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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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Thank you! I hope to write plenty more of him for everyone's enjoyment! And thanks for leaving feedback c:

Insta-follow!

Bolli took her to the Temple of Mara once and they said their vows in front of the Divines. She promised to be bound to him in love, now and forever. She was brought financial security, lovely clothes and a fancy house. He lavished attention on her and for years she wanted for nothing.

Well, nothing material.

Nivenor originally simply lay there whilst her husband grunted and sweated into her. Soon, Bolli left her bed, preferring his time at the Temple of Mara. And Nivenor became more and more needy as each month passed. Though his attempts to have her had resulted in nothing more than frustration, still the attention had been worth something.

And then one night she had been pleasing herself alone in bed, and her window had creaked open. Through it, slid a lean Dunmer in grey-black leather. The cool wind flicked across Nivenor's exposed shoulders, and as the blanket slid from her breasts, a pink tongue flicked out across his dark lips. Nivenor grasped the bedclothes protectively as the mer leaned against the wall.

"Get out," she snapped. "Before I call the guards."

"Frustrated, Nibenor?" he'd murmured, in a voice that sent thunder down her back.

"What is it to you?" she barked.

"I could help," he offered.

And when she became amenable to the idea, her muffled cries filled the room. Soon he was creeping into her home every night, and as time passed and Bolli became more distant she met up with the Dunmer more and more frequently.

She was wicked, unfaithful.

And she was satisfied.

No one tells stories the way he does. Especially the old songs when he thinks no one is watching. If I could give those back to him, restore his dreams, then maybe he might be able to see Skyrim again. To really see what it is, and what it has become. He loves the stories too much because he thinks they’re all he has now. He’s not fighting for the future, he’s fighting for what he’s lost. And there’s so much he’s missing because of it.” The Dragonborn wiped her face with her hands before turning to the old master, “He cares in spite of everything that’s happened to him. Skyrim needs people like that. People who can find it in themselves to fight, to love even, especially when they’re past hope. At the very least, he deserves a chance to be the kind of man he wants to be, to be the man he sought to be all those years ago.

And you've just summed up Ulfric Stormcloak in one paragraph. I am crying. Actual tears. I agree with you that it's hard to hate them once you realize that they're romantics at heart, and I love your Einarth voice. This fill is everything I could have hoped and more.

Thoo-loo?

a small child just summoned cthulu?

my god I cannot stop laughing that is beautiful Rozenn!Anon

Thank you, Anon. I really need to get back to this fic (pretends not to be a bad Author!Non)

Thank you so much! I was worried about how it all held together in the end. Especially Einarth; it's not that he's too stupid to understand Ulfric, it's just that he's fundamentally a different person. You can explain it to him so that he can understand on a logical level, but there's this deeper connection that he'll never have. Whereas with Arngeir, he's too similar to understand why Ulfric made different choices. Which is why it would hurt so much when he left. I couldn't work out a way for Ulfric and Arngeir to interact reasonably, especially considering how determinedly detached Arngeir was during the peace talks. And I didn't want this story to be quite so full of anger and disappointment as it was in my initial drafts. Having the DB talk to Einarth seemed like the only way to safely discuss why he's as compelling as he is, without becoming too defensive, or getting into a fight.

So, thank you for requesting this, because it's something I've wondered about myself. And thank you for letting me know that I've managed to fulfill your request!

This was great ..I wonder if the two will meet again and what will happen if her become harbinger of the companions ??? They are very hot!

Y no more parts D:

I'm happy waiting for the romantic part .. : D

It took a while, but I've finally got this first bit done. Enjoy!

Kinks:over stimulation, frottage, partially clothed sex, oral, biting, sensitive elf ears

--

The familiar comforts of home were long gone. The province of Morrowind had been reduced to ash many years ago, and the Argonian invasion that had followed shortly after had only served to destroy what was left of civilisation on the mainland.

The island of Vvardenfell was ruined, along with the capital city of Mournhold, and most of the population of the native Dunmer. In the times of desperation that followed, thousands had fled the province, desperately searching for a way to recover their lives.

