FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A rooster's cry rang out in the morning, his cry piercing the silence, it arouse a Nord, sleeping on a travel sleeping bag made of soft bear fur. His hand was wrapped around warmer, softer, fur, more specifically, that of the woman he spent last night with. He was naked, his bare chest pressing into the khajiit's back. She was purring softly in her sleep, making the entire bag ruble with her gentle vocals.

He pulled her closer, which awoke the cat.

"Mmmm, good morning," she said.

"Good morning to you too," He held the cat awhile longer, at least, until she let out her now familiar chuckle.

"Was a good night as well, this one is glad that you were here with me to share this morning."

The Nord slipped out of the bag "A true son of Skyrim does not leave his maiden alone and without a proper goodbye."

The cat rolled her eyes, "Ah, spare me the Nord talk, it was because you wouldn't want to anger your new business partner."

As he slipped on his clothes, he couldn't help but feel a little wounded by her words, "I tell the truth, whether you had bought my dyes or not, it would be unfitting for someone like myself."

The cat leaned herself up with her elbows, her breasts lay bare, her nipples a little hard from the morning chill.

"Alright Nord, this one will believe you for now," She gave him a wink, "But, you must head back to your home?"

Fjoel put on his shirt, "Aye, I must gather what you ordered, along with giving with a few other things that need my attention."

He kept it vague, but he feared the worst from his father, no doubt assuming he had gotten drunk in the Battered Mare.

She purred, "Well alright, Khajiit will be here for a little while longer, though of course the sooner the better," she gave him a wink, "This one quite enjoys seeing you."

He finished lacing up his boots and responded, "Don't worry, I'll be back today at least."

Before leaving, he turned to face the cat, "And thank you, last night was...truly remarkable."

With those parting words, he left for home. There were one or two Khajiit sitting around the fire, neither of them seemed to pay much mind to the young Nord. Either this happened often, or the Khajiit didn't care about these kinds of things. That was refreshing if true, Talos knows the entire town would be clucking about him and some bar wench if he had done the same thing with a Nord lass.

Shrugging it off, he headed up the trail towards home. Daylight had broken out, so the guards let him pass without trouble. Well, more like they didn't hold him up.

One of them said, "Better wash the hair out of that shirt, I hear Khajiit fur is extra scratchy."

He paid them no mind, it seemed everywhere the watchmen loved commenting on things that were none of their blasted business. The city was just starting to wake up, with no crowds, he reached the house in no time. However, unsurprisingly, there was someone waiting for him.

"I thought I told you not to go to the Battered Mare." A gruff voice spoke as soon as the door was shut. His father was sitting next to the fireplace, poker in hand, a warm, orange glow was the only illumination in the room.

"Makes me wonder what gutter you awoke in today."

"Father, I.."

"SILENCE, you may be a man, but you still need to think about this family!" the aged Nord's voice rose, the metal that was in his hand now resting in the fire, "Do we mean nothing to you now!?!"

"I wasn't at the Battered Mare!" Fjoel interjected, "I was with head of a caravan securing a purchase of our dyes!"

The old man frowned, the metal back in his hand, he poked the dying fire next to him, "How much did they buy?"

"1000 septiems" he boasted, "They are to be paid in East Empire Trade bonds!"

The man let out a gruff contemplative sound from him throat, "Well, better deliver the dyes then, I already filled the order for the Yarl."

"Of course!" Fjoel rushed to the basement to gather the order.

He found it odd that his sister wasn't here, but he only thought of that for a second before opening barrels and gathering materials. Only after a half hour or so Fjoel emerged from the basement. He carried a sack full of individually wrapped dying packets. As he walked to the door, his father remained silent, staring at the smoldering coals.

Back outside the walls, a monarch butterfly flew past him, and towards the plains that surrounded Whiterun. With a lungful of the crisp morning air, the young Nord went on his way. It was a very short walk until he came upon the Khajiit camp. There were two packing up the camp and Ra'ara herself was taking inventory, rummaging through the contents of a chest. Her ear flicked as he stepped from the cobblestone to the grass they had made camp on.

