Foreword
AN:/ Hello and thank you for stumbling upon this fic. My boyfriend was making puppy-eyes at me and wanting to play Skyrim so I surrendered the console to him and retreated into my little corner to write a bit. As such, this will be a one-shot. I hope you enjoy it! Reviews are always welcome!
Jorrvaskr: The Beginning
Nauda slipped through the narrow opening she'd created in the doors of the great mead hall, careful to keep her entrance as subtle as possible. As a bard, she knew that appearances meant much and were the means by which she brought in coin. She knew how to bat her eyes at men and coax them into offering payment for the privilege of hearing her voice. She was at ease in the atmospheres of Jarl's fine courts and comfortable in the calm surroundings of many an inn across Skyrim. She'd seen warriors from afar, but never up close. They rather intimidated her.
Joining, however, was easier than she ever could have predicted. Their leader, Kodlak Whitemane, had only needed to peer into her eyes to determine her worth. Vilkas had been a bit more trouble; poor bastard had never seen a conjured sword before. It had taken almost an hour to explain to him that the blade struck no differently than the great steel monster he swung, it was simply lighter and did not require as much strength or stamina to wield.
Of course, now she was little more than an errand girl, running Vilkas's sword to Eorlund and returning Aela's shield to her. But she gritted her teeth and continued. She had not begun at the Bard's College with the respect she had left with and she doubted it would be different among these Companions.
"Farkas deals with the new bloods," Aela, the amber-haired, tall Nord woman explained to her. Nauda was more than slightly unnerved by the sight of the fierce war paint and the rather...scandalous...armor that was draped conveniently across the Nord's breasts. Her own leather-hide trappings seemed rather bulky and awkward by comparison.
"Farkas!" Aela barked, startling Nauda. She was entirely unused to the callous manner of these Nord warriors.
Ah, now here was a treat that made the entire, thuggish experience dissolve like sugar in water. She rather liked the look of the man who stepped to meet Aela's beckoning.
"You called?" The man – whom she assumed was named Farkas – replied dryly.
Nauda's lips pressed together in a small grin without her knowledge. Now this was a fine specimen indeed. Tall, broad shouldered and thickly muscled, the Nord stood in the hall looking rather bored with the entire situation. But even in such a relaxed state, she could see the bulges of muscle in his arms and the rippling sinews of his belly that would make him fierce as a bear in combat.
"Of course, ice-brain," Aela retorted. "Show this new blood to the chambers."
Farkas turned kind eyes to Nauda, their blue possessing the same hue as the sky on a clear winter day. "New blood? Oh, right." He nodded over his shoulder. "Follow me."
Nauda was grateful to oblige, stepping quickly away from Aela and her fierce blue war paint, and fell into step with Farkas.
"Skjor and Aela make fun of me, but they're good people." He assured her, as though able to sense her insecurities around Nord warriors.
"Are they always so callous?" She inquired.
He shrugged noncommittally. "They encourage us to be our best." His gaze then shifted from the hall ahead of them and down to her, where her forehead barely met the center of his chest. "What manner of critter are you?"
Nauda giggled, unsure whether to be offended or amused. "What manner of question is that?"
"I have trouble telling the difference between people sometimes. But I don't see pointed ears, so I know you're not an elf. You're not an Orc. Your skin's too light to be a Redguard."
She nodded, understanding his intent with the clarification. "I suppose it's not fair to make you guess, then. My mother was an Imperial, my father a Breton."
"Hmm," Farkas replied in what she assumed was acknowledgement. "My parents were Nords. My brother and I are too."
"Who's your brother?"
Farkas opened the door to the chambers. "Vilkas. He says you beat him unfairly with magic."
"I did no such thing!" She retorted indignantly. "I swung at him the same way you would."
He looked at her curiously for a moment before tossing his head back in loud laughter. Again, Nauda leapt in alarm. She was quickly growing frustrated with these boisterous Nords and their rough noises and harsh volumes.
"I doubt you could even lift my sword," Farkas chuckled before gesturing to the chambers. "This is where everyone sleeps. Pick a bed and fall in it."
