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Meme Announcements!

ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Okay, so Sinding swears off civilization but the bleeding heart Dragonborn just can't leave well enough alone and insists on dropping in from time to time. This time though, she arrives just when our resident werewolf is caught in the middle of mating season without a female in sight. Not to mention that he has been crushing on the Dragonborn ever since she defied Hircine to save his hide.

I don't want beast-sex since the size alone might kill a Breton but big bonus points if you could have Sinding 'devolve' sufficiently so that he looks more like a wolf-man and still fit the Dragonborn, barely.

Kinks are size, sweet sweet dub-con, dirty talk and I would be ever so grateful if you could work in (multiple)forced orgasms.

Squicks are beast sex, non-con, blood, bathroom works.

Please, someone fill this!

Ehm, I decided to fill my own prompt since it wouldn't get out of my head. Comments, please?

Summary: Lonely, tormented and in heat, Sinding is horrified when the Dragonborn pops by for her usual visit. And this time, the Beast inside him is not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

Tags: Sinding, F!Breton Dragonborn, forced orgasm, size, dirty talk

Heat

It was a beautifully cool night and thank Talos for that small reprieve, Arielle thought as she brought her eyes back down to the cobbled path that led to Bloated Man’s Grotto. To other eyes, she looked exactly like she was, a woman dressed in mage robes with a hefty pack that threatened to dwarf her who was embarking on a journey, probably of a more secretive nature because she had chosen to travel at night and alone, in spite of the risks. A more observant, knowledgeable watcher would be able to tell from the crimson and black elements of her robes that she was a master-level mage, and that even though the woman who wore her hood down and her hair in a thick honey-blonde braid that trailed well below her waist often stopped to harvest the odd flower or herb here and there, her sharp brown eyes never stopped scanning her surroundings for danger. A wiser adversary would think twice about attacking Arielle Greenhart of High Rock.

“Almost there,” she muttered, tugging the strap of her travelling pack forward as it began to slide off her aching shoulder. She would have taken a horse, except the last time she had emerged from the grotto to the horrid sight of a dragon eating her unfortunate mount. What followed was a battle royale replete with exploding fireballs, Shouts that shattered the general peace and quiet, and sent every living creature scurrying for the sanctuary of any available hole in the ground, and flickering magical swords that cut through dragon scale as effectively as any sword forged by a blacksmith.

In spite of herself, her lips turned up in a smile. Every creature had run willy-nilly except for her wolf—“Sinding,” she chastised herself. “Not yours, Sinding.” She had not even know he was there until the dragon roared in pain and wrenched its body to the side, sparing her from the blow it had been about to deliver with its wing. That was when she saw the enormous dark grey and silver werewolf, its fangs and claws glinting in the sun and already streaked crimson with blood. While he darted back and forth, slashing and biting, she managed to grasp one of the dragon’s horns and hauling herself up, plunged her Bound Sword straight through its skull. The next second, she had been thrown through the air, hot blood splattering her robes and face as the dragon flung itself about in its death throes. Enormous clawed hands had plucked her from the air as though she weighed nothing, and a hard, furred body had cushioned her fall.

When Arielle had opened her eyes, she found herself transfixed by hot, unnaturally bright yellow eyes that glared down into hers. The whiskers on his snout were pure silver, she discovered. And those canines looked as though they could puncture her entire skull in a single snap. For a moment, they had just stared at each other, and she realised her hands were wound into the thick fur of his chest. Then the dragon soul descended upon her and by the time she regained her senses, she was gently raised to her feet and Sinding had then stepped back and put himself a good distance away from her.

It was probably for the best, Arielle thought glumly, eyeing the rocky outline of the mountain side, recognising from a peculiar dip that she was fast nearing Sinding’s grotto. After all, she had run away from High Rock because her family had been about to auction her away to someone she deemed unsuitable. It was not that she disliked Theodyrick; in actuality, she felt neutral about him. But she had found nothing of interest in common with him, felt he was slightly boring and was mildly horrified to discover that he despised literature and the arts when she had volumes of anthologies lining the bookshelves of her study and personal quarters. It was possible that she was the first Greenhart in a hundred years to be so impossibly disagreeable, at least according to her wailing mother. When it became clear that she would not budge, her father had put her under what was legally known as house arrest. It was then that Arielle discovered she had a talent for picking locks, climbing down the vine and flowered covered trellises even while garbed in a dress, and that she was in possession of more gumption than she had ever known by stealing her family’s best horse and riding it off to the furthest place she could think of: Skyrim. It was either than or Hammerfell but Arielle preferred the cold to the heat and she doubted she would do well in a desert wilderness.

It was thus that the youngest, somewhat spoiled and extremely pampered daughter of the Greenharts of High Rock found herself caught in an Imperial ambush, mistaken as a Stormcloak supporter and carted off to Helgen where she came face to face with what she had been sure was an extinct creature and whom she learnt, while on a very cold and lonely mountaintop, she was supposed to destroy since she was the Dragonborn. It was all a bit much, to quote her grandmother and Arielle thus did the one thing she had always done since childhood: she had taken refuge in books. And that meant a trip to the fabled College of Winterhold where, after a series of fortunate and unfortunate events, she was pronounced Archmage by an order of Altmer mages who had not bothered to ask for her opinion on whether she actually wanted the position.

