He wanted her from the moment he saw that gleam in her eye, the sign that she was just not some ordinary Nord that had accidentally fallen helpless in Riften. He had taught her the basics, but she brought some class to thieving, she was agile he would give her that, but the way she worked her victims, she was a master, a thieving goddess herself and Brynjolf couldn't take his eyes off of her.

He watched her sway, almost dance, between the crowds, a quick hand reaching down and stealing coin, stealing rings even necklaces; flirting with the victim, running her fingers down their chest, whispering sweet nothings to distract them from reality. She was a beauty, nothing that Brynjolf had come by working and lurking in the sewers, he needed her not only for the Guild but for himself, to cure that aching groin of his.

She had brushed off his advances at first, she wasn't interested in his honeyed words, the twang of his accent, or even the way he flirted, calling her Lass. No, she wouldn't be interested in a Nord that she could read too easily, his eyes gave away all of his desperation. He wanted her, he told her that, only to join the Guild of course, but she had set up Brand-Shei for no other reason than to feel that shot of adrenaline electrify through her as she delved her nimble fingers into his back pocket, and sneaking away completely undetected.

But he sweet talked her into a bigger deal, he wanted her and she wanted the money. It was a win win situation as long as she stayed in control of him and the Guild. He had asked her to perform many things for him, well, for the Guild, but she wasn't stupid. Brynjolf knew that much and whilst he tried to capture her alone in the Cistern she would always find a way to worm her way out, unless it benefited her.

He knew what she was and what they called her, it had fascinated him even more; a woman with a dragon's soul, a prized possession, if only he could get his hands on her. He had succeeded once, and god he had thought he'd die feeling something as incredible as her. She was drunk, a little reckless but Brynjolf liked his woman a little...adventurous. It wasn't that he had taken advantage, oh no, she had certainly known what she was doing, and even sober she now came back for more.

After joining the Guild she eventually worked her way through the ranks, rising to fame throughout Skyrim and replacing old Mercer Frey as Guild Master, a worthy title of a thieving goddess. She had finally restored the Guild and now people feared it, and feared her. A reincarnation of the Gray Fox, even if the Dunmer denied it.

She was spending a usual afternoon away from the dingy sewers in Honeyside, reading through the books she had stolen or had been given on her travels, running her fingers through the pile of diamonds she had on the table, wondering what the best way to sell them was. She hadn't been stuck for money since joining the Thieves Guild; in fact she had more than she ever really needed, so much of it that she had stashes of it in coin pouches throughout all her homes across Skyrim; not really caring if someone broke in to steal it.

It had been a long time she had tackled any difficult heist job, it gave the other, younger thieves chance to train up their skills and become just as great as her, but in process it meant that she was bored out of her mind, waiting to save the day if the novice Thieves screwed up badly enough. Since becoming the Guild Master it was her job to stay on the back line, give out the jobs rather than perform them herself, she would have declined the offer if she knew what it entailed before taking it up. She enjoyed the thrill of avoiding capture, the joy of hunting lost, expensive treasure and she found it even more exciting with Brynjolf by her side.

The evening was quiet, with the occasional pottering of enchanting swords and daggers to make them look fascinating and decorative. She didn't regret not getting drunk in the Ragged Flagon with the others; she disliked Delvin's forwardness and Vex's reproach, more so when they were both in a drunken stupor from the wine. She had recently come to the conclusion that they didn't need her there to run the Guild, it had already worked wonders whilst she criss-crossed across Skyrim finding more adventures to accomplish.

She had done enough celebrating with them all, once the Guild was rich again and the luck of Nocturnal restored; it seemed a little pointless to her to celebrate by getting drunk with every single successful mission. Her liver just couldn't stand that much ale. She had, however, found another way to celebrate. They had been getting closer over the years, her and Brynjolf, and she had eventually warmed to him, as she supposed the other women did too. They arranged heists with each other; plans to find expensive treasure, with both such talented Thieves nothing could go wrong.

It wasn't until the evening, when the moon was crescent and at its highest point in the sky when she decided to call it quits and get some rest. She had undressed and tucked herself up in bed, her eyes almost falling closed when she heard a familiar clicking and the occasional snap. She grabbed the dagger beneath her pillow, sliding out from underneath the covers, the house creaking in the night. She extinguished a few candles and listened for the old wooden door to creak open. She perched over the ladder leading to the basement holding the hilt of the dagger tightly in her fist. She smirked to herself, certainly an exciting way to finish an evening spilling a poor wanderer's blood.

The footsteps crept into the building, closing the door behind them. She peered around the corner and saw familiar dark leather boots, her eyes wandered up, eyeing up the Nord's stocky figure, his hood covering most of his dirtied face. He stalked over towards the table, fingering the diamonds that she had placed on top of it, cursing under his breath as he tipped the pile, forcing some of the jewels to clatter to the ground. She watched with curiosity at the man's clumsy nature, a waft of alcohol greeting her, with the familiar scent she found a small amount of comfort in.

"Well, well," She stepped out from the shadows, rolling the hilt of the blade in her fingers. The man stopped dead, barely able to distinguish her face in the dark, "A lone fox finally crawled back into its den." She had missed him, she'd let him have that one. It had been a while since he had visited her especially since she had given him a spare key to Honeyside. She had definitely never allowed anyone that privilege before and well, he had blown her off on too many occasions, she just might as well snatch that key back from him. She wasn't the type of woman to be chasing around after some man who had been the one interested in her. Especially now since they had admitted a small amount of feelings for each other. It was her who enjoyed being the hunted and not the other way around.

Her voice danced through the air towards him, wrapping him in fear.

"We missed you down in the Flagon Lass," His voice was steadied and cautious, a feeble attempt at trying to hide his drunkenness.

"Well let's call it revenge for you to missing out on a great opportunity the other night," Her voice was like silk, stirring up lust in the Thieves pants. She knew he would learn to regret the night he had stood her up, even if he claimed to have missed it due to a Guild issue. He took a step forward, his face falling into a small glimmer of orange light. He pushed back his hood, his red locks knotted and hanging against his shoulders, he couldn't resist the smile that crept longingly across his lips. She was a sight he couldn't deny the pleasure of seeing.

A/N: I am certainly nervous for this story (It seems I have had so much inspiration lately that I'm spewing out smutty one-shots whilst writing my sequel to The Companion). I wanted to write something exciting and playful, and hopefully that will become a more prominent feature in later chapters, along with a few intimate scenes with our favourite thief!