A Necromancer's Illusion ((Elder Scrolls, Charlie_Death & Shikokudarkstar))

[Charlie_Death]

Torchlight bounced off the walls of the dungeon that Gwinduin sought refuge in. When one wanted to perfect a new spell, he must be left to his own devices in solitude, concentrating entirely on nothing but the new incantations before him. For a Bosmer he was short; a minor defect that left him with a nasty temper that gained the respect and fear of his fellow necromancers. He had taken several apprentices over the past year, a Dunmer who flinches at the mention of Morrowind, a couple Nords (one of which was aging priest of Stendarr that contracted Porphyric Hemophilia on a pilgrimage), and a few others he didn't really care to know. They didn't mind either, often kept to themselves and seemed just as ambitious to learn how to master the discipline in raising the dead. A hodge podge group that often grew lazy and stagnant with research and studying the magics of conjuration and often mingled with nearby bandits. Gwinduin didn't really care if they left him alone to work on his spells.

He supposed having fled just enough of a distance from the border of his homeland of Valenwood into Skyrim was a blessing as his first excursion to establish a hideout was riddled with undead. What facinated him with a deep sense of destiny was that the ancient bodies seemed to be animated on their own accord with no true master other than a sense to protect their tomb. In fact, his current hideout wasn't too far from one of those tombs and as much as he tried to determine what brought the ancient Nords back to life, he was at a loss. So his current goal was to resurrect not only a simple mindless thrall as all ordinary necromancers do, he wanted to bring one back with not only loyalty to its new master but with the knowledge of its prior life. If only he could get that ancient knowledge and a mass an army of undead! His lord Hermaeus Mora ought to claim him his champion if he is to obtain the dark magics that died with the ancient Nords. After all, as a Bosmer who was raised to fear Necromancy as his ancestors had, he has come quite far, if not obsessed with it. The collection of souls for his rituals were the highlight of his year.

The only key to his room dangled on his hip as he began to pour his focus into his hands, violent violet energy circulating his slowly moving fingers as he began to slowly chant the latest version of his new spell in hopes it works this time. His amber eyes rose to meet the corpse of a recently slain traveler atop a table cluttered in soul gems. Absolutely nothing should interrupt his concentration, or so help them.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

There were many things a mercenary was needed for in the land of Skyrim. Jarls of all kinds had problems that they did not wish to send their own men out on. Bandits, Necromancers and all sorts of rogues were often the types that caused issues for the different holds. Most mercenaries started their work close to home and worked their way out, Shavir was no different. He had started from Morthal fifteen winters ago on his journey to be the best damn mercenary out there. So far he had been sent on many a quest that a normal man would be slain by. It didn’t hurt that he was a lycanthrope and it didn’t help him any that he was an odd mixture of three seemingly unrelated races. His mixed heritage was the reason he fought so hard. He wanted to win honor for his mixed father and his full-blooded mother. He was so sick of them being looked upon as abominations. Joining up with the companions had been an easy choice once he had heard of the honor to be had. Clawing his way to the top had been rough work but now he was looked upon as one of the secondary leaders to the pack. Even with his high status and his name in such high regard among his peers, it wasn’t enough. Shavir needed those who wounded his family to see how much better he was than them. How he, as a mixed blood was so much more than they could ever be. It was why he chose missions like these, missions that no man had ever come back from. This time he was sent out to take down a ring of notorious mix of necromancers and bandits. They had been killing people and stealing the bodies.

Pulling off his hood, Shavir stared at the entrance of the ancient fortress. Could no villain be original? It had taken only a day to get here on a hard run. This wasn’t exactly a secure location. Shavir had no issue getting into the building. A mercenary such as him had no issue slaughtering those who had broken the law before him until the blood of the beast overcame his vision. The wolf in his body reveled in the blood bath before him, transforming until the beast had been fully unleashed. Bodies piled up, and the rage only seemed to flood higher until he caught a scent. Even among all this blood and death he smelled the scent of home. The scent of the woodland. Following the scent like a hound on a trail, the werewolf left the gory aftermath of his battle down into the depths of the broken fortress. It was there he found the scent he was looking for, slamming the offending door that kept him from the person who wore that scent.

The wolf recede back into his body, allowing his appearance to appear human again. Pulling a bastard sword from one of the corpses, the amber eyes flashed as he inspected the man before him. An elf. Not one of his mother’s people, if it had been there would have been blood spilt. No High elf wanted to look at something that was a mixture of them as well as Nord and Khajiit. To them, Shavir was an abomination. He was an insult. That disloyality to his mother often put him into a blood rage farther. This wonderful smelling man was something else entirely. The leopard-like tail swung behind him like a whip, those keen eyes focused entirely on this wonder before him even while he bared his fangs. Wood Elf. This was a Wood Elf. Slamming the sword down onto the table, Shavir growled, blonde hair wild with battle. This was probably a man who needed to be slain. No matter what he smelled like.

 

[Charlie_Death]

The necromancers nor the bandits had even sense the incoming danger that was about to fall on them. They each carried out their usual routine of small talk or tormenting the only Dunmer simply because he is jumpy (they gave up trying to figure out the deal with Morrowind). Those inside were unaware of the strange man outside their hideout that single handedly slaughtered their bandit counterparts nor how the man of the strange stature collapsed and morphed into a beast. Inside it was calm and buisness as usual at least until the door busted open startling everyone. Immediately they began to fight back, ice spikes and lighting flying across the main room towards the massive beast. The Dunmer grabbed ahold of his staff of fireballs too late and was yanked back by the large hands of the werewolf. He hollered and grabbed as his dagger only to be slammed in the ground hard enough to crack his skull. As the fierce beast turned towards the others they too continued to retreat backwards knowing full well that if they got too close they would fall victim as their jumpy companion.

The vampire ran out from a side room at the sound of the yelling and thunderous roars of lighting striking the stone walls as the missed the fast beast. Immediately he resurrected the fallen Dunmer before chasing after the retreating necromancers. The Dunmer corpse rose slowly and clumsily before lifting the staff and following after his new master. The fight only lasted a few minutes longer although to those that were taking part had felt like it was much longer than that before they too died. Bodies and ashes were scattered about the entire fortress as the last survivor, the newest addition to the gang and mere novice ran for cover in a storage closet. The Imperial necromancer's chest heaved as she cowered behind the dresser she just barely managed to push against the door. She didn't know where she even found the strength to do so, perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing through her veins, or maybe it was the fear of dying. Whatever the cause she was grateful as she heard the werewolf dart its way past her hiding place. She had only been part of this group for almost two months and seeing her tutors and friends slaughtered was not what she had signed up for. She couldn't even concentrate enough to bring a single one back to fight when they were attacked and silently prayed that she wouldn't be the only one who survived the attack.

Just before Gwinduin could even complete his incantation and cast the dark void appearing energy to enter the body before him his concentration was broken by shouting. The energry so controlled dispersed and was released. It wasn't uncommon for arguments to get heated amongst his gang, if you could call them that, but how loud they were was uncommon if not extremely annoying. He turned away from the table and walked away from the door in hopes to get away from the noise. Almost as if on cue the shouting in the distance went quiet and all that was left was heavy footsteps towards the door.

Don't knock, don't knock, don't knock...' He chanted in his head before the door came crashing in. Who ever it was didn't knock but breaking the door set him into a fury.

