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Skyrim Page 5 - "NAKED! Naked naked naked "

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Pretty simple prompt. Want a DB who can't afford an item at a store for whatever reason, shopkeeper decides he wants payment another way.

Any male shop keeper will do. Lucan, Ulfberth and Belethor are favorites though.

Squicks include toilet related kinks. Oral, orgasm denial and teasing are nice. Bonus points if another person walks in attempting to buy something while the shopkeeper is receiving oral and is desperately trying to keep a straight face as the person browses.

Dear OP,

I'm working on a story for you. In the meantime, meet Brielle: http://i.imgur.com/IUtZSzm.jpg?1

Also, question: Ulfberth is married. How do you feel about Adrianne participating?

Summary: When the Dragonborn can’t afford to pay septims, Ulfberth War-Bear suggests an alternative form of payment.
Pairings: Ulfberth War-Bear/Adrianne Avenicci, Ulfberth/Dragonborn, Adrianne/Dragonborn,
Tags: Polyamory, Rough Sex, Oral, Domination, Het, FemSlash, Threesome, Size, Orgasm Denial, Teasing

Brielle was having a terrible week; she had been attacked by a troll, beset by bandits, chased by a flame atronach and nearly devoured by a dragon. Finally, as she had been staggering back to Whiterun in a desperate bid to get somewhere safe, she had been robbed. Robbed!

She couldn’t begin to explain it, except that she’d run out of food the day before and even foraging had not managed to fill her belly. There had been quite a few bandits, and she’d expended all of her magic quickly due to her fatigue. They had taken her hard-won septims, any of her gear which was worth more than a few coins, and left her there.

Whiterun was only a day or so from where she was attacked, but she was tired, battered, bruised, and in desperate need of coin when she stumbled through the gates.

Things were comfortingly normal. Adrianne worked at her forge. A few guards patrolled. There was nothing out of place in this little town, and for a moment, she allowed herself to think that things just might be looking up.

Then her stomach rumbled, and she was reminded of her very distinct lack of coinage.

Adrianne glanced at her, blatant appraisal in her gaze. She saw Brielle’s state, maybe even noticed how light her knapsack was.

“Brielle,” Adrianne said, her hands still moving at her work as she tanned a leather. “You alright?”

“Oh,” she said, not quite sure how to put her feelings into words. “Um…”

“I see.” Adrianne managed a small smile. “You need things. Check inside the shop.”

That was as clear a dismissal as she was going to get, but it hadn’t been what she expected. It wasn’t a dismissal exactly. It was… she wasn’t sure what it was. But she’d been sent inside, and so inside she went.
__

The interior of the shop was considerably dimmer than the exterior, and it took Brielle’s eyes a few moments to adjust. She blinked a bit.

“Welcome to Warmaiden’s.” Ulfberth greeted her, “Now you, my girl, have definitely come to the right place.”

“Ulfberth!” She greeted, trying to sound enthusiastic without letting any of her desperation seep into her voice. “I have a few things I was hoping to trade.”

“Well get over here and let me see what you’ve got.” He said. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see him assessing her, much like his wife had mere moments before.

“Just a few things,” she said, rummaging around in her pack. Out came an iron dagger, a rusty mace, a worn longbow, and a few forks she’d managed to scavenge.

As he examined the items she’d set on his counter, his brows crept up. His lips pursed, and it was clear from his face that he couldn’t believe that this was all she’d brought to bargain with.

“Brielle,” He sighed, a long-suffering, weary sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes for a long moment, and then looked at her once more. “I can’t give you more than twenty-five septims for all of this.”

“I’ll take it!” she said, not even trying to haggle the price up. “I’m sorry, Ulfberth. I don’t mean to waste your time over little things, but I really need to buy some equipment, and I don’t have any other options. The other merchants don’t buy weapons. Please. I’ll do anything.”

“I may be able to offer you a solution to your problem.” He said at last.

“Whatever it is, yes.” She desperately latched onto his offer; Ulfberth and Adrianne had always been honest with her, offering prices that were more than fair and seeming to care about her personally.

“You might regret that, Brielle.” He warned, his face serious enough that she paused. “It’s not your… typical solution.”

“I don’t see that I have much of a choice, Ulfberth.”

“If you’re certain,” he still hesitated, as though he were concerned, and Brielle paused. Was his solution really so terrible? It was true that Ulfberth and Adrianne appeared to be upstanding citizens, but she of all people knew that appearances could be deceiving.

