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

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This anon mostly wants a female Nord Dragonborn to piss Ondolemar off with Talos worship and for him to back her into a very sexual corner.

Specifics/kinks: dubcon, fingering, height difference, fight for dominance, frequent racial/religious insults from both parties. Anything else is probably okay (bondage, light bloodplay, whatever) but feces/urine/gore is a please-no

Bonus points: Dragonborn eventually gets upper hand but dubcon has turned to fullcon and she stays to finish what he started.
The sentence, "I can make you come with two fingers, whore of Talos" (from Ondolemar, obviously)

Please and thank you; I will gift you with a free butt touch voucher if you fill this *U*

I second this :D

Somebody....FOR THE LOVE OF MARA PLEASE FILL THIS. I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER AND GIVE YOU A LIFETIME SUPPLY OF DELICIOUS INTERNET COOKIES.

YES! THIS MUST HAPPEN! Nobody writes any fanfiction about the high elf characters. Especially poor Ondolemar :'(

I DEMAND THIS

Want... want so badly.

But too many work in progress prompts hnnngh.

mFFFFFFFFF somebody fill this for the love of kyne

I totally planned on writing something like this! It doesn't feature the Dragonborn, but it has plenty of racial tension! Can I steal that line? It gives me a whole new angle to work with! I love dubcon and noncon, I will make it dubcon though.

Oh! I AM SO ON THIS! I am filling out another Prompt right now, but give me a few days, and I will give you Ondolemar goodness :DD

Maren wasn’t particularly fond of Markarth.

Born and raised in Ivarstead, she had a natural predilection for its delicate landscapes and simple life, punctuated by the passing of seasons and pilgrimages to High Hrothgar. The main city of the Reach had nothing of the familiar and reassuring beauty of her village. It was tainted, gloomy and severe, plenty of dark recesses where conspirators and cutthroats lurked, and it gave her a sense of uneasiness that she couldn’t shrug off. She wondered how the citizens could call “houses” those chambers dug out in the mountain side, let alone live in there.

Actually, Maren didn’t like Markarth at all.

If she willingly passed too much of her time surrounded by its stone walls, it was for a single reason.
A reason with a name. Ondolemar.

He was the first Justiciar she had ever been introduced to and despite the usual distrust her people had towards the Dominion soldiers, she had immediately felt the urge to reason with the Altmer and make him aware of how wrong and ridiculous his beliefs were. In all honesty Maren couldn’t say if it had been a poor attempt to improve her diplomatic skills or a genuine need to understand why his supposed knowledgeable and refined race was so keen on spilling Nord blood for an issue concerning religion. She believed in the Nines and as long as she could praise her own Gods she couldn’t care less, nor she would be outraged as the Thalmor plainly were, if others had faith in something else.
She hadn’t expected him to easily accept her requests but his condescension, even if he was undoubtedly intelligent, was a wall too thick to break with words. This left her with only one solution: readjusting her initial purpose and simply bothering him whenever she had the chance. And if there was something Maren wasn’t lacking, that was resolve.

A strange kind of routine had formed in the last months. It consisted in keeping Ondolemar from his duty, deliberately delaying his mission, reporting imaginary infractions of the ban, even intercepting his personal correspondence to warn in time the victims of his persecution.
He always managed to resist the temptation to cast a lightning bolt to her face but Maren could see in his eyes the effort he made to hide his hate, the evident disdain, for her and for her kind.

And she liked it.

Seeing his distress was rather satisfying for it was something rare to witness, since Thalmor were known either to react numbly or with a sadistic brutality. They were arrogant and quick to settle differences with violence, when sly words were not enough, but usually they all had an unflappable, composed façade that shielded them from the pettiness of other creatures. They strolled around Tamriel to fulfill their role on Nirn, showing their statuesque bodies but keeping their liveliness well hidden, like a jewel too precious to be taken out of the confines of a strongbox and shared with the rest of the world. They had to spend a lot of time and energy to maintain this control over their inner emotions, which they probably mastered in the long span of their lives, but whenever it failed them..seeing him driven by something so trivial as rage and still struggling to remain unfazed, for Maren it felt like knocking him off his pedestal and throw him among the unworthy mortals.

It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. And so she pushed him constantly.

When Maren passed through the imposing bronze gate of Understone Keep, her feet, as if they had a mind of their own, carried her straight to Ondolemar. There he was, just where she thought him to be, walking stiffly without guards at his side. He was the Head of the Justiciars but still he acted like a soldier on watch, silently searching for possible threats.
She took her time climbing the stone stairs, observing his proud strut and how the golden embroidery of his robes caught the light of the torches at every step. Saying that he looked completely out of place among the debris of the ancient keep was an understatement. Ondolemar stopped abruptly, sensing someone behind his back. Before turning towards the late visitor who was approaching him, he breathed heavily. Somehow he simply knew it was the Nord woman.

