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Blood painted the stone streets of Markarth as Ulfric Stormcloak and his men slashed their way through the occupying Forsworn. It was a difficult battle. The Forsworn mages spelled trouble for the Nord militia, who lacked protective amulets and potions. But through will and brutality, Ulfric’s men drove out the Reachmen who had taken refuge in the city amidst the chaos of the war.
It was high noon when the swell of battle began to die down. Ulfric ordered his men to start cleaning up Markarth, which involved slaughtering the captured Forsworn and looting houses and shops. The leader himself was taking a moment of respite on the throne deep in Understone Keep.
A few of the militia men entered the throne room dragging one of the Forsworn to Ulfric. He looked about the age of their youngest recruits, with a clean-shaven face and narrow brown eyes. He had green warpaint on his high cheekbones and more on his chest that formed a handsome T-shape across his pectorals. His furs were bloody and torn; a necklace of saber cat teeth dangled from his neck. He was thrashing in the arms of his captors, pulling against the binds they had secured around his wrists.
“We found him, milord. The one that’s been killing off the best of us.”
Ulfric chuckled.
“This pup? We’re going to need better men.”
“He’s been using magic, sire. We gave him some spriggan sap to keep him from shocking us, but I don’t know how long it will last.”
The boy’s eyes were full of life. Ulfric could feel his energy from across the room, the hatred and heat from his body. He had once been in the same position, a captive of the Aldmeri Dominion.
“Leave him to me. Clear the room.” Ulfric said. In the stone keep, his low voice filled every inch of space. His men did as he asked, dropping their tight grip on their prisoner. Their gloves had left red marks on his skin. Ulfric stepped forward to regard the Forsworn.
“What’s your name, Reachman?”
He was silent. He was no longer struggling with his bindings. Ulfric pulled a dagger from his belt and slid the blunt end along his chest, stopping in between his collarbones. He didn’t apply pressure; it was a slow, lazy movement. Then, he flipped the dagger in his hand and sliced off the amulet the boy was wearing. It clattered to the ground.
“Odhran.”
“A lot of women will be in mourning because of what you did today. Many fatherless children running about because of your little spells and spiky knives.”
“And you cannot say the same?”
Odhran’s eyes flashed up to meet Ulfric’s, daring to meet his gaze.
“Of course I can. I’ve killed hundreds of men. But you’re young. And I want you to know that when you kill, the violence will always follow you. Do you understand?”
Ulfric kept the dagger on his body. He dragged it down the boy’s chest and belly, slicing through the furs that covered his lower half. They formed a soft, careful pile on the stone. Ulfric watched the rise and fall of Odhran’s chest quicken as he was exposed in front of his captor.
The young Forsworn was quite the victor’s treat. He was well-built, his slim frame packed with muscle. He had a firm stomach, the slight indentations of his abdominal muscles proving his training.
“I understand,” Odhran said.
Ulfric was already hard. In fact, he had been since he saw the fire in the boy’s eye, the initial spark of anger. He knew it would make having him all the more pleasurable.
“Good. I have more lessons to teach you yet. Get on your knees.”
Odhran glared at Ulfric. He shuddered at the cool air of the keep, pulled at his bindings. But he didn’t kneel. Ulfric undid his own belt and let his breeches join Odhran’s furs on the floor.
“Come on. Don’t make me force you.”
Slowly, Odhran kneeled. He didn’t peel his eyes off of Ulfric’s, even as he looked up at the older man. The sight of his cock hanging in Odhran’s face made Ulfric throb with want, but he drew out the moment, putting his big, rough hand on Odhran’s cheek. He took hold of his jaw and opened his lips to slide his thumb into his mouth.
“Haven’t had one like you in a while, boy. I like you. You’re strong. I can feel it.”
Odhran was slick and wet and Ulfric couldn’t wait any longer. He tapped his cock against his lips, gathering the wetness there, then slid in the head. Immediately, he felt the warmth of the younger man’s mouth. Odhran didn’t open his mouth wider in an act of defiance, but it meant there was more pressure around Ulfric’s dick, easier to fuck his throat. Ulfric put his hand on the back of Odhran’s head, feeling the short hairs at the back of his neck tickle his palm, the heavy weight of his skull. With the leverage, he pushed himself further down the Forsworn’s throat.
