He stood above her, towering over her like a great mutation of a Drow, taller than most should be.
But it was not that which frightened her just now.
He fingered the silver dragon tattoo against her cheek, trailing along it's sensitive edge with one nail.
"It is very pretty," he said, smiling so softly.
It was that smile that she feared.
"It caused me great pain to get it, very exquisite pain. I think I may just get another, sometime soon."
She took his hand in hers, kissing his palm. Then, boldly, she licked at it, her light blue eyes locked to his darker gaze.
He shivered. That was a good sign. She did not release his ebon-skinned hand, holding it in her own equally blue fingers, near her mouth.
"What is it you want," the male Drow asked her at last.
And his eyes were fascinated, yet weary.
"I wish to learn to fight. I want to kill."
And he pulled his hand away, laughing.
"How sweet. The cute little Drow warrior wants to learn to kill!"
As he turned away, her hand went to her belt, hung with weapons as it was.
"I already know how to kill," she said quietly, watching his back.
Putting his back to her unguarded thus was an insult, but one she felt she may just have to bear right now.
"Then what is it you truly seek? And do cease with the seduction."
At this she had to chuckle as she moved to stand in front of him again.
"If I were going to seduce you," she said quietly, putting her hands unarmed against his shirt front. "I would try to be a bit more subtle. But if you'd rather I did not touch you while -- "
He grabbed for her hands as she moved to pull them away.
"I never said that," he grinned, holding her close as he made to sit on the hard stone of the rock overhang's cave.
He leaned forward, unexpectedly, and suddenly his lips were on her own. She could not say this was what she wanted, but she could not deny it was pleasurable nonetheless. She had come here to gather secrets. That was her way. If she gained something more from that, well, who would she be to complain?
She returned his kiss, softly, gently, doing her best not to spur him forward too far ahead of her own libido. As his mouth sought her chin, her jaw line, and then her neck, she leaned her head back.
Her purpose for coming here had still not be resolved.
"I want to learn to fight. I want you to teach me."
"Yes, I will teach you," he murmured, his hand working into her cloak and over her tunic, squeezing at one of her breasts.
"I want to know if my weapons are any good," she mumbled, biting her bottom lip as her nipple became erect beneath his palm.
"Very good," was all he said, his tongue flicking out over her skin.
"And my armor. I need you to tell me if I just wasted my money or if it will serve."
She pulled her tunic up for him, revealing her unbound breasts. She had not worn anything beneath, just in case.
"I need you to tell me if it's worth the money I just paid for it," she said, squeezing his hand over her round flesh.
"Argh!" the other Drow growled.
His voice was low, menacing, as he pushed her away.
Sitting near him still, she wriggled her chest slightly, her breasts swaying before his eyes. Those dark eyes, locked to her nipples, but that mouth, sneering in dismay.
"Am I not pleasing to touch?" she asked, innocently.
"Pleasing to touch but not pleasing to hear! What did you come here for?"
He was angry now, and that hadn't been her intention.
"Why, I came to see you, of course."
"What you want, I can teach you any time. You don't need to ply me with your pleasures, just ask what you wish and I shall answer!"
Frustrated, he turned away from her, arms resting on his knees, chest rising up and down as he began to calm himself in the Drow way, reigning in his ire and letting it burn deep in his belly.
Anger is a tool for a Drow, not a weapon so much as a tool. It is something to be curried and curdled, to toss over and use to one's advantage -- not something to let lash out at others.
Seeing him calmer, she leaned forward to him again, her nipples brushing his upper arm.
"Come now, give me your word you will teach me. It is not a great thing I ask."
"Why do you want to fight," he said quietly, picking up a pebble and tossing it away.
"I have someone, well, a few some ones, that I wish to kill."
He did not look at her as she continued.
"This land is foreign to me, this Belariath village and it's people. I am old and no longer a warrior so much as a politician. I want to enjoy my wealth and the life I have left, and I want to enjoy it here. I would slay those that stand in my way.
"Nothing more than that, my lord."
Her voice soft now, she whispered against his dark pointed ear, brushing his white hair aside with her lips.
"Give me your word you will teach me to fight..."
He did not pull away. He nodded. Again she brushed her breasts against his arm, knowing he felt the hardness of her nipples in the chill shade of the rocks against him.
His mind was wandering elsewhere already. And she couldn't have that, just yet.
"Do you no longer desire me?"
He turned to her and then looked away.
"I think you are a very beautiful woman. I just don't know why you have come here with this. You could have spoken to me at the inn."
"Do I look like a nymph to you?" she said, getting up on her knees and peeling off her tunic.
She lay her cloak out, spread on the rock, then her tunic overtop. Then onto both she climbed, laying flat on her naked stomach.
"No, you don't seem to be one of them," he said almost wistfully.
"Would you rather I throw myself at you? Like they would? And completely ignore conversation? I could do that, if you liked, or I could at least try."
He frowned, shaking his head and looking anywhere but at her sleek body, smooth muscled back and cascading white hair.
