Irresistible

Sometime during the night, someone slipped a bird's nest into my mouth. And then kicked my ass.

Everything hurt. I slowly dragged myself out of bed and stumbled across the cold floor to a pitcher and basin on a washstand. It was freezing in this room! I could probably cut diamonds with my nipples. Pouring a bit of water in the basin, I splashed some on my face to wake up.

"Nice ass," Mauronk muttered sleepily.

"Sorry, Charlie," I growled. "Ass is closed for business. There was a party in here last night that didn't leave until dawn. The place is a mess."

He chuckled. "The doors kept opening, letting more in. What is a man to do?"

I practically sprinted back to the comforting warmth of the bed... and his arms. He engulfed my body happily and nuzzled behind my ear. "Are you saying you can't resist me?" I asked, playfully nipping his shoulder.

"I have faced draugr and spiders as large as a cart horse," he murmured. His hands cupped my buttocks and he kissed me long and lazily. "Against such enemies, I have strength. I have will. I can fight." Rolling on top of me, he easily maneuvered his way between my legs. "When I am with you," he whispered, sliding in, "I am at your mercy."

Apparently he wasn't the only one lacking resistance as the 'open for one more round of business' sign flashed up. Shrugging helplessly, I grabbed his ass with both hands and enjoyed the ride.

Sooner or later, though, the real business of the day had to get started, and we grudgingly rose to face it. The innkeeper gave us really weird looks in the common room when we dug into our breakfasts like starved wolves. I'd forgotten that awesome sex often has the same side effect as marijuana use: gives me the munchies. But then, we'd been at it most of the night. Lots of fluids were lost. Had to replenish.

"There's still... Whiterun," I ventured when we both slowed down with the face-shoveling. He paused in chewing on a strip of what might have been bacon in my world, but more than likely came from a skeever here.

"What about it?"

"The dragon," I reminded him. "We have to warn them. Ralof's gone to ground, evidently, so that leaves us as the bearers of bad news."

Mauronk grunted and nodded. "The day is half done. We need to get started if we are to reach the city by morning."

"Morning? It's that far?" I asked incredulously. Looking surprised, he nodded.

"Yes. I have only been to the city once. Guarding a merchant's caravan," he said casually.

"Guarding?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"I have sworn my sword to service on occasion," he explained. "We are called 'sellswords' here. Mercenaries. If I thought the cause just, I took their coin and guarded their lives."

I had to admit, it came as a surprise. I suppose I'd always had a rather jaded image of mercenaries in mind, sort of like bloodthirsty, kill-anything-if-the-price-is-right sorts who almost literally prostituted themselves for the opportunity to feed their inner beast and get paid for the privilege. Probably watched too many movies. I couldn't see Mauronk as someone like that, but I hadn't known him long. For all I knew, he was exactly that sort, and only on his best behavior now because he was getting laid.

"So... you still... hire yourself out?" I ventured cautiously.

He shook his head and took a long drink of mead. "No. Not anymore. When one is... willing to kill for money, there are... expectations. I did not wish to live up to them."

Studying his face, I decided I didn't want to press him on these 'expectations.' His brow furrowed and red eyes narrowed. His lips were twitching a little, too, like a snarl was trying to get out and he wasn't interested in indulging it at the moment. There wasn't a lot about this world I could claim familiarity with, but human nature seemed to be pretty universal, and not exclusive to humans. I had a feeling these expectations had something to do with a certain assassin's guild, or at least someone wanting the same result for less money.

"Well," I said briskly, "we should head out, then." Grabbing one last swallow from my tankard, I rose and led the way out the door of the inn.

I'd tried out new characters in the game so many times, I could practically walk to Whiterun from Riverwood in my sleep. Not a good idea here, though. The city was an unbelievably long distance away; I couldn't even see it on the horizon until we were ready to stop for the night.

At least, that's what I thought we were going to do. Mauronk didn't show any signs of slowing down or looking for a campsite.

"Hey, uh, maybe you're all fired up and ready to go, but I need some sleep," I groused.

Glancing over his shoulder, the Orc replied, "We have lost two days already. If you do not want to deliver your warning to a burned and flattened city, we should not stop."

For a moment, I wanted to tell him that the dragon wouldn't attack until I gave the court magician the Dragonstone anyway, so there was no big rush. But I stopped myself, and real, coherent thought came into play. This wasn't the game. There weren't pre-programmed triggers going on. If that dragon wanted to go have a nice, big, Nordic snack right after Helgen, he was not only entitled, but likely to do so. I recalled that the Jarl's palace was called Dragonsreach, and had been a prison of sorts to a dragon ages ago. If dragons were intelligent enough to have legends, it stood to reason that the dragon would skip over the benign little Riverwood and go straight for the prize. Revenge being best served up cold, you know.

So... forced march through the night. I supposed that was best. I didn't have much of a desire to sleep on the cold ground after such a good rest in a real bed.

