Hello all! This was a fill I did for the Elder Scrolls kinkmeme back in 2012. I posted it there and people requested that I make a sequel. Well, I have something better than a sequel – I'm breaking this into a seven part series documenting post-war life for Ulfric and the Dragonborn. : ) I hope you all enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I swear.
Warnings: A rough lemon, slight blood, lots o' slapping.
As the Stormcloaks relish in their Victory over the Empire and prepare for the oncoming Thalmor, the Dragonborn confronts Jarl Ulfric with an unconventional and slightly indecent demand.
Darkness fell over Solitude after the Stormcloak's victory, and yet the lights a noises emitting from the city didn't falter. Ulfric sat on Elisif's throne lazily while nursing a large goblet of mead that he had barely made progress on. This was a major turning point for himself, for Skyrim, and regrettably the Thalmor as well. They would turn their full attention to Skyrim now that their puppets have been expended and his worries grew by the moment as the celebration grew rowdier.
He was pulled from his concerns when a loud shattering sound resonated through the crowded Palace. Hefty laugher followed soon after, including the distinct cackle of the Dragonborn. He cringed at the sound – she was drunk as everyone else around him, no doubt. He did not recall seeing her after his speech, during which she stood like a stone statue, her face emotionless and her eyes empty.
Galmar hadn't been lying when he confessed to Ulfric the Dragonborn's unmistakable talent on the battlefield. Ulfric hadn't doubted her aptitude per se, though he was not expecting the smooth talking woman to unleash a bout of unbridled fury against Solitude.
It wasn't just the passion in which she fought that impressed him, but her technique. A lifetime in military service had exposed him to a plethora of methods in which to take down an enemy. She was excruciatingly systematic when dealing with a target as he had saw with his own eyes that afternoon. How she scaled along the walls ahead of her comrades and took down every single Imperial that she laid eyes on had been more than a pleasant surprise to him.
He glanced into the drunken, bumbling crowd of soldiers that filled the upstairs of the palace and saw her making her way through the mob, her smiling face flushed and bottle of ale dangling from her fingers. Captain Tobias – one of his most outstanding soldiers – and obviously drunk, trailed after her like a starved pup, his hand occasionally moving down to her midriff when the opportunity arose. Ulfric fought the grimace that was forming on his face. That poor lad clearly had no clue what he was getting into. He had heard tales of her sordid affairs and scheming ways but chose to ignore them. She was, after all, the Dragonborn, and the secret weapon that had won him the war; what happened in her personal life held no relevance to the tumultuous yet professional relationship they held. Though, on many occasions he felt nearly sick when he would catch glimpses of her luring both men and women into her web.
"Ulfric, what's the matter?" Galmar broke the man from his daze and rested a firm hand on his shoulder. The Jarl felt peculiarly hot then and with a quick, dismissive wave of his hand, Galmar backed off. Ulfric stood from the throne, set his goblet down on the nearby table, and made a quiet exit to the balcony of the Blue Palace. The battle and his lack of sleep had finally caught up with him, he guessed.
The rush of the cool air against his face was refreshing compared to the stuffy state of the inside of the palace. Ulfric closed the door behind him and took a seat on one of the small benches littered across the perimeter of the terrace. He sat alone in the darkness for quite some time, devising his potential strategy against the Thalmor. It was a brewing storm that plagued his every thought since the war took a turn in his favor. The victory should have been relieving to him but instead opened new doors of impending threats.
"I was trying to work out where you disappeared to," the Dragonborn slurred from over his shoulder, her proximity and the volume of her voice making him jerk out of surprise, "…came here after giving up and look what I found." She smiled and pointed stupidly at him.
He forced himself to nod politely in acknowledgment, ignoring the distinct stench of liquor on her breath, "I see you've been enjoying the festivities."
"I see that you haven't." she countered, her eyebrow quirking and her lips pursed, "I've been expecting you to partake in tonight's celebration and instead you've been mulling about the palace– not even drinking!" The bottle of ale she held in her hand was raised for emphasis and Ulfric sighed, clearly bothered.
"I'm a busy man – "
"Well good, because I'm a busy woman, and I have a very serious matter that I wish to discuss with you." Sauntering around where he sat on the bench she leaned her back against the stone wall of the balcony, her eyes alight with mischief.
Ulfric considered pushing her over the edge briefly before sighing and crossing his arms, "What is it?"
She took a long swig from the bottle and set it down on the wall, "I'm requesting a favor in the means of a personal endeavor of mine." Her voice rose dramatically and her smile had returned. She leaned forward, holding onto the railing behind her and licked her lips.
Ulfric's eye's narrowed, "What exactly?"
"Well, let me plead my case first, seeing as it is a delicate topic and I have a few things I need to say before asking," the words spilled from her mouth inelegantly and she held a hand up, signaling for him not to speak. Ulfric felt his uneasiness escalate at her abnormally uncouth behavior.
"First and foremost, I have been of utmost importance in this triumph and therefore I believe my service has merit deserving of a favor," she state smugly, turning her nose up slightly in her conceit. Ulfric wanted to wrap his hands around her small neck and wring it. He felt his face burn as he waited for her to continue, "Secondly, you have my word that I will remain loyal if you aid me in the particular favor."
