Steinn

by Lily Harlem

  “There is warm water here.”

  “Wife.” He took it from her. “You think of everything.” Again he set a kiss on her lips.

  “Aye, I do,” she said with a smile and thinking of the henbane she’d soon be adding to his meal.

  Steinn washed around the back of the dwelling, using warm water from the pail and soap he found set on a tree stump. It smelled as though herbs had been added to it.

  It had been a long day with many enemies to face and defeat. But it had been worth it. Achnaryrie had now gained a reputation as a protected settlement. The women here were no longer defenceless and alone.

  He shuddered at the thought of some of the rough and filthy men coming into his new home and hurting Gladys. He’d kill anyone who harmed her, and if any of them tried to rape her…no, that didn’t bear thinking about.

  She was his. His present and his future.

  He tipped water over his head and scrubbed his face as it sluiced downwards.

  He knew it was taking a while for her to warm to him. Her frost wasn’t going to turn into a spring stream overnight. But a few ice crystals had melted, he was sure of it.

  And when she’d found pleasure with him, then she’d been hot. Hot and wet, so wet. He’d never been with a woman who’d soaked him. She really was incredible.

  His cock twitched at the memories, and he scrubbed his pubic hair, balls, and shaft with the soap. Soon they’d have sex again. He wanted to taste her and know hers was the only cunny he’d lick from this day onwards.

  And then he’d offer her his cock to suck. He hoped she would. She hadn’t seemed very keen when he’d offered it that morning. He could order her to, spank her if she disobeyed, but that didn’t seem right. He only wanted his cock taken into the mouth of a willing woman—apart from anything else, teeth that close to the favourite part of his anatomy scared him.

  And not much scared Steinn.

  After rinsing, he dried off, smiling when her humming filtered towards him. The window hatch was open, and he was drawn to it, wanting to see his wife happy as she prepared their meal.

  Wrapping the towel around his waist, he tucked it in then peered through the small opening.

  Gladys was at the fire, stirring the pot. She was tipped forward, the top line of her breasts visible.

  He grinned and pushed his hair from his brow.

  How lucky I am.

  She set two clay bowls on the table by the fire, then, still humming, she ladled stew into them. It smelled delicious, rich and earthy with a hint of rosemary.

  His stomach rumbled.

  Gladys reached for a smaller bowl on a shelf that was a little high for her—he’d have to lower it—then she added a spoonful of whatever powder was in it to one of the bowls.

  He frowned slightly, wondering what it was. Was she sick? Did she need a remedy in her meals?

  Straightening, he reached for the pail and his trousers and wandered to the front of the house.

  Many villagers were milling about, as were goats and sheep and a few dogs. He ignored them, happy to leave the rest of the world to its own devices and eat in his new home with his new love.

  “Ah, there you are.” She smiled and pointed at a chair. “Sit and eat.”

  “Thank you.” He strode across the room and sat. “I am hungry.”

  “Then this will fill your belly.” She handed him the bowl she’d added the powder to.

  “I thank you.” He took the meal, the fragrant steam filling his nose. “This is nourishing.”

  “Aye, it is.” She handed him a spoon. “It’s full of special ingredients perfect for a warrior after battle.”

  “It is?”

  “Aye, ingredients that will renew your strength, aid your rest, and increase your virility.”

  “My virial-a-what?”

  “Virility.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  She nodded. “I believe it is good for us all.”

  “Then I thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

  “I will fill this.” She pointed at the pail.

  “No, eat with me.”

  “I will, I just need to set more water on to heat.”

  “Then be quick.” He spooned up the thick broth and shoved it into his mouth. It was hot and savoury, and he knew it would do all the things she’d promised.

  Gladys smiled then turned and walked from the cottage.

  He studied her arse swaying beneath her dress, then when she’d gone from view, he set down his meal and reached for the bowl on the high shelf.

