Before the Dovahkiin

~I don't own the ideas here, I just manipulated them to fit my perverse mind. Bethesda owns them, and they are amazing.~

This in theory will be the first in a line of stories. I'm a little bit of a nerd, so if you recognize what world this is placed in, then fantastic! +10 points! I really try to answer every message, unless it's overly creepy, so if you have something to say about the story, or maybe even a suggestion to where it would go, or what you'd like to see, then drop me a message. I cannot promise when there will be another update, but don't get your knickers in a knot. I hear they're really hard to access that way!

~Before the Dovahkiin - 1~

A long time ago, when I was growing up in Whiterun, a few years before the civil war and the arrival of the Dovahkiin, I was nothing. Before I managed to wow people and places with my talents of sorcery, I was but a mere plebeian of the north. Oh how I wanted, waited and wished for something more to befall me. For years, living in that decrepit shed in Whiterun with my good for nothing sister, I wished for something more.

I also wished that my parents were offed in some strange and wondrously heroic way, but sadly, they died last year in the throws of a panic inducing fever. My mother caught it at first, then my father. My sister Ruby and I had ever since suspected some degree of necromancy in their deaths. Not that there was any cause for such suspicion.

Since the Oblivion Crisis of nearly 200 years ago decimated the already depleted land, Skyrim has not been too kind to those who practiced magick. It was, afterall, them that opened the first of the gates and set Mehrunes Dagon upon the world. Imagine my surprise then, that I discovered that I was adept in harnessing that very same magick that brought the darkness upon our land.

Though it was quickly quelled, the effects of the Obivion Crisis weighs heavily on Tamriel. Where I live, Skyrim to the north, the people have never really accepted the magickal ways as much as the cold iron and steel of a heavy blade. But I was not destined for such things.

It started out slowly at first, I'd light something on fire that I was quickly able to put out, or I'd not be frostbitten when being out too long in the arctic highlands. But as I reached 15, things became much stranger. I would hold my breath for an unheard of amount of time. I could walk through a roaring campfire or find everyone while playing hide-and-seek. I was already a freak of nature that my entire province despised; now just add to that the fact that I did not like girls...

Well, even still, I was safely able to conceal these things from everyone in Whiterun and not bring a significant amount of attention to myself. Each day, I would chop wood for Belethor, with Sigurd carefully watching over me. I might pick some crops for the farmers, or collect ingredients in the wilderness for Arcadia, the local apothecary.

But each time that I would have a spare moment, I would steal away to Dragonsreach, to the only person who knew my terrible magickal secret. And I would train to become even better.

Farengar knew that I was a mage, like him, the moment he laid eyes on me. There was no hiding anything from him. So when I asked him to teach me about magickal objects, he was only more than happy to oblige.

He taught me my first spell, and technically many others too, but I will always remember the first time that I cast the soul trap spell. This spell was meant to trap the soul of a dying being into a soul gem. These things looked like any other gem, but they alone held the secrets of locking away souls for later use. Of course, the souls of humans could not be captured in these soul gems, but animals and other beings could be. And they were necessary for my work in enchantments.

"Focus!" Farengar shouted at me. He was an older man, greying beard, but he was one of those people who could strike fear into your heart, and disappointment if you could not perform as he wanted.

I stared at my hand, willing it to perform the soul trap spell, sweat running down my face as I did. I reached out to the magick that I knew existed and let it fill me. This was an onerous task that Farengar assured me would become as simple as breathing soon enough. When suddenly, my hand erupted in a purple glow that emanated from a black orb, I knew that I had done it.

I gasped for the breath that could not satiate my lungs as I looked at this marvel of magick. I held a spell in my hands, ready to be thrown at anything. Luckily, Farengar had provided me with a mudcrab with which to test my new skill.

"Good..." He mused. "Now you must only release it to the crab. The spell will do its work... But remember! Some spells must be charged, holding them is not enough." He nodded at me and I threw the black ball at the mudcrab.

The being appeared unaffected, save for a slight purple glow that seemed to pass across its skin if the light hit it right. Farengar took no time in grasping his own spell, a lightning one, in his hand. The brilliance that it gave off when he threw it at the mudcrab blinded me for a few moments. But when I was able to see again, I saw wisps of purple energy spreading like the wind out from the mudcrab's body. But they stopped short of escaping when Farengar held out a small purple crystal.

The wisps of energy seemed to try to flee, but instead were sucked into the crystal with an unrelenting force, and with a sound that could only be described as a hurricane.

"There." He said, taking a breath that he had been holding off. "A filled soul gem." He smiled at me and handed over the small gem.

It was glowing slightly with the same purple light that had flowed into it. I held it between my thumb and my index finger up to the light and almost dropped it. Through the rays of light that passed through it, I could see the mudcrab, lashing out at the gem from within. This was not a constant image though, and quickly faded into nothingness then back into attacking the gem, as if the soul had to actively try to escape its impenetrable prison.