Clumsily reaching for her bottle, she unintentionally knocked it over with her wrist, causing it to tumble from the balcony and down into the darkness of the abandoned back courtyard.
"Piss," she cursed brazenly, peering over the edge of the railing before turning back to Ulfric, a stern frown replacing her one mischievous grin.
"Hurry, girl, I don't have all night." Ulfric was well and irritated now – her presence making his whole body restless and impatient.
"Apologies, your highness," she jeered sarcastically, "I can call you that now, can't I?"
Ulfric ignored her mockery, deciding to not give her the gratification of his frustration and responded casually, "Not yet, but soon enough."
"Yes, well, I trust the position will be just suited for you and your arrogance." She mocked again, though a smile played on her lips this time. Ulfric stretched his legs out and yawned.
"I believe so, too. Now, continue on with what you were saying, a King has many responsibilities and I don't think dealing with a drunken slag is one of them."
The Dragonborn giggled and let go of the railing, "there he is!"
He stared at her questioningly and insulted, "pardon?"
"Oh, you're so dull when you're distracted, you know that?"
Ulfric stood suddenly and brushed past the Dragonborn quickly, making his way to the door. He had enough of her mind games and was frankly tired of seeing her in general.
"You didn't let me finish," she teased merrily from behind him as he gripped the handle of the door. Ulfric wanted to scold her, yell at her, and even hurt her. The woman was maddening enough when she was sober and basically insufferable when she was drunk.
"Then do so," he snapped, turning to glare at her.
The Dragonborn smiled again and it infuriated him beyond belief, "Thirdly, I do believe that if you were to partake in this favor, it would prove to be beneficial to you and me alike," she mouthed each word carefully and let her voice drop suspiciously low towards the end. Their eyes were locked since she spoke and he swallowed; curiosity getting the best of him.
"Fine. Tell me what it is you request."
"Make me your Queen when the Moot declares you High King." The Dragonborn smirked. Ulfric's jaw slacked and he shook his head quickly.
"I'm not sure if that strange mind of yours has realized yet, but people don't request marriage as a favor," he gritted through his teeth.
"Sure they do! Pretty much every royal wedding in Skyrim's and the Empire's history was a favor. Torygg wed Elisif out of favor, Caula Voira wed Uriel Septim VII out of favor – the list can go on and on really. It's somewhat of a formality I've notice – requesting marriage as a favor."
Ulfric attempted to restrain himself from lunging at her at that moment. The gull of this woman was insurmountable and he had enough of it.
"No. I formally deny your request of marriage." He snarled before turning back around and storming off into the castle. His face was hot with rage and his heart pounded painfully in his chest. Any form of fascination he had for her dissipated with the vile words that spilled out of her drunken mouth. He maneuvered through the now dwindling crowd of soldiers and headed straight for the royal bed chambers, ignoring the cheers as he walked by.
Once in the lavish chamber he slammed the thick wooden door behind him and unpinned his outer attire, throwing it on a nearby chair.
"You know the terrace wraps around to all of the bed chambers, right?" She had been leaning lazily against the door leading to the terrace. Her voice dripped poison, as far as he was concerned, and he growled out of frustration.
"Leave. I've had enough of your games."
"I didn't think we were playing a game."
"I'm not, but you are you stupid child," he marched over to her and realized in that moment how short she was for a Nord, "Now leave."
"No." She defied softly and brought a hand up to touch one of the braids that framed his face. He caught her wrist before she touched him and she turned her hand in his grip to where her soft fingers grazed over the inside of his wrist. Ulfric's expression softened out of confusion and his eyes roamed over her face, trying desperately to read her motives.
"I don't believe I will, because there is another part of this game, my liege." The corners of her full lips turned up into a devious smile and pulled her wrist from his grasp and backed towards the small table and chairs that were lined against the wall, beckoning him to follow with her hand.
She pulled out a chair and plopped down with a lack of grace that would be found in a grizzled old soldier, such as himself. Ulfric, against his better judgment, followed and sat in the chair opposite of her.
"Let me talk you through this," her slur was nearly gone now, he noticed, and her smile disappeared, "Face it, Ulfric, I'm offering you something so beneficial that it will guarantee you the throne."
Ulfric took a deep breath to control his anger, "Explain the meaning of this as quickly and as painlessly as possible, woman, before I throw you out of this palace."
"What will the Moot look for while declaring the new monarchy? Hm? Your popularity amongst the common folk will help. This victory will help. Your past leadership skills will help. However, you're missing something vital, my King." She reached forward and poured two goblets of wine, pushing one towards his tense form before leaning into her seat, "You are already well into your forties and lack a wife to carry you an heir."
"That will be a major hit for Elisif. She's a widow – a young, popular widow with a lot more gold than you could ever imagine. So, she could easily buy her way out of the marriage problem. But you, my dear King, could marry and legitimately bear children; if only you'd accept my offer." She smiled humbly with the last statement, sipping her wine delicately, her blue eyes bearing into Ulfric with the intensity that was mirrored in the battle earlier that day.
