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Rilwae followed a Flaming Fist towards the private office of Enver Gortash. As expected, she had been asked to hand over the daggers she kept sheathed on her hips. Thankfully security knew she was a favorite of the new Archduke and nothing more was done, leaving the pair of daggers tucked in her boots undiscovered. It was unusual, she thought, to be looked at with the respect that the Fists gave her. As a drow, she had a vague sense of the treatment she’d faced on the surface from a young age despite the amnesia and plenty of clear memories since the Nautiloid. She could have used the surrendered daggers along with her magic to fight her way to the office but this was easier, quieter. This would give her time and energy to truly savor his last breaths, the life fading from his eyes.
While she had initially run from such thoughts, she came to realize that channeling her urges could benefit her companions as well. Her silver tongue got them out of many tight spots and her steel daggers and fireballs had gotten them out of even more. It did sting to see how most of the party distanced themselves after she sated her own bloodthirst though there was no denying the advantage it gave them. At least Astarion had been practical, seeing the similar struggles they shared.
Besides, if anyone deserved to face those urges, surely it was Enver Gortash, the man at least partially behind the elder brain. Not to mention what he’d done to Karlach. …Karlach. Rilwae would have to apologize after this, she knew it was important to the tiefling to face Gortash but this was easier, she could be out of Wyrm’s Crossing before the guards even knew their leader was dead if she played her cards right. Not to mention, there were questions that only Gortash could answer and she doubted the answers would help the way her friends saw her or that they would let him live long enough to give them. Oddly, the voice in her head had been awfully quiet about Gortash. Rilwae could only assume it had to do with their shared history. While the urge still called for blood as it always had, the drive for death specifically did not seem to be as strong. No matter, she thought, I have enough bloodlust on my own. The Fist opened the door and the footsteps faded after shutting it behind her.
Seeing the private quarters, her breath caught for a moment as she walked through the entryway. Everything from the plush carpet lined around the expensive busts all the way up the lights in the ceiling oozed prestige. She had known this space would be filled with creature comforts but actually seeing it was different, most of their journey and thus most of her memory so far had ranged from inhospitable to nice but simple.
As she approached the arch to venture further in the space, Rilwae noticed the traps scattered about. She had to respect the man’s security measures if nothing else.
When Gortash finally came into view at the desk on her left, he sat up in his chair, quill set beside what was surely inane paperwork. The smirk on his face split into a full grin when they locked eyes, his expression softening again. “Rilwae, did you know your footfalls still sound the same? Though they haven’t been so cautious for a long time. What do you think, a fitting space for the saviors of Baldur’s Gate, no?” He waved a hand to show off the room as he pushed his chair back and rose to his feet, walking around to the front of his desk.
“And it only cost the freedom of all the citizens.” Rilwae forced her eyes to stay locked on his rather than sliding down to his exposed chest, her mind wandering…no, she was here for answers and blood, that was all.
His smile faltered, appearing genuinely hurt if indeed he could truly feel such things, an edge of anger seeping into his voice, “I told you, I want to elevate this city. My goal, our goal, is the prosperity of Baldur’s Gate. I forgive you for not remembering but it was in a pitiful state before us. What it needs is a strong leader and in order to guide them, they must first unite against a larger threat. Thanks to your actions, the plan won’t go quite as we first expected but we shall prevail nonetheless. This city was destined for greatness and we were destined to lead it there.”
Rilwae approached, taking a seat in a chair before him, crossing one leg over the other to provide quick access to a dagger when she needed it. Her fingers twitched involuntarily, whether for him or her blade she wasn’t sure. “You keep saying ‘us.’ You, a Chosen of Bane, would rule beside someone else as an equal. We shared more than a working relationship, didn’t we? What can you tell me about before?”
“Indeed, I did not share the entirety of our history earlier. I had hoped you would seek me out here, in a more private setting. You were my equal on all levels including intellectual, the only one I could plot a course with. Your bloodlust was art. Certainly we needed Myrkul and Ketheric but that was to set the scene for our citizens. As I know I’ve said before, Orin shared none of your discernment nor your wit. While her devotion to Bhaal is admirable, there is nothing more. Not only is she messy, she’s dreadfully boring.” Gortash sauntered forward, closing the few feet between them, close enough that she could reach out and touch him. Very well, this would be a test for her reflexes when the time came.
“That’s a lot of words to not answer my question.”
