Trust in Lust Ch. 02

Once she was content with her work, she kissed his cheek and silently strode out of the room for the last time, spending the remaining hours of solitude examining the tavern and listening to the crackling of the embers -- paying no mind to the lingering doubts beneath her thoughts.

Morning came and Serana roused Isran from his placated slumber. They shared a short breakfast, then set out to return to the Dawnguard's fortress on the other side of Skyrim. The vampire tried multiple times to engage in conversation, but Isran was either too tired or otherwise preoccupied with his thoughts. She was curious to hear his opinion on how last night's experience compared with their first. He did not reveal much beyond his enjoyment, and when pressed on whether he'd agree to future tossing, the Redguard failed to keep from admitting he would -- just not within the castle walls. She asked if he thought sex felt the same with her compared to the mortal women he'd had. The Redguard glanced at her sideways, then focused on the road ahead. "Certainly different," he stated.

That was the most she got out of him until they arrived at their home base, where Isran briefed the rest of the Dawnguard, shedding favorable light on Serana's role among the vampire hunters in both the field and within headquarters; though she noticed he would not look directly at her during the show of praise. Afterwards, she made her way to her modest makeshift office to log their reward from Falkreath, while Isran retired to his chambers upstairs. He was not there when Serana later visited his room.

Less than a fortnight later, Serana found herself dwelling on the Dragonborn's whereabouts and hoping for the elf to surprise Fort Dawnguard with her sudden arrival. The two had built a strong friendship, no doubt to the near-instant rapport between them after first meeting. As a High Elf, the Dragonborn could sympathize with the cold solitude of longevity over centuries. From that base of understanding came a shared penchant for the sardonic, as well as the subtle double entendre. The two women fought and flirted side by side until they defeated Harkon, when the Dragonborn proposed Serana come live with her at her home in Riften. The vampire's declination was not empty of regret; Riften would be a safer abode than other settlements in Skyrim due to the Dragonborn's connections with the revitalized Thieves Guild, and Serana did want to continue being in the High Elf's company. But she was not ready for any sort of commitment, and opted to settle for what was then a temporary residence among the Dawnguard. It was soon after that the Dragonborn informed her of the trouble from Solstheim and her immediate expedition to the island. They exchanged a heartfelt hug, and Serana's thoughts lingered on a missed opportunity to share in something more: to tell the Dragonborn without words that the vampire would be waiting for her return.

That was months ago; months without the sight of the Dragonborn's long copper hair and angled cheekbones. The elf also had a pleasing fragrance about her, though Serana never saw her apply perfume. In short, her presence was sorely missed by the vampire. The natural initiative of her character was always a dependable source of advice, and Serana greatly needed advisement. She thought bringing the mutual attraction between her and Isran to open honesty would end the Redguard's unbearable aloofness. Instead, he became even more withdrawn; never in one place, and no longer venturing outside Dayspring Canyon -- not even to kill vampires.

Devoid of access to the Dragonborn, Serana sought counsel with Celann, the second seniormost Dawnguard in the fortress. He shared her concern with the increasingly remote behavior of his leader, agreeing to meet with her outside on the ramparts. She found him snacking on a block of cheese and a bottle of Black Briar mead, in which she politely declined to partake. The brown-haired Breton uncorked his beverage and signaled to her to begin.

"I think it has to do with me," she said, careful to avoid divulging more information than necessary. "That is, he's not coping well with...someone like me...being here, living here. Before you say it, I know Isran's the one who allowed me to stay here. But what if he's only fulfilling an obligation? He hates vampires, after all."

"Well, of course," Celann shrugged. "Isran has more reason than most of us here to hate vampires. No offense."

"But why?"

His eyes widened. "You don't know?"

She shook her head. Celann clicked his tongue, then took a swig and appeared as if he was secretly conferring with the stars. "I suppose not. Well, I've already told the Dragonborn, so what's the harm in telling you?"

Serana flinched at the mention of her close friend, wondering why the elf never brought up what she was about to hear.

