COINCIDENCE & KISMET: CHAPTER 8

THE PROPOSAL

"So…let me see if I understand this correctly. You invited Xan, a troll you swore up and down was just a client, to go play rogue hooky out there in the field, and have been doing so for the last…what year?"

Armesan raised a confused eyebrow at the gnome. "The fuck is 'rogue hooky'?"

"It's where you sneak around behind your best friend's back with her boyfriend’s brother and don't tell her! I owe you a solid month of mockery for all the shit you gave me about Enoki," Teegan jabbed her finger on the table they were sitting at to accentuate the point.

The night elf leveled a bored look at her best friend. "When you're as subtle about it as a brick to the face, I'm allowed to give you shit about your boyfriend. How's that going by the way?"

"Lovely, he knows how to please a woman and he likes it when I dress like my succubus and bring out the whips, thanks for asking," Teegan said airily, grinning when her friend narrowed her eyes at her.

"I absolutely did not need to know that."

"Serves you right for keeping me in the dark. Now stop trying to deflect. So you've been gallivanting around together when no one's looking this whole time and you're only telling me this now!?"

"First of all, we’re not gallivanting, we’re fighting a war. Second, I’ve barely seen you more than a few times every six months over that last year, and in those few times, my personal life has never come up once. And third, I simply asked if you'd see if Enoki had heard anything from Xan in the last few weeks, since I've got Shaw breathing down my neck at the moment. You are the one who has turned this into a vindictive slight." Armesan said pointedly.

"Armesan. My friend. My oh so very best friend," Teegan said gently, leaning over and looping her arm around Armesan's shoulders as best she could. "My sister from another mister."

"Your what now?"

"The FIRST thing you do when you hook up with a hot guy for the first time in 10,000 years-"

"It hasn't been 10-"

"THE FIRST THING YOU DO," Teegan interrupted. "Is tell your best friend, so she can win the bet she's had going with her boyfriend for almost two years now."

"We're not sleeping with each oth-wait two years? What bet?"

"Hold on! What do you mean you're not sleeping together?!"

"We. Have. Been. Fighting. A. War. Now back up to that part about a bet?"

"You can't be serious. Have you never heard of stress relief?!”

“Not everyone subscribes to your...particular style, Teegan.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Fuck first, ask questions later?”

The gnome glowered at her. "Okay, point, BUT. Can you look me in the eye right now and say with absolute honesty that you've never looked at Xan and said, damn that's a fine ass."

Armesan made to refute it but her mind unhelpfully flashed to taut muscles flexing under her hands and smooth oddly downy skin, and she paused just a bit too long and Teegan’s eyes went wider than her grin.

"Aha! I knew it!"

The night elf glared at her best friend. "Okay fine, so he's handsome.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘sexy’. Say it with me.”

“Don’t you have your own troll to ogle?”

“Yes and I do, at every opportunity,” she beamed smugly. “And you should try doing it more openly. I'm

sure Xan would appreciate it."

Armesan rolled her eyes. “Believe me, if Xan ever seriously thought about me that way I'm pretty sure I'd be the first to know."

"Or the last, if he’s intimidated by you."

The rogue chuckled ruefully. Knowing what she knew now about him, she couldn't help it. "I cannot imagine Xan being intimidated by anything, least of all me."

"You really have no idea how scary you can be, do you?"

"I'm not that scary."

"You're an immortal assassin. Yes you are,” Teegan snickered, earning a glare. The gnome grinned and pointed at her accusingly. “See! Right there! That’s your resting murder face.”

“I do not have a resting murder face!”

“Duma! Serious question! Does she or does she not have resting murder face?”

The poor bewildered troll, who had literally just stepped foot into the bar from the busy streets of Dalaran blinked wildly before his expression leveled out into a bored look.

“Is restin’ bitch face an option?”

Armesan raised her glass in mock salute at the youngest Bloodscalp brother. “Fuck you too, Duma. Nice to see you. How’re the kids?”

“I miss da days when ya sapped meh,” he grouched, but just as it had everytime they’d met up over the last year or so the sharpness of his barbs seemed duller. “Sai an’ ‘Tolo say hi.”

This was a well rehearsed conversation at this point. Over the last year Duma had infiltrated his way to being considered a legal representative for traveling merchants, and had the forged papers to prove it. That designation offered him a lot of freedom to travel without scrutiny, with the added side bonus of being able to navigate between factions with relatively little issue. Everyone needed supplies, and if you had the right licenses, no one could really argue with it unless you worked within the borders of certain cities and settlements. Dalaran, being a neutral sanctuary, was no such settlement.

It made meet ups like this very easy to arrange. One of the agreements the little Darkspear family had made after that disastrous night at Brewfest was that until they were certain there would be no retribution against Sai'in and Dotolo for their desertion from Light's Hope and the warfronts at large, it was better if they stayed on the MIA or KIA rosters. That meant fake identities and no obvious connections that could tie them back to their real names. And unfortunately that meant limited contact with her two high profile brothers in the army. So it was that Duma, having been the youngest and least known of the four brothers back in the day, under the guise of legal consultations for his 'clients' in Ratchet would ferry letters between the Barrens and Northrend, usually meeting with Armesan or Teegan as the intermediary, to further muddy any direct connection between the siblings.

The multiple levels of obfuscation were probably overkill, but everyone had at least agreed that no direct mail except in emergencies was the least risky option.

Plus it had the added bonus of allowing Armesan and Teegan to keep tabs on their friends in the Barrens.

“And how’s the kiddo?” Teegan asked with a genuine grin. “Can I send training grimoires yet?”

“Sohto be fine. An’ no. Dey got enough on dere hands keepin’ dat kid from befriendin’ every poisonous an’ undead t’ing ‘e can get ‘is hands on.”

“They really should give him a pet. I think I found one in Zul’Drak he might like, you can bring him back with you!”

“No.”

“It’s not an undead abomination!”

“Still no,” Duma said as he fished out a list and a pair of letters from his pouch and slid it across the table towards the two women while glancing around. “Where’s 'noki? Thought ya two were inseparable at dis point.” He raised an eyebrow at Teegan.

“Believe it or not, Enoki’s with Pidge at the moment.”

“I’m sorry he’s wit who now?” Duma’s voice rose an octave or two at that.

“No, no really he’s fine! I swear!” Teegan assured the poor rogue, who probably now had a few more grayed hairs in his fiery mohawk than he had five minutes ago. “Get this, she picked up Engineering right after that whole Brewfest mess, right? Turns out, holy shit, she’s actually GOOD at it! Insanely good. Like, Titan-level good. No idea how she knows any of that stuff, but anyway, she found these schematics and built this...um...what was she calling it?”

“A prosthetic brace,” Armesan supplied.

“That’s it. Anyway, the Alliance poo-pooed it because they didn’t trust the schematics or the fact that it came from a death knight they have marked as ‘problematic but useful’, and she was bitching about it the last time I dropped off her order of phials. Goddamn does she go through those things.”

