She's still coming down from her high when he sets her down on the table once more. He lavishes kisses upon her face, before seizing her mouth in a possessive kiss.

"Oh Katla," he's stroking her skin, stoking the flames again. His hands are on her breasts, cupping them and teasing her in the best way. She loves the way he seems to purr her name between kisses, the way his lips trail down her neck once more.

He marks her, right where her neck meets her shoulder. Unlike the paint, this won't wash off in a bath. This will stay with her for days, reminding her of what they've done. She smiles, and gives him his own mark, higher on his neck, where his armor won't hide it. The look he gives her is heated, so full of need that she can hardly bear it.

And then he's tugging her from the table, turning her and bending her over it. He's parting her folds and brushing her sensitive nub with his finger. She's breathing hard when she feels him step up behind her and nudge her entrance once more. She can hardly wait. She needs him so bad it hurtsand instinctively knows that only he can stop that ache.

And then he's in her once more and she's leaning on the table. Her breasts bounce with every thrust and it's a new sensation. She loves it. She loves everything about it. She loves him, but she's so overwhelmed with the sensations he's causing as he leans over her and caresses her right therethat the thought is lost.

She'll remember it later, and turn it over in her mind before she decides what to do. But right now is about this.

About him claiming her, his hands on her hips, pulling her back in time with his thrusts. About the bruises she's sure will appear tomorrow, the bruises she'll wear like badges of honor. About his moans crescendoing as he climaxes, spilling his seed within her.

It's been about this for a long time, though neither of them could admit it.

He leans over, his hands catching the edge of the table and holding him up so his body is not quite brushing her back. She can feel the heat radiating from him, and can hear his heaving breaths. He needs a moment to collect himself before he can move, she's sure. She needs one, too.

But the moment is over too soon, and he's standing up. He's stepping away, and the realization of what has just happened has him blushing and stammering like he's a young man, and not the seasoned veteran she's come to care for. That dangerous word doesn't appear in her thoughts again, or she might blush and stammer just as much.

"Argis?" She says, and he has to meet her eyes. He must see something there, because he perceptibly relaxes. "You're green."

He looks down, sees the smudges of paint across his chest, around his hips, and down his back. The tension breaks when he begins to laugh.

"So are you."

She looks down at herself. Notices that the beautiful patterns are gone before she can even see them. Argis can paint her again soon, and next time she'll make sure she sees it before they smudge it up. Perhaps they'll even use the large mirror she found in some Dwemer ruins to ensure that she gets a good look at his art.

"Let's go get clean."

She smiles and takes his hand.

Reviews are always appreciated. I hope you enjoyed the story (and the smut.)