He nearly was, though the sound of their voice and the 'thunk!' of his forehead against the table had swiftly remedied that.
"Well- I..." he looked around, spying the burnt down candle and reigniting the dwindling wic with a flick of his hand. "Probably, yes, in a proper bed at least."
They chuckled, Aicantar eyeing them as they lingered in the doorway.
"Was there something else?"
"Just making sure you actually make it to bed, thought I'd join you."
"Now how do you expect me to sleep when you say things like that!?'
TW: Spicy content, lots of marking, lots of self-indulgent headcanons utilised ~Enjoy!~
Aicanter:
If the Altmer had to pick a favourite place in the world, it was his private workshop. It was a freeing haven, a place of passion projects and privacy. It was a privacy he was happy to share however, but only with the Dragonborn. To him, they were the only one that understood, to desire a place of your own where every other responsibility couldn’t reach you, where all you had to do was whatever you wanted. If there was anything that could make his favourite place even better, it was them, especially now.
The sight of them draped across his bed had his heart thrumming, their body clad only in a spare rob of his. It didn’t fit them well, too tight in some places and too baggy in others, but they made it look so beautiful.
It was a bonus also that he knew they wore nothing else beneath.
The thought made him blush, and he far-too-quickly-to-be-normal turned his head back to his tinkering.
They chuckled faintly, and he knew he’d been caught in his staring.
He heard their bare feet pad across the stone floor, and the next thing he knew, their fingers were at his shoulders, stroking and petting and slowly pulling at his own loosely wrapped robe. He hummed softly as they moved aside his hair, gasping lightly as their lips contacted the smooth skin of his neck. A grin broke out on his face as he tilted his head further, snickering at the tickling sensation of their butterfly kisses. Such sweet attentions were quickly replaced with nips, the smallest nibbles traveling up and down the side of his throat, along his jawbone, and finishing at the tip of his sensitive ear.
He panted as they took the tip between their lips, nibbling and sucking in such a euphoric way it had his eyes rolling back and spine shuddering in delight. They released his ear with a pop, the once pale gold now a deep red, and it twitched in delight as they traced it with a fingertip. He tilted his head back, his hair falling from its place over his shoulder, revealing the other unmarked tip.
With a cheeky grin, and his hand wrapped loosely around his cock, he spoke.
“Don’t neglect the other one.”
Cicero:
Cicero, great Keeper that he was, kept his nails clipped to ensure he always cared for The Nightmother with a gentle touch. It was all in good fortune, especially as he tugged, pulled, and grappled at the Listeners expensive silk sheets, the poor things would have been torn to shreds otherwise, as although the man was marvellous at murder, he was not so great at keeping still during the throes of pleasure.
Thus was the reason for the Listener weighing his slender form with the weight of their own body. They could rely on him to occupy his hands with the sheets, but they had to straddle his thighs and pin his hips with their hands lest he lurches and throws them from the bed. Like last time.
The memory brought a smile to the Listeners lips, the curve breaking the suction they’d maintained against the Keepers pale skin. A disappointed whimper escaped Cicero’s parted lips as they sat up, one hand lifting from his hip to toy with their handiwork.
They not so gently traced the bruises they’d smattered across his pectorals, delighting at the keening whimper the man released as they pressed against the darker welts closest to his nipples.
The listener clicked their tongue disdainfully as they spotted a small, insignificant mark amongst the beautiful bruises, and dove down to latch their lips around the unsuccessful creation.
The man bucked and moaned as he felt teeth against his already sensitive skin, a blissful smile taking over his face as the Listener so kindly ravished his body, his blood rising beneath his skin till it bordered on torture.
The keeper gave a sigh as the Listener released him with a satisfying pop of their lips, once again sitting up to admire the panting Imperial that lay beneath them. They smiled eerily, and Cicero’s eyes widened as he watched their hand drift to the unmarked expanse of his ribs.
“Just a few more.”
Gwilin:
The morning was perfect, birds singing, leaves of autumn trees rustling, and the sun shining warmly on his eyelids as he dozed in the comfort of his bed. A comfortable weight settled atop his waist, squeezing him gently as his lover’s head nuzzled closer into his shoulder. Unfortunately, the blissful situation wouldn’t last, thanks to the impending workday Gwilin had. He loved his job, usefulness was an excellent quality in Ivarstead, but he couldn’t stave off the desire to be lazy when the Dragonborn came to town.
They never stayed long enough for him to truly indulge himself anyway.
He turned to kiss their forehead without opening his eyes, smiling as they kissed his skin in reciprocation, the tender actions moving from his shoulder to his collarbone, and finishing with a gentle nip at the skin.