“Ya addin’ drug dealah ta ya list of titles?” Duma snorted.

“Ha ha, but anyway, Enoki was with me at the time and asked what it was supposed to do and...well after a little bit of mild kidnapping..." Teegan said that last part very quickly and waved her hands in that jazzy 'ta-da' way before Duma could say anything. "Surpriiiiiiise, he can walk almost normal again! You can barely tell anything’s wrong unless you look at his foot.”

Duma's expression clearly said he didn't think he'd heard her right. “Wait da little gremlin fixed ‘is leg?!”

“Well not fixed, it’s a brace, you have to wear it and….she did say it was a prototype. Anyway, he’s getting it tuned up before we all get foisted off into Ulduar to deal with whatever’s going on in there.”

“An’ ya left ‘im alone wit ‘er?”

“Enoki and that brace are Pidge’s new favorite hobby. He’s probably safer with her than the rest of us would be,” Armesan said calmly. Duma might’ve been mellowing a bit, but there was still that streak of paranoia and distrust that never quite went away.

They chatted like this for a bit longer, feigning bartering when anyone gave them a suspicious look or lingered too long within earshot. Duma told them how Sai’in’s reputation as ‘Ramunda the Alchemist’ had spread a bit beyond Ratchet and the Crossroads and other settlements were starting to place orders, requiring some travel here and there. While the extra attention wasn’t exactly welcome, it did ensure that the goblins of Ratchet were more inclined to help make sure she stuck around. One of the locals had even offered to help her open a stall in town, for a modest cut of the profits, to which, so far, she had managed to turn down, but the offers were getting more insistent.

Dotolo remained steadfastly rooted to their home at every opportunity, only really venturing out when necessary, while Sai’in was traveling. Unfortunately the increase in Sai’in’s popularity meant it drew more attention to where and when she was coming and going. Brigands were not an uncommon problem, especially as the Horde’s protective reach was stretched thin with the main host of the army and mercenaries being sent to Northrend. But as Xan had said, Dotolo was no push over, despite his more passive demeanor. If anyone tried targeting their home, they quickly found themselves added to the rotation of animated corpses that lurked in the underbrush and cliff sides nearby.

Duma for the most part was either traveling with Sai’in when she needed the extra hands, or helping out Dotolo with Sohto while she was gone.  Otherwise he simply played the role of ‘Ramunda’s Manager’ while surreptitiously keeping an ear out for anyone sniffing around where they shouldn’t. Most of Ratchet’s goblin bruisers authority was in on whatever cover story they were using, and whatever kickback Duma had arranged allowed for him to quietly clean things up and keep the sharks well fed if needed.

And at the heart of all this Sohto seemed to be thriving. The little whelp would be almost two years old now, and his baby babble had started shifting into real words.  Unsurprisingly, 'no touch' was one of the ones he learned first. He was also starting to show signs that he might be a magic user, though for the life of them neither Sai’in nor Dotolo could figure out what type. The current suspicion was potentially some sort of warped druidism. At one point Dotolo swore Sohto was directing one of the many smaller undead corpses he’d use for magic practice, and another time Sai’in found dead roots crawling around where he was playing. Troll druids were rare, considered non-existent by most, but they did exist, so it wasn't entirely out of the question. Though as far as anyone knew, druids didn't generally control dead things, so the mystery remained for the time being. Teegan's poor heart broke a little learning that her goal of teaching Sohto how to warlock might be all for naught.

In return, Armesan and Teegan told Duma about the latest goings on in the trenches. Strongholds were holding in Borean Tundra and Dragonblight, but while the Lich King’s advances in Zul’Drak and Grizzly Hills had been stalled, there was no real foothold there to make any advances. Icecrown remained impenetrable walls of undeath, ice, and metal, but there were murmurings that the joint engineering divisions had come up with something truly ridiculous to thwart that limitation. They just needed time, which the armies of the Alliance and Horde had been providing them, but then evidence of Old Gods had cropped up in Storm Peaks. It was a laundry list of awful with a side helping of cosmically terrifying, and they gratefully diverged back into mundane, frivolous topics to cut the tension.

Eventually though, Duma had to leave, covertly collecting the letters Armesan and Teegan had ferried for his brothers to send to Sai’in and Dotolo, and bid them farewell. And so too, did Armesan and Teegan have to return to the real world and all the horrors that awaited them. Teegan was being sent to the front lines to ready the assault on Ulduar. Armesan would likely be sent to that same front to make sure they knew who and what they were walking into once those doors were opened, assuming she could get things straightened out with Shaw. Idyllic moments like this were becoming harder and harder to come by, but were becoming more and more important to hang onto. Reminders of what they were fighting to save, and who they were fighting for.

Which brought Armesan around again to the thing that had started this whole evening; Teegan finding out that Armesan and Xan had been working together under the Horde’s and Alliance’s noses for the last year. She hadn’t even meant to say anything, but it had been three weeks since that disastrous mission in Utgarde, and she hadn't heard from Xan since. Normally this wasn't entirely uncommon, but they usually left markers if they were going to be gone for a long period of time. This time there was nothing, and he had seemed pretty rattled in the caves. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't starting to worry a bit. Was he okay? Did the Horde buy his lies the way the Alliance had bought hers? Or had something else happened in the intervening weeks?

Armesan's initial plan was to get patched up, file the report and then get back to business as usual. Like investigating this new and disturbing trend of adventurers going missing and new and intelligent undead appearing on the battlefield. Maybe also check and make sure Xan was okay.

Instead, as soon as the healers learned where her wounds were from, she had been shipped immediately to Dalaran and spent almost all of that time being penned in and hen-pecked to death by priests and paladins. And if that wasn't bad enough, she found out after a few nights that Shaw had sent shadows to watch and make sure nothing suspicious was going on once the sun set. He called it an over abundance of caution. She had called it detention. If she was going to turn undead, she would have already done so. Which was why she had asked Teegan for the favor, and then had to explain why she couldn't do it herself. Teegan of course, had glossed over the entire part about Armesan being detained and nearly being corrupted and turned into some new and exciting abomination in the Lich King's ranks, and zeroed in on the part that mentioned that she was still in regular contact with Xan. Which had lead to the grilling Duma had walked in on.

Armesan sighed. This was quickly becoming such a mess.

Everything she had said the night in Ratchet when she’d suggested this arrangement to Xan had been true. The fact that he was a troll and a member of the Horde, and thus technically an enemy to her people, barely registered as anything more than a minor inconvenience. She had seen allegiances to the Horde and Alliance shift more times than she could count in the last 20 years alone, faction and race was virtually meaningless to her. What mattered was she enjoyed his company, and sharing a profession, even if it was slightly different fields of it, offered a sense of camaraderie that she hadn’t really found anywhere else. He was clever and fun, and despite having been forced into retirement for several years was damn good with those swords of his, and had quickly become one of her closest real friends. She hadn’t wanted to let that go, and as time had gone on, that feeling had only intensified. She just hadn't realized quite how much.