Nauda glanced under his arm at the beds offered by the Companions and sighed wistfully. She'd managed to claw her way to the top of the Bard's College, to maintain her position alongside Pantea Ateia and her vain tour of Skyrim to the courts of the Jarls. Of course, the war had halted that little fantasy, plunged Nauda into the middle of a riot. The damn Imperials took her to be a Stormcloak when she became rather lost in the wilderness and evidently (though it was hardly to her knowledge) attempted to cross the border. She'd been branded a prisoner. Joining the Companions was a desperate marketing effort, an attempt to clear that shameful blemish on her reputation and add a title to her arsenal as a Bard.
"Thank you, Farkas," she said with a forced smile.
Oakwood: Early Evening
Farkas again cast a curious glance to his new-found Shield-Sister. She'd done well at her trial and seemed to accept the Circle's secret well enough, though she'd certainly made many inquiries about lycanthropy – Vilkas would be rather cross with him. Farkas realized, however, that he hadn't had much chance to study her. It hadn't really been in his interest to do so. But she was thoroughly engrossed in attempting to negotiate the innkeeper into allowing the two of them separate rooms if she promised to perform for the coin. He hadn't seen very many mixes before, as most of the people in Skyrim tended to stick with their own. Her skin held the delicate presence of bronze and was what had made him assume she was an Imperial. Her hair was like ringlets of cornsilk falling over her shoulders and back, soft and golden blonde, and her eyes were of a dark, chestnut brown, full of light and song.
She certainly took her dear sweet time with tasks the Companions assigned her and often asked him to accompany her. At first, he hadn't thought much of it – the Companions were true to their namesake, after all. The frequency, however, seemed somewhat strange. Farkas was no tactician or strategist like Vilkas was, but he was no fool. He understood when something was awry.
He also understood his attraction for her and the stirrings he experienced when near her. He was keen on the danger that came with them. The more he was aroused, the closer the wolf came to the surface. Farkas held the creature in taught control and had focused himself intently on ignoring the bits of extra senses that bled over into his human form.
"Fine, fine," the innkeeper at last relented. "Go work your craft, Bard."
"Thank you, kind sir," Nauda replied, her voice as delicately sweet as juniper berries.
Farkas sat upright once more as she approached him with a triumphant grin. He smiled back, content enough to see her happy. But he maintained distance between them as she seated herself in a wooden chair at the table across from him. He was nothing if not controlled. He knew his limits and the boundaries needed to maintain them.
"I got us rooms," she announced.
He nodded. "So I heard."
She reached across the table quickly and placed her palm over his knuckles, causing a line of hair to rise on his arm and a shiver to travel down his spine. "I'll be back. Here," she flipped his hand and pressed a pile of Spetims into his palm. "Get yourself something to drink."
"Where are you going?" he asked, more out of curiosity than duty.
She stood and did a small curtsy. "I have to be prepared for a show. Nobody will think me a bard wearing all this armor."
He nodded and ordered the mead as she suggested, plotting his course of action for that evening. There was no possible way he could remain controlled around her with their constant travels. She was practically begging him to take advantage of her when they huddled together for warmth at campsites. Farkas was no stranger to the stirrings of the flesh but he was also no pup to palm himself secretly under the covers at night.
Suddenly, a woman approached him bearing a jug of ale. "You're looking a little dry, there," she said, bending and refilling his tankard, though he'd hardly finished a quarter of it.
"Thanks," he said with a smile, grateful for her attention. His gaze moved from the tankard and to her face. Blonde hair fell over her shoulder in an elegent braid and her frame was thick and hardy, linking her blood to the land of Skyrim.
"Is the little Imperial your wife?" the woman inquired, gesturing with her eyes toward the stairs Nauda had recently traveled.
Farkas shook his head with a loud laugh. "No. I'm her bodyguard." The statement wasn't at all false. Even during her trial, it seemed as though she'd conjure blades, take down a single opponent, and proceed to cower behind him and imbue him with healing wards and spells so that he did not feel the sting from so many swords.
The woman raised a brow. "Hm. I didn't catch your name, handsome."
"I'm Farkas," he stated pleasantly.
"I'm Mia," she returned with a respectful nod. "Let me know if you need anything," she leaned down and whispered in his ear, "And I do mean anything."
Mia patted his shoulder and moved to attend other patrons, swaying her hips invitingly. Farkas supposed she was comely enough.
