Chapter 3: Bjorn’s Return

I shuffled my bare feet across the animal hides for the hundredth time and pretended I was somewhere else, anywhere else that didn’t involve a leather collar, Bjorn Skullcrusher’s massive bulge, or the smirking tome of perversion lying on the furs beside me. I’d pulled off the heist without a hitch, only to get snagged in the stronghold with my pants literally down. Now I was stuck as “tribute” to the biggest damn barbarian I’d ever seen. With my luck, that huge cock of his would end up mounted on the wall. Or inside me. The book wasn’t helping.

I paced back and forth, furs scratching at my ankles. My stomach twisted, and I wasn’t sure if it was from excitement or fear.

The bastard had a reputation, that much I knew. A Skullcrusher? Bjorn? You had to be pretty damn full of yourself to add your name to the end of words like that. A massive collection of weapons and furs littered the space, mocking my puny physique. I considered hiding behind a stack of oversized war hammers or axes, but I was pretty sure those would be his first stop when he came back to the tent. With the collar around my neck, I felt more exposed than I had running from Blackrock naked. I figured I’d be as good as a boneless rabbit by the end of it.

“The things I do for magic fucking rings,” I muttered.

“Language!” the Tome barked, “Do you kiss that Felix boy with that mouth?”

“Do you even have a mouth?” I shot back, peering at the grotesque brass corners of the Tome.

I almost kicked the book across the tent but thought better of it. I needed it quiet, not riled up. That meant getting out of the stronghold with every hole in my body unprobed. Preferably.

I stopped pacing and crouched to check the flaps of the tent. The shadows outside were long, cast by warriors heading back from the hunt, already bragging about their kills. Bjorn’s form wouldn’t be hard to spot, if he didn’t spot me first. I searched for a way out that didn’t involve shoving myself past him, but the whole space was crammed with stuff: fur pelts, crates, weapons, piles of Bjorn-sized pants. I swallowed hard. This was not going to end well.

A sudden crash outside made me jump. My pulse quickened as I strained to hear more. It sounded like it was a hundred yards away. Maybe less.

“Oh no,” I said, clamping my mouth shut before the Tome could respond.

The booming footsteps came next. They stopped directly outside the tent.

I made a break for it.

“Skullcrusher!” a voice like thunder bellowed. The tent flaps exploded open, and there he stood, eight feet of sweaty barbarian muscle, eyes locked onto me. Every inch of him was covered in sweat, mud, and the look of a man who had hunted all day and bagged something more interesting than the game. Something like me. He wasn’t wearing much, just a loincloth and a couple of belts crisscrossed over his chest. They didn’t hide a damn thing.

I froze as he took a few heavy steps toward me.

“So. We meet again!” he boomed.

“Actually,” I started to say, “this is the fir—”

Before I could finish, his massive hand clamped around my waist. He picked me up like I was a lost cat and turned me around, letting the eye on the book take in every inch of my half-naked form.

“Looks like the chieftain got himself a bony one!” the Tome howled.

I kicked and struggled, and he didn’t even notice.

“Feisty,” Bjorn said with a satisfied grunt.

He pinned me against a tent pole, holding me in place while his eyes roved over every inch of me. My body trembled as he looked me up and down. I was hyper-aware of his grip, firm but not painful.

Bjorn laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that made my whole body vibrate. “You think you can escape the great Bjorn Skullcrusher?”

“Y-Yes?” I said, still squirming against his hold. “Yes! Yes I can! Please let me go!”

“I do not think you wish that,” he replied, pressing his face close to mine.

“That boy’s got more tent than a whole fucking ARMY,” the Tome chortled.

I tried to focus on anything but the embarrassing reaction I had to Bjorn’s touch, but the huge barbarian noticed, his eyes narrowing with even more interest.

“It seems my little rabbit likes his cage,” he said, voice low and rough.

I whimpered and did my best to wriggle free, but the struggle was as hopeless as my plan. Bjorn lifted me effortlessly and started for the furs piled in the middle of the tent. He tossed me down, and I bounced while he stood over me.

