"What are you doing?"
Erik—now Erik the Slayer, as reminded himself quickly—turned and looked over his shoulder, asking the question in a clear and curious voice even as he knew that, by now, nothing his companion did should surprise him. Behind him, standing just in front of a rippling pond, the Dragonborn was undoing his sword belt with a gentle ring of metal on metal.
"I want to go for a swim," the Dragonborn said patiently, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He slid the worn leather belt free from the metal loop and dropped it in a pile at his feet. "Care to join me?"
Erik looked up. It was bright, without a cloud in the sky; unseasonably warm for First Seed, especially for the perpetually chilly woods just south of Solitude. He turned back to the Dragonborn and watched as he pulled off his helmet and carefully set it down before delicately pulling off each gauntlet and flexing his fingers as they were exposed to the warm air.
"Well?"
It was tempting, to be sure. The day was warm and Erik had been sitting on a boulder for the past quarter hour as Skyrim's prophesied savior consulted his map and stubbornly refused any navigational assistance, but Erik was wearing bulky, unwieldy iron plate that took ages to put on and even longer to pull off, and so he hesitated.
As if he could read his thoughts, the Dragonborn, the corners of his mouth curling into a mischievous smile, said, "I could help you with your armor."
The armor you paid for, Erik remembered. It seemed so long ago that a wandering hero with a title Erik could not pronounce had passed through Rorikstead; a young man who saw that Erik had the potential to be an adventurer and who was willing to pay coin to help him realize his dream; a companion who in their long travels together became mentor, friend, and then, after that first night in the tent, something more.
The Dragonborn was taking off his cuirass now, formidable segments of steel designed by the Blades that could stand up to blade and arrow yet came off as easily as chainmail. He dropped the armor with a clang and swiftly pulled off his boots and trousers, and then, not pausing, slipped out of his underclothes.
"Last chance," he said, grinning fully now. Erik looked at the figure before him from the feet up, slowly and delectably taking in the sight of the Dragonborn's slender body and the manhood swaying with the beginnings of arousal between smooth thighs.
Erik could feel his heart pounding as the Dragonborn, still smiling, turned and stepped into the water, exhaling with relief as the cool water lapped at his skin. Erik watched as the water level rose until the Dragonborn's rear disappeared beneath the shimmering surface and then, with fingers made clumsy by eagerness, began fumbling with the leather straps holding his armor together.
/
"What's going on? Is something wrong?" Erik woke with a start. Outside the tent, the wind of the snowstorm was still howling, and through a slit in the tent opening he could still see swirling snow screening any view of the outside world. He turned over and saw the Dragonborn sliding closer to him under the blankets. "Is something wrong?" Erik repeated.
The Dragonborn was in no mood to be playful. "It's fucking cold," he explained coolly. "Unless you want to die of exposure, enjoy the shared body warmth."
Erik wanted to kick himself. He had never ventured beyond Rorikstead's temperate climate, and here he was in his first snowstorm and he had forgotten the first rule of survival the Dragonborn had imparted.
"Sorry," Erik apologized, his face burning red. The Dragonborn smiled but said nothing, pressing up against Erik's body and closing his eyes as he laid his head back down.
/
Erik entered the water quickly and without grace, splashing everywhere as he gave his powerful leg muscles a kick and swam out to where the Dragonborn was holding court among the rocks at the far end of the pond.
"So, you made it," he said pleasantly. Standing on the muddy bottom of the pond, the Dragonborn reached forward and gently placed his hands on Erik's muscled thighs, pulling him closer.
"I'm just here to swim," Erik teased in a soft voice.
"That makes two of us," the Dragonborn countered. His hands moved back and stroked, then squeezed Erik's buttocks. Erik's breath hissed as his body responded, and his hands reached for the Dragonborn's sides and drew him in for a passionate and longing kiss. When they pulled apart, the Dragonborn ran one hand down the length of Erik's leg, caressing his thigh, fingers dancing through the fine hair on his calve, and wrapped the other around his erection.
Erik gasped now as the Dragonborn, his smile never fading, stimulated his throbbing manhood, and he lowered his hands until they grasped desperately around the sculpted contours of the Dragonborn's bottom. The Hero of Skyrim rubbed until Erik felt ready to finish and then, almost sensing his impending pleasure, stopped suddenly.
"Why…" Erik whispered, almost a groan. The Dragonborn extricated himself from Erik's grip and swam back to shore, his long limbs pulling him up out of the water as he lay down, stomach-first, on the warm grass, beads of water reflecting like diamonds on his pale, smooth skin.
"You know what to do," the Dragonborn said softly, and shivering and yearning to finish, Erik swam after him.
