Private Tales Honing the Edge

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
As she pulled away, Uvogin grabbed Nymeasha’s wrist.

“Stay,” he whispered, “I want more of you.”

He gently tugged at her wrist, pulling her back to him. Uvogin leaned off of his back to meet her in a deep, passionate kiss.

He too had tasks needing to be done. He should have let her go. He should get up and prepare himself for the day.

But, well, nothing will burn down if he’s missing for a few more hours.
 
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There were those deep spoken tendrils again, but they'd already found her weakness and she didn't care to put up much of a fight. His mouth crashed against hers and she sighed into the scorching kiss. A kiss that stole her breath and that all others would be judged by. She collapsed just a little and rolled to pull him on top of her to trap herself in the cage of his body, a prison she wouldn't want to escape.

Nym grinned and bit down on his lower lip to tug at it.. "Then by all means have more of me." her brow lifted and she smiled, holding his gaze silently for a moment, her lips still tingling from his assault on them.
 
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His hands found purchase on her waist, though soon they travelled up her body; over the firm contours and natural curves of her delicate frame until her neck was in his hands. A wolfish grin spread over his features as their gazes locked. In a swift move, their positions were reversed and he hovered over her, his physique imposing itself on her.

Her words urged him on, distracted him from any thoughts of self-control. Gentle kisses peppered her cheek and jaw, then escalated to something far more carnal as he reached her neck.

“Awfully submissive,” he mumbled a taunt into her ear with a small smile.
 
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Powerful hands that had killed unknown numbers now found themselves wrapped around her slender neck and she bit on her lip, smothering the grin that his words invoked. He seemed to know her needs, but she had others, and whilst submissive was fun but it was not the only role that she enjoyed. Her thighs tightened around him and she accepted his challenge, using her muscles to twist and slam him to the sheets as she rolled back on top of him, hands pressing his wrists down onto the bed... She'd spend the next few, blissful hours showing him just how wrong his statement was, and just how rough she played.

Of course, when two dominant forces collided with such pent up aggression, it made for an interesting match. Soon she lay tangled in sheets on her stomach, her battered body drenched in sweat and her lungs fighting for air.

"Awfully..submissive." she mused with a quiet chuckle to herself.
 
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“Awfully boastful,” Uvogin managed, also panting, “when you look like that.”

Not that he was much better, his body covered in scratches and bruises, even teeth marks in some spots. As the day would go on, he would be reminded of them from the constant soreness.

No other woman had ever left his body quite like that. How exciting.

He rolled on his side and looked at Nymeasha. “Are you going to leave soon?” He quietly asked, his tone heavy with regret. Would they go another week or two without seeing each other? Perhaps longer?
 
Oh she felt how bruised she was, but how worth it they were.. She turned to face him as he questioned her, her hand reaching to let her fingers rake his hair back from his face.. "I expect so.. I have one or two things I want to take care of before Medja puts me to work.." she smiled weakly. She wanted to find out who'd betrayed her, and she wanted to find them.

Nym searched the dark pools of his eyes, knowing how difficult they'd be to tear herself away from, but she'd happily drown in them.. "You could, come with me.." her lips twisted and she dropped her gaze almost shyly..
 
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"You mean what we talked about that night?" Uvogin showed her a fleeting smile as she pulled the hair out of his eyes.

He could go with her, drop everything he’s responsible for and simply leave with her. Maybe searching for the culprit of her betrayal would take them far away from Ragash, far away from Amol-Kalit even. Would they return if that was the case?

Uvogin gently grasped the hand that toyed with his hair and pulled it to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand, then her knuckles.

"You know I must stay," he quietly answered. Still, there were many things he could do for her. He didn’t have the web of spies that Medja did, the network of information that she had access to. No, his skills and value lay elsewhere. "I want to help you, Nymeasha. I want you to come to me if there is anything I can do for you."
 
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Nym sighed quietly and nodded, she couldn't let it go, it'd been a thought that'd she'd lost too much sleep over. Her eyes narrowed with a soft smile as he kissed at her hand and knuckles, a tender contrast to the last few hours. The man had range.

A brief frown touched at her brow but she nodded and dropped her gaze.. "I know.". Of course she knew, but she had to ask, she had to let him know that she wanted him there. How much sleep would she lose thinking over who was in his bed in her absence? The jealous thoughts wormed their way around her mind for a moment before she cast them aside and brought her attention back to him.

"Alright.. I will." she smiled, and fell into those eyes again.. "I'll need another few days training.. to get my fitness back up to scratch, of course." she mused and stretched out, her eyes wandering over his scars and tattoos as though reading him like a book, a beautifully written story with dark twists and all of the exciting thrills that made you never want to stop reading. "And I'm holding you to your promise to mark me." she smirked.
 
