by Viva Fox
As he sat, he realized that she had always had these things, but the fact was that he merely hadn’t had the time to fully appreciate them. If it weren’t for all the work that they had been doing, this wouldn’t have ever been a problem. And that was when he knew exactly what he must do.
Matthew stood up and tossed the rag aside back into the bucket. He grabbed a few leaves of mint from one of the small herb pots near the door and chewed it a few times to freshen his breath and then he rubbed it quickly over his neck. He crossed back into his house and was standing at the entrance to the kitchen. He looked in and saw that Angela’s hands were covered in flour, her hands kneading dough into shape to be placed into the oven. Without hesitation he pulled off his shirt and bounded into the kitchen, spinning Angela around to face him.
She let out a small squeal of fear, not sure what was about to happen, but Matthew’s lips locked into hers so that she wasn’t even able to let out more than the one confused yelp. Her body was rigid and tense for a moment but immediately turned to pudding in his arms as she allowed her body to relax. One of his strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him.
His other cupped the back of her head and drew her in for a stronger, more passionate kiss. Her hands, still covered in flour, clawed at his naked back. The flour mixing with his still wet skin forming lines of wet flour across his body. Matthew tore away from the kiss and Angela gasped, finally trying to finish her original thought.
“What’re you doing, Matthew, I was in the middle of-oof!” Matthew began to kiss Angela’s neck as she spoke and reached down, picking her up and setting her down on the counter so that they were eye to eye. She was still dressed in her sleeping gown and he slid his hands in underneath it, his calloused hands were gentle to her thighs as he now began to nibble at her neck. Angela attempted to speak, but couldn’t seem to form any words as Matthew licked and kiss at the small beads of sweat that were forming on her neck. “Oh, forget it,” she said before moaning.
Angela knocked over the wooden mixing bowls that she had been using, flour and eggs spilling over the counter. Matthew took a step back and pulled her legs and ass forward so that she was partially reclining on the counter, her legs up and open. Matthew held her legs in the air as he lowered himself, kissing her inner thighs.
He shifted his hands so that with one hand he was holding both of her feet aloft and with his other hand he gently inserted his middle finger into her already wet pussy. Angela was a sucker for surprises and nothing got her wetter than being caught off guard.
Matthew leaned further down, his finger still sliding in and out and began to tongue Angela’s clit which was out on display for him. As soon as the tip of his tongue began to tease her, Angela’s hands flew to the side, doing their best to reach and grab onto something. Her fingers clawed through some of the ingredients she had on the counter and the concoction became a strange combination of things, but she found a hold and didn’t let go. His tongue flicked harder and faster as her nails dug into the countertop, her breathing becoming much more labored. With each flick of the tongue her moans grew louder and louder.
After a few minutes of Matthew eating her out, Angela reached down and, her hands covered in ingredients for bread, pulled him away. She panted for a few moments, trying to catch her breath so that she could speak while Matthew continued to finger her slowly.
“Let’s move this upstairs,” she said through labored breaths. Matthew, his finger still gently sliding in and out of her pussy, smiled at her. He stood up and slid his arms under her body, picking her up without breaking a sweat. Her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands firmly holding her butt up so that she was fully supported. She giggled as he began to walk towards the stairs but let out a small shout as they passed the open door to the outside. “Close the door, but grab me some water, I need to wash off before we go upstairs.”
“My tongue will be sufficient in cleaning you off, I guarantee it.” Matthew and Angela both coyly looked at each other, but Angela pushed herself away, falling gracefully to the floor where she quickly ducked outside and washed off the various things she found herself covered in. Matthew followed her out, his erection clearly outlined in his pants as he watched Angela pour a bucket of water over her body. The cold water perked her nipples up instantly and she quivered as it rushed over her pussy. As she finished Matthew reached out and once again grabbed her, lifting her to her feet.
However, instead of lifting her fully into the air he merely picked her up and moved her, resting her back on the table that was in the center of the room. Her back arched against the wooden slab as Matthew untied his britches and allowed them to fall to the floor. Angela wanted to look up to see Matthew’s expression, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from his cock. It throbbed menacingly as he took the last few steps towards her. Matthew’s calloused hands slid her legs apart and pulled her so that her ass was just on the edge of the table, her pussy fully exposed for him.
Matthew then deftly slid inside her, causing her to let out a long and sustained moan, his dick seemingly endless as he slid further and further inside her. Angela felt him coming close to the end and reached out, her fingers making contact with his chest and digging in slightly. He then pulled back out slowly and began to thrust his erect cock back inside her continuously. With one hand she grabbed at his chest hair, the other gripped the edge of the table. Her tits bounced with each pulse from his crotch.
Grabbing her hand, Matthew forced it down towards her clit where she began to rub herself to the point of climax, her finger making small circles, her own cum mixing in with his saliva from eating her out. As she was about to cum, Matthew pulled out. Angela’s body was shook with a euphoria that she had never felt before and her legs and arms quivered, her neck and face were flush.
