The door shuts out the howling wind and snow behind you. A woman in sheer fabric stands from a stool behind the counter to the left. Seated around a fire central to the main entrance, several men straighten in their leisure, eyeing you up and down. Their armor is in various states of removal as they swallow ale from tankards, their beards drizzled with the stuff. You shoulder your bow and shake the snow from your helmet.
"I haven't seen you around here before," the woman says across the way.
You turn toward her. She's looking you up and down as well, taking her time.
"You're...tall," she says.
You approach the counter. Your boots are heavy on the wood floor. The chatter continues behind you. One of the men laughs heartily and several others follow suit.
"You've been out in the cold for a long time, haven't you," she asks. Her sheer robes fall over her curves. Her breasts are plump, round, falling against her ribs, ribs which you can almost see. Her waist curves healthily, her belly slightly pouched. "What'll you have? A meal? A session?"
You reach up and ease your helmet off. Your long black hair falls around your face and down onto your breastplate.
"Last time I was around here," you say, your deep voice soft, "I saw a lass who told me she would be here. Red hair."
"Malia. Yep, she's here. She's with a client now, though," the woman says. "If you would like, I have some goat fresh off the fire for you while you wait."
"I'll have Malia now," you say.
"My...you're really that into her? She...well, nevermind. Her current visitor is a repeat customer, so I'm afraid you'll have to wait your turn, newcomer."
"Now," you repeat. You pull aside your thick fur cloak to reveal the pommel of your sword belted to your hip. You take a step toward her to hide the sword behind the counter and out of sight of the other men.
Her eyes go wide. The dragon's head on the pommel glints in the firelight. She looks up at you, having to tilt her head back.
"I...I didn't know you were still alive.... You're him, aren't you?"
You give her a small smile, pull the cloak back over the weapon.
"I'll have Malia now."
"Let me...show you to the room," the woman says, moving around you.
You catch her arm. "No need. Just point. I'll find her."
All down the hallway you hear the occasional groan, grunt, squeak of wood on wood, slap, exaggerated feminine moan, fake giggles. You pause at the last door on the right. A man grunts behind it. You turn the knob and push.
"My time's not up, Vina—hey! Who do you think you are? This one's taken," the man protests as he sees that you're not the woman from the counter.
"Get lost," you say, not loudly, yet a bite sinks into your words. "She's mine now."
"Pft, fuck you," the guy says, turning back to his thrusting.
He's small, his shoulders not much wider than your torso at its narrowest point. He stands a full head and a half shorter than you. All in all, pretty average. His thrusts are erratic. He has no rhythm. His feet shuffle around as his humping throws him repeatedly off-balance. His breeches, around his ankles, expose a hairy ass where his shirt, browned with age and wear, fails to cover him.
You step up behind him. "Unless you want me to fill you up, too, get lost." You feel a tingle of heat trail down your abdomen at the thought. His ass is nicely rounded.
The man turns his head to look up at you over his shoulder. He scowls, starting to tell you off again, but something in your expression stops him.
"You'd really do it," he mumbles.
You bite your lip, considering him again. He's not ugly. Definitely not pretty, but not ugly. You feel that heat again trickle down your insides, down into your bowls. Yeah, you could take him. You'd fill him right up, too.
"Disgusting!" the man scoffs, flinching away from you. His tiny dick jerks free of the woman laying before him and hangs somewhat limp against his right thigh. "Get away from me."
"I wouldn't disappoint," you tell him. "Once you've had a man inside you—"
"Just—get out of my way!" the man nearly screams. He backs away from both you and the woman on the bed. Although his mouth is twisted in disgust, his eyes keep flashing down to your crotch. He looks at you as though some part of him is reconsidering.
You turn away from him to untie your cloak. "I'll pay back the rest of your time with her," you tell the man. "Leave."
"I don't want your damn gold, I wanna fuck!" the man protests.
"I can do that for you, too," you offer again, your voice rumbling in your chest to nearly a growl.
"I...I...."
"Go back to the commons. If you change your mind before I leave this place, you'll know where to find me," you tell him. "And close the door."
The man's footsteps start up and stop and start up again as he finally leaves the room. You look over and see he's left his belt and belt knife on the table in the corner. He'll be back.
"I've seen you before," the woman says, the bed creaking as she pushes herself up onto her feet.
"I told you I'd pass through this region again."
"That you did..." she says, her voice warm. "I didn't think I'd actually see someone like you...stopping in a place like this, though."
"Well, I'm here."
"Yes. Yes, you are. Here, let me help."
She comes around to stand in front of you and you see she's put on a silk robe and tied it tightly under her breasts. Her hips curve out wide under the falling garment. A smile tugs up the corner of your mouth. That heat trickles back into your lower abdomen. Her fingers are long, slender, delicate, and she deftly unties your cloak, catching it to guide it gently down and around your shoulders. She has to rise up onto her toes as she does this, her arms going around your neck briefly. You can already feel your cock beginning to grow, restrained under your armor though it is.
"You're a warrior," she says, noticing the bow, the sword. Then her eyes land on the dragon's head hilt. "You're—!"
"I'm nobody," you tell her.
She closes her mouth, looking you in the eyes, her own wide with a mixture of awe, trepidation, shock.
"You're tall," she finally says, trying to regain her easy demeanor. "Taller than anyone around here." Her red hair falls over her shoulder as she reaches to begin freeing you from your armor.
She starts with your bracers, your greaves. You let her untie the segments on your shoulders, your back and chest. She then works at the armor pieces on your legs. The thin cotton shirt and breeches you wear under the steel and leather are rich, if simple-made.
She turns to stack the armor on a bench by the door. The curves of her waist, her lower back, her hips.... She's small, but well-built. It's been a while since you've done this, but she's probably the best you've seen in any place like this one.
"Will you tell me your name?" she asks. "I know who you are, but...well...nobody knows the real you. The man under the helmet, the armor. The real man, the real person you are. I...want to know you."
You chuckle deep in your chest, thinking she'll know you very well, soon enough.
"You can call me Ara."
She gasps. Your identity is a mystery as true as she said it, but there were many rumors as to who you had been before you became this warrior of legend. Quite a few of them hit very close to home. She must have heard many of them, even as far north as this village lies. You had many times before met men claiming to be you, boasting of the deeds you had done—and making up many things you hadn't done, some things you wouldn't do, evil things—and more times than not you'd set those men in their place. This woman must have encountered some of those men in her time. Well, at any rate, you would show her what it is really like to spend the night with you. The real you.
"Ara...like the lost prince?"
"I'm not lost," you tell her, stepping close and cupping her cheek. It's warm. Soft.