"It... It can't escape?" I asked with a shaky voice.

"Of course anything is possible my apprentice," he put his hand on my shoulder, "but I have not heard of, nor read anything that says that they can." This calmed me slightly as I stared at the gem and the seemingly holographic mudcrab within.

That night I went home with the crystal and fell asleep looking at its radiance. Not only had I cast my first spell that day, but there was solid proof of it. I could hold it, feel it, and see it. When my sister asked why I was so tired in the morning, I felt the lump in my pocket and said that nothing was wrong. All the while, I was elated.

Even as I went out to chop wood at Belethor's that day, nothing could stop me from smiling. I even caught a bit of my pant leg under the axe, which would have permanently disfigured me, and kept on smiling. Sigurd, as uninterested as always in what was going on, just kept collecting and delivering the wood to Warmaiden's.

The day was going perfectly. I would occasionally practice opening myself up to the powers of the world, and then close myself off again. As Farengar had said, it would only become easier with practice, and I was determined to make it as simple for me as possible.

It was not long past midday though, that there was a small kink in my happiness.

As the sun beat down on me, and I was sweating as the sun reached overheard, giving me no shade that the shop often provided. This is when I saw the Companions on their march from the city gates to Jorrvaskr, their guild hall.

But these were not the ordinary Companions, these were the elite. These were the highest ranking officials in the order, and they always sent shivers down my spine.

I stopped swinging the axe, because I always felt weak around them. Today, two men and a woman passed by me, though other days, the configuration was different. The woman was one that I knew very well from her exploits in the wilderness. She was a near perfect shot with her bow and her name was Aela. Sometimes she was called The Huntress. When she looked at me with that stern face, supported by the war paint tattoos on her face, I averted my gaze. It was caught by Vilkas, a hansom man with dark hair and light eyes. His build was large, like most of the men in Skyrim, dwarfing those like me who had never wielded a sword in battle before. He intimidated me, so much so that I hesitantly took hold of the axe, rather tightly, and turned to face the solid section of tree that I had been working on.

I swung the axe, and missed on the downswing. I could feel their eyes on me, and the smiles on their faces. I wanted to cast my soul capturing spell on them, but they needed to die for it to take any effect. And even still, I did not have a soul gem, let alone one that could contain the soul of a human, if one even existed...

I took a staggered breath as I stared down at the unbroken log, sweat running down my face. My arms were too ashamed to pick up the axe again when a large, two sided axe cleaved not only the piece of wood in two, but also the much thicker and larger chopping block. My eyes widened at the blade that sat in the ground before me and I dropped the woodcutter's axe.

"I didn't mean to scare you." Said a deep, rough voice. I followed the length of the two-handed axe down the shaft and to Farkas. He was as large as Vilkas, his brother, but only slightly less intimidating. His eyes were still stern and focused; his voice deep and abrasive, and his presence intimidating. "Pick up that axe." He ordered.

"I..." I stammered, but quickly obliged him. The other two Companions had stopped and were chuckling and whispering amongst themselves.

"Common!" He said, startling me. "Show me what you can do." He placed another piece of wood on one half of the chopping block. He folded his arms and stood up as straight as he could, showing his stature.

He wore iron armour, heavily scratched and bent in places. His face was more than a few days unshaven and he had a scar that slid down his left eye. His mouth seemed to be in a permanent scowl.

One of his fingers tapped his massive bicep impatiently. Apart from his fingers and head, the only part of his that was visible were those biceps. He may have been the first man that I was incredibly attracted to, and only because of those biceps. They were covered in the dirt of the day's adventure, but they exhumed masculinity and I loved them.

So when I purposely missed in order to see those arms in action, picking up the fallen piece of wood, I let out a stifled gasp of lust.

He let out a deep breath from his nostrils as he steadied the piece of wood once more on the chopping block. "Again." He ordered.

This time I would impress him. This time, I took careful aim and brought the axe down on the piece of wood, severing it cleanly in two. He nodded his approval, which I felt was all that I would be getting. I looked to his eyes and they said that he was slightly impressed.

"Good work kid." The word `kid' smacked me in the face. I didn't want him to see me as a kid, I wanted him to see me as a man. "Keep this up, and maybe you'll become a Companion one day." He gave me a forceful poke in the chest with a long, thick finger, and rejoined his waiting, chuckling guild members.

I cracked another piece of wood in half before they took their eyes off of me and walked back towards Jorrvaskr. Vilkas and Aela were snorting laughter, but Farkas gave me another nod before they disappeared down the road.

This encounter gave me the strength and determination to almost double what I usually put out in wood chopping for the day. With each stroke, I saw Farkas' approving nod in my mind. After a time, I even imagined what his approving smile might look like. Moments before Sigurd arrived to pick up another load of wood, I realized that my thoughts had progressed to what Farkas would look like, and what it would feel like if those strong arms and chest were holding me close as they guided my hands into striking another piece of wood in half, my behind grinding into his pelvis, feeling a hardening lump there.

