Okay folks, this is the original version of the events in chap 13 of Murder, Love, and Other Things. I decided that it did not fit the characters' personalities and I was too uncomfortable with it to include it in the uploaded version. But, I'm not going to deny you Vilkas lovers your fun so, if it pleases you, you can choose to view this as the canon version of events. Its really not all that different, just *ahem* extended ;)
If you have not read M,L, and OT, then don't fret. This should be a fairly standalone work. In case you're wondering, Vilkas and my OC Isith are off on a grand adventure to rescue Wuuthrad. They have a prickly relatioship at best since, you know, Isith is formerly of the Dark Brotherhood persuasion...hijinks ensue. Oh, and Isith is in a semi/quasi relationship with Farkas. So, yeah...for shame.
Now, shoo, enjoy the very naughty smut. It's probably the smuttiest thing you'll get from me as I feel all awkward and kinky writing it ;)
Ah, just like old times…gods, I hate 'old times.' As they settled into camp for the night, Isith wasn't sure who was seething the most. Anger was still rolling off Vilkas in waves; it had been for most of the trip. As for Isith, she was busy trying to keep her head from exploding every time she thought about the Dark Brotherhood. They, as always, had lingered far too long on the Brotherhood and she was in a sour mood for it.
And where's Farkas? Is he here? Nooo…loves me one minute then runs away the next. She scoffed out loud, clinking the toe of her boot against a stone. The rock popped up through the air and nicked Vilkas on the arm. Ha! Bloody bastard! Serves him right. She looked at him smugly and tossed her pack on the ground, plopping down beside it.
"Go get firewood." From the tone of his voice, it was obviously meant to be an order.
"You go get firewood." Isith retorted.
Silver eyes narrowed on her, glaring daggers at her vital points. "Go. Now. It's the least you can do."
Oh, so he's going to take the low, guilty road. Isith stood up with a huff. Well, it's working, damn him.
She left him there for nearly an hour as she wondered about picking up wood as she found it. She came back toting an armful of dry twigs and branches and dropped them in the center of camp. They were close enough to the outer edges of the Pale that most of the snow had given way to heavily wooded forest. Patches of white still dotted the landscape here and there.
Vilkas didn't seem to trust her with lighting the fire so she retreated to her corner of camp and laid out her bedroll. Once her place was set, she left Vilkas' watchful eye and trudged miserably through a patch of trees to a bubbling stream she had discovered while hunting down the wood. Stripping all her armor off, she waded into the waist-deep water. She sucked in her breath as the chilly flow of the stream wrapped around her, carrying away the first few layers of grime from her skin.
She had not bathed since leaving Whiterun and the dirt and blood from travel had matted thick against her skin. She lingered in the water until she was spotless, scrubbing away the dirt and muck until her skin was raw underneath. Her hair proved even harder to clean and she had to duck herself several times over just to loosen the grime.
Once she was clean, she redressed and returned to camp. Vilkas was hunched over the fire, staring blindly into the flames. When he heard her shuffling close by, he turned his gaze to her.
"Where have you been?"
"Bathing. Maybe if you tried it sometime, you might recognize it. I can smell you from here."
Vilkas glowered at her and stood up. "Where's the water?"
Isith raised an eyebrow. He's really going to do it? Clean Vilkas? Will miracles never cease? She pointed a squeaky-clean finger in the direction of the stream.
She was alone for a long while, only her thoughts to keep her company. It didn't help that they proved to be positively miserable companions. Each time some self-pitying idea weaseled into her head, she forced it out again. She was too angry to spend time being sad. Tears and regrets wouldn't bring Kodlak back, nor would they reverse time. All she could do was push through until the end.
The fire had begun to die down by the time she heard footsteps approaching. Vilkas stepped into sight, naked save for a pair of leather pants. Isith blinked at him to adjust her eyes to the sight. The Nord was practically sparkling he was so clean. There were no layers of dirt to obscure the view of the chiseled plains of his stomach or the battle-toned muscles of his arms. His chin length hair was jet black from the dampness, falling about his jaw in wet tendrils. Isith had never noticed before but his was curlier than Farkas' longer locks.
Vilkas didn't spare her a glance as he walked over to his side of the camp. As he laid his armor aside, he said, "You might have warned me it was freezing."
Isith hardly heard him in time to comprehend his words. He might have been a bastard but he was a damn fine looking one. Drawing herself from her stupor, she shrugged her shoulders and smirked. "I thought it'd be more fun to let you find out on your own."
"Bitch." The word was mumbled so quietly she almost missed it. He knelt down and started to arrange his armor next to his bedroll.
