Tuesday, January 19, 2016

A Farkas Lemon -- Sleepless Serenade

Character: Farkas

Fandom: Elder Scrolls: Skyrim

OC: Seija, blonde hair, bit of a loner

Inspiration: Because...Farkas.  I mean.  The sex appeal.  It's crazy ;)  Vilkas will be next, prepare yourselves~

The entire day had been blustery.  A storm had long since swept in, darting the landscape with pellets of unforgiving rain that gets through the cracks between metal armor and makes the journey to Whiterun less than pleasant.  Farkas looks like a wet dog (pun intended) and Seija has to listen to his grumbling for hours.  And, to top it all off, they lose one of their oiled, rainproof tents to a pack of rabid wolves.
The creatures meet their end, but they manage to tear several long slits into the fabric of Seija’s pack when one of them ambushes her from behind.  There is one good thing that comes from such a situation of course, and while sharing an already cramped tent with a frankly hulking man isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, Seija can’t really bring herself to complain.  Much.
“Move over, you great oaf,” she mutter, warm and dry and (slightly) annoyed.  Farkas barely fits inside his tent as it is.  And apparently he likes to hog the blankets.
He huffs and grumbles, “Can’t.  And stop moving around so much.”  They glare at each other through the darkness.
“I could say the same.  You’re going to knock the whole blasted thing down,” Seija says, trying to get more comfortable.  She’s practically tucked into his side, and with their armor off and drying by the fire, Farkas’s warm body is a massive furnace of heat that she reluctantly enjoys.  Or maybe she isn’t so very reluctant, but she has to keep up appearances, as it were.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d packed a sewing kit,” he frowns, voice low and burred.  She openly stares at him with a raised eyebrow, slowly lifting herself up onto her elbow and scowling down at him.
“A sewing kit?!” she asks indignantly, “Do you think I’m a simple farmer’s wife?  I don’t even know how to thread a fucking needle!”  What a thing to say!  She’s a warrior, the fucking Dragonborn – she doesn’t have time to learn how to sew when she’s busy fighting off dragons.  (Though it would have admittedly been useful in such a situation.  No matter, she enjoys watching him squirm.)
Farkas blushes and mumbles, “Hmph.  Just stop moving.  It’s distracting.”  Distracting is a good word for it, but he won’t tell her why.  In any case, if she keeps this up, she’ll probably find out well enough for herself.  He’s never been very good at control.
Seija rolls her eyes and plops back down, tugging the blankets closer.  Farkas closes his eyes and tries to ignore the fact that the woman he’s been pining over is lying right next to him and that he can feel more of her body than is probably decent.  Seija ignores the fact that she can’t stop thinking about rolling over and kissing him senseless.  They just ignore.  And it doesn’t do either of them any good.
Ten minutes pass.  Seija listens to Farkas’s calm breathing.  Half an hour.  She thinks he’s sleeping and rolls over, her back to him.  She doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s crazy aroused right now.  All she can think about is him.  Her mind serenades her with images of shifting on top of him and grinding down.  Of musky kisses and hoarse voices and moans.  Of the impressive sight he must be, with all his muscles on full display and his hard shaft curling up – Divines, that’s a bad thought.  Very bad.  Makes her ache.  Shit.
She closes her eyes tight and clenches her fist, willing her arousal to disappear.  But it doesn’t, and every time her eyelids close she can see him.  Bare and confident and staring up at her with smoky lustful eyes.  She can see herself touching him, curling her fingers around him and pumping him to stiffness and – no.  Yes.  Damn it.
Farkas’s breathing is even and deep.  If it wasn’t, Seija’s wouldn’t have ever dreamed of doing what she does then.  But her arousal makes her bold and impatient, and she curls her body in and reaches one hand down to the apex of her thighs, shifting her fingers into her trousers.  She holds her breath and slides two digits over her core, slow and first but with a building quickness that gives her no pleasure, only the desperate hope for release. 
She should probably take this outside but she fears that moving might wake him up, and then she’d have to explain.  So she just keeps rubbing herself, pressing one finger inside her and shifting her thumb over the top of her clit.  And it’s good.  It takes the edge away.  But there’s one little thing that she doesn’t take into account: Farkas has really, really good senses.
She’s not even sure what happens, only that there’s a sudden movement from behind her and then suddenly Farkas’s body is pushing against her back.  One arm slides over her waist and his fingers push hers away, replacing them with his own.  It happens so fast that Seija is left miles behind, and she can only stiffen and then melt as Farkas dips his fingers against her cunt.
