Claudette had been walking for hours west of Riverwood, carefully of course. She stepped lightly through the leaves and curved her body through the branches, lest one snap and reveal her path. It was late. The sun had set. She walked further up the mountain toward Bleak Falls Barrow. A deserted place to rest for the night.
In truth she was waiting, peeking over her shoulder with every turn. She watched the horizon, focusing on the few clear patches through the trees. Further up the mountain they turned into blurs and instead she examined any unusual movements.
Mostly goats. A small wolf here and there.
The roughness of her clothes had chaffed her sides, burnishing deep into the skin. She felt the raw patches spreading along her hip while her water skin bumped along. The water sloshed back and forth nearly empty. Its contents had already worked through her body and coated her in a thick sweat, hand sticking uncomfortably to the grip of her dagger. The salt of her skin was strong enough that even she noticed the perspiration turning to odor from the fine hairs underneath her arms.
The Breton did not stop for respite until she reached the ruins. The uneven steps punctured the sore blisters on her feet, adding another burn to her worn body. Ankles tender, knees bellowing in pain.
Still, she kept her eyes behind her—looking for a shadow in the darkness. The snowfall morphed into figures and ghosts before reaching the icy ground. There could be nothing and everything following her.
Claudette entered the ruins, dropping her sack and empty water skin to the ground.
A flick of her fingers gave her a flame—a light in the musty cave.
Bright amber eyes of a beast met her. Shrinking tight.
A rough snort collapsed the strength of her focus and left her in darkness again.
Hot heavy breaths boiled her wet skin, purging more sweat from her pores. Drips rained down her cheeks and neck. She screamed as two thick arms captured her, dragging her what seemed to be further into the ruins. Her boots caught divots in the broken stone floor, tugging her legs in awkward positions. She twisted and cried out, but the beast squeezed her tighter and yanked her rougher until she was tossed onto the hard floor, slamming her hip into a shattered urn.
The beast held her down, grazing its dewy nose around her jaw, grunting rigid in her ear. A thick swipe of its tongue caked her neck and chest in ropy saliva. It pulled Claudette's hand to its mouth, playing her fingers against its sharp yellow teeth, acquainting her with its weapons. Her hand was soaked in slobber as her nails scratched its fangs, ripping its jaw closer to her face. She clutched its tongue with her fist, gasping as it yelped and whipped its head away. The deep thrum of its growl froze her movements. She stared into a silhouette barely visible. The beast's claws retreated from her waist, slowly smoothing into short clean fingers. Pops and cracks ricocheted across the dead walls and pounded her ears. The growl was replaced with the groan of a woman. The fur of its body restored to a tender flesh that would show pink if there was any light to expose her.
The once-beast returned her mouth to Claudette's neck, sucking and biting at the muscle beneath the skin. She grabbed her waist again, mauling her way underneath the Breton's clothes—discarding buttons and strings desperately searching for direct contact with the tired woman she had hunted all evening. Sniffed out and tracked. Her scent was as easily lost as it was found—sometimes drifting with the lavender breezes and settling beneath a shaded tree.
Claudette gripped hard into the huntress's back drawing blood and images of her passion in the woman's meat. She bit back just as needy, tangling their lips together and clashing their teeth. They tasted each other's candy bitter flavor, mouths frenzied and hungry. The huntress grappled Claudette's leg, wrapping it around her hips to be closer, touching more of her surface and feeling more of her heat. A trembling hand settled between her thighs, fingers teasing the dripping wet slips of sensitive skin. She licked Claudette's nipple, sucking bruises into the thick of her breast, obeying her lover's shaking breaths.
Claudette pushed her body forward, sore arm holding her in a blunt position. She dug her nails into the rocky ground, pebbles gouging her palm. She shuddered as the huntress thrust two fingers inside of her—crudely stroking her tender walls. Their heaving breaths fogged the room and replaced the staleness with carnal musk. Lustful pleas turned to gibberish demands. They were lovers chanting. They withdrew into the language of their bodies.
Claudette came with weak legs and a collapsed mind, but the huntress climbed up the Breton's body, settling with her knees on either side of her face. She tugged Claudette's mouth to her vulva with a fistful of brunette locks. She licked the huntress with flat swipes of her tongue, soon flicking forcefully against her clit. Her jaw achingly continued, overwhelmed by the need to see her lover squeal by the work of her own mouth. The huntress guided her head, grinding her hips into Claudette's mouth. The woman stiffed above her, snarling and crying out. Her body jerked and she gripped Claudette's hair tighter, stinging her scalp.
Then calm deep breaths.
Then lying next to each other.
Then sweet kisses while they lay on the cold wet floor.
A/N: wrote this for a vague prompt of F!Dragonborn!Breton/Aela