Celann continued. "Before we met, Isran used to live in Hammerfell. He was a family man, if you could believe it. Wife, kids, not sure how many or how old they were. As bad as things are in Skyrim, Hammerfell is no basket of roses either, and his wife and children were killed by vampires. That's why he initially joined the Vigilants of Stendarr, and it's the same reason he left and reformed the Dawnguard. The man despises the monsters that stole his life. Sometimes I think the only reason he's still going is because his hate wouldn't allow for him to take the easy way out, not until he saw the last vampire in Tamriel perish."

He noted her crestfallen expression and tried to recover. "That's not to say he personally holds anything against you, Serana! I think he's finding it hard knowing you're nothing like the blood suckers we've been fighting. Sometimes I forget you're not one of us, you know? That is, you're a part of us, you're, ah, part of the Dawnguard, just not, you know..."

Celann quickly distracted his mouth with a bite of cheese, too embarrassed to maintain direct eye contact. Serana had crossed her arms, hugging herself tightly while listening to the Dawnguard reveal much needed insight into Isran's state of mind. What a fool she was, she should have known Isran's scars were not only skin-deep! He must have felt tortured simply conversing with her nearly every day, let alone trying to comprehend the madness of the night at the end. And if he was developing feelings for her as she suspected -- by Oblivion, no! Serana would not torment his soul with an impossible dilemma; to harbor attachments towards the same kind of creature that killed his wife, his children!

She thanked Celann for the talk and asked him to let the others know she needed some time alone. She claimed she needed a quiet place to think, and that she didn't want to be a bother by sticking around without contributing to the rest of the Dawnguard. She bid the Breton farewell, promising to return soon.

Weeks went by with neither word nor sight of Serana. Some members of the Dawnguard did not show much concern, but her absence weighed heavily in the minds of a handful, Isran included. Celann finally informed him of their conversation, and the Redguard's mind was pierced with a small bolt of self-reproach. Obviously, he would never let it show, but he still cursed the fact this woman was affecting him to the point where the concept of guilt had reintroduced itself to Isran's formerly marginalized conscience.

He did not want her gone, though. Several times he had to stop himself from giving into his urges and relieve himself as he pictured her visage behind closed eyes. She'd be against the wall, or on his bed presenting herself on all fours, and those fantasies would have to suffice.

He laid his cuirass and gloves over a table and kicked off his boots, then sat on his bed. He slowly kneaded between his legs and shut his eyes, tilting his head to the ceiling.

"Need some help with that?" He heard a familiar voice jest. Startled, yet not in anger, he jumped to his feet and turned to see Serana at the entrance to his room with a half-hearted smile and her hands folded behind her back.

"You came back," he blurted out, unable to state more than the obvious.

Her lips curved upwards as she blinked a few times. "Yes."

"Your eyes," he said, his mouth hanging slightly open. "Did you...?"

This time she only nodded. Her eyes indeed lack their signature orange glow, and those were not the only changes he noticed. Serana no longer had that weightless demeanor: her shoulders were relaxed, her center of gravity given more support from one leg as she stood. And while her skin was still pale, there was a tinge of pink in her cheeks, a badge of proof that she no longer ranked among the undead.

"How?" Isran asked. "Why?"

"The 'how' is complicated, just know I had the help of a court wizard and endured the rancid stench of a swamp to do it. As to the why," she purred with a sly kink of her mouth as she stepped out of her boots and entered his chambers, carefully disrobing each article of clothing until she had shed the last of her Volkihar raiment.

"I've never experienced passion as a mortal," she said, magnificent in her intimate beauty. "I want to have you with the body I was born with, untainted, and at the mercy of time. Just like yours."

For the first time he realized just how far the gap was between the ages of their bodies. Her youth, unpreserved by permanence, now radiated with warm, mortal blood. No longer an eternal creature of the night, the Serana before him stood merely as a young Nord woman, who couldn't have been much older than twenty. Meanwhile he was weathered and scarred, his muscles and skin having persevered through almost half a century's worth of hardship.

Serana observed his ogling and suddenly tensed with embarrassment. She reached a hand across her chest to clutch the opposite arm, and slightly dipped her head. "I didn't do it for you."