Athis was no exception. He had left Morrowind months ago, and had eventually found his way to Skyrim, along with his elder brother. Geldis had insisted on finding a place to settle down immediately, to find a way to make a living and live out the rest of their lives quietly. Windhelm, he had said, would be the best option. It was where most Dunmer had settled, and so there would already be a community that they could settle into.

Athis had protested.

His brother had always been the sensible one, the one their parents had considered worldly and responsible. They had favoured him in many ways, their level headed, business minded elder son. Athis had always been too reckless. He had never outgrown his childish thirst for adventure, or his love of danger. Or so they had said.

They were right, of course. Geldis confirmed as much as they had stood outside Windhelm in the falling snow, arguing about the best course of action.

For Geldis, their upheaval was a problem. For Athis, it was an opportunity. An opportunity to explore, to travel. To meet new people and see new sights, the kind that would never be found in Morrowind. Snow, for example. The crystals drifting from the sky had been a source of some fascination for him since he had arrived in Skyrim. More recently, it had become the bane of his life.

Geldis hadn’t been interested. And so they had argued, and when both brothers had realised that the other wasn’t about to back down, they had parted ways. A few days later, the elder Dunmer had departed on a ship for Solstheim.

Which had left Athis finally, blessedly in control of his own life. He had left Windhelm as soon as possible and headed out across Skyrim in an attempt to find adventure and excitement.
As it turned out, he thought as he looked towards the city of Whiterun, he wasn’t quite up to the challenge. Or at least, not alone. Not that he was about to let that discourage him. The name ‘Companions’ had been mentioned more than once, and from the little information he had gleaned about them, they were exactly what he was looking for. A group of warriors that fought for honour, glory and adventure and always watched each other’s backs. Although he wondered if they would be willing to watch a Dunmer’s back. The Nords seemed split in their opinions on elves. He had encountered those whom had all but spat in his face, and those that had seemed to have barely registered his race.

From what he had heard, the Companions were not a solely Nord group, although most of their members were Nords.

Athis took a breath as he climbed the gradual slope towards Whiterun’s gates, aware of the guards about him. There seemed to be fewer elves the further he got into Skyrim, though oddly, the humans towards the centre of the province seemed to care less than those in the east. He hoped that would mean that these Companions would at least consider him.

He had to admit though, the looks he got from the locals were probably deserved. Not only was he an elf, but he still wore clothes in the style of that of his homeland. As far as he was aware, Nords had never used chitin as a form of armour, so the appearance of his boots and gauntlets must have been strange to them.

Still, he didn’t appreciate the staring. Especially as a guard standing at the gates lowered his battleaxe, blocking his access.

“Whoa there, elf.”

Athis halted, lifting an eyebrow as he looked to the guard.

“Yes?”

“Don’t see a lot of Dark Elves around these parts. What brings you to Whiterun?”

The heavy wooden doors of Jorrvaskr were in front of him all too quickly and he found that he had to put a considerable amount of weight behind one to get it to swing inwards. As soon as it did, warm air rushed out to greet him, the scents of spice and mead carried on it. It was a smell Athis had come to associate with the taverns in Skyrim and for a second, he thought he had made a mistake in thinking this was the home of a group of warriors. It was a thought that was short lived, however, as he pressed on into the building, the door shutting behind him with a heavy clunk. Every head in the room turned towards him at the sound. No, he had not been mistaken. Judging by the sizeable Nord men in the room, greatswords strapped to their backs, he was very much in the right place.

Silence reigned. No one moved, no one spoke and it took all Athis’ nerve not to bolt. Instead, he swallowed thickly and pressed on, stepping forwards slowly, carefully, casting his gaze over the room’s occupants.

There were at least five male warriors, all Nords, by their appearance. Two of them seemed particularly large and most definitely related and the elf became suddenly aware of how small he was in comparison. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted a small group of women too, each armoured and armed as much as any of the men present.

“What? You never seen a Dunmer before?”

The words came out before he had even really thought about what to say but he had been desperate to break the awkward silence that had fallen.

