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[yourcunningassassin]

Gortash and the Dark Urge try to kiss but Scleritas keeps screaming leave room for Bhaal. The Dark Urge tells Gortash and Gortash loudly says, "Unless Bhaal wants to touch my dick, he'd better get out of the fucking way."

[yourcunningassassin]

A Dance with Death

Gortash x gn!Durge

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hints at well established relationship | soft Enver | sfw

Warnings: gore | bad english cuz it isn’t my first language

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Enjoy reading, love!! <3

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Determined, you strut down a hallway towards the staircase that leads to the corridor where Enver's office is located. You pass higher-ups and nobles who were very much alike in a way — they cowered at your presence. Even though you couldn't care less about these mere mortals, you can't help but let your eyes flicker across their wretched features with distaste. Do they even deserve to be here? After all, some of them have caused too many mishaps for Enver to keep count of. They need to get punished for every single slip-up that they have ever made in Enver's and your name. Although it's not their time yet, that will have to wait until another seemingly never ending-scarlet day.

Today, that very scarlet day is going to knock on someone else's door.

You climb the stairs that lead up to the upper floor of the fortress. Your dominant hand is poised at the handle of your dagger, aching to cut through the soft flesh of your sworn foe. Two steel watchers stand at the ready at the office door. You gently knock at the door before swiftly moving inside the office. Two guards were situated on either sides of the foyer — Enver's lapdogs if you will. You turn towards them. "May you leave us alone? We ought to discuss important matters now," you inquire with a bittersweet smile infused with malicious intent. A deep and collected voice rings to the foyer: "You may leave now; I don't require your assistance as of now." Enver comes up from his office to greet you. As he reaches you he gently takes your bloodied hand and presses soft kisses to it before discarding it. "My sweet assassin, there you are! I was wondering when you'd pay me another visit." As he says this a smile is present on Enver's face; his features softened, especially the otherwise very prominent crease between his brows. "Enver please stop," you say while taking a step back.

Your hand aches — oh how it aches! Would father be proud if you got rid of him? Probably. Is Enver a weakness? That he is.

Your hand yet again finds comfort in the handle of the ritual dagger that was a present from your father. A symbol of your utter and upmost devotion. Orin alway looks it like it's the most beautiful thing in the world. It is but it is linked to centuries after centuries of utter chaos, caused by Bhaal's Chosen — you. As Enver sees you reaching for the hilt he also takes a step back, now cautious of your every move. His face shows hints of bitterness. He begins by saying, "I trusted you, my love...I still do. I trust in us-" You interrupt him by swiftly moving behind him, your dagger at his throat as you whisper in his ear, "You're a distraction, Enver...you're my weakness. A weakness that ought to be destroyed..." Your dagger presses down a little harder, not yet enough to draw blood. "My hand aches to kill you; the voices don't stop...I can't keep going. My father needs this. He'll kill me if I refuse." With a breathless voice you say, "Just want to hear your sweet pleas as you cry for help while I glide my dagger across your soft flesh...while i rearrange your guts, my love~". Enver doesn't flinch; he doesn't even move as much as an inch as he knows — he knows that you’re lying in some extinct state. He smirks as he slowly exhales through his nose—a hint of the sharp intake of breath he had taken moments prior. "I'm impressed by you, my dear...the way you had me wandering into your little trap...but," he says, and he grabs your wrists with unexpected strength. You lose the grip on the dagger, and it gets sent to the floor. Enver turns you around, holding your wrists behind your back with just one hand as his other hand moves to place itself tightly over your mouth. You harshly bite down on his palm, even drawing blood.

Will you ever get over enjoying this? Oh no, never. It tastes so good—so sweet, purely divine.

Enver tries to get some distance between the two of you, but you swiftly retrieve the dagger from the floor and send a strong kick to Enver’s ribs. While blocking an attack from him, you use the opportunity to strike again—a large gash manifests on Enver’s shoulder. “My love, what about us? I believe in us. I’ll always do," he says while dodging one of your throwing knives. You click your tongue in annoyance and answer, “There is no ‘us’ in my devotion to my father, I’m afraid. This is what my urge desires. My sister is going to kill me if I don’t put this tragedy to a bloody end.”.

