Knots of Thorne

An empty bottle rested with Sephiria, cradled like a precious possession, the woman's head bowed until it touched against her knees. The simple nightgown she wore trailed over the edge of the bed and to the floor as her legs were propped up on it, tucked tight against the side of the mattress. She was numb from the grief she felt in knowing she would never hear Avreal's gentle voice again. The loss of her second dearest friend had been as painful as the day she watched Lucetta die. She'd even kept her distance from Thorne, as she knew all too well the struggle of watching one's love pass away or discovering their death.

What made it so much worse was that she never got the chance to apologize to her.

So much had been misunderstood so quickly, and Sephiria had been oblivious to what had been right before her eyes; Thorne seemed to have some feelings for the vampire, feelings that Seph could not have recognized on her own. Avreal and herself had debated it hotly one night, and the very next day she had become caught in the crossfires of battle and lost. That was perhaps the greatest sword in the back for she who had lost so much already, and yet all she could think of now was how Thorne was holding up. She set the bottle down, having held it to her lips or her bosom for several hours and perhaps days, and stepped off the bed to leave her secluded chamber in her friend's home.

When she was a few feet away from the door, he took it upon himself to throw it open and stand before her. Thorne was coated in the oaky scent of whiskey and messy in appearance, his peppery hair touseled from his calloused hands running through it so often as he'd cried for his beloved wife.

His eyes were bloodshot, as were hers.

"Miss Tepes..." The elder vampire began, then silenced himself as he noticed her own appearance. He had been so preoccupied with his own grief that he'd failed to realize how it had impacted the one who'd been his wife's dear friend and ally. He took in the sight of her puffy eyes and swollen lips from her grief-driven sobbing and sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "..Perhaps now isn't the time."

"...Th-Lord Alexe...Ach. Lord Black, forgive me. I was about to come and seek you out myself. Come, sit. You look terrible, my friend." Sephiria laid a hand on his shoulder and began to lead him to a chair at her desk to sit, only for him to stand still. It was out of morose habit, a mask she was putting on in order to entertain her friend and ensure he was alright, and his stillness and resistance to her urge for him to follow made her realize that he saw through it. How? She turned back to look at him, confused. Again, she attempted. "...Lord Black? You're not intruding, you're more than welco-!"

His left arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against his broad chest, her ear against his heart. She could hear it hammering there, finally relaxing enough to let herself sense what he was feeling, and was surprised with what she discovered. There was his pain, raw and visceral. There was anger, directed toward Avreal's death. Yet buried in deep within him was also something else, that which he'd locked completely for an unknown length of time. In any other state she would question his motives and wonder if it was real, but in that moment of alcohol and grief-driven exhaustion she wanted nothing more than to accept the affection being given. He felt warm. Safe. Comforting.

Her arms slid around and up against his back, and she listened.

"Sephiria...you have served our family so well, on top of that you have been a wonderful friend to my wife and myself. I never thanked you for that. I was also not honest with you, perhaps not even honest with myself and certainly not honest with her." Thorne waited for a moment to ensure she wouldn't pull away, then wrapped his other arm around her and buried his nose in the crook of her throat. She could feel the coolness of more tears falling, dripping against her baring shoulder as her nightgown shifted from the position of his face. She lost the ability to hold back at the mention of her friend as well, his tunic staining with crimson which drained from her eyes. He seemed to notice this and cooed to her quietly, raising a hand to her hair and stroking the back of her skull in an effort to ease her. "...I know. We both have not done too well. This is not a good time to come to this revelation either, but I cannot remain dishonest when you are close."

He tilted her chin up carefully and met her gaze with oceanic blues, which served to mesmerize her enough to listen despite the streaks of blood that painted her fair face. She remained silent, but nodded as a signal for him to continue. She'd been listening the entire time...she was simply unsure of what to expect, and in no state to think or respond clearly and concisely. He wanted her calm and happy, a reprieve from the pain they both felt.