Someone shifted in their seat and a moment later, one of the men was standing. He was middle-aged, Athis had to guess, balding and blind in one eye. Despite his age however, he rose and strode towards him with the comfortably confident gait of a seasoned warrior and he stopped a few inches from Athis. He was uncomfortably close, unsettlingly tall as he stared down at the elf.

“I think you might be lost, elf.”

Athis’s heart seized for a moment, before he remembered to plaster his facade on so thickly that the man wouldn’t see the uncertainty beneath.

“No, don’t reckon I am. This is Jorrvaskr, right?”

“Right.”

“And that means you lot are the Companions.”

“Correct...” the man spoke with an air of uncertainty now, his head tilting slightly. Curiosity, Athis guessed.

“Good. I want to join you.”

For a moment, there was no response from anyone in the room. And then a sharp bark of laughter erupted from one of the women. Chuckles from the rest of the room’s occupants followed, save for the pair who were obviously brothers. One smiled benignly, the other simply glared.

Athis turned his head slightly, sending a cool glare at the woman who had started laughing first before returning to look at the man in front of him.

“Quiet!” The taller man barked and silence fell once more. “It’s not up for me, or any of us to decide whether or not you can join. You need to speak with Kodlak, our Harbinger.”

“Harbinger?”

“Our leader, as such.” And the heavily armoured Nord pointed to a figure sat quietly in the corner of the room.

Athis had not noticed him previously and he did not understand how. ‘Kodlak’ was an aging Nord man, but his prowess appeared no less diminished for it. His hair and beard gleamed white and he regarded the elf in front of him quietly before beckoning him. With a cursory glance at the rest of the room, Athis obeyed, walking to the elderly gent.

“So you want to be a Companion, lad?”

He nodded.

“And your name?”

“Athis.”

“Hmm...and why do you, an elf, want to join the Companions, Athis?”

“I don’t see that me lineage ‘as much to do with anything. I came to Skyrim to make a new life for meself, after my old one was destroyed. Heard about your group and you sounded like a good lot. I guess I’m not the kinda person you usually get coming in here, but I reckon if your colour don’t bother me, then mine shouldn’t bother you.”

Kodlak remained quiet for a moment before nodding.

“Indeed, you are right. You are not the first elf to become or wish to become a Companion, and so it makes no difference to us now. I think perhaps, that strength and outlook will serve you well, Athis. But...tell me more about why you want to be one of us. It isn’t enough to merely think we sound ‘like a good lot’.”

“I lived a boring life in Morrowind and it never suited me. My brother...he’s gone off to Solstheim to run an inn. I want to learn to fight proper, to earn a living like a proper man, not serving others. And I wanna do it with someone who watches me back like a real brother, not someone who leaves ‘cos we disagree on something.”

Kodlak nodded again.

“You sound like many a candidate we’ve had. All good reasons, and you seem truthful in what you say. Do you have any fighting experience?”

Athis shifted.

“Yeah...probably a bit rusty though.”

“I see. We shall see if you have what you need to be a companion,” he looked to the man who had first approached him. “Skjor will take you to the training yard and test your abilities. After that, I shall make my decision.”

Athis nodded, squared his shoulders before following Skjor out the back of the building. The rest of the Companions rose as they walked, following them outside. It wasn’t ideal. Athis could fire an arrow and swing a sword better than your average farmer, but he wasn’t a warrior yet, and he knew it. It would be all he could do to avoid getting hacked to bits. And still he knew he had to do it anyway.

“Pick any weapon you like,” Skjor instructed, pointing to a weapons rack “just know we don’t do magic and the like here.”

“Remember this is a test, Skjor,” Kodlak called, appearing under the canopy that stood behind the mead hall “I don’t need to see blood.”

The other Nord simply nodded, picking up a one-handed sword. Athis chose the same, weighing the blade in his left hand. It was uncomfortable, but probably the only thing he could handle in the range provided.