"How many times do I have to--" Gwinduin stopped mid shout as a lycanthrope stood in the door. He pulled his hands up in a defensive position and watched as the beast reverted back to his true form. That wasn't the thing that frightened him into acting but that he grabbed a claymore and slammed it into the table severing his test subject in two and lodging the blade through the table. The Bosmer took a chance and cast a spell to calm the man beast before him. Luckily it worked and he just stood there and with the threat set aside Gwinduin got a good glimpse at him. He couldn't tell what he was, ears like an elf, body of a Nord and... was that a tail? Yes, it was. A tail swung lazily behind him and suddenly his rage to kill the one that disturbed him and capturing his soul dissipated. "What are you?" He walked towards him, keeping a distance and circled around to see the trail of fur that went up the man's spine, ignoring his nudity. Whatever he was he needed to be studied. He never knew that a Khajiit could breed outside their own race.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Bloodlust had always been something Shavir fell into easily once he was a werewolf. To be pushed off of it so suddenly by a spell that shouldn’t have taken him down was disconcerting. Home. The wolf inside him rumbled pleasurably, almost happy to be taken down by someone who smelled like home. The Nord and Altmer inside him rebelled. How dare someone half his size take him down? Granted with his mother’s Atlmer blood and his father’s Nordic blood he was rather tall and thick, a size that was rather hard to beat. That didn’t mean however that he didn’t run across those who were. Flexing his clawed hands, Shavir felt around the illusion spell’s effects. He couldn’t feel anything other than a mellow sense of peace. An annoying but effective effect in that he couldn’t and wouldn’t attack the man even though his mind wanted to. He really should have listened to his mother’s teachings instead of following his battle lust that somehow overpowered the other three quarters of his heritage. Deciding to ignore the Bosmer for the moment, Shavir cast a very simple healing spell. It wouldn’t clear the spell, just heal his wounds and keep his mind off of a different kind of feeling that was boiling through his veins.

Since the hybrid mercenary wasn’t a mage in any sense of the word besides one healing spell, he had no idea how it was that even with the calming illusion spell, his blood boiled. It wasn’t rage, violent emotions like that were pushed away to the wayside. Instead, his blood was sent boiling from the distinct feeling of lust. It was embarrassing. His cock was rising even as he gently pushed it down. The Bosmer before him was his enemy, he knew that but being a werewolf had its disadvantages. Meaning the man’s smell and the fact that he had been defeated in battle made the werewolf more than just a little horny. Of course, being exposed and feeling those intensely focused eyes on him wasn’t really helping either. And don’t even get him started on the fact he found the male body so much more attractive than he ever did the female body. Crossing swords was a bit of a pastime for Shavir in and out of the bed. That is if he could ever trust someone enough not to scream Khajiit when they saw him. A pain in the ass really, since he technically wasn’t allowed in any city because of his feline blood. Of course he usually hid the embarrassing appendage. At that stray thought, he curled his tail around his thickly muscled thigh, away from the Bosmer who was entirely too fascinated with it.

Upon remembering that the elf had asked question of his parentage, Shavir found himself curious to see what this man would have to say about his mixed parentage. No doubt some slur was going to be said about his mother but as he crossed his arms he still answered. “My grandmother was a Nord who fell in love with a Khajiit traveling in the caravans. I’m told it was a rather swift romance and they ended up having my father. My father traveled with the caravan a while before he met my mother….” Shavir eyed the man wearily, “One of the Thalmor wizards traveling across the whole of Skyrim. Upon seeing my father’s curious mixture she became fascinated and wanted to study him. I’m told they ended up in bed together after she kept examining him. Nine months later I was born and my mother was thrown out of the Thalmor.” From the lettered he received from the courier, the Thalmor were still trying to kill his family. Amazing how stuck up his mother’s people could be. Then again it was one of the reasons why everyone tended to hate the Altmer so maybe it wasn’t really all that amazing. One of the blessings of his mother’s people was that no one really believed the Altmer would mix blood. People usually thought he was a tan Nord or a full-blood but light colored Altmer depending on how he rearranged his armors and if he showed his elven ears.

Of course it also helped he was rather attractive. The mix of Altmer and Nordic skin came out to a lightly tan color without the sickly yellow full-blooded High Elves favored. His face was more built like a Nord with less harsh lines on the brow but still retained tilted eyes. The amber color was a throw-back from his grandfather but usually no one really paid attention to that. Gloves and boots kept the questions down on his claw-like nails but since he did have the body of a Nord, he really was quite muscular and tall like his mother had been. The tail and fur along his spine were the only thing that made Shavir unattractive. He had once tried to cut his tail off but the attempt had damaged a nerve along his spine and left him paralyzed until his mother fixed him. From then on he knew there could be nothing done for it so he hid it inside his pants or worked it off as a belt. Going shirtless of course wasn’t an option with the fur and sex most certainly wasn’t on the table until by another Khajiit. He found his Grandfather’s people were rather open to him.

Shavir ran a hand through his mane of blond hair, wild from his transformation. His tongue ran over his fangs as he watched the wood elf. The man didn’t seem too perturbed by the mercenary looking ready to devour him. Of course if the elf was anything like his mother than the fact that he was alive was so much more interesting than the fact that he was going to pounce this bloody elf. “You don’t really smell like a necromancer. You don’t smell of rotting corpses.” The hybrid purred now and spoke in a husky tone, “You smell of the wild woodlands. Even among all this death you smell of life.” Shavir huffed pushing his raging hard-on down, shivering at the touch. What was it about this man that made him want to bend over and present himself? He might be the enemy but the more Shavir smelled this wild scent, the more he was fighting to keep his control. He was more like a feral beast most days. Smart, quick and resourceful but he tended to be easily misled by his own instincts and body.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Gwinduin continued to pace the brute that had smashed his way into his little sanctuary. He knew about the studies on lycanthopes but to see one before him that was also a feline (a rather comical combination he had to admit) was too good to pass up. He was so intent on studying the outer physiology of the man that he completely overlooked his subtle gestures to hide his rising indecency. Instead the single attribute that really caught his attention was the slowly swaying appendage and the small trail of fur that traced it's way up the man's spine. He reached over to touch it, curious to feel the warmth that fur retained when the body was still warm itself; he had spent so long handling corpses he nearly forgotten how warm another person really was, not that it was anything was ever bothered with.

He listened with silent awe as the man recited his ancestry with the slightest tint of anger that he wasn't sure if the man knew he had. Still, although he wasn't the best with the Illusion school of magic Gwinduin was confident that his calm spell wasn't going to wear off any time soon and simply ignored the feeling of the man's eyes piercing his bubble. Hearing the odd mixture was much more distracting and pulled his thoughts away from the gaze that followed his constant circling.

"Thalmor? Really?" Gwinduin let out a low chuckle with sick pleasure at the news of the man's mother's downfall. He detested the Altmers more than the priests of Arkay, those in particular from his childhood. Few they were then but a huge pain in the ass they were to tip toe around. "She got what was coming for her, damn high elves. So snooty and think they are better than all of us other elves, I can barely stand the thought of being of similar blood to them. Still..." Gwinduin paused stroking his bare chin as the stared at the mans clawed hands and feet, eyes unfocused in deep thought. "Absolutely mind boggling that such a genetic combination is even possible to occur naturally. Your parents didn't worship any Daedra did they? No, of course not..." He leaned back onto the remains of the smashed table pondering when the man before him spoke up as he brushed his hair back and the Bosmer got a glimpse of the mutt's own interests. A quick wave of repulsion washed over him before he snapped back to attention giving the mercenary before him a heated look.

