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The Goddamned Dovahkiin

Written By: Spudz

The air was cool and crisp this late in the afternoon. She could breathe it into her lungs and feel invigorated, as if its chilling essence gave the body new strength. This was the kind of weather she lived for.

Takara's two booted feet skidded to a halt on the rough cobblestone road, kicking up a few loose stones. She took a moment to draw a refreshing breath, panting lightly as the miles of cross country running finally compelled her to pause in her travels. It was a good kind of exhaustion that made her muscles ache, the sort of satisfying weariness that came about after covering quite some distance. The nords could keep their bloody overrated horses and all their lumbering girth. This was truly the best way to travel the lands of Skyrim: on her own two legs.

The khajiit currently found herself poised on the crest of a slight hill. Below her the cobblestone road cut sharply back and forth, picking its way down the slope toward the expanse of fertile farmland that opened up beyond. The ragged edifice of a city wall was just visible on the horizon. Her destination was in sight.

She took in the peaceful serenity of her surroundings at length, until the sound of armored footfalls plodding up from behind announced the arrival of her hapless companion. She smiled to herself, not bothering to look back. "You alright back there?"

Heavy armor plating shifted, accompanying a raspy masculine voice. "Of course! I never tire."

When she turned around, one very exhausted khajiit greeted her amused gaze. The overlapping armor he wore hung from his body as he rested with hands on his knees. He fought for breath, trying, and failing, to put on a strong front. Same old loveable Kharjo. He was never one to admit defeat.

Takara chuckled. "Oh, come on. You're not fooling anyone. We can take a break."

"No. Khajiit is fine. Never..." He had to take a moment to breathe. "...better. I will not fall behind."

"You used to guard the caravans. Surely you're not that out of shape?" It wasn't a fair thing for her to say. Kharjo was as fit as any cat. It just so happened he was armored from pointy ear to toe, and carried a heavy shield and mace to boot. She still loved to tweak his tail all the same. "What am I going to do with you?"

He made as if to reply, stopped short to catch a breath, and then forced himself upright with some effort and a grimace. "Maybe... if I wasn't carrying so much."

"You look too cute in that dragon getup of yours. I can't change it now. Besides, my khajiit requires nothing less than the best protection, especially since he's the one always fighting off the beasties for me."

The cat preened, just a little. He couldn't hide the smile that appeared beneath the brim of his helmet. "Khajiit has always been too kind to Kharjo. I still owe a great debt."

"Pssh." Takara waved a hand dismissively. "Don't you start going on about that again."

"It is a deed that cannot be forgotten." His tone indicated that if she got the last word, which she would, he was still not going to admit defeat. It was an ongoing struggle.

She padded over to him and thumped a fist on his helmet. "Knucklehead, you know I enjoy crafting things for you. This was a much needed upgrade over what you were wearing to guard the caravans, and you know it's a labor of love for me. I had the materials, and there was nothing else I could do with them except give my favorite cat the protection he deserves. Annnnd only at the expense of nearly crushing you to death under all that weight, as you always say."

He shut his open mouth, beaten to the words.

Takara rolled her eyes. "We've had this conversation many times before. You know I will win. Just admit it."

Hell, it wasn't like she had even gone out of her way to give him that armor. You could go into any random cave or deserted fort and find all manner of valuable items just lying about. It continuously amazed Takara. After a while, she had found it was easier to melt most of it down for the raw metal instead of trudging about trying to find a merchant who actually had gold to part with. And even then it was still hard to find good uses for it all.

Before he could think of a good retort, she set off down the winding road at a slow walk. Her thick feline tail swayed metrically behind her lithe form, beckoning him to follow. "Come. We can take our time from here. Home's in sight and there's no sense hurrying."

For how tired he was Kharjo was still quick to fall in step behind her, his heavy armor clinking along in tune to her softer footfalls. Apparently he felt the argument wasn't worth continuing, much to her relief. "I can appreciate that. Khajiit is always in a hurry. No time to admire the beauty of this land when always running to and fro."

And really, he was right. Takara let her gaze wander across the artistic beauty of the forest that surrounded her. She had traveled this path many a time before, constantly in a rush. There had always been a place to be and a mission to be carried out. "You have a point. Hardly ever a moment to slow down. We always manage to find trouble at every turn. Actually, it's probably more accurate to say that trouble is always finding us."

"But that trouble keeps things interesting, no?"

"I suppose it does. It _can_get annoying."

It was more than annoying at times. You couldn't walk twenty feet in any direction without running into a bandit, or wild creature that was hell bent on tearing your face off. And that was without even considering the dragons.

"You ever wonder why it is we run across twice as many bandits as honest folk in these parts?" Takara asked, shooting a glance over her shoulder. "Honest question."

"Khajiit is asking Kharjo this?"

She chuckled. "Of course I am silly cat. You should know what I'm talking about better than anyone."

