If you’re one of the ones who’s wondered about this lovely couple, Valter (with the help of Vittoria) is all too happy to tell you their story. In great detail. But I think you’ll like the “detail”. *cough* It’s a fun little thing and maybe not the best since I was working backwards from a preconception in a fantasy universe with healers, but I don’t really care. Vittoria and Valter are about neck and neck with Sabrael and Rei in terms of couples that make me smile, and the important thing, really, is that they’re inseparable (heeeey I said the thing!).
This is dedicated to NightTaim, who created Valter and so generously allowed me to put him into my Skyrim. This wouldn’t exist without them. ♥
My name is Valter, and my beautiful Vittoria and I have been together our whole lives, and married happily for ten years. They say one can go their whole lives without ever really knowing the thrill of true love, without ever finding their soulmate. Some people say soulmates aren’t even real, but Vittoria and I are proof that they’re only cynics. I’m relating this to you in order to demonstrate my claim. Our claim.
I was born in High Rock, the son of an Imperial scholar and a Breton mage. It was my father that was the mage, and where talent and ability are concerned, I got those from him. Otherwise, I just look like any other Imperial man. My ears are just a tiny bit pointed, though. If, I’m told, one squints. My father’s are bit more pronounced, but we’re only partially elvish, after all. This all began when I was an infant, not even a year old. My eyes grew diseased. I took what I’m told was a raging fever. By the time I was saved by my father’s healing magic, however, I was completely blind.
I’ve heard people say that it’s a tragic thing to have happened, but I really don’t think so. When one doesn’t know sight to any meaningful extent, one learns new and interesting ways of adapting to the world. I could, at one point, hear wonderfully. From people breathing a good distance away, to each individual singer in a chorus of birds. Once I know a place, no matter how big, I don’t often need any help navigating. That’s not to say I can’t or don’t get turned around now and again, but it’s less often than one might think. One might also wonder how a mage can be blind, and that’s easy enough to explain. Like my father, I’m a healer. Oh, sure, I can throw a lightning bolt if I need to (and with decent accuracy), but when an ally is about, it’s much better to slightly heal an enemy than electrocute a friend. It’s awfully difficult to tell one person’s shuffling from another in the heat of combat, you know.
In the city of my birth, only a week after me, Vittoria was born. Her sign is the same as mine, but her parentage is switched; her mother is the Breton in that situation. It seemed a bit more than serendipity, our parents have said, and they weren’t one iota surprised to see that we were friends almost instantly. Vittoria was (and is) tough and very principled, even as a child. She was my protector, making sure the small gang of bullies who liked to try and get me addled couldn’t find the chance. Sometimes they did, of course; we couldn’t be together all the time, much as we wanted to be. She took me places and read to me from storybooks and her father’s historical texts. If there were pictures, she would describe them to me – their colors, their shapes, abstract concepts I had no point of reference for. Yes, I know what squares and circles are, but I still don’t really know what a deer looks like, or a dragon (thankfully). If I can’t touch something, I can’t see it.
It didn’t matter, though. When she read to me, we could go anywhere and be anything. Pirates skulking around Stros M’kai, Ashlanders braving harsh climes. Always together. She would sometimes even let me win when we played at swordfighting in our efforts to re-enact some heroic historical event.
She’s a mage, too. A certain breed of battlemage, if one wants to be technical, even though she’s never been involved with any sort of military organization. She just likes swords, and her father taught her how to fight, and her mother taught her everything about conjuration she needed to know, at least until she was old enough to take in the knowledge of a real master.
I’ve heard that children brought up together that way often come to see each other as siblings more than mates, but early in my adolescence, just the thought of Vittoria would make my stomach flip. She was everything to me, and as time went on I realized that it was romantic love and not simply carnal desire. I had that, too, of course, but that’s neither here nor there, is it?
By the time we were sixteen, I could barely stand to be around her, I’d fallen so hard. I could never tell her, though. What if she didn’t love me back? It wouldn’t be the same between us anymore. We might have even needed to part ways! And being that we were being shipped off to the College of Winterhold together, I don’t know that I could have managed if something like that had happened. It was alright, though. I could love her in private. I mean, really, she was my friend, first and foremost, and that of course made me perfectly happy.
It did actually turn out to be a bit of a non-issue with the work we both needed to put in at the College. We slept in the same quarters as the other apprentices, but we didn’t have the time we used to, with her having to keep up with her swordsmanship on top of her conjuration work, and with the extra attention I needed due to my blindness. What time we had together, though, was time I cherished.
