Skyrim FanFiction, Skyrim Erotica, and More
WARNING: This story contains graphic sexual content.
I found Beyte in the garden beneath Divayth Fyr’s tower. She was picking some sprigs of thyme and thistle—gathering them in a clear apothecary jar. She turned when she saw me.
“Hello, Willow,” she said. Probably the only person alive who would use my old name. My real name.
I nodded, looking her up and down. She hadn’t changed—her dark skin was still free of wrinkles and lines, her body thin and slender. Beyte was the only Dunmer I’d ever met who didn’t have red eyes. Hers burned an ethereal kind of purple—like two errant wisps from the Netherworld.
I guess Divayth designed her that way.
“Divayth said you were looking for me,” I replied.
“I was.” Carefully she set down the glass jar in between a mossy rock and the small trunk of an aspen tree. Then she took a few steps towards me.
“I have felt you moving closer these past few weeks.” She began to slowly unbutton the front of her tunic. “First the thumping of your heartbeat crested the horizon of the Eastern Sea.”
She pulled the cloth aside, revealing her full breasts beneath—her nipples were small black circles, and a long series of tattoos ran in a beautiful, intricate column down the right side of her body.
“Then I listened to the pitter-patter of your feet crossing Vvardenfell and passing into the Reach. Wandering across all of Skyrim, until every breath you took was a drum beating in my ear.”
She had told me once—two hundred years ago—that the tattoos were the story of her life. Each year she added a little more. It had stopped just beneath her right breast the last time I saw her. Now it stretched from her collarbone down past her naval. Out of sight.
“I didn’t realize I was being so loud,” I said.
Beyte smiled. “I added you to my story, remember?” She pointed to the shape of Almalexia being drowned inside of a teardrop. My symbol. “I am bound to you, always.”
“I remember.” I took a step towards her. Pulled my sword from the sash on my waist and placed it on the ground. Unwound my dark shirt let it fall. “I wish that I could hear you that way.”
She smiled again, wider. Her white teeth small and perfect. “No you don’t. I could barely sleep, all the racket you made.”
Beyte pulled at the strings of her pants and then shucked them off so that she was naked in front of me. I felt my cock stir at the sight—the dark patch of hair between her legs, the curve of her hip. Her tattoo ended just inside her right thigh. She ran her hand along the markings, tracing the twists and turns and strange symbols.
When she reached the end she began to touch herself—rubbing in a slow, rhythmic circle. Keeping her purple eyes fixed on me as she pleasured herself.
I glanced around the garden, looking for Divayth’s other daughters.
“I sent them away,” Beyte whispered. “Far away. Come here, Willow. Come scream the song of your life into my ear. I have been wanting to hear it again for quite some time.”
I crossed the garden and picked her up—cradling her in my arms. She wrapped her strong legs around my waist and kissed me. Pressing her lips against mine, then sucking my neck and biting at my ear.
We fell to the ground together. She pinned me down, shucking my pants off with her feet as she continued kissing me. I pulled at her nipples and felt the ground shudder along with her. Small seams forming in the earth below us.
“What was…?” I started to ask. But her hand wrapping its way around my cock stopped me from getting anything out besides a low moan. She stroked up and down a few times, and then guided the tip between her legs. Pressed it up against her swollen clit.
She didn’t put me inside of her yet, though. Instead she moved my cock around in a slow, rhythmic circle against her and arched her back away from me. After a few moments, she took a deep breath in, and slowly exhaled.
As she released her breath, the tattoos running down her body started to move.
At first it was small—the leaves on a tree waving, as if blown by the wind. A snow fox blinking its eyes. Then the entire thing came apart, like a boat unmoored in a storm, and the story of Beyte’s life began flowing along her skin like the current of a river.
“Nobody else can do this, except for you,” she whispered. “The Hero of the Ages. The Nerevarine.”
She let her weight come down, and I slipped inside of her.
The sound of our hearts began to thump inside of my head, pulse along the walls of my veins. I will die—I am certain—remembering those moments when the earth seemed to be cracking beneath us. Everything crumbling against the weight of our intertwining bodies.
And as we moved together, I watched my teardrop shimmer and shudder around the God that I killed. Felt the life being taken from her over and over again.
When it was over, I lay on my back and listened to the pounding sounds recede from my head. Watched the cracks in the earth stitch themselves back together.
“What was that?” I asked. The column of symbols had gone still again.
She smiled, rolling up on her side. “I am the key to the Netherworld, Willow. That is what it feels like to open it.”