Joining
Wow. Neither one of us was the Dragonborn? Who the hell was, then? So... what the hell was I doing here? Satisfying someone's idea of a sick joke or something?
Which immediately put me in mind of Sheogorath. Yeah, he'd definitely do something like this.
The weird thing was, I felt a little insulted. No, I absolutely did not want to be the Dragonborn and have all the stupid-ass, world-saving responsibilities associated with it, but... what, I wasn't good enough? Actually, no, I wasn't, but that was beside the point.
On the other hand, I couldn't possibly succeed on that questline in reality. Oh yeah, in the game it was a piece of cake. Sure. But this wasn't the game. It wasn't even a pale substitute of the game. Lives were at stake, whereas in the game, nobody got hurt if you fucked up. Well, nobody real, anyway. And if someone important died, you had the option to reload a saved game where they were still alive.
If anything happened to Mauronk, it would be permanent. And my fault.
In my room back at the Sleeping Giant inn in Riverwood, my leather armor lay in a heap on the floor, and I sat on the bed in my woolen underthings, hugging myself against the chill. There was no reason why I should be upset about being spared the last thing in the world I wanted to have happen to me, but it rankled regardless, and that just pissed me off more.
The knock on the door startled me. The door opened, because I still didn't know how the hell to lock the damn thing, and for a moment I tensed. Then I relaxed. As I should have expected, it was Mauronk.
"Are you all right?" he asked awkwardly. "You should eat. I brought you something."
I just shrugged and waved him in. He set the wooden tray on the little end table for me, but I didn't even look at what he brought. I leaned back against the wall and hugged my knees.
"Do you wish me to leave?" he said quietly.
"No. Sit with me," I said with a sigh. I finally noticed he'd taken off his steel armor and wore a simple tunic and pants. Very loose pants that couldn't really hide... oh hell.
No, he wasn't 'sporting wood,' as my male friends would say, but... Holy gods, what was I thinking? He sat next to me, and I couldn't get that vision out of my head, of him all over me, inside me... I felt like a total freak. Chewing my lip in agitation, I tried to clear my mind of the nearly overwhelming memory of what happened, as if it really did happen.
"I offended you," he said quietly.
Wincing slightly, I shook my head. "No. It's not you. It's all me."
"What was supposed to happen? At the wall?"
Gods, I didn't want to tell him this. It was probably ten thousand times worse than 'your world is a game.'
"Mauronk," I said flatly, "you know that stupid shit I told you about? The whole... game thing?"
"Yes," he replied. I could hear wariness in his voice. Maybe he thought I was going to say it was a lie, or some wild story I made up. Oh, if only...
"In that game, the... quest, I guess... the main reason they picked this time to focus on, is because the dragons come back, and... a Dragonborn appears."
"Dragonborn," he repeated uncertainly. "What is that?"
"The Dragonborn is someone who... well... has the soul of a dragon," I said awkwardly. "Something like that, anyway. Walls like that one we saw are... magical, I guess, and sort of... sense the presence of the Dragonborn. They teach a word. A Shout. The locals call it a Thu'um."
He didn't say anything for several moments, and I just waited him out. Take it in, big guy. It's weird, but it's your world.
"Did it teach a word?" he asked quietly. I could feel him looking at me, and shook my head. "So... you do not have a dragon's soul?"
"No," I replied, and I could hear a shade of disappointment in my voice. "You apparently don't, either."
"What does it mean? I do not know what a Dragonborn is. What they do."
"Well, the Dragonborn is like... the ultimate dragon slayer, I guess," I explained. "They're pretty much expected to fight dragons and save the world." I chuckled a little. "Narrow miss, huh? Imagine me with that on my shoulders."
I didn't have to look at him to know he was imagining me up against a dragon when I couldn't even stay conscious long enough to fight a spider. Probably remembering how I nearly wet myself in Helgen, as well. Yeah, Skyrim would have been doomed for sure.
"That... would have been...," he began cautiously.
"The most horrible thing to happen in this world since the Oblivion Gates opened," I growled. "There's nothing funny about dragons running wild across the whole province, burning everyone and everything they come across because the one person with the power to stop them is a complete lame-ass. I hope the gods chose someone with at least some skills that might come in handy."
"You might yet be formidable in battle," he said, and chuckled. "If you do not think about it, you shoot well. More practice will make you quite deadly."
"Why, you flatterer," I snorted sarcastically. "To my ally or my enemy?"
"You have not shot me in the ass yet, though you promised you would," he pointed out, his grin broadening.
"There's still time," I replied, bumping his shoulder with mine in a companionable sort of way, then added in a teasing tone, "You keep showing it in public, I might lose my concentration and nail you."
"I move too quickly," he said, and began laughing. "You would have to run very fast to catch me."
"Is that a challenge?" I asked, arching my eyebrows and looking sidelong at him.
"If you believe you can best me," Mauronk said with a superior note in his voice.
"Oh, game on, dude," I smirked. "Your sweet ass is as good as mine."
All of a sudden, his mood changed, growing serious. He stared at me as if I'd said something completely unexpected. I just held his gaze steadily.
"You do not jest," he said quietly, his lips barely moving.