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“You should see me before you leave,” he cupped a hand over her jaw, his thumb lightly stroking her cheek, “and come back in a day or two. If you want that mark, I can do it.”

With that, Uvogin sat up and looked at the tub that sat in the corner of the room. Even with the curtains, sunlight seeped in through the windows and lit the room.

He sluggishly moved about the room, slowly dressing himself for the day.

He didn’t have anything to say, no small talk to make even as he was lacing his boots. He looked back at the Princess, still under his sheets, and softly sighed.

“You’re welcome to come by at any time.” And with that, he eased out and gently closed the door behind him.
 
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She did come by, several times in between his visits to her rooms and their meetings on the courtyard for training. She quite simply couldn't get enough of him.

She'd gone quiet for a couple of days, however, her visit from Gerra still preyed on her mind and his burned handprint still stung on her wrist. What if he'd gone to Uvogin? She had paced in her rooms worrying about it for almost an hour before she dressed herself in fine lace and silk the colour of emerald and went to his quarters.

Nym stood in the doorway and leaned, jade hues looking over the man with apprehension and a paranoia that she hated Gerra for all the more.

You might even think I would command Uvogin to kill you....Maybe I would.

She didn't speak, only stared and chewed on her lip, mutely asking if he intended on killing her, wondering if Gerra had even spoken with him at all.
 
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Uvogin had left his door open as he sat over a desk covered in scrolls, messily spread about the glossy mahogany surface. He hadn't noticed her standing there for a while, his attention placed solely on his paperwork. Expense reports, training logs, proctor reports- all things he went over at the end of the week while keeping track of the Immortal conscripts. He would typically do it at the Madrasa, but that evening found himself in his quarters within the Alabyad Palace.

His stern, focused expression eased when he finally sat back, stretched, and saw Nymeasha.

"Princess," before, calling her princess carried with it derision, but now he said it tenderly. His intense stoicism faded, and he smiled at the sight of the dress that matched the colors of her eyes. She hadn't worn anything like it since their brief walk to the gardens. "How long have you been there?"

She usually would have thrown herself into his arms the moment she arrived. He was used to her bubbly, overwhelming affection. She continued to stand there, which made Uvogin frown. He rose from his desk and slowly rounded it.

"What's wrong?"
 
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She’d have enjoyed watching him so focused on his work if fear wasn’t eating away at her. That stern expression of concentration made her lips twist briefly in admiration but she quelled it with the thought of now having to worry about those hands choking the life out of her..and not in a good way.

She forced a weak smile in response to his more formal greeting but she’d half expected his tone to be laced with rage or remorse and it hadn’t been and so she eased ever-so-slightly. She ignored his question about time. It could’ve been an hour or a minute for all she knew..

Her brow furrowed slightly and she let her gaze fall downcast, as though the floor might hold some inspiration of how to answer his latter question. It seemed Gerra hadn’t spoken to him, it calmed her enough but now she’d have to explain and she wondered just how much explaining she should do. Uvogin belonged to Gerra, she’d be stupid to try and contest that, but on the other hand she wanted him to know her fears.. perhaps he’d warn her before trying to kill her, perhaps he wouldn’t..

Nym’s fingertips ran absently over the linen bandage she’d had wrapped around her wrist, it’d been soaked in a salve and she carried a scent of aloe and calendula that was more irritating to her than soothing.

“I thought perhaps Gerra had been to see you..” she frowned briefly and lifted her eyes to him finally.

“I did intend on trying to work things out, after what you told me, I did reconsider and I wanted to apologise.” She bit on her lip nervously and paused for a moment.

“I didn’t get the chance..Now things are worse and I just thought..” she broke off, deciding against speaking the words aloud.
 
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Why would Gerra have come to see him? His lips parted to pass the question onto her, but he remained silence as she continued on. As Nymeasha’s voice trailed off, he let the silence hang.

He’d forgotten, perhaps because of their intimate rendezvous, that she was just a girl. Her meek, vulnerable demeanor was something new to behold, and Uvogin didn’t know what to make of it.

“Thought what? What happened?”
 
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Nym stared contemplatively for a brief moment. She did feel vulnerable and she despised it, she wasn’t used to it and her anger started to prickle under her skin again at the thought of what the Emperor had reduced her to. In front of him.

“He came to see me after you left my room last..” her brow knit and she cleared her throat, trying to assert herself a little more confidence but most probably failing, her hand lifted to rub at her throat subconsciously. “He considered that I might be using you to get closer to him, to try and hurt him again. Which is fucking ironic because he then told me he desired me himself and invited me closer anyway but..” she frowned and shook her head briefly realising how ridiculous it sounded.