Bjorn’s shadow fell over me, broad and commanding, as he stripped away the last scraps of leather that covered his body. I’d never felt smaller or more trapped.

“The Skullcrusher’s gift is his STAMINA,” the Tome yelled, “Takes his time!”

“Don’t you have other orgies to annoy?” I asked, trying to cover myself with my hands. My face burned as Bjorn looked me over, his cock like a fifth limb jutting out from his torso.

He laughed as he bent down over me. “You will make a fine addition to the stronghold. The best spoil I’ve claimed all season!”

“Really?” I said. “I think I’d make a terrible—oh.”

His hands were on me. Calloused, rough, but with a care that belied his huge frame. I sucked in a breath as he moved up my legs, fingers grazing over my thighs and ribs, and came to rest around my wrists. He pulled my arms away from my body, pinning them above my head. The full weight of his eyes fell on me.

“I see you,” he said.

I gulped and felt my heart beating a tattoo in my chest. This was going to happen. It was really going to happen.

My tally so far: no pants, no gear, no plan, and a book with opinions. I’d had better afternoons.

“Little rabbit is helpless,” he continued, a grin splitting his face.

“Cute,” I managed to say. “Do I at least get some pants?”

I wasn’t sure if he heard me or didn’t care, but the look of lust in his eyes answered loud enough.

His hand traced the scar from my shoulder to my hip, his touch curious and possessive at once. It kept going past the hip and closed around my cock, and he gave it one slow, appreciative squeeze. I writhed beneath him, trying to wriggle free, but it was no use. I was caught and caged, and my body was starting to realize it might like being caught.

My dick was a traitor. Whatever part of me was in charge down there, it wasn’t the part that made plans.

“Good catch, Bjorn,” he said to himself, the words as heavy as his grip. He rolled me onto my belly and pressed me down, keeping his weight off but making sure I couldn’t escape.

I tensed as he bent low and breathed against my neck, but the sensation made me shiver. “What is your name?” he asked, the words hot against my skin.

“Uh, S-Sam?” I said, wondering why it mattered.

“I like this name,” he replied, his beard grazing my shoulder.

I felt his teeth close on my neck, careful, and a groan escaped before I could stop it. He worked his way down my body with lips, teeth, and hands, and every bite felt like he was branding me with heat and breath instead of a searing iron. I squirmed, but not as much as I had.

A rogue with principles would have kept squirming. Nobody had ever accused me of those.

“Shameless!” the book shouted, and Bjorn finally noticed it was there.

He reached over and flipped it face down on the furs. “Book is annoying.”

“Yes,” I gasped, surprised he was listening.

“We ignore book,” Bjorn decided. His attention shifted back to me. Back to his prize.

His hand was between my legs. I arched against his grip, fighting the pleasure that rippled through my body. I couldn’t fight it for long.

Bjorn gave a satisfied growl. “The great Skullcrusher gives his guest all the comforts!”

His fingers worked their way deeper, probing until I couldn’t stand it. I buried my face in the furs to hide the sounds escaping my mouth. This was impossible and embarrassing, and it was also completely unavoidable. I moaned, and the bastard didn’t even try to hide his delight.

“He makes so much noise already,” he laughed. “Rabbit is hot inside. Rabbit is wet for Bjorn’s fingers!”

My moans turned to whimpers as Bjorn’s fingers slid inside me, working in and out in slow, teasing strokes. Each thick knuckle dragged and stretched me open while my cock leaked onto the furs. I was slick with oil or spit or maybe the barbarian had magic hands. At this point I didn’t care how he did it. I only knew it was the most intense feeling I’d ever experienced. I was beyond protests, beyond any hope of resisting. I bit my lip to keep from crying out and tasted blood.

Mistress Ashara had spent a year teaching me discipline. I wanted a refund.

The pressure inside me was growing unbearable. I could feel myself giving in, my body betraying me one final time.

Bjorn stopped.

I gasped for air as he released me, his eyes roaming all over me. I could feel his touch lingering everywhere: my wrists, my neck, my ass. Every inch of me ached, and I wanted to hate him for leaving me like this. Instead, I wanted him even more.