"What?" Gwinduin narrowed his eyes further as he spoke slowly. "I still smell like Valenwood?" He paused and nearly spat on the floor in contempt before letting out a loud forced laugh. "How fucking ironic. Spend most of my life buried in putrid rotting flesh and pursuing the darker nature of magic involving death and I smell of life! The one thing I enjoy robbing others of!" He threw off the hood of his robes and scratched the back of his head. His dark hair was ruffled from being under a hood for so long and became more messy as he scratched. It was long enough to reach the back of his neck and rest on his shoulders slightly, the result of being holed up in his personal study for nearly a month. "I swear if you even ask me about knowing anything about archery or trees or any of that bullshit just because I still smell of woodlands, I swear I will steal your fucking soul, smash the gem and piss on the fragments!"

He looked up at the beast of a man with renewed contempt, his once curiosity pushed aside by his anger and resentment for having to flee his homeland simply because of their superstitious fears of necromancy. He wasn't very much happy there anyways, but he would have rather left on his own terms rather than flee. He walked over to a cage where another body that had been locked within long enough to be stricken with rigor mortis. He opened the cage door and grabbed the body by the leg and dragged it out in it's oddly hunched over and contorted body around the sword the pierced the corpse's midsection. The unfortunate fellow kept interrupting him with begging until Gwinduin could take it no longer and had stabbed him with his own weapon. Once the body was just outside he stood by the door and gestured inside. "Get in."

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Shavir felt a soft hand along his fur, something he normally wouldn’t allow but with the calm spell, he found himself more heated with the touch. The man seemed to know what to do. He didn’t tug or pull at the appendage and treated it like it was fragile, something most people didn’t know how to do. Shavir couldn’t help how sensitive that the appendage was. Most of the time when someone knew how to touch it, he let them and they ended up in bed together. However this calm spell seemed to take all the rules and throw them out the window. Of course he still pulled his tail away from the man and wrapped his tail around his muscled thigh.

A frown covered his face at the dig on his mother. Most people said something about her. Often that she was a Thalmor, or that she was just a high elf. A part of him felt disappointed that this elf was the same as all the others. This elf who was probably getting the same amount of shit for being a Bosmer with a necromancy specialization. Of course the man wouldn’t see it that way. Probably hated the Altmer like everyone else, not that it was uncommon. Snooty was not a word that Shavir would use to describe his mother, nor for that matter did she think she was better than most people. Most Altmer did and Shavir could understand the drawl, the magic of Altmer was just more plentiful…a reason High Elves thought they were a higher being. Shavir’s mother had lost that. She was scary as fuck, no doubt about that but she commanded instead of looked down upon. She worked miracles with her magic as the people needed it. She wasn’t like most Altmer so Shavir didn’t like when his mother was lumped into the same category as other Altmer. Although he could understand enjoying her downfall from Thalmor. Sometimes he was so very glad she knew she was wrong at being a Thalmor. Of course he as a child in her womb helped her along that road.

The words that Shavir had said seemed to have an effect. Of course he didn’t think that the man would react quite like that. The elf didn’t like the idea that the mercenary wanted in his pants of course the hybrid doubted that the man had any idea that Shavir had no interest in fucking the man like a dog…quite the opposite. Of course that didn’t mean he would allow himself to be treated like a dog. The elf slid off his hood and though the beast in Shavir wanted to kneel down right there and suck the dick of this beautiful man…he would not let this else treat him like a beast. Telling him to go into a cage? After he had just pulled a corpse out of it? Really? Who was being uppity now?

“I had dearly hoped you were house trained but I seem to be mistaken. Even I don’t piss on things to mark my territory. Who’s being snooty now? I seem to notice that it isn’t the Altmer in this room, now is it? Funny, one comment over how you smell as someone of your blood should even among death and you’ve got your underclothes knotted so tight that I doubt you could find your balls.” Shavir spoke in a dry tone, like he was less than thrilled with the man before him. That he didn’t deserve respect.

“See, you call Altmers horrible for looking down on others but is this Altmer the one who started treating you like a dog? I think not. Wolf only respect those who have earned their spot. My dick might be hard but my mind? You’ve totally shriveled it. You might have done some good for yourself by fucking me but you aren’t earning anything but my ire with your attitude? What crawled up your ass and died? Some poor creature you brought back because you were so frightened of letting someone touch you, living? You’re nothing but a puppy trying to be a wolf!” Shavir looked at his nails, bored with the elf. Amazing really that he got all that out while the elf looked about ready to murder him. Shavir couldn’t threaten him with the calm spell on him but he sure as hell could let out that huge amount of venom.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Gwinduin frowned when the Khajiit hybrid didn't move from his spot. He had a terribly low patience with people especially when he was ordering them around and now, this freak of nature was disobeying him? Sure the man had a lot of muscle and strength on his side but he had no idea just how bad this Bosmer's temper really was. The casual tone that he spoke in, that utter look of disinterest. Oh how it got under his skin and crawled around like worms in his blood trying to escape through every pore in his body. He began trembling as he struggled to control himself, face growing darker as he grew more furious.

How dare he be compared to the Altmer! This hybrid didn't even have a right to claim Altmer blood as if he was a full elf! He was a mix of the three worst! High and mighty Altmer (the descendent of a member of the Thalmor), the loud and drunk brainless Nords and those traveling flee infested skooma dealing Khajiit! He always saw himself as doing a favour to the rest of the Empire since the majority of the Khajiit and Argonians he killed were dealers. Cleaning up the roads between boarders, Mr. Fucking Nice Necromancer harvesting the souls of those who would be imprisoned anyways! And now this asshole that barged into his sanctuary has the nerve to lecture him!

Gwinduin doesn't even know how he managed to remain quiet for as long as he did but it felt like hours, days even. Each word bore into him and tore him apart from the inside firing up flames that could challenge even those of a fire atronach. Hell, even those in Oblivion couldn't top the fiery anger that was about to burst through him. He hated being bunched in with Altmers or even being compared to them, he on occasion could have a mutual dislike but functional relationship (if you could call it that) with one but they were always short lived. But the implications that he would even want to remotely have any sexual relations with that horrid creature before him (admitedly would have been attractive if he hadn't pissed him off) was the worst. Even making him seem as if he has some form of phobia with the living. He was fine with them but what had they really offered him? Nothing! The most he learned was from his dealings with Hermaeus Mora and the occasional other follower or passing necromage. He spent his time dealing with the dead simply for the fact that they didn't bitch him out like this, put him down or even attempt to suggest something as vulgar as what the hybrid did. He had no fear of the living but to make him seem like a coward. Gwinduin, a child who turned away from the priesthood of Arkay, burned his only family connections in a dark pursuit of knowledge, was anything but a coward.

"You have no idea who you're TALKING TO!!" Gwinduin shouted, his voice growing louder with each syllable. He let out a near feral scream as he flipped over the table causing one of the severed halves of the body to bump against the other man's body. "I am not a coward and I'm nothing like that those damn elves!! You pompous, over grown, bald flee bag!" He stomped his way over to the man kicking every thing out of his way. The few soul gems that littered the floor from the lycanthrope's rampage flew past his head. Mysticism may have been a nearly forgotten and removed school of magic, at least as far as the Mage's College was concerned but in his travels he picked up numerous old tomes that had spells. Developing spells on telekinesis was simply his way of minimalising effort and practicing his magicka control. That and he had something to hold over other mage's heads for the simple fact that he is one of the few practitioners of such spells. "You talk down to me like I'm the animal! Like I'M the one that came barging into a locked room and destroyed someone's life time research! Do you have any idea just how difficult it is to come across a body that isn't so badly damaged to reanimate with conscious thought??? No?? I didn't think so! Do you know how fucking long it has been since I finally had enough QUIET to even concentrate?! You barged in here, and I presume you slaughtered my apprentices and their acquaintances and you have the audacity to accuse me of being snooty and treating you like a dog?"