"It is true; the bandits harass the caravans to no end."

Takara turned a bend in the road, bringing her down toward a flowing stream. The scenery really was quite beautiful. "You gotta wonder where they all come from. God only knows how many the two of us have put in the ground already. But they just keep coming. It's practically genocide at this point."

"Always so eloquent with words."

She snorted, kicking a loose rock with a boot to watch it tumble into a nearby bush. "It's the truth. At least this trip has been relatively peaceful."

Nothing too exciting; just a simple mission of retrieving a citizen's prized sword from some random cave that she had already forgotten the name of. How the weapon had gotten there in the first place was a mystery, not to mention the fact that the citizen somehow knew exactly where to look. The whole thing was fishy, but she hardly cared at this point. If anyone tried to fuck with her, and several enterprising individuals had tried in the past, then they got swift retribution. Always.

The retrieval had been uneventful, and now home was in sight. A nice hot fire and warm bed awaited the two khajiit. They just had to cross this last bit of wilderness...

A bush rustled off to the side of the road, perking Takara's ears. She recognized that sound. Knowing what was to follow made her blood boil.

Sure enough. "You'll make a fine rug, cat!"

Takara's ears splayed as she cursed. She turned to find three bandits advancing on her with weapons raised. She leveled an angry finger at them. "No! You stop right the fuck there! I will not be dealing with this shit!"

To her inward surprise, the bandits froze. They were clearly taken aback at her outburst.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Her accusing finger remained leveled at them as she got a good look at her... attackers. The first nord held a rusty iron sword in hand. To add to the stupidity, he sported crude fur armor and a helmet with bulky horns; a very comical appearance. The next bandit, also nord, wore no armor at all save for pants, letting everyone know how manly his chest hair was. And the last nord bandit... "Is that a fucking wooden cudgel? What the hell do you plan to do with that? Give me a bloody splinter?"

The three hapless bandits exchanged looks. They held their ground on the edge of the road, not sure what to do apparently.

Kharjo, to his credit, had not even gone for his weapon or shield when they had appeared. He knew better. Bandits were Takara's pet peeve and were always left for her to vent frustration on.

"Do you realize who you're attacking?" she went on, spun up into a fury. "Do you have any idea who, the fuck, I am?"

Bare Chest and Cudgel looked to Horns, clearly taking cues from him. Takara assumed he was the one in charge of this misfit gang and directed her ire to him. "Well, do you?"

After a pregnant pause, he shook his head. "Should I?"

Takara laughed mirthlessly. "No... before I answer that. Let us pause for a moment." She steepled her hands as a show of scornful deliberation. Her tone was mocking. "We must first analyze your utter lack of observation and rational decision-making. Take a look at me. A good... hard... look. You see a khajiit, yes?" They all nodded dumbly. "Good, at least you understand that much. Now observe what armor I'm wearing. This is the garb of the ancient falmer... the snow elves. And, let us also note the bow on my back, yes? This is Auriel's Bow, the weapon of the god himself. Do you realize how much shit I had to go through to get this damned thing? How many things I had to kill?"

Horns opened his mouth to speak.

Takara shushed him with a raised finger. "Did I say you could talk? No, you will stand there and listen." She motioned back toward Kharjo, who was trying to hide a smirk. "Now let us look at Kharjo, my traveling companion. Note his armor. It's made entirely out of dragon bones. Yes, that's right. Dragon... bones. His weapon and shield too. All of it. How many dragons did we have to kill to get you that equipment, Kharjo?"

"A lot."

"A fucking lot," Takara emphasized, waving her hands about angrily. "Can you lot kill a dragon? I highly doubt it. Not with that wooden club of yours." She folded her arms, managing to calm down somewhat. "Now then, taking this all into consideration, who, might I ask, do you think I am?"

Bare Chest and Cudgel again let their silence defer the answer to Horns. After a moment of wavering, he managed to meet her irate gaze. "A khajiit merchant?"

"Wrong answer! Try again. Go on. Humor me." She stared down her nose at him, just waiting for the nord to keep digging himself a nice hole.

His voice was a little less confident. "A caravan guard?"

"Wrong again, bucko." She jabbed a thumb into the ornate breastplate of her armor. "I'm the goddamned Dovahkiin you flaming idiot. I've saved Skyrim at least three times over now from certain destruction. How in the bloody hell can you not know who I am?"

Horns looked to his compatriots, clearly confused. "Dovahkiin? The Dragonborn is nord. They speak of Tokoro as a fierce warrior."

She brought a hand up to cover her face. "Ta... ka... ra! You can't even get my name right, let alone my race. How has it come to this? I've staved off the dragon menace, saved this land from the threat of vampires and all manner of crazy beasts. And you goddamn nords can't even show me a fraction of the respect I deserve. All I get is a bunch of morons trying to rob and kill me at every turn."

