Pain. It was receding to a dull ache, but it was the first thing he noticed as he came to his senses. There were furs, and the room was dark, save for the light emanating from surprisingly gentle hands.
"Was that...some sort of healing spell?"
“Stop moving.” The Dragonborn tsked.
The mage was happy to oblige, especially if it made the pain go away.
He’d never had the opportunity to observe her from this close. Necessity demanded many a night huddled together in the cold landscape of Skyrim, but being intent on not freezing to death or getting eaten left little energy for exploration. Besides, it was unprofessional - not that it had stopped him with previous employers - and she was more than likely to kill him if he tried.
But here... here she wore a simple night shift, no layers of armour and padding hiding her form. The bulk of her hair was swept back by a simple ribbon, but it wasn’t strict enough to stop a fair amount from escaping. She leaned over him, inspecting his body and working her magic as she went, and as she moved, he noticed that she didn’t wear trousers to bed. Possibly not even a breast band, if the way her shift hung on her was any indication; it flowed over soft peaks that would have otherwise been pressed flat...
“Marcurio, for shame!”
“What?”
“I hope you didn’t… display your appreciation for Danica’s talents in the same way…” She sighed in exasperation. He didn’t need to look to know he was sporting an erection.
He probably shouldn’t antagonize her, but he grinned and did so anyway, “What, are you jealous?”
The Dragonborn made a disgusted noise and muttered. “Unbelieveable…”
“Sorry, it does that sometimes.” She gave him a look, and he held his hands up in an attempt to placate her. “I’m a man, I can’t help doing that…”
She didn’t look convinced, but she seemed amused as she commented, “I wondered why Danica left you with so many bruises. I thought she was exhausted by your attitude.”
“Some Call it Foolishness” F!DB/Marcurio 17/?
"Was that...some sort of healing spell?"
“Stop moving.” The Dragonborn tsked.
The mage was happy to oblige, especially if it made the pain go away.
He’d never had the opportunity to observe her from this close. Necessity demanded many a night huddled together in the cold landscape of Skyrim, but being intent on not freezing to death or getting eaten left little energy for exploration. Besides, it was unprofessional - not that it had stopped him with previous employers - and she was more than likely to kill him if he tried.
But here... here she wore a simple night shift, no layers of armour and padding hiding her form. The bulk of her hair was swept back by a simple ribbon, but it wasn’t strict enough to stop a fair amount from escaping. She leaned over him, inspecting his body and working her magic as she went, and as she moved, he noticed that she didn’t wear trousers to bed. Possibly not even a breast band, if the way her shift hung on her was any indication; it flowed over soft peaks that would have otherwise been pressed flat...
“Marcurio, for shame!”
“What?”
“I hope you didn’t… display your appreciation for Danica’s talents in the same way…” She sighed in exasperation. He didn’t need to look to know he was sporting an erection.
He probably shouldn’t antagonize her, but he grinned and did so anyway, “What, are you jealous?”
The Dragonborn made a disgusted noise and muttered. “Unbelieveable…”
“Sorry, it does that sometimes.” She gave him a look, and he held his hands up in an attempt to placate her. “I’m a man, I can’t help doing that…”
She didn’t look convinced, but she seemed amused as she commented, “I wondered why Danica left you with so many bruises. I thought she was exhausted by your attitude.”