"I don't need you for that," he spat condescendingly, "are you taking your own words into consideration, Dragonborn? I'm popular amongst the people of Skyrim; parents around the land are preparing their daughters for the day that I take the throne."
"Ah yes," she smirked and leaned forward, "How delightful that the Moot will see you, a veteran from the Great War, take a blushing virgin under your wing after you become King; a girl whose parents will bore her through years of physical and social grooming to be perfectly subservient and sit next to you with dead eyes. She would be a true Imperial breeding machine like an Empress should be – nothing like the Nordic Queens of old that ruled along with their husbands. How ironic that a man who fought so hard for Skyrim's liberation would uphold the Empire's twisted views of marriage."
"Give me one good reason as to why a young, inexperienced, aristocratic girl would be a better Queen than me and I will leave right now and never come back." The Dragonborn sternly offered and ran a finger around the rim of her goblet. Ulfric didn't know what he was feeling at the moment. It held the unpleasantness of humiliation and the intrinsic pain of defeat, and yet he knew and was willing to admit that she was right. He remained silent and picked up the goblet, putting to his lips and savoring the bitterness of the wine.
"Then I shall continue," she took a long sip of her wine in turn, "I'm a capable fighter, which is something you will need in the future. I've seen you wallowing around tonight and I know exactly what's on your mind – as it has bothered me as well. When the time comes, I will stand by Skyrim. However, I will not stand by you or anymore of your causes if you deny my request."
Ulfric scoffed, "You act as if you're a spoiled child; throwing a tantrum and running away when you don't get what you want."
"Not that your refusal is something that is too concerning on a personal level – I have seen what effect my absence has on your troops' morale… and yourself." No grin broke onto her face as she glowered at him, her eyes burning through him again. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pushed the goblet away from himself slightly.
"No response?" The pitch in her voice rose out of surprise as she reached forward, attempting to touch his hand. He yanked it away violently and rubbed his eyes. He had won the war against the Empire and lost a battle to this woman all in one day. She had a point, he figured. She was fairly young, but old enough to have plenty of experience under her belt, she was intelligent, she could bear children, and she was attractive.
"It's been a long day, Dragonborn. You've made your case and I will need some time to think about it. Am I clear?"
She beamed and rose from her seat, wobbling awkwardly from her alcohol intake, "Crystal clear. When do you believe you will have your decision? I leave for Whiterun in two days."
"I will get it to you before then." He snapped and stood as well, shamefully leading her to the door.
"Goodnight, my King," she flirted before gripping the handle and pulling the door open. There weren't many people left in the hall now, and for that he thanked the Gods. He grumbled in response and shut the door once she was out. Ulfric stepped over to the bed and sat on the edge of it.
Marrying her would prove to be advantageous if she was genuinely willing to rule beside him and bear his children. Ulfric Stormcloak of East March and the Dragonborn ruling Skyrim together? The general public would go into hysterics. They would be the first huge piece to rebuilding Skyrim into the powerful kingdom it once was yet become the most sought after target of the Empire and the Thalmor.
He groaned as he collapsed backwards onto the bed and closed his eyes. Anxiety and doubt made his head ache and his stomach twist nervously. She claimed it would be beneficial for the both of them, but in what way for her? She had money and more power than she deserved; what more could she possibly want? The woman and her wretched ulterior motives would surely be the death of him, no doubt. He chuckled grimly and felt himself gradually falling to extreme exhaustion. He would deal with the snarky attitude, the insufferably argumentative nature of her personality, and perhaps even grow to like her if she would only stop being such a power hungry –
Power.
How could he have been so blind? This was power play to her. It really was a game. Given her consistent failures at trying to keep her relationships alive, he should have seen it sooner. That is why she wanted to marry him; that is why she was dangling her isolation in front of him as a warning – merely to exercise the power she held.
Ulfric sat up from his near sleeplike state and strolled over to a nearby desk. Searching through it he found a piece of parchment and a quill. He sat down and began writing frantically, knocking over the inkwell in his frenzied state.
If power play was want she wanted - power play is what she would get.
The sun beamed brightly over Solitude when morning came, much to the dismay of numerous hung-over soldiers. The disgruntled residents of Solitude littered the streets of the large city, trying urgently to smother what remained of the neglected fires from the battle and to shoo the awakening Stormcloak soldiers off of their property.
Ulfric had only acquired two hours of sleep at most when he had finished writing out the stipulations of the potential wedding arrangement. He awoke with a startled jerk when Galmar called out to him. He sat up on the bed and blinked several times.
"Ulfric," Galmar's gravelly voice seemed to echo as Ulfric attempted to hurry his way out of his hazed state.
"Galmar?"
"I've been looking for you for ages!" Galmar complained as he shut the door to the chambers behind him. Ulfric grumbled in response and sat up, rubbing his eyes roughly.