“Yes.” She said, trying to feel as certain as she sounded. There were so many things which could go wrong, agreeing to an unknown bargain for the sake of some food.

“I’ll hold you to your word then, but first, let’s get you fed.”
__

They sat in the kitchen, Ulfberth serving her hot stew from a kettle over the fire, and a chunk of bread slathered in fresh goat cheese. Brielle tried not to devour it too quickly, but it was the first food she’d had in far too long, and it was delicious. Lightly spiced and full of meat and vegetables.

“Please keep eating while I explain the terms,” Ulfberth said, finally bringing their conversation back to the main topic. He passed her some mulled mead before sitting down across from her. “Adrianne and I have a special sort of marriage. One which allows others into our relationship from time to time.

“Now, Adrianne approves of you, or you wouldn’t be here right now. And clearly you’re in a difficult position.

“We’re not a charity. We don’t hand things out, and you’ll be expected to work off what we give you. There are a few options for this. You could work at the forge, making the swords and equipment that Adrianne needs to keep the Imperials equipped. It would take you many months of gathering ores and smithing them, but we would pay you fairly for your time and labor.

“Or, you can pay with your body.” He paused, for effect, or to let it sink in. She wasn’t sure. “One week at my beck and call.”

Brielle eyed him warily. This was a joke, right? Ulfberth was… well, he was a fine man. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with muscles which came from hard work. His dark hair and beard were groomed and kept trimmed neatly. His eyes were a lovely blue, and even the scar on his cheek was attractive. She opened her mouth to reply, rethought, and instead bit her bottom lip.

Working her debt off at the forge was the more respectable option. And if it had been anyone but Ulfberth, she would have chosen that option. But, if she were honest with herself, she had to admit that she’d had more than a little crush on the man.

Steeling her courage, Brielle drained her mead, and set the goblet on the table firmly.

“I choose the second option.” She said, raising her chin and challenging him with her gaze. She would do this, and she would “When do we start?”

“In the morning.” He said. “For today you’re free to do as you please. You are welcome to eat supper here, and you may sleep by our hearth tonight if you wish. Or you are welcome to make other arrangements. But at dawn, you’re mine.”

With that, he stood and left the room. Brielle took a deep breath, and let herself sag. She was exhausted. She’d spent so long fighting, and she was emotionally and physically drained. But she wouldn’t show weakness.

She was strong. She was powerful. She was the Dragonborn and she would be respected. Feared, even. Nobody would ever know of this.

She took another slow, deep breath, stood, and headed out into Whiterun.
__

The Companions’ hall offered everything Brielle needed to pass the day. Food, alcohol, and warriors who were more interested in her ability to keep up with their drinking than her backstory. She found herself a place in an unoccupied bed, and slept off the day’s activities.

What a great start! Ulfberth is indeed a fine man. Mmm.

Ooo Very nice more please!

Keep going, keep going!

Brielle woke before dawn.

She took a few moments to wash her face and gather her wits about her before beginning the long march to Warmaiden’s. It was going to be a long and difficult week, and she was nervous. She wasn’t afraid; Ulfberth and Adrianne had been open about what was going on, and she had no reason to fear them.

With a deep breath, and a bit of tugging to straighten her clothes, she left Jorrvaskr. Before she was even remotely prepared, Brielle was outside Warmaiden’s. And, as the sun crested over the city’s walls, she knocked on the kitchen door.

Ulfberth had not explicitly stated that she was to come in through the back rather than through the shop entrance, but as she was little more than a slave to him for the next week, she assumed it was implied. She heard the sound of a chair scraping, and then he was there, framed in the doorway. She took an involuntary step back, her breath catching in her throat.

There was no reason to be afraid. None at all.

He smiled.

“Brielle, come in.” He moved from the doorway, and the feeling of him looming receded.

The way he had positioned himself forced her to walk close enough that she brushed against him. His proximity amplified her nervousness, and sent a shiver down her spine.

“So,” she said, once she was arm’s-distance away from him. “Where do we begin?”

“Brielle,” She loved the way he said her name, but there was something in his voice. Some hesitance. “Are you certain you want this? I’ve never forced a woman in my life, and I’ll not start now. If you are uncomfortable, say the word, and we will work something out.”