Matthew took a step back and began to walk towards the stairs, his finger, and the look in his face, ushering her to follow him. Angela stood on her legs, uneasy, but followed Matthew up the stairs. Her body was still convulsing slightly with each step and as she reached the top of the stairs she saw that Matthew was waiting for her in bed, his dick still hard.
The rest was a blur for the both of them, but as they laid together in bed resting, their fingers and limbs intertwined, a scream pierced through the room. Matthew and Angela calmly turned to face one another, but neither moved a muscle more than that.
******
The screams echoed through the village and reached the open window of Matthew and Angela’s room. They sat in the bed still, naked under the cotton sheets. Angela’s fingernails dug into Matthew’s chest as more screams of terror began to erupt from throughout the town. Angela attempted to hold Matthew down into the bed as he rose up.
His bare feet padded on the floor as he made his way to the small window. The glass was smoky from the way it was made but he could make out a few different shapes through the distortion. There were large brown figures sprinting through the nearby town seemingly chasing the screaming townspeople.
“Matthew, what is it,” Angela asked, her voice shaking as the screams continued to pour in through every bare space in the house. Matthew merely stood at the window and tried to figure out exactly what was happening, but he was unable to really distinguish anything. “Matthew, Matthew?” Her voice trailed after him as he ran down the steps, still naked towards the front door. He grabbed a leather and fur jacket off the hook next to the door and wrapped himself in it quickly as he threw open the door.
Matthew opened the door to find that a large portion of the town was on fire. The thatched roofs of his nearby neighbors were completely ablaze and he watched as the local townspeople fled the fires, not even attempting to put out the blazes. Matthew looked back up the stairs to see Angela clutching a blanket to her chest, her pale skin catching the glow of the fire from the window causing her to seem almost ablaze herself. Matthew shook his head, confused.
“From the window they looked like they were being chased by wild animals,” Matthew looked b
ack towards the town. “But no animal could set fires.” Angela walked cautiously down the steps so that she was standing next to Matthew. He cinched the jacket around his waist so that it would hold without him needing to physically hold it and he stepped outside into the panic.
He turned around and looked Angela in the eyes. “Close and lock the doors. All of them.” He glanced over his shoulder. “If someone comes to the door don’t open it unless it’s me.” He began to slowly walk away, grabbing a small hatchet from the front of the house that he used as a multi-tool. “I’ll recite our vows if it’s me.”
Angela watched as Matthew walked away. As soon as he was about twenty feet away she slammed the door shut and quickly ran throughout the house, closing the latches on all the doors and windows. She made her way back towards the center of the house and the kitchen and upon standing there for a moment another scream nearly shattered the windows. Angela reached for a small knife that was on the counter and shifted under the stairwell, locking herself behind the small door that was there. While all of this was happening though, Matthew was chasing the screams.
Matthew’s bare feet broke the grass with each footfall, the dew still fresh from the morning before. The hatchet was clenched tightly in his hand as he ran, terrified for what he might come upon as he turned the corner onto the dirt streets of the town, and, as the grass subsided to the dirt he saw what he had been fearing since looking out the window. Massive men with long, braided hair and beards, draped in animal skins and leather, massive axes and short swords seemingly blurs to the naked eye. Matthew raised his hatchet and charged towards the closest Viking.
His hatchet dug into the back of the Viking’s head, cleaving the massive man to the ground, his knees buckling as he let out a gurgle. Matthew then saw what the man had been doing, his axe still embedded in the body of the town baker, her dress torn at the waist. Matthew shook it off as best he could and removed the hatchet from the man’s head with a sickening noise. He then continued to walk through the city streets quietly and quickly, his footsteps obviously covered up by the loud crackling of the fires that raged above him.
As he turned a corner he came upon a small group of men. The man in the center was taller than Matthew by a few inches, but didn’t appear to be lanky at all. His arms were muscular and tattooed with what Matthew can only assume were considered tribal tattoos for the Viking’s. His hair was long and blonde, but caked with mud and dirt, the sides of his head were shaved revealing more tattoos.
His beard was surprisingly well kempt considering the appearance of the other men around him. The beast of a man to his left was a good foot taller than Matthew and appeared to be carved out of a small mountain, his arms not so defined, but massive. His hair was hewn short and his face was covered in scars. An axe, about as tall as Matthew, rested lightly in between his two hands. The other men were all seemingly just there to watch the show.
The large man took a step forward and with a single kick knocked the wooden door to the house clean off its hinges and sent it flying inward. Matthew was around the corner and could swear that he saw the house shake. The mountain then ducked and walked inside the house, the other few men that were merely voyeurs all funneled in after him. That was when the scream of a woman tore through Matthew’s very soul, causing the skin to stand up on the back of his neck. He decided that he couldn’t wait any longer and charged forward, rushing the blonde man.
