Warnings: Smut, Losing Virginity, Soft and Sweet Viking
Rating: NSFW
Length: Drabble
Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.
A/N: I wanted to give this a try, here it is. I haven't written smut in a while, forgive me. Thank you google gods for that graphic.
He had spotted her in the great hall nearly six moons ago, her dress clean and as elegant as a Queen's, appropriate for the eldest daughter of a Jarl. She was coy and flirtatious when he had worked up the courage to speak with her, not without a ribbing from his brothers of course. Imagine that a son of Ragnar intimidated by a mere woman.
Not this time. By the hand of the gods, he had managed to catch her interest and she his heart. Swelling in his chest, he loved being in the hall with her on his lap, whispering sweet words in her ear, her giggles like music from the gods themselves. They had spent days and a few nights together, being in each others presence, talking, holding hands, but never going further than a chaste kiss. He would change that tonight.
Tonight, when the feast was over and the crowd dwindled, he would sweep her off of her feet and whisk her off to his quarters. It would be dark and nobody to see, though it wouldn't matter for everyone knew that the Son of Ragnar was infatuated by the lady he paraded around like a prize buck he'd taken down in a hunt. They were the princes of Kattegat, any warm body they desired at their beck and call, yet he had chosen her.
She was just as taken with him, allowing him to escort her through the market and to each feast since meeting him. He was strong, a fierce warrior – she had heard the stories, and behind closed doors a soft and gentle man. The amount of patience he had shown, when she had said she'd never been with a man and wanted to wait until she was certain. The idea of waiting for the right man had been a little out of sorts at her age, but she was certain the gods had more for her than a smelly viking who wanted nothing more than to blow his seed while drunk before a raid.
The world outside the great hall was quiet and still in the dark of the night, following him to his quarters, a sizable cabin on the edge of town, she had been here a handful of times during the day, sitting outside with him. Their long evenings spent together were always in the protection of his parents hall. He opened the door, allowing her access to his most private chambers, inside the fire lit the cabin, casting a soft glow throughout. He had a servant light the fires not long before they were to retire after leaving the great hall. He would reward the woman well, seeing as she had left behind a small vase of flowers and a pile of clean furs on his bed.
“Does this please you?” He asked, the door locking behind them. She gasped, being entirely alone with him sent a chill through her body. He was dangerous, to anybody else. She was certain he would never harm her. Would he? Here she was alone, in this place, about to let him do as he pleased.
“It's pleasing, yes.” She nodded, her fingers nervously toying with a string on the front of her dress. “I um, I don't know how - ”
“Shh,” He silenced her, in the gentlest manner, his eyes on hers. He held a desire and couldn't wait to release it. “It's okay, you do not need to know. I will show you.”
“I have never been alone with a man, if I do not please you then...” She trailed off, worry in her tone. His hands resting on hers, he shook his head. She could never displease him.
“You will be safe. I swear it. If this is what you want, then I will teach you. If you do not, then tell me now before I take you.” She was having a hard time imagining this man as a fierce and angry warrior. He was more like a kitten.
“I want this.” She was determined, her chin jutted out and eyes steely. “I want you to take me, though I have heard stories of men being brutes and rough. I do not think I could recover from that.”
“Those are men who do not have a love for a woman, they are cowards. I am not a coward.” His smile was welcoming. She believed every word. Nodding, she smiled back, her demeanor softening from worry to love.
“I trust you,” She whispered, her eyes glancing down at his trousers. Biting her bottom lip, she went with her instincts, raising her dress to her hips. “Can you? Please?”
Stepping forward, he helped undo her dress, careful to keep it safe and clean, he laid it over the chair at his table. It was a marvelous dress, the green details would have taken her ladies many weeks to prepare and here she was, wearing it for him and only him. The dress had been nearly as striking as her. Not wanting her to feel vulnerable for too long he loosened his shirt and pulled it over his head, unlacing his trousers he pushed them down his legs, his under clothes did little to hide what was waiting for her.
