88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88
88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88
Summary: F!DB needs an embarrassing favor from a male companion. Or, why stealing from Mages sometimes results in unusual and embarrassing predicaments. Brynjolf/F!DB pairing. From a prompt on the Skyrim kinkmeme site. M for sexual situations and adult language and themes.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Skyrim and the Elder Scrolls games are owned by other people-people with lawyers and budgets and huge creative teams. This story is only for fun and I promise not to break the characters too, too much.
Author's Note: I know that I have been out of the writing loop for a while-and for anyone who still reads what I write, thank you. Feedback is welcome and constructive criticism is always welcome as well. Flames and flamers will be ignored and used solely for the purpose of heating my house.
88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88
88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88
Chapter One
88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88
88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88
It had started so simply. She'd accepted a burglary job from Vex and it had gone well. No one had died and she'd flirted outrageously with the mark, leaving him panting even as she stole his treasures. She'd returned that morning from Winterhold. After the cold bleakness of the Mage College, she had been glad for the raucous liveliness of Riften with its jangling of ropes and splashing of waves against boats. It had been a quick descent into the Ratways and her purse was several hundred septums heavier now after Vex had taken possession of the jewel-encrusted drinking horn. Most of the other members of the Thieves Guild had been out, away on jobs and tasks to make the Guild money. Katrin had nodded greetings to her guildmates, happy to be home. More than a few of her guildmates mentioned that Brynjolf needed to talk with her but Katrin shook her head. All she wanted to do was collapse back into her feather bed at Honeyside and sleep for days. If her second-in-command was that desperate for a conversation, she allowed with a grin, then he could find her at her house.
So it was that she trudged to her house, the key heavy in her palm as she unlocked Honeyside. The house with its heavy beams and candlelight had never seemed quite as welcoming as it did at that moment. She smiled, throwing home the bolt behind herself, before she continued deeper into the house. That Iona wasn't immediately in sight caused her a moment of consternation—she'd grown to like her housecarl—but she assumed that the blonde woman was somewhere in Riften doing her own errands. She turned into her bedchamber, fingers moving with sure precision over the multitude of belts and buckles that dominated her Guild Leader's armor.
The click behind her was soft—almost too soft to hear—but Katrin tensed, turning instinctively towards the sound. It couldn't be a good sound, her mind told her, and she started to dive to one side of the bed.
The darkness that followed, stealing away her breath and her senses, sent her crashing to the floor. Her last conscious thought was that this definitely was bad.
88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88
88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88
Brynjolf frowned down at the ledger. The guild was doing better, that much had been assured by the removal of Mercer Frey and the leadership of their new guild leader. But he still needed to discuss certain matters away from the cistern and the prying eyes and ears of their guildmates. And waiting for Katrin to return from Winterhold had chaffed him to no end. While he appreciated her willingness to get her hands dirty, he sometimes wished that their Guildleader was as easy to find as Mercer had been.
Then again, Brynjolf reminded himself as he climbed the ladder out of the cistern to the crypt entrance, Katrin wasn't stealing the guild blind like her predecessor had. For a thief she was remarkably honorable. Not that she wouldn't rob a mark blind, but that was a mark. Guild was different. In fact, he was going to have to start making her take her fair share of the loot—she brought in more than her fair share of the wealth but making her take a cut was like pulling one of Delvin's teeth.
The path to Honeyside wasn't difficult and Brynjolf found himself wondering, yet again, why his guild leader hadn't left her house for three days. At first he'd thought that Iona might have been ill and Katrin might have been tending to her housecarl. But he'd just heard that Iona was in Windhelm visiting her cousins—and hadn't been in town for over a week before Katrin came back from Winterhold. Which made him wonder if Katrin might have gotten sick in Winterhold. Volunteering himself to go check on their guild leader made sense, he told himself as he pulled out his picks. Nevermind the leer that Delvin shot him nor the amused look on Vex's face.
The lock came open easy and Brynjolf stepped inside, already phrasing in his head the case for Katrin to have her locks changed. Despite his own ability with lockpicking, it shouldn't take less than twenty seconds for him to pick her door open.
The sound of quiet sobbing stopped him in mid-thought and Brynjolf pulled his daggers, green eyes narrowing. "Lass?" he called softly, padding towards the sound of crying. "Are you alright?"
Stepping into the bedchamber, he found himself brought up short. Laid out atop the comforter was his guild leader in the shortest, sheerest negligee he'd ever seen. Her body was taut, her back arched as she twisted against something unseen. Her hands were bound above her head, tied to the headboard, and her legs were spread, ropes tied loosely to her ankles. Her heels drove deep into the mattress as she arched off the bed, panting and sobbing. If he didn't know better, he'd think that she was being fucked by something, though nothing was in view and he heard no sign of anyone in the house other than his Guild leader. He stepped closer.
"Lass?" he called again.
Katrin's eyes shot open, her sapphire blue eyes dazed. "Bryn?" she whispered. "Help me," she pleaded. "You have to—make it stop!"
Brynjolf nodded, moving to the ropes and beginning to slice through them with his dagger. He frowned as the blade of his dagger passed through the rope but left the rope fully intact. "What sorcery is this?" he muttered, grabbing the rope with his hand to make sure that it was really there. Yup, solid as Delvin's head.
Katrin shook her head. "Winterhold. Mage's College. Think the mark got mad about his cup." She managed all the words in one whooshing breath before arching off the bed once again with a cry.
Brynjolf sighed. Mages. Fuck. "So how do we get you free?" he asked, raking his hand through his blood-red mane as he dropped onto the edge of the feather mattress. His eyes swept the interior of Katrin's bedroom in distraction—it was actually a pretty room. Needed to have a door, but other than that, not bad. Not exactly what he would have pictured for Katrin, but she usually managed to surprise him.
Katrin swallowed, eyes squeezed shut as her blush started again. She rarely if ever asked Brynjolf for a favor—and this one would be a doozy of one. "You have to get it out of me."
Brynjolf growled. "Get what out of where?"
Katrin felt the blush heating her cheeks even more. Bad enough that it had been Brynjolf, a man who made her toes curl with his sultry accent, to come and find her like this but for her to have no alternative than ask him to help her—the gods hated her. Damned mages and their bizarre revenge tactics. "Bryn, there's something inside me. I need you to take it out of me. It's…" she swallowed, closing her eyes against another wave of sensation. Whatever cursed object was between her legs had kept her on the verge of orgasm for the last three days. Just when she thought she was going to have blessed release, it eased off. "I can't take this for another three days," she panted, eyes snapping open to meet the red-haired Nord.
Brynjolf moved closer to her. The heat coming off her body reminded him of his gran's hearth. Warm. Comforting. Home. "Lass, you realize what you're asking," he groaned, pushing her damp hair from her brow. He would be blind and stupid not to have realized that his guild leader was a beauty. Not to mention that she fair oozed sensuality in her every move. And, aside from his blind trust in Mercer, no one had ever called him stupid or blind. Well, no one except for Vex and Delvin, he allowed, but they didn't count. And now she was begging him to delve into her womanhood as a mission of mercy. The universe had a sick sense of humor.
Katrin nodded. "Please, Bryn."
Brynjolf breathed out slowly. "Alright, lass. I'll do what I can," he promised.
88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88
88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88