“Farkas – “ she gasps, surprised and confused and ridiculously aroused.  He hadn’t been asleep.  He’d been aware of everything – could probably smell her arousal with those sharp senses.  Red blossoms over her cheeks and she bites her lip in morbid embarrassment, but she can’t help but shift her hips in time with his hand. 
He growls low in his throat and nips at her ear.  “You thought I was asleep, didn’t you?” he questions, like he’s reading her thoughts.  Another chuckle scrapes over his throat and she shivers at the sound of it.  His fingers feel so much better than hers – they make her entire body burst into flames.  “Guess now’s a good time to mention that I have a really good sense of smell?”
Seija lets out a breathless laugh and mumbles, “Mmm…a little late for that.  Divines, Farkas – you could’ve just put me out of my misery!”  Better late than never, she supposes, but still.
Farkas slides two fingers inside her and she gasps, melting into the blankets and clutching the pillow she’s lying on.  He kisses her neck, lips firm and desperate as they travel over her skin.  In a deep voice, he mutters, “Only if you put me out of mine.”  And then the rest of his body flattens against her, and that stiff cock she’s been imagining is suddenly very real and very hard.  Holy hell.
She turns her head and looks at him, eyes full of dark desire.  Her breathing is coming out shallow now, her chest heaving in time with his fingers.  He thrusts them in and out of her, crazy about the wet heat that surrounds him.  He’d like nothing more than to feel that heat around other parts of him, too.  He smirks and breathes, “You think you’re the only one going crazy with this?  I’ve been wanting to touch you since you crawled in here.”
Her eyes close as a shiver tears through her.  In a ragged breath, Seija asks, “Have you been hard this entire time?”  And he smirks because he can hear the desperation in her voice and it’s a lovely, wicked sound.
Another kiss is placed near her mouth.  “Only when I started to smell that desire.  And when you started…mmm, touching yourself, I couldn’t just let that go.”  His fingers leave her, instead to curl around her thigh and drape it over his waist.  He pushes his core against hers in a slow grind and she gasps, clutching at him.  His lips hover close to hers, breathing her in.
“…Good thing,” is all she can think to say.  It doesn’t matter.  All that matters is the way Farkas finally leans in and kisses her.  All that matters is the way his hand lowers to her rear, squeezing her and dragging her tight against his hard core.  It’s so fucking hot that Seija can only drown against him and whimper.
But her subdued passion lasts only so long.  She is not submissive by nature.  Her soul is as fierce as his, and when Farkas slides his hand up beneath her shirt, she growls and pushes him down.  Finally, she takes her place above him, hooking her leg over his hip and sitting atop his body like it’s her throne.  Embarrassment turns to acute need – she lets it fuel her movements as she pushes his shirt away with clawing, desperate hands.
The moment it’s gone, Seija leans down to kiss his chest.  How many times had she dreamt of this?  She practically worships his body with every caress, tongue flattening over his skin as she explores every crevice of him.  And Farkas, for all his poor control, allows her this.  He lays back and watches, eyelids fluttering, fingers clenching around her as she pulls every ounce of heat to the surface of his body.  The wolf in him thrashes for control but he manages to subdue it for now.
“Touch me, woman,” he mutters hoarsely, and she shivers.  She’s imagined that voice, too, skimming over her skin.  It’d be accompanied by that scratchy stubble.  It’d leave her raw and wanting.  She takes one look at him – the panting mess he is beneath her, the way his impressive chest heaves, the way his eyes are zeroed in on her, always watching with mesmerized desire.  And she decides that perhaps being submissive doesn’t have to be a terrible thing.  She does really want to touch him after all.  So she does.
One hand curls down to grasp him through his trousers.  Even though she can’t see him, the mere feel of him makes her heart skip a beat.  Thick masculine stiffness strains up against her palm like he’s reacting to her.  She presses a kiss to his hips, where the fabric of his trousers scrape low around his waist, and then proceeds to drag the drawstring of his pants between her teeth. 
She pulls it loose and Farkas’s hands fist at his sides.  He heaves himself up onto his elbows for a better view, throat tightening as he watches Seija pull the trousers down to mid-thigh.  He springs free, cock curling up against his stomach with a lurch the makes her mouth water.  She stares at it for a split second before lunging forward and wrapping it into her mouth with a satisfied hum.
