Skyrim Page 3 - "Either you're naked, or I'm drunk. Maybe both."

[skyrimkinkmeme]

  CLOSED FOR PROMPTS,

BUT OPEN FOR FILLS

HELPFUL TIPS

>Please post your prompts with the paired characters and any notable kinks/trigger warnings in the title.
>When posting prompts, always remember to add kinks you're both looking for and wanting to avoid in a potential fill.
>When filling, please remember to add your story tags: characters, relationship types, kinks, series and universe (ie: skyrim)
>Our character limit here at LJ is 4300.
>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.

Comments

More Slash Please

[(Anonymous)]

This anon is very depressed. She has also read ALL THE SLASH on the meme. All of it! And although some of the het is exceedingly well-written, it just doesn't hit her buttons and cheer her up like the slash does.

So please would someone write more slash? Ideally, lots of someones.

Favourite Skyrim men:
* Jarl Balgruuf
* Elrindir (the lovely Bosmer who runs The Drunken Huntsman. SO PRETTY!)
* Ulfberth War-Bear (yes, I know he's married)
* Idolaf Battle-Born (also unfortunately married)
* Jon Battle-Born
* Ralof (who escapes with you at the start)
* Eorlund Gray-Mane
* Kodlak Whitemane
* Alvor (of Riverwood)
* Brynjolf
* Roggi Knot-Beard
* Ulfric Stormcloak
* Erandur (the woobie priest from Waking Nightmare)
* Dyce the Incredibly Easy Breton

If you are spotting a long-haired & beardy theme, you may be correct. (I don't know what Dyce looks like, but he's adorable nonetheless).

Anything welcomed, from fluffy, snuggly drabbles up to 15-part hardcore porn without plot. Just... lovely men with other lovely men, please.

Kinks: Hurt/Comfort, Realistic sex (e.g. one orgasm per session - unless enhanced with the Skyrim equivalent of Viagra!)

Squicks: Non-con, Scat, Cicero, Troll fat (please, some other sort of lube!)

Thanks :D

Re: More Slash Please

[(Anonymous)]

Dyce: *peruses menu* Yes, this looks satisfactory. I'll have it.

Waiter: Which, Sir?

Dyce: This. All of it.

Waiter: *boggles*

In other words, Dyce!anon is delighted that someone actually prompted him. I also second the motion for more slash (especially Erandur.) I'll see what I can do myself.

Re: More Slash Please

[(Anonymous)]

Eeee! Dyce!anon saw my post! :D

What I love about Dyce is the way he's a slut, but totally ethical with it. He wants to have sex with anyone who's attractive and willing, but he's not selfish - he wants his partner to enjoy the experience, and not get hurt: physically OR emotionally. I kinda think of him as wandering round Skyrim, killing bad guys and providing sexytiems for the good ones.

I've even read his occasional liaisons with ladies - which says something about your writing, since I Don't Read Het.

Re: More Slash Please

[(Anonymous)]

Dyce/Erandur? *passerby!anon makes puppy eyes*

Re: More Slash Please (Indeed!)

[(Anonymous)]

I am too down for this. Seconded, and you might just see me and my lovely, abundant crack couples sooner rather than later.
Speaking of which...how do you feel about Ulfberth/Jon? Because I know how I feel about it. ;D
Also, I maintain that Dyce needs his own theme song. Doubly seconded on him.

Re: More Slash Please (Indeed!)

[(Anonymous)]

From the OP:

I'd be happy with any of those lovely men with any of the others, but yes - Ulfberth/Jon would be adorable. Jon is a total woobie, what with his obsession about everyone else being obsessed with death, and Ulfberth is sex on a stick. War-Bear indeed! What a fine surname!

Random passerby!anon

[(Anonymous)]

I just wanted to say that the last comment about the Troll fat made me crack up XD

Self-fill: Taking the Nine in Vain

[(Anonymous)]

Okay. Since so many of you are desperate for MORE SLASH, I have taken it upon myself to write some. This is set in the time of Oblivion, not Skyrim, but I've left it here since this is where my original prompt was posted.

It's Martin Septim/Alix de Feu again, and in this Alix has a gender. A very definite gender.

Tags for Delicious:
kink:anal, kink:fingering, kink:realistic_sex, kink:rimming
relationship:slash
char:M!PC, char:martin
race:Breton, race:Imperial

summary: Emperor Martin Septim/Hero of Kvatch, explicit. An attempt at writing porn without plot, which failed due to too much plot. Can be enjoyed without knowledge of Oblivion, but contains spoilers and foreshadowing for the end of the game.

Notes: This author sucks at writing porn without plot. So there's quite a bit of plot before the action. Sorry. Also this story is probably the first thing this anon has ever written that isn't hurt/comfort. She is still shocked.

Spoilers for Oblivion main quest, but apparently the fact that Martin Septim's voice actor is Sean Bean is a spoiler. Set around the middle of the main quest but foreshadowing the end of the game.

Dedicated to the anonymous author of "History Lessons" on Page 1 of the Meme – for the idea of *ten*, which is still making me squeal with delight a week later; and to Hekateras, the author of "Trial by Fire" on fanfiction.net – for the idea of Martin's charisma being like a Charm spell. I hope neither of you hate slash.

Many thanks to my Men Who Have Sex With Men team: Grant, Ryan, and Elliot, for answering embarrassing questions and reading the first draft of this.

In Nirn, they have spells and potions of Cure Disease. Real life needs safer sex.

Taking the Nine in Vain - 1/6

[(Anonymous)]

When I returned to Cloud Ruler Temple, Martin was waiting for me. As usual, he was sitting at what had become "his" table, in the Great Hall, with an ever-increasing collection of books. But unlike usual, he was barely concentrating on what he was reading. One hand tugged at his thick brown hair, while the other tapped impatiently against the wooden table top, in some sort of rhythmic pattern. He sighed at the reference tome in front of him, and his eyes darted around the room in boredom. Thus he saw me as soon as I entered, shaking the snow off my cloak, and lugging a large sack. His entire face lit up with delight.

"You're back!" he exclaimed. "Did you get the artifact?"

"Of course," I nodded. "Have I ever let you down?"

"Well, no, my friend. But sometimes things go wrong despite our best intentions. You might have become lost, or hurt, or...". He stopped himself, and instead turned his attention to the sack, which I was able to carry only thanks to my strongest Fortify Strength and Feather spells. "May I see it?"

"Help me lay it out on the table," I commanded him. He chuckled under his breath, a combination of sheer relief at my safe return, and because I was the only person who would dare issue orders to the would-be Emperor of Tamriel. Admittedly, Jauffre tried to give him orders too, but he would couch them in delicate terms, as suggestions. Always a diplomat... I, on the other hand, would simply tell Martin what I wanted him to do; which had recently gained me more than I'd ever dreamed of having, in the form of blissful nights with the most attractive man I'd ever met.

(Obviously I cared about the Empire, and wanted its Emperor to be crowned as soon as possible. Why else would I let him constantly send me away from his side, to acquire the priceless trophies that we needed to perform the ritual, and recover the Amulet of Kings? But the truth was that Martin the man - ex-mage turned priest of Akatosh - was far more important to me than Martin Septim, illegitimate son of Emperor Uriel. His parentage felt irrelevant, so I treated him accordingly: the only person to use his name instead of a title. Apparently he appreciated this, since he was always begging the Blades to do the same. However, it seemed that they could not overcome their trained deference to the role, even when the man occupying it implored them to.)

We emptied the sack carefully. Martin stared at the ancient cuirass as it lay on the table. His finger traced the gilt design, reverentially. "The Armour of Tiber Septim himself!"

Of course, we knew that the line of descent was broken several times, when the crown had passed to nephews or cousins instead of offspring. Nonetheless, we were both overwhelmed by emotion at this tangible connection between Martin and his legendary predecessor. The armour stood as proof that the god Talos had once been an ordinary man. I saw Martin wiping tears away from his eyes with the sleeve of his robe.