“Allow me,” He helped her out of the thin tunic under her dress. She was beautiful standing before him naked for his viewing. No other man had ever witnessed her in such a state and he was reeling in the notion. It was making him feel as though he'd had too much mead and his head was swimming.
His hands were rough against her soft skin, apologising for such hands, he kissed her shoulder. He was a warrior, a prince, his hands weren't supposed to be soft like silk. Her own hands had a few cuts and scrapes, but not nearly as tough as his. She sighed when his lips lingered on her neck, a gentle bite of the tender flesh had her feeling as Thor himself had struck her with his hammer.
“May I?” He asked, his hands covering her breasts. She nodded, her head leaning on his shoulder.
She felt like the most delicate lace under his fingers, scared to break her, he had never been this gentle with a woman before. Lips tracing the path of his hands, his tongue gently flicked her nipple, without thought she moaned. A little embarrassed by such behaviour, she covered her mouth.
“Don't. It's natural, when you feel pleasure.” He explained, his fingers exploring her hips, his lips moving against her skin.
“I felt like such a common thrall, forgive me.” Her cheeks warm.
“You are much more, besides, it was rather pleasing to hear that. I love when I have a woman who rewards me with her noises of pleasure.” He kissed her lips again. “You may want to lay on the bed, I do not think legs will be of use much longer.”
Carefully moving across the floor boards, she laid back on his bed, her head on the pillow staring at him wide eyed. He was amused to watch her in such a green state. “Here, I will help you.” He gently guided her hips toward the side of the bed, swinging her sideways with little effort to move her. “I am going to kneel before you, it may feel better to place your feet upon my shoulders.”
“What if I kick you?” She sat raised on her elbows looking at him.
“Then it means I am doing my job.” His laugh was startling. “I assure you, once you feel true pleasure, you will not stay still and that is fine.”
Humming to his instructions, she laid back as he asked. The clean furs were warm and plush as they cradled her bare skin. Her bare bottom hanging over the bed felt foreign, he was there in a swift movement to raise her legs over his shoulders as he said he would. From where she lay, between the valley of her breasts she could see the top of his head, his eyes watching her. Waiting for her to give him any sign to move forward. A slight nod, she fell back closing her eyes tight, anticipation of what came next.
His lips wasted no time finding the inside of her thigh, he licked and lightly nipped with his teeth. Her belly swelling with butterflies as the odd sensations ran from her head to her toes. He was here, between her legs, being as patient as always. He took his time, taking in her beauty before him. Little wisps of hair covered her womanhood, unlike some of the other women he'd been with she had a natural look. He liked that.
He held her hips on his shoulders, strong and determined. Easing her worries, he carefully allowed his finger to trace the outline of her womanhood, his eyes on her to gauge her reaction. Biting hard on her lip, her eyes squeezed shut, inhaling sharply. He took the next step, slowly working his finger against her, sliding along her beautiful folds, he dipped the tip of his finger inside. She shuddered with such a motion, steadying her breath, she found the courage to look at him, nodding.
All he needed was a slight gesture to continue, his head dipping between her legs, she gasped loudly when his tongue pressed against her, licking from one end of her womanhood to the other, stopping at the top to take his time paying attention to the most sensitive part of her body. Swirling his tongue around the taught nub, his fingers sliding back into her. He found a rhythm twisting and turning his fingers inside of her, she whimpered trying to keep quiet.
Pulling away long enough to speak, he shook his head. “Don't, don't be shy. I like to hear my woman.”
“I...I have never felt such a thing.” She was trying to find her words.
“Never?” He mused. She shook her head. “You have never touched yourself?” she shook her head once more. “Oh, um, I hope it wasn't too much.”
“No, no it was welcome.”
“Hmph.” He smirked, then what he was about to do next would surely be an experience like no other. His fingers tracing her sensitive folds, he lowered his head once again, his lips finding her sensitive. Sucking and nipping he tugged the small bud, making sure to suck as greedily as he could. Her hips shoved forward and he smiled against her. His fingers a little rougher than before, he pushed inside of her trying to get a much from her untouched body as he could before it became too much for her.