“No,” She said, before she’d even thought. “I need to repay you for what you’ve done, and this is the best way. I’ve chosen this.”

“If you change your mind, if I ask you to do something you are not comfortable with, you tell me, and we’ll stop.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“We start now. Kneel.” She lowered herself to her knees, instantly obedient. “Open your mouth.”

Brielle opened her mouth and closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of him unfastening his clothing to free his erection. He caught her hair, his fingers tangling in her dark curls, pulling her head to him. Her lips brushed the tip of his cock, and she heard his breath catch.

She moved her own head, swallowing more of him, sliding her tongue over his length, and enjoying the way he responded to her ministrations.

“Looks like things are under control here,” Adrianne spoke from nearby, catching Brielle off guard. Her eyes flew open, and she looked for the source of the voice. The blacksmith stood on the doorway, a small smile quirking her lips up as she took in the scene. “Perhaps we can play later, pet.”

Ulfberth applied gentle pressure to her head, reminding her of what she was doing. Other than that, he let her move herself. She took all of him, feeling him nudging the back of her throat, she choked a little, and he pulled back immediately.

She caught his hips, and drew him forward, claiming his cock with her mouth, laving it with her tongue. He groaned, a long, low sound that made her chuckle. In response, his fingers tightened in her hair, tugging in just the way she liked. She moved faster, her lips and tongue sliding his length, tasting him, enjoying him, and he let her, his head thrown back, his hands in her hair, but not pulling or guiding.

She watched him, enjoying the play of his muscles as he tensed. There was something so thrilling about seeing him from this angle, the view of his torso, his hips, his thighs.

“Brielle, I’m--” his words cut off with a groan. His fingers flexed convulsively, and his breathing was ragged. “I’m gonna--”

She tightened her lips around him and sucked hard, and then he was spilling his seed in her mouth, and she was pumping him still, moving her mouth on him and drawing it out. When she finally stopped, he sagged, his breathing still rough as he came down from his climax.

“Gods,” he finally managed, running a hand over his face. There was a thump in the front of the shop. Ulfberth hastily straightened his clothing, and glanced over at her. “We’ve a customer, so while I assist them, break your fast. I’ll have more for you after this.”

Brielle nodded, and Ulfberth left the room.

A murmuring of male voices accompanied her breakfasting. It grew quiet again as she finished eating, and had begun clearing her plate.

“Brielle,” Ulfberth was there again, filling the doorway.

“Ulfberth,” she said, mustering a smile. This would be fun. If she could just relax she could probably enjoy herself.

“Come help in the shop. I have stock that needs organizing, and when you’re not otherwise occupied, you can assist with that.”

“Alright,” Brielle said, nodding and setting her plate with the other breakfast dishes. She followed him into the shop, where he handed her an empty ledger book, and pointed to a rather large chest.

“You’re going to inventory the contents of that for me.” He stood behind her, and pointed to markings already on the paper. “This column is type of weapon, this is material it’s made of, and this lists any enchantments. I understand if you can’t discern what some of them are, set the unknown ones over there,” he pointed to an empty crate. “I’ll pay someone else to figure it out. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding, and taking in the book before her. In small, precise writing was a list of weapons bought and sold, and prices.

“Don’t make mistakes in this. It’s the official ledger.” He shifted and caught her eyes, to be sure he had her full attention. “Mistakes in the official ledger will be punished.”

The dark rumble of his voice made her shiver. It was full of promise, and expectation, and she loved it. He seemed to notice, because his lips quirked with a small smile.

With that smile, he left her to her work. For some time, there was silence. She would pull a weapon from the chest, look it over, and mark it down in the ledger.

She shivered occasionally, finding that a small part of her wanted to be naughty and provoke him into punishing her. The rest of her though, wanted to be perfect, because that was her way. She had standards, and held herself up to them strictly.

Then, as she lifted the quill from the paper, it happened. A droplet of ink fell upon the parchment, marring the page. She stared at it for a long moment, wondering if it had truly been an accident. With the way her belly clenched in excitement, she couldn’t be sure.

“Oh,” was all she managed.

Ulfberth looked over at her, his brows crept up his forehead and he cocked his head with a silent question.

“I… dripped.” She managed. He smirked, and she flushed red at the unintentional double entendre.

“Come here.” He said, and crooked his finger at her. In another situation his imperiousness might have bothered her, but just then she found it intensely arousing.