Precise and planned manoeuvres are executed by the both of you — it’s a dance with death itself! The Dead Three watch over you with curiosity. Who will win? Love or devotion?

You sent another strong kick towards Enver’s ribs, hearing a faint crack. Enver moves to get a hold of his injured ribs as you move elegantly around him to get in front of him. He musters up some strength to hold your right wrist as he poses a lazy smirk while you grab a hold of his shoulder. Seconds after seconds pass—it's like eternity. Both of you relish the short moment. Both of you relish the faint comfort of one another.

Did his lips always look this chapped? Perhaps from all the biting a few days ago... Did he always have this scar on his chin? It’s from your first encounter, when he first proposed the plan. Did he always have this scarlet glint in his black eyes? In some way, it represents you, one might think.

You try to send another kick to his stomach, but his right hand takes a hold of your thigh before it can meet its target. The cold steel of his glove presses against your thigh as he caresses it gently—a gentleness you’ve only ever known with him. You sigh, “Is this utter and real devotion?”. Enver chuckles with a knowing glint in his eye. “You can do as you are ordered by your father, but that won’t change the fact that you crave this. You desire to be this close to your sworn foe. The desire to defy your father.”. After a few seconds of contemplation, you ask, “Do you crave this?”. In a swift motion, you push him against the wall, your body closely up against his as you press your dagger against his throat. It’s just enough pressure to draw a small trickle of blood. Enver grins but doesn’t move to struggle against your advances as he calmly answers, “Ah, the dagger at my throat, now ‘that’ I miss. If I crave this, Of course, my dear, just as much as you do.”. His body moves against yours, now pressing you against the wall. Your wrists are being held in his strong hands. You struggle in his hold but then ask, “Does Bane approve of this?”. Enver chuckles and says, “He finds it amusing to say the least.”. He laughs and then whispers, “You’re my enemy—my sworn nemesis in a way. And yet, here we are, the two of us, fighting like this—skin against skin. It could be taken as an innuendo of some sort, don’t you think, my love?”.

You push him away and kick him to the ground. Enver still has a smile on his lips as he’s looking up at you. You slowly walk over to him and straddle him. With your dagger, first you run up his lower stomach, then his chest, and then his neck—just enough to slightly break the skin. In a moment, your knife is just a millimetre away, way from his right eye, before you slam it in the wooden floor next to his head—harshly at that. You watch him wordlessly, contemplating your actions. He moves to slightly sit up. “You had the chance to slay me, yet you hesitated," he remarks. You sigh and move to get up from your position as you murmur, “I’ve gotten weak. I should be ashamed to be my father’s child.”. “Weak or not," Enver whispers. “I find I like you weak," he grins. “And you’re not exactly weak... just distracted.” You answer him with bitterness, “Too distracted for my own good, I’m afraid..." “Your distraction is rather enticing.” Enver sighs as he stares up at you, his features soft and his voice gentle. You bite your lip and help him up. Enver wordlessly watches you with a smile and says, “You’re my nemesis, my most capable foe. But you’re also someone I admire and respect. Someone I find myself unable to hate. That’s what makes this fight so enticing to me.”. You look down and avoid his eyes as you mutter, “I should go. Father probably wants to see me.”. With a sigh, you start walking towards the door. Enver hums but then stops you by gently grabbing your wrist and saying, “Just one more thing... before you go..." His voice is soft, almost soothing to hear. “Should we fight again sometime, my love?”. You chuckle, enamoured by his proposition. “We most definitely should, my dear," you answer before slightly turning towards him to face him. You gently press a kiss to his chapped lips that lasted longer than it should have before whispering, “I’ll come by tomorrow... to continue this scarlet dance of ours, Enver~”. Enver softly laughs at that: “I’ll be waiting for you, my sweet assassin.”. One last smile at him, and you’re gone, on your way. Your devotion will be the thing that brings you down. Your devotion, or rather, the lack thereof.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Thank you for reading!! I hope you liked it :) This is my first time writing in a while so sorry if it’s a bit wonky heh- Kinda wanna make a part 2 now~