This is "part 1" in the series of oneshots about my altmer. "Part 2" is "The enemy of my enemy is my...?"
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Ok first order of business; TRIGGER-WARNINGS! This oneshot is... uhm... dark? Like assassin kind of dark. There are some depictions of violence that can be triggers for those sensitive or with bad experiences. So take care when reading the end.
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Secondly. To all Ondolemar-fans. I'M SORRY! I just couldn't help myself! There is a fine line between love and hate and I'm not sure what side I'm on. Thus this story was born somewhere in the depts of my decrepid brain.
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Thirdly, yea so this is a oneshot. My altmer Dovahkiin getting hot and heavy with Ondolemar in Markarth. Violent ending, be warned.
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Enjoy!
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OH! And before I forget. Do leave a comment if you liked this story. It's hard to know if the stories are even remotely good or just a waste of my time when there are only "x" nr of hits to go by. Hits doesn't equal actual reader.
Pretty please?
Cheers!
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Iniethe stood in the shadows, lurking while she observed the comings and goings of Understone Keep. All she had to do was pick a lock, rummage through a room, find some evidence and blackmail the Steward until he backed the Stormcloaks. Easy as pie! If one didn't take into account the oblivion cursed Thalmor patrolling the hallway like agitated saber cats.
One Justicar and two soldiers. No big deal under normal circumstances but Iniethe couldn't risk going anywhere near those puffed up supremacists in a closed off space as this. One wrong move and she would be done for. Even if the Jarl and his men didn't mind her waltzing about as the illustrious Dragonborn the Thalmor certainly would. If they attacked, the guards and every able-bodied man and woman would do the same out of fear and misplaced loyalty. And she couldn't have the entire city of Markarth on her heal if she were to get her mission done.
She needed a descent disguise and a plan and even then it was a high risk mission to engage the Justicar and his guards since she had killed more than a few Thalmor entourages on the roads of Skyrim, not to mention her escapades in the Thalmor Embassy.
She opted for a temporary, tactical retreat and spent the remainder of the day skulking around Markarth, breaking and entering and eavesdropping in any place she could for gossip and information on her targets.
The following morning she felt she had enough information to make a decent plan - with some backups and fallbacks incase things went south - and she considered herself ready. Her youth would give of the right type of naiveté she was looking for and no one would - probably - suspect the cunning mind hiding behind her innocent facade. She 'borrowed' a dress and some shoes from one of the guests at the Silver-Blood inn, refrained from her usual warpaint and let her long pitch-black hair hang freely over her shoulder before making her way over to the Understone Keep.
She was good at blacksmithing and she knew the Jarls personal blacksmith was a sought after mentor for aspiring young blacksmiths. That was her cover if asked why she was there. Granted they had blacksmiths in the Summerset Ilses but she was a deviation from the norm due to her strange silvery eye-color and short stature. She was what many altmer would call an 'unwanted', and she could claim - without even lying - that her parents had sold her as a child. She only needed to alter the fact about where they sold her off too so that her persona ended up here in Skyrim.
Everything was in order to hold up against possible curious inquiries and just before she entered the Understone Keep, she donned the persona she had created after careful calculations. Humble but still feisty enough to offer up a challenge for the Justicar to hunt. Once inside the Keep she headed straight for the hall holding the throne-room. She timed her steps up the stairs and as planned only narrowly avoided a collision with the Justicar when she reached the top.
"Oh! I am so sorry!" she exclaimed looking mortified at the disgruntled group of Thalmor's, meeting the poisonous green gaze of the Justicar without fear.
"You have the honor of addressing a member of the Thalmor. Bask in it." The Justicar sneered grumpily but calmed himself somewhat after examining her closer. She might not fit the altmer breeding-standards but she was still very attractive according to many. And she was still an altmer. Even if she came from the lowest parts of the hierarchy, her heritage alone still garnered more respect than any other race.
"You aren't from Markarth, I take it?" Iniethe said looking over the altmeri man with open interest before flashing a charming smile and crossing her arms under her chest, discretely drawing attension to the cleavage of the blue dress. One of the guards cleared his throat and squirmed a bit at that. "Good to know", she thought as she appraised Ondolemar reaction. He remained stone-faced but his eyes betrayed his interest ever so subtly.
"As if this craggy, wretch of a city could give birth to a superiorly bred Mer such as myself. No, I'm not from Markarth. But then neither are you." A tiny arrogant smile graced the altmer's lips as he spoke proudly and Iniethe could feel him sizing her up.
"First obstacle cleared." she thought in relief.
