Complete chapter title: Miranja's guilty pleasure and Ulfric's rejection
Chapter Summary: Miranja indulges in a guilty fantasy on the way to Windhelm, but her real encounter with Ulfric is much briefer and the opposite of satisfying.
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When Miranja entered the Palace of the Kings, Ulfric and Galmar were heading into the war room. She followed, waiting for a break in their conversation so she could address Ulfric. To her surprise, he spoke to her first this time, a brief but unmistakable glint of lust in his eyes. "If it isn't my 'friend' from Helgen again. You just can't stay away from here, can you?" His gaze traveled down her body and back up again. "So have you finally decided to join me in the fight against the Imperial dogs who nearly put you to death?"
"I've come hoping to join you, yes, but not in the war." Miranja swallowed, feeling a little ridiculous now that she was here facing him. Hopefully the worst he'd do was tell her no and laugh her out of the place.
Ulfric became irritated. "If you're not for me, you're against me. What are you talking about?"
"I'm just going to come right out and say it. I'm sure you have dozens of women who throw themselves at you already, but I simply want to tell you that I find you outrageously attractive and I'd like to sleep with you if you'll have me. Selfish, yes. But there has to be a little pleasure to break up the monotony of misery and death."
Ulfric actually laughed, and she prepared to be ordered out.
"You're absolutely right," Ulfric smiled. "You have more stones than Galmar over there. And you're a lot better looking, too." He stood up. "Speaking of stones, I do believe it was your hair I found on my pillow after your last visit. Am I right?"
Miranja bit her lip and shifted her eyes away, confirming his suspicions without speaking.
Galmar grumbled and voiced his misgivings. "Ulfric, this Imperial harlot may be a spy, sent to get close to you to assassinate you. Don't let your little head think for your big one."
Ulfric had started reaching out to touch Miranja's hair, but he stopped at Galmar's words and dropped his arm. "Would you like to search her first, Galmar?"
"She's the Dragonborn," Galmar pointed out. "She doesn't need a weapon to kill you. You, of all people, should recognize that."
"Ah, Galmar," Ulfric sighed. "That is why you are my right-hand man. I bow to your counsel. But there is more than one way to have a woman. Bind her and gag her."
Miranja had worn an alluring dress, figuring that going alone and without armor would make her appear less threatening, but she obviously hadn't thought this through as well as she should have. She honestly had no intention of assassinating Ulfric – yet – but of course, they wouldn't know that. And she'd left Teldryn back in Whiterun to wait for her, so she was on her own here.
Ulfric stepped close and held the back of her head while stuffing his handkerchief into her mouth with his other hand. Galmar roughly grabbed her arms and tied her wrists snugly with a sturdy leather strap and a clever knot. Having her arms tied behind her back forced her chest out, and Ulfric's eyes shifted downward, but he continued to hold her still while Galmar secured the handkerchief in her mouth with another leather strap stretched across her mouth and tied behind her head. He wasn't at all careful about it; her hair was caught uncomfortably in the knot and pulled when she moved.
Now Ulfric took hold of the lock of hair he'd been reaching for, lifting it to his nostrils and smelling the lavender she always used. He leaned in closer and nuzzled her ear, sucking on the flesh of her neck. Her heartbeat quickened at his closeness, his lips on her skin, the scent of him, masculine but not sweaty or rank.
"I prefer my women to be blonde Nords, but you're still a comely lass," he murmured throatily, pulling her against him so that she could feel his erection. "And just the very idea of the future High King and the Dragonborn… mmm… This will be a very pleasant diversion, even if the bards can never compose a song about it."
To Galmar he said, "We have any number of beds at our disposal upstairs. Would you like to share a bit of this little treat with me?"
Oh, no, that was going too far. Miranja had had her share of threesomes, but she would never share a bed with a Stone-Fist. She shook her head vehemently, eyes blazing. Her 'fuck no' was muffled by the handkerchief, but her meaning was clear, nonetheless.
Ulfric stepped back in surprise, looking from Miranja to Galmar. "What's this? I don't think she wants you, lad."
"Fine with me. You can have the Imperial bitch all to yourself. Just don't remove that gag, whatever you do."
"I appreciate your concern, my friend. Don't worry about me. I know how to handle this wench."
Ulfric pushed her upstairs, holding her by the thong that bound her wrists. He took her all the way to his own bedchamber, nudged her in, and shut the door behind them. To Miranja's surprise, Ulfric unbound her and removed her gag, speaking as he worked.
"I'm trusting you, Dragonborn," he said. "Galmar would kill me with his own hands if he knew, but somehow I feel you're not looking to kill me – at least not this day. Even if you did kill me, I'm sure you know you'd never make it out of here alive. I think you're just here to satisfy your curiosity – and your itch. You're like a bitch in heat, aren't you?" She opened her mouth to defend herself, but he continued before she could speak. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not judging you, woman. I like a lusty woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it." He lifted her chin with his fingertips and went right in to devour her mouth, setting the butterflies loose in her belly and igniting the fire between her legs.
