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Scaly and Furry Adventures in Skyrim

Chapter 2

For FyacinTia

By Draconicon

"Perhaps it may be nothing more than a simple misunderstanding, Fy'acin, but it seems that your plan mostly consists of me doing a great deal of preparatory work for you and you doing very little before the actual theft you have planned. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I rather doubt I am."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm already doing plenty of work," the self-indulgent Khajiit said, a smile writ wide on his face as he watched the Argonian continue scribbling his spells. "You just keep doing what you're doing, and I'll take care of everything when the time comes."

His new partner - Darts-Over-Parchment, or whatever his name actually happened to be - had already proven quite useful. The mage's scrolls had been more than sufficient to get them back into Riften, and more to the point, they'd done it without going through the guards. Fy'acin had never imagined that there had been spells of flying and levitation before, but now that he had seen them, he knew that he could never go back to the old magics. The opportunities were limitless.

Of course, he would have to be careful for the moment. The Argonian was, after all, still not entirely willing as a partner. He could end up deciding to give up and go back to a more 'legitimate' life, whatever that was. The Khajiit would have to keep his attention.

And his affections, for that matter. For all the Argonian's protests, he certainly seemed to be a very desirable sort, and he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he wanted to enjoy time with the scaly male. He licked his lips as he watched his new partner continued scribbling, his mind drifting off as he imagined what might lay beneath those robes, and how hefty it might be.

He was just starting to imagine his tongue going to work, seeing if he could wiggle a little more work out of his partner with pleasure rather than coin, when Darts-Over-Parchment put his pen down.

"That will do."

"You're done? Already?"

Their little alley hideaway was dark, the moons hardly giving them any light to see by, but there was sufficient illumination for cat eyes to work. He leaned over the black-scaled Argonian's shoulder, looking down at the goods, and whistled as he saw the scrolls that had been prepared.

"This will do. Oh, this will do, indeed."

"Splendid. You have your tools. Now, what is the plan?"

"Oh, I'm going to rob the temple." Fy'acin smiled. "Never had much faith in the gods, anyway."

"Despite the fact that this one blesses you on the regular?"

"Well, there's acknowledgement, and then there's faith, and I've never really been one to let anyone put a ring on me. It's just not my style."

"...Uh-huh."

"At any rate. Thank you. I'll be back later."

He managed half a step before he had a hand on his tail. The Khajiit sighed. He supposed he had been a little over-optimistic to think that he could just walk off with his new tools.

"Yes, Sir Parchment?" Fy'acin asked with a smile.

"I'd like some assurance that you will actually come back."

"Why, you have my word. Is that not enough?"

"..."

"Hmm, I suppose that is a bit of a stretch to believe that, coming from me." He laughed. "I can offer you a token of my esteem, perhaps? A little bit of collateral that will call me to your side."

He could tell that he was merely irritating the mage, which was, at least partially, intentional. After all, why not push someone's buttons just a little? Why not tease them?

"Ah, this is not acceptable?" Fy'acin chuckled. "Then I suppose I must pledge my heart to you, instead."

"If you don't stop talking nonsense, I'm going to have to take steps of my own."

"Nonsense? Why, but the very state of friendship is nothing but lovely nonsense. The matters of the heart and its emotions are as silly as drunks."

"That's it. I'm done listening to you."

Darts-Over-Parchment muttered a word, speaking too quietly to hear, but it came with the dull rush of a spell being cast. The Argonian pointed down, and Fy'acin hissed as he felt a sudden heat form a ring around the base of his shaft. It grew warmer and warmer still, until he felt himself sweating from his sac, and it took a great deal of self-control to not show his shock on his face.

Then the Argonian removed his hand, and the spell was done. The heat faded, though it didn't leave completely, and Fy'acin hissed as he felt the warmth lingering around his shaft.

"What did you do to me?"

"It is just a simple tracker spell."

"Tracker - you do not trust me?"

"Bluntly, no."

"...Fair answer," the feline admitted. "But still -"

"I want to make sure that you don't run off on me. If you want my help, then I will be paid for it. I will have compensation, and if you decide that you don't want to give it, then I want to be able to collect it. Do you understand me?"