"Making friends, are we?" Nauda inquired sharply.
Farkas caught a quickly-smothered spark in her eye, though he hardly understood the significance of it. Women were strange creatures to him.
"Of course," he replied easily, lifting his mug to toast her. "She refilled my mead. She's my best friend tonight."
Farkas took the time to give Nauda a once-over, eyeing with appreciation the russet dress she'd selected. The fabric clung to the curvature of her form, the breasts and hips accentuated wondrously, yet conservatively. He could even see the firm rise of her buttocks through the soft linen and saw the sun kissed skin between the laces in the back. Her blonde ringlets fell delicately over her exposed collarbones and he had to consciously withdraw his gaze before he attempted to see the swells of her breasts.
"That outfit looks well," he stated.
Her expression lightened and she put a hand on her hip. "Thank you, Farkas." She glanced behind her, to the innkeeper eyeing them suspiciously, before turning back to him. "Looks as though I'll be fairly busy tonight. Feel free to an early retreat."
Oakwood: Late night/Early morning
When she had instructed him to turn in early, she had certainly not meant that he ought to openly flatter the inn-keeper's wife. Nauda scolded herself, ordered her gaze and concentration to be focused on luring the audience with her voice and her movements, not seething over Farkas's attraction to the tavern wench. She did well enough, she supposed. The stubborn old man did not seem at all upset about his investment in a bard that night. Folk who would have normally left the hall after sipping on their daily allowance of mead instead stayed to make requests of and listen to the bard who was visiting their small town. Their extended stay resulted in food being purchased and more drink being poured. Nauda was content that she'd more than made up for the fare of the rooms and managed to profit from the tips sent her way.
She'd returned to her chambers earlier than she'd initially expected, after many applause and cheers as she stepped from the hall and into the privacy of the rented room. She undid the laced leather thongs at the back of her dress and shimmied out of the tight fabric, sliding beneath the warmth of the covers and reveling in the thrill the initial coolness gave her. She was comfortable and content, feeling secure and at ease in the simple inn.
That was until raucous laughter echoed from her neighbor's room.
"Shh!" A man's voice hissed, the sound muffled through the wooden wall.
Nauda blanched, her eyes suddenly opening wide in alarm and embarrassment. The voice was Farkas's.
"What my husband doesn't know won't hurt him!" The tavern wench replied.
There were a series of grunts before a loud thud vibrated the headboard in Nauda's room.
"There'll be plenty to know if you don't keep quiet!" Farakas growled.
The wench giggled. Nauda heard the sounds of heavy breathing before Farkas grunted and moaned.
Nauda curled on her bed, wrapping the pillow around her skull and clamping the feathered fluff against her ears in an attempt to block the sounds. It did little to help. The moans, wails, and groans of pleasure he coaxed from the woman were like knives of green envy in her belly. Was Nauda so utterly detestable to him that he would chose laying with a married Nord woman over a foreigner? Had she imagined the lust in his eyes when he'd marveled her dress that evening? Was he so blind to the suggestions she'd given him these past few months regarding similar actions with Nauda herself?
The two of them continued their frivolity into the early hours of the morning. Nauda tried to ignore it, to not imagine the actions Farkas took to cause such noises to escape the woman's mouth. Her eyes were wet with tears of frustration as she attempted to concentrate on sleep and found no luck. It was only after the pounding on her headboard ceased and soft, satisfied moans and whispers came from Farkas that she was able to slip into an exhausted sleep.
Jorrvaskr: After the Circle Ceremony
Farkas was rather proud of his words that evening. He was hardly the most eloquent of speakers among the inner Circle – Kodlak boasted that title. But he'd done well enough with Nauda's joining. He retreated to his chambers after the small, quiet ceremony and stripped himself of the heavy steel armor and soaked a washcloth in the tepid water of the small basin in his chambers. He'd come through the last journey with Nauda rather unscathed, as she rigorously followed behind him, casting healing spells and removing any ranged opponents with summoned sphere of sparks. But the dirt and grit of travel still clung to his skin.
He placed the armor on the stand for polishing and repairing at a later time. Languidly, he began his wash, shivering with the feeling of the water dripping down his back. He scrubbed the filth and blood from his hair, chest, belly, legs, and backside. The water turned a murky, almost burgundy color when he'd finished and lounged on his bed, allowing the air to kiss his skin and dry him of the wetness.
