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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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“My feet got injured, how am I supposed to get to the other side?” Walking on top of the plates, Farkas turned around in front of her and signaled for her to get on his back.

“I’ll get you to the other side.” Because she didn’t have another option, her hands grabbed a hold of her shoulders and his hands held onto her thighs, pushing her up until she was in a comfortable position even with his big-ass sword in between them.

The fire started coming up and she could feel the heat on her feet, then she wondered how Farkas was able to stand it.

Once they were on the other side, she dropped herself on the floor and took her boots off rapidly. The bottom of her feet were red, but other than that she suffered nothing more.

“Look, there’s a door.” She turned to where the brute was pointing at and tried to stand up, but failed miserably. “Let me help you.”

He picked her up in his arms and continued on with the next room. Serana’s cheeks turned red as she was being held protectively.

“Please watch out—” Before she could be finished, a very familiar crunch was heard from underneath them, letting them know something horrible was about to happen.

They had no time to react as a huge tree trunk swung their way, pushing them both into a pool of water. Very cold water. Coming to the surface, big Nordic dragon carvings started to float out of the water, urging them to get out.

As Serana sat there contemplating on what just happened, a small laugh escaped her mouth.

“What?” The Nord man asked, pushing his long hair out of his face.

“I swear, you just have to walk into a room and all the freaking traps unlock at your sight.”

“Thanks.” Rolling her eyes, the raven-haired woman slowly stood up and when Farkas tried to hold her up again, she shook her head.

“I’ll take it from here, dummy.” Walking along the bridge between two pools of water and the carvings, Serana got to the end of the room, facing a pedestal that held—

“A letter!?” Pulling it off the pedestal, she opened it and read its contents.

“What does it say?” Farkas asked from behind her, trying to catch a glimpse of the words.

“I’m going to kill her.” The raven-haired woman whispered.

“Who?” The man was curious as to why the room suddenly felt heavy and dark.

“The beloved Dragonborn.”