  If the extra ingredients were so useful for him, then he was sure they’d do her good, too.

  He added half a spoonful to her meal and watched it soak into the juices. Then he replaced the bowl, sat, and continued eating.

  Gladys came back in. “How is it?”

  “You are the best cook I have ever met.” He flung his arm to the side. “In all my travels.”

  She laughed, and the sound gave him hope that his words had melted more of her ice.

  “Eat.” He nodded at her dinner. “Eat with me in our home. For today is a good day.”

  8

  Gladys tossed another log on the fire, then started on her meal.

  Steinn was seated opposite her, and as the flames grew between them, the shadows on his face intensified—the colours dancing through red, orange, yellow, and pink.

  “The mutton is tender,” Steinn said.

  “I have cooked it for many hours.”

  “And the carrots so sweet.”

  She agreed, they were extra sweet, so sweet. Like eating sunshine, the juice popping on her tongue and sliding the way honey does down her throat.

  “And this…” Steinn said, waggling his spoon at the bowl. “I would say it’s as good as any I might find in Valhalla.”

  “It is good.” She stared at the silky surface of her meal. It was a recipe she’d followed many times, but today it was incredible. Better than even her mother had made it.

  She leaned closer. Her reflection shone back at her, her lips wiggly, a lump of mutton sticking from her forehead. She giggled at the image.

  “What is funny?” Steinn said, grinning at her.

  “My meal.”

  He chuckled. It turned into a big belly laugh, the sound roaring around the room.

  Gladys joined in, glad of the expulsion of emotion, the release of tension.

  On and on they laughed. She scooped more broth into her mouth then struggled to chew and swallow because of her mirth.

  “Oh, wife, you are funny.” Steinn slapped his thigh and hunched forward, almost spilling his dinner. When he straightened, he resumed eating, and the room fell strangely silent.

  As Gladys chewed, she stared at a stack of candles on a shelf. Their flames shivered and trembled, and from the peaked tips rainbows spilled outwards, cascading to the shelf in long threads of colour.

  “Look,” she said, pointing.

  Steinn was chewing with is mouth open and staring at her. “Mmm?”

  “The candles.”

  “Ja.” He didn’t turn to see them.

  She ignored him. They were beautiful. How had she managed to capture rainbows in her home? She hoped they’d stay.

  Her pulse was thudding in her ears, and she’d sated her hunger so she put her bowl aside and flopped back in her chair.

  What is happening?

  She felt peculiar, her thoughts were scattered, as if they were the grains she threw out for the chickens—each a tiny fragment and useless alone.

  Steinn set his bowl on the floor and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbed hard. He let out a strange growl.

  “You should see these rainbows,” she said.

  “Where are they?” He stood suddenly, the towel slipping from him and landing on the floor in a heap.

  Turning, he studied the candles she’d pointed at, giving her a view of his arse.

  Again she burst out laughing. It was ridiculous to have a naked Viking in her
home. A Viking with a high, hard arse and a cock that was greedy for sex.

  “I don’t see rainbows,” he said, stepping around the back of the chair to peer more closely at the candles.

  “I do.”

  He flattened his hand above the flames and slowly drew his palm over them.

  She held her breath, feeling sure he’d scorch himself.

  If he did, he didn’t let it show.

  “But I do see…” He pointed to the corner of the room. “Birds, lots of birds with long blue tails.”

  “Where?” She could see nothing.

  “Here.” He stepped into the shadows and held up his hand, one finger outstretched. “Come to me,” he said softly. “Little bird.”

  Gladys watched, waiting for a bird she couldn’t see to land on his finger.

  “Ah, that is it, my friend.”

  She tipped her head and frowned.

  Steinn was acting as though he had a bird on his finger. But there was nothing there.

  The stew.

  I ate the wrong stew. The one with henbane in it.

  No. I couldn’t have.

  She tossed the bowl and spoon onto the fire. It smashed and clattered, juice spreading on the floor.