A knock sounded on the door.
"Who's there?" he inquired.
"It's me," Nauda replied in her musical tone.
Farkas grunted in frustration and stood, retrieving his loincloth and trousers and making himself decent enough to receive company. He wasn't yet willing to relinquish the small pleasure his wet skin gave him. "Enter," he said.
Nauda slipped in quietly and shut the door. Farkas noted immediately that she'd done away once more with the hide armor – she never wore it unless it was absolutely necessary. Her simple linen skirt and belted tunic were hardly ornamental, but she still exuded a regal air about her in the way she held her head, the squaring of her shoulders, and the neat, practical bundle she'd placed her curls into at the back of her head.
"I have a gift for you," she explained quickly.
Farkas raised a brow. "Why?"
"Why not?" She countered defensively, her brows knit and her lower lip jutted out in a small pout.
Farkas had not been blind to the callous way she'd regarded him ever since Oakwood, but he had not been bothered to make inquiries. He was a Nord and was accustomed to the blunt ways of his own people. He did not play games or pay any mind to passive-aggressive behaviors that Nauda seemed so prone to. He did not have a need for long-standing grudges, sadness, or anger. He was a simple man. If she took issue with his behavior, she had every right to speak her mind.
Nauda pulled a small leather pouch from within her blouse and pulled a silver ring from its depths. "Here," she said, holding the ring in her open palm and extending it to him. "I came across this in my travels to Falkreath before I came to the Companions." She glanced up at him beneath her lashes, her eyes suddenly seeming wide and innocent.
He felt the sudden urge to embrace her, but held back, eager to see what this trinket was.
"It's a ring from the Daedra Hircine," she began shyly. "I remember that you told me the wolf was difficult to contain, at times. The werewolf who passed this on to me told me it was crafted to help control the beast. I thought you might have a use for it."
Curious, Farkas took the ring from her. The band of metal was large and clearly crafted for a man with the head of a wolf expertly incorporated into the loop. Cautiously, he slipped the ring onto his middle finger wondering at how the silver held no heat.
Almost immediately, his senses dimmed and became infinitely more human. He smiled despite himself.
"Thank you," he said, belatedly. He flexed his fingers to ensure that the silver did not damage the integrity of his skin.
Nauda smiled faintly. "Not a problem."
"I have nothing to offer in return," Farkas lamented, looking up from the ring to her.
She smiled wistfully. "Your company has been enough."
The use of the past tense piqued his attention. "'Has been'?" He tilted his head to the side slightly, an instinct born of traveling as a wolf. "You make it sound as though you're leaving."
She nodded calmly. "I am no warrior, Farkas."
He laughed. "I know that much. All you did was squeal and hide behind me when getting that Wuuthrad fragment."
Nauda blushed noticeably, the color touching the roots of her hair. "Regardless," she muttered, "My time here is spent. I'm a Bard. I do not belong in this company. I thank you for the honor of fighting at your side."
Farkas dipped his head slightly in polite acknowledgement. "You never joined to be a part of us, Nauda," he said, suddenly recognizing what was awry with her during their travels. "You came for the title." Such a thing was not unheard of and was hardly frowned upon. The Companions held a strong name and a strong influence. Many sought their renown by such means.
She grimaced. "It's true."
"There's no shame it that, lass," Farkas said with a kind smile. As understandable and acceptable as her reasons had been, Farkas could not help but feel slightly wounded by them. He'd thought, perhaps, her asking him to accompany her so often had been because she'd felt more comfortable in his company than with the other Companions.
But surely she would be back. "Go on. Make sure you sing plenty of epic Ballads about the Companions."
She returned his smile, but it did not touch her eyes. "Thank you. What is the Nord adage? May you die with a sword in your hand...?"
He chuckled and nodded. "Be on your way. We aren't the type for long good-byes."
Riverwood: The Sleeping Giant Inn
Nauda had continued her own personal tour of Skyrim, pausing to perform everywhere from the lofty, haughty courts of the Jarls to the lowliest inns in small towns like Riverwood. The title of the Companions served her well and had the desired effect – people flocked to her and her scuffle with the Imperial Legion was written off as little more than an honest misunderstanding. Her status of vocalist extraordinaire was restored and she was content enough in her position.
