skyrimkinkmeme | Meme Announcements!

Meme Announcements!

ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.

I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.

The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3

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Oh, this prompt is delicious.

I'm tabbing back and forth between what I'm writing and the story, because I *really* don't want to miss anything.

But let me start with some overall impressions. Like with the twins, you've gotten us this far, you could have phoned the sex scene in. It didn't have to be anyhting more than two gorgous guys fucking, but you just can't do that, can you? Instead you give us a thesis on beauty and pain. Something that's so deep and throughtful that it almost forgets to be hot. The key word there is 'Almost'

Because Holy Gods, is this hot. I honestly had to stop using Ulfric's voice in my head, because otherwise I'd never finish reading it and the husband would be late for work. Even now my forehead is sweaty. Damn! I told you once about what I liked in being fucked by a large man, and it's good to see you took notes.

Now, let me backtrack a little, because there's a whole lot more here than just mindblowing sex.

We start with some kissing, to get things to a quick simmer right away. I love your imagery in discribing it. Dyce being willing to chase Ulfric's excitement, Ulfric's tongue curling like smoke in Dyce's mouth. This also gives us our first brush with pain.

Both Ulfric and Dyce are almost too big for their skins. They are so many big things: Heroes, Warriors, Leaders of Men, Kings, Villians, and Instruments of the Gods. With all that, there's almost no room to be men; Simple, needful men. This is the truth Ulfric's lived with for years. He was born too it to an extent, but he's way more than just a Jarl. Ulfric's also become such a sex object that he doesn't have sex anymore. Because when you're supposedly a perfect sex god, how can you actually take off your clothes and fuck someone? How can you live up to those expectations? Its the Prom Queen Syndrome times a thousand.

Dyce on the other hand, is just coming to this truth. This story has been about Dyce's evolution as much as it's been about Ulfric, and that last section, with Dyce running away and Ulfric hauling him back is an excellent example. Dyce, who's avoided commitments all his life, has made commitments through his actions. He helped lead the battle, so had to go and honor the dead. He's broken Skyrim from the Empire, and now he has to help it fight against the Thalmor. He's become a warrior. He's become a leader of men, and he didn't even notice. I suspect he doesn't realize what he's done, but it's coming. Dyce has avoided the sex object problem, by not letting his image drift from his reality, and by not paying too much attention to what 'people' are saying about him.

As Ulfric (and Galmar) showed Dyce how he had the ability to be a leader and a warrior, Dyce is showing Ulfric how he has the ability to be a lover. Both Dyce and Ulfric had those talents, they just didn't know how to apply them.

I love the imagery of Dyce searching through all of Ulfric's layers to reach his skin, to actually touch him. Fabulous metaphor. As is the Fucking Gorgous. The intensity of that scene is just so artful. All sex, to a greater or lessor extent is about control; Who's doing what to whom? Who's giving, who's recieving? Who's begging, who's asking, and who's making who beg? Ulfric and Dyce are so interesting because that control dynamic is unpredicable and constantly shifting. Yes, Ulfric is huge and forceful and Dyce is small and slippery, but look at their Thu'ums, and Dyce is thehuge battleaxe and Ulfric is the tiny dagger. Is Ulfric seducing Dyce or is Dyce seducing Ulfric? It's constantly going back and forth and you could watch it for hours.

(Gah, character limits.)

And then we go back to the pain. Getting Ulfric naked is not cheap, there's a price you have to pay for that kind of honesty. He's got excellent reasons for all those layers, and it's writen on his skin. His torture and his survival of that torture is one of the many facets that make the man so compelling. Dyce, himself a compelling character, has to use his his pwerful honesty here. Like he had to recognize and honor the dead of the battlefield, he has to recognize and honor Ulfric's suffering. I doubt I could face something like that with such grace and compassion.

But you manage to save us from being too maudlin and sad, and work in the Stormcock. Brilliant! Besides, I actually like Stormblade out of the many, many titles the Dragonborn gets. I love the Stormcrown, Stormblade, Stormcloak trinity. In my head, my Blond, Nord, Dragonborn marries Ulfric and becomes all three.

Your being playful at this point, between the "On your knees" stuff and the wink at the Horker fat story, which provides a nice transition from pain and suffering to sex and pleasure.

And then we get to the part where Dyce gets fucked into the mattress and my eyes glaze over and I start to drool. All the while having that voice growling into his ear- I need a moment.

Wha?

