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Description
Upon learning about her shadow dancer abilities

"Thunder-tits!" Lyme yelled out, bursting into the room and grabbing the priestess he was currently pleasuring right off his lap, and pushing her out the nearby window. "Guess what I learned to do!"

Biting down on her lower lip, she concentrated. In the blink of an eye, she dipped back towards her own shadow, and vanished. A second later, she reappeared in Quay's own shadow, settling down onto the bed beside him.

"Cool, huh?" The grin never left her face, and she took no heed of the perplexed expression on his face. "I've always been able to do that, ever since I was a kid. But I've never figured out how to control it. Until now."

"That's great, Lyme." Felyn muttered from behind gritted teeth, the ache in his loins now becoming something unbearable, as pent-up heat gathered deep in his abdomen. "But I was in the middle of something. That could have waited."

"You're right. That was insensitive of me. Let me make it up to you." The wicked grin on her lips vanished as she pressed her mouth to his, her fingers cupping his cheek for a brief moment, before sliding downward.

She moved with torturous delicacy, slowly trailing a thumb down the hard slope of his shoulder, and giving one of his biceps a hard squeeze. He couldn't help a grunt against her mouth, as that was hardly the area he wished for her to grab hold of.

He could return the favor of course, and did not hestitate to clasp the buckles of her armor, swiftly loosening the seals, until her slim, dancer's figure was bare to him. But the moment he reached towards the curve of her small breasts, her fingers lashed out, deftly snatching his wrists, and tying them together with a stray cord of rope—gods only knew WHERE on her person she had been hiding such a thing—and hitching his wrists to the bedpost.

She merely smiled as she returned her hands to his chest, and her lips to his own, amused by his frustration. Her pace did not speed up, and she enjoyed teasing his nipple with the pad of her thumb, gently lowering her fingers until she reached the tight muscles of his abdomen, the tips of her fingers dancing along the skin, soft as black satin. All the while, the heat rose in his loins, rising up in preparation for her slender fingers, and growing more and more tense with every moment she strayed away, teasing him for the sole purpose of frustrating him further.

A sharp breath hissed through his teeth as her hands wandered lower, clamping down on the hot, hard brand that had grown between his legs.

He was a seasoned whore. He was hardly about to yield to her with a simple touch. But this woman, damn her, had spent so much time with him, mapping out the sensitive areas of his body, and storing the information away in her devious mind. A wicked little smile curled her lips as she brushed her fingers along his shaft, the callused pad of her thumb sweeping under the sensitive head of his sex, causing his hips to jerk against her clever hand, and light chuckle to escape her.

But just as she began to move her fingers, the door was flung open, revealing a very nude, very angry priestess of Lolth, snake-whip in hand.

"I was not finished, bitch!" She snarled, raising her whip to strike Lyme, sheets ripping against the weapon's fangs as the little assassin rolled off the bed, and scrambled to her feet.

"Gotta go! Bye, Felyn!" Lyme called out, racing out the door and down the hall, the priestess chasing after her.

The drow couldn't help a scowl as she slipped out of the room, leaving him naked, bound, and frustrated, the throbbing not easing in the least.

"Damn Lyme."

Dealing with height restrictions…

"Dammit!" Lyme cursed, jumping up to grab a jar of raspberry jam off the top shelf of the larder, only to miss once more.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tash snapped as she walked in, seeing the drow bouncing up and down like a sugar-high terrier.

"Tash! Good! It's you!" A grin struck her dark lips, and she pulled the weapon master towards her, planting a foot on her hip, and then the other on her shoulder, quickly swiping the jar, and jumping down from the taller woman.

"Much obliged." She informed the weapon master, scooping up several generous globs of jam, and spreading it over the two pieces of bread she'd collected earlier.

One, she keep for herself. The other, she handed to Tash, before walking out the room.

The weapon master merely rolled her eyes at the woman's antics, before taking a bite of her gift.

In an argument with Quay…

"Stop being such a child!" The boy snapped out, glaring down at the older female. She could be remarkably, obnoxiously immature when crossed.

"Well, if I'm a child, then that makes you a pedophile. And I do not consort with perverts." Lyme turned her nose in the air, and snatched up Tash's arm as she passed by. "Come on, Tash. Let's go get drunk without stupid, poop-face Quay."

"Poop-face?" The former gigolo rolled his eyes. "Gods, I'm *so* hurt."

"You should be! I'm going to have loads of fun tonight, and then Tash and I are going to lesbian each other without you!"

"What makes you think I want to get involved in—wait, 'lesbian' each other?" The weapon master repeated, blinking her dark green eyes as Lyme dragged her out the door.

Quay, for his part, merely rolled his eyes once more, before going off to find Mischa.

Grossing out the rest of the house, again.

"So Quay and I tried another position an hour ago." Lyme commented, taking a seat at the dining table, and propping her feet up, as Tash sharpened her sword, and Mischa looked over several scrolls. "It was nice, but the angle was weird. I kind of thought I was going to crap myself at different points."

Turning to Mischa, she added, "Be careful of that when you inevitably sleep with Quay."

"What the--?! How dare you! I…I…" The paladin's face was the same stark white as Lyme's hair, the only color two livid slashes of red over her cheeks.

But that red soon turned to green, realizing what Lyme had said earlier. "I…I'm going to be sick. You are vile, drow."

A grin slipped over Lyme's lips, and she held out her fist, giving Tash a quick knuckle-bump as Mischa sped out of the room.

"Mission accomplished."