She ended the song of Ragnar the Red and gratefully accepted the Septim payment from the drunken patron who'd requested the terrible verse to be sung. Polite applause sounded from the rest of the tavern and she bowed humbly.
The door to her left opened and yielded a tall, brutish-looking Orc woman clad in sinister, black armor. The warpaint on her face was white and fierce, contrasting with her frightening red eyes. She gazed around the inn purposefully with the perpetual snarl that seemed to have been permanently embedded in all Orc's features.
But Nauda's gaze swiftly moved from the exotic, frightening woman to the man who accompanied her.
"Farkas," she gasped quietly.
He turned toward her, his heightened hearing no doubt picking up even the slightest whisper of his name. His cloudy blue eyes met hers and he ginned warmly in recognition. A heat rose in her chest and traveled to the tips of her fingers and toes and she smiled widely in spite of herself.
"Bard!" It was the rough voice of his Orc companion.
Nauda turned her attention from Farkas to the ferocious red eyes of the woman. "Yes, sera?" She replied with a slight curtsy. "Have you a request?"
The Orc eyed Nauda assessingly. "I am Mazona, the Dragonborn. I fear the person I'm to meet isn't here at the moment. Sing a song in my glory while I wait and you'll be rewarded."
Nauda nodded. She was accustomed to the mannerisms of the Orcs and knew enough that this Mazona's request was to be taken as a compliment, that she'd assessed Nauda's skills as worthy. "With pleasure, great Dragonborn," she said with another bow.
She turned to take a few drinks of water to whet her vocal chords once more as Farkas and Mazona took a seat, each ordering large tankards of ale and catching the eye of the female tavernkeep.
"Dragonborn, Dragonborn
by her honor is sworn
To keep evil forever at bay!
And the fiercest foes rout
when they hear triumph's shout,
Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray!"
The ballad was a long one, telling the epic tale of the Dragonborn's battle with the Dragon's return. Nauda had no business confirming whether or not this Mazona was the Dragonborn and would fulfill the legend – she truly did not care. To Nauda, she was performing for Farkas, attempting to seduce him with her voice and her movements. She had failed when attempting to be a part of his world. Perhaps being in her own world would entice him enough.
Through the evening, she sang and sang, the audience becoming enflamed with passion about the coming of the Dragonborn. Nauda was forced to delve very deep into her repertoire of songs, poems, rhymes, and legends to fill the insatiable appetite of the audience. Mazona had since retreated somewhere within the inn, but Farkas remained with eyes alight and an encouraging, enrapturing smile on his lips.
"Come on, then! Another! Do that first ballad again!" Came a call from a particularly intoxicated patron.
Nauda curtseyed politely. "I appreciate your continued interest, but I fear my endurance has reached an end. Thank you for your customs. Good night."
She slipped up the stairs to her room and stared at the closed door. She'd knotted her fingers in her skirts in anticipation. Farkas would come and visit her...surely he would. Surely the Orc was busy seeing to the person she was obligated to meet. Surely he had spare time.
A knock sounded and she nearly leapt out of her skin. "Yes?" She inquired, heart thundering.
"Are you sure you're not taking more requests?"
Nauda rushed to the door at the sound of his voice, opened the wooden barricade, and tugged Farkas into her room hastily. She shut the door once more before wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and embracing him fervently. "Oh, I've missed you!" She exclaimed without truly thinking of the implications behind the words. What she'd said wasn't a lie in the least, however. Travels during the past months had been terribly lonely. She missed her simple, rugged, unassailable companion, missed the easy conversations between them, missed he laughter and jovial company.
Farkas chuckled, returning her embrace. She did not realize, at first, that his large hands had found the laces that held the back of her dress together – not until she felt the garment coming undone around her shoulders.
"Farkas?" she inquired, partially dumbfounded. She was still rather scarred from that incident with the tavern master's wife.
"Should I stop?" The inquiry was honest, unabashed. He did not regret his current actions nor would he feel rejected and scorned if she asked him to stop. He had no need for such hefty feelings. All there was room for his in his heart was love, loyalty, and companionship.
