Saturday, January 23, 2016

A Vilkas Lemon -- Feral

 Character: Vilkas

Fandom: Elder Scrolls Skyrim

OC: Ryiah, Imperial, dark eyes, blue eyes, hot headed

Inspiration: Maybe next time I'll write something for both Farkas AND Vilkas... that would be hot ;D  

There is nothing quite as inebriating as the throes of battle.  It doesn’t particularly surprise him that he finds her attractive when she’s gutting bandits or wearing their blood on her armor.  Perhaps it’s a little strange, to find such violence arousing, but he has long become used to the destructive call of his blood.  No, he is not surprised that he finds her to be as attractive as ever – the only shocking thing about it is the fact that he is no longer a wolf, yet his blood still boils as he watches her open the throat of the enemy that tries to kill her.
Being ambushed in the wilds is no great surprise either.  Vilkas had been expecting as much the moment they had entered Falkreath hold, where bandits and roadside vagabonds are easily come by.  He is not worried about such things though.  Their small two person party is often outnumbered, but made all the fiercer by their unique talents.
He loiters over the man he’d just skewered, his long sword dripping with blood.  Adrenaline pumps through him, and he knows that he should scout the area, make sure these bandits are the last of their group.  But he does not move.  He cannot move.  Not when Ryiah holds every last ounce of his attention.  Let more bandits come – his blood is boiling and he could use the peculiar release which comes from hunting these ne’er-do-wells.
He watches her put her boot to the bandit’s chest and push him off her sword, which is buried in his stomach.  The man falls and takes a short rattling breath.  Ryiah is not cruel, not even to such scum, and she gives him a quick end: a downward arch of her blade, then silence.  Sweet silence, tattered only by the desolate winds and the furious beating of his heart, which whispers at him and draws him forward.
She in the middle of saying something about searching the bodies when he drags one hand around her waist and pulls her forcibly towards him.  Surprise jolts across her features, perhaps at the determination in his eyes.  It turns into pure and utter shock when Vilkas goes one step further and pulls her against him, lips scorching over hers in a very heated, very unexpected kiss.
To be truthful, it’s really more of a hard press of lips and teeth than a kiss, but it still makes Ryiah moan and careen into him.  It’s the reaction he’s searching for and he takes her into his arms, holding her so firmly that it’s almost as if he’s garrisoning her against him.  No matter – she doesn’t care – she can only kiss him back and try to keep up with him.  A difficult feat, to be sure, because apparently Vilkas is a much better kisser than she could have imagined.  (And she has imagined it numerous times.)
It’s a little funny, really.  They’re covered in blood and gore, surrounded by corpses, and they’re kissing each other as if they’re back in Jorrvaskr sharing the empty mead hall late at night.  She’s often imagined him taking her off guard like this, but never quite like this.
With a gasp, she pulls away and Vilkas follows her back, clearly having none of it.  He presses his mouth to her jaw, the scruff of his unshaved stubble scraping against her.  She feels amazing, despite the rather unromantic atmosphere around them.  Doesn’t matter, she thinks.  Vilkas is finally (finally!) kissing her, and she isn’t about to start complaining. 
She’s wanted him since their very first argument, when she’d walked into the mead hall and he’d laughed when she said she wanted to join.  And every insult thereafter had made her blood scream for him – a strange effect, but one she could not deny so easily.  She must’ve been more of a sadist than she realized.  But this – this kiss is worth the long wait, the insults, the arguments.  So so worth it.
“You look surprised,” Vilkas mutters, face looming close, only a breadth of space between them.  He raises an eyebrow and gives her a cheeky smirk that makes her want to devour him just to teach him a lesson.  Ryiah rolls her eyes and says, “Surprised that you kissed me, or that you chose to do so in a field of corpses?”  She thinks she’s actually more surprised about the former of the two.  Vilkas has never been the romantic sort.
He purses his lips just a little to hide his smile and shrugs, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for months now.  Just didn’t want to do it as a wolf.”  The admission clearly takes her off guard, because Ryiah stares at him in shock…and then proceeds to fall into a rage that, frankly, he’s surprised has taken so long to surface.