She had thought this wouldn't be too different than her friendship with Teegan. Enjoy the company while you had it, go off and do your thing when you didn't. But what she expected and what she got were two very different things.

Xan was not like Teegan. The gnome had never pried that hard, and Armesan had never offered and they got along together by moving forward. Teegan was her best friend, but neither of them had really bothered to acknowledge the walls they had built around themselves to keep others out.

But then Xan came along and started scratching at those walls, until when she was on undeath's door, they finally broke. Now she couldn't even try to deny that she was having fun with him as her foil in the field. She liked being able to tell him everything without fear of judgment or some lecture on morality. She enjoyed the sense of companionship and trust they shared and yes, maybe it didn't hurt that he was nice to look at. And THAT was crux of the issue; she missed him, and she didn't want to be alone anymore.

Armesan snorted to herself. This was exactly why assassins should work alone. Connections were dangerous; they could distract you, be used against you. They could easily get you killed. Or get the people you cared about killed. She should've learned this lesson millennia ago.

She did not need to acknowledge that she was now missing that sense of warmth and comfort she had when he would put an arm around her shoulders and let her lean against him.  Or that she tended to poke and prod him much more freely as their friendship had developed, and didn’t shy away from his touch whether it would be amused nudges or wayward manhandling while they sparred. Or that when he’d wrapped his hand around hers that night it had been so easy to just take it. Or that she had been loathed to let it go.

Ungh. This was why she didn't like being idle. If she was already losing focus worrying if he was still alive or mulling over this new addiction to being close to him, then another week stuck in limbo would probably drive her insane.

Thankfully, there were some idiots smuggling supplies from Ulduar that Shaw wanted dead, and as much as he might be a paranoid bastard, he was well aware that keeping an assassin like Armesan inactive indefinitely was a waste of valuable resources. She just had to hope that this would get Shaw off her back enough for her to figure out what to do about this little issue of her personal life getting in the way of staying alive.

If there was anything to figure out besides the fact that maybe she should visit the brothels more often if she was getting this easily distracted.

---

Weeks.

Xan had been stuck out here for weeks, monitoring this admittedly decently sized camp, and all he’d managed to glean was that these guys were definitely Syndicate posing as adventurers, and they were funneling a not-small amount of the mechanical parts meant for the Ulduar assault to someone else.

And while Xan’s job was to find that someone else, these smugglers were more interested in hoarding than they were in leading him to their buyer and it was pissing him off to no end.

It would have been so much simpler to just kill these guys, but noooo, the Horde wanted to know why there was this sudden interest in vehicle parts. What was worth infiltrating an active warfront and taking parts meant for an assault on an Old God Titan prison? If it were simply for money the loot out of Ulduar itself was worth infinitely more gold than some plating and engines. Sylvanas was pissed they were sabotaging her crusade against the Lich King, Garrosh was pissed that they were stealing from the Horde and getting away with it, and Thrall was pissed he had to play mediator to keep everything running smoothly.

And now Xan was pissed because he was stuck in the freezing cold with nothing better to do than watch and try not to let his mind wander between how much he hated the cold and all the twists life had thrown at him about three weeks ago.

He and Armesan had hobbled their way back to their respected outposts in the area to deliver reports and get patched up after those few nights in the cave without much fanfare. No one had asked any questions about what happened to the Val’kyr they had run into upon reading his report, but there had been a bit of an uproar over it. It turned out this was not the first trap of this nature the Lich King had orchestrated, but it was the first one where someone came back to report it. Thankfully, the story he and Armesan had crafted kept him out of the spotlight and corroborated the reports leaking out of the Alliance Quarter of Dalaran that a night elf had shown up with wounds from Frostmourne, so he was largely let go after a minor grilling over the incident. He had a slight panic attack when the orders recalling him to Storm Peaks came down, assuming someone had figured out the truth, but no, apparently Thrall just considered the protection of the Ulduar assault supply lines more important than digging into the Lich King's latest horrifying hobby.

The Horde took his word and all it’s fabrications at face value. No shadows from the Alliance came calling for his head, which meant Armesan's lies had also been accepted as fact. She'd kept her word and his secret. All's well that ended well.

Except there was still the little matter of trying to wrap his head around this idea that his best friend now knew his nastiest secret and for some strange reason seemed absolutely fine with it.

What had he been thinking, telling a night elf that he was a souleater?! Messing with souls was looked at as one of the more heinous things magic users could do in this world, part of what made warlocks and shadow priests so revolting to the masses. Souleaters were universally considered worse, and generally weren’t allowed to live very long unless they were useful to whoever was in charge. And controllable.

All he'd had to do was keep his mouth shut and no one would have been the wiser. So what had he done? Like a fucking idiot he’d told her the truth. He couldn’t even point to a reason why he had. She hadn’t even pushed beyond that initial questioning, and seemed content to just leave him alone and not pry any further when he hadn’t answered right away. He could have let it drop.

Maybe it had been the way she’d flinched when he’d offered to help her with her armor after that, as if it surprised her that he would still want to help after she'd pushed. Maybe it was the way she seemed to retreat back into her shell as she’d sat there patching her chest plate, or the slight twinge of guilt knowing all her secrets while he still withheld his. Maybe he’d liked how easy it had felt talking to her the night before and didn’t want to lose that. Maybe she hadn’t been the only one who was lonely. Or maybe the more time he spent around this elf the worse his judgment got.

Whatever the reason, against whatever sliver of good judgment he had left, he'd told her, and braced himself for the worst. To say he was shocked when she ultimately leaned against him instead of getting as far away as possible or trying to stab him was an understatement.

Granted the woman had downed a regenerative blood potion with little more than a gripe while bleeding out after having an all night screaming match with every sore spot and anxiety in her over 10,000 years of life. Compared to that, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that it had taken her less than five minutes to adapt to the knowledge that he was a souleater and decide that it didn’t matter to her.

"What matters to me is who they are, not what."

He had dismissed those words from a year ago as shallow and pragmatic. Something you said to sound wiser or more enlightened than everyone else. Similarly, he had assumed that night that her guard and common sense would return soon enough, but no, she sat there holding his hand while they hashed out a cover story for the Val’kyr’s fate to sell their commanders, showing no revulsion or disgust. She merely poked fun at him as she always had, with the addition of that easy natural lilt that maybe he had be a bit eager to hear again.

It had taken him almost a week after they'd parted ways to admit to himself why he'd been so fixated on that little shift in the way she talked to him. It was trust. She trusted him, even knowing what he was. A fucking night elf assassin, trusted him. And no matter how many ways he tried to down play it, he eventually had to admit that he genuinely trusted her in return, those last vestiges of doubt and caution that always clung on at the end now dispelled completely.