"..."

"I said, do you understand me?" the Argonian asked, leaning a bit closer.

The Khajiit's normally flippant response failed him as he found himself beaten down by those glowing white eyes. They were intelligent, intimidating, and most of all, magical. Despite his experience with mages in the past, he had never had someone that was this powerfully magical right on his tail about his debts. He understood, deep down, that this wasn't another casual partner.

"...I understand."

"Good. Now, get going. I'll wait for you on the roof of the temple. Steal what you feel you need."

"What I -"

"The next thing we do will be my choice."

"Who said that we'd alternate?"

"I did."

The Argonian let go of him and, before he could say another word, floated upward. He had a brief moment of looking up at black-scaled soles before the mage had completely disappeared over the rooftops, leaving him alone in Riften once more.

"...I need to learn that."

Shaking his head, he waited for another handful of seconds, ensuring that he was completely alone, then pulled his trousers down. He dragged them to his knees, leaning forward to see the damage.

His tawny fur had been blackened as if burned, and it formed a ring-like seal around his sheath and sac. What had been gold was now pure black, yet the dark fur seemed to glow more than the untouched stands ever had. It even seemed to pulse around his shaft, pulling in tight behind his balls like some physical ring, and then releasing him only to do it again. He gritted his fangs, feeling the tight, tense feeling growing and lessening by turns, encouraging his shaft to rise.

"Mmmph...he could have at least given me more than this...A handjob, at least."

Shaking his head, he pulled his trousers back up and made his way through the back alleys of Riften. There was a temple to pilfer, and he wasn't going to do that while sitting on his heels in the alleys.

Fun as that could be.

The temple itself was all but abandoned when he opened the front door. Opened, of course, meaning that he had picked the lock while the guards muttered to themselves barely ten feet behind him. They were as clueless as ever, and he was thankful for it. As well-armed as he was, he didn't want to start a fight with the guards. They always seemed to grow stronger as their foes did.

He shut the door behind him, quiet as a cat, and tiptoed through the long benches. The priest seemed to have taken some time away from the altar, so that meant that he should be safe to steal what he liked. Smiling, he made his way to the altar at the front of the temple, where the Shrine of Mara waited.

"Hello, hello, hello," the feline muttered, looming over the shimmering metallic idol. It was little more than a bust, of course, but while it had the appearance of carved stone, he had seen it up close before, and knew that it was made of something different. What precisely, he didn't know, but he knew that there were mages all across Skyrim that would love the chance to study it closely, particularly considering its ability to channel divine magic without any difficulty. "What do you say, dear Mara, to a stroll in the moonlight? Ah, are you afraid of being seen with a cat? Oh, but where are your standards? Surely, I am a better date than any meager Nord that might take your hand?"

He smiled as he pulled the screws and securing straps away from the altar proper, allowing the idol to shift from side to side as he pulled backward. It was already quite loose, likely from a great lack of maintenance over the years. The priests never paid particular attention to their tools while they were preaching, which meant that they were never repaired when they needed it.

It was a wonder that the idols still worked when you got right down to it.

The feline had just managed to loosen the last of the straps when a footstep caught his attention. One ear swiveled backward, pinpointing the source as the sleeping chamber at the back of the chapel. It seemed that the priest hadn't gone home, but merely gone to take a nap.

Well, time to see if those scrolls work...

He reached for the various pieces of parchment at his waist, pulling them free. Not the fireball, nor the levitation, but -

Yes, that would work.

He turned to the door as it opened, the Dark Elf female stepping through. She laid her eyes on him and her mouth opened wide. He stepped back in shock, but before she could cry out, he read the single word on the scroll.

"Silence."

The word glowed, and the impending shout fell silent. She gasped, holding her hand to her throat. Another attempt at calling out failed, and the feline slowly got to his feet, smiling at her.

"My apologies, priestess. I was in the middle of something, and you seem to have interrupted me. Ah, ah, no need to thank me from sparing you the embarrassment of being seen as a victim to a thief. I am very well-paid for my troubles with this idol of yours."