After two years, we were both feeling an itch to travel, and we made our plans to set out by year’s end. I was, if I might say so, going to leave the College a brilliant healer. Vittoria was a force to be reckoned with. She could pull from nothing any armor, weapon, or shield she desired, of any element she could dream up. I was proud of her. Maybe a little intimidated. She had other friends there that I was a bit jealous of, if I’m honest. There was some fear in my heart that the things she’d said about traveling with me were only niceties, that she would go off with her other, sighted, friends and enjoy a freedom that I knew she had never known. What must it have been like, growing up, taking care of someone for no reason other than that they were the same age and shared the same basic interests, and then setting foot into a new world with lots of people like that, people she didn’t feel the need to take care of?
She’s taking dictation as I relate this story, and it might seem funny, baring these thoughts in such a way. We’ve discussed them, of course – it’s been ten more years between then and now – and she admitted that it was nice finding other mages in general, eyesight aside. She also admitted it was nice having a bit more freedom, as well as female friends, of which she never had many back home. In the end, though, she said that if she would have left me behind, she would’ve fallen ill for the rest of her life. I don’t know about any of that (she has a penchant for the dramatic), but hearing it all from her own mouth was nice.
A month or so before we were to leave, my heart still aching, I was in the lecture hall while she was practicing her magick. We had a game in which she would conjure her armor and weapon, and I was supposed to guess from sound what element belonged to which piece. The difficulty usually depended on the surroundings. It was much harder in the lecture hall because of the reverb mixing everything together, but I liked it. If we did it outside, it was far too easy once I’d learned which sounds belonged to what element. In the beginning it would take a while for her to conjure everything, but now she was so much stronger that she could cast her armor and still have enough magicka and strength in her to summon her shield and weapon simultaneously.
And so I sat there with my back against a column, listening, laughing as we talked, wishing badly to be able to hold her. I didn’t even know what she looked like at that point, would you believe? The most contact we’d ever had in any meaningful way was when she’d hold my hand or my arm in new places or with stairs, or the occasional friendly embrace. At eighteen, there were only five people I could say that I’d “seen”: Myself, my parents, and my grandparents. People with sight have the luxury of instant knowledge when it comes to other people’s looks. Blind people, we only have our hands, and so the act of seeing somebody is an intimate act, one that one doesn’t ask of just anyone. I just couldn’t bring myself to ask her. Not then, anyway. Somehow it just didn’t matter when we were children.
As she was conjuring some piece or another, I heard footsteps. I didn’t initially bother myself with them until they stopped nearby. I knew the strides of our friends, of most of the professors, but this was one I either had no reason to know or hadn’t had time to learn it. Indeed, the voice that followed belonged to a newer student, an Altmer by the name of Rimrion. He was a gifted mage, unsurprisingly, but he was also afflicted with a horrible case of exceptionalism.
…Perhaps also unsurprisingly.
“You know you go to a lot of trouble to play dress-up,” I heard him drawl at Vittoria.
“Go away, Rimrion,” she said bluntly.
“I’m just saying, that’s certainly a lot of magicka you use when you could be a real battlemage and ditch that silly alleged armor and save your magicka for, I dunno, actual spells like a proper mage?”
“It does serve a purpose,” she answered. “Stop trying to stir up trouble.”
“Far be it from me,” he said. “Your ears might be admirably pointed, but your mer blood is terribly diluted. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that a Breton would find a way to make magick useless.”
“Cut it out, Rimrion!” I interrupted sharply. “Vittoria has more talent in her little finger than you could ever hope to have.”
“Says the blind mage,” he laughed. “I suppose failures stick together, hm? Do you think she’d be yours if you defend her honor? Blind or not, I’m sure you could do better.”
“That’s not what this is about! All you’re out to do is undermine her confidence, and any decent person wouldn’t let you get away with it.”
I heard footsteps which matched her stride, and as I stood, I felt her hand on my arm. “Let it go, Valter,” she said. “Don’t let him get under your skin.”
“Best listen to your friend, Valter,” Rimrion said.
“People might get hurt.”
“Is that a challenge?” I asked.
“Perhaps it is! I would love a chance to teach a blind Imperial his place in this society.”
“Then let’s go!”
“Valter, don’t!” Vittoria pleaded. “Please, you’ll be expelled! You’ll never be allowed back!”
“I have to,” I said. “How many times have you protected me?”