He had an idea of how to do that, but he needed to know one thing.

"Do you trust me?"

Sephiria seemed to calm down enough at hearing this question to be able to give him an incredulous expression of disbelief. "You know that I do. I swore my sword and my very life to your House."

"No, Seph, that's not what I mean. As a man, do you trust me?" Thorne searched her eyes, seeing how they changed from confusion to realization. His mouth softened as he looked at her and parted slightly, as if to speak again, but he didn't. She did.

"...Of course, Thorne. I do trust you."

He nodded, then lifted her in his arms and carried her out of her room. "I'm going to hold you to those words tonight. I need your complete faith in me, in what I say and what I do, and that I have no intention of hurting you in any way." He walked down the hall with her until he approached his own quarters, opening the door to them and setting her down on his bed after closing and locking it.

As she'd been carried, Sephiria had been more than a little confused by it all. Why did he ask? Where are we going? He's never carried me, Christ, what on earth is-

"Oh!" She found herself on his bed, in his room, alone. Door locked, no one nearby, as he had walked over to a cabinet and began to rummage through. "Thorne, I trust you, but-"

"Then you'll let me show you what I have planned. We have both talked and cried, yet the one thing Avreal would have wanted was our happiness." Thorne turned to face her, his hands holding something behind his back as he approached. He stood in front of the woman with a gentle yet stern expression, a soft smile on his lips. "My wife was stubborn like you. She worried and believed she had to be in control in order for things to run properly. She was a born leader, much like yourself, and suffered hardships of her own. However, as her husband, it was my job and my honor to help her relax and remember she was loved when she needed it most. It was my job at her side to occasionally take the reins."

His hands moved slowly away from his back, revealing what he held. It was intricately woven rope, thin but strong, and a strip of silk. Sephiria's eyes naturally followed his hands and was even more lost than before, however she could see the conviction in his body language and the tone he used when he spoke to her.

Perhaps, just for a night...she could let go.

What harm could it possibly bring?

He had never given her reason to fear him before, and certainly wasn't doing so now, even if he was being quite confoundingly strange. The doubts that rang in her head were simply noise, and she knew that he was right. There was something she could see that he needed to say and do, and he needed her undivided focus and unquestioning trust.

She nodded.

Thorne seemed relieved to see her do this, his body language loosening. "I'll be honest, I was not quite so sure that you would be so compliant..." He spoke gently as he moved close to her, leaving his hips inches away from her face before kneeling before her. She couldn't look away from him then, not now. "Take a deep breath with me, and close your eyes." He inhaled slowly through his nostrils, guiding her to do the same.

She mimicked him, a slow intake of air circulating in her longs through her own nose. As he exhaled through his mouth, she followed suit and then let her eyelids flutter shut with the wave of calm the breath brought her.

Thorne watched this carefully for a moment to ensure she wouldn't try to peek through and then nodded, reaching over slowly for the piece of scrap silk. He took it in his hands and stretched it evenly, positioning it over her beautiful eyes and tied it securely against the back of her head. He sensed a growing worry in her once he'd done this and he laid a palm against her soft cheek, stroking there with the side of his thumb. "Easy now, war-chieftress. There is no enemy to fight here. Focus on what you actually feel me doing, not on what your mind is telling you to feel. Keep breathing." He let her hear himself performing the breathing she needed to mimic, and smiled gently as she obeyed. "That's it. Good. Don't speak, Seph...let me teach you something tonight. Something that I know you don't know very well."

Sephiria nodded again, continuing the breathing method he'd taught her. She held back the urge to flinch as his hands grazed against her ankles, taking in them the hem of her nightgown. The fabric was shifted upward and the edge laid upon her lap, covering her just enough to where her privacy was held intact. Something soft and warm pressed against her lower leg, chaste and swift. Did he just..?

The silence maddened her, though she showed no sign of it bothering her. It forced her instead to focus on what he was doing like he'd told her to do. Never before was her ability to follow orders more tested than it was in this moment. Is this right? We grieve his wife, and yet...