Maybe that was why it had been bothering him a lot more than usual that he hadn't heard from her in awhile. Granted he'd been leagues away from Dalaran for the last few weeks, but he kept thinking that maybe he should have left a marker for her, increased scrutiny be damned. Just in case.

A bitter breeze whipped through the pines, eliciting a silent snarl from the troll currently crouched in their branches. Xan pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, silently cursing the hole in the back of his chestplate, and tried to refocus on the little campsite below the tree he was perched in, carefully stretching a leg so it didn’t fall asleep.

He hadn’t been able to get the pauldron replaced nor had the leatherworker in Dalaran had been able to finish repairing the rest before Xan had needed it back. At least his pants and glove had been fixed. Not entirely keen on relying on the shoddy spare chestplate, he’d sighed and taken the half repaired armor as it was and swore to get the rest fixed when he got back. That had been before he'd realized he'd be stuck stalking these motherfuckers in the bitter cold for weeks on end. Maybe he should have just waited, at least then he'd be a bit more comfortable stuck in this tree.

Or maybe these fucking assholes could stop taking their sweet time committing their war crimes and lead him to their client, so he didn't have all this time to overthink things. There had to be at least five or six entire tank engines here by now. The fuck was their buyer trying to build?

And...wait…why was that one lying on those crates? Hadn’t he just been walking around taking inventory? And where was his cloak? These fuckers were always wearing cloaks, it was one of the things that annoyed him because it made it much more difficult to discern who was who. That and the bandanas. Which…was missing too.

Putting his personal dilemmas aside for the moment, Xan silently climbed down from his tree, eyes scanning to see if he could get a better view of things. The waning twilight of dusk made it trickier to make out details, but thanks to the pristine blankets of snow everywhere, it was easy to spot the pool of blood at the unfortunate sentry's feet once Xan had gotten a bit closer.

Shit. Someone was offing his marks.

Pulling up his hood and using the exaggerated shadows as cover, Xan prowled through the stacks of crates and equipment, attempting to pinpoint where the intruder had gotten off to. Unfortunately he got his answer when he heard a muffled thud from the other side of the tents, and one of the Syndicate thugs came around the side.

Except this ‘Syndicate thug’ was about three feet taller than the cloak was meant for, and easily walked over to the sentry on this side, grabbing the poor woman and slitting her throat before she could think to scream.

Well, intruder found.

The soft thump of the body hitting the snow covered the sound of Xan leaping over the crates that had separated him from the thug and the sound of his sword being drawn. As much as he would be happy to let this guy have at them and wash his hands of this whole assignment, he needed these syndicate assholes alive.

He just had to do this quietly.

He was about three inches away from jabbing his sword point into the thug’s back when they suddenly ducked and whirled around, a glint of metal flashing as they pulled their daggers out and slashed up, hooking the edge of Xan's sword into the curve of their blade before it could come down. With a snarl Xan pulled his blade back, rather than risk the noise of scraping metal if he tried to force the dagger down and swung quickly with his other weapon, hoping it could catch the thug before they had a chance to collect themselves.

Unfortunately this one was quick and slid back just out of range, managing to pull a second dagger up at the same time and twist past the arc of his third swing. Okay, so this guy was a pro, and definitely knew what they were doing with those daggers.

Those…very familiar daggers…hold up, what the…

That little hesitation was enough though, and the thug charged. Though charged wasn't quite the right word. It was more that they lunged in a smooth zigzag pattern, limbs reaching out to try and lead his eye one way while their body went the other. One dagger leading to hide the other as it bent around and slashed out at him much closer than it had appeared to be.

He managed to block it but the maneuver forced him to move, putting him on the defensive.

Damn it what was with this guy? Their moves were too smooth, too fluid for the Syndicate. It was almost like when he would spar with…wait.

"A'm?" he hedged, switching to orcish; a language he knew Syndicate did not know, being a human-centric organization. Now that he was paying attention to the thug's face instead of their weapons, he realized the eyes under the hood were glowing silver, and were blinking in that same rapid look of disbelief he probably had on his face.

“Xan?!" The not-thug's daggers fell from their readied positions in surprise. "What are-when did you-is this how we're saying hello now?”

“Da fuck ya doin’ ‘ere?” Xan groaned, lowering his weapon raising an eye ridge at Armesan, who...really didn’t look like a night elf at the moment. She’d concealed her face and bound her ears in the traditional syndicate bandana and the hood of the cloak hid her hair and eyes sufficiently enough that at a distance she had just looked like a very tall human.

The disguised elf slowly looked at the dead body behind her and then back at Xan. “I had thought that

would be obvious,” Armesan indicated the corpse.

“Well can ya stop it?!” Xan whispered angrily.

"Not if I want SI:7 off my back! Shaw wants them dead, and I want off his little time-out blacklist. For that, I need these guys very very dead," Armesan lazily waved a dagger at the camp behind her to emphasize the point.

“Well I need dem very very alive, ta lead meh to whoever's buyin' all dis shit from 'em.” Xan said, gently pushing the raised dagger in her hand down.

"Wait, their buyers? That's all the Horde wants?"

"Ya t'ink I've just been sittin' 'ere for weeks because I like da view?" he growled, more harshly than he'd intended because despite seeing that Armesan was okay, she was technically fucking with his assignment. "Dey want a name ta point all their swords at fo' messin' wit da Horde."

"Then I might've just made your day,” Armesan trailed off, scanning the small pile of folded up papers she had pulled out. After a beat, she grinned, or he assumed she was grinning under the bandana, as she held them out to him. “Alliance found the other end of your trail and convinced them to talk. Up for a trade? My end for your end?"

Xan grabbed the letters and scanned them, quickly parsing the common to realize that she had indeed handed him the names he’d been looking for. “Oh thank da loa, A'm I could fuckin' kiss ya,” he grinned, pocketing the letters. He was so giddy at the thought that his long miserable vigil was over that he almost completely missed how the night elf went absolutely silent at that little comment. Ultimately it was the lack of any snarky little retort that drew his attention to the oddity of her reaction.  "A'm?" he raised an eyeridge at her curiously when he looked back and met her gaze.

Curiosity turned into amusement as she seemed to suddenly realize where she was and that she had been caught just staring at him. The elf cleared her throat a few times before she spoke again. "*Ahem* right, uh-you're welcome."

"Somethin' I said?" he teased, resting his arms on the hilt of one sword he had propped up on a crate.

“Intruders!”

As one Armesan and Xan turned around to find that in those few seconds of distraction a patrol had rounded the corner of the tents and found them standing there with one of their comrades dead at their feet. They were bolting and sounding the alarm before Armesan could finish uttering a well earned, “Well fuck.”

“Ya know, looks like ya missed a few,” Xan grinned smugly as the sentry ran to alert what was left of the camp. 

Armesan sighed and pulled off the bandana and hood and grumbled to herself in Darnassian. "Fucking head needs to get out of the gutter or its going to end up rolling."

