Work Header

Captain's Orders

Work Text:

There was much distress in the castle of the jarl, stomping and thumping echoing through the halls. A thief had escaped from the dungeons during the night and she had to be found. At sunrise, the captain of the guard had given instructions to search the entire city until the thief had been caught. He reckoned it would not be hard to find a girl with bright red hair clad in green rags.

As it turned out, he had been wrong. The guards were looking still, as they had been all morning, but no sign of the thief had been reported. Jarl Ylfing, assuming the thief was already far from Fornsigtuna by that point, saw no reason to continue the search. A thief ought to be punished for their crimes, yes, but the girl had not succeeded in stealing from him, he had said. Nevertheless, Snorri kept sending the guards away from the dungeons. They were not to return until they had at least found a trace of the thief. The captain would be waiting for them.

And so Snorri stayed behind at the castle while the search continued. Sitting at his desk by the entrance of the dungeons, he kept an eye on the stairway. Well, that was the plan anyway. He could not stop his gaze from wandering downwards more than once. What could be seen in the shadows under his desk was fascinating, but it would be in his best interest to leave it alone. He needed to make sure no one escaped his attention. Distractions, alluring as they may be, were unacceptable.

The persistence of the captain of the guard was praised, said to be an act of limitless loyalty. In truth, he was not all that honorable. Snorri did not care about getting the girl back to her prison cell. He had sent the guards out for more selfish reasons, or one reason in particular: to get a bit of privacy. Not that the dungeons were the place to expect any privacy as anyone with the right to roam the castle could walk in and out as they pleased, but not having people constantly breathing down his neck was a noteworthy improvement.

Ironically, someone was breathing down elsewhere on his body—a cunning young woman with a taste for adventure, to be exact. It appeared she had a taste for other things as well. Being the gentleman that he was, Snorri permitted her to quench her thirst (literally and figuratively, he later realized). When she had come to him and dropped to her knees, he had remained seated, waiting with patience. The wait had not been long though, as the woman's hands worked with impressive dexterity. That was to be expected from a rogue.

Ylva was her name, if Snorri recalled correctly. Though they had met before, he never really cared to get better acquainted. Therefore, Snorri could only guess that the rogue's direct (and indecent) approach was a tactical move on her part. He already had a sneaking suspicion that someone had helped the thief escape after the cell keys had gone missing, but no punishment could be given without evidence of her involvement.

Regardless of whatever crimes Ylva may or may not have committed, it was clear as day that innocence was not in her nature. Snorri could see it in the way her eyes shifted to look right at him while her mouth and her hand were on his most intimate parts. Her fingers locked around him like a ring, not awfully tight yet enough so to make him feel the pressure. The leather of her glove was smooth and rough at the same time—a sensation he was not accustomed to, but did not mind either.

At a sudden, fast tug of her hand, his breath hitched and the eye contact was broken for no more than a second. Ylva made no sound, but Snorri felt her lips twitch around him as a reaction. For a woman on her knees, she seemed confident, not at all threatened by the position she was in. She must have known she was in control so long as they both stayed where they were.

Snorri could have overthrown her simply by alerting the guards to her presence, had he had any intention of doing so. The Jarl distrusted those who attempted to seduce his guards, and he would trust the word of the esteemed captain of the guard over that of a rogue with a dubious reputation. In that regard, Snorri had the high ground.

It would not benefit him in this case, however. Ylva had him where she wanted him, but that feeling was entirely mutual. She had gone through all the trouble just to fit herself under his desk and with that she had crawled right into a trap. The back of the desk was sealed off by a wooden panel, so the only escape route was blocked off by the legs on either side of her. She could not leave until Snorri allowed it.

He had no intention of letting her go until she finished what she had started, but judging from the persistent movements of her hand she was not planning her escape. Her mouth inched down until it could go no further, and then back up. She moved her tongue around in lazy circles, working with different angles. Within cool blue of her irises flickered the orange of the torches on the wall behind Snorri; it was as though the fire was burning in her eyes. That image was enough to instill intrusive thoughts into the mind of any man.

Lust threatened to get the upper hand, planting ideas that encouraged Snorri to let go of his inhibitions and do whatever he pleased. Feeling that he was close to succumb to it, the captain of the guard began to search his desk for something to keep him occupied. The drawer would open just far enough to show its contents, which were some documents, an inkpot and quill, and a single silver coin. Apparently, the escaped thief had taken the liberty to fill her pockets before disappearing into the night. She must have missed that one coin in her haste.