Nauda shook her head. "No...you first."
He did not need to ask for clarification and easily undid the strappings and ties that bound the heavy steel to his chest and shoulders. He set the armor gently to the side and pulled the tunic undergarment of over his head and draped it neatly over the discarded armor. His gauntlets and boots soon followed.
"Why now?" She felt compelled to ask as he drew her to him once more. She pressed her forehead in the center of the massive muscles of his chest, trailing her finger idly down the trail of fine hair that traveled down the center line of his belly and down beneath his trousers. She breathed in the scent of him, the mingling of honey, leather, and musk.
He laughed. "I've been traveling with an Orc for Ysgramor-only-knows how long." Again, he began pulling at the leather laces. "I'm desperate for the company of a beautiful woman."
Nauda giggled softly and let him slide the dress from her arms and shoulders while she marveled at him. He truly was the finest male she'd ever laid eyes upon. She remembered imagining, that night he stood half-naked and wet before her, what the solid-looking stones of his belly would feel like pressed against her body or under her hands. She was not disappointed by them, hard, soft, and warm at the same time. She remembered dreaming of skimming her hands along his broad shoulders and reached up to allow herself the luxury as he bent to slip the skirts from her hips.
"So I'm the next-best thing to an Orc?" she challenged.
Farkas responded with a growl, lifting her as though she were little more than a child, and plopping her onto the bed. "I don't like your games, Nauda," he responded, his muscled bulk suspended over her, his gaze finding hers and capturing it. "You're beautiful, you're competent, you're capable. Much more so than any woman I've ever met."
Nauda flushed at the intensity behind his eyes but dared not look away out of embarrassment.
"You left the Companions after gaining a title and I let you go without a word. It didn't hurt then – I figured you'd come back. But you didn't. That's when the ache came."
She shuddered at his words. But the Imperial side of her was skeptical of such flowery language. Men had used tricks worse than this to lure women to bed. "What ache?" She retorted. "The ache to bed me?"
He growled again and captured her lips with his, his beard like sand on her chin, his mouth needy, but controlled and not at all rough. She gasped in surprise and his tongue dipped into her mouth for a sample, but quickly darted back out and he pulled away, taking her breath with him.
"The ache of letting you go without claiming you," he clarified. "I want you to be mine, Nauda." He reached up and touched her face gently, coaxing her head back so that he could peer at her in earnest. Nauda saw him, desperate, hurt and longing after her absence. His gaze pleaded more persuasively than his words.
It was his eyes that convinced her and she smiled and sat up to meet his lips again, overjoyed. The kiss started off as gentle, a sign of acceptance, but quickly became a heated, desperate thing full of tongues and teeth.
"I...talked...Vilkas..." he gasped between the heated meeting of mouths. "...asked him...about marriage...and all that... I have...dowry..."
Nauda clasped his face between her hands, her fingers curling in the long hair she found at his temples. "I don't care about Vilkas or any of that right now," she said with a laugh. "I thought Nords made good on their word. Claim me. I'm yours to take."
His cheeks flexed into a smile beneath her hands and he brought his lips onto hers once more. Nauda laid back once more on the plush of the bed, her arms wrapping around his neck and her nails tracing silent vows into the skin of his back. She was not innocent in the carnal arts, having had an affair or two with a particularly handsome bard or the mage who'd taught her such wonderful restoration spells, and knew how to move and how to properly spur a man.
She touched his shoulder lightly and, without direction or parting their lips, Farkas maneuvered them so that Nauda sat atop of him, his arousal pressing through his trousers and against her rump. She smiled against his lips, impressed with his size even if she could not see it. Softly, she pulled away and pulled the bindings from her chest, tossing them to the floor haphazardly.
Farkas groaned at the sight of her, his eyes heavy and smoldering with want. Nauda felt a warm burning of pride and eagerness in the pit of her belly and languorously pressed her naked torso against his. He grunted, but remained tight and controlled in his movements as his large hands found her rear and gave a gratuitous squeeze before slipping her undergarment away from her core. She kicked it off haphazardly and began administering affections to Farkas's neck, marveling at the hardness of his body and nethers alike. Her lips moved across his collarbone, down the center line of hair on his chest and belly, and stopped when they came to the hem of his trousers.