Right, right. review. comments. right. okay. how are you?
And you leave us and Our Heroes with a literal promise of more. (YES!!) Now, both Dyce and Ulfric know there's a time and a place for caution. And they're getting to that place. We're not done yet, and I staying to watch all the credits. (Like I could look away)

Brilliant. Brilliant work here! Seriously, you are beating us with a stick and Not. Letting. Up! If we all survive this, it will be a miracle, but it will be completely worth it. Kinda like really wild sex, there's moments you fear for your life, but you could never, ever stop.

not OP, but I'm glad someone's writing this! It is a good prompt.

He leaned forward and captured one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking it through the flimsy white material. She moaned his name, pushing him closer to the edge and her grip on his legs tightened; she was evidently close to her climax too. Two of his trembling fingers slipped through the small gap between their joined bodies and rubbed against her clit, making her cry out and her hips buck. He rubbed harder, knowing his own release was very close, and she suddenly gasped as her nails dug into his skin and she clenched tightly around him. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer and removed his hand from her clit and gripped her hips instead, unable to stop himself thrusting hard into her, her juices already pooling between them.

She suddenly tightened around him again and he let go at last. "Malacath save me! Gods...I love you." His hips jerked out of rhythm as he spilt his seed inside her, making her moan once more as she enjoyed the sensation of the hot, thick fluid filling her.

They lay like that for a moment, both of them letting their breathing slow back down to normal. There more he came back to reality, the worse his stomach churned. Had he really said that he loved her? Did he really mean it? Well of course he did, there was no point denying that. Then she moved and he slid out of her. And still she said nothing. He felt a heat blister its way across his face. He prayed to Malacath that she hadn't heard. Perhaps he hadn't actually said it...

She clambered back up the bed where he was slumped against the pillows, caught between post-coital bliss and utter devastation. She fitted back under the covers at his side, her head nuzzling his neck once more. She gave a soft, contented sigh and he felt her muscles relax against his painfully tense body. She trailed light fingertips over his solid chest and said,

"I love you too."

He couldn't decide if his heart was racing or whether it had stopped completely. He wrapped his huge arms around her and pulled her close, swearing to all the Divines he could think of that he would never let her go.

***

The next morning, they explored Riften together. She pointed out things that interested her (which, as usual, was pretty much everything) while he tried not to appear too happy about how she had woven her fingers through his when they left the Bee and Barb and still hadn't let go.

Since they had stayed at her home in Whiterun, he had been much more relaxed about how others' looked at them. Once he had stopped worrying, he had realised that she was right; most people didn't care. And when people did look and whisper, he just glanced at her walking at his side and smiled. If she was happy, so was he.

They wandered around the market and they finally loosened their grip on each other. She had halted at a jewellery stall and was chatting easily to the Argonian who owned it while he carried on a little further ato browse the armour stall, all the while squirming slightly under the sharp scrutiny of the woman behind it. He picked up a few pieces, turning them over in his hands and testing the material.

"Are you going to buy something or just stare at it all day?" The woman snapped.

He snorted and raised his spiked eyebrows. "Just looking." He placed the armour back on the stall and turned around to find Endra and ask her if she knew who the awful woman was, only to find her missing. A bubble of panic swelled in his stomach as he rushed to find her.

He glanced around before he saw her leaning against a great stone wall and looking up to large building. The doors had been thrown open and a beaming couple walked out hand in hand. Ghorbash approached Endra slowly, more interested in her reaction to what was happening in front of her.

Usually so attentive to her surroundings, she jumped when he placed one of his large hands on the base of her back. She smiled when she saw him and he could have sworn he could see a trail of pink blossoming over her cheeks. He wasn't sure what he should say or what was going through her mind.

Serano!Anon here.

I really hadn't expected to get my very own personal prompt. Thank you OP, this does wonderful things for my ego.

I do want to write more with those two. I have a few vague ideas (and even a few fragments written), but it's not enough for a full story yet.

Is there anything in particular you would like to see? Are there any kinks you would like me to include, or do you have any squicks?

Work has been keeping me really busy lately, but I will try my best. Just give me some time...

OP here! I'm very glad that people like the prompt and are interested enough to try and write something :D I look forward to seeing what you come up with ^_^

Adorable and sweet and I just love these two A!A!

Ohhhh E+G go for iiiit :)

HAHAH1 The ending was great~ XD

She took his hand in hers again and squeezed it, turning her attention back to the couple who had now been surrounded by their families. They were all smiling and glowing with joy. Ghorbash felt a wave of envy nearly cripple him.

"Do you think..." She trailed off as though she was struggling with what she wanted to say. She had never sounded so vulnerable. "Do you think we could do that?"

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to drag her into that temple now and marry her, and then take her back to their room and bed her as his wife over and over until neither of them could move. But he knew he couldn't, he knew that wasn't how things worked amongst his people.

