Northbound Pilgrimage

Chapter LXVI - Afterparty

Author's Note:

Bonus chapter!

So... fair warning, this chapter is practically all smut :D Horrible, cheesy, self-indulgent, awkward smut, for which I'm sorry in advance :D If you're not interested in that, you can skip the chapter entirely. If you don't want to miss any dialogue and introspection at all, skip to the last section.

Otherwise, enjoy I guess :D

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"Hey! What's that?"

One of the maids walking around the half-empty ballroom stopped them and pointed to the table cloth which was rolled up into a sack in Bishop's hand.

"Clean up service," Bishop smirked while Aeyrin hid behind him, giggling quietly.

The maid gave him an uncertain look but he pointedly ignored her. He quickly moved away from the woman, dragging both the makeshift sack and the blushing Bosmer along with him towards the exit.

They both burst into laughter once the cold night air greeted them on their way through the Palace viaducts.

It was all so quiet, even the sounds of stragglers in the gardens were getting drowned out soon by the nocturnal chirping in the abandoned streets. Only when Bishop threw the tablecloth over his shoulder, the clattering and clanking of bottles disturbed the serene calm briefly.

As they walked by the first mansion near the Palace, he immediately lunged at her and pinned her to the cold stone wall of the adjacent garden, making her stumble backwards. In an instant, his lips captured hers in an insistent rough kiss.

She moaned under his lips a bit more loudly than she intended. Now she was uncertain whether her face was burning up from the alcohol or the arousal. Her hands folded against his chest and grabbed at the hems of his doublet, dragging him even closer to her, even though that was barely even possible anymore.

Distant giggles echoed from behind Bishop's back when more of the guests made their way from the palace. He growled in annoyance and tore himself away from Aeyrin. Her face was still flushed, her breathing ragged and eyes glassy from inebriation.

He took her by the hand, while his other one was still supporting the makeshift pack, and he ran with her along the stone wall right into the manor's garden. He threw the sack among some flowerbeds unceremoniously and the clattering rang through the quiet alcove.

"What are we doing here?" she chuckled briefly before she looked over at the manor behind them. There was no light in the windows – the owners were probably either away or asleep.

"We're here for the afterparty," Bishop smirked. He put his arms around her and pressed her to him in a tight embrace before his lips descended back on hers. In a matter of seconds she was being pinned against one of the walls again while their shapes became covered by the dark shadows of the topiaries around.

Bishop grabbed hold of each of her wrists in his hands and moved her arms above her head. She arched her back, pressing her torso firmly against his chest, and she bit down on his lower lip in excitement. Bishop groaned at her enthusiasm when she started moving her kisses along his stubbly jaw, down to his neck. She kissed the side of his throat and flicked her tongue over his skin. His fast heartbeat was palpable under her lips.

He moved one of his legs between hers, pressing the fabric of her skirt, his strong thigh pushed against the apex of her legs. She felt the wetness soaking her undergarment as he rubbed his leg against the cloth. His own excitement was discernible under the soft fabrics, pressing against the side of her belly.