"Well done, Master Kitren." Sigurd addressed me through a weary voice that showed he was tired from lifting all the wood that I had produced that day. "I think it's an early quit time, don't you?"

Without a word, I dropped the axe and headed up to Dragonsreach to find out what I could do with this soul gem, leaving all thoughts of Farkas below in the town.

The steps up to Dragonsreach were too long this day. I ended up skipping them a few at a time, only to arrive at the top completely winded. There were two guards up there on the wooden bridge that closed the gap between the town and the mound Dragonsreach was on. They chuckled at me, but had stopped asking questions a long time ago, since I came there practically every day, sometimes twice.

"A little excited today hmm Master Kitren?" The stout one that I've heard them call Moose before said to me.

"Just got off work early, wouldn't you be?" I shot a satisfied grin at him.

"Well just don't be wastin any o'the Jarl's time t'day!" The other one stammered. I think his name was Pledias. He was a tall man, rather thin and with a terrible accent that made me shake my head.

"I wouldn't dream of it my good guard." With that, they pushed the doors open for me into Dragonsreach.

I wish that I could say that the capital building in the hold of Whiterun was an elaborate place. But really, it was just elaborately carved. There was little furniture to speak of, except for the large banquet table across the room and up a few stairs. The pillars were what was impressive. It would have taken months to carve these things out of the mammoth trees. Since they appeared to be made of one solid piece, I always took a little time to admire them as I entered.

Jarl Balgruuf was having a small chat with someone that I did not recognize when I passed by the table and slipped towards the right, into Farengar's study.

It was a small room, but it had what we needed, and much more hidden away in the shelves that Farengar used as a desk. Behind his desk was what I wanted. There, stood an altar of enchanting. Glowing symbols representing the various schools of magick, centered around some ancient skull and an orb of swirling green mist.

Farengar was mixing a potion when I arrived, at the counter next to the altar. He looked up at me and greeted my gaze. "Ah! Welcome!" He smiled.

"Good afternoon Farengar." I smiled back. "I'm ready to learn more about this..." I pulled the soul gem out of my pocket, leaving a cold patch where it had been sitting all day. "Can you help me?"

Farengar chuckled to himself. "Of course I can!" He put the mortar and pestle down and faced me. "I've always got time for someone who wants to study the arcane arts."

Over the next few hours, I was taught how to use the power of the soul that I had captured the previous day, and use it as a sort of anchor to hold an enchantment to an object. Farengar had plucked a small silver ring off of the shelf and let me use that, though it looked like it would have been expensive.

I managed to place a small enchantment on the silver ring that would make the wearer feel the cold slightly less. I tapped the soul gem to the ring, and envisioned the enchantment, like Farengar had taught me. I felt the warmth that arose from my hands, and focused it onto the ring. Once I felt the warmth rising from the ring itself, I held the gem to the ring, and it erupted into a brilliant flash of white light that turned the soul gem into dust. The ring was now glowing with a soft blue hue, that brought the largest smile I have ever had across my face.

Despite its simplicity, I was ecstatic at my accomplishment.

"Now now my boy, the method is simple, but the way in which you combine these things will determine their use. Do not think that you can now create a blade capable of boiling the blood of those it touches and transferring its life force into the wielder! It took me years before I was able to do that!" Farengar turned back to his desk. "The world is full of possibilities." He said, almost sadly. "I hope you are luckier than I was to find them all before you settle down." This made me question what his life had been like before he had become the Court Wizard. Did he adventure to the forgotten ruins of Skyrim with a merry band of adventurers? Could he have conversed with a Daedric Lord, the foul beings that found themselves drawn to the mortal magick users? My mind was swimming when he turned back around.

He held a simple blue garment, well worn in places, in both hands towards me. "I want you to have this." He said with a forced smile. "I wore it when I was young, and it helped me more than I can say. I only ask, then when you are done with it, you please return it, and not sell it to the highest bidder. It's emotional worth is more than I can bare to lose these days."

His arms outstretched and he handed me the dull blue garments. I unfolded them to reveal a set of robes. Most of it was the dull blue, but there were a few patches of beige that appeared to have been sewn on by an untalented hand. They were no doubt his own work, done in the field after some great adventure. The shoulders and hood were the same beige as the patches; limp and loose pieces of leather that only kind of held their shape. A rope was there as well, to make a sort of belt. There were two pouches that hung off of it.

"Thank you." I said quietly. While this thing had seen better days and more adventures that I could hope to go on, I still found myself questioning why he would give me such a useless garment. Did he expect me to wear it? Truly?

"This was my novice robe when I joined the College of Winterhold." He said gallantly. "I was interested in the destruction branch of magick then, so it was enchanted to improve just that."

