Oh my god that last ask about Bryn calling you his prize, fuck, imagine him calling you his prize as he fucks you oh fuck I want that so bad yes I'm his prize yes yes yes
finally someone other than me has considered that praise kink = good.
Content Warnings: explicit sex and language. MINORS DNI.
""Well, well... color me impressed, lass. I wasn't certain I'd ever see you again!" You clasp your hands, unable to meet his gaze. He's lounging in his seat at the table despite being the only one there. Did he wait up to see if you made it, even after everyone else retired for the night?
"Getting here was easy." You try to sound confident but still can't make eye contact with him. If you do, you know that he'll know. He'll know all of the filthy thoughts you've had about him from the first night he challenged you in the Bee and Barb.
"Reliable and headstrong? You're turning out to be quite the prize!"
Fuck.
You clench your mouth shut, staring intently at the buckles on his chest. You try to stop it but your mind is already savoring the way he'd said that, how he'd sound saying it against your skin, the thrill it sent up your spine. You imagine how he would praise you while he fucked you, how it would feel to have Brynjolf's cock in you and his hands guiding your hips. His smooth voice might be enough to get you off right there.
"You alright, lass?" He asks, leaning forward in the seat. You nod and take a step back, staring at his mouth instead. Your face is bright red. He looks worried. You look so stupid, you should just escape to the Cistern before you say something and make it worse. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No." Your voice sounds too high when you finally meet his gaze. "No it's, it doesn't matter."
When he stares at you it feels like you could melt. He reaches a hand out carefully, thumb pressing into your wrist for a few moments and you curse the hammering of your heart under your ribs. His brows raise before he meets your gaze again, a sly grin on his face.
He knows.
"Did I say something right, then?" His voice is lower and it feels like you're going to combust. You manage to nod once, every inch of your face and neck an almost glowing blush when he beckons you closer. He can't be serious.
"I'm sorry." You turn toward the Cistern, desperate to escape from the awkwardness you've created. Brynjolf knows. It must've been written all over your face the moment he said those words - you're quite the prize.
"Lass," his voice is sharp, commanding. You pause when you feel his hand on your hip. "Is something wrong?"
"No." You breathe, resisting the urge to lean back into the surely strong body behind you. His free hand sweeps your hair to the side, hot breath barely ghosting over your neck. It's thrilling. It feels like every tiny cell in your body is focused on the feeling of Brynjolf touching you.
"Is this what you want?" He murmurs, the hand on your hip drawing you closer. You're nodding, not trusting your voice. His fingers easily sneak into the waistband of your pants and it feels unreal. You've thought of so many times when touching yourself the same way; how his fingers would feel all over you, how his kisses would feel, the smooth voice of his talking you through your orgasm.
"Yes, please." You whimper, slapping a hand over your mouth when his fingers dip into your undergarments. Your knees are weak and you lean into the wall of muscle behind you, pleasure already making your limbs weak.
"Was it what I said that made you look at me like that?" His voice is dangerously low against your ear and the words are everything you needed. You're nodding, hand still clutched over your mouth to keep from drawing attention. "What, that you're my prize?"
"Yes," you groan into your palm when he plants a kiss to your shoulder, one finger stroking along your most sensitive parts. His chuckle is addicting and you want all of him. You want to touch him, to kiss him, to do whatever he wants.
"Such a pretty little prize, just for me." One finger slips inside of you and you're fairly sure you could orgasm just from that. He's gentle, moving slowly at first while he hums gently against the skin of your throat. "Daring to do this in the Flagon, aren't you? Anyone we know could walk in and see you dripping all over my fingers."
"Brynjolf," you gasp, his thumb brushing over your clit while his fingers pick up speed. It's everything you'd wanted and more. You want to scream, to be flattened into his mattress while he fucks you but you'd do anything for him to keep touching you.
"Then everyone would know you're my prize." His nose brushes against your ear while he speaks, voice hot against your skin. His finger continues fucking into you and you can feel his cock straining in his pants against your thigh. "My little prize, all for me." His thumb swipes over your clit again, finger pounding into you and you can't take it anymore.
You orgasm with his fingers inside of you, his voice in his ear whispering things you'd imagined for weeks and his arms holding you steady. The moans are barely stifled by the hand over your mouth, breath heavy as you sag into his arms.
"Good job." He murmurs gently, hand slipping out of your pants. Your cheeks are burning and you straighten yourself out. You take a step away, turning to face Brynjolf once more. There's a smirk on his face that only makes you blush more, his eyes hungry while they take you in. "You up for more?"
"Yes please."
