No Absolution
Pairing: Skade x Osferth Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Word count: ~1.7k
Summary: When Skade manages to lure Osferth into the cell where she is being held prisoner, she coaxes out a side of him that surprises even her. For the Kinktober prompt "hair pulling".
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Skade paced the small confines of her cell, certain now that she had memorised every detail of the cramped space, having all but counted the stones that made up the crumbling walls. It smelled dank, and the wood of the bench – the only place to sit or lie down – was rotten. The iron lattice that made up the door of her prison was rusted brown, the small view of Dunholm it afforded her had become boring hours ago, especially now that Jackdaw had taken his leave of her. He had been charged with guarding her cell but had grown fed up with her taunts, and when she had flashed her breast to him, he had finally walked away, declaring he did not wish to grow ill as Uhtred had. It was a pity, she had only meant to torment him for her own amusement, she meant no serious harm. The key to the door that held her captive was on a hook on the outer wall, but it was too high up, and her arm was not long enough to reach it. It hung there as though mocking her, promising freedom that was out of her grasp.
Sliding her arms through the gaps in the lattice, she let her hands hang limp. The sky outside had begun to dull from the grey, rolling clouds of the afternoon to the muted dark blue of early evening. She eyed the goat’s head that Brida had staked into the ground when Skade had first arrived. Its lifeless eyes seemed to mock her, even in death – it rendered her powers useless to anyone on the other side of it, which was terribly boring, though Uhtred had not gone unscathed; she had cursed him before being taken prisoner. She wondered how he fared now, his skin had been pallid as spoiled milk when she had last laid her eyes upon him.
She glanced up as she noticed a tall, robed figure begin to hurry past. Skade recognised him – the holy man that had helped to bring Uhtred to Dunholm. He was one of her captors. His hair was rounded against his head, though shaved from the ears downward – a peculiar sight to look upon, considering she was accustomed to men sporting braids or untamed manes matted by wind and battle. His blue eyes carried a softness in them, though the sharpness of his angular features suggested something darker may lurk beneath the surface. Skade had nothing better to do – she longed to coax it out.
“Priest! Priest!” she called out to him.
He halted in his tracks, his eyes going wide momentarily and his jaw slackening, before he furrowed his brow in annoyance, his tone sharp. “I am no priest, and I must not talk to you. You are a witch and you have made my lord, Uhtred, quite unwell.”
Skade fought the urge to laugh, though amusement still sparkled in her eyes as she stared at him. His attempt at chastising her was pitiful – she had encountered a small, wiry farmyard dog once who had attempted to be equally threatening, lunging at her and yapping. She had dispatched it with a swift kick to the ribs and it had run away yelping. She wondered what she could do to make the man before her yelp too.
“I am no more a witch than you are a priest,” she responded haughtily, lifting her chin, “I am a seer. So what does that make you?”
He blinked rapidly, clearly not anticipating her question, and tucked his hands inside of his leather breastplate as he considered his answer. “A monk…I was a novice…now I am nothing really. I am simply Osferth, I serve Lord Uhtred.”
“It is lonely in this cell all by myself, Osferth. Will you keep me company for a while?” she asked, offering a soft smile as she cocked her head.
He tensed, glancing behind him uncomfortably, before looking at her once more. “I mustn’t do that.”
She sighed, curling her fingers around the rusted iron of the cell door in a firm grasp. “I will not harm you,” she reassured him, “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. See that Nithstong?” – she nodded towards the stake in front of the cell door – “that has been staked into the ground so that my magic will not work, and I am unarmed.”
“But what you did to Uhtred–”
“Does your religion not preach forgiveness?” she interjected, pressing her face closer – she could almost feel the roughness of the rust against her cheeks. “Am I not worthy of absolution? A simple reading of scripture is all I ask, and then you may take your leave of me.”
Osferth’s brows knitted together in exasperation, she could sense that he wanted nothing more than to be done with this exchange, but his moral purity kept him rooted to the spot. “I have no bible.”
“Do you need one?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I find it hard to believe that a man such as yourself doesn’t have a few verses he knows by heart.”
He frowned, his hands moving from his breastplate to clasp nervously in front of him as he glanced around again, obviously checking to see if he was being watched.