The Justicar inquired some information about why such a young altmer, such as herself, would find herself in a cesspool like Markarth and Iniethe gave him pieces of her semi-forged past. She then kept the man talking for a good while about the Thalmor, Talos and the Dominions 'justified' persecution of Talos-worshippers, throwing in some "oh's" and "ah's" and the occasional nod for good measure.
God's these high and mighty, arrogant idiots were all the same. Poke a few well-placed questions their way to get them to talk about themselves and their 'righteousness' and they went on for hours gladly.
"You're awfully inquisitive, aren't you? I like that. Perhaps you'd care to solve a little problem I'm having, hm?" Ondolemar was smirking in obvious interest and Iniethe mentally shook herself out of her internal rant as she saw her opportunity.
"I would love to but right now I'm a little late for my meeting with the blacksmith. How about you tell me about it in private? Say, tonight?" Her smile was coy but she conjured a spark of mischief in her eyes, just visible enough to convey her hidden agenda while praying to Dibella for luck.
Turned out the prayers either worked or the rumors about the commander wasn't all true. Ondolemar undoubtedly had a stick up his ass and he was as arrogant as they came, but he accepted her offer regardless of her low social status.
"Obstacle number two cleared." she smirked to herself as she hurried over to talk to the smith further into the keep.
Evening came and Iniethe went to the Understone Keep once more. Trudging quietly up the stairs to the room in between the throne-room and the steward's room, where the Thalmor was currently staying. The two guards stood outside when she arrived and none of them looking very happy with their posts. Iniethe on the other hand was secretly gloating on the inside. If the guards were posted outside, it meant the Justicar was alone, probably planning what to do with her once she arrived. A man like Ondolemar was very hard to thwart or kill as he extremely rarely let down his guard, but, she was betting she knew when he would.
Iniethe suppressed a wolfish grin as she knocked on the door, which Ondolemar graciously opened to let her inside. She shrugged her mantel, throwing it over a chair before gathering a bottle of wine and two cups off the table and innocently making her way back towards the door. Ondolemar was watching her every move through his usual air of superiority and she flashed him a bashful smile as she worked to get the door opened.
According to the gossip she had heard, the two guards were homesick, disgruntled and had a taste for fine wine.
"Here, something for your troubles." she smiled sweetly as she peeked her head out of the room, handing over the bottle and cups to the wary guards. The cups was spiked by more than just Iniethe's ire, but they didn't know that and just as she hoped they would, they took the offered refreshment with a curt nod. She had to suppress another smirk as she closed the door behind her and heard them mutter that something good finally came out of their sorry excuse of a job.
Turning to focus on the Justicar again she noticed he had his arms crossed over his chest and had raised a curious eyebrow at her. She donned a shy smile and said she felt bad for being the reason the guards were kicked out of their quarters. Ondolemar scoffed an amused chuckle at her innocence and moved closer.
"So about this problem of yours." Iniethe said breaking the short silence with a brilliant but nervous smile filled with insinuation and promise that had the proud altmer smirk in satisfaction as he came up in front of her, pressing her against the door.
"That can wait, I have more urgent matters to attend to at the moment." Ondolemar was looking down on her with his piercing green eyes as he closed in like a fox on a hare. Unbeknownst that this particular hare was far from the prey he thought she was. She could tell this man was used to getting what he wanted and she thanked whatever God who happened to be listening for the fact that he wasn't in the least bit ugly. She might as well enjoy herself when she had the chance.
There was no insecure exploring or loving prelude. Only the demands conveyed by his lips as they met hers. He wasn't gentle, he wasn't even careful and Iniethe followed his lead. Their kiss was wild and brutal but still very much controlled. It felt like the Justicar had eyes everywhere, never letting his iron control slip even for a second as he turned and backed her to the far end of the room. When her calves hit the side of the bed he broke away to toss his robes to the side. His head was shaved in contrast to his lightly white-bearded chin and his chest was broad but slim with a few scars running along the golden skin. Iniethe couldn't help but admire the man. She hated the Thalmor with a passion, but she couldn't deny that this man was gorgeously built.
Ondolemar was smirking at her again, seemingly enjoying the ogling he was getting before he unceremoniously ripped the dress off Iniethe's body. She gasped on que, playing out her character to perfection and welcomed the man as he stole her lips again. His tongue demanding immediate access to spar with her own and she complied gladly.
Her arms snaked around the mer's golden neck, faintly brushing along his delicately pointed ears in the process and she smiled at the shiver that ran through his body. His hands was running along her spine to cup her behind before one trailed its way to her breasts to play. She moaned when the Justicar rolled her nipple and abandoned her lips in favor for the skin on her neck.
