Warning: May not be suitable for the less mature reader.
Today is a great one for me and not because it’s Christmas, although that’s not bad too. No today was the day (well last night to be precise) I received my first little piece of fan art. Words simply can not express how chuffed I was when I first read this, it hits the nail on the head in so many ways. It’s a wee spin-off written by a dear fan of Adrian’s, by the name of Karla C. Agate. I think it shows a both a great understanding of the characters and great writing talent and I simply can not stop reading it! Anyway enough prattling from me, here it is, enjoy!
P.S. Merry Christmas, I hope you get tons of deodorant and socks and shit…
Faendal left Adrian just outside of Whiterun with a clap on the shoulder and a shake of the head. Their hunting trip had been successful. To hear Faendal hear it, it was immensely successful for Adrian, but the Imperial was still feeling a little guilty about his tryst with Mariah. Intellectually, he knew he had done nothing wrong but emotionally, he felt that he should have stayed, if not faithful then focused. Faendal continued to be baffled by this, but assured his friend, yet again, that he did nothing wrong.
“Go fix her a nice roast leg of goat,” he said. “I know the way back to Riverwood.”
Adrian was reluctant at first, but relented and made his way up the path and through Whiterun’s gate. The city, he observed, seemed far more energetic than usual although he could not imagine why. He found Carlotta closing up her vegetable stall and from her he learned that Ysolda would be traveling with R’isaad’s caravan for several days, although Carlotta reassured him that she would be back soon. Adrian found himself relieved but he wasn’t sure why. When he thought of her, how soft her pale skin looked by candlelight, her dark eyes that were somehow both soulful and inquisitive, and that collarbone, that perfect collarbone he wanted trail his mouth across and down and—He cut his thoughts short.
Clearly, his relief was not borne from a sudden disinterest. He just needed a day or so to shake that sting—that uncomfortable guilty twinge in his chest. It was getting late and he was tired. Rather than attempt to catch up to Faendal, he made his way over to the Drunken Huntsman.
The Drunken Huntsman was packed. Well, not really. But it was considerably busier than normal and it was certainly not the ambiance he was seeking. He shook his head in annoyance but as he turned to leave, he heard someone calling his name.
“Adrian.” Jenassa’s tone was curt, as it always was. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I can’t be around this many people tonight,” he explained. “I was just going to leave…why is it so crowded?”
“Some wee Breton killed a dragon and ate its heart, Balgruuf made her Thane and everyone’s celebrating.”
Adrian furrowed his brow but before he could respond, Jenassa pressed a room key into his hand. “Let’s just drink in my room tonight. Go get settled and I’ll get us some brandy.”
He walked back to the bedroom and quickly changed into a pair of wool trousers and a tunic that he had packed in the bottom of his satchel. He glanced quickly around the bedroom; it was spotless and completely devoid of, well just about anything that might give him more insight into the taciturn Dunmer warrior who apparently considered him friend enough to drink in her private quarters. He might have thought the invitation strange, but yet, it was not. If they had nothing else in common, their common aversion to Nord revelry would logically throw them together.
He was startled and jumped as she slammed the door shut when she returned. She laughed at him and put several bottles, tankards, and goblets on the side table by the bed.
“Help yourself,” she said, opening the wardrobe. As he sat on the bed and poured himself a drink, he could hear her shuffling around and she emerged wearing wool breeches and a loose linen shirt. Adrian had taken a shot-sized swallow of brandy and nearly choked on the ale chaser when he saw her. Without her armor, she looked absolutely bizarre—almost naked, despite the fact that she was clearly wearing clothing.
“Yeah, it feels strange as well,” she said, as if she could read his mind.
“You had a good week,” he said, gesturing toward the spread.
“I did,” she replied. She poured herself a goblet of brandy and held up a deck of cards. “Rummy?” Adrian nodded and she dealt the first hand.
Jenassa recounted her most recent contract. One journey, two days, and three clients who eagerly paid her full fee individually. “They didn’t even attempt to haggle.” She snorted and shook her head. “I love stupid, rich adventurers.”
They played several more hands and Adrian could feel himself getting increasingly intoxicated, although he did a better job this time of pacing himself for fear she would turn him out to sleep in the moat again, just for her own entertainment. After about two hours she cleared the bottles and cups and said she would return with some water. Adrian leaned back against the head of the bed and let his thoughts wander to Mariah and Ysolda. The pang of guilt was still nagging him.
“What’s on your mind?” Jenassa once again startled him when she game back in the room. “Don’t get up,” she said as she brought a chair over to the bed. She sat down and brought her foot up to rest on the edge of the bed. Adrian looked at her and then laid back again, crossing his arms behind his head and pulling his feet up.
“I took your advice,” he said. “I met someone on my hunting trip. And I…well, I got what I wanted and then got out.” He sighed and closed his eyes, suddenly regretting sharing this. Within moments, she would sense his regret and probably mock him relentlessly. He sighed.
But she didn’t mock him; she just looked at him intently. “Do you feel bad about this? Because of Ysolda?”
“A little,” he responded. “I suppose you think that’s incredibly stupid.” He looked back at her and awaited her ridicule.
