This is NOT a story. This is a scene, there is no character arc, no plotline and no moral. It's just a one-shot erotic encounter based on an RPG game based on a computer game.
This is fanfic, more to the point it is gamefic set in the Elder Scrolls III world of Morrowind. I do write non-erotic fanfic, but this didn't seem to belong on the usual fan sites. The point is; I do not own the worlds, characters and creations of Morrowind, all of which are the property of the creative folks at Bethesda Softworks. I make no money for this. I just play and have fun there. Mistakes, errors and original characters are of course all mine.
If you are unfamiliar with the Morrowind universe it may be helpful to know that Tallis is a Breton, a physically slight race with mixed human and elven ancestry. Forin and Beladus are Dunmer, a race of elves with skin the color of shadows and red eyes, long-lived, usually highly skilled in whatever they care to learn and almost completely xenophobic.
Tallis took a last sip of the Shien. It was nice, but a little too sweet and a little too alcoholic for her to want to drink much of it. Intoxication and magic didn't mix well. She looked around at the few remaining patrons at the Eight Plates, and sighed. She wasn't really tired, but it was late, her companions had long since sought their rooms and it was really time for bed.
She left a few septims on the table, and headed to the stairs. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful here.
She got to her room and gave a look around before turning to bolt the door behind her. She was half expecting an intruder, and though she'd prepared as well as she could, she was still a little nervous, or maybe a lot.
She dropped the bolt into place, and before she could turn, she heard it. The voice she'd been anticipating and dreading since she'd left Seeyda Neen.
"Outlander." The baritone voice was right out of her dreams; or nightmares, he seemed to have a propensity for showing up in both. "We have unfinished business, you and I."
She slowly turned, knowing that if he'd wanted to kill her instantly, he already would have. But Dunmer were prideful and he enjoyed intimidation as much as he hated outlanders.
Forin Gilnith stood next to the bed. The deep grey of his skin, and the dark patterns of the form fitting leather he wore were explanation enough as to how she'd not seen him. In his right hand she could see the faint gleam of a greenish blade. She knew that she was seeing it only because he wanted her to.
The very first time they'd met he'd disheveled and dirty, living in a weathered shack, and when she and her companions had insisted on talking to him, he'd stayed lounging in his hammock, garbed only in a ragged pair of fishing trousers, arms crossed behind his head. Later she'd realized that he'd done that to casually conceal the blade in his hand, but at the time the sight of his well-muscled torso had derailed her thinking.
The fact that two investigators on Imperial business had questioned him, had become known, and had ruined some sort of deal he'd put together. She hadn't known that at the time.
It was the second time they'd met, when she turned into a back alley, having trailed what might have been a group of smugglers, that he'd first told her he intended to kill her. She had come around the alley intending to use some bit of showy magic to intimidate; while her companion did the questioning. Once in the alley, he was standing there. Garbed in shadow-toned leather, coiling a small wire up. Scattered around him were seven silent bodies. There'd been no outcry. They had been out of sight for maybe a minute.
She'd stood there, out in the open, shocked at the speed and the skill he must have. Too surprised to initially be afraid.
Standing next to him was another dunmer in burgundy robes, the sheen of the fabric and the gold of the embroidery testament to the cost. And to her magically-tuned senses, he was as bright and clear as Forin was dark.
The other dumner was just saying. "Efficiently done, my friend." His voice had a hoarse quality to it, as if he rarely spoke. He then looked at Tallis, with a clinical expression. "Do we need to worry about that?"
Forin turned the full force of his gaze on her, and Tallis thought to herself that she couldn't have moved or spoken if she'd wanted to. Did birds feel this way at the approach of a serpent?
"It's nothing, Beladus." Forin's voice was casually disdainful. "I'll kill her later."
Beladus made a noise that was some sort of assent. A moment later, there was a ripple of magical energy and wind whipped through the place where he had been standing. Tallis raised an arm to protect her eyes from the suddenly swirling soot of the alley.
When she lowered it, Forin was standing right in front of her.
"Your little visit ruined something of mine, outlander. So in return, I will ruin something of yours. Permanently."
She'd half expected that he would simply kill her on the spot, but he just stood there, staring at her. Eventually he said. "I have other business tonight. But have no doubt that we will meet again."
How could he hate her so profoundly when he didn't even know her? "My name is Tallis." She blurted out, not really sure why she said it.