~

~~~~~~~And this is the part I'm really excited about, because now we get to explore the nature of mortality and life and all that good stuff. XD

Take your time! I know how RL can get in the way... (although I have time myself to set up camp here and wait...)

Last week I had a basket fall out of the sky about 15 feet away into a river.

Today I quick-jumped to some cave somewhere and an elk fell out of the sky not five feet away from me to screech pitifully and be dashed against the rocks. I was quite horrified and didn't quite know how to react.

The funny thing is, Meridia was careful with me during the quest--maybe I've been misusing the Dawnbreaker?

I second this!

This is really fun, thank you!

I'm so glad you touched on Farkas' fear of the Frostbite Spiders in this, and Serana's exasperation is very in-character.

Don't be lonely, Cicero prompt! I got yer back.

Title: The Living Need Tending, Too
Relationship: M/M
Race: Breton
Kinks: massage, hand-job, oral, shyness

The Living Need Tending, Too

Cicero could sense that Astien was out of sorts the moment he walked through the door. The young Breton’s hunched posture made his small, barrel-chested frame even more compact -- a tense, furious little knot of muscle, a coiled snake ready to strike. His gait was rapid, his eyes lowered; his rejoinder to Cicero’s usual joyous greeting was a mere nod. Oh, how Cicero hated it when the Listener was like this! He simply could not bear this sort of gloom-and-doom atmosphere. He tsk-tsked to himself as he watched the Listener pull off his boots and hurl them to the floor, then stare numbly into space. Must’ve been a nasty contract, but still, there was no excuse for childish behavior.

Experience taught Cicero that Astien was best left alone when he was like this. Cicero, of course, went straight to Astien’s chambers to try and cheer him up. Madness was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, someone once told him, before the jester, before the hard times. Perhaps they were right.

“Listener?” He poked his head through Astien’s doorway. “Are you all right?”

“Mmh,” he grunted.

Cicero grinned. “Man of few words, eh? How very Nordic you’ve become, Listener! The snow and ice must be taking their toll, hmmm?”

“You need something, Cicero?”

“Oh, no!” he chirped. “Cicero merely came to see if his Listener needed anything. Cicero lives to serve.”

“No, Cicero, that’s all right. I’m fine.” His words were clipped, his voice tight.

Cicero chuckled. “The Listener must learn to tell a better lie.” He took off his hat and hung it on the wall, then stood before Astien with crossed arms. “I can wait.”

Astien glowered up at him, and for a second Cicero was afraid he’d stepped over the line, but then the Breton’s expression softened a little. “Hard day,” he said simply. “Feet hurt.”

“Ooooh, is that all?” Cicero cooed. “Perhaps the Listener would like his poor feet massaged? I’m not sure how much you've heard from Mother, but I am, heh, quite good with my hands.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Cicero.” Astien, like much of the Brotherhood, was lowborn, and unaccustomed to such ministrations.

“But it gives Cicero such pleasure to serve his Listener,” the jester protested with a hint of sulkiness in his voice. “Cicero only wishes to make the poor aching Listener happy...” Yes, yes, to relieve the sweet Listener; that would make him so happy. And perhaps, if Cicero’s suspicions about Astien were true, it could lead to something more...yes...

Astien studied Cicero for a moment. “Very well,” he said finally. “A foot massage would feel quite...nice. Thank you, Cicero.”

“Oh, goody, goody, goody!” Cicero clapped his hands. “You sit here, Listener, just sit right here, and Cicero will go and fetch a few, hm, tools of the trade, heh heh.”

A few minutes later he was back with a basin of hot, perfumed water and a small pot of oil. He knelt on the floor and smiled up at Astien. Oh, what a handsome face the sweet Listener had...even if he could never be bothered to shave his stubble. Perhaps Cicero would have to convince Astien to submit to the razor next... “Prepare yourself, Listener. The water is hot!” Slowly and tenderly, he helped Astien sink his feet into the basin. The Listener hissed and closed his eyes. “Too hot?” Cicero asked anxiously.

“No, no. Just right.”

“Good!” Astien’s feet were hot and dirty and blistered -- Cicero clucked in concern as he examined them. “Look at this. New boots?”

“Mmh.”

“You must learn to break them in before you go on a long trip. Poor, poor feet!” Scents of lavender and frost mirriam rose with the steam as Cicero rubbed his Listener’s feet free of soil and sweat.

The Breton sighed and wiggled his toes under the water. “That feels good.”

“Oh, but Cicero has not even begun yet, Listener,” he chuckled. Once Astien’s feet were sufficiently pink and clean, Cicero lifted them out of the water and dried them thoroughly with a soft cloth. Then, he uncorked the pot of oil.

Astien eyed him suspiciously. “Is that the same oil you use for...you know...”

Cicero cackled wickedly at the thought. “No, no, no. That would be a little too harsh for the living, dear Listener. This came from the kitchen, not the crypt.”

