Heart of the Reach

Skovir ventures home to the Reach and meets the harrowstorm hunter Nelldena and issues a few friendly challenges to her. 

Contains: Size difference, cunnilingus, anal, stomach bulge, minor cum inflation.

Go forth!

It had been decades since Skovir had been to the Reach, the briarheart in his chest beat heavier when within the cold wilds of his ancestors, as if excited to be home. In truth, he had spent very little time here over the centuries, having been raised in Wrothgar, and then chased from place to place first for being a Reachman and then for the thorny relic that gave him unnatural strength and long life. His brush with vampirism made it easier to hide the Briarheart, but the witches of the Reach could sniff out undeath as well as anything else.

Despite all this, most of the people in Markarth didn’t pay him much mind. Unlike when anywhere else in Tamriel, his rugged leathers and runestones didn’t look out of place here, and in fact, for once he felt like he didn’t stand out. A mongrel both of curses and heritage, nord blood through his mother coursed through his veins, putting him at nearly seven feet tall, yet for all the reachfolk of various different clans and cultures, he rarely got so much of a sideways glance.

The city seemed to do well under Ard Caddach, clans bustled, traders from within the Reach and out made their way about with carts and crates of goods, even in spite of the troubles from the Grey Host. Skovir thought that by this hour most would have gone home, but even with the little bit of light in the dusk sky, people still were out and about with something or another. In all his centuries of living, he never imagined a place such as this thriving in the Reach. He liked it, but feared it wouldn’t last. 

The hulking witch knight made his way to the Hunter’s Repose, the smell of meat and cider drawing him in like a moth to the flame, such that he didn’t even realize where he was until he looked up at the sign over the brass door. He shrugged and stepped inside, admitting silent defeat to his nose.

Though a vampire, Skovir was of a strain that could still derive sustenance or at least enjoyment from food and drink, even if blood was still needed to sate his lifeforce and soak his briarheart, but for once his eyes were on the people inside rather than scanning for the nearest roast leg to make off with. A few people clustered around tables insides, a few more danced and swayed around the bard in front of the fireplace at the back. One portly reachman was loudly boasting about the troll- no, army of trolls, in armor no less, that he had slain in Craglorn, spilling drink from his cup as he gestured about, his audience seemingly more amused than interested in his telling. 

In the back corner was a reachwoman with a half-shaved head, a giant toothy sword leaning up against the table next to her. She wore the armor of a dreadhorn warrior, and had warpaint in vertical stripes on her face. He walked over towards her, unhooking his own sword from his back and holding it in his hand by the scabbard as he gestured towards the chair in front of her. 

“Think there’s room for me to sit here, lass?” 

She knitted his brow up at him with mild incredulity before snorting loudly into her mug. “Aye, little man. Is that a jab at my height or yours?”

Skovir chuckled as he pulled the chair back and sat down, carefully, as there was nothing more embarrassing than having a chair leg fly out from under you.

“Mine. Not a day goes by when I don’t hit my head on something.”

She scoffed, a smirk on her lips. “The price to pay for being able to reach things up high, I imagine.” She set her mug down and leaned her elbows onto the table. “So, what’s an icereach man doing in Markarth. Haven’t seen many of your clan that weren’t summoning harrowstorms about the land.”

Skovir glanced down at his fur and leathers, indeed, he had forgotten how much of the Icereach tradition was in his stitching, between the style and the witch-blessed stones acting as buckles and ties.

“My mother was Icereach. I craft and mend my clothes as she taught me, but I’m a freehand. My family grew up alone in the wilds of Wrothgar.” Skovir had no reason to lie. He had no idea who this woman was, and living honestly had never created a situation he didn’t like.

She nodded up towards the sword. “And what about that, hmm? Kill a dreadhorn for it? Those don’t just get handed out to freehands.” She leveled her gaze up at him. “You bother to learn their name?” 