"I'm curious, Mauronk," I murmured, "why you take your clothes off so much. Not that I'm complaining." No, not complaining at all.
He looked away from me, and I swear his cheeks got a smidgen darker.
"I do not even think about it anymore," he said evasively.
I wondered if waiting him out would make him keep talking, but it didn't seem to be working. After about a minute, I prompted, "Is there a reason for it?"
He bowed his head, avoiding my eyes. "When I left my home, and was no longer among my own people, I was... stared at. Ridiculed. Spat upon. Humans and mer alike. They expected a beast. They watched, waiting for me to... act like one." He winced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Always, their eyes upon me. Even when they did not call me 'filthy Orc,' their eyes said it. I did not want them staring any longer, so I... suppose... I gave them reason not to."
How anyone could look at this man and not see his beauty, savage and wild as it was, baffled me.
He glanced at me, and grunted a humorless laugh. "I have not been very successful turning your eyes away."
Well, that was embarrassing. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, looking away. I could feel my face heating up. "I don't mean to stare, honestly. You're just... different. Not in a bad way," I said hastily. "Different in a good way."
"It is my difference that makes them stare," he growled. "And you."
"I don't mean to offend you," I said weakly. This wasn't going well at all. How could I have misread... dammit, hand down my pants. That's a pretty clear signal, where I come from. "I thought... I guess I thought wrong."
"What did you think?" he asked. By his tone, he sounded a little surprised. "I am what all believe me to be. I cannot even..." He clamped his mouth shut and grimaced. "What I did to you... You have every reason to despise me."
"Look, I understand," I said defensively, not really sure what the hell he was talking about. If it was his behavior that was so out of line, why was he accusing me of staring at him and making him uncomfortable? He wasn't making sense. "You were asleep, having some kind of dream..."
"Not that!" he roared, and I jumped back. Good gods, he was getting pissed. I hadn't seen him this agitated since Helgen. "The healing spell. It was unforgivable. I do not understand how you can look me in the face without... striking me."
"Oh," I said. I was beginning to grasp his problem. It wasn't that I was looking at him; it was the way I was looking. Apparently, he didn't think he deserved it. "Is there... something about that spell you need to tell me?"
He shook his head resignedly. "I know very little about the schools of magic. It was never an interest. But... it was clear... in your mind, at least..." He swallowed hard, unable to look at me. His breathing quickened, and he seemed on the verge of a breakdown. Or one hell of a painfully embarrassing confession. "That I was... raping you."
"No," I said, shaking my head quickly. "No."
He gritted his teeth and snorted angrily. "Yes. You called me by name. You said I was fucking you." He winced. "I told you. Humans do not have sex with Orsimer by choice. So... it was... it was unwanted. When it is unwanted, it is rape."
"Okay, I agree with that," I said, nodding. "But I don't agree that you raped me. To begin with, there was no physical contact."
"What does that matter?" he snarled. "Whether it was your mind or your body, it was not wanted."
"Did you do it on purpose?" I countered. He blinked for a moment, then shook his head.
"I do not know how it happened, or why."
"Well, then," I said with a shrug. "An accident. A weird... side effect. I'm not from this world, remember. We don't have magic where I come from. So... you know... I probably don't react like... the natives. Right?"
"I suppose," he allowed, though grudgingly. He seemed bent on beating himself up about it.
"Mauronk," I said seriously, "I'm not mad at you. Honestly. And... um... who said it was unwanted?"
He looked startled. Speechless. His mouth hung open a little. I smiled at him.
"I look at you because... you're a beautiful man," I said softly, edging closer to him. "You don't look any different than a human, really. Except in the face." I reached up and caressed his cheek. Now his breathing was quickening for a different reason. He closed his eyes as I drew my thumb down his tusk. My gaze flicked down, and a slight smile spread across my face; he was clearly enjoying what I was doing. "Stay here tonight, Mauronk," I whispered. "Preferably sober."
"What are you asking of me, Danni?" he said breathlessly.
"Exactly what you think I'm asking," I said, and leaned in to press my lips to his. It was certainly different. An Orsimer's mouth was like a wall of teeth. Between the tusks were very sharp teeth, the kind you'd see on a predatory mammal. The tusks were hard and thick on either side of my mouth, sort of like bookends on a very erotic set of stories. His lips were softer and more responsive than I expected. I suppose I thought they'd be rigid, stretched around his tusks, but they weren't.
How stupid of me, judging the elasticity of his lips when I should have been basking in the enjoyment of feeling them. Would I cut myself on his teeth if I slipped my tongue into his mouth? At the moment, I was a little reluctant to try, so I kept the kiss a bit chaste for the time being.
Along with the kiss that I'd always wanted to experience with him, another little need I entertained was touching his ear. Humans had such small ears by comparison. His were a bit larger and sharply pointed. When I ran my fingers up the edge, he quivered. Feeling him react like that was so empowering, I left his mouth and went for the ear.
That did it. Tongue plus ear equals melted Orsimer. Mauronk fell over on his back with a groan of pleasure, and I followed him down. It took a few minutes of hovering over him like a horny vulture to realize I was straddling his hips. I didn't even remember climbing on top of him, so focused was I on licking his ear. And kissing his neck. He actually exposed his throat to me, like I was a dominant creature making him my bitch. Gods, what a turn-on!