"I do not think - "

Her cheeks went from pink to red immediately. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. Just forget it..."

"No." He seized her arms and forced her to look at him. "If I could, I would marry you this very moment. But my family...the stronghold..." He shook his head and sighed. "Things are not that simple. I must seek the permission of my brother. Only a chief can allow his people to marry."

She frowned, her embarrassment replaced with confusion. "But you have left the Dushnikh Yal! Surely you are your own person and you can choose to do as is your will."

"My brother is my chief and I cannot ignore his laws. If I do, he would not let me back into the stronghold again."

She sighed and frowned, thinking this information over. Ghorbash worried that he had upset her but after pondering the issue for a moment, she brightened and gave him a smile. He loosened his firm hold on her arms and she reached up on tip toes to press a light kiss to his lips.

"Then we shall have to visit you brother, won't we?" She gave him another dazzling grin before pulling on his hand and dragging him back to the market. "Come. I desire a new dagger."

He obeyed, giving her a reassuring smile while his stomach churned. He may adore her constant optimism but this time he felt it was ill placed. But for now, he would indulge her as he found he didn't have the heart to try and convince her of the truth.

Thanks to everyone who left comments! So glad that you're enjoying tales about these two...I always love to hear what you lovely nonnies think! Also, I have a post on the 'Who Filled It' thread with links to all the previous Endra Series stories and my other fills. If you have the urge to check them out, I hope you enjoy those too :)

Ulfric was woken, like he usually was, by the need to relieve himself. The cries of sea eagles circling outside his window, however, were new. He felt warm and sated and he started his morning ritual of cataloguing everything that had been done, and everything that needed doing. The war was over. He’d won. He was going to be king. Skyrim was going to be his. He had to organise which troops to leave in Solitude. His chain of thought was completely snapped as he remembered something else.

He had a lover. A flighty and unpredictable one with a habit of disappearing and falling into bed with other people.

This last thought startled him into action and he rolled over, half expecting the rest of the bed to be empty. It wasn’t. Dyce was sleeping on his stomach, his red hair half pulled free of his ponytail and spread across the pillow in a tangled mess.

Ulfric moved closer, watching him sleep and resisting the urge to stroke his cheek, or his hair, or the hand that was the only other part of him not covered by blankets. Eventually nature’s call grew too urgent and he slipped out from between the covers.

When he returned Dyce was still asleep. “Bloody little thief,” he murmured. When he’d disappeared the day before, he’d left Ulfric with what felt like a gaping hole in his chest. Just waltzed right off with his heart along with half a dozen other things he was sure Dyce hadn’t noticed he’d missed from his palace.

He couldn’t hold it against him. He didn’t seem to do it deliberately.

Despite it going against years of habit, he climbed back into bed. The movement must have woken Dyce up, for he cracked open a blue eye and spent a few moments focusing it.

“Hmm.” He reached out and patted Ulfric reassuringly on his bare chest and then rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes.

“Good morning,” Ulfric said.

“Yep,” Dyce agreed, feeling the mess of hair on his head and sitting up to comb out the loop of linen that usually held it back but was right now doing nothing useful at all.

Ulfric lay back on his pillow and enjoyed watching him, the way he moved, the way the indirect sunlight reflecting off the floor made his skin glow. A lover fit for a king indeed, but he was more than that. Dragonborn. General Stormblade. Mostly just him. Mostly because when he looked at Ulfric, Ulfric felt like a person.

It had been so long since he’d seen someone else just being there. Dyce rubbed his stubble and blinked when he looked out the window and yawned. It was fascinating. Dyce watched him too; he admired him with a series of quick, amused little glances. Ulfric could almost feel his gaze like a caress across his shoulders and chest, and he was well aware of Dyce’s opinion on other aspects of his physique. It was a little unnerving, to be the recipient of such gleefully lustful attention, but it was also pleasing as well. Despite the adventures of the night before, he wasn’t quite flaccid.

“I could marry you, you know,” Ulfric said thoughtfully.

Dyce stopped wrestling with the knots in his hair and shot him a dubious look. “You could try,” he retorted.

“Politically advantageous.” He smiled, “Certainly a lot of fun.”

“You don’t need to marry someone to have fun. Case in point; this right here. Also.” Dyce pulled his hair back and retied it before turning to face Ulfric, “If you mention the word ‘politically’ while I’m naked, I’m not going to be naked in future. Not where you can see, anyway.”

“All right, all right. You’ve made your point.” For now, at least. This was how it was going to be, he realised, and as much as part of him still wanted to chain Dyce to the bedpost, he accepted that he simply couldn’t.

