Bad Ideas

Cain sighed and idly tossed a grape from one hand to the other before popping it in his mouth and chewing for a few seconds. After he'd swallowed he sighed and met Ariav's curious look from across the living room. "What's your problem?" the elf enquired, setting aside her book.

The human sighed again, going for another grape. "Nothing....just bored."

Silence reigned for another few minutes, until Ariav stood. "Come on."

Cain looked up from the grape bowl. "What?"

"We're gonna get drunk and do things we regret in the morning," the elf explained, "Now come on."

"Wait," Cain said, "I say I'm bored, and your first response is 'let's get wasted and do wacky shit'?"

Arian simply nodded.

The death knight laughed and rose from his chair. "I knew there was a reason I got along with you."

"So, baby, when ya wanna go back ta the house?" Cain slurred somewhere around ten o clock that evening.

Ariav was flushed slightly from the alcohol, the pinkness just barely showing through her golden tan. "Whenever you want," she replied, slurring worse, if at all possible, than the human had moments before.

Cain's subconscious screamed at him to get a grip, but the rest of him was too drunk to care. "Well then come on, let's go have some fun."

The lopsided smile Ariav gave him in response before she stood up and gained her bearings, surprisingly steady on her feet for the amount of alcohol she'd just drank, and made her way to the bar's front door. Cain watched her go, paying special attention to the way she moved without her usual rigidness, then paid their tab for the night and followed.

The streets were dark and quiet at this time of night, even the few drifters that hid out in the shadows of buildings settling down for some shut-eye, so the pair were alone as they walked back to the manor. The cold air sobered them up a little, enough to remain quiet and not cause a racket until the front door of Blackwind closed behind them, then they found themselves in Cain's room.

He whipped around and pressed her up against the wall, hands tangling in her hair with an aggressive kiss following. She put a hand on his chest and pushed him off of her, stepping away from the wall.  Cain frowned. "Why'd you-"

She slipped her phone out of her pocket and tossed it onto the table a few feet behind him, a set of throwing knives following it. "Just figured you'd want those out of your way," Ariav murmured, putting her hands on his shoulders, "Ya know, before we got to the really good stuff."

He grinned and led her over to his bed. "I'll try to be gentle," was his only remark before her belt unclipped and was tossed behind him.

"Oh fuck that," she responded, pulling his shirt up and over his head, "I'm a big girl, don't baby me."

Cain's hands encouraged the vacation of her leggings, then went for her tank top. "So you want me to be a little rougher, is that it?"

His pants found themselves on the floor. "I want you as hard as possible, a little bit of pain won't kill me."

"Hmmmm, can I do that?" he mock-wondered aloud, his hands running over bare skin. "I think I might be able to."

Ariav chucked his boxers aside and gasped as Cain's hands ran the gauntlet. "You're....ah.......really hard, you must want this a lot."

Now it was the human's turn to suck in air as she teased the subject of her previous jab, her touch warm on his cold skin. "All that vodka you had must not have dumbed down your sensitivity, huh?"

In response Cain shoved her down onto the bed, growling. "You want me to torture you like that?" he asked, using a knee to shift her one leg slightly more off to the side.

"Well, I don't think you could control yourself long enough to work anything significant up, so why don't we just move al-ohhh!" Ariav moaned as he hilted inside her with a groan.

The two got louder and much more into what they were doing, neither noticing the midnight-black phone on the table about ten feet away. Or, more specifically, the blinking red dot the screen displayed.

Ariav yawned and rolled over out of bed, not noticing the cold arm that had been draped over her flopping to the mattress in her absence. She stretched and went to collect her clothes, then stopped and went wide-eyed. Slowly turning, she fervently prayed under her breath not to see.......exactly what she saw. Cain, passed out, presumably naked as his clothes were scattered across the floor around the bed just like her own, snoring slightly. Probably with the pungent scent of vodka still on his breath too.

She looked down and had to hold back an embarrassed squeak, then ran for her clothes, collecting them all up and throwing them on hurriedly. She dashed to the table to get her phone and knives before Cain woke up, which she accomplished, then uttered a quiet apology to the sleeping death knight before slipping out the door and sprinting quietly down the hall to her own room.

Once safely inside, she deposited the knives on her bedside table and plugged her phone, which was now dead - she must have left it on overnight - onto it's charger before grabbing a change of clothes and hitting the shower. Washing as well as she could, she clutched her head in pain until the hangover eased enough for her to cast cleanse, the trump card of any paladin. She checked her inner thighs and had to bite her lip to stop from screaming - if Cain had pulled out, he hadn't done a very good job of it, but she was betting that wasn't the case. He had come in her, and now she was at risk.

