Bad Ideas

by Morelle

Rating: mature
Tags:
Length: 5484

A collection of alcohol or spur-of-the-moment decisions that all seem questionable after all's been said and done.

A collection of alcohol or spur-of-the-moment decisions that all seem questionable after all's been said and done.

1-Ariav/Cain
2-

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-07-08 01:58:04 UTC

Chapter 1

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.

Chapter 2

*Ka-poppoppop*

"Hahahaha!"

"How do you do that?!"

*Click*

*BOOM*

"You're a dumbass."

".......I hate you."

Nalsia's head tipped back as she laughed, her unbound hair falling to the floor as she did. I tried very hard not to stare, to my credit. I was too busy being virtually killed, over and over again. It should've aggravated me, but really, I was too busy focusing on not staring at the dragon tattoo coiling around her one arm.

Yeah, I had it bad for her. Though why I was wasting my time wishing on stars after the most out of my league woman I had ever met was beyond me. Though she evidently found my character's headless forward slump extremely amusing, as she didn't react when I told her just what I thought of her camping my respawn point.

No, Nalsia just kept laughing at my expense.

Finally the match ended: the score was 35-0. I sucked.

Finally, after she'd finished laughing, she turned off the Xbox and sat back. "What?"

In an odd sort of answer, she leaned closer.

I could tell as soon as I leaned forward that he was already getting a little stiff. I traced the curve of his jaw with one of my fingers and his breath hitched, coming in erratic little gasps as his eyes widened. Apparently I'd also stolen his voice, as Thrian gave me a look that was half 'Wtf?' and half 'Don't stop'.

I smirked and shifted forward even farther, tilting his head up slightly as I was taller, before kissing him.

It took me a full three seconds to notice I'd accidentally started to add tongue, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, his wrestled with my own as I glared at the back of his eyelids. How was a seductive look supposed to work if he wasn't watching? Ugh, and men say women are hard to understand.

Eventually I had to let him breathe, so I pulled back slightly and broke our little bond. His eyes fluttered open–kinda funny, watching a guy's eyelashes flutter like that–and stared at me with an intensity never before witnessed by my eyes. Despite the fact that I'd most likely damn near asphyxiated him, his breaths were measured and slow.

Rolling my eyes, I neatly flipped him under me on the couch, my knees on either side of his hips and my eyes locked with his.

"W-what are you doing?" Thrian managed, his tone flustered even in light of the pure animalistic look he was shooting me.

"Shhh," I murmured back, leaning down to kiss up the side of his neck, or at least what his shirt didn't cover, causing him to gasp again, "Just let it happen if you want it."

He apparently did want it, because a few seconds later I was the one gasping as his teeth attacked my neck, in a very artistic pattern I might add, accompanied by licks and every so often he'd stop to suck on a certain spot for a few seconds.......it was amazing.

Eventually I regained enough control of my faculties to slip a hand down to the hem of his shirt, forcing it to vacate soon after.

Damn, he was pretty ripped. Not body builder style, but in that hard-edged range that made him hot even with how shy he was, a few softer lines here and there.

His own hands shot up to the bottom of my shirt, my lips locking with his again.

Briefly, I wondered how he'd react to my tattoos. But.....he really knew how to work those teeth....

I slowly tugged the bottom edge of her shirt higher, and she nodded once she broke off the kiss.

Now okay with what I was about to do, I pulled her shirt up and over her head and flung it to the side, leaving the upper portion of her chest wrapped in bandages. I blinked and regarded them for a few seconds, but still couldn't seem to find the endpoint from which they could, theoretically, be unravelled, appearing to be all one bandage.

Nalsia took on a bemused expression, taking my right hand in her left and sliding it up her spine to where I could just feel the end of the bandage roll tucked under itself. I'd noticed some black marks on her side before, but now I was really in awe.

A dragon coiled up her left arm, from her elbow to her shoulder, but it wasn't alone. Another larger dragon took up the space across from it on her right side, its wings flared to hug her stomach and back. The thing's tail just barely disappeared under the upper edge of her leggings, which reminded me what I'd been doing in the first place.