Eyeing the dull blade, he swung the iron sword experimentally. It tugged uncomfortably at his arm muscles and it wouldn’t be long before fatigue would set in. He huffed a little before lowering the weapon to the side, readjusting the chitin of his armour with his free hand. The old netch leather creaked as he did and he wondered if the scarred material would hold out for much longer.

“Come on, elf, we don’t have all day!”

The call came from the crowd watching from the sidelines and Athis shifted, readjusting himself into a fighting stance, glaring across to Skjor. The Nord smirked, meeting his eye levelly before striding towards him, stopping a few feet away and lowering into a crouch.

Athis charged. It was not his usual tactic, but if he wanted to get in with the companions, he needed to impress them, to show that he had the boldness and strength required to be one of them. It was a mistake. Skjor barely had to move his sword upwards before Athis was flung back, tumbling away to land clumsily on his knees. He grunted as the worn leather covering his knees tore against the ground, the skin beneath following suit. Splutters of laughter escaped from the small crowd watching before Kodlak hushed them. Athis simply ground his teeth, picked himself back up and settle himself once more.

Skjor moved first this time, charging forward with a speed that didn’t seem possible for a man in heavy armour and Athis waited until the last moment to side step him. His only advantage was that he wasn’t weighed down with a crap load of metal plating. Which meant he could turn quicker.

As Skjor skidded past him, he turned, spinning on his heel and darting towards the larger man. He went in low, aiming for the metal plating over the man’s knees in an attempt to knock his legs from under him.

It should’ve worked, and yet somehow, the seasoned warrior turned, knocking him aside with his own worn iron sword, still sharp enough to sever the straps holding Athis’ chest plate in place. It fell free with a dull clunk, the plating over his left shoulder following suit. Had he had time, he would’ve sighed. Since Skjor was sprinting towards him again, however, he didn’t.

The man hurtled towards him, sword lowered. There was no way to escape behind, he could probably out run the man, but it would only gain him a few seconds. He needed to stand and defend himself but he didn’t have the strength of arm to block Skjor’s attacks. His eyes fell to the floor, alighting on the broken armour and without thinking, he lunged for it, pulling the chitin onto his arm to bear the brunt of Skjor’s attack.

The force jarred his arm and Athis grit his teeth even as Skjor stumbled, his balance thrown off by the collision. Taking advantage of the Nord’s already precarious balance, Athis swung his leg out, knocking the man onto his back before scrambling to his feet.

He had barely managed to stand up right before Skjor retaliated, barreling into him, shoulder burying into his stomach and the elf spluttered as he was thrown to the floor, finding his own sword at his throat a moment later.

He swallowed thickly. The test was over, and he doubted he’d made enough of an impact to have gained their favour.

“Enough, Skjor!”

The call came from Kodlak, standing beneath the canopy. Skjor straightened slowly, pulling the blade away and allowing Athis to stand. The Dunmer dusted himself off, feeling the ache in his stomach where a bruise was no doubt blooming before following the Nord back to the canopy. When they were well under the shade Kodlak glanced to Athis and Skjor in turn.

Athis swallowed, knowing that it hadn’t been enough, that his hopes of joining them were ruined.

“Your verdict, Skjor?” Kodlak asked the slightly younger Nord.

The balding man rubbed at the stubble on his jaw thoughtfully for a moment, looking at Athis.

“You lack the physical strength required to wield a sword properly, and your handling of a blade is laughable,” the man intoned, staring down into red eyes. Athis met his gaze evenly. He had enough pride to do that, at least.

“But,” Skjor continued, “You’re fast, you fight with conviction and you adapted well. That abilitiy to think on your feet is what a warrior needs. Strength of arm can be built, technique can be taught, but that is something you’re born with.”

Athis’ eyebrow lifted of its own accord, his heart quickening slightly at the praise.

“So what you’re saying is...?”

“You need training. But you can be trained into a worthy warrior. I would be willing to accept you, if Kodlak deems it right.”

The dark elf turned to the elder Nord who nodded.

“You have the right reasons and character for a Companion and as Skjor sees potential in your abilities. To become a full member of our group, you will have to undergo a trial, but for now, you are welcome to call yourself one of us. Your initiation will come when the time is right.”

