A/N: Skyrim Kink de-anon. Not in my usual style for the purposes anon-ing but that didn't last long, hmm? Prompt is this:

After the PC undergoes the Initiation in the Companions, they transform back miles away from Whiterun in the middle of the wilderness, and, of course, stark naked. Aela's followed you all the way out here, and was I the only person who got very interested when you saw her face? Aela and the Dragonborn do have a nice relationship, but being face to face with one of them with not a shred of clothing, and then to keep the friendship just that...well, that's too much to ask.

I would kiss this wonderful OP for the idea.

Disclaimer: Bethesda's, not mine. Except whatever derivative thing.

Aela dodges tangled roots and shrubbery along with the occasional pebble, her light feet near mute upon the cold land. It is no easy feat considering it is the dead of night and her only source of light is the dim torch in her hand. Not that she needs it much, her beast instincts are more than necessary for her task that is finding Rana, newest lycanthrope and member of the Circle. She'd never have thought the whelp could sprint halfway to Windhelm. Well, she also thought that Rana would never agree to partaking the blood ritual, snobby Dragonborn Altmer that she is but now she's here, tracking the new wolfman...or should it be wolfmer? Aela smirks. That's Rana alright, full of surprises.

Her ear picks up a soft moan just ahead of her path. Aela stills, keeping her ears keen, unsure if the moan is from her newborn. Another moan. And a profanity at humans in general.

Aela rolls her eyes. It's definitely Rana. She immediately flits to her friend, careful to make enough noise to make her presence known; Rana always knows when it's her. She parts a thin shrub and sees the familiar form struggling to get on her feet. Holding the torch ahead of her, Aela readies a smart remark about Rana's mischief.

But the words fail to pass. The huntress stares at the bare woman before her, graceful and proud, even as she struggles with her ordeal. She never paid much attention to Rana's high elven features until now; a long and fine amalgam of golden eyes, hair and skin flattered further by the dim yellow light. It is all quite surreal in Aela's eyes, Rana is not unlike a Divine's statue coming to life. Needless to say, Aela is enthralled.

"Why thank you for the lurid stare, it's keeping me quite warm. Really."

The elf's flat tone brings Aela back from her thoughts to the present. She fights hard to keep her eyes on Rana's face. "Right. Well, you gave us a lot of trouble, even more so than Farkas," Aela says, her voice sounding high even in her own ears. Rana raises an eyebrow. She coughs, clearing her throat and continues, her voice back in its low keys. "I almost envy you, the first time is always..." she trails off as she offers a similar set of Rana's customary robes to her, silver eyes inadvertently landing at the bare breasts. "...the most intense," Aela finishes as a whisper.

"That's a word for it," Rana retorts and takes her clothes, dressing and speaking to Aela as if having conversation near-naked is nothing new. "At least it keeps me warm in this godforsaken weather," she says before a pause and regards the huntress. "I don't have to call you 'mother', do I?" she dubiously asks.

Aela laughs, for once glad with her friend's candidness. "No," she says with a shake of her head, then points to the looming fort at the distance. Her silver eyes flashes with excitement. "But we do have a celebratory hunt in your honor."

Rana smiles, that condescending little smile she wears whenever her talents are called to use. Cinching the last fasten on her robe, Rana stalks ahead of the huntress. "I knew I like you for a reason," she whispers by Aela's ear as she passes. A rush of delight runs through Aela with the words, taking more than a moment to follow her companion. She ascribes the feeling to the thrill of the impending hunt, nothing more.

Skjor is dead. Kodlak too. Kodlak who welcomed her into the Companions and loved her as a daughter is dead. Skjor, her beast-forebear, shield-brother, and sometimes lover is dead. One in Sovngarde, the other in Oblivion's Hunting Grounds and both are probably having the time of their afterlives while she's in the throes of woe. Bastards.

The reality hits Aela hard, even through the thick haze of her mead-addled brain. Weeks have already passed and she hardly paid their deaths notice, busying herself and Rana with revenge that tided her through grief. She had resolved not to cry about it but here she is, in the center of Jorvaskr's grand table, drunk and shaking as she is in the verge of bawling. She is nothing short of thankful that the rest of the Companions are too drunk off their asses to care. She grips the handle of her tankard as tight as she could and slumps her forehead upon the table, shoulders shaking with barely restrained grief. Death take her should she lose her dignity next.

