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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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Hope you are ready for Dom Ulfric! More to come(evil grin).

Weight descends onto Tullius as Ulfric lays on him, gasping for air. How long they stay like this neither one of them knows, nor do they care. After a minute, Ulfric rolls to the side, his cock sliding out of him, and gets up, his hand extended to Tullius. Grasping it, he feels himself easily pulled up. Ulfric looks for his clothing and Tullius does the same for his armor.

As he buckles the last of his armor, Tullius feels hands grab his arms and pull him around. Those same arms push him into another rough kiss. Tullius allows the kiss start and end enjoying the feeling of Ulfric’s lips soft against his once more. They break for air and Ulfric stares at him unflinchingly. Tullius raises an eyebrow at the Nord. “When this war is over, I may keep you as a pet, my little General.”

------

Sorry about the wait on this last part, I couldn't find the want to write or even play Skyrim for inspiration. Please forgive me Anons.

So I don't know if I'd be able to do this hilarious prompt justice with fic, but I will say that I have several ideas for a few mini comics at least, which I will get started on this weekend.

And then I'll see where it goes from there.

So expect a fill of... sorts, at least. Sooner or later.

Can I do this with the DB taking care of their follower instead? Because I really would like to do this with Teldryn, who seems like he'd be the kind to not like being coddled, and he and my (M!Bosmer) DB are currently living in sin in Honeyside together.

Can't wait, A!A, you're doing fantastic!

The General is called to the Thalmor Embassy to explain why his efforts in subduing Skyrim have ground to a halt. He has some rather valid reasons, but Elenwen is not in the mood to hear them. So instead of letting Tullius go, she has her guards subdue him and take him to the torture chamber.

Once inside it becomes a blur of ball busting, knife play, tons of female justicars lined up to use the General's ass with their magical strap-ons and whatever else you can think of. By the time the General is released he can barely stand, let alone ride his horse back to Solitude.

+ I would prefer all of Tulius's tormentors be women, with lots of humiliation of the General.
+ Elenwen sends a couple of her guards back to Solitude, one for the General and one for Rikke, to advise (sexually abuse) them further.

Of course! I'm a pretty easy OP to please, and whatever your muses want to do is fine by me. (And I just put it as DB/Spouse to keep it in alphabetical order, really any way is fine by me :D)

*

"Oh, you're so cute. Yes you are! Yes you are!"

"Such a handsome boy!"

"Here! Give him some meat."

Amielle watched, baffled, as Aela, Ria and Vilkas crowded around Barbas, petting him and dropping scraps of their dinner on the floor for him.

In all her days, she had never seen such a commotion as the one that erupted when she stepped into Jorrvaskr with Barbas in tow. They'd all stood up and crowded around him immediately, giving him strokes and food. Amielle just edged around them, bemused, and took a seat at one of the long tables. Then she noticed Farkas wasn't there and her heart sank. She tapped her fingers on the table idly and stared at the food before her. Then her eyes raked over the crowd again. Still nothing.

She sighed and poured herself a goblet of wine. She drank deeply as the others fussed around Barbas still, laughing and chatting. She envied them sometimes. They were all so...normal. Her upbringing had left her bereft of the ability to simply sit and chat with others. Instead, she had learned how to laugh at things she didn't find funny, make polite conversation with strangers and make friends with people she hated. She didn't really know how to deal with people she actually liked.

Then the door swung open and Farkas wandered in, Torvar following behind, nursing a cut on his left forearm. Amielle felt her breath catch in her throat when Farkas spotted her, smiled and made his way to her. She sat up a little straighter, her Imperial ladies training kicking in. She remembered the words of her etiquette teacher; a prim, wiry haired woman with thin lips.

'If you find yourself catching the attention of a man and wish to keep it, remain cool and calm. Be polite and ladylike. Take an interest in his opinions and only offer yours if he asks.'

Amielle smiled to herself as Farkas sat on the seat to her left, his huge shoulder brushing against hers. 'I shouldn't think asking him to take his shirt off qualifies as polite. Shame.'

"That a dog?"

His question broke her out of her lusty daze.

"Yes."

"Oh." He took a drink of ale. "Why's it here?"

"I'm just...taking him home." Amielle winced at her poor answer. "I'll be leaving in the morning."

"Right."

She eyed him for his response. Did she detect a slight slump in his shoulders when she said she was leaving so soon? Or was it just blind hope?