Then, I marvelled at it. Turning it slowly in my hands, I could see a soft shimmer of orange light that had been woven into the stitching. I quickly threw it over my normal clothing and fastened the belt. It fit well, except that the sleeves were a little too long. Hanging my arms down at my side, the sleeves covered my entire hands.

"This is amazing." I said, feeling the power emanate into my body. Though I did not know any destruction spells, I could not get over the mindset that they would be incredibly easy to learn and cast.

"Shall I teach you one then?" Farengar asked me, looking very proud of the way that I looked in his old robes.

For the rest of the afternoon, Ferengar taught me three spells, each of a different element of magick. The first he taught me was a fire spell.

When I first held the spell in my hands, I almost screamed in shock. My hand was completely engulfed in flames. I thought for sure that it would scar me beyond any comprehension of the most advanced healers in all of Tamriel. But I was wrong. What I held in my hand was indeed fire, but it was a warm, tingling sensation that I felt, with no adverse effects to my hand.

When given a target of a spare dummy that the guards had filled too full of arrow holes for it to be useful any longer, Farengar instructed me to let loose the spell on the dummy. A jet of fire leapt from my hands and lit up the room. As the flames licked the dummy, it caught the spare bits of straw on fire, and it burned with such intensity, that I felt it the room away.

"Quickly now!" Farengar instructed, and I clenched my fist, as he had taught me to change what spell I was able to hold in my hand. I switched to the ice spell that I had been taught, and unleashed it in a similar way on the dummy. My hand not only was not cold, but it was in fact slightly warm since I was wearing the ring I had enchanted earlier.

The dummy twisted around on its pike and frost began to form on it, wherever I aimed the concentrated blast of icy energy. Where I held it longer, the frost turned into crystals, and the crystals into icicles, until the fire was extinguished, and the dummy was a frozen mass of ice that fell to the floor under its own weight.

"Lastly..." Farengar said quietly, and I clenched my fist again, this time summoning the lightening spell that he had taught me. My hand crackled with lightening that leapt from place to place with a slight ferocity. My hand was enough to light the small area around me when I unleashed the bolt of lightening at the dummy. It twitched on the ground and seemed to flail about before catching on fire and slowly smouldering into a heap of charred twine.

I stood their breathing heavily at the charred remains of the dummy, while Farengar continued his intoxicating smile. "My boy!" He said, shaking his head in disbelief. "My boy, you are going to be one of the greatest mages that Skyrim has ever known!" He clasped his hands together. "I just know it!"

So, when I walked out of Dragonsreach that night, I had never felt happier. Finally, my plain old boring life had some degree of excitement in it. My depressing existence had some amount of happiness added to it, and a desire to continue on the path of learning as much as I could about this strange and potentially dangerous science of magick.

I skipped past the guards who were shaking their heads in defiance of me. But I just kept on walking. The stairs were nothing for me in my new, but at the same time old, robes. The pouches had been filled with some herbs that might be able to help me regain some of my will if I had cast too many spells, and I was glad for it.

But the day had turned into dark as I came down the steps at Dragonsreach, casting an eerie glow over the city of Whiterun, one that I was not too familiar with, since it was typically seen as a bad omen to be out at night here. There were werewolves that some people said stalked the countryside at night. Not necessarily in the city, but just outside the walls, the guards keeping them at bay, though no guard had ever admitted to seeing one.

Truth be told, I laughed a little. Werewolves in Whiterun? Maddness! So I wandered down, past the moat that divided upper Whiterun from the lower part, the merchant sector. I walked past where I had been chopping wood in the early hours of the morning, and where Farkas had taught me how to swing an axe, as if I did not already know.

The sight brought back all of those strange feelings that I had forgotten during my training in Dragonsreach. Farkas, that sculpted god of Jorrvaskr, the hansom Nord with the beautiful arms that had killed who knew how many.

It was perhaps this line of thinking that had distracted me from the silent stalker that had been following me ever since I entered the maze of houses that might lead to my own, and safety.

With a snarl of teeth, it was on me. It pounced from the shadows with such speed that I was unaware of its existence until it came at me. I was thrown onto the ground in the safety of the shadows between three houses, so that none could hear things properly. I was pinned on my back, with the stank breath of a dog on my face. But this was too heavy to be a dog. It had to be... But no...

The chances of being attacked by a werewolf within the city limits of Whiterun must have been impossibly slim. Its teeth were the only things that I could see clearly, shining white against the black hair of the rest of its body. It bared all of them at me and my heart stopped.

I was able to gain a little bit of consciousness a few seconds later as the werewolf sized me up to grab hold of the fire that I knew my hand could possess. It lit up with the tingling intensity, but the werewolf's paw crashed down on my hand, breaking my concentration with the pain of being forced into the ground. I let out a stifled murmer of pain. "No please!" I hastily whispered.

To my amazement, it backed away. Pulled completely off of me and stepped deeper into the shadows of the houses. I laid there on the ground heaving in desperation for breath that could not fill my fear stricken lungs.