Gwinduin had marched his way to the hybrid and managed to kick his feet out from under him and pushing him back with a sudden burst of frost against his chest. The moment the man was of the floor he placed a mud covered boot on his chest and bent down, tearing the dagger from his belt free and pushing it against the man's neck. "I'm fucking sorry, dog, but I wasn't the one that was literally a fucking wolf five minutes ago! Or should I call you a feline? And no, I'm not scared to touch the living. See? I'm touching you aren't I?" The Bosmer jabbed him in the chest several times before grabbing him by the hair and holding his head still, pulling the rest of his weigh on top of him so that he was squatting on his chest and abdomen. "Before you pull your high and mighty descendent of a fucking high elf bullshit on me, you better watch yourself. When I said I would steal your soul I fucking meant it." He pulled a black soul gem into his hand and held it before him. "I don't piss to mark my territory but to show my contempt and loathing and I'd rather have nothing more than to cut you down and apart to see what makes you tick."

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

This was not exactly what he had in mind when he decided to give the prompous elf a piece of his mind. He had been pissed beyond believe at the insult to his mother that he hadn’t thought about how this angry short elven man would react. He had fallen into the sweet trap of underestimated his enemy while under a calm spell. If that didn’t make his stupider than before than he didn’t know what did. The man had used rage like a spell to increase strength. Of course since the calm spell hadn’t worn off, there was nothing that the hybrid could do to fight back against the angry Bosmer. It was stupid but at the same time it was one of the best things he did. Like a wicked spriggen the elf had somehow turned the tables around on Shavir and had him pinned. Did the man have any idea what he was doing? As a Bosmer, the elf had dead-on instinct at how to handle animals. The werewolf had been forced into a position that was eerily like that of one of his own dominating him. Of course since he was erect and hot before all of this diabolical started, he was throbbing at this point. There was no way in hell the man would give him what his wolf so desperately needed. Shit he wanted to use his hands and push those legs apart before servicing the man above him.

“Dominate.” The word was so soft that he were doubted the elf heard him but the hybrid rolled his head back and stretched his neck out for the man, fully submissive to anything that the man wanted to do. Anything at this point was fair game. Cock throbbing and stiff as it was though, Shavir wanted nothing more than to beg for this man’s cock. Would he get what he wished for? Would this elf even know what to do with him? The messages had been mixed. The feline tail curled harshly to the side, and even though the elf couldn’t see that move exposed the werewolf’s eager entrance.

For the first time in a long while he wished his ass could get wet like a woman’s hole. He wanted nothing more than to just have his new dominate slam deep and hard into him. He was so hungry, so very hungry to be dominated. It had been so long since anyone had found him out. Most thought he wanted to pin people down and fuck them…little did they know he liked just the opposite. His last lover had been a good while ago before he left his father’s caravan, an older Khajiit had fucked him raw and hard. He had loved it. Hadn’t been able to sit right for weeks but he had felt right. Like how he felt now, so deliciously submissive that he could melt. Clawed hands flexed, Shavir licked his fangs, panting lightly. Closing his eyes, he opened his mouth to beg in a voice that sober from submissive he would be so embarrassed by. “Please… Please.”

The elf moved then, allowing the hybrid to sit up, blinking owlishly before moving into the cage that before he had been unimpressed by. Relaxed as he was, he knelt in front of the holding devices, his cock ridged. Waiting a moment, he nuzzled into the elf’s crock. He licked the man’s crotch. He was just so hungry. Not for food but for the sex he needed so badly he felt as though he would fall apart.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Gwinduin did not hear the word that the hybrid spoke, his anger clouded his own judgement and observational skills. Fairly common with him but there was one thing he did notice, the look in the man's eyes changed. The fire and defiance that was presence was replaced with a submissiveness, a look that said he is giving up. "Are you going to go into the fucking cage now?" He paused to listen and all he could hear was a whispered begging as the man's eyes fluttered closed. A wave of power rushed through Gwinduin's veins. He has always been power hungry if not aroused by the idea of putting others below his feet to use as he pleased. His interactions were so few that when he could he often found himself aroused and a couple times had become so enveloped in the power in dominance that he fucked the one that he put down. In fact it was nearly 4 years ago a day before he left for Skyrim. She had been a travelling messenger of Arkay, a champion if you will, who wanted to put an end to the necromancer that had taken root. A mage of inferior skill to him that fought in words when she was low on magicka. It could have been considered rape but she was the first to disrobe herself.

Somewhere, lost in his thoughts the Bosmer had pulled the lycanthrope (or order he couldn't really recall) into the cage. Without a single thought or moment of hesitation, he shackled him to the cage walls, metal collar fastened around his neck and two smaller ones on his wrists. Each were given about a foot of chains for movement but the person shackled in wouldn't be able to stand up or move their hands lower than their shoulders. The look of desperation and need, of submissive begging penetrated into his amber eyes. Gwinduin could feel the sudden tightening of his undergarments at the sight of the nude man, fully erect, wordlessly begging.

"You really want me to fuck you." Gwinduin let out a laugh that was dark and heavy in lust. He had never really found himself attracted to men but someone so tall and physically stronger than him to be shackled with little resistance and to have such a submissive position, legs spread and fully exposed was enough for him to give it a shot or at least not be bothered with the idea. Without grace and without breaking his heated glare, the shorter male disrobed and watched the other's reaction. "You really want my dick, don't you? Fine. Fucking take it then." He stepped in front of him, grabbing the wild hair tightly and shoved his own erect cock into his mouth. "Bite and I will make your death painful and slow," he growled as he gave a few thrusts into his mouth.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Biting was the last thing on Shavir’s mind, in fact if he had any part of his rational mind left he would have laughed at the man for even the suggestion of biting. Of course with a mouth full of cock and none of his rational mind, he only purred in answer of the man’s thrusts. It took a little while until he figured out the necromancer’s rhythm and became the perfect submissive devourer of cock. Of course he wasn’t too perfect because he was starving for that cock in other places as well. Clawed hands flexed uselessly, wanting nothing more than to touch the necromancer or himself. A whine came from him as his body shivered. Sure, he kept sucking and if the elf was anything but pleased with the way that Shavir was devouring him, he didn’t say. No teeth were involved but….suction? Purring? And anything else that Shavir could think of to please that cock that would soon be flooding his body with semen? Oh those were game. The elf of course had only a taste of the hunger that Shavir’s body was feeling. If the hybrid didn’t get anything in his body, he might just become violent.

Of course, he was starting to solve that problem himself, since that power hungry elf had put him in this position, one that was making Shavir shiver in lust. His cock was throbbing and leaking at this point, so ready to come that he wanted nothing more than to cum. That feline tail that the necromancer elf had been fascinated with was now dipping itself in Shavir’s precum and using the semen to lubricate his insides. Most people probably would have been off-put by the whole idea but the rewards might be worth the risk on this one. Once his entrance was nice and slimy he flicked his tail out, rubbing against his entrance with the base while he waited for his elf to finish with his mouth and get his fat cock into his ass where it belongs.

The hybrid’s cock was angry and engorged, leaking now and again like it couldn’t hold back from letting off some pressure before it blew up. Of course it didn’t help that the Bosmer was naked before him, nothing between them to hold them back from fucking like the beasts they were. It also didn’t help that the hybrid’s hands were pretty much useless. Shavir wanted to finger himself, but instead he was stuck squatting in this position in order to keep sane and ready of this Bosmer to finish fucking him. Maybe the man needed a reminder that there was more to Shavir than just a mouth. Giving an extra hard suck, designed only to get the man’s attention, not injure him, the hybrid let out a muted whimper. This was more torturous than the man could ever be with pain. The elf just needed to fuck him already.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Gwinduin continued to thrust roughly into the man's mouth with little consideration for any discomfort. He choked out a half moan at the vibrations of the purring moans of the Khajiit hybrid beneath him. He picked up the rhythm, pulling the other man's head with his tight grip to get as deep as he could. Hearing the clank of chains as the now imprisoned man moved his hands in an attempt to reach either himself or the Bosmer, whichever Gwinduin didn't care. He was more focused and driven in satisfying himself in the storm of lust and rage. He no longer cared if this was a man he was fucking, or that he was some odd mixture of races. All that the elf knew was that he wanted more, something other than just his mouth.