She obeyed, rising carefully-- so as not to damage the ledger further-- and crossed the room to stand before him.

“Turn around, and bend over.” His voice was steel, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She wanted this. She wanted it, and it scared her a little. She obeyed him.

His hands ghosted over her body, repositioning her slightly. Her palms rested flat on the counter, her legs spread wide, her back curved slightly, causing her rear to jut out obscenely.

She wore a dress, one of sturdy fabric, with a clean apron. The top was cut low, the skirts simple. It had seemed prudent, knowing what she would be doing for the next week, to offer her employer easy access. Now, as he lifted her skirts, flipping them over her back and exposing her bare bottom, she truly began to appreciate the choice she had made.

One large, rough hand smoothed across her bottom. It cricled, traced the curve of her. His hand explored every inch of her from her thighs to the small of her back, touching and smoothing oh-so-gently.

“Do you know what I do to girls who mar my ledger?” He asked her, leaning down close so she could feel the air from his words ruffle the hair near her ear.

“No.” She shivered, her legs trembling. She was wet. So wet. And she wanted him. Badly.

“I spank them.” He said, his teeth catching the curve of her ear in a gentle nip.

A low moan escaped her at the thought. He chuckled, the sound a deep rumble in his chest.

His hand made small circles on her bottom. And then it was gone. She braced for impact, knowing it was coming, but not certain when it would land. She struggled to breathe, fighting the urge to hold her breath in anticipation.

With a loud slap his hand made contact. Something between a shriek and a moan escaped her.

“I did not think I needed to say this, but you must be quiet during your punishment.” His voice was rough, full of need.

With that, he spanked her again. Two blows in quick succession had her biting her lips and squeezing her eyes shut tight in an effort to not moan or squeal. She wanted to. Oh how she wanted to. It was such a delicious agony, waiting for the strike, not knowing when it would land. The sudden sting, and the slowly building heat.

She could feel her arousal dripping down her legs. He spanked her again, and she nearly came undone.

He knelt behind her. His fingers traced along her lower lips, delving between them, and just feathering over her clit. She sobbed out a whimper, nearly begging him for mercy. He ran his fingers over her once more, before lifting them away. She heard him stand, and then felt his fingers, slick with her arousal at her lips. Greedily she sucked them into her mouth, running her tongue along them, getting every last drop.

He stepped back, adjusted her skirts.

“Please,” Brielle moaned, nearly sobbing in frustration.

“Bad girls don’t get to come. Get back to work.”

Hi Guys,

I'm not proud to admit this, but I completely forgot I was writing this. Bear with me, as I'm working on a few other projects, but I hope to have a few more updates posted very soon. (I had written quite a bit, it just needed to be polished and posted, and when I re-found it it sort of inspired me again.)

Thank you for bearing with me, and I hope you enjoy what's still to come. (And comment? I freaking love comments.)

<3 from A!A

This is so damn hot. I really hope there's more to come. Snerk.

Caer stared down at her boots, not for the first time wondering how she was going to get out of this particular predicament. Just a week ago everything had been looking up. She’d escaped from Helgen, survived a trek through Bleak Falls Barrow, and helped to kill a dragon. She’d even gotten the title of Thane handed to her, something that she had never even dreamed of.

Then she’d fallen ill with some damnable disease she’d caught from a skeever and ended up at the Temple of Kynareth to heal. While she’d been thrashing around in a fever, all of her lovely gold and loot had vanished—seemingly without a trace. All she owned was the gown Danica had put on her out of pity and her boots. She’d lost everything—every weapon and jewel and book that she’d hoarded since coming to Skyrim.

There was no way that she was going to be able to go see the Graybeards without a weapon or armor. It would be suicide.

Standing, she started down the staircase that led to the merchants on the main avenue of Whiterun. Maybe one of the merchants would allow her to outfit herself on credit. It was the best idea she had and she was admittedly desperate. She glanced at Arcadia’s shop and quickly dismissed it. The other woman wouldn’t likely agree to help her.

Turning, she spotted Belethor’s shop. The Breton had always been charming, willing to share a story as she’d shopped or traded with him. Surely he would help her. Stepping inside his shop, she smiled hopefully at the Breton shopkeeper.

“Good afternoon!” bellowed Belethor, grinning at the girl coming into his shop. His eyes widened as he realized that she wasn’t in her usual light armor but in a rather plain blue gown. What the gown lacked in style it made up for in revealing the curvy figure of the woman who wore it. “Some may call this junk—me I call them treasures,” he pitched, leaning forward against the counter.