Skovir remained unphased by her attempt at intimidation, not that she wasn’t. She had a fire and wild fury in her eyes that seemed magnified by her small statue rather than diminished by it, like a mighty storm contained in a bottle. He nodded solemnly towards her.

“It was a gift from my father when I became a man. He in turn took it from his brother in battle. They were both dreadhorn.” He tilted his head, inclining his tone. “Does it interest you? I’ll tell you of it over a drink.”

The woman snorted again into a chuckle. “Noltoch! I got another man who wants to buy me a drink!”

The innkeeper in the center of the room turned towards them from behind his keg. “Nelldena gets her drinks for free from me. She’s the Ard’s chief harrowstorm hunter.”

Skovir looked over towards the Innkeeper before looking back in time to see Nelldena’s smug smile and quick arch of her brow. He looked her up and down for a moment.

“Then a wager. If you outdrink me, I’ll let you have my sword.”

Her smile was quickly replaced by a sneer. “You lie. No reachman would part with their weapon.”

Skovir picked up her smile as she dropped it. “Maybe I’m just so certain I’ll win.”

Her sneer became a snarl, her accent growing thicker as she raised her voice. “You think I’d lose? Why, because I’m small?”

He chuckled, his deep voice rumbling raspily. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know eyes were on him, as the rest of the tavern was quiet, even the bard simply strumming out a tune on her lute. 

“No lass, I only know myself and what I can do, in any contest sometimes that’s all you need to know. But if I win, I’d like to get to know you.”

She stood up, pushing her chair back as she leaned all the way across the table, speaking softly inches away from his face. 

“Then say goodbye to your sword.” She looked past him. “Noltoch! Bring me more cider! I’m gonna drown this wee lad!”

A cheer rang out through the inn as many of the inhabitants crowded around. Noltoch and the boaster rolled the keg over on its edge before dragging the other tables up next to Nelldena’s. Her look of determination never wavered, her eyes locked onto the giant reachman’s. His own looked down at her with a knowing smugness and almost pity.

— 

Skovir drained his mug again, much to the horror of the small warrior. Nelldena belched loudly, her brow knit with discomfort. Noltoch poured her another drink as reachfolk chanted around her. Skovir’s look of smugness was still tempered by his pity, not taking pleasure in the pain she was putting herself through, but also satisfied by her endless fury finally floundering.

She winced at the mug before baring her teeth and reaching for it, slowly bringing it up towards her lips as she looked up at Skovir. He nodded as she attempted to again match his now staggering count, his own hand steady and his head seemingly unbothered. Nelldena made it halfway through before slamming the mug on the table, covering her mouth as she held back a retch. The folk around her erupted into shouts of shock and bewilderment.

“A fine bout, Nelldena.” Skovir said as he leaned back in his chair. “Never met a man or mer who lasted as long as you.” 

The pained sluggishness in her eyes burned away to fire again as she slapped her mug off the table, earning the protests and chiding of Noltoch.

“You bastard! You must have done something! You cheated somehow!”

Skovir didn’t know how to respond to this. He had been called worse things before, just not during a drinking contest. This also wasn’t at all the response he was hoping for. It had been his intent to impress her, not humiliate her. His confused look and aimless gesturing as he tried to conjure up a defense was evidently not what she wanted, as she suddenly stood up from the table, a look of deadly fury on her face. Like a beast, Skovir sprang into action, even as Noltoch started angrily trying to defuse the situation. Skovir lunged to push her sword away from the table, but to his surprise, she didn’t reach for it. Instead, a bone knife, one he didn’t see her draw, was in her hand suddenly. Nelldena lunged across the table like a mountain lion, hammering the blade towards his chest. Small as she was, her force was still enough to push him against the wall, even as the blade made contact with a ‘tink’.

Everyone froze in confusion for a moment as she stabbed him again, the blade stopping as it barely made it through his clothes over his heart. This time, Noltoch and another grabbed her arms and lifted her off Skovir and the table, her legs flailing about.

“How?!” She screamed in confusion, even as she started to retch again.