Athis blinked, unsure he had heard correctly.

“Wait. You mean...?”

“Torvar will show you to the bunk room. Pick your bed and you’ll find a chest for your possessions. Welcome to the Companions, elf.”
--

“Work.”

“What kind of work?”

Athis huffed, unwilling to divulge his actual purpose. He didn’t need some stranger passing judgement on his decisions any more than he needed his brother to.

“Any.”

“You might find something at the Bannered Mare,” the guard replied, suddenly lifting his battleaxe, “Or the farms. Ain’t much else around these parts.”

The Dark Elf simply nodded his thanks. The fact that the guard had decided not to tell him about the Companions only served to increase his apprehension about approaching them in the first place. Maybe there really wasn’t any place for elves in their group.

Still, he wouldn’t let that dissuade him, despite his pulse quickening. He had come this far and he wouldn’t back out now, just because he was an unusual candidate.

Whiterun proved to be somewhat different from the other cities he had visited in Skyrim so far. The buildings were in better condition, the layout far more welcoming than that of Windhelm. And the citizens seemed far more content than those in Riften. By far, though, the biggest difference was the lack of staring. Once or twice, Athis caught curious glances from the locals, but was largely ignored in favour of haggling with the local merchants.

Why this was the case, he wasn’t sure. Riften had a significant Dunmer population and yet he had still received glowers and glares when he had ventured into the crumbling city. Then again, everyone in Riften seemed to be the subject of glaring. Having a Thieves guild living beneath your streets would tend to make everyone suspicious, he supposed.

He shrugged it off. The Nords seemed to have such a lack of consistency on so many aspects of life, other than mead and food, that it was hardly surprising that different cities had their own personalities. It was both interesting and disconcerting. But then, there were so many more humans in the world than there were mer that it perhaps shouldn’t be so surprising that there was so much variation amongst them.

Stepping into the centre of the marketplace, Athis halted his musings for a moment, deciding that perhaps a bite to eat might be a good idea. To that end, he ended up buying a few strips of dried meat from a Bosmer vendor. The meagre amount of coin in his pocket seemed to decrease significantly, reminding him of his situation. He needed a job. He needed to get in with these ‘Companions’.

Chewing on the strips, he climbed the steps to the next area of the city. A dying tree greeted him and he stopped to look at it for a moment. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was procrastinating, putting off the inevitable rejection he was about to face.

The meat was tasteless in his mouth as he chewed, his mind too preoccupied to notice it and it was only when he had swallowed the last piece that he realised it was time to get on with it. Rejection ahead or acceptance, he wouldn’t know until he had tried. With a heavy sigh he readjusted the worn straps of his armour, feeling the aged netch leather groan at the weight of the plates suspended on it. He could really do with a new set. Perhaps, he thought, if he got in with the companions, he could afford to buy some.

That in mind, he stepped from beneath the tree’s meagre shade, pushing doubts to the back of his mind and striding towards the oddly shaped building. Showing cowardice or meekness in front of these warriors would not do, and if there was one thing his father had taught him, it was how to fake confidence. No-one could really tell the difference between fake confidence and real confidence, after all.

Oh my word Anon! Very saucy and sinfully delicious content you have there.
You should give us readers more samples of your fine, most potential story between your Dunmer and Nibenor, if you would be so generous~

Need. Moar. ;-;

16

Vilkas tucked some of her hair behind her ear as she downed the second potion. It tasted disgusting but his caresses made the deal a lot better. He took the bottle from her hands as soon as she was done, then placed it on top of the drawer by the bed.

Her ribs were numbing, the power of the potion taking effect in fixing her injuries. They weren’t severely damaged, so it wouldn’t take long before all she feels is a slight uncomfort, and she was glad about that. There were many things she needed to do in such a short amount of time, she wasn't sure if this is finally what’s going to drive her crazy.

