A/N: This chapter contains sexual content. If that is not your thing, maybe wait for the next story. Otherwise, enjoy.
Laka didn't pay for rooms now, she paid for entire floors. She'd walk into an inn and let her money do the talking for her. Jenassa was no stranger to hardship, but she appreciated luxuries; warm beds and fresh mead, and Laka spent money like it was water. So they were left alone with platefuls of food and a roaring fire, and instructions to summon the barmaid if they needed anything, anything at all.
Jenassa didn't think they did. She sat at the table picking at buttered salmon and potatoes, while Laka sprawled on the rug in front of the fire, working her way through a plate of sweetrolls. The Bosmer loved sweets; Jenassa had watched her steal them from every corner of Skyrim, from the bedsides of sleeping babes and from under the noses of the chefs who'd baked them.
She'd once said to her, "The Nords are a big, stupid people with a death wish, but they have some fine bakers among them."
Jenassa put her booted feet on the table and leaned back in her chair, idly dangling a bottle of mead from one hand. This was the life.
"Do you remember that Half-Moon place?" Laka asked, breaking the comfortable silence. "The mill with the vampires?"
"Yes."
Laka licked her finger and used it to pick up crumbs from the plate. "They told me it was going to be so difficult. Two vampires they said. Living among humans." Jenassa watched her roll her eyes. "They lived on a lonely farm in the middle of nowhere. She goes out to feed the chickens, he gets a knife in his neck. Piece of cake."
"Do you think it was wise leaving the woman alive?" Jenassa asked. "She had to know we were responsible. She might come after us for revenge."
Laka sat up, and her teeth gleamed as she smiled, "Let her. It's a risk I'm willing to run. If I wasn't I'd hunt deer, not men and mer."
Given the choice, Jenassa would not have left the woman alive – or undead, as the case may be, but once the words were out of Laka's mouth, she could see the art in it, feel the thrill of turning the vampire, mad for revenge, from predator into prey. She smiled at Laka, forever grateful for the twist of fate that had brought her into the Drunken Huntsman. Once they'd met, it had seemed inevitable that they would travel together as kindred souls, the five hundred septims merely a formality that had to be observed. She had earned that much a half dozen times over merely from the armour and weapons that Laka had shared with her.
Money mattered little to Jenassa, and despite the fact that she spent a great deal of time up to her elbows in other peoples' it didn't seem to matter that much to Laka either. As long as she could afford to see them live lavishly tonight, the rest mattered not.
Jenassa sighed. Skyrim had been a lonely place until Laka had strolled into it.
"You know, if you were a man, you'd be perfect."
Laka narrowed her eyes. "What does that mean?" she asked sharply, and Jenassa realised she'd made a tactical error.
"I didn't mean to imply-"
"Are you saying a man could kill better than I?" She gracefully unwound and got to her feet.
"Ha! Hardly."
"Would he be lighter on his feet?" She stepped forward, her eyes gleaming.
"No."
"Faster on the draw?" Her fingers touched the hilt of her dagger and with a flick it sailed past Jenassa's ear, burying itself in the wall somewhere behind her.
"No."
"Nimbler fingers?" She was still stalking towards Jenassa, like a large, lithe cat. Not the Sabres of Skyrim but something sleeker, sultrier. Jenassa sensed the shift in atmosphere, and subtle tension that ran through her; a note that had been ringing in the background now restruck, bringing attention to itself.
A smile curved Laka's lips. She didn't look angry any more; she'd found something amusing or interesting written on Jenassa's face. She flicked at her leather armour, Jenassa couldn't quite see with the firelight at Laka's back.
"A lighter touch?" She brushed one finger over the toe of Jenassa's boot and trailed it up her leather-clad leg as she slunk to her side.
"I..." Jenassa honestly couldn't quite remember what the question was, and the words stuck in her throat.
That teeth-flashing smile again. It usually meant a punchline or someone's swiftly-approaching death. She leaned down and breathed into Jenassa's ear.
"Easier on the eyes?" She'd undone the catches on her armour, and it fell open to her naval as she leaned over, Jenassa's gaze was drawn to those collarbones, and the modest, enticing swell of the skin below them. She looked back into Laka's eyes, finding mischief and challenge within them.
Jenassa swung her feet off the table, and reached for Laka. The Bosmer stepped out of the way with a laugh that turned into a hiss of surprise as the Dunmer stepped up, whip fast, out of the chair, and tugged Laka's jacket off over her shoulders.
Laka leaped on her. Despite the fact there was only a couple of inches difference between them in height, Jenassa found Laka climbing her like a tree, her legs wrapped around her waist and her teeth at her ear. She smelled like wood smoke and leather and blood. Jenassa staggered under the sudden weight, trying to catch herself before they fell. Laka laughed, and flung her weight backwards.
"Watch out!" Jenassa put her arms out and caught them, just, as they tumbled to the floor. Her wrist twinged. "That was stupid," she said, realising the sudden chill on her chest and stomach was due to Laka having undone her own armour; and she hadn't even noticed.
Laka was grinning and wiggling away from her, towards the rug, probably, and Jenassa realised that this was not a game. She didn't want it to be. She wanted the beautiful, slightly scarred creature that was leaving her jacket behind like a second skin. She couldn't help reaching out and touching that smooth pale stomach. It wasn't enough to touch, she wanted to stroke, and she did so, and her fingers weren't enough and she pressed her lips and teeth and tongue against Laka's stomach. She tasted salt. She could hear a heartbeat.
Boots should have come next, but the belt was too tempting.
Laka made an exasperated sound and Jenassa found herself grabbed under the arms and hauled unceremoniously over the Bosmer and onto the rug, rolled expertly until Laka was sitting astride her with a triumphant look. She folded her arms and Jenassa stared at the way the linen that bound her chest tented over her nipples.
She groaned in frustration when it was clear Laka was expecting something. "What?"
"Say it."
"Say what?" She tried to wring an answer from her lust-addled mind. "I'm sorry, all right? I was wrong, you're perfect."
Laka unfolded her arms and placed her hands either side of Jenassa's head. She felt a few strands of gold hair brushing her face as Laka spoke softly, "I think we are two of the same kind, you and I. I'm glad to have met you."
Jenassa recognised her own words as Laka pressed her mouth against hers.
She tasted sweet.
And then they pulled themselves free of their leathers, and Laka tossed her head and dug her fingernails into Jenassa's shoulder as she slowly discovered what made her moan, and then faster what made her yell. And Laka called her a peach, although she had never tasted a peach, and licked her fingers and left bite marks on her thigh and they coiled and tasted and laughed, low and throaty until the fire died down to coals. They'd forgotten to feed it, sated themselves.
Laka was warm, her gold hair spread across Jenassa's chest, their legs tangled, feet hanging over the edge of the rug. Going to bed seemed like a lot of effort, and Jenassa was considering asking Laka's opinion of the idea when they both stiffened slightly, awake.
"Did you hear that?" Laka breathed.
"Mm. A voyeur or an assassin, do you think?"
She felt Laka move slightly, and heard a scrape as a blade was drawn from its sheath.
"I don't know," she could hear soft delight in Laka's voice. "It doesn't matter. I'll be right back."
A/N: My first attempt at femslash. Be kind, but honest. Not all the Dovahkiin I write about are characters I've actually played, but Laka is. She and Jenassa have been inseparable the entire game; they just work very well together. They even have the same hairstyle, by pure coincidence.