Skovir pulled his shirt down, revealing the pale skin that had been sliced up over his heart. He pulled some of the skin back with a slight grimace, revealing the leaves of the briarheart covered in blood. A gasp of shock and awe went through the small crowd.

“He’s a briarheart! It’s just all healed over! Who’d a guessed? No wonder he won.” Noltoch cried out a mix of amusement and surprise.

Nelldena rolled her eyes back into her head before passing out on the floor, even as the tavern lifted up Skovir’s hand and beated him on the shoulders and back in triumph.

— 

Cool grass caressed her body as Nelldena woke up. She clenched her eyes shut as she frowned. She knew what was going to happen if she tried to sit up now. The sound of something moving across her stomach forced her to open her eyes and lift her head up. Grass covered her naked form as if it was trying to grow over her. Several flowers bloomed and closed over and over again, emitting a soft glow as they did so, one of them in fact was what was brushing across her. She brushed the flora off her body as she clutched at her chest and brought her knees up. She was on a hilltop somewhere outside the city. The moon, just a few nights shy of being full, gently lit the side of the hill she was facing. 

She almost didn’t see Skovir at first, the hulking man kneeling on the ground facing away from her, his face cast up towards the moon, like a flower embracing sunlight.

“Feel any better, lass? Sorry for earlier. I meant to impress you, not make you feel bad.”

She looked around, her fear of the bewitched earth making her forget that her stomach wasn’t trying to kill her, nor her head pounding like a hammer.

“Aye. Better than usual in fact. You’re a witch then?”

He finally cast a glance over his shoulder, almost enough to catch a glimpse of her. “Of a sort. Witchcraft was a skill of my family, and my heart lends itself to it. No hard feelings, I hope?”

She visibly untensed, relaxing her legs and arms, though still keeping herself covered. 

“I guess trying to kill ya was uncalled for, so aye. You hardly won fair though.”

Skovir chuckled as he stood up enough to sit back down facing her. “Maybe. Or maybe you should know better than to assume you know who you’re dealing with. We both took a gamble. For all I knew you could have been a briarheart too, and I could have lost the same as you did.” He chuckled again. “After all, I didn’t have a lot left in me beyond where we stopped.”

She scoffed, letting one leg slide down against the smooth grass, the flowers still gently glowing as they swayed to and fro. A gentle breeze carried the scents of the waterfall below them up with it. She took a deep breath even as she looked around. 

“Where are my clothes?” 

Skovir smiled sheepishly. “They’re just over there. The magic works best with direct contact on skin.”

“Uh huh. Sure it does…” She said even before he was done speaking, shaking her head with a smirk. “Does it have anything to do with you wanting to get to know me? Or did you do that already while I was out?”

Skovir furrowed his brow at this. “I meant it literally. I’ve not made any friends since I’ve been here, and a pretty woman with a big sword seems like someone I’d want to know.”

Nelldena narrowed her eyes at him. “Really? Because what I thought when you walked in and up to my table was if your cock was as big as a minotaur’s…” 

He arched his brow at her, clearly surprised by the sudden turn of events. Of course, he was attracted to her for reasons he mentioned, but after her attempt on his life, it was just damage control. He had enough enemies as it was and didn’t want any in Markarth. As if to prove her point, Nelldena let her arms fall from her chest and stretched her legs out, propping herself up with her palms on the grass behind her.

Her body was small, but muscular, the body of a brawler as much as a sword fighter. Her breasts were small, but firm, having little to no sag or droop to speak of, such that when she was in her full garb, she appeared to not have any at all hardly. 

Skovir took a moment to look her up and down before meeting her gaze again, his expression empty as he watched her cautiously. She rolled her eyes slightly before spreading her legs, the moonlight catching a glimmer of the wetness in her folds as she looked up at him.

“So… are you going to show me or not?” She teased.