A laugh. “Truly, you are the same woman I mourned. Yes, we were more than co-conspirators. It did start that way but after so many long nights together, sometimes things happen. I don’t think either of us expected it but one night turned into several and well, we had our own relationship of a sort. I’m not a fool, you know.” Rilwae kept her face still but prepared to pull her weapon. “I know the marriage ceremonies of the followers of Bhaal, could easily deduce your ultimate goal. And yet, as our plan continued, I think you came to see reason.” He chuckled as her muscles relaxed slightly, pulling back from the hair trigger her nerves had been gripping. “That’s not to say I tamed you though, that would do you a disservice. You were a savage animal, when the urges took over you were unstoppable, a killing machine more efficient than any Gondian could dream of. I wouldn’t want you tamed anyway, the rough edges were what made you, you. You were never more beautiful than the nights you wandered in, coated in viscera and took what you wanted.” She couldn’t help but notice the reverence that slipped into his voice.
She also couldn’t help but notice the heat rising to her face at his words despite her disgust. While her companions had come to trust that she could control her violence, the distance everyone but Astarion kept after her thirstiest bouts of rage was always noticeable. Certainly they weren’t cruel but after seeing what she’d done to Alfira…she supposed she couldn’t blame them. In spite of the vitriol still churning in her gut, she saw how the union between Gortash and her past self was inevitable. Still, she had more questions. “What about before that? How did we meet?”
Gortash thought for a moment. “I can’t say that you ever spoke too much about your life before we met other than in terms of body count. For those specifics, I suspect you need to find the temple of Bhaal and sadly I cannot help with that, as I told you earlier. We met once I had become Bane’s Chosen though you’d heard of me before then just as I’d heard whispers of you. It was in another office on a night like tonight, you came in and said you had a proposition, that you wanted to bring the Dead Three back to importance where they belonged. I’d had my eye on the Crown and knew I’d need allies to obtain and wield it. I think you just saw my rising power as a way to spread Bhaal’s destruction back then, not that I blame you. But you still knew how to cooperate.”
Rilwae couldn’t help her disappointment, there were far fewer answers here than she’d hoped and she sensed that the Archduke had again shared all he knew. Well then, she would just have to relish his death more to make up for that frustration. In one fluid motion, she pulled out her dagger and pushed him back the few feet into the nearest wall, one arm against his chest and the other holding the blade to his throat.
She expected either fighting or pleading, she couldn’t quite crack which type he was. What she hadn’t expected was for his groan as he was shoved against the wall to linger on as a moan, that damned smirk returning. What she definitely hadn’t expected was his hand reaching up to trail down her side over her robe, landing at her hip, the tips of his gauntlet applying the lightest pressure. At this point, she wasn’t surprised that her traitorous body felt electrified at the touch but she cursed herself all the same, sure now that her blush extended to the tips of her ears.
Gortash heard her swearing under her breath and as he spoke, he tauntingly leaned his neck forward ever so slightly, not quite breaking his skin on the blade but the flesh going white where it dug in. “I’m glad to see your body hasn’t forgotten me even if your mind has. You know, this isn’t too dissimilar from our first time. We never were exactly conventional. And don’t worry, the Fist know not to bother us.” His fingers dug in deeper, drawing out a moan before Rilwae could stifle it.
Gods damn it, she’d wanted to see the fear in his eyes, not…whatever this was. And gods damn her for reacting to it. This close, she saw faint scars littered across his neck, showing the truth of his words. Before she knew it, she was moving her knife without ever lifting it, repositioning away from his crucial blood vessels and pressing just a bit harder, finally breaking the skin. In response to the moan Gortash let out, she spoke without thinking, “such a shame I can’t remember this.”
As his other hand came up to grab her breast, it felt so familiar that even without the memories, she knew this was right. To hell with it, she thought, I can have some different fun before I kill him too.
Moving the arm that had pushed him against the wall to tangle in his hair, she leaned forward and kissed him, still holding the dagger in the space between their bodies. She dragged her teeth over his bottom lip before biting, using his gasp to slide her tongue inside, kissing him until she felt dizzy. At some point, his hands had wandered up to free her white hair from its ponytail, now falling loosely against her shoulders.
Pulling back slightly, Rilwae groaned at the sight of the strand of saliva connecting their mouths, breaking as she pulled back to get a better look at Gortash. His pupils were blown wide, lips pink and puffy. Blood still trickled from the wound on his neck, sliding down and pooling at his collarbone. This close, she could also see more scars peeking out from under his shirt, her mouth watering.