“He threatened me with you.. Reminded me that he could order you to kill me if he wanted to. And I firmly believe that right now he wants that very much..”
 
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A fleeting image of wrath passed over Uvogin’s face, and he walked towards Nymeasha. Although his expression settled, he did not stop approaching her, and he grabbed her elbow and lifted her arm up to look at the bandage. He could only imagine what was under it, but did not miss the salve’s scent.

“And he did this?” he calmly asked, looking down at the anxious princess with cold eyes.

He was inexplicably frustrated at what she’d said. What made him the most upset, however, was the fearful way she looked at him. He’d grown so used to those beautiful green eyes staring at him with nothing but affection.

Now, he feared that had been ruined. Uvogin gripped her elbow tighter before letting her arm drop back to her side.


He cupped his hand over her cheek and tilted her head up so she could meet his gaze. “You still came, even though you feared I would kill you.”
 
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The brief flash of anger on his face wasn’t lost on her, but she sighed as he approached her, settled a little knowing that the order hadn’t been given.

“Yes, though I tried to hit him and I said some things that riled him. I’d had enough of his threats, and his insults about my father and I snapped.” she confessed quietly, her spite evident in her tone. She’d been less bothered by the burn than the hand he’d wrapped around her throat, and though it left no visible mark, it’d left an imprint of fear on her mind as she’d felt her life utterly in the Emperor’s hands. It’d been a vulnerability she wasn’t used to, and a message clearly sent. She’d keep that to herself, however.

She didn’t enjoy the coldness in his gaze as she looked up at him, and she frowned briefly as he tightened his grip on her arm and pulled it against herself as he let go.

“Yes...” she sighed and leaned into his hand, reaching to rest her own atop it. “Though. It took me time.. I figured, you’d find me anyway.” She frowned softly and dropped her gaze to chew on her lip, considering the question on her mind before she asked it.

“Would you do it?...”

As soon as she’d asked she felt foolish. She believed he would, if he was as loyal to Gerra as she had been to her father there would be no question. She searched his face. She hadn’t forgotten the fear he’d once instilled in her, and she found herself remembering what he was capable of. She couldn’t afford to forget it now.
 
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Uvogin’s thumb stroked Nymeasha’s cheek, and while he wasn’t frowning, the expression he wore was a melancholy one.

“Gerra is my brother, Nymeasha.”

Would he kill this poor, scared girl to satiate Gerra’s childish tantrum? To prove a petty point? No. But, if she were an actual threat to Gerra’s life?

He leaned down and whispered into her ear with a cold seething behind his words. “Do not give me a reason to.”

He gently squeezed her cheek under his large, calloused hand.
 
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Nym’s brow furrowed, though she nodded gently and dropped her gaze. “I know..” She’d known where Gerra had done for him, whether he was really free or not he had a better life, it’d been what she’d hoped for, to gain some sort of stability and perhaps even a decent working relationship.. it just wasn’t working out as well for her.

As he leaned close to her ear, her eyes closed, the coldness in his voice sent a chill that she suppressed from shuddering on her back.

She wished she hadn’t asked, she already knew the answer and it hadn’t seemed as bad in her mind as it was when the words escaped, words she’d now likely hear in her mind along with Gerra’s.

“I don’t intend on it..” she frowned, but her jaw clenched angrily at the thought of how incredibly alone she really was here. Should she really have chosen to stay?..

“So the next time he barges into my rooms and wraps a hand around my throat and asks me to fuck him I’ll do that...”
 
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Uvogin sighed and straightened up. His hand fell from her cheek and he sadly looked down at Nymeasha.

Women had always came and left so quickly that he hadn’t the opportunity to feel anger or sadness over them. They’d all sought him for one thing, the same thing he thought Nymeasha came to him for.

As he studied her expression; anger, sadness, pain all mixed together, he felt sick.

Her words echoed in his mind, the sting he felt increasing as every second passed. He wanted to strike her across the face, whisper foul, hurtful words back at her.

Instead, he took a deep breath. Calmed his nerves.

“Would you like coffee?”
 
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Nym didn’t honestly know what to expect as she watched him decide what to do with her spite. Anger was probably the most likely response, it was the response her temper most often provoked. But she didn’t know what to think of him offering her coffee.

Part of her wanted to just leave. Go home with Lani and create as much distance from herself and this place as she could. And yet the same force that had driven her to come to his room despite the possibility of him killing her was what kept her standing where she stood, looking at him with confusion.

She quietly seethed as she thought of Gerra’s words, over and over, until her knuckles paled over the clenched fists by her sides. The burn on her arm seemed to ache.. It irritated her that Gerra could do whatever he liked without consequence, he could’ve snapped her neck and what? Nothing.

