behind the blood (elder scrolls online | freiwen/maxten)

[fiachairecht]

behind the blood. elder scrolls online, freiwen/maxten. knives and runes in the middle of the night. 650w, rated m. for bluegansey in bulletproof 20/21

A and B carving symbols/words into each other as a display of trust and mutual possession

The freezing tip of Maxten's voidsteel blade traces feather-light over the exposed skin of Freiwen's arm, leaving a thin pale line in its wake. The cold can't truly touch them in the depths of the Kjenstag Ruins, but her skin is pink with it anyway — that, and the way Maxten's eyes have been following her blade's path against Freiwen's skin

She's never known hunger like this before. She never wants to be without it, without Maxten, ever again.

The knife continues its lazy trail over her skin, harder now, enough that Freiwen can feel the promise in the pressure. She draws in a breath, and the wind sighs its counterpoint against her throat. "You told me tonight," she says, and Maxten's arm tightens around her chest, pulling her even closer. "You said you would—"

Cut me. Mark me. Let me help you, let me leave this town.

"I did," Maxten agrees, "But magic shouldn't be rushed."

Freiwen opens her mouth — to protest or plead, she hasn't decided — and the blade slips under her skin so swiftly she doesn't feel the cut itself, just the rush of slick heat as blood wells up and over her arm. "Stars," she hisses, and Maxten laughs against her scalp.

"Should I draw you stars?" She asks. The blade makes its steady way down Freiwen's arms, the lines of the cuts indistinguishable under the steady smear of blood. "I thought runes, for protection, but if you wish..." Freiwen squirms, shifts so Maxten's thigh is trapped between her legs and rocks down against her. Maxten's nails dig in to her side. "If you keep doing that, neither of us will have a choice what I draw on you."

The thought is as intoxicating as the finest mead, and Freiwen sighs, sinking back against her lover — but they came out here for a purpose. "No," she murmurs. "I trust you."

Maxten kisses her hair in acknowledgement, and Freiwen leans back, lets herself drift on the feeling of the blade making its chill way down her arm. It's warming, with the time it spends under her skin, but it's well-made, and there's no pain more than the occasional slight pinch as Maxten finishes a line.

"Itade," she whispers, lifting the knife, and Freiwen's pulse is pounding between her legs even as the sluggish flow of blood down her arm continues. "Makderi," an uncountable amount of time later as Freiwen shuts her eyes, visions of carvings she could give Maxten in return. "Kuta," and the last lingering flourish does hurt, jolts Freiwen back to her body with a suddenness that has her whimpering.

"Good girl," Maxten murmurs, and Freiwen leans up to kiss her, desperate in a way she hasn't felt in days. Maxten's lips are cold, hungry and sharp with the lingering taste of magicka, and Freiwen knows all at once what her gift will be.

She reaches for Maxten's hand, brushes her fingertips across her bloody knuckles before taking the dagger. "Lie down," she says, when she can bring herself to pull back from their kiss. "Lie down, my love, I want to see—"

Maxten does, eyes alight with amusement, and she doesn't protest as Freiwen pushes up her robe to trace the blade over her leggings. "Repora," Freiwen says, and Maxten groans, at the cold ground she's lying on or the air beginning to creep through Freiwen's cuts, "Makko, Kuta." Her cuts are swift and shallow, barely bleeding, but Maxten knows — she hopes — that she means them just as much as the more elaborate runes still throbbing cold in her arms.

When they're free, she'll redo them properly.

"You beautiful thing," Maxten says when she's done, reaching up to pull Freiwen down on top of her. "What a gift you are. What a gift you're giving me."

"I believe those were my words," Freiwen says with a laugh, but she kisses Maxten anyway, deep and soft.

Glyphs: In game, Itade + Makderi + Kuta = a jewelry enchantment, Glyph of Decrease Spell Harm; Repora + Makko + Kuta = an armour enchantment, Glyph of Magicka.