I find it strange that Seridur keeps Cylben around as a bodyguard and yet never asks him to actually do any fighting for him; I think we can safely assume that he uses Cylben as a free blood supply. But Cylben isn't in on this arrangement, given he claims he has no idea Seridur was a vampire after the end of the Virtuous Blood quest. It seems plausible that he'd be staying with Seridur because he was...seduced, so to speak.
Warnings: Dub-con smut, since Cylben isn't really aware of Seridur's true nature.
Lucky For Some – part two
Upon leaving the Imperial City prison, the first thing Seridur did was look up. The stars were out, the moons were aglow, and the night, as they say, was young.
He went first for a stroll about the Market District and got talking to a pretty, rosy-cheeked young thing. Five minutes into the conversation, and she was so enraptured by him that he could have quite easily convinced her to follow him down that dark, hidden and definitely not at all threatening alleyway nearby. But having already seen Dreth, and feeling on the generous side tonight, he let her go with no more than a courteous goodbye. He would, however, have to keep her in mind – she would be easy prey in future, if the need arose.
He hummed a tune as he moved onto the Arena, caught the eye of a rather attractive Bosmer, but made no talk beyond passing pleasantries. From there he traversed the Arboretum, espied the faint blush on a nearby lady – ah, the pains of being attractive and well-dressed – and was sure to deliberately brush against her as he passed with a silken murmur of "Excuse me." He didn't need to see her face to hear her quickened heartbeat; tempting, but he had already eaten once tonight, and it simply didn't do to be gluttonous.
And so after a long and rather eventful night, when that insistent little sixth sense he'd acquired since his undeath told him the sun would be up soon, he began the walk back home. He could go out in the sun, of course, given how regularly he fed; but even if it didn't burn his skin, it still hurt his over-sensitive eyes, which made the daylight glaringly intense.
Cylben was, as per usual, waiting for him when he got home. He sometimes wondered how the boy could stay awake, since he spent all day tending to the house or running errands, and all night waiting worriedly for Seridur, with only a few hours rest in between. But Cylben seemed as alert as ever, immediately rising from his chair as Seridur entered and standing ruler-straight, like a soldier awaiting orders.
"Sorry I'm late," Seridur smiled, completely at odds with Cylben's stiff formality, "I wandered out to Memorial Cave, spent a bit longer there than I had intended. The place is crawling with undead."
The Dunmer's eyes widened; "I thought you cleared the place already?"
"I did, but more have come. They're never-ending, it seems...still, we must persist in our fight against them," he sighed and glanced down at his shoes, still water-darkened from the damp prison cell, "My shoes are dirty as well. Filthy down there, truly."
Cylben was quick to attend. "I'll have them washed for you," he said, "I'm surprised you went down there in those clothes. You didn't have any armour at all?"
"Heavens, no. I'm not nearly strong enough to carry all that weight," he gave a teasing but warm smile, "Besides, a gentleman should look his best at all times, don't you agree?"
"Oh, well, of course," spoke the Dunmer, glancing away, then down at his own tough-but-brutish set of Orcish armour. Seridur watched with barely-concealed amusement as he dusted off a gauntlet in a sudden bout of self-consciousness. Really, the boy was so impressionable.
"That armour..."
Cylben looked up; "Master?"
"It's a tad unsightly on a slim frame such as yours," Seridur murmured, approaching the Dunmer, who had an expression akin to a deer caught in a light spell, "Perhaps we should buy an Ebony set for you, hm?"
"Ebony?" Cylben repeated in disbelief, "But that would cost thousands-"
"Money is of no issue," the High Elf dismissed casually, "And you should have the best armour available. You're at the forefront of the Order of the Virtuous Blood, after all."
"But I-" he stopped, looked down at his feet, and after a moment's silence, said quietly: "I spend more time washing dishes than I do fighting vampires."
Ah, he detected a note of insecurity. Officially, Cylben was employed as Seridur's bodyguard, and he dressed the part. But Seridur never asked to be escorted anywhere – because he wasn't actually doing anything dangerous, but Cylben didn't know that. He supposed it would damage the confidence, doing mundane chores whilst dressed as if for battle; especially if the one you had been employed to protect was – as far as Cylben knew – fighting off hoards of vampires in only a nobleman's ensemble.
"I know I don't send you vampire-hunting as often as you'd like," he answered in that soft, faintly saddened tone he'd perfected over the years, "But I daren't order you to such a wretched place as Memorial Cave, in case you – in case you don't come back," his voice dropped to a quiet, almost non-existent murmur as his gaze dragged past slightly-parted lips, lilac-tinged cheeks and wide red eyes, "You're so very dear to me, Cylben. You know that."
He could, as with the woman earlier, hear the younger mer's heartbeat fluttering underneath that delicious pale blue skin; could feel it in the air, almost taste it. And Cylben, he knew, tasted so very, very good. Enough to re-awaken that thirst he'd quenched earlier with Valen, to make his veins and his throat and his teeth ache for more.
"You won't be needing that armour anymore," he whispered breathlessly, "I'll buy you a new set tomorrow morning."
And, almost as though hypnotised, Cylben slowly reached up and undid the fastenings on his cuirass, never once breaking the eye-contact between them. Thud, thud as two heavy shoulder-guards hit the floor. The faulds were next to go, revealing slender hips and thighs encased in Orcish greaves. What was left of the cuirass was discarded, and even though he had a shirt beneath, Cylben seemed so much more naked than he had been before.
Gods, he wanted him. It was verging on painful.
"Do you..." Seridur leaned in so close they were almost touching, relishing the every drum of that young, strong heart, "Do you want to go upstairs?"