“Oh, good.”

The oil was warm, having been stored on a shelf above the fireplace, and Cicero held the pot high, letting it trickle over Astien’s feet and drip into the basin. Then he set to work, taking Astien’s left foot into his strong hands, kneading and rubbing the sole, the instep, the joints of the toes and ankles. Cicero was sensitive, yes, his fingers could feel where Astien was tense, and he felt a twinge of pleasure every time he targeted a sore spot and heard Astien groan with relief. “Does Cicero please the Listener?” he said in a low, silky voice.

“Mmm...yes...you are good at that.”

He smirked and looked into Astien’s eyes as he worked. How delicious it was to give his sweet Listener comfort...he returned Astien’s left foot to the water, and turned his attention to the right.

“Ohhhh...mmm...yeah...right there. Do that again.”

Astien’s encouragements sent a surge of arousal through Cicero’s loins. Oh yes, Listener, you are enjoying this, aren't you? Perhaps Cicero was right about you. “Like this?” he whispered.

“Ohhh, that feels so good...”

Soon Cicero had finished with Astien’s feet, but he didn’t want this to end yet, oh no, it just couldn’t... “Perhaps it is not only the Listener’s feet that require Cicero’s attention?” he said hopefully. “The Listener has aching muscles all over his body; Cicero can see how tense he is...”

“Ummm...”

“Don’t be afraid,” Cicero said quietly.

“I’m...I’m not. Shall I -- uh -- shall I lay down on the bed?”

Cicero nodded. “But first...Cicero will be able to do much more for you if you take off your armor, Listener.”

And now there was just the slightest hint of a smile on the Listener’s careworn face. “Close the door.”

And soon Astien’s broad, muscled back was spread out before Cicero, yes, just a bit of cloth draped over his round buttocks, and Cicero was happy, so happy. He poured oil into his hands and set to work, massaging, kneading hard with fists and palms and fingers, attacking every bit of tension until he felt it melt away under his hand... “Oh, so tense, Listener,” he purred.

“Mmh...hard contract...” he mumbled. “Oh!” He let out a groan like a bear as Cicero dug his knuckles into the small of his back. “Mmm...mmh...missed you, Cicero.”

The jester’s heart quickened. “Missed me?” he chuckled, hardly daring to believe what he had heard. At last, at last, he was almost certain... He moved to Astien’s thighs. The Listener twitched a little as Cicero’s fingertips grazed the sensitive area. “Shh...it’s all right. Relax.”

“Ahh...ohhhhh.”

And when the Keeper had worked his way down Astien’s legs, he took a deep breath. “Would you like to turn over?”

“Ummhh...” He could see that Astien’s cheeks were flushed.

“Please...you can do this for Cicero. It’s all right. Cicero understands.” He tugged at the edge of the cloth. “Please, may I take this?”

“Y...yes, Cicero.” The cloth fell away, and Astien was completely naked. He rolled over onto his back. His manhood jutted out from a small crop of dark hair, thick and pleasing to Cicero’s eye.

The Keeper inhaled. “Oooohh, so perfect...so beautiful...oh, yes, Cicero likes you like this.” He ran his hands down the Listener’s bare, slightly hairy torso.

He was looking up at Cicero with worry in his big brown eyes. “Is this all right? I mean...are we supposed to do this? Listener and Keeper...”

“Oh, Listener.” Cicero giggled as his fingers crept down Astien’s belly. “The Dark Brotherhood is an organization of mercy and love. Cicero loves the Listener...and he wants to give him mercy.” He wrapped his oiled fingers around Astien’s erection.

“Mmm!”

Cicero slowly began to pump Astien’s cock, relishing the sounds of his heavy breathing, his moans of pleasure. Oh, if this moment could only last forever. Surely there would be many more like this, but it would never be the first time again. “Ahh! Mm!” He bucked into Cicero’s hand. “Oh, sweet Sithis...”

Gods, his plump cock looked so delicious, glistening with oil in Cicero’s fist. “If it please the Listener,” Cicero breathed, “Cicero’s mouth is almost as good as his hands...”

“Oh Gods yes, please, Cicero.” Astien sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and Cicero knelt on the stone floor. Cicero laughed to himself -- if kneeling before a god were always this delicious, perhaps he’d have worshipped the Divines instead. He took Astien’s cockhead into his mouth, licking and probing all around it with his tongue and listening to the man groan. Then he let the shaft pass his lips until the round head tickled the back of his throat. Slowly, he slid it back out, just barely grazing Astien’s shaft with his teeth. Astien sighed and tangled his fingers in Cicero’s long red hair, guiding his head up and down, massaging his scalp with his fingertips and just barely, ever-so-gently pulling...Cicero was quivering with delight. He wrapped one arm around Astien’s waist and used the other to caress his balls.

Faster now, faster...he could tell that Astien was close. He squeezed a handful of Cicero’s hair tightly, pulling a little harder now, and the little jolt of pain drove the Keeper wild. As Astien’s moans grew more and more urgent, he gently pushed Cicero’s head back. “Hands,” he gasped. “With your hands.”