She tore her eyes away from him and glanced back over to Barbas. She saw him rolling around on the floor having his belly scratched by Ria. Vilkas was chuckling and still feeding the dog ham, while Aela stood, smiling; Barbas stretched out over her feet. Amielle was about to leave them to it when she realised that Barbas' head was tilted at an odd angle. In fact, now she looked closely, she realised that he must have a view...up the skirt of Aela's armour.

She whistled loudly and shrilly, catching the attention of everyone in the hall. There was a moment where everyone looked at Barbas and expected him to obey his mistress' call. After a slight pause, he rolled onto his four paws and slunk over to her, his eyes giving her a peculiar dog version of a glare. She glared back and he came to a stop next to her, leaning against the empty chair to her right.

The others all settled after that, sitting around the long tables and continuing their usual evening routine of food, drink and stories of adventures past.

I haven't seen one of these around here so here we go

I need playboy!Dragonborn, he can't help but seduce men and women in each hold, sometimes with some accidental children afterwards maybe? It's up to the author.

I just need playboy!dragonborn, that everyone knows what he's up to, with some disgust from some people, and willingness from others.

Seconding the ever loving shite outta this. Good to know I'm not the only one who got inspired by all the tentacly stuff XD

WHY DIDN'T I HEED THIS WARNING.

dammit brain.

Come on, no sexyness involving the God of Debauchery? I am diassapoint, anons.

Seriously though, please give me some sweet Sanguine loving. Preferably M!Breton/Imperial!DB, but M!Nord or female will be a-okay.
I will love you forever if you fill this. Yes YOU, Anon!
Oh, and if Sanguine were in his daedra form, and would be merrily topping the hell out of a slightly confused but very drunk and lovin' it DB I will probably give you my firstborn... nest of dragonlings. That's right, raise yer own Odahviings!

Pretty pretty please?

Oh yes. YES. I approve OP. But would you be okay with a little PWP and some brotherly love in it?

I am so hopping onto this. How about DB (s/he pref?) harassing the guards? There must be a reason why DB always attracts such a crowd after the dragon is slain.. hehe

Tsun sized? Oh yes. I second the shit outta this.

Captcha: operation druggin.

o.O

Your comments always inspire me to keep writing! I love seeing your responses to each section.
Yay, bonus points! I have not actually played DnD, but I read a lot of Dragonlance / Forgotten Realms novels years ago, so definitely had some inspiration there for words pertaining to dragons. Nice catch, OP!

Apologies for the long wait, kind readers. It is midterm season at the university, and you all know what that means... On a positive note, this update is a bit longer than the last.

(By the way, OP, I replied to your DnD question above.)

Thanks again to everyone for reading and all the inspirational comments! I am pretty sure I check the thread more often for comments than people do for updates… ;)

***

It took the pair of them two days to return to Whiterun. Olria felt relieved to pass through the huge gates and back into the city early that evening. She and Farengar were exhausted. They both dragged their feet up the road. Their bedraggled appearance and charred robes earned more than a few suspicious looks.

By the time they arrived at the keep, Farengar’s fatigue had put him in a sour mood. The man reamed out a servant when he noticed someone had picked the lock to his potions cabinet. “Are you deaf as well as blind?” he snapped at a serving woman. “I was here when the Jarl told you to ensure no one mucked around in my workroom while I was away. Can you not see someone’s thieving hands have been all over my potions?”

Olria smiled apologetically, but the woman still left in a huff. Farengar muttered under his breath and began taking stock of his potions. His apprentice merely requested some tea and a late dinner from a passing servant (albeit sheepishly) and sat waiting at his desk.

“That is… odd,” Farengar said.

“Odd?” Olria asked. “Odd that you just insulted that poor servant?”

Farengar scowled. “Not that. I have every right to be angry. You would think a soldier or a servant would notice someone stealing from the court wizard. Do the guards just stand there to look pretty?”

Olria waved him away. She smirked when her easy dismissal annoyed the man. It was a trick she’d learned from the master himself. “What’s so odd, then?”

Farengar’s lips twitched. “For one thing,” he said, “As far as I can tell, nothing is actually missing.” He picked up a healing potion and held it up to the light for scrutiny. The mage shrugged and set the potion beside Olria on the desk.

While they both waited for their late dinner, he reorganized the potions cabinet. When the servant returned, she gave Farengar a glare and set a tray of food on the desk, along with two cups and a steaming kettle of tea.