She kissed him back with equal passion, and when she broke away, panting and swooning against him, he chuckled in amusement. "Like that, do you? There's more where that came from. Get undressed." Without waiting for her, he started shedding his own clothes. She watched him as she undressed herself – which didn't take long as she had only her ankle boots and tavern dress to remove. His chest was broad and hairy, his arms well-muscled and attractively freckled, his thighs thick and firm, his ass meaty but tight. And that cock… not exceptionally long but quite pleasantly thick. Her crotch ached almost painfully as she looked at him laid completely bare to her. He was a tree of a man, even without all the clothing that made him appear thicker. His thick long hair, beard, and mustache made her think of a sabrecat, and she knew he could be just as dangerous. She could certainly understand Ulfric's charisma and ability to sway people to his side. His looks, his voice, his speechcraft – the combination got her insanely aroused.
Once he was fully unclothed, he came to stand in front of her, his cock standing upright and brushing against her belly. He took her head in both of his hands, fingers beneath her ears, thumbs lifting her jaw to tip her head back as he leaned in to kiss her once again. He was surprisingly tender about it.
As they kissed languidly, Miranja stroked his body with both hands, from his shoulders to his hairy chest, his nipples, his firm belly, his smooth sides, over his hips, and around to his tight ass. She compulsively grabbed those muscular cheeks and squeezed for a moment, enjoying their firmness, then moved one hand back between their bodies to wrap her fingers around his thick tool.
Ulfric exhaled in a long sigh as Miranja expertly stroked him. "Can I trust you not to bite it off if I ask you to suck it?"
"On my honor," Miranja replied, putting her fist to her heart.
Ulfric put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently down; she went to her knees and set to work, taking only the head to begin with, swirling her tongue around it then flicking her tongue just below the head on the underside, as she was used to doing for Teldryn. Ulfric groaned and threaded his fingers into her hair, pulling at her head and urging her to take more. She resisted, taking her time and doing her slow, gradual thing, fondling him down below. She reached behind his scrotum and pressed her middle fingertip firmly against his perineum, massaging in little circles as she continued to gently squeeze and release his scrotum with the rest of her hand. Ulfric whispered a curse as he thrust his hips forward impatiently. Miranja relented and took the whole organ into her mouth, having to relax her throat to take it all the way in. She continued both her manual and oral stimulation until Ulfric's breath started to catch and he pushed her gently away.
"I'm not ready to finish," he told her. "I want to show you that a good Nord knows how to please a woman. We're not all brutes, you know." He took her hand and helped her back to her feet, then bade her to lie on his bed. Once she was comfortable, he positioned himself over her, supporting himself first on one hand, then the other, as he fondled and suckled each of her breasts. Miranja moaned at the electric feeling of his tongue flicking her nipples, and she reached down between them to stroke his rod once again.
"You want some more of that, do you?" Ulfric moved his hips in time with her stroking for a moment, then pulled her hand away and took hold of it himself. He pressed the head of his cock against her moist petals, sliding it smoothly up and down a few times, from her clit to her entrance and back again. Rather than plunging forcefully into her, he entered her slowly, teasingly, sweetly tormenting her in the same way she had tormented him, putting the head in, pulling out, pushing in a little further, pulling out, and so on, eliciting frustrated moans from her until he was completely inside her, pressing against her clit and grinding his crotch against hers in sensuous little circles. Miranja pushed back against him, letting the pleasure wash over her body as she grabbed his ass and pulled him deeper with each upward arc of the circles.
Ulfric began fucking her in earnest, and the pleasant friction of his movement within her, combined with the pressure on her clit and the head of his cock bumping against her g-spot, brought her to orgasm so quickly she almost felt dirty.
"Ah, yes, that's it," Ulfric growled, continuing his slow, sensuous, circular thrusts. "Come for me. Who's giving you all the pleasure?"
"Ulfric," Miranja groaned in ecstasy, partly in answer to his question but partly just because she would have uttered his name even if he hadn't asked. She moaned and clung to him with arms and legs, and he worked one powerful arm beneath her and lifted her lower body right off the bed to angle himself in deeper as she rode the waves of pleasure. She found his mouth with hers, eyes squeezed shut, and sucked at his lip, touched his tongue with hers, sucked on his tongue. It was over in less than a minute, but it felt like a miniature eternity to Miranja.
"Was that to your satisfaction, lass?" Ulfric asked her, with a look in his eyes that said he knew very well that he had pleased her well, he just wanted to hear it from her lips.
"Mmm, very much so, my Jarl," Miranja purred, brushing a strand of sweaty hair from her face.
"Good, because now it's my turn." He instructed her to turn over and get up on her knees, and as soon as she was in position, he buried himself in her drenched pussy once again, holding her by her hips and pulling her against him as he began thrusting rapidly. He watched his cock going in and out of her, relishing the wet slapping sound and the feeling of his balls bouncing against her vulva. Faster and faster he fucked her, and when his own orgasm was imminent, he bent down over her and filled his hands with the firm flesh of her breasts, fingers digging, kissing her sweaty back and groaning. "Take that, Imperial bitch, take my seed," he growled, biting her almost too firmly, making her cry out and cringe away. Even so, she found herself turned on; the situation was so similar to the hate-sex she'd had with Ondolemar, Divines rest his soul. Ulfric thrust into her hard until he was spent, then went to his wardrobe and extracted a towel. He dried himself first, tossed it to her so that she could clean herself up, then started to get dressed again.