“The Rabbit is MINE!” he said.

Bjorn hauled me up onto my knees by the hair, and I looked up at the huge, heavy shaft he was stroking in front of me. I knew what he wanted. I wanted it too, even if it was the size of my forearm. He brought my head closer, his fingers tangled in my hair, and I opened my mouth to take in the biggest cock I’d ever seen.

It was impossible, stretching my jaw wide as he pressed it past my lips. I tasted salt and musk and the man’s unstoppable ego. I did my best to accommodate him, struggling to take even half of what he offered. He watched with a triumphant expression, letting out a low, rumbling moan that shook me to the core.

“There’s a GOOD pup!” the muffled Tome heckled.

I felt Bjorn’s hand on the back of my head, guiding my mouth up and down the enormous length. He was in control, but careful not to push me too far. Not yet, anyway. The warmth and weight of it filled my mouth, and I wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into. What the hell I was getting into me.

“Little Sam,” Bjorn said, pulling my head away. I gasped, my mouth slick and my pride in shambles. He moved behind me, lifting me effortlessly as he positioned me on all fours. I felt his shaft pressing against me, a heavy promise of what was to come.

He was inside.

The pressure was intense, but the preparation and oil paid off. The sudden fullness made me gasp and shudder and forget everything except the overpowering sensation of Bjorn’s cock as it stretched me wide. He was so hot inside me that I felt every throb of it.

“Pounding his little thief!” the muffled book cheered, but it was already fading to the background. I was past embarrassment, past humiliation, past anything except the brutal, wonderful slam of Bjorn’s hips against my ass. Some thief I was. I’d come for the rings and ended up the loot.

He leaned over me, his breath hot in my ear. “Rabbit will not escape now,” he growled, driving deeper with each thrust. His pace quickened, and I cried out, pushing back against him as my body took over. He was everywhere, filling me in ways I never imagined. His weight pinned me flat between thrusts, and my cock dragged leaking against the furs.

And I wanted more.

My vision blurred as I lost myself to the pleasure, the pain, and the sheer force of Bjorn’s possession. I was slick with sweat and spit and everything else the barbarian had given me, and I didn’t care.

“Good!” Bjorn said, holding me tight. “So GOOD!”

I felt his grip on my hips, strong enough to leave marks, pulling me back with the full power of each thrust. The sounds of our bodies filled the tent, and filled my mind. I moaned as Bjorn slammed into me, his cock thick and hard, and everything I thought I wanted.

When I finally came, it hit me all at once.

I saw stars, heard the Tome squeak something under the furs, and my entire body clenched around Bjorn’s shaft in waves of overwhelming ecstasy. It was too much, and not enough. Not until the barbarian gave a triumphant roar, shaking the whole godsdamned camp as he spilled into me.

I collapsed onto the furs, gasping, and felt Bjorn’s heavy, sweaty body come down over me. He nuzzled my neck, still hard inside me.

I’d lost plenty of fights, but this was the first one I’d enjoyed losing.

I woke on my side with Bjorn spooned against my back, his cock still hard inside me and his arm heavy as a log over my chest. The air was warm and thick with the smell of sex, making it hard to think straight, or at all. The dying embers of the brazier cast faint, orange light across the tent, and I could hear Bjorn’s clansmen singing outside. Either he’d inspired them or his finishing roar had pissed them off. I was willing to bet it was both. The Tome was still face down on the furs where Bjorn had flipped it, and quiet for once.

I had one comforting thought: At least nothing else could go wrong.

That’s when Felix walked in.

I tried to pretend I was asleep, but the surprise on his face made me crack an eye open.

“Looks like someone had fun,” he whispered, kneeling beside me with a teasing grin.

“Looks like someone should leave,” I whispered back, still too worn out to move.

“I think not,” Felix said, and he slipped under the furs in front of me, face to face, so that I lay on my side with a barbarian at my back and a rival at my front. I was too tired to shove him out.

Bjorn’s snores rattled the tent, but Felix didn’t seem to care. He moved close, sliding his arm under Bjorn’s and letting it drape over the two of us. “I see you got cozy with our barbarian friend.”

