“Then again,” the Jarl continued, “I figured you would not be able to resist coming back here a third time.”
So he’d guessed what she’d been up to? Figured.
Ulfric was on the opposite side of the bed now. “You enjoy defying me when you can,” he murmured. “And you cannot resist letting me find out about your every little infraction. It must be a matter of pride.”
He was a fine one to talk! He’d been playing this little game just as much as she had. Jaenna almost snorted. She wished she could tell him how stupid he would look if a guard entered and asked who he was speaking when no one appeared to be there.
Ulfric crouched on the other side of the bed, brushing his arm beneath it to see if she hid there. Then he crawled back onto the mattress, still feeling the air with wide swishes of his arms. Jaenna swallowed as his head and reaching arm appeared into the air above her.
The Jarl hesitated. It looked as if he would turn away… then he whipped back around and extended a hand out towards her.
Jaenna yelped as his fingers closed over her shoulder. She managed to wrench away, but Ulfric leapt after her. His weight crashed into her. His arms and legs pinned her limbs. The stairs dug into her belly. She let out a hiss of pain and anger at the indignity of her situation.
“Apologies,” the man said. “But you were not exactly volunteering to acknowledge your presence.” He eased off, but refused to let go of her arm.
Jaenna stood, holding herself away from him. He might not be able to see her, but… she could see all of him. Couldn’t he have at least had the decency to put on some small clothes considering he’d practically goaded her into venturing up here to reclaim her weapon?
“What gave me away?” Jaenna asked.
“That soap you use,” the Jarl responded. He tugged her closer. “Why are you really here?”
“To get back my sword.”
The man grunted. “Why at night? I am sure there is plenty of opportunity for covert affairs during your – dare I say it? – boring daylight hours.”
It was lucky she was invisible, because Jaenna could feel a blush heating her cheeks. “It’s much more satisfying stealing from under your nose,” she offered. His astuteness was as attractive as his well-toned figure, the physique of a warrior.
“Maybe it will be just as satisfying being caught?” Ulfric suggested, pulling her even closer. His other hand ran down her back, causing her to shiver. When his hand reached the base of her spine, he pulled her body against his.
Jaenna expelled a breath at the sensation of skin on skin, at the light whisper of hair on his chest. The heat between his legs. She swallowed again. The cold silver of the key he mischievously wore around his neck burned into the skin above her breast like a brand.
Ulfric dipped his head against her hair, inhaling deeply. How strange it must be, not seeing her at all, yet feeling. “You have been troublesome, terrorizing even my staunchest warriors,” he murmured. His breath tickled her ear. “I think it is time I do something about that. I cannot have it said that I do not discipline unruly guests.”
“Guests?” Jaenna said. She leaned against his sturdy frame, considering his unspoken offer. She’d given up on politics. Who cared what the Imperial Legion thought of her now, consorting with the enemy? Who was the enemy, now, after what they’d done? “I am no guest. I am your prisoner.” She drew back and glared up into his face.
The man’s eyes gleamed, as if he could sense her gaze. “If I wanted you to be my prisoner, you would know it, dragonborn.”
“Forced guest, then,” she amended. “And I have a name. It’s Jaenna.”
Ulfric’s hand released her arm and brushed down her side until both of his hands rested on her hips. He tugged them flush against his. There was no mistaking his desire. “Jaenna,” he said, drawing out her name as if tasting it.
He lifted her and swung her onto the bed. “Even the dragonborn needs to be put in line, sometimes,” he murmured. This was followed by a chuckle. He was provoking her again, saying things he knew would make her blood boil.
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timeasmymeasure
“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 4b
Date: 2014-05-05 10:32 pm (UTC)So he’d guessed what she’d been up to? Figured.
Ulfric was on the opposite side of the bed now. “You enjoy defying me when you can,” he murmured. “And you cannot resist letting me find out about your every little infraction. It must be a matter of pride.”
He was a fine one to talk! He’d been playing this little game just as much as she had. Jaenna almost snorted. She wished she could tell him how stupid he would look if a guard entered and asked who he was speaking when no one appeared to be there.
Ulfric crouched on the other side of the bed, brushing his arm beneath it to see if she hid there. Then he crawled back onto the mattress, still feeling the air with wide swishes of his arms. Jaenna swallowed as his head and reaching arm appeared into the air above her.
The Jarl hesitated. It looked as if he would turn away… then he whipped back around and extended a hand out towards her.
Jaenna yelped as his fingers closed over her shoulder. She managed to wrench away, but Ulfric leapt after her. His weight crashed into her. His arms and legs pinned her limbs. The stairs dug into her belly. She let out a hiss of pain and anger at the indignity of her situation.
“Apologies,” the man said. “But you were not exactly volunteering to acknowledge your presence.” He eased off, but refused to let go of her arm.
Jaenna stood, holding herself away from him. He might not be able to see her, but… she could see all of him. Couldn’t he have at least had the decency to put on some small clothes considering he’d practically goaded her into venturing up here to reclaim her weapon?
“What gave me away?” Jaenna asked.
“That soap you use,” the Jarl responded. He tugged her closer. “Why are you really here?”
“To get back my sword.”
The man grunted. “Why at night? I am sure there is plenty of opportunity for covert affairs during your – dare I say it? – boring daylight hours.”
It was lucky she was invisible, because Jaenna could feel a blush heating her cheeks. “It’s much more satisfying stealing from under your nose,” she offered. His astuteness was as attractive as his well-toned figure, the physique of a warrior.
“Maybe it will be just as satisfying being caught?” Ulfric suggested, pulling her even closer. His other hand ran down her back, causing her to shiver. When his hand reached the base of her spine, he pulled her body against his.
Jaenna expelled a breath at the sensation of skin on skin, at the light whisper of hair on his chest. The heat between his legs. She swallowed again. The cold silver of the key he mischievously wore around his neck burned into the skin above her breast like a brand.
Ulfric dipped his head against her hair, inhaling deeply. How strange it must be, not seeing her at all, yet feeling. “You have been troublesome, terrorizing even my staunchest warriors,” he murmured. His breath tickled her ear. “I think it is time I do something about that. I cannot have it said that I do not discipline unruly guests.”
“Guests?” Jaenna said. She leaned against his sturdy frame, considering his unspoken offer. She’d given up on politics. Who cared what the Imperial Legion thought of her now, consorting with the enemy? Who was the enemy, now, after what they’d done? “I am no guest. I am your prisoner.” She drew back and glared up into his face.
The man’s eyes gleamed, as if he could sense her gaze. “If I wanted you to be my prisoner, you would know it, dragonborn.”
“Forced guest, then,” she amended. “And I have a name. It’s Jaenna.”
Ulfric’s hand released her arm and brushed down her side until both of his hands rested on her hips. He tugged them flush against his. There was no mistaking his desire. “Jaenna,” he said, drawing out her name as if tasting it.
He lifted her and swung her onto the bed. “Even the dragonborn needs to be put in line, sometimes,” he murmured. This was followed by a chuckle. He was provoking her again, saying things he knew would make her blood boil.