Feeling the telltale signs of her body tightening around his fingers, he stopped, sliding out his wet fingers fragrant with her scent, he lifted his hand to his mouth licking his fingers as if he had just devoured the most delicious meal.
Not wanting her to miss out, he carefully placed his fingers against her lips. “Taste.” He demanded, fingers in her mouth she swirled her tongue around them. He moaned, feeling her warm mouth. Had she been an experienced woman, his manhood would have been halfway down her throat by now. He was growing harder and it was causing a straining pain, he needed to allow himself a release.
Leaning between her legs, his lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth, she whined again. He knew that he shyness was leaving and her self guarded nature crumbling. His fingers pinched her nipples, before hands began massaging her breasts again, she laid on her back wanting whatever attention he would give her. What he wouldn't give to have her on her belly, wildly fucking her, his hand slapping her ass, while she grabbed handfuls of furs screaming his name. Once more, he steadied, her first time – if he was to ever have her again – needed to be handled with a sort of kindness. This was the daughter of a Jarl, a woman he loved, not one of his thralls to be used and discarded when they no longer amused him.
“Lie back, you must relax. If there is any displeasure, I will stop if you wish me to.” His eyes were sincere and hers wore a mask of bravery, she was trembling like a leaf in the winds. “I won't hurt you, though it may hurt a little, it will only be for a few moments.”
“I – I am ready.” She laid back, allowing him to take charge, positioning her legs and body where he wanted them. Dropping his under clothes, she took sight of his manhood for the first time, clenching the furs under her, she tried to keep from spilling tears. Surely this was going to be more for him than her, her breath labouring.
“Are you certain? I do not wish to cause you pain or concern.” He stroked his length, displaying what the gods had gifted him with. “There are other ways to...”
“No, no I have made up my mind.” She wiped the tears from her eyes, “I want you to, I want it. I wish to be a woman.”
“Tell me, if you need to me to stop.” His breath hot on her cheek, as he leaned over her body. His chest sounded as if his heart would thud through at any second. Her legs draped over his hips, his tattoos peeking out from behind her legs, he was as gentle as possible. Allowing her to take the very tip, her body shivered. He waited.
“Oh gods,” She rolled her eyes, as he moved his length forward fully sheathed in her.
“Shall I stop?”
“No,” her voice heavy with breath.
As he slid out and back in, each motion picking up the pace, she allowed him to take her body as his. Fingers digging into his back, she did as he commanded, moving her hips to meet his as he pushed her legs to her chest. A sudden movement she gasped and moaned. Finally giving herself permission to be loud and express her feelings for him, in the way he told her that he liked. Hearing her moan was enough for him to grow harder inside of her, if possible. He braced himself, hands on her hips, his body against hers this had been better than he had imagined, all of the nights he would go to bed without her. The gods had gifted him a better night than he had dreamed of when he would think of her, using his hand to stroke himself allowing his seed to spill on himself wishing it was her.
A loud growl rumbled from his chest, the noise like a bear, or thunder in the distance. Letting himself get carried away, he roughly slammed his body into hers. She yelped, not asking him to stop, he was glad as he was nearly there. She couldn't take much more, the tension building in her body, a new sensation that she had never known. He shouted her name, grabbing her hips and holding her still, his length pulling from her body, resting on her stomach as he allowed his seed to waste there.
He would not ask her to risk bearing his child on her first night. Under him, he felt her body jerk, her head going back and her scream short and strangled. Her body giving way to what came natural for a man and a woman. Laid beside her, he tenderly pushed her hair out of her eyes, kissing her shoulder. She looked like a goddess, laid before him basking in the glow and sweat. His smell etched into her senses, she traced her fingers through his wasted seed spread across her stomach and breasts. Fingers rising to her lips, she took her first taste.
A wicked smirk crossed his face, as he watched her relish in the moment, licking her lips she leaned to kiss him. His own taste on her lips, salty and sticky. “Is that pleasing to you?” He asked.