A clap of metal slams beside her ear, making Aela look to the side. She sees Rana, newest Harbinger, smug as ever with the offending tankard in hand. Aela props her elbow upon the table and perches her chin upon her palm, her eyes slowly training upon her companion's drink, which is...mead. A peculiar sight, to say the least; Rana had always shown a preference for Alto wine while turning her nose at mead every chance she got. She stares at the high elf and raises a brow in silent question.

Rana shrugs. "Something different," she says nonchalantly and takes a sip, her golden cheeks immediately awash with color. She sets her drink back down and turns to Aela, the sudden loss of her usual cockiness surprising the huntress. "And you could use some company," Rana adds quietly.

Aela had to snort, previous grief suddenly forgotten. Knowing how self-absorbed Rana is, Aela must be a sorry sight to garner the Altmer's sympathy. Or maybe Rana is the only Companion sober enough to care. Most likely the latter. Aela tilts her face to get a better look at Rana, resting the side of her head on her palm as she does. The elf seems properly concerned but likewise impatient, even a bit uncomfortable. Rana's uneasy shifting upon her chair tells her as much. She shouldn't be amused but she is. She blames it on the mead. "Careful, Sister. People might think you care," she chides.

It was Rana's turn to snort. Aela watches the Altmer's pale golden hands push the tankard between them. "I'd rather not, but I do. Have to, anyway. Playing the Harbinger-role-thing I have to be now," she says coolly, then smiles, as if she just said joke. Aela would have been offended any other time but she is content in her current place, watching and listening to the high elf. And Rana forges on, indulging her company. "And to think I came here to ditch responsibility. A pity." She chuckles, the noise too short to hint at any real amusement. Another sip and she turns to Aela, tilting the tankard her way for good measure. "So enough about me. Unload your burden while I pretend to listen," she offers as a lopsided smile appears on her lips.

Aela keeps silent as she mulls what exactly she should say, all the while keeping her gaze on Rana, which is decidedly hard. Thinking, that is. Mead tends to do that to her, and she had an awful lot that evening. Having a living statue of a Divine staring at her doesn't help, either. She knits her brows at that thought and with narrowed eyes, looks more closely upon Rana. The elf seems more softer now that the guarded severity is dropped in favor of obligatory sympathy. Aela's thoughts somehow float back to that night, not quite long ago, wherein Rana was prone before her, naked as the day she was born. Her mind summons the memory and she is warmer, trumping the heat alcohol had caused. It is a sight not to be forgotten, truly. Her mouth chooses to run with that thought. "What must I do to get you in my bed?" she asks.

Surprise crosses Rana's face. "Excuse me?" she asks right back, as if those large ears of hers are useless.

A wicked smile slowly forms on Aela's lips. She's drunk and grieving, dammit, so she could get away with anything. Rana did ask her to unload her burden so she's just complying with orders. And she certainly wants to give the golden woman a lay. Spin. Ride. Anything's fine as long as they get naked. That logic would have to hold for now. She straightens up from her chair and throws an arm over Rana's shoulder, pulling her close and repeating the question right by a tapered ear.

"I said, 'what must I do to get you in my bed?'"

Rana pulls back from Aela and glares. Aela holds it and keeps the grin on, and slowly Rana's eyes softens and the customary smirk rears itself. Rana looks appropriately thoughtful as dry humor creeps into her voice and says, "I'm not sure. If you were an Altmer, a man, and we're in the Summerset Isles, you'd have to present the genealogical data of your twenty immediate ancestors. Both sides, of course." Rana pauses and taps her chin in thought, then proceeds. "And if the Thalmor finds it to their liking we shall negotiate number of children we'll have and my dowry. No lower than my weight in gold, by the way. If you could accomplish those, we could get married. Oh, and only then I'll go to your bed, as you ask."

"But I'm a Nord, a woman, and we're in Skyrim," Aela picks up immediately, silver eyes still unflinching from Rana's golden pair. "What do I have to do?" the huntress prods, with just a hint of coyness in her tone.