I wondered anew how similar the two Septims would prove to be. Was Tiber Septim, the great war chief, a powerful mage able to protect himself against the forces of evil? The history books were unclear on this. Would Martin Septim's intervention against Oblivion be so mighty that the gods themselves would take him up as a Tenth Divine? Only time would tell.

Martin must have been having similar thoughts. "The Septim blood may flow through my veins, but you have the soul of a hero," he pronounced, looking up at me and smiling. I gazed into his wide blue eyes for what seemed like minutes, feeling myself slowly drowning in desire. The charisma of the man! If I hadn't rescued Martin while he was still reeling from the disaster at Kvatch, I'd have thought he could cast Charm spells that would last days. As it was, it seemed to be some sort of Septim ability, to go with the prophetic dreams and ability to wear the Amulet. Voice of the Emperor? Hmm.

Taking the Nine in Vain - 2/6

[(Anonymous)]

He broke the moment, grudgingly. "Jauffre will be amazed to see it. You can reassure Jauffre that I will not destroy the armour. All I need is a scraping of Talos's divine blood. The Blades are as touchy as priests about relics of Tiber Septim, it seems!"

"Are you surprised?" I asked him. "With the connection between the Blades and the royal family, half of them become priests of Talos when they retire!"

He laughed openly, a rare sound during that time of crisis, and one that I valued; doubly so, since I'd caused it myself. Catching my shoulder, he whispered directly into my ear. "After you've been to see Jauffre, go and have a bath. Wash yourself very thoroughly. I have... plans for you, later." His guileless eyes shimmered for a moment with the untold debauchery known only to followers of Sanguine. I gasped, stepped back, and went in search of the Grandmaster of the Blades.

---

Have you ever sat at a formal dinner next to the person you care for most in the world, knowing that as soon as the meal ends, you're going to run away to make wild, passionate love? Have you ever sat there, eating one-handed, while under the table your spare hands join together and squeeze, and your partner's foot rubs joyfully over yours?

Now imagine yourself in the middle of a long table, surrounded by soldiers liege-sworn to your lover, all desperate to speak to him and gain a token of his regard. Bowing to him, calling him "my lord", pleading for attention – when all you want is for the two of you to be the only people in that room?

It's hard to share the one you love with so many others. Harder still to share him with an entire continent. But I was certain that was what I'd have to get used to after his coronation. I wondered how Martin felt about it. In retrospect, I should have noticed that whenever any of us referred to him as "the Emperor", there being no other possible heir, he would reply saying "I am not Emperor yet". I'd thought he was only being diffident. I wish I'd known then the exact content of his dreams.

---

Martin and I raced each other up the stairs. Since our first, gentle, love-making, we had become more and more ambitious. His past as a daedra worshipper, which he was so embarrassed about, had taught him an awful lot about how to please a man. Given how much stress he was under, I had no plans to precipitate a breakdown by pointing out where his knowledge had come from. I'd already had to talk him down several times when the guilt he was living with had become too much.

It helped that no one in Cloud Ruler Temple gave two hoots about the fact the heir to the throne was fucking a man.

I'd expected it to be a problem. Not hugely familiar with the laws of Cyrodiil, I knew only that it was not a good idea to be a man who preferred men in High Rock. That was mostly why I'd left my home province to study at Arcane University. The fact that homosexual behaviour was tolerated at the university told me nothing, since mages have always been much more concerned about rules preventing the use of dangerous magic than the laws of the land. I had a vague idea that the Blades regarded our liaison as some sort of comfort to keep Martin sane under enormous pressure, rather than a serious love affair. I knew that once he was crowned, he would be expected to marry and produce children – his own illegitimacy making an early marriage to a woman of noble birth essential.

I didn't think about what would happen to me then. The twist of pain inside my belly whenever I tried was worse than the coldest knife, worse than being clawed apart by dremora (a sensation I was becoming increasingly familiar with). I was positive that we would remain friends – close friends - but I had no idea what else I could hope for. I only knew that I loved him more than anyone else I'd ever been with. Even now, twenty years later, no one else has ever lived up to his memory. When I wake up in the morning, it's still Martin that I expect to be next to – and the empty bed is like an accusation: an admission of my failure to keep him.

---

A/N: Next post, THE SEX

Taking the Nine in Vain - 3/6

[(Anonymous)]

A/N: Thanks to Deandra for taking over as beta :) She made some useful suggestions, and this is hotter now than it was before ;)

---

Martin had me lying on my front, a pillow under my belly, arse in the air. He'd already given me the most delicious massage with a scented oil, which had relaxed all my muscles, yet turned my cock hard. I wasn't sure how that was possible, except that just being near him made my cock twitch with excitement.

His hands ran down my back in parallel – first softly, then his fingernails dug in. I groaned. "Gods!".

Martin sniggered. "Is there a reason you're taking the Nine in vain?". As he leaned forward to kiss the back of my neck, I could feel his own erection pressing into my arse.

"Yes, and you know perfectly well what it is, Emperor Martin Septim!"

He laughed again, hands continuing their heavenly descent of my back; before his tongue flicked out, and licked a strip of flesh down the very centre of my spine. I moaned and thrashed at the sensation. "Damn you, Martin! Stop teasing me!".

"Okay..." he agreed, moving down the bed to kneel between my legs. His hands stroked down further, and split, one moving onto each of my buttocks. He pulled my cheeks apart, and his damned, maddening tongue licked further down, and circled around my hole. I could do nothing but groan his name – the way the aggravating man was holding me down and himself out of the way, I could only feebly flap at him with my hands; which was no use at all. Eventually, by the time I was cursing him and all the gods individually by name, his tongue slipped inside. The sensation hit all my pleasure centres, and I thrust my hips forward, so my cock rubbed against the pillow.

Slowly, but surely, he moved his tongue in and out; the wet muscle reminding me that there were other parts of his body that were stronger and more suited for the job. I reached around the best I could and pulled his head closer to me, trying to push more of his tongue inside. He giggled, and blew a raspberry on my arse cheek. After – I don't know, minutes? hours? - of the worst kind of teasing, I was reduced to whining. "Martin! Martin, gods, please... stop messing about and fuck me."

Suddenly he was very serious. His tongue wriggled free, and he kissed each of my buttocks in turn. Reverentially, I thought – which reminded me of the way he'd touched the armour of Tiber Septim earlier. He sat upright, taking a sip from a goblet of red wine that was on the bedside table. Red wine, I thought. Sanguine...

"Alix, my love?" he asked, crawling up the bed to spoon with me. "Have you ever done this before?"

I turned to face him, and saw that he was hiding his face behind his curtain of hair. The skin I could see was blushing, which was absolutely adorable.

"Yes," I replied, "But not for a while. You'll need to go slowly."

He nodded, and kissed my head, moving my long hair out of the way to nip affectionately at the back of my neck. Although he'd never explicitly told me, he was oddly attracted to my neck, burying his nose in the soft hair there whenever he could. He reached for a bottle of oil on the bedside table – not the perfumed oil from earlier, but a different version, plainer. Less likely to cause irritation, I supposed. Someone had been anticipating this encounter.

"Alix..." he said, hesitantly. "You will tell me if I hurt you?"

"Yes, love." Martin's youthful experiences as an acolyte of "Uncle" Sanguine had given him some serious consent issues. To me, they seemed more like a fetish, given that he couldn't even enjoy himself unless he knew I was. There's nothing quite like worshipping the Daedric Prince of hedonism to mess with a person's mind. The Empire was lucky he was still functional at all.

Taking the Nine in Vain - 4/6

[(Anonymous)]

Nodding again, he planted a row of kisses down my back, and tipped oil onto two of his fingers. Rubbing slowly in rings around my dampened hole, he massaged the tight anal muscle. I could actually feel my hole opening up and loosening under his ministrations. Once I felt like I was gaping, he applied a bit more oil, and gently pushed the tip of his first finger inside. I yelped.

"My love?" Martin sounded very uncertain. "Was that pain or pleasure?"

"Both," I stated. "Honestly, both. Give me a minute." I forced myself to relax, trying to bend my anal sphincter to my will. I've never understood how it's so easy to get my own fingers inside, but so hard to use someone else's. Something to do with nerves, I suppose.