“Months?!” she exclaims, pushing him back.  He lets her, watching her anger with an expression of content amusement.  He loves that fire, the way it lights up her eyes, the way it challenges him.  “Divines!  Are you saying we could’ve been doing wicked things months ago and you were holding back?!”
Her choice of words interests him.  Vilkas tilts his head and questions, “You want to do…wicked things with me?”  A subtle flashing smirk turns his expression into pure mischief.
Ryiah huffs.  “I thought it was obvious.  I’ve only been drooling over you since the day we met.”  She ignores him and bends down to wipe her sword free of blood.  Vilkas watches her every movement, taking in this new information with keen interest.  Since the day they’d met?  That was almost an entire year ago.  And their first meeting hadn’t exactly been…amicable, to say the least.
He barks out a laugh that almost makes him sound like the wolf he used to be, and chuckles, “You must be more of a masochist than I thought.  If I recall, you tried to gut me during that first sparring match…”  Perhaps that makes him the masochist, he thinks dryly.
Ryiah laughs too and says, “Mmhmm.  Well, you asked for it.  Now come on, I want to go wash this blood off.”  There’s something in her eye – a strange mischievous spark – that makes him wonder if perhaps she plans on doing more than just wash her armor.  Naturally, his curiosity is piqued.
“Oh?” he hums, smirking widely as he follows her to the nearby stream they’d passed on the way into the little mountain crossing.  “I suppose that’s your feeble attempt at seducing me?”  Her response is only a sly glance behind her shoulder and a crass shrug.
She’s never been all that embarrassed about these sorts of things, and what Vilkas calls a ‘feeble’ attempt is actually a lot more successful than he initially lets on.  She sheds her armor, piece by piece, as he trails behind her.  By the time they reach the stream, she’s got it all pushed under one arm and drops it on the bank, clad only in the sweaty clothes she wears beneath it all.  He’s really not sure what she’s planning other than an obvious bath.  She almost seems to forget about his presence entirely as she walks to the water’s edge, even though he’s probably piercing a hole in the back of her head with his sharp, watchful eyes.
But she hasn’t forgotten about him, how could she?  Her body is on fire with anticipation, and she wastes little time in stripping her clothes off.  Her back is to him as she sheds everything, even the under garments.  Vilkas doesn’t take his eyes off of her.  He just watches, feeling a little like a voyageur, taking in every reveal of her skin.  His eyes trace every firm muscle, every scar.  And when she kicks her underwear off and stands naked before him, he wonders if perhaps the wolf never left because he feels absolutely feral.
She gives him another glance over her bare shoulder and smirks, wading into the stream without another moment of hesitation.  Its cold, but not overly so.  She shivers anyway just to be dramatic and then raises herself up out of the water.  Yes, her feeble seduction attempt isn’t so feeble after all, especially when she purrs, “Aren’t you going to join me, Vilkas?”  And he thinks he might actually rip his armor apart as he tries to get out of it.
He joins her, as bare as she is.  The water’s freezing but he barely feels it.  His skin is so hot that it feel feverish, the heady spike of arousal pulsing through his veins and lighting him on fire.  He’s already half hard from her little show of skin, and he eyes her hungrily, scanning over every scar and every contour of muscle that tapers down her back.  Such lovely skin she has – marred but perfect, just what he’d expect from a warrior such as herself.  The urge to kiss every one of her scars jolts through him, and he cannot stop himself from coming up behind her and splaying both hands over her hips.  The water just barely reaches their waists.  It laps just above the curve of her ass – which apparently fits perfectly in his hands, something he’s wondered about for many months now and finally has the opportunity to test the theory out.  She gasps when his rough fingers grasp the firm, supple skin of her rear, and gasps again when he moves his hands to her hips and drags her ferociously up against him.
Divines, he’s already so hard.  His arousal burns into her skin, pressing up into the crevice of her ass like it is meant to be there.  She falls back against him and everything – fucking everything – gets very suddenly lost in a whirlwind of complete lust.  His hands cup her breasts and his thumbs tweak at her nipples and his mouth – Gods, his mouth is a symphony against her skin.  The unshaved stubble of his jaw scratches her, the desperate thrum of his tongue cages her, teeth nip, lips devour, until Ryiah is nothing but a trembling mass that drowns into his chest.