“This isn’t protection! Just let him be.”
I just held out my arm and pushed her safely away.
“Alright, you precious little defective,” Rimrion said. He’d stepped back a ways, directly in front of me. “I’ll give you a fighting chance. I’ll let you count down from five, and after that, we see who the proper mage is.”
I began my countdown, but the mer was impressively silent. The second I reached “one” Rimrion managed to step quickly to my left. My lightning struck nothing, and in an instant the side of my face was on fire. I screamed and flailed, clawing and slapping at myself trying to put out the flames, barely aware of Vittoria’s own screams of terror. Tolfdir, the school’s alteration professor heard the ruckus from the stairwell of Arcaneum below us and rushed in. I collapsed onto the stone floor, writhing and screaming myself hoarse, until finally I felt the relief of a blast of frostbite. Vittoria still feels awful for panicking and forgetting her own spells, but it’s not her fault. We don’t know how we’ll react to stressful situations until we’re in them.
Rimrion had fled the scene apparently, and there were hands under my arms, lifting me up. I couldn’t open my left eye. The left side of my mouth was heavy, and I couldn’t open it, either. There was a terrible ringing in my left ear, one which would fade into nothing later on.
“Vittoria, did you have anything to do with this?” Tolfdir asked as I was walked quickly out into the cold air. His voice was muffled due to the ringing and my right ear being the only one working.
“No, sir, I tried to stop it!” She was crying.
“Go to your room and wait for Mirabelle and me,” he said sharply.
It was the first time I’d heard that man angry. I didn’t want Vittoria to leave me, but I couldn’t vocalize. I was so lost in pain, nothing else could function. I heard her sob followed by footsteps running off to the right. Tolfdir, however, took me to the left, to the Hall of Countenance – the professors’ quarters. I was helped up the stairs where I heard Colette Marence’s paranoid mumblings. She was the restoration master and my mentor. I couldn’t even fathom trying to heal myself in such a state.
“Valter!” she cried. “Goodness gracious what happened to you?!”
Once more I couldn’t speak the words I was visualizing.
“I’m not sure yet,” Tolfdir said. “But there’s no time, he needs attention.”
“Yes, of course! You poor thing,” she said, guiding me over to sit on her bed. “The problem with fire is it continues to burn well after it’s out, and you’ve got it bad.”
I felt an uncomfortable warmth as she worked her magick. It stung and made everything feel even hotter.
“I don’t know how effective this will be, as the damage is deep, but try we must!”
I sobbed quietly with the pain, not hoping for much. It would be in keeping with the success of healing on my looks and ability. It took a long time. Colette tried her hardest. She stopped the continuing damage, managed to reverse some of the scarring, although to have felt it then, I didn’t want to know how badly it started out. My eye was still fused shut, my mouth still wouldn’t move properly, and I was still deaf in one ear. I didn’t understand. Colette was an even better healer than my father. How could this be? Was the damage really that bad, that she could only manage to make me not as scarred? Or maybe I’m simply more resistant to magicka than one would expect from someone only half Breton. That was the only explanation I could think of. A selective resistance, even. If I’d been half as resistant to the flames as I was to the healing, I wouldn’t have found myself so distraught.
This was it. I had wasted too much time, or would it have even mattered? My face was melted on one side; even if I told Vittoria how much I loved her, how could I feasibly expect her love me back, now?
I requested, when I was led back to my room in the apprentices’ quarters, to avoid letting Vittoria see me, and I asked, while I convalesced, that my room stay locked except to the College staff. And, indeed, I was visited by more than the cook. The Arch Mage himself, a Dunmer by the name of Savos Aren, came to visit. Or, more accurately, to interrogate.
I told him what happened, simply, from start to finish. I didn’t embellish, I didn’t try to absolve myself. In the end, both Rimrion and I were expelled, just as Vittoria had warned, and just as I had well known, regardless of my actions. I couldn’t stand to hear my best friend denigrated. In retrospect, it really was a stupid thing to get so worked up over, and had I listened to her I wouldn’t have suffered my fate…although I suppose that’s why they call it “fate”. At the time, however, it was a knife in my heart.
I was allowed to stay while I convalesced, until a week later when I started receiving ultimatums from the Master Wizard, Mirabelle Ervine. They had generously allowed me that much, and now it was time for me to pack my bags and leave. Oh, but I couldn’t bear to set foot outside the door. I couldn’t risk Vittoria seeing me. I was to leave. To leave her, really. I couldn’t let our last visit be tainted by my visage, even if that would leave the act itself as the denouement of our friendship. At least when she had seen me then there was hope. Now when I ran my fingers over the left side of my face, all I could feel were unnaturally smooth ridges and valleys.
