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ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

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What's a Thief to a King? M!DB/Ulfric 30/??

[(Anonymous)]

Ulfric slid his hand down Dyce’s leather-clad chest and stomach, and let it rest at his hip. Dyce watched, curious, as Ulfric swallowed hard and brushed his hand across the taut bulge in Dyce’s trousers. He was about to ask if Ulfric had been with many men before when Ulfric seized the back of his head and Dyce was getting used to the way he kissed; like he wanted to drown.

His other hand was at Dyce’s belt and Dyce could feel him struggling to undo a purely decorative buckle and he grinned, happy to help, slipping his hand out from the warmth of the Jarl’s clothing and undoing his own belts, his sheathed blades dropping off his hips to the floor with a thump only slightly muffled by the rug. He’d managed to undo two of the buttons on his fly when Ulfric batted his hands away, and thrust his own down the front of Dyce’s trousers.

Dyce made an ‘ngh’ sound against Ulfric’s lips and rolled his hips forward, pressing his cock up into Ulfric’s calloused palm. There was barely room for him to move in there. He could fit just enough of his hand down to curl his fingers at the base of Dyce’s cock. Dyce wriggled himself up against Ulfric and the door, working his trousers down from around his hips - Ulfric had pushed his hands away, after all, and if that was distracting, so be it.

Dyce used his hands to comb through Ulfric’s hair instead, and to start opening his collar, looking for the catches on his armour.

He forgot about this when Ulfric started to stroke him. The Nord lifted his head from Dyce’s lips to look into his face, watching what his hand was doing to him. Dyce wasn’t shy; he was happy to show Ulfric the heartbeat in his neck and have him hear the way his breath stuttered irregularly from bitten, reddened lips. He could only guess what Ulfric was reading from his eyes but it must have been too much for him because he bent his head forward to rasp in Dyce’s ear.

“Now who’s fucking gorgeous?”

Dyce grinned widely, delighted that Ulfric had remembered. He remembered too, and the contrast between Ulfric then, dragonslayer triumphant, and the gasping, unravelling mortal man at his side, with his lips and teeth on his neck and his hand around his cock was almost too much for him.

Dyce pulled at Ulfric’s hair, arching himself off the door and against him, butting the head of his cock against Ulfric’s palm, the skin wet and slick.

“J-Jarl Ulfric.” It wouldn’t take him long now.

Ulfric’s hand stilled. He raised his head to look Dyce in the eye again.

Dyce smirked, still panting. “You prefer ‘king’?” he asked.

Ulfric frowned, and seemed almost puzzled when he shook his head. “No, no titles here.”

As much as he was frustrated by the delay, Dyce was also pleased. He smiled, “Ulfric.”

Ulfric eased his hand from Dyce’s trousers and pulled him towards the bed.

“Hang on,” Dyce said. “I need to get my boots off.” With his trousers halfway down his thighs he was obliged to lean against the door to take off his boots while Ulfric sat on the edge of the bed and did the same.

Dyce heard Ulfric’s chestpiece hit the floor, but when he wandered over to the bed, Ulfric hadn’t managed to get much further. Dyce had shed everything, and Ulfric was staring at him with an expression that made his cock, still at half-mast, twitch upwards.

Ulfric didn’t miss that either.

Dyce grinned, happy to be admired, and walked over to sit astride Ulfric’s lap. It was a shame Ulfric was still wearing his pants, but Dyce could see there was plenty to appreciate pressing up against the dark cloth. Something to look forward to.

Dyce tugged at Ulfric’s undershirt and Ulfric lifted his arms and let Dyce pull it off him. Dyce had been anticipating the greying blonde hair on his chest and stomach, the broad shoulders and chest, the battle scars. It was the other scars that he hadn’t expected.

He glanced up quickly into Ulfric’s eyes. Ulfric was just watching him, not ashamed or upset, or even braced for rejection, just calm and mildly curious. Dyce, for his part, was mildly heartbroken. He placed his palms on Ulfric’s shoulders and slid them down his chest. The wounds had been healed so well, his skin felt smooth.