Skovir pulled off his shirt methodically before tossing it on the ground. She arched her brow at his stony physique. His arms alone were nearly bigger than her waist. The wounds she had inflicted upon him were gone, as if they had never been there, however, a x-mark was over his heart, as if scars from the ritual to have his mortal heart replaced with a briarheart. He undid his belt, needing to slide his pants down a bit before he could pull his length out. Nelldena’s eyes widened at the sight.

“I didn’t actually expect something akin to a minotaur’s…”

He held it at the base as it slowly started growing fuller. She couldn’t tell if it was cut or not as she started crawling towards it, the foreskin was small if it wasn’t. Once she was under it, she saw that it was at least as long as from her elbow to her knuckles. She looked up at him as the moon shone down on her face from over his shoulder, her eyes on his as she took his cock in her hands and kissed the head. Now that she was close to him again, she noticed he smelled of cedar trees and cider. Or maybe that last part was her breath. She couldn’t tell.

She ran her tongue up and down his head, sucking on the sides of it as much as she could fit around. He let go of his cock as she took it in both hands as he brushed her face, careful not to brush too hard at the piercings in the bridge of her nose. Once she had his cock as wet as she could get it, she filled her mouth with the head, shoving it against her gullet as she winced at him. Even though she no longer felt the effects of their little game earlier that evening, she played it safe and kept his cock just in her mouth. 

She’d have other days to swallow swords. Nelldena tried to make up for it by wringing his cock with her hands, moving up and down quickly as she bobbed on his tip. He moaned softly, his eyes growing soft as his lips parted, his fingers brushing her hair over to one side, and then massaging her shaved scalp gently. The more she sucked and bobbed, the faster she went, ramming his cock harder against her throat each time. Finally, she pushed the tip down her throat, her eyes widening as it bulged in her neck. She quickly pulled it back out and let go of his cock, clutching at her neck as she coughed. 

“Easy lass, don’t hurt yourself.” He said, lifting her chin with his fingertips. “Here. Let me make it up to you.”

He suddenly reached down and lifted her up by her ribcage, before tossing her upwards a bit and catching her by her hips as if she was made of straw. She gasped and yelped slightly at the roughness as he balanced her in his hands before putting her legs around his shoulders, letting her feet dangle against his back. He pressed his lips against her clit, the stubble of his beard soft thankfully as his jaw opened and closed against her inner thighs. She was caught so off guard by everything, first the acrobatics, then the fact he was so quickly going down on her, or up in this case, and then the feeling of his tongue sliding around and across her clit as his lips sucked and kissed at her folds.

“Oh! Oh…” Her gasp became a soft moan as he hungrily worked at her, her stomach pressed against his head as she bent over him. 

She didn’t realize how pent up she was until then, her mind so focused on defending the city from the Grey Host, she’d barely given any time to herself, and even when she did, it was always passing and bland. Not like the monster of a man underneath her now who devoured her sex as if trying to swallow it as desperately as she had tried to swallow his. Her legs already started to shake and tremble, her eyes unable to stay open as she gripped his head in her hands, the sensation between her legs tempered by the fear of falling from his shoulders.

Her whole body started to tremble. Under different circumstances she would have been embarrassed to cum so fast, but this time she just chased it. She was so desperate for it in fact, that she barely noticed him push a finger into her ass and start feeling around. She bit her lip for a moment before it hit her like a breaking dam. Her eyes widened as she gasped, straightening her legs as she started to arch her back. He had to grab her middle back with his spare hand as she went rigid like a board. She shook and spasmed in place as she tried to suck in all the air she could before letting out a choked scream. Another wave, and she screamed again, her fingernails digging into his scalp as his tongue writhed about inside her. 

Eventually, he stopped, letting her come back down as he continued to work her ass. After a moment, he pulled his finger out and slid her off his shoulders. He brought her down to eye-level with him, the two meeting each other's gaze for a few moments as the caught their breath. Suddenly she pulled his face against hers, kissing him wildly, aggressively even, biting at his lips and clawing at his jaw. He responded in kind before quickly lowering her onto his cock, his tip pushing not against her sex, but her ass. He had worked it somewhat open with his finger, but it was still too small to accept his cock initially. She opened her eyes with a gasp as he pushed his head inside her, the head alone stretching her massively. He pulled out of his kiss with her to kiss her neck, sucking hard and biting gently, the presence of his sharp teeth distracting her briefly from the massive size of his cock.

