![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyrimkinkmeme CLOSED FOR PROMPTS,
BUT OPEN FOR FILLS
HELPFUL TIPS
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.
>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.
Re: 'Redemption: It's a Love Story' M!DB/Erandur 8/9
Date: 2012-11-10 01:21 pm (UTC)“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.