“Perhaps,” she said without a trace of derision in her voice, which surprised him. She crossed her arms and continued to study his face. “Ysolda is the first woman you’ve felt any affection for in a very long time, no?”
He nodded slowly and swallowed. That twinge was still there, although having Jenassa affirm his feelings lessened it considerably.
“I probably do not need to tell you this, but you didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve been wandering a long time Adrian.” She took a gulp of water before continuing. “Since it’s been so long since you’ve felt this way, you’re bound to place a disproportionate amount of importance on a single date, a single kiss.” Her tone betrayed some scorn, but it was carefully directed, not at Adrian, but at the concept of affection more generally.
Her words made sense and a surprisingly comfortable silence settled in between them. She understood, even if the notion of long-term romantic attachments baffled her. Adrian stretched and closed his eyes again. “It’s getting late. I’ll be out of your way soon,” he assured her.
She grinned and waved this suggestion away. “Have a nap if you want. I’m not going to bed any time soon. I only sleep for about two hours every night anyway.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Adrian laughed and reached up to scratch his chest, exposing his stomach as his wrist caught his tunic. Jenassa caught a glance of the hard muscles of his abdomen and raised her eyebrows. Most of the Imperials she met came across as soft. Even the tougher ones, the soldiers, seemed a little pudgy around the middle.
“You know,” she said. “I suspect it’s not really guilt you feel, but fear.” With that, she kneed up onto the bed, threw her leg over, and straddled him. She leaned up at first, so that her bottom was just barely grazing his pelvic area.
Adrian’s eyes widened and he gasped. When he looked up at her, their eyes locked. Her expression was not one of seduction or passion. It was her typical stern and fierce countenance and he found himself a little frightened but also incredibly curious about her intentions. She smirked and lowered herself, grinding her firm backside into him as her fingers crept up under his tunic, massaging and squeezing as she explored. Her pinches hurt, but he didn’t mind. His initial trepidation was giving way now to unadulterated lust. Thoughts of Mariah and Ysolda left his mind. All he could think about was how much he wanted to fuck the Dunmer warrior on top of him.
Jenassa leaned back up and yanked her shirt off. As he imagined, there was not an ounce of fat on her body. She was pure, lean muscle. She wore no brassiere and her breasts were small and perky. He yanked himself upright, grabbing her ass and keeping her perfectly positioned against his now rock-hard manhood. She grunted as she pulled his shirt off and leaned up. His mouth found its way to first her neck, then her collarbone, and finally her tits—her dark grey, almost black, nipples were hard and he bit and sucked as she dug her fingers into his back.
She pulled away very suddenly and Adrian briefly wondered if that was her game, to torment him by getting him all riled up and then—but it wasn’t. She pulled him to his knees and undid his pants, exposing him. She cocked her head and nodded approvingly before she pushed him back and yanked his trousers completely off. She scrambled out of her own pants and underclothes before she kneed up and straddled him again.
Adrian groaned and gasped as she took his cock in his hand, stroking him slowly and deliberately. He clutched the bottom of her thighs and groped her bottom, pulling her closer. She leaned forward, positioning herself so that the tip of his cock was just lightly pressed against her folds. She remained still for a moment before bringing his hand up and directing his fingers to her nub. She pulled forward to give him room to explore and he easily slipped a couple of fingers inside while he worked her clit with his thumb. Until this point she had been quiet, barely a heaving breath escaped her. Now she let out a low moan.
She pulled back and again, pressed his cock against her, this time taking his length in completely. Adrian let out a loud grunt when their bodies met. She felt so good. She was wet and tight and he lost himself in mindless passion as she rode him fervently. He grabbed her hips and thrust into her as hard as he could. Jenassa moans soon gave way to louder cries of pleasure. “Oh gods…oh please…” she cried. “Gods…I’m coming …Adrian…I’m coming!” She arched her back and let out another cry as she climaxed. Adrian had been barely holding it in and hearing Jenassa call out his name sent him hurtling over the edge. He gave one final thrust and, grunting through clenched teeth, he came hard inside her.
Jenassa rolled off him and stood up, gathering her clothes and dressing. She looked utterly serious, almost as if nothing had just occurred. Adrian just lay there, muscles quivering, as he caught his breath. He let his thoughts wander to Mariah and Ysolda. This time there was no twinge, no guilt. He felt oddly at peace with what just happened and wondered if tomorrow’s hangover would be accompanied by self-loathing. But he was sobering up. Would he be consumed by regret later? What would it mean if he wasn’t? He was thinking about this as he found his clothing strewn around the bed.
“Well,” said Jenassa, interrupting his thoughts. “That wasn’t too shoddy. Now, having sown your wild oats all over Skyrim, you can settle down with Ysolda.” She reached up and pinched his nipple through his shirt. He flinched and she continued. “Go to sleep. I’m going to get another drink and you look beat.”
He nodded and leaned back. He was fairly exhausted. As he drifted off into sleep, he thought over what she said. There was a twisted logic to it. In any case, he found himself excited at the prospect of seeing Ysolda soon. And there would be no guilt and regret. That baggage was gone.