Announcementany comments or whatever are welcome. ya'll are a pretty silent bunchBefore I could second-guess myself, I shifted, rolling us over so that I was hovering above her. And then, I lowered my head, not to her lips, not to her breasts, but lower… much lower. My tongue flicked out, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin, right there, between her thighs. I heard her gasp, a sharp intake of breath that was more surprise than protest.

  “Sam…?” she whispered, her voice a little shaky. But she didn’t push me away.

  “Just… trust me,” I murmured, my voice muffled against her flesh. And then, I started to really kiss her, to lick, to taste, to explore. Gods, she’s delicious.

  I worked my way up, slowly, deliberately, leaving a trail of wet kisses in my wake. Her thighs, the soft curve of her hip, the delicate skin of her belly. Each touch, each taste, was a revetion. This was what I wanted. This closeness, this intimacy, this… her. I reached her breasts, soft and full, the nipples already hard and peaked, begging for my attention. I took one into my mouth, suckling gently, then not so gently, and she moaned, her fingers digging into my hair.

  Finally, I reached her mouth, kissing her deeply, possessively, a kiss that was meant to say everything I couldn’t put into words. I want you. All of you. I felt her respond, her tongue meeting mine, her body arching up to meet me. I wanted to push inside her, to feel her tight and wet around me, to lose myself in her completely. But…

  “Not… yet,” she whispered, a surprising strength in her voice, and before I could protest, she pushed against my chest, rolling us over again so that she was on top.

  She straddled my hips, her hair a wild, tangled curtain around us, her eyes bzing with a desire that matched my own. And then, she slid down, taking the head of my cock in her mouth.

  “Oh. My. Gods.” I managed to choke out.

  My hands automatically went to her head, my fingers tangling in her hair, not to guide her, not to control her, but simply to… hold on. Because I was pretty sure I was about to fly apart. Every lick, every kiss, every gentle suckle sent waves of pleasure through me, building, intensifying, until I was gripping the sheets, my body bucking involuntarily, a desperate plea for release.

  She lifted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and licked her lips, slowly, deliberately. “So,” she whispered, her voice husky. “Is this your little rogue, then, Samuel? He’s certainly... eager.” She gave a small, knowing smile. “Let’s see if he’s as skilled as you cim.” And then, she went back to work, with renewed enthusiasm.

  It felt like forever, and not nearly long enough.

  And then… thump-thump-thump. The wall. Followed by a muffled moan.

  I almost lost it then, but I bit my lip as a wave of rexation came crashing on me. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  I opened my eyes, met Lily’s gaze above me, and we both burst out ughing. The absurdity of the situation, the sheer raunchiness of it all, was just too much.

  “Seriously?” I managed to gasp between breaths, still ughing. “They’re still going?”

  Lily just grinned, a wicked, pyful glint in her eyes, and slid off my cock, the sudden absence a sharp pang of disappointment. She climbed up, straddling my hips again, her weight a welcome pressure, her heat a tantalizing promise. This time, she took me in hand, guiding me to her entrance, and then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she sank down, taking me all the way inside her. Balls deep.

  “Oh, gods,” I groaned, my head falling back against the pillows. “Lily…”

  She started to move, a slow, rhythmic rocking that sent shivers through me. And the competition began.

  Each thrust, each moan, each thump against the wall from next door was a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down. Lily met it head-on, her movements growing wilder, more frantic, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. I gripped her hips, trying to match her pace, trying to keep up, trying to… well, trying to survive.

  After a while, sweaty and out of breath, and more than a little intimidated by Lily’s stamina, I flipped us over, a surge of primal possessiveness taking over. “My turn,” I growled, and before she could protest, I was inside her, moving, driving, ciming her as my own.

  I leaned over her, grabbing both her hands in mine, pulling them above her head, a move that was both dominant and strangely intimate. And then I started to kiss her, deep, hungry kisses that stole her breath away, as I thrust into her, once, twice, three times, each stroke deeper, harder, faster. The headboard smmed against the wall, keeping rhythm with our neighbors, a percussive accompaniment to our increasingly frantic lovemaking.

  I wanted her to shout, to scream, to lose control completely. I wanted to make her lose control. I wanted to mark her, to cim her, to make her forget everyone and everything except me. But she was holding on, her body tight and responsive, her moans muffled against my mouth, her inner muscles clenching around me, milking me, driving me closer and closer to the edge.

  I kept going, pushing, thrusting, feeling her body respond, feeling the tension build, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. This girl, this amazing, infuriating, surprising girl… she was everything. Ashara’s mission, the training, the rivalry with Felix… it all faded into insignificance compared to this, to her.

  And then, with a final, desperate thrust, I came, my body convulsing, my vision whiting out, a roar tearing from my throat. I felt her follow, her body shaking, her inner muscles clenching around me, a silent climax that was no less powerful for its ck of sound.