“As you say, Listener,” Cicero quavered, and quickly applied more oil to his hands. It took Astien only a few thrusts before he finished. He moaned Cicero’s name as his hot come spurted onto the Keeper’s hands and Astien’s belly.

“Ohhh, Cicero...” He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, panting. “That was...incredible.”

“Cicero is happy to be of service to the Listener.” Cicero dampened a cloth in the basin of perfumed water and tenderly cleaned Astien up. Then, he crawled into the bed and nestled his head into the Listener’s shoulder and neck, draped his arms across Astien’s beautiful naked body, sighed contentedly.

“What about you? Don’t you want...um...” Astien was blushing again.

Cicero burst out laughing. “Oh, Listener! I know you’re a man of few words, but this is ridiculous.” He put his finger over Astien’s lips and whispered in his ear. “Cicero is enjoying this. Just this. The Listener can return the favor...later.”

“As you wish.” And they lay together, Astien stroking Cicero’s hair, and Cicero, for once, keeping his mouth shut, until the the lanterns burned themselves out and the room grew black and the silence and the warmth of Astien’s body were all that existed for Cicero. And just for a moment, Cicero’s mind was at peace.

Yeah, I've never had that hurt my character before either! (and I've done it maaany times, far too many for my liking). This makes me wonder!

I've played Skyrim with my Dragonborn, and Imperial girl, and lately (the last 2 times I started a game) I decided to twist my gameplay up and pretend she's... Ulfric's lost daughter.

I love Ulfric, and I love the fact that I make this crazy ass novelas in my head every time I play, so I want to see anyone else's take on it. I might even self-fill if I have the time.

-Give me juice! I want feelings, back story, drama!
-I want him to want to be there for the DB now that he knows.
-Don't know how they find out, but you may come up with any idea you want to use.
-A young DB, maybe late teens (17-19) to mid twenties (20-24) so it fits with Ulfric's age LOL
-Did I mention drama? Tears(happy/sad), hugs, kisses, :D

In ES lore (if I seem to remember correctly) the child takes physically the mother's race, so that's why she's an Imperial.

What does he think of his child? An Imperial! AND the Dragonborn! DB may or may not be on either side of the war. If you want to avoid that issue completely, it's fine with me :)

Technically, this is a kink meme and I should be listing a kink, but I guess I want to see something dramatic but sweet... I hope someone takes it upon themselves to fill it! Thank you!

(ack! nobody saw me accidently post non-anonymously!)

Awww~ To be honest, I've always liked Cicero as a character, but I don't like his character model or his voice actor. Too shrill. XD But I absolutely love his characterization in this story! Thank you, well done!

Seconded! This sounds like some amazing material could come out of it!

So I took the Lexicon back to Avanchnzel today, and as usual when exploring a Dwemer ruin I kept expecting to come across the bloodied bodies of the people I was seeing after-images of and lots of Falmer, and was pleasantly surprised when only the former existed.

I mean, this is Skyrim. I'd almost be disappointed if there weren't bodies.

What I want to read about is a time when the Falmer don't win. Every time I go somewhere deep within the earth, I find dead people by Falmer, and I get the sad sensation that if I'd been just a bit sooner, I could have saved them. Obviously people aren't very cautious about the things lurking in the deep places of the earth, and I sigh as I pass explorers who weren't prepared.

So please, give me happiness! Whether the protagonist (can be DB, doesn't have to be) saves the people from the Falmer or they save themselves is up to the writer. The beginning and middle can be as angsty and sad as necessary, as long as it ends happy. Also, victory sex or something of the sort if fine, but also not necessary.

Bonus sweetrolls for including some minor reference to my personal headcanon: that the Dwemer turned into the Falmer.

Go wild! Thank you, Author!Anons~

This one loves the idea of bonding in the fur. Erm, furs.

Can we compromise on extremely dubious dub-con? If not, I'll go ahead and give it a tentative yes anyway.

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! heh, I love everything about the little nutcake and especially his voice, but I completely understand why it's not for everyone!

Male or female is fine! Sorry!!! I play my game as a girl, but it can totally be a guy if you choose.

I really like this prompt, but I've too many obligations to have time to do it justice. Wholeheartedly seconded (and once I finish my current open fills (of which there are many) I may come back and have a bash at this).

Something terrible has started entering my mind in Onmund's amulet quest. Every time I start it and Onmund says "Enthir had something I needed so I traded him something of mine," I think:

YOUR VIRGIN ASS