"Thank you for that delightful stress reliever," Ulfric smiled wryly.
"It was my pleasure," Miranja smiled back. "Thank you for satisfying my curiosity – and my body." She dropped the wet towel to the floor, retrieved her clothes, and was dressed again in mere moments.
"I can't wait to see Galmar's face when I take you downstairs unbound. I told him I know what I'm doing."
Miranja kept silent. She would be back again soon, under less pleasant circumstances, and he wouldn't be happy with her, so she let him have his moment of self-satisfaction.
The howling of wolves tore her from her fantasy, and she refocused on the road ahead to see three of them running toward her. She spurred Arvak into a full gallop, brushing through the wolves as they tried to surround the horse, outdistancing them in a few moments. Safely past, she looked around to find that she was almost to the hill where the Talos statue overlooked the river. She'd been so engrossed with the visions of her inner eyes, she hadn't even noticed Mixwater Mill as she'd passed. That must have been when she'd had her eyes closed, indulging in the orgasm brought on by both the fantasy and the rhythmic pressing of her crotch against the saddle. Now that the pleasure had waned, she couldn't help but be disgusted with herself. Having sexual fantasies about the man who was oppressing her friends and threatening the city of Whiterun: what the fuck was wrong with her? She consoled herself with the fact that it was just a fantasy, and no one else ever had to know about it. At least she had the sense and the decency not to act on that twisted desire.
She rode Arvak all the way to the city gates, where she dismounted and he disappeared from the earthly plane with a disconcerting whinny and that odd crushing, tearing sound. Her belly grew taut with apprehension as she approached the Palace.
As usual, the acoustics of the great hall made Ulfric's and Galmar's voices seem as if they were just feet away from her, even though they were out of sight in the war room at the far end of the building. The sound of Ulfric's deep, calm, confident voice was mesmerizingly pleasant to her, but the sound of Galmar's voice turned her stomach. She traversed the length of the cavernous room, avoiding ex-Jarl Laila and her people, giving a polite nod to Jorleif, and walked boldly into the war room.
Ulfric was facing her, leaning on the map table. He looked up when she walked in, and she could see his expression darken, his lips tighten. "If it isn't my 'friend' from Helgen again. You just can't stay away from here, can you?"
Miranja's heart skipped a beat; she had imagined his response word for word, but not the tone. Ulfric's real-life voice carried a dark, mocking tone. His irritation was clear.
"What kind of ridiculous mischief are you here for this time, Dragonborn?"
"Mischief?" She tried to play ignorant, but she knew what he meant. She'd even included it in her fantasy.
"Don't play stupid with me, girl. I know that was your hair in my bed. I haven't forgotten. The guards told me you and your dark elf friend visited my private chambers. Of course, they were punished for allowing you in there in the first place, although to be fair, one would think the Dragonborn would be above such childishness."
Yeah, not her brightest idea. She was still learning to curb her impulsiveness, and she hoped she was doing better at it. She lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze, feeling deservedly chastised.
"Well, speak! What brings you here?"
Miranja swallowed. "I have a message from Jarl Balgruuf."
Ulfric lifted an eyebrow and stood upright. "Is that so? I've been wondering when he'd come around."
Miranja shrugged off her backpack and set it on the table, and Galmar reached up and grabbed the handle of his battle axe. Miranja ignored him, withdrawing the weapon she'd wrapped in cloth and presenting it to Ulfric across both hands. Galmar lowered his hand.
"Oh. What's this?" His expression changed to one of affronted surprise as he moved the cloth and revealed the axe within. "Ahhh... You're quite brave to carry such a message. It's a pity you've chosen the wrong side..."
She was about to tell him that was a matter of opinion, but she had hardly opened her mouth when he pushed the axe back at her.
"You can return this axe to the man who sent it. And tell him he should prepare to entertain... visitors. I expect a great deal of excitement in the city of Whiterun in the near future..."
Miranja asked him why he would make war on his own people, and he gave her a song and dance about drinking the Empire's milk and becoming weak, and no progress without sacrifice. What the fuck did he think the White-Gold Concordat was about? That was a sacrifice to keep the peace with the Aldmeri Dominion. She guessed sacrifice was only acceptable to him if it was on the other side, not his own. She wanted to tell him as much, but she bit her tongue. It wouldn't do any good to try to convince him, anyway.
"We'll be seeing you soon," she mumbled darkly at him.
"Sooner than you think," Ulfric replied, sounding smug.
Anger and frustration filled Miranja as she hurried back through the great hall, not even bothering to so much as make eye contact with Jorleif. Tears filled her eyes, and, not for the first time, she cursed her tendency to cry when she was angry or frustrated. She ran from the Palace to the city gates, leaving the city without even stopping in to see Revyn. The way Ulfric had sounded… was it possible the attack on Whiterun had already begun? She summoned Arvak and galloped all the way back to Whiterun, thankful that Arvak was no ordinary horse.