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HELPFUL TIPS
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>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.
"Salve" Het, F!DB Argonian/Erandur, 1/?
Date: 2012-11-06 06:05 am (UTC)Tags: Anthro, vanilla, hurt/comfort
xxxx
Oraythe gave a grunt, heaving past one last tangle of rocks and roots. Finally, the shimmer of stars indicating the tunnel’s end was in sight. Gods, if the Dragonborn had a gold piece for every time that was her saving grace, she’d own every house in Skyrim. Behind her, clambered a second person Erandur, priest of Mara.
He was older than most who were willing to sign up as a traveling companion, but she trusted him, which was a rare thing. Blinking from the vastness now surrounding them, Oraythe carefully helped the dunmer man up the last few rocks, then whistled sharply, a shaggy gray gelding shuffling forward at the sound.
“Quite a sight, those ruins. But an inn sounds like a good plan now, and a bed.” He chuckled softly, then shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the loose leather armor she’d lent him for their trek through the caves. He’d already gotten the chest piece off, exposing his thin but well-aged form to the cold night air. Oraythe averted her gaze before she could make out too much detail, though she snatched the chest piece from where he’d set it down against the numerous boulders lining the exit to the caves.
“There is hardly any blood on that, Era, leave it on for now.” Oraythe sighed softly, concerned at the priest’s constant need to disrobe. How he managed to not freeze with his insistence on wearing only a cloth robe and one or two underthings, she’d never know.
“I know this, but...” He tugged a glove loose, shoving it into one of the saddlebags as one last act of subtle defiance of her command. He seemed ready to argue more on the point, but a shriek in the distance stilled his hands, ruby eyes flicking to the sky and then to Orathye’s masked face.
“We do not have time for this now, priessst,” was her response. The hiss toward the end was a warning. Erandur knew not to argue with Oraythe further for now and simply bobbed his head in response. After tugging the first glove back into place, his hands simply fell to his sides. Grunting, the argonian turned, hauling herself up into the saddle. Leaning over, she offered a hand up for the dunmer. With another grunt, she tugged Erandur up to sit behind her. There was a moment of waiting for him to wrap his arms around her waist, then she kicked the gelding into a canter.
They didn’t need to gallop. The dragon was still far off, circling lazily rather than hunting, but Oraythe knew she had not the energy to take on a dragon after their slog through the ruins for the better part of a day and a half, with only a short nap between them.
“We will not be able to make Dawnstar this evening, at least not safely,” Oraythe murmured, somewhat apologetic.
“It is no matter. Right now I wish only to rest somewhere with a roof,” Erandur sighed.
Re: "Salve" Het, F!DB Argonian/Erandur, 2/3
Date: 2012-11-07 05:10 am (UTC)They traveled in companionable silence, for the most part. Oraythe slowed the horse once they were out of hearing distance of the baying roar of the dragon. A foundering horse would do them no favors in getting them anywhere hastily. Thankfully, there was no rasping of buckles coming undone, for the moment. She could understand Erandur’s dislike of heavy, cumbersome clothing, as her own kind rarely wore much in their natural home environment of swamps and wetlands. But he picked the oddest of places to disrobe. The Dragonborn decided to save her inquiries about it for later. For now the light of Whiterun shown upon the planes, and there would be a warm bed and food there for the both of them.
The gates were a welcome sight, fingers already wrapped around the key hanging from her belt that would open up Breezehome for them. They were still waiting for the guards to finish pulling the gates open, the Argonian’s tail coiling back and forth slowly, when she heard it again. But even before she’d made it the few steps down the path to her home, there was that too familiar scuffing sound followed by a thud, while Erandur tried to tug his old robes out of the pack slung across his shoulders and hip. He’d already managed to unbuckle his belt, leather vest and rough spun tunic pulled up halfway, dark skin of his stomach exposed.
Dawn had filtered over the horizon a good hour ago, which meant that the denizens of Whiterun were already out, preparing for the day. Many of them were passing by the Dragonborn's home. Waving to her and one and other, and her dunmer companion. And they were staring more than a bit. Finally, the lock clicked open, Dragonborn barreling inside and grabbing the priest by one willowy arm, tugging him firmly but carefully inside.