Nodding, she reached for the furs beneath her, wiping him off of her abdomen, moving to gain comfort in his bed, she yawned and stretched opening her arms to welcome him to her side. “I do hope I get to see you again, alone.”
“You can have me any time you wish, for I am yours.” He pulled her body to his, dragging a fur around them.
Harald Finehair, the King of all Norway is a man who has loved and lost. His one true love, or so he thought, lost forever and his heart jaded. Although sometimes he is a tad dramatic about things, certainly losing a lover is nothing to mock, but when you are Harald – some times it's a regular occurrence. Yikes. Leading a country is a lot like love, one needs to be fair and adaptive, strong, and kind. Sometimes you end up in quarrels that you can't even remember how you got there. Harald was slowly giving up on love, until...
He's Not that Impressive – Don't tell the Others
Lover after lover, nobody truly compared to Ellisif
Heartbroken and full of sorrow Harald was ready to give in and give up – something the man is not used to doing
And then there was you...
Unimpressed by the whole King of Norway routine, you ignored him for several days
Bringing on the flowers, the mead, even a horse to try and gain your attention
Winning you over may be Harald's biggest battle yet
What Does He Have to Offer?
A question you had asked more than once
Outside of a kingdom, wealth, protection, and his own warriors – all of which he could easily lose
He's cunning and smart
Deep down the man is a regular scholar – sort of
With knowledge of travel and battles past, he offers stability
Stability and a home which he takes great pride in
Not much into battles these days, although he will do if the need arises, Harald wants a slow simple life
A Simple Life is Always Nice – Especially if it provides Happiness
Your own quarters
Away from the village on a vast piece of land next to the sea
A fleet of small boats to take whenever you wish
And Harald to dote upon you and be at your every whim
He may be aging and growing bored of battles and raids, but he still wields a power
People admire him and that admiration soon shifts to anyone at his side
It's quiet and steady that is enough for you
The King of all Norway is happiest when he sees you smiling and among his people, the generosity of your spirit brightens their lives as it does his. He is content to have you by his wide, ruling and keeping him honest in doing so. If he gets too big of an ego, you won't hesitate to smack him down – literally and figuratively . All in all Harald was a smart match, protection, safety, and even the wealth are rather handy to have, especially if he keeps buying you boats and imported horses.
Ivar the Boneless, his name alone brings fear and terror. His reputation precedes him far and wide, the youngest son of Ragnar Lothbrok is said to be a terrible and vile man. A temper hotter than a thousand flames, which takes little to ignite. Ivar only loves one thing in life and that is chaos and destruction. A monstrous man who doesn't even love himself – incapable a love, so they say.
It's Complicated!
Another raid, another town, another group of hostages
It's always the same except this time – Ivar has found something pleasing and he refuses to tarnish it
You caught his eye as he rode through cutting down any and all bodies in his way
A sword in one hand and a shield in the other – you looked like a clumsy deer trying to defend yourself
Who let you leave Kattegat anyway?
Taken with the valour and attempt he must get to know you better
Refusing to meet with him you would rather eat rocks
Let it Simmer – Is that a Goat?
Returning from the raid, Ivar cannot get you out of his head
He is told that you fight on behalf of Harald, worthy enough he deems
Although you are far from a warrior he needs to know more - he must send you a lavish gift
A goat!
He has sent a goat with a request to meet him under the dark sky as the Gods dance
Giving in to the pressure of those around you (who are probably scared of Ivar's temper if you decline) you seek him out under the dark sky as the Gods dance
Ivar has truly outdone himself – at least his servants have – as he meets you with a spread of fish, meat, mead, and bread
A Monster? Okay...