When I had enough sense to clutch my frost spell in my hand, I bolted upright. The werewolf was cowering close to the edge of the shadows provided by the houses, huge paws covering its face. It whimpered and whined like any dog might that was trying to decide the risk versus the reward of stealing a bit of food. Only the food was obviously me.

I shuffled backwards on my hands and feet, facing the beast, but still not having the emotional stamina to stand up fully. That was when it started to change.

The werewolf's bones began cracking and twisting in strange ways. It skin stretched in some places, but was loose in others, giving the appearance of a turkey's neck. It lurched painfully one way, then the next, giving no regard for the limitations of joint flexibility and yet not giving out more than a whimper.

Its hair receded, and its claws became like normal human nails, elongated fingers, like normal human fingers. Its maw slowly receded with sickening cracking noises that made my throat lurch, barely holding back the bile that it wanted so desperately to purge.

When the agonizing moments were over, the shape stumbled backwards into the moonlight, naked as the day the human was born. I was far too petrified to become aroused at the sight of the thick, swinging piece of meat that hung between the apparent man's muscular legs.

His silhouette only revealed the pale pieces of skin that the shadows of the moon could not hide, due to their muscular stature. There was no doubt that this man would be a fine specimen if the light was able to reveal his face. Unfortunately, it was too hidden by the long locks of dark hair that covered him.

In as quick a movement as his previously werewolf form, he had tackled me to the ground in much the same way as before, knocking the spell out of my grasp and closing off the connection that I had to the magick of the world. The breath was knocked out of me as well as I hit the ground with too much force. I grunted in pain, the man's hands compressing my ribs into the ground for just a moment, not long enough for any of them to snap, as I thought they might have.

I could not see the face of my murderer through those locks that hung down around his face. When his open mouth lurched towards my neck, I held my breath for the oncoming pain. But it never came. Instead, I felt he soft sensation of air being sucked into nostrils above my neck. This man was smelling me, and rather forcefully I might add. He sniffed my neck, chest and shoulders like a dig might when trying to determine where he knew the smell from.

I found myself doing the same actually, though not in the strange and animalistic way that he was. I was smelling the strong musk of a man that I had met before, I was sure of it. As the man's beard tickled the smooth skin along the middle of my chest through the old robes, I realized who it was; the unshaven facial hair giving it away.

It had to be Farkas.

I immediately jumped to attention, both in my mind, and elsewhere... Though Farkas did not seem to notice, other than a quick glace downwards to see what was poking him in the stomach. Seemingly satisfied with what he found, he looked back towards me. He turned both of our bodies into a better view from the moonlight, and I saw that in fact it was Farkas. If I could have gotten harder without losing consciousness, I might have. But as it stood, it felt as though he was just as excited at the prospect of finding me as I was.

His mouth immediately took mine in a primal display of passion. He quiet obviously still was in his beast-like frame of mind, while I was but the hapless victim that might have been his dinner.

His tongue was warm and soft on mine as we wove ours around each others. During the ferverent kiss, I placed my hands on the bare, hairy chest of the Nord, taking all the liberty in the world of feeling the coarse hairs through my fingers. My wandering hands travelled up his chest, along his shoulders, and to his thick arms that I so adored. How was this happening? He must have been able to smell my excitement.

He was forceful though, almost to the point of discomfort. His forced his hand up the robes that I had just received and fondled the two lumps of my ass, quite liberally. His other hand gripped my face in an iron lock, forcing me to kiss him more and more deeply. When I threw my head backwards in lust, his tender lips caressed my neck, licking, kissing and sucking their way into my complacency.

The hand at my face moved under my arm and caressed my back, as my own hands gripped tightly on his smooth back, digging in deeper with every involuntary spasm of lust that his tongue or hands gave me.

When feeling my ass between the robes and the clothes I still wore under them became too unsatisfying for him, he pulled the robes over my head, taking my shirt with it. He breathed out deeply as he took in my body. But the next thing I knew, my pants were shreds of fabric on the ground.

He replaced his one hand on my ass, though this time he work his way between the cheeks and gently slid his finger over the entrance I so desperately wanted to be filled. The other hand returned to my face and kissed it. But I decided then, that I should just take a passive role in my first sexual experience, so I reached down and grasped his rock hard cock.

I felt his lips peel back in a smile while they still remained locked onto mine. I was at first impressed with how thick it was. My fingers were unable to close around it, but only barely. When I started to stoke up, it took awhile to get to the uncut tip. Another motion all the way down the thick, meaty shaft until I reached the coarse hairs of his body got him excited.

He grunted in contentment and pulled away from me, staring at me in the moonlight while my hand worked up and down on him. As he stared at me, I smiled and sunk to my knees.