Farengar ignored the servant, although Olria thanked the woman. The court wizard sat beside Olria and popped the cork off his healing potion. He added a healthy dose to the tea.

Olria raised one eyebrow at him.

“I have a headache,” he muttered. “Not enough sleep. Besides, your body is still recovering from your injuries and its recent healing.”

“Mhm.” Olria poured tea for them both. She sipped appreciatively. They ate in weary silence.

When he was done, Farengar sighed and rested his chin in one hand, elbow on the desk. He drank the rest of his tea and set the cup aside, staring at the wooden grains of the desk. “You should eat more,” he complained, not for the first time.

Olria blinked. “What?”

Farengar’s eyes shifted to hers. “You work so hard that you forget to eat.”

Olria bowed her head in acknowledgement. Sometimes there were things more important than putting food in her mouth. She helped herself to the leftovers of their meal, even though she was tired and all she wanted to do was collapse onto a soft mattress.

Farengar supervised her until not a scrap of their dinner remained. Then he nodded and stood. “I am going to bed,” he said, shuffling away to his room.

Olria bit her lip. She pushed their chairs in and then went to her room to change into her nightdress. She considered sleeping in her own bed after Farengar had so abruptly retired. After a minute, she changed her mind and went to his room, closing the door behind her.

Farengar was already in bed, eyes closed. His face was pale. There were dark circles under his eyes. Olria crawled under the covers with him. “You really haven’t been getting much sleep, have you?” she whispered.

The man only grunted in response, rolling over to face the wall. He massaged his forehead with the heel of his hand.

Olria sighed and kissed his shoulder. Snuggling up against his back, she closed her eyes.

***

***

Sometime late in the night, Olria found herself alert. She blinked up at the dark ceiling, wondering what had awoken her. She rolled her head to the side, feeling across the mattress for Farengar. Her hand touched his back, and she felt him shivering.

“Farengar?” Olria whispered.

The man made a strange sound. It was almost a whimper.

Swallowing back her nerves, Olria propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him. He was still asleep. His face twisted into a grimace. The man’s hands clutched at the blankets, wringing them. He made a noise in the back of his throat.

He was having a nightmare.

Olria grabbed Farengar’s shoulder and shook him awake, calling his name. Farengar jerked away from her with a gasp. His eyes shot open, wide and wild. He turned around to face her, staring into her eyes.

Olria grabbed his hands and squeezed. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he said.

“What’s wrong?”

“I keep seeing you dying.”

Olria’s throat felt tight. She reached out and wrapped her arms around him. He embraced her in return, tucking his face into her hair. “It’s okay,” she hushed. “I’m here, we’re safe at Dragonsreach. There’s nothing to worry about anymore.”

Farengar made no response, only holding her tighter. Olria drew back until she could see his face, and kissed him. His cheeks were damp, and he didn’t respond at first. Then he slipped a hand behind her neck, mouth opening up to her. His kisses became needy, moist lips moving over her own, tasting her.

Olria clutched at his shoulders, dragging him closer. She could feel his heart beating fast. His breaths were quick against her mouth. There was not a trace of hesitancy in Farengar’s touch as his hand went to her waist. His palm glided under her nightdress and up the length of her body.

His skin was hot against hers. Olria trembled. Farengar’s kisses grew more heated, his lips consuming her. He half rolled onto her, his warm body pressing her into the mattress. His arousal ground into her thigh.

Olria grabbed his face and crushed his lips closer, a strained sound escaping her throat. Farengar needed no further coaxing before his tongue met hers, invading her mouth while his hand held her steady.

He pulled away for only a moment, leaving Olria gasping. The man tore off his robes. Then he straddled her bare hips, his face swooping down so he could kiss her again. His other hand grabbed her hip and Olria arched against his body. Head spinning, she clasped his biceps, anchoring herself beneath him.

Farengar’s hand slid around her hip and scooped under her. He pulled her thigh upward, until Olria hooked her knee over his shoulder. The weight of his body left hers, and Olria gave a dismayed cry, wanting to tug him back down.

The hand that had been around her neck smoothed down her abdomen. Farengar’s fingertips glowed with magic in the darkness, leaving shocks of pleasure to zip through her muscles.

Half-lifting Olria’s hips off the bed, Farengar’s hand slid between her legs. He pressed one finger into her. Magic pulsed deep within her body. The pleasure was so intense it was almost unbearable. Olria nearly screamed.