For what seems like the first time in their brief acquaintance, Rana looks uncertain as she regards Aela. The huntress' smile becomes wider, growing bolder with her small triumph. Throwing the high elf off her paces is not unlike outwitting a cunning quarry. Her alcohol-heavy eyes once again appreciates the sight. A particularly beautiful quarry, to say the least.

Finally, with a sigh, Rana rests a hand against on top of Aela's upon the table. She'd have thought it was a dismissal, but the promise in those golden lips is nothing short of delicious.

"Well, since it's you, Aela, a wiggle of your finger should do."

So wiggle she does.

They stagger through the threshold of Breezehome, entwined in each others' arms and trading demanding kisses. Aela had proposed to just go at it in the Jorvaskr's quarters but was shot down rather quickly; Rana said something about thin walls. That is never an issue with her or the other Companions, making her wonder if the woman is a prude. Through a kiss, Aela smiles. Rana is certainly full of surprises.

"Good to see you—oh!"

Aela peeks an eye open and sees a woman garbed in steel armor, gaping at them in complete dismay and horror. She recognizes her as Rana's housecarl and vaguely remembers that she is currently snogging the Thane of Whiterun. Rumors would spawn, undoubtedly. If only she could care.

Rana, however, apparently does as she breaks the kiss with a groan. Aela is about to pull Rana back when the woman deadpans to her shocked housecarl,

"Out."

Aela would have laughed but Rana's lips are once again upon hers, demanding like their owner. She hears the door open and close behind them as they continue to blindly stumble through the small abode, sending plates and cups to their untimely demise. The back of Aela's heels hit the bottom of the stairs and they stop. Lust and alcohol cloud the huntress' mind, impeding both thought and action as to how to cross the height without parting from Rana's lips. The elf's faculties, however, seem fairly intact as she takes hold of Aela's hips and lifts her without much effort, judging from the lack of interlude in their shared kiss. Aela responds, returning the ardor of Rana's lips as she wraps her arms and legs around the taller woman's waist like a vice. She is hardly aware of the creaking steps and boards under them, mind and body too absorbed with Rana's expert touch. It is only when Rana pulls back and hovers over her that Aela realizes she is already upon the bed. She also sees the familiar uncertainty she saw earlier. She smirks and snakes a hand beneath Rana's top, caressing the silky skin and stopping beneath the curve of a breast. Rana's face softens just a tiny bit. "What's the matter, second thoughts?" Aela asks.

"Not...exactly," Rana answers, voice curiously ragged. Her fingers latches on the edge of Aela's pauldrons and pulls, exposing a shoulder. Precious eyes glisten at the sight as the elf leans down, "You've no idea what you're getting into."

"Then enlighten me," Aela says as she teases the sensitive peaks of the elf's breasts, taking pleasure as they harden beneath her touch. The sighs from Rana are likewise a treat, memories of her naked body stokes Aela further. She is not known for patience. A shift of her weight and a jerk of her hips is all Aela needs and the taller woman is beneath her, wearing a lovely expression of surprise. Oh, she could get used to this. Her eager fingers fumble with Rana's heavy robes and amazingly, the woman lifts her arms without protest. Aela's eyes widen as they are reunited with the woman's golden form; moments later she introduces her lips to a pointed ear. A small gasp is her reward. Aela adds her tongue as she kisses downward. Her rewards become sweeter and louder.

"I'm fifty-four," Rana breathes as Aela nips at her chin.

"Twenty-five," she replies, hardly caring; if anything, the elf looked younger than her. She sucks on the hollow of Rana's throat.

Hot hands tug at the rest of Aela's armor. The huntress lifts herself on Rana's lap and the elf follows, allowing easier undressing. As soon as Aela's clothing falls Rana cups an ample mound, her touch so demanding pain bordered with pleasure. Yet, she presses closer to the woman, wanting more. Perfect lips and teeth graze on Aela's collarbone as Rana admits, "I've not lain with anyone in twenty-five years."

The beginnings of a laugh escapes Aela, only to become a gasp as Rana captures a nipple in her mouth. Her fingers tangle through the elf's golden tresses as she closed her eyes, mind and body wrapping around the pleasing sensations. "Waited for me to show up, hmm?" Aela manages to say even as fingers tease her center.

