I don't own anything except the OC and the plot.

9

How was it possible that there were this many colours at night? Shouldn't it be dark, maybe a little bit of dark blue, deep orange from the fires and torches, but this? The moons seemed to be tinted in purple and green, the whole sky was filled with stars and every single one of them sparkled in a different colour. She tried to reach them, but the ground underneath her back moved and she quickly let her hand fall back down. Even though she was lying still, it was like Nirn itself was pulsating. Her fingers dug into the grass to stabilize her head.

Aoife had been drunk before, but this... Laughter filled the night air and it took a moment until she recognized it as her own. This was ridiculous.

A shadow fell over her when the man beside her rolled to his side and shielded her face from the campfire in the distance. What was his name again? Nelmil or Melnil... maybe Emnil, something like that. It didn't matter, he was nice and had suggested to look for a quieter place to talk which was fine by her. The party around the campfire had become really noisy to be honest.

Aoife felt warm breath on her neck and looked at the stars above her. There were so many of them, had anyone ever counted them? Maybe she should give it a try. A hand wandered up her thigh and parted her legs. She felt warmth pooling in her stomach, slowly spreading to her lap, into her arms and legs. The warmth tickled her skin like the exploring hand and the teeth nibbling at the soft skin of her neck. With a soft moan she leaned into the touch. This felt much too good to be real. Maybe one of the old gods had taken her to his plane, that would at least explain the exploding colours above her. It wasn't unheard of.

The warmth between her legs grew hotter and Aoife shifted her hips towards the hand causing it. The pressure through the soft leather was teasing her. It wasn't even touching her skin and still set her aflame with ease. She was burning brighter than the stars.

A loud, pained groan – and the pressure was ripped off of her as was the warm body. She barely noticed it landing somewhere in the grass beside her as the heat didn't disappear with it and a mournful cry escaped her mouth. She needed it back!

"Fuck off!"

"But I.."

"I said, fuck off, dickhead!"

Aoife turned her head and focused her vision just in time to see Nelmil's (Imneil's?) face collide with a fist. What a pity. Now his pretty face was covered in blood running from his nose. It gleamed in the most beautiful, bright, pulsating red, lit up the darkness and made her hungry. Why did it make her hungry? Aoife frowned and tried to sit up. Nirn was spinning under her and she had to grab the grass even harder to keep herself from falling off into the sky.

She pouted. How had her personal plane of bliss disappeared? Why was she now hungry, about to drown in the stars and... Heat sent a wave through her lap and she gasped as her vision blurred.

Another shadow appeared over her. It was larger than the last one, got smaller when the figure leaned down to her and she felt herself fall upwards.

With a squeak she held onto the shadow, digging her fingers into fur – wait, fur? – and tried to hold on to the grass, but it ran through her fingers like water when she was pulled up. The touch on her thigh was back but it wasn't exploring this time. Instead it clawed into her skin just above her knee, kept her from being sucked into the sky. If it would only help her soothe the heat, she thought, as a new wave crashed into her, even more unbearable than the last one.

She felt her body shake violently when the world around her shifted from lush green to fiery red and enormous dancing flames. This had to be Oblivion! From all places, she had to stumble into a fiery mess. Aoife started laughing again, for no reason at all, until tears ran up her face and over her forehead. The streams were stopped by her hair that stood straight from her scalp. Carefully she dared to let one of her hands leave the fur and tried to reach its far away ends with her fingertips. Why was it this far away? Her hair wasn't suppose to be this far away. Had the gods separated it from her head?

Aoife heard her laughter turn into sobs when the heat sent another wave of need through her intestines. If she could just rub herself against something to get the pressure back, maybe that would help. She tried moving her hip but the grip on her knees tightened even more.

"Stop... wriggling, woman", a deep voice growled through her stomach. She froze. Did it come from inside her? She had to concentrate. Squeezing her eyes, she was able to make out a green and brown wall in front of her eyes. Letting her free hand touch it, she started to giggle at the warmth of the wall. It was made of flesh. Warm, moving flesh.

