A Thief in the Night

Lord Alexander Marcus Blakely smiled in the dying firelight. Lady Ellina Belfry blushed prettily as the red light of the fire was captured in his silver eyes. Her hands moved down into his lap, and lightly outlined the bulge rising towards her there.

The waistband to Blakely's rather fashionable leather fighting leggings was being untied by her skilled and obviously experienced fingers. Every so often, her palm would press down and his cock would jump further. He watched her as she pried open the ties into his waistband, and was met by his cock. Her eyes widened as Alex raised his eyebrow with a sly grin.

She lowered her head and kissed it, then sucked it into her mouth slowly. Alex' head tilted back, and he sighed in contentment as she began to mouth him more and more energetically. Soon, he was straining into her mouth as she rimmed his cock head with her teeth, running them across the scintillating glands under the mushroom head.

Alex grabbed the back of her head and pushed her back onto the couch. Ellina smiled mischievously and pulled her skirt up past her hips. She wore no underwear either. Her cheeks hollowed as she bit her lip, and Alex slid on top of her and kissed her. The fire popped, but neither of them noticed.

Ellina began to grind her hips against Alex's, and her tongue darted out of his mouth and ran up behind his ear, even as he began to nibble at her collarbone. She gave a moan of passion, and Alex laughed softly. Her eyes were outraged for a moment, then he surged forwards, burying himself up to his balls in her heat.

Her eyes opened wide, and she gave a very indecorous squeak as he hardened further inside of her. His silver eyes glowed with the light of the fiery coals, and Ellina shut her eyes as he began to slide in and out of her passionate heart. Her fingernails raked his back, and she shuddered around his length.

Alex arced into her, thrusting deeper and deeper. He kept up the same maddening rhythm until Ellina groaned and began to thrust up to him, meeting him and spurring him on. Alex's forearms slid down to rest on the couch as he supported himself above her. Her legs curved around until the back of their calves rested atop each other, and Ellina reached down to grasp at the cheeks of his ass, pulling him further up, driving him further inside of her.

She shuddered around him again, and lay back with a guttural moan as Alex began thrusting up towards her with all his power. Again and again he rubbed against the inside of her, driving waves of exquisite sensations through her.

She began to writhe on the couch as he pumped his cock through her moist lips in time to his grunts. Ellina's eyes shot open and her fingernails scored deep scratches across Alex's back as she climaxed. Alex was mere seconds behind her, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her down onto his thrusts.

With one final heave, he burst deep inside of her, and she sank back into the cushions of the couch, a small smile on her face. Alex slid out of her and pulled his leather trousers back up and retied them. He could feel the wet head of his cock pressing against his thigh. Ellina opened one eye. "Not staying?" Alex leant down and kissed her, and reached for his pack.

"Not tonight. I've something else to do."

***

The tumbler clicked, and a slight smile curled the thief's lips. Rudimentary, really. A slight frown creased the cloaked figure's otherwise unmarred forehead. He paused, silhouetted in the moonlight shining through the open window. A hand reached out from the shadows of the thief's cloak, and lay gingerly over the top of the lock.

There was no telltale tingling of the skin, when he touched the ornate wood. The skilled thief could sense no sorcery. Still he hesitated. No noises came to him from outside. A thin smile bent his lips once more as the black shrouded thief began to feel his shoulders bunch, gathering muscle. His finely tuned sense of danger raised the defensive hackles on the back of his neck.

He knew his instincts were preparing his body to fight, but as his adrenaline began to set fire to his veins his legs bunched, powering up. Flight or fight?. With an almost negligent motion, the black figure flipped the lid back on the small oaken chest, and reached in.

This time it was not caution but an almost reverent sense of awe that stayed the thief's hand. It wasn't a large ring, as rings go. But it was pure silver, with a glittering blue jewel serving as the eye. The almost delicately sculptured image of a dragon in mid flight was very clear and detailed.

The blue jewel flashed in the moonlight, the bemused thief wondering for a moment if the dragon was winking at him. For a split second, the thief felt ludicrous, and quite nearly felt like winking back. Then his smile became a tight, controlled line once again.

To save time, he slipped the ring onto his finger and negligently tapped the back of the lid just hard enough to let it slap shut loudly. Then he turned and walked to the window. He had just put his hands on the window, and one black clad foot on the sill when a firm voice cut through the stillness of the night.