Finally, in dire need of a bath, such that I could feel the dirt and oil on my skin, I ventured out. All was quiet but for a few people upstairs talking quietly, but from the right, from the direction of Vittoria’s room, I heard her familiar stride, and I bit the working side of my bottom lip as I turned away, squinting my eye in the hopes I could make everything disappear.
“Valter, oh thank the gods, I was so worried! Why wouldn’t you let me see you?”
I didn’t answer. Not because I couldn’t now, but because my words were slurred.
“Valter, please answer me.”
I stayed quiet.
“At least look at me? Please?”
I took a shuddering breath. She would see sooner or later before I left. At least she wouldn’t have to see it again, anyway, once I was gone. I swallowed and turned my face to her. She gasped, and my heart nearly fell to the floor.
“Oh, you poor thing!” she said. “Oh, Valter. I should have tried harder to stop it.”
There wasn’t horror in her voice, but I couldn’t help the fear and the suspicion. I felt her hand on my right cheek, and I jumped.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I wasn’t thinking, I-”
I grabbed her wrist before she could pull her hand away, and I leaned into her palm. She didn’t say anything, but I was shaking terribly. Was she only being friendly?
“Can you speak?” she asked quietly.
I swallowed and wet the good side of my mouth with my tongue. It had been so long since I’d spoken, my throat felt stuck to itself. “I…I can, but it’s difficult.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It’s not your fault. I should have listened.”
“Rimrion was expelled.”
I nodded. “I am, too.”
“I was afraid you might be.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” I said without thinking. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said. “I love you, and I’m going with you.”
“For ages. I could never bring myself to say it.”
“Oh, gods,” I breathed. “Even now?”
“Of course. I was so afraid you wouldn’t love me back. You’re so handsome, Valter, I didn’t think I’d ever have a chance.”
I knew what I looked like from touch, but I had no concept of “handsome” outside lines in books describing a man. My mother would say I was, but she was supposed to. Nobody else had ever said such a thing, and coming from Vittoria, I was beyond happy. I was nervous. I was aroused. I was ecstatic.
“You’re beautiful, even. Scars or no.”
“What color’s my hair?” I asked as my heart pounded against my breastbone. It was funny. I had never been very curious about these details and had never before asked. I had no need. It would all be based in colors, things I don’t know. But I had to know now, I had to hear what made my Vittoria call me beautiful.
Vittoria giggled quietly. “It’s blonde,” she said, “but not quite. It looks like it started to turn brown but decided against it.”
I felt laughter bubble up from my wriggling insides, and it felt so good. I couldn’t stop. “What about my eyes?”
“Well they’re cloudy, but I can tell that they’re blue underneath it all.”
My legs were getting weak, and I have to admit that I was harder than I had ever been. “And your hair?” I asked.
“Mine is dark, reddish brown. People think it’s black until they see me in the sun. My eyes are hazel.”
“I don’t hear anyone around,” I said. “Are we alone? Would you…would you come to my room? I want to see you.”
“Yes, Valter,” she said with a trembling voice. “Yes, I want you to be sure that you really would want to be with me.”
“I doubt there’ll be any question, Vittoria. Come on.”
With one ear, it was hard to really figure out where I’d gotten to, but luckily it wasn’t far from my door; I could tell from the deep gouge in the metal knob. It was my turn to take her by the hand, and I led her inside before closing the door behind us. I had to stop after locking it to breathe. I was so aroused it hurt, and I was about to touch this woman in a way that would bond us closely. I wondered what I would feel. Was she thin? Was she tall? Was she powerfully built from her training? Her hands had always felt so delicate…
I heard the rustle of the thin mattress as she sat on my bed. If she noticed my erection – and I don’t know how she couldn’t have, as I was wearing my linen pants – she didn’t say anything. I was shaking even worse than before as I joined her, sitting so that my right leg was up on the bed and bent. I tried very hard to slow my breathing. I was already embarrassed, and now I was terrified. I held up my shaking hands, and she took my wrists in hers to guide them to her face. I was relieved to feel that she was just as nervous as I was, but as my fingers slid over her soft cheeks, and as my thumbs found her cheekbones, I exploded in my pants.