He slowly but relentlessly pushed into her, her gasps desperate and slightly pained as his size forced her insides to align to his hard cock. A hard pressure formed in her stomach as he filled her, her curiosity forcing her to pull away from his chest and look down as a bulge appeared above her pelvis. She looked up at him with a grimace, even as the warmth returned to her sex. He bit his own lip until he finally hilted inside her, the two both letting out loud moans. He stayed inside her a moment more, letting her adjust more to his size before he lifted her up off his length halfway and started pounding her. She yelped and shrieked as she felt her insides move back and forth from his deep thrusting. Her whole body trembled, and though it was different than before, she felt the build up of another climax again, much to her confusion and slight embarrassment. Any pain and discomfort she felt however melted into ecstasy as strong as if he was in her sex before too long though, her insides clinging hard to his cock as she felt the bulge push her skin against his own over and over.

She desperately clung to him as his breathing grew more wild and ragged, the minutes that followed being a mixture of survival and mind-numbing bliss. In a mix of off and on, trying to chase the climax and stave it off, she eventually succumbed and started thrashing against him, her liquids squirting out of her sex against his stomach as she came again and then a few moments later again.

Her repeated orgasms seemed to be the final push over the edge that he needed, as he finally gripped her tightly against him and flooded her insides. She felt her insides grow even tighter as the bulge pressed harder between them. She cried out as he pulled out and turned her around. She felt his cum running down through her insides towards her ass before he rammed his cock back up inside her, continuing again for another couple of minutes. Now they could both more easily watch the now larger bulge as he fucked her ass. Her breasts bounced up and down, slight though they were, merely from the intensity of the movement. She barely noticed as she started to cum again, unable to prepare for it as she let out a ragged scream, a slight dribble of liquid from her sex as she did so. 

Finally, his soft moaning turned into a gasping growl as he pushed all the way into her again, forcing a hoarse yelp out of her as he flooded her insides with just as much volume as before. He held her in place for a minute, his hands gently caressing her before he slowly lifted her all the way off his length, to both her protest and relief. He took her in his arms, her exhaustion finally setting in as he set her back down on the grass. She laid down on her back, struggling to keep her eyes open as she blinked up at him. He leaned over her and kissed her on the forehead. 

“Good night, wee lass. The spirits will watch over you and coax peace out under the stars.”

He stood back up as her eyes fluttered closed,his towering form and smiling face the last thing she’d see that night.

— 

Nelldena awoke to a canopy of dense vines over her head. She sat up and saw her clothes and armor by her side. She was in a small tent made of vines that appeared to have grown out of the ground in such a shape. She looked around for Skovir before stepping outside. The morning sun was shining through cracks in a sea of clouds, and the briarheart vampire was nowhere in sight.

She let out an indignant sigh, a longing look in her eyes. “Not going to even tell me your name?”

—

Back in Markarth, in Understone Keep, the hulking man’s long legs carried him quickly from one end to the other. A reachman sat behind a desk, a myriad of maps and letters strewn about. He looked up at the sound of brisk footsteps upon the stone floor.

“Aye? What is it?”

Skovir dropped a large, but surprisingly lightweight bag onto the desk. The reachman frowned at it before pulling on the drawstring holding it closed. His eyes widened as he pulled out a few still bloodied teeth. 

“From werewolves and vampires of the Grey Host. Might make for a good effigy or ward,” Skovir mused.

The smaller reachman looked back down with a look of surprise. “Wait, this whole bag? How did you-?” 

He looked back up as Skovir curled a lip back in a smirk, the briarheart revealing his long fangs.

“Never ask a witch their secrets…”