He pulled out suddenly and gave the man a quick backhand. He had no reason to strike him but so many endorphins and adrenaline was pumping through his veins from his rage he couldn't quite help himself. He stepped back and saw the man's painful erection, completely untouched and throbbing in need. Gwinduin let out a laugh and pressed the sole of his boot against the organ and pressed it down against the man's stomach. He watched the man's face as he alternated from pressing his boot against the man's hard cock to tapping against his balls with the tip of his boot. Something about that little contact sent additional waves of power and dominance through him. As he saw it, no man should handle another's genitals in such away especially with no resistance being met. It was... intoxicating and he just wanted to push the man's limits right there, to abuse his crotch in the most cruel of ways but he held back just to listen to him and taunt his new subject.

"You are so fucking pathetic. Big bad mercenary probably here because of a bounty all shackled up like the puny being he really is." Gwinduin's tone shifted from anger to one of mockery laced in his toxic lust. "Who's the pup playing wolf now? I bet your balls ache so much right now." He chuckled as he pressed the heel of his boot against the man's testicles and ground them into him. The sounds the man made, the expressions washing over his face were so intoxicatingly brilliant that the Bosmer could barely handle the renewed ache of his own cock. With one final side sweep of his boot against the man's erection, watching it bounce back and throb even more on the verge of orgasm the elf knelt down between his legs. Without any sense of preparation or consideration of discomfort he positioned himself at the man's entrance and forced himself in with a grunt. Feeling the man's breath on his face as he did this he shot a hand out and covered his face, pushing his head back into the metal bars behind him. "You damned.... tempting... harlot..." Gwinduin moaned out through his teeth as he began to thrust into the hybrid as hard and rough as he could channeling all his anger and agitation into each thrust. Fucking another man felt degrading if not invigorating at the same time. A sense of power that he never felt before especially as he saw the thick rippling muscles of the other man's body below him. He could easily become addicted to this sense of dominance over another being.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Shavir wasn’t expecting the slap when it came, after the elf had pulled out of his mouth from the rough fucking, he had expected the man to get right to the man show. Of course that didn’t happen quite like he thought, the smack had come and he was flashing his fangs after the fact only to stop when he noticed the elven necromancer looking at him in a way he hadn’t expected. The man loved the feeling of power he had over Shavir. That much was obvious, and the way he was looking at the hybrid, made him think that the elf wanted to fuck him out of his mind. Shavir had no qualms against rough sex but he found himself shivering when the elf pressed his boot against his erection. It hurt, there was not doubt about that, but Shavir couldn’t help the shaky moan that left his shivering body. His cock hurt, angry and red, it was about ready to release its load all over the elf’s boot. Clawed hands gripped tightly onto the chains, pain and pleasure warring through his body. That diabolical boot wasn’t finished however, instead after he tormented his cock for a bit; the elf found the need to tap on his aching balls. A startled yelp came out of Shavir’s mouth before the elf ground his balls back into his body. The hybrid shook more visibly now, his testicles sore but at the same time the act somehow gave him pleasure. He didn’t think about himself as liking pain but at the same time he couldn’t seem to stop the pleasure he felt from the demeaning acts that the elf was doing to him. In fact, a few taps in and his cock squirted a little precum in pleasure. The hybrid didn’t know how much longer he could hold back. His body ached and shivered from the pleasure of submission. No one had been this rough before but he couldn’t stop the elf and he really didn’t want too.

At least until the man started talking, then he wanted to shut him up. Not because he was on the brink of emotional meltdown or anything, hell his mother had said harsher things to make him tougher. But, these words from the man who was dominating and owning his body so completely, was embarrassing. A blush ran down Shavir’s face, his body betraying his own deep lust as he felt his balls abused once more. He didn’t look the man in the eye, instead, looking down embarrassedly at the cock before him. The whines and moans formed shaky words, jumbled but still begging for the elf to fuck him. A few more times tormenting Shavir’s cock and balls though, and the elf seemed to have worked himself up into a frenzy.

It was then that the main event happened. Shavir thanked the nine that he had already prepped himself with his tail earlier otherwise it would have been more pain instead of delicious ache. The hybrid growled a little when the elf pushed his face away but his annoyance was remedied as the man started thrusting hard into him. It had only taken a few thrusts into Shavir before the hybrid had reached his limit. Semen splattered them both as Shavir came, a guttural howl leaving his mouth leaving the werewolf’s mouth. The mercenary wasn’t done however, even as his body clenched down and milked the Bosmer’s cock for all it’s worth….the hybrid held on lightly to the man’s hand before suckling the man’s fingers, his voice husky and bestial, “Please…breed me…master!” Each thrust after his climax, shot lightening into his veins, pain and pleasure mixed from the over-sensitized prostate gland. Maybe Shavir was the harlot that the necromancer proclaimed but he wasn’t letting the elf leave until he got his semen.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Gwinduin continued to thrust into the hybrid as rough as he could, thrusts growing harder and more erratic as the sounds of their bodies slapping against each other and the frantic panting and moans filled the room. He hardly took notice in the other's man cum splashing onto his stomach, he was far too preoccupied with the sudden tightness around his own organ. He slowed shivering in pleasure, slowly thrusting into the man, relishing in the tightness that enveloped him. His slowness didn't last too long, he couldn't help but pick up the pace wanting to reach his own climax. Feeling the wetness of the Khajiit Elven Nord's tongue on his fingers, Gwinduin looked up to his face for the first time since he thrust in. He focused so much on fucking that he nearly forgot who or just what he was fucking. The look of pure enjoyment and the dedication the man put into licking his fingers was exotic. The Bosmer shoved two fingers in the man's mouth and watched him swallow them up eagerly, desperate for more. Adding a third, he moved his fingers in and out remembering the feeling of when he was fucking his mouth. He continued to fuck the man watching his face as his tongue and mouth practically worshiped the fingers inside.

It wasn't much longer that Gwinduin came in a series of hard, forceful thrusts and a long drawn out guttural moan. He pulled his fingers out of the hybrid's mouth and collapsed, resting his forehead on his chest trying to catch his breath. His hair stuck to his forehead as sweat caused both their bodies to glisten in the dim light of the diminishing torchlight. After a few moments he pulled out slowly and stood feeling exhausted and tired. He walked out of the cage with a slight stumble in his steps before turning back to take in the sight before him. A muscular man of a peculiar mix of races, slumped back covered in sweat and semen entirely nude. Their eyes met for a moment and a rock of guilt and disgust settled in the elf's gut. He had done the one thing he has never thought himself of doing, to have sexual intercourse with a man. Had he been untouched for so long that he became that desperate?