Farengar added a second finger, magic throbbing inside her. Olria writhed on the bed, biting her lip hard to hold back a cry. The man panted now, grinding himself against her while his fingers pumped in and out. He planted a kiss on her knee and withdrew his fingers. They left a slick trail on her skin as he grasped both her hips and pulled her towards him.

He groaned as he slid into her. Olria gasped, her muscles stretching around him. Farengar leaned over her until the muscles in her legs protested. Kneeling on the bed, he began to thrust into her. His strokes were faster than the first time they’d joined. Each roll of Farengar’s hips brought him closer to the core of her being.

Farengar’s breaths grew ragged. He slid his hands up her body and around her back. His touches tingled, magic sinking through her skin. Olria moaned, dizzy at the rush of sensations bombarding her at every angle. His hands stroked up and down her lower back. One continued to support her as the other travelled around to her front, squeezing one breast.

“Farengar,” Olria gasped. He was bending over her now, his thrusts going even deeper. She grabbed at his hair, running her hands through the sweaty tangles. The man let out a low groan and set her down on the bed, lying on top of her.

He did not resume his frantic pace. He fondled her breast. His wet lips glided over her ear. He kissed her neck, her face. He almost pulled out. Then he pushed back into her, slowly. He continued at this reduced pace, one languid stroke at a time.

Olria all but melted into his arms. She arched against him with each thrust. She was intensely aware of the sensation of flesh sliding against flesh, of how Farengar’s muscles coiled and relaxed above her. His mouth found hers again, his tongue teasing her lips.

Heat began building low in Olria’s stomach. Each slow, persistent thrust added more fire. Olria gasped unintelligibly, barely able to return Farengar’s kisses. She gave up trying, throwing back her head. He licked her neck instead. Olria’s hands gripped the bed sheets. She steadied herself against the boiling wave that washed over her body, leaving her panting and her muscles quivering.

Olria trembled as Farengar thrust into her half a dozen more times. He weathered her orgasm with sharp gasps. He bit back a cry as he reached his own climax, causing heat to pool in Olria’s belly.

Breathing shakily, Farengar collapsed beside Olria on the bed. She turned onto her side to face him. He blinked up at her before leaning over to kiss her cheek. Olria smiled and nestled against him. Not long after, she heard the tired man’s breathing grow slow and even. His heart pumped quietly in his chest.

Once she was certain he was asleep, Olria gently disentangled herself from the man’s arms and slipped out of the bed. She pulled her nightdress back down around her legs. The woman tiptoed from his bedroom quietly, her feet cold on the stone floors of Farengar’s workroom.

With the help of Candlelight, she found another vial of Child’s Bane in the court wizard’s potions cabinet. Olria studied the vial for a moment. Uncorking it, she drank the unpleasant mixture before returning to Farengar’s room.

Olria slipped back into her spot next to the man. He was dead to the world, not even stirring. She wondered how long the nightmares had been plaguing him – it had been days since the dragon’s attack and their unfortunate journey into the Nordic ruin. Olria lightly stroked Farengar’s cheek. She couldn’t erase what had happened, but she hoped the image of her near death would not continue to haunt him.

***

Farengar felt considerably better the next day. It was his turn to awaken confused that Olria wasn’t in his bed. He dressed and went out into his workroom, blinking owlishly at the light. He saw people walking back and forth through the keep, servants bustling about, and guards patrolling. “Noon?” he muttered to himself. “I never sleep until noon.”

The court wizard went to find himself a midday meal, figuring the serving woman from yesterday wouldn’t oblige him after his rude behaviour – at least not without Olria’s kind smile. His apprentice must be in Whiterun, working at the temple again. Farengar had to shake his head in slow amazement. Did she never grow weary of helping people? She was already back to work the day after she returned from a near-fatal expedition!

Smiling to himself, Farengar ate quickly. He cleaned away his dishes before finding the sketchbook lodged in his travel pack. Drawing up a chair and finding a lamp for extra light, Farengar sat at his desk and began to compare his notes to the ancient documents he’d found in Windhelm.

“So good to see you’re back, Farengar,” called a woman’s voice.

Farengar felt his stomach clench. He didn’t bother looking up from his work. “Arcadia,” Farengar said. “Perhaps I overestimated your intelligence. Was my comment about you sending a courier next time you needed something too subtle?”