  “What?” Steinn said, still stroking an invisible bird.

  “Did you…did you switch our meals?”

  “No, wife, why would I?” He was quiet, then, “Yours was not as big.” He laughed. “I needed a big dinner.”

  She rubbed her temples. He must be lying.

  “But I did add some of that herbal remedy to yours. I wish my wife to be strong and virile, too.”

  “You did what?” She stood, her legs shaky and her vision blurred.

  He didn’t reply, instead he appeared to set his bird back on a perch near the roof.

  She rushed up to him and slammed her hands onto his bare back.

  Staggering forward, he reached out and slapped his palms on the wall.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” She waggled her finger as he turned around.

  “Why not?” He grinned and scratched his chest.

  “Because it’s for men…warriors.”

  “It will change you into a man?” His eyes widened. “I do not wish for that.” He reached out and cupped her breasts.

  “Me…a man?” She frowned, confused. Why would he think that?

  Her head was so fuzzy?

  “I wish to see your breasts,” he said. “Show me.” He tipped his head and smiled. A small dimple appeared in his left cheek, beneath his stubble.

  Eithne’s words came back to her. ‘Your new husband is a very fine-looking man.’

  She swayed to the left then balanced herself.

  Steinn still had his big hands covering her breasts, over her clothing.

  He was still smiling down at her. It was as if time had frozen, everything else had faded away. It didn’t matter that her thoughts were grains for the chickens, or her new husband was an idiot.

  “Steinn,” she said, studying his straight nose, defined cheekbones, and strong jawline. “Steinn.”

  “Gladys,” he said, the word slurring slightly. “I feel…”

  “Strange.”

  “What have we done?” He leaned closer. “Perhaps this is love, true love.”

  “You think this is what love feels like?”

  “Ja.” Pressing her breasts, he urged her backwards and to the right, until her shoulders hit the wall. “We are in love, wife, it has happened.”

  “It has?”

  “It is wonderful. The gods have been kind.” He slid his hands downwards and gripped her waist. “And I am a lucky man.”

  She breathed in his scent; soap and leather, smoke from the fire, and watched as he tipped close then slowly, so slowly, sank to his knees before her.

  His dark hair was lustrous and thick, and her fingers itched to feel it. So she ran her hands into it, each strand stroking her skin and his scalp hot on her palms.

  “Beautiful wife,” he murmured, raising her skirt upwards.

  She didn’t even care that he was exposing her legs, then higher still. His hair was fascinating. The way it slipped through her fingers reminded her of feathers.

  How can a man have feathers on his head?

  “Honey,” he said, gripping the bunch of her gown around her waist. “You taste of honey.”

  It was then she became aware of his tongue meandering up her inner thigh.

  She widened her legs and groaned. A knot of need sat only a little higher from where he was. It was needy for a man’s touch. Her patience had run out. She wanted what she’d been denied for so long.

  “Aye, please.” She dragged on his hair, pulling his face closer to her pussy.

  And then he was stroking her nub with the flat of his tongue.

  She closed her eyes and was greeted with the night sky, full of shooting stars, the ghostly green lights of the north, and flying owls.

  He was touching her, too, with his fingers, parting her lips, then circling her entrance.

  Angus’s face hovered in her night sky, surrounded by stars.

  Steinn entered her, worked her nub.

  Her knees weakened. Angus faded. Steinn was filling her, touching her need, stroking her want.

  A long puff of air left her chest, humming through her throat. She blew it out through pursed lips, imagining it was a silent whistle.

  His tongue was wickedly good. She pulled his hair, sank onto him. “More.”

  He gave it, and she stayed in her night-sky world, her ears buzzing with the amount of shooting stars she was watching arc over rainbows.

  He added more to her pussy, filling her, stretching her walls. She curled her toes and bucked onto him. She wanted to release, find her pleasure.

  But the next thing she knew she was left wanting.