He lavished kisses along her jaw and paused to nip her lobe before trailing her pointed ear with the very tip of his warm tongue. She felt one of the Justicar's hands nestle in her hair, forcing her to tilt it backwards and expose her throat to him. And she had to bite down hard on her lower to suppress her loud cries into moans as he came back down her ear to suckle and nip on the golden skin of her neck. He pushed her down on the bed as he trailed greedy kisses down to her breasts and there he stayed to suckle until she was moaning and writhing in earnest.
One of his hands started wandering again, caressing its way down her curves towards her building heat. His touches sent jolts of excitement through her eager body as she impatiently waited for the man to reach his goal. He took his time though, teasing the sensitive skin just above her hipbone, then the pulsing skin of her inner thighs before he let his fingers find her core.
Those slender long fingers seemed to know exactly what they were doing as they curled past her folds to ghost her pleasure-nub. She gasped at the sensation and as the Justicar let two nimble fingers delve deep into her slick heat, her nails raked across his back coaxing a wincing cry out of him, matching her own.
She ground up against the magnificent mer as he let his fingers work her sex. Thumb on her nub and two fingers curling inside her while his warm experienced mouth teased her nipples. Her hands roamed his muscular back, clawing occasionally while she enjoyed his touch as well as the sounds of the Justicar's wincing groans. She was only moments from release when his hand abandoned her core in favor for lining himself up and pushing past her folds. She let the whine she felt at the loss of his fingers escape her lips to stroke the mer's ego as she wrapped her legs around the man's waist, meeting his thrust eagerly with her hips.
The pace he set was brutal from the start but she didn't mind. She met his force with equal fervor and soon he had her bouncing off his pelvis with every snap of his hips. She was crying out every time he bottomed her out, trying to angle herself to get him to hit that spot inside as well as gain friction to her nub. But Ondolemar smiled wickedly, locked her hands above her head with his own and denied her release as he pounded into her. She was furious, groaning in frustration, but the rapid thrusts of the Thalmor's generous length sent enough shockwaves of pleasure through her to keep her on the edge of release and made her unable to fully regain her equilibrium.
When his thrusts started becoming erratic and his breathing strained, he relented his hold over her and she was not late with her responding action. Rolling them over, she straddled him and ground down hard and deep on his length. Cutting off the surprised but still slightly arrogant chuckle emanating from the Justicar, with a roll of her hips. She wanted release and in her need for it, she all but whimpered when the altmer's nimble hand once again curl along her sex. His thumb expertly nestling in over her nub to help release the pressure that was trapped in the pit of her stomach.
He rubbed a few lazy circles before tapping the nub hard at the same time as he bucked up to meet her hips. Iniethe cried out from the sudden shockwave of pleasure and was lost in the repeating of the action. Ondolemar continued his ministration until she felt like someone was releasing a lightning-spell straight into her body. The intense rush of sensations had her tumbling over the edge of her passion with an outdrawn wailing cry as her entire body became rigid and trembled from the effort.
The Justicar continued to draw lazy circles over her nub, thrusting into her spasming core as she slowly came down from her high. And bit by bit she regained control.
The altmer was almost coming undone himself. She could feel his control slipping with every grunting gasp and pant making it past his lips as she bounced and rolled her hips mercilessly up and down his now rock-hard length. She raked her short nails across the mer's well-sculpted chest before leaning in, bracing her weight on both hands - one on either side of his face - to kiss him greedily. He answered with fervor, his tongue almost desperately seeking hers in a wild dance as he grabbed her hips in a bruising grip to better meet her core with his harsh thrusts.
If it hadn't been for the tight grip he retained on her hips she might have been ricocheted off of the mer with the force of their collisions as he chased his own high.
She smiled triumphantly when she felt his breathing stutter, the pace falter and his muscles coil. A panting groan rumbled out of the altmeri man as he threw his head back, burying himself as deep as he possibly could with an audible snap of his hips. And in that wonderful, oblivious moment just as he reached his peak and his mind blanked momentarily from the sensory overload that came with his release, she let a thin wire - hidden in her hair - slide across his throat.
His body was still rigid in release, his length still twitching rhythmically inside her hot, moist core and his seed still spilling into her warmth when his eyes shot wide in shock. His fingers cramped and bored hard into the skin of her hips, his nails going so deep as to draw blood while his mouth formed into a scream that morphed into a wet, coughing gurgle as the wire cut deeper into the Justicar's throat.
Iniethe's eyes burned in cold fury and the smile gracing her lips was pure, sadistic glee as she leaned in to whisper;
"The High King of Skyrim sends his regards..."