Chapter 3: A worthy partner
How hard can it be to find smalls in a bloody tavern, Vilkas thought irritatedly, eyes frantically scanning the floor for the third time. The floor was strewn with clothes, the occasional dish, and one slightly sticky patch of mead, which he avoided with a grimace. But no smallclothes.
He flinched slightly as the woman behind him shifted in her sleep. Fuck it, he thought, giving up and carefully buckling his armour over his legs, hissing quietly at the sensation of cold metal on his groin. Silently – as silently as one could in Heavy Armour – he snuck across the floor.
"Vilkas?"
Vilkas cursed internally, hand resting on the door frame. Turning around, he met the deep brown eyes of the woman – Sadie? Samara? – and winced.
"I – ah. Just sorry again. I'll just – ah," he trailed off, vaguely gesturing at the door.
"Why would you apologise?" she cooed. "Come back to bed. Let me return the favour at least once."
"Nnnn – no, I do have to -". Vilkas stopped abruptly, reining in his discomfort. "I must return to Jorvaskr," he said flatly. Too emotionless, she'll think you're angry at her. "That is to say, thank you, but I have Companion business to attend to," Vilkas amended.
The woman – Sara? Sapphire? - shrugged a slim shoulder. "If you're sure," she said suggestively, allowing her eyes to trail down his body.
Vilkas' manhood twitched painfully against his unforgiving armour.
"Certain. I really must get going," Vilkas managed between gritted teeth. Vilkas spun on his heel and marched out of the Bannered Mare, no longer caring whether the woman thought that he was angry.
One week. One bloody week. Since his return to Whiterun, Vilkas had remained in the Bannered Mare, allowing Ria to return to Jorrvaskr. He had subsequently drowned himself in mead and women in an attempt to forget his dream.
To no avail.
He saw her in every woman he attempted to bed. The grace of her throat when the women's heads fell back in pleasure. The strength of her jaw when he cupped the women's faces for a kiss. A flash of golden defiance superimposed over the glazed eyes of his conquests.
And every time, he would startle back, unable to allow himself to come to completion while thinking of her. The women never complained, as he always took care of their needs long before seeking to assuage his own. However, sporting a semi-permanent erection was starting to wear on his already frayed nerves.
Crossing the threshold of Jorrvaskr, Vilkas was bowled over by a hairless frost troll.
"Guh – Vilkas!" Farkas exclaimed enthusiastically, strong arms wrapped around Vilkas within seconds.
"Gnnnnnh," choked Vilkas, unable to restrain his grin.
"Oh, sorry brother," said Farkas, immediately loosening his grip. "But Ria returned a week ago! How many women did you have at the Mare?" he bellowed.
"None," said Vilkas immediately, a dull flush colouring his neck.
"Oho!" crowed Farkas. "Making you work for it, is she brother! Now that's a Nord woman!"
Vilkas disentangled himself from the brawny arms of his brother. "I was just drinking," he muttered.
"Wait, not drinking with a woman? Why drink at all?"
"The last one was a tough kill."
"You could always let me do the sabres," began Farkas hopefully.
"No," Vilkas snarled reflexively, cursing himself when he saw his brother's face fall. "No," Vilkas repeated gently. "I made a promise."
Still crestfallen, Farkas nodded. "Well now you can drink with me!" he enthused. "Just got a batch of Black Briar yesterday!"
Managing a weak smile, Vilkas shook his head. "Tomorrow, brother," Vilkas said wearily as he headed downstairs. "I really need some sleep."
And that is all he needs to back off, Hircine, Vilkas thought, as Farkas ambled off. Tearing off his armour, Vilkas flopped onto his bed, glaring at the ceiling of his small room. It was clear that Hircine had set him a new Hunt, and was punishing Vilkas for his reluctance to play his games.
Not that he'd even know where to find her if he were to hunt her.
Great. The thought of tearing through the wild parts of Skyrim in pursuit of the woman sent blood rushing back to Vilkas' aching cock. Vilkas flipped over in his bed just in time to muffle his frustrated scream with his pillow.
So hard good. Vilkas' screaming was abruptly interrupted by a groan, as the sudden pressure of his manhood against the bed made him rut involuntarily into the sheets.
She twined her arms around his neck, head thrown back in pleasure as he kissed the base of her pale throat.
Vilkas's hand made its way down his body, firmly gripping his cock.
She moaned as he nipped at her shapely breasts, which were flushed with arousal for him. Nestling his head into the crook of her neck, he stretched his body over hers, savouring the feel of her soft curves against his hard planes, her smooth legs entwined with his rough calves. Her wetness mingled with his own as he rocked his body against hers, biting her beautiful neck as she shifted towards him. Marking her as his own.
Vilkas stroked his cock desperately, beads of fluid soaking his hand and sliding across his heated skin. He was harder than he had been in a long time, the thick vein of his manhood engorged under his quivering thumb, the head almost throbbing in pain.
He entered her swiftly, earning him another keening moan as her eyes fluttered shut with pleasure. Reaching up, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him as he thrust into her, claiming her with every push of his hips. Her pupils were large enough to consume all but the slightest rim of gold, and she bit her lip wantonly as she thrust her hips forward to meet him.
Vilkas rocked urgently into his hand, his mind a haze of warm pleasure. Panting, he increased the speed of his thrusts until he was trembling at the precipice of satisfaction, his body shaking with the effort of keeping silent as he thumbed the head of his cock.
Blood, welling out of the gash in her throat and spilling into his mouth as life faded from her eyes.
Vilkas screamed into his pillow again as he came, his blaze of ecstasy almost immediately ebbing away into a mist of disgust and loathing. Vilkas curled into a tight ball, uncaring of the mess that he was spreading around his bed.