He’d have to trust that Dyce had been honest when he said he couldn’t stay away from people who wanted him around. Dyce was always honest. He’d come back. It would have to be enough until Ulfric worked out a way to convince him to stay.

“It’s over, isn’t it?” Dyce looked worried and uncertain. “The war.”

“Yes, the civil war is over. In a few months the Moot will meet and they will make me High King.” Dyce actually had the cheek to look sorry for him, and Ulfric frowned. Certainly there were some things that weren’t going to be pleasant, but he’d known that he was destined for this since he’d been a boy.

“I suppose there’ll be a great party, at least,” Dyce said.

Ulfric sighed, “Yes, you look on the bright side for me.”

Dyce grinned at him, “Sarcasm suits you, you know.”

“It’s a bad habit,” Ulfric said, and he sensed with Dyce around he’d have to be on his guard against bad habits. Habits like sitting around in bed all morning.

He reached out for him and Dyce smiled and closed the gap, shuffling over to his side of the bed and pressing up against his side. Forget sitting around in bed all morning; he could stay here for a week, he realised.

Ulfric sighed and looked at the ceiling, thinking. “Would you do something for me?” he asked.

“Hm. Probably. Unless you want me to lead another army.”

Ulfric shook his head. “Not this time.”

Dyce didn’t reply, he just buried his face in Ulfric’s shoulder. Ulfric lifted a hand and stroked his hair. “I won’t ask you to do anything you can’t do. I’ll be your king, when you need me to.”

“The Thalmor were the reason I fought this war,” Dyce said, his breath hot against Ulfric’s skin. “But-”

“No one knows what war means until they fight. It’s a hard lesson to learn.” He’d been so young, and looking back, so stupid. “Right now I want you to do something that suits your talents better. And it’s important to me.” Dyce looked up, interested, and Ulfric found it hard to speak. “Find her. Find my daughter. I know you could, if you put your mind to it.”

Dyce looked utterly surprised. “Maybe I could. But why me? Don’t you want to do it?”

“I do, but.” He sighed. “When you find her I want you to talk to her. Find out if she’s happy. Find out if she’d be better off not knowing me. If her birthright would be too much of a burden for her, I would see her spared. Like Rikke wanted her to be.” Maybe it was a bad decision, but he knew he had the option of changing his mind later if he had to.

Dyce was staring at him, “You’d trust me to do that? To make that decision for you?”

“I honestly can’t think of anyone I’d trust to do it better.” He looked into Dyce’s eyes, so full of concern for almost everyone he met. “You know people, Dyce. Better than they know themselves probably.”

Dyce shifted, put his hands behind his head and lay back against the pillow. “All right, if you put it like that. I’ll do it.”

“And don’t lay a finger on her, you understand? Promise me.”

“Yes, I promise. I guess I’ll start in Markarth; if I had to hide a baby, I’d give it to the Temple of Dibella - oh, Divines, what if she’s a priestess? I’m regretting this promise already.” He groaned.

“Not a hair on her head!”

“Yes, I know,” he laughed.

“It would be inappropriate, especially if you’re going to be her stepfather.”

“Will you give that a rest already?” He rolled his eyes. “What are you going to do if she does want to meet you?”

“She’s my heir. She’ll live in the Palace of Kings and will start learning the arts of war and statecraft as befits a Jarl’s daughter.”

Dyce sat up and looked at him, “Are you seriously expecting a young woman to live in the Palace of the Kings?”

“Why not? Where else would she live?”

“Ulfric, you have one elderly chef. And his food is fine, but the dust is ankle deep in some of the corners. You need to clean the place up first. Hire some servants.”

“Its a bit short notice, don’t you think?”

“I hear there are plenty of underemployed Argonians working at the docks.”

So that was his plan. “Dyce,” Ulfric began.

“Who’s in charge of Windhelm again?” he asked innocently.

Insolent little Breton. You couldn’t help but smile.

“We’ll see,” Ulfric said, and Dyce appeared satisfied.

Ulfric was satisfied too. He knew that for as long as he felt he could help, Dyce would attempt to do so. He’d always come back.

As much as he wanted to stay in bed, they both had many things to do. Dyce took Ulfric’s request seriously, as he knew he would. He left as soon as he’d put his clothes on and stolen breakfast from the palace kitchen.

Galmar had sent some troops to the Thalmor Embassy but no one was surprised when they returned to report the place was empty. For a few short months Skyrim would lack a king, and therefore they had a legitimate excuse to avoid any diplomatic relations with the Thalmor. That time was not to be wasted.

