Primal Urge

Six nights ago…

"It could be better than this," Aela assured me huskily.

I lay beside the milky-skinned Nord, exhausted, fur coverings thrown aside, allowing the night to cool my dark, sweat-sheened skin inside the benighted tent.  I withdrew a bare leg from across hers, moved her arm from my heaving stomach; further contact was too intense just now.  Yet, she hardly seemed fatigued, her breathing barely quickened.  I could not believe it – after what we had just done?

"H-How?" I demanded, which she took as a response to her query.  The odours of sex and sweat-drenched furs pervaded the interior, along with the pungency of smoke from the single brazier that afforded poor reddish light and too much heat.

"Perhaps you noticed that I am barely started with you."  She half-rose, flicked both my nipples simultaneously with her fingers, followed by a swift lick and a nip to each, causing me to start and cry out.

"N-No… more!"  I attempted to deflect her lips contacting mine.  "I n-need… some time."  I was almost ashamed; after all, I was supposedly Dragonborn.

"That is what I mean," she growled, rolling fully astraddle me and pinning my arms to the fur mats.  "You would not, were you to accept my gift."  I had neither time nor senses to ponder her double meaning further.

She was, I had to admit, incredibly strong.  No milk-drinking female myself – a Redguard warrior by My Father's Name – yet she had no trouble imposing her carnal will on me, licking and biting around my over-sensitive dark areolae and elsewhere as I struggled beneath her.  She emitted another guttural rumble as my exertions only seemed to inflame her – without doubt, they did, for she began to grind her sex against my still-heaving stomach.  I glanced down; the contrast of her white skin against my duskiness was thrilling.

"N-No," I whimpered again; but I stilled, surrendering, once more aroused in spite of myself.

"Very well."  The lithe, auburn-haired Huntress abruptly rolled off, laid beside me once more.  "When you are ready."

All at once, I felt an inexplicable sense of loss.  I looked at her pale face; obscured as it was by three diagonal slashes of purplish war paint, I could not discern her expression in the feeble light, and her eyes appeared closed.  Nonetheless, I had the feeling her meaning was still double; she was not simply referring to the sex.

"What do you mean?"

Again rising to all fours, she crawled over my lower half, threw the tent flap aside.  The frigid night wind rapidly cooled and cleared the interior; a shaft of roseate moonlight penetrated the shadows.  Yet, despite the insufficient light, I had a perfect view of her hindquarters not an arm's length away; undoubtedly, she knew just what she was doing, as her furry cleft glistened at me.  Stretching on all fours, back bowed like a cat (or dog), she took a deep breath of the night, wiggled her posterior at me.  I caught myself reaching for her, but my curiosity at her dual meaning stayed my hands, delving instead toward my own moistness.  A sharp intake of breath and I removed my hand; still too soon.

I could have sworn by the Blade I heard another animal rumble from the redhead before she replied with her own question, speaking into the night: "Do you really wish to know?"

For some reason – instinct? – I hesitated.  "Y-Yes."

"You do not sound certain."  She stretched again, the muscles along her back, buttocks, thighs, calves rippling in the muted glow.  I had an inexplicable vision of a bushy tail switching back-and-forth, maddeningly obscuring, and then revealing, her sex.  This time I could not resist, and I heard the growl as I grabbed for a buttock with one hand, cupped her genitals with the other, delved with a digit or two.  Whirling on me, teeth bared in a feral grin, yellow eyes glowing (had they not been green just moments ago?), the Huntress leapt atop me, pinning me once more.  This time I did not resist the tongue-bath around my ears, neck, and face, followed by a fierce kiss upon my bruised lips.  Still squirming, this time with pleasure, I completely forgot my question as she proceeded to my full breasts and ever lower…

Later that night I partook of her other gift in the Underforge.

What Aela had not mentioned was the killing; indeed, the hunger, to kill, in order to satiate the murderous, all-consuming rage.  The rage that never abated, was only briefly gratified by intense bouts of lovemaking, hunting, or even deadly combat versus other humanoids.  Nor had she mentioned the inability to sleep, the restlessness that drove one, every night, to either toss restlessly or else seek transformation into one's beast-form, and hunt; and eat – but not just anything.

As I had learned on that first night, simply slaughtering game animals and gorging oneself on them raw, would not suffice.  Not even predators, such as the sabrecat somewhat anon, had sated me.  I had simply assumed, then, the reason I had been sickened was that I had eaten them raw (entrails and all).  Nevertheless, I did not want to reflect on how I came to realise the horrific truth, and what it meant…