"We have to – what is that?" The older man's thought process was interrupted when he spotted the rolled parchment that Ulfric gripped in his left hand. The Jarl had to give the parchment a good, hard look before finally remembering what it was. He felt a rush of adrenaline and he stumbled over to the desk and clumsily secured the parchment with a piece of ribbon.
"I need you to give this to the Dragonborn. Don't look at it – just hand it to her, tell her it's from me, and Galmar, do not stick around for long– I don't need you to die," Ulfric smiled and handed the paper to the confused Galmar before patting his old friend on the shoulder and strolling casually out of the room.
Ulfric went to the main hall where an assortment of food was laid out by some of his soldiers. He smiled, grabbed a sweet roll and he lounged in the throne as he watched Galmar awkwardly make his way down the crowded stairs. By the Nine, this was bound to be good.
Ulfric had waited an hour before he decided to leave his spot on the throne. Disappointed with the Dragonborn's delay, he gathered his extra clothing that he brought with himself and went into the bathing room that was located deep within Castle Dour. It was completely secluded past the stairwell that led into the steamy depths. There were several rooms located within the chamber; all of them containing a sizable basin carved out of marble that were recently filled with hot water. He laid his extra clothing out on a marble bench and proceeded to undress, tossing his sweat and blood covered attire in the far corner of the room. He eased himself into the water and sighed when the hot water eased the aches in his body.
"Were you half asleep when you wrote your avowal this morning or has your handwriting always been dreadful?" An easygoing feminine voice floated through the room and he felt his stomach sink. His head shot over to the source of the voice and there stood the Dragonborn, wet and wrapped in one of the royal bathing robes that hung at the entrance. Her usually tied back hair was down, the wet curls falling over her shoulders and down her back. She strolled across the room, a full looking knapsack thrown over her shoulder, and sat down on the bench where his clean clothing lay.
"Do not fret, I'm not up to any wrong doings. I'm afraid I'm too sober," she muttered warily as she noted the flash of terror on his face when she caught sight of his clothing.
"What are you doing here?" Ulfric sank down in the basin, feeling unexpectedly bashful.
"Well I thought perhaps I would murder you, but…" the last word hung from her mouth teasingly and he chuckled lightly at her odd, warped sense of humor.
"Always with the sharp tongue. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe people would like you more if you didn't constantly treat them with sarcasm?"
"Has it ever occurred to you that I would like people more if they didn't ask such stupid, menial questions and waste my time?" She snapped at him and he smirked, raising his arms to rest them behind his head.
"Well, I'm keen on hearing your reply."
She smiled forlornly and pulled the knapsack sitting next to her in her lap and retrieved the parchment that she had received from Galmar, "I will try my best to abide by these."
Ulfric's eyes narrow suspiciously – this did not go as planned, "I must say I was hoping for more of a response from you."
"I know. It was clear that these were written out of spite." She unfurled the parchment and peered at it.
"I am to appear with you at every public event – proof of legitimacy – I get that. You will monitor my alcohol intake – not too sure how I feel about that one but we all must make sacrifices." She sighed ruefully and continued to read the list silently. Ulfric ran his hands up and down his arms, occasionally picking pieces of caked dirt off.
"I will submit to you willingly in bed. We'll see who submits to whom. You will get to name our prospective children?" Her eyes darted up and she raised a disapproving eyebrow.
"They're satisfactory?" Ulfric remained cool and collected, regardless of his wrong prediction.
"I guess," she sighed and placed the parchment back into the bag and rubbed her hands together.
"What do you want from me? From this?" Ulfric gave up. He was confused, defeated, properly ensnared by her game - whatever reaction she was fishing for, she already had it.
"I was hoping you would man up and finally ask." She quipped curtly and toyed with the ends of her hair, "I want you. I want this. I found it to be beneficial to the both of us and thought I would be able to convince you, but…"
"Wait, wait. Me? You want me?" Ulfric asked incredulously and ran a wet hand through his stringy, dirty hair.
"Yes. I do, actually. Farfetched isn't it?" She smiled sardonically and curled her legs underneath herself.
"I don't believe you."
"That doesn't surprise me. I've only put my life on the line for you countless times, went through torture to keep your whereabouts discreet, been severely wounded because I was actively protecting you. I understand your trepidation. I really, really do." The woman smiled scathingly.
Ulfric regretted his decision to write the conditions. He had misjudged her severely and here was the most powerful soldier in Skyrim begging him to wed her and he was denying. The madness of the situation irritated him even more; he was supposed to know what she was thinking – what she wanted. He could read everyone else effortlessly, yet with her he was so lost. He remained silent and ran a wet hand down his face. Nothing about this situation made any sense. She didn't make any sense.
"You really are missing the point of this whole thing, aren't you?" The Dragonborn barked, the sharpness of her voice echoing off of the walls, "I've seen your intelligence first hand on multiple occasions but it must be absent from that normally bright mind of yours."
"Then what do you want?" He gritted through his teeth and gripped the edges of the pool until his knuckles turned white.
"I don't want money. I don't want your palace. I don't want to be Queen. I don't want power." She explained, her voice strained with an emotion akin to pain. She paused and put a hand to the side of her face, trying to calm herself down.
