Ulfric sat in his personal study reviewing reports that had come in earlier in the day but he had been preoccupied with random thoughts of the Breton thief who now lay in a bed down the passageway in the chambers he had started considering hers. And he was distracted by the images of her in his head hours after he had bid her good night at the end of the evening meal. He set a report back on the stack with the others again when he had realized that he had barely read the words before him. He ran his hand over his face as he stared into the fire, his conversation with Meliandra replaying in his mind. She was skilled in turning conversation away from subjects she did not wish to engage in, having deflected his many attempts to learn of her youth and how she had found herself in the back of the wagon headed to the headsman’s black. He found it alluring, the secrecy she kept around her like a shroud, yet, at the same time, he saw it as a red flag and that he must proceed with caution.
He picked up his tankard and filled it with mead and took a large drink of it as his mind traced her image before him, her lithe body sauntering toward him, his name dripping off her tongue like honey from a comb. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and counted to ten, then opened his eyes, picked up the report and began reading again.
Across the passageway, Meliandra laid wide awake in bed, staring at the ceiling above, listening to the crackling embers of the hearth fire as a snowstorm raged outside. She thought about her Dunmer lover Gabriella; she loved the woman, but was not in love with her. And Arnbjorn, she enjoyed sex with the werewolf but he held no claim to her heart. Brnjolf’s smile, floated to the top of her memory, his voice echoed in her ears; a pang of hurt clutched her chest as she forced his image from her mind.
Suddenly, she threw the furs off of her and reached for the warm thick cloak on the chair near her bed and wrapped herself in it as she made her way out of her chambers. She had no destination in mind, only the need to outrun the pained feelings she still carried for the Nord thief. She blindly walked through the well-lit passages, her memories clouding her vision. Her conflicting feelings over the Windhelm jarl crept into her thoughts and soon she was remembering the kiss they had shared, short but full of hunger. She had felt hunger like that before and craved the passion she knew made up that hunger.
But it was Ulfric Stormcloak who aroused that craving within her. It was a man who would hate her if he knew her truths that distracted her from the ache of Brynjolf’s betrayal. And she couldn’t help but feel a strong pull to this jarl, no matter how dangerous of a man he was.
Ulfric rubbed his closed eyes as he set the report on his desk, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he gave up trying to read these reports at all this night. His thoughts refused to give up the image of the Breton, blurring the words before him until all he saw was the thief. Asking her to remain in his city was tormenting him. He looked at the door in his study that led to the passage to her chambers, a passageway that connected his childhood chambers to these chambers he lived in now, chambers that once belonged to his parents, the passageway that his mother used in caring for him as a babe rather than making use of a nanny or a wet-nurse. He was tempted to journey down the old passageway to gaze upon her once more as he had done before, but this time he resisted the urge.
He got the distinct feeling he had eyes watching him and, turning to look at the door, he saw Meliandra approaching him quietly, her eyes meeting his. She stopped directly in front of him, a slight hesitation to her as he opened her mouth to speak, then stopping, closing her mouth and glancing away.
“Meliandra?” he asked, “is everything alright?”
She let her cloak fall to the floor at her feet in response.
He sat in silence for a moment, the naked form in front of him making him lose his tongue as he gazed at the Breton approaching him. “Melian-” he began only to be silenced by her lips pressing against his. Stunned for but a moment, he kissed her fully as he stood up, his hand finding the small of her back and pulling her to him. His free hand found its way through her hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past her lips and intertwining with hers. The kiss possessed him, threatening to drown him in the pent up frustrations they both shared.
He broke the kiss, his breathing heavy. He cupped her face with both hands and looked in her eyes. “Why must you persist in torturing me, my temptress?” he said hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper.
She met his gaze, answering, “I’m offering myself to you.”
His eyebrow arched as he searched her face, his forefinger now tracing her jawline to her chin where his thumb then traced her lips softly. “offering yourself? Are you…sure you want this? You did say I was dangerous for you.”
She nodded. “If you’ll have me.”
He pulled her close to him again, drawing her into another kiss, his hunger for her consumed him as he lifted her up into his arms and carried her to his bed, laying her atop the thick furs. Backing away from the bed, but keeping his eyes upon her, he bolted the door to his rooms before removing the pants he wore, leaving nothing more than his braies. He approached the bed, eyeing the Breton. He ran his hand along the length of her leg, moved his hand to her stomach, palm down, skimming its way up to her chest, and through the divide of her breasts. He curled his fingers inward as he brushed them against her neck as he cupped her head in his hand, bending down to gently kiss her lips.
Climbing onto the ed next to her, he let his free hand roam over her body, rubbing it sensuously as he ran his lips down her neck. She leaned her head back, a soft moan slipping past her lips, her eyes closed. He felt himself growing harder as his passion built. Fingernails ran down his chest, stopping at the waist of his undergarment. He kissed her lips as he felt her fingers working loose the ties that held those undergarments up. Her touch was stimulating, making his desire grow more and once she had pushed his garments down his legs, he felt those fingernails resume their enticing touch as they found their way to his sex where her hands began giving him attention.
Neither spoke as they touched and explored one another, kissing one another with a slowly increasing fervor. He ran his hand along the scar along her lower abdomen, as she traced the many scars that crisscrossed his chest, his shoulders and onto his back. They recognized the wounds as battle scars of a personal level, both knew the stories behind how the scars came to be were stories kept under lock and key.
Ulfric re-positioned himself, resting his body just above her’s; his hardness resting atop her, making her acutely aware of his desire for her. He kissed her again, tasting her lips greedily before looking her in the eye and asked huskily, “This is what you want?”
At her nod, he leaned in to kiss her briefly before thrusting himself in her, filling her with the thickness that was his sex organ. She gasped as she felt him hit deep within her, her hips beginning to gyrate in time with him, her nails now scratching his chest, bringing blood to his skin.
Slowly, Ulfric made love to Meliandra, seeking only to please her first as he savored the very touch of her beneath him. Her lips caressed his chest every so often, her tongue flicking across his skin drawing pleasured sounds from the jarl. He leaned down, nuzzling his face against her neck as he placed light kisses upon her shoulder, working his way along her neckline to her jawline until her lips met his and gave way to the force of his kiss, laying claim to her, possessing her. She met his fervor with one of her own, inflaming both their passions explosively.
Meliandra’s body began to tremble as he drove her to the brink before her orgasm racked her body, her head thrust back as she rode the wave of her climax, her moaning coming to a crescendo. Ulfric thrust himself into the Breton, her juices sliding down his cock, lubricating his shaft as he pumped back and forth again, slowly bringing her to another orgasm that had her clawing at him as her body spasmed hard beneath him.
He felt his own orgasm approaching; he knew that he was past the point of no return, that there was no staving off his hunger anymore as he began to chase that elation that sexual release gave. He was vaguely aware that his temptress was orgasming once more, his name now rolling off her lips as she begged for him to give her his release, hard and fast. He felt her fingernails tearing into his flesh as she grabbed a hold of him in a frenzy, triggering his climax.
He thrust himself inside her once more and, holding himself above her, his member twitching inside her as he exploded into her, flooding her womb with his seed. With his release, he looked into her eyes as he drew close to her, his lips brushing hers softly, tenderly before saying, “I promise I won’t hurt you, my temptress.”
A slight smile appeared on her lips as she kissed him then looked in his eyes, responding, “And if I made that promise, it’d be a lie. I will hurt you, Ulfric, that is my promise to you.”