With a groan, Thales let herself fall back on the bed. It wasn’t fair, she wants to spend as much time as she can with both Vilkas and her father. Now that they are all so close, her chest constricts at the thought of leaving them behind for her duties as Dragonborn.

With a low chuckle, Vilkas sat next to her on bed and turned to loom out of the light from the candles around the room. Thales smiled up at him, and lifted a hand to run it through his still wet hair. He had taken a bath as soon as both retired to the bedroom, wanting to be nice and fresh for the long journey tomorrow.

“Don’t worry, the potions will take effect soon enough.”

Thales rolled her eyes and scoffed at him. “That’s not why I’m feeling this way… I don’t want to go anywhere, I just want to stay here with you forever.” The dramatic tone made Vilkas smile and her hand continued to untangle some of his locks as she pouted.

Vilkas’ face became stoic for a second before smiling again, and it gave her butterflies in her stomach. He was gorgeous. “Well, we should make the most of tonight then.” He finished with a laugh and Thales joined him, a blush spreading on her cheeks. “But really, it’ll be over soon enough and we’ll have all the time in the world to be together, my dear.”

She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, relishing in the sound of his breathing above her. He’s right, they’re still alive and going, the worst that could happen hasn’t happened to them but they’re resilient enough to overcome anything (as long as they don’t die).

“Look, as soon as Farkas, the thief and I find your friend, I’ll join you and we can fight these dragons together.”

Lifting herself up on her forearms, Thales almost forgot what she was about to say at the closeness of their faces. “Vilkas,no. It’s too dangerous, I would die if anything happened to y—”

With a finger, he quieted her protest and then he bend down a little in order to press his lips to hers. “I’ve been doing this much longer than you and I’m still alive, Thales.” He said but didn’t straighten back up. “Wouldn’t you like it for us to travel together again, fighting side by side?”

Yes, yes she did. To have him near her and know he was alive was something she wouldn’t, couldn’t, refuse. With a sigh, she lowered herself back to the bed, but this time she lifted her arms and wrapped them around Vilkas’ neck, her fingers threading his hair.

“I would love that.” With a smile, she pulled him down and their lips connected once more.

Vilkas twisted his lower half in order to turn and face Thales as his hands moved to caress her jaw, then her neck. Their lips parted and both breathed each other's air. His masculine scent reached her nose and her eyes clouded in ecstasy.
She whined his name, and Vilkas stopped the kiss to look her in the eyes. “Yes?” He asked, bumping his nose to hers.

“I wish you knew how much I love you.” She said. Thales’ face was reddened, and Vilkas decided to move back and pick her up in his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making you my woman tonight.” His brashness, which Thales thought endearing, didn’t phase her as she raised her eyebrows in question.

“You mean I’m making you my man tonight.”

Gently, he set her down on the bed so she could lay on the pillows, and then caressed her cheek again. The soft skin, the sweet scent, and the delicious heat was something he couldn’t stop wanting. “Thales, you made me your man the first time you almost broke my nose.”

With a snort, Thales let herself fall back as she laughed at his words. “You sure know your way to a lady’s heart!” Vilkas shrugged before beginning to remove his tunic.

“You’re the only lady’s heart I want, and as long as it works on you then I’m satisfied.”

This is a side of him that she misses. His dry, but clever nonetheless, humour that always has her smiling.

When his tunic came off, Thales looked up from where she was to marvel at his amazing physique. He wasn’t big and burly like Farkas and Ralof, but somehow this body fit his personality more. She couldn’t explain it much, the anticipation was hindering her thinking. The heat pooling in her lower abdomen was proof of how much seeing him half nude affected her.

“It’s weird.” Vilkas was about to pull his bottoms down but stopped at her words.

“What?” He asked, frowning a little.

Pushing herself up fast, Thales grabbed on to his hand closest to her and kissed it in apology. “I wasn’t talking about you. I was just thinking that I never thought we’d be like this.” With a smile, she decided to make herself useful and help him take his clothes off.

She didn’t mean to turn this awkward, and she hopes goes away with her explanation.