She saw the cold indifference of his eyes as they travelled on her figure, slowly, from her boots to her face, assessing her entire being as if she was nothing more than merchant’s ware, unworthy of her price.
They say that a look could kill but his could certainly speak, and not of pleasant things.
Every time he stared at her like that, Maren swore she was able to read his thoughts, which probably were a list of the physical traits he most despised about her race enriched by suggestive attributes. If she focused enough, she could even imagine his presumptuous voice in her head commenting about unremarkable white skin, hair combed with inane braids or ridiculous war paint that gave away their barbaric nature.
She loved to mock him in not-so-subtle ways but he only reciprocated with ill-concealed irritation. Maren, despite her small appreciation for the city, was known at Igmund’s court and apparently this knowledge was enough for Ondolemar to restrain himself from going further than ill looks and the occasional crosstalk.
He decided to remain silent and let his annoyance speak on his behalf.

“First Justiciar Ondolemar! How come your guards are not with you? Are they on a mission?”

“This is an information that I would share, if I wasn’t aware that a certain someone would use it to interfere in my work”

“I see that even in the late hours you patrol the hall of Understone Keep”

“Yes, and even if I appreciate such a demonstration of acute perspicacity, I’m afraid I must go back to my duty”

Fake pleasantries were the thing she enjoyed the most between them. He excelled in the field, she had to admit it - a life among diplomats and noblemen of Alinor had surely paid well - but even if she was used to Nord bluntness, or maybe because of that, she really found his peculiar eloquence amusing. He always managed to give a comeback which never failed to be elegantly insulting.
In fact, if his tart replies were an indication of his current mood, Maren could tell that he was already irritated by her mere presence.

“Oh apologies, I wasn’t aware that parading in front of the Mournful Throne was considered 'Justiciar duty'” his eyebrow immediately raised at her words. She had learned it was one of the trademarks of patience running out, one of the few Ondolemar allowed to show, like the imperceptible sneer of his lips or the occasional twitch of his fist.
“But maybe Talos worshippers nestle among this very walls..” she left her sentence trail off suggestively and started to play with her necklace, making a show of looking for hidden heretics whit swift movements of her head.

That’s when he saw it, that familiar, silvery amulet tied around her neck which her fingers were touching reverently.

An amulet of Talos.

That vision, along with her words, immediately changed the mood in the empty hall. Maren tensed, watching him staring at her neck. She did it on purpose, of course, it was just another way to taunt him but the reaction she got was quite unexpected.

He stayed unnaturally still, like one of the machineries that embellished the museum of the Keep. The only signs that betrayed the resemblance with those dwemer artifacts were his finely tailored robes and his gaze. It became intent, focused on her, searching for something that she couldn’t place. It was the first time he was actually looking at her and he seemed genuinely shocked. Never before he had showed this kind of emotion so openly. Her jabs, no matter how much acridity she used, were nothing more than an annoying fly that he could chase away with a wave of his hand.
Few awkward moments of silence passed and Maren decided she had had enough of the silent treatment.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to stare?”

Her voice seemed to drag Ondolemar back to his senses but the look he gave her made Maren promptly regret her words. He was always fractious but this furious expression was a novelty.

Maren never saw his hand rise and close around her neck like a bear trap.

He held her at arm’s length for a second, just the time to see the bafflement on her face, before dragging her like a sack of potatoes along the corridor and out of sight. He shoved her behind the corner and pinned her there, a trophy hanging from the wall. Maren didn’t have time to realize what was happening. His other hand went dangerously near her eyes, the air filled with electricity, raising the hair on her neck, and the pulsing blue light and sparks of a shock spell came into her field of view.

“How dare you..” he hissed “how dare you trifle with me, pursuing this abomination?”

Like she had done a few moments before, his words had the power to provoke a reaction.

“And who are you to force your will on my people?”

“I am a member of the Dominion” he was shuddering with rage and indignation.

“This means that you are nothing”

“I suggest you to forswear your fake God if you want to get out of here on your legs”

“I have another suggestion. Why don’t you go to Oblivion and praise your own damned Gods?”

The hold on her neck tightened and her vision blurred.