“Oh gods,” I groaned, pulling my hands away to cover myself, fighting the urge to jerk myself to proper completion. It was bliss and mortification all at once, and even though it could only have been a few seconds, I worried it would never end.
“That’s okay,” Vittoria said gently. I felt her hands push my hair back as she pulled my head to hers, our foreheads resting against each other.
“I’m sorry,” I whimpered.
“Maybe we could just be close for a while, and let it come naturally. So to speak.”
I laughed uncomfortably. “I’ve wanted this so very much,” I said.
“Me too. I’ve never even looked at anyone else in the way I look at you. At night sometimes, I think of you. I think of you holding me. I think of kissing you.”
“Now you can.”
Her hands were on my face, this time, with no hesitation at the prospect of touching my scars. They slid behind my head, but that’s where any semblance of confidence stopped. She at least seemed to have seen the act in progress, but that didn’t change the fact that neither of us had been with anyone before, and the state of my lips wasn’t helping. I was terrified that I would do something wrong or that we would be unable to, but I felt her lips on mine – on the right side, anyway. I felt her tongue open my lips farther, nearly melting as it slid over the roof of my mouth.
I was hardening again, and I couldn’t keep still. I took her face in my hands, spreading my fingers over her forehead to feel the shape and protrusion of her brow. Her eyes were deep-set, her cheekbones were high and prominent. I pushed my fingers into her soft hair until I found her ears, finely pointed as Rimrion had said, even if it was part of a derogatory statement. I wondered how old her mother’s family was to have retained such features. She shuddered as my fingertips traced their outer edges and slid over the lobes. Her jaw was defined, but not square or particularly prominent, and the only reason we broke our kiss was so that I could slide my thumbs over her lips and then around her slightly upturned nose.
“What do you think?” she asked timidly.
“You’re beautiful,” I said. “I can see you, finally! I’ve wondered for so long.”
“Over the past few years. When I realized that I loved you, I realized that hole in my knowledge. For some reason, I’d never noticed it before.”
Vittoria laughed softly, running her fingers through my hair. “In all fairness you’d have needed to update your image, anyway. I don’t look much like I did when we were children.”
“I suppose not,” I smiled.
I pulled her to me again and our lips met. There was more to see, however, an alien landscape of which I had only the vaguest notion. My hands began on her cheeks again, but this time I slid them down, gauging the circumference of her thin neck, sliding out to the edges of her shoulders and then down in a “V” to her chest, then out once more over the swell of her breasts. Her nipples were hard and formed shallow bumps in the heavy fabric of her shirt.
She drew back suddenly, and I heard the rustle of cloth and felt the motion of her arms, and when she came back to me, my hands were cupping skin like silk, small hills that gave beneath my fingers as I gently squeezed. As her nipples brushed my palms properly my cock throbbed hard, and I moaned deeply. I leaned forward, and Vittoria pulled my head towards her, knowing exactly what I wanted, guiding me until my lips touched her neck.
“Oh, Valter,” she shuddered. Her hands were in my hair.
It was one of her spots, the first one I’d learned, and I played with it, nibbling at the skin, sliding my tongue over it. Holding onto her little kittenish moans and the way she roughly held me.
Meanwhile, my hands resumed their journey over her soft stomach, down to her hips where I was met with the waistband of her trousers. Once more, she covered my hand with hers and guided me to slide my fingers between the fabric and her skin before taking her hand away and unbuttoning the fly to allow me better access. The hair was surprisingly soft, the shape of her mound and her lips was perfect for me to cup. And she was so warm! My middle finger slid the length of the small gap where her close outer lips met, until one small push parted them and I could feel the real source of her heat, burning like a furnace. She was wet, though at the time I didn’t quite know what to make of it. It certainly didn’t take away from the velvety feeling of the skin that had been hidden.
Soon I found a new set of smaller lips, and between them was…
“Vittoria?” I asked timidly.
“Am I doing this right?”
“Just slide your finger inside me,” she sighed. “It’s okay. I’ve wanted this so badly…”
I shivered hard and eagerly (but carefully!) obeyed, pressing against her entrance until all at once my finger was surrounded by smooth walls that enveloped it in surprising tightness.
“Now move it in and out,” she panted, “and rest the heel of your hand here.”
I let her position my hand so that the back of it was on her clit – something I couldn’t really describe – and once all was in place, I did as she asked and pumped my finger in and out of her slowly. Her hands clawed at my shoulders, and then they were on my head to pull me into a kiss. I was beside myself that not only was I finally able to give her the pleasure I’d always dreamed of, but that she was so truly transported by what I was doing.