Nauda tugged at the string cinching the fabric around his hips and dipped her fingers below the rough spun linen, tugging it off of him and freeing the bound flesh contained within. She glanced up to him, wrapping her hand around his girth and giving an appreciative look.
Farkas looked down at her grinned smugly. Nauda remembered with more clarity than was healthy the sounds he'd made through the wall in Oakwood. It was her intent to make this night something well beyond another tally on his bedpost.
Her tongue did a small pirouette at the tip of him and she watched with eager delight as his muscles tightened against a shiver slithering up his spine. Encouraged, she took him deeper, tasting the strange salty-sweetness of his skin. The noise that tore from his throat in response was so violent she thought she'd harmed him in some way and hastily pulled back, brown eyes peering up to search for any kind of wound.
"What's wrong?" she gasped.
Farkas only chuckled, the noise rather strange sounding after the ferocious growl. "Nothing." He assured her, but sat up from the bed, his large hands wrapping around her arms and coaxing her onto her back on the pelts. "But I'm to be claiming you. Not the other way around."
Nauda gasped as he straddled her once more and his hands found her breasts. His touch was skilled as he caressed and massaged, raising trails of gooseflesh all along her skin. Slowly, he made a path of soft nips and kisses down her neck before taking one of her buds into his mouth. Startled and assailed by a sudden, sharp pang of pleasure, Nauda jumped and began to writhe slightly against him. One of his hands, rough and calloused from the work of a warrior, skimmed down from her breast, across her belly, and between her legs. She gasped when she felt him prodding her and threw her head back with a moan when he pressed inside and began prodding the most sensitive part of her.
"Excited are we?" he inquired, voice rough and sounding much like rough growl of a bear.
The tone was so utterly different and strangely...appealing. Nauda bucked her hips against his hand and fingers, gasping and whimpering with the waves of delicious, quaking spasms through her body. "S-stop teasing me!" Nauda pleaded through heavy breaths.
Her entire body suddenly convulsed and arched as his finger flicked against a particularly sensitive part of her and she screamed, "Farkas!"
He chuckled, withdrawing his fingers and tilting her head forward once more and kissing her deeply. She felt him poising at her entrance as their tongues dueled and slowly wetting himself with the seeping liquid from her core. Then, swiftly and without warning, he thrust his entire length inside of her and held her against him tightly. Nauda moaned loudly and clawed at his back as she adjusted to his sudden, enormous intrusion.
He was patient and waited for her to yield. Only when she began moving her hips against him did he begin thrusting in earnest. Nauda moaned and gasped at the feel of him filling and emptying her, her arms clasping to him tightly as he groaned and grunted with hot puffs of air against the crook of her shoulder.
Dizzy with ecstasy, Nauda almost did not realize that Farkas rotated her onto her side until he lifted her leg by her ankle high above her head and began thrusting anew. This time, however, each time he filled her he struck the sensitive part of her. Her body's responsiveness was so potent it made her writhe, moan and pant, and sputter incoherently. The well-known tightness in her belly that had begun at the beginning of their encounter now escalated tenfold and she felt her muscles tightening with each and every contraction of his belly and thrust of his hips.
"Nauda-!" His bellow was strangled, but the meaning behind it was clear.
Not that it mattered. In that instant, the tension became too unbearable and a seizing began, sending waves upon waves of fantastic, frenzied spasms through her belly and to the tips of her fingers. Farkas groaned loudly above her and bucked hard and deep into her, scalding her insides and forcing the air from her lungs as she moaned his name.
Sweating and panting, Farkas lowered her leg slowly and withdrew himself with a grunt. Nauda, still quivering with pleasure, could do little but sigh in appreciation as he gathered her against him, warming her with his large body.
"I love you," he whispered, curling her more securely in his arms.
"I love you," she murmured, still very much in a trance of heady sensations.
Farkas kissed her brow as her pleasure moved from small spasms into complete and total exhaustion. "Come with me, back to the Companions and Jorrvaskr."
She nodded. "I'll follow you to the ends of the earth, dear one."
He laughed and gently ran a finger over the curve of her cheek as she drifted away into her peaceful land of dreams. "You don't have to – following me home is enough."
Afterword
I hoped you liked it! Thanks for reading!
~ Fluff