After breathing deeply for a while, I told him to continue. His left hand rubbed soothing circles at the base of my spine, while his right index finger plunged slightly further inside. I moaned, and whimpered, as he slowly pushed his whole finger into me.

Now, over the years, I've read a lot of erotic fiction which seems to imply that when your lover coerces a well-lubricated finger into your arse, it will burn a little, but after only a short time you can push in another, and scissor them to make space for your partner's cock. I can only assume that other men are built differently, since that's really not how it works with me. Preparation for buggery goes extremely slowly, and is a form of exquisite torture. Many minutes. Lots of oil. And the scissoring thing has never worked – I'm far too tight for even the strongest man's fingers to push my walls apart.

Instead, Martin left his finger in my asshole, the rest of his hand tenderly kneading my buttock. He lightly moved the tip forwards, and I howled as he hit my prostate. I swore by all the gods, especially Akatosh, that he had better keep doing what he was doing or there would be trouble. I may have threatened to draw my sword on him if he stopped, and I didn't mean it as a double entendre. My actual shortsword made of silver that I used for killing daedra, and never mind if the Blades tried to stop me – they weren't the ones being tortured. He fingered me, hitting that nub over and over, loosening up my passage.

When I was about ready to scream, he withdrew his hand – which made me twist round and yell at him, before I realised he was applying more oil. Oh. This time he massaged two fingers around my hole, as I gasped and swore. Eventually the muscle became loose enough for him to be able to push the tips of both fingers in. I groaned, shouted, cursed, and swore, as his clever fingers pressed inside me. My cock felt as hard as it had ever been. I was half-surprised that I hadn't already exploded into the pillow.

Martin, the louche bastard that he was, reached for his goblet of wine with the hand that wasn't busy impaling me. "Gods," I mumbled, "The least you could do is let me have some." He laughed, and tipped some wine into my mouth. I drank it, thirstily. All this panting and yelling was making my throat awfully dry. I wondered vaguely what Martin's bodyguards outside the door were thinking. To Oblivion with them, if they were rude enough to listen.

"Martin?" I begged. "Kiss me, please?"

Taking the Nine in Vain - 5/6

[(Anonymous)]

He put the goblet down, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling my head towards his. I turned my head, and saw how aroused he really was. His lips were parted, and his eyes burned as if he was feverish. His thick brown hair hung in curtains around his flushed face. I reached behind myself, grabbed hold of his cock, and gave it a couple of tugs. That got him calling out to Akatosh. I felt like an obscene daedra worshipper myself, suddenly seeing the attraction of "corrupting" a priest: even though the vows of chastity he'd made had been for himself, rather than his religion.

Our mouths met, and I pushed my tongue between his lips as he gasped. His eyes rolled in supplication, utterly wanton. "Brace yourself carefully," I whispered, and while he continued to finger me with his right hand, I grabbed hold of his left, and lifted it to my mouth. I sucked a pair of fingers into my mouth – coincidentally, the twins of the two in my arse – licking the tips under his fingernails, lapping at the delicate webbing between them. Martin groaned and said, very clearly, "Fuck".

When I released his hand, he dropped it onto the mattress, clearly needing it for extra balance. "Alix?" he moaned, "Can I fuck you? I need to fuck you."

"My love, that's the rudest thing you've ever said to me. Of course you can."

Martin lifted my hair and kissed my neck again, slowly removing his fingers from my hole. He brushed his hands over my shoulders, before reaching round and catching my nipples between his fingertips. He tugged on them, making me call him names that just left him cackling under his breath.

Then he reached for the bottle of oil again. I turned round to watch. He poured oil onto his already-sticky right hand, and rubbed it all over his cock. His fingers gently probed my hole again, and found it ready and waiting. Wrapping both arms around my body for support, he lay down and thrust inside me. I thought I would come on the spot. By some miracle I didn't.

Martin let out a long, shuddering sigh. "By the Nine, you're tight."

"And just think, love – that's after you've already fucked me with your fingers for I don't know how long."

He lay very still on top of me for a moment, fighting to control his breath. I felt his cock twitching wildly, and wondered how much stimulation he'd need to reach orgasm. Not very much, from the feel of it. He'd been playing head games, and clearly got off on them at least as well as he did from physical provocation. It somehow seemed appropriate for his new position in life.

Martin sighed again, and began to move inside me: in, out, in, out, in a regular rhythm. He muttered swearwords that I didn't even know he knew. His fingernails raked down my back, leaving a white trail on the skin as they passed. They dug into my arse, leaving claw marks on my buttocks. His fingers grabbed my nipples again. He bit my neck vampirically – I wasn't even sure if he was aware that he'd done it.

Gods, I thought, if the people of Tamriel could see their Emperor now! He must have been combining the worship practises of Dibella with those of Sanguine, and... Sheogorath, since he seemed determined to drive me insane. He was moaning his god's name and my name together, like a prayer. I reached behind me and stuck my own sharp fingernails into his buttocks. He responded by moving more erratically, clearly very close.

"Touch yourself," the Emperor begged, so I stroked the most sensitive part of my penis, right under the head, and came... everywhere. As I did so, I felt my muscles ripple and clench, and that was the only extra stimulus Martin needed for his own orgasm. He came violently, and collapsed on top of me, breathing raggedly.

---

A/N: Damn you, livejournal comment sizes.

Taking the Nine in Vain - 6/6

[(Anonymous)]

After a couple of minutes, I asked, "Love?"

"Hmm?". My lover was still lying in a languid heap, squashing me into the mattress.

"Is there any chance we could move, because I'm lying right in the wet patch?"

"Oh gods! I'm so sorry!". He crawled off me, allowing me to deftly roll into a dry part of the bed. I wondered if that was the reason why the Emperor's bed was so large. Several former rulers of Tamriel had been famous for their randiness.

Martin returned with a towel, and the rest of the bottle of wine. He handed me the towel, suddenly shy, and he peered at me, blue eyes visible through the mop of brown hair. He seemed too embarrassed to speak, taking a big gulp of the wine rather than saying anything.

"Martin? Are you all right?" I reached out for him.

"I..." He was blushing again. "Everything's fine. More than fine. I love you, Alix."

I grinned. "I love you, too. More than words can say."

"It's just... I've never done that with someone I actually cared about before. I... want to keep doing it, over and over, for the rest of my life." Bright red. I'd never seen him look so awkward. I hated that there was so much trauma in his past that even something wonderful like making love could upset him.

But because I was jealous, I muttered, "What of your need to produce an heir?"

Martin chuckled. "I worked that out long ago. Perhaps I can find a noblewoman who loves women and wants children, and her partner could become your official consort?". He looked up at me, eyes wide with mischief.

I answered in kind. "You do know I like women as well?"

"All the better! Then we'll find two noblewomen who love both men and women and all go to bed together. I promise you that it will still not be the most outrageous thing that any Emperor of Tamriel has done. I've had some fairly notorious predecessors, after all."

Laughing, I pulled him down for another kiss before we fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

---

A/N: I wrote a "happy" ending and a "bitter" ending. You get the happy one :)

'Redemption: It's a Love Story' M!DB/Erandur 1/??

[(Anonymous)]

Summary: Events led Dyce to swear away his soul, and now he wants it back. There is one man in Skyrim who might be able to help.

NOTE: This story takes place after the conclusion of the Thieves’ Guild and Civil War questlines, and possibly the main quest as well.

Every evening after ministering to the people of Dawnstar, Erandur would leave the township and make his way back up the hill to Nightcaller Temple. It was here that he maintained the small shrine to Mara, continuing his penance. He lived here as he had for many years long ago, although now he confined himself to one or two upper rooms. He didn’t need much; a place to sleep, a fire pit, and a few books.

At dawn and dusk Erandur would kneel in front of Mara’s shrine to say his prayers. He never neglected to say one for the young man who had helped him cleanse this place, a reckless and impulsive Breton who nevertheless, Erandur was convinced, had a good and kind heart. He and Dyce had travelled together for a while, and he’d seemed genuinely regretful when he suggested they’d part.