"Not the brightest bunch," Kharjo echoed.

Takara's tail lashed about as she started pacing. "So you want to kill me for my belongings. Ok, I can see why you might be blinded by the shinies that we carry. Be glad, very glad, that I am feeling merciful today. There are twenty different ways I could kill you right now where you stand." She stopped and faced them again. "But I will control myself... for now. The ball is in your court. The next move is yours."

Horns blinked and turned back to Bare Chest and Cudgel. The three of them engaged in a hushed conversation, huddling together on the side of the road.

Takara stole a glance at Kharjo, who just shrugged helplessly.

After nearly a minute, Horns popped his head up from the huddle. "We've decided you're not merchants. However, we're not prepared to rule out wealthy body guards."

"Oh for the love of..." Takara squared off, inhaling deeply.

Panic suddenly filled their eyes, like deer caught in the headlights.

ZUN HALL VIIK!

The might of Takara's thu'um punched through the bandits, rending weapons and armor from their person with brutal savagery. They were left standing there completely naked, horror frozen on their expressions. Now they understood.

Bare Chest and Cudgel got the message first. Both nords turned and booked it, sprinting into the woods as fast as their grotesque hairy legs could carry them. Horns was right on their heels, or would've been rather.

"I'm not done with you," Takara spat. Her hand came up and unleashed a bolt of concentrated green energy.

The spell impacted squarely in Horns's back, sending the retreating nord cartwheeling into the bushes. He wasn't going any further.

With a nod at Kharjo to follow, Takara casually walked over to where the bandits had disappeared into the underbrush. Sure enough, she found the nord immobilized on the ground in her paralysis spell. His body was frozen in a running position and tipped over on the side. She always got a kick out of it every time.

She knelt down at the bandit's side. Her muzzle hovered inches from his face, giving him ample opportunity to take in the sight of her fangs as she grinned her most menacing grin. "I gave you a chance, and you blew it. Now the question becomes: what should I do with you?"

His eyes were as wide as saucer plates. A terrified groan escaped his mouth.

"This is not like khajiit to toy with her prey," Kharjo remarked from over Takara's shoulder.

"You're right." She straightened. The nord's stink was becoming too much for her nose. "I've had a change of heart I think. This idiot has shown me what the real problem is with all these bandit attacks." She reached for a pouch on her hip. The distinctive clinking of heavy coins was hard to miss as she removed it from her belt loop. "I'm going to make him an offer he cannot refuse." The pouch shifted hands as she knelt down again. "There are five hundred coins here. I'm going to give them to you. But on one condition."

At that moment, the paralysis spell wore off. Horns collapsed onto the ground and found himself looking up into her keen feline eyes. "Wha... what?"

She made an effort to block out his nasty stench. "You will take these coins, and buy the finest mead you can. Also a bath; you really need one." She dropped the coins on the ground between them and stepped back. "You will tell all your bandit buddies what happened here over a drink, and how I let you escape with your life."

He looked at her, then down at the sack of coins at her feet, then back to the khajiit. "Who... who are you?"

"You know." She narrowed her gaze. "You know exactly who I am. I'm the one who killed Alduin, the World Eater himself. The one who slayed Harkon the vampire lord. The one who is the closest thing to a god as any mortal can hope to be." His mouth hung open. She had finally gotten through that thick skull of his. "Now... say my name."

He stared at her, unmoving. The silence stretched on, until the bandit finally blinked. His reply was almost a whisper. "Dovahkiin."

"You're goddamned right." She jerked her muzzle toward the sack of coins. She was done with him.

Horns got the hint. He carefully reached out to pick up the leather pouch, watching her warily as he did so. Takara did not move. She simply stood with arms folded until he procured the coinage and hastily made his exit, no doubt to catch up with his fleeing comrades.

"Is it wise to let them go?" Kharjo asked a minute later.

Takara started making her way back to the road. "I don't know. I'm hoping they will start passing the word around that we aren't travelers to be fucked with. Who knows?"

"But to give them money like that."

They passed the abandoned equipment that Takara had shouted off of the bandits. It was amusing to think that three nords were now running about the landscape in nothing but their skin. "It's not like we're hurting for coin, silly cat. Hell, if they really knew how much wealth I had, they actually might've tried something."

"This is true. That was some trick khajiit pulled earlier, disarming and removing armor like that. Since when can shouts do both?"

"I've had a lot of practice," Takara replied, giving him a wink. "In any case, that was far more fun than simply killing them. I need to start thinking of other ways to fuck with bandits."

"I look forward to what khajiit comes up with."

The rest of the trip back to town was uneventful. It wasn't until the two khajiit approached the outer gate of Whiterun when Takara halted. The sun was just touching the horizon. They had made it back before night.

Off to the side of the road several patchwork tents of sewn together hides were pitched, a coil of smoke wafting up from between them to mark a camp fire; just the guy she needed to see.