Yet I want more.

That softness now grazed against her knee, then her opposing thigh. Thorne was testing her, seeing how far she'd let him go or if she'd resist him at all. When he kissed her innermost thigh close to where he'd set the skirt of her gown, he looked up to see her expression and was surprised to find that she was biting her lip. He could smell her rosy skin so close to his lips now, the delicious aroma mixed with something even more entertaining. He planned to make her admit it to herself, teaching her to be as honest with her feelings as he wished she'd been early on.

His fingers grazed against the bed and found the rope, sliding it off the edge in such a way where she wouldn't know what he had done. He knew her senses were perceptive, and knew how to avoid detection. She could feel the pressure of something beside her, but his lips were her focus. As he inched further up until he was just before where she needed them...

A new texture caught her attention, rough and strong. It wrapped around her delicate wrists with care and intent to secure them, the taut muscle of his arm trapping her body against his. Her arms were lifted until her hands were behind her head, exposing her most openly to his broad chest, that same weave now wrapping carefully around her actual forearm and upper bicep to fasten both sides. The scent of the rope was strange to her, but when combined with the sound of his calm breathing and the sensation of his heart beating against her breasts, she couldn't choose between feeling anxious or aroused. As the rope crossed over her chest, however, her heat won.

She moaned for him. It was breathless and quick, but he heard it.

A grin crossed his features as he looked over his work carefully, adjusting the woven rope in order to prevent her beautiful skin from being pinched and to keep her from getting hurt in case she were to resist their hold. "You are breathtaking, Sephiria...You're doing so well. Let me hear that sound again." He used his claws to split her gown in half, a move that made his bound prey gasp in surprise. He threw his own shirt off and laid her down, propping her head up with a pillow to keep her hands from striking the back of her neck. He was so gentle with her and it drove her blood to boil in a way she hadn't felt - even with Quinchaveous. His hands were firm yet careful, as though he were working with the finest clay, and he reserved that restraint for her. Seph couldn't keep herself in control anymore; it was beyond her reach. She gave up for him, and was rewarded with the response of his ridged torso against the succulence of her ample breasts. He laid his half-lidded orbs on her face, her lips slack and plump from desire she'd most likely not allowed herself to feel before, and lowered his own to them.

That beautiful sound escaped her throat again, a higher pitch this time, more surprised. She resisted the rope gently as she felt his mouth meet her, but not because she wanted to push him away. She wanted to wrap her arms around his back, wind her fingers in his graying curls. When she discovered she couldn't, a quiet whimper left her lips, allowing them to part for him. Giving him permission. Something throbbed against her thigh as she'd done this, and she swore she heard him happily groan.

This woman will tempt me to my grave tonight, I swear it, and I might just let her. Thorne's restraint was thinning with every sound she made, every little resistance. It spoke to something deep inside that made him want to take her across his knee right now, but he knew she both wasn't ready and didn't need it. When he noticed her strain against the binds he chuckled darkly against her mouth, though was surprised to find she'd parted for him. That had driven him to groan as he had and he followed suit as well, losing his senses in her taste the moment his tongue intruded and grazed against hers. She was eager in responding and the muscles danced with one another as he lifted slightly from her, letting his hands wander her tiny waist and delicate sides. "Seph..." He growled heavily against her lips as he pulled back, moving his face to her ear to whisper to her. "You are as intoxicating as spirits, woman. Has anyone ever truly told you how wonderful you are...has anyone ever made you feel this way?" A hand wandered further down, caressing her innermost left thigh. "Tell me, rose...let me hear the truth..." He knew what it was, but bringing it out of her was what both of them needed. He could smell her need strongly now, but would reward her honesty when she gave it.

