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ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

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Never Our Tenderness (F!/DB Imperial/Ulfric Stormcloak) – 7b/?

[(Anonymous)]

She hung limply from her bindings, body still shaking from the force of her release. Such intensity of pleasure was unknown to her, and it rankled her sorely, that it should come at his hands.

His mouth.

But there had always been something about him that sparked an animal sort of fascination deep in her belly, on the few times she had encountered him in between battles. She had assumed it to be a result of hate, something she well knew was a force of attraction in a way, but now she wondered if she was perhaps as beast as she claimed him to be.

She took several breaths, waiting for him to move, to get up and strike her, certain now that she had gained the punishment of pain she no longer thought she wanted. When the pain did not come, she lifted her heavy lids to glance at him, still sprawled upon the floor at her feet.

She might have gained some small satisfaction at finding him in such a state, but then his body started to shake with an unseen force. She had not borne witness to this particular effect of the shout, and her brows furrowed in confusion.

A grunt of unfamiliar sound escaped him, something that did not quite seem like the effect of pain.

Then he made a noise that was something of a snort.

If the idea did not seem completely mad to her own mind, she would have said it sounded almost like laughter.

And then he sat up and she saw the wide grin splitting his face, his shoulders shaking with the force of his mirth. If she hadn’t been bound, her arms beginning to ache with the strain of the forced position, she might have found her own amusement at the sight of him so lacking his usual composure.

He looked almost boyish, his honey-kissed hair tumbling in disarray around his face, the robe hanging open and slipping from one shoulder, his even white teeth flashing so strikingly against the weathered skin of his face.

Was he going mad?

Was she?

He pushed himself up from the ground, and stood before her, still grinning like a mad fool.

“Little dragon, you do yet try me for a fourth time this day. I am now past the point of what I can endure.”

With that ominous statement, given with amusement still clear in his deep voice, he slipped out of his robe entirely. He had no words, no further taunt to prick her pride, he simply lifted her right leg to hitch at his hip, and pressed himself into the cradle of her own.

He was hard, everywhere, forged by this unforgiving land into a man of iron and steel, but he did not feel like the cold of metal against her. He was hot, burning like the flame from the forge. She was surrounded by the heat he generated, and she could feel the heat of his thickened shaft as he slicked it between her folds with his free hand.

The amount of wetness she knew pooled between her legs set her cheeks to burning. And then she felt the head of him guided to her opening, and there was no more space in her head for embarrassment. Her breath hitched as she prepared herself for a rough sheathing, ready for him to finally slake his lust upon her.

But, as in all things, he took his time, pushing into her in a slow tease of stretching, each inch of him that she took making her feel fuller than the last. He paused to pick up her other leg so that it joined the first around his waist, spreading her wider to accept yet more of him, an easy slide that sparked the bliss of white-hot pleasure at the very core of her.

This flame licked like lightning throughout her limbs, and she bit the inside of her mouth to contain her moan, certain that she could bear no more. Yet still he pushed deeper, slow and sure and unrelenting and hot between her thighs, a searing brand that had her tasting her own blood in her mouth, until finally she felt the base of him flush against her.

He stilled within her, and she met his gaze to find him staring with an intensity that made her shiver. She saw the lust in his eyes, the pleasure she knew he was taking from her, and gods help her but she felt the instinctual pride of her sex thrill through her. She may be his prisoner, bound to a bed that was not even his own, but in this moment, he was as much bound to her as she was to him.