Isith ignored him and pushed her heels into the dirt at her feet. "The puppy doesn't like to get wet, I see. Poor dear-"
"Please stop speaking." It was an earnest request. His armor situated to his liking, Vilkas sat down on his bedroll and drew his knees up so that he could rest his arms upon them.
Across the fire from him, Isith mumbled several ugly names at him and went on to entertain herself by poking the ground around her.
A few minutes of peaceful silence went by until Isith finally spoke up.
"You're a terrible, nasty man and I hate you." She stated flatly.
Vilkas looked more annoyed than surprised. With a shrug, he replied, "The sentiment is mutual."
Isith's face was plastered with faux alarm. "It is?" Her hands dropped despondently to her sides. "You think I'm a terrible, nasty man?"
The dark-haired Nord rubbed his face in his hands with a groan, not justifying her with an answer.
"How is it that your maturity level decreases during times of crisis?" He was genuinely perplexed.
Isith shrugged. "I'd rather spend time thinking of witty retorts than ponder woefully over life."
Vilkas shook his head at her, his eyes shut tight as he tried to understand. "Perhaps if the Brotherhood ever shows up you can distract them with your shining sense of humor."
It was Isith's turn to disagree. "The only member who ever laughed at my jokes was Cicero and he was insane. I think it would only prompt Nazir and Babette to kill me quicker. Or maybe draw out the pain…" Her voice wandered off and her green eyes became unfocused.
Vilkas watched her carefully, some of his own anger at her abating. He wanted to ask her if she was afraid…to try and understand how she could seem so chipper when everything had taken a sudden turn for the worse. If the Dark Brotherhood's cooperation with the Silver Hand had proved anything, it was that they wanted to hurt her in more ways than one. Killing her shield-siblings was a fine way to start.
"I'm sorry about Kodlak, you know." Her words startled him and he looked across the flickering flames at her.
Vilkas couldn't stop the bitterness from seeping into his tone. "Sorry won't bring him back. You should have been there."
Her good mood was suddenly gone and she looked away, her green eyes dark and glimmering with moisture. She willed herself to end the tears before they could fall. I will not cry.
Despite her iron-glad will, she was not strong enough to dam the flood for long. The salty liquid spilled over and flowed freely down her cheeks, stinging the fire-flushed skin.
"I would take it all back if I could, Vilkas. Everything. I would have stayed with the Brotherhood. I should have been braver. I could," a throaty sob erupted from her chest, "I could have ended this before it began."
Vilkas stared at her over the flames.
Gritting her teeth together, Isith buried her face in her hands, ashamed. She had caused so much pain in her time as a killer – not an assassin, there was no denying it anymore – She was a killer. The affliction was in her blood and it pervaded into the world around her, following her everywhere she went. The Companions had suffered a grave blow from the Silver Hand, a group that would not have been able to kick in the mighty doors of Jorrvaskr without the aid of the Dark Brotherhood.
"I'm so sorry for what I've done, my friend." Her voice wavered in response to the sobs that wracked uncontrollably through her body.
A pair of strong hands gripped her arms roughly and she was hauled off her feet.
"Stop crying." Vilkas shook her forcefully, tightening his fingers around her biceps so that it bruised.
Isith glared spitefully at him through red-rimmed eyes. She sniffled and tried to struggle in his grip.
"I said stop."
"No!" She spat. "Let me alone!"
Vilkas did anything but. With a force so passionate it bordered on painful, he crushed his mouth to hers. His grip on her loosened and his arms slinked around to tug her close. One hand embedded itself in the back of her hair, forcing her lips to his, while the other trailed down to the small of her back. The salt from her tears coated her lips, tainting Vilkas' tongue as he brushed it against her mouth.
Isith whimpered under his firm grasp and tried futilely to free herself. She pushed against his shoulders but could not budge him. Her mind was racing, a mess of strangled thoughts. I can't do this. Not with him…oh, Farkas, I'm sorry. She raged against her body as she felt it begin to betray her. Involuntarily, she relaxed under his grip, her lips finally springing to life hungrily against his.
Her lips parted to release a hearty moan and Vilkas' smooth tongue darted in, lapping at her own, begging from her something she desperately told herself not to give. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could not stop herself. She wanted this. Despite the morals, despite Farkas, despite every fiber of her being screaming at her to stop, part of her was aching for Vilkas. That darker side of her soul had always wanted him, she realized as she teased his tongue with her own.
Vilkas groaned, the sound causing a pleasant vibration from his lips to hers. Breathing heavily, he tore his mouth away, dragging it instead down the angle of her jaw. Unrestrained, Isith dug her nails into the flesh of his back and he nipped at the patch of skin between her ear and the curve of her jaw.
"Damn you, Vilkas…" She murmured into the heat of his shoulder. She felt the twist of his lips as they smirked in response.