And what a poor Archmage she made, Arielle grimaced even as she made for the line of fir trees that grew at the foot of the mountainside. With a quick flick of her wrist, she vanished in a dark blue flash shot through with gold. Between seeking out the Greybeards, hunting down Word Wall locations, killing the dragons that insisted on protecting said Word Walls from her, running into Alduin who would invariably be resurrecting some fabled minion of his, and every once in awhile heeding the urgent missives from Delphine, she had no time to look at the new applications, check on the progress of her students or ask the instructors about how she could improve processes and the reputation of the College. Tolfdir was the acting Archmage, and she felt so bad about it that she had taken to refusing to wear the official robes, choosing to leave them in his quarters when he had refused the use of hers. The day she wore those robes was the day she started being more than Archmage in name alone. Unfortunately, that day seemed to be a very distant dot in an even more distant horizon.

Which brought her back to this ridiculous attraction to Sinding. Sure, he had thick wavy blond hair that made her fingers itch to pull and tug at it, if only to see if it was as soft as it looked. And she had not been able to stop gawking at the chiselled muscles of his stomach, even when the poor man had been pouring his heart out to her about being cursed by Hircine. She had not even realised he had slipped the ring onto her finger because she had been too busy wondering if there was an proper name given to the amazing pale, velvety blue of his eyes which were spiked with the thickest dark blond lashes she had ever seen. Later, when she diagnosed herself because she realised her hands were shaking, she was sweating and unmentionable parts of her felt damp and tight, Arielle realised what her problem was. She was in lust with a most unsuitable man.

What she needed was someone wealthy, someone refined and someone with enough class so that she could go back to High Rock and flip a metaphorical finger at her unreasonable brute of a father. She also secretly hoped it would be enough to get them to forgive her because there were many times when she missed her mothers and her sisters very badly. Sinding was none of these things. He sounded refined, even scholarly when he spoke, which probably was one of the things that pushed her buttons, but apart from that, he was Nord and that was problematic because most Nords despised magic on principle. She doubted her parents would approve if their son-in-law spontaneously transformed into a werewolf when the moon shone just so on certain nights. Besides, Sinding had sworn off showing his handsome face in society again because he was crippled with the fear of murdering an innocent.

Arielle frowned sadly. With all that standing in the way, there was just no hope for her. Not that it was anything new of course; she arched a sardonic eyebrow as she felt her way carefully through the darkness of the grotto’s entrance. She could not use a magelight spell for fear of anyone spotting her. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to the grotto and its resident in exile.

She had never had much luck with the opposite sex. Even when she had tried to have sex for the first time with a scholar on his way to Alinor, it had been painful, disappointing and she had spent the few minutes it lasted on her back, counting the number of thrusts he made before his body tightened and she shoved him away when he made no move to withdraw even though he had promised to. After that, she had stowed it away in her memory as a failed experiment and privately decided that the Dibellan priestesses were a bunch of fanciful liars.

When she finally emerged into the opening, Arielle could not help but smile in pleasure. Moonlight glazed the trees and grass, painting everything with a glistening silvery hue. Gentle winds rustled the trees that whispered and butterflies flittered between the gently drooping flowers that swayed along with the breeze. “It’s an exceptionally beautiful night,” she called out by way of greeting as she stumbled the last few steps towards the campsite. There was a neat pile of wood next to it; Sinding always kept a ready supply because he knew how she enjoyed a good campfire and that she would not eat meat until it was absolutely well-done and without a speck of pink. With an inelegant huff, she dropped the pack and began to take out its contents.

“I’ve brought apples and cabbages. A few wheels of cheese, some Black-Briar mead—you really must try this if you haven’t already—and I managed to score the last of the sweet rolls and apple pies from the Bannered Mare before the Companions got their hands on them.” Her hands closed on the restored cover and spine of a heavy book. “I brought you something to read as well,” she said. “I thought it might help to pass the time.” If he enjoyed it, she would bring him half her library from Winterhold next time. And maybe, just maybe, if her investigations paid off, she would be able to confirm rumours of a possible cure for lycanthropy.

After she was done laying out her bounty, Arielle sat back on her hunches and frowned. If she did not know better, she would have thought she was speaking to herself. Usually, Sinding was there by the time she had taken three steps into the grotto. On the rare occasion when she arrived while he was asleep, her greeting would have roused him.

“Sinding? Is everything alright?” Perhaps someone had found the grotto. ‘The Silver Hand.’ The thought sent her surging to her feet and almost without thinking, a flaming blue sword appeared in her right hand and fire wreathed the fingers of her left. “Sinding!” She could not quite suppress the alarm in her voice, heard the higher, panicked cadence of the faint echo as it bounced off the walls.

“Arielle.”