Ri'saad sat on his customary mat in front of a tent, looking his usual contented self. When he caught sight of Takara he smiled his most winning smile. "Ah! It is good to see khajiit again."

"My favorite old cat," Takara greeted. She reached out and exchanged a fist-bump with the merchant. "I think I got quite the haul this time. Been a while since I been by."

"I look forward to seeing what khajiit has," Ri'saad grinned.

She didn't waste any time, and reached down to remove a nondescript pouch from her belt. The small bag was not all that large, no bigger than the pouch she had given the bandit earlier. But when she turned it upside down, things were revealed to be not what they appeared.

A sword appeared from the upended bag to fall onto the ground. And then another. She gave a shake, and all manner of items came spilling out with a clatter of chaos. It went on for some time as Takara held the bag without a care for the expensive stuff that piled up higher and higher at her feet.

When the last trinket tumbled out onto the pile, she gave the bag a couple indifferent shakes and then replaced it on her belt loop. She couldn't even see Ri'saad where he sat on the other side of the heap; the clutter came up almost to her shoulders.

"Khajiit never ceases to disappoint," the merchant's voice spoke from the other side of the pile. The other khajiit of the caravan came over to admire all the wealth with no effort made to hide their excitement.

"I don't know why I even collect this stuff," Takara shrugged. "I don't need the coin. I guess it's just my inner klepto acting up whenever I see a shiny."

"Ri'saad does not mind. Khajiit's patronage is always most welcome." He spoke the last with a purr.

"Well, leme see if there's anything worth keeping." She knelt down and started halfheartedly sorting through the clutter. "Let's see. Potion. Potion. Potion. Another Potion. Helmet. Soul Gem. Ah, sod it. Just take the lot."

"With pleasure," the elder khajiit replied, already knowing she would say that. He tossed her a heavy sack of coins. "All the gold I have. Per the usual agreement."

Takara snatched it out of the air with a smirk. "How much did you make off my last haul?"

"Ri'saad never reveals his profits. Not even to his best customer."

"Well don't blow it all in one place." She turned and began making her way toward the gate of the city, pocketing the coin. Behind her, she could already hear the other khajiit of the caravan sorting through the pile of treasure with giddy eagerness. They had every right to be excited. The coin Ri'saad had paid her was but a small fraction of what it all was really worth. By now she had given him enough weapons and armor to equip a large army, and for next to nothing. There was no doubt she was single-handedly keeping him in business and then some.

"Why does khajiit keep collecting so much stuff only to give it away to Ri'saad?" Kharjo asked when they were beyond earshot.

Takara shrugged. "I honestly don't know. Guy took one hell of a risk setting up shop in a warzone. I guess I like looking out for my own?"

"A noble cause."

"Yeah, I suppose we can go with that."

The gate guards stiffened as the two cats approached, until recognition played across their expressions. One of them gave a curt nod. "Thane."

Takara returned the gesture halfheartedly and passed them by. On the other side of the heavy gate the bustling streets of Whiterun opened up before her.

At first it had been weird entering the city limits. Khajiit were not allowed inside the walls normally. Only extenuating circumstances had let her pass through the gate that first time; nothing sort of dragons attacking was justifiable to these racists nords.

Even after Takara had become thane of the city - she had already forgotten how that had happened - the locals still gave Kharjo a hard time, even when he was in her company. Never any respect for what the two of them had done for Skyrim.

What would these bigots do if she decided to go bad? Takara grinned at the thought as she passed an elderly woman giving her the stink eye. Maybe someday she'd give the evil thing a try. Some of the locals deserved getting knocked down a peg or two at least. No one could stop her, not even the city guard. If only these people knew how much restraint it took...

Her destination loomed before her after a brief walk; Breezehome. It was a quaint abode, something unbecoming of the Dragonborn. But that was what Takara liked about it. The home was simple and unassuming, butted up against the street just like every other place. She didn't need anything more than a roof over her head and a nice cozy bed.

"It will be good to get off my feet," Kharjo remarked wearily.

Takara placed her hand on the door. "I couldn't agree more."

The warmth of the home's interior washed over the khajiit as she entered. But her smile quickly faded at the sight of Lydia; sweet, dull, annoying Lydia. Her presence was always a blemish on an otherwise welcomed return home.

The housecarl never faltered in her stirring of the stew pot over the fireplace. She hardly even looked up when the two khajiit emerged through the front door. "Honored to see you, my thane," the nord greeted with no effort to hide her lack of enthusiasm.

Takara walked right up to her and stopped, peering into the stew pot to see what she was cooking. "Busy as always I see. What do we have cooking tonight?"

Lydia said nothing. She simply procured two bowls and ladled out a generous serving of stew into each. Takara accepted the offered food with a curt nod and motioned for Kharjo to follow her upstairs. It was always the same. The housecarl wasn't one for conversation.

