Animal Urges - Chapter XVII

Chapter XVII -- The Visitor

The Lioness and I went on to Fort Dawnguard. There, Isran, in a strange pique, immediately bade us follow him; I had a 'visitor' demanding to see me. Mjoll begged leave to explore the huge fortress, adding how it was likely a private matter anyway.

Of course it was Serana. Upon first glimpse of the haughty vampiress - unchanged from when we parted, still wearing the same old-fashioned yet flattering leathers - my heart leapt inside my orcish armour, threatened to burst through the under-padding and wrought orichalcum breastplate. Then again, perhaps it was my nipples and Sword of Dibella; I tried to ignore them all.

After an intense conversation during which Isran threatened to kill Serana on the spot, going so far as to reach for his specialised warhammer, we took her at her word that she wanted to stop her father from finding and using an Elder Scroll that would supposedly render all vampires unaffected by sunlight.

"Well, then?" Those red-orange eyes offered a quizzical look; I saw eagerness, as well as a challenge.

Isran had left us in an alcove, which, lit by a tall, floor-standing candelabrum, appeared to have once been an ancient torture chamber, judging by the scattering of grim instruments and old, dried blood on the stone walls and floor. Cobwebs laced every corner, empty bottles and debris lay scattered; a few hay bales and a loose pile of dirty straw filled the rest of the space near us (for what, I wondered; kept they horses in the castle?). The fustiness of ages stuffed my nostrils.

"How did you know I would be here?" I was just making conversation.

"My... family hast spies."

I had no more to say, so I grabbed her.

She was out of her leathers much quicker than on the first occasion, notwithstanding her assistance this time, on her back in the straw a half-moment later, I on my knees between her legs. I slurped at her slick crevice like a puppy lapping milk, sucked her Sword of Dibella as though it were a little cock. This time she immediately gasped her pleasure - and, doubtless, not a little discomfort, as the hay was prickly. I had not the fiery potion to warm her, but I did my best without. I lifted her hips clear of the dirty floor and loose hay, pulling her cool slit into my mouth as I plunged with my tongue as deeply as I could. She cried out, sounding almost in pain - but I could not hurt her, could I? She was undead - not human, at least - and my equal in strength and boundless energy. All the while, I struggled out of my own armour; naked, I gasped, wincing at the cold stone, painful beneath my knees, the chill of the ancient castle. I pulled us farther into the hay pile; better prickly than cold and trying to fuck on a hard surface. Not that Serana noticed the cold, I suppose.

Spinning the vampiress onto her knees, her face now pressed into the straw, I resumed my assault on her hairless cunt. Her cries muffled, I licked and sucked, thrust two and three fingers within her slippery cleft; flicked rapidly with a curled finger inside, the way she had shown me. Serana convulsed; a blood-curdling shriek wracked the mostly empty hallways, raising the fine hairs all over my body. As she collapsed like a broken dummy I flipped her again, sat on her face. I had to writhe and twist urgently before she seemed to notice. Then I was in trouble.

Serana came to life, as it were; preternaturally long tongue snaked into me, drew a long slurp, darted to my erect nubbin; her ministrations and my ardour brought me almost instant release. Yet the undead woman was not about to let me get off that easily. Holding my hips in an unnaturally strong grip, she attempted to force her entire face into my throbbing hole; I found myself bemused, wondering how she could breathe whilst immediately recalling that she did not. Tongue, lips, teeth prodded and pinched, licked and sucked. I groaned, cried out my gratification. I then got a true sampling of her strength as she picked me up bodily, tossed me onto my back into the straw - by all the gods it was uncomfortable! - dived atop me, now assaulting my aching breasts and hardened nipples.

I shrieked as she shoved something into my cunt; she had grabbed a bottle and thrust the cold neck into me, jammed it in and out; withdrew it occasionally to suck and lick my juices off it. At least it was soon warm. I watched it, glossy brown with my juices in the candlelight, disappear betwixt crimson lips; shivered at the sight and sound of sharp fangs scraping its length; observed, mesmerised, as it went back inside me. My body arched as I threw my head back, almost burying it in the filthy straw. "AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!"