What does Hircine touch that he doesn't corrupt, he thought bitterly, as tears of frustration leaked out of his eyes. Not for the first time, Vilkas wished that he had a father to confide in, to share the burden he had so foolishly accepted as a youth. Jergen was long gone, following Vilkas' true father down his well-trodden path of disappointed hope.
The guilt crowded around him, his familiar memory of defiant golden eyes replaced by the terrifying vision of scarlet blood against pale skin. His shame had prevented him from seeking Kodlak's counsel, and he had allowed it to fester, becoming a tangible presence as he struggled to breathe against the weight on his chest. When I'm not angry, I'm bitter, thought Vilkas, and the remorse accompanying this realisation pushed him into a restless sleep, chasing an inferno that seemed to be chasing him.
-x-
Almerin stared into the flames of her fire while scouring off the inner membrane of her pelt. Although she had an entire horde of vampires ready to bow and literally scrape at her command, she preferred to treat her own furs, the physical action distracting her while she allowed her mind to wander.
Not that she could think of anything other than her fur, given its giant defect.
After dipping the fur into a vat of treating liquid, Almerin secured her pelt to the drying posts. Noticing a slight wrinkle, Almerin reached up to straighten the pelt, the silk cape of her royal armour shifting to reveal her curvy figure.
A loud groan was expelled behind her.
Almerin's lips quirked into a smile.
Turning around, she looked at her new bed, which she had ordered as soon as she'd realised that Harkon had actually slept in a coffin every night. More specifically, she allowed her gaze to fall on Ronthil, who was kneeling on her bed, naked, wrists tied to the top of her bedframe.
Almerin's smile grew wider as she noted Ronthil's engorged manhood, proudly jutting out in front of him in an attempt to rival the enthusiastic expression on his face. Allowing her eyes to remain on him, Almerin picked up her previously discarded leather strips.
Ronthil bucked forward involuntarily into thin air, lips pressed tightly together.
Almerin walked unhurriedly behind him, alternately stroking his face and whipping his back. Ronthil began to pant, turning wide eyes to Almerin in supplication.
Almerin laughed.
"Do you want something from me, Ronthil?"
"My Lord, I –yes," Ronthil hissed, as Almerin flicked the leather strips across his slim buttocks.
"What do you want, Ronthil?"
"I-My Lord, please," groaned Ronthil, leaning his face into her hand and kissing it fervently.
"You want me to allow you to please me?"
"Please."
"Do you think you have proven that you are worth the effort?"
Ronthil moaned as he shook his head negatively, eyes fluttering shut. Abruptly casting aside her leather strips, Almerin reached over the head of her bed and unhooked the Mace of Molag Bal from its plaque.
Opening his eyes, Ronthil gasped in fear as he registered the menacing weapon. Almerin altered her grip so that its slim handle hovered a hair's breadth from his quivering lips.
"Show me how you would please me, if you had the chance," commanded Almerin, her breath coming a little faster.
Ronthil smiled before obediently opening his mouth. Allowing his tongue to flicker briefly over his own lips, Ronthil extended his tongue to lap at the tip of the Mace's handle. He worked his tongue around the tip in tight circles, occasionally pausing to suck on the tip, cheeks hollowed.
Almerin watched in fascination, as the Mace drained the blood from Ronthil's face, causing it to pool in his full lips. Determinedly, Ronthil continued to suckle at the handle, even as his arms began to weaken against her vicious knots.
"You love this, don't you." Almerin did not phrase it as a question, barely acknowledging Ronthil's weary nod. Casting the Mace aside, she peered into Ronthil's face. "How does this not oppose everything you are as a vampire? Do you not crave power, as the rest of us do?"
Ronthil looked up at her between his thick eyelashes. "There is a curious power to be gained from submission," he smiled.
Whatever you need to believe to survive, thought Almerin as she slashed her dagger through the ropes that held Ronthil. The slim vampire collapsed into a heap at the foot of her bed, exhausted. Disrobing, Almerin reclined on the cushions at the head of her bed, watching Ronthil as she uncorked a stamina potion.
Ronthil's face lit up.
Lying back completely, Almerin trickled some of the potion down her neck, allowing it to pool between her breasts. Crawling beside her, Ronthil hesitantly lapped at the potion, becoming more confident as the sweet taste of honey slid down his throat, reinvigorating his muscles.
Ronthil slid his tongue down the path that Almerin lay before him, pausing to swirl his tongue in the slight dip of her navel, before settling his head between her smooth legs. Pausing, he looked up beseechingly at Almerin, a silent question in his eyes.
"Take yourself in hand as you tend to me," Almerin allowed with a small smile.
Ronthil's face became so radiant that Almerin stifled a chuckle. He probably let himself go in that moment, she thought as Ronthil's clever tongue slid into her, caressing her gently. His slick movements became stronger, only occasionally interrupted by his own moans of pleasure.
Almerin watched calmly, as Ronthil flicked his tongue around her swollen core, his eyes darting up to seek approval. This was true domination, although slightly diminished by the realisation that she was with a vampire who slept behind a cupboard. Unbidden, the werewolf from the coast flashed into her mind, molten silver eyes replacing Ronthil's amber ones.
Almerin locked her legs behind Ronthil's head, skin suddenly flushed with desire. The added pressure and Ronthil's sudden intake of breath sent her spiralling over the edge, a breathy growl leaving her lips as she thrust gently against Ronthil's mouth, riding out her orgasm.
Real power is only wrested from someone worth dominating.
-x-
A/N: Thanks for the follows and reviews! This one took a while, as I have never written smut before, and I read it and re-read it until I finally decided to hit publish and be done with it. As always, I really welcome constructive feedback :)