Skade rolled her eyes. “Take the key and come inside, if you can’t be seen then you can’t be caught.”
When he hesitated, she stepped back against the wall of the cell, holding up her hands in a supplicating gesture. With an exasperated huff, Osferth finally reached for the key. It scraped in the lock as he turned it, and he shot another anxious look over his shoulder as the hinges of the iron lattice squeaked in protest as he pulled it open and then closed it again. He had to stoop to stand inside, his presence suddenly making the small space feel crowded.
“Sit,” Skade gestured towards the rotted wooden bench affixed to the wall she wasn’t standing against, “you will be more comfortable.”
Osferth bowed his head in thanks as best as he could, and tentatively perched himself upon the makeshift seat. “There are quite a few bible verses that I can recite by heart, but I am not sure any of them are helpful in this particular situation.”
Skade knelt before him, feeling the cold damp of the earthen floor seep through the fabric of her skirt – she didn’t care, her appearance had been far from tidy long before being locked away, her dress becoming a little dirty would make no difference. “Do you think I am worthy of absolution?” she asked, gazing up at Osferth.
There was something akin to mild terror in the wide eyed stare he regarded her with. His nostrils flared slightly as he struggled to keep his breathing calm. Skade smiled, showing a glimpse of her teeth, unsure of whether she wished to comfort him or unsettle him further. Placing her hands upon his knees, she pushed the sturdy brown linen of his robe aside, dragging her hands up the length of the trousers that covered his thighs.
Angry outrage flashed across his face and his hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of the long, blonde hair at the back of her head and holding it taut, halting the movement of her hands before they could reach his groin. “Stop that,” he demanded.
There it was, the darkness she had sensed simmering just beneath the surface of him. She held his gaze unflinchingly, in spite of the stinging in her scalp where he gripped her hair tightly. There was a hunger in his gaze, an ache of want that contradicted his outward display of anger. His chest heaved as he stared back, making no move to release her. There was a shift in the air, a charged moment of silent agreement.
Hurriedly, Skade’s fingers worked to untie his breeches, and Osferth loosened his grip on her just enough for her to lean forward and free his cock. He was already hard, the weight and warmth of him throbbed in her palm. Not wanting to give him time to change his mind, she descended upon him, her lips wrapping around his girth as she took him to the back of her throat, the coarse hairs at the base of his pelvis brushing the tip of her nose. The scent of him was musky with arousal, a welcome change to the damp and rot of the cell she was held in. The taste of him was salty upon her tongue, and with every bob of her head it became stronger – she could sense piety, restraint, but above all, the urge to let go of the shackles of expectation. She wanted to give him a fleeting sense of freedom, if only to have him retreat back to the guilt of having experienced it in the first place.
As her movements became more rapid, Osferth sank both his hands into the thickness of her hair. The gentle pull sent waves of arousal coursing through Skade that made her throb.
“Not this night,” she thought, “though perhaps another.”
He bucked his hips, fucking himself up into her mouth with every downwards plunge of her head. His breathing turned to panting, wanton and heavy as he started to tense, his thighs trembling as she felt him begin to pulse in her mouth. She grasped the base of him, stroking him quickly in time with her oral ministrations. The groan that tore from his throat as his cock jerked and he came was almost pathetic. He continued pulling her hair, thrusting shallowly as she swallowed every drop of his potent spend.
Finally spent, he released her, and Skade settled back on her haunches, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She grinned as she looked up at him, taking in the sight of his flushed features and harsh breathing. Osferth blinked suddenly, as though coming to, his eyes going wide. He tucked himself away, standing abruptly, almost striking his head against the ceiling.
“You are wicked!” he cried out accusatorily, “you said the Nithstong would protect me!”
Skade laughed, rising to her feet and brushing off the dampened material of her dress. “You are on the wrong side of it, monk.”
“Evil, blasphemer!” he spat, scrambling from the cell and locking the door with shaking hands. “I’ll have no more of your depravity!”
“And yet now I have a piece of you,” she said softly, coming to stand at the iron bars, watching his frightened movements with feline curiosity. “Pleasant dreams, Osferth.”
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