She was one of the _perks_that came with being a thane of Whiterun. Takara wasn't exactly sure what she was; some sort of half servant, half body guard kind of retainer. On paper it sounded like a sweet deal. What could be wrong about having someone there to hold your belongings and adventure with you?

But man, had she turned out to be one hell of a buzzkill the couple of times Takara had let her tag along. There was only so many times she could listen to the nord complaining about shouldering burdens before she wanted to throw her off a cliff.

Now Takara just left Lydia at the house to do... well, whatever the hell it was she did all day. On more than one occasion she had given her the chance to move on to better things. It didn't seem right pinning the housecarl up like that. Of course the nord had stubbornly turned her down every time, citing duty or something stupid like that. After a while Takara had given up trying. In the end, it was a blessing that she had found Kharjo.

The two cats left Lydia right where they had found her, stirring the stewpot tirelessly. Upstairs there wasn't much beyond the bedroom. That was where Takara headed, but not before passing Kharjo his bowl of stew.

The accommodations were nothing special; a nice comfortable bed, a few chests and bookcases to store things. And with the fireplace situated directly below, the warmth that permeated the space was just right to chase away the last ebbs of cold from her fur. It was strange though that smoke was not more of an issue without a chimney to funnel it all away.

Kharjo began taking off his armor. The khajiit was very meticulous. Each piece was removed from his person, carefully inspected for any damage, and then placed gently in the opened storage chest in a specific fashion. He always took good care of his belongings.

Takara followed his lead, removing her own armor with equal attention. They both stripped down to their undergarments without hesitation or regard for decency; the heavy protection got uncomfortable after a time when you had fur to deal with. Like Kharjo, she was always more than happy to take it off each night after a day traveling. Her fur always liked to catch in the joints just so it could get yanked out most uncomfortably when she moved. It didn't bother her that Kharjo got to take in all her supple curves and such. Hell, she always enjoyed watching his muscular form emerge from the confines of his own armor. The cat was a study of the masculine form.

The stew, when they got around to it, was nothing special. Lydia wasn't the best cook. She wasn't bad. But she wasn't good either. It was enough that the khajiit had a meal waiting for her when she returned from adventures abroad. At least the housecarl was good for something.

"Delicious," Kharjo proclaimed some minutes later, after polishing off his own bowl with typical quickness. It had taken her a while to teach him how to use a spoon, and even now he wasn't all that mindful of table manners when he ate. Of course, they weren't at a table, and his propensity to let his hunger get the better of him was always charming in a way.

"I'm not sure I'd call that the best cooking," Takara replied, giving him a wry smile.

"When it's the best I've ever had, what else can be said?"

She took another spoonful into her muzzle and paused, making a show of thinking it over. After a moment the spoon came out and was leveled at him. "We need to find you a properly good meal one of these days. You've been missing out."

"I would appreciate that." He set his empty bowl aside and moved to sit next to Takara on the edge of the bed. "Khajiit always says there are bigger and better things in this world."

"That's because there are," she countered, before plopping another bite in her mouth.

His roving fingers found their way to the now bare fur of her shoulder. "Had khajiit not come along, I would never know this."

Takara shot him a look. "You always eat so quick. Can't you let a girl finish? And what happened to being tired, eh?"

"Following khajiit's seductive tail all day makes one hungry in more ways than one." His other hand traced its way up to massage right at the base of said tail, making her tense as he hit that one sensitive spot.

"You're always full of, mmph, surprises." She arched her back in a way only felines could. "Could'ya let me eat my dinner?"

"I'm not stopping khajiit."

She took another spoonful, and almost missed her muzzle as a claw traced its way slowly up the curve of her spine. It took some effort to swallow. "I beg to differ."

He just grunted his reply. The roving claw settled on the tie of her bra string. Another joined the first, lingering. She did her best, but it was hard to ignore the distinct feel of the cat carefully undoing the knot.

"What's gotten into my khajiit?"

Another grunt. He tugged on her bra, and she let him remove it from her person with a smirk playing her muzzle. He was always a tenacious cat when he wanted to be.

Her modest breasts stood bare to the warm candlelight, Kharjo's prize for his bold move. He wasted no time sidling up behind her, pulling her into his lap on the edge of the bed. His arms snaked out beneath hers to cup each supple orb.

Takara bit her lip, suppressing a moan. His fingers cut groves through her charcoal fur and zeroed in on the bare flesh to tease her nipples into hardness. The bowl fell from her grasp to make a mess on the floor. She quickly forgot about it; Lydia would clean it up at some point.

Kharjo's broad muzzle came to rest on her shoulder. He was purring now, a deep rumbling reverberation that was always soothing. "Now look what you made me do?" She quipped, reaching up to tug on his whiskers.

"I make no apologies," the khajiit grinned. He took greater liberty massaging her pert breasts.

