Unannounced

In the still of the small chamber, the dimness hangs like a death shroud, heavy and thick. Quiet breath, drawn deep and even, is punctuated as if in afterthought by tiny, soft snores from the low pallet against one wall. If shadows could smile, this one would as it detaches itself from the inky gloom surrounding it, becoming less indistinct, approaching the sleeper on silent feet.

The obscuring dark seems to run like water, flowing back into the corners of the room to reveal a dark elven woman garbed in the softest, translucent grey silk. The formless robe is easily and silently shrugged from smooth, rounded shoulders as she moves, leaving her nude except for her wrists. Her creamy skin, the most delicate shade of blue, nearly glimmers in the murk, needing no light to accentuate the voluptuous curves of full hips and breasts, or the long, toned muscles of her body. Hair, a soft and pale dove, mostly pinned and piled atop her head, provides just enough escaping tendrils as cover to keep her face from view except for a darker shape of lush, bow-shaped lips and bright lavender eyes.

Words, soundlessly formed and given flight with gentle breath, float to the sleeping one, male by face and the expanse of bare chest that extends from under the cover of bed linens. "The game has gone on long enough, Assassin. The time to end it has come." He half snores in reply, rolling fully to his back and earning a smile of thanks from the woman now beside the bed. "That makes this easier..."

Watching him sleep, the elven woman gracefully begins to unwind long strips of translucent silk from her wrists, so thin they seem insubstantial when she holds them aloft, dangling just over the sleeper's face. He hardly stirs, this intruder moving with such grace she does not disturb the air in her motions. At the first kiss of silk touching his face, the male's lips curl very slightly into the birth of a dream-smile. Pooled with gentle care not to tickle or obstruct his mouth or nose, the mass of ebon silk takes on substance, forming a cloud of darkness almost as depthless as the room itself.

Smiling when her prey shows no sign of waking, her eyes carefully, quickly, expertly inspect the area of the bed, looking for... "Ah, yes. Of course." She bends at the waist, sliding one hand down the wall, keeping it a hair's breadth from contact with the cool, rough textured plaster. With delicate precision, she guides her hand beneath the sleeping man's pillow, fingertips grazing the cold metal of her prize, located intuitively. Withdrawing the half-foot blade from its hidden sheath between wall and pillows, it's oily black surface gleams coldly in the dimness, absorbing more light than it reflects back.

Pausing a moment in appreciation of the feel of his light, well-balanced dagger, the woman brings it close to her face and inhales delicately. Lavender eyes widen just a touch as she catches the pungent scent of bind spider's blood. Trace amounts yes, but the ichor is potent enough that even a light scratch from the coated blade would be enough to slow an assailant. In a world of survival of the quickest, a half heartbeat's pause could be deadly.

Once more gazing down at the elven male slumbering in oblivion, a flare of new respect shines in her bright eyes. Such a toxin is neither created nor controlled easily, and no Assassin of skill would dare permit another to handle their blades. Young as he is, the man before her earned respect before she even approached him about the Circle; this discovery only deepened it a notch.

"Now, young hunter, let us see how you react..." Whispered in a soft purr that is meant to be absorbed without being heard, she carefully lowers herself to the thick pallet, next to his body. Her senses taut for the first indication of the other dark elf's awareness, she eases the thin sheet down with teasing, deliberate slowness. He gives a soft half snore in response, eliciting an amused smirk from the woman hovering beside him.

Starting at the dip of dusky skin just beneath his breastbone, she lays a track of feathery, delicate kisses winding down to his navel. Soft breath tumbles over his midsection in warm waves, yet cools the skin along the trail left by her tongue's tip, making the bands of muscle across his belly twitch. Tracing his bellybutton in a wet circle, she draws the dagger down his side, pressing so lightly that the super sharpened blade does not break through his dusky skin. Pausing very briefly as he stirs, her mouth wanders lower, dropping gentle nibbles along the crease of thigh and groin. Her eyes catch the twitching movement of his slowly wakening cock, so she digs the blade in just a bit deeper, tonguing back up the other furrow, yet careful not to graze the more delicate skin of his manhood.

A varying pattern of long, slow licks, interspersed with gentle nibbles and delicate kisses along twitching thighs and belly bring the desired result quickly as he hardens within moments under her ministrations. Pulling away slightly, her eyes travel back up his body, noting the light tensing of his frame, the slightly quickened breath and stiffening nipples. Nuzzling his hairless pouch with her chin, she watches as his cock engorges fully. Knowing he is very close to being woken, she leaves off from her teases, letting him sink once more into dream. She gazes up at his face, knowing it well enough to guess at his expression, despite the obscuring silk. As the male's breath begins to smooth in rhythm once more, she drags her pink tongue from base to tip, pulling the knife down along the curve of his ribs with harder pressure, splitting the skin that lies tightly over bone.