Ulfric returned to Windhelm. He couldn’t stand his army down, not with the Thalmor on the horizon, but he had to dissolve the split between the Stormcloaks and those who’d fought for the empire as fast as possible. The country needed rebuilding. Solitude especially needed funds to repair the damage that had been done during the battle.

Elisif made it clear that she loathed him personally but a diplomatic marriage would not be off the cards. Ulfric responded with similar sentiments to keep her hoping and politically pliant, but he had no intention of following through. A Dragonborn consort he could trust would be far more useful than a queen he couldn’t, especially in times of war.

Thalmor missives were replied to with a polite ‘wait and see’ but Ulfric wasted no time getting in contact with the independant Hammerfell, a natural ally as he saw it, and even the Empire. Skyrim had to prove she was a country worthy of the title, and not just a few Nords throwing a fit about some obscure religious matter.

The war was over; trade could resume, and indeed, increase. They would need wealth and a lot of it to fund the coming war. But he couldn’t stir the country too fast; she needed to rest first, to heal. So while the ordinary folk saw little change, Ulfric worked his fingers to the bone and talked until he was hoarse. Every night he slept the deep sleep of the truly exhausted, and every morning he wondered where Dyce was.

A few weeks later he received a message by courier:

She’s not in Markarth.

-Dyce

Ulfric decided that on the whole that was good news. He had beseeched Talos a countless number of times over the years to protect her, and he prayed again that Dyce might find her safe.

~~~

The Argonians worked hard. They tended to sluice down the tiles with water when a simple sweeping out probably would have sufficed, but Ulfric was starting to get used to the strange way they looked and moved even if he didn’t find them aesthetically pleasing. And they gave him no cause to complain.

He’d changed the rules so that Argonians could be allowed inside the city walls for the purposes of gainful employment, and he gave it another two weeks before the local shop owners got sick of watching them walk out every evening with their wages in their pockets and petitioned him to let them stay in the city long enough to spend some money.

It was one of Windhelm’s rare clear days, where the fallen snow reflected the sun so brightly it made your eyes water. Ulfric and Jorlief were going through the latest letters from the Jarls when the doors to the great hall were flung open.

Ulfric’s heart leaped when Dyce strolled in, as if he’d only been gone a few hours rather than weeks. Ulfric waved Jorlief away, his eyes never leaving Dyce’s face. He looked windburnt and happy; his cloak and boots dusty.

“Well?” Ulfric asked.

Dyce perched on an armrest of Ulfric’s throne, and leaned in to talk into his ear.

“She has her mother’s eyes,” he said, and smiled. “And her father’s ambition. If I hadn’t shown up, she would have owned half the trade routes in Skyrim in ten years. And have Maven looking over her shoulder in fifteen. I foresee a lot of arguments about Khajiit, and if you try and involve me I’m going to take her side.”

“So, what does that mean?”

“I told her you’d need a few minutes to get ready.”

“She’s here?”

“Wild horses couldn’t have kept her away.”

Ulfric’s heart was pounding. He stood up, and took a shaky breath. “They must have given her a new name. What’s my daughter’s name?”

“Ysolda,” Dyce said.

“Ysolda, Ysolda.” He tested it.

“I want a reward,” Dyce said abruptly.

“What? Yes, whatever you like, within reason.”

Ulfric was startled out of his confusion by Dyce taking his hand. He looked into eyes that were so happy for him. “I want to introduce you,” he said.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Dyce led him towards the sunlight. The snow was so dazzling, it made his eyes water.

Tags: char:M!DB char:Ulfric_Stormcloak char:Ralof relationship:slash kink:angst kink:anal kink:handjob kink:frottage series:dyce

A/N: There you have it. I apologise for the typos and the mess at part 27. The Ao3 version will be edited. This was very difficult to write and I hope I did a good job. Dyce’s changing opinion of Ulfric mirrored my own; from indifference, to dislike, to respect and a bit of love. I dare say Ulfric will spend the next thirty-odd years trying to convince Dyce to marry him, but Dyce won’t take it personally.

Thanks for reading.

This story made my heart hurt so many times in all the right ways. Thank you, Dyce!Anon.

*Stands up and applauds!!!*

Bravo! Bravo! Author! Author!!!

YAY! (I had considered Ysolda, especially when I realized the daughter was a full Nord)

This was SO GOOD! I know, I know, I've told you that before, but WOW!

How can you tell Ulfric really feels for someone? When he's willing to change for them. Even just going back to bed to lounge with Dyce was a statement, a very sweet one.

I loved how you kept them both so in character. Ulfric suggesting marriage (because that's what he would do) and yet being aware and knowledgable that he probably wouldn't get it, and not pushing. And Dyce saying "No", but not bolting for the door, like he might have earlier in their relationship.