She was forced to give in to her body's growing desire, joining the male with a voluptuous purr of delight. She leaned back into his embrace, letting him have free will for now. "What... oh, are you thinking?"

"Werewolf perhaps?"

"Hmm. I like the idea of knots. One thing the canines got going for them." She gave it a second thought. "Maybe not the best idea here though. Lydia wouldn't be happy." There were still a few claw marks on the walls from the last time. Most of the room's furniture had needed replacing that day, and the housecarl had voiced her displeasure quite loudly; one the few times she had actually spoken up. "We can save that for a night out in the countryside."

"Roleplay?" he offered. "Kharjo could be a daring bandit, no?"

"Nah. Already had my fill of bandits today." She cut him a look. "I think, that you'll have to work for your tail tonight."

The light touch of her finger to his nose confused him long enough for her to escape his grasp. "What does khajiit mean?"

She stood next to the bed and undid the tie of her underclothing to let it fall down her legs. Now he could take in the full splendor of her naked fur and long elegant tail. "I mean if you want it, come and get it big boy."

He blinked at first, but then the cat's muzzle split in a devious smirk that spoke volumes. He wasn't about to be denied. "As khajiit wishes."

She licked her chops as he stood and removed the last shred of his attire.

In the soft candlelight she drank in the sight of his impressive tapered length as it sprang into view; a fire stirred in her loins.

He made sure to give a few brief strokes to coax all of his size from the soft fur of his sheath. His eyes never left her own. Predator stared down his prey; she wasn't going to go down without a fight. It was on.

He leapt at her with deadly feline grace.

She had expected it and ducked to the side casually, letting him crash headlong into a bookcase. A number of books were jostled from their place, falling to the floor to make a mess. Neither khajiit cared.

Kharjo was quick to reel about, reaching out to wrap her up in a bear hug. But again Takara was one step ahead of him. She easily wormed her way free with perfect feline dexterity.

They came to stare one another down across the room. "You gotta want it," she taunted, hands raised to fend off his next advance. Her long tail curled and twisted with her excitement, mirroring his.

He lunged again, smartly this time. The male got hold of his prey, pushing her up against the wall forcefully. A decorative shield fell from its hanger to the floor in a loud racket of noise. It wasn't enough to drown out Kharjo's possessive growl as he buried his broad muzzle in the crook of her neck.

Her hands were held out to either side by his powerful grip against the wall. He pressed himself up against her, inhaling deeply to draw in her heady scent. His throbbing cock ground up enticingly against her inner thigh. "That's more like it," she purred.

Her feet struggled for purchase on the coarse wood floor. He didn't give her another chance to slip away.

With commanding force, Kharjo spun her around to pin his prize against the wall from behind. His teeth clamped down on the scruff of her neck possessively; she wasn't going anywhere.

"Oh, yes! Pin me just like that." Feeling his teeth sink into her scruff sent a chill down her spine. She was compelled to stand there, held under his power.

His hungry growl reverberated through his hold on her. Hands relinquished their grip on her own, leaving wavering grooves in her fur as they trailed downward. He knew he had her. Now he could take what was his for the taking.

His arousal flooded her nose. She arched her back, craning her neck. "Show me what a stud you are."

He held her firm, biting down just a little harder. A twinge of pain, a reminder of who was in charge, held her fast.

His hips forced her legs further apart. She obeyed, a gasp escaping her muzzle as the slick heat of his cock rubbed against her sodden sex. She was so wet already, just ready to be taken. And he knew it.

He shifted; her breath caught as the tapered tip of his maleness found the mark. He spread her only just, growling ever louder with her scruff held in his muzzle. "Do it already!" She pleaded.

Kharjo rammed forward, burying himself to the hilt. He was one not to go against the Dragonborn's wishes.

She cried out. She was mashed up against the wall, the side of her face pressed up against wood with the force of his effort.

He spread her with brutal savagery, snarling into her scruff. It was the pinnacle moment, taken by the only potent male deserving enough to claim the Dovahkiin for his own.

He pulled back to _thrust_forward again, leaving her with only a fleeting moment of emptiness. This time she snarled, baring fangs at the carnal pleasure that inundated her.

His hips moved with purpose, pumping against her haunches. He drove himself deeper, working with every effort to bury every last inch of his shaft in the reeling khajiit pinned against the wall. Her panting gasps came rhythmically with each frenzied plunge. What restraint he had was quickly lost.

Hot, slick flesh pierced her heated sex urgently, spreading her so perfectly. She hung on for dear life, letting the male rut her with the wild passion she always loved. His dull "barbs" ground against her mercilessly, adding an intense punctuation to his every motion. The heady sensuality of their mating overcame her like nothing else.

Kharjo suddenly released his hold on her scruff. He pulled out, letting her fall away from the wall.

He was panting, they both were.

