For the SkyrimKinkMeme:
I want a MANLY Dovahkiin, for a change. A fucking MANLY one. A Dovahkiin who has manly sex with other manly men on ruggedly handsome beds, steeped in testosterone, perspiration, and chest hair after the two of them have fought four sabre cats, back-to-back with their bare hands. Beard on beard action is not necessary and any pairing is fine with me.
Just remind me how manly the sons of Skyrim are.
Either their sentry was dead, or he would be, Liam swore as he rose from his bedroll. Dark eyes took a quick count of their assailants. Not enough. Even in just their smallclothes, he and Vilkas could take them.
"Vilkas," he roared, in case his Sword Brother was not yet alert.
"Aye, Liam. I see." Vilkas laughed, unsheathing his sword, not bothering to even glance toward his armor. "You were just griping about wanting more fun, were you not?"
Liam laughed, and rushed for the the mage at the back of the group, slicing through any who got in his way. He livedfor this. The bloodlust sang in his veins as he charged forward. Hot blood splashed him with every arc of his sword, but he didn't care.
The mage slung an ice spell at him, but one of the bandits made a convenient shield, taking the brunt of the magic. His limp form fell to the side as Liam continued, grabbing the mage by his throat and lifting him clear off the ground.
He could use the Thu'um, he knew, but that took half the fun out of the battle. He wanted them to die by his hand, on his blade. The mages eyes widened in fear as he realized who he'd just attacked. He may have tried to speak, but Liam wasn't listening. He just snapped the man's neck with a smile.
As the body dropped to the ground, Liam turned. As expected, Vilkas had dispatched the rest of their assailants. His grin was broad and wolfish, his bloodlust running high and close to the surface.
He wanted more. Needed more. But there was no-one left to attack. All he could feel was his need.
It seemed Vilkas felt the same. They dropped their swords and lunged at each other. Rough hands slid across hard muscle, caught on blood soaked fabric. What little clothing they wore tore as they wrestled for dominance. Their wolf needs ran close to the surface after a battle like that, and both of them were alphas.
Only one of them, however, could act it.
They wrestled, rough hands brushing work-hardened muscles. Grunts of exertion filling the small clearing. Dark, suntanned skin rubbed pale, untouched skin. The wrestling had started as an outlet for pent up bloodlust, but was quickly stirring their needs in other ways.
At one point, Vilkas stole a kiss from Liam. It was harsh and bruising, lips crushing against lips, his tongue invading the other's mouth. It was a kiss of pure, primal need, and it nearly spiraled out of control. Liam's stubble-roughened face was buried at the juncture of Vilkas' shoulder and neck before either of them had really registered what was going on. He bit, hard, but not quite hard enough to break skin. Vilkas groaned with a desperate need, his hips thrusting forward, rubbing himself against Liam.
This time, it was Liam's turn to grunt with need. Swiftly and harshly, he grabbed Vilkas' hair, pulling his head back to allow greater access to his neck. He licked the blood and sweat slowly, a low growl emanating from his chest.
"Submit," his voice was a low rumble, gravelly with need. He bit Vilkas' neck, just above the jugular. The threat was clear. Vilkas allowed his eyes to fall closed and his body to go limp, submitting to the Dragonborn.
Liam released Vilkas, letting the other man drop to his knees. His desires were clear.
Vilkas eyed Liam's engorged cock for a moment, the look unreadable. With agonizing slowness, Vilkas leaned forward, just licking the tip before withdrawing. Liam groaned and fisted his hands in Vilkas' hair. He wanted to speed the process, but fought the urge for the moment, allowing Vilkas to set the pace until his need became too great.
Still slowly, Vilkas took Liam's cock in his mouth, inching forward slowly, clearly enjoying his Shield-Brother's agony. Liam groaned, the sound ripped out of him by his need. He had wanted it hard and fast, full of passion and fury, and here he was, letting himself get teased. Yet the pleasure eclipsed the fury, the feeling of heat and moisture and that little thing Vilkas was doing with his tongue drawing out his patience.
When Liam looked down and saw Vilkas gazing back at him, humor and lust in his golden eyes, he lost it. His hands gripped harder, pulling Vilkas' hair, making the other man groan in pleasure. He held his friend's head steady as he moved himself, pulling back and thrusting forward with erratic movements. He was desperate, so close, so- he threw his head back and howled as he came in Vilkas' mouth.
Vilkas hadn't been idle by any means. His hands had been furiously pumping his own stiff cock. He wasn't a submissive man- he was dominant in all aspects of his life- except for right here, right now. Now he was Liam's bitch, and that thought made him so hard he hadn't been able to keep from touching himself. His howl echoed Liam's as he lost it, spilling himself onto the earth between them.
The men stood in silence, their heavy breathing the only sounds in the clearing. Liam's eyes sought Vilkas', looking for something neither of them could put a name to. What he found must have pleased him, because his lips curved in a wide grin. Then the moment was over, and they were in the woods, surrounded by the corpses of the fallen.
"Come," Liam said, offering Vilkas a hand up. "Let us see what has happened to our wayward sentry."
Their needs sated, the men dressed and broke camp in companionable silence. Moving on, leaving nothing but the enemy dead and a damp spot in the moss to show they were ever there.