"Ya know I can undastand ya, right?" Xan smirked, replying in fluent Darnassian as he leaned over teasingly. Judging by the expression on her face, she had, in fact, not realized that after a year he might've picked up her native language. "Now what's dat about a gutter?"

Armesan narrowed her eyes at him, though the venom was dulled by the darker shade of purple her ears had turned. “I'm going to go kill the rest of them now,” she said stoically after a moment, realizing that the shit eating grin on Xan's face wasn't going anywhere and there was no salvaging her pride. It may have taken two years and a hell of a lot of late nights of studying, but getting back at her for hiding her own language skills when they'd met and seeing that look on her face was so worth it. "Do you mind?"

The troll glanced over at the group that was charging over to them. Four, maybe five? No one else was rallying to the alarm which meant Armesan had taken out a large chunk of them before they'd run into each other. He could take these ones. “Ya know what, I got dis" Xan shook his head and flipped his swords back into a ready position.

Armesan followed his gaze towards the syndicate thugs and raised an eyebrow. "You sure you don't want a hand?"

"Nah, I got weeks worth 'a bones ta pick wit dese fuckers.  Besides, ya in time-out, right”

Armesan snorted, back to her usual confident self now that combat seemed imminent, but didn't deny him, and merely sheathed her daggers and gestured towards the rapidly escalating voices of the syndicate agents as she stepped out of his way. "As you wish."

With a rather sadistic grin, Xan hopped up on the crates separating them from the incoming Syndicate and charged across the makeshift bridge. The smugglers' weapons were out and two had moved to try and flank him while the other three spread to try and surround him.

Now this was more like what he expected from Syndicate trained goons.

Too bad for them he was better.

The one on his right closed the distance fast, trying to force him to either dodge or shift his focus from the smuggler in front of him. Instead of either of those things, Xan flipped one of his swords into reverse and launched it at the one in front as he leapt over the swing from the one on the right, letting the momentum carry him into a messy tackle into the smuggler ahead of him.

The smuggler barely registered what was happening before a troll almost twice his size kneed him in the face, bowling him head over heels into the snow. It also knocked Xan off the strip of crates, but he'd been expecting that and managed to roll upright almost as soon as he could find purchase with his hands and feet. There was a sharp sting as a small throwing knife from the others managed to bury itself in his unprotected shoulder, but he shrugged it off and righted himself, quickly stabbing the downed syndicate he'd kicked before pulling his remaining weapon free and leveling into another bolt towards his other assailants.

That was the trick. Keep their target moving in ways they didn't expect he could move and eventually they'd leave themselves open. He got a few good swipes in as he wove around their attacks, kicking up snow and dirt to blind them, throwing loose items from around the camp to throw them off even further, but he couldn't quite block as well while attacking with only one sword. There were a few wild swings where their blades bit harder than he'd like.

Another syndicate fell as Xan's weapon slid between his ribs, but unfortunately instead of turning as he'd intended, Xan's foot got caught under the crumbling body as he pulled his sword free and the troll stumbled into one of the larger stack of heavy boxes. It was a small slip, but enough for the remaining smugglers to converge on him. One of the larger ones unexpectedly tossed his longsword aside and leapt at the troll from behind, knocking Xan to the ground with a combination of momentum and surprise, and attempted to pin the thrashing troll.

Xan went down with a hard 'oomph' as the air got knocked out of his lungs, and he started scrambling to reach for his sword that had fallen from his grip when he landed. He growled angrily when the smuggler grappling him grabbed his arm and locked his elbow into a painful pin, keeping him from reaching his weapon.

Okay, maybe this might be a bit bad.

“You dropped this.”

Xan risked a glance up as the elf’s voice floated above his head, to see Armesan sitting on the top of the pile of contraband, leaning down with his missing sword dangling loosely from her grip just within reach of his unpinned arm with an innocent smile on her face.

Xan couldn’t help but grin and jerked his head back quickly, the crack of a broken nose and the loosening of the grip that held his shoulder allowing him to get enough leverage to roll and reach up to take the offered weapon. The syndicate on his back yelled something obscene in common before scrambling to release his hold. He wasn't fast enough before Xan was able to unpin his arm and grab the thug by the cloak, throwing him off him. The sword through the thug's neck made sure he didn't get up this time.

“Still wanna lend dat hand?” Xan asked lightly, glancing up at Armesan while picking up his other weapon, as the remaining syndicate agents started circling him again.

The night elf made a show of thinking and just waved airily. “And deprive you of all your fun? No I think I’m fine up here." She grinned and added, "Besides, I’m enjoying the show.”

“A show, eh?” the troll laughed, a combination of adrenaline and endorphins making it hard not to. He turned back to the three surviving Syndicate, one of them the injured one he'd tackled at the start. He wasn't too wounded, though a bit out of breath. But he had an audience and it'd be a shame to disappoint her.

---

Well, it was a more of a bloodbath in the end, actually. There was a brief moment when Xan almost felt bad for them. Almost, because then he remembered these assholes were sabotaging a key warfront and were the reason he’d spent weeks freezing in a tree. Really, he was doing the world a favor. Though he might have overdone it with that last one, where he'd used the corpse of one as a vaulting point to launch himself over the last one that had tried to get him with a low charge while his swords were stuck in his comrade. He'd landed the forward flip and cut the smuggler down, but he was pretty sure he pulled something in his side if the muscle twinge was any indicator.

With the last threat down, Xan finally noticed that a few other smaller knives had found their way into his armor that he hadn't noticed in the thick of things. At least one other had hit skin.

"Motherfuckin' tiny knife lovin'…" Xan muttered, pulling them out.

There was a quiet 'fwip' through the air and Xan whirled around quickly, scanning for the source of the noise, only to find a surviving syndicate agent, one that he'd thought he'd killed but apparently was too stubborn to die right away, frozen in place. His sword was raised as he had apparently been sneaking up behind Xan in some last ditch effort to take the troll with him before he bleed out. Instead, the human's eyes rolled back and he quietly toppled over where he stood, the tiny elven throwing knife lodged in his neck ensuring that he didn't get more that a few steps closer to the distracted troll.

Xan glanced over at the night elf who was still perched atop the stack of crates.

"What was that about tiny knives?" she smirked.

"Thought ya were gonna enjoy the show," he said without any real malice. He was in too good mood to even pretend to be irritated by her intervention. The night elf shrugged innocently.

"It slipped."

"Uh huh, sure it did," Xan snorted, then winced as the laugh exacerbate whatever he'd done to his side. "Ow."

"Did you pull a muscle showing off?" the night elf teased, idly kicking a foot in the air

"Bite meh," Xan shot back without malice.

There was another odd pause from the night elf as gave him a curious once over, as if she was actually considering it. "You're the blooddrinker, not me," she said quickly, hopping down and retrieving her throwing knife. She added with a smirk, "Maybe if you've had a bath."

