Chapter 32: Way of the Voice: Part 1
The air in the room was still, thick with warmth of lingering fire and the scent of lavender and alcohol. Faint candlelight flickered against the stone walls, casting slow, golden shadows across the bed.
Darius stirred. A soft breath escaped his lips as his body shifted beneath the furs. Sleep clung to his limbs like a heavy cloak, but something else began to pull him from its hold, a sensation low, and unmistakable, gentle yet firm, stirring the heat below.
His brow furrowed faintly, then smoothed.
Beneath the furs, something moved. No, someone.
The sheets rustled against his thighs. He blinked into the warm darkness, breath catching as he felt unmistakable press of lips, not against his mouth, but lower, hidden from the candlelight.
"Irileth…" he breathed, the name barely a whisper on his tongue.
She didn't respond, at least not with words.
The sensation deepened, her movement patient, deliberate, as if training. The furs shifted with each subtle motion, and his fingers clenched at the edge of the sheet, he pulled it off, revealing Irleth, her scarlet hair fell across her face like a veil.
Both her hands were around his shaft, her head bobbing up and down in slow, cautious pace. Her lips wrapped around his length.
Her bare hips were raised behind her as she knelt between his legs.
He grunted as pleasure overtook him, she tried to swallow it down, but failed as a thin trail leaked from the corner of her lips.
She stayed there a moment longer, licking him clean. When when she finally rose, the candlelight caught her ashen skin. Her bare breasts rose and fell from the sudden movement, a smile forming on her lips.
"What was that for?" He asked.
She smirked, wiping the corner of her mouth with back of her hand. "You look like you needed help waking up." Then she fell forward, burying her face in his chest, hiding the blush rising in her cheeks.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, he pressed a kiss on her forehead, and they stayed like that for a few more minutes.
***
Knock! Knock!
My eyes blinked oopen. The sound came again—firm, urgent.
Beside me, Irileth stirred with a groggy sigh, her face half-buried in the crook of my shoulder. We had fallen asleep again.
"Is it time for work?" I asked, voice thick with sleep.
She gave a small, reluctant nod, her eyes still closed. She didn't move.
I twisted slowly, climbing on top of her, my body pressed against hers—naked, warm, her skin flushed from the shared heat of our night. I kissed her lips, linger there just a breath longer than necessary, before pulling back and slipping off the bed.
"Already?" Irileth asked, her voice low, roughened from sleep.
I smiled—bitter, amused. "Can't have the Greybeard waiting anymore than I already have, and it won't be long before I'm back."
She exhaled quietly, and I tugged my pants on. Before stepping away, I gently pulled the furs up to cover her body, tucking them around her like a secret.
Then I opened the door.
Outside stood Lydia.
"My Thane—" she began, but then paused, eyes widening.
Her gaze drifted across my bare chest, then to Irlleth reclining behind me on the bed the furs only half-hiding her. She looked away sharply, her face coloring.
"I apologize. I'll come back later."
"Wait." I caught her wrist before she turned. My grip firm but not harsh.
She looked down, startledm watching my hand on her skin. How strong is he? She wondered, unable to move. Her eyes met mine again.
"What is it?"
Lydia hesitated, eyes briefly flicking back to the bed before she caught herself. "Just… wondering when we'll be leaving," she said, steadier now. "I've almost finished packing."
I released her wrist.
"Bring your gear here. We're leaving in ten minutes."
She nodded and stepped away, boots echoing down the corridor.
I shut the door and turned back.
Irileth was out of bed now, standing naked in the candlelight, gathering her clothes from the floor. Her skin glowed, a pale, silken ash.
I stepped closer.
"Ahem… can you help me?" I asked.
She glanced at me, brow raised. "With what?"
I leaned into her,, pressing her gently against the wall. "I'm still in need of waking up."
She blinked, cheeks turning pink. But her found me easily. Soft fingers wrapped around the length of my cock, stroking slow, deliberate.
My own hand slid along the curve of her hip, between her thighs, to her core. She gasped softly as I explored her folds, already warm, already welcoming. Her breath caught as i ventured deeper, and a moan slipped past her lips as her head tilted back.
I kissed her. First her lips, then her jaw, then down the graceful line of her neck.
When she was ready, I aligned myself with her entrance.
Slowly carefully, I pushed into her.
Her body tensed with breathless moan, walls tightening around me. She clung to my shoulders, her legs quivering with each inch I filled her. I held her up, hands under her thighs as her back arched, pressing herself deeper again me.
"Aaahn—! Darius…" she moaned, voice shaky and arching, filled with need.
Each thrust sent tremor rippling through her body. She bit down on my shoulder to keep from crying out loud. Her rhythm matched mine, urgent, rising and breathless. We moved together, as if the rest of the world didn't exist.
Her nails dug into my back. I felt her tremble, her voice cracking into a moan as the climax took her, legs locking around me, her body pulling me deeper.
My release followed moments later, pouring into her, flooding her warmth with mine. Her breath hitched again, and she buried her face in chest, arms wrapped tight around my neck.
We stayed like that for a moment, pressed close, skin to skin, still trembling.
***
By the time I opened the door again, I was in wearing my normal clothes, a white shirt, Gerdur had given me, and brown pants. Inside, Irileth lay sprawled on the bed, half-curled beneath the sheet, her body slicked with sweat, still twitching lightly, her breath uneven.
Lydia stood at the door, trying very hard not to look directly at me. Her cheeks were bright red.
She had been there long enough to hear what happened.
I said nothing. Just looked at the pack by her feet, touched it, and with a faint shimmer it disappeared into my inventory.
That jolted her out of her fluster. She looked up at me—startled, embarrassed, and slightly impressed.
Then she exhaled, steadying herself.
I smirked faintly
"Shall we?"
.
.
We exited the empty hall. The air crisp with morning chill, and the sun had barely crested over the eastern hills. The nobles—Balgruuf, Hrongar, Proventus, would still be in thier chambers, likely nursing whatever mead-drenched dreams plagued tham at dawn, or nightmares.
Our boots echoed on wood bridge that stood over the reflecting pool, just outside Dargonsreash, and past the archway, stood a familiar figure.
Uthgerd.
Her posture was different now, no longer puffed up with pride and arrogance like the night before. She stood tall, composed, her arms loosely folded across her chest, chin lifted slightly, eyes steady. A warrior's bearing. There was no mockery in her gaze this time—only calm respect.
Lydia stood beside me, her eyes narrowing as Uthgerd took a step forward, she remembered Irileth's words very well.
"What are you doing here?" Lydia asked, voice edged with caution.
Uthgerd's gaze flicked briefly to her but then settled on me. "I'm here to keep my promise," she said simply, her tone lacking bravado, but not strength.
I raised an eyebrow, "Promise?" I muttered, What is she talking about?
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