Giving in to Ivar's affection wasn't all terrible
Once you gain his trust he is a rather soft man – do not let that secret slip, ever
He is kind and fair, agreeing to your terms on how you are treated as a lover
Respectfully he will cut down any soul who so much as looks at you in a displeasing manner
When his brothers try to tease him about you, Ivar has grown to taking your advice – leave and say nothing
You are faithful so long as he is...not a problem you are the only person he has eyes for
Under the dark sky as the Gods dance, Ivar sits with you leaning against a tree, watching the colous above. Each colour he is certain a different God. Leaning into him, your eyes gaze to the sky. The Gods soar much like a raven high above. Ivar quietly wonders what it would be like to be so free, to move with such ease and grace. He sighs heavy as his heart already knows the answer which his body cannot. His heart soars higher than the raven, higher than any God – he is certain of it – when he is spending the quiet moments with you.
Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.
A/N: This was a request from @geeky-introvert - I swear I wrote it, but apparently I had a very vivid dream about writing your request. This has been waiting since 2018 or 2019. Oops.
Happy Easter love! Hope you're doing alright. Over the weekend could you do something for our hungry puppy Hvitserk having eyes on Oleg's sister or cousin but she's to be married to another, though neither can help their attraction? Thanks love x
Vikings Master List
Izolda was her name.
Hvitserk watched her from where he sat in the corner. She was stunning, like no other woman he had seen before. She was kind and gentle, yet as fierce as any many man could be. He wanted to sweep her off her feet, to run into the night and never return. Yet, he knew such things were not possible.
Her brother, Oleg, had made certain of that. Promising her to the disgusting Grigor. They had been married last spring, so Hvitserk had been told. He'd not been here then, arriving some time later on a mission to find his brother Ivar.
When he'd arrived, she had taken notice to the stranger from the north, claiming to be the brother of Ivar the Boneless. For two men who shared a bloodline, she couldn't help but notice the glaring differences. Hvitserk, as they called him, was lean, agile, and fair haired. Eyes as green as an emerald, and a calm presence. Ivar on the other hand was broader with hair as dark as his soul, and eyes bluer than ice, his presence like a roaring beast.
Across the hall Hvitserk watched her, her dress a striking deep red, the fabric swirling around her legs whenever she moved across the floor, as if in a dance. Taunting him, beckoning him with desire and lust for what she hid under such a fine garment. Drink to his lips, he took a long swig, the back of his hand wiping the droplets from his mouth. Wishing it had been her that he was wiping from the wisps of facial hair that he tried hard to grow.
What he wasn't aware of was her eyes tracking his every move. Each time he shifted his arm to lift his cup, whenever he would steal glances in her direction. She was a woman after all, she knew when she was being stalked. Shooting a glare across the room, her face turning in disgust when her brother walked in. Her husband by his side, laughing as if they wouldn't strike one another down if given the chance. Grigor wasn't that terrible, he was well off and her family held his in high regard.
Too bad she had been given to him like a prized sow, she'd had no word in the matter. She was to be married, because they needed the fortune and able bodied men that he brought with him. She'd nearly slit Oleg's throat, demanding that he marry Grigor then. Little good it did her.
Ignored by the two men she called family, her eyes landed on the man with the drink once more. His hair braided back from his face, the green tunic he wore had seen better days, and his body slouched.
Hvitserk's head jerked up when she approached, clearing his throat he stood to receive her. “Hvitserk, sit please.” She smiled, her smile like the sun warming his bones.
“Iz-Emporess?” Hvitserk had only spoken to her a handful of times and he was never certain what to call her.
“Izolda. Please.” Her voice was a breath of fresh air in this place. “You are not dancing? Do you not find the women here pleasing?”
“No. I mean, yes, I do. I suppose.” He had never stammered this way around a woman before.
“Hmm, let me guess.” She pointed a finger around the room, making a game, her finger landing on a slender brunette, a bit too gaunt for Hvitserk's taste. “Her?” Hvitserk shook his head,
“No? Hmm,” She pointed to a shorter blonde, a bosom as full as the moon two nights past, her hips were perfectly round and her face cheerful “What about her? She is lovely, I know her.” Hvitserk shook his head once more.
“Oh my, hmm.” She feigned thought, pointing to one more woman in the room, this particular woman was but a reflection in polished glass. Her red dress bunched from where she'd sat on the wooden bench. “Her?” She pointed to her own reflection.