Gwinduin looked down at himself and touched the cooling cum on his stomach and gave the substance looking a mixture of shame and disgust yet the same residual feelings of dominance remained. He couldn't decide if he was proud that he had so dominated a man who was a good foot taller and twice his size muscle wise or disappointed in himself for stooping so low as to have sex with him. The man had pissed him off! And what did he get pissed off about? Oh yes, he insinuated that he wanted to fuck him and that it was the only good that he could do. Yet what did he just finish doing? Giving that lycanthrope feline exactly what he wanted after he had declared that he had no interest in him in such a way. He would only be interesting as a research subject! Not... whatever it was that just happened.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Shavir purred as he worshiped the fingers before him. Even though his own orgasm had raged deep through him, he couldn’t seem to help himself from enjoying the act of serving his more dominate partner. The elf seemed to enjoy the treatment sliding in those elegant fingers fucking the hybrid’s mouth while he finished fucking Shavir deep into his entrance. The necromancer seemed fascinated at the change from war-worn mercenary to eager submissive. Though Shavir doubted many people wouldn’t be surprised by his transformation. Shavir tended to hide that side of himself well from most everyone. Neither the necromancer nor the hybrid lasted long, and quite frankly Shavir didn’t expect them too. He doubted with the bosmer’s disposition and knowing his own history, that either of them got to do this often. However it still seemed far too soon though that Shavir felt the flood of semen from the elf flow into his body. The beast inside the hybrid rejoiced, enjoying the scent of their mixed sex. It reveled in the feeling of being so thoroughly dominated. Holding his clawed hands against the chains, Shavir relaxed into the feel of the wood elf inside him. The mercenary wasn’t really bothered that he was still chained up against the wall. His submissive tendencies still hadn’t gone back under the shroud that he hid them behind. In fact, as he listened to the sounds of their panting together. Touch was an important part of Khajiit and Werewolf culture. Having grown up with his father’s caravan, Shavir loved to feel another’s touch on his skin. However since having to act the part of a Nord or an elf, he didn’t get the luxury of touch.

Far too soon the bosmer moved, pulling his softening cock out of Shavir’s entrance. The hybrid blinked owlishly, watching the elf passively as the man stumbled out of the cage. Now came the time for the aftermath of their coupling, the part where the bosmer would hate himself. Feral-tinted hazel eyes looked over at Shavir, meeting his own wild amber. In this position, slumped so that he was held up by the bondage equipment that the elf had placed him in, Shavir could still see the thoughts that raced through his spontaneous sex partner. Shavir’s khajiit tail swished under him lazily but beneath the skin, his beast raved. There was something else he would have to pester his necromancer capture about. Opening his mouth, he licked his fangs a moment before he spoke in a lazy, sated tone. “You’re letting it run out.” Shavir pulled himself up slightly, he knew the elf probably didn’t want to see what it was exactly that the hybrid was talking about but the beast inside was growling. He had been breed rough and hard by a more dominate male, after being breed, normally a werewolf would be knotted deep inside until their seed absorbed. Without a knot to hold the bosmer’s seed, the submissive part of the beast’s nature was a little irritated. Shavir licked his fangs again in thought, “Give me my hands back and let me push it back in.”

There was no challenge in the tone, it was just a statement of fact. Shavir had been dominated. Now it was only natural that he smelled like the man who dominated him. However, Shavir had been a bit of a cum whore before he had become a were. The hybrid loved the feeling of having another mark him deep inside. It was rare but he liked to push something deep inside and hold the seed of his lover there. A freak habit but everything was laid bare before this bosmer. The necromancer had somehow broken through Shavir’s defense and showed the submissive who laid beneath. Of course the man’s scent seemed to set off the wolf inside the hybrid that had been protecting his most vulnerable parts.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Gwinduin continued in his self-loathing and further enraging thoughts. He was growing more frustrated and angry at himself for stooping so low and at the captive for causing him to stoop so low. It was shameful and he would have gone on a mental list on various other phrases to describe the situation had his attention not been snapped away from his thoughts. At the voice of the werewolf the Bosmer gave his visual attention as his brain tried to slow to comprehend what he was going on about. His eyes trailed the muscular body as he was asked to free him. There was a simple answer to that. A simple single syllable answer that for some reason struggled to come out as he focused on the slowly leaking fluids from the orifice he had penetrated moments before. His eyes darted up to gauge the expression on the other's face. There was a need in his eyes and a weak look. However it wasn't weak as in lacking of strength, but weak in resistance. His rush of dominance returned and he could see that he had control. Complete control. He could see how the semen leaving the hybrid's body was bothering him and how he desperately wanted to hold onto it.

"No." There was the word he was trying to get out. He stepped close and bent over him, grabbing the Kajhiit Nord Altmer mix by the chin and cheeks, squeezing it tightly. "Unless you beg." He growled and a heaviness returned to his voice. "Beg for permission to have that comfort." If Gwinduin wasn't so focused on the emotions and thoughts racing behind those feral eyes he would have taken notice to his growing arousal in asserting himself against the physically superior male. Perhaps somewhere he could find a logical reason to forgive himself of his transgressions of that evening but that was for a later time when he was alone.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Shavir shifted his body again at the man's order. Beg? He arched his back, his body bowed in a submissive position. The feline tail swishing slightly as he spoke, "Please, master. Allow me the comfort of a single hand to push your seed back into my body where it belongs. Allow me the comfort of your scent and seed deep inside my body where it belongs." The Kajhiit Nord Altmer hybrid craned his head back slightly in a move that exposed his vulnerable neck to the teeth of the man before him. Or blade really, since the Bosmer wasn't a werewolf even if he did seem to know what buttons to push to make Shavir show his deeply hidden side. "You bred me. You claimed me. I want to push your seed back inside so everyone can smell it and know who owns me." Somewhere in his human side he doubted that would make sense to the man since Shavir was the only werewolf here and he doubted that his new master would let him go. Also he knew somewhere down in his human half that he probably shouldn't be calling what they had done breeding. Fucking, yes but he doubted you could call it breeding when there was no logical way that he could conceive the other man's child. Of course this was a necromancer and he did worship Daedra if the altar in the other part of the ruin was a clue.

Curling his fingers, the hybrid lowered his head back down before looking at the bosmer's body. There wasn't any challenge in his stare and once the necromancer caught him looking he lowered his gaze again. Perhaps he could voice his other wants as well. The man was close enough to be a tease to his senses. As a werewolf, touch was everything. A flush came over his cheeks as his body started to attempt to rise again. Amber eyes looked away as the clawed fingers curled and uncurled. The feral orbs glanced up into the necromancer's eyes before looking away quickly. Maybe if he was a few decades younger he could have gotten an erection again but as it was...it wasn't happening. Shavir glanced once more at the man's body before he licked his lips nervously. Gently and very slowly he twisted his body so that he could use what little leverage he had to get close to the elf before him. Looking up a moment, he gauged the other's expression before slowly sticking his tongue out and casting an expository lick against the elf's nether regions.

He kept a weary eye on the bosmer's movements, really to pull back at the first sign that the man was getting ready to hit him. A few licks around the male's flesh sword and the hybrid was sure that the elf had caught on. Cleaning his new master after all was one of his new duties and if the look of disgust that the necromancer had earlier was anything to go by, then it was one of the more important ones.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Ownership, the captive mercenary or adventurer or whatever he was verbally reduced himself to an object. An object for Gwinduin to possess; to do as he wanted. Another shiver rushed down his spine and he felt stronger and even larger than the man before him. He may be nearly half his size but he was superior and the thoughts swam up to his head and pushed out the self-loathing that had returned. He gave the hybrid a wide grin, one that he often had when he had tortured others for experiments or when he had cast soul trap on them. The sense of power that he often got drunk on in his few exploits with the living was rekindled in an entirely new manner. At the first tentative lick he leaned his hips closer and watching as the hybrid cleaned the mess that had remained.