Erandur wasn’t surprised that they had eventually parted, however. He could think of any number of reasons why someone wouldn’t want a battered old priest along, and he was grateful for the time they’d spent travelling together, and the good they’d done in the meantime. Mara would have been proud.

Erandur prayed that he might remain safe, and that he might continue to do good for the people of Skyrim. Privately, he hoped he might return to Nightcaller Temple, even just for a visit; Erandur had had few friends in his long life, and Dyce was the only one still among the living - or who he hoped was still among the living.

This particular evening Erandur had had to fight his way up the hill against a howling wind that still rattled against the front door to the temple. His prayers concluded, he continued to kneel in front of the shrine despite the ache in his knees for a few moments longer, basking in her love, and his love for her.

The front door slammed. Erandur opened his crimson eyes and quietly got to his feet. It might be the wind, or it might be more opportunists who thought an old priest on his own was no barrier to obtaining whatever treasures might still remain in the old temple. He’d shown such miscreants the error of their ways before.

He kept his mace close by, and he held it down at his side as he slowly made his way to the entrance. There was someone here, and they didn’t look like an ordinary traveller, or an ordinary bandit. More shadow than man, in a dark cape and cowl, he didn’t give Erandur a good feeling. Nevertheless, the Dunmer stepped forward.

“Greetings, traveller,” he said. “May I ask what your purpose here is?”

“Erandur, I’m here to see you,” a familiar voice replied.

“Dyce.” Erandur smiled, and relaxed. “I didn’t recognise you, come in. It’s freezing out there. I have a fire going.” He led the Breton back towards his living area, and as he did so he realised that the man’s feet made absolutely no sound on the floor.

The armour was new. Dark leather hugged his wiry form, only the slightest gleam when the light hit it, inky dark when it didn’t. It was undeniably beautiful, and Dyce wore it like a second skin, but it made Erandur feel a little uneasy. He’d never seen such fine craftsmanship from any smith or armourer in Skyrim.

Erandur added more wood to the fire and poked it into a blaze as Dyce pulled the hood back off his head. He had his hair tied back, only a few long strands had been pulled loose by the breeze. He looked tired.

“Have you eaten?” Erandur asked. “I was just about to make something. I’m afraid I don’t have a lot to offer.”

Dyce shook his head, “I came up from Dawnstar; I ate at the inn.”

Erandur began heating up some vegetable soup he’d made that morning while Dyce sat floor near the fire and stared at the flames. He seemed different, more subdued than Erandur remembered.

“So, to what do I owe this visit?” he asked eventually.

“I need your help,” Dyce said, and Erandur’s heart gave a leap at the thought of travelling once again.

“I’d be happy to help. I don’t have many things to pack; we can leave at first light tomorrow.”

Re: 'Redemption: It's a Love Story' M!DB/Erandur 2/??

[(Anonymous)]

“No, that’s not quite what I meant. I don’t need you to help me do something, I need you to help me personally.”

“Of course, if there’s anything I can do, you need only ask.” Erandur stopped stirring the soup and looked at Dyce. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, because clearly something was.

Dyce sighed and bowed his head, “I am indentured.” He raised his head to meet Erandur’s eyes, “to a Daedric Prince.”

Erandur’s heart sank. He must have looked so disappointed because Dyce flinched and looked away again. Erandur reached out and covered one of his gloved hands with his own.

“I will do everything I can to help you. I promise.” He was going to stay more when his soup boiled over and he retreated to rescue it. He meant every word of his promise; he would not let Dyce become what he had been. He still didn’t understand how it could have happened.

Despite suddenly lacking an appetite, he ate his dinner in silence while Dyce stared at the fire. This wasn’t quite the reunion he’d hoped for.

“Which one?” Erandur asked, when he set his plate aside.

“Nocturnal.”

“Well, it could be worse.”

Dyce looked him in the eye, “I know.”

“How did it happen?”

Dyce shrugged helplessly, “I don’t know! I mean, my friends, they’re more like family really - we were betrayed, and it wasn’t even about revenge, we were just trying to clean up the mess. I don’t mind placating daedra. I’ve done it before. I would have got her stupid key back without her help.” He scowled.

“All right, relax,” Erandur said. “You can fix this. You haven’t done anything in her service like the things I did. We’ll work it out.”

Dyce smiled gratefully, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Mara saved me, after all I’d done, so I’m sure her compassion will extend to you.”

“Well, about that, I know Mara means a lot to you, but I might have more luck with Dibella. I was a foundling at her temple and I lived there for most of my childhood.”

“You lived at the Temple of Dibella? Did you see the rituals there?”

Dyce cracked a smile for the first time, “Hey, there’s life in the old priest yet. No, I was a child. I was really bored by all the praying and leaving offerings and such. I was always running away to beg for sweets and hunt mudcrabs. I still remember some of it though. ‘Open your heart to the noble secrets of art and love. Treasure the gifts of friendship. Seek joy and inspiration in the mysteries of love.’”

Erandur was silenced for a few moments by this sudden scripture; there was more to Dyce than just an easygoing adventurer.

“I mean, I don’t pray or anything but I like to think I’ve lived a reasonably good life by her standards. I don’t really think about it much.”

“Is ‘living a reasonably good life’ enough, do you think?”

“I hope so. I’ve done more than most people.”

“Could you be more specific?”

Dyce raised his eyebrows. “You want all the details?”

Erandur wondered why he seemed so uncertain about it. “I want to help you. Maybe this will help.”

“Well, get comfortable; this is gonna take a while.”

Whatever Erandur had been expecting, what Dyce started telling him wasn’t it. He was trying to be polite about it, not getting too lurid in his details, but Erandur found himself shifting uncomfortably in his robes as Dyce methodically retailed various carnal adventures with a staggering variety of partners and locations.

At first Erandur was mildly horrified, then impressed and somewhat intrigued. Dyce was undeniably handsome, and he found the images conjured by his explanation somewhat distracting. And finally, it all started to wash over him; Dyce had a nice voice.

Re: 'Redemption: It's a Love Story' M!DB/Erandur 3/??

[(Anonymous)]

“And then I travelled for a while with this merchant who- are you still listening?” Dyce broke off and stared at Erandur. The fire was down to coals, although Dyce had fed it a couple of times, and he couldn’t quite see Erandur’s expression.

Erandur snored softly.

Dyce pinched the bridge of his nose. “You fell asleep. That’s what I get for keeping an old man up past his bedtime, I suppose.” Dragging him to his bedroll would probably wake him up, so Dyce got to his feet and draped the priest in furs to keep him warm and when to the entrance to retrieve his pack and his own bedroll.

He wasn’t sure if this would actually work, but Erandur’s determination to help had certainly cheered him up a bit. For a while he’d just not wanted to think about the whole thing; it didn’t seem too urgent at first, but a number of near-death experiences had forced him to confront the fact that his eternal servitude might start sooner rather than later.

Dyce did not mind obeying orders, especially when given by a beautiful woman, but there were limits; usually a couple of days at most. Spending eternity in silence, just sneaking around, it simply wasn’t him. He wanted out. And Erandur was the only man he knew with experience in this sort of thing.

And it had been too long since he’d visited the priest. Although prone to melancholy, his utter sincerity and gratitude when Dyce had dragged him down into some draugr-infested hole had endeared him to the thief. Too much, if he was honest, but Erandur struck him as too lonely and too fragile - he’d just hurt him in the end.

He stretched out in front of the fire, and despite the fact that this place had once been a palace of nightmares, he slept better than he had in a while.

He woke to the sound of mumbling and the smell of grilling salmon. For a few moments he had no idea where he was and then he realised what he could hear was Erandur saying prayers in front of the shrine in the next room. Silently he got to his feet and went to watch.

“Do you mean it?” he asked, when Erandur had finished.

“Every time.” He got to his feet and brushed dust off his knees.

Awkward.

“I’m sorry for boring you last night.”

“I wasn’t bored,” Erandur muttered.

“You fell asleep.”