Her eyes snapped skywards and to her immense relief, she saw him atop the same rock he had stood upon when she had first come to this place. There were dark shadows under his eyes, almost like bruises and he looked exhausted. Tension radiated from every line of his body. He wore a simple shirt of dark green and the pants that she had brought him; when he had protested, Arielle insisted that there was no harm in doing one’s penance while being properly attired. His dark blond hair was mussed, as though he had been running his hands through it rather violently. “Are you alright? I thought—” The sword and fire vanished as she started forward, one eye on the steps when he interrupted her.

“You have to leave. Now.” It was the terrible strain in his voice, the slight break that got her attention as much as his words.

“But I just got here…” She stopped, bewildered. “I brought…”

“Just get out!” he shouted, or rather, snarled. Arielle’s eyes widened. Was he…baring his teeth at her? Then, a perceptible shudder ran through him and he trembled so hard his knees buckled. “Oh Arielle, leave now, while you can...” he cried out brokenly before vanishing from sight.

He was ill. He had to be. And he probably thought it was contagious. Well, if she was particularly gifted in any area of magic, it was the Restoration School and Sinding had another thing coming if he thought she was going to leave and let him rot of whatever it was that ailed him.

“You stay right there!” she hollered, grabbing the skirts of her robes and hiking them up as she took the steps two at a time. “Sinding, did you hear me? You need help and I am not…” A large shadow fell on her, darkening the steps and she looked up at a sight that made the words in her mouth turn to dust. “Going anywhere?”

Seeing him in werewolf form was nothing new. But she had never seen him like that. Arielle gulped audibly and realised the hands that gripped her skirts felt numb because she was squeezing them so tightly. ‘By the Aedra and Daedra.’ The wolf before her snarled, the hackles on his back raised so high that he seemed almost double in size and height. But the most frightening thing was the huge…organ that protruded from the thick brush of fur that had otherwise always kept it hidden. That, and her extremely industrious efforts at always keeping her eyes on his face whenever he was in werewolf form. “Sinding?”

“I told you to leave,” he growled, his voice so thick it was almost guttural. It sounded so unlike him that for a moment, she thought it might be another werewolf impersonating him. Then, that huge body flinched, fell back several steps from her and when his eyes opened, they were the same soft blue that she knew so very well. “Run, Arielle!” The words were barely out of his mouth when he convulsed again and when those massive jaws opened, the furious roar that issued deafened her and utterly smothered her scream of terror.

Arielle fled.

She gasped, stumbling on that last bottom step, knees shaking but she forced herself to keep moving. She was almost past the campsite when the wolf pounced and she screamed when she felt those enormous claws wrap around her upper arms and then she was knocked to the ground, face down in the soft fur of the sabre cat roll she had purchased for him. For a moment she thought the wolf was going to smother her to death and every muscle in her body exploded into action. She twisted furiously to the side, wriggling and kicking, fire and lightning sparking from her fingertips as she tried to free her arms to fire off a shot. All the while, Sinding’s voice haunted her.

...Now I may look like a man, but I still feel the animal inside of me, as strong as ever…

Her arms were wrenched upwards and pinned firmly to the bedroll above her head. Oh gods, was that really her crying out in terror?

“Sinding, please! Stop it!”

“…Have to hunt…” Hot breath smothered her ear and she felt a large wet tongue fill it, trace the delicate crevices even as she cried out, trying to turn away. “I can’t help it… want to devour…”

She screamed again, kicking wildly until he pinned down her legs with his and she felt the massive weight of the werewolf come to rest on her spine. ‘Oh gods, he’s going to eat me alive.’ Her blood curdled in her veins and she wildly recalled every ravaged corpse she had even seen outside the Forsworn strongholds or on tables hidden deep in Draugr strongholds. After all the prophecies and adventures, this was how it would end for the Dragonborn.

Her stomach wrenched mightily and Arielle felt sure that she was going to vomit from sheer fright. So much for dying a dignified and heroic death. She should have stood her ground and faced him head on. The moment she had turned to run, the fight had been lost. ‘I wonder if I could ask if he would be so kind as to kill me with the first bite,’ she wondered semi-hysterically.

Then, she felt him shift, became painfully aware of the hard throbbing what had to be that monstrous... Great, she was going to die and she was still engaging in self-censorship. The first time she had said the word “cock”, her mother had had the misfortune of being an unintended audience and Arielle had spent the better part of the next hour scrubbing out her mouth with the vilest tasting soap to be found in the house, a penance performed while kneeling before a tub of water. After that, it was a series on lectures on manners, class and lists of words that properly bred heiresses avoided. Her etiquette instructor had been so zealously enthusiastic about it that for the first time in her fourteen years, Arielle felt like a whore. The second time she had said it, Arielle’s father had rubbed fiery spices on her lips and the pain had taken two days before it fully subsided. After that, she developed the inability to say any vulgar words. Crudities, voiced aloud, made her flinch. Her parents had done a thorough job at turning her off such vocabulary.