“Oh, not at all,” the shopkeeper replied. “I simply hoped you would have had a change of heart after sampling my wine.”

The court wizard continued his writing. “Unlikely.”

“Really? Is that why you won’t look at me?”

Farengar’s fingertips clenched his quill so tightly they blanched.

“Come on,” the Imperial prodded. “I sidled up next to you after you sampled my wine. I know it worked.”

The quill in Farengar’s hands snapped. He tossed it over his shoulder. “Do not flatter yourself,” he replied.

Arcada strode forward and slammed her hands down on the desk. One hand slapped onto Farengar’s painstakingly sketched illustrations. The other was on a document so old and brittle it was a miracle the parchment did not crumble.

Taking a deep breath, Farengar glared up at the shopkeeper from under his eyebrows. As soon as he looked at the woman, he could feel his body respond in a most disgusting way. A bolt of desire shot straight to his groin.

It was impossible. He drank the love elixir wine a week ago. Perhaps it could have lasted for a day or two, but not seven. Farengar clenched his jaw, locking gazes with Arcadia.

Although he knew his face hadn’t betrayed his body, the woman seemed to have guessed. Her smile was confident. She raised one eyebrow, teasingly. “You know,” she murmured. “You have an hour or two before your apprentice will be back.”

Farengar stared into her eyes. He said, “Get your slimy, blisterwort-infested hands off. My. Research.”

Arcadia stuck out her tongue, but obliged. Then, she waltzed around the side of the desk and behind Farengar’s chair. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” she asked. She rested her hands on his shoulders.

Her touch was electrifying. He knew Arcadia was an alchemist, not a mage, but it felt like she was pouring magic into him. Farengar stood abruptly, shrugging off her hands. He feigned indifference to her touch, even though he was secretly afraid. She could manipulate his body in a whole manner of unseemly ways. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing would make his brain act on his arousal with her.

Farengar tried to push past her and away from the desk, but the woman jumped forward. She pressed against him, smiling wickedly.

Farengar grabbed her shoulders and shoved her away. The woman stumbled backwards, almost tripping as her hip struck the corner of the desk.

“You are pissing off a very powerful man,” Farengar snarled. “Tell me, do you think that is a good idea?”

“I know you want me,” Arcadia persisted. “Don’t you think I can feel when—”

Farengar took a step forward, raising a clenched hand. He was so angry that his blood roared in his ears. He’d never struck a woman, but Arcadia danced on a dangerous line. Farengar slowly lowered his arm, relaxing his fisted hand. His body ached to look at the Imperial, but Farengar’s brain wasn’t taking any of that nonsense. He wasn’t some sort of machine, and this woman was nothing short of despicable.

“If you do not leave Dragonsreach immediately,” Farengar murmured, “I will do something to you. Do not count on you enjoying it. There will be a lot of fire and pain involved.”

Arcadia stood glaring at him. Her face was a mask of annoyance and disappointment. “Would you really?” she asked, lifting her chin.

Farengar smirked. “I warned you.” Fire blazed in his palms. He took two quick steps towards her.

Arcadia’s eyes widened. She let out a shriek and dashed from the workroom. He heard her feet skipping over the stones and the door slam behind her. A patrolling soldier walked by to look into Farengar’s workroom quizzically before shrugging and going on his way.

From across the keep, Farengar heard a low chuckle. “Secret-Fire,” the Jarl said, “My, my, I haven’t seen you that angry in a long time. I’d figured that your little apprentice had softened you up so much that you were no longer a proper Nord.”

Farengar shot Jarl Balgruuf an insulted look. Without a word, he stalked out of the man’s view and back to his desk. The court wizard settled back into his chair. He had to think.

The potion could not have affected him like this. It couldn’t be permanent. There had to be some other explanation. It was ludicrous to think that simply looking at Arcadia would arouse his body. Revolting to think she could have that sort of control over him. Farengar grimaced. He couldn’t imagine what Olria would think if she saw him like that.

Farengar crossed his arms. He tapped his lips, staring at the ceiling in speculation. Arcadia must have slipped something into one of his meals or his drinks. She’d used wine once before – of course she would have tried again. Farengar sighed. He reached over and pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk, taking out the three bottles of wine he had stashed there for special occasions. As mournful as it would be, he’d have to pour them all out.