"That'll be just about far enough, I believe, mister." The thief paused, unsurprised as balls of fire began to appear throughout the room. The fire brought light to the darkness, and to the black, inky cloak about the shoulders of the thief. A dozen men stood warily on the other side of the room.

One was a stocky, middle aged man with a neatly trimmed beard and a haughty expression that proclaimed louder than words of his position as lord of the manor. Beside him stood a man with rich red robes and a hand carved oak staff, encrusted with powerful runes.

The wizard responsible for the fireballs, by the thief's guess. Behind and to both sides of the triumphant pair stood soldiers, or mercenaries. Armed and uniformed men, at any rate. Uniformed as in clothing.

The men varied in size; from one small and wiry fellow whose eager face and beady eyes made him look like a cross between a man and a small pig to one barbarian with a pair of brutish hammers by his hips who looked to be well over seven feet tall. The Lord grinned and laughed, and slapped his hand on the wizard's shoulder. The wizard, however, was busy studying the thief.

The thief was a tall and lithe man with relatively broad shoulders, although his assumption of build was most likely incorrect, as the long dark cloak shielded all but the man's head, and the raised cowl plunged his face into shadow, obscuring all but his chin, and mouth. Clean shaven, and proud, the man's lips curled into a smirk brimming with mirth. The wizard's eyes narrowed.

The thief did not show any sign of fear, yet was surrounded by both a wizard and a large group of armed and obviously skilled fighters. And yet Aldric could sense no fear in this man. Something was wrong. Aldric watched as Tovin and Grogan moved forward to hold the man.

The thief continued to study the wizard, and the confidant smirk faded when the thief recognized the wizard's signs of uneasiness. He tired of the charade and his mouth back to the trademark tight controlled line. Two of the guards, more normal sized than the barbarian and the weasel, came forward, to stand to either side of the thief at a curt signal from the Lord.

The petty man held out his hand, and imperiously sneered. "My ring, Peasant." An angry, tight line of indignation formed across the thief's mouth. Then he bowed, low and chuckled.

Then he vanished.

With startled oaths, the two guards went for their swords, but the wizard was the quicker. With a wave of his hands and a murmured word of magic, the wizard's eyes saw the heat emanations of the two burly guards, and the thief, albeit somewhat muted by the thick black cloak.

The wizard stopped in the midst of his spell casting as the invisible thief flipped onto his hands and twirled, kicking first one guard, and then blasting his other foot through the pitiful defences of the other.

Without slowing his momentum, the thief pivoted to swing his feet in a quick arc to kick the feet out from under the staggering guardsmen, who landed gracelessly on their backsides with pained grunts. With a heave of his outstretched arms, the thief righted himself.

A slight small ripple of power flowed from his centre, and he reappeared into normal sight. The wizard blinked, breaking the spell. With a cocky bow of his head, the thief slipped out of the window, and out into the night.

The Lord rushed past the guards, only now getting to their feet, and bellowed out through the window, into the night. "Miscreant! Thieving Knave! Cowardly Do...!" The man's words ended abruptly as an apple from the tree outside shattered against the Lord's face, splattering his nose across his cheeks.

***

Ferris was one of those people whose name was very appropriate. He was a man who looked distinctly like a ferret, with a small wiry body, small pinched nose, and sly, greedy eyes. He had made a very impressive reputation from being in contact with almost everyone, on almost anything.

His slightest whim was law, as any number of people who forgot to pay him had found out. Any and all illegal contracts and thefts were proposed through him. He had a fearsome reputation as a swindler, and was no novice with the blade, either. None of this mattered to him as he pushed his cock deeper and deeper into the young ass at his feet.

The young man was barely a man, not even twenty yet, and needed to get close to the crime boss to get anywhere in life. Luckily for him, he had come across Ferris when the man was in sore need of some release. Unluckily for him, a quick bottle across the back of the head, and the boy was dead. Ferris began to push harder into the dead boy's bowels, and his rapidly cooling body.

He'd have to come soon. That was the problem when they died, you had to get it over and done with quicker, because they stiffened up after a while. Ferris felt his balls begin to churn as he neared his climax. He wondered when he could get rid of the body, and in what way.