Cool air touched her calves, then her thighs before heavy furred legs pressed themselves against her bare skin. “What are you doing?” At least that was what she meant to ask. What came out of her mouth was a garbled squeak. The werewolf—Sinding—she wasn’t sure entirely—was pulling up the skirt of her robes roughly and… “Oh my gods!” This time, the words exploded out of her mouth when she felt the thick material slide up the globes of her buttocks. A long claw pressed against her skin as it insinuated itself between her hip and her smalls before a ruthless tug ripped the material away, leaving her bare-assed as the day she had been born. “Sinding!”

Was this some weird ritual? Or was it a feeding habit? She had heard sabre cats preferred to rip the fur off their victims before eating them. Then, she felt a rough, massive palm cup her ass before giving it a hard squeeze, the clawed tips pressing into her skin with careful pressure designed to spare her fragile skin from ripping. Arielle made a strangled sound as the hand—or was it a paw—slid over to the other cheek, long fingers splayed as the werewolf (because she refused to think of the creature who was molesting her as her friend) groped her thoroughly.

Cold fear of a different kind slithered down Arielle’s spine and belly when she felt a huge thigh pushed between her own and against all her efforts, her legs were spread wide, his calves pinning down her own, rough fur scratching her soft skin and she whimpered as the first tears slid down her eyes and dropped onto the bedroll.

The wolf must have heard her crying because it paused. The hand that had been groping her lifted and reappeared in her line of vision, gripping her chin and turning her frightened face to his. Blazing eyes caught her tear-filled ones and a clawed thumb shifted, rubbed at the moisture on her cheek before he leaned forward and she shuddered as he tasted her tears. Then, to her great shock, soft canine lips nuzzled her, that great moist nose pressing gently into her neck and cheek. “Don’t be afraid.” The whisper was like syrup poured over gravel, guttural yet warm somehow. “I will please you before I take you.”

“Take me?” Arielle echoed soundlessly. Wasn’t he going to eat her? He had said devoured—“No!” But then he had withdrawn and she knew somehow it was too late. The recollection of him…down there made her shudder. He would rip her apart if he tried to mate her. “Wait, please … stop… Oh…”

He had shifted such that while he was still pinning her down, his weight was off the small of her spine and thus when she felt that first velvety stroke on her…womanhood, Arielle could arch up slightly to get away. Unfortunately for her, the persistent digit followed and she found herself helpless to do anything but lay there as he...

“Oh Talos.” She shivered, burying her face in the bedroll and clamping her mouth shut as he found that sweet spot somewhere to the side that she touched on the rare occasion when she could not control herself. “This is wrong,” she moaned when he massaged it. “Stop!” Arielle might as well have been talking to herself, and perhaps she was because it felt so good as liquid heat began to gather between her thighs, pool around the sensitive area where the savage beast was rubbing her with such uncharacteristic gentleness. “No…”

His finger slid along easier now, slicker and to her great embarrassment, she could hear the soft, wet sounds of his flesh on hers as he stroked faster, slightly harder, lengthened the span of his touch such that he went all the way down to her entrance. She jolted the first time he pressed slightly against her opening and behind her, she heard him rumble in what seemed to be amusement. Then, he added another finger to rub her with and Arielle could not quite suppress her thick, breathy pants as her legs turned to jelly and she stopped squirming to get away. If anything, her hips were arching forward in spite of what her mind was telling them to do.

“This pleases you.” That deep, gravelly voice was back in her ear and she felt a sharp canine against the tender lobe. “I can smell you, your arousal.”

Hell, even she could smell her arousal. She needed help, in more ways than one.

“You’re so soft, so slick, ripe for fucking…”

What felt like a lightning bolt when straight down her belly and to the gathering inferno that burned sinfully at the apex of her thighs. Arielle groaned. Loudly.

He grunted, rubbed his furred cheek against hers. “You like that…”

Oh gods, she could feel it, that wicked pulsing rhythm that was starting to build and rise somewhere inside. Stubbornly, Arielle shook her head even as she began to ride his fingers.

“My classy heiress from High Rock.” Gentle lips nibbled at the sensitive curve of her neck, brushing aside the fine hair at her nape. “You’re going to come for me. Out here, in the wilds, without a bed… that’s it,” he coaxed as she thrust down on his hand, taking care to angle his claws away. “Come for me while I fuck you with my hand…against my fingers…”

“Oh gods, oh gods…” she panted, her breathing shallow and rapid. Inside, her muscles clenched hard, creating a sensation so sharp it verged on pain because there was nothing for her body to wrap itself around. She was so tight and wet and she wrenched at the hand that imprisoned hers, desperate to fill the throbbing ache between her spread legs.

She mewled and thrashed, thrust down again and again as her fingers curled uselessly into themselves, her body taut as a spring, knees pressed into the bedroll because she was going to come apart from the delicious heat burning its way through her loins, dissolving everything else until there was only him and the his treacherous fingers that were stroking her off to completion.