Before she could find words, he grabbed her arm. There was a feralness in his eyes that left no question who was in charge. Takara was led over to the bed, where he pushed her down rudely onto it sheets. She submitted without question.

Kharjo's cock pulsed angrily to her hungry sight, just waiting to take her once more. She gave him a wicked look and stood on all fours. Her body was absolutely on fire. She needed him back inside her now.

Her tail swayed seductively as she spun about to present her rear, not bothering to hide her excitement. "Come on, stud. Take me and finish what you started."

Kharjo growled his agreement. His reply rolled off the tongue in a sultry purr. "As khajiit wishes."

He mounted the bed dominantly, and then mounted her in equal fervor. Once more his teeth clamped down on her scruff, holding the khajiit still beneath him.

"Oh, yes!" Takara hissed. "Right there. Hold me just like that! Give me that wonderful cock."

His hands wrapped around her waist. The male's shaft rubbed against her puckered lips, searching, probing. He thrust sloppily, knowing it drove her mad when he deliberately made her wait.

"Goddamnit, Kharjo!"

He chuckled into her scruff; the khajiit suddenly shifted and lunged forward, burying himself to the hilt.

Takara yowled with satisfaction. The cat above her never faltered. He zealously drove into her, grinding his hips forcefully against her supple rump. He grunted with the effort, holding her firm in his muzzle as his feline flexibility allowed the khajiit to mate her like no human ever could.

She fought against the swelling wave that steadily rose up, threatening to crash down upon her. Her breath came quick and halting. The steady thumping of his every frenzied thrust was steadily overcome by her heightening cries of pleasure. "Yes, take me as your own," she exclaimed, ears pinning back.

Rough, primal, and carnally pleasing; just the way she liked it.

The wave crested, looming larger and larger with every unrestrained plunge of his cock into her sopping sex. The ridges of his shaft grew ever more prominent, adding an intense punctuation to it all. It was too much.

She screwed her eyes shut, cringing as she tried desperately to fight it off. She would not submit first. She would not! She could not let him win!

His hands suddenly found their way to her supple breasts, gently fondling in just that right way. She lost the struggle.

Takara snarled, craning her head back. Kharjo's grip held her fast as the wave crashed down upon her, unleashing a torrent of bodily ecstasy that drowned out the world around her.

Her body twisted and contorted. The wave rolled through her in unending bursts just as the khajiit above her buried himself in her quivering cunt with the last bit of strength he had.

He growled a deep possessive growl into her scruff. His vocalization melded with her peak, heightening it, intensifying the raw satisfaction. She could feel his cock pulsing within her, shooting jet after jet of his seed deep into her needing sex.

He rocked his hips, his growl tapering off into a weak mewl. His massaging hands continued to tease her tender breasts, holding her in the throes of a glorious apex as long as he could. The khajiit always knew how to pleasure her just right.

It lasted for a wondrous length, stretching on and on. She let it consume her, relishing how Kharjo shared in the moment.

It felt like an hour had gone by before she came back to herself. The male let go of her scruff to draw an unsteady breath. He pulled back, letting the stimulating ridges of his cock grind against her sensitive folds as he withdrew.

Takara bared her fangs. "Ahhh! Damnit!" It was a final punctuation mark to their coupling; a cat thing. She suddenly had the urge to roll over and did so, sprawling on the sheets.

Kharjo sat back and grinned. He watched as she writhed about unable to control herself; another cat thing apparently. She had to do it after they mated every time. It just felt right.

Finally she got ahold of herself. She rolled onto her back and looked up at the smirking khajiit. "Don't give me that look."

He came to lie at her side so that she could drape herself on top of his muscular chest. "I was simply admiring the view," he teased.

For a moment, she toyed with his softening length before it receded into his fuzzy sheath. "That was wonderful."

"I must agree," the male purred.

After a few moments of contented silence she drew an idle circle in his chest fur with a claw. "Was it nice being in charge?"

"Yes. Khajiit most enjoyed it."

She batted him lightly on the nose. "Well don't get used to it."

"But of course," was the playful reply. He pulled her tighter. His heady purr was quickly joined by hers. "We made quite a row, no?"

Takara flicked a disinterested gaze around the room. There were a few loose items on the floor, including the spilled stew. They certainly had not been discrete, and the walls of the room were hardly soundproof. "I doubt Lydia will say anything. She knows better than to disturb us." A particular incident a few months back had gotten that point across. Even if it sounded like bloody murder was being committed in the Dovahkiin's bedroom, she would not come up to investigate. "We have the night all to ourselves my fine feline friend."

He reached a hand up and gently stroked her cheek, tickling her whiskers. "Tis a good thing."

"Yes. That it is. I wouldn't want it any other way besides spending time with my mate."

"Mate?" He tried to sit up, forgetting that her weight was resting on his chest. "Mate? Me? What does khajiit mean?"