“Unwise words. No, I think I will remain here and just kill you, heretic.”
She instinctively gave a look of confusion and fear. He wanted to murder her?
“Whatever gave you the impression that you could hide forever behind your connections is a complete delusion. This city has a thirst for blood, I can provide it a taste of yours and get rid of what remains of your corpse. So many people long for your death, Nord.. Forsworn, mercenaries, Imperials.. ”

“Thalmor scum!” Maren tried to struggle but it was a futile attempt. She wasn’t frail nor weak but he was taller and, as she had discovered in the worst possible way, he didn’t need the bulky frame of a seasoned warrior to have a steely grip.
Ondolemar didn’t even react at her insult and panic took possession of rational thoughts. If he wasn’t going to stop, he would strangle her to death.
She squirmed even more, kicking and trying to push him away. Her hands were frantic and her efforts, combined with the lack of air, were gradually losing strength. He didn’t let go of his vicious grip but he was clearly struggling to keep her still and quiet. If he really had intention to kill her he wanted to be certain that the crime remained hidden from the prying eyes of the Court.
Her body was too close to his to be considered appropriate and the wheezes that were escaping her mouth only served to stoke up his rage even more.
She had humiliated him, rubbing in his face her disrespect, her provocations, her faith in the false God, her mere being.

The anger in his eyes told Maren that he would return the favor.

His free hand lowered until it laid on her chest, squeezing hard her left breast. She bolted her eyes on him.

“W-What are you doing? Let go of me!”

In response to her insistence, he pressed himself to her body even more and Maren caught the scent of his skin. This sudden intimacy felt wrong and unnatural. There had always been at least five steps separating them during their previous conversations, like an invisible glass that prevented them to truly interact. They had never touched and now he was literally hovering over her, like a looming shadow.

“You are going to behave just like the inferior creature that you are” he whispered

Her throat was sore, her mouth dry as if a fistful of sand had been shoved in it. Maren found it difficult to speak and she wanted, she craved, to tell him so many things. About families split apart and people disappearing in the night only to be found as battered bodies on the side of the roads, or the feeling of being stripped of identity and the disappointment she felt, with him and herself, for having thought him capable of understanding. To Oblivion with mockeries, this was beyond it. Tears were stinging her eyes and she felt a fool, for she knew the he was enjoying it.

Let him enjoy this, then.

She raised her head, meeting his gaze. She held it for a moment, wanting him to appreciate the deliberateness of her action. And then she spat on his solemn cheekbone.
She gave a hoarse chuckle as his face produced the most unguarded and bewildered expression she had ever seen. But he recomposed immediately and, with an unspoken challenge, he looked at her with the same determination before shoving his tongue in her mouth.

Maren moaned angrily, fisting his robes, hitting him on his chest. She tried to bite him, to chop off his tongue but Ondolemar seemed to anticipate her intentions, avoiding her assaults. He moved swiftly, grinding his sharp teeth on her lips, cutting the tender skin and sucking blood, only to dip is tongue with force, chasing hers, and retreat when he felt her moving towards him. He was coaxing her into submission, stealing from her something that had to be given freely.

Through the tendrils of approaching unconsciousness, she felt his hand roughly stroking its way down her body until it reached the rim of her fur armor, fondling her naked thigh. Wearing pelts of dead animals was an uncivilized custom in his eyes and Maren always met him with that outfit for the precise reason of annoying him.

His long fingers were like spider legs, crawling on her skin. He angled his wrist and his hand raised again, palming the wet fabric that covered her mound. Without even realizing, she moaned in his mouth.
He got carried away and it clearly wasn’t something he had intended to do. As soon as he realized it, he immediately took a step back. They looked at each other like guarded animals and she could bet that they were mirroring the other’s expression, one of utter confusion and lust, asking themselves what they were doing and why.
Her breath was short, from the kiss and the pressure on her windpipe, her lips were swallowed, lightly bleeding and stinging from his previous bites.

But aside her ragged panting, the corridor was silent like a tomb. Ondolemar seemed pleased by the sight she was offering because after the brief moment of bewilderment, he approached her again, eyes filled with dark purposes, and with the tip of his tongue he licked away the blood that was staining her lips.

“You always have something to say human, but I see now that words elude your mouth” a cruel sneer marked his statement.

Her voice came out rough and sounded alien to her, as if the last time she had spoken it was a lifetime ago. “It seems to me that this human is making you aroused”

The nature of the hard bulge that was now pushing to her belly was unmistakable.

“I can make you come with two fingers, whore of Talos” he grabbed her buttocks, groping without the usual elegance that characterized his movements.

“You elves don’t even know how to pleasure your own women, let alone a true daughter of Skyrim”

“As if an animal could distinguish the difference between pleasuring and rutting”

“And I assume you know it”

“You assume correctly”

In the kiss he gave her then, there was the same urgency of before but it was more calculated, intended to give pleasure instead of instilling the idea of physical violence.