She spat a word that could not be heard, and he chuckled.

"Ah, I'm sorry, dear, but you will have to speak up. I can't hear a thing when you stay so hateful."

Another series of soundless mouth-shapes followed, and Fy'acin bit back a laugh as he took the idol from its resting place and tossed it into a sack. He threw said sack over his shoulder, and then turned to the door.

The priestess lunged to block his progress, and she stood with her arms out to either side. He cocked his head to the side, shook his head, and reached for one of the other scrolls.

"Dear, oh, dear. Do you really think that this is going to help you? I mean, I appreciate your sheer determination, but really, this is getting out of hand."

She didn't try and speak. She had learned her lesson. Instead, she just glared at him.

"Ah, well, if I must."

With more than a little drama, he flicked the scroll open, looking down at the word. It was simple enough.

"Stillness."

She stiffened, surrounded by a faint green light. The Khajiit approached her from the side, only to give her a gentle push with one pointed finger. The paralyzed Dunmer tumbled forward, landing flat on her face.

"So sorry, but I must leave you here. I hope that you aren't bothered by anyone that finds you in such a, ahem, compromising position," the Khajiit said.

And with that, he made all due haste to the front door...though not before turning around and stealing the coins that she had in her back pockets. After all, there were debts to be paid with things aside from his greater prize.

The Argonian was waiting for him on the temple roof, as promised, and the dark-scaled male pulled him off the ground as soon as he stepped out of the temple. Darts-Over-Parchment looked him right in the eye as Fy'acin got comfortable, stretching out his legs and laying his bag down with a small sigh.

"I assume you were successful?"

"You assume correctly, of course."

"Good. Let's move."

"A moment to rest, first. And to savor this little victory."

And to remind his 'partner' that they were partners, and not merely a jumped-up mage that had a hireling under his heel. Fy'acin was not about to let that become his destiny, or his story.

As the Khajiit stretched out his legs, he was all but sure that the white-eyed Argonian was staring at him. Of course, it was hard to be sure - the whites of those eyes made it very difficult to tell where he was looking at the best of times - but there was something to the way that the other male waited, head deliberately turned just far enough away to not seem to be looking his way while not actually removing the feline from his sight that made him feel like the mage was sneaking peeks. He smiled, stretching out one leg further than the other, fiddling with the back of his footwear.

"My, my...it's quite a bit of effort to steal something from a church. I don't suppose I could trouble you for a massage, good Sir Parchment?" he asked with a laugh and a grin.

"You are past childish if you think that this is a good time for it."

"Oh, please. As if the guards were ever to look up. They barely understood the passage of dragons as more than a theoretical concept. The idea of a thief taking to the rooftops has escaped them time and again. We are safe here as long as we wish."

"How have you not been caught yet?"

"Charm, professionalism, skill -"

"And a tongue too eager for its own good," the Argonian added.

"Hmm, I suppose. I have yet to have someone complain," he said, smiling as he licked his lips.

For the first time, his partner looked a trifle embarrassed. Good. It meant that there were desires there to play with. He flicked off his footwear properly, bare-pawed, and there - yes, there it was. The slightest of head-twitches, the attempt to look that stopped in mid-motion. He was used to that, though more around the lovely ladies that were curious about the cat-folk but dared not admit their attraction. Forbidden romances, dark desires: they were like mother's milk to him.

Ah, another desire, that, but a desire for another time.

Extending his leg, he stroked his furred toes along the Argonian's barely-visible calves. The mage didn't move, but Fy'acin was half-sure that he'd seen something twitch further up.

"Ah, so I was right when I noticed you staring before."

"I may have my own desires, but I am not ruled by them."

"Who said that one must be ruled by the desires to enjoy them?"

"Self-preservation, mostly. And the experience of dealing with Daedric creatures that love to tempt one by their desires. The sexual ones are very pushy when it comes to such things."

"You've met sexual Daedra?" Fy'acin asked, his teasing toes freezing. "When?"

"My experiments have...gone rather far afield from their original purposes. I just...wanted to know what would happen."