Just before the heat came, he pulled away. Arielle actually howled in frustration before she was flipped on her back so suddenly the air was knocked from her lungs. Then her mouth stretched open in a scream, her back arching off the ground as his thick hot tongue pressed down on her throbbing flesh, on that sweet swollen spot and he tongued-fucked her into her release, hot wet slickness sliding down her folds as he plunged his tongue inside her and set her aflame. “Oh…godsss…” she screamed, writhing as she reached down and grabbed fistfuls of his fur, trying to pull his mouth down completely on her as she clenched and throbbed and spread her legs even wider to push more of him in as she desperately lifted her hips. “Ooh…” She could hear him growling, whether from desire or pain because she was still yanking on his fur, she could not tell and was beyond caring.

Then Arielle collapsed against the bedroll, panting, eyes squeezed shut, numbed fingers sliding from the great wolf head between her legs to fall at her side, her thoughts in a whirling maelstrom of fragments. She, the Archmage of the College of Winterhold, the Thane of Whiterun and Morthal, reduced to an incoherent, insensate mass of trembling nerves that moaned uncontrollably when she felt him slide his tongue out from inside her before licking her slit hard, forcing her to ride his tongue again. Oh gods, had she just thought that? It was a bad word…

It was then that the wretched wolf decided to tear open the ties of her robes, rolling her to her side as he stripped them off her with an ominous growl. The rest of her smalls were torn from her and Arielle screamed weakly as she covered her breasts with one arm, bracing herself up on the other only for the wolf to yank her by her thighs and bring her flat on her back once more.

“Now,” he snarled, pulling her up his hugely muscled thighs, heedless of her struggles and protests. “I want to fuck you now.”

He was going to kill her with it, Arielle thought frantically as he wrapped her legs around his waist, gripping her tightly by the hips so that she could feel every hot unforgiving inch of that giant erection against the soft skin of her inner thigh. “Wait!” she shouted, positively screamed. “I want… I need…” Amazingly, that stopped him, even though it brought on more snarling and bristling of fur. “I want to kiss you,” she blurted out.

She had seen lightning bolts move slower. That huge head darted forward, she cried out as teeth scored her skin, nipping sharply and he pushed his snout against her neck. If she didn’t act now, she would be doomed. Catching his face with both hands, she tried to press her lips to his.

“That is not my way,” he reared back but she clung on, wrapping her fingers in the fur just behind his ears.

“It’s mine. And you can, if you want to.”

The sight of those long canines and writhing lips drawn back in a savage snarl almost made her lose her grip along with the dinner that she had eaten earlier that evening. “You want the man, that weakling who refused you as mate…who has refused to find a mate even while we burned in this season…”

Vaguely, Arielle registered that the wolf was essentially saying that he was in heat. It also occurred to her that she was his choice most probably by convenience. But there were more important matters to attend to, such as not being literally rutted to death.

“I want both. Please.” Tentatively, she pushed her face against his, moved her cheek up and down in as close an imitation of a nuzzle as she could get. Relaxing her fingers, she gently massaged the base of his ears, felt and heard the almost imperceptible rumble of pleasure as his eyes flicked shut before opening again. “That’s the only way it can work. I want to feel…” she swallowed, trying to keep her voice above a quivering whisper, “all of you inside me. You promised me pleasure.”

A huge hand clamped on her wrist and another fastened itself around her neck. Arielle had the strangest feeling that he might have been deciding to kill her or fuck her then. For a moment, the tension between them sizzled. Then she was tossed on her back again, blinking as he loomed over her on all fours. “Alright, Arielle,” he hissed. “Anything it is.”

Didn't know I wanted this till now A!A, glad you filled it for I'm enjoying this too!

WOW! I didn't think I'd like this, but whoa! Its hot!

Please, please continue!

Had no idea I needed this so much. More! More please, I beg of you!

HNNNNNNG!

By the Nine, this is incredible! I haven't played Sinding's quest yet, but I think I'm going to go now and do just that, so I can reread this and enjoy it all the more.

This is really good, A!A/OP.

I normally don't go for werewolf porn, but I like how you make this work. I like the stark differences between Arielle and Sindig. Can't wait for the conclusion!

Mmmmm! Great story. Also, I grinned widely at the name 'Theodyrick'...that takes me straight back to Daggerfall and the delightful generic cut 'n paste names XD

Holy crap A!A/OP this is awesomely hot. I can't wait for more!

Reposting the end of the last chapter. Damned character limits...*grumbles*...Thanks for the comments; I feel loved. Which means more smut!

A huge hand clamped on her wrist and another fastened itself around her neck. Arielle had the strangest feeling that he might have been deciding to kill her or fuck her then. “I’ll submit, I swear. Anything… just... please,” she whispered, holding his suspicious gaze.

For a moment, the tension between them sizzled. Then she was tossed on her back again, blinking as he loomed over her on all fours. “Alright, Arielle,” he hissed. “Anything it is.”