Caer nodded, stepping closer. “Master Belethor, I have a proposition for you,” she began, smiling her winningest smile at the man.

Belethor’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have any coin, do you?”

Caer swallowed. “No.” Her voice was small, tiny. This wasn’t going the way she had hoped.

Belethor sighed, arms crossed over his chest. “This isn’t a charity, Mistress Caer. My wares are expensive and valuable.”

Caer nodded miserably, already turning towards the door. “I’m sorry I bothered you, Master Belethor.” She reached out for the door. “I’ll just head out.”

Belethor frowned. “Wait.” He watched as she stopped, the expression she shot him full of hope. “I have a proposition of my own,” he offered, motioning her towards him.

Caer nodded eagerly. “Whatever you want, Master Belethor. I promise, I will pay you back. You won’t regret this.”

Belethor stepped around her and closed the bolt on the door. Turning to meet her startled gaze he smiled. “I don’t think you understand, my dear.” He stepped to her, his hand finding her elbow and guiding her up a flight of stairs to the upper level of his shop. “My proposal is how you pay me back.”

Caer swallowed. “What do you mean?”

Belethor tucked her hair behind her ear as he stepped into her personal space. “What I mean, my dear, is that for the next month, you will work to please me and do anything I ask. After one month, I will give you any armor and weapons you require, as well as any supplies needed to continue your journeys.” His hand fell to her hip, his thumb rubbing circles against her through her gown. “Do you agree?”

“One month and then you’ll pay for anything I need?” she asked in a small voice.

Belethor nodded.

“And I only please you—not anyone else, right?” The last thing she wanted was for Belethor to decide that she should be sleeping with every man in Whiterun.

Belethor nodded again. “Aye, just me. For one month.”

Caer closed her eyes and nodded. “When do we start?”

Belethor chuckled. “We start now, my dear.” He crouched down, catching the hem of her gown and dragging it up and off. Beneath the gown she was bare—her own undergarments had been burned along with her old clothes as a preventive measure to reduce infection. Stepping to her, he cupped her breasts in his hands, the flesh heavy and full and more than a handful. Her nipples were peaked and taut and he brushed them with his thumbs. Glancing down he noted that she was rubbing her thighs together and smirked. “I think you are excited, my dear,” he grinned.

Caer groaned. Sadly he was right. The man had a voice for sin and the depravity of their agreement just increased her excitement.

Belethor slowly guided her back down the steps and behind the counter. “Now, my dear, for the next month I don’t think that dress will be required. It’ll just get in the way.” He stepped to the back door, locking that as well after writing a note for his shop helper. Returning to her, he placed her hands on the countertop and pressed his hand to her back, forcing her to bend forward. He slid in behind her, his hands already falling to his trousers. Soon they gaped open, his thick cock springing forward in anticipation. “Have you had a man before, my dear?

Caer nodded silently, bracing herself for what was to come next.

Belethor smiled. “Good. Then you know what to do,” he advised, his fingers falling to the cleft between her thighs. She was soaked with fluid in preparation. “Excellent, my dear,” he cooed, sliding his cock between her thighs and slowly pushing into her. His cock rooted deeper and deeper within her, his thickness stroking her walls and zinging pleasure to her very core. Caer gasped as he pushed deeper and deeper within her. Never had she felt so full. His cock was by far the thickest she had ever had and she felt stretched to her limit. But the way that his cock rubbed against her insides made her squirm in pleasure. Finally he was all the way in and Caer was leaning draped over the counter, holding on for dear life.

Gripping her hips, he began to piston in and out of her sheath, leaving just the head of his cock inside her on each stroke out before pushing back all the way in on the return. Soon she was shaking uncontrollably with her first orgasm, his hand moving to cover her mouth and prevent her cries of pleasure from being heard outside his shop. On and on it went, his magical cock wringing orgasm after orgasm from her until she was a quaking, weak mess. Finally he hit his own peak, his climax splashing deep inside her and filling her tender womb. Holding on to her, he threw his head back, feeling her answering climax as she found her final completion. He leaned against her, gathering his breath as he slowly pulled out of her.