All the while, he kept his hands to himself, which was kind of frustrating. I didn't come all this way not to be man-handled, in a manner of speaking.
"Gonna join in?" I breathed into his ear. "More fun when you're playing along, you know."
"I do not... want to... frighten...," he gasped. He might have said more, but I was already back on his mouth with a will. Fuck it. If my tongue got mangled, he could always heal me, right?
Apparently, oral invasions by other people's tongues was not a common practice in Skyrim. Or wherever Mauronk hailed from, judging by the awkwardness that greeted my tentative scouting mission. I guess Tamriel was bereft of the French influence. Such a shame. I wouldn't say he resisted the novelty, just that he didn't quite know what to do about it.
He figured it out pretty quickly, though. Not a stupid man. And certainly not able to deny the affect I was having on him much longer, either. It started with his hands on my waist, lightly gripping at first, but increasing in firmness as his ability to contain his passions broke down.
One of his hands took off on its own, slipping into my undershirt and heading for the ladies whose siren call first sounded a deafening blast the last time we were here. I nearly collapsed on top of him when he got a hold of one. All of a sudden, there were just too many layers between us. Too many clothes. Lurching upright, I hauled my shirt off over my head.
Looking down at him as he filled both hands with my breasts, I was a little startled. He was shaking and breathing heavily. Was he still trying to keep himself in check? Just how dangerous was he? At the moment, I could feel how aroused he was, at least. That was damned obvious.
Of course I remembered the imaginary sex. It was passionate and rough. Rather desperate, in fact. If that was coming from him, how he felt, maybe I should have been nervous. At the end of the day, though, I was pretty damn thrilled with the prospect of really getting a little something with him. Bring it, Mauronk. Do your worst.
Urging him to sit up, I helped him peel off his tunic, then collapsed on him for real this time. He held me close, and crushed my breasts against his downy chest as his hands roamed all over my bare back. I couldn't stop kissing him: his lips, his cheeks, his ears, his neck... When I nipped his ear ridge, he groaned and one hand dove down the back of my underwear.
This time, however, my legs were apart, and he didn't stop.
Oh. My. Gods. What with all the kissing and fondling and whatnot, when his fingers found the sweet spot, a wave of heat rolled through me, and I very nearly climaxed. I was certainly on the express train to orgasm, heading for the station at the end of the line. Two words were all my mind was capable of entertaining at that moment: 'clothes' and 'off.' Receiving my orders, I desperately shimmied out of my woolen underwear while trying to keep his mouth engaged, and not dislodge his hand from my nethers.
Leave it to Mauronk not to let me ride him like a bull in a rodeo, though. Once I was completely naked, he rolled over on top of me and simply opened up his breeches to set his manhood loose. Didn't even try to get his pants off. In retrospect, I'm not sure I would have been patient enough for that, because he would have had to get out of his boots as well. Fuck that shit. I think my feet were about as far apart as Markarth and Riften, and my Orsimer was infiltrating Whiterun with an unstoppable army of one.
I could barely keep my head above water, it seemed. Making love with him was wild and so unlike that illusory fuck there seemed to be no comparison. True, we were pretty much doing exactly the same thing as when he healed me. It wasn't easy to describe or characterize, other than it was really him, really touching me, really... loving me. Because after he was buried to the hilt in my body, he slowed down. He looked me in the eyes and caressed my face. He murmured in my ear... I don't know what he said. Either he was speaking Orcish, or my brain wasn't connected well enough to recognize my own language. He nuzzled my face and neck, and I felt his tusks grazing the skin, particularly around my neck.
Eventually, when he had driven me to the verge, he took me over the edge hard and fast. I'd never in my life drawn blood on a lover, but his ministrations got me so completely off, I dug my nails in deeply. I almost cracked a tooth, I was bearing down so tightly to keep the sounds of my enjoyment to a discreet level. I swear, if I'd let loose with how he was making me feel, the roof would have come down on our heads.
"Good gods," I breathed when he rolled off me, gasping from the exertion. "Wow. That was... positively... the best. Without a doubt."
"Yes," he grunted. "I was not your first, then?"
Nice. Now he was disappointed. "No, not my first. Does that bother you?"
"No," he replied. "I only worry that... perhaps I cannot please you as... another might have done."
I rolled onto my side and gave him an impatient look. "Trust me, there's no competition. I don't... keep score or anything. As far as pleasing me is concerned..." I faltered. This wasn't going to be easy to say, but I couldn't look him in the eye and be dishonest. "Mauronk, I really care about you. That makes... everything to do with you... feel really good. I think, even if I didn't, you'd still be an amazing lover. But I do, and... gods, it was a hundred times more amazing. And it was real," I said desperately. "It wasn't a dream. That means the world to me."
He looked completely humbled. "You have become precious to me," he murmured, reaching over to brush a stray hair from my forehead. "If you will have me, I would not be parted from you."
Relief washed over me, and I snuggled close to him, caressing his chest. "I was hoping you'd say that."