She’s a wild creature now, devouring him with a desperate passion that makes him absolutely crazy.  It isn’t even about the delicious feel of her lips around him – it’s the way she sucks.  The determination, like she’s a rabid wolf that’s gone hungry for weeks.  This isn’t slow passion; it’s animal instinct.  And the sight makes him slightly more animal too.
Seija ducks her head down, plunging more of him into her mouth.  Her lips tighten, her tongue sliding, and then she slowly drags him back down with wicked gleaming eyes.  His tip pokes her inner cheek, and she releases him with a vulgar pop.  He springs away, curling back, and she flattens her tongue against the thick bulging vein on the underside of his shaft, dragging it up and up and up.  This is better than she could have imagined – better than her late night daydreams and every accompanying shard of sinful thought that would haunt her waking steps. 
She pulls him back, licking at his tip and then surrounding it with her lips to give him a long suck – and that’s when Farkas’s self control hits rock bottom.  A growl shreds the air, and then he’s throwing her very suddenly onto her back with a burst of strength that leaves her gasping.  He’s on top of her within moments, fingers pushing her clothes out of the way, desperate to reveal her skin, desperate to give the beast what it needs.  His hands squeeze at her now bare breasts, a few harsh, rough presses of skin on skin before he’s abandoning them to tear her trousers away.
He wrestles them off of her legs and growls when the full scent of her arousal hits him hard.  One hand grasps her ankle and pulls it aside, opening her to his sharp gaze.  She’s a glistening mess, made all the wetter from her own ministrations on him seconds before.  Seija stares at him with quiet confidence and smirks, eyes gleaming as she murmurs, “Fuck me, Farkas.”  He doesn’t need to be told twice.
Their hips meld together, and he guides himself into her with a not so gentle push.  And then he all but slams inside her core, and any semblance of would-be gentleness is utterly lost.  She doesn’t care.  She doesn’t need soft lovemaking.  Not right now, and not with him.  There are other nights for that, but right now all she wants is to see the beast in him claim her for his own.
“Mmm!” she gasps as he rocks back into her.  He utterly flattens her to the blankets, his body converging on hers with every downward thrust.  It’s bruising and hard but somehow perfect, like she’s always imagined it to be.  A little uncomfortable, but by the time he sets a firm, callous pace, she’s wet enough for anything he throws her way. 
Another little growl rips from him and sends her body on fire.  Just one little noise, so capable of making her insane.  She digs her fingers into his forearms and tries to meet his thrusts, but Farkas growls again and goes faster, angling his body higher above hers so that her every movement it cut off and intercepted.  It should make her annoyed, but to be honest, the way he practically manhandles her sort of leaves Seija even more aroused.  She pulses around his member, orgasm already itching through her, and every harsh thrust drags it to the forefront of their passion. 
“Farkas!” she moans, body going crazy.  She’s on fire.  She’s burning from the inside out.  Her orgasm absolutely tips her world upside down and she can’t breathe, can only moan and thrash and whisper his name.  And it makes him more than crazy.  He grunts and throws her leg over to join her other one, propping one knee between her thighs and ramming forward.  His hands grasp her rear, and with every thrust he drags her down to meet him.  It’s a rough ride, and just as she’s dwindling down from the pleasure of her orgasm, Farkas lets out a strained growling groan and thrusts hard inside her. 
She knows the very second when he comes.  She feels her body explode with a heat that doesn’t only come from her, and Farkas’s thrusts turn sporadic in the face of all this strong pleasure.  He heaves out a sigh and opens his eyes, catching sight of her staring at him.  The wolf dissipates, vanishing slowly and allowing the man to return.  And when the man realizes where all the red bruising welts that litter her body come from, he pauses and frowns.
“…Sorry,” he mumbles, fingers drifting over one on her hip, where he must’ve gripped her too hard.  But Seija only smiles happily and sighs, snuggling down into the blankets 
without a care. 
“Don’t apologize.  It was probably the best sex I’ve ever had,” she sleepily tells him, delirious with the satisfaction of her orgasm.  She’s tired out.  The events of the day are finally catching up to her, and Farkas chuckles lowly as he shifts down beside her.  He fits himself into her side and loops an arm around her waist, threading his fingers with hers.
“The best?” he murmurs, sounding pleased with himself.  She elbows him playfully and laughs.
The tent seems smaller than it did before, but it could swallow them up entirely and it wouldn’t matter, just as long as they remain where they are.  Wrapped up in warmth and sleepy love.