“Mmm…Vilkas – “ she begins to say, rubbing her thighs together in nervous anticipation.  Nervous, because she cannot remember wanting a man quite as much as she does now.  Nervous, because this is Vilkas, and she knows without a shred of doubt that whatever he has planned for her, she’s going to both love it and hate it.  Because it’s him, and love and hate always run together when it comes to him, and it’s beautiful.
His teeth scrape over her neck and she whimpers, pushing her breasts into his hands and arching into him.  She’s got a few tricks up her sleeves yet – and when she rubs her ass into his groin, Vilkas lets loose a growl that makes shivers skid over her skin.  The sounds he makes are heavenly.
But after that single, brief complaint, Vilkas goes along with the movement.  He lowers his hands down to her hips and pushes them back against him, bucking his own and rubbing himself into her with feral eagerness.  There is no control, no thoughtful persuasions.  There is nothing but the wild blood that pumps through his veins and serenades her with rough promises of what is to come. 
He chuckles low in his throat and attacks her jaw with his mouth, tongue lapping over the tiny hurts caused by his teeth.  “To think…” he mumbles, fingers drawing circles over the tops of her thighs and slowly, slowly meandering toward the crevice of them.  “…I could’ve done with the moment we met.  You remember?  Could’ve dragged you right on top of the table in the Mead Hall and fucked you right in front of everyone – would you have let me?” 
His fingers slip against her and Ryiah can’t from coherent thoughts.  Her mouth opens in a silent gasp as he slides his touch over her slit.  Apparently Vilkas can only take so much teasing, but she can’t find it in her to complain about that and maybe never will.  She’s wanted him for so damned long that the thought of dragging this out any further makes her quail.
He nips at her bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth to give it a fierce suck, and brushes his thumb over the top of her clit.  Her body explodes into shivers that he absorbs into him, feeling ridiculously proud that he could make her quiver like this, so thoroughly desperate.  But he needs to hear her answer, and when she doesn’t immediately respond to him, a growling sound rumbles through his chest and he stops touching her, freezing all movement until she’s whimpering that much more.
“Vilkas!” she whines, practically thrashing, eyes wide and dilated with arousal as she looks up at him.  He drags a lazy finger over the edge of her folds and demands, “you know how much I wanted you after that sparring match outside?  It took me what seemed like forever to take care of myself after you beat me.  Never been so turned on as I was when you managed to get on top of me.”  He drags her earlobe between his teeth and she shudders violently, moaning the prettiest moan he’s ever hear.
“Divines, yes,” she breathes, slipping her hand down to his and forcing it against her clit in hopes that he’ll continue touching her.  The action makes him chuckle, mouth curling up in amusement.  But he doesn’t make good on it until she moans, “Wish you’d told me – I could’ve snuck into your room and let you fuck out all your frustrations – oh fuck – “
He gives a throaty groan and brushes his thumb over the bundle of nerves, dragging one finger inside her at the same time.  She’s so fucking tight.  Her muscles cling to that one finger, and she so incredibly hot that Vilkas can think of nothing but putting more than just his fingers there.  What would it feel like, to have this heat clinging around his cock?  The thought makes him shiver, and he adds another finger and starts thrusting them into her, watching her come apart in his arms.
She’s babbling.  The Dragonborn and the Harbinger is babbling, and it makes Vilkas smirk because he knows that he is responsible for her reactions.  She arches into him, and his free hand immediately comes up to grasp her breast and redden it with a fierce touch.  Whimpering, Ryiah breathes, “Vilkas, fuck me now.  Fuck me like you wanted to fuck me that first day – please, please – “ 
He stares down at her and she stares up at him (all molten eyed, quilted passion serenading every bit of blue), and what he sees makes Vilkas snarl and let go of her, only to heave her body up into his arms and splash them hurriedly to the bank of the river.  Saying no doesn’t even cross his mind, he wants her so much.
