WARNING: ADULT CONTENT
This is a cheeky homage to The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Do not read if you are easily offended by erotica, witty banter, a housecarl who really knows how to hammer his Thane’s anvil, or an Imperial Dragonborn with a couple of tasty boiled creme treats.
This is a sequel of sorts to my previous Skyrim smut, “Come with me to Sovngarde.”
2,000 words.
- J.L. Hilton
* * *
“I NEED ANOTHER STAMINA POTION”
My housecarl waited on the steps outside my bed chamber while I pulled a robe around my naked body. “What is it, Argis?”
“Have you finished your bath, my Thane?”
“I have. You can empty the water and put the tub away.”
“Your hireling has asked me to move it to the alchemy room, so he might bathe.”
“He can use it right there.” I gestured to the large open space behind him, between my bedroom and the servant’s quarters opposite. I had no idea what the original purpose of the chamber had been when the ancient Dwemer built Vlindrel Hall, but it now served as a kitchen, study and storage area. “It’s still warm, near the fire.”
“I told him already, my Thane. But he wants fresh water.”
“So, give it to him.”
“And privacy.”
Curious fellow, the dark elf. I’d yet to have a good look at his face, though we’d traveled together for months finding the Black Books, assisting the residents of Raven Rock, and undoing the treachery of Miraak. After that, we’d journeyed across Skyrim to the stone city of Markarth. The wizard Neloth wanted a fresh briar heart to study, and what better place to find one than the Reach. But before venturing out to seek the Forsworn, I wanted to bathe, eat, drink and rest well, for the first time in weeks.
“Do whatever he asks, Argis. Obey him as you would obey me.”
“Yes, my Thane.”
I also intended to know my new follower a little better, and having him bathe within sight of my bed would have been ideal for that purpose. My husband, Stenvar, took care of my needs when I happened to be in Solitude, but it had been a long time since my last visit to Proudspire Manor. Special services were typically provided by mercenaries, along with swordsmanship. Though, so far, I’d not asked nor had the dark elf offered. But then, I hadn’t expected to travel with him for so long. To be honest, I’d expected him to die easily in a draugr crypt, ash spawn attack or dragon’s fire before I left Solstheim. Perhaps he’d expected the same of me, at first, until I’d shown myself a true Dragonborn.
Teldryn Sero, whoever he was, had proven to be a remarkably capable match for me. With a wry wit, quiet feet, deadly blade, and powerful arsenal of battle magic, his fighting style complimented mine in every way. An affable traveling companion, thus far we’d shared similar opinions on many subjects. I found all of these qualities alluring, though I’d never been attracted to a dark elf before.
I busied myself while Argis emptied and moved the large brass tub. I read scrolls, journals and books, and sorted the new weapons, staffs, gems and jewelry I’d acquired. I took quill, paper and ink and wrote a letter to my husband, which I would have Argis send by courier in the morning.
After my housecarl completed his tasks and returned to the kitchen, I crept into the main hall and toward the alchemy alcove near the front of the house. There were no doors in the entire dwelling, only those at the front entrance. My view thus unhindered, I could see the top of Teldryn’s head, shaved but with a stripe of dark hair running down the middle, sticking up above the edge of the tub. For once, he wasn’t wearing his chitin helmet and goggles. They, along with the red scarf with which he covered his face, lay on the floor. I sneaked closer.
“Good evening, outlander.”
I straightened from my stealthy crouch. “I don’t deserve to be master of the Thieves Guild. How did you know I was there?”
“By the silence. I’ve heard you moving about for the past hour, and then… nothing. That you were up to some nefarious purpose seemed the obvious explanation.”
“How did you know I hadn’t fallen asleep?”
“I heard you walk through the kitchen, not climb into bed.”
“You’re a clever one.” I lowered my voice to a seductive purr. “But my purpose is not nefarious.”
I took another step closer and could see the ashen tip of his left ear ending in a long point, the corner of his eye, and a streak of purple over his high cheekbone. A scar? A tattoo? His lean, well-muscled arm rested along the rim of the tub and blocked my view of anything else. It amused me to see that even someone with gray skin had freckles, darker gray specks dusting his triceps and forearm.
“That’s far enough, please.”
“Why are you so mysterious, dark elf? Are you disfigured? Is that why you hide your face?”
“I assure you, I am the handsomest of Dunmer.”
I’d become quite familiar with Teldryn’s sarcasm.
“That’s not saying much,” I quipped in return.
He rewarded me with his musical laughter.
“Good night, Dovahkiin.”
“I would sleep better with someone beside me.”
“If you mean someone in-side you, you should speak to your housecarl. He is dying to be of assistance to you in that regard. I can see it in his face. And his pants. I’m sure he’ll do anything you ask.”
“But you won’t?”
“I am not your servant nor your plaything. If I am ever in your bed, it will not be because you ordered me to be there, nor because you paid me to be there. And it will never be because you needed to scratch an itch and I happened to be the nearest branch.”
I wanted to take the insolent dark elf by his bristle of black hair and drag him into my bed chamber. The arrogant bastard, to refuse the Dragonborn and agent of Dibella, goddess of passion, anointed in the temple of this very city. He didn’t know what he was missing. I’d force a paralysis potion down his throat, tie him down and enchant his staff in ways he couldn’t begin to imagine. I felt engorged and damp at the thought.