Pulling her blade back so she could press even closer, she ran two fingers through the stream of blood before bringing them to her mouth to taste him, moaning at the familiar taste of copper. While she could have lapped up every last drop, she took her fingers out and slid them into his open mouth as he started eagerly licking his own blood and her saliva off Rilwae’s fingers. The sight was pure debauchery and she made a silent promise to herself that she’d never forget this again. At the same time, his hands had both wandered to her breasts, rubbing directly over her nipples, driving her mad through the layers of cloth between them. She pressed closer still, feeling the bulge of his hard cock against her lower stomach and pushing her fingers deeper, delighting as Gortash choked before pulling them back out and dragging them down his chin, a faint pink trail following.
“Gods, I missed you,” he said.
Indulging in the physical pleasure she hadn’t felt since her last tryst with Astarion, Rilwae leaned in again as she ground their hips together, free hand gripping Gortash’s throat and squeezing, earning a particularly sharp thrust. For a moment, she just enjoyed the feelings, power in her hands, fire building in her belly. All too soon, she could tell he was on the verge of losing consciousness and she wasn’t ready to stop the fun just yet.
Pulling back once more and loosening her grip, she brought her blade to the top of his shirt and in one swift motion cut through the laces and fabric, the shirt falling open. Both their hands went to undo his belt so Rilwae could push off his pesky robe and the shirt together as he stepped forward, leaving him in just his gauntlet, boots and trousers. As expected, the scars continued down, littering his torso amid the dark hair that trailed his soft stomach and below his waistband. Her eyes stopped at a few scars that looked different, wondering if they were - “Fire,” he confirmed. “Why have all the elements at your fingertips and not use them? Especially when any spell you cast could be your last, my dear sorcerer.” His hands returned to her, settling on her hips this time.
The Weave sparked to life in fingers at his words, almost unbidden. Truly, what a remarkable man; it was almost a shame Orin had tried to kill her, now Rilwae was fated to kill the man she would have previously ruled with. Letting the energy flow through her, she pulled the dagger between them again, sparks bouncing off the blade as it drew them from her skin. She began with the flat of the knife, holding it over his shoulder and going down to his elbow before turning the blade so the sparks jumped only from the tip directly onto his skin.
“Please,” his grip on her hips tightened as he gasped, head falling forward.
Using her free hand, she ran her sparking fingertips up his thigh, across his stomach, and back down his other thigh, deliberately ignoring the straining bulge in his pants, a dark spot starting to grow at the tip. With her dagger, she slowly traced back up his arm, watching him tremble as the sparks flew. Without warning, she thrust the blade forward, careful that only the electrified tip dug into his flesh as his knees finally buckled, pulling the dagger to create a lovely gouge until it tore out of his flesh as he hit the hard tile with a thud, falling to sit on his feet as her sparks stopped. The cry that left him would have made Lovitar proud. Her first cut had been cautious but not this one, blood dripping down his bare arm, fingers quickly turning red. While his hands clenched, an unexpected feeling of endearment came over Rilwae at the fact that he didn’t even grab at his wound and his erection remained. “I trained you well, didn’t I?”
“I would have tolerated no less,” he replied through heavy breaths, watching as the blood seeped out from where his hand met the floor. When his tongue darted out to lick his lips, Rilwae could think of only one thing.
“Lick it up,” she ordered breathlessly. His cheeks seemed to flush even more as he only nodded before moving himself so he could bend over at the waist and began lapping at the blood, eyes trained on her the whole time. “I wonder what your staff will think when they come in here tomorrow and see a pool of blood that someone drank from. Will they know you did it?” His eyes flashed with a distant hint of anger but a whimper escaped his lips.
Feeling suddenly far too hot, Rilwae set her dagger on the nearby desk and worked on the clasps holding her robe together, letting it fall to the floor. A hand snaked up to palm her breast, fingers tugging at her nipple through the thin cloth of her bra, her other hand sliding down her stomach and just barely dipping the fingers below her waistband, only teasing herself for now. He tried to hide it but she caught how Gortash bucked his hips against the air, hands clenching and unclenching on the tile. “Gods, you’re pitiful.” Lust dripped from her every word.
Gortash lifted his face, chin and cheeks stained a gorgeous crimson. “Only for you, Rilwae. Only for you.”
“Your hands look so eager, are you wanting to touch me or yourself?” She let her lower hand slip further down, moaning at the feel of her own wetness.
“I want to touch whatever you let me. Please.”