  Naked and exhausted, we colpsed, a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin, gasping for breath, our bodies still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. The neighbors? Still going at it, though even they seemed to be slowing down. Finally.

  Lily’s fingers traced zy circles on my back, her touch light and soothing. “So,” she said, her voice a soft murmur in the quiet room, “what’s a rogue, anyway? I mean, I know you use daggers,” she chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down my spine, “and you have that… dramatic dark cape… but what does it actually entail?”

  I shifted slightly, propping myself up on one elbow so I could look at her. Her white-blonde hair was a tangled mess around her face, her blue eyes sparkling in the dim light. She looked… content. And, gods, she was beautiful.

  I reached out, my fingers tracing a slow, deliberate line down the center of her chest, from the hollow of her throat, over the soft swell of her breasts, down to her navel. She shivered, but didn’t pull away.

  “It’s… complicated,” I said, my voice still a little rough from… well, everything.“It’s kind of… a starting point. A foundation. You learn the basics – stealth, observation, how to handle yourself in a fight, how to… acquire things. And then, you can… specialize. Some rogues become assassins, all about silent killing. Others become thieves, focusing on… well, stealing. Some become scouts, experts in reconnaissance and infiltration.” I paused, my fingers lingering on the soft skin of her belly.

  “And you?” she prompted, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Me?” I chuckled, a wry sound. “I’m not… I’m not an assassin. I don’t… I don’t enjoy killing for the sake of killing. And I’m not just a thief, either. I mean, sure, who hasn’t stolen something once or twice?”

  I tried to sound casual, nonchant, but my voice probably betrayed my nervousness.“But it’s not… it’s not who I am.”

  I lifted my hand from her belly, tracing the line of her colrbone instead, my touch light.

  “The thing is… being a rogue… it’s about being self-reliant. Look at other…professions… other ways of… operating. A warrior needs a cleric, a healer, to keep them alive. A cleric needs someone to protect them, to deal damage. A mage, a damage dealer, needs someone to tank to take the hits. They all need each other. They need a party.”

  I shook my head. “A rogue… a rogue can work alone. We can move unseen, unheard. We can get in, get the job done, and get out. We can gather information, deliver damage, and complete quests… all on our own. We don’t need anyone else.”

  My fingers trailed down her arm, finally resting on her hand, intertwining our fingers.

  “I’m not saying I’m… a saint. I’m not saying I’ve never done anything… questionable. There’s probably a guy or two out there who…deserved a dagger in the back,” I said, trying to sound tough but probably just sounding… uncertain, “But… that’s not the point. The point is…independence. Being able to rely on myself. To… to make my own way. To… to be free.”

  Then, Lily pulled back slightly, her brow furrowing with a hint of concern. “So,” she said, her voice soft, “does that mean you’ll always work alone? Is that… part of being a rogue?”

  I sighed, the weight of that question settling heavily on my chest. It was a question I’d asked myself many times, a question that had no easy answer. “Yeah,” I said, finally, my voice a little rough. “It kind of… is. It’s… safer that way. For everyone.”

  “Safer?” she asked, her eyes searching mine. “For who?”

  “For… for me. And for… for anyone I… get close to.” I looked away, unable to hold her gaze. The truth was… it was a lonely path. A dangerous path. And attachments… attachments made you vulnerable. Made you weak. Ashara had drilled that into me, over and over again.

  “A rogue works alone,” I continued, my voice barely a whisper. “Travels alone. Finds… warmth… where they can.” The words felt hollow, even to my own ears. A justification, a rationalization, for a life that was… by its very nature… solitary.

  Lily was silent for a moment, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest, her touch a comforting presence. I could feel her empathy, her understanding, even without her saying a word. It was… unnerving. To be seen, to be understood, in a way I hadn’t expected. And it made the loneliness… even more acute.

  “But… when you’re in town…” she said, her voice hesitant, “…will you… will you visit me?”

  I looked at her, my heart aching with a sudden, sharp pang of… something I couldn’t quite name. Longing? Regret? Hope? “Of course,” I said, my voice firm, trying to project a confidence I didn’t entirely feel. “Absolutely. I… I’d like that very much.”

  She smiled, a small, sad smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She understood. She knew the risks, the limitations, the inherent transience of my life. And yet… she still offered… this. This connection. This… warmth.

  “But… my job…” I continued, needing to make her understand, needing to be honest, even if it hurt, “…it’s going to get… more dangerous. More… demanding. I might be gone for… long periods. I might not be able to… to see you as often as I’d like.”

  I couldn’t promise her anything. I couldn’t offer her stability, or security, or… a future. All I could offer was… moments. Stolen moments, snatched from the jaws of danger and uncertainty. “It’s… better not to… to y down roots. Not for someone like me.”

  “I understand” she said, with a smile.

  oc_wanderer