“Faster, Valter, please,” she moaned. Her hand was over mine then, guiding my speed and rhythm. I was happy to let her take control, teaching me.
And then, accompanied by a cry she tried hard to stifle, I felt her climax, squeezing my finger in rapid pulses while she pulled me still closer, pressing her face against my neck. I sighed deeply and smiled, amazed that I had done that for her.
She kissed me again before she’d even stopped, and in a moment I felt her palm sliding over the head of my cock beneath the the fabric of my pants, still damp from my spontaneous orgasm. I slid my hand from her and quickly took myself out.
“Oh, my,” Vittoria breathed.
“Nothing! I’ve just never seen one, you know, outside drawings. It’s lovely.”
I chuckled. I never thought I’d hear that about my penis before, but I was glad she felt that way.
“Speaking of drawings,” she said timidly, “I’ve read things, and I thought, you know. Maybe I could use my mouth on you?”
“Sure?” I said, slightly bewildered as to why she would want that, exactly. “I haven’t had a bath.”
“I don’t mind…if it’s bad I can always stop,” she laughed. “Unless you would rather I not.”
“No, no! No, please, by all means!”
There was some awkwardness as we adjusted our positions on the bed. Finally, with my shirt off and with me propped up against the headboard, she moved her hands down my body so that she wouldn’t startle me. She explored as she went, and I couldn’t help shivering at the feeling of those warm hands moving over my shoulders, my chest. Her lips started on my neck and moved with her hands, pausing momentarily to timidly flick her tongue over one of my nipples. When I moaned and clutched the sheets on either side of me, she sucked gently, and I pushed my hips upward desperately as precum dripped onto my stomach.
Vittoria wasted no time, then, moving back a little bit so that she could bend comfortably. My breathing was shallow and shaky, and it was a feat not to come the moment I felt her warm breath on me. Soon enough, the wetness of her mouth surrounded the head of my cock, and her soft tongue rubbed against the underside. I flexed every muscle in my body, trying to hold back, wanting badly to enjoy this odd act that I was quickly learning was going to be one of my favorites. I tried my best, but as soon as I touched her soft palate…
“Vittoria, I’m coming!” I tried not to cry out too loudly.
I did it because it certainly wasn’t my intention to blow down her throat, but it was far too late. I grabbed her head, though, as I pushed deeper, and she didn’t protest as I shot my passion down her throat in repeated pulses. I had never come so hard in my life, and I felt as though I might faint with the utter relief her mouth gave me.
But I had climaxed twice, and she only once. There was no doubt I had one more in me, though, and that it wouldn’t take much to get me ready. I slipped from her mouth, and, in spite of the fact that I was going soft, she knew how badly I wanted to experience her, and she moved up to rest her head in the crook of my shoulder. She took me in her hand, then, and began gently – if awkwardly – pulling. Like she had done to me, though, I took her hand in mine and guided her, showing her how I masturbated and what would get me off. Her hand on me felt so nice, and though I loved her mouth, I loved more to have her snuggling against me and gently working me back to attention. To this day it’s my favorite activity. Even compared to intercourse, this seemed so much more intimate. Sometimes at night, she’ll draw closer to me and kiss my neck while she starts to pleasure me. Sometimes it leads to sex, sometimes she just like to help me feel good, but it’s always so dear, and such a deep expression of her love for me.
This time there was no question as to where it would lead. It didn’t take much to get me hard, and I turned my head to lean it against hers. “I want to make love to you,” I said.
“Oh, yes,” she sighed. “Valter, I know this might sound presumptuous, considering we’re young and this is both of our first times, but you realize I’m giving myself to you. I don’t want anybody else. You’re the only one in the whole world who can make me feel this way.”
“I couldn’t do this with just anyone, either,” I said. “For so long I’ve dreamed of you, fantasized about you. I know for sure that we must be meant for each other. The gods wouldn’t have brought us together the way they did otherwise.”
“I love you,” she said. I could hear the smile she wore. “I love you, and I’m yours.”
I took that as a sign that now was the time, that this was going to happen. I slipped my pants down to my ankles and kicked them off while she did the same, and we moved so that I was over her on my hands and knees. Now, something that had seemed so deep and so romantic had turned to something of a puzzle. With one hand, I felt the length of her body, not for titillation (although, Vittoria reminds me, she did shiver pleasantly), but to figure out how this was supposed to work. Once more I moved my hand over her pubic mound, and then, taking my cock in that same hand, I lowered myself onto her and tried to stretch my hips backward to try and enter her.
