Chapter 1: The time under the stars in the snow.
The snow fell in thick, silent sheets over the Jerall Mountains, muffling the world beneath a hush of white. Forge lay sprawled beneath the vast, shared sleeping roll, his massive frame stretched out like a predator at rest. His emerald-green eyes, flecked with gold, gleamed faintly in the dim glow of the dying fire, their depths reflecting the embers’ flickering light. The scars crisscrossing his chest and arms—some old, some fresh—caught the firelight, tracing paths across his skin like constellations of his own making.
He could feel the cold seeping into his bones, the damp earth beneath him leaching the warmth from his body. Beside him, Salem stirred, her breath hitching as she too felt the chill.
"Forge," she murmured, her voice a low, husky rumble that seemed to resonate in the quiet of the forest clearing. "It's getting cold."
Forge turned his head to look at her, his gaze tracing the lines of her body beneath the sleeping roll. Her fair skin seemed to glow in the dim light, her pale platinum hair spread out around her like a halo.
Salem was a towering figure, her toned muscles shifting beneath the thin fabric of her sleeping clothes, her strong thighs pressed together as she shivered. Forge could see the faint outline of her E-cup breasts, the way her body was built for both strength and grace. The air between them was thick with tension, not just from the cold, but from something deeper.
"Yeah," he rumbled, his voice rough with amusement. "We’re gonna freeze if we don’t do something about it."
Salem smirked, her light blue eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Well, Forge, you’ve got a solution in mind, I’m sure."
Forge didn’t answer right away. Instead, he rolled onto his side, his massive frame shifting the fur sleeping roll with him. He reached out, his large hand cupping Salem's cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. Her breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly at the sudden contact.
"Forge," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft patter of snow against the tent. "What are you doing?"
He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, gentle kiss. "Keeping us warm," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through her.
Salem's lips curved into a smile against his, her eyes fluttering closed. "Is that so?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement.
"Because I think I can think of a better way to warm up than just sitting here."
Forge chuckled, the sound rich and deep, vibrating against her lips. His breath was warm against her skin, his beard tickling her cheek as he pulled back just enough to see her face. His emerald eyes burned with a heat that made her pulse quicken.
"Oh, I know you can," he murmured, his voice dropping to a growl. "But I’m not just talking about sitting here."
Salem’s breath hitched again, her fingers instinctively curling into the thick braids at the nape of his neck.
The weight of his body pressing into hers was intoxicating—his muscles, warm and heavy, shifting beneath her palms as if he were already moving toward her. The sleeping roll was a thin barrier between them, but it might as well have been a veil, the way the air between them crackled with something electric.
Salem's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as Forge's hand slid down her neck, his fingers tracing the line of her collarbone before dipping lower, his knuckles brushing against the swell of her breast.
"Forge," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, her body arching into his touch. "You’re a very predictable man, when we are in situations like this."
Forge's lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "And you, Salem, are a very predictable woman. Always ready for a challenge, always ready for me. You are the one who wants us to sleep naked no matter where we are at"
Salem's breath hitched, her eyes flashing with a mix of surprise and desire. "You think so, do you?"
Forge's hand continued its slow descent, his fingers tracing the curve of her breast, the hard peak of her nipple that has nothing to do with the cold. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "I know so. For we may be the emperor and empress of Tamriel but you are still the woman who wanted me to fuck her in so many different locations from a horse stable to the ruby throne room before we had a court session. You are the one who wanted to be bent over the table in a tavern while I was eating a meal and you wanted me to fuck you while you were still eating."
Salem’s breath caught, her body trembling slightly beneath his touch. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes darkening with desire. "You remember every detail, don't you?"
Forge’s fingers continued their slow, deliberate exploration, teasing the edge of her sleeping clothes. "I remember everything about you, Salem. Every moan, every gasp, every way your body reacts to mine."
Salem’s fingers tightened on his braids, her nails digging in just enough to make him groan.
"You're not the only one with a good memory, Forge," she whispered, her voice laced with a challenge. "I remember how you like it when I take control, when I make you wait."
Forge's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and desire, his body tensing against hers. he growled, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through her.
Salem nodded, her eyes locked onto his. "Mmhmm," she murmured, her voice dropping to a sultry purr.
"And I remember how you *love* it when I tease you first. How you groan when I drag my fingers down your chest, how you hiss when I pull your beard just right—"
Forge’s breath hitched, his body tensing beneath her. His emerald eyes darkened, the gold flecks in them burning brighter as he watched her lips part, her tongue flicking out to wet them. The sleeping roll shifted beneath them as he shifted, his massive frame pressing closer, his thigh sliding between hers.
"You *fucking* remember," he growled, his voice rough with need.
His hand slid down her side, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip, the firm muscle of her thigh. "You remember *everything*."
Salem's breath hitched, her body arching into his touch. "I do," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft patter of snow against the tent. "And I remember how you *love* it when I talk dirty to you."
Forge's eyes flashed, his grip on her hip tightening. "You know I do," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through her. "You know just how to drive me crazy."
Salem's lips curved into a slow, sultry smile.
She leaned forward, her tits pressing against Forge's chest, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, "Then let me remind you, my big, strong emperor."
Forge's breath caught in his throat, his muscles tensing beneath her touch. His fingers dug into the soft earth beneath them, his knuckles whitening as he fought the urge to take control. Salem's hand slid up his chest, her fingers tracing the scars that crisscrossed his skin, each one a story of battles fought and won.
"You like it when I'm in charge," she murmured, her voice a low, hypnotic purr.
Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, her nails scraping lightly over his beard before she tugged, just enough to make him groan. "You like it when I tell you what to do, when I make you beg."
Forge’s breath hitched, his body tensing beneath her. The cold air of the clearing seemed to evaporate as Salem’s touch ignited something primal within him.
"You know I do," he growled, his voice rough with need.
His emerald-green eyes burned into hers, the gold flecks in them like molten gold in the dark. "But you’re the one who started this."
Salem smirked, her fingers tracing the thick braids at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. "Maybe I did," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "But I’m not the one who’s been thinking about this all night."
Forge’s breath hitched as her fingers slid down his chest, her nails dragging lightly over the scars that crisscrossed his skin. "You’ve been thinking about me?" he asked, his voice dropping to a growl.