Xan paused to look down at himself and sighed in mock resignation. "Yeah dat be fair." He had been out in the woods for a few weeks and now had a healthy coating of syndicate blood spattered all over. He pulled off the winter camouflage cloak and clicked his tongue against a tusk at the absolute ruination that had become of the white canvas. "Well dis thing's ruined."

“That isn’t still from Utgarde, is it?”

Xan looked back at Armesan in confusion, only to realize she was looking at the hole in the shoulder of his armor that was now visible.

“I been kinda busy, ya know,” Xan said as a way of explanation.

“I thought this Garrosh was supposed to be experienced in warfare. What kind of idiot commander doesn't leave his troops time to repair their armor?" she sneered.

"Ya really dun wanna see what dat guy considers armor," Xan laughed, trying to imagine anyone convincing the notoriously bare chested orc that chest plates made for better survival rates. "'s fine, I'll get da rest repaired when I get back ta Dalaran."

"The guy over a Luxurious Leathers?"

"Got anyone else who can fix enchanted armor?"

"Oh for fuck's sake, give it here,” Armesan rolled her eyes and held out her hand expectantly.

Xan raised an eyebrow at the elf. “Thought ya said ya couldn’t fix it.”

“That was before I realized you were entirely reliant on the slowest leatherworker on the continent, now shut up and take off your shirt."

Xan snorted at the phrasing, and waggled his eyebrows at her. "I'm flattahed, A'm, but it be way too fuckin' cold out 'ere to be runnin' round shirtless fo' ya."

Armesan, upon realizing the unintended entendre, got that dark flush to the tips of her ears again, and glowered at the troll. "So. I. Can. Fix. Your. Armor."

"'Ya can't get mad at me, ya be da one mutterin' 'bout gettin' ya head outta da gutter," Xan snickered.

She just narrowed her eyes, and pointed in the direction behind Xan. "There will be better light in the lieutenant's tent and I'm sure there's some furs we can steal to keep your poor fuzzy ass from turning bluer." She started walking in the opposite direction.

"An' you be goin'….where?"

"To get my cloak and packs. Because I left my leatherworking needles in my other pants and these Syndicate cloaks are itchy as fuck."

Xan waited until she was a few more paces away before he called after her, "It be a good length, though. Makes watchin' ya walkin' away a lot nicer."

He laughed as she flipped him off and then pointed at the tent, not even bothering to turn around as she shouted, "Tent! Now!"

Okay, so he hadn't been imagining it, he was getting to her. Teasing and provoking was a part of their repertoire, but they usually kept any comments towards sex between them in jest. Xan poking fun at how people would try to hit on Armesan simply because of her people’s exotic beauty. Armesan teasing him about the stereotype of trolls being indiscriminate sex fiends. If it ever got too close or heated she'd laugh and threaten to throw him at the nearest brothel the next time they were in Dalaran.

She definitely didn't get flustered like this.

Well. She didn't used to. With little other recourse other than to see how this all played out, he chuckled and headed towards the lieutenant's newly vacated tent.

It was much the same as the first time Xan had pilfered through it a week ago, searching vainly for anything useful in the Syndicate's correspondences. While the bastards had the foresight to either destroy or omit any actual names or organizations, they certainly didn't have any taste. The tent was packed with yet more crates, some open, some acting as improvised tables and furniture. The cot was lushly furnished with at least three extremely fluffy pelts, which Xan planned on immediately snatching for his own purposes, and there were a few torch braziers in the corners to provide ample light. The 'desk' such as it was was shoved in between a large stack of firewood on one side and a few racks of weapons and armor on the other, and was absolutely loaded with towers of paper. Xan knew most of it was encrypted correspondences between this camp of Syndicate and the group that the Alliance had apparently nabbed; requests, drop points and times, things of that nature. There were a few other ones that indicated that there might be a few other fringe wings of this operation in other parts of Northrend, all of which would eventually get hunted down once he got this intel back to the rogue division leaders. Comically there was also a large reading stash of…questionable novels and magazines that really Xan had never needed to know about. There was another makeshift desk where a map with more encrypted notes was still pinned to the side of the tent.

Yup, much the same. Except that still meant that there was very little space to sit, especially when everything was human sized. His head was perilously close hitting the center beam. He'd only just shoved everything off one of the crate-desks and moved it over to the cot so he could sit closer to the blankets when Armesan joined him in the tent.

"What happened in here?" she said immediately, surveying the clutter.

"Dis guy had a hoardin' problem," Xan deadpanned, sitting down on the crate and starting to unclasp his armor plates.

"I'll say," she muttered, still staring in horror as she set the packs she was carrying down on the cot. "At least it is somewhat warmer in here. What's the enchantment on that chest piece of yours?"

"Uh…Agility, I t'ink? When did ya pick up enchanted leathaworkin'?"

"I was trapped in Dalaran for three weeks, being watched by all manner of paranoid nursemaids and shadows." she snorted, fishing through her packs, presumably to find the right tools to match the enchantment. "I was extremely bored."

"Heard da Alliance was in a tizzy ovah dere. But ya actually got blacklisted? Dey t'ink ya'd turned on 'em o' somethin'?" Xan asked, finally pulling the last layer off and handing the chest piece to the elf. He shivered involuntarily as the full brunt of the northern air bit into his skin, and immediately grabbed one of the pelts off the cot.

"If it wasn't the priests wondering how I survived the blood loss, it was the paladins asking how I survived the corruption magic, or Shaw's rampant unchecked paranoia thinking I was a sleeper agent. Apparently they thought I might've become one of those vampiric elves we've been seeing around," Armesan chuckled wryly as she took his armor from him. "Oh that's…not black dye, huh?"

Xan snorted at the irony the accusations. "Technically dey weren't wrong."

"I do not count your shitty alchemy as grounds for vampirism," she said haughtily, but there was a hint of fondness in her voice. She sat down on the cot and settled in, armor in her lap as she began mending. "So yeah, got landed on the naughty list for awhile. Hopefully this will clear the air and get SI:7 to unclip their leash. How 'bout you? Any lasting fallout?"

"Besides gettin' chewed out fo' bein' seen? Nah. Got sent on a wild goose chase fo' a bit investigatin' 'how da Val'kyr died', den ended up chasin' dese assholes." He grabbed a second pelt. Okay, that was slightly better. Damn it was cold without the fur lining in his armor to block out the wind.

"You really don't like the cold, do you?" Armesan snickered, glancing up at the troll out of the corner of her eye as she worked.

"I'm a fuckin' jungle troll. Jungles. As in da warm tropical kind," Xan grumbled, burrowing further into the blankets. "So yeah, I fuckin' hate da cold. Really gettin' tempted ta start burnin' some of dat wood ovah dere."

"And set this whole tent on fire in the process," the elf replied smoothly.

Xan thought about it as he glanced around, then shrugged with a grin. "Might be worth it."

Armesan paused her stitching, biting her lip slightly and looking everywhere but at Xan for a few moments before she seemed to come to a decision. She gathered up the pile of leather and needles and stood up.

"Move over."

"Eh?"