The shiver that went down Rilwae’s spine ended with bucking into her own hand. Whatever she’d let him touch. Even the hand bearing his powerful netherstone was hers, it was intoxicating. Glancing aside to avoid falling, she pulled her hands away and walked to lean back against his sturdy desk and beckoned him over with a crooked finger. To her absolute delight, he crawled over on his hands and knees, stopping in front of her feet. “Please tell me I’ve put you on a leash before.”
As he settled back into sitting, Gortash chuckled, “not only on a leash, you choked me with it more often than not and one particularly cruel time, you even muzzled me while pleasuring yourself right above my face. I got to taste your juices but had no hope of tasting your body.” Now that was an interesting idea. A shame he won’t live to try it again, she thought with the slightest bit of sadness.
“I wish I remembered you,” she touched his cheek for a moment with an unusual gentleness. “But, I have decided what I want.” Her fingers reached back to release her bra, which she set beside her knife on the desk. “I want you to pleasure yourself,” she waited until his eyes lit up, “but you cannot touch yourself. If you want an orgasm, you can chase it using my boot.”
A lovely look of inner conflict appeared to Gortash’s face as Rilwae finally gripped her bare breasts, letting her head roll back as her sensitive nipples finally, finally got the contact they’d been wanting for what seemed like an eternity now.
As Gortash hesitated a moment longer, Rilwae’s voice turned cold when she lowered her head. “You can chase your orgasm on my boot or not at all, tyrant.”
Shoulders slumping in defeat, Gortash shifted forward as Rilwae positioned her foot to provide a good cradle where her foot met her ankle. It took him a long moment to find his pace, frustrated sighs and whimpers filling the air as he got settled in.
With Gortash hunched over her leg, Rilwae couldn’t resist grabbing her knife and tracing the blade along his back, the touch light but far from gentle. As he started to find a rhythm, she traced the tops of his shoulders, pressing down and breaking skin, moans spilling forth with blood. Her free hand trailed down over her stomach, teasing herself again but impatience quickly growing.
“The people give you absolute power and you are so eager to pass it to another behind closed doors. Whatever would Bane think?” She sneered, lifting her foot to apply pressure, watching Gortash jerk away on instinct before coming back more eager than before, his eyes drifting shut as guttural noises were pulled from his throat. “Off,” she commanded and then sighed, “just for a moment.”
When he reluctantly obeyed, Rilwae set the dagger down again and slipped her underwear off as well, awkwardly stepping out of it with her boots still on. She walked around and sat in Gortash’s chair, rotating it to leave space in front and spreading her legs to allow herself access. Gortash obediently followed when beckoned once again. Almost ready, there was just one thing missing, she bent over to drag her fingers through the blood from the wound on his arm, leaning back up and tasting it again briefly before sliding those fingers between her legs, circling her clit before pushing back towards her entrance. Her own breath now obviously uneven, she simply gestured with her chin for Gortash to resume what he’d been doing.
Rilwae fucked herself, two bloody fingers spreading her open now, then curving until she found just the right spot, rubbing her thumb on her clit in time with her fingers inside, eyes never leaving Gortash’s bloody form, tears now pricking at his eyes from need, the same eyes glued onto her core while he continued to rut his trembling body against her boot. The combined sensations and the appearance of the new Archduke utterly wrecked were enough to send her over the edge, her orgasm coating her hand and some dripping onto the luxurious cushion of his chair. Her thumb moved to let her clit rest a moment and she lazily added a third finger to stretch herself more as Gortash sped up, hands clenching, breath pitching higher and higher until - she pulled her foot back under the chair suddenly, Gortash collapsing to the ground in a confused heap.
“You really think I’d let you cum so easily? What an adorable little fool you are.” Fingers still stretching slowly, Rilwae basked in the look of genuine despair that crossed Gortash’s bloodied face, tears now fully falling and streaking the mess on his cheeks. She curled her fingers up just so and her moan drew a whimper from Gortash. Was this all it took to break him? Pitiful indeed, but also irresistible.
As he gathered himself back up and leaned his forehead against her knee, tears trickling onto her skin, he begged, “please Rilwae, if you won’t let me cum, please let me taste you, let me make you feel good.”
Though she was loath to look away, Rilwae’s eyes drifted shut for a moment as her head fell back, drunk on her power over the most powerful man in Baldur’s Gate. His last bit of faux resistance gone, he didn’t even fight against her denial, no, she’d trained him so well that he knew his orgasm was hers to control. The idea briefly flitted across her mind that rather than kill him, she could simply keep him in a cage and use him whenever she needed… no, that wouldn’t do, but it was still a lovely fantasy she’d hold onto long after his corpse began to rot.
