<hr/><div align="center"><em>Autolycus, still entertaining Sorcha<br/>Infirmary</em></div><hr/><br/>His legs felt wobbly underneath him, his cock too-sensitive, almost painful, under her touch. Gasping, Autolycus used his one free hand to steady himself on the edge of the operating table. He looked down at her, splayed out in front of him with his seed on her belly, his fingers still inside her and the sight was enough to make him hard again. She spoke to him, begged him to continue or so it seemed... And then she moved to get up. His fingers slid out of her with a wet little sound.<br/><br/>"No," he protested, "Not finished yet."<br/><br/>Autolycus stepped around the table, grabbed her now-free ankles and pulled, dragging her body across the table and towards him until he had her where he wanted, one leg on either side of him, his hands on her slender waist, just above her hips, holding her firmly in place.<br/><br/>He looked up at her pale face. The Pict's eyelids twitched but remained closed. Beautiful dark eyes he knew them to be, full of fire and venom. She'd be dangerous, awake, and yet part of him wished she was just that, conscious and aware and most likely very, very angry. His thumbs stroked the soft skin where her hips changed to her thighs as his eyes trailed down, over her breasts, over the strange tattoos and the dark, purple bruises that marred her flesh, all the way down to her womanhood. He was not-yet ready to take her, not so soon after his climax, but there was something else he'd been wanting to do for a while now.<br/><br/>He bent over her, lowered his face and ran his tongue over her wet lips, tasting her salty juices and went on, probing, exploring her folds. He didn't have to do this. She was at his mercy and there was no need to consider anyone's pleasure but his own, yet the idea of making this wild, feral creature surrender to his touch intrigued him to no end.<br/><br/>His tongue pushed inside her, once, then moved further up to lap at her little nub of pleasure.<br/>