Cylben gave a soundless nod – and with that, consented to everything, even if he didn't know it. Seridur took his gauntlet-clad hand and led him up the stairs, glancing back every so often with the glimmer of promise in his eyes, but unbeknown to the young Elf, Seridur planned to get so much more out of this than just sex.
The bedroom they shared had, up until now, been a place only for sleep. Seridur had never brought any woman back to his home on account of Cylben; he didn't normally get as far as bedding them anyway, since that wasn't his top priority. And Cylben had no mistress – actually, he was quite certain the Dunmer was only interested in him. He'd known of that attraction almost as soon as he'd met him, adept as he was at reading body language. But he had never truly exploited it until now – perhaps encouraged it over the years with his smiles and his touches that lingered just a little too long. But he'd never taken it this far.
He touched the bed first, pulling Cylben down on top of him so they both ended up sprawled on the fine silk sheets. What followed was an odd, frantic period in which Seridur attempted to remove Cylben's clothes while Cylben tried to remove his. The Dunmer's hands were trembling terribly, his arms and his shoulders, even his breaths were shaky, nervous.
He would've liked to soothe him. That was, after all, what a gentleman did, not only for the sake of common courtesy but because a considerate lover was less likely to be accused of being a predator. But his mind and his thoughts and his overpowering lust raced too fast to slow down, to take things gently. So he stripped off Cylben's shirt with hands made steady from years of practise, unfastened his gauntlets and greaves as the younger Elf hastily kicked off his boots, because neither of them had time to stop.
Smooth, naked skin, pale blue in colour, lightly dusted with purple. He'd always liked the colour blue, the elegance of it – and as a close second, red, the colour of blood and life, of the wide, wonder-filled eyes that stared directly at him.
"You're so calm," the mer mumbled, adoration written over his face, as it had been when they first met. Cylben, he knew, was one of those untrusting, socially awkward people that preferred their own company to that of anyone else – not necessarily unusual for a Dark Elf. But Seridur had had him entranced from day one; hell, half the reason he'd even approached the silent, stern-looking Dunmer sat in the corner of that tavern was to prove to himself that he could charm anyone, at any time. He hadn't intended to get a servant out of it.
"Yes, well," he answered, running his hands up the younger's arms and only just able to restrain himself, "Experience comes with age."
Cylben frowned, "You can't be that much older than me, surely."
"Altmer age a little better than Dunmer." Never mind that he hadn't aged a day in – what, a hundred years now? Any further questions Cylben might have had were silenced with kisses – neck to shoulder, down his arm, on each of his fingertips. Cylben shivered, fumbled with Seridur's silk-and-velvet clothing and trailed over each new inch of golden skin as though he had never touched anything more precious.
"Cylben," he spoke in a low, lusty murmur, discarding the last scrap of cloth to the floor so that they were as bare as each other, "Move closer to me."
"But-" a sharp inhalation as they were pressed together, but- "I thought you were going to...you know..."
"Go inside?" he suppressed a smirk at the other's flustered, prudish nod, "It's possible, but painful without the correct preparations. And I don't believe either of us has the patience for that right now."
"I don't care of it hurts-"
"You will. Don't fret...there are other ways of going about this." Much as he wanted to be inside that lovely, lithe body, the consequences wouldn't be worth it. Cylben needed to be relaxed and satiated enough to – hopefully – pass out if Seridur was going to drink tonight, and that wouldn't happen if he was in pain.
Instead he purred a "Let me show you," and thrust up, the two of them shuddering at the resulting contact. It felt so good it almost hurt, a spike of heat rippling through them both. He was undead, but he could feel pleasure as well as any living being – perhaps, if he had succumbed to his vampirism, it would have been different, because sex was a thing of life and most undead lost interest in such matters. But he was as alive as a dead thing could be, grinding with raw lust against a young, beautiful and willing lover. Cylben moaned and moved like fluid under his hands, heartbeat pulsing through every inch of his pretty skin, eyes glazed over with bliss.
And suddenly it was too much. The hunger surged, teeth shaping and sharpening in his mouth despite the frantic mental protests that he was supposed to wait until Cylben was asleep, but he didn't think he could restrain himself for that long. And with that final friction, Cylben cried out, throwing his head back to expose his neck, and-
He couldn't hold back.
He didn't hold back.
He drove forwards, unrestrained, and sank his teeth into the soft, supple throat. Blood, thick and warm and glorious spilled into his mouth, so much that the excess ran down his chin and dripped onto his collarbone. The Dunmer's heartbeat sang through him like euphoria, and remained at a healthy pace for a luxurious amount of time – unlike Valen who drained so quickly that he had to extract himself before he could really appreciate the sensation of it. But here he basked in the perfection, and once the pulse began to steadily decline, he took a leisurely amount of time to pull back.
"Cylben?" he murmured. The Elf did not reply, but rested unresponsive against him, shoulders slowly rising and falling with each breath. Unconscious. He'd probably passed out before Seridur had even bit him, or been so lost in delirious passion that he hadn't noticed. Either way, his secret was safe.
Smiling silkily, Seridur lay him down on the bed. As always, the bite mark had already started healing, though the extra blood remained; he leaned over and trailed his tongue up Cylben's neck, evoking an involuntary shiver even as the boy slept. With a low, amused laugh, he settled down beside him, wiping the last of the red from his mouth and chin. He could still taste it, succulent and sweet.
Good sex, a good meal, and now a good sleep. What a marvellous evening it had been.
Thus concludes the Seridur/Valen Dreth/Cylben Dolovas stories. Hope you enjoyed!