Vilkas smiled again and then pulled the rest of off with her help. Not letting her get a full view of his naked body, he bent down on one knee by her feet and began helping her remove her clothes.

“I know what you mean. But we’re here now, and I love you and I cannot wait to be inside you.”

His words pulled something within her, it made her get a surge of confidence, which was a good thing because she’s never done anything like this before.

“Well, what are you waiting for. Come closer so I can make you my man.” With matching grins, both closed the gap between them and resumed their kissing.

Vilkas grabbed on to her top and pulled it off, her arms lowering to grab on to his face and pull him closer to her. The rest of her clothes followed soon, and then they were both facing each other on the same position, mouths still connected. Moving back, Vilkas caressed her tights and lowered his head to kiss her stomach. With swipes of his tongue, he made his way up to kiss and nibble at her bare breasts. She was gorgeous just sitting there with her head back, enjoying his caresses.

Her feet rubbed his waist as he played with her nipples, the feel of his hot skin against hers drove her mad. They began this not long ago, and she already felt like she wanted to reach the maximum denouement. She has a feeling that they weren’t going to be doing this for long.

His hands were fast at grabbing on to the back of her knees and pushing them up in order for her to fall back on the bed. He stood up and she had a chance to see him bare, to which she wasn’t sure how to react. Vilkas looked like a God, standing between her legs, smiling down at her with tousled hair and dark stubble.

Bending forward, he crawled up to her and both kissed again, his hand grabbing on to himself and placing his arousal against hers to rub as both moved along with the kiss. It was so odd yet exhilarating to feel him along herself, hard yet skin soft, and so very hot. With a groan, Vilkas moved to kiss and nibble at her neck, and Thales’ arms wrapped around his neck. Her fingers lightly scratching his shoulderblades.

Oh yes, they were not going to last long. But it was fine, this wasn’t some sort of marathon, this was them expressing the love and passion they have for each other.

Feeling she was sleek enough, Vilkas moved his hips back a little, and then he moved his hips forward again, his arousal pushed into her, sliding in little by little with tiny thrusts. Thales didn’t want to close her eyes, she wanted to stare at him as their bodies connected, but the sensations would be heightened if she did. The moment Vilkas gasped and buried his head on her shoulder, she closed her eyes and focused on feeling him slide in. It wasn’t painful, on the contrary, it felt amazing to finally have the feeling of fulfillment.

Once he was, she assumes, completely inside (an odd thought, he was much bigger than she thought men were supposed to be, but then again, he’s a Nord), Vilkas raised his head and kissed her mouth, then her nose. Both stared at each other lovingly, one of his hands moved along her side to grab a hold of her buttock as he pushed himself up with the other arm. He smiled mischievously as she felt him move back, and then push back into her. She spread her legs a little more in order to give him room, the sensation of him moving into her felt amazing and she wanted more of it.

Soon enough, that was all it took and then they were rocking against each other. Thales wasn’t too sure what to except for moving her hips as she felt more pleasurous, and Vilkas didn’t seem to mind that she wasn’t doing much. His grunts and moans made her stomach tingle, and her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down so she could kiss him.

As their movements intensified, hearing him moan her name over and over was driving her mad. It wasn’t before she was gasping his name “Ah—Vilkas..!” and throwing her head back, a surge of feelings and sensations running through her body from head to toes. His hips snapped back and forward harder than before, and she kept having those sensations, her head finally liberating from some sort of pressure. Burying his head on her shoulder again, she felt him bite her neck gently as he jerked and stop moving save from small rocking.

Sighing, Thales turned and caressed his hot and somewhat moistened back as both laid next to each other, as close as they could possibly be. They’re finally home.

It was moments later when both decided it would be best to clean up and get ready for bed. Pulling his tunic on, Thales turned to smile at a sleepy Vilkas laying on the bed, waiting for her to join him.

“Mm, you might have to wear my clothes more often, my dear.” He said tiredly, but a smile didn’t fail to adorn his face.

“Oh really.” Pulling the furs back, Thales got in bed and breathed out deliciously. She was tired, but the good tired, and the ache on her ribs was minimal.