“Let’s have some breakfast and then we can discuss it, hm?” Erandur refused to be drawn any further, and he made Dyce sit and eat. When they had finished they sat in front of the fire again, and Erandur apologised for not having more chairs.

“What now?” Dyce asked.

“Is that armour from Nocturnal?”

“Yeah. Do you think I should take it off?”

Erandur shrugged, “You’ve already seen the strings that are attached; it’s probably purely symbolic, but it couldn’t hurt.”

Dyce winked, “You just want to see me naked. All right.”

Apparently, Erandur didn’t want to see him naked, or even partially clothed, because he pointedly looked away as Dyce changed back into his old guild armour.

Erandur took a deep breath and began, “What you were talking about last night, do you really think that’s Dibella’s will?”

“Well, not exactly. It’s my will, but it’s fully in accordance with her teachings. She’s a goddess of love, after all, and I know Mara is too, but Dibella’s version is so much more fun.”

“You were talking about sex, not love. Are you trying to tell me you loved all of those people?”

“Well no, not all of them. That would be ridiculous. I’ve fucked with complete bastards.”

“Some of them then?”

“Yeah, ‘course. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

“I never said you were a monster.” Erandur sighed, clearly trying to wrap his head around it. “Give me an example then, who do you love?”

Dyce rested his elbows on his knees. “Erik,” he said. “Vex. Rune, Farkas, Calder-”

“Enough! Do you really love all those people?”

“See!” Dyce pointed at Erandur accusingly, “I knew you were going to say that. I can’t prove it to you but you can take my word for it.”

“Did you tell any of them?”

“Of course not. They’d have the same reaction as you.” Dyce sighed, “I don’t want to hurt anyone, let alone people I care about. If you tell someone something like that, they get expectations. Expectations I can’t live up to,” he muttered.

Re: 'Redemption: It's a Love Story' M!DB/Erandur 4/??

[(Anonymous)]

“How do you know that?” Erandur asked.

“You don’t think I wasn’t once young and naive enough to give it a try? I lost my two best friends and they lost each other too. I couldn’t have made things worse if I tried. I can’t fix those sort of mistakes but I refuse to repeat them- Erandur, how is this helping me?”

“I don’t know- we seem to have wandered off-course. I’m not a priest of Dibella. Most sects don’t even have priests, not male ones anyway. And I really don’t have any business talking about this sort of thing.” He regarded Dyce solemnly, “I trust you, and I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“So, Nocturnal, what about her?”

“Ultimately, all you have to do is dedicate yourself to the goddess. But it’s not enough just to say the words; you have to mean it with all your heart and soul, and your actions must reflect what you’ve committed yourself to.”

“I was...asked by a daedic prince to convert another’s follower once. I got the impression he was going to torture it out of him.”

“More likely he would have made you do it,” Erandur pointed out.

“Once I got out of that house I didn’t look back. So what do I do? Pray?”

“Well, for a start you might want to stop stealing things.”

“What? I’ll be as poor as a temple mouse.”

“Learn to save money.”

“Stealing is saving money.”

Erandur frowned, “I thought you had a mansion - that man you, uh,”

“Sucked off.”

“Yes. He takes care of it for you doesn’t he?”

“It’s a very little mansion.” Dyce explained. “And it’s in Windhelm. Every time I’m there for more than a day or two Ulfric keeps sending me invitations to the palace. And he words them so snottily; he’s not High King yet.”

“Do you respond?” Erandur asked curiously.

“No, I get Calder to write excuses. I don’t like being obliged and he’s more inventive than I am. More importantly, I’d be letting the guild down if I stopped stealing.”

“Do they need to know? Think of it as a challenge - keep the money flowing but earn it honestly.”

Dyce folded his arms, “You’re a cunning old bastard, aren’t you? Okay, say I somehow manage to stay afloat. What else do I need to do?”

“I think you should learn to pray. It’s not enough to vaguely embody the ideals of your goddess - accurately or not - you need a closer relationship. Unfortunately, I don’t have a shrine.”

“Ah! I have a statue of her. Would that work? I uh...stole it.”

Erandur sighed, “Well, it’s better than nothing.”

They set the statue near the shrine of Mara, and Dyce dedicated some gold and various alchemy ingredients that he had in his bag to her. Then Erandur told him to kneel, and pray.

Erandur had endless patience, and he needed it because Dyce was bored within five minutes. He’d never liked this sort of thing; he could always sense something more interesting was going on elsewhere; it was like being six again. Erandur watched him, and when he saw his mind wandering sometimes he’d encourage him to take a break and rest his knees, and other times he’d reprimand him.

“Did your priests of Mara do this to you?” Dyce asked.

“Many, many times,” Erandur said.

They spent all day at it, and didn’t get very far. When Erandur bowed his head for his evening prayers, Dyce watched more closely, studying the old Dunmer’s face, the way his lips moved, the light in his eyes when he opened them again.

“It’s like you’re having a proper conversation with someone you love and who loves you.”

“I am.”

“How do you know that? It’s not as if she actually answers you.”

Erandur smiled sadly, “You can feel it. That’s what you’re missing, Dyce. Faith that you are loved.”

Dyce shook his head, “No, I know I’m loved, believe me.”

“You know what it’s like to cut yourself off.”

“I don’t do that. I just keep it to myself.”

“Then learn to share.” Their voices were getting louder as the theological discussion became closer to an argument. “Dyce,” Erandur tried again, “you need to trust her to love you. Anyway, I’m running out of food so let’s eat at the inn tonight and try again tomorrow.”

Dyce nodded, and they adjourned.

Re: 'Redemption: It's a Love Story' M!DB/Erandur 5/??

[(Anonymous)]

Later, on the way back up the hill to the temple, Dyce touched Erandur’s sleeve, “I do appreciate this. More than I can say.” He smiled a bit ruefully, reflecting that Erandur had told him similar things in the past.

The priest smiled, “I know. I understand. You’ll be fine; you’re a bit stubborn, but you are not in as deep as I was. If there’s hope for me, there’s more than enough hope for you.”

The next day dawned crisp and clear, and the instruction continued. “You need to love Dibella for her, not because you’re scared of Nocturnal.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Worried then. Think about her; you talk about all the people you love, is she one of them?”

“Well-”

“Don’t tell me,” Erandur steered him back to the statue. “Tell her. I’m going down to Dawnstar to get some supplies and help where I can, so you can be alone with her for a while.”

When Erandur returned Dyce was sitting on his bedroll near the fire, whittling at a scrap of wood.

“How did it go?” he asked cautiously.

Dyce shrugged, “I don’t know. But I was thinking about it - well, I was talking to her, and well, she’s the goddess of art and love not kneeling and praying.” He held up the block of wood, a rough female outline chipped from the timber. “I thought I should try and make something. It’s not very good.”

“I think that’s a good idea, however. You are making an offering.” He smiled, “See, progress.”

“How was Dawnstar?” Dyce asked, returning to work.

“Much as it always is.”

“You know this place is really lonely without you in it. The wind keeps howling through the passages, and I keep thinking about all the people who died here. How do you stand it?”

“I do what I have to. I’m not lonely; I have Mara.”

“You deserve better than this,” Dyce said, scowling at his carving.

“No,” Erandur started putting away the supplies he’d acquired. “One thing I am sure of, it’s what I deserve.”

“This isn’t right,” Dyce tossed the carving aside and got to his feet. “Erandur, you are a good man.” He stepped over and held his upper arms and peered into his deep red eyes. “You’ve done so much to help people; I’m sure Mara wouldn’t want you to keep punishing yourself like this.”

“It’s not a punishment, it’s a penance.” Erandur smiled at him. “You are good hearted, but you should return to work.”

Deflated, Dyce returned to his spot by the fire. “Dear Dibella,” he said loudly, “Please let Erandur have some more fun in his life; perhaps a holiday, or a pet rabbit.”

Erandur just smiled and shook his head.

“Do I have to say the right words?” Dyce asked later. “I can barely remember some of the prayers.”