Aoife's hand wandered higher above her head and found a round, moving bulge, then another. With another giggle she grabbed a handful of it and was rewarded with a sharp hiss somewhere near her stomach.

"Stop that!"

"Borkul, you found her!" Another, softer voice joined her from out of the fire.

Of course! Aoife tried to slam her hand against her forehead but missed it by far. She was with Borkul! Apparently he had found her – well, where?

Had he taken her back from the gods? Maybe if she asked him, he would bring her back?

It had been so pleasant and... hot. She gasped when the pulsating throb filled her body once more. It moved through her limbs, spread into her palms and soles and tingled in her fingertips like magicka turned into heat and twitching nerves.

"What will you do now?" The soft voice sounded concerned. Why was it concerned? Aoife felt the strong need to give it hug. If it, too, could feel the heat, it wouldn't be concerned, right? She frowned again. Did that even make sense?

"I will bring her to her tent and make sure she won't leave it again tonight." The rumble in her stomach increased and Aoife started giggling again. Would he pin her down again to make her stay? The thought let more heat flow into her lap and she bit her lip to stifle a moan.

"Okay..." The voice didn't sound convinced. "I'll see to Briccag's nose then.."

Who was Briccag? Aoife furrowed her brows and tried to concentrate. He had to have a spectacular nose if the voice wanted to see it.

The ground above her head started shaking again before she could think any further and the world changed again. The fiery red disappeared into a pale blue colour while the loud noise that had come with the fire changed into a constant sound of thunder. Or splashing? Aoife wasn't sure.

She squeaked when the ground suddenly fell from above her head to below her feet and the sky was again where it belonged.

"Can you stand?", he asked the swaying woman in front of him. As an answer she stumbled forward and smashed into him. Her hands grabbed his armor again.

"Apparently not." Borkul felt the need to step away from her when she leaned her forehead against his chest. Her skin was too warm, too feverish and the smell of her hair made him dizzy. They stood close to the tents, the party in the distance still continuing, but he was glad that he couldn't make out every sound anymore. Tiae's potion had worked just the way it was suppose to and most of Lost Valley's residents were now more or less entangled in their own lust, mindlessly trying to find a release for their need. He had gotten Aoife out of there just in time. The thought of her somewhere in that pile of bodies tied a knot in his chest. He was pretty sure that she had no idea what she had drunk and even more sure that he had saved her from a morning of horror and embarrassment.

The young woman took a deep breath against his chest, followed by a soft moan and her fingers digging deeper into the fur of his armor. He had to get her into the tent and away from him. Now.

"Let's go", he said as softly as he could in this moment and tried to turn her around.

"Okay", she said and he could hear how heavy her tongue was. Aoife ignored his attempts of getting her to move and started giggling again as her hands wandered downwards. Borkul took a sharp breath when her fingertips brushed over the exposed skin above his navel. Before she could go any further, he tried to catch her hands in his, but she was quicker than he had thought and pulled away.

"I'm so... gods.. why is... so red?" She furrowed her brows at her own nonsense and tried her best to form the words. "Nooo...Hot. Why... so hot..."

Instead of clawing into his armor again, she suddenly started to pull on her own and before Borkul could react, she loosened the bindings around her chest. He felt like he was struck by a paralysis spell. Staring at her naked chest, he couldn't bring himself to stop her from getting rid of the rest of her armor as fast as she could in her state.

When she was standing before him, in all her naked glory illuminated by the light of the moons, the woman let out a soft cry and he could see the goosebumps appear on her skin when a wave of shivers ran over her body. Borkul covered his face with his hands for a moment and tried to clear his mind with deep breaths of the cold night air.

Another touch at his stomach quickly brought him back. This time her fingers were faster to wander down and he felt her pull at the hem with a moan. This time he caught her hands before she could pull away. She struggled against the new restriction.