Just in time for him to wriggle out of the leather breeches, which were shrugged off and kicked to one side. He’d tugged the loose, tawny robe on before he’d gotten the pants off, at least. Oraythe gave yet another hissing sigh and tugged her mask free, setting it to rest on the armor stand in one corner before picking up the discarded leather armor and piling it into a storage chest.
“Erandur, that armor cannot possibly be that uncomfortable.”
“It is crude, ill-fitting bandit-made armor, and you know it.” The priest didn’t huff, but there was some frustration in his voice.
“That is not the point. The point is I will not have my friend run through by who-knows-what because all he has is some flimsy robe. If you do not wish to dress in a fashion that is safe, then you are more than free to stay in your home in Dawnstar while I commission others to aid me” It was not meant as a threat, but she knew that it sounded like one.
“But...” Erandur frowned.
“But what?”
“It is so quiet at times. There was a time when I did not care about being alone, given what happened. But after you came it was nice to have someone to speak with. Even if only once in awhile,” he said simply.
“Tha...how did we go from the discussion of armor texture and quality to an admonition of affection?” Oraythe was out of her element. Though the Dragonborn cared for the people who’d come to be known to her as friends, stronger emotions where something she’d made an effort to ignore. It was for the best, given her current station in life. Or so she had thought.
“I have been through much, body and soul both. That includes my skin. Between age and the cold, it is sensitive. It becomes dry easily, and certain textures make me itch, and the pressure of metal and buckles causes it to bruise. Were I younger, it would not make a difference, but I am not young.” He turned away, sitting on one of the chairs centered around the cooking pit.
She had not realized he was in pain, and felt a tinge of guilt, before cocking her head to one side. “How badly?”
“I..." There was some hesitation, before continuing "Here.” He offered his wrist. Oraythe cupped his hand, eyeing his wrist. Skin was marred badly from the edge of the leather cuffs, and slight scabbing over an older indentation. A true growl now, and she glared at the fire, frustration causing her tail to coil and lash back and forth. “Why did you not tell me this sooner, Erandur?”
Re: "Salve" Het, F!DB Argonian/Erandur, 3/?
Date: 2012-11-07 06:11 am (UTC)“So it was easier to just strip naked in the middle of town and the wilds than simply tell me the items I offered you were causing you discomfort and pain?” She snorted.
“I never said it made sense. It is simply the truth. You were always so intense, so quiet, I felt as if that particular action was the least troublesome.” Erandur paused and responded with a question of his own. “Why were you paying so much attention to an old dunmer priest undressing, anyway, Dragonborn?”
Oraythe nearly ready to storm up to the loft bedroom. His inability to be honest and forward with her was pushing the Argonian woman from annoyed to angry. Part of it was her own guilt, until she realize that he was smirking. Those amber eyes narrowed dangerously, and an accusatory talon pointed at him, trembling slightly.
“Priest, I swear if you are toying with me!” she snarled. Her tail threatened to upturn a few pieces of Dwemer pottery decorating the lower shelves lining the walls around the cooking fire.
“Dragonborn, if I did not know better I would think you've never been flirted with.“ His response was a low chuckle, and the talon pointed in accusation at his throat didn't seem to do much to rid the wry smirk from his features.
Oraythe faltered a bit, hand falling listlessly to her side before her posture became defensive, arms crossed over her chest. “And if I have not been flirted with?”
“All right, no need to get upset. I was trying to lighten the mood was all, my friend.” He stood and moved toward her, patting her ungloved hand gently.
“Why did you not tell me? That you were uncomfortable. I could brought a salve, or gotten you some furs to line it with, or... or made you something myself that would have fit.“ Oraythe could hear the pleading tone in her own voice.
“Or you could respect and trust me enough to know I know how not to end up on the wrong end of a blade?” His gaze was somewhat critical.
OP!
Date: 2012-11-07 11:25 am (UTC)Even if he's being a little snarky this time ;)
Re: "Salve" Het, F!DB Argonian/Erandur, 4/?