Or maybe... the money ended up in someone else's pockets. 

His gaze landed to Ylva. That was a mistake. As soon as she caught him staring, her tongue froze in her mouth and she swallowed him to the base, only two fingers still holding him in place. Her hair slid off her shoulders, swinging back and forth as her movements became fast and shallow, urgent even.

Snorri dug his nails into the top of the desk, a groan rumbling behind his sealed lips. By Odin's beard, what was that woman trying to put him through? He let one of his hands glide across the wood towards himself… and into the drawer. The initial plan for action had been different, but he had changed the course right before his hand reached the edge. Rational decisions were the only thing that could save his reputation.

He grabbed the documents and laid them out in front of him before closing the drawer again. They were records of every person who had ever been locked up and the possessions that had been confiscated. Having written the documents himself, Snorri knew that Ylva’s name was not on there, although he was becoming more convinced with each passing moment that it should be.

Every time a thought of the woman under his desk crossed his mind, Snorri automatically looked down again. He had to stop doing that. At the very least, he should pretend to be checking the records so no one would question him for loafing around. Bringing his gaze back to the records, he started to read them. The only name he had written down since the beginning of the Fimbulwinter was Kraka, which, according to Ylva, was the name of the thief that had recently escaped. The fact that they knew each other was another reason to be suspicious of Ylva.

He suppressed a sigh as his eyes wandered. This was going to be harder than he thought. Ignoring the visuals did not prove easy, but that was not the worst part. No, the worst part was the warmth on his shaft and the friction of the leather that diminished his ability to concentrate. The only consolation was that his climax was fast approaching.

As Snorri braced himself, the thumping of boots echoed through the halls. Louder it grew, as did the thoughts of great urgency that came up.

Good gods, please hurry up.

But the rogue did the opposite. Her mouth released him as her fingers locked around the base with brutal tightness. Snorri winced at the quick pain he felt from being denied his release. He glared down at her, but all she did was give him a blank stare as one corner of her mouth twitched.

Someone was making their way down to the dungeons. The steps they took were too slow. There would have been plenty of time for Ylva to finish it had she not stopped mere seconds before the end, and the knowledge of that fueled Snorri’s anger further. He was tempted to grab a fistful of her hair and force himself down her throat. How satisfying it would have been to hear her gag as he punished her for the disrespect she showed him, but that satisfaction had to wait. The guard entered the dungeons.

“Sir, we’ve found something just outside the city gates. We believe it might belong to the thief.” He held out his hand to show Snorri a scrap of torn, green fabric. The thief had been wearing a cloak in the same color, which had looked worn and dirty.

Snorri tried his hardest not to react to the tongue licking up his length. “Were there any tracks around there?”

“I’m afraid the heavy snowfall has already concealed them. Should we continue our search farther away from the city?”

“I doubt there would be much point in that. The thief could not have gotten past the avalanche and the forest is too big to cover in one day. Perhaps one of the jarl’s hunting dogs can pick up the thief’s smell.”

The tongue reached the tip and was replaced by lips locking around the head. Snorri folded his arms on the desk, pushing the documents away from him, and clasped his elbows with opposite hands. His fingertips pressed into his skin hard.

Curse this temptress.

“Should we not ask permission from Jarl Ylfing first?” the guard asked.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Those dogs were bred to run for hours, so they shouldn’t be kept within the city walls for too long.”

Ylva hollowed her cheeks as she lowered down once more, increasing the suction. If it were not for her fingers around the base, that could have made Snorri lose it. She was playing a dangerous game with unprecedented caution.

“I understand sir, but could you go ask him? He may not be happy with the idea of his dogs going through the forest in the dead of winter.”

Who cares? Just leave already!

“I need to stay here in case the others return, so you will have to go yourself.” He closed his mouth before a groan could escape, and then added: “Tell Jarl Ylfing I sent you.”

“Very well. We will report back as soon as possible.”

Snorri only nodded, not trusting himself to speak anymore. His gaze followed the guard walking back to the stairs, watching the man until he had disappeared from sight at last. Once the sound of footsteps had died down, he turned his attention back to the woman between his legs. Her eyes, glinting in the faint light, stared at him with unfitting innocence.

He reached his hand under the desk and rested it on her head, fighting the urge to thrust into her mouth.

“You'd better be quick about it.”