He left the keep to empty the wine onto the grass, much to the guards’ disappointment. Next, he went into the kitchen and proceeded to harass the servants regarding the subject of them not only letting thieves into his workroom, but also allowing an insane sexual predator (thinly veiled as an alchemist) near his dinner.

Needless to say, it didn’t go well. They adamantly denied seeing Arcadia near the kitchens. Fuming, Farengar returned to his workroom, wondering if he was safe to eat anything at all if Arcadia could be waiting to sabotage his food or drink.

Heck, the woman might as well just toss a dash of her love elixir into everything so she could have the Jarl fawning after her, too. Farengar wiped a hand over his face and groaned. Why him? Why? He needed to report the woman to Jarl Balgruuf before she really did something stupid. Or before he contemplated murder.

Farengar sat at his desk, plotting all sorts of demises for the shopkeeper. Even though his research was spread out before him, his mind was lost in thought.

Olria returned to the keep early that evening and found him there like that. Farengar carefully avoided her gaze, staring down at his desk. The last thing he needed was for her to ask how his day had gone.

He didn’t have to worry, though. The woman walked right by on her way towards her room without as much as a word. Even though he didn’t want to talk right now, he was a bit insulted she had passed without a greeting.

Farengar folded his arms across his chest, quelling any impatience he felt. Her behaviour was odd. He looked over his shoulder as Olria reached her bedroom door. Her face was flushed and she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Olria,” Farengar halted her, his voice stern. “What is it?”

Olria stopped, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Farengar watched as she shifted awkwardly. “Um,” she said, “What makes you think there’s something wrong?”

Farengar rolled his eyes. “Come here,” he commanded, extending an arm towards her.

Olria sighed and turned. She walked close enough for the still-seated Farengar to sling an arm around her waist and tuck her against his side. He looked up into her face, eyes narrowing. “Tell me,” he said.

The woman blushed again, staring down at her boots. “I ran into Arcadia on the way back here,” she muttered.

“Was she rude to you?” Farengar demanded. He could feel his own colour rising. If that madwoman had spoken offensively to Olria, he’d—

“No. Er, she didn’t even notice me.”

Farengar blinked at her. His arm loosened. “Then what is wrong?”

Olria smiled. “Nothing at all,” she said, twisting out of his grip. “But I’m going to study for a while. I’m sure you’ll still be up when I’m done.”

And with that, Farengar’s apprentice disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door.

Farengar stared after her, eyebrows folding down with consternation.

Had all the women in Dragonsreach gone mad?

No. There had to be some sort of explanation for Olria’s strange behaviour. Farengar slouched against his desk, propping his head up on one arm. The young woman wouldn’t lie to him, of that he was certain. That means she really had seen Arcadia. And for some reason, the sight had flustered her and embarrassed her to the point she couldn’t even speak clearly to her mentor.

Farengar cursed under his breath. He rubbed his face.

He really was going to kill Arcadia.

Olria must have been affected by the love elixir, too. No wonder she had blushed redder than a tomato. Farengar frowned. But that made no sense. She never drank wine. Furthermore, there was little chance both of them would have failed to notice yesterday’s shared dinner had been tampered with. And today, Olria had taken her meals separately of Farengar thanks to her schedule at the temple.

Really, the only drink they’d had in common the past two days was the tea. But the kitchen staff had been resolute that Arcadia did not touch the food. That left one conclusion.

Arcadia had spiked all Farengar’s potions - including the healing potion he’d poured into his and Olria’s tea.

Farengar ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. A pounding headache was already beginning. “There goes my evening of research,” he said to himself, standing. Then, he went to his cabinet and began emptying the shelves. He dragged a waste barrel over to his desk. He poured each potion into it, setting the bottles aside to rinse later.

The air in the room smelled foul by the time he’d emptied three dozen potions into the barrel. Bottles of all colours, shapes, and sizes littered his desk and the alchemy and enchanting tables. With each drop that filled the barrel, Farengar’s anger grew. Arcadia would owe him an entire purse of gold for all his stock going to waste like this.

Later that evening, Olria emerged from her bedroom. She froze in the doorway, staring at the workroom in horror. “What are you doing?” she gasped. “You threw out those expensive invisibility potions?”

“For everyone’s sake,” Farengar replied without turning, “it had to be done.”

Olria stared at him as if he’d gone crazy. Maybe he was being a little more thorough than necessary. “Why?” Olria demanded.

