(I couldn’t decide between the sessy definition, or the literal, for the longest time. So enjoy both! Though one day I may have to write Dwarf Warrior!Sigrid.)
"Bain is sulking because father left me in charge and not him, the silk merchants are bickering amongst each other, there’s no less than five disputes over ancestral halls going on, and the Master is demanding higher tolls without our leave,” Sigrid drew in a deep breath, flopping onto her bed with an exhausted groan. “…Are you still certain you want me for a Queen?”
”Dale seems to be doing just fine under your watch,” Fili grinned at her, rising from his seat in her solar, setting aside the book he’d been reading for most of the evening. Sig pushed her long hair out of her face, blinking up at him.
“And yet I’ve kept the King of Erebor waiting on my company,” She mumbled, wincing. Fili only shrugged, reaching out to smooth her golden strands, tugging the braids there lightly.
”My mother sits the throne of Erebor for these few days.” He told her quietly, swallowing as his hands drifted, for they were very alone indeed, and she was dressed as a ruler, for all she only sat her father’s seat until Bard returned from Gondor. She was set all in gold and white and gems, like some hazy dream he’d conjured. “I am humble servant to the Queen of Dale, tonight.”
“Hmm.” Sigrid rose to her knees then, her weariness evident even as a shy, mischievous little smile parted her lips, “In that case, I would command you to kiss your Reagent, Master Dwarf.” He wrapped a firm arm ‘round her waist and did just that, pulling her toward the edge of the bed. He began to fumble at her fine gown, yet her hands stilled him, her eyes still bright. “I rule,” She reminded him in a whisper against his beard, and Fili grinned, dropping his hands and letting her pull him onto her bed, to pin him to the blankets below her.
She drew away her layers herself, his breath coming short underneath her as her soft, pink skin was revealed. More of her than he’d yet seen, and on her own terms at that. Though her voice hitched and wavered, Sigrid kept up her game, “I command you to touch me,” His slip of a girl whispered, and he obeyed.
The skin of her stomach, between and over her breasts, he mapped them reverently with his mouth, his hands on her bare back. “My Queen,” He groaned, “My beautiful, beautiful queen…”
She was quickly falling apart under his touch, yet still she grinned, rolling her hips as she kicked off her skirts. “That’s a good serf.” He snorted, biting her neck playfully.
“Mmm, tha’s a bit far, where m’Dwarvish pride’s concerned…”
“Well…” That waver again, as she swallowed hard, her lips in his ear, “Then, I command you to claim me, my King.”
He wondered who stood where at this point, though, given that he proceeded to turn her over onto the bed and follow her demand to the letter.