His monster jutting out from his body, right before my face, I licked my lips before kissing the head oh so gently. His breathing quivered slightly and I took the head into my mouth. That warranted a full blown moan from him. I sucked on the head of his cock a few moments before attempting to take some of the thick shaft. I managed to wrap my lips around it and he placed a heavy hand on my head. I began doing my best.

I had never done this before, but I allowed his groans to tell me what to do. I took most of him into my mouth, but couldn't take it all, my nose not coming close to his pelvis, which he was starting to rock.

I knealt there, half working his cock myself, half having it shoved into my mouth. I added my hand to it, smearing the spit all over the shaft, allowing my hand to glide over it, bringing more lustful moans. Flicking at it with my tongue brought more moans.

I looked up at his face while I sucked. One arm was behind his head, showing off a bulging bicep, while his eyes were closed, and his mouth open in lust, teeth bared in almost a snarl, half buried in the bicep.

He grunted again, and upon looking down at me, placed both hands on either side of my head and began thrusting his cock deep into my mouth. He groaned at the work my mouth and my tongue were doing for him.

He fucked my face like this for not too much longer before he withdrew his cock and pushed me onto the ground violently. Then he jumped on me and kissed me deeply, grinding his hard, wet cock into my own dick. Then he turned me over and bit the back of my neck. I felt his cock sliding up and down the crevasse of my ass with his slow, rhythmic thrusts as he nibbled on my neck.

This not being enough either, he kissed his way down my back and spread my ass wide, then plunged his scratchy face into it. His tongue lapped at my ass, sending waves of pleasure up my spine. He constantly stretched the skin wider, trying to put more of his face into me. His tongue flicked against the sensitive hole and sank into it shallowly a few times. When he retreated, a rough finger replaced his tongue, rubbing the spit inside of me and around my eager hole.

For what seemed like ages, he spat at my hole, then licked it up and plunged his tongue inside of me. Until that is, I finally spoke.

"Please Farkas. Please." I whispered.

A guttural grunt answered me as his tongue was replaced by something much bigger. I felt the loose skin of his foreskin brush my well lubricated, and sensitive ass. When he pulled my cheeks apart this time, he thrust his cock inside of me.

I winced in pain that I had not felt before, but he was paying no mind to that. He withdrew it and shoved it in further. Then again, further and further he went while I stifled my cries at the thick rod being forced inside of me.

At about half way, he withdrew and took his first real stroke inside of me. The veins in his mighty shaft gave me the first wave of pleasure. Once he began thrusting more and more, I began to enjoy it, and even bounce back again him, desiring the whole thing inside of me.

One of those rough hands was placed on my back to steady me as he continued his assault. I felt the pleasure stirring inside of my bowels, and when he occasionally struck one specific spot, I bit down on a scream of ecstasy. Our movements synched up, and we both began moaning uncontrollably as Farkas sped up his thrusting.

Two hands now, one on either side of me. He sped up even more, fucking me harder and deeper than I would have thought possible a few moments before. My hand reached down and tugged on my own impossibly hard dick a few times before curiosity got the better of me. I reached back further and placed two fingers on either side of Farkas' member as it entered me. The speed and the wetness were both incredibly arousing. Farkas seemed to like it too, as his moans took on a new sound and his testicles finally bounce against my fingers. He was all the way in.

I removed my hands and enjoyed the ride. His balls knocked into my ass with each deep thrust he took. He was hitting deeper and deeper into the depths of ecstasy, hitting pleasure spots that I had no idea males even had.

He let out a grunt, and picked me up, then flipped me over and laid me down on my back, his cock falling out of me. When he put it back in, I couldn't hold back the shout of lust at the pleasure that it sent through me. I though I even heard motion, but Farkas kept on pumping. It began to hurt again as he was able to thrust ever deeper. But he enjoyed it, and so did I. His pace was quickening still and the sounds of his wet balls slapping against my moist cheeks caught my ears.

The moonlight on his hairy chest and abs transfixed me. They glistened with the sweat of our passionate love making and his muscles were all tight with exertion. I reached up and let my hand slide down his chest, leaving a wet streak of hair. He bit his lip and thrust all of his cock into me, making me gasp for a release from the pleasure.

I threw my head back against the grass as an unexpected orgasm overtook me. Farkas slowed down to watch the white streams of cum rocket out of me. He reached my spasming dick and tugged at it, drawing more and more out of me while his cock massaged my insides.

When I was finished, his pace quickened again, and his hand reached down and rubbed the cum into my stomach, somewhat shakily, since he was throwing my body forward with every thrust of his massive cock. His hand retreated to his mouth and he gave his glistening fingers a small lick. Then his face showed a look of pain, and his cock expanded inside of me.

I can only describe it as a torrent of semen. I felt my ass fill up almost immediately after he started his uncontrollable spasms. His thrusts became quick and deep, then he pulled out of me entirely, spewing the rest of his creamy seed on the hole he had been fucking for so long.