Ariav knew the chance of a living woman being impregnated by a death knight was astronomically slim, but the pesky 2% success rate sat in the back of her mind, continuing to freak her out as she frantically scrubbed down. After her shower she threw together a shopping list, deciding that when Cain woke up she did not want to be in the house, and grabbed for her coin pouch and phone.

Leaving a note in the kitchen on the fridge - Went out, bbs - did nothing to help her anxiety, and she shrugged into the mail armor she wore on off days and tacked on her hooded cloak, exiting Blackwind quietly. Silverlight was already a busy city at just seven in the morning, but that didn't bother her any. She had her mission, and she was sticking to it.

Cain woke up to a feeling of emptiness, his arm stretching across an empty space in his bed. The human sat up and, through the throbbing headache his hangover gifted him with, took inventory. Belt? On the table, hanging off the edge. Shirt? Floor to his left. Pants? Opposite the shirt. Boxers? Under the table.

Odd warm spot in his bed? Yep, directly to his left. His only question was who had left that warm spot in her haste to get out of his room.

As he rolled out of bed, going as quick as the headache allowed, and heard a jingle under his foot. Checking the sound rewarded him with the answer: pulling an inch wide strip of black leather out from under his bed, with the familiar gold threading that made it look like it was made of chainmail instead of leather. The only decorative belt he was aware that Ariav owned.

Collecting up his clothing and throwing it in the wash with his bedsheets, he had one positive thought: Well, at least I know who it was.

Ariav dumped her bag on her bed, next to her knives, and once more plugged her phone onto it's charger cord. But this time, she noticed the icon in the corner. Tapping it gave her a blank screen, and she was about to turn it off and delete whatever it was, and then she heard the moan.

"Mmm, Cain, oh fuck, harder," her voice, distorted by the phone's playback but recognizable nonetheless, was the first to speak up.

"Hah, nngh, you like that baby?" was the response, ending with a pleasured groan that she now knew came from Cain.

There was a creak in the background, under the gasps and moans, which her subconscious helpfully labeled as Cain's bed, every so often.

She checked the recording. It was an hour and twenty minutes, which either meant the monster under the table had turned it off or it'd died then. Glancing around her room, she skipped to the half hour mark.

"Babe....baby I can't, nngh, can't keep up like this much-" one of her own moans interrupted "-much longer," Cain sounded like he was struggling to talk, and when he did stop talking he went immediately back to the groans she'd heard earlier in the recording, only faster and every other second. "H-how close are...ahh.....you?"

An extra loud moan from her prefaced the answer. "I.....ooh yeah, I'm....mmmnh, Cain, don't stop,"

Ariav didn't even have a single emotion to describe how she felt. Confusion and fear on how Cain word react. Guilt and shame because she goaded him into it. Embarrassment because, well, they'd done it. Which was normally no problem for two consenting adults, but one, they'd been drunk. Two, she was........well, she was herself. Cain's crowd were the champions of the worlds. Famous, worlds-renowned fighters from the Alliance, the Horde, and neutral factions. Who was she, a little paladin, to be his?

Faintly through this reverie she heard her pixellated voice calling his name, over and over, for a few seconds, then whispering it. Reaching over, Ariav shut off the phone, but did not delete the video, instead reaching for the small, sterile linen bag sitting on her bed.

Cain knocked on the door to Ariav's room, holding her belt behind his back. She answered the door with a smile that faded as soon as she saw him. "Oh, hey."

"Well hello to you too," he said, grinning as he brushed past her into her room. For a moment she seemed like she was going to object, then sighed and closed the door behind him.

He'd studied her on his way in, she had no belt on, which worked for his plan. But when Cain sat down on the edge of the elf's bed, he noticed something even more interesting, namely the odd collection of items sitting on her bedspread.

"And just what's up with all of these?" he asked, going to pick up the closest thing to his hand, which was an oddly-shaped linen bag.

Ariav snatched it out of his hand and he grabbed her with the other one, pulling her into him with a powerful kiss. She struggled for a few seconds and then relaxed into his grip, so he slid his hands down and threaded the belt around her waist, buckling it and breaking off.

She stood still for a few seconds, so he finished what he'd intended to do in the first place: "So I'll see you at six for dinner, right? Of course I will. See you later, Ria."

And then he sauntered out of her room with the appearance of a man with all the time in the world.