Sephiria wasn't quite sure if she should speak at first, but every signal he gave and the inching of his lowering digits made her decision for her. She was breathless and her heart pounded, her body already on fire, and he'd only kissed and undressed her. "I...no...no one, Thorne, not like you...not like this, and it's--I can't-" His lips found her throat, kissing with the softest of nips with his fangs, and she gasped like a virgin finding herself.

"Good girl. Shh...that's what I needed to hear. Relax for me." His gift to her was the caress of her carefully guarded sex, two fingers intruding her swollen folds and discovering just how much she truly enjoyed everything up to this point. "Darling, you're soaked...very honest." He was proud of her, truthfully speaking, because he knew this sort of thing was most likely very difficult for her to even think about. For her to come forward and be as obedient and relaxed as she had been...it struck awe in him. Even more than that, he was driven further by the scent and taste of her body to do even more to please them both.

Still, he couldn't give her too much at too quick of a pace. He took the remaining rope that fastened her arms to her back and wrapped it round the underside of her pert globes, deliberately grazing it against her nipple as he moved it into position. He did this twice, once with each hardening bud, and bit his lip in strain as she murmured her pleasure from the feeling. "That feels really...Thorne..!"

"Good. I want you to tell me what you feel, what you like and don't like, as I do it. Don't hold back." His baritone voice reverberated against her earlobe and she quivered as he found her with his fingers, the rope once again having given her something else to think about before he'd begun to stroke. A cry fled her throat and she felt him throb against her thigh again, understanding now what his intent was and what it was that they both seemed to need. His vocals once again breached her hearing, gathering her total focus. "I will take my time, draw those sounds and this pleasure out of you. We have held back our feelings for too long, Seph...we are doing nothing wrong. It's alright." The sensation of the tip of his finger finding her engorged clit made her yelp with electric heat, her thighs spreading just a bit to accommodate his broad palm as it lowered to press against her labia.

The twine surprised her again, snaking around her inner thighs now and wrapping around four times per leg. She felt them being spread and her calves being bound against both, holding her open, and he heard her heart quicken dramatically. At first he was concerned that it was panic and paused, but was more than a little shocked to hear "Do it...please..!" come from her winded body loud and clear. She even arched her back up, as if his hips were there to press herself against. He smirked with a groan of his own again, as witnessing all of this had him solid beneath his trousers and he'd been focused so much on her enjoyment that he'd begun to ignore his own.

She held that much sway over him, that much witchcraft. It was as maddening for him as he was for her. He couldn't let his control wane or else he might push her too far; that was the last thing he wanted to do. He promised her. He gave himself a couple of deep breaths to regain himself before he drew the rope firmly upward to secure it in place. Her body looked stunning like this...and what made it so beautiful was that she was giving up her control willingly to him. Her trust spoke volumes.

"I believe you now when you say you trust me..." He drew in a breath, sliding his palms against her inner thighs, deliberately avoiding touching where she ached and needed him to. Salt and pepper tresses tumbled from behind his shoulders and trickled against her slender belly as he lowered his eyes to his pants, unfastening them slowly and releasing his member from its prison. "You deserve more than just a reward, Seph." He couldn't help but stroke his thickening length as he resumed his caress of her pussy, gentle as though she were thin glass that could be shattered with one wrong move.

Sephiria was at the brink of dripping with arousal, aching where he touched and quivering. It wasn't that she didn't want to speak, it was that she didn't have the voice to. It felt so good to have his hands on her that she couldn't think, much less vocalize. All that left her mouth were the noises that had him aching and twitching in his other palm. The only sound between them was her cries and his breathing, the stretch of the rope on occasion as she writhed every now and then when he found a new spot that made her react. Finally, he'd had enough of toying - he couldn't stand to wait. He brought up her hips to his mouth and buried his face in, sliding his broad and salivating tongue up from her neglected hole to the very top of her clitoral hood. A loud, fervent, delicious wail ripped through her lungs and he responded in kind with a feral growl as he tasted her sweet nectar; he had all the patience and restraint in the world with his wife, but this woman made him want to pin and take her for himself right the fuck now.