“I find the rhythms and ritual of prayer comforting,” Erandur said. “But my way is no better than any other; if you’d rather use your own words, by all means.”

Dyce nodded and went back to carving. Erandur didn’t bother him for the rest of the day, even as he amassed a little pile of crudely carved figures. The priest cooked a seafood stew and silently put a bowl down next to Dyce, who only then seemed to remember he was hungry. Eventually Erandur went to bed, still hearing the crisp sound of steel on wood.

At night the oppressive nature of Nightcaller Temple was even more pronounced, and Dyce eventually put his carving away. It was too dark to see well anyway, and he didn’t want to use up Erandur’s stock of firewood any more than he already had.

He got to his feet and padded over to Erandur’s living area. There was just enough light left for him to see Dunmer, his dark, greying hair spread out across the pillow. He’d been so startled the first time Erandur had flung his hood back. He was so striking Dyce had just stared at him for a few moments.

Now he watched him again, the lined face slightly slack with sleep, he looked peaceful. Dyce had not forgotten how highly Erandur had prized a sleep free of nightmares; that at least, was something. Not enough. Dyce looked around the tiny area and shivered. He still didn’t like this place.

He put Nightingale armour back on - it seemed appropriate - and went out into the snow to escape the atmosphere. He looked up at the night sky.

“I’m sorry,” he said, puffing steam with each word. “I said it because I had to; I didn’t really mean it.” He took a deep breath and smiled. He stayed out watching the aurora until the sun rose.

Re: 'Redemption: It's a Love Story' M!DB/Erandur 6/??

[(Anonymous)]

Erandur was already awake and communing with Mara when Dyce returned to the temple, and he didn’t interrupt him.

Instead Dyce knelt in front of the golden statue. He didn’t raise his hands or bow his head, he just smiled, looking into the Divine’s sightless golden eyes directly. “Lady, I’m yours,” he said softly. “Always have been.”

Erandur broke off his prayers and actually turned to look at him for a moment, something like pride on his face.

“You’re freezing,” Erandur said, putting the back of his hand against Dyce’s cheek. The prayers were done, the Divines honoured. “Come back to the fire and have something warm. What were you doing out there? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Thinking, I suppose.” Dyce touched his own cheek absentmindedly. “I’ve always felt certain about myself, you know? I was me, like or hate me. After Nocturnal, I didn’t feel right; like I’d strayed off the path and was someone else.”

“How do you feel now?” Erandur asked.

“Really tired,” Dyce said. “But also, that things are right again. If it’s all right with you, I think I’ll stay here a bit longer and sleep.”

“You are welcome to stay as long as you like,” Erandur said. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re back on the right path. Well done.” Rather awkwardly, he wrapped an arm around Dyce’s shoulders, and Dyce resisted the urge to kiss him; unfettered happiness, even if it was for another, was a rare thing to see on Erandur’s face. Worth celebrating as much as his own redemptions.

Although Dyce slept well for most of the day, he didn’t want to stay another night at the temple, and after Erandur shared his dinner with him again, he rolled up his bedroll and repacked it.

“I think I’ll take the boat across to Solitude,” he said. “If I’m going to make money honestly, I might go back to the Bard’s College and beg for more work. It didn’t work last time, but a man can dream.”

“You can sing?” Erandur asked.

Dyce flashed him a grin, “Nope. Lets hope they don’t find out too quickly.”

“I still think,” Erandur said, as he followed Dyce out towards the entrance. “You need to share your feelings more. I know, I know what you said, but it would be nice if you could trust people more.”

Dyce shook his head, “You think I should just tell them? It’s not a good idea. It just isn’t.”

“You might be surprised.”

Dyce ran his hand over his head and looked back over his shoulder at faithful, kind Erandur. As much as he appreciated him, sometimes his attitude irritated him; goddess of love or not, what would a priest of Mara know?

“All right,” he said, looking the Dunmer in the eye. “I love you.” Instantly he regretted it; after all Erandur had done for him, this was how he repaid him? Erandur’s eyes widened in shock; Dyce had been entirely sincere.

He could take some small comfort from the fact that at least he’d made his point, and he hefted his pack onto his back.

“Do you really?” Erandur asked.

Dyce laughed, although he didn’t find it funny, “How could I not?”

Erandur was silent for a while, and Dyce heaved a sigh and went to leave again.

“If that’s the case.” Erandur’s voice brought him up short. “Why am I the only man in the province you haven’t taken to bed?”

Dyce turned and stared at Erandur, who raised his eyebrows. He had to wonder how difficult it had been to say. He met Dyce’s gaze without flinching but Dyce noticed his fingers twitching a bit nervously.

Dyce slid his pack off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to,” Dyce said. “And I felt too guilty about it to ask.” He stepped forward, warily, like it might be some sort of trick. He just didn’t think Erandur even operated on this level.

“Do you want to?” Erandur asked.

Dyce practically tripped over his own feet as he stepped over to the priest. He slid his hands along that bearded jawline and breathed against his mouth, “More than I can say.” He kissed him, hungrily - and recklessly, as he knew what Erandur could do with his bare hands when threatened.