"It means exactly what it means silly." She fixed him with a knowing smile. "I want you to be my mate. I should've asked long ago."

For once, Kharjo was genuinely caught off guard. "I don't know what to say. I..."

She shushed him with a finger to his muzzle. "Say nothing."

Their eyes met, and Takara made the first move. She canted her head and leaned down. He met her halfway.

The two khajiit locked muzzles in a passionate kiss, tongues wrestling with one another for dominance. It was the perfect answer she had been looking for. She wanted it to last a lifetime. But...

A muffled scream from outside perked both their ears. They broke the kiss, instinctively looking to the nearby wall. "Oh, come on," Takara breathed. "Not now."

Now indeed.

The distinct sound of wing beats grew louder and louder, until a heavy thud emanated from just outside the house. Before Takara could react, a chunk of the roof above her abruptly vanished into the jaws of a dragon. A chorus of more screams rose up in response.

The dragon was quick to spit out the splintered pieces of her roof, and stared the two cuddling khajiit down from the open sky above.

"Doovahkiiin! I challenge you! I challenge your thu'ummmm!"

Takara's ears splayed with her fury. She motioned angrily up to the looming beast. "Oy! The actual fuck you think you're doing?"

The dragon - he looked fairly weak now that she had a chance to size him up - recoiled a bit.

"I'm trying to have a bloody moment here, and you come crashing in to my home. My fucking home!" She moved and stood up alongside the bed, still staring him down with all the naked rage she felt boiling up. "Do I come and bust into your home unannounced?"

The dragon was clearly confused. An arrow from some unseen town guard doinked harmlessly off his scales as he started and then stopped short of a reply.

"I bloody well don't," Takara spoke for him. "Goddamnit, if it's not bandits it's the fucking dragons always dropping in at the worst times. Can't a cat get properly laid without fighting something to the death?"

The dragon ducked his head, looking quite reproached. "I apologize."

"You better. I made it perfectly clear to you lot that we don't go messing with the Dovahkiin in cities. But noooo!" She was shaking her finger at him now. "Lord knows I might be trying to sleep, or eat, or trying to fuck. There is nothing worse than getting interrupted like this."

"Buut...."

"But nothing! I just had one of the best lays of my life, and then you had to go and ruin the afterglow. Do you dragons even know what it means to mate?"

The beast blinked. "Yes. The mateship ritualll is commonlyyy practiced by the doooov."

Now it was Takara's turn to be surprised. Her anger evaporated. "Really? Well damn, that explains a lot. I just thought you lot were unisex god things or something like that. No one bothered to explain..." She shook her head. "Never mind. What is your name?"

Another arrow pinged harmless off his hide without being noticed. "Dosahlohadrim."

'You're kidding me?" She shook her head in amazement. In dragon tongue, his name very literally meant Of-weak-mind. "I guess that explains a lot." She chewed on her lip for a moment. "Look, I can see that you're an enterprising little dragon. Tell you what, tomorrow at high noon meet me out by the stables, ok? We can do our little battle then. I'm not in the mood right now, as you can plainly see."

He thought her words over. She could actually see the cogs turning slowly, ever so slowly, in his gaze. Finally, Of-weak-mind got the message. "Very wellll."

"And don't go killing any of the villagers or city folk, got it? It will upset me greatly if you do, and you do not want that. Is that clear?"

The chagrin was clear in the dragon's expression. "It is as the Dovahhhhkiin desires."

Takara nodded her head with satisfaction. "Good. Now could you put my roof back on?" At the dragon's bewildered look she sighed. "Ah, sod it. Just go before the town guard exhausts all their arrows." Another projectile ricocheted off his scales to emphasize her point.

The dragon obeyed her command and rushed into the air under several powerful pumps of his wings. She stood there and listened as the sound of his departure faded away, until once more the stillness of the night took hold.

She rejoined Kharjo in bed without a second thought and snuggled up against his flank. He had not so much as moved through the whole ordeal. "Khajiit has a way of handling dragons," he remarked with no lack of admiration.

She scoffed. "I suppose so. Although not well enough to prevent the roof getting torn off." They both looked up to the starry night sky above. "At least we got a nice moonroof for the rest of the night. Lydia can repair that in the morning. I'm sure she won't mind."

"Indeed." His tone indicated that he thought otherwise. "Are you not worried about rain tonight?"

She shrugged. "If it does rain, I can just shout the skies clear."

"Yes, I had forgotten. My new mate is always full of wonders. You are... the goddamned Dovahkiin as you say."

"I like it when you say that." She licked the side of his muzzle. "From now on, I'm _your_goddamned Dovahkiin." Her hands started wandering down through his downy fur to where the male's sheath was already swelling. She fixed him with a toothy grin. "Now show me some of that feline stamina the khajiit are known for. I won't be satisfied until you've plowed me at least ten times tonight."

"As my Dovahkiin wishes."