And before her startled and somewhat horrified eyes, he began to change, his shape flowing as bones moved, shrank, lengthened and shortened, fur retreating back into skin that shed its grey pallor for a Nord’s pale hue. The beautiful blond hair she so admired adorned his head once more, the muzzle shrinking back into a face so familiar and dear that her eyes filled with tears to see it. But the amber of those eyes remained, hard and harsh as a predator’s, watching her every move even as his body shuddered with the transformation.

This time, when he came to her, she made no protest, allowing him to slide the entirety of his naked body against hers, felt the coarse matting of crisp hairs rubbing her soft breasts, realised subconsciously that the hard body which blanketed her was distinctly human yet wider and broader than Sinding’s natural shape. The eyes were still slanted, the teeth clearly sharper and longer than what was natural, the soft beard on his face bore traces of silver and the lightest hint of grey. But she ignored her fears and sought comfort in the familiarity of the face that gazed down at her as he pressed her down into the bedroll, roughly spread her legs apart, grabbing her right leg and bending it close to her chest. As he pressed the swollen head of his manhood against her, she could have sobbed with relief. Although she could not help shuddering or trying to instinctively squirm back, at least now it seemed possible that it would fit…

“Oh gods!” But her oath was muffled by the hard male lips that seized hers a scant second after he surged forward and pushed himself ruthlessly into her, wedging his hips tightly between her thighs. Arielle cried out as she felt her flesh forced open for him, her tight walls clenching around his invading cock as he relentlessly forged a heated path deep inside her. He fit, but barely, just barely. In spite of her promise, she dug her fingers into his shoulders, pushing against him with all her might as she tore her mouth from his and flung her head back, eyes rounded with shock. “W-wait,” she begged, her voice cracking on a particularly hard jerk of his hips that curved her back like a bow in spite of his weight on her.

“Anything I wanted, sweetling,” he growled, his mouth stealing over hers and Arielle groaned as he continued to fill her, trembled at the foreign sensation of his hard, heavy length as it throbbed inside the deepest part of her being, stretching her with his demanding heat even when he finally came to rest in a place that her former lover had never opened inside of her. Her breath caught as she tried to swallow a sob; she felt horribly vulnerable, held down between the solid earth and the unforgiving wolf-man who now possessed her. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away, but it did nothing to diminish the sensation of being impaled; in fact it heightened it every time he shifted above her because she felt each movement down to the core of her being. It made her clench her aching walls around him, a reflex she couldn’t help.

“Don’t move,” he growled, his face buried in her neck, his heart beating so hard and fast that he thought it would put a hole in his ribs. Instinct screamed at him to move, to throw her legs over his shoulders so that he could plunge wildly, plough the mage without mercy, wrap his hands around that dishevelled braid and pull back so that he could bite at the skin of her neck and make her his as he climaxed inside her. But the smell of her tears stopped him, made him lift his head to see the moist trails that stained her cheeks, her lashes spiky and dark as she shivered beneath him, her eyes tightly closed. A part of him, the human part that raged just beneath the surface was cursing him for even being inside her, for causing her pain. It was too late to do anything about the former; there was no power on earth that was going to move him from her body now, not before months of pent up desire had been satisfied. However, he could rectify the latter. After all, he had given the girl his word and the remembrance that he cared for her, deeply, was doing a great deal to rein him in.

Shifting himself so that he leaned up on one arm, he bit down a curse as he felt her body close in around him. “Oh gods, you’re fucking tight…” he whispered, sucking in a breath that he hoped would calm the sudden spike in his heartbeat as he kissed her neck gently, letting the tip of his tongue ghost over her pale skin, inhaling her smell that was now woven with his, stroking her as he dropped another kiss at the base of her throat, and at her collarbone. Although she kept her eyes closed, she was not able to hide her sudden soft intake of breath. “Soft and so hot and wet around me. Better than anything I had imagined, sweetling.”

“M-my leg… It’s starting to hurt,” she murmured, so softly that he almost missed it even with his acute hearing. Gently, he eased back on the pressure, slowly bringing her right leg down and draping it over his back. For a minute or two, she remained perfectly still and he sensed her uncertainty before she slowly moved it, hissed softly at the sensation of her small foot grazing the curve of his buttocks.

She went completely still again and he resumed kissing her neck, planting an unbroken line from the hollow of her shoulder to her ear. “I liked that; it felt good, having you touch me.” He nibbled her earlobe delicately.

Brown eyes fluttered open. Now that was something new. The discomfort of being penetrated and having a man inside was something she had survived before, although it felt as though Sinding filled her so thoroughly that she might burst at the seams. Arielle distinctly recalled trying to touch her first lover and keep pace with him, only to be told that she really ought to lie still and let him do the work. Eventually, she worked out that it was his pleasure he was actually being so industrious about, and not hers. It had bruised her ego to be told that he did not want her caresses and although she had blithely chalked it up to his being a selfish bastard, a part of her had always been uncertain about her adequacy as a lover. To her Sinding—and the wolf that was him—tell her that he liked her accidental touch was surprising. And comforting.