Farengar glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow arching. “Because you felt intensely attracted to Arcadia.”

Olria’s face flushed redder than he’d ever seen. “How—” she choked. “How did you know that?”

“My amazing powers of deductive reasoning,” the man chuckled. “And… because it happened to me, too.”

“W-what! Oh, gods, is it… the love elixir?”

“I reached the conclusion that the Jarl’s servants may not be as incompetent as I at first suspected. There were no thieves. Arcadia must have been the culprit. She could have contaminated any number of my potions.” His eyes narrowed. “I am not taking any chances.”

“Here, I’ll help,” Olria said, feverishly.

Olria helped him clean the bottles while Farengar set about remixing his potions. Many of them would take days to settle into a usable state.

Olria returned with another crate full of clean vessels. She set them on his desk and filled the crate with those that were still potentially contaminated. “You had to throw out the Child’s Bane,” she said mournfully.

“I am making more now,” Farengar replied. “But, as you know, it will take at least two days before it will be effective.”

Olria’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah, I know.” She took the crate and marched back outside to clean the next set of bottles.

Once Farengar tired of sneezing over dusty herbs and plants, he cleaned up the alchemy station and replenished his potions cabinet. Olria was dozing at his desk, her head on her arms. It was very late, and the keep was quiet.

The man shook Olria’s shoulder. She yawned and sat up. “All done?” she asked.

“As much as I have the patience for tonight,” Farengar said.

Olria nodded, standing. Farengar guided her to his room. He closed the door and doused his lamp, leaving them in darkness. Olria moved towards his bed, but he caught her hand. He tugged her towards him.

Olria sighed and leaned into him, her head against Farengar’s chest. “Here I thought my body was betraying you,” she laughed. “With the enemy, of all people.”

Farengar chuckled. He kissed the top of her head. “Arcadia certainly has developed an effective aphrodisiac,” he said. “Too bad for her desire is not the equivalent of love.”

The man touched Olria’s face in the darkness, feeling her smile. She was in her mage’s robes today. He began to loosen the clasps. Her robes drifted to the floor.

The woman’s fingers were already busy shedding his clothes, too. All of them. Soon bare skin pressed against bare skin, and Farengar let out a comfortable sigh. Olria kissed down his chest and belly, her breasts brushing teasingly over his groin. Farengar pulled her back upright and leaned down to kiss her.

Olria’s yielding mouth opened under his, her soft breaths warm on his bristly cheeks. As Farengar kissed her, her hands slipped between their bodies and reached down to grab him. Farengar kissed her harder, already feeling his body responding to the touch, to her presence.

The woman ran her hands teasingly along his length. Farengar felt his belly tighten as she scooped her hand underneath and cupped him. She pressed her stomach against his. He ran his hands down her slender back and pulled her closer.

As Olria’s hand tightened around him and began stroking, Farengar swayed. He steadied himself by planting his hands on both her shoulders, his lips brushing her hair. Olria’s body slid against his as her hands worked. She bowed her head against his shoulder, adding a second small hand to tightly squeeze his base. Her other hand glided over him so lightly that he growled at her teasing.

Olria let out a soft laugh. Her grip firmed, pulling a gasp from Farengar’s throat. As she worked him, he began pushing into her hands, hips twitching. The man mumbled something against Olria hair and pushed her towards the bed. The mattress caught the back of her knees. She lay down, knees hanging over the edge of the bed, with him hovering over her.

Seeing the woman naked, staring up at him with big, bright eyes and a half smile, Farengar wished he’d kept the Child’s Bane after all. He heaved a sigh and kissed her. Then he sank to his knees, drawing his hands over her belly. He summoned the magic she responded to well to, and heard her gasp as it surged through her veins.

Farengar lightly parted his thighs, restoration magics glowing in his fingertips. Olria shuddered in pleasure, opening up to him. He ran a finger over her. The muscles of her thighs clenched on either side of his head. She inhaled sharply and held her breath.

Farengar parted her lips and kissed the warm mound there. The woman gulped in another breath as his tongue darted out, circling. He nibbled and licked gently as Olria adjusted to the alien sensation. When he felt her hands alight tentatively on his head, he increased the pressure, tongue flicking back and forth. She let out a soft moan, grip tightening in his hair.

Without stopping, he drew his hands over the soft skin of her inner thighs. Olria whimpered and let her legs relax. Farengar teased her entrance with his fingertips before slowly pushing two digits into her. Olria exhaled in a rush.

