She squeezed the brute tightly, becoming somewhat aware of a rawness she felt on her face and jaw- inflicted by his stubble she mused, her cheeks igniting again with redness as her smile inched wider. He’d marked her all over, inside and out. The ecstasy of the moment held back most of the pain but it would return, reminding her of what they’d done and just who had done it. It would be perfect. Unfortunately, the mental pain was sure to return at some point as well and scold her for her actions, telling the same old stories on why she’d held back for so long. But those could wait. This was their time. 

He gazed upon the rough carvings his touch and inspirations had left upon her skin, his chest squeezing in pride and guilt at having branded her in such a way. He knew she had an appearance to keep within the halls of Dragonsreach. He'd tarnished it. But the howl of the Lycan and the demanding desire of male ego screamed of their content. His woman, his mark, his seed, his prize. 

Farkas gave an awkward laugh before shaking his head, his forehead pressing to her own, "I got a li'l bit lost in th' moment, it seems." He was thankfully, truly, for he knew what it was like to lose to the Lycan. He had destroyed a small farm community once when the call of Hircine was answered a little too eagerly. The remains of the people slaughtered by his own wolf-hands still held a rancerous stench within his memory. He would not allow such things to overcome him while she was within his arms. Nothing so precious as Lydia.

He cupped her face and kissed her again, "So much fer th' pie, huh?"

Her smile grew at his reaction, and lifted her fingers from her chin to boop him on his nose. “Nothing wrong with being a little dirty,” Nocturnal joked, her innuendo thick as she emphasised the word ‘dirty’ with her bedroom eyes. 

If Farkas happened to be a more aware individual, he would have caught onto her alluring ways of invitation. Instead, his blank expression only thickened as he wriggled his nose and scratched at his stubble, "I thought women hated when a man was dirty an' such."

He could feel and --for once -- take notice in her body heightening at something she held tight between her lips for only her thoughts to know alone. The enigmatic way she held to her quiet universe always drew him in, regardless of what he knew of its meaning. Lira being herself was just the medication he needed to douse the fires in his brain.

Humming to himself, he continued to braid her hair -- his technique all thumbs and lack of proper strokes. 

Leaning back to gaze at his masterpiece, his eyes widened as he quickly pulled the locks free and began again. She would murder him and wear his skin if she had caught a glimpse of what he had left her hair as. He would start over and this time, with the same care he took to memorize every last curve of her smile, he would memorize the fall of her mane and adjust his technique as much.

"Remember ta take pity on me fer not bein' a girl. I can do this kinda thing just not all that dainty like ya ladies like it ta be."

Rhea’s grin widened when he howled, and when he took off, her grip on his shoulders tightened. She light out a delighted scream, laughing as he took off. “Not very nimble on your feet, are you, Far-Far?” 

He laughed loudly, the sound echoing through the fields and open skies that surrounded Whiterun, "I ain't ne'er said I was graceful. Ya know that. Don't act like it's somethin' new ta ya, Rhea."

The burly brute of a man glanced down at the individual with blunt curiosity, “Ya ain’t too nice ta be spoutin’ off at th’ mouth like that fer no reason.”

Faldron laughed at that, a sound that could almost be called a cackle.  ”Lad, I’d never, ever claim to be nice.”

Farkas cocked a brow, quite unsure how to take the frosty Dunmer, "That makes two o' us. Some people go callin' me nice but they ain't got a damn clue." He blinked a bit, "Anyway, ya should look where yer goin' a bit more."

Ugh, Farkas, you big oaf…

wolfcompanion started following you

Oy, you there, watch where you’re going, would ye?”  Faldron asked, not really acknowledging that it was he who had bumped into the large Nord.  No, it was just that kind of day.  Really, nobody had any manners, did they?

The burly brute of a man glanced down at the individual with blunt curiosity, "Ya ain't too nice ta be spoutin' off at th' mouth like that fer no reason."

So many deer boys

so little time

Bloated Man’s Grotto, “Ill Met by Moonlight”

Skyrim Companion - Farkas

//For Lyrkas. Featuring the world’s least consistent art style.

//Lydia getting back into town late after a trip with the Dragonborn, is exhausted, but still hauls her ass to Jorvaaskr to fall on top of Farkas for sleep.

Lydia and Farkas sparring and teaching each other new fighting techniques they learn, but everything always seems to end in wrestling and makeouts. 

Lydia learning that Farkas is a werewolf and offering to become one too to make it easier on him.

Lydia beating the shit out of someone who puts a spider near Farkas as a prank in her presence. 

Lydia learning that Farkas is a werewolf and slowly becoming afraid of him knowing he’s cursed by a Daedric prince.