Quietly, she moved her foot, cautiously and slowly at first, letting it slide lightly over his… behind which felt as gloriously firm as she had fantasised it would be, especially when he started wearing those snug, form-fitting breeches she had bought him from Radiant Raiment. Endarie and Taarie might be evil bit—witches but there was a lot to be said for their skill with a needle, especially where men’s pants were concerned.

She heard the slight hitch in his breath, the tightening of his muscles at what she supposed could pass for a caress and then he kissed her ear gently but with more fervour this time, and pressed his lips against her temple before moving his mouth to her cheek. “Don’t stop,” he muttered, ordered as he hooked her other leg around his waist as well.

Holy crap, you can't leave us hanging like that A!A...it's just mean!
Totally hot, love this!

Wow, I love how hot this is. I also am enjoying her constant internal self-censorship! Poor thing.

*nuzzles delicious fill* Mooooooooooore.

Well, she had tried sex as a scholarly endeavour, or so Arielle had convinced herself at that time. The truth was, she had been madly curious about the act that her mother and aunts kept so carefully screened from her and her sisters; their blushes simply incited her desire to find out even more and when it became clear that she was as likely to get the information from them as she was to singlehandedly conquer the Aldmeri Dominion, Arielle turned to books. Those books had pictures and instructions, some of which she felt were anatomically impossible to carry out. So, when that handsome Imperial scholar had showed up in town and made known his interest in her, she had leapt at the chance and never looked back again after that terribly disappointing encounter.

“Arielle.” This time, he growled softly.

It was a command and given the position she was in, who was she to argue with him? It had been a long time ago and she had burned the book in a fit of pique but there was something that had intrigued her which she had not quite been able to forget. Turning her head quickly before she could change her mind, she brushed her mouth against his tentatively, trying to fit their lips together. Her entire face felt hot and she realised that she was blushing. It was bloody absurd, to be blushing over a kiss when the man was already inside her but then again, she was the only Greenhart of her generation who would do the unexpected and at times, borderline ridiculous.

Her tentative kiss pleased him immensely. Although it was quite clear that someone else had taken her maidenhead, Arielle was unschooled when it came to making love and that was what he chose to focus on, instead of the muted but violent response to hunt down her previous lover or lovers and rip them to shreds. He ran his tongue over the seam of her lips, licking and teasing until she opened for him and slowly, he explored her mouth, careful not to frighten her as she shyly touched her tongue to his. Her moan was a sweet reward for his patience as she stroked and caressed him, letting him draw her into his mouth; it was also hell on his already stretched nerves. Threading his fingers with hers, he squeezed as a shudder ran down his spine, the pleasure of the kiss finding its way in a wave down his body which ended in a maddening desire to thrust and keep thrusting so that he could build that wave into a sea deep enough to drown them both in.

His kisses were making her head light—Arielle could have sworn that she had sighed into his mouth several times already—and more alarmingly, she was beginning to feel very warm somewhere in the southern vicinity of her body. Instead of distracting her, his mouth and tongue on hers were making her acutely aware of the sharp sensation of fullness between her legs and she mewled as Sinding’s body stiffened and she felt him grow even harder, pressing in against her walls.

“Sinding…” she whispered against his lips, only for him to go perfectly still above her. Arielle opened her eyes curiously and a frisson of fear made her swallow as she contemplated the narrowed yellow eyes boring into hers. The wolf was here too, and terribly possessive if his earlier words were anything to go by. “I have no other name for you, for that side which is the wolf… I’ve always addressed you as such, regardless of your form.” She laid a pleading hand on his cheek.

When the fierce frown that slashed his brow eased, she let out a breath she did not realise she had been holding. “So long as you know who claims you.” This time, his kiss was demanding, put pressure on her lips so that she opened her mouth for him to thrust into. Arielle wrapped her free arm around his shoulders, tangling her hand in the thick mane of his hair and the kiss went wild.

This may be the best description of a kiss that I've ever read. Please keep going A!anon.

Hhhnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggg

JSYK I'll be in my bunk rereading this.

I need more, more, more, good Anon.

There was a limit to his patience and he was sure that he had surpassed it already by waiting this long. She moaned, a sound of complaint when he tore his mouth from hers, a sound he promptly silenced when he bent his head to her firm breasts, scraping his teeth over the tender skin and making her cry out, both hands clutching at his head when he roughly licked her nipples, already taut and swollen, before sucking one into his mouth, tugging and suckling while she writhed against him as he thrust as gently as he could manage into her. She whimpered, her legs shifting restlessly up and down his thighs and calves, head thrown back as he squeezed her other breast with his hand, feeling the wet, swelling peak press against his palm and igniting the nerves beneath his skin.

He felt so hard that it was starting to hurt; he could feel every fold of her inner muscles, her wet, tight walls that sheathed and pulled at his cock, inflaming him so that pleasure burned its way right down to his bones and Sinding’s back arched like a bow when an unexpected pulsating shot through his body, sent him ramming his hips into her and he howled as he clenched his muscles and fought the rising sensation, the orgasm that was threatening to spill out of him before he had even started.

“Sinding?”

