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by Erin ORiordan
Dark Fantasy, 10 pages.
Originally Published in Justus Roux's Erotic Tales, 2007
(1) Rate this Story Bergren hadn’t known, until this moment, that the gods were ever so kind.
Surely she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She’d outgrown her girlishness, and stood before him a strong, bold woman. Yet she was innocent, without the roughness of the farmer’s daughters that Bergren knew from home. Her white skin was as pure as Freya’s must surely be. Her hair was the same dark color as the bear’s skin that lay across her bed, the bear’s skin on which she sat. Her dark eyes shone in the light of the fire.
Most wondrous of all, her small hand was stretched out toward him, reaching for him, drawing him nearer. After all her kindness: bringing him in from the snowy night; offering him beer and venison stew, warming him by her fire. She still had more to give. And she gave willingly.
“Warrior,” she said, breaking the spell of his stare. “You’ve said it yourself: you believed this island was uninhabited. I’ve told you that I have no father, no husband, no brothers. I’m sure you understand how lonely I get here, and you have nothing to be afraid of. I’d like it if you could spend the night with me.”
She reached out just a little further, and the little pink palm of her hand rested on his sleeve. He reached over and picked up her hand, staring at this gift from the gods in amazement.
“Do you really know what you’re asking?” he said. “If you allow me to stay, to sleep underneath that warm bear skin with you, I won’t be content to roll over and fall asleep.”
“I know,” she said. She brought her body closer, leaning over the bed. He could see her dark eyelashes now. They still had little drops of water on them, where the snowflakes had fallen. He reached out to brush away the drops of water with his thumb. She sighed. “I want to be touched.”
Bergren was suddenly aware of the blood coursing through his body. His heart beat as loudly as it did just before that last raid, when he sensed that all would not go well. But the gods had been kind that day, too, and he’d only lost two fingers. He looked at the injured hand. It seemed to reach out on its own, without his willing it. He touched her black hair with one, then both hands.
She closed her eyes. Bergren held her, kissing her. She accepted his kisses, shuddering as his hands came to rest on her shoulders. So innocent, so pure. It almost seemed a shame to spoil something so beautiful. She should have been set apart by the gods and left untouched.
At the same time, he needed her. He needed her warm, soft body underneath him just as he’d needed to come in from the wind and snow, as he’d needed food and drink. Now he was warm and had eaten and drank, and the beautiful dark-haired woman was willing to see him fully satisfied. Perhaps the gods felt he was owed, after losing two fingers in the raid.
It didn’t matter. This was no time to think of war. She kissed him back now. Her fingers explored his shoulders, the back of his neck, his dark blond hair.
“Would you like me to bathe you, warrior? There is warm water by the fire.”
He pulled his tunic off over his head and let it fall to the floor. She looked at him in wonder. Her fingers explored the dark blond hairs of his chest. He took off his leggings while she soaked a soft cloth in the warm water.
“Come here,” she said. “Right here by the fire.”
He did. For the first time in months, he was warmed to the bone. She looked him up and down approvingly before touching the warm, wet cloth to the back of his shoulder. She worked her way down from his shoulders to the back of his legs, humming softly as she did. She bathed his chest the same way, slowly, with a loving touch. As her hands neared his belly, he stopped her.
“Let me bathe you now,” he said. “Then you can finish what you were about to do.”
He slid her white sleeve from her shoulder and kissed her there. “How’s that?” he said. She muttered her approval, which made Bergren all the more bold. He helped her out of her blouse and her skirts. He took off her soft leather boots, marveling at how tiny and delicate the feet inside were. He started at her toes, working the warm water and the soft cloth up to one knee, then the other.
She stood there by the fire, looking down at him where he knelt, ready for him to finish bathing her legs. “Why do you stop, warrior?” she asked.
Bergren wondered how he would ever leave this woman. He looked around the cabin, wondering if this could be his new home. The thought of going back to the boat, and ultimately back to his father’s farm, seemed sad to him. When he looked into his lover’s dark eyes, Bergren only wanted to stay.
“I can’t continue,” he said, taking her hands in his, “for the same reason I couldn’t let you continue. It’s too good, and I want you too much. I want to take you to your bed.”
She to -- [End of Preview.]