Yo, I am alliiivvveeee.
Ahem. I am working on Copper Miracles, don't you worry. I'm just getting some stuff done first. Promise.
But here. Have Tavvy and Gamz in Skyrim.
Warning, Very NSFW and cliches abound.
Your name is Tavros Nitram and you hate the cold.
You hate very few things- bandits, the Thalmor, burnt sweet rolls, Riften (that's where Vriska's said to be residing herself, and after that incident with the cliff over looking Lake Itinalta, you want nothing to do with her, it doesn't help that the town is a pickpocket haven), but the cold is the one thing that does you in.
It's ridiculous really. You live in Skyrim, a province that's known for it's harsh weather (and cranky Nords, but you leave that out), and you hate, no, despise it. You want to say it's Bosmer nature, but no, it's just you being picky and difficult. You lived in Falkreath, for Kynareth's sake, you were used to the warm forests in and around the Hold and it felt like home to you, despite that one Nord who banters everybody who isn't native.
Unlike Winterhold, which is where you are currently located, according to your companion/best friend/lover/whatever-he-wanted-to-be-called, Gamzee, where you are currently glowering at the back of his head while you're freezing your ears off in nothing but leather armor and a long bear pelt cloak. He, of course, is oblivious to your state, and the bitter cold (stupid half-Nord blood. No that was not jealously) and treads on forward, that ever present smile shining even through the fog of the heavy snow, marking the path for you to follow. You don't know why he refused to take the roads and insisted on 'the motherfuckin' roads less traveled', but you really wishes he would be a little more perceptive, you don't need to encounter wolves or bandits or ice wraiths.
Or dragons.
Dragons are a thing you would like to avoid, definitely.
Gamzee stops momentarily to glance back at you, making sure you're keeping up. You make sure that he can see the glare you're shooting at him. He doesn't. Instead, when you catch up to his side, trembling from the unmerciful blizzard (you don't think it's a blizzard, but it feels like one), he loops his arm around your shaking shoulders and grins, his painted face cracking under the strain. "Motherfucker okay here?" His voice is low, and a bit scratchy from his constant Skooma intake, but it sends chills down your spine that's, for once, not from the cold.
You try and keep up the glare however, but it was fading fast under his gaze (and the cold). "What… d-do you, t-think?" You snapped through shivering teeth. You've voiced your thoughts on the cold plenty of times, but it's like talking about fruit to a wolf. Gamzee gives you a throaty chuckle that has you shuddering again, before tightening his grip around you. He then proceeded to glance around the area, despite the heavy snowfall fogging the distance. His smile grows bigger as he points to his left, still tightly holding you against him.
"Looks like motherfuckin' Sheogorath came through for us, Tavbro," He chimes without missing a beat, and you flinch at the name of the Daedric Prince he's loyal to. Looking out where he's pointing, you could barely make out an entrance of some sorts, a cave sounds like a safe bet, however. "Don't know about you, brother, but this motherfucker up and gettin' chilly." He throws you a teasing smirk before dragging you in the direction he was pointing at.
And would you know it, it is a cave. A big one too, by the looks of it. Glancing around to make sure there there's no bloody rocks or heads in pikes or anything of the sort (you two have been encountering a lot of those lately), before trudging alongside Gamzee to the entrance.
Once inside, you could feel a significant difference in the temperature, but not enough to warrant taking off the cloak. As you begin setting up camp for the night Gamzee excuses himself to scout the cave, making sure nothing could bother the both of you. You hear a few sounds of a distant skirmish, but it's nothing to worry about. Gamzee's pretty dependable when it comes to battle. When he came back, his ebony mace dripping with a little blood, you had already set up the fire for the camp, which you are grateful for, and situated yourself on the far side of the wall.
"Motherfuckin' spiders, Tavvy," he explained, lacing the mace back to his hip and sliding himself next to you. "Fuckers up and gives me the creepy crawlies." You couldn't nod fast enough.
You both fall into a comfortable silence as you watch the fire roar and crackle in front of you. The warmth is a welcoming change, but the bitter chill of the cold still bites you even next to the dancing flames. So you curl yourself into Gamzee, who snakes both his arms around you and sits you on his lap in return, placing a small kiss on your crown. He radiates heat like the hearth in Jorrvaskr, and you smile, content, as you melt against him, taking in Gamzee's scent of leather, sweet rolls, and the moon sugar he sprinkles on his face daily.
In his arms is where you feel the safest. At Gamzee's side, there's no wars, no dragons, no worrying if Rufioh is safe with the Companions, or if your nightmares will come tonight. Sometimes, like tonight, you would let your mind wonder, about your brother in Jorrvaskr, about your former home in Falkreath, about Skyrim, about Gamzee. The first night you met, when he was with you after you fell from the cliff, when he saved your life from the dragon that took your home and father, how he let you come with him throughout Skyrim. How he confessed his love to you in Blackreach, and when you first made love in Eldergleam Sanctuary (Kynareth forgive you, but it was amazing).
And after all of that, he never asks for anything in return. Just your love, and a sweet roll when you enter town. How could you say no?
Feeling slightly wistful, you craned your head upward and placed a small kiss on his jaw, blushing slightly. Gamzee snapped from whatever trance he was in, and he sits you right on his lap, straddling him, and leans in to capture your lips in a proper kiss. You squeaked a little, surprised, but immediately they melded together in a kiss that shot lightning up your spine. It was small at first, just your lips gliding against his, until he started sliding his tongue across your bottom lip, begging entrance. Automatically, you granted, mewling as his tongue sweep across yours. As your tongues danced together, the familiar fire erupted in your stomach, and you hated that you had to pull apart for air. The moment you two broke, however, Gamzee quickly claimed your neck, biting, kissing and marking the flesh presented to him.