I got the impression that, at least for the first time, this was one of those things where even sighted men might have at least a little trouble.
I moved back a little, but I still couldn’t quite get the angle.
“Maybe try pushing yourself up?” Vittoria suggested.
I felt myself blush. It seemed obvious, but that was alright. I did as she suggested, and it was, in fact, easier. I found her entrance again, this time with my tool, and I pressed gently. If I thought she was tight around my finger…gods above! I pressed harder to gain entrance, and she grunted painfully.
“What’s wrong?” I asked urgently, my hips unfortunately frozen in their position. “Am I hurting you?”
“Just slowly,” she said. “You’re…you’re pretty big.”
“I guess so,” I answered. “Alright, once more.”
More careful this time, I gently pressed, and it occurred to me to rock against her, back and forth, and as she relaxed, she took more and more of me in. Only halfway in, I moaned – probably too loudly – at that same velvety-soft tightness from before wrapped around my cock. The warmth and the wetness were the most amazing things I’d ever felt on me. I could grip myself all night long, but that could never compare to this, this thing that I had always wanted but could never imagine. All the while she sighed and moaned quietly.
“You feel so good,” she breathed urgently. “Oh, Valter, fuck me! Fuck me, please!”
I’d never heard her use a crude word in our lives, but right now, said in such a pleading way, it almost made my cock burst right then and there! It had been far from me to deny such a passionate, kittenish plea, and, without even going all the way in to start, I began pumping in and out of her slowly. An almost-constant moan was escaping her throat, punctuated by my name. I couldn’t do much more than squint my eye and try to remember to breathe amidst my desire to focus every ounce of attention on this new and brilliant sensation.
“You’re so tight on me,” I shuddered. “I don’t know if I can last much longer.”
“I’m so close,” she breathed. “Can you go faster?”
It hadn’t occurred to me that I could, for some reason, so of course I obliged! Gradually I sped my pace until her head was nearly hitting the headboard, and as her cries came closer and closer together, I quickly lowered myself onto her and embraced her. My balls were uncomfortably tight. I really didn’t think I could hold it. Until…
Her knees were up and pressing against my waist all of a sudden, and she’d nearly lost control of her volume. Her teeth bit gently down on my shoulder, and only a second later I felt my cock being squeezed mercilessly.
“Oh gods above,” I gasped as my hips slammed against her. I bit my lips as I came hard, filling her, an act alone that made me want to go again. Squeeze after squeeze, twitch after twitch, we held onto each other as we shared our ecstasies.
It was bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss.
And it still is. It’s never waned between us. It’s the ribbon on the gods-given gift that is our love and our bond. Even now, odd though one might think to dictate such a thing to anyone, let alone their spouse, we’ve had to set aside the quill a few times to relive (and relieve) the thrill that was our first time. Just like then, I used my hand, she sucked me off, and then we capped it all with good and proper intercourse – although this time we’re slightly more adept, and Vittoria’s discovered she rather likes sitting on me. I certainly won’t argue!
We left the College together, her a welcome alumnus, me a pariah. She’s never felt the need to return there, however. We found a place just on the road to Whiterun Hold from Eastmarch, where it was quiet and snowy. Vittoria said it was the most beautiful place she’d seen, and she described the trees, the snowberry bushes, the way the sunlight came through the branches of the slumbering deciduous trees and made the snow sparkle. I knew it was the time, and right then, as soon as she stopped describing the beauty of the woods, I took both her hands in mine and asked her to marry me. Once and for all. The knot to symbolically bind us and make us well and truly one.
Ten years ago, and we’re twenty-eight now, as in love as we’ve ever been. Some might call us failures as mages, but Vittoria never really had any aspirations towards military life, and in the end, I’m happy to study when I can. Make no mistake – we hone our skills, but we put them to use aiding villages that find themselves in need of people to take care of dangerous wildlife that have encroached on their territory and pose a threat to the residents, or to take care of bandits who harangue them. We don’t really like killing, of course, but we have to eat. Frequently we stay if they’re in need of a healer. We travel, sure, but a year ago we could finally afford a modest cottage just outside the city of Riften, on a small little island on Lake Honrich. At the end of the day, when we feel we’ve exhausted our leads for the moment, we come home, put our camping gear away, and live a quiet and peaceful life.