Reaching down behind the counter, he grabbed a soft cloth and began to clean Caer up. Turning her, he stroked between her thighs with the same cloth, paying special attention to her clitoris. Soon she was gasping again and he sat back on a bench, guiding her down onto his cock, her channel sheathing him as if it had been made especially for him. As she bounced atop his lap, he suckled her breasts, his teeth and tongue worrying the peaks until every touch to her sensitive mounds resonated between her thighs. Slipping his fingers down between their joined bodies, he ground his thumb against her clitoris, dragging her orgasm from her exhausted body.

As he found his own completion, he held the exhausted Dragonborn to him. "Aye, my dear, I think this arrangement will work nicely."

Belethor leaned back against the wall of his shop and pondered the strange turn of events of the day. He never had expected that Caer, the Dragonborn Thane of Whiterun, would agree to this proposal of his. Never imagined that his cock would be buried deep inside her still clenching channel—just realizing the realness of it was enough to make him fully hard again. Seated on the bench, her thighs spread and wrapped around his waist, he began to thrust gently again inside her.

Caer rested her head against Belethor’s shoulder, moaning and mewling softly as he pumped gently against her. Compared with the almost animalistic thrusting against his shop counter, this was almost sweet. She shuddered atop him, feeling the pleasure spreading through her limbs as they once again found release together, his cock spilling deep within her and spreading the warmth throughout her belly. “I had forgotten what it was to make love with a man who knows what he’s doing,” she murmured softly, wincing as her muscles finally began to protest their overuse.

Belethor chuckled, helping his new lover to slowly disentangle herself from him. As he helped her to her feet his hand moved to her cleft, stroking her damp sex with a gentle possessiveness. “I am happy to oblige. Now, for a little matter that needs tending,” he whispered, capturing her lips in a quick kiss. Stepping back to the counter, he rummaged through bottles and vials until he crowed softly in victory. “Here, Caer, drink this. It’ll keep you from becoming heavy with child,” he explained. For a moment he imagined Caer round with his child and his hand spread flat against her belly, a faraway look in his eyes.

Caer nodded, taking the vial and drinking it down quickly. The liquid was bitter and she made a face. “After every coupling or just once a day?”

Belethor took back the vial and carried it into through to his eating area. It would be washed with all the other vials and containers and reused when he brewed more potions. Fortunately, he had enough contraception potion to last a few days and there were advantages to having a master potion brewer next door. “Once a day, Caer.” At the soft rumble of hunger that sounded from Caer’s belly, he smiled. “Shall we have a meal and take a few hours to rest?”

“That would be lovely. What can I do to help?” asked Caer, stepping towards the hearth in one corner of the room.

Belethor clucked at her, shooing her from the fire. Though the mental image of Caer cooking a meal for him in nothing at all did send a rise to his cock. They might have to explore that later. Right now, he wanted to eat and take a nap. “Nonsense. We shall eat abovestairs. Since the shop is closed today, there’s no reason not to. Now go to our room, Caer. I’ll bring the meal.”

Caer smiled uncertainly but did as she was told, climbing the narrow stairs back up to the living quarters above. It still seemed odd that she was going to be Belethor’s lover for the next month. Though, if this afternoon was any indication, it would not be an unpleasant month. Settling onto the bed in Belethor’s room, she allowed her gaze to wander over the room’s contents. It was spare and well-organized, much like the man belowstairs.

It always seamed weird that there isn't more fics with Belethor, he was the first one who caught my attention in Skyrim.

Passerby anon agrees, I absolutely adore Belethor, and this fic is just perfect for him.

There was a pitcher and basin on a low stand near the window and she smiled, slowly rising from the bed. After her activities with Belethor, she was in need of a bath. A quick wash would go a long way to helping until she could get a bath in the bathhouse, though. Pouring some of the water into the basin, she dipped one of the cloths provided for just that purpose into the water and wrung it out a little. Dragging the damp cloth around her neck and down her throat, she swept the cloth down between her breasts with a sigh.

The sound of footfalls behind her made her pause and she turned to face Belethor, holding the cloth. “I hope you don’t mind—I thought it might be best to clean myself before we slept,” she admitted softly.

Belethor laid the platter of food on the top of one of the clothes chests in his room and stepped towards her, his dark eyes sparkling. “Hmmm…I think I can help you. After all, I did help you get dirty.” He took the cloth from her fingers and dipped it back into the water. Rummaging in the drawer beneath the basin, he pulled out a bar of soap that smelled like moonflowers. Swiping the cloth across the bar of soap, he turned back to Caer. “Ready?” he purred.