So let's see that happen. Now, I like both these guys (especially Enthir, hnng) and Enthir's more of a grumpy jerk than a truly nasty person, but I'm fine with him getting turned evil for the sake of the prompt. Or not, whatever tone you want to take. Just no non-con? But no other squicks, all kinks welcome, go nuts.

Y'know what we need more of? More bandits kidnapping Breton merchants from Whiterun. I'd LOVE to see Belethor left bloody, bruised and broken by a group of bandits while the companions send out the (male) dragonborn to rescue him. Bonus points for any hint of a prior romantic relationship with the dragonborn to prompt the kidnapping. No real squicks or race preference for the dragonborn. Kinks are non-con, biting, bondage and bloodplay.

Azura wondered sometimes if it was egotistical of her to admire the shrine built in her name. Clavicus Vile in particular made fun of her when she brought it up, but she often found herself watching over the statue that so many of her worshipers trekked to. She would meditate over it, letting her power wash over the shrine and listening to her followers. It was strangely peaceful, and she was one of few Daedra who actually appreciated peace.

“Azura? It's happening again.”

Unfortunately, none of the others ever seemed to give her the peace she wanted. Azura opened one eye to find Sanguine at her side, an eternally full mug of strong ale in his hand and an exasperated look on his face. She sighed, gazing at him dolefully.

“What is happening again?” she asked him, in the most patient voice she could muster. Sanguine raised a hand, allowing an image to warp into clarity in front of them. “Ah. I see.”

A mortal man, Nordic from the look of him, lay motionless across the steps of Meridia's shrine. Two more men stood above him, staring down as they spoke.

“And you say he just...fell out of the sky?” one was asking. The other nodded sharply, throwing his hands into the air.

“I'm not lying, I promise! I saw him drop out of the clouds!”

“Huh. It's a shame we can't ask the poor bastard what happened.” With that, the two retreated, the witness muttering about leaving Skyrim for good, and Sanguine let the image fade.

“Damn it all,” Azura murmured, shaking her head. “The poor mortal is the twenty-second Meridia's killed this month. That's more than Dagon, and he's doing it on purpose!”

“Well, nobody's explained to her how mortal physiology works,” her companion replied, shrugging. “I know it well, myself, but I didn't want to break the news. It was pretty funny, for a while.” Azura looked down at him, wincing.

“And has anyone else made an effort?”

“'Course not. I asked around. Mephala laughed at me, Peryite went on about how it's not his problem, and Mora threatened to send his Lurkers into my realm if I didn't leave him alone. Don't even get me started on what Sheogorath did.” He leaned back, looking hopefully up at his fellow Daedra. “You're the reliable one. We all know how much you love mortals--”

“You really ought to keep your mouth closed about my affairs, if you want to continue having lips,” Azura interrupted, frustrated. “I sense Meridia's presence above her shrine. Let's go speak with her.” Sanguine raised an eyebrow, holding up his hands in protest.

“Me too?! I told you, I'm not--” Before he could continue, he felt the air warp around them, and he was suddenly suspended somewhere in the stratosphere. Below him, he could see the outstretched arms of Meridia's statue. Somewhere to his distant left, he could see the Daedra herself, materialized as a glowing orb. He personally preferred her manifestation as a lanky, blonde woman, but he supposed he could work with it. At the moment, she had yet another mortal suspended in midair, and was venting her problem for the twenty-third time that month.

“Guide my light through the temple, and destroy the defiler!” she ordered the man, who was currently trying his best to keep from trembling.

“I'll do as you ask.”

“Good. Now, go!” The unwitting servant instantly began his plummet towards the ground, only to be stopped once again by Azura's hand.

“I'm sorry, little mortal,” she sighed, lowering him gently to the ground. “I'm afraid Meridia is a bit distressed. You are safe now. Go and find Dawnbreaker, if you wish.” The adventurer nodded, his eyes a bit glassy in bewilderment, and nearly tripped over his own feet in his hurry to get away from the insanity. Azura, on the other hand, moved to join Meridia, who had manifested into the woman Sanguine knew and loved.

“I've warned you about meddling in my affairs, Azura,” Meridia complained, her hands on her hips. “Just because you harbor a desire for mortals--”

“Have you been listening to Sanguine as well?” Azura shot a look over her shoulder at the Daedra in question, who responded with what he thought was a charming smile. “Never mind him. We need to have a talk, Meridia.”

SECONDED

XD I didn't even realize this was THE Horn quest until the end. Well done, lovely Anon! (this'll teach Serana not to do favors for the DB!)

I would rather not sell my soul (SPN has taught me much about the world) but I will read it anyway.

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