Ulfric watched her for a long moment before he nearly gasped in enlightenment. "You love me."
"Don't be daft."
Ulfric let out a loud, bitter laugh that visibly distressed the Dragonborn, "No, you silly child, you believe you actually love me, don't you?"
"I finally figured you out," He pointed at her critically, admiring the flush of embarrassment that spread over her face and exposed neck, "Love is such an inspirational and vicious motivator, especially when it's inspiring a stupid girl."
"It's not love," she yelled defensively as she rose from the bench. Ulfric swore he felt the floor tremor slightly at the force of her voice. "It's – it's – "
"It's what then?" His deep laugh echoed off the walls, "forget it, child. You don't love me. You don't even know me." His voice lowered ever so slightly with the last sentence, as if foreboding something. He felt a burning in his chest that spread throughout his body.
The Dragonborn was at a loss of words as she sat down again, breathing deeply. She pulled her bag into her lap and calmly sifted through it, in search of something.
Ulfric watched her carefully, pride swelling in his victory against the young woman. Another wave of pride hit him as he realized that the Dragonborn, a living, breathing legend, was besotted by him.
She stood then and calmly walked over to the end of the pool that Ulfric was relaxing in. Ulfric's eyes travelled down to her left hand where she held a journal of some sorts.
"Do you know what this is, Ulfric?" Her voice didn't hold the anger, didn't hold the sarcasm, and didn't hold the life that it normally did. She held up the journal quickly and pulled herself to a sitting position just next to where he sat, letting her feet slip into the still hot water.
He eyed her suspiciously and shook his head, attempting to eye the emblem on the front of the familiar looking book.
"This is your dossier from the Thalmor," Her voice held contempt her dark eyes flickered to his widening ones.
"Where did you find that?" He snarled ominously, turning and making a reach for it. She pulled it back just out of his reach and held up her other hand.
"Do you not remember the tales of my gallant infiltration of the embassy? Surely you must have heard of it, see as it was rather crucial to your victory." Oh he remembered, alright. He had been concerned for her – what she was going to do – whom she was going to.
"I haven't looked at it. Although, your interrogator shared some details in my last encounter with her." She confessed casually, fingering the Thalmor emblem on the cover. Her eyes caught his and she simpered.
Ulfric felt his heart pound from inside his chest and he extended his hand again in vain. She retracted again and unlocked the mechanism binding the journal.
He observed her like a hawk as she flipped through the first few pages, "please , just give me it."
She paused noticeably at the desperateness in his voice but continued on, "well let's just imagine this as my way of knowing you, Ulfric. There's something in this record that you don't want me to see and if I do see it –"
"You will no longer wish to marry me. I promise you that."
"Well, we'll see about that." She smiled softly and began to read silently.
A firm grasp along her ankle took her by surprise and she was yanked forward roughly. The journal flew out of her hands and several feet behind her as she fought to support herself on her elbows. She barely caught a glimpse of Ulfric before she was yanked again, her elbows giving in and her head falling to the marble with a harsh crack.
Ulfric submerged her in the water long enough to disorient her and let go of her, beginning to climb out of the pool. With a cry she jumped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck and a leg around his waist, using her free leg to push them both away from the edge. Ulfric lost his balance and fell backwards into the water. He felt her release him once they were both fully immersed and he opened his eyes, seeing her blurry form pushing herself out from the edge. He panicked and lunged forward; grabbing her waist and pulling her back, feeling her lithe body thrash about recklessly.
He pushed them both of from the water and hooked both of her arms behind her back while trying to pin her body between himself and the wall. She continued to thrash, a nearly inhuman noise ripping from her throat and her nails digging into the arm that bound both of hers.
"Release – me –now." She cried while gasping for air.
"I don't think so," He muttered as he pinned her firmly against the wall, his free hand slipping over her mouth, "you took this way too far. Now calm down."
Her muffled voice buzzed against his hand as she tried futilely to wiggle her way from his grasp. He patiently waited for her to stop squirming. His eyes caught the streaks of crimson that painted the back of her neck and down her bare back. A slight pang of guilt tore through him as he inspected the tiny laceration at the base of her skull. She will live, he thought bitterly as he finally felt her body become lax against him.
He peered around her neck and watched as she closed her eyes and her eyebrows furrowed. He was suddenly aware of their nakedness in that moment, and the shocks that her movements sent through him. The curve of her back pressed firmly into his chest and stomach and her bottom pushed tantalizingly against his manhood. He brushed off his body's reaction as a pent up desire to be with a woman; something he had not indulged in for far too long.
He fought to keep his eyes from wandering down as he held her against him. His hand gently slipped from her mouth and moved down to her neck, wrapping around it threateningly.
"You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met. I actually considered your proposal last night," he growled in her ear and was please when he felt her tremor in his arms, "you have a point. You would be an excellent Queen to have by my side, but keep in mind that you will get absolutely no where if you continue to pull stunts like this. You're a hero – act like one."
His hand relaxed but remained around her thin neck, his thumb gently rubbing circles against her smooth skin. She rested her forehead against the wall in front of her and she opened her eyes finally, turning her head to the side to glance at him.