I shook my head slightly and pulled the bandage end out from underneath itself, unwinding it from around her chest slowly. I stripped the bandages off her and tossed them aside, staring into her eyes for a few seconds.

It was said that you could tell how many things a Death Knight had killed by how bright their eyes were, or how many shades of blue they contained. I'd never really done it before, but I tried it then. Her eyes were rather bright, and had two shades of blue. Interesting.

She leaned down close to me. "I've killed a lot more things than my eyes reflect," she murmured, directly in my ear as usual, and my ears turned red. Nalsia also knew exactly what I'd been thinking, as usual. Oh well, time to test my theory....

With a heave, I was out from under her and on the floor. My movements also dislodged her, and she rolled a few inches before I trapped her body under mine this time. I gave her exactly a five-count to recover, then dipped my head down and started nibbling on her collarbone.

She gasped and closed her eyes, biting her lip as well if the muffled "Oh,"s were any indication, squirming under me. I bit and licked my way over to her shoulder, where I started tracing the lines on her tattoo with my tongue and teeth.

Just to clear this up, I had no idea what I was doing, but quite frankly if Nalsia Icerunner, of all people, wanted to be my first then who was I to complain?

I could feel Thrian's tongue sliding over the tattoo on my side, which was lot hotter than it sounded. I gave a slight breathy moan as he returned to my collarbone, stopping there for another few seconds before nibbling up my neck and kissing me.

While this was absolutely nothing like the side of him I knew, I really couldn't bring myself to care, as I liked this side of him better at the moment.

His fingers hooked on the waistline of my leggings and tugged down, shooting me a look to gauge my reaction, and I nodded. With a strong and final pull, my pants were three feet behind him and along with them had gone my underwear. That guy had skills.

Thrian sat back for a few seconds and looked me over. I swallowed nervously.

"It's the scars, isn't it?" to my surprise, in my attempt to keep the panic out of my voice, the tone had become sad and almost resigned. In an answer, he shook his head emphatically. "What? No!"

He trailed his index finger down an old, old scar on my chest, that ran from my third-to-top rib to my waist, and I shivered at the touch. "Your scars make you who you are, right? Well, if I lo–like you, then I guess I like the scars as well." He shot me a sheepish smile, as if praying I hadn't heard his little slipup.

I decided to let it be, and smiled in relief.

Chapter 3

    Ariav gasped as cold lips met the back of her neck. "Goddamnit Cain, what've I told you about doing that?"

    She heard a low chuckle over the sounds of the shower, then gasped again as Cain casually slipped one finger, then two, into her. "I can't remember....why don't you remind me?"

   Struggling to concentrate, the elf turned herself around and immediately regretted the decision. Cain took the opportunity and threw her up against the wall, and as she slowly slid down she wrapped her legs around him for traction. His grin warned her of her mistake, but it was too late for her. With one smooth movement and a satisfied groan, he buried himself deep inside her, kissing her shoulder and continuing to hold her up against the wall.

    Ariav nearly drew blood as she bit her lip, trying not to moan as he set a maddeningly slow pace, her back sliding up and down the slick tile wall as Cain moved. She knew that he was trying to draw her out, trying to get her to beg for him to go faster, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

    The human looked at her tightly closed eyes, her set jaw, and noted how hard she was clenched around him, and decided the best thing to do was speed up, which he did.

    While not my that much faster than before, the effects were immediate: Ariav's composure broke, and she let a single moan slip as she relaxed, the tight grip she had on him loosening considerably. However after long, she had her jaw set again and refused to make any more noises.

    Even though she couldn't see it, Cain grinned. The next thing she knew, she was moaning and whimpering underneath him as she found herself on the floor of the bathroom outside the shower, his pants and groans matching his pace, which was now nearing the range of impossibly fast.

    "What's the matter, Ria?" he teased in between pleasured groans, "Enjoying yourself?"

    She scowled momentarily, but the expression was only in place for a few seconds before she moaned again. "F-fuck y-ah, mmn...."

    "Did I hear - ngh - did I hear a 'fuck me harder' in there?" Cain took pride in being able to do this to her, he knew it and she knew it. Ariav writhed underneath his relentless attention, her moans getting higher and higher-pitched until finally, her back arched and an especially long and loud moan tore out of her.