/
Erik woke for the second time but said nothing, instead silently trying to determine if he wasn't imagining; if he really felt what he thought he did. The Dragonborn had moved closer in the night, that much was certain, and now his hand was resting on Erik's thigh surreptitiously, as if he dared Erik to notice. And more than that, he felt something…else, pressing against his backside…pressing against where the Dragonborn's hips were positioned next to his body. It took a moment before Erik realized what was happening—or at least what he thought was happening—and the thought made his pulse pound.
Did he—? Does he feel? He had seen the Dragonborn gently flirting with village maids they had come across, but with another man—? Erik blinked. He had feelings for the Dragonborn, certainly, feelings that developed out of traveling, fighting, and essentially living together for weeks, but was it possible that the Dragonborn also….
Before he could finish the thought, the Dragonborn gently lifted his head. Ever chivalric, he whispered, "If this makes you uncomfortable, I can—" and Erik silenced him by grabbing his hand and carefully pushing it under his trousers.
Taken aback, the Dragonborn froze, but then, smiling slightly, he began to caress the stiffening manhood pressed against his hand, and after a moment, dexterously slid on top of Erik and slowly, seductively, began to pull off his clothes.
/
There was no sound in the clearing by the pond. No sound besides Erik's labored breathing, the quiet smack of his thighs against the Dragonborn's flesh, and the Dragonborn's own quiet moaning beneath him. In Erik's mind, there was nothing else in Skyrim besides the two of them coupling by a still body of water. The Dragonborn had shown a tendency to prefer being the dominant, and Erik had learned to savor times like this when the greatest adventurer in all the land became entirely vulnerable.
And it felt so good. Erik's thrusting became faster, more vigorous, and the Dragonborn moaned all the louder, and then, after a few minutes longer, Erik could resist no longer and, with a shaky gasp and a shudder, reached his climax.
The Dragonborn felt Erik finish inside of him and then, to his surprise—and generally he, as an adventurer who spent far too many times in wretched places, hated surprises, but not now—Erik reached between the Dragonborn's legs and with strong fingers worked his hardness. The Dragonborn moaned loudly and then, in a moment of sudden, blinding pleasure and release, finished, his seed spilling out onto the grass as he groaned and tried to catch his breath.
/
The snowstorm had stopped by morning's light, and the two lay on opposite sides of the tent. The Dragonborn leaned up, his slender body exposed to the navel and naked beneath the rich fur blanket. He looked pensively at his companion.
"Erik," he began.
"Yes?" Erik tried and failed to maintain eye contact.
"I want—I just want to make sure—" the Dragonborn halted as he chose his next words carefully. "I just want to understand how you feel about this."
An excellent question. Erik slid out from under the blankets and knelt before the Dragonborn. "I feel," he began, and some look on his face made the Dragonborn finish his sentence:
"That you did something wrong?"
There was a moment of silence, and then Erik smiled. "No," he replied. "That finally I did something right for a change." He pulled the covers off of the Dragonborn and sat on his calves, pushing the Dragonborn's thighs apart with his hands.
"Erik?" the Dragonborn questioned, but Erik made no reply, just leaned in and, for the first time, tasted the Dragonborn.
And for the first time, the Dragonborn was at a loss for words. "Erik—I—I—Erik!" he groaned, Erik's stubble prickling the inside of his legs. "Ah…oh…oh…."
/
They lay next to each other on the grass, panting, the sun warming their bare bodies. The Dragonborn tilted his head and looked at Erik's face and beyond. After a moment, he asked,
"Erik?"
"Yes?"
"I know this isn't the time, but…."
"What?" Erik smiled, sure of what the Dragonborn was about to say. His sexual appetities were quite familiar to him now.
Almost apologetically, the Dragonborn continued, "…I believe that is a dragon, there."
"What!" Erik demanded, shocked out of his reverie. He turned and saw black wings framed against blue sky further up in the hills, close enough to be worth engaging. "A dragon?" he sputtered. "Now?!"
The Dragonborn said nothing, but with a slight smile on his face reached for his clothes.
"Do exactly as I tell you and we'll both be fine," he said, his voice ever-confident. He stood, and Erik had one more magnificent look at his body before the Dragonborn slipped into his shirt and reached for his helmet.
"Besides," the Dragonborn said as he carefully donned his armor, smiling a smile that only the rush of combat stimulated, "after a battle with a dragon, I think we'll be quite deserving of some…recreation, don't you?"
And tightening his sword belt, the Dragonborn sprinted ahead as Erik, half exasperated and half infatuated, pulled on his clothes and hurried after him.