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“Even the Dragonborn Can Bleed” Belethor/M!DB, 3b/?

[(Anonymous)]

Belethor’s throat bobbed. The man straightened his spine. He walked past the dragonborn and moved behind the counter. Ardbur turned his head to watch the man bend to open his strongbox.

“Here,” Belethor said, voice rough. He tossed the dragonborn a heavy purse.

Ardbur weighed the gold in the palm of his hand. Belethor reached for the sword, but the dragonborn clapped his hand down on the flat of the blade, pinning it against the counter. “Hold on,” Ardbur said. “After seeing what I did to those bandits, you still try to cheat me?” He raised his eyebrows and watched the shopkeeper, his eyes betraying a newfound respect.

Belethor met his gaze evenly. “This is a business relationship,” he replied. “I’m not your housecarl, to take orders from you.” Grasping the sword hilt firmly, he pulled the blade off the counter.

Ardbur hissed as the edge cut into his palm. He retracted his hand. Belethor, uncaring, set the sword on the weapons rack behind the counter.

The merchant turned back to the dragonborn, folding his arms over his chest. “It’s late,” he said. “If you want to make any other transactions, come back in the morning.”

Ardbur studied his bleeding palm. The cut was not too deep. Red welled in the rough crevices of his hand. He lifted the laceration to his lips, dulling the sting. “You made me bleed,” he said, softly.

Belethor scowled. “And the sight of you this late at night is making my eyes bleed,” he said. “Off with you.”

Without warning, Ardbur stepped forward and shoved Belethor backwards. The man’s body crashed against the wall, rattling the bookcases. The dragonborn clamped his hand around the merchant’s arm. “I like you, Belethor,” Ardbur whispered near the man’s ear. “Will you make me regret rescuing you?”

Belethor’s breath hitched. His heart began to race, fear pumping through his veins. Warmth from Ardbur’s bleeding palm soaked into the arm of Belethor’s shirt.

The dragonborn backed away so he could face the other Breton. “You said I should loosen up a little, right?” Ardbur’s eyes flashed. He reached forward with his other hand and ripped the front of the merchant’s shirt open. Buttons flew across the room.

Belethor made a strangled noise. He couldn’t tell if the dragonborn intended to kill him or seduce him.

Ardbur flattened his hand against the shopkeeper’s healed chest. His palm drifted lower. “Tell me, are you thankful that I rescued you? You told me you weren’t.” The dragonborn’s deep voice tickled his ear. “Does that mean you enjoyed being kidnapped? Being taken?”

“No,” Belethor bit out. “Nothing like that. Of course I’m grateful. Those bandits would have trussed me up like a pig and slit my throat.”

“Grateful, are you? Yet I feel your heart fluttering.” It was as if the dragonborn could smell Belethor’s distress. “Prove your gratitude,” Ardbur challenged. “And prove that you still have no fear of me.”

The shopkeeper released a shaky breath. This sounded like a bargain. That was something the man could understand. He considered his next move, the one that would prove most profitable. Despite Ardbur’s forthrightness, there was an unspoken need in the dragonborn’s voice that Belethor would have to address.