Oh, who was I kidding? I barely got any sleep at all. Likely wouldn't if we camped on the bare earth tonight, either. He wasn't the only one whose resistance was at an all-time low.

Jesus, just thinking about him... Now, I wouldn't say that I'm a nymphomaniac or anything, but damn if that Mauronk didn't hit all the right buttons for me, just on a physical level. Add his personality to the mix, which was just the right combination of tough and masculine with some sensitivity thrown in, and I was completely hooked.

My mind was going over last night, reliving all those wonderful orgasms, and getting myself all tingly and worked up again. Glancing over, I found I'd fallen behind a little, and had a really great view of his ass. When he walked, his body sort of loped, like a feral animal. Graceful, yet wound like a spring and ready for action if the need arose. But he was encased in a metal shell, and I didn't have a crab cracker on hand.

Ah, but he didn't need to take it all off. Only the one bit in the front...

For crying out loud! I was starting to sound like a guy! Checking out his ass and contemplating how to get at his goodies. Honestly. Maybe I was a nympho...

Dammit.

"Um... Mauronk?"

"Yes?" he replied without looking back.

"Um... you... uh... wanna take a break for a minute?"

"No," he said absently. "I am not weary."

"I... uh... think I have a rock in my boot or something," I invented hastily. "Can we stop for a second?"

He immediately halted and turned. "As you wish."

Trying to hide my smile, I led the way off the road a bit and sat on a fallen tree. He stood nearby, keeping a wary eye on the road and the area around us, as if he expected something to happen if he stopped being watchful for half a second. I took off my boot and made a half-hearted overture of shaking it empty.

Why was I suddenly shy, after spending the entire previous night in various positions, doing things that would embarrass my mother if she knew about it, and whispering requests in his ear that would make a sailor blush? Yet there I was, putting my boot back on and getting back on my feet. Heading for the road.

It was certainly confusing. The ache in my loins was not diminished in any sense, and all I could think about was having him again, even a quickie, just a little nibble to tide me over until we got to Whiterun...

And I was suddenly all over him, kissing him so fiercely he staggered back off the road. He was definitely at my mercy now. Stepping back, I poked him in the chest.

"You," I snarled. "Fuck me. Now." Turning, I pulled up the back of my leather drape, hooked my woolens and dropped them, then leaned over the fallen tree.

There was definitely a special place in the afterlife waiting for him, for he didn't keep me waiting long in that awkward and embarrassing position. Seconds after the command was given, the dutiful soldier rammed the ordnance home. It was probably dirty and low-class in this world, but it felt so good. Even the incessant slap of his armored legs against the backs of my thighs made it that much more naughty. I didn't bother keeping the volume down for the sake of inn patrons this time, and shamelessly voiced my pleasure. He was right there with me, grunting and growling like a beast, making it even more deliciously wicked.

Thank god it was the middle of the night. If anyone had been traveling the roads, going about their daily business, and come upon an Orsimer up to the hilt in a Nord... According to him, there would have been dire consequences for such an apparent violation.

"Sorry about that," I muttered as we set ourselves to rights afterward. "Saw your ass, got a hankerin', couldn't wait."

He laughed loudly, looking down at me contentedly and resting his hand on my shoulder to steady himself. "I feel so used," he joked.

Reaching around, I grabbed hold of his behind. Covered in chainmail it might be, but still a sweet handful. "Maybe you shouldn't have been so tempting, hmmm?"

"You as well," he murmured, kissing my neck. His tusks grazed the tender flesh, and I gripped him harder.

"Liar," I sighed. "I almost had to knock you down."

"Had I been stalking you from behind," he chuckled, "we would not have made it this far."

"Side by side, then," I suggested with a smirk. "Or we'll never get to Whiterun."

"Agreed."

By morning, we were dragging our feet, but we'd made it with only one more 'stop' along the way. Maybe two. The guards at Whiterun's gates didn't challenge us at all; just let us right in. I thought that was a bit strange, but then, this wasn't the game, I kept reminding myself. It was quite possible they hadn't heard a thing about the dragon attack.

"We're here to see the Jarl," I said a little uneasily. "We have news from... from Helgen."

"Know your way?" the guard asked. When I glanced over at Mauronk, the guard took that for a 'no' and gestured to his buddy.

The second guard escorted us through town and up to Dragonsreach. The palace was... different. Architecturally, it was very similar, but... I don't know how to describe it. There was just a feeling about it that wasn't sterile like it seemed in the game. This was a real place, with real worn wood that had survived for centuries, likely. Probably seen several assaults from one enemy or another. In fact, the beams were pitted as if from ranged attacks, like from siege engines. There were even scorch marks, but whether that came from uppity mages or pissed off dragons, I had no idea.

In the game, I felt like I could breeze in at any time, day or night, and 'own' the place, basically. Here, it felt every bit like the Jarl's seat of power, his home, his... world. And I was just visiting. When he saw fit to entertain me.