Date: 2012-11-12 01:31 am (UTC)The Dragonborn then turned to her alchemy room, shuffling around the various chests and drawers until she found the small earthenware jar she sought. Tugging the cork free as she made her way up the stairs, a perfume of soft lavender and something slightly sweet and musky wafted up from the jar’s lid. It was calming, rather than cloying, and Erandur seemed intrigued at the scent’s source.
“Something you made yourself?” He inquired.
“With a bit of help from the priestess of Kynareth, yes.” Oraythe smiled gently, careful not to display too many teeth.
“It is a pleasing scent.” Erandur looked from toward the jar as she set it down, before glancing up.
The Dragonborn met his gaze. “Erandur, you have wounds on more than just your wrists and legs don’t you?”
“Yes, Dragonborn. Although I feel like it would be easier for you to aid me in treating them if you were wearing something other than plate. It could undo your work, and it must be awfully warm now that we’re indoors.” There was no smirk with his words, though the look in his eyes was enough indication.
“You are flirting again, priest. But you are also correct.” It was her turn to grin, as she reached up to the ornate buckles holding her armor in place. With deft gestures, the latches were tugged free along the sides of her breastplate, and then the same for the straps securing the Dragonborn’s leg armor. The dense red and black metal came free of her form slowly, before being placed in a careful pile off to one side. Finally, her thick frame filled his vision, ruddy brown-purple hide and curves exposed. Oraythe felt her cheeks grow somewhat warm when Erandur made what she thought was a noise of appreciation.
She had expected him to disrobe in his normal fashion, simply peeling off the thin robe and tossing it to the side haphazardly. But to her surprise he pulled the hood down and slowly unfastened the intricate hidden laces, letting it slide from his frame, exposing first shoulder, belly, then finally hip. One hand grazed the dark, firm skin of his belly, and Oraythe shifted her feet, knowing if she could show a true blush she’d be fully scarlet.
At last all that remained was the tight, clean loincloth that served to provide modesty, though not much. Although he was older, and somewhat lean, there was still some muscle tone, and the telltale scars marking his long life. There were also the fresh marks left by armors she’d lent him, and she winced inwardly, though she vowed she would not let guilt keep her from what needed to be done to aid her friend.
She slid to sit cross-legged next to him, tail curled over one hip, watching him as he took in her form. Having seen many ‘smooth’ skins in various states of undress, whether purposeful or otherwise, this felt different from those previous times. The dunmer were probably her favorite, the dark blue-gray tones of their skin pleasing to her, or at least interesting compared to the lighter shades and endless variations of ‘pink’ that were much more common among the denizens of Skyrim.
Re: "Salve" Het, F!DB Argonian/Erandur, 5/?
Date: 2012-11-12 01:33 am (UTC)“I’m sorry, my dear, it was not what I expected.” Erandur muttered softly as he pressed closer, shivering slightly. Oraythe grunted softly and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer to her body warmth, despite the fact that the closeness was still strange to her.
“And what were you expecting, hmm?”
“I had thought that Argonian skin was rougher. Even the largest of your scales are smooth, warm. It reminds me more of a snake than a lizard or some exotic river beast. And your belly is smooth and soft. It’s like rabbit hide...” His mouth was nestled against her throat now, the warmth of his breath making her pulse race. Finally, his hand traced upward to one of her breasts, and tugged the thin cloth modesty band out of the way. The lack of a nipple did not seem to phase him, though he caressed and rolled the curved mound of flesh carefully in his hands.
It was a pleasing sensation, and Oraythe could understand why other women spoke of it among one another, though without a nipple she had not quite the same sensitivity. Erandur’s interest seemed to lay more in the simple pleasure of touching, for now, so Oraythe’s focus remained on treating his bruises and other wounds. Picking up the salve jar, and scooping up a small smear of the fragrant ointment, she began to gingerly work the stuff into the cuts along Erandur’s back. When he showed no overt discomfort, she worked her way down, until her hands rested just at his hips.
He seemed content to rest against her throat and breasts, beard tickling. With a soft sigh, she pressed her hands down across his buttocks, massaging and squeezing. A noise of pleasure was her reward, and she gave another soft squeeze before gathering up more salve and attending the small nicks along his thighs and legs, her muzzle resting in his salt and pepper hair. His breathing intensified when the pressure of her hands met his thighs, and she gave a light squeeze before gesturing for him to lean back.