Description
Upon learning about her shadow dancer abilities

"Thunder-tits!" Lyme yelled out, bursting into the room and grabbing the priestess he was currently pleasuring right off his lap, and pushing her out the nearby window. "Guess what I learned to do!"

Biting down on her lower lip, she concentrated. In the blink of an eye, she dipped back towards her own shadow, and vanished. A second later, she reappeared in Quay's own shadow, settling down onto the bed beside him.

"Cool, huh?" The grin never left her face, and she took no heed of the perplexed expression on his face. "I've always been able to do that, ever since I was a kid. But I've never figured out how to control it. Until now."

"That's great, Lyme." Felyn muttered from behind gritted teeth, the ache in his loins now becoming something unbearable, as pent-up heat gathered deep in his abdomen. "But I was in the middle of something. That could have waited."

"You're right. That was insensitive of me. Let me make it up to you." The wicked grin on her lips vanished as she pressed her mouth to his, her fingers cupping his cheek for a brief moment, before sliding downward.

She moved with torturous delicacy, slowly trailing a thumb down the hard slope of his shoulder, and giving one of his biceps a hard squeeze. He couldn't help a grunt against her mouth, as that was hardly the area he wished for her to grab hold of.

He could return the favor of course, and did not hestitate to clasp the buckles of her armor, swiftly loosening the seals, until her slim, dancer's figure was bare to him. But the moment he reached towards the curve of her small breasts, her fingers lashed out, deftly snatching his wrists, and tying them together with a stray cord of rope—gods only knew WHERE on her person she had been hiding such a thing—and hitching his wrists to the bedpost.

She merely smiled as she returned her hands to his chest, and her lips to his own, amused by his frustration. Her pace did not speed up, and she enjoyed teasing his nipple with the pad of her thumb, gently lowering her fingers until she reached the tight muscles of his abdomen, the tips of her fingers dancing along the skin, soft as black satin. All the while, the heat rose in his loins, rising up in preparation for her slender fingers, and growing more and more tense with every moment she strayed away, teasing him for the sole purpose of frustrating him further.

A sharp breath hissed through his teeth as her hands wandered lower, clamping down on the hot, hard brand that had grown between his legs.

He was a seasoned whore. He was hardly about to yield to her with a simple touch. But this woman, damn her, had spent so much time with him, mapping out the sensitive areas of his body, and storing the information away in her devious mind. A wicked little smile curled her lips as she brushed her fingers along his shaft, the callused pad of her thumb sweeping under the sensitive head of his sex, causing his hips to jerk against her clever hand, and light chuckle to escape her.

But just as she began to move her fingers, the door was flung open, revealing a very nude, very angry priestess of Lolth, snake-whip in hand.

"I was not finished, bitch!" She snarled, raising her whip to strike Lyme, sheets ripping against the weapon's fangs as the little assassin rolled off the bed, and scrambled to her feet.

"Gotta go! Bye, Felyn!" Lyme called out, racing out the door and down the hall, the priestess chasing after her.

The drow couldn't help a scowl as she slipped out of the room, leaving him naked, bound, and frustrated, the throbbing not easing in the least.

"Damn Lyme."

Dealing with height restrictions…

"Dammit!" Lyme cursed, jumping up to grab a jar of raspberry jam off the top shelf of the larder, only to miss once more.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tash snapped as she walked in, seeing the drow bouncing up and down like a sugar-high terrier.

"Tash! Good! It's you!" A grin struck her dark lips, and she pulled the weapon master towards her, planting a foot on her hip, and then the other on her shoulder, quickly swiping the jar, and jumping down from the taller woman.

"Much obliged." She informed the weapon master, scooping up several generous globs of jam, and spreading it over the two pieces of bread she'd collected earlier.

One, she keep for herself. The other, she handed to Tash, before walking out the room.

The weapon master merely rolled her eyes at the woman's antics, before taking a bite of her gift.

In an argument with Quay…

"Stop being such a child!" The boy snapped out, glaring down at the older female. She could be remarkably, obnoxiously immature when crossed.

"Well, if I'm a child, then that makes you a pedophile. And I do not consort with perverts." Lyme turned her nose in the air, and snatched up Tash's arm as she passed by. "Come on, Tash. Let's go get drunk without stupid, poop-face Quay."

"Poop-face?" The former gigolo rolled his eyes. "Gods, I'm *so* hurt."

"You should be! I'm going to have loads of fun tonight, and then Tash and I are going to lesbian each other without you!"

"What makes you think I want to get involved in—wait, 'lesbian' each other?" The weapon master repeated, blinking her dark green eyes as Lyme dragged her out the door.

Quay, for his part, merely rolled his eyes once more, before going off to find Mischa.

Grossing out the rest of the house, again.

"So Quay and I tried another position an hour ago." Lyme commented, taking a seat at the dining table, and propping her feet up, as Tash sharpened her sword, and Mischa looked over several scrolls. "It was nice, but the angle was weird. I kind of thought I was going to crap myself at different points."

Turning to Mischa, she added, "Be careful of that when you inevitably sleep with Quay."

"What the--?! How dare you! I…I…" The paladin's face was the same stark white as Lyme's hair, the only color two livid slashes of red over her cheeks.

But that red soon turned to green, realizing what Lyme had said earlier. "I…I'm going to be sick. You are vile, drow."

A grin slipped over Lyme's lips, and she held out her fist, giving Tash a quick knuckle-bump as Mischa sped out of the room.

"Mission accomplished."