From scrolls that could be used by anyone rather than a trained mage to magics of flight, and now to the summoning of the Daedric creatures for various sexual romps? Truly, his new partner had quite the list of skills...and quite the number of things that might be blackmailed. The feline smiled to himself, tapping his chin as he imagined the various things that he might request.

Of course, such things would have to wait. He had other things that needed doing, first, and they had time -

Click, click, click.

The cat and the lizard froze for a moment, but only for a moment. Even as the mage narrowed his eyes, Fy'acin leaned to the side of the rooftop. Two guards had come to the church, and one of them was pulling the door open. The helmed warrior cursed under his breath.

"Sound the alarm! The church has been attacked!"

"Lock down the city!"

"Seal the gates!"

"Check the rooftops!"

Fy'acin spluttered in pure feline rage, but before he could question it, Darts-Over-Parchment had him by the scruff of the neck and they were on the move. They darted across the rooftops and over the walls, landing in the water of the nearby lake.

It was a very cold lake, as it turned out.

"Check the rooftops," Fy'acin repeated mockingly, all but spitting the words into their fire. "They never check the rooftops. I don't know what happened there, but that is not how the guards work. They never have, they never will, and I for one consider it cheating that they did it this time."

"You have a great many grievances against an enemy as intelligent as you are."

"Oh, do not insult my intelligence. I far exceed any dundering meathead that has taken up the sword for their hold. I pride myself on never having been stupid enough to believe that mere 'duty' would be shield enough to keep me safe, or anyone else." The tawny-furred Khajiit tossed another log into the fire. "And besides, it is besides the point. They never do that."

"Are you going to complain about this all night?"

"For another hour or so, at least."

"Fine."

Before the Khajiit could say anything else, the Argonian rolled over and laid himself against the far wall of the cavern. Sputtering, he stood up and stomped his foot.

"Hold on. What do you think you're doing?"

"Avoiding the repetitive ranting," Darts-Over-Parchment said.

"Repetitive?! And now, you must insult my vocabulary!"

"Vocabulary means nothing if you're repeating the same message over and over again. You've made your point. It was unfair, you don't agree that they should have thought of it, and you believe that they are too stupid to ever think of it on their own. Either complain about something new, say what you really want to say, or stop, because you're not as entertaining as you think."

"I...you..."

The feline had been insulted many a time, but this was the first time that it had slipped under his guard in months. He prided himself on his wit and his banter, and to hear that he was nothing but boring -

But he wasn't...was he? Surely, surely not. He had a tongue that could rip down the sternest of guards, the most knowledgeable of scholars. Surely, the Argonian was merely a coward that could not stand up to his biting wit and sharp tongue? But then, why would he accuse him of -

Oh.

Oh.

"Do you think - were you under the opinion that I thought you'd sabotaged me?" Fy'acin asked, cocking his head to the side at the curled-up Argonian.

"Seemed like a reasonable assumption to make, considering you won't stop saying how unfair it was."

"I never - why would you think I blamed you?"

"Wouldn't be the first time. And you're not stopping. It's all about this one thing, and it sounds like you expect something from me when you keep saying it. Something besides sympathy or agreement."

"That's perhaps the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Keep talking. I'm sure you'll hear something stupider."

"You - ooooh, wait, wait. I know this trick." Fy'acin scooted a bit closer to the mage, sitting beside him, back to butt with the lizard. "You're avoiding and evading. You don't want to talk about this, do you?"

"And you, suddenly, do. What happened to the complaining? I miss that now."

"I'm a cat. We like to play with secrets."

"Clearly."

Darts-Over-Parchment sighed, shaking his head as he rolled onto his back. White lizard eyes met glinting feline ones, and the two beastmen shared a look. Fy'acin was surprised to see such tiredness in eyes that had previously been so powerful, such walls under the confidence that had beamed forth mere hours before. He let his teasing smile slip, reaching out to take the lizard's hand.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you actually want to know, or is this another tease?"

"No tricks this time. I want to know."

"..."

"Or I can go back to the complaining, if you prefer. I've had a moment to think, and I've really revitalized it. True piss and vinegar this time."