Caer nodded and hissed as he softly dragged the soapy cloth over the swells of her breasts, paying special attention to her pinked and peaked nipples. He stepped closer, his lips falling to her throat as he weighed her breasts in his palms, the cloth spreading bubbles across the tender flesh. Satisfied that they were clean, he dipped the cloth back into the basin and rinsed it, before dragging the wet cloth over her breasts, earning another hiss. His lips lowered to her breasts, teasing her nipples with suckling kisses as the again-soapy cloth continued its trek down her ribs to her belly. Stroking her hips and tummy with the cloth in gentle circular strokes, he dipped it teasingly between her thighs. She shuddered as he stroked her intimately with the cloth.

Belethor chuckled as he slid his fingers between her thighs, stroking her to climax as he dipped the cloth back into the basin and started to rinse the soap from her body. “My dear, let’s get you dried off and move this to the bed,” he suggested with a leer.

Caer swallowed. “Belethor,” she whispered, her hand falling to the front of his trousers where his cock pressed insistently against the fabric. “Shall we clean you as well?” she purred.

Belethor watched her for a moment before nodding curtly. His hands moved to the hem of his tunic and he tugged it over his head and dropped it onto the back of a nearby chair. Dropping his hands to his belt, he unfastened it, carefully coiling the leather and setting it on a dresser top. Finally his hands moved to the laces closing his pants and, with all the ceremony of opening a present, carefully opened the laces, his pants falling without the assistance of the laces or his belt. Stepping out of his trousers, he tossed them overtop of his tunic and faced Caer.

Caer gasped, reaching out to grasp his semi-erect cock. Her fingers closed around him and she was amazed at the silky feel of his cock and the heat that radiated into her palm. At his shuddering breath, she looked up, meeting his dark gaze. “Best we start, shall we?” she asked, plucking the cloth from the basin and soaping it. She stroked the cloth across his belly, drawing a gasp from Belethor as she lowered herself to her knees in front of him. Leaning forward, she captured his already weeping cock between her lips as she continued to drag the cloth up and down his thighs, paying special attention to his inner thighs and his groin.

Belethor tangled his fingers in her hair, thrusting into her mouth as she suckled him deeper inside her. All the while he felt her stroking his thighs and the firm cheeks of his ass with that cloth. Soon all pretense was abandoned as the cloth was dropped back into the basin and Caer’s hands clutched his ass, her mouth wringing throaty moans of pleasure from Belethor as he emptied himself with a roar.

Caer grinned up at Belethor as he slowly drew his cock from her mouth and helped her to her feet. “Feel cleaner?” she teased.

Belethor gaped at her and swooped down, capturing her lips and tasting himself. “I might have trouble giving this up after a month,” he admitted, guiding her to the bed. “Before we do anything else…food.” He reached for the platter of food, placing it between them. "Eat."

I like the way that Belethor's character is revealed seamlessly amidst the smut. Very, particular and tidy - and slightly debauched of course. This is well written, I hinestly don't know which current Caer fill I like better, this or the Mercer one.

Caer shrugged, tucking into the food that Belethor had prepared. He was right—she did have to keep her strength up and he was a more than fair cook. Soon her plate was empty and she reclined back on the mattress, her eyes watching as Belethor finished his own meal of cold chicken, bread, cheese and grilled leaks. He approached his meal just as he did running his store or pleasuring her—with careful precision. Unlike many men that she had watched he didn’t fall on his food like a barnyard animal—no, he had manners. Finally he was done, a napkin wiping his mouth before he cleared the dishes from the bedspread back to the dresser.

“Thank you, Belethor. That was lovely,” she purred as the shopkeeper settled back on the bed beside her.

Belethor nodded, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “The company is what made it lovely, Caer,” he agreed, watching the woman who had agreed to be his for the month. “Now, let’s get into this bed and snatch a nap from the afternoon,” he suggested, fighting a yawn that suddenly tried to erupt from him. “I’m not as young a man as I once was and,” he leaned forward, his mouth capturing hers, “you require a certain…exuberance.”

Caer smirked at the long-haired Breton, reaching for the tie on his queue. “Hmm, alright Belethor. I won’t complain about a nap. Especially with such handsome company,” she agreed, her hands running through his now loosed dark hair as she tugged him down to lie beside her. Curling against him, she felt her eyes flutter shut of their own accord as she felt his broad hand stroke down from the curve of her hip to her knee where it curled around him.