  He’d gone. Fallen away, forcing her to release his feathered hair.

  She tore open her eyes and slapped her palms onto the wall behind. “Steinn…”

  He’d dropped backwards, onto his arse, and was breathing hard with his arms hanging over his knees.

  “What are you doing?” She cupped his chin and forced him to look up at her. Her gown fell around her ankles.

  “The birds.” He nodded up at the dark, empty corner. “They are so noisy.”

  “I’ll let them outside.” She gripped the back of the chair, then the table, and finally the wall by the door. After a little fiddling, she managed the latch and opened it.

  The evening chill rolled in a like a wave, bringing with it the crash of jostling pebbles.

  “Go!” Steinn pushed to his hands and knees, then, using the chair, heaved himself upright. “Go!” He stepped into the corner, flapping his hands. He clapped, then whistled. “Go, be free…escape.”

  Gladys giggled as she found herself stepping out of the way of birds she couldn’t see.

  “That’s it,” he said, beaming. “Go, live in the forest, beautiful birds.”

  She laughed harder. “Have they all gone?”

  “Ja, ja. Close the door.”

  She did as he’d asked.

  When she’d completed the complex task of bolting the door against the night, she found Steinn flat on the bed, his cock sticking upright and reminding her of a thick branch on a fallen tree.

  A branch that was utterly mesmerising.

  She walked to the bed, shucking off her gown, the material suddenly itchy.

  He had his hands behind his head and was watching her, unblinking.

  “You sparkle,” he said. “Your skin, it sparkles.”

  She studied her arm. He was right. She was sparkling. There was no explanation, but it didn’t hurt, and it was pretty.

  She crawled onto the bed, arse high in the air.

  “Suck my cock,” he said, holding his shaft. “Wife.”

  “Aye, I will.” She grinned. On her hands and knees, she hovered over him. “Get off it then.” She flicked his knuckles. “Let go.”

  He did as in
structed, and she caught the thick wedge of flesh in her fist. She rubbed it root to tip, spellbound by how hard it was. Velvet on iron.

  He groaned.

  “You have a big cock,” she said.

  “A big Viking cock.” He laughed, wildly, his chest shuddering with each guffaw.

  She joined in. It really was a big Viking cock. There was no arguing that point. She laughed so much her ribs ached and she shook all over.

  Eventually, she paused for breath. So did he. Then she licked her lips and sank down, taking the tip of his cock into her mouth.

  “Shut up,” he said. “Birds, shut up. They’re back, wife. They got in somehow.”

  She ignored him. The birds could stay, they did no harm. She laved him with her tongue, exploring the shape of him, then curled her tongue and drew him to the back of her throat.

  He moaned and gripped her shoulders, curling forwards. “More.”

  She gave it, lifting up then bobbing back down. It had been years since she’d done this. Why had she left it so long? She loved it.

  He was panting, his breaths shifting her hair. He was stroking her breasts now, tugging her nipples.

  With her free hand, she sought out her nub and rubbed. Within seconds, the need for release was there again.

  “Wife, I want…”

  She continued what she was doing. Working him. Building them both up.

  And then she was on her back, her head spinning as it hit the pillow and her mouth strangely empty.

  “Woman,” he growled, laying over her and finding her entrance. “Take me.”

  She caught his face in her hands. His skin was sparkling, too, and rainbows moved around the feathers of his hair. His eyes were so blue they were like the summer sky, a rare butterfly she’d seen once, forget-me-not petals. She fell into them while he entered her. How had she not admired his eyes before? He was beautiful, godlike, a gift in her bed.

  She hooked her legs behind his, tipped her hips, and drew him deeper.

  He found her mouth and kissed her. She didn’t close her eyes; neither did he. They stared at each other as they joined.

  Gripping his shoulders, she gasped into his mouth when he filled her totally. She was wet for him, but her internal muscles had to adjust to his size. It took a moment.