He wasn’t going to kill her, after all, but the idea of raping her should have crossed his mind.

He was playing a different game now and she was sure that it was another type of manipulation. In that moment, a conversation she had once overheard between Ondolemar and one of his guards came to her mind. They were eying the usual bustle of the market from the balcony of the Keep, looking down on others, always judgingly. They were discussing about man’s nature. “Flog them and they would remain strong in their beliefs, break their pride and they will bend like a twig in the storm” Ondolemar had said with a patronizing smile on his face that hadn’t reached his eyes.

The idea of letting her enjoy this had to be really pleasing for him. It was like a needed subtlety to make her understand her inferiority. He was just waiting for her to figure it out on her own.
But did she have a right to complain since it had been her actions to put her in this situation? Didn’t she want to force a reaction out of him? To test his limits?

Well, Talos knows if I expected this, she thought as Ondolemar gave a flat tongue lick on the side of her neck, from the dip of her collarbone up to her ear, like male sabercats did when they were ready to mate. The mental image made her shiver and to take revenge for the lustful thought and the previous choking, Maren seized the opportunity that his position was offering and bit hard on his long ear shell.

The slap on her cheek came as soon as her teeth sank in the tender cartilage.

Ops.

He threatened to cut her finger if she dared to do that again. She smiled wickedly.
In the haze of the moment nothing mattered aside conquering the other. Neither the place nor the chance of being seen was slowing them. If Maren had to be completely honest with herself, those walls built by Mer hands that spoke of blood, violence and betrayal were the perfect place for whatever they were doing to happen. This shameful thing deserved a dark corner in a dark corridor. A rough, heated fuck against carved stone. Nothing gentle or refined about it, just pride in seeing the other give in to pleasure and shame in feeling it as much.

“You are only words, Thalmor” She bit again, gentler this time, tracing with her tongue the rims and hollows of his ear. She blew on the wet skin and the action pulled a moan out of his lips.
He didn’t cut her finger as he had promised.
Maren got bolder with this knowledge and the hand that was firmly grasping his robes sneaked inside it. Her nails scratched his pale skin from his neck to his broad, hairless chest. He was slowly coming undone and she couldn’t help but feel amused and surprised by it.
Ondolemar was silently staring at her from his half-lidded eyes. She marveled at how they could mirror his emotions and let seep the truth that his entire body tried so hard to conceal. He wanted her.
Simple as that.

Maren couldn’t tell if he was more unsettled by the fact that he was lusting after a Nord, among all people, or by the idea that he wasn’t supposed to desire this.
His uneasiness was a shared feeling.
They had started this to prove that the other was eventually going to bend and in the end they have both done it. The only thing they could do was going along with whatever they had set in motion.

“Show me what you’ve got Elf”

Taunts were easy to manage. They gave a pretext to act, no thinking required.

And so he complied.

He unfastened the buckles of his pretentious robes with a rush that could almost be considered comical if it had been a different situation and a different person. He didn’t disrobe completely, of course, he just loosened the necessary amount of cloth that allowed him to free his cock.
She hooked her leg on his waist, urging him to continue. His hand ran up her thigh, collecting the wetness that, in the meantime, had started to trickle down.

He used it to slicken his cock, grasping it tightly and stroking it from the base to the tip. There was something primal and thrilling in his action, a basic need as ancient as Nirn itself that had to be satisfied. It was unadulterated instinct. Something that put them both on the same level.

As he shoved her damp smallclothes aside and pushed himself deeply and unceremoniously all the way in, Maren closed her eyes, rested her head back on the wall and exhaled, letting herself be used as he liked.

He grabbed her legs to have a better leverage and immediately started to pound for real, without wasting time in unneeded foreplays.
He fucks like a Nord, she mused. His movements were unrelenting, determined, but everything else about him was foreign to Maren. The firmness of his lean body, the angular features of his face, the aftertaste of spiced wine in his mouth, the absurd color of his eyes, a rich hue that reminded her of birch leaves in autumn. No, he was not a Nord and she realized that’s exactly this that had turned a twisted, spiteful feeling into something so deliciously right.

The sound of slapping flesh and broken sighs echoed through the empty corridor. Someone was going to hear them, eventually. They had to make it quick, and make it count.
She knew that he wanted her to come fast and bask in the sight of her undoing. She would remember this moment, she’d know whose hands had touched her in the most intimate way, the hands of the enemy. And as soon as the memory would surface in her mind, shame would follow, tainting like a blood stain on a white dress, for as long as she tried to wash it away, it would always be there. She would never be able to look at her brothers and sisters without feeling the sting of betrayal and guilt.