His erection rested along the curve where his thigh met his hip, but for the moment she ignored it, savoring the little noises he made at her touch.
He seemed to wince a bit when she spread the salve over his thigh and the places along his side and hip where the buckles had bitten into flesh, but he didn’t move to stop her. Finally, it was done. The salve would work within a few days time, and though there might still be some imprints, they would heal and would pain him no longer.
Re: "Salve" Het, F!DB Argonian/Erandur,6/6
Date: 2012-11-12 01:35 am (UTC)“You are welcome, Erandur.” She prummed, her hand resting against his thigh. He shifted slightly beneath her hands until his cock rested beneath her fingers. His beard tickling along her throat as he murmured to her again, “Please?”
The Dragonborn’s response was to curl her thick fingers around the length of him, mindful of claws, gently rolling her hand along his length. The priest groaned, hips jerking against the warm friction Oraythe’s hand provided, but before she had been stroking him for long, he’d squirmed free, grasping her hands. Perplexed, Oraythe’s brow scrunched in question.
Erandur gestured for her to rest on her side, groaning softly. “Together.”
Oraythe prummed again and shifted so that they rested facing one another, one leg lifting up to rest against his hip gently while he snuggled close against her chest. His own hands roved down to the apex of her sex, rolling over the smooth lips.
His own hips bucked upwards and she moved to curl fingers around his length once more. She stroked with even motions for the time being, savoring the texture of his cock while her fingers slid beneath and around the tip and along the shaft. His own hand rested on her groin, pressing apart the lips he found there. She was not quite like what he’d expected, but there was a small, tight bud of flesh near the apex of those folds. The Dunmer circled the small bit of flesh with one slow, careful motion, watching Oraythe’s features.
The jolt of pleasure made her eyes go wide for a moment, before fluttering until only barely open. Her hand started the careful, slow rhythm of stroking along Erandur’s member while his fingers flicked along her clit and finally pressed into the warmth of her sex. She was tight, even while being slick, and he was careful to not press any harder than the pressure of her hips rocking against his hand. It was languid but enjoyable, and Erandur was grateful for her patience, as well as her gentleness despite her temper.
Strumming the nub of flesh with a bit more speed, the Dunmer’s body rolled up against the warm grip of those agile, thick fingers drawing up and along his length. The way they trembled with careful muscle control made it all that more difficult for the mer to refrain from jerking his hips in full abandon, but he did not want to spend himself or tire too quickly. It had been so long, and Oraythe’s obvious care and attention to his body, as well as the affection he felt from her, were something he wished to savor.
For her part, it had been a damn long time. Partially through choice on her part, but then again, duty had forced her into situations where there was little time for dalliances. That thought slid from her mind to be engulfed by pleasure though, as Erandur’s thumb circled her nub. Hissing softly, her hips bucked down. She gathered more of the salve, pulling him close, one arm wrapping around his shoulders. The stroking motion of her hand along his length intensified, and Erandur groaned sharply. Their hips jerked and grinded in tandem, Oraythe holding the Dunmer’s frame close while nuzzling his salt and pepper hair. Finally, his thumb flicked one last time, and Oraythe was pushed over the edge, shivering and groaning as pleasure coursed through her, tight pleasure that had formed in her belly unfurling.
Drawing a shivering breath, Erandur then groaned outright, bucking his hips up against Oraythe’s embrace, spending himself in sticky white seed in few, quick motions. Groaning softly, the priest smiled, and kissed her throat. Cooing in response, she nuzzled him softly before sliding from the bed and gathering up a cloth. After cleaning herself, she moved to give it to Erandur. Once tidy, Oraythe took her spot on the bed again and pulled the covers up around them, extinguishing the flame burning in the sconce above the bed and curling up next to the priest, giving a prumm of contentment as they drifted off together.
char:F!DB char:Erandur relationship:het race:argonian race:dunmer
OP!
Date: 2012-11-12 09:02 am (UTC)This was so cute :)
Re: "Salve" Het, F!DB Argonian/Erandur,6/6
Date: 2012-11-15 06:34 am (UTC)