"Perhaps. Now I must apologize," Rana groans against Aela's chest; an act echoed by the huntress when long fingers enter her. Rana catches the sound in a kiss. Gentleness is dispensed yet Aela follows; anyone less than her might have found the woman's rhythm grueling. The first crest happens too soon and Aela falls from her place but a strong hand on the small of her back gently guides her upon the furs. Though Aela's vision blurred, above her she sees the welling lust in the golden eyes she covets.

"You apologize for what?" Aela heaves as she remembers the woman's words. She could feel the hotness of her own breath against Rana's skin.

Rana kisses her again, that darling smirk on her lips then proceeds to burn a trail with her mouth down Aela's neck, breasts, and belly. Before she dips into the huntress' core, the golden woman answers,

"For tonight. I'll be making up for those years."

Aela awakes with a start and immediately winces. Light and sound has never been so awful. Even the soft crumpling of furs beneath her becomes irritable rustling in her ears. She blindly reaches for the candle, meaning to pinch its wick. Instead, she feels nothing. A cold gust of wind blows by her back and the darkness behind her eyes goes darker.

"I'm sure you've burned houses that way," says Rana, her voice making its way through Aela's consciousness.

Aela cracks open her eyes and through the dimness, sees the familiar figure of Rana sitting across the room from her. The unfamiliar walls and furniture around them tells Aela they are not in Jorvaskr, leaving her in a daze. That is, until she realizes she is stark naked under the sheets. Events of the previous night slowly trickle in, along with the pleasant soreness all over. She sits up and looks pointedly at the woman, already clothed and thinks she is peeling an apple. Her eyes inevitably settle on Rana's elegantly long fingers. She shudders at a memory.

"Good morning," Aela says then winces at how scratchy her throat feels. She sounds worse than a cold-stricken whelp of a boy. Rana laughs, obviously at her expense. Ah, yes, good to know she isn't dreaming then.

"Good afternoon, you mean," Rana retorts as she stands from her corner then sits on the edge of the bed. She offers the peeled fruit to Aela. "This might help," she says.

Aela looks briefly at the fruit, then Rana. The Altmer is her usual self, wearing her casual smirk and smugness like second skin. A small mark beneath Rana's jaw is the only sign of last night's tryst. She is disappointed, which is simply absurd. It was sex, glorious sex admittedly, but nothing more. She takes the apple and nods in thanks. Rana watches so intently as she takes a bite that it compels Aela to flick at the sharp chin. Rana snorts and looks away. She finishes the apple in peace and, surprisingly, her throat does feel better. A question might have been on her face as Rana supplies her with an answer. "Magic," she says flatly and follows with a question. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, much better," Aela says readily but sees the odd concern on Rana's features. She brushes it off with a laugh; she still isn't used to seeing anything other than confidence on the woman. "On both counts. I'm not a delicate virgin, Harbinger."

"Not a virgin? Divines, I've been had," Rana quips dryly. Aela is about to punch the woman but is dissuaded by the hand that covers her fist. "As for the other matter?" Rana asks quietly.

Aela is speechless, clearly not expecting the question. She looks at Rana and for the first time, sees the face of someone who has lived and seen much more than her. She stays silent for a long while, taking comfort in the warm hand over hers. Loss is nothing new. She'll get over it. She says these vaguely to Rana, who is clearly unsatisfied. Nonetheless, she rises from the bed and stands besides Aela. "I've to go. I've delayed meeting the Blackbeards for too long. They must be dying to see me," Rana explains as she lights the candlewick with her pointer.

"Greybeards," Aela snipes as her lips curl upon remembering the smug woman is likewise the Dragonborn. Ah, she bedded the Dragonborn; pride swells in her chest. "I can see the look on their faces," she says, lying on her side as she props her head upon her palm. "Dragonborn, champion of Nord legend, is a conceited high elf," Aela chides.

Rana smirks and declares, "And for that you unwashed humans should be grateful. You couldn't have had a better champion." She picks up her leather pack from the side of her bed and adds, "I'd take you if I thought you could walk," she says evenly.

Aela does punch Rana this time, who merely laughs as she leans down to her. She expects another smug remark but instead, receives a gentle kiss. "You know the sign," Rana says as she clears Aela's face from red tresses. She leaves without a proper goodbye. It is only then that Aela brings a finger to her lips.

She is no longer disappointed.