    Cain grunted as he tried to hold off on getting off right then too, but the sudden pressure was almost too much to handle as her muscles contracted, flooding his senses with pleasure.

    Ariav slowly laid back onto the floor, into a puddle of water caused by their abrupt exit from the shower, which was still running. Looking up at Cain, she donned her own sly grin and began slowly rotating her hips, grinding up against his own. The Death Knight's muscles snapped taut, and he groaned loudly, hilting in her one last time before pulling out and collapsing down next to her, sparing a moment to give her a gentle kiss on the cheek before moving to cuddle up against her.

    However, she pushed him away, got up, and turned off the shower. Turning around, she clicked her tongue at him and threw him a towel.

    "Clean that up, will you?" she called over her shoulder, indicating the puddle of water with white flecks in it that he was currently laying in.

    "And what do I get out of it?" he asked, using the towel to dry himself off first.

    Ariav poked her head back into the room, quickly followed by the rest of her. "I could let you live," she offered, then at his arm-crossing and frown amended it to "Or I could let you try whatever it was you'd wanted to do last night."

    With the new bribe in place, Cain dropped back onto his knees and begun scrubbing the floor, making sure to get every drop.

    Cain's head tipped back with a deep groan as he - at last - slipped into Ariav again. This time, however, she was laid on his desk (which had been cleared of papers and stray silver before hand) with a bandanna serving as a gag, and two pairs of handcuffs holding her in place. Through the gag, he could still hear her initial gasp, but it took a while for her to start getting worked up enough before her moans were loud enough to be audible.

    Ariav's raven-black hair spilled over the edge of the desk and onto the floor, swaying in time with the desk as Cain had his way with her. She wasn't being nearly as loud as he was, but it was good enough for him.

    She'd teased him all week before these two days. It was only little things - bending over to pick things up when he was around, winking at him when no one else was looking, purposefully wiggling her hips any time she found herself pressed up against him - and now was his opportunity to get her back for all of it, and that was exactly what he intended to do.

    Ripping the improvised gag out of her mouth, he sped up at the exact same time that he locked her in a fierce kiss, and the uncontrollable moans spilling from Ariav's mouth into his were like a drug. He groaned and tensed, feeling the desk quake under her writhing, before burying himself deep, deep into her once more in order to finish.

    After a couple moments to recover, Cain leaned over her and gave her a sloppy, exhausted kiss as he undid the restraints. When she was free she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss before collapsing onto their bed only a few feet away.

Chapter 4

   She knew what she was doing. She had to. There was no way she couldn't.

   Cain would've needed more than his iron will to keep his jaw up if he hadn't been in the middle of one of his mother's damnable 'parties' - all he had to do was show up and stand around in a suit while young noble ladies, daughters of other houses, threw themselves at him. Seriously though, the overdone makeup had to be the biggest turn-off there.

    So he'd had the genius idea of inviting his apprentice, who he'd recently found out was actually a High Elf, and thus technically allowed on Alliance territory as per one of Varian's agreements with the Silver Covenant. She'd been reluctant at first but had eventually caved, and Isabella had dragged her away giggling.

   Now, she stood by the door as all eyes fixed themselves on her and stayed firmly put. Faintly he heard mutters begin to sweep the room: "A High Elf? Here?" "Dear Light, she's beautiful!" "Look at the tramp's low neckline!" being prominent among the people closest to him.

    Her dress was made of black silk that faded into a dark red at the ends of her sleeves and the bottom of the skirt. The sleeves went to her elbows and then cut into two pieces, creating a streamer effect whenever she moved her arms. The skirt seemed to just flutter around her feet: it didn't trip her, but it was definitely floor-length. For the sake of his own curiosity, he was going to have to ask her about that. Above the waist, the dress fit snugly; not nearly as clingy as an evening gown, but definitely not anything like the overly-frilly lace corsets of most of the human noblewomen's dresses. The neckline was cut fairly low and, due to the mild tightness of the dress itself, showed just enough to drive him - and all the other men present - absolutely insane.

