“That is a fair point, Erandur, and I will do my best to respect it. I am sorry. However, we need to treat those bruises and abrasions.” With that she urged him upstairs to the main bedroom.
The Dragonborn then turned to her alchemy room, shuffling around the various chests and drawers until she found the small earthenware jar she sought. Tugging the cork free as she made her way up the stairs, a perfume of soft lavender and something slightly sweet and musky wafted up from the jar’s lid. It was calming, rather than cloying, and Erandur seemed intrigued at the scent’s source.
“Something you made yourself?” He inquired.
“With a bit of help from the priestess of Kynareth, yes.” Oraythe smiled gently, careful not to display too many teeth.
“It is a pleasing scent.” Erandur looked from toward the jar as she set it down, before glancing up.
The Dragonborn met his gaze. “Erandur, you have wounds on more than just your wrists and legs don’t you?”
“Yes, Dragonborn. Although I feel like it would be easier for you to aid me in treating them if you were wearing something other than plate. It could undo your work, and it must be awfully warm now that we’re indoors.” There was no smirk with his words, though the look in his eyes was enough indication.
“You are flirting again, priest. But you are also correct.” It was her turn to grin, as she reached up to the ornate buckles holding her armor in place. With deft gestures, the latches were tugged free along the sides of her breastplate, and then the same for the straps securing the Dragonborn’s leg armor. The dense red and black metal came free of her form slowly, before being placed in a careful pile off to one side. Finally, her thick frame filled his vision, ruddy brown-purple hide and curves exposed. Oraythe felt her cheeks grow somewhat warm when Erandur made what she thought was a noise of appreciation.
She had expected him to disrobe in his normal fashion, simply peeling off the thin robe and tossing it to the side haphazardly. But to her surprise he pulled the hood down and slowly unfastened the intricate hidden laces, letting it slide from his frame, exposing first shoulder, belly, then finally hip. One hand grazed the dark, firm skin of his belly, and Oraythe shifted her feet, knowing if she could show a true blush she’d be fully scarlet.
At last all that remained was the tight, clean loincloth that served to provide modesty, though not much. Although he was older, and somewhat lean, there was still some muscle tone, and the telltale scars marking his long life. There were also the fresh marks left by armors she’d lent him, and she winced inwardly, though she vowed she would not let guilt keep her from what needed to be done to aid her friend.
She slid to sit cross-legged next to him, tail curled over one hip, watching him as he took in her form. Having seen many ‘smooth’ skins in various states of undress, whether purposeful or otherwise, this felt different from those previous times. The dunmer were probably her favorite, the dark blue-gray tones of their skin pleasing to her, or at least interesting compared to the lighter shades and endless variations of ‘pink’ that were much more common among the denizens of Skyrim.
Re: "Salve" Het, F!DB Argonian/Erandur, 4/?
The Dragonborn then turned to her alchemy room, shuffling around the various chests and drawers until she found the small earthenware jar she sought. Tugging the cork free as she made her way up the stairs, a perfume of soft lavender and something slightly sweet and musky wafted up from the jar’s lid. It was calming, rather than cloying, and Erandur seemed intrigued at the scent’s source.
“Something you made yourself?” He inquired.
“With a bit of help from the priestess of Kynareth, yes.” Oraythe smiled gently, careful not to display too many teeth.
“It is a pleasing scent.” Erandur looked from toward the jar as she set it down, before glancing up.
The Dragonborn met his gaze. “Erandur, you have wounds on more than just your wrists and legs don’t you?”
“Yes, Dragonborn. Although I feel like it would be easier for you to aid me in treating them if you were wearing something other than plate. It could undo your work, and it must be awfully warm now that we’re indoors.” There was no smirk with his words, though the look in his eyes was enough indication.
“You are flirting again, priest. But you are also correct.” It was her turn to grin, as she reached up to the ornate buckles holding her armor in place. With deft gestures, the latches were tugged free along the sides of her breastplate, and then the same for the straps securing the Dragonborn’s leg armor. The dense red and black metal came free of her form slowly, before being placed in a careful pile off to one side. Finally, her thick frame filled his vision, ruddy brown-purple hide and curves exposed. Oraythe felt her cheeks grow somewhat warm when Erandur made what she thought was a noise of appreciation.
She had expected him to disrobe in his normal fashion, simply peeling off the thin robe and tossing it to the side haphazardly. But to her surprise he pulled the hood down and slowly unfastened the intricate hidden laces, letting it slide from his frame, exposing first shoulder, belly, then finally hip. One hand grazed the dark, firm skin of his belly, and Oraythe shifted her feet, knowing if she could show a true blush she’d be fully scarlet.
At last all that remained was the tight, clean loincloth that served to provide modesty, though not much. Although he was older, and somewhat lean, there was still some muscle tone, and the telltale scars marking his long life. There were also the fresh marks left by armors she’d lent him, and she winced inwardly, though she vowed she would not let guilt keep her from what needed to be done to aid her friend.
She slid to sit cross-legged next to him, tail curled over one hip, watching him as he took in her form. Having seen many ‘smooth’ skins in various states of undress, whether purposeful or otherwise, this felt different from those previous times. The dunmer were probably her favorite, the dark blue-gray tones of their skin pleasing to her, or at least interesting compared to the lighter shades and endless variations of ‘pink’ that were much more common among the denizens of Skyrim.