The shadows were long when Belethor startled awake from a dream, his mind racing at the woman lying beside him. It took him a moment to remember that it was Caer, the Dragonborn, who had fallen asleep at his side. Her breath was soft and steady, her body still deep in the clutches of sleep. Turning on his side, he watched her, marveling that she had accepted his trade.

Reaching out, he trailed his fingertips from the delicate shell of her ear down to the soft skin of her slender throat. Her flesh felt like the finest silk he’d ever sold and his fingers itched to continue on their exploration. Down to the delicate frame of her collarbone and her shoulders he wandered, his eyes urging his fingers towards her soft, full breasts. Laying as she was on her back they weren’t the proud mounds that he’d fondled and suckled so recently—they had settled into still generous mounds against her chest, her nipples soft and still pink. He leaned forward, his mouth closing over one of her peaks, his tongue bathing the puckering flesh even as his teeth gently scraped against her. Glancing up, he saw her face tighten slightly as her body began to respond to his teasing but her features soon smoothed again as sleep refused to release its claim on her. Allowing himself a grin, he continued his attentions to her breast, his hand coming up to cup her other breast, his fingers circling and stroking, tugging and tweaking her nipple until it stood proud like its twin. He glanced up again, wondering if his increased attention to her breasts might have woken her.

Nothing. Her breath, though a little quicker, was still steady and she showed no hint that she was aware of his attentions to her sleeping form. His mouth quirked with a wicked smile as he let his other hand slide down her ribcage to her belly, the flesh soft beneath his touch. Her flesh quivered beneath his touch as he slid his fingers lower, cupping her mound with a soft touch. His dark eyes flickered back up to her sleeping face as he gently stroked the fleshy lips, applying more and more pressure until his fingers sank into her channel.

Caer’s breath hitched, her thighs parting unconsciously to allow him greater access as his fingers began to slowly slide in and out of her. His thumb grazed her clit with each stroke, his eyes watching her sleeping face, wondering when his sleeping beauty would awaken. Meanwhile his cock pressed firmly into the mattress, reminding him that it would rather take the place of his fingers. Moving up, he slowly dragged his fingers from her clenching channel, smirking at the soft whine of displeasure that drifted from her lips. He lined his cock up to her vaginal opening and pushed in, burying his cock inside her with one thrust.

Caer’s eyes shot open as she found herself suddenly very full, Belethor pressing down from above, a smirk on his lips. “Good morning?” she gasped, rocking beneath his thrusts.

Belethor glanced at the window and the shadows. “More like evening, my dear,” he purred, nuzzling against arch of her throat. “But the idea is the same.”

Caer chuckled, the sound cut off as Belethor shifted, his thick cock brushing so indecently against her sheath. So indecently, but so pleasurably. “I gather you’re not tired anymore.”

Belethor grinned down at the woman beneath him. “Not in the slightest. Though I will have to abandon you at some point this evening to go down and sort through my latest shipment.” He shook his head, his normally bound hair falling in a curtain around his face. The thick chestnut locks brushed against her skin with each thrust. “I trust you can amuse yourself.”

Caer shrugged, her ankles locked behind his hips as she met his thrusts. “I’ll make myself useful, Belethor. Have no fear of that.”

Please tell me this is not abandoned.

Re: F!DB/M!Shopkeeper Pairing: Belethor/F! DB "Belethor Doesn't Do Charity" (Part 4d)

(Anonymous) - 2014-07-01 14:38 (UTC) - Expand

Re: F!DB/M!Shopkeeper Pairing: Belethor/F! DB "Belethor Doesn't Do Charity" (Part 4e)

(Anonymous) - 2014-09-29 03:16 (UTC) - Expand

Re: F!DB/M!Shopkeeper Pairing: Belethor/F! DB "Belethor Doesn't Do Charity" (Part 4f)

(Anonymous) - 2014-09-29 03:16 (UTC) - Expand

Re: F!DB/M!Shopkeeper Pairing: Belethor/F! DB "Belethor Doesn't Do Charity" (Part 4f)

(Anonymous) - 2014-10-03 05:35 (UTC) - Expand

I'm not a Belethor fan, but this is hot. So.damn.hot.

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