"Gamz…" you breathed in his ear, feeling the shudder course down his back and oh, it feels good being able to do that to him. You trail your fingers through his raven locks and gave a rough tug. Gamzee hissed through his teeth and bit down at the base of your neck and you yelped, feeling the heat coil tightly in your abdomen.
A few minutes of this heated confrontation of kissing and biting and you're nothing but a moaning, whining puddle above on his lap. Gamzee bucks his hips upward and a lengthy whine escaped your throat, captured by Gamzee's kiss-swollen lips, as you started tugging on the straps of his nightshade colored leather with your free hand. Gamzee circled his arms around your waist and gently laid you across the dusty cave ground next to the fire.
"Tav," he panted, nipping your neck as you writhe under him, "Do you motherfuckin' want this..?" He grunted out, peering up at you from your neck. You smiled, despite the lust clouding you and the heat pooling in your lower body. He always asks. And you always answer with a kiss straight to his lips.
It's always a task taking the stupid leather off, too many belts and straps, but with your mind drugged on lust and desire fueled your every move, and with lightning quick fingers to the ties and buckles, not once loosing lip-lock, the armor was off and in to time Gamzee was already back on you, kissing every inch of exposed skin. The ground was dirty, and cold on your bare back, but you didn't care, the fire burning deep into your core outmatched it. "Gamzee…" You begged as he bit down on a perked nipple, panting through kissed-bruised lips.
Gamzee lets out an airy chuckle before drawing his hands from your sides and holds three fingers to your mouth. Immediately, you take them in and suck, lavishing them, sliding your tongue over the digits one by one, tasting small traces of grease paint and moon sugar, all while keeping eye contact with Gamzee, who just looks at you with feral, lust covered half-lulled eyes that just makes you throb for him.
When Gamzee felt that they were ready, he pulled his fingers out, but not without you giving them one last lick. He moves them to your entrance and you automatically spread your legs for him. He kisses you, sweetly on the lips before sliding his middle finger inside you. You hiss at the uncomfortable intrusion, but you know it'll get better, so you bear with it as he thrusts his finger in and out of you. After the discomfort fades he presses another in and it stings a bit as he starts scissoring them. The stinging increases dramatically as he adds the third one, and Gamzee tries to distract you with soothing words and gentle touches. Soon enough, they became bearable, and you started to rock your hips back and forth with his fingers, mewling.
Finally, when he deemed you ready, he pulled them out and you whined from the loss. Quickly, he reached over to your pack and pulled out a small healing potion. You raise your eyebrow at him, apprehensively, as he pulls the cork out with his teeth and slathers it on his erection. "Might make this a little bit better, motherfucker," he sighs as he slicks himself for you.
Lifting your legs over his hips, he positions himself over your entrance. His head barely passes the ring of skin, and he still himself, looking straight at you, his eyes full of lust, love and adoration for you. You smile, panting, and you dig your fingers in his hair. He always does this, right before he enters. He looks at you, admires you, enjoying the small moment that you're all his before pounding you to Oblivion and back.
"I love you, Tavros." He says, trying his best to keep contained. It's always your full name like this. Never 'Tavbro' or 'Tavvy' or 'Tav' or any other little nickname he's given you. Always Tavros. You smile grows wider as you pull him down for a kiss.
"I love, you too, Gamzee," you reply back, rolling your hips across his tip for emphasis and he hisses. He gives you an animalistic grin before pushing himself in, and you scream. Not in pain, like you expected, but in complete and utter bliss and pleasure. So that's why he used a health potion. Whatever pain you supposed to be feeling was replaced with tingling pleasure. He sheaths himself inside you entirely, waiting for you to get adjusted as he presses small kisses alongside your jaw and collarbone, and you whimper.
Feeling ready, you buck your hips to test the feel, and it's amazing. Gamzee lets out a hiss that drawls out to a moan before pulling out to his tip and thrusting all the way back inside. You moan as he starts a steady pace, slowly easing into a faster one accompanied by your husky groans and whines. Soon, he's pounding into you, the skin on skin contact ringing off walls of the cave as you writhe under him, begging him for more, crying out for release as the heat rolls trough your body, tightening up as you approach closer and closer to your finish.
When one of Gamzee's hands curl around your long-neglected shaft for the first time, pumping out of sync with his thrusts, you almost loose it, arching your back against the cave floor and screaming. You hook your legs across his back and buck against him for more friction, meeting him in the middle of his thrusts. "Gamzee-eeee," you groan for him, pulling him down for more kisses along his lips, jaw and neck.
"Ta-av…" He whimpers, filling your ears with words of love and appreciation other sweet nothings as he gets rougher with his movements. His grunts, mixed in with your whines and moans fill the caves walls And he hits that marvelous spot inside you and you're hit with a beautiful euphoria of colors and lights and just like that, you're gone, the heat in your stomach finally blowing up all over you, and you're screaming out his name as you spill over in his hand and your chest. Your walls clench around him as he only rolls his hips a couple more times before he moans out your name, filling you with his warm seed.
Gamzee pulls out slowly, and you feel strangely empty as he heavily collapses at your side, a slick sheen of sweat covering his dark body, panting from exertion. You're basically doing the same thing as he takes you in his arms and holds you, whispering sweet things in your ears and kisses you all over as he fights drowsiness. And you nestle deeper into is warm arms, as you pull some of the fur bedrolls over you both, the cold already seeping in around you. Eventually, Gamzee looses his battle with exhaustion and falls asleep with his hands ranking through your chestnut Mohawk. You're not too far behind, as you place a small chaste kiss under his chin one final time before sleep claims you for the night, another flame lighting in your heart that not even the bitter frost of Skyrim can burn out.