"My apologies." She whispered and his arm unhooked from hers and he tentatively rested his hands on her waist. Maybe he finally got through her thick skull. The Dragonborn slacked against him further and he tightened his hold on her.
"Impressive." She muttered.
"What is?"
"You."
He felt flattered even though he didn't know what her compliment was given for, "what about me?"
"Your cock."
He scoffed against her shoulder as she pressed against him purposefully, gauging a response.
His hands travelled to her hips as she rhythmically moved against him and his manhood twitched painfully. She turned in his arms to where her chest was pressed to his and her thigh pressed firmly against his hardening member. His eyes glanced down at her breasts and he raised an eyebrow. If they did wind up wed, he could definitely get used her.
"How long has it been?"
"Long enough that when I start I will not stop. Choose wisely." He spoke cryptically as his brain began to fog dangerously. Sleeping with her would be a delightful exploit, then again he thought that writing the rules the night before would be enjoyable. Yet here she was, waiting to be bedded. He felt himself hardening uncomfortably and he leaned into her, placing a hand behind her neck and pulling her in for a kiss. Her full lips immediately opened upon contact, taking him off guard. He mimicked her actions and felt her hands freely roamed over the expanse of his chest.
He reached behind her during the kiss and attempted to push her back against the wall. She groaned into his mouth out of protest and resisted fully with her body. With their lips still connected he staggered into the shallow area of the basin and she followed, climbing into his lap.
She pulled away from him, her lips swollen and her eyes closed. He felt a surge of pleasure wrack his body and he went in for another kiss, only to be denied by her head dipping down to his neck. Ulfric let the pent up groan escape him as she licked and nipped her way across his neck, her hot breath delighting the sensitive skin.
The Dragonborn rocked her hips against his and she sighed against his neck. Ulfric let his head fall back as he gripped her gyrating hips, relishing on her heat as it teased and down the underside of his length.
"You are impressive," she panted into his neck and reached down to take him into her hand. She stopped her assault on his neck and he smirked as he brought his head back up to watch her as she stroked him slowly. A pleasing tension grew in his stomach and he groaned again, threading a hand through her drenched hair and holding it firmly in place. Her dark eyes shot up and her tongue darted out over her lips before she gently reached up to grab his wrist. Ulfric released her hair immediately as she softly touched his wrist, unexpectedly afraid that he would frighten her away.
Never breaking their eye contact, she gently led his hand next to him and leaned forward, trailing her nails up his chest and neck before it curled behind his head and tangled in his hair. Ulfric was in a daze – whatever she was doing to him hurt and pleasured him at the same time. He moved his faced closer to hers, wanting nothing more than to kiss her.
A sharp pain shot through his scalp as his head was yanked back by his hair. He winced and grasped her arm firmly. As he was forced to stare at the ceiling he cursed. Typical of her. So typical.
"Ulfric," she cooed softly in his ear and appeared above his face, feeling her other hand squeeze his length roughly. He groaned and blinked slowly. He couldn't determine what he felt at the moment. Shamefully, he recognized the pleasantly aching sensation in his groin, "oh, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" Such dulcet tones for such an insane woman, he reckoned.
"One of your conditions was that I must submit to you in bed." She appeared above him, her eyes ablaze, "you're an authoritative man in everything you do."
Leaning down, her lips found his in an awkward, frenzied kiss. She clutched him painfully and he moaned into the kiss, pleasure coursing through his body.
He managed to free his mouth from hers, "Is this what our relationship is going to be based on? Power?"
She giggled femininely and his cock jolted in her grip, "Only when you recognize that sometimes it's good to have the control taken from you."
Ulfric opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by her mouth collapsing on his and her hand releasing his hair. He sighed in relief as she finally let go and bit back a moan and his hands found her soft body, clinging on to her strongly.
The Dragonborn broke from the kiss and worked her way off of his lap. She stood and pulled her hair back away from her face, "Let's go somewhere a bit more conducive to... this."
Ulfric sat in the pool of water and watched her carefully. "Where would you suggest?"
"Follow," She held out her hand and he stood to take it. The woman's eyes travelled downward and she smirked appreciatively at him.
He felt uncomfortable and bizarrely thrilled as they walked through the halls of the Castle Dour bath chambers completely nude. The fear that someone would walk in and see him naked wouldn't bother him nearly as much as the fear that someone would walk in and see him naked with her. Word got around quickly with the Stormcloak's and the last thing he needed was whispers of him and the Dragonborn getting to the Thalmor so soon.
"Stop thinking." The nude Nord before him quipped as she turned to take his other hand and slowly back into the doorway of another room. He raised an eyebrow and she smiled in turn, "Right now isn't the time to deliberate war."
Ulfric ignored her fleetingly and took a looked around the room. It was a spare room for lowly guests to the castle that had apparently been used as a storage room of late. It was small – a bed, a couple of tables and a chest.
"Lie down," she commanded as she pointed towards the bed. Ulfric felt his stomach drop. What was he doing? Submitting to her was a mistake, he knew. She would get control. She would get the power.