Ulfric set a steady motion, rocking into Odhran’s mouth and savoring the feeling. His prisoner was still on the ground, letting the bigger man use him. Ulfric noticed he had shut his eyes.
“Look at me. That’s right. I want to see that fire in your eye.”
His eyes snapped open just as Ulfric felt teeth close around his length. He shouted in pain, lifting Odhran off his cock. Instinctively, he hit the boy on the cheek with an open hand. It was enough to draw noise out of Odhran, a sharp whine that made Ulfric’s arousal only grow.
“Ingrate,” he hissed, his voice gravelly and bitter. But he had convinced himself that he had succeeded in breaking in the young Forsworn, that the bite was not an attack but simply a sign of obedience. Ulfric wanted the fire. Odhran was showing him he understood.
Ulfric yanked on his bicep and forced him to stand. He turned him around and studied his backside, the lean muscle of his back and the modest swell of his ass. There were scars across his shoulders that looked like old lashings, a shallow laceration on his left hip that looked like it might’ve been awarded to him today. Ulfric pressed his body against Odhran’s. His hard cock reached the lowest point of his back.
“I’ll see to it that you become more appreciative,” Ulfric said. His beard tickled Odhran’s neck. He ran his hand along his spine, making him shudder involuntarily. “Your kind aren’t known for their manners.”
“Neither are yours, Nord.”
Ulfric stepped back and laughed. He liked the sound of the Forsworn’s voice, full of pride and vigor and bloodlust. It rang clear as a bell in the dank keep, his Western accent giving hints to his Breton heritage as a Reachman.
“Maybe not. But we aren’t feral. Not like you.”
Ulfric sat on the throne and put his hand on the base of his cock. Then he beckoned to Odhran, coaxing him into his lap with his fingers digging into the skin of his hips. He reached in between his legs, brushing the younger man’s cock as he used his fingers to open up his hole. He was as tight as could be, a perfect virgin. Ulfric’s cock jumped. Odhran’s cock rubbed against his own as he fingered him open, and before long, the Forsworn was hard and aching for release just like his captor. Ulfric shoved his fingers into Odhran’s throat, making him gag on them for the thick spit he’d use to ease himself inside his hole.
When Ulfric pressed the head of his cock inside, he let out a groan and relaxed, sinking into the throne as Odhran rocked on top of him, making slow movements in his lap. The younger man sighed and drooped his head low. It looked as if he had finally capitulated, accepted his fate as the conquered. It was a beautiful thing to witness. Ulfric understood that form of release just as he understood the pride of being a victor.
He could feel his orgasm build. He wasn’t sure if Odhran was getting close, or if he’d come at all, but Ulfric could feel the pre-cum gathering on his hand. He rubbed the tip of the boy’s cock with his thumb, his hands calloused from axe wielding and working at the lathe. Odhran moved faster in response to Ulfric as he thrusted up inside him, filling his stretched out hole entirely.
Ulfric didn’t say anything as he came. He hardly moaned as his cock twitched inside his prisoner. Once he opened his eyes again, he was honored to behold the sight of the young Forsworn. Odhran’s hands were still bound, giving him a demure posture as he was fucked. His cock drooled against his stomach, eager for an orgasm, and the anger showed through on his face even through the haze of sex.
“Go on, Forsworn,” Ulfric said, out of breath, his hand wrapped around the younger man’s length. “Come for me.”
Odhran tried to keep his pleasure a secret, but his body exposed him. Ropes of semen shot across his chest and Ulfric’s hand. His ass tightened with his orgasm, making Ulfric feel the last aftershocks of pleasure. He shook for a moment after he was done; it looked like there was a tear shining in his eye. Ulfric brought his come-soaked hand up to the boy’s lips for him to clean. When he had licked up every drop, he held his chin in his hand, swiped his thumb across it in gentle thanks.
Once Ulfric had redressed, he brought one of his men into the room where Odhran still stood naked.
“Take this one back to the Reach camp with you for training. Get him outfitted with some armor.”
He looked over Odhran’s body as if he was picturing what he’d look like clothed, fitted in the perfect set of steel armor.
“And keep your eye on him. This one’s sharp.”