I could feel his cum sliding down my sweaty cheeks and onto the grass, and the cum that joined it as it flowed from my overfilled ass. Farkas then made every attempt to force the cum to stay inside of me with even more thrusts of his cock, though it was becoming flaccid.

A finger wiped some cum off of my thigh, and he brought it to my mouth. I grabbed his strong wrist with both hands and greedily sucked his seed off of the finger. My mouth was flowed with the taste of salty-sweetness and a thick liquid that I played with on my tongue before swallowing it. I was panting uncontrollably when I finally opened my mouth, only to take the finger into it again, expecting to find more.

He brought another cum soaked finger to my mouth, but dangled it over as a dribble of cum extended down onto my tongue. Then I took the rest of the finger as well.

After I'd had my fill, Farkas' great mucleed and sweaty body fell down on the grass beside me. His great arms engulfed me and he rocked me back and forth in them. My cheek pressed against that lump of hairy muscle brought another hard-on for me, but I just stayed there, though I wanted more.

I awoke at dawn in my own bed. I shot up and immediately questioned if it had been a dream or not. But when I rolled over, and my ass with in such pain, I knew that it had been real. The overwhelming smell of manliness and cum hung in the air too, reminding me of Farkas, the man who took my innocence. But it wasn't really my innocence, I had desired him since long before I knew his name. I may have even accidentally prayed to the Nine once or twice for it to happen. And it had. I smiled before falling back into my bed, wrapping myself in sheets.

I woke up much later than expected. So late in fact, that the sun was making its way higher into the sky than I ever remember waking up to. Perhaps when I was ill as a child, but I was a man now. Or, at least that's what I thought when I climbed out of bed and made my way to the kitchen and living space of my home.

My sister was nowhere to be seen, and I assumed that she had gone off to the market, which is where I should have been at that moment. So I hurriedly gathered some clothing and scooted out the door, up towards Belethor's General Goods. I ran my fingers across the door, feeling the wood underneath. It was hard, dry, and cold. Just how I ecpected Belethor to be when I opened the door.

"Where in Oblivion have you been?!" He shouted at me, throwing a pewter goblet onto the ground, and a plate at my head. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" He rounded the counter and stood over me, staring down.

"No Sir." I mumbled.

He grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look him in the eye. "I give you a job out of the kindness of my heart, don't even need ya. Sigurd's as good as any." He smiles a little, and then wipes it away. "Point is boy, I don't need you. So you'd better take this seriously, or you and yer sister will be out on your asses!" He scratched his lengthy sideburns and went back behind the counter. "I don't want you here today. Come back tomorrow, you're docked a day's pay."

I went to make a protest, but he was already deeply involved in a thick ledger that undoubtedly held his inventory. I turned to leave, and I felt his eyes watch me as I left.

I needed to do something. There was no excuse that I could give if I came home and said to my sister that there was no money to be had today. Doubtful that she would have found something to do to earn a little coin. I heaved a heavy sigh, and wandered back towards the house.

Everyone else seemed to be having a good day, children ran by me laughing and carrying on. A beggar even smiled at me, as if it was I that was in worse off shape.

Inside, I looked despairingly at my empty room and wished that I could joint he companions or something to earn some coin. At least Farkas would be there. I felt my pants shorten at the thought. So I tried my best to wash it from my mind, and looked to a small chair, where there sat, neatly folded, a set of blue robes.

I was halfway up to Dragonsreach before I knew what I was doing. It seemed logical enough to me, I could earn some coin by enchanting objects and selling them. Perhaps even to Belethor! That would surely get him going. He might even fire me. Not that it mattered! I was a mage after all, I had powers that he could not even imagine, despite the fact that they weren't developed.

When I was out of sight of people, I practiced bringing a spell into my hands. It was becoming easier, but the process still took a great deal of effort. The magick that I could hold was weak too, pitiful at best. But I was determined to get stronger, better and faster at calling spells to me.

I got to Dragonsreach, and found my way inside without much difficulty, the guards had begun to recognize me as a non-threat. Up the stairs, a sharp right, and I was there.

Farengar was nowhere to be seen. I was on my own in this. But there was one thing that I was missing. As I approached the altar of enchantment, its symbols glowing curiously below a horned skull and a swirling orb, I remembered that I needed a soul.

My hand erupted into the purple and black vortex that meant that the spell I needed was ready, but I had no called for it. And I closed my hands around the spell, dissipating it, I smiled that I was able to call it without thinking. There were countless objects around the room that I could enchant, but each soul gem that I picked up was empty.

I decided to take a few of them, and venture out to find souls with which to fill them. Snatching a dagger off of the desk, I made my way out of Dragonsreach.

It was rare that I left Whiterun. There was everything that I needed within the walls, and now apparently a lover as well. If, that was, he wanted to continue our little romance. But I tried my best to push that out of my mind as the guards looked at me strangely before opening the gates without question.