"You first, I insist."
"Come now, Ulfric, we were making such progress," she whined as she circled around him and wrapped her arms around his tense form. The Jarl ignored her although his resolve was slowly dwindling into his now undeniable arousal. He gave in and peeled her arms from his body and walked to the bed, laying on it unceremoniously.
"Good," he felt a surge of anger as cold hearted satisfaction dripped from her voice. The anger was closely followed by a wave of pleasure as she climbed over him, her warmth pressing insistently against him. His hands moved to her thighs and he slid them up her sides. Two sharp slaps on his wrists sounded sharply through the room and she glared down upon him much like a mother would s disobedient child. It irked him to no end – but his desire knew no bounds.
He obeyed and lowered his hands as she leaned over him, her breasts pressing firmly against his chest and her mouth nearly touching his. Her hands rested on his chest and her nails dug in as she ground her hips slowly against his. Their tongues danced as their motions continued and the Dragonborn moaned heatedly into the kiss.
Something inside of Ulfric occurred at that point. In hindsight he would never be able to pinpoint what happened after his eyes shot open and his large hands gripped her hips so tightly that she let out a throaty, pained cry. Nor would he be able to remember the mere seconds before he flipped them over, straddled her and pinned her wrists above her head. All he would be able to remember is the fire in her eyes that for some mysterious reason, struck fear into his very soul.
"Let me go," she warned, her hot breath streaking across his face. He freed his left hand by awkwardly transferring her wrists to his other and felt blindly on the table next to it. While his eyes never left hers he grasped at the strip of dust covered leather that was found on the night table, bringing it up to his mouth where he kept it while he situated her wrists to be bound against the bed post. She bucked and struggled as she was bound – panic falling over her features. He could sense her panic on a level that he didn't think possible, and it drove him even further.
"Did Elenwen teach you this?" Her insult shook slightly as she struggled against the newly tied binds around her wrist and his body weight. He paused after he had finished securing the bond and leaned forward, his hand stroking her cheek tenderly.
"We're going to play my game now, you whore," he whispered harshly against her ear and she whimpered. The sound drove him mad – as did the sight of the wanton, bound and fearful woman before him.
"Sometimes it's good to have the control taken from you," he mocked against her ear.
He sat up and took his time positioning himself next to her face, where he leaned down to place a kiss on her lips. Her teeth sank into his lip sharply and he withdrew, amused as crimson seeped from the shallow wound. The hand that rested on her cheek drew back and delivered a slap that made the Dragonborn fume, her face contorting.
"I'm not jesting, Ulfric. Release me now, you stupid bastard or – "
The Jarl laughed loudly as he moved closer to her and took his cock into his hand, "Or what woman? You'll shout? You won't be able to."
She eyed him suspiciously before he placed his tip before her lips. Her eyebrows furrowed and she grunted defiantly – turning her head the other way in protest.
He threaded his hand through her hair and pulled her to him tightly, pressing the tip firmly to her lips. She glared at him furiously and opened her mouth reluctantly, taking him in and sliding her tongue over the tip.
Ulfric held back a loud groan and loosened the grip on the bound woman's hair. His large hand found the back of her skull and pushed ever so slightly. She glanced up at him critically but opened her mouth wider to accommodate. He would laugh at the compromising position if the pleasure didn't override his brain. He let out a strangled moan as she craned her head to take him in even further – the abrasive hair at the base tickling her nose ever so slightly. She sucked hard, her cheeks hollow with the force of the action and her eyes closed seemingly blissfully. He continued to watch her as she made the most of her restricted movements and sighed heavily as he felt his release approaching all too soon.
The Dragonborn emitted a sensual growl as her head bobbed back and forth quicker, sending vibrations through his manhood. Abruptly, Ulfric drew from her mouth before she dragged him over the edge and he let out a hefty sigh, "by the Gods, woman."
She licked her lips and smiled devilishly, "I take that as a job well done?"
"Shut your mouth," he tapped her on the side of the face and positioned himself in between her legs. She arched her back suggestively and spread her legs for him. He shook his head ever so slightly at her enthusiasm and let both of his hands wander her body fully. His hands found her neglected breasts and he crawled over her, taking one of her ample breasts in his right hand and abused the perky nipple with his tongue.
"Oh Gods," she struggled and attempted to squeeze her thighs to advert the aching in her womb. Ulfric chuckled in pride as he took the sensitive bud of flesh in between his teeth, causing another delicious moan to echo through the room.
He released her nipple from his mouth and moved to the other one, mistreating it similarly. His hands travelled down her well-built body and rested on her thighs. He watched her face aptly as his hands work their way to her backside. She bit her lip and let her head drop backwards – the leather bond squeaking as she squirmed. He gave her ass an approving squeeze – pulling the hand away ever so slightly before landing with an unforgiving blow that made the woman below him release a sound so bizarre that was followed by a string of words so incoherent that he laughed.
"What was that, my dear?" he freed her other breast and smirked wickedly. Sitting up, he reached forward and undid her bonds, cockily smiling as she did nothing but lay with her arms in the exact same position. Her whole body was flushed from desire, her eyes were heavily lidded and her swollen lips parted as she spread her legs for him willingly.