He jerks and his mouth opens, releasing a startled gasp at the unexpected sting and she knows him now to be fully alert, attuned only to the sudden pain of his scratched side. Before he is able to react to the blindfold, so lightly woven he still has not registered cloth as the cause for his blindness, she strikes. In the space of an eye blink, she has drawn the head of him into her mouth, engulfing the very tip of his still hardened cock fully in wet, suckling warmth. The words formed in accusation dissolve into a startled, pleasured bit of sound, something rather like a shuddery groan.

"J-jeri..?" He groans again as she takes more of him into her mouth, letting him just feel the hardness of her teeth when she pulls back. When he repeats the questioning name, she digs the dagger's blade into his side again, rougher than before. Hissing in pain from the knife and pleasure from her sucking mouth, his words falter, giving over to the sensation of her lips and teeth and tongue working skillfully. Her command of silence is clear and he is not unwilling to obey, only groaning as his hunger and need increases and reaching for the mass of ebon cloth over his face.

Tossing the blade to the floor out of immediate reach, the woman pulls away from his groin, swiftly straddling his waist. Her hands fly to the trailing edges of the silken scarves, still piled over his eyes, pinning them to the pillow and keeping the man blinded. Bringing her lips to one pointed ear, she whispers throatily, "Shhh...", then nips at his lobe with small, hard teeth. Amused by the shiver and his sudden draw of breath, she kisses the very corner of his mouth, tongue flicking out, seeking entry and a taste of his lips. When he returns the kiss with open-mouthed hunger, catching her probing tongue with gentle teeth, she coos, very softly, and tilts her hips so that her wet, bare pussy just grazes his throbbing head.

"You are... are not J-jerika," he guesses in a gasp, body arching eagerly against her sex. When she lifts herself to be just out of reach, he groans again, forcing his body to relax. In reply, she bends over his neck and bites, hard enough to draw blood and drives her pussy down his length in a single, sharp motion. Thrilling at the reaction of his body and her control over him, the feel of being filled so quickly nonetheless drags a small cry from her, and a louder growl from him. She had toyed too long, allowing her own desire to go unchecked. Abandoning her plans for more sexual torture, she straightens, bracing her arms on the wall over his head. Her hips start to rock in long, hard motions, guiding him in deeply with every impaling grind.

Moaning hungrily, she rides, movements quickening as her need rises. The forgotten silk slips from his face and now he gazes up at the woman straddling him, grinning with recognition. With one hand grabbing at her hip to pull her down faster, he slaps at the opposite thigh sharply with the other, roughly growling his own command. "Th-that's a girl! Ride m'cock!"

Her back arching, she complies, panting and growling, using the wall for leverage to drive herself against his thrusting hips ever harder. He strikes her leg again, with more force, and it is her turn to hiss in the mixture of pain-pleasure. He slaps again and again, spanking her muscular thighs and ass before pinching and pulling rigorously at first one of her hard little nipples, then the other in turn. Keening softly, she is helplessly caught in the currents of passion, neither noticing nor caring when her hair falls from its pins to tumble down her back. She can focus only on the glorious slide of his flesh deep and hard into her tight, aching passage; the welcome sting of her backside and thighs; the biting throb of her distended nipples. With a grip of iron, his hands settle on her hips and their bodies meet with jarring force, jolting her into orgasm, head thrown back and eyes closed tightly. Her entire body shakes, nails curling into the plaster of the wall as she cums roughly, with a wild, hissing cry of bliss.

Still, his hips thrust up and up and up into the woman, not letting her body relax, guiding her down against his swollen cock quicker still, sacrificing power to move faster. Dropping back to her arms, hands fisted on either side of his head, their eyes meet, sheer lust and bloodlust burning intensely in blue and lavender orbs alike. Gazes locked, panting nearly synchronized, sweat-slicked skin meets and parts and meets again. His mouth finds her bouncing nipples, tongue wet and warm in contrast to the dull bite of his teeth. Suckling for several moments, he brings a hand up her back, clawing down her spine. She cries out again, piercingly, and rears up, desperate for the release that dances so tantalizingly out of reach. Grinning fox-like at her expression, he pulls her down against an especially brutal, deep thrust, relishing the feel of her orgasm as it slams through her body, tensing and squeezing him within her depths.

The spasms of her innermost muscles around him prove to be too much, bringing about his own climax a scant moment later. Feeling his liquid heat pouring into the depths of her passage, she shudders once more, groaning and collapsing against his chest to catch her breath. Each twitch of his emptying cock sends another tremor through her, making her body tighten reflexively around him again. Both lay in silence broken only by the attempts at drawing breath, hearts thudding painfully.