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“Don’t Shoot the Messenger” F!DB/Ulfric, Part 7c

[(Anonymous)]

Jaenna assumed that the leader of the Stormcloaks was very busy, because she didn’t see him all day. She’d hoped he’d venture up to her room while she bathed, but had been disappointed. When she returned downstairs, Jaenna noticed the soldiers that came and went from the war room and knew better than to disturb the Jarl.

After dinner, the dragonborn prowled up to his room with every intention of demanding what was going on.

When she entered his room, she spied the man seated at a table, staring off into space. He blinked and turned towards her at the sound of her footfalls. He had an unreadable look on his face.

Jaenna closed the door and watched him for a long moment. She suddenly didn’t feel like interrogating him after all. Eyes hot, she strode forward and leaned down to kiss him. He grabbed her face and rose out of his chair, causing it to teeter dangerously. Kissing her hungrily, he pushed her towards his bed.

Air whooshed out of Jaenna’s lungs as her back hit the mattress. Ulfric climbed on top of her, his hands roaming over her body. She reached up and began tugging at his armour. He helped her toss it off, and then threw aside his shirt.

Jaenna stretched up to kiss his chest, tasting his skin. Ulfric growled softly and pushed her back down, his lips travelling down her jaw to her neck and sucking gently at her pulse. The dragonborn let out a soft moan, her fingers fiddling with his belt.

“Please,” she whispered. “No tricks. I want you now.”

He leaned back and she worked on unbuckling his belt while he snapped open her shirt, sending buttons skipping across the floor. Jaenna was beyond caring; they weren’t her clothes, anyway. Her gaze locked with the Jarl’s, and she grabbed his broad shoulders to pull him down on top of her.

His breaths came fast by her ear. He supported himself on one elbow and jerked down his pants, kicking them off while Jaenna wriggled out of her own trousers. The man pushed one knee between her thighs and Jaenna willingly opened up to him, her breaths rushing in needy gasps.

Ulfric plunged into her. Jaenna cried out, clutching him, fingernails digging into his back. He withdrew slowly, and then thrust into her again. One hand squeezed her breast before trailing down her side as he began rapidly pumping in and out.

His hand curved down over her buttocks and then glided up her thigh. His fingers wrapped around the back of her knee forced it up to her chest. Jaenna let out a breathless whimper. His soft grunts grew more heated and uneven. Jaenna became aware that she was keening – it was a needy, desperate keening. One of her hands went to his hip, encouraging him, needing to feel his body meeting hers with aggression. Reminding her that he was still alive.

The bed shook, their bodies writhing against each other. Ulfric gasped and convulsed, a shudder rippling through his muscles. His jaw tight, he continued to thrust into her, one hand moving south. His thumb rolled over her clit. Jaenna cried out and arched her back. He took the opportunity to kiss her breasts while his hands did wonderful things in time with his cock.

In seconds, Jaenna’s orgasm overtook her like a wave, crashing through her and obliterating her mind. She collapsed beneath him, panting, her head rolling listlessly on the pillow. Ulfric pulled out and lay beside her, his own breathing harsh.

“Jaenna,” he panted. “You are free.”

Still staring listlessly at the ceiling, she didn’t understand him. “What?”

He rolled to face her, shaking her shoulder lightly. “I release you from your oaths. You may leave the Palace of the Kings whenever you desire.”

Jaenna stared at him in consternation. “Why?”

Rather than answering, the Jarl got out of bed and went to his door. Opening it a crack, he called to the guards in the hallway. “Notify the others that the dragonborn is to be given free passage from the palace.”