Isran was not sure if he believed her, much less that she believed herself. "I know-"

"But," she interrupted, "you helped me make my decision. I know I always said my vampirism was something I was proud of, but after all that's happened, I realize I only thought that because it was all that was left of my own identity. For centuries my 'gift' was nothing more than a tool that my parents used against each other."

She closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose. Her heart had started beating faster, and she felt her face flushing due to an overflow of emotions. Her eyes opened and locked in on Isran's.

"And, knowing what happened to you, why you've been fighting for so long, made me understand that I was holding onto a curse. Death, destruction, disease, that's all a vampire can harvest in a world full of mortals. My old home was dark, isolated, full of false smiles and hidden daggers. But you've given me a new home, with real, genuine people -- some who are already starting to accept me. I can't thank you enough for that, Isran."

The Redguard blinked. He was at a loss for words, but he mustered what he could. "I, ah, you're welcome. I thought -- that is, I'm sure the Dragonborn should be the one hearing this though, right?"

Serana smiled. "Well, I considered that, too. But she isn't here, is she? In fact, she's been away some time: no visits, no letters..."

She regained her posture and took slow steps towards him, her hips subtly swaying, her pale skin reflecting the moonlight coming in through the windows. She stopped only a breath away, lips curved and eyes half-lidded. She danced her fingers upon his wrists and traveled up his arms, settling atop his square shoulders and pressing at his neckline. Instinctively, his hands found their place above her hips, giving her light squeezes and caressing his palms against her soft flesh.

"Not like you. You've been here for me, even when you might not have meant it," she said warmly, studying his face. Though it housed small scars and creases around his eyes and forehead, signifying his age, she found him handsome and his dark complexion beautiful. She cradled the back of his head and pulled herself up to his lips. He complied and leaned into the kiss, pressing their waists together. His arms then enveloped her totally, her milky white torso disappearing behind deep umber towers. She welcomed his tongue, savoring its gentle entry and brushing it with her own. This was a new kiss -- lust was still present, but it was overshadowed by amatory reciprocity. Serana was tasting the man beneath the armor, the Isran beyond his role as vampire hunter. Likewise, he was experiencing the true Serana, naked not only in form but in heart: a mortal woman, alive and aware. He never considered himself the type of man who was eager to explore the finer attributes of non-Redguard women, but he knew he was held captive by Serana's beauty from their first tryst those weeks ago. He found her even more arresting now, simply as a Nord woman. Bereft of vampiric eyes or supernatural poise. She was warm, vulnerable, unveiled, and entrusting herself to him.

They drew their heads back, parting for air.

"Now," she said, catching her breath. "Can I ask you something selfish?"

She ran her fingers over his smooth head, across his face, and tugged at his beard. "If things were different," she started to say. The thumping in her chest picked up pace. His eyes encouraged her to continue.

"Like what you spoke about before," she said, "if there were no vampires and Daedra. If we had met when you lived in Hammerfell...maybe if you had met me before your wife..."

His grip on her tightened, and she heard him inhale as his nostrils flared. He smirked. "We'd be waking up next to each other, for sure. And I'd be holding onto you long afterwards."

She beamed back at him. "And now that I'm here?"

"You're going nowhere," he replied, entombing her with an embrace and crushing his mouth against hers. With no more concern for fangs, Serana wrestled their tongues, scraping her teeth against his lips. The heated flush in her face clouded her thinking, yet it enhanced her nerves.

Isran felt his member at full attention, pressed against Serana's stomach. He thrilled at her touch. All of her was warm now -- her skin, her lips, her body; there was human blood pumping through her veins now, and an alluring change in temperature radiated from below her abdomen between her legs.

Serana drew back for air, electrified by the difference in sensations with her mortal body. Her flesh was hot, her desire to take his organ within her depths sprang from more than just an itch to be scratched; she felt an animalistic need deep in her core. The glistening at her thighs tempted her to forgo foreplay. She brought his hand to her folds, letting his digit confirm that she was ready for him. He found her bud almost immediately, rubbing his thumb in circles around it. She tried to budge him to his bed with her free hand, only to be met with a brick wall and an amused chortle from the Redguard.