He raised his hatchet and as it came down, the man merely shifted his weight, causing Matthew to topple past him, completely missing his target. The blonde man hand’s quickly darted to the hilt of the sword that hung from his waist, but Matthew quickly spun and continued his assault on the man so he didn’t have a chance to draw his weapon.
Even though Matthew had the man back pedaling through the town’s dirt street, he couldn’t help but notice the look in the man’s eyes. There was a determination even though Matthew thought he had the clear upper hand. His feet deftly stepped back and seemingly didn’t miss a beat. In a blur, Matthew found himself on his back though.
The man spun under Matthew’s advancing hatchet and in one fluid movement he shifted all his weight forward and lowered his shoulder into Matthew’s stomach causing the wind to be completely knocked out of his lungs. His legs seized up and he felt himself falling backward. In one move this man did what he couldn’t do with a weapon.
Instead of advancing and finishing him off though, the blonde man slowly drew his sword and allowed Matthew to stand up and catch his breath. The blonde Viking cocked his head from side to side, like a small dog trying to understand what exactly what to do with a bug that it had found.
“Why do you fight?” The words came slow and deliberate from the Viking’s mouth. His voice was heavily accented from a land that Matthew had never visited and had no intention of ever setting foot on. Matthew took his eyes off the sword in his hand and looked into the eyes of the man standing before him. He didn’t seem like the bloodthirsty animalistic creatures they had heard stories about though. This Viking that stood before him seemed genuinely confused as to why he was fighting.
“These are my people.” Matthew thumped his chest as he said this motioning at the homes around him. He knew that he would have to speak slowly for the man to understand him. The man nodded knowingly though and began to circle Matthew as he spoke once again. Matthew kept him at a distance, circling in the same direction so that they were moving together.
“You are their jarl then. If I defeat you, the others will stop fighting.” Matthew shook his head frantically as he watched the Viking’s grip tighten on the sword hilt, his knuckles growing white from the strain of his grip. Matthew raised his hatchet up in a defensive position as he tried to defend himself.
“No, we’re only a small town, there is no jarl. We pay our tithe to the church and the king.” The blonde man either didn’t understand or didn’t care. Either way the man charged forward in a blur of motion. Even though Matthew had raised up his hatchet it didn’t do much against the hardened steel of the Viking’s sword. The last thing Matthew remembered was the look in the Viking’s eyes. It was no longer one of confusion, but one of thrill. After that, only black.
******
Matthew woke up with a throbbing pain in his head. He struggled to reach up with his hand and tenderly touched the source of the pain and pulled his hand back and looked at it. His entire hand was covered in blood. Groaning he put his hand back over the open wound and applied pressure to it hoping to at least subside some of the throbbing. He rolled onto his side and tried to assess the damage that he could see. Immediately he saw that the majority of the fires that had been burning had died out, leaving only shells of formerly great stone and thatched roofed homes.
He slowly rose to his feet and searched for his hatchet, just in case the Vikings had decided to stick around for a while. However, upon looking down towards where he had fallen he only saw a broken axe handle and blade. Shaking his head Matthew tried to remember what happened, but could only piece together what he saw.
The Viking had struck him so hard that his sword literally broke his hatchet. There was no way that Matthew could stand up against that kind of attack. He then looked back up and saw a few villagers emerging from the rubble of the homes. With a gasp he began to trudge his way through the town’s streets.
His feet kicked up mud and dirt as he walked, still barefoot. With one hand clutching his head, the other steadying himself along the remaining stone structures of the homes he made his way back towards his farm house. His eyes were foggy from the blow to the head, but he searched the horizon for any sign of Angela. As the dirt path turned to grass and he got closer to the house he saw what he had feared. The door had been broken in, the wood splintered at the hinges as if someone had taken an axe to the door frame to knock the door out.
Matthew did his best to speed up, but the throbbing only persisted in his head as he urged his legs to move faster. He crossed the threshold into his house and he couldn’t
help but think of his wedding night, carrying Angela across this very threshold. As his feet touched the wooden floor of his home his eyes adjusted for the slight shift in lighting. He was horrified by what he saw. The kitchen was in complete shambles, the small cabinets and their store of dried foods had been tossed around the room and their cast iron tools and pans were bent and smashed.
He continued to walk through the house to find similar scenes everywhere. Cautiously he walked upstairs in the hopes to find his wife in hiding, however, he found the upstairs was nearly untouched. When he had heard the screams of the woman he knew in his heart what was happening and was glad to see that at least it had not happened to Angela in their bed where they had just shared the morning. However, even though nothing had been changed upstairs, there was still no sign of his wife.
Matthew hurried downstairs and threw open the door beneath the stairs to find a small pool of blood. Dropping to his knees Matthew wept. His mind raced to all of the different possibilities that could have happened and none of them ended well. However, as his tears tapered off after a few minutes, he noticed that there was no body. The Vikings were known for large body counts, but there was no body from this obvious killing. Which could only mean one thing: Angela wasn’t dead.