She laughed and rolled onto her back.
"Come now, don't be so vexed! If you want something from me, you merely need to say it."
"What I want, woman, is to enjoy your flesh. Yet you ply me with words and questions. You can't have both like that, it makes for a dull encounter."
With her hands around her breasts, she smiled up at him.
"Do I look dull to you?" At last, he looked to her. With her thumbs, she pinched at her nipples, returning them from softness to perkiness as he watched. He held his breath a moment, looking at her.
"I want you," he said. And his voice gave away the depth of that wanting.
"And I want your word...and you..."
"Have both, then," he growled.
He dove over her, kissing her deeply. And she did not regret it, that he had finally approached her like this. Almost too quickly, they shed their clothes, kicking off boots, tearing at laces and thumbing leggings down to be tossed to the side as well. At last, he was naked, kneeling over her hips, kissing at her breasts.
Lower he went, lathering her belly with his tongue as she touched the swelling of her chest. And soon, his mouth was parting her, suckling her clitoris, nipping at her labia like a hungry wild cat. Her finger joined his mouth and parted her for him, showing her all of her well-tended garden. Her fingers became wet with herself, and as he watched, pausing in his feast, she raised them to her mouth. She lapped at them, her tongue swirling around them. Then she lay them on one hard nipple, wetting it in slow circular motions.
"Give me your word," she whispered, taking that nipple into her mouth.
He rose up, smiling at her, watching her.
"I gave you my word already."
"I want you to mean it." She squirmed out from beneath him, away from him, on all fours now. And he almost laughed. His eyes gave away his thoughts on the fire he saw in hers.
He felt he had control now. He felt that because of her obvious desire, slick around his mouth from her sex, that he ruled her. She would have to show him otherwise.
He leaned back on his elbows, thighs spread, his long cock twitching with excitement as she neared him.
Eyes locked to his, she inched forward, a blue creature of prey come from the midnight to feed on him. And he licked his lips anxiously as she licked at his thigh.
"Say it, that I have your word," she said, her tongue moving up his calf.
"You have it," he gulped around a very dry throat.
"I have to hear you say it, and mean it," she whispered against the sensitive flesh of his knee.
Pausing there, she bit at him, pulling at the thin skin around his kneecap. Then she boldly lowered her mouth to his cock, tongue flicking over the tip. And still, her eyes remained in control, locked on his steadily.
"Who rules here," she whispered.
Her tongue was hot against his taut cockhead, flicking over the small slit there and teasing the precum inside out.
He did not answer.
"Who rules here," she asked again.
Now she pulled away, having swirled her tongue all along the sensitive ridge of his cock. As she drew her tongue back in, a silvery spider web thin strand of precum and saliva spread from his skin to hers. He watched it, panting.
She did not have to ask him again.
"You do," he growled ferociously.
And he rose up off his elbows, pushing her back onto the cloak, flat onto her back, towering over her now from between her thighs. She could feel his steaming cock head against her pussy, butting there with all the force of his might.
She was almost afraid, looking up into his eyes wide. Now, she was no longer predator. Now, she was the cowering prey.
In that moment, he could have owned her. Could have commanded her. Could have controlled her.
But he knew not from whence her strength of will came, and he could not have known, did not know.
"Give me your word," she managed to whimper out.
"You have my word that I will teach you to fight," he said at last.
Then he was upon her. And she was yielding to him, lifting her arms to his neck, lifting one leg to wrap around his thigh. His mouth almost tore her throat out as his cock delved deep into her privacy, forcing deep into her tightness and warmth. She did not fight him, but yielded to him all the pleasures her body could give.
Within minutes they were writhing together as a beast made of one body, flesh molded to flesh, lust bonded to lust. He took her almost savagely, causing her to writhe and scream beneath him and in his arms. He would not stop until he had had her completely.
And it was that thought that drove her to her own ecstatic orgasm. As his cock filled her, spread her, thrust viciously into her. As his mouth took her neck, her face, her breasts. As his hands clung to her, forcing her to cling to him -- there was no greater release than that which she gave in to.
To be ruled so, and to not have wielded any weapons and yet to rule.
To be so taken, and do nothing but enjoy the moment and thus, be the true victor.
He lay panting with her now, spent, his cum dripping from between their bodies. She was covered in a sheen of sweat now, from her hairline to her knees. He rolled onto his back on the cloak, pulling her on top of him, his arms still strong and clinging to her. And her eyes were still on his face, studying him now in the last of his grimaces of pleasure.
"You...you gave me your word," she panted.
He did not seem to hear, merely nodded, catching his breath.
"Don't forget it, as soon as you will forget this."
She was ever the wary one, ever suspecting. She was Drow.
"I won't forget this, not any time soon," he whispered.
She lowered his head, to look into his dark gaze as if she could read the truth there.
And he kissed her again, deeply.
She almost believed he would not forget the episode.
But she knew in her soul she would not let him forget his word.