"Oh, by the nine..."

Fy'acin chuckled, but it had its effect. The Argonian sat up, shaking his head and rubbing his forehead. He pulled his robe a bit tighter around himself, tail pulling in a bit tighter to his legs. The Khajiit gave his partner time. Despite his nature, he still had a few inklings of sensitivity beneath his teasing manner. And besides, he could all but smell the juicy little emotional details that would make for better intimacy between himself and the scaly mage. All he had to do was wait.

Finally, the mage looked down at the fire. That deep sigh, the set of the shoulders -

Annnnnd start scene.

"I want to make this clear. If you ever have a problem with me, say it. If you say it, I can deal with it. If you don't, I can't. And if you want to be partners, then I need to be able to deal with everything that turns up."

"Half of the things that turn up."

Darts-Over-Parchment arched an eyeridge as he turned and gave him a look. Fy'acin started to laugh, only for it to die in his throat as the Argonian didn't join him.

"You're serious."

"...Never mind -"

"No, no, you're actually serious. You think you have to handle everything? This is a partnership, remember? You're supposed to share things. Treasure, glory, worries, everything."

"Are you going to leave me alone if I do?"

"No promises."

The Argonian rolled his eyes and pulled his robe over his head. Fy'acin didn't let him keep it there, pulling it down before the lizard could get comfortable.

"I'm afraid that I'm quite serious at the moment. I don't want you to be like this. I want you to be willing to share."

Darts-Over-Parchment fixed him with another stare, and this time, Fy'acin refused to back down. He leaned closer, pulling the Argonian's robes open. Little by little, he parted them, exposing a chest that was marked with little pocks and scars. Some could have been from spells, but there were numerous places where it looked different. Not self-inflicted, but something else, something more...savage.

He didn't ask questions. Instead, he pushed further, parting the robes right down to the waist. His partner could have stopped him, and quite easily; when he didn't, Fy'acin took it as permission to go all the way.

What he found was something quite hefty, indeed, more than enough to fill his hands and then some, even though soft. He squeezed at the base, smiling up at his partner.

"Well, now..."

"What is your purpose here?" the Argonian asked, sounding both annoyed and bemused at the same point. "If I wanted sex -"

"There are others, I know. Not any better, but others," the feline said, batting the half-hard and growing shaft between his hands. "But that's not the point. You don't entirely trust me to be capable. At least, not seriously."

"You're not doing a good job of convincing me otherwise right now."

"I don't have to convince you here. I just have to make sure that you don't feel so uncomfortable. And let me tell you, my scholarly friend -"

"Don't push it."

"Let me tell you." The Khajiit smiled, leaning in to tap the shaft against his nose. A rich, musky scent with the rasping sort of scent of scales under it met his nose. "Dealing with this, and taking some relief, goes a long way towards making you far more comfortable."

"Fine...fine."

"And then, when we're done, we can talk about what you really want to do...and what your plan is."

"...Deal."

Glad to have put that behind them, Fy'acin opened his mouth and took the lizard's cock into his maw. It wasn't the first time that he had 'played' with an Argonian, but it was the first time that he had been with a lizard so clean. Most of them were at least slightly afflicted by the taste of old seed and perhaps something slightly fouler, but this one was clean as could be. Whether it was magic or something else, he was grateful; there were few things more reprehensible than a tool that had been poorly cared for.

And as he sucked the head into his throat, gradually realizing the girth of it, he noticed that the mage was slowly relaxing. Just like he had planned.

There. Maybe now you'll get it through your skull that I do mean to help...

After all, Fy'acin was an accomplished rogue, but that didn't mean that he was a complete jerk. He did want this to work out, and if that meant making Darts-Over-Parchment take him, for lack of a better term, 'seriously', then he would make sure that he could be taken as such.

Annoyingly enough.

The End

Summary: Fy'acin and Darts-Over-Parchment have a little heist, and then a little fun.

Tags: M/M, Magic, Skyrim, Argonian, Khajiit, Charm, Banter, Oral, Annoyance, Thief, Mage, Series,