She sounded bewildered, even a little frightened. Needing every ounce of concentration, he could not muster a reply but simply pressed his forehead to hers, felt her brush her lips against his even as he panted rapidly, swallowing hard as he willed his body into submission, fought the urge to come until it finally subsided. “Arielle…” he muttered, pressing his cheek against the warmth of her hands that cupped his face. “Woman, you’re driving me mad…” Her scent, her touch, her body with its viselike, molten grip that made every move a hot agony of pleasure that he wanted to sink himself into again and again. Breathlessly, he kissed her, seizing the soft hair at her nape to anchor himself rather than keep her in place even as he lifted himself slightly, just enough for his hand to reach between them and stroke her clit.

She wriggled, legs flexing against him in spite of the soft warning growls he made into her mouth. She felt swollen and especially tender down there, whimpering even though his fingers slid over her moist bud easily enough. Arielle inhaled sharply, her breath hitching as warmth began to spiral from between her thighs and clutch at her belly. Her toes curled, as did her fingers against the firm smooth skin of his chest and she found herself arching her hips up, sliding herself against his fingers that rubbed her so pleasurably. “Sinding,” she breathed against his lips and moaned when he quickened his strokes.

It had been a long time since he had been with a woman but he could not recall ever wanting one to come as badly as he did Arielle. Breathing in deeply, he focused on the arch of her neck, the way the moonlight laced her golden hair with silver, the scent of her arousal that laced the air, anything except for her tight muscles clamped around his cock, the way she writhed beneath him, the way her soft sobbing moans punctuated each hard clench of her walls that sent him closer and closer to the edge of no return…

“Come for me, sweetling. Now.”

When he ground himself hard against her, she lost it. Throwing her head back, Arielle heard herself cry out, and then scream as Sinding thrust fiercely into her, sending her nails raking down his back as the fiery waves of pleasure turned into a raging flood as he rode her, the pressure of his body inside her, sliding on her intensifying her orgasm as she locked her legs around his waist and lifted her hips to him, revelling in the wild grinding of their bodies as he took her hard, again and again, his hips bruising hers even as she curved her hands over his shoulders and dug her nails in, an unconscious plea that urged him deeper inside.

Oh thank the gods, he groaned silently, too far gone to mouth the words as he pounded himself into her, felt the muscles in his buttocks and thighs stiffening even as Arielle shuddered in his arms, crying out her pleasure as her body throbbed and milked him, fuelling a release he could no longer hold back. A delicious burning sensation unfurled in his spine, spreading rapidly to the heavy sac which he could feel tightening against his body, surged its way to the engorged tip of his cock as he continued to fuck her with a frightening, single-minded intensity. Nothing else existed except for the need for release and to seed her.

Raw pleasure burst in his veins, corded the muscles in his arms and shoulders as he leaned down, sank his teeth into her shoulder, deaf to her startled cry. One hand reached down and grabbed her hip, sealing them closer together as his body jerked from the first fierce hot pulse that made him grind furiously against her and he came so hard that for a moment, the world went white and he couldn’t breathe. Over and over and again, he pushed in as a violent ecstasy throbbed in his loins and he felt his seed blaze into her welcoming warmth, knew a dark and primal satisfaction that came from marking her body without and within. ‘Mine’, he thought, might have murmured when he finally collapsed onto her, broken cries of pleasure still spilling from his lips into the soft shell of her ear, arching and shuddering weakly as the last of the contractions wrecked him.

Gradually, the world settled back in its place as he returned to it. The faint chirps and humming of the insects in the grass, the coolness brought about by the breeze that gently caressed them, Arielle’s hands as they slowly traversed the length of his back, stroking and soothing, the sensation of her heartbeat echoing against his chest. So this was beauty.

And though exhaustion clawed at his every joint, his very bones, he lifted his head and kissed the mage who had bespelled him all those months before. Arielle eagerly welcomed his kiss, her fingers delving into the wild mane of his hair, holding him as closely to her as she could. She squealed when he pressed his mouth to her neck and licked the elegant column. “You taste of me, you smell of me,” he murmured, feeling incredibly possessive and absurdly proud.

“Well, it must run both ways,” she muttered, a blush staining her cheeks. She gasped when he rolled onto his back, taking her with him, one arm wrapped around her hips to keep her in place. “Careful!”

“Feeling tender, are we?” he teased. Her rosy blush deepened and Arielle ducked her head, laying it against his shoulder as he idly wrapped her braid in his hand, watching the stars as they flamed against the night sky above, undwarfed by the huge white moon and its smaller crimson counterpart. He stayed awake for as long as he could, memorising the feel of her body cuddled against his, the scent of her that surrounded him, this rare feeling of peace and wellbeing that he never thought would be his again, how blessed he was to fall asleep inside of her. He pressed a kiss atop her honey-blond head and when she did not stir, he knew she was well and truly asleep. They both needed to rest. But the night was far from over for them. As far as he was concerned, it had barely begun.

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Sinding: Werewolf in Heat and F!Breton Dragonborn

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