The bitter winter air stung my face. The walls of Whiterun kept much of the roaring winds at bay, but out here, there was nothing to protect you. I gathered the robe up around me, held my knife tight, and ventured out.

The landscape was unlike the rest of Skyrim, it was green, except for the thin layer of snow that covered it on this winter day. Trees grew, wolves hunted, and there was even a season of Fall, that the snow was desperately trying to cover up. Few rocks escaped the soil here, while in other areas, the bedrock was exposed more than the grass. But never the less, I hiked into the wilderness.

I walked for maybe an hour without seeing another sign of life. I always tried to walk south, so that I merely needed to turn around to reach the safety of Whiterun. The wind whipped against my face, bringing up sharp ice crystals that were on the ground and falling through the sky. I started to think that this was a suicide march until I saw a deer.

It was in as bad shape as I was, huddling against a tree for warmth, icicles dripping from its snout. I felt slightly bad that I needed to kill it, but I did need to kill it. I needed its soul...

I grasped the cold knife in one hand, while the other erupted into the purple and black haze. It looked up at me, the light giving me away. I looked into its eyes, but I don't think it truly understood what was happening. It kept staring at me with those concerned eyes, wondering if I was a threat.

Gathering myself, I threw the spell at it, creating a purple, shifting second skin around the creature. It began to stand, but I closed my hand and opening it again, revealing the cold spell that I was taught. It was harder to maintain, but after I unleashed it on the deer, it flowed naturally from my hand.

The deer slowed, even faltered slightly in its standing. Ice crystals grew on its body as it made to run. I was faster than it though, in its confused and almost frozen state, so I ran up beside it, and stuck my knife deep into its throat. It coughed before taking another three steps and collapsed.

I took a few deep breaths of frigid air and looked at the lifeless body of the deer. It flashed a purple colour and then wisps of purple wind flew towards my pocket, where the soul gems rested. It took a few seconds, but eventually, the full soul was inside of it, and the wind stopped.

I knelt down beside the deer's body and placed a hand on its neck, just above the fatal wound I had inflicted on it. I whispered "I'm so sorry," to it before standing, turning, and not looking back. I even heard the wolves approaching, but I kept walking. I would put up a fight, but that fresh corpse could feed their entire pack, so I tried not to worry.

One full hour back, and I was inside of Dragonsreach, still without Farengar. I started to worry about where he was. But still, I took a small golden ring, imbued with an emerald, and placed it on the altar.

The glowing blue stone that I held in my hand was larger than the one I held previously with a mudcrab in it. But the deer's soul inside seemed to be at peace. It looked as it had before I awoke and killed it, sleeping quietly. This made me feel better in a way, that I hadn't hurt it too much.

In a flash of light, the ring on the table was glowing with an orange light. I had given it the power of fire, and when I put it on, my hand immediately sprang to life with flames. They were so much more intense than ever I had felt before. Though they did not harm my hand, they scorched any surface I came near.

Closing my hand on the flames, I hear a few claps from somewhere in the room. Baffled, I turned around to see Farengar appear out of thin air. Space rippled around him as he came into existence.

"Congratulations my boy." He said with a smile. "You have proven to me that you are indeed an able wizard. With only a few lessons, you have learned what takes some months, and for this I commend you." He nodded to me.

"Thank you..." I said, still wondering how he was able to become invisible. This was a spell that I simply must learn.

"Here," he said to me, throwing me a pouch of gold. "I wish to buy this ring from you. Courtesy of the College of Winterhold of course." Catching the pouch, I handed him the ring. He closed his long fingers around it, closed his eyes and seemed to take in the magick that surrounded it. "Wonderful work for you level of magick my boy..." Opening his eyes, he smiled at me. "Truly wonderful."

"I had to kill a deer." I said bluntly.

"You will get used to killing my boy. Animals who mean you no harm are harmer to kill, but when you face a fierce frost troll, or a Falmer!" He almost shouted. "Then... Then you will feel nothing. You will only be glad that their claws did not scrape the muscle from your bones." He clasped his hand in front of my face and laughed to himself. "Go! Go my boy and return when you wish to try again. I promise you that if you bring the soul, I will have an object for you to enchant! Go forth, my apprentice."

I smiled at the word, and left without saying anything more. When I was outside of Dragonsreach though, I leapt into the air and shouted my victory to the clouds. Also the guards, who had gotten use to my outbursts.

Running back towards my house, I was elated with pride. How many could do what I did? Sure most of the mages of Skyrim, nigh, of Tamriel, could do just what I did. But how many people in total? Oh I felt on top of the world. I felt like shouting from a rooftop, like spending the whole of what I earned on a wonderful meal for my sister and I.

I wasn't even paying attention when I rounded a corner, and hit my head off of a very hard piece of metal. My arms did not catch me as I fell to the ground, bouncing my head off of the grass. Pulling myself up was difficult, and the laughter of a few people made me less eager to stand.

But when I did, I came face to face with Farkas and the other Companions.