Lowering her chin to look back at the man, she withdrew her fingers, sighing at the loss, and held out the digits, diluted to pink from blood and cum. “Show me how much you want it.”
And gods, did he. Gortash started by pressing open mouthed kisses around her fingers before taking them in as he made pleased little moans, tongue licking every crevice and sending a shiver through Rilwae, who grabbed the back of his head. The whole time, his eyes remained locked on hers, his cheeks hollowing out. She almost wished she had a dick to choke him with, but this would have to do. She spread her fingers, watching as the tips made his cheeks bulge. After a moment of that, she closed her fingers again and pushed them in to her last knuckle as Gortash choked again and his own fingers scrambled against her leg as he tried to adjust. He did indeed adjust, breathing heavily through his nose, the tears which had slowed now falling again, eyes looking up with blasphemous reverence.
Finally pulling her fingers out, Rilwae wiped them on his bloody shoulder. With the hand in his hair, she drew him closer while she shifted to sit more on the edge of the chair. When he started to pull forwards on his own between her legs, she pulled him back. “Seems you’ve forgotten your manners in your eagerness, Enver. This is me doing you a favor, and what do we say when someone does us a favor?”
Gortash responded with a voice like sandpaper, a man stranded in the desert staring at the oasis of her core. “Thank you for letting me taste you.”
“There we go, that’s a good tyrant.” Sweetness oozing from her voice, Rilwae’s hand violently pushed Gortash forward. Clearly used to this treatment, his hands came up to rest on her spread thighs as his mouth went to work, once again showing how his own memory was unaffected, knowing just what to do. He lapped against her clit before drawing the nub between his lips and sucking, her other hand now also flying to his hair. “Gods yes, this is what your tongue was made for, forget the speeches, you were made to be on your knees for me just like this.” He pulled off just enough to give her a few more licks before lowering his face and licking between her folds, finding her entrance and plunging in. While the feeling was distantly familiar, she hadn’t experienced it in her post-Tadpole memory and gasped at the pleasant intrusion which felt nothing like fingers. It was small yet lithe and for the briefest moment, her mind was blissfully quiet, nothing there but pure lust as she ground her hips into his face, his nose brushing her clit. As she began to adjust, enjoying it but knowing it wasn’t enough to reach climax, Gortash went back up to focus on her clit again. Her sharp nails dug into his scalp and he moaned, the vibration drawing a matching moan from her.
“I wonder what the people of the city would think if I sat in your throne and had you just like this, showed them you’re no more than a pathetic little slut for pain.” Unable to answer with words, Gortash just whined and his mouth became more frantic, teeth occasionally scraping, driving her closer and closer. Losing herself in the approaching orgasm, she could feel herself babbling insults that became profanities and melted into gibberish. When orgasm overtook her, she was dimly aware of her hands in his hair tightening, no doubt pulling some out.
When she came back to herself, Gortash remained nestled between her thighs, using his newfound movement with her loosened grip to place open mouthed kisses to her thighs and around her folds. She pulled his head back just enough to see his face, his stubble now coated in light pink as her juices had mixed with the blood there. She released her grip and shuddered with delight as her hands came back, black hairs sticking to her sweaty palms which she wiped against the chair’s arms.
“I suppose that was satisfactory.” Even though her voice was miraculously steady through her panting, they both knew she was only putting on a show. It was almost funny really, everyone told Gortash what he wanted to hear and yet in this room what he wanted was the opposite of what he sought publicly. His true desires laid bare, he wanted to be demeaned and belittled, to feel pain that only she could provide. It was intoxicating, no wonder she’d kept him alive. “I need more though and you are overdressed.” She slipped off her boots, grabbing her second dagger before lifting her bare foot and pushing against his chest, driving him backwards and into a position where he leaned back on his hands, legs splayed in front of him.
Pushing the chair back as she stood up, Rilwae lowered herself to straddle his hips, holding herself just above him for now. Gortash, only a creature of so much restraint, tried bucking his hips up. While she’d planned on dragging this out a bit more, she couldn’t deny how good that heat felt grinding into her. Relenting, she settled down onto him and rubbed against him while she brought the knife to his chest, cutting the patterns her mind drew up, keeping the wounds light enough that he wouldn’t pass out before she’d had her fun. When she was satisfied with her red canvas, she set the knife aside but still within reach and called fire to her fingers, tracing over the wounds she’d left.
Gortash’s groans built to a scream as she continued, her flames singing the edges of his fresh wounds. As his cries grew, Rilwae’s hips sped up, her clit brushing his clothed erection, which had not gone down despite the agony he must be in. In spite of his earlier reassurance of privacy, she glanced quickly towards the entrance, pausing her flames and straining her ears.
