The merchant understood the message. Together, they went to the bed on the next floor. The darkness cloaked Belethor’s body as he climbed the stairs. Ardbur's presence was close behind, seeming to glide after him without a sound. Belethor wondered if he would be able to break the dragonborn's silence.
When they reached the shopkeeper’s bed, Ardbur undid his own belt and stepped out of his trousers and boots. He pushed the shopkeeper back onto the mattress and joined him there.
Belethor, with his hands finally free, reached out to touch the naked dragonborn. However, doubt got the better of him. He was only a simple shopkeeper, and he vividly remembered how Ardbur had cut down the bandits at Duskenvale Cave.
Ardbur watched the shopkeeper, his lips quirking at his hesitation. “Feel free,” he drawled, stretching out onto his back. “But careful,” he teased.
Belethor swallowed. His hand touched the man’s muscled chest, feeling the ridges and dimples left by old scars. The dragonborn reached out and grabbed Belethor’s jaw, bringing their lips together.
As they kissed, Ardbur’s tongue explored the other man’s mouth. Belethor would swear he could taste ash. A word, and the dragonborn had incinerated the bandits. A word, and he could destroy Belethor and his store. Belethor’s heart seized. He let out a noise and thrust himself away.
Ardbur was quick to follow. He pounced on Belethor like a sabre cat, holding the other man’s wrists and straddling his hips. As they pressed together, a groan escaped the shopkeeper’s lips. “A change of heart, Belethor?” Ardbur whispered as flesh slid against flesh.
“No,” the shopkeeper gasped. “I’m not afraid.”
“Faas,” Ardbur whispered, staring into the other man’s eyes. The shout of dismay, the shout of terror.
Fear clutched Belethor’s heart and warred with his desire. When Ardbur broke his gaze, the fear disappeared, leaving Belethor panting and angry. “Speak magic all you want,” he said hoarsely. “I may have nightmares, but if you expect me to flee from my own home, you’re out of luck.”
“Mm,” was Ardbur’s only reply. The dragonborn dipped his head and nipped at Belethor’s lips. He ground against him again, inspiring a coil of heat to lash through the merchant’s belly. Ardbur reached down between their bodies and wrapped a hand around both of them, squeezing.
The dragonborn’s hand pumped them both. The entire situation was unreal to the merchant. A hot wave of want stole the air from Belethor’s lungs. Breathing heavily, he arched his hips, grinding upwards in time with each stroke.
The dragonborn’s breaths spilled over the shopkeeper’s face. Belethor saw the need whirling in the larger man’s eyes. He bit down on the dragonborn’s bottom lip until he tasted blood. Ardbur groaned. A dangerous spark leapt into his gaze. He crushed his lips over the shopkeeper’s, tongue plunging into his mouth.
“Even the Dragonborn Can Bleed” Belethor/M!DB, 4c/4
When they reached the shopkeeper’s bed, Ardbur undid his own belt and stepped out of his trousers and boots. He pushed the shopkeeper back onto the mattress and joined him there.
Belethor, with his hands finally free, reached out to touch the naked dragonborn. However, doubt got the better of him. He was only a simple shopkeeper, and he vividly remembered how Ardbur had cut down the bandits at Duskenvale Cave.
Ardbur watched the shopkeeper, his lips quirking at his hesitation. “Feel free,” he drawled, stretching out onto his back. “But careful,” he teased.
Belethor swallowed. His hand touched the man’s muscled chest, feeling the ridges and dimples left by old scars. The dragonborn reached out and grabbed Belethor’s jaw, bringing their lips together.
As they kissed, Ardbur’s tongue explored the other man’s mouth. Belethor would swear he could taste ash. A word, and the dragonborn had incinerated the bandits. A word, and he could destroy Belethor and his store. Belethor’s heart seized. He let out a noise and thrust himself away.
Ardbur was quick to follow. He pounced on Belethor like a sabre cat, holding the other man’s wrists and straddling his hips. As they pressed together, a groan escaped the shopkeeper’s lips. “A change of heart, Belethor?” Ardbur whispered as flesh slid against flesh.
“No,” the shopkeeper gasped. “I’m not afraid.”
“Faas,” Ardbur whispered, staring into the other man’s eyes. The shout of dismay, the shout of terror.
Fear clutched Belethor’s heart and warred with his desire. When Ardbur broke his gaze, the fear disappeared, leaving Belethor panting and angry. “Speak magic all you want,” he said hoarsely. “I may have nightmares, but if you expect me to flee from my own home, you’re out of luck.”
“Mm,” was Ardbur’s only reply. The dragonborn dipped his head and nipped at Belethor’s lips. He ground against him again, inspiring a coil of heat to lash through the merchant’s belly. Ardbur reached down between their bodies and wrapped a hand around both of them, squeezing.
The dragonborn’s hand pumped them both. The entire situation was unreal to the merchant. A hot wave of want stole the air from Belethor’s lungs. Breathing heavily, he arched his hips, grinding upwards in time with each stroke.
The dragonborn’s breaths spilled over the shopkeeper’s face. Belethor saw the need whirling in the larger man’s eyes. He bit down on the dragonborn’s bottom lip until he tasted blood. Ardbur groaned. A dangerous spark leapt into his gaze. He crushed his lips over the shopkeeper’s, tongue plunging into his mouth.