He moved then, and there was a sound of steel on steel, as if someone was drawing a weapon, and she wasn't even sure it was him, and she flinched and then he was just not there.
"Wait." She said.
A low distant chuckle was her only answer.
So seeing him in this room, she knew very well why he had come.
A wave of fear thrilled through her. If he did intend to kill her from a distance, the spell she'd warded herself with would never have a chance to work.
So raising her chin, Tallis stood as tall as she could, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. "You may not touch me unless you mean it." She was starting to get a crick in her neck, but she didn't look away from the tall Dunmer.
Forin's eyes flashed crimson and his expression darkened. Faster than she could follow, the blade was gone, and he reached forward. His hands were just suddenly on her neck.
There was the smallest of pauses, and then his fingers slid up, exploring her hair. His touch made her skin tingle, a shiver that was pleasure, or maybe fear, or maybe both. Her breath caught in her throat, and suddenly it seemed hard to talk. She could feel the heat of his body all along the front of her. His fingers were slowly moving along the base of her scalp.
When she could finally make her voice work, she said. "Forin."
That was as far as she got. He tilted her head back, and lowered his mouth to hers. A light touch, the barest of physical sensations. It sent a shiver of desire all through her. She felt dizzy, and was suddenly glad for his iron grip. He explored her lower lip, first with lips, and then tongue, and then gently took it slightly into his own mouth.
She gasped, and he smothered it with his own mouth, exploring further. She hesitantly answered him in kind, and his fingers tightened on her. His left hand kept its grip on the back of her neck, and his right slid down her back. He pulled her close, and she could feel the muscles of his torso all across her own.
He turned her head to one side then, and moved slowly from her mouth, to cheek and down the side of her neck. It was like liquid fire, and for a moment she didn't realize that except for the explorations of his mouth, he'd moved farther away.
The loosening of her bodice told her what he was doing. The sensation of his hands, of cloth loosening sent fire and hunger all through her, and she whispered. "Yes." And then hearing what she'd said, she could feel the heat rise in her cheeks.
He made a pleased sound that could have been a growl, and then slid both of his hands under not just the bodice, but the shirt below it as well. The touch of his hands across her skin tore another soft gasp from her lips. Then he slowly moved his hands up, covering her with the softest of caresses as he explored.
Trembling, she put her hands on his chest, hesitantly moving them over the softness of the thin leather. He felt so warm, so hot.
His fingertips found the undersides of her breasts. He caressed with an agonizing slowness that took her breath and most of her thought away. She wanted him to keep moving his hands up over her more than she could ever remember wanting anything. Her fingers clenched at his shirt, and she whimpered with desire.
Then with a swift movement, he ran his hands upward and to the side, raising her arms over her head and sliding shirt and bodice off of her. She had time to realize that she was standing half naked in front of him. Then he put his hands to her shoulders, moving her backward to sit, and then to lie back onto the bed.
Her torso was covered with Goosebumps, but she wasn't cold. Her nipples were so hard they ached. She lay there and looked up at him. His eyes seemed to blaze at her. Or maybe she was so hungry for him she was imagining it.
He leaned over her, and brought his lips to her left breast. For a moment she thought it was just going to be kiss, but his lips parted and he took the nipple, and part of her breast into his mouth. The ache in her erupted into pleasure, and need, and she grabbed the back of his head as if to force more of herself into him.
Then he moved a hand to her right breast, at first just slowly moving his palm over her skin, sending more shivers through her. Then as he sucked a little harder on her left, his fingers gently closed on the right nipple, still moving slowly, so that anticipation fueled her hunger.
She writhed underneath him, clutching at his hair with shaking fingers. She was breathing hard, like she'd been running.
He kept his mouth moving on her chest, and climbed slowly onto the bed. His hands made short work of the lacings of her skirt. He tugged at her clothing, his fingers at her waist, curling around the top of her skirt and all that was underneath it. She shifted, planting her feet more firmly on the bed, and lifting her hips. In one swift motion he removed skirt and underthings, and from the sound of it, threw them across the room.
Still exploring her breasts with this mouth, he settled his hands on her knees, and slowly began sliding them upward. Her breath came louder, more whimper than pant.
He moved slightly upward with his mouth, and whispered against her neck. "You are a noisy little thing aren't you?"