Farengar experimented, sucking and licking, seeing which motions made her body tense and which made her moan. He curled his fingers inside her, causing her to gasp. He massaged that spot steadily, his tongue continuing to glide over her. Olria’s breaths reduced to soft cries. She bit her wrist, muffling her voice. She began to arch against him frantically, begging him to increase his pace, all shyness abandoned in the face of need.

Farengar continued to lap at her steadily, fingers sliding in and out of that tight heat. Olria came almost silently, her muscles clenching around Farengar’s fingers. She let out her held breath in a rush. She pulled on Farengar’s hair and shimmied fully onto the bed, drawing the man with her. Farengar sprawled on the sheets next to her, his lips no doubt sporting a ridiculous smile.

Olria kissed his nose, her eyes twinkling mischievously. She climbed on top of him and sat across his hips. Farengar gulped at the feeling of slick warmth pressing into his groin. Olria rubbed herself against him for a moment, making the man squeeze his eyes shut, fingers gripping her waist.

Olria lifted her hips, and then reached down to take a hold of him. When Farengar realized her intent, he almost jerked away like a little girl with a spider crawling up her leg. “What are you doing!” Farengar said, shocked. His fingers dug into her hips, not letting her body touch his.

The woman grinned. She leaned down and whispered next to his ear, “I brought some Child’s Bane with us on our journey. We didn’t use it. It’s still in my pack.”

Farengar snorted, and then laughed. “Of course. Now you tell me.” Olria giggled. She leaned back against him, causing Farengar to groan. “Well,” he said, somewhat breathlessly, “If you would be so kind...?”

Olria obliged, sinking down onto him. Farengar’s hands guided her as she rocked. The woman leaned back so she could run her hands up his thighs. He took the opportunity to reach up and touch her breasts. He rubbed her nipples to hardness.

Olria murmured appreciation and leaned over him, hands on either side of Farengar’s head. Her hair slipped off neck to drape like a curtain around their faces. Olria’s eyes closed. Farengar watched pleasure melt across her face as he thrust up into her, legs lifting his hips off the bed. Farengar swallowed a groan. He wanted to pull her down to kiss her, but her face was too beautiful to watch.

Olria began to rock against him faster. Slick heat clamped down around Farengar. He moaned freely now, pushing back against her. His hands drifted up to her shoulders, tugging her body down until it was flush against his. He felt her smooth back flowing beneath his palms. She was all softness and warmth, quiet gasps and encouraging whispers.

Olria brought Farengar to his peak, but he wasn’t able to remain as soundless as she’d been. He groaned loudly. He was past caring who heard.

Olria rolled to the side, slinging her right arm and leg across his body. She nuzzled his neck and let out a happy sigh. Farengar stared at the ceiling in a satisfied daze. When Olria did not stir after several minutes, Farengar yawned and glanced down at her face. She appeared to be sleeping. He nudged her with his shoulder.

Olria’s eyes fluttered open. “Hm?”

“Which knapsack pocket is your vial in?” Farengar asked.

“Oh!” she murmured. “Um, front left.”

Farengar pulled away from her reluctantly. “I will be right back,” he said, standing and tugging on his robes. He left the room quietly and went to find Olria’s knapsack. It was sitting next to her desk. He untied the front left pouch and found two vials inside.

The court wizard returned to his room with one of the vials. He handed it to the woman on his bed. Olria drank the rusty-coloured liquid and made a face. Farengar chuckled, pulling back the blankets so she could slip beneath them.

Shedding his robes a second time, Farengar joined her. He tucked himself along Olria’s back. She murmured something sleepily. Farengar kissed her neck and closed his eyes.

***

I will see what I do about having the following section up early next week, but it may be later since I will be busy studying. I was excited about this update, and I am for the next one as well (almost all written now). Thanks for reading!

Hroki is on a trip to Riften when she meets Svana in the market. Things escalate quickly until the two of them are back at Haelga's bunkhouse ripping each other out of their clothes and generally making a lot of noise as they start fucking.

Haelga hears a commotion and is ready to kick some ass when she storms into Svana's room. But instead of the fighting she was expecting to come across, its two little sluts going at it like the worlds coming to an end. Not one to turn down a chance to get some ass, Haelga strips and joins in.

+ Creative uses of Haelga's statue of Dibella

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