His cock pulsed deep inside the boy's bowels, and Ferris hummed happily, wondering at what sort of pose he could leave the boy. Although it was all so trivial, perhaps he should buy a furnace. His random thoughts became even more trivial when a razor sharp dagger came to rest just under his Adam 's apple.

The boy slumped from Ferris' hands as his cock softened, and he began to wonder if he could scream. He reached down and tried to raise his leggings, even as he cursed the decision to fall in with Lord Dobbins and his silly little scheme. A soul chilling voice spoke against his ear, very calmly and matter-of-factly, piercing the silence of Ferris's basement. "You set me up."

Jewels of sweat beaded on the brow of the little man as he stammered out his apology, explanation and offer for compensation in as little time as possible. The knife began to press harder onto the little man's throat. Ferris began to shiver in fear, and he felt his bowels void themselves. He sobbed, and a burning pain raced across his throat.

Ferris screamed and fell to the floor. A ghostly chuckle floated down to him. "Next time, don't shiver when a knife is pressed against your throat. And don't set me up again." Ferris stammered out his agreement and started to rise when the shadows exploded in the swirl of an inky black cloak, and a black boot suddenly slammed into his back.

The shadow detached itself from the wall and Ferris felt his fear return tenfold. The thief smiled, for the only visible thing of the entire black figure was his chilling smile. Then, slowly, deliberately, the thief pulled off his cowl. Ferris looked up to peer into the thief's face. Brown hair curled atop the young man's head.

He looked about twenty or so, and he was clean shaven. His lips were thin, and no emotion was displayed in that face. His eyes, the window to the soul, it was said, were hard, unforgiving. And as silver as mythril. Ferris gasped. "Lord Blakely?" The thief just smiled a small, affirming smile, and drew his knife.

***

Rummaging around in a back room, the thief found some plain clothes and a clean white linen tunic. He hid his thieving clothing in his small pack, and walked into the armory, where he found a modest but serviceable collection of daggers and swords, as well as some of the more exotic Eastern weapons, and throwing knives.

Selecting a few of the more familiar ones, as well as a pair of curious, three pronged daggers, Alex left the armory, and went upstairs. He walked outside through the back way, and after strapping on a rather ornate sword, collected the gold sitting on the table and put it in pouches surrounding his person. Then, stopping one last time to survey his handiwork, he quietly closed the door and left.

Leaving the house behind him, Alex sauntered happily down the street. Noting the lamp-lights coming from a nearby merchant's tent, the young man altered his course and stepped inside. A young girl of about nineteen stepped forward in her white apron and cap, and frowned. "We're not open for busin...Alexander?"

Alex nodded, smiling a small smile. The young girl smiled and beckoned with a wave of her hand. "I suppose we could let you in, but only for old time's sake." The girl grinned at him, mischievously. "It's been a while, hasn't it, my Lord?" Alexander smiled slightly, and nodded once again.

The last time either of them had seen each other was the day that Alexander had found little Rosemary crying in the park about four years ago. Her tiny girl frame had certainly grown into some very womanly curves. "Lord" Ferris had seen her in the street, dragged her into an alley, and had his way with her.

Alex idly wondered what the young girl's reaction would be if he were to tell her that he had just left Ferris bowed backwards with his feet and throat joined together by some steel wire, chained to the roof. Then he dismissed the notion. She would find out soon enough. He brought some freshly baked bread, a leg of ham, some cheese, a bottle of freshly squeezed fruit juice, and half-dozen little pastries.

Rosemary added up the prices on her little list, and proudly showed him her answer. "Fifteen clay markers or three silver, please." Alex reached into a pouch and pulled out four gold coins, and, without changing expression, winked at the nineteen-year-old. Rosemary looked shocked and stared at the gold coins, only two of which were ever kept in the shop.

Alexander dipped his head to the astonished and wide-eyed merchant's wife who was watching from the doorway to the cookhouse. Rosemary smiled and beckoned him closer. "Maybe later you can come and find me at the Clockwork Inn?" Her smile was anything but innocent, and Alex raised an eyebrow as she pivoted and swished away. He nodded politelyto the merchant's wife, and left.