Surprisingly coherent through his gasping breaths, Gortash reached up to touch her arm, startling her. “I told you, we have the place to ourselves. I let them know what happened to those who interfered in the past.” Having control of his body again, he began grinding into her in earnest.
“And what happened to them?” Breathless, Rilwae dug her nails into his chest, deliberately slicing into the seared wounds.
Gortash struggled to speak through groans of blissful agony. “Whatever you wanted, dear…you tore a man’s throat with just your teeth…one drank acid poured in his throat…several dismemberments...”
Rilwae leaned over and kissed him at that, needing him more than she knew possible. She imagined returning to him with her hands stained from a curious interloper, their blood and viscera coating Enver’s cock as she eagerly palmed him, she imagined the blood still warm from a lifeless neck dripping into his mouth as they kissed just like this. She pulled away, hating it but knowing she had to, scooting so she now bracketed his lower thighs. Grabbing the knife off the floor, she lifted Gortash’s waistband and cut down each pant leg until she could pull the torn fabric back and his hardened cock sprang forward while he groaned with relief as his erection was finally freed.
Before mounting him, she couldn’t resist dragging the dagger along the length of his shaft, blade ghosting against his skin. Gortash’s hips trembled, scars showing where he’d bucked before and been nicked by the blade, or perhaps intentionally cut.
If Rilwae had been blessed with patience, she could’ve watched the Archduke writhe all day, but patience was a virtue the drow did not particularly possess, especially at this moment. She slid back up, bracing her knife hand against the floor as her other guided him into her, quickly sliding all the way down thanks to her earlier preparation, feeling absolutely filled.
Rolling her hips lightly, free hand now pressed against his chest, she asked, “how much did you miss this?”
“More than anything. Ruling wouldn’t be the same with you, without this,” His hands went to her breasts, using his gauntlet and rings to squeeze in a way that made her back arch.
Rilwae pulled the knife between them, holding the flat edge against his skin as she now braced against him with both hands, the dagger displayed against a lovely backdrop of her violence. His hands trailed down to her hips and their pace became even rougher, the tip of the blade piercing Gortash’s skin on harder thrusts.
Bodies coated with blood and sweat, the sounds of moans and skin on skin mixing together in the air, they both lost track of time. Rilwae had been more than happy to respect Astarion’s wishes and refrain from sexual intimacy but it would be a lie to say she hadn’t missed sex. She’d been given approval to find pleasure where she wished but she had yet to find anyone that interested her. This was the first time she’d had intimacy in tendays outside the touch of her own hand and Gortash felt incredible inside of her, praises falling from his lips. The curve of him was perfect to rub against that spot inside of her, driving her higher and higher. Her hand went around his throat again, unable to help herself. She did not choke him in earnest, not wanting to completely silence his sounds; instead, she only squeezed from the sides, letting go when his hips slowed too much, letting him wheeze back to life with renewed vigor each time, lifting her up and thrusting back in before letting her take charge of the pace again.
Rilwae came first and she could tell that Gortash was using the last of his control to hold himself back until she finished. As if on cue, as her own orgasm was ending, Gortash slammed back into her with a final hard thrust, spilling into her with a litany of gasps and curses.
Seeing her moment even through her post-orgasm haze, before he came back down, her knife hand came up in one swift motion as her free hand pressed his chin back, slicing deep and fast. Gortash’s eyes widened, pressing against her in an attempt to lift his head, a sound like the whistling wind coming out of his throat as his lips moved wordlessly before his head again fell back. Warm blood sprayed out and coated her body to match the warm cum inside her.
Panting, Rilwae dug her fingers into his split neck and pulled them out dripping, savoring the blood she licked off. She wiped the rest on her thigh and lifted up, the dead man’s cock falling out of her. She crawled over and leaned her face against his, staring at the empty eyes and holding his cheek until it went cold.
After dislodging Gortash’s netherstone, she walked over to a basin of water and did her best to wipe the blades and her hands, face, and neck. Once she decided she looked good enough, she went back to the desk, gathered her clothes, pocketed the stone, and sheathed her daggers in her boots again. After getting dressed, she walked out, seeing the curious looks from the Fists at her disheveled appearance. She simply shot a smirk to any who accidentally looked her in the eye as she collected her surrendered weapons and walked out.
Her past was just as mysterious as before but she would be frustrated about that tomorrow. This had been a good night.