“So, shall we discuss the plan for tomorrow?” He yawned and pulled her tight to his chest.

“We go separate ways, and once you guys are done with Serana, you can travel back with Brynjolf. I’ll meet you in Riften and then we kick some giant lizard ass.”

Chuckling, Vilkas kissed her forehead and then rested his chin on it. “Then you better hurry and get whatever you’re getting.”

It was with a smile that Thales fell asleep.

~

Fastening the thick cape, Thales stood watching her father walk towards them. The wind was getting stronger, sharper, surely a blizzard approaching the city. There were two guards and Ralof along with him, and she smiled as the blond waved graciously at her. When her eyes met her fathers, her smile faded, her eyes hardened, but not from hate or displeasure. She was standing in front of a great man, she deems him respect regardless of her thoughts on the war.

“It’s time.” He said, approaching her and standing about two feet from her. She nodded, and saluted him, getting a salute back from him. “I have something for you.”

She watched as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of jewelry. Her eyes widened at the item, it was an amulet of Mara (she’s seen them before). Both reached to each other, and she grabbed it, rubbing the pad of her fingers on its surface.

“I got it made for your mother, I got thinking last night, it would be best if you keep it from now on.”

A prickling in her eyes told her she was about to start crying, so with a wide smile, she offered it back to him. With a subtle smile himself, Ulfric reached over and placed it around her neck, moving back and admiring the result.

“Thank you, father.”

With a nod both moved again at the same time and hugged, tight and strong. With one last deep breath, the hug ended and she lowered her head to him in respect. “I’ll contact you as soon as I establish a permanent base, that way when I write you, you can write back.” The thought of it made her stomach jump, it was strange saying those words.

Ulfric nodded and stepped back as Thales walked away from him towards an empty patch of land.

She exchanged looks with Brynjolf and then with Ralof. Sapphire walked up to her and hugged her, whispering “Take care, okay? Don’t get killed because we have to find my father.”

“It’s a promise.”

Once the woman walked back to a safer distance, Thales turned and breathed in as much air as she could, and then shouted “Dur Neh Viir!” A bright light, then turning dark colors flashed in front of everyone, and the wind began to wildly cut. With a screech, the dragon appeared and flapped its enormous wings before reaching his head down towards her.

“Dear Talos!” She heard Ralof shout in astonishment, but was soon interrupted by the dragon asking her what he was being called for.

“We have work to do, I hope you’re up for a trip.” Turning around, she saw Ulfric standing proud at the sight of her daughter and a tamed dragon, and then Vilkas began to walk towards her.

“I will be seeing you soon, my dear.” Both kissed again, but not for the last time.

“Until then.”

Climbing on the dragon’s neck, Thales waved one last time to her friends and her family, and then was lifted up high, and very fast into the sky. The sombering feeling of despondency she’d been overcome with began to disappear as the bodies of her friends became more and more blurry.

She found her father, she found her love. Everything is going to be okay.

~

Well guys, this is the END! I would like to point out that I know that you in fact cannot ride Durnehviir, but I love him so much I just went ahead and used him for the ending haha. Notes on the love scene: I felt that the best course of action was to keep it simple and short, it seems more realistic that way, I sure hope it was enjoyable! :) I want to thank all readers and all reviewers, you guys rock my socks! And although this is technically the end, I will still do a short (super tiny) snippet of the future to wrap some things up and just to add fluff to this big story. So you can chose to end it here completely, or read the extra part I'll be doing soon. THANK YOU! Have a nice day!

The intimate part was perfect! very simple and very well done !! I could feel the love between the two! I like your Vilkas and I love Thales! Ulfric as a father is amazing! The finish is exciting and for sure I'll be here for another chapter or two or as many as you'd like to add! Look for more love between Thales and Vilkas but also because I need to Serana and Brynjolf!A good day for you and lots of cookies!

“Thales, you made me your man the first time you almost broke my nose....THIS IS VILKAS!!!ehehehehehe

Oh my! I love it when people enjoy my writing! I shall whip up something for you all...

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