"Gods below!" someone bellowed from the corridor. Whoever it was disappeared before I could turn to see. It sounded like Isran, probably thinking I was being killed by the vampiress. Perhaps he was not far off...

---

It betided that, had we moved but a few paces down the hallway, a room lay furnished with a large bed - that it happened to be Isran's was probably the reason he heard us (he and most of the Dawnguard, doubtless). Even so, there were a number of others we could have taken, albeit none private; although we had not been overly concerned with privacy, we could have had a modicum of comfort.

Withal, I had to convince Mjoll that she either needs must stay at the fortress, else tolerate Serana's presence in our little party whilst we hunted (other) vampires. Firstly, however, I felt I had to find Vilja, and this diversion riled the big Nord warrior more than Serana's presence. Thus, I was once more in a quandary: Did I pursue Vilja, as I felt I must, and risk Mjoll and Serana leaving me, or did I abandon my blonde companion (and Aela) for the nonce, and continue vampire hunting? I assumed that Serana would not stay at the fortress - even if the residents would have her - and so we three left together. The tension was palpable, and I soon missed Vilja's inane banter more than I could have imagined. Even so, the choice was taken from me as, emerging from Dayspring Canyon, vampires ambushed us.

A drain spell sucked life from me ere I knew we were under assault, and I suddenly missed Vilja for more than her banter; I seldom noticed her keeping me healed during combat, and thus, under duress, I downed a potion or two. Drawing Volendrung, my artifact warhammer, I smashed a thrall's shoulder; flesh and bones crunching, he screamed, magic flaring as the enchanted weapon drank his stamina. Another blow to the chest caved in his leather breastplate, gouts of blood erupting from his mouth as he fell in a heap; I pulped his head for good measure, splattering myself with ruined brain and bone matter. Intent on the next one, I leapt over the corpse, not much noting what occurred around me, aside from shouts and other sounds of battle. A blooded vampire in chainmail was no match for me next; staggering it with a smash to its stomach, it doubled over; I messily beheaded it just as a magical lance of ice from Serana pierced it through. I turned to find Mjoll down, another fiend rising from her prostrate form, blood drooling down its chin. Snarling, I charged, swung my massive weapon to and fro as though it were a stick; the nightstalker backed away, stunned as I rained blows upon it. Dark blood sprayed and magic flared again as the hammer obliterated its features, crushing its remaining life force.

It was over. I went to Mjoll. She was conscious, coughing blood - but I could see the punctures in her throat, the trickle of lifeblood. With surprising strength, her hand grasped mine as I began gestures to heal her.

"No." She coughed, spat more blood. "I am... done. Did... did we kill them?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Goo<cough> Good. I am... content." Her breath came raggedly.

I swallowed a lump of ore. "Mjoll, I can... I can heal you." I actually doubted that, but wanted to try...

"No, you can't. I'm bitten. And even if you could <cough> I wouldn't want you to." She closed her eyes; opened them again, clutched my hand. "Shrelle <cough> burn me. Promise! I will not be... one of them. And I want to see <cough> Aerin again... in Sovngarde."

What else could I do?

---

I was angry and frustrated. Serana did not want to follow Vilja and Aela, but we did not catch up with them withal before we arrived in Windhelm. The vampiress was quite reluctant to take ship to Solstheim in pursuit, though I reasoned that I had yet to follow up reports of a cult of assassins originating there, which had already made several attempts on my life. It had something to do with my being Dragonborn, and thus it was a practical diversion, and mayhap had some connection to her quest to defeat her family's designs besides (I doubted that, as well, but...). Yet she argued that the vampire problem was of greater import, and did I not owe it to Mjoll?

"We must find my mother - she will know of the Elder Scroll we require. She may even have it." Abed in my clammy, near-empty house in Windhelm, the vampiress curled around me, as if seeking warmth. "Besides which," she remonstrated, "thou must cure thyself before she will have thee back."

I did not know what she meant.

"Thou art a werewolf. Vilja cannot abide that. And it may be... dangerous, whence we go. My family... that is, my father and his minions, will not welcome either of us, never mind if he knew that we seek my mother."