I loved Ulfric's political intelligance that he got the businessmen of Windhelm to ask for Argonians to live in the city. That's what he would do, because he's that guy.

And I loved that you got Ulfric the same way I do. He's a remarkable man, but he's not a bad man- he's just wrong sometimes. (Okay, he's a bastard and he's wrong a lot of the time)

And that sex scene, Unggghhffff! I suspect my husband is going to have to send a note of thanks. When he can walk again.

Thank you so much for this. You ended it on such a happy note. I always knew you had some fluff in you. I'm glad it's done and you can rest. Be So Proud! This is fabulous!

Angst is the best and you do it so well. This has basically been the perfect Stormcloak faction story: it's got the whole plot, it's written well, and it's done with a character a lot (most?) of us already knew and liked, which was like the charming icing on the cake.

Also, is this the end of Dyce's adventures? On one hand I'm assuming no (lord knows I hate to put down toys I love), but it seems like such a thorough and gorgeously happy ending after everything else.

I'd love something where a lady Dragonborn gets Mjoll to ditch Aerin for a tour of a ruin of some kind (or your difficult situation of choice). I wouldn't be upset if some hurt/comfort or Aerin jealousy got in there, either.

Bonus points for an Altmer DB.

Some of the stories I've already written take place after this one (Dyce mentioned to Erandur that Ulfric keeps sending him invitations which he makes Calder write out excuses for.) But I think I definitely need a bit of a break after this one.

If a prompt catches my attention, he'll probably be back.

Weeks went by.

Kodlak's death was something the Bosmer felt he was unworthy to watch. The vigil, the heartbreak and togetherness of the grief of their people. They burned the body, admitted him into his personal space, to read his journal. Why? Why did he deserve that right? Why did the man need to die anyway? If only he could have been there sooner. No one felt it wrong that he be made Harbinger- but he'd been there only for so long!

Not even a year.

He may have been Dragonborn but that gave him no right to replace such a praised warrior. Farkas felt grief. Aela felt hate, but it was Vilkas who wanted to see blood the most. He wanted each head on a pike, their bodies desecrated. But in all honesty, when the Silver Hand was destroyed, all he could feel was crippling emptiness.

Revenge wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Somehow for Vilkas, it made his heart all the more bitter. When the fires of hate where over, the ache set in and the man sought no chance of escape. All of the others tried to sleep, tried to continue their duties, but their pain was clear. They would heal soon. But for Vilkas, this was not so. He chose to hide and “stew” as he remembered calling it. During the day he was withdrawn, Aela noticing the young man's thoughts nearly handicapping him from his simple duties. She thought he was a fool.

But the Dragonborn didn't. He knew Vilkas' kind, they where stubborn and felt the need to play invincible because it made them feel strong. It was just the way Vilkas was, and by the gods he needed to stop before he could crumble. The Bosmer would press his ear up against the man's door in the deepest night, hearing shuffling, silence. Shuddered breaths, more silence.
And it just went on like that for days until a week had gone by.

The companions where allowed to laugh again, their mead hall in subdued sadness as supper was eaten. Stories began to exchange again, friendly competition and the trade of coin. But reserved Vilkas stayed an intangible distance away. Few words, fewer smiles. Tonight's dinner seemed no different, until Farkas decided it was enough with constantly worrying for his brother's sanity.

They saw Vilkas push himself up and out, bidding them a goodnight. He hadn't bothered to finish his meal, withdrawing to his room and Farkas could'nt hold himself back, fearing that Vilkas will lock himself up in his room again tonight and read those stupid books. Quite abruptly, the hulking Nord approached the bosmer, grabbing him by the arm and asking if they could talk.

“It's about your brother, isn't it? I noticed.”

“You need to do something about Vilkas.” Farkas sounded like he was begging. “I'm afraid he might lose his mind if he keeps up the way he's been going.” His brother didn't know anyone else who'd be wise enough to get through to him, why not the Harbinger? They where all supposed to be good at this kind of thing.

Turns out, they did.

Because he had an idea. Leaping up from his chair the Bosmer gathered a handful of scrolls from under his bed, he marched his way to Vilkas' room. The door was open, but the hall reeked of inhospitable air, the Dragonborn's ears pricking back with discomfort. “Hey, Vilkas?”

“Aye?” He heard flatly from the desk. Vilkas was inside, hunched over a book, near its last few pages. The bench space next to him was open and the nord politely made enough room for him, holding his page in the novel. If Kodlak where still alive, they'd be long past this air of awkwardness...it made the Dragonborn's heart ache for him.