“I don’t think so little of you.”
“Good to know.” He waved me away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Aching and angry as if I’d been hit by a steel warhammer of frost, I blew out my candles, climbed under the covers alone and closed my eyes. After a quarter hour of sleepless seething, I heard Argis approach, noisy as peddler’s cart in his steel armor.
“Is there anything I can do for you, my Thane?” His low, husky voice bespoke the release of my tensions.
I felt bitter, like sour milk. “I cannot sleep.”
He walked to my bedside. Light from the kitchen fire outlined his hulking silhouette.
“The dark elf is a fool.”
No. In my experience, Teldryn Sero was anything but a fool. Though I felt like one. myself. No one had ever refused me before. And to be denied by some dusty Dunmer vagabond, wearing armor made of glue and bug parts. If he thought he was too good to have his precious elven blade honed by Imperial lips, to Oblivion with him.
I rose, leaning on my shield arm. My robe dropped from my shoulder and revealed the curve of one breast, golden as an apple in the firelight.
“Pretend I’m not your Thane, and you are not my housecarl. If I am just a woman, and you are just a man, would you bed me?”
“I would. By the Divines, of course I would.”
I threw back the covers. When I opened my robe and my knees, he groaned at the invitation. Fumbling with the buckles on his armor, he practically ripped the pieces off of his body before he fell on me and buried his face between my legs.
Where my older and more experienced husband would have started at my toes and worked his way up each thigh, then teased each breast to make the honey drip from my beehive before he lapped it up, Argis used a power attack in place of skill. Riding a sabre cat bareback and naked up the Seven Thousand Steps of High Hrothgar might come close to the sensation of his unshaven mouth devouring me, licking, biting and sucking until his tongue triggered the little pressure plate of pleasure just above my treasure vault. I cried out and clenched his golden-red hair with both hands while he triggered it again and again.
He moved to my breasts like a starving boy eating two boiled cream treats. When he put his lips to mine, I could smell myself on his beard, taste myself on his probing tongue. His woolly chest and thighs felt like soft moss over granite boulders. The musk of ale, sweat and steel surrounded me, the perfume of every male Nord. His equipment wasn’t as large as Stenvar’s, but adequate to the task.
I wrapped my legs around him, but he would not take me. Instead, he rolled me over on my hands and knees. With his knees between mine, he rubbed his cock against the curve of my backside, his hands caressing every inch of me. I spread my knees further apart and tried to impale myself upon his sword.
“Sanguine’s balls, take me now!”
He groaned again, as if struggling under some great burden. “I … I would ask…”
“What?”
His voice sounded strained. “To speak your name, my Thane.”
“Then speak it.” I didn’t give a skeever’s tail if he called me General Tullius at that point.
Argis plunged into my damp cave, moaning, “Zephyr” and “Dragonborn,” at intervals. He clutched a cluster of braids and pulled my hair as he slammed into me, again and again, grunting with each thrust. I let him know how much he pleased me, encouraging him, crying out and begging for more. It felt exquisite to be taken so fiercely, wanted so intensely. I only wished he would pet my Khajiit while he hammered my anvil, and bring my frenzy to a climax.
I grasped his arm and twisted my body, pulling him off-balance and shoving him onto his back. I had the blood and soul of a dragon, making me stronger than most. He didn’t seem to mind, though he struggled enough to make the victory sweet. I pinned his wrists and rode him for my own enjoyment, galloping as if I were pursued by the hoards of Oblivion. My breasts bounced against his chest.
“I need…” He grunted. “Another stamina potion.”
I slowed my pace but did not relent. Clenching, I squeezed him with the walls of my secret passage and moved my hips like a tavern dancer.
“Another?” I teased, gripping his chin and looking into his good eye. “How many did you take before you came to me, Argis?”
“Three,” he growled through gritted teeth.
His arm now free, he wrapped it around my waist and I let him roll me onto my back, his blade still buried to the hilt. He kissed me, pinching my nipples between his rough fingers and sending jolts of painful pleasure through me. I writhed under him and climbed my peak, even as I perceived the tension in him, nearing his own release. When I felt the throb of his cock, Dibella blessed me with her gift and I moaned in ecstasy. He thrust, growling with the effort, and shivered as he flooded me.
When the wave had crashed and our passions ebbed, he collapsed, his head falling to my breast, gasping. I stroked his hair while he caught his breath.
“Thank you, Argis.”
“I’m honored, my Thane. Are you pleased?”
“Yes.”
He lifted his head. “May I please you again?”
“In the morning. You can sleep here tonight, if you like.”
Wrapped protectively around my back, he soon snored softly in my ear. But that was not the reason why I couldn’t sleep.
I still couldn’t stop thinking about Teldryn Sero.
* * *
Read more Skyrim…
“Small town romances that bash big cities. I’m fine with a small town setting on its own, but when all the characters can do is go on about how DANGEROUS the big city is, and how TERRIBLE the city schools are, I get angry. I love my big city home and my daughter’s school is excellent. And don’t even get me started on books where the heroine has been living a happy life in the big city, only to come back to her hometown, where she discovers her city life was empty and she belongs with her high school sweetheart.” 