“Do you have work today?” they spoke, voice heavy with sleep.
“Mhmm.” He responded, lazily, and somewhat disappointedly.
“I have to leave today too.”
Now that did make him lose his smile, an action the Dragonborn was apparently so dissatisfied with, that it woke them up enough to sit up and lethargically swing a leg over him. He felt their weight settle, their hands snaking beneath his nightshirt to stroke at the skin of his stomach.
His lips twitched.
“I’ll miss you.”
“I know. I have something for you.”
Inquisitively, he peaked open a bleary eye, watching them bend over him to pull at the linens collar and reveal his prominent collarbone. He sighed heavily through his nose as they peppered the area with kisses, and gently licked at the skin.
He closed his eye, indulging his laziness, and letting them do the work.
They bit, and sucked, and licked, and nipped, each new sensation making him gasp and twitch, his fingers digging into their hips. An especially close bite to the bone had him hissing through his teeth, his toes curling at the borderline painful sensation. He smiled wide however when the Dragonborn was quick to apologise with wet kisses to the tender area.
He felt them sit back to admire the tainted skin of the mer beneath them, his oak skin now decorated with deep red and purples. They tugged his collar again to reveal the other, unmarked bone.
“That should last till I come back, consider it a reminder. When do you start work?”
He grinned, a chuckle rumbling through his body.
“Five minutes ago.” He finally opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep. “I’ll get yelled at now anyway. Might as well make it worth it, yeah?”
Hadvar:
Thick fingers pulled and tugged at the matted furs that draped his bunk in the soldiers' quarters, his bottom lip pulled firmly between his teeth as he hissed and grunted at this lovers’ ministrations. After their last escapade beneath Castle Dour, Hadvar had received nothing but ridicule from his subordinates about the litany of welts that covered his neck and jawline, so he had been explicit that if they had to mark him, it couldn’t be in sight.
Which led him to his current torturous situation, sat at the edge of the bed, legs spread with the Dragonborn half-hidden beneath his armoured skirt. Every flicker of candlelight sent his heart racing, his peripheral forming the flickering shadows into soldiers, about to walk in and him in such a state. He’d never live down the humiliation.
The thought sent a jolt of pleasure through to his cock, and he felt it bounce and tap against his lover.
They so cruelly ignored the stiff, weeping member, far too occupied with nipping and sucking at the skin of his inner thighs. Both legs were spattered with purple marks, travelling from his groin to just above the knee where his pale skin turned tanned. The cruellest to receive were those so close to the juncture of his legs, where he could feel their cheek press against his cock and balls, a pleasant heat, but an infuriating lack of friction.
A startled yelp ripped through his throat as they sucked deeply on his balls, and he could feel their fingers stroking gently across his legs.
The top of their head appeared from beneath, their eyes glinting mischievously, squinted with the grin they hid from his view.
His tongue flicked across his chapped lips, wistfully sighing. “I love you”. They aww’d softly, diving back under and finally, blissfully, taking his cock in their mouth.
Nelecar:
The Almer tugged at his restraints, every muscle felt on fire as he writhed and arched, the thin bedsheets slipping further down his long slender legs. He gasped, hips lifting and heels digging into the mattress. He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, breathing deeply through his nose to steady his racing heart. His cock wept terribly, aching, and ignored as his lover’s rear continued to accidentally brush against it. They sat atop him, choosing to be ignorant of his suffering as they diligently referred to the constellation guide that lay next to him on the bed.
Today’s study was on the warrior.
His skin was already decorated with the torso structure, and now they sucked harshly to make bold the prominent stars of the warrior’s axe. Two large swelling welts, surrounded by four smaller, gentler marks to form the head of the weapon. They bent further, nipping at his ribs to begin the feet, and continuing till both legs were complete.
They gave him a moment to breathe, their fingers gently grazing the marks, picturing the connections of the constellation in their mind. They looked upon him with such adoration it made him feel as if he truly were the night sky.
They bent to kiss him, his mouth following as far as he could as they pulled away. He tugged pitifully at his wrist restraints once more.
“Almost finished my love, can’t have you kneeing me in places you shouldn’t be. Like last time.”
His lips quirked at the memory.
“I apologised for that profusely did I not? Besides, it’s not my fault the Mage is depicted with so many stars.”
The pair laughed lightly together, gazing at one another as if they were the finest thing in the world.
“I love you, my starlight.”
They smiled, bending to press their forehead against his.
“I love you too, my sky.”
He hummed happily, placing a chaste kiss against their nose as they sat up, scooting to free his hands from their binds. He twisted them to action, rubbing gently at the strained skin and ensuring his blood was pumping as it should be.
