"We can't...not here" Emilie whispered into Kleppr's ear. "Someone might see us".
"Do you really care?" he replied, tracing his fingers gently along her spine.
Her cheeks flushed with heat. "Not really ... not anymore" she moaned, grabbing his hair and devouring his mouth as she pushed him down onto the table near the bar. Time was not on their side.
"What if they are watching us?" she asked again, her voice lower. Her rapid breathing filled the quiet vacuum of the tavern, mingling with his.
"Would you prefer if they were?" he teased, biting the thin layer of skin along her collarbone as she let out a breathy moan.
"Maybe".
He reached under, his large hands gripping her hips and lingering.
"Tell me you want this, Emilie. Tell me how much you want it."
"I want this … I want you." She reached up to kiss him, but he only shook his head.
"Take it off. Everything."
Driven to the brink beyond caring, she smirked and didn't take long to make up her mind. Piece by piece, she took off her clothes as he watched. She didn't take her gaze off him, not wanting to break their connection. With every garment she removed, the hunger in his eyes intensified. He was feral.
She turned her head toward the nearest window and found she wanted someone to see her. She even craved it, but before she told Kleppr how she felt, he spoke first.
"Thank you for this. It's a nice ... distraction" he said, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer to his waist. They fell against the carpet, rolling back and forth. They moved in rhythm, like they were one. Like they were whole and not empty vessels needing to feel something. Anything.
He knew exactly how to touch her. Like an out of body experience, she pictured the scene in her mind's eye—in broad daylight, in the middle of Markarth. She looked up into the sun hanging over them as he entered and strangers crossed the market, peering into their souls.
And the sensation was … exhilarating. He moved faster and faster, like a wild animal. She buckled her hips and latched onto his shoulders, biting hard into his neck, drawing blood. They were wild. And free.
"Kiss me" she moaned, and their lips met. He drew the blood back into his mouth and smiled wickedly. A smile so mysterious. So strange. He really was a wild animal. She couldn't help but smirk.
It felt so wrong. 'So, so very wrong' she thought. 'But so very right'.
Her body seemed to melt against his.
He could feel her, the fullness of her, the supple length of her against him.
"I need to tell you something" she cried. "Yeah ... what?" he said between thrusts.
"I...kind of...well ..." she started, wiping the sweat off her forehead. "Yeah?" he whined, as she wrapped her legs around him.
"I ... sort of ... well ... I killed my father" she howled, knocking an ornament off the fireplace. It crashed against the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces.
"Oh" he planted small kisses down along her neck. "How?" was all he said.
"A bow ... and an arrow" she mewled, biting her bottom lip.
He just let out a large chuckle before, blindly, he turned them to drive her back against the wall. He needed that limber body hard against his, needed to feel the press of those firm, full breasts against his chest as he wedged a thigh between hers. The need to touch, be touched, to take and give, nearly overwhelmed him. He needed this. He didn't care.
"He deserved it" Kleppr spoke softly into her ear.
"He did" she nodded.
Hunger surged inside him. A demand.
'More'.
Emilie ached. It had been so long since she'd been touched. So long since she'd wanted to be. It felt as if she couldn't get close enough to him, that she strained against his body, against the press of his broad chest, the muscles solid beneath his shirt as she was driven up against the wall and all of him pressed hard against her.
The touch of his hands so warm on her bare skin sent another burst of heat straight to Emilie's core and made it ache as a small sound escaped her.
Kleppr had needed to feel her warm skin beneath his hands. It had been so long since he'd felt anything like it. Frabbi was a prude and the others only brought guilt. Horrible guilt. He closed his hands around her waist, her skin soft and silky to the touch and sought out the curve of her waist, the arch of her ribs. He tightened his hands, pulled her closer as her mouth moved beneath his, nibbled, sucked. It was delicious torment. He groaned as her skin heated at his touch.
"I love you" he moaned, eyes closed, head back. "I love you Hroki".
Back at the Hall of the Dead, Frabbi cradled her son, Hreinn, as he collapsed to the floor. She tried to console him. Tried to take his pain away. But she couldn't. She was carrying enough for the both of them. Her daughter was dead and Kleppr, the one man who she thought she could count on during a disaster like this, was useless. A shell of his former self.
She never imagined a day like this would come. Parents shouldn't have to bury their children. Something was wrong with the world. Nothing felt right anymore. The birds, the wind, the sky ... everything felt wrong. Twisted and broken.
Verulus had often watched relatives bury loved ones. Often, said loved ones had died long before their time. That was the world they lived in. That was Skyrim. But this ... he had never seen anything like this. Something beyond words. Something so dark and black that hope seemed to have been locked away, executed and buried in an unmarked grave. It was wrong, so very wrong. Yet he couldn't look away. Their sorrow was consuming.
Roggar marched towards the Inn. Raerek was dead, murdered in cold blood. Of course he blamed himself. He often did. After his father went away to fight, and was ultimately slain by the Thalmor, he blamed himself for years. For not stopping his father. For not convincing his father to stay with him and his ill mother. Obviously this wouldn't have worked. His father was too brave, or too stupid depending on how you look at it. There was no saving him. He was already dead. Falkreath had saved a space for him.
Soon after Roggar was an orphan. His mother disappeared in the night. Simply vanished. Some say she couldn't take looking after a child on her own while fighting her own illness. Others say she went mad. Roggar never found out. A part of him didn't want to. He, yet again, blamed himself. Maybe if he had been a better son ... or even cuter. Maybe she wouldn't have left him, all alone.
He ended up living with an uncle and the uncle's less than pleasant wife. They were alcoholics. A little too fond of the mead. But they were good people, deep down. Most people just didn't have the time or patience to dig that deep and simply passed them off as drunken fools. Roggar had six years to see their true faces. Until, during an alcohol fuelled binge, his uncle, in an act of machismo, fell to his death from the top of the tavern he so often visited. And, yet again, Roggar found himself homeless. That was until the Stormcloaks paid a small visit to the hold.
As he made the corner beside the Inn he ran right into a dishevelled looking Emilie.
"Gods, I didn't see you. Are you ok? You look terrible" he quickly questioned as she looked back and forth, worry etched across her face.
"No ... no I am not 'ok'. We need to go now. Right now" she half whispered, half shouted, pushing Roggar ahead of her.
Little did they know they were being watched. Kleppr's shadow stood in the doorway of the tavern, the light above barely illuminating his frame. For a moment everything stood still. Within seconds he disappeared back inside to the darkness of the tavern. And everything continued on.
Yes, something was very wrong within the small dwarfen hold. Something so sinister, so alien. And it was coming fast. Oh yes, it was coming fast.
Yes I haven't updated this story in about a thousand years but i do intend on finishing this year! Anyway, please review and so forth :)