But he cast no magic. Instead, Erandur closed his eyes and stood there, letting Dyce bite sweetly and carefully at his lips, savouring him.

~~~
A/N: Sorry folks, only one part today. I was at the dentist’s and probably couldn’t do Erandur justice right now.

Re: 'Redemption: It's a Love Story' M!DB/Erandur 7/9

[(Anonymous)]

Dyce pulled back, suddenly wary. This was too unreal. “Erandur,” he said. “Are you sur-”

“Dyce, stop.” Erandur reached up and wrapped his fingers around Dyce’s hands. “I want you to do one last thing for me. Trust me. And yourself.”

“That’s two things,” Dyce pointed out. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.”

Erandur released his hands and turned and walked back to his little living area. Dyce followed silently. Erandur knelt and threw some more wood on the fire, and poked it back into a blaze, chasing the chill to the corners of the room.

For all Erandur’s words, Dyce still wasn’t entirely confident, and he just waited - for Erandur to change his mind, or for something else. I’m not going to chase you, he vowed, not going to seduce.

Erandur stood next to his bed, his back to Dyce, and Dyce could hear him unbuckle his robes. And then he pushed his hood back of his head, but didn’t stop there. his collar parted and the heavy material fell from his shoulders, gathering at his elbows. Dyce could see the bumps and dips of his spine, and his shoulderblades, a suspicion of ribs.

Erandur looked over his shoulder briefly, and then turned to face Dyce.

“I wonder what you see,” he said quietly. The hair on his chest and arrowing down to his pants was thickly sprinkled with grey.

“I see you,” Dyce said.

“Do you want to touch me?” he asked.

Dyce grinned, “Well, yes. Of course. Do you want to touch me?”

Erandur gave him a slightly helpless smile, “You are so beautiful.”

Dyce took that as a yes. He was neither slow nor uncertain as for the second time here he took of his Nightingale Armour, this time without ceremony, leaving it in an untidy heap in front of Erandur’s fire - keeping it warm. Erandur sat on the bed, still half clothed, and watched him.

“Ta da,” Dyce said, spreading his hands. “Whaddaya think?”

“I think you’re very generous,” Erandur said, his gaze lingering on the planes of Dyce’s chest and stomach, and the way he held himself naked exactly the same way as he held himself clothed.

Dyce sighed, and walked over to Erandur and put a knee either side of his thighs, and sat in his lap. “I’m not doing you a favour, you know.” He ran his fingers through Erandur’s long hair, and along his ears as Erander placed his hands on Dyce’s chest. He explored gently, touching old scars with far older hands.

The end of Dyce’s cock occasionally touched Erandur’s stomach, and he could feel the elf stirring beneath him also, but he wasn’t even sure this was about that. Eventually Erandur wrapped his arms around him to feel his back and then just hold him. Dyce could feel his beard against his chest, the warmth of each breath on his stomach.

“It’s been so long since I’ve done this,” Erandur said.

“That’s okay.”

“I want.” Dyce could almost feel him bunch up his courage. “I want to feel someone inside me again.”

Dyce leaned back in surprise, looking down into Erandur’s eyes; that wasn’t what he’d expected from the old priest. His cock was far less nuanced and pressed against Erandur’s soft stomach.

“If you don’t like, I mean-”

“No no, I like. I like. I was just a bit surprised.” Dyce looked over his shoulder. “Um. Give me a second, I’ve got stuff in my pack. I’ll be right back.”

If Erandur had changed his mind in the time it had taken Dyce to hop shiveringly away from the fire and out to the entrance past the shrines to where he’d left his pack and back again, he wouldn’t have been entirely surprised. But when he hurried back to the warmth Erandur had shed his robe entirely, and was sitting on the bed in his smalls.

“Fuck it’s cold out there.” Dyce practically leapt in beside him and resisted the urge to bundle himself up in the blankets.

“It looked like it was going to snow earlier,” Erandur said.

“I’ll keep you warm,” Dyce promised, even though he’d been the one to complain. He showed Erandur the bottle he’d retrieved from his pack and Erandur nodded and handed it back to him before taking off the last of his clothes and lying back on the bed.

Re: 'Redemption: It's a Love Story' M!DB/Erandur 8/9

[(Anonymous)]

Dyce stretched out beside him, it was his turn to explore. Erandur closed his eyes and sighed appreciatively as Dyce bit gently at his shoulders and chest and stomach.

“I’m not too old?” he asked eventually.

Dyce looked at the way gravity had reworked his muscles and bones, the grey hairs, the blemishes - the wiry strength, the lines on his face. “Actually it’s kind of hot,” Dyce said, pressing his lips to one of Erandur’s hipbones.

Erandur propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at Dyce, who was eyeing the Dunmer’s long, narrow cock with a pleased smile. “What? Why?” he asked.

Dyce’s gaze flicked back up to meet Erandur’s. “I dunno. It just is. Your skin is soft.” He ran a hand up Erandur’s side. “You’re like a work of art now; life has sculpted you.” He clambered over Erandur’s leg and settled down, crouched between his knees. “And you know, it’s forbidden. You’re supposed to respect your elders, listen to them, treat them like valuable old books. But here I am,” he grinned, and stretched out a hand, “playing with your balls instead. It’s so inappropriate.”

“Uh.” Erandur just made a soft sound and sank back against the pillow, his hips lifting slightly and his balls tightening under Dyce’s gentle handling. His hand slipped further back, and Erandur spread his legs, inviting, and Dyce rested a finger on the puckered skin, feeling it twitch.

“You sure about this?” Dyce asked again.

Erandur reached down and messed his hair affectionately, “Yes.”

Dyce still had the little bottle clasped in his other hand and he took out the cork with his teeth and spat it somewhere onto the floor. Maybe it was overkill, but he’d use the whole thing.

As it turned out it probably was overkill. Erandur relaxed so much he started going soft, and that prompted Dyce to ask if he was sending him to sleep again. Erandur just chuckled, tightening involuntarily around Dyce’s fingers, and told him he was doing a fine job.

He firmed up again when Dyce took his fingers away, and Erandur propped himself up to watch as Dyce upended the bottle over his cock and smeared himself down before edging forward and pressing himself against Erandur’s entrance.

“Good?”

“Yes.”

“Still good?”

“Still yes.” Erandur’s eyes were heavy-lidded but he kept watching, his cock twitching and his hands flexing gently against the blankets.

“Still good?”

“For Mara’s sake, Dyce just- ungh!”

Dyce just did. He held himself still, turning his attention back to Erandur’s face. Erandur flopped back again and wrapped his boney legs around Dyce’s hips. Dyce noticed he had rough patches on his knees, from all the time he spent praying. Erandur smiled at him, and reached up and kneaded at his shoulders. Dyce put his weight on one arm, and wrapped his other hand around Erandur’s cock.

He started to move then, both his hips and his hand, and Erandur flexed beneath him, his breathing harsh and ragged. Dyce watched the way the muscles moved under his skin, trying to find the rhythm he liked best, the one that made him gasp and close his eyes.

Dyce was soon gasping too. There was nothing fancy about it, just that he was buried in a kind and beautifully weathered elf whom he loved. Dyce thought he could feel Erandur start to come, the way the breath burst from his lips in great gasps, the way he flexed and shuddered each time Dyce drove his hips forward. His legs tightened around Dyce’s waist and Dyce moved faster, harder and Erandur’s fingers dug into his shoulders, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Erandur!” Dyce said urgently, managing to spit the name out between gritted teeth.

“Yes,” Erandur groaned, rocking his hips up to meet him. “Yes, come on.”

And Dyce did. He threw his head back and blasphemed, and shuddered and released deep inside, gasping for air. He was there for seconds, completely lost, and then with a groan he relaxed, and Erandur winced as he unwound his legs. Dyce finally took the weight off his arm, and collapsed face-first on top of Erundur, the elf’s chest hair tickling his nose, the grey skin beneath him slightly clammy with sweat.

Erandur wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him.

“You are gorgeous,” he said.

Dyce raised his hand and looked at it. “You didn’t come?” he asked.

Re: 'Redemption: It's a Love Story' M!DB/Erandur 9/9 +tags

[(Anonymous)]

Erandur sighed. “Ah, no. It’s difficult for me sometimes,” he muttered. He didn’t look all that happy about it.

Dyce detached himself as gently as he could and took his weight off Erandur. “Do you want to do it for yourself?” he asked. Erandur didn’t reply, but he didn’t look enthusiastic either; he looked annoyed at himself.

“It’s all right,” Dyce said. “I mean, is it all right?”

“It’s fine,” Erandur muttered. He smiled, “I enjoyed it. Honestly.”

Dyce raised an eyebrow. “Hm. Would you like me to suck it?”

Erandur met his gaze for a moment and looked away again. “If you would like.”

“Course I’d like. Just a moment.” He did his best to clean himself up a bit before curling his legs up to fit on the bed and propping himself up on the arm that was least tired. Erandur was going soft again and Dyce stroked and kissed his cock until he wasn’t, and then he lowered his mouth onto it as far as he could, and Erandur gasped.

Erandur hummed and stroked Dyce’s head and undulated up against his mouth as Dyce sucked and squeezed his cock. It didn’t take as long as he’d expected for Erandur to be choking on his name and fisting his fingers in his hair, and then Dyce was choking as Erandur apparently took himself by surprise and came down the back of Dyce’s throat with a hoarse shout. Dyce swallowed, sucked, and swallowed again, before raising his head and meeting Erandur’s tired, happy smile with a cat-got-cream grin of his own.