The Jarl leaned into her closely and kissed her passionately, letting his fingers wander down into the wet mound of curls that awaited his touch eagerly. The woman shoved her pelvis up into his hand and he smiled into the kiss. He had broken her. Finally.
His tongue delved into her mouth and he drank her moans as his fingers circled her clit slowly, occasionally slipping into her hot entrance. The Dragonborn pulled away from the kiss to giggle erratically as he inserted two fingers into her; the digits boorishly pumping in and out of her body. He raised an eyebrow at her teasing as he continued to explore her from the inside. His thumb came to rest on her clit and she hissed through her teeth as he started to work it in circles again. Coupled with the rough intrusion of his fingers she let out one last, prolonged moan as she tensed with her orgasm.
The arch in her back finally fell as she collapsed onto the bed, her hands still above her head and sweat dripping from her stressed and overheated body. He worked his fingers inside of her slowly now, watching her come back from the high of her orgasm. Ulfric was fascinated by the way her body responded to an orgasm; so lively.
"Fuck me." She whispered as an idyllic smile graced her features.
A sharp smack to her bottom made her gasp, "I don't believe that's the way Queens talk."
"I'm no Queen," her eyes were still closed as his hands wrapped around her thin waist.
"Not yet." He mumbled before flipping her over. He positioned himself in between her legs and stroked himself a few times, using his free hand to squeeze her round backside lewdly. He could hear her weary crooning muffled into the blankets and she raised her hips up, keeping her chest low to the bed. His eyes roamed over her back – appreciating the delicate dips of her shoulder blades and the light scars that trailed down from her left shoulder to her lower right side. A sigh left her as he kissed and nipped his way from her lower back to the base of her neck. He carefully avoided the fresh cut at the base of her skull and he sighed into her hair, poising the tip of his cock to her wet folds.
"I want to hear you scream. Understood?" A whimper was all he received in response and he suddenly gripped her hair, pulling her neck back painfully. She gasped and he slowly inched into her.
"You will scream. Am I understood?" He growled aggressively into her ear and she bellowed in response.
He released her hair and grabbed her hips with both of his hands, thrusting into her fully with no caution. She howled as he did, and she gripped the sheets on the bed until her knuckles were a distressing shade of white.
Ulfric paused and controlled himself as her tightness consumed him – it had been a long time, yes, but he'd sooner submit to the Thalmor than finish before a woman. She pushed her hips back, desperate to encourage him to move – but Ulfric refused to give into her. He towered over her body and pushed her shoulders down into the mattress. She let out a surprised gasp but didn't protest.
He withdrew from her heat almost completely before he slammed back into her, pleasure raking over his body. The Dragonborn didn't peep but sought for him to move with her twisting hips. He chuckled and pandered to her, pulling out and slamming back in again. This time she murmured his name into the sheets – his pride soaring at the realization that the legend of the Dragonborn was his and his alone in these few moments.
Ulfric started a steady pattern – the only noises in the room being the slapping of their skin upon contact and her delightful moans. Releasing her shoulders, his hands sought her breasts and he teased the sensitive flesh with his calloused hands as his paced picked up. He rested his head in the crook of her neck where he left several obvious love bites and a groaned deeply.
"Ulfric," the Dragonborn whined as goose bumps covered her skin.
"Hm?" His deep grunt reverberated through her entire body as he slammed into her over and over again.
Arching her back again, she turned her head over her shoulder, revealing her watering eyes, "harder."
Ulfric felt his heart skip a beat as he slammed into her harder and she yelled – her face dropping back into the bed. He smirked and picked his pace up, admiring in the lovely yelps that filled the room. Ulfric clutched a handful of her dark hair and pulled her neck back again, plunging into her so hard that he lost himself. He groaned noisily as he felt her womanhood clench around his cock tightly and her final shriek shook the walls.
Ulfric grunted as he continued rail her through her orgasm. She writhed madly beneath him and squealed multiple times. He gripped her backside as he pulled her into him again, smacking it harshly one more time before he felt himself tip over the edge. He bit back his final groan as he spilled into her, stars invading his vision.
The Dragonborn collapsed beneath him and panted deeply, strands of her hair obscuring her face. Ulfric labored to keep himself from falling on top of her and he rolled to the side, placing an arm over his face. They lay like that for a long time – the silence being a refreshing turn of events. The bed moved and Ulfric moved the arm that covered his eyes to peek at the beautiful, flushed woman before him. She sat on the edge of the bed and stretched her arms out yawning pleasantly.
"How did you get the tie off?" He looked at her free yet raw wrists.
"You can't tie a knot to save your life," she snapped cockily and fell back on the bed next to him. She curled a leg around Ulfric's and he frowned, pulling away from her.
"You mean you…"
"Yes. I was playing along. Doesn't mean that I didn't like it though. Next time, I get to do the slapping."
She winked and pulled herself closer to him.
Ulfric felt sick regardless of his immense satisfaction.
She had lured him.