"Ahh, I see the Nord is true to his word," She held up a potion of some sort, inspecting it in the sunlight.

"Yes, but what about yours?" He looked around the camp, "You said you'd be here for 'awhile'. You were going to pack up without telling me?"

"Oh don't be silly," she placed the bottle back into the chest, stood up, brushed the dirt off her robe, and walked towards him, "This one wouldn't have ordered movement if there was any doubt you'd be back here so quickly.:

"Is that so?" he placed the bag on the ground, "Well, I'm glad I could be trusted."

The cat came right up and leaned in seductively, "The reason this one knew you could be trusted, was because I found you in my tent this morning, rather than an empty space."

She gave him a peck on the cheek, "Now, the dyes."

Fjoel shook his head slightly, "Nay, not until I see the payment, sorry, just how we do business here."

A grin spread across her face and she tilted her head to the side, "Check your coat pocket, Nord."

Confused, but curious, the Nord did exactly that...and inside his coat was indeed was the two, 500 septims worth of Eastern Trade bonds.

"How did you..." he was interrupted by Ra'ara

"Misspent youth," she took the bag off the ground in front of Fjoel, "And this one would ask that you don't misspend what you have received."

"Will do," he looked around before asking, "When will you be in Whiterun next?"

"Hmmmmm," a curious sound poured out of her throat, "Unsure, though if the moons and stars permit, soon."

"I'll keep an ear out. It was a pleasure Ra'ara."

"Yes," she gave him a wink, "I think it was a pleasure for the both of us."

A week later, as Fjoel walks down the stairs one morning, there was a curious sight: his father, packing a backpack, items are scattered about the table. There was a furred sleeping bag, a few days worth of traveling rations, and the family's war axe. The young Nord rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Morning Father, what's all this?"

"It's yours," the man gruffly stated, stuffing the rolled-up bag into the backpack.

Fjoel looks over to his sister, who replied with a silent shrug

"You're going to Riften, the Black-Briars have enough for more clothes and so will their Jarl, I want you to secure a deal, understood?"

Fjoel cleared his throat, "Yes father, I understand."

"Good," the older man finished packing, buckled the backpack closed, and roughly handed it to his son, "Because you're leaving right now."

"WHAT?!?" Fjoel exclaimed, eyes wide.

"You heard me, get a move on, try to get more bonds like you did last time if you can,"

"But Father I..." he trailed off as his father gave him a cold look. It was very hard to tell, but there was worry in his eyes. Fjoel glanced at his parent's closed bedroom door, and took a deep breath.

"Alright, give me the ax, and I'll be on my way."

With a curt nod, the older Nord picked up the ax and handed it to Fjoel, it was made of skysteel over a hundred years ago by Fjoel's great-grandfather, who's tales were still talked about today with the companions. As the young Nord held it, the dormant power seemed to steady him, almost like his ancestors were watching over him. He slipped the handle onto a belt loop, and headed off.

It was a two-day journey to get to Riften, he'd have to stop at Ivarstead. He could make it there just before sundown. As he passed the two guards they began their unrequested commentary

"Hope that sack's filled with enough food, don't want to starve out there."

"You're like me eh? Don't fancy those clunky two-handed weapons."

Fjoel did his best to ignore them, guards seem to be the same everywhere, poking their noses where they don't belong. He set off on his journey, the smallest bits of red disappearing from the morning sky. He headed off to Riverwood first, there are faster ways but none as safe.

As his boots touched the warming stone of the path, Fjoel began to reflect on things, keeping his eye trained for wolves but his mind on the past, he pressed on. Specifically about that Khajit, Ra'ara. He still thought about that night when he was alone in his room and needing to release stress. He mused if he would ever see her again.