His lips claimed the tender patch of skin under her ear and she pressed herself against him. He murmured her name between each kiss, his hands running up and down over her body. Isith rocked her hips against his, too dazed by the sudden heat to think clearly. Vilkas took her lips in his once more when he felt her against him.
"Oh, Isith…" He held her there, his muscles unflinching, and began his assault on her collarbone. He left a hot, damp trail of passion from her neck to the edge of her shirt.
"Take it off." He growled. Isith complied, jerking the linen fabric up and over her head and tossing it to the ground. He snatched away the breast band that bound her chest. A husky growl escaped him when the pale mounds sprang free. Isith groaned at the sound, so primal and masculine that it sent a surge of heat straight to her core.
With surprising strength, Vilkas wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her up, letting her entwine her dangling legs over his hips.
As she did so, Vilkas moved her to the nearest tree and braced her back against the rough bark. Isith cried out as the wood scraped painfully against her bare skin and knotted her fingers in Vilkas' hair to let him know it wasn't appreciated. Vilkas lifted a knee and wedged it between the dampening spot between her legs.
The groan shifted to an out-right cry of pleasure as Vilkas clasped his mouth against one of the rosy buds of her breasts. He was not gentle, laving at it relentlessly and taking it between his teeth with just enough to pressure to make the woman in his arms cry out. Her hands pressed his face deeper into her bosom, urging him to continue. Vilkas moved his attention to the opposite nipple and treated it with more care, teasing and lapping at it in between cool puffs of breath.
Isith was quickly reaching the point that she couldn't stand any more. Frantic with desire, she pawed at his shoulders until he released her.
Vilkas smirked at her, his eyes dark. "Too much for you, little one?"
Isith narrowed her eyes at him. She would be utterly damned before she let him have upper hand here. With a growl of her own, a fearsome sound from the wolf within, she grabbed his shoulders and grappled him to the ground. Vilkas landed with a hard slam and cut his eyes up at her, sneering as he watched her straddle him. Isith pressed her mouth to his once more. When he urged her to pick up the pace, Isith took his bottom lip between her teeth roughly, forcing him to slow down. Vilkas grunted beneath her but couldn't resist falling into the tempo of her much softer kiss.
She slipped back along his body and down to his hips, leaving him breathless and grumbling. Slowly, she left a trail of kisses down his chest as she moved lower, hovering just above the edge of his pants, teasing her tongue underneath the leather.
"Damn you woman." Vilkas groaned. His mind screamed at him to force her down against him but he let himself do no such thing. Instead, he waited impatiently for her to act, shifting his hips as she tugged at the laces of the britches.
In one quick motion, they were off, freeing Vilkas' throbbing length. Another red-hot wave of desire tingled in her core as Isith eyed him. Suddenly tentative, she reached out with nervous fingers to stroke him. She eased herself off of him to set back on her knees as she let her fingers trail over him.
"Gods…Isith!" Vilkas reached down and snatched her hand away. He sat up and leaned in to kiss her, his hand threading through her hair. "You'll end me early, woman."
He met her eyes and was pleased to see she was as far gone as he was, the dark green of her irises clouded with lust. Neither of them could wait much longer.
Gently, Vilkas tilted her onto her back and positioned himself over her. Two fingers trailed down to tease at the mass of moist curls between her legs. He groaned as her wetness coated his fingers and buried his face in her shoulder.
When he spoke, his voice was almost too husky to be understood. "Do you want this?"
Beneath him, Isith nodded. It wasn't as good as a vocal reply but he would take it. He positioned himself at her entrance but paused when tensed beneath him and squeezed shut her eyes.
"Look at me," he pleaded.
Isith opened her eyes and met his, surprised at the concern she saw there. Vilkas shifted his weight, causing the tip of his length to brush close against her sex and a moan escaped her. She couldn't stop now if she wanted to. She reached up and gripped his chin between her thumb and index finger, placing a reassuring kiss on his lips. "I'm ready. Please."
With a grunt of pleasure, Vilkas drove into her in one swift movement. Both lovers cried out in ecstasy, their hands clawing for one another. A few more thrusts and Isith adjusted to his size, doing her best to tighten her walls around him in time with his motions. Even in the shadows of the trees, his silver eyes glittered as they flashed down at her and back to the heavens, his head tilting back.
"By Talos, Isith…"
One strong arm latched around her leg and lifted it up, supporting her as her back arched off the ground. Isith reeled at the feeling and screamed out into the night.
The sound was nearly enough to undo Vilkas and his thrusts became more shallow and hurried. Isith shook her leg from his shoulder and lowered it back down to the warrior's hips. With one swift movement of desperation, she hitched him closer to her so that he was buried hilt deep and was left with little room for anything other than deep, quick thrusts.
