Lemon oneshots

Vampiric delight: Skyrim

Alteroth wiped away the sweat from his furrowed brow scanning the barren, rocky terrain laid out before him and Serana; his steel eyes roamed searching for any hideaway from the obvious onset of rain overhead.
"Doesn't seem like anything," Serana sighed. She readjusted her hood as she followed his gaze.
"No," Alteroth said. "At worst we can set up a tent; though we'd be sleeping atop each other."
Serana kept quiet and continued her scan: her bright orange eyes faltered after a time: "there's nothing here."
"Let's keep going," Alteroth ordered. "There must be something."

Serana obeyed and followed him: his dark hair shining within the dim sunlight caught her attention, alongside his tanned flesh and muscular physique. His cloak and pants a dark green, and his steel sword glittering against his hip. Serana kept replaying his words towards her father.

"She's too important to me."

What did he mean? She folded each word as if she'd find a hidden meaning, or if she interpreted it wrong. She couldn't deny her own adoration toward him: after all he did for her - how could anyone ignore that? But for something existing between them, for a vampire older than the many stones they treaded over, finding a mortal man, destined to die as she continued on, could she even believe her own thoughts?
"There!" Alteroth said, snapping Serana from her mind. She found where he pointed: a cleft within the base of a larger mountainside.
"Are you sure?" She asked.
"We should check it out," he said with a chuckle. "If it allows the rain in then we move on; if not, well, I'll keep first watch."
Serana shook her head and smiled. And both clambered into the small abode finding it larger than expected; its back wall was dry, and no moss or dirt lay upon the admittedly hard floor.
"It looks wide enough," Alteroth mused. "Although sleep may be rough."
Serana shrugged her shoulders.
"Alright," he added, removing his satchel, "I'm going to snap some branches and bring them over; get comfortable, huh?"
"I can retrieve firewood as well," Serana said, only a hue of annoyance about her voice.
"I know," Alteroth laughed. "But I like to."
He left quickly, and before Serana could say anymore; she sighed, and began gathering a pile of soil, forming it into a mound with a dimple in its center. She then unhooked her cloak and folded it neatly beside her. She sat and watched Alteroth climb several trees and snap a small bunch of dead branches off; she smiled catching him whistle quietly, and with interspersed words of what she guessed was a lullaby, or a song of his past.

"Several men mining the moon; two returning, yet five remain."
"Of dust and clutter they bring, yet of gold and glimmer they retain."

"Nord traditions," she whispered softly as he returned.
"What was that?" He asked.
"That song," she said. "What was it?"
"Oh!" He said with clear embarrassment. "It's from one of my books; not my book, but you know."
Serana smiled showing her fangs; Alteroth's face flushed. He busied himself building their campfire and, with a sharp snap! He lit it.
"That's warmth!" He moaned. "The rain always cools the weather." He caught her glowing eyes, and hers softened admist the glow of the fire - then widened alongside his sudden shout of surprise.
"Your back!"
"What?" She said, and reached, feeling a pool of cold blood soaked in her corset. "Oh damn!"
"Let me look at that!"
"It must've been when that bandit attacked," she groaned. "I didn't feel it at the time."
She turned and allowed him untie her attire; she felt his warm fingers graze her frozen skin, and her wound tingle upon his touch.
"It's deep," he sighed. "Good thing you're a vampire."
Serana remained quiet: she winced once his hand rest over her back; her eyes flashed with a sudden burst of energy; her heart pulsed as though two primal energies fought within her. A history uncountable, even for her, and her body a vessel for a battle beginning so long ago. Save for his hand did she sense a primal fear within her.

His warmth nay comfortable for her physical self, however her soul - or what was left of her soul - crying for his continuing hold did bring her orange eyes to well. She knew this feeling; she couldn't deny it.
"Alright," he said carefully. "You heal faster than me, certainly; yet for its appearance: I can barely tell."
He backed away from her; and she turned slowly loosening her corset and adjusting her undergarment, though pretended ignorance of his obvious stare.
"Now," she said proudly. "We wait?"
"We do," he mused, finally breaking his attention from her. "I've some books we can read."
"Sure."