   To top off the look, she had in some silver (same as the embroidery) earrings with rubies set in them, and her hair was done up in a simple ponytail that flowed gracefully down over her shoulder, glistening black under the warm light that the mage-lit torches gave off.

   Beginning to make her way over to him, Ariav glanced around in her usual fashion, and it struck him how out-of-place she looked. Not just by her clothes (which lacked all the lace and frilly embellishments, and also a huge skirt, that the 'top fashions' in Stormwind all had), but by her attitude: she was on high alert, but it would take another warrior to be able to identify that as anything more than nerves. She was like......a wolf in sheep's clothing. Yes, that worked.

   Finally arriving next to him after passing many hungry eyes and jealous frowns, they exchanged the pleasantries required by their court setting; he kissed the back of her hand, she curtsied and mustered up a bit of a faked blush, and then she took his arm and did not move. Personally, he had no problem with being the envy of every man present, but the jealous stares of the other women made him slightly uneasy. Nobody knew how to dig up dirt on someone better than a jealous noblewoman.

    Studying her a bit more closely this time, he noted that she had on no makeup, and that there was a small hint of black visible on her skin just abover her elbow.

   Glancing away quickly, something else caught his attention: his mother was sashaying over from her spot by the punch table with two glasses in hand. As she reached them, she offered one to Ariav, who took it with a silent nod of thanks and began casually sipping away. "So Cain," Trynna de Luka began after a sip of her own punch, impaling him with her spring green gaze, "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

   Awkwardly, he disentangled his arm from Ariav's, and started to word a reply. "Mother, this is-"

   "Lady Ariav Lightblade," the elf interrupted, dropping into a graceful curtsey. "I hope me being here isn't too much trouble, and I sincerely apologize if it is."

   "Nonsense," Trynna replied, waving a hand. "My son invited you, yes? You're as welcome here as anybody else."

   As the two women talked, his mind wandered. Mostly to dirty things, little scenes of fantasies of his. A few in the bath, one on a balcony, and even a couple other places.

   "....I wasn't expecting the invitation, so I hope my lack of time to research what kind of dress was acceptable for such an occaision hasn't offended anyone," Ariav was saying, almost done with her punch as he drifted back to the conversation. "I just went with what was popular in my homeland right now and hoped for the best."

   His mother once again shook her head. "The only people you really offended, dear, are the ones who don't like you simply because you're far more beautil than makeup will ever help them to be."

   "You're too kind," the elf replied, casting her eyes to the floor.

   Ariav had been clinging to Cain's arm for another hour or so after his mother had left to tend to some other guests. Really, she could tell that it was getting late and the party was winding down, but she instead chose to focus on what was going on in Cain's mind, which she'd been listening to since she'd arrived.

   Watching his mental images of herself being pinned down and taken by him in various places and ways was really making it hard to concentrate on courtly smalltalk, but as she noticed he had barely said anything since she'd arrived. In fact, one who studied him for a few minutes at close range could clearly see that his mind was not on the party.

   Turning her attention outward again, she was fairly surprised to see that almost all of the other guests had gone already, so she shook Cain. "Hey dumbass," she whispered quietly, "Everyone's leaving."

   He blinked and glanced around, then once again disentangled his arm from hers and took a small step back. "So, I forgot to ask, are you gonna stay the night here?"

   "I don't see why not," a voice chipped in from behind them, and they whirled around to meet Cain's mother, who was in the process of getting all of the bobby pins out of her hair. "There's an empty guest room right next to yours, dear. Have her stay there."

   They glanced at each other and she shrugged, so he turned and headed for his room. On the way, they passed hordes of servants who were cleaning up. "Your family keeps servants?" Ariav asked as they turned the corner.

   "Yes and no," Cain answered. "Some of them volunteer here and mother pays them, others forgo the pay in exchange for a room and breakfast the next morning. Some of them switch back and forth at times."

   Ariav nodded, mostly to herself, as they turned yet another corner. "I see."

   It took a few more minutes of quiet walking, but eventually they arrived at the end of the hall. Directing her towards a door, Cain said a quick goodnight and hurried into his own room.