Granting what the other wanted he unshackled a single hand, eyes piercing into the other's in a dare to disobey him. Silently warning him not to over step his new boundaries. He watched carefully, mind cranking and running through ideas and scenarios. Did he truely control this newly acquired slave? Of course. Was the going to test the other's obedience? Naturally. Would he keep him on a leash? Well, now that was a fascinating idea, keeping the other as nothing more than a pet; a guard dog. A guard dog he can dominate and release his tensions into. Or just a meager cat to pet. Something told him that the other wouldn't be entirely against that kind of life.

When he felt that the man had done a sufficient job at cleaning him off he walked away leaving him alone without another word. Though of course he wasn't entirely alone for awhile Gwinduin was still in the same room, cleaning up the mess of the broken door, knocked over soul gems, discarded clothes, etc. Once he was redressed and felt that he did a good job cleaning he stood at the doorway and stared at the man in the cage. He had purposely left the door open to see if the other would move from his spot or attempt to break free of the single shackle that held him in position. He had to see the damage that was dealt and to make an offering to his Lord for granting a chance to learn something extremely fascinating and rare. Once that was through he would return to see if his new subject had made an escape.

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Shavir tested the shackle on the other hand quietly as the necromancer left. He wasn't trying to get free but he wanted to know how much the shackle could hold before he accidentally broke it. Leaving it for the moment he arched his body back instead, pushing the semen that had been leaking out back into his body before an annoyed growl came to the surface. Really he should have thought about this before he made that request. The hybrid rattled his chains as he shifted position again looking up every now and again to make sure that the elf didn't think he was trying to get loose. More he was trying to figure out what the hell to stuff his hole with before all of the precious semen leaked out onto the floor. Which was exactly what he didn't want to happen.

Amber eyes scanned the area before he found something that just might work. A greater soul gem. One of the lovely blue ones that often came with three different spikes. Never before had the mercenary been so happy to be part Khajiit. It was a simple task then to work his body and move it in ways that normal races couldn't. Quite frankly if anyone had been watching he would have given them quite the show in contortion-ism before finally grabbing the gem with his tail. Only to sigh when he saw how sharp the gem was. No way in hell it was going up his ass like that. Running the gem against the cell wall, the hybrid found the solution to that problem.

He doubted that his mother nor his new master would be too keen on his work. He filed down all the sharp edges of the gem until he had a shape that looked somewhat phallic in nature. From then it was easy to slide his new work into his body and plug the slow leak of fluids. Really, mercenary work had paid off if he would make a plug out of a soul gem. Wait...did he really just think that?

A sigh left him as he listened to the elf clean up the debris that their fight had left. Shavir should probably be more worried about getting loose but if he was honest with himself, his nature wouldn't let him. He was a werewolf. A large, transformed wolf who liked to hunt in packs. The bosmer was king among the animals. It was only natural that the man new what to do with his wolf side. Still though, Shavir didn't expect to be turned into a pet dog. His instinct was to serve his alpha and his deepest self didn't mind the idea at all. Even if many of his instincts from his unique breeding caused conflict. His werewolf instincts won out. Letting out a sound he shuffled into a slightly better position before using his free hand to scratch all the sudden itches he had from being unable to use his hands.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Gwinduin paced through the whole fortress noting the carnage that was scattered about. His apprentices and the bandits that had been obtaining all his supplies lie dead in their own blood. If he wasn't so keen on expanding his powers as a necromancer he would have been more upset by the situation, instead he was rather excited to have so many new subjects to work his castings on. He made his way to the opposite side of the fortress where he had erected a shrine encircled by 10 soul gems, one containing a soul of each of the races of Tamriel. He rarely approached the shrine with the intent on contacting the Daedra, believing that if he was to show any favour to his lord, Hermaeus Mora would appear to him. He ran his fingers over the black book he had acquired. He had read it increasing his control over any beasts and bending their will to his that bested his own race's abilities. Not that he had much use for it but he attributed it to the success of the calm spell on a raging werewolf. Powerful beasts indeed. He had never thought that it would have been of use given his interest in the dead.

He spoke of a solemn vow to unlock the secrets of the mingling of races and to determine if their souls were stronger, increased by each of the races combined. He had no doubt that Hermaeus Mora knew the answer to such ponderings but found himself delightfully surprised when the torchlight dimmed and a blackness surrounded him. Tentacles wrapped themselves about his feet and a voice rose in the darkened void around him. Whispers of approval, dismissing his vow to study the hybrid's soul and instead pushing him towards his original goals of the ultimate thrall; directing him to a distant tomb. Shivers went down the Bosmer's spine at the departing words of the Daedric Lord and felt a surge of power coarse through him. "My Champion."

Having no limit to his excitement he ran through the fortress and directly back to hybrid. Any disgust he had prior buried beneath his approval. He glanced at the figure and how he had managed to keep any more fluids from leaving his body. His smile only widened further in amusement imagining what the beast's soul much be feeling to have been trapped and shoved into another's body. Most likely nothing but now wasn't a time to dwell. He crouched before the man, grasping his head in his hands. "I had thought to kill you once I was finished with you," he spoke quickly, "but you have proven yourself more valuable alive." His eyes flickered in remembrance of the carnage the werewolf had left; a powerful pet indeed. "You will do as I say, following my orders and needs for the pleasure of living by my side." He let out a satisfied sigh and stood straight admiring the body once more, finding a new fondness as it was this beast's appearance that had brought him new revelations and Hermaeus Mora's blessings. His body wasn't so displeasing any more and with the surge of new power in his veins he felt even more powerful than the werewolf before. "I have much need for a beast of Hircine."

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Shavir hear the sound of running footsteps and lazily blinked as the elf chattered on excitedly about leaving the mercenary alive. Such things we're really a worry for the werewolf. He had a feeling that the elf wouldn't kill him, instinct that the man didn't want to kill his only pack. Shavir licked his fangs before letting a shutter run down his spine at the bosmer calling him a beast. He really was a beast. More so since he had taken the gift of Hircine into his body. "I don't believe you would have killed me anyway." His voice held no challenge to it, as if he were simply stating the fact. It sounded the same as someone saying that the sky was blue. "You find me much to interesting and I'm not talking about our breeding." Feral eyes watched the bosmer a while longer before letting out a sigh, "But I digress, what is it you need of me, master?"

Shavir rolled his muscles in ways that only a Khajiit could while his chains noisily moved, at least until he suddenly paused. The bosmer still smelled amazing and while the mercenary wasn't quite sure why, it seemed as the man hadn't dressed while he was working about. Maybe he had forgotten or not cared but this left a randy werewolf with a lot of skin to see. Moving his clawed hand, he slid it across the man's thigh in a caress. Perhaps his wolf reveled in the smell of Vallenwood or perhaps he simply was a horny bastard now that he had found someone to fuck him in his place. He growled annoyed at his instincts before letting out a blush at what had to be the fastest recovery he'd had since he was in his adolescence. Turning his face away for a moment before grumbling out, "My wolf has the strangest reaction to your proximity. It's instinct is the strongest after all. It makes me want to please you. I want to crawl before you and bare myself for your claim." Removing his hand to scratch his nose for a moment in thought he paused, "But your description of me being a beast of Hircine was quite accurate. I am one of his most faithful followers."

 

[Charlie_Death]

Gwinduin felt a sudden rush when the man addressed him as 'Master'. He had been called such before but always by apprentices who wanted to remain on his good side. Even then, the title was always followed by his name. The rush and enjoyment of his power over the larger male was exhilarating and he allowed the man to touch him. He hadn't realized that he didn't dress properly, his mind had been rushing around on too many things with his new found inspiration and knowledge. He kept his eyes trained on the man questioning if he shouldn't have released his hand. However at him quickly backing away and returning to a submissive posture he relaxed. Gwinduin wishes he could say he was surprised to hear that the werewolf instincts react to him sepecifically, but if anything he was half expecting it after their encounter. He put it off to him being a Bosmer and that simple beasts were able to be swayed by his kind's influence.