"Aoife... stop." To his surprise she actually halted and looked at him with wide eyes. The usual green of her eyes was nearly completely swallowed by her pupils and the blackness shone with a plea, even in the dim light around them. Borkul nearly groaned, tempted to just forget all reasoning and give in. In his mind he was already forming apologies. How easy it would be to just take her here and now, push her down to the ground and make her cry her pleasure up to the moons, to blame it all on the potion. She would never know that he hadn't drunk any.

Borkul took another deep breath to steady himself. No, she was completely wasted and he had seen what the potion had done to the rest of the Forsworn. She didn't want this. Not really. Not if she had been sober.

"I... so hot..." He saw her sweating and her voice sounded more and more like she was begging. It was maddening. "Please... Borkul, just... I just need.. someone.."

She sounded desperate. Tears were forming in her eyes while she looked at him. Borkul's blood had already gone to his groin the moment she held onto his armor and now his erection grew nearly painful. But even though his body reacted so strongly, so viciously, her words sobered his mind. She just needed someone, she had said. She would take any of the men at the camp right now.

"Let's get you to sleep, okay?", he said silently, clenched his teeth and, ignoring her nakedness and the heat of her body against his, picked her up to carry her the last steps towards her tent.

Aoife's hand reached up and her fingers touched his ear, dragging a fingernail up to the tip. Her breathing turned into panting and Borkul's jaw began to hurt from how hard he was gritting his teeth.

The moment he let her down on the bed roll, her hands were at his hip again. Feverishly she tried to undo the bindings, frustrated groans flew over her lips at the tight knots and he had to catch her hands again to put them back to her sides. She immediately tried again while her right hand wandered into her lap.

By Malacath's balls, why had this to happen? Borkul growled when he pushed her hand back only for her to try again. And again.

"Aoife, stop it", he growled through clenched teeth when he removed her quick, little hands a fourth time. Oh, how vividly he could imagine what these hands could do if he let them...

"I...please.. why... I need someone to..." Her voice broke into a sob and tears ran over her temples. He grabbed her chin and lowered his face towards hers, forcing her flickering eyes to settle on him.

"To what, princess?", he said with a laugh that was suppose to sober her, but only sounded bitter. "To fuck you?"

The woman below him nodded slowly and he let go of her head. She looked like she was sick, her skin glowing with sweat and the heat she was radiating even through the cold air between them made him tremble. Borkul tried to calm his breathing with deep inhales, but it only brought her sweet scent into his lungs. Gods, he could smell her... he could taste her.

"Stay where you are or I will tie you up", he said sharply through his teeth before he got up and left the tent with stiff, bowlegged steps to counter the tightness in his loincloth.

Borkul dragged the second bed roll to the entrance of the tent. It was as far away from hers as he dared, anything further would leave him unable to react should she decide to get back to the campfire. It was still dancing on the other side of the pool, but the music had ceased. Dark shapes moved around it, limbs twisted by the flicker of the flames or maybe actually twisted in an attempt to find satisfaction. He couldn't tell and tried not to think about it too much. His mind and body were already busy with processing Aoife's touch and her pleading, he didn't need any more passionate display, by anyone. Grinding his teeth, he resisted looking over his shoulder where she was lying naked and instead inspected his knuckles in the light of the moons.

They were slightly bruised but Borkul didn't feel the pain. Some minor part of his brain knew, he had hit the man too hard. If he, too, had drunk from the shaman's kettle, he couldn't be held responsible for trying to get between Aoife's legs, but still... when Borkul had seen him on top of her, any reasoning had temporarily been forgotten and he had just reacted blindly. It was plain luck that he had chosen to punch the man in the face and not tearing his skin off like he had done with the hunter.

Thoughtfully Borkul watched the fire in the distance. Tiae had probably successfully patched up the Forsworn's nose by now and he was lying happily under another woman, so no hard feelings had to be expected. If the man even remembered.

A breathy moan behind his back let him throw a glance over his shoulder – and he froze immediately. Aoife's legs were bent, her back arched while she touched herself with one hand. Her thighs shielded her from his eyes, but he saw her hand move and her hips rock against the touch. Borkul felt his hands dig into the bed roll beneath him. Was it too late to tie her up?

I'm quite nervous about this chapter. What do you think?