"They do not get along?"

She snorted. "Not for... a long time."

"Very well," I conceded. "I shall have you to myself a while longer. We will go to Castle Volkihar first."

She bestowed a throaty growl, rolled atop me in our double furs; tried to shove her prehensile tongue down my throat as she grabbed the back of my head in both hands. I started, gasping as one of her sharp fangs pricked my lower lip; did I taste blood? Yet, all thoughts fled save the amatory.

---

That had been a few days ago, but my guilt had returned, and my frustration only intensified as, earlier this day, during our sacking of yet another bandit enclave found upon the way, Serana raised a dead male orc to fight at our side. Ordinarily, this would be of no consequence - she had done it often enow, much to my discomfort - but it betided that I had already stripped this one, as is my wont, partially to degrade such villains, but also to more easily denote those we had already looted, should we come upon them again later.

Curiously, the necromantic act of raising this particular male caused his member to swell to what I assumed were exaggerated proportions - but Serana assured me his cock was likely normal size. Thus, although I was sufficiently fascinated to test if it still worked normally, we were beset by yet more bandits, and, unfortunately, such spells do not last long; the corpse shortly turned to dust. Still, I demanded of Serana if she could make them last longer.

The vampiress smiled wickedly. "Thou art a shameless slattern," she accused. Nonetheless, I could tell she was as intrigued as I; fangs protruding, she licked her lips.

We crept deeper into the cavern, came upon a room with a bandit sitting at a table, apparently supping, whilst another stirred a cooking pot nearby. Both had their backs to us. My bow already cocked, I loosed a poisoned shaft, knocked a bottle of wine off the table to shatter on the stone floor. Such was my speed (despite questionable aim) that I had another shaft on its way ere the brigand had half-risen from her seat. The deadly orcish arrow punched through the back of her head, emerged from her forehead; blood sprayed across the table and her last meal as she slumped in her chair (apparently, the poison would have been superfluous withal). Serana's drain spell had already begun to suck the life from the other rogue as I fired again, striking him in the back, then in the chest as he whirled; he collapsed after a barely a step.

Bandits were seldom a challenge any longer.

Once we cleared the outlaws' cave, we carried a body with the fewest injuries - a Dunmer male, whom Serana had drained and shocked to death with lightning - to a room with several beds. Excitedly, we shed our armour; I sat on the edge of a cot as Serana cast her spell. Bent at the waist, the body rose in the air, as if suspended from the reanimating modest cock that swelled and lengthened before our eyes. Blue magic swirled as the corpse stood upright, emitted a moaning sound. Dusky skin blistered in spots where the lightning had arced, and it still smoked slightly, stank of burnt flesh.

The spellcaster could direct such thralls to attack enemies, so why not...? "Come thou hence," the vampiress ordered.

"Unnnhhh," it groaned, obeying stiffly.

Serana sat next to me; cool skin of her naked thigh against mine shocked and thrilled me. We both reached for the erect penis; each with a hand around it, stroked.

"Unnnhhh." A singularly unattractive noise, it, along with the blank stare, revealed naught but unintelligent obedience. The cooling member and its erstwhile owner displayed none of the usual reactions.

Still, I pulled it closer for a taste, which was unpleasant; it needed a wash. I grabbed a bottle of wine, dumped it over the shaft and dark, bulbous head, splashing my lap in the process. Serana and I tongue-bathed the cock; she slipped it into her mouth, raked her fangs along it. Feeding it to me, she bent to my crotch, lapping at the spilt wine running down my ready sheath.

I moaned in time with the animated corpse. "Unnnhhh."

Sadly, I barely got the stiff organ down my throat before the body disintegrated in a puff of dusty magic - which was neither an agreeable sensation nor taste. Experiment concluded we turned to one another.

Afterward, I felt anxious, unfulfilled. I do not know if it was due to our inability to have congress with a corpse; whether I simply needed male company; the fact that I lay next to what was essentially a dead, cold being; I missed Vilja and/or Aela; or altogether something else. I suddenly knew what I needs must do, however.

Continued in Chapter XVIII

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