She wondered if Ondolemar was thinking the same thing about himself.

Maren knew she was close, the intensity of it was overwhelming, something she had rarely experienced in her previous escapades. As she felt the pressure of his forefinger and thumb, rolling and stroking between her thighs, she locked her eyes with his.

I can make you come with two fingers, whore of Talos

Smug bastard.

She grabbed his neck and arched her back from the wall, meeting his thrusts fiercely.

“I know you are close. Say it. Forswear your God and I will give you what you desperately want”

Maren’s head was the battlefield where the civil war of her senses was raging. She tried hard to endure and delay the inevitable. Not before him.

“Say it”

Ondolemar’s words were commanding but they sounded as uncontrolled as he looked. She knew right then that every barking order or resistance on her behalf was pointless. They had shed their dignity and stepped into this unexplored territory together, peeling all the layers of stubbornness, loathing, pride and differences, only to discover that underneath they were driven by the same desires.

“F-fuck you” she blurted out between gasps. It was liberating.

“No human, I fuck you”

It started from the trembling of her legs and arms, an anticipating sensation that made her oversensitive, and then, all of a sudden, she felt herself gushing and clamping around him, while he moved in her violently, without pulling out.
He circled his waist a few more times and when he lowered his head and looked at himself as he kept on entering her, now completely drenched in her fluids, he spilt biting at his bottom lip.

They breathed heavily in each others’ mouths while the arousal subsided. She could feel the burning sensation of his hands on her skin and the patter of drops falling on the floor, when he pulled out, was somehow deafening. Her legs were aching and sweating and they lost the grip they had on the smooth fabric of his robes.
Ondolemar untangled from her, buckled up, and placed several cautious steps between them, as if they could reestablish a sort of distance and a sense of boundaries, erasing what had just happened.

It seemed that shame had come to him sooner than he had expected.

“This is confiscated”

He tore off her amulet with an intentional tug and put it away in his pocket. His voice was strained with an edge of uncertainty and irritation. Maren realized that she liked him like this, disheveled and clearly disoriented. Alive, authentic.

“Be gone before I change my mind”

She watched him turn his back and hastily leave for his quarters without giving her another glance. It was a cowardly move and if someone as proud as him did that, he was definitely trying to avoid the fact that he wasn’t so unaffected as he wanted to appear.

Despite his admonition, Maren hadn’t moved an inch from where he had shoved her and she thought for a second that she could simply remain part of the wall, another decoration stratified above the ones made by the dwemer sculptors. Right now her conscience was a burden too heavy to carry and she would gladly get rid of it for a while.
The absurdity of the situation was enough to keep her mind occupied and her stomach knotted up for the next weeks.

But despite all of these conflicting sensations, she couldn’t suppress the treacherous voice in the back of her head that kept saying:

It was worth it.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tags char:ondolemar, char:F!PC, race:Nord, race:Altmer, kink:dub_con, kink:size, kink:rough_sex, kink:dirty_talk, kink:hate_sex

Hnnnnnnnnnnnghhhhhhhhhh......!!!!!

That was hot! Your writing was wonderful!

...I'll be in my bunk.

Oooh yeah. She'll be back, and we'll be waiting.

Thank you anons! I'm glad that you liked it:) -A!A

I love this so much.
idonteven<333

Must re-read!<3

Ooh hoo hoo! That was EXCELLENT, a!a. Truly, truly! Made me look at Ondolemar differently, to be sure. ;)

Very good writing. :) You should be proud of this.

That was an absolute pleasure to read. Maren seems like a cool character that I'd like to see more of her adventures. Your voice for Ondolmar was also spot on. Overall, a very good read, and I'll start crossing my fingers for a sequel, or more of her in general.

I'm very pleased to read that you liked it anons, your comments and suggestions are really helpful. I've tried to give the charachters some depth and make Maren believable. I'm actually writing something more that I will probably post it :) -A!A

I'm very pleased to read that you liked it anons, your comments and suggestions are really helpful. I've tried to give the characters some depth and make Maren believable. I'm actually writing something more that I will probably post :) -A!A

I HAD LOST ALL HOPE FOR THIS TO GET FILLED BUT! YOU! FILLED IT!

I'M SO HAPPY

Ondolemar's voice is spot-on and Maren is so convincing and interesting and the smut was amazing - I don't think I'm ever leaving my bunk.

Thank you SO much, and if you ever write more? AAhHhhh I'm sure all of us would be overjoyed to read it. Thank you so much, here is your butt touch voucher :')

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