The road leading to the manor house was a fair walk out of town, but Alexander stretched his long legs out to a brisk pace, and so it only took him perhaps a quarter of an hour to reach home. Walking through the door, Alex waved off his old friend and manservant, Morgan, and delivered his armload of assorted goods to the kitchen. Then, taking a tray of warm milk and a large number of the pastries despite the cook's disapproving glare, he went to see his sister.

Jessica Amanda Blakely was eight years old. Birthing difficulties had taken away Jess and Alex's mother, and three years later, grief had finally taken their father. Rather than allowing the tragedy to kill the two of them as well, brother and sister clung together in their grief, and pulled through, together, stronger than ever before.

Unfortunately, Jessica's love for her brother was the only strong thing about her. Their mother's fatal labour had left little Jess weak and fragile. She was seldom possessed of the strength to walk, and racking coughs and muscle spasms plagued her often.

Alex's heart broke each morning, torn between hoping against hope that his little sister would survive, and the wish that the torture and her daily frustration would end. Long given up on medical know-alls and their "cures", Alex was determined to make his sister as comfortable as possible. And that seemed to be working, strangely enough.

For the past four mornings in a row, Alexander had watched as his sister clawed her way out of bed, and greeted each new day as a day for improvement. For the first time in a long time, Alex found that he had hope for his sister's future. Perhaps Alexander's love would be enough.

He sat on the side of the pillow-swamped bed, and watched his sister. Her rich brown curls cascaded down her shoulders and lay across her small chest. Looking around the room, Alex smiled as he saw the wealth bought to his sister by his nightly escapades. He felt his lips twist into a smile as he saw the great mound of soft, lamb's wool teddy-bears he had bought for his sister.

Then he turned back to find his sister's glorious green eyes watching him. "Good Morning, Alex." He looked out the large, open window to see the sun rising in the east, peeking out over the horizon.

He let his weary head nod in agreement as the warming sunlight washed over his face. Jessica's eyes lit up at the tray of milk and pastries that her brother had brought to her, and dove into the sugar laced breakfast with gusto. Alexander took that to be a good sign.

Jessica's emerald green eyes sought her brother's, and sparkling green met shining silver. "Tell me another story, Alex." He smiled and nodded, taking her tiny hand in his.

"Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince who searched for his beautiful princess..." Jessica giggled, and Alex's smile nearly took in his ears.

***

After Alex had had some sleep, he went down to see Morgan. "Did your father's amulet serve you well, my Lord?" The young man nodded and took of the amulet that had hung around his neck, the amulet which had allowed him to become invisible at will.

"Yes, old friend, it did indeed, as the two thousand or so gold coins I lugged back home can testify." One of Morgan's eyebrows shot up, and Alex looked slightly sheepish for a second. Then he gave a smirk, and headed out.

***

Rosemary's eyes went wide as she opened her door to reveal Alex's handsome features. He raised an eyebrow at her as he went past, handing her the small bunch of roses with a flourish. Rosemary shut the door and quietly latched it. She turned around, the roses pressed to her nose. He could tell from her eyes that she was smiling.

"I was just about to take a bath, Alex. I've only just now gotten home from the merchant's store." Alex nodded thoughtfully.

"I know. I dropped by there on my way here. You may just get a few glances tomorrow, after I queried after your favourite scent."

Rosemary cocked her head to the side as he pulled a palm sized bottle from his hooded cloak. "I'm told that you'll walk past humming happily whenever there's an apple scented candle burning in the back rooms, so I took a punt on apple scented oil as well. Ah, now, you mentioned a bath?" Rosemary found her heart begin to pound.

"Well, if it's not too much trouble, perhaps I can be of some assistance with a nice, relaxing massage...?" Rosemary swallowed at the lump in her throat, and smiled.

"It would be my pleasure." Alex smirked as he dropped his cloak to the floor, followed by his rough woven shirt.

"Unless I've lost my touch."

***

Alex's hands ran constantly over Rose's silken skin. The apple scent filled the room as the steam rising from the bath, and from Rose, carried it throughout. His hands, slick with the golden green oil, slid up and down her body, working the tired muscles until they relaxed. He was patient, and attentive.

He continued to massage her back and shoulders until she opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Alex's hands stilled on her shoulders, and she stood up, his hands trailing down her body. She reached for a towel and dried herself off wordlessly. Then she reached back and grabbed hold of Alex's hand and led him to the bedroom.