town to hear you scream my name."
Dear Gods. If I was still going to kill this dude, I sure as hell can
'