"Vilkas!" Her voice was high-pitched as she felt her insides tighten in warning of her approaching pleasure.
Vilkas lowered his forehead to hers, his lips brushing her skin as he chanted her name. One last thrust and the woman in his arms was undone. She bucked beneath him and held him close as she rode out the waves of bliss. Vilkas' own movements became erratic and wild and with a primal cry he released into her, spilling his warmth against the coiled walls of her womb.
Panting and breathless, they tumbled from each other's arms. Several silent minutes passed and neither of them could be sure if the other had fallen asleep. Groaning, Isith raised herself from the patch of damp ground. By Talos, what have I done? Her mind was still reeling from the passion and the emerging thoughts of shame did little to ease her feelings.
The light touch of fingers against the small of her back reminded her of the lover lying beside her. Isith turned her eyes to meet his.
"Isith…" Vilkas' voice was as soft as she could remember hearing it.
Isith shook her head and moved to stand up, her legs wobbling under her weight.
"Hm, looks like I need another bath." She paid Vilkas little attention and stepped away as he reached for her again. "Bath," she repeated. She snatched up what clothes she could find and moved swiftly towards the stream, leaving Vilkas to prop himself up unsteadily as he watched her leave.
The water seemed much colder than that it had earlier in the evening. Isith was grateful for it regardless, allowing the flow to wash away the mixture of dirt, sweat, and Vilkas' seed from her body. She cupped her hands under the surface of the frigid liquid and brought it up to her face.
She yelped when a pair of searingly hot arms folded around her chest. Vilkas rested his chin in the crook of her neck and sighed.
Isith went rigid at the contact, folding her arms over her breasts as if he had never seen them before.
"The water is still cold." He whispered.
Isith nodded solemnly. "Colder."
"Isith, what happened…I should not have done such a thing."
"That bad, huh?" Her voice did not match the sarcasm of her words. Instead, she simply locked her eyes on the clear blue water around her.
Vilkas shook his head, his stubble brushing uncomfortably against the soft skin of her throat. "The best I can remember." Isith swallowed hard and turned her face away.
Upset by her reaction, Vilkas cursed suddenly and whirled Isith around to face him. His face, however, showed only concern. With a firm hand, he tilted her chin up so that she was forced to meet his eyes.
"I have loved you from the moment I saw you, Isith. You infuriating, stubborn, treacherous, beautiful fool, you." He held her firmly when she tried to look away. "Every part of me aches for you, no matter what you do. I do my best to hate you, to loathe you, and none of it lasts long enough to make these feelings stop -"
"Vilkas, please! Don't say these things!"
The warrior snarled at her and placed both hands on the sides of her face, forcing her to listen. "No, I will say them now because we will never speak of them again after this moment."
Tears welled up in Isith's eyes. If they were from adoration or hatred, she did not know.
"My brother loves you, damn him. There are days when I want to hate him as well but I cannot. You have my word that I will not speak to him of what we've done here tonight. I give it on one condition, however."
"What?" Isith's voice was breaking and the tears finally began to fall.
Vilkas pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, breathing in her scent one last time. When he spoke, his own voice was quivering and unsteady with pained emotion. "You must answer this question for me: If not my brother…if I had been better…would you have chosen me?"
Oh Talos, don't make me answer this! Would I? No, no, oh, Vilkas…no. I could not…it never would have been you. It took every ounce of strength she had to hold back the painful wail that threatened to rip from her heart.
Instead, with tender hands, she reached up and took his face in her hands. He was looking down at her, his eyes searching desperately, lost in some dark place between dread and hope. In the end, she could not break his heart.
She pressed her lips to his, the salt of her tears running down to mingle with the emotion of the kiss.
"Yes," she whispered, "It would have always been you, Vilkas." It was a lie she couldn't bear not to tell. You deserve to rot in Oblivion, Isith…the truth echoed in her mind over and over.
Vilkas held her close, pressing her to him so strongly that she thought he might swallow her whole in his arms.
"I'll be content enough with that." His warm lips pressed against her cheek with such tenderness that she wished from the bottom of her heart that her answer for him was truly yes. He smiled at her and said, "You have my word, I'll never mention it again." The pain and worry was gone from his voice, replaced with a false sense of hope that Isith had cruelly placed in its stead.
Isith smiled faintly, reluctant to let him go, this man who had gone from enemy to lover to faithful friend in the course of an hour.
She held him there as he turned to go. Vilkas looked back at her, his blue eyes hopeful.
"The water's cold, Vilkas," she said softly, "Stay and wash with me one last time."
Enjoyed it, yes? I'm off to go wash my hands. If you haven't read Murder, Love, and Other Things then you should totally go do that now. Right now. Like, this instant.
Hugs and kisses, fnf