“Alright?”
He nodded, taking their hips, and moving them over his still stiff cock.
“More than alright my starlight. Now, shall we see if the warrior will grant me his great endurance tonight?”
Comfort ft. Aicanter, Clavicus, Ghorbash, Ronthil, Sanguine, Nelecar
Aicanter:
He was bad at this. He'd never had a confidante of his own, his uncle and himself never were like that. But he so desperately wanted to make his love feel better, to be the person they could talk to when things got hard.
He hadn't thought about their reputation, to be on the brink of breakdown and still have to be presentable to the court, to the public they'd have to pass through. He'd been too persistant. Pushy. He did that often when offering his Uncle help. It had only made them more upset.
So now he stood before the doors of Vlindrell Hall, bouquet in hand and a pouch of sweet treats at his belt. Argis let him in, and took the opportunity to leave, knowing his thane was in good hands.
He found them tucked away in their darkened bedroom. He lit low magelights, and set his gifts on the bedside.
He asked them quietly if he could enter the sanctuary of their covers, and they allowed him. He crawled in, bringing himself close, holding their head against his heart.
This time, he would wait until they were ready.
Clavicus Vile:
He was somewhat at a loss. He knew entering a relationship with the dragonborn would be different than his usual relations with humans, but he somehow forgot the baggage they all seemed to carry. Though it seemed his partner was an exceptional case. They carried the weight of the world after all.
He'd felt their change in demeanor the moment it occurred, could practically feel the ache of their body, and despite the instinctive need to address the situation, he waited.
It wasn't until nightfall when he visited them, watching quietly as they fought the their emotions in order to sleep.
He moved silently, fingertips pressing against their forehead so tenderly they couldn't feel it.
He struck a deal, despite them being unaware of their participation.
He took away the ache in their head, cleared their swirling thoughts, and allowed them to fall into sleep. In return, he no longer had to feel the ache of his own heart at the sight of their suffering.
They would deal with it properly come morning. Together.
Ghorbash the Iron-hand:
He knew bottled feelings when he saw it. So he ignored their pleas to be left alone as they both took the short trip to the basement. He stood them before the training dummy, closing their fingers around an iron mace.
He ordered them to hit it. So they did. Again, and again, and again, till he was yelling commands and they were yelling right back, the both of them sweating from the heat of the forge.
They bludgeoned and battered the dummy, letting out war crys any orc would be proud of, until they hit right through the dummy, breaking the support beam. They let out a roar, a dragonesque cry that had them crumbling to their knees and sobbing, the floodgates open to all their pent up sadness.
He held them, and never dared let go.
Ronthil:
He lived to serve. So to lift even the smallest of burdens from their shoulder was his top priority. He was no friend to his own mentality, but he knew what felt good. And so he pampered them, dipping his elbow into the bath water to ensure it wouldn't burn.
He undressed them, holding their arm as he eased them down into the water. He coated his hands in a series of fine oils as he bathed them, massaging in the fragrance and removing the knots and tension he came across.
He moved to their scalp, fingers moving with intent to ease the mass of tension that has built behind their eyes.
A hot towel awaited them when the water became too cool, and he patted them dry as they sat by the fire. Though the towel was thrown and forgotten when he took them in his arms, holding them tightly as he silently willed their troubles away.
Sanguine:
There were people in the world that drank and fucked to bury their problems. The Prince was surprised to find the dragonborn was no such person, at least not on this occasion. They would not have been the first to approach him and beg for their pain and worries to be fucked away.
Instead they'd come to him seeking comfort, they're expression worn and tired. In the blink of an eye his gardens were empty of revellers, his daedric armour was swapped for robes, and their own apparel discarded to ease some burden.
He guided them onto his lap with an open palm, reclining on his throne, cradling them as they lay their weight against his chest. They seemed distant, and so he traced invisible patterns across their body to ensure they knew of his presence, safeguarding them from the troubles of their realm as they drifting to sleep to the faint buzz of fireflies.
Nelecar:
He could practically feel the exhaustion rolling off them. He dared not ask what had occurred to make them such a way. They'd buried their face in his chest as soon as he was in arms reach, it was enough evidence they didn't wish to talk about it.
The fact they were able to make it to his room without collapsing was a small miracle, but they allowed him to guide them to his bed, laying side by side and staring blankly at his ceiling.
The atmosphere was thick, daring him to ask what was the matter. Wisely, he decided he'd distract them just a small amount from the pains of reality, and with a flick of his wrist, he made the stars dance for them, in the privacy of his room.