What Vilkas wants, he takes.  But it isn’t without gentleness.  He lowers her into the grass and Ryiah immediately spreads her legs, opening her body to him and pulling him against her.  His shaft burns over her core but he takes a moment to lean down and kiss her, something he’s wanted to do again for a while now.  She returns the affection, but reaches her hand down to curl her fingers around his cock.  When she gives it a few thrusts, Vilkas goes crazy, eyes opening to stare at her as he shiver and thrusts his hips into her hands.  She smirks, and he wants to devour that twist of her mouth.  He wants to – but he forgets everything when Ryiah slips the tip of his member into her opening, and he can’t help but sink down into her. 
“Fuck – “ he groans, eyes fluttering as he slowly fills her.  If she’d been tight around his fingers, it is nothing compared to the way her muscles cling to him now – gripping around him and surrounding him with such blessed heat.  He heaves out a breath as he hilts himself in her, brimming her up with his shaft, and them drags himself back out because he needs the friction, needs it with everything he is.
Her hips follow him, arching up as he leaves her.  The shattered little gasp that breathes through her as he slides back down is worth every sliver of discomfort and he longs to hear it again.  So he fills her back up, entirely, and then drags out at a faster pace, thrusting down and out, down and out, until Ryiah is a breathless formless mass beneath him.
She moans, loudly, when he slams down inside her, forgoing the gentleness that he’d been desperately holding onto until this moment.  But something within him has broken, it seems, and all he can do is go faster, push himself harder, longing for more of her – every part of her – and he receives it all. 
“Vilkas!  Oh fuck, yes!” she cries.  His thumb brushes against her clit because he needs her to come, and soon.  He’s wanted her so much that he can’t drag this out even if he wants to.  He’s going to come.  He’s fucking going to come.
She heaves into the ground, legs tight around his hips, heels digging into his ass and dragging him down hard when every thrust.  The way he sinks into her, the fullness she feels when he’s hilted inside, it’s like nothing she’s ever felt before.  It’s amazing – and the thumb that burns her closer to her orgasm is a prayer fervently uttered.  A prayer that she cannot help but succumb to.
“Vilkas, Vilkas – “ his name morphs into a long moan as her body explodes, shattering beneath his touch and arching and thrashing and Gods, it’s beautiful, the way she comes.  He stares at her, watching her every movement, slamming his cock into her as she unravels and rubbing his thumb against her incessantly.  Her orgasm bristles through her even as it finishes, thanks to that thumb, and the way she mumbles and whimpers has Vilkas cursing out and bucking his hips faster because fuck it all, he wants to come.  He wants to spill himself inside her and make her his once and for all.  He wants her warm and full with him. 
Her name is a rumbling shout that makes her shudder.  Moments later, she’s watching him unravel and it’s probably the sexiest thing she’s ever witnessed.  His face twists, expression desperate, eyes beautiful.  His body shivers down against hers and his hips hasten their already quick movements, flat lining into her until she’s so utterly full of him that her entire world seems like it’d be nothing, nothing without him. 
He sighs, a long heaving breath that flutters over her neck, and lays himself down beside her with a tired grunt.  Ryiah tilts her head to look at him, breathing fast in the grass.  And he smiles.  It’s a lovely sight, seeing that mouth curl up like that, and suddenly she wants to kiss him again.  So she rolls onto her side, throws a leg over his waist, and leans down to press her mouth against his.
He drags her on top of him, thick muscled arms wrapped firmly around her waist.  And against her lips, he mumbles, “Next time, I’m fucking you over the table in the Mead Hall.”  She’s so surprised that she laughs, loud and bright and happy, and Vilkas smirks at the sound.
Her eyebrow twists up.  “Oh really?  How scandalous.”
He smirks wider.  “You think I’m all talk, don’t you?  Just you wait, the moment I’ve got you alone…”  There is definitely a promise in his voice that Ryiah can’t ignore, doesn’t want to even, and she smirks right back at him.
“I can’t wait,” she says, kissing him all the fiercer, and he hums against her mouth.  He can’t either, but he’s willing to take his time on the return journey, as long as the rest of their evenings are so pleasantly spent.



  1. Holy Hell, I need a cold shower after this.

  2. please one other with Vilkas and female db...this was so hot ...and I love this wolf...please!

  3. Hot damn. Now you HAVE to make one with both the brothers...

  4. I need some holy water and a cold shower after this!

  5. we stray further and further from god's light

  6. I've read before and had to come reread it <3 <3

    1. Me too, this is probably the third time I've read it.