“I, I do not desire any woman here.” Hvitserk lied as cheaply as a peddler with useless goods.
“I do not believe that,” She leaned forward, her hand on his thigh. “I see the way you watch me.”
“Forgive me, but I don't mean...”
“You're forgiven, Hvitserk.” Her voice was soft and low. “I watch you as well, when you are not looking. You are different than most men here.”
“And that is a bad thing?” His eyes caught hers, holding them for a moment, the world feeling as if it was going still.
“No, it is a good thing. You know, I would not shy away from you coming to visit me.” Listening for a hint of teasing in her voice, Hvitserk's brow furrowed when he failed to find it.
“Perhaps I should get to know your husband, Ivar says he and your brother are powerful men.”
“My husband,” her voice was hushed, disappointment filling her, of course he would think that she'd meant as a strategic visit.
“If you wish me to come visit, should he not be the one to extend that?”
“No, I didn't...” She shrugged, her hand still on his thigh under the table. “I meant a private visit, just you and I.”
Hvitserk's attention snapped, turning to face her, he could not believe his ears. Surely this was the work of the gods, tempting and tormenting him. She would not mean it. Would she?
“My husband is a boring man, he does not appreciate my appetite.” Izolda licked her lips, her voice still low yet holding a new flare to her tone. “He is so boring, we have been married this long and yet I am still without a child.”
“My apologises,” Hvitserk offered, his mind was truly playing a trick on him now. “I did not know that you wished for children.”
“I do, don't you?”
“Of course, a son. Or a daughter. Either would make me happy.” A small smile spread across his face at the thought. “I do not have a wife, I am but one man and that does not make a child.”
Izolda appreciated his honesty, most men desired sons and sons alone. Hvitserk's eyes light up brighter than the morning sky when he had mentioned a daughter. Her heart warming at the notion. Such a man wanting a daughter, he truly was something else.
The things she would give to have such a man. A man who valued things such as having a wife, before creating a child. A man who spoke to her as if she were a human with her own thoughts, not a piece of property to breed and order about. She'd sat next to Hvitserk for some time, he was infectious with his stories of growing up with Ivar and his brothers, tales of far off lands, and raids he had taken part in.
When he smiled her heart wanted to burst, when he laughed, she swore it was the sweetest music she could ever hear. Hvitserk was kind, perhaps too kind for a place like this. Izolda sat with wonder in her eyes, hanging on his every word. As his mouth moved, she found herself wondering what it would feel like, taste like, to have his lips on hers - among other places on her body. A deep heat ran through her at the thought. She was married. Despite hating her husband, there had been a ceremony and vows, she had to honour those.
A knot forming in her stomach, she held back the bile in her throat at the thought of having to go back to her husband when this was all over. Never had she felt this way about another human, nor had she expected to feel such things so quickly. Once again, she could sense somebody watching her, this time it wasn't Hvitserk as his gaze felt less threatening, even when he was watching her from the shadows earlier.
“I must go.” Her words were hurried and hushed. “I must return to my husband.”
“Must you?”
Nodding her head, she glanced in the direction of her brother. If she wished for her and Hvitserk to remain alive, yes. “It is...not that easy. I do wish to see you again and I shall, alone away from here. I must return for now.”
Her hand leaving his thigh, Hvitserk felt nearly naked. “I wish you well, Izolda. We shall see one another again.”
Bowing her head, she stood. Hvitserk returned the gesture, his eyes finding her husband. How easily it would be to put an arrow through that man. No, he was a guest and if he wished to remain as such, it was wise to put his best foot forward. As Izolda took her place at her husband's side, Hvitserk watched as she feigned a laugh at what he'd said. Her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes cast down.
A shell of the woman Hvitserk had gotten a glimpse of. How free she had felt at his side. She laughed like honey bees on a summer meadow, her eyes like embers glowing from the winter fires, and her hair like gold from the fields of grains. Hvitserk was stupidly in love with a woman he could never have. He knew better than to fall for such a woman, yet there she was. Never to be his.