Our escort nodded to the guards at the main doors, who promptly opened them for us. Then we went inside.

Again, very like the Dragonsreach main hall, with a huge dining table laid out for forty or so people, a gigantic pit fire in the center, and a raised dais at the end where we could just see Jarl Balgruuf the Greater lounging on his throne.

There they were, Avenicci the sniveling, whiny steward, and Irileth, Housecarl to the Jarl. I was expecting Irileth to come stomping down to us, but she just kept her position at Balgruuf's left hand. She did look disdainful and haughty. That much was the same.

"What business have you with Jarl Balgruuf the Greater?" she said rather snippily to Mauronk. He just raised an eyebrow. And maybe curled his lip a bit. He had the advantage there: his tusks sort of made him look pissed and snarky all the time, so he could indulge a bit of it on the sly without anyone knowing he was putting some extra effort into it.

"Um," I offered, stepping slightly forward, "I've come from Helgen, ma'am. There was a dragon atta-..."

Balgruuf suddenly sat forward, all attention now. The steward's head jerked back with surprise, and Irileth blinked her red eyes at me in shock.

"What is this?" the Jarl snapped. "Dragon?"

"Yeah. I mean, yes, your... Jarl-ship," I stammered. How do you address these people, anyway? "My... friend and I were among the few who escaped with our lives. Last we knew, the dragon was headed toward Riverwood. We just came from there, and everything was okay for now, but... well.. they need help. In case it attacks." Wow, did I sound ever so not telling the truth.

"The town is poorly defended," Mauronk added, and I privately promised to 'reward' him for the save. "The attack on Helgen left the town in ruins. We fear for the people there."

"Dragons!" Avenicci scoffed. "Honestly, the tales you Nords tell..."

"They are not tales!" another Nord bellowed, striding up onto the dais. I kind of remembered him, but I couldn't recall the name. He had 'bad ass gonna mess you up' written all over him, and it looked like whiny steward guy was next on the whuppin' list. "You belittle the traditions of our people with every breath, stinking Imperial dog."

"Hrongar, that is enough," the Jarl interjected sternly, and the man stood down. He kept a venomous eye on the steward, though. Said steward was visibly shaken.

"I... meant no offense," he whimpered. "It is just that... dragons, I ask you. Such creatures have not been seen for centuries. Surely there must be a mistake..."

"No mistake, sir," I insisted. "You can see it for yourself. Helgen is a burning slag pile. We had to escape through tunnels. Anyone outside... probably didn't make it."

For a moment, that horrific experience came screaming back to me, and I staggered a little. I'd come so close to death, so close... I felt Mauronk's hand on my arm to steady me and clasped it tightly. "It was a really rough day, sir."

"I expect it was," the Jarl agreed. "Avenicci, fetch Ferengar. He will want to know of this."

Grimacing, the steward left in search of the mage. Obviously he didn't like being sent on a 'fetch' mission.

While we waited, the Jarl looked us over. It didn't look to me like he was the kind of man easily fooled, and certainly not one who missed even the tiniest details. Suddenly self-conscious, I released Mauronk's hand and probably blushed, just to make damn sure he didn't miss the gesture. Good grief.

Sure enough, his eyes narrowed. I crossed my arms over my chest. There wasn't anything I could do that didn't scream I've done very bad, very taboo things in your hold, Mr. Jarl sir. Please don't put me in the dungeon or hang my lover.

Out of the blue, the doors of Dragonsreach flew open with a resounding bang that echoed through the high-ceilinged palace. A guard huffed up in a furious hurry. He barely got the necessary salute executed before his mouth started running.

"Dragon, sir! Attacking the western watchtower! Two men dead, the rest are trapped. They need help, sir!"

The Jarl and Irileth exchanged looks, then they both turned to me and Mauronk.

"You have fought a dragon?" the Jarl asked.

"More like run screaming from a dragon," I muttered, drawing a bemused snort from the Orc. Taking a deep breath, I straightened up and tried to look... well, halfway like I knew what I was talking about. "I've seen one, sir. I don't know much, but I'll... I'll help any way I can."

It felt like I was saying, Sure, I'll be glad to throw myself into that erupting volcano. No sweat, boss.

"Good," he said, nodding. "You will accompany Irileth." Turning to his Housecarl, Balgruuf said, "Lead a squad down to the watchtower and see what can be done there. Take no chances, Irileth; none have fought a dragon before. I do not want unnecessary casualties. If more men are needed, make sure you are alive to request them."

"Yes, my Jarl," the Dunmer replied, saluting.

"And you," Balgruuf said, turning to the exhausted guard. "Go to the kitchens for a meal and a drink. You have earned a rest."

"Thank you, my Jarl," the man said gratefully. Saluting, he turned and left.

"Come," Irileth said, gesturing to me and Mauronk. "We have a dragon to kill."