This was for the SkyrimKinkMeme in response to a request for a story where Vilkas is jealous of the Dragonborn and Farkas. There's a lot more detail to it, but you'll see as the story unfolds.

Potential Trigger Warnings: Dub-Con; all is not happy and fluffy here. I just wanted to make that clear in the beginning.

He'd had too much to drink.

Vilkas had known it was a bad idea from the start. Had known that he was apt to do stupid things when he'd had that much. But he had wanted, had needed to lose himself in his cups. So he'd said "just one more" each time, until a line of one-mores stretched across the table.

And then he'd had another.

Perhaps it had been the last one, or the one before that which had taken him too far. Whichever cup it was, it had led to disaster.

It wasn't as though the night had started well. Nay, it had been a poor day, and a worse week. He had needed the escape that the mead offered. But it had not been the sweet bliss that he had wanted.

So when the barmaid had given him a saucy wink, and sauntered off with a swing in her hips and a meaningful glance over her shoulder, he had followed. Perhaps that had been his mistake, rather than that last drink.

Then again, perhaps his mistake had happened long before, when he hadn't spoken.

He wished he had.

Perhaps then he would not have been the one watching from across the fire. Instead he might have been the one making her throw her head back in laughter. He could have been the one she leaned on, the one she placed sloppy kisses upon as the night's revelry progressed. It should have been him.

After all, he had seen her first.

The woman was petite, her skin the color of coffee spiked with cream. Her hair was dark, twisted back in a no-nonsense bun. Her eyes a rich amber which spoke volumes with every glance. He had been struck immediately by her, had been fascinated by her from the start. It had set him on edge. Had set the wolf on edge. So he had kept his distance.

And she had charmed, and wrapped the other companions around her little finger. Had wrapped all of Skyrim around her finger as she played the hero and beat dragons into submission with her voice.

Oh that voice.

It was a rich, husky timbre for a woman. It sent shivers down his spine and made him want to make her scream. He wondered what she would sound like screaming his name as she climaxed. But he would never find out.

There was something about her. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it made him wary.

And then she had smiled at him, and he had been as lost as the rest of them.

But by then, it had been too late.