The feeling ached in her chest and she turned to leave without a word, but stopped herself in the doorway, the fight in her mind spilling out into her movements and betraying just how utterly fucking confused she was. Nym looked down and picked at the knot in her bandaging, letting it unravel and fall to the ground to look over the half giant’s handprint that took over the entirety of her wrist. As if she didn’t have enough whispered reminders flitting around her mind, the burn only sought to enhance the message.

She turned back to him and stared expressionlessly for a moment before closing the gap between them. He’d been angry about Gerra. She saw it. He’d threatened her, but also warned her, and she knew that she was meant to fear him which, she did. But still, she’d never feared him more than she had on her way here and her bare feet continued to carry her forward even now.

She reached to grab at the side of his neck, stood up on her tiptoes, and kissed him.
 
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Uvogin frowned when Nymeasha turned away, trepidation setting over him as he realized that her back exiting the room would be the last he would likely see of her.

She stopped and turned, and as she approached he watched her with wary curiosity. Uvogin remained still, stunned to stagnancy as slender fingers found purchase on his neck, and soft lips pressed against his own.

Why?

The thought left as quickly as it entered his mind. He lifted Nymeasha by her thighs, holding her up as he pulled her into deeper, passionate kisses. Uvogin turned and without any regard to the scrolls sprawled about his desk, tossed Nymeasha over the glossy mahogany.

Anger, confusion, and desperation coursed through his veins into his hands and fingers, which tore apart the beautiful jade dress that separated him from what he longed for.
 
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Why would have been a good question. Because she wanted to, she wanted him. Gerra had taken everything but her physical life from her and she wouldn't allow him to take this too. She craved the touch and the affection, she'd grown addicted to it, and keeping herself away was more torturous than the fear of having her throat cut at any moment.

Limbs wrapped themselves around him as she was lifted and her fingers gripped at his hair, his lips seared into hers, igniting a fire of need every bit as hot and hard as her fury of moments before. A gasp escaped her lips as she was thrown to the desk, but there was not a single flicker of affliction given as her dress was torn open.

She threw her hands out to grasp at his shirt and pulled it up over his head, in desperate need to feel his skin against her, and she dragged him down toward her, giving his lips little reprieve. She kissed him as hard and as deep as she could, hoping she could kiss him with every ounce of her earnest desire for him that perhaps he wouldn't realise how vulnerable she felt.
 
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Uvogin showed no signs of hesitating as he took Nymeasha into a desperate embrace, desperate to hold her, feel the warmth of her body against his. They fit together perfectly, as the gears and mechanisms did in an intricate clock, and what a sight it was to see the gears and mechanisms work in tandem.

Time passed and the captain hovered above her, his skin sleek from sweat, his expression a conflicted one.

A pang of queer guilt set to his gut, a wave of nausea washed over his body like a spell.

Uvogin cupped her cheek in his hand and sadly looked down at her.
 
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Nym fought hard to regain a calm breath and felt his own stick to the sweat that glistened over her caramel skin. She noted the various waves of emotion in his expression and her brow furrowed to a soft frown as she searched his eyes..

"Why are you looking at me like that?.." she asked delicately and placed her hand atop his and she pressed a breathy kiss against his wrist and returned her worried gaze back to him. She didn't enjoy this way that he looked at her, he seemed to regret their tryst now that the wave of chaotic and mindless desire had crashed and the tensions were calming, and the thought of his bitterness caused her chest to tighten.

She'd felt his anger, of course, her body still ached with it and she knew she'd caused his temper to rile. But she wasn't sure whether she regretted it or not, being thrown onto a desk and devoured hadn't exactly been dull. It was never dull with him. She planted a hand on his chest to push him up and she lifted herself from the desk and kept her legs wrapped around him, a hand on his cheek as she looked over his face. Her expression was one of worry, remorse and apology.. "Don't send me away.." she whispered with a brush of her lips against his.
 
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Why are you looking at me like that?

Uvogin flinched, averted his gaze from the Princess, and absently stared at one of the scrolls that had fallen to the floor. He wondered what kind of expression he made - how did he look to Nymeasha?

Weak?

Pitiful?

He felt both, having no other way to express his emotions than with the heated, passionate way he indulged himself with the young woman. Voicing anger, sadness, and confusion had never been... necessary. The closer Nymeasha got, the tighter she embraced him, the deeper Uvogin's heart sunk.

It felt good to be clung on to. To be wanted.

Yet the pain he felt as he eyed the hand on his cheek, and the burnt wrist connected to it was unbearable.

"I won't," he murmured in response.
 
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