Skyrim Page 3 - "Either you're naked, or I'm drunk. Maybe both."

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"Behind Closed Doors" M!DB/Balgruuf 5/7

[(Anonymous)]

“Is something wrong?”

“Not exactly, but I’m here for a reason.”

Dyce stepped out of Balgruuf’s arms and the Jarl sighed and nodded understandingly. Dyce paced around the room, wondering how to begin.

“Nelkir told me something else. He said you still worship Talos, that you hate the Thalmor.”

Balgruuf regarded Dyce with narrowed eyes, “Well, who likes the Thalmor?”

“I’ve killed more than I can count,” Dyce said. “They’re not keen on Talos; can you imagine their joy at the existence of another Dragonborn?”

“I take your point. What is this about?”

Dyce stopped pacing and stood in front of Balgruuf. “It’s about the war. Like you, I’ve tried to stay out of it, but every day the war lasts the more we play into the Thalmor’s hands. It has to end. And it might take the voice of a dragon to end it.”

“Dyce. What have you done?”

“I’ve brought you an axe,” he said slowly. “From Ulfric.”

“Have you any idea-?”

“Yes! Look, hear me out. No matter which way the war goes, Whiterun is going to be the next point of contention. If you side with the Empire, the city will have to be taken.”

“And if I side with Ulfric it won’t? The Empire isn’t going to take this lying down.”

“Ulfric listens to me,” Dyce said. “Up to a point. My assistance is conditional. Ulfric must agree to defend Whiterun. By the time the Empire finds out, the plains will belong to the Stormcloaks. And they can try and take Whiterun, but they’ll go through me first. I swear it. I don’t want to see the war here. Let me help.”

“You don’t believe in making life easy, do you?”

“The only thing easy about all of this is me,” Dyce said wryly. “You don’t have to decide; I don’t have to give you the axe right now. I don’t know if this is the right thing, but I’ve been in the Thalmor embassy. I’ve read the books. I can’t fight them by myself. They started this war, with no intention that it should end.”

“Ulfric respects you,” Dyce said. “He doesn’t want to fight you any more than I do.”

“Respect, respect. Everyone respects me. And yet I am not allowed to govern my city in peace! Damn these Thalmor. And damn Ulfric and his war.”

Dyce just hung his head. It wasn’t his decision to make and he’d said his piece.

“Give me the axe,” Balgruuf said finally, his arms folded across his chest. “And I will keep it. May Talos watch over us all.”

“Yes, my Jarl.” Dyce turned to go.

“Not right this instant,” Balgruuf said. “It can wait until morning, can’t it?”

“Of course.”

Awkward silence descended. Balgruuf seemed to have lost the momentum that had propelled them together. Dyce decided to help him out.

“So, are you going to take me to bed, or should I find my own?” he asked lightly, with a smile. He would not be disheartened either way.

“I uh. You have to understand I don’t make a habit of this sort of thing. But you seem to, well.”

“Have a reputation. It’s fine.” Dyce stepped closer, a smile on his face and challenge in his tone. “Tell me what you’d like.” He enjoyed watching the Jarl squirm. Too often he’d asked him terribly hard questions, to make decisions he’d rather not. This time, at least, he’d know whatever Balgruuf said was exactly what he wanted.

“Actually I was wondering if you might,” he paused and Dyce resisted the urge to nudge him. “Take me to bed.”

Dyce took his hand, “It would be my pleasure.”

He half-expected Balgruuf to change his mind. He seemed uncertain, nerving himself up for something. Dyce didn’t think he’d been with many other men; the concept seemed to both entice him and make him nervous. He thought it was rather sweet, this wise and strong-willed ruler, finding the edge of his comfort zone in his own bedchamber. But he didn’t want him to regret anything either.

So when they closed the bedroom door behind them, Dyce slid his hands up the front of Balgruuf’s brocaded tunic and cupped his face to kiss him gently.

“Umm.” Balgruuf’s breath hitched and put his hands on Dyce’s sides. Dyce twined his fingers in Balgruuf’s long blonde hair and beard, and flicked his tongue between the Jarl’s lips.

“Would you?” Balgruuf began, his breath puffing against Dyce’s chin.

“Mm. Probably. Would I what?”

“I want to suck you,” he muttered.