“These are a few classics I wrote from famous poets of Falinesti. I was thinking maybe you wanted to read them.” Vilkas merely thanked him. Said that he'd read it later. It became obvious that Vilkas didn't want him around, he just wasn't being a bastard about it this time.

The bosmer didn't allow the awkward silence that followed to go on for long. He cleared his throat, tried to let Vilkas know he seemed genuinely happy to see him.

“How have you been feeling?” He tried to sound engaging, Vilkas sitting as if he wasn't comfortable. “I've been bearing well.” A bold faced lie, of course. “You know, if you have anything you want to talk about, I'll listen.” The mer was far older than anyone here, he sometimes wished humans would see him wizened.

“You already sound like a Harbinger. No need, What's done is done. There's no use in reviving old pains.” Vilkas said, quite poetically.

“I seriously doubt this is an old pain, my friend. A steel bearing can still break if the load becomes too heavy for too long.” He reached up and put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it tenderly. Vilkas flinched, glaring at him flatly. “You know, your brother waits upstairs, wondering where you are. You should go see him.”

Vilkas said nothing, the Bosmer staring at him with those inky black eyes. It unnerved him how he couldn't see their pupils. The mer felt compassion, the hand becoming an arm going around Vilkas' back, another resting in his lap. Vilkas' skin crawled at the touch, feeling his personal space terrorized by something so gentle.

The nord shook his head. The beast inside whimpered, tail between it's legs. It didn't like this and Vilkas decided he didn't either. “Are you sure you can't?” His harbinger whispered, the feeling of his breath touched his cheek. Suddenly, Vilkas stood up and away, the bosmer still reaching out to him in surprise.

“Dammit why are you touching me? I want to be alone!” His eyes where pinpointed, his back stiff. He was a beast cornered but a heartbroken man. It was so obvious to see, it made the mer raise his voice in frustration. He's had enough.

“Why do you do this to yourself? You know full well you're bearing this great burden for absolutely nothing! Don't you see how much you suffer?”

“It's of no concern to you of how I lead my life. I told you to leave me!”

“You need help, everyone sees that. Even your brother sees that! What's this pride doing for you, Vilkas? It's bringing you nothing but pain and pity from others. Do you want them to pity you?”

Vilkas was about to snap back, faltering. Because the Bosmer just kept going.

“If you just let ONE good thing come into your life, why do you feel like you need to suffer for it? Talk to me. Talk to your brother. I see a lonely person trapped inside of you and he needs to be free.”

“I am not a muse for some pathetic love story you're writing!” Vilkas howled, his voice far louder than he's ever used with him. It literally rattled the Bosmers ears, making him step back in alarm. But he wasn't going to give up.

“Kodlak is dead, you've known him almost your entire life, why do you feel like it's beneath you to mourn? cry? Even I cried when he left. These are things man and mer do! Even beasts weep for their dead!”

Vilkas heard that name again, and the harder he tried to unclench his throat, the harder it became to breathe. The Bosmer could see the pain cut across the Nords face like a slow, delicate knife. He couldn't hold back from saying it. “I could have done something. I could have fought harder.”

“It's the Silver Hand's fault he's dead, and none of it your own, Vilkas. You fought with all your heart, I know you did. That's all I could imagine you would do. You fight, fight and fight and Kodlak deserved every bit of it. He's in Sovngarde smiling down on you. I know it.”

Vilkas stopped fighting. His arms hung, his eyes downcast. He'd given up shoving the man to the door, choosing to stand in utter failure. The artist eased in, as if unknowing if he was to leap and swing at any moment..but he didnt.

He touched the man.

His voice came down, easy and careful. “I know he must have meant so much to you. He was a leader to you, and you followed. Now your alone and it's time to lead yourself.”

“He was a father to me..” Vilkas' voice was stretched yet unwavering, tight. “I can't imagine how many times I'd have died where it not for him guiding me. I owed him a longer life for the life he's given to me.”

((angst and porn ahoy!))

Vilkas felt a hand come up behind his head, he was too exhausted to slap him away. He didn't feel like it'd be worth anything. “That's why you need to start enjoying your life. He spent his last days fearing for your happiness, and he would not be proud of the life your living.” There was a hot warm thing on his shoulder, Vilkas' lowered forehead.

“Would you do that for him?” He pulled the taller man in close, arms around him unashamedly.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Vilkas shuddered, and the elf knew he was crying. His body shook, leaned forward and he was welcoming of his weight. He didn't answer, stroking his back and heard the first strangled sob wrench from his throat. It was heartbreaking, but a strangely beautiful feeling for the mer.

Vilkas couldn't stand the pain, the fact it was so obvious and he felt like an utter fool. Ashamed of hurting his brother, hurting Kodlak and hurting a mer who's intentions with him are so unclear. Once the first tears came then they just wouldn't stop.