Isran sat himself on his bed, lifting a surprised Serana directly onto his lap, his cock rubbing against her moistened entrance. She was unsure of how sex would feel at the start for her first time as a mortal, and her hands gripped his biceps, squeezing hard. The Redguard placed one of his large hands against her milky white back, while the other stabilized the woman at the roundness of her rear. He kissed her, then allowed her to watch as he gently pulled her onto his girth.

His crown entered, pushing aside her outer lips and rubbing her clit. She exhaled at the touching of their most sensitive parts. A soft "ah" left her as her walls adjusted to his size; it was as if she was taking him in for the first time. Her moisture covering his glans was not enough to allow him to bury himself just yet, and the Redguard pulled in and out again, spreading the lubricant between them to hurry their union.

He was able to get half of his length inside of her now, and Serana felt her muscles tense as she shifted around to accommodate his organ, leaning her torso onto his strength for support. She forgot that her body no longer held its old vampiric strength. She was a vulnerable mortal female -- Isran was now her physical superior in a reversal of their previous engagements. Serana's breathing quickened pace under the power of a dominating male; she was a prisoner of the vice that enveloped her. She heard a gruff whisper in her ear. "You're so warm, Serana," he said. Her heart skipped a beat at the gentle note of her name. I think I know what I'm feeling, but...

Her palms smoothed over the rippling tendons of his back and triceps. The numerous nicks and scars that decorated his skin were proof of the man's inner and outer strength and dedication. If to be mortal was to struggle. Isran was the most human of all men in Tamriel. He was past the days of his youth, but his essence was still vigorous. Serana could never be safer than here in his arms.

It was around this time that Fort Dawnguard received a visitor. A High Elf woman with copper hair, glistening in ice-like armor, approached the fortresses's great wooden doors, having already cleared passage with the night watch. She was familiar enough with the ancient castle to know where the kitchen was; after a glass of Alto Wine and munching on a sweet roll, she roamed the quiet halls in search of a very specific person. She checked near the smithy, she peeked by the enclosure, she even explored the dusty corners and empty halls. The Dragonborn could not locate her dear friend, Serana. The High Elf missed the vampire dearly throughout her journey in Solstheim, the undead Nord occupied her thoughts on a daily occasion, a consequence of failing to invite her along in the first place.

But now the Dragonborn had returned, though her business on the northern island was not yet complete. She came to correct her mistake: to ask the vampire to travel together again, to be her companion on this new perilous quest. And maybe, as the elf hoped, to be more.

The Dragonborn shook her head as she ascended the stairway to the upper levels of the fortress. She should have kissed Serana when they last parted, to show her harbored affections and to promise their reunion. She reached the second floor and headed towards Isran's chambers, confident that the irritable Redguard would still be awake, and hopefully have information on Serana's whereabouts. Turning the corner, the Dragonborn heard the unmistakable sound of lovemaking. At first surprised, her puckered lips stretched into a wide, mischievous grin. By Auri-El, to see what deranged woman would be sleeping around with a man like him!

She silently cast muffle upon herself knowing her Stalhrim boots would make too much noise and alert the couple. The Dragonborn tiptoed against the wall, edging closer to get a view of the scandalous sight. She could clearly see the back of Isran -- dark-skinned and broad at the shoulders -- but the volume of his grunts and heavy breathing surprised her; she assumed his only passion was directed at killing vampires. Now she really needed to know who this mystery woman was. She clearly was not Redguard like him, nor was she short enough to be one of the female Dawnguard known to the Dragonborn. But she was slender, and pale as the moon. Her delicate limbs entwined around his muscular, deep-colored body; a clash of variance that the High Elf found enticing. When combined with the symphony of wet lips and sensual suspirations, the erotic display sparked arousal in the fortuitous voyeur.

Regardless of the twinge between her legs, the Dragonborn resolved to satisfy her curiosity before her concupiscence. The woman's black locks obscured one half of her face during what sounded like a sloppy kiss, so the elf continued moving further until she could see the other side of Isran's head. The Dragonborn's eyes widened as they met Serana's, half-lidded, lustful lenses.