He straightened himself and looked down on the man and spoke matter-of-factly. "I would need your assistance in acquiring something of intellectual importance for me. I am going to need someone to help me slay and lug back all the bodies and that's where you come in." He tapped his chin pondering his position. All of those around him have been killed, and as far as he knew there were no survivors. He could easily pack up and travel to a new location and settle there for research. After all, they were going to have to travel farther into the wintry depths of Skyrim and go farther from the border. "You're accustomed to travel and know Skyrim better than I do. I'll need you to direct me to a distant tomb where great power resides." He reached for a key and gave the man a cautious look. "I require your complete devotion to me."

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Shavir ran his hand through his hair before letting out a large huff of air. When the elf spoke of lugging many bodies across Skyrim the mercenary thought it over. The easiest way would be to take advantage of his gift from Hircine and use his brute strength to pull a cart across Skyrim. They would have to be careful not to run into a whole lot of people but Shavir doubted his master would mind a few more bodies if they messed that up. Of course his master would also have to be willing to strap a harness onto him while he was a werewolf and probably horny. Of course he seemed to always be horny around the man's scent. However he didn't have time to voice his plan before the bosmer spoke of devotion.

Blinking owlishly for a moment the werewolf felt a blush spread over his whole face. "My complete devotion? You're my alpha. I will follow your orders completely and without fail. I will also protect you should the need arise." Of course he was talking about just obedience not total devotion. The hybrid ran his hand down the bosmer's leg again, where he could reach the soft skin. Shifting his feral eyes away from the man's face to the patch of thigh that distracted him, he murmured. "I really do want to serve you fully though. I can't help it. I want to attend to all of your needs. Not just the ones you tell me." He was a werewolf after all. Serving your alpha was in his blood. It just had to be proven that this bosmer was a good alpha. One that saw to all his needs and in turn allowed his beta to see to his.

"As for the task you asked, the easiest way would be for you to purchase or find a horse cart. We can then throw the bodies into it easily and I can transform to pull the cart in stead of the horse." He paused a moment before continuing, "This however would require you to harness me up while I am in my wolf form. I won't be of any danger to you but I might get a bit more easily distracted. Mostly by you..." Admittedly he would probably pounce the man and attempt to give him a blowjob. Or just keep licking his crotch while the poor elf would be harnessing. Of course the option of the bosmer fucking him while he was in wolf form did turn him on. Even if the man insisted on a muzzle, that would still be hot. Really, he didn't know why he was such a bitch in heat around the man.

Nuzzling into the thigh before him, the hybrid worked his way up to his master's cock before putting it into his mouth and sucking him off. His Khajiit tail swished while he worked his mouth, his still chained hand grasping into the air. Oh yes. The bosmer was most distracting.

 

[Charlie_Death]

Gwinduin grinned at the words the imprisoned beast spoke. To have him serve his will and orders, it was like the strongest of ales inebriating his mind. He hardly registered that the man was still stroking his bare thighs. He mulled over the plan to get a cart and to harness him into it. It was rather comical to think about him seated upon a cart filled with corpses pulled by a werewolf. It was practical, but it was still entertaining to picture. Would a horse harness be suitable or would he have to have something custom made? How does one even go about having a custom fitted harness for a werewolf? After the incident with the calm spell he was sure he didn't have to worry about being attacked should he turn violent.

His mind was torn from his thoughts when he felt a sudden wetness around his cock, snapping him back to reality. He looked down at the man who, without any indication of interest, went straight to pleasing him. In the few partners he had before him, none were so willing to prompt an encounter so eagerly and without any proposition. Although one does suppose his devotion included such propositions. He ran his fingers through the man's hair and gripped it tightly before pulling him away. "After this, I must make arrangements to procure what we need." He thrust back into his mouth roughly with a grunt and continued speaking, voice heavy with growing lust. "As I am a wanted man...ngh...you much procure the cart and..." he let a moan slip before continuing. "your harness..." He continued to thrust into his mouth, watching his erection disappear in other man's mouth. "Pleasure yourself." He slapped his free hand away from his leg and nudged Shavir's own arousal with his foot. "I don't need you to be distracted from your... tasks."

 

[Shikokudarkstar]

Shavir moaned, keeping his grip on his master's thigh while he spoke. He was only half listening to the man, instead thinking mostly about how to please him again. After all, a werewolf beta made sure his alpha was always taken care of. He only paused once when the man had slapped his hand away, perplexed for a moment about what it was the man was getting at. He tried again to put his hand back only to get rebuffed. His cock was also nudged, reminding him that his own arousal was needing tended to. For a moment he didn't know what to do with his hand. He only had one, he couldn't worship his master's skin and jerk himself off. Trying again, he tried to sneak his hand back to the bosmer's thigh before finally getting rebuffed.

Seeing only one option now that his master had taken one avenue from him, he started to slide his hand down. He started jerking slow, with his eyes closed. However when he found himself getting closer to the edge, he opened his eyes and stared up at his master with his eyes half open. He still focused more on sucking the bosmer off than getting himself off. It was only once the man had climaxed, and the hybrid had swallowed, did the werewolf finish himself off.

Letting out a low rumble, the hybrid found himself terribly satisfied. He returned to touching his master lightly, licking the man clean in case he missed a spot before nuzzling into his master's stomach. "I will procure a harness and wagon but it will take me another day to work the leather to fit my body. During that time, master I will have to stay away from you lest I become distracted." He hummed a moment before flicking his tail in thought, "I assume that you have figured this out but it might be wisest to move location. Your companions were not the brightest of the bunch and left a trail for me to follow. If I found this place than another could too."

 

[Charlie_Death]

Gwinduin was getting tired of having to bat away the man's exploring hand. Not that he didn't enjoy the conflict on his face with his dilema. It was obvious that the man didn't know what he was going to do with himself until he gave in and finally followed orders. If he had to slap his hand one more time he was going to have to get rough but he needed to make sure that he got the job done as needed. When he came once again, he wasted little time to clean up, get dressed and released his pet from his chains.

"You be quick, I will give you three days to gather all the materials. If I see you come into my quarters during those three days..." Gwinduin pointed at him as he spoke in a commanding tone. "I will have to punish you, like the dog you are. I might just have to paddle your hide right off and I don't have the time for that at the moment." He stepped aside and pointed him out the door.

Later, Gwinduin managed to find the sole survivor, the novice necromancer that was too cowardly to fight. As much as he would be mad that she didn't try to protect him like the others, he was still appreciative that he had someone else to order around and do his dirty work. While he focused on gathering all his books, notes and gems, she was lugging bodies into a mass grave he had her dig. She also acted as a mediator between Master and slave, making sure that the hybrid kept his distance.

By the third day, the sole remaining apprentice, Amalea, carried two knapsacks of research. Scrolls poked out of the over stuffed bags that threatened to tear free of their straps from the weight of the books. She placed them beside the other bags that contained clothes, food, soul gems, potions and any other materials that they would need such as candles, gems, herbs, a portable alchemy table, bed rolls, and building materials for two small tents should they not reach their destination in a single day. She wiped away the sweat from her brow and watched as Shavir began fastening the harness to the cart. She has gotten to know him but still feared that he would turn and kill her as he did the others. Since then, she has cut her long brown hair short and began to wear some leather armor under her black robes. With her thin frame and lack of endowment, she almost looked like a young boy until someone got close.

"I will let Master Gwinduin know when you are fastened, unless you need him present to do that check himself." Amalea spoke as she tightened the rope that tied down some of the materials. "Are you sure you can pull all this? It looks rather... heavy."