"The cot," she said, indicating where she'd been sitting. "It's warmer than a cold box."

Xan was about to make some comment about not needing the charity, but a particularly strong gust of wind managed to get through the canvas walls right at that moment and he decided that maybe his pride wasn't particularly worth it this time. Scooting over, he was relieved to find that indeed, the pelt lined cot was more comfortable.

That comfort, however was immediately interrupted when instead of taking his place on the box, Armesan sat right back down, nestling into his lap and leaning back against him, causing the poor troll to almost topple backwards in surprise.

"Da fuck?!" he yelped, trying to scramble back but having nowhere to really move to give her space.

"Body heat, idiot," she snorted affectionately, settling into the hollow of his hips and resuming her stitching. "If the only options you can think of is burning to death in a hoarder's den or freezing to death, then we need better options."

Xan groaned and tried not to squirm as he settled back down, but it was really, really difficult not to. Although she was right, she was really warm and it felt nice.

Really nice.

"Ya be evil, woman," Xan muttered, but couldn't help but curl around her, supporting her back with his chest. He was trying to focus on watching her work on not on how good it felt to have her pressed up against him like this, even through the two fur pelts.

The night elf chuckled. "Now who's head is in the gutter?"

"No one on dis fuckin' planet could blame meh," Xan purred darkly, leaning his head down and resting it on her shoulder, obstensively to get a better view of what she was doing but really it was just an excuse to discreetly slide his tusk along her neck to get back at her for all the wiggling. He grinned when he heard a small hum of appreciation. "Ya take mah shirt off, ya jump on mah lap…a guy could get da wrong idea if dis keeps up."

She didn't respond right away, which in and of itself was odd. Instead of the expected brush off, there was a sudden rigidness in how she was sitting. It reminded him of the night she had proposed this whole friends-in-the-field arrangement, except this time he could feel rather than see how she was slowly tensing up as she seemed to weigh whether or not so say what was on her mind. It only took a minute for him to find out why, when she spoke up again.

"I mean… it might…not be…entirely…the wrong idea."

Oh.

Huh.

Well. This night just took an interesting turn.

"Dat's a…very mean tease if ya ain't serious," Xan hedged, testing the waters to see how serious she might be, though given he was more or less draped around her and she seemed quite pleased to be exactly where she was, it wasn't much of a test.

He would have been lying if he’d said he’d never entertained the idea; he was not immune to the fact that she a dangerous and attractive woman, two definite weaknesses of his. He also liked her. She was his friend. He trusted her. And yeah, as they'd gotten more comfortable around each other the awkwardness of physical contact had slowly disappeared, which he definitely could not complain about, but nothing had felt overtly charged. He had been fine with just having her as a friend, having assumed that night elves did not share the particular cultural trait of friends just casually scratching each other's sexual itches without quantifying anything beyond that.

Shows what he knew

"And you don't think it would complicate things?"

She hadn't stopped stitching entirely, but was twirling the thick leatherworking needle between two fingers nervously every now and then, and he could feel all that coiled up tension still there in her muscles. Admitting she found him sexually attractive wasn't the thing she was concerned about.  It was the potential consequences of acting on it that she was afraid of.

Xan had to laugh a little at the absurdity of her fear, but he tried keep it sounding as reassuring as he could.

"A'm ya be talkin' ta a troll. We do dis all da time. Sex just be fun, nothin’ taken seriously unless ya got a mate." Xan chuckled. "What, ya worried I'm gonna break ya delicate little heart?"

He felt the night elf cough out a laugh as some of that spring-locked tension eased at the joke. "I'm worried…that I will lose my friend if it turns out we want different things out of this."

"Jus' because ya sleepin' togetha' dun gotta mean anythin' if ya dun want it ta," he shrugged nonchalantly.

“So…what do you propose? Friends-with-benefits?"

"As long as I get ta keep mah friend eitha way in da end, I dun see a problem wit it," he grinned, sneaking an arm around her waist and firmly pulling her against him. There was an almost inaudible squeak from the elf as he pressed against her that really should not have been as adorable as it was. "So whaddya say? Wanna try an' live a little?"

"What I want…" she said idly as her fingers ghosted along the exposed skin of his arm, leaving little trails of warmth and delight along the paths she was tracing. She slowly dragged her sharpened nails along the length of his forearm until she got to the hand wrapped around her waist and before Xan realized it, she'd slipped her nimble fingers into the small openings between his wrist and her and grabbed hard. With a quick pinch and twist, she forced his hand back and broke the hold, forcing him to let her go with a yelp.

"Ow, hey!" Xan barked in surprise.

"What I want, is to finish patching your armor so you don't freeze the minute you put those pelts down, you horny idiot," she laughed, letting go of the nerve she'd pinched as soon she'd directed his arm back to where it had been at her side and picking up the armor that had been momentarily forgotten. "Try to control yourself back there until I'm done, would you?"

Xan growled a little, but he couldn't even pretend that he wasn't amused. She could have easily sprained or pulled something with that little maneuver, but instead had used just enough pressure to let him know she was in control. And wasn't just going make this easy.

Which was another box of his that she just ticked.

Well, two could play at that game. 

"Well dat's not a fair t'ing ta ask. I'm only mortal, ya know," Xan pouted, and ran a hand along the side of her leg, squeezing with just enough pressure to make sure she felt it through her armor. She shifted just enough that it told him she wasn't unaffected, pulling her other unmolested leg up to better prop up the chestplate while she attached the lining to the patch and leaning more of her weight back against his chest.

"Mortality is not an excuse. I've known plenty of immortals with worse impulse control than you," she replied easily. "Besides, I'm not immortal anymore."

"Ya joints gonna start creakin' soon, den?" He switched over to the knee she had lifted, dragging a nail around the joint idly, accidentally dipping towards the inside of her thigh, earning him gentle hum in the back of her throat as she steadfastly tried to ignore his antics.

"Your guess is as good as mine," she said nonchalantly, but she couldn't quite hide the smile in her voice. "Seems time just picked up where it left off."

"Huh. So does dat technically make ya youngah or oldah den me?"

"Does that matter to you?"

"Just gotta know if I'm robbin' da cradle o' da grave."

"What makes you so certain you're going to be robbing either?"

"Bitch, ya want meh," he laughed, nipping lightly at her notched ear.

He was unexpectedly rewarded with a twitch of her ear and and low moan as she arched her neck and tilted her head towards his. When she realized what she was doing, he felt her freeze up and then quickly clear her throat in embarrassment. He made a mental note that apparently she had sensitive ears.

"Such a way with words, I can't imagine how anyone could resist you," she shot back, but her voice was much rougher than it had been a few seconds ago. She lurched forward to stand up and turned around and tossed his chest plate at him, cocking a hip and jerking her head up while she held his gaze. "Put it on so I can fit it properly."

