This is my first kmeme fill, and it's the first fanfiction I've ever written. So I'm kinda nervous! I hope it's okay and not terrible. :) More to come!
Eira was tense, tired and sore when she finally hauled herself into the Dawnstar sanctuary. The little Breton had traveled to the far reaches of Skyrim and back again within the course of a week. She fought her way through wolves, dragons, bandits and a blizzard. She was surprised she'd managed to make it back to the sanctuary at all. Eira was stumbling toward her bed chamber when her tired legs finally gave out. She winced, bracing for impact when two strong hands gripped her by the arms and hefted her back onto her feet again.
"Listener! Not to worry, Cicero will help you!" Eira smiled when she heard the cheery voice of the Dark Brotherhood's Keeper. She had become rather attached to the jester within the past few months. She found his sinister rhymes and his need to constantly dote on her to be quite endearing. "My dear Listener, always working so hard, never taking the time to rest!" He tutted.
"Thank you..." Was all she could manage to say, exhausted and slightly embarrassed, she let him lead her into her chambers. He guided her to the bed, helping her sit down upon it. Eira grimaced as she rubbed her hands along her tired thighs. Cicero quietly watched her, and for a few moments they sat in silence. She was too tired to converse and Cicero was busy thinking of how he could best serve his poor, tired Listener.
"Listener" He began, "Would you permit Cicero to... Cicero means... Would you like, um...a massage?" He was looking at her with wide eyes, full of hope and fear. He could only hope that he would be allowed to suggest touching his sweet Listener and not die for the transgression. But if his Listener saw fit to punish him, he would be happy to accept.
Eira stopped rubbing her thighs, sitting perfectly still, unable to believe what she had just heard. She could not deny her rather strange attraction to the wicked man, and she was unsure of how his hands would effect her body and control. Eira felt conflicted, she was so sore and a massage sounded so nice. But she did not wish to take advantage of Cicero. "I'll be fine, Cicero." She smiled softly at him, "I don't want to be a burden and I'm sure you need to tend to the Night Mother anyway..."
"Never! Sweet Listener is never a burden to Cicero!" He squealed as she grabbed her hands, "Cicero only wishes to serve!" His hands trembled as he smiled nervously at Eira, it was almost as if his entire world would come crashing down around him if she did not allow him to serve her in every possible way. She often did, feeling guilty as she reveled in all the attention he heaped upon her.
'Look at that face, how can I possibly say no?' Eira gave his hands a squeeze, "Alright, Cicero. A massage sounds lovely."
Cicero immediately jumped up, tittering and grinning like a... well, like a lunatic. "Cicero has a lovely scented oil just for the Listener!" Eira stared as Cicero practically danced out of the room. He was only gone for a moment when he returned, shutting the door to her chambers and gingerly setting a bottle of oil upon her bedside table. "Cicero made this just for the Listener." He sounded rather proud of himself as he knelt down on the floor to remove Eira's boots.
Eira watched him, a little dumbfounded before she finally found her voice again. "You made an oil just for me?" She didn't know whether to be touched or rightly disturbed, but she settled on the former as she did so adore her jester. He was always so kind and thoughtful, and she was glad he did not offer to use the Night Mother's preserving oils on her.
"Of course! Humble Cicero lives to serve." He giggled as he slid the Listener's boots off and gingerly set them aside, before moving on to unfastening her leather breeches. Any normal woman might have been embarrassed being undressed by a man who was not her lover, but the Listener was far from normal anyway... She spoke to dragons, heard a dead woman's voice in her head, killed for pleasure, and oh, right. She had a crush on a mentally unstable man in a jester costume.
F!Dragonborn/Cicero - "Touch" 1/?
Eira was tense, tired and sore when she finally hauled herself into the Dawnstar sanctuary. The little Breton had traveled to the far reaches of Skyrim and back again within the course of a week. She fought her way through wolves, dragons, bandits and a blizzard. She was surprised she'd managed to make it back to the sanctuary at all. Eira was stumbling toward her bed chamber when her tired legs finally gave out. She winced, bracing for impact when two strong hands gripped her by the arms and hefted her back onto her feet again.
"Listener! Not to worry, Cicero will help you!" Eira smiled when she heard the cheery voice of the Dark Brotherhood's Keeper. She had become rather attached to the jester within the past few months. She found his sinister rhymes and his need to constantly dote on her to be quite endearing. "My dear Listener, always working so hard, never taking the time to rest!" He tutted.
"Thank you..." Was all she could manage to say, exhausted and slightly embarrassed, she let him lead her into her chambers. He guided her to the bed, helping her sit down upon it. Eira grimaced as she rubbed her hands along her tired thighs. Cicero quietly watched her, and for a few moments they sat in silence. She was too tired to converse and Cicero was busy thinking of how he could best serve his poor, tired Listener.
"Listener" He began, "Would you permit Cicero to... Cicero means... Would you like, um...a massage?" He was looking at her with wide eyes, full of hope and fear. He could only hope that he would be allowed to suggest touching his sweet Listener and not die for the transgression. But if his Listener saw fit to punish him, he would be happy to accept.
Eira stopped rubbing her thighs, sitting perfectly still, unable to believe what she had just heard. She could not deny her rather strange attraction to the wicked man, and she was unsure of how his hands would effect her body and control. Eira felt conflicted, she was so sore and a massage sounded so nice. But she did not wish to take advantage of Cicero. "I'll be fine, Cicero." She smiled softly at him, "I don't want to be a burden and I'm sure you need to tend to the Night Mother anyway..."
"Never! Sweet Listener is never a burden to Cicero!" He squealed as she grabbed her hands, "Cicero only wishes to serve!" His hands trembled as he smiled nervously at Eira, it was almost as if his entire world would come crashing down around him if she did not allow him to serve her in every possible way. She often did, feeling guilty as she reveled in all the attention he heaped upon her.
'Look at that face, how can I possibly say no?' Eira gave his hands a squeeze, "Alright, Cicero. A massage sounds lovely."
Cicero immediately jumped up, tittering and grinning like a... well, like a lunatic. "Cicero has a lovely scented oil just for the Listener!" Eira stared as Cicero practically danced out of the room. He was only gone for a moment when he returned, shutting the door to her chambers and gingerly setting a bottle of oil upon her bedside table. "Cicero made this just for the Listener." He sounded rather proud of himself as he knelt down on the floor to remove Eira's boots.
Eira watched him, a little dumbfounded before she finally found her voice again. "You made an oil just for me?" She didn't know whether to be touched or rightly disturbed, but she settled on the former as she did so adore her jester. He was always so kind and thoughtful, and she was glad he did not offer to use the Night Mother's preserving oils on her.
"Of course! Humble Cicero lives to serve." He giggled as he slid the Listener's boots off and gingerly set them aside, before moving on to unfastening her leather breeches. Any normal woman might have been embarrassed being undressed by a man who was not her lover, but the Listener was far from normal anyway... She spoke to dragons, heard a dead woman's voice in her head, killed for pleasure, and oh, right. She had a crush on a mentally unstable man in a jester costume.