Argis pulled back until their mouths were a hair's breadth apart, their lungs breathing each others' oxygen in heavy pants. A mischievous little grin curling her lips, Signy used her new leverage to grind down into Argis' hips with more force than before. It produced exactly the reaction she'd wanted – the Bulwark drove up into her, his lips parting as he drew in a gasp.
“Fuck,” Argis breathed, his good pupil blown with sheer desire. His thick arms slid out from under Signy, leaving the Nord woman to keep herself in place with her legs around his waist. She did so easily as Argis began undoing the clasps of her armor, fingers moving swiftly, with years of skill. “You're fucking mine, woman,” he rumbled, finally pressing his lips against Signy's. She pressed back eagerly, her thin, lithe fingers setting about the task of undoing Argis' practice armor. But Gods – this kiss was so good; it was everything he'd dreamt about in those long days spent in the wilderness, when he was so damn close to her in tents, in caves, in -
“Oh,” Signy moaned, relishing the way Argis bit at her lower lip, scraping his teeth along the soft flesh. She could feel the scar that crossed his lips, a raised ridge moving in confident motions. Intrigued, she turned her attentions to that foreign texture, nipping and sucking at the cicatrice. She ran her tongue over it, wondering if Argis himself had taken a while to get used to the feel of this mark under his tongue.
A small grunt from the man had her pulling back.
“That doesn't hurt you, does it?” She asked, both concerned and afraid. Argis had never been one to talk about his scars; he probably didn't want her kissing them, either...
“No. Course not,” Argis muttered, maneuvering her upper body just so – and stripping her of the armor that had covered her torso. “These scars are old. They don't hurt anymore. Just – fuck, you're gorgeous.”
Signy didn't get a chance to reply; the man hitched her up on the wall further, abrasive rock scraping her now-bare back. Thick fingers, rough with callouses, pressed patterns into her skin, running from her collarbone over her breasts and stomach, as the other hand cupped her ass, holding her up with relative ease. Any words the Nord woman might have formed died in her throat as Argis latched his mouth on to her nipple, twirling and suckling round the already-hardened peak. The cool air of Skyrim blew across her sweat-filmed skin, providing a stark contrast to the heat of the big Nord's mouth. The hand on her stomach trailed downward, working at the laces to her leather breeches; the way his fingers dipped in and out, brushing her skin so close to her core, was enough to make her draw a breath in. It would almost be a ticklish feeling, if he were a bit less rough.
But Argis was a brutish Nord, and one determined to best little Signy – who was reminded of this fact as his hot mouth moved to the other nipple, teeth scraping against the first peak as he left it. The harsh contact was almost painful – but just pleasurable enough –
And then a chill reached her lower half, and Signy became aware of the fact that her pants were being flung to some distant corner, far out of reach. In fact, the man holding her up was bare-chested; when had he managed to accomplish that?! Gods, the way his muscles rippled, and the sensation of his teeth and beard on her breasts, and the little sounds he made every time she gasped just right – it was all enough to drive Signy mad.
“Gods damn it all, Argis, I need to – oh! - to touch you!” Signy moaned, her hands roaming over as much of his arms as she could reach. It wasn't enough. She wanted to feel the curl of his chest hair under her palms, the bulge of his manhood straining against fabric for her.
The man under her let out a deep laugh, the vibrations against her overly-sensitized nipples enough to have her head lolling back.
“Say I won, and I'll let you,” he purred, resting his head against her chest and looking up at the Nord woman with a devilish smile.
“You stubborn ass,” was the only response the Bulwark got.
Say It (7/?)
“Fuck,” Argis breathed, his good pupil blown with sheer desire. His thick arms slid out from under Signy, leaving the Nord woman to keep herself in place with her legs around his waist. She did so easily as Argis began undoing the clasps of her armor, fingers moving swiftly, with years of skill. “You're fucking mine, woman,” he rumbled, finally pressing his lips against Signy's. She pressed back eagerly, her thin, lithe fingers setting about the task of undoing Argis' practice armor. But Gods – this kiss was so good; it was everything he'd dreamt about in those long days spent in the wilderness, when he was so damn close to her in tents, in caves, in -
“Oh,” Signy moaned, relishing the way Argis bit at her lower lip, scraping his teeth along the soft flesh. She could feel the scar that crossed his lips, a raised ridge moving in confident motions. Intrigued, she turned her attentions to that foreign texture, nipping and sucking at the cicatrice. She ran her tongue over it, wondering if Argis himself had taken a while to get used to the feel of this mark under his tongue.
A small grunt from the man had her pulling back.
“That doesn't hurt you, does it?” She asked, both concerned and afraid. Argis had never been one to talk about his scars; he probably didn't want her kissing them, either...
“No. Course not,” Argis muttered, maneuvering her upper body just so – and stripping her of the armor that had covered her torso. “These scars are old. They don't hurt anymore. Just – fuck, you're gorgeous.”
Signy didn't get a chance to reply; the man hitched her up on the wall further, abrasive rock scraping her now-bare back. Thick fingers, rough with callouses, pressed patterns into her skin, running from her collarbone over her breasts and stomach, as the other hand cupped her ass, holding her up with relative ease. Any words the Nord woman might have formed died in her throat as Argis latched his mouth on to her nipple, twirling and suckling round the already-hardened peak. The cool air of Skyrim blew across her sweat-filmed skin, providing a stark contrast to the heat of the big Nord's mouth. The hand on her stomach trailed downward, working at the laces to her leather breeches; the way his fingers dipped in and out, brushing her skin so close to her core, was enough to make her draw a breath in. It would almost be a ticklish feeling, if he were a bit less rough.
But Argis was a brutish Nord, and one determined to best little Signy – who was reminded of this fact as his hot mouth moved to the other nipple, teeth scraping against the first peak as he left it. The harsh contact was almost painful – but just pleasurable enough –
And then a chill reached her lower half, and Signy became aware of the fact that her pants were being flung to some distant corner, far out of reach. In fact, the man holding her up was bare-chested; when had he managed to accomplish that?! Gods, the way his muscles rippled, and the sensation of his teeth and beard on her breasts, and the little sounds he made every time she gasped just right – it was all enough to drive Signy mad.
“Gods damn it all, Argis, I need to – oh! - to touch you!” Signy moaned, her hands roaming over as much of his arms as she could reach. It wasn't enough. She wanted to feel the curl of his chest hair under her palms, the bulge of his manhood straining against fabric for her.
The man under her let out a deep laugh, the vibrations against her overly-sensitized nipples enough to have her head lolling back.
“Say I won, and I'll let you,” he purred, resting his head against her chest and looking up at the Nord woman with a devilish smile.
“You stubborn ass,” was the only response the Bulwark got.