It came to our attention, after several years of spending untold amounts of money at apothecaries on odd-smelling tinctures and other things meant to prevent any ill-timed pregnancies, that Vittoria is unable to conceive. We learned of this, after purchasing our home and making very careful plans, when we actively tried. Months and months of increasingly disappointing attempts led to nothing. It could have been me who was the sterile one, but we both somehow knew it was her.
I am, like most of my sort, what one might call a jack-of-all trades when it comes to healing. I don’t have a particular area of expertise, but I know a lot and can manage a great deal of things before needing to seek outside counsel. Vittoria is stubborn when it comes to healing, though. Her insides could be spilling out of her mouth, and she would still tell me it’s nothing. It’s a downside to that “tough” attribute I mentioned earlier. When we got together I learned her cycles we very irregular, and as time went on, while she grew more regular, the associated pains grew worse, and as much as I offered to help, to try and figure out what was going on, she would brush me away, and if I persisted and tried to put my foot down, she would adopt an uncharacteristic standoffishness, born of that stubbornness mixed with the moodiness that accompanied everything else. In the end, all I could really do was stand by while she cried in bed for days, giving her hot, wet towels to place on her abdomen. That much she would allow me. To say it hurt, to say it was frustrating, is an understatement.
Our inability to conceive was what finally made her break down and let me properly examine her, and I did. I hadn’t had a lot of experience in this area (as you might guess, women aren’t very keen on a strange man laying his hands on them), and Colette never touched on the subject. Documentation is obscure, and it’s perhaps the biggest reason I regret my actions that day which got me expelled. The arcanaeum would undoubtedly have more on the subject than I’ve found. I started gathering what I could when we got married for occasions such as this, much as I wished to never put such knowledge to use. Books, midwives, wherever I could glean information, I was there.
Healers have to be good at visualization when it comes to internal medicine. I can’t visualize in the traditional sense, so what I “see” manifests in words or sometimes sounds. It serves me well. I held my hands over her lower abdomen, over that space between her hips, and I closed my eyes and let what information that would come to me tell me what was wrong. I heard the familiar, pulsing rush that was the circulation of blood. Something wasn’t right, that much was clear. It was jumbled. Something wasn’t the correct fit…size? It was in the wrong place. It was her womb.
This was beyond my scope, my first real experience seeing things from the inside in this context. We broke our backs trying to find someone who specialized in this sort of thing, and it so happened that there was an Altmer who made his home near Solitude who, at the impressive age of two hundred and thirty, was very highly skilled in internal healing of all sorts. Without hesitation, we made our way to see him. Oh, he was old. One never thinks of old mer, but this one certainly was. He was hunched, Vittoria had said, and he was suffering a palsy, but he was happy to see us, nonetheless, and eager to help.
He took Vittoria behind a curtain while I waited patiently in a chair, hearing her describe to him in greater detail her problems. I had told him what I had found, but nobody can really explain their pain like the patient themselves. After about fifteen minutes, he came from behind the curtain while she dressed, and explained to me what I had discovered. Her womb was in the wrong place, and it was the wrong size to fit with everything else. It had fused with her bowel, somehow. When asked if it could be fixed, he made some ambiguous sounds. He could see to it the organs were separated, which would potentially ease her pain, but she could never conceive. If in the unlikely event that she did, he said, the baby likely wouldn’t make it, or she might die in childbirth. Back to the tinctures it was, inconvenient though they were. I couldn’t risk such a thing,
Healing can fix what breaks, depending on severity and the swiftness of the healing, but it can’t grow things or make certain congenitally broken things work. But it explained why she would spend days in bed during her cycle, crying from the intense pain. It explained why sometimes our lovemaking was painful for her. Those could be mitigated, but beyond all that, the gods simply decided she wasn’t meant to bear children.
We were disappointed, of course, but Vittoria, in her warm, loving way, said that perhaps this was just a sign. We didn’t have to bear our own. After all, how many children already born don’t have parents?
And that is our next journey. I’m known in the Rift, and so I plan to set up a proper permanent practice to support us, just as we’d discussed before we heard the news. We’ll let the practice run for a while and see what comes of it. When we know we no longer need to travel, it will be time to share our home and our lives with a child who needs us.
Vittoria wants two.
I might be able to be convince her to go for three. You know. Three’s a nice number.
My hand rests on the back of Vittoria’s neck, and I feel her shaking her head as she writes. Maybe I should just wrap this up before I start considering more…