“Because you mean something to me. You wouldn't let yourself get used to the idea.” If it meant reaching him, it meant breaking that wall. Of course it was going to be painful.

The Dragonborn's eyes catch the sight of Farkas peeping from the hall, he had heard the shouting and feared the worst. Farkas looked shocked, his mouth hanging open, hands scrambling for purchase on the wall before leaving hurriedly. Hopefully the Dragonborn could do this alone, Farkas couldn't find it in himself to get involved- he didn't know how to handle it. He hadn't seen his twin cry in 10 years.

Vilkas had his hands clawed to the mer's back by the time he'd lost the strength to keep himself quiet. It was the first time he let this feeling in, a warm body to cling to. Something stable and comforting, well..Someone. If he was to be broken now, then let him break, Vilkas thinks. He hid nothing as he started to paw at the mer's back, hearing his hushing words of comfort, little noises escaping his own throat.

Maybe he wanted to forget, but Vilkas pulled away just long enough to look at this man who brought him heartache. It was a confusing gaze, a confusing touch “What do you need?” He asked the Nord, seeing him eye the hall. “Close the door.” He heard Vilkas gulp, felt hands on his hips. Part of him knew what Vilkas wanted- his body already springing to life. With a gentle knock the doors where locked tight, turning back to see the man already throwing his armor off.

“Come to me” he said, no, he moaned it. The Bosmer couldn't tear his eyes away from him, Vilkas was biting his lip and looked to the bed, pulling the tan body close to his until he had the elf seated in his lap. He allowed himself to touch the mer's solid muscles, running calloused hands under his clothing, tracing his curves. It felt so foreign, the touch of a male. Even more foreign the taste of his lips when he ignited a kiss between them both. That was it, he needed out. Now.

Her proposition had taken him by surprise, but he didn't think too hard on it. He wanted her, and she wanted to thank her rescuer. Who was he to argue?

She took his hand at the top of the stairs and pulled him into her room, kicking off her boots as she closed the door and pressing her mouth to his.

He was afraid he would cause her pain by kissing her too hard, but she didn't seem to mind as she crushed her lips against his, their tongues battling for space while her hands moved to help him remove his armor.

She broke their kiss to unlace her bodice while he took his boots off and let his breastplate fall to the floor with a clank that made him chuckle nervously. She grinned wickedly at him as her dress slipped from her shoulders to pool at her feet.

She reached from him, but he could see all of her bruises in the candlelight and it made him hesitant.

"You're sure I won't hurt you?" he asked as she pulled his tunic over his head and tossed it aside.

Maggie didn't answer right away. Instead she took one of his hands and placed it on her left breast. Her flesh was pale and smooth under his palm, the nipple already standing at attention as he circled it with his thumb.

"I'm sure," she murmured, bringing her mouth to his, her tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.

As they stumbled to the bed, he unlaced his breeches and pulled them off, pressing his skin against hers.

She kissed his neck, nipping gently at his collarbone as her hand wrapped around his cock and he groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow. Her mouth traveled down his breastbone and then across his abdomen, her hand stroking his member, her eyes darkly amused as she watched his face across the length of his torso.

Her mouth was small, her breath warm, as she took the throbbing head between her lips, and he twisted his fingers in her hair. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive skin of his cock while her hand gently cupped his balls. She ran her tongue along the underside of his member, and a shudder of pleasure ran through his body.

When she took the whole length of him in her mouth, pressing her lips firmly around the base of his shaft as she bobbed her head, he was gone.

His body tensed as his climax rushed him, and he came with a cry, his cock twitching as he spent himself on her tongue.

She held him in her mouth until he was soft and then she moved to lie beside him, her fingers absently dancing along his chest.

He kissed her shoulder, and she offered him a self-satisfied smile.

Gaius swallowed hard. "That was... I've never known a girl who swallowed," he said, half-embarrassed.

"I claim what's mine," she replied, smirking.

The simple statement sent a thrill through his body. "Give me a moment to recover, and I'll return the favor," he said with a shaky laugh.

She smiled brightly and put her lips to his palm. "Take your time," she said softly. "We're in no hurry."

Aww, poor Haakon! He can't help being a clumsy Nord who's too young and stupid to think about others as real people! Or maybe he can, now. Hmm.

A cautionary tale!

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F!DB/Mjoll - adventure time

Further adventures

Muses and Mead 12 (Vilkas M/M)

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