He crawled up to lie beside him and they pulled the blankets up. Erandur was too tired to talk, and he draped an arm over Dyce and started snoring almost immediately. After sleeping all day, Dyce wasn’t as tired, and he lay awake for a while longer, watching Erandur sleep.

When Erandur woke up, he looked utterly bewildered for a few moments.

“Hello,” Dyce said.

“Hello. Oh, right.” He smiled and then tried to sit up and winced.

“Are you all right?” Dyce looked at him worriedly. “How’s the arse?”

“The arse is fine,” Erandur frowned. “My legs feel like they’re about to drop off.” He straightened them and winced again.

“Maybe you should stay in bed today,” Dyce suggested.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine. I have to get up and pray anyway.”

He started to get up and Dyce seized him around the middle and pulled him back into bed.

“Just a moment.” He released him and ran a hand over his hair. “We should probably, you know, discuss-”

“Dyce. I told you to trust me. Go.” He regarded him with a compassionate look and then leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Just come back and visit sometime.”

Dyce released a breath he thought he might have been holding all night. “Okay. But I don’t think you should stay here any more. This place is just too-”

“Dyce.” Something in his tone made Dyce shut up. “I neither demand, nor even want you to change your nature. This life I lead has been hard won; don’t ask me to change it.”

Dyce folded his arms. “That’s a low blow.” He sighed, “All right. What if I need your help?”

“Then you need only lead, and I’ll follow. Breakfast?”

“Oh. Thank you. Wait, let me get it.”

Erandur prayed, Dyce cooked, and they ate in companionable silence.

“Go with the blessings of Mara,” Erandur said formally, when Dyce was once again standing at the door.

“Dibella bless you too,” Dyce said with far less gravitas.

A faint smile drifted across Erandur’s face. “I think she already did that,” he said quietly.

Dyce looked at him for a moment and then laughed. “You might be right.” They stepped into a cold cloudy day, and walked down the hill before separating, Erandur turning towards Dawnstar, and Dyce the open road.

Tags: series:dyce char:M!DB char:Erandur relationship:slash race:Breton race:Dunmer kink:angst kink:anal kink:blowjob kink:realistic_sex kink:age_gap (not yet a tag but maybe we should have one?)

Mead and Sympathy M!DB/Brynjolf 1/6

[(Anonymous)]

Summary: Dyce and Brynjolf have a long overdue conversation about life, Mercer, and just why they haven’t fucked each other’s brains out.

Brynjolf bent over the ledger, his hands flat on the table as he stared at the inked numbers intently. He didn’t look up as Dyce strolled over, the Breton carrying a bottle of mead in each hand.

“Not now, lad. I’m busy.”

Dyce was silent for a few moments and he took a swig from one of the bottles.

“No you’re not,” he said. “Those numbers aren’t going to get any bigger just because you’re staring at them. Have a drink.” He placed the other bottle down on the ledger in front of Brynjolf’s face.

Brynjolf picked up the bottle, partly in case it spilled and made the ink run. “I’m not interested in becoming one of your conquests, lad.”

Dyce narrowed his eyes, distinctly unimpressed by that remark, but he guessed the Nord was just trying to get him to leave. Brynjolf wielded words like a blade sometimes. “That’s both cheap and beneath you, Bryn. You know it’s not like that.” He waited a few more moments. “We think you’re working too hard. Vex suggested I try and loosen you up.”

Brynjolf finally looked up at that remark, one eyebrow raised. Dyce merely shrugged and smirked. “That’s what she said.”

“Right,” Brynjolf said, straightening up from the ledger and taking a drink. “Where have you been anyway? Ever since the key business you’ve made yourself scarce.” He flicked his gaze towards the shrine to Nocturnal. “She scare you off?”

“Yeah,” Dyce said quietly and without hesitation. “It’s been a bit of a crisis of faith, if I’m honest.”

Brynjolf looked around the Cistern, but early evening was the quiet time; everyone was out drinking or working. Nevertheless he kept his voice down, moving around the table to stand next to Dyce, who was leaning on it like it was a bar.

“Really, lad? And how did you resolve it?”

Dyce fished around down the high collar of his Nightingale Armour and pulled on a chain, revealing the Amulet of Dibella that hung around his neck. “As it turned out, another lady had a prior claim.”

“As easy as that, huh?”

“To be honest it wasn’t that easy. At all.” He smiled, “I had some help.”

“What you went and saw a priest?” Brynjolf snorted.

“Yes,” Dyce said, and gave him a broad smile. “I highly recommend it.”

“That’s the trouble, isn’t it?” Brynjolf didn’t return the smile. “I never considered myself religious.”

“That’s the beauty of it though,” Dyce said. “You can’t serve against your will. Even Mercer managed to get out of it.”

Brynjolf exhaled, “Mercer. If we’re going to talk about him, I need another drink.”

“I can understand that.” Dyce took his weight off the table and carried the empty bottles back to the Flagon. When he returned he had two in each hand, to save him another trip later. Brynjolf at least hadn’t gone back to his ledgering, instead leaning he was against the table his arms folded across his chest as he stared moodily at the statue of Nocturnal.

Dyce placed two of the bottles on the table and handed one to Brynjolf.

“What a mess,” the Nord muttered. “He really dropped us in it. You did a good thing by getting rid of him.”

Dyce wandered over to the edge of the water and shook his head, “It didn’t feel good. Don’t get me wrong, it had to be done, and if I’d hesitated he’d have gutted me. Again.”

“I’d have thought after all he did you’d have hated him,” Byrnjolf commented, watching the back of Dyce’s head.

“I’m not very good at hating people,” Dyce said, glancing over his shoulder with a smile. It faded. “That wasn’t it, though.” He looked back at the water. “I liked him. Divines help me, I liked him.”

Brynjolf coughed around a mouthful of mead. “Don’t tell me you and he...”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t about that,” Dyce waved a hand dismissively. “Ah.” He shrugged. What had Erandur said? Be more honest. He turned and walked back to where Brynjolf was leaning against the table. “I didn’t know my parents. I don’t miss them or anything, but Mercer was the kind of bastard I imagine my father would have been.”

Another Self-Fill: Defiling the Emperor - 1/7

[(Anonymous)]

More Martin Septim/Alix de Feu.

Tags for Delicious:
kink:anal, kink:erogenous_zone, kink:fingering, kink:oral, kink:realistic_sex
relationship:slash
char:M!PC, char:martin
race:Breton, race:Imperial
es:oblivion

summary: Martin Septim asks his lover Alix to do something which Emperors aren't supposed to want.

I'm not sure whether this story counts as forbidden affection or role-reversal (see the discussion halfway down the story where Alix talks about how it's normally the older, more experienced, higher-ranking man who does the penetrating). If so, then add those kinks as well.

Notes: I normally try to anchor my pornier fics at some point during the Oblivion main questline, but this story popped into my mind fully-formed. It's sometime after Taking the Nine in Vain, and before the Battle of Bruma in the game: since Martin's still busy translating the Mysterium Xarxes.

It is still unfortunate that our world lacks spells and potions of Cure Disease. Please use safer sex.

This story contains precisely 23 words of dialogue from the game. The rest is all mine.

---

When I next returned to Cloud Ruler Temple, I was entirely unsurprised to find Martin sitting at his usual table with an even bigger collection of books and some alchemy equipment. In fact, he was now consulting so many references that he'd had to acquire a second table to store them on. He was staring at the Mysterium Xarxes, dark circles back under his eyes; if anything, paler than ever before. He looked drained and unwell.

I walked up to him quietly. "Martin?"

He glanced up, and relief flooded his face. He hastily snapped the book shut, before standing and pulling me into a tight hug. We embraced freely, uncaring of any Blades or visitors to the Temple who might be watching. He lightly kissed my damp hair, breathing in the smells I'd acquired during travel, and my own scent underneath it. His face was unshaven, giving him a seedy air on top of his obvious exhaustion. The stubble rasped against my cheeks as he kissed me on the lips, and he sighed – a drawn-out sigh which seemed to cover a range of emotions.

"You're not sleeping again, are you?". I hardly even needed to make it a question. It was midday, yet he looked as though he'd been up all night.

"No." He shuddered. "The Xarxes... it clouds my mind and haunts my dreams like nothing I've ever experienced..."

"Do you need distracting from your work?". I intended to seduce him because he so clearly needed it, but I wasn't sure whether he'd been concentrating on anything before I turned up. Or whether he'd be able to regain his concentration span now that I was here.

His blue eyes closed, and he shuddered again in my arms – though this time, with arousal rather than fear. I could feel his need, pressed hard against my belly. "Please...". He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of my hair again, before stepping back, suddenly businesslike. "You're soaking. Go upstairs and get those wet clothes off. I'll be right with you." He nodded, and almost ran in the direction of the bathrooms.

I went up to the Emperor's bedchamber, to the horror of Cyrus, the Redguard Blade who guarded the door in the daytime. "Oh no," he groaned. "Why are you coming to bed now?"

I laughed. "I'm sorry. I just arrived, and His Highness ordered me up here. What am I supposed to do?"

"Gods," muttered Cyrus. "You're going to be making noises... and I have to listen out for potential assassins. Why couldn't you go to bed at night like normal people?"

I shrugged. "You've seen Martin today, I take it? When was the last time he slept? He's not a normal person, he's the Emperor, and this is a time of crisis. You should be glad that I'm able to give him relief..."

"Shut up!" yelled Cyrus, interrupting me. "I don't want to hear it. Just... get in there and do what you have to do. I'll be out here dying of embarrassment."