His mind wandered, but so too did time, his passing through Riverwood was but a small reprieve from the constant journey through plains, forests, and babbling rivers. He didn't see anything dangerous, though it's often said that those who search for danger can find it in Skyrim.

He spent his lunch sitting on the edge of a cliff, watching the butterflies hover from flower to flower and a very green hunter, who sprinted after his prey.

The rest of the journey was uneventful, in the distance roared a bear, no doubt protecting its cubs, and as predicted, he stepped foot into Ivarstead about the time purple emerged in the sky.

Fjoel walked into the inn, the old wood creaked under his boots, the air was filled with pleasant scents of cooking food and mead. The innkeep didn't look up from his counter, cleaning a mug.

"Well hello there," a woman's voice came from his left, "Welcome to the Vilemyr Inn, come a long way?"

"Whiterun," he replied, taking a moment to look her over. She was a young lass, long golden hair, looked to be in her twentieth or so summer.

"Well, we have a free room, it's your for the night for about ten gold."

As Fjoel reached into his pocker, the barmaid spoke again, barely a whisper and keeping an eye on the Innkeep, "And, there is...after hours service for additional costs."

That peeked his interest, it wasn't uncommon, but always a pleasant treat when an Inn offered some sly services like that.

"How much lass?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"We can discuss how much, and what, once Wilhelm is asleep, ok?"

A bit louder, he dropped ten coins into he hand, "Alright, room for the night."

He walked past the counter and gave the innkeeper a small wave, in return, Fjoel was given a short nod.

It took but a few seconds to set down his pack and collapse onto the bed, giving his muscles time to rest from the journey, he was tempted to fall asleep right there. But the promise of a little after-hours fun kept him awake. He decided after his meal to read a book to pass the time.

After reading about five pages there was a knock on his door, a light one. Once the door was opened, that beautiful barmaid silently walked in, Fjoel quickly, but quietly, closed the door.

"So, traveler, how can I...help ease the tensions of travel?"

"Well lass, that depends on what you're willing to do," he sat down on the bed, patting the spot next to him.

"Well," she started, taking the seat next to him, "My hands alone are 5 gold, for me to taste is 10, and 20 if you want to fully test this bed."

He could smell the lavender she used to bath with, it was wonderful, he thought for a few moments, weighing everything up, before he counted out his coin and handed her 10 golden circles.

"Would love to see that pretty face painted too," he added, as she slipped off the bed and onto her knees in front of him.

"Well, we'll see what we can do here," she undid the laces of his trousers and opened the cloth up. In front of her jutted that cock, standing tall and proud. He was about ready to burst, pre already gathered at the tip and his length bobbed in time with his heart.

A soft grunt escaped his throat as her hand wrapped around his length. It was a little cold, but that feeling quickly dissipated as her palm worker her way up and down his cock. She squeezed each time the top of her fist reached the bottom of his head.

"Mpf, while this is nice I don't want to waste 5 gold for nothing," with that he lightly pushed the back of her head toward his waiting rod.

She was very quick on the uptake, opening her mouth and burying at least half his size down her throat. The barmaid held onto his leg, and pushed his head deeper down her throat. This time, a heart groan sounded through the room, quickly silenced as he tried to control himself. Meanwhile, the Nord bobbed her head up and down, taking him deeper and deeper. Pleasure built as her tight, hot throat enveloped him. It was coming, closer, closer!

He let out a gasp and a small warning, "I'm...I..."

Just as his throbs hit her throat she popped off, gripping the base and pointing it at herself. His cockhead spurted a few ropes of cum, right into her face. Across her cheeks and one that would have landed in her eye had she not closed them. The room was hot, and full of the sound of male panting. He laughed just a little in the afterglow and handed her a rag.

"Oh thank you, I needed that."

She smiled at him and took the rag, wiping her face clean of the misdeed. Once his trousers were tied up again, she walked out, heading back to work.

As she walked out, Fjoel wished that she could have stayed, maybe pet her soft fu....

He shook the thought out of his head, and laid down to sleep.