"Ya really need ta brush up on ya seduction game, A'm. Da point is ta get dem outta dere clothes, not ta put on mo'," Xan teased, but obliged her, quickly putting the armor back on and twisting his shoulder around so she could reach the patch more easily.  And maybe also to hide how much that look just now had affected him.  Fuck, since when could she so easily rile him up?

"Maybe I just want to take it off you again," she purred, leaning down next to his ear as she finished sewing the remaining edges of the patch in place, ensuring that it wasn't too tight for him to move his shoulder. After a few more minutes he heard the snap of thread and flexed his shoulder blade a bit to test the fix, mildly impressed at how seamless it felt for being just a simple patch of leather and enchanted threading needles.

Any further assessment of his armor abruptly fled from his mind when a slender elven hand appeared in his field of vision and gently gripped his chin to guide him back around to look up at her, and the troll couldn't help but stare at the expression on her face. She was smirking down at him, but it wasn't condescending or mocking, more curious and at ease, and her eyes had a warmth to them he didn't expect.

“You know…" she said as she herded him back a bit on the cot, sliding a knee to the side of his hips and half straddled across his lap.  Xan swallowed hard as she gently put her hands on either side of his face.  "…this is probably a really bad idea.”

The grin across her face echoed her teasing.  Coy and guarded, but her eyes had a glimmer of something else in them; uncertainty. She wanted this, but she was flying blind, and that scared her. Xan decided to extend a little mercy, and try to offer a bit of reassurance.

"Maybe.  But I trust ya, so it can't be dat bad an idea.  Besides, 's mo' fun wit a friend den some random hooker," Xan purred leaning in as she ran her thumb against a tusk. He wasn't going to even try to deny it, he really wanted this too. "Ya do know what fun is, doncha?"

“Oh it's fun you want, is it?” Armesan said, her voice laced with mischief. The easy banter had done its job in dissipating some of that nervous uncertainty. "Alright tough guy, let's see how long you can keep your hands to yourself."

"Dat a challenge?” Xan growled, unable to hide his grin, as he explored her curves, surreptitiously pulling her leg up to mirror the other at his side so she was fully straddling him.

Armesan arched a bit when she felt his hands run down her sides, not really resisting as he repositioned her.  “If you let me touch you it can be whatever you want,” she purred.

Well when she put it like that. Not inclined to argue further, Xan simply grinned and leaned back to grant her better access.

She started slowly, gently letting her fingers start at the tips of his tusks and slowly working her way up.  Calloused fingers ran over the smooth ivory, slowing when she found the stress cracks that marked his age, the odd but not unpleasant sensation shifting to warm and enticing when she reached the sharp outlines of his cheekbones.  Her fingers flinched back when they felt the change in texture as she reached the scars around his missing eye, but when he didn’t move to stop her she settled back and resumed her explorations.

Eventually she reached his dark red mane of hair, and threaded her fingers through the rough crest, marveling at the coarse texture and just how thick it was compared to her own.  She was careful not to let her claws catch on any snarls, of which there were quite a few given the last several weeks, until she reached where his braids started and she couldn’t proceed any further.  Instead she slowly withdrew her hands while studying the jewelry woven into the braids, noting a few hidden beads and bands that were normally not visible.  Xan could not help the audible whimper when she stopped her ministrations.

“Dun tell me ya gonna just stop dere,” Xan groaned, his voice breathy and cracking. Everywhere she touched now left these little fires of delight and some distant part of his brain warned that he was never going to be able to think straight going forward whenever she touched him. The louder part didn't particularly give a fuck.

Armesan chuckled in response, but instead of answering she flexed her fingers into hooks, raking her nails along his sides from his hips to just below his rib cage all along the seams where the armor hadn't been laced closed, applying just enough pressure to drag against skin. Fires became infernos and the troll hissed through gritted teeth, tossing his head back and biting back several unsavory curses. His grip on her tightened as fingers and nails dug in and pulled her against his body, unable to help himself. The smug look of victory accompanied by that stupid seductive way she bit her lip told him that had been the exact reaction she’d been aiming for and she took that as a sign to escalate things.  

Moving beyond simple touches, she ground her hips into his, that delicious friction against his growing arousal earning another ragged growl of frustration from Xan, and she leaned forward to press her lips against his neck while her hands splayed open across his chest. He was quickly realizing that he might not have been as prepared to handle her onslaught as he'd thought.  He also realized this was a game he could happily lose.

Especially when she added her tongue against his skin, playfully alternating kisses and licks along his collarbone and up the side of his neck while her hands snaked around under his arm and up behind his ear to thread back into his braids.  Her reward was another twitch of approval and his hands running along her thighs as he ground up into her welcoming heat, a low growl starting to rumble from his chest to accompany the moan of approval from her. 

By chance she grazed a fang across his neck as she worked, and it took every ounce of his willpower to keep his hands from grabbing her toned waist, ripping her pants off and having his way with her right then and there. He barely stopped himself before he tried to flip her over.  There was something predatory about her when she moved atop him like that, like she was drawn to him, this feral beauty that brought death wherever she went.  It was a turn on Xan was not prepared to deal with and it was a small mercy that she stopped when she did because he was absolutely going to lose it if she used her teeth again.

Instead he settled for hissing loudly and pulling her by her thighs against him as he bucked violently into her. He felt the heat and dampness pooling above him and pressed into her to let her know just what kind of effect she was having on him. The look on her face said she could feel him throbbing against her even through the armors.

"Someone likes it rough," she teased, though her ragged tone betrayed her own fraying restraint. "Give up yet?"

"FFFFuuuuck you, woman," Xan hissed.  

"That's the idea," she nipped his ear to illustrate her point while she slid her hands back down his chest, one deftly unhooking the fasteners that secured his belt while the other dipped below the hem of his pants and drew a loud growl from Xan as she brushed against achingly sensitive skin.  "Unless you want me to stop?"

It was earnest, that last bit. Her last offer to stop this before they went too far and things between them would irrevocably changed.

"Don't ya fuckin' dare," Xan growled almost immediately.

"Thank fuck," she laughed in relief, and with a newfound confidence, she awkwardly wove between his tusks and dove in, smashing her lips against his, aggressive and wanting and not at ALL like she had been before. Gone was the gentle, almost timid explorations, or even the bold teasing of raking of claws and teeth and friction.  This was rough and devouring and untempered as she adjusted to accommodate the tusks on either side of her face, and he couldn't help but respond in kind. Leaning into her fervent kiss and nipping and sucking at her lips, he finally gave up. Shifting his grip, he hoisted her up into his arms, and moved them over to the one actual table in the tent. Papers and weapons and all manner of clutter were violently knocked aside and swept clear as he attempted to set Armesan down, but at the same time she looped her legs around his waist and dug her heels into the small of his back, grinding her hips into his none too gently as she pulled him down with her.  The troll groaned into her mouth before he had to break the kiss just to catch his breath.

Oh he could easily get addicted to THIS real fast.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Too bad that was the exact moment the rest of his restraint crumbled.

---

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->