“Shut up,” I said, though I was secretly glad to see him.

“Bjorn knows how to mark his territory,” Felix replied, one eyebrow arching suggestively. His eyes roamed over my neck and shoulders, no doubt counting the red welts and bruises, and then his hand followed, pressing slowly over the bite on my shoulder and the finger-shaped marks on my hip until I flinched.

“Sam!” the Tome bellowed from under the furs, awake and already laughing. “Should have KNOWN you’d share!”

Felix laughed under his breath, his soft hair tickling my neck. “Does he snore like this every night?”

“Doubt I’ll be sticking around to find out,” I told him, but my resolve was weaker than I wanted to admit.

I caught his wrist before it went any lower. Felix would hold this over me for years, and I was wearing a collar with another man’s cock still inside me, which was a rotten place to start that argument. My face was hot enough to fry an egg on.

His hand slipped lower anyway, over my ribs and down my belly, and closed around my cock. I let out an involuntary moan. Felix paused, cocking his head to think about it, and dragged his thumb through the mess I’d made of myself. “Very sticky,” he decided, his voice full of mischief.

Bjorn shifted, and we both held our breath. His snoring stopped for a long, terrible moment, and then started up again, louder than before.

I let out a sigh, and Felix laughed under his breath again. “And I thought you liked them quiet.”

“You should go,” I tried to insist, but he knew I didn’t mean it.

He moved with an elegant grace that made my head spin. Either that or Bjorn’s dick was cutting off the circulation.

Felix brought his face close, his breath warm on my lips. “Besides,” he whispered, “I like you this way.”

“Used?” I said, half-heartedly.

He answered by pulling me into a kiss, slow and deep and full of things I didn’t have the energy to resist.

My protests were fading fast, replaced by the heat of Felix’s touch. He was less than Bjorn in some ways, but so much more in others.

I gasped when his hand slid around behind me and his fingers probed exactly where I was most sore, right where Bjorn’s cock was still buried. “You are still quite full,” he commented, pushing two, then three of them inside alongside it. “How generous of him to prepare the way, my Sam.” The barbarian had left his mark, literally and figuratively, and Felix sounded amused as he explored the evidence.

I squirmed between the two of them, painfully aware of how wet and slick I still was. “Gods, Felix,” I said, “Bjorn’s seed—”

“—is everywhere,” he finished, as though it were the most charming thing he’d ever seen.

I glared at him, or tried to. It was hard to be mad when I was still spread and panting from Bjorn.

“You are not as tight as I’d like,” he said, not even trying to hide his grin.

“You brat,” I moaned, my body clenching around his fingers.

“Sam’s NEVER been this loose!” the Tome shouted from under the furs.

Felix took his time, drawing his fingers out and watching me with that insufferably elegant smile.

“Who knew you could take so much?” he whispered, hooking my top knee up and forward and setting the head of his cock against my opening, right beside Bjorn’s shaft. I tried to push back to meet him, but Bjorn’s heavy arm and heavier cock kept me exactly where I was.

Felix pushed in alongside him, one steady inch at a time, until I was stretched around two cocks at once and could barely breathe. Bjorn’s was thick and hot and perfectly still, Felix’s was moving, and the slick of Bjorn’s come made every inch of it go in easier than it had any right to. “You are taking us both so beautifully,” Felix said, as though reading me a compliment off a card.

His precision was unlike the barbarian’s strength, and I groaned as he picked up his pace.

“You like that?” he asked, not expecting an answer and not needing one.

He pushed in to the hilt. “There,” he said. “There.”

The man knew what he was doing, and the way I shuddered against him was all the confirmation he needed.

Bjorn let out a contented snort, not quite waking, but shifting enough to let the two of us breathe. Felix took advantage, driving into me with the full length of his cock. The pace was intoxicating, his low moans mixing with mine.

“When he wakes,” Felix whispered against my ear, “he will find that he was not the only one to claim you.”

He pulled my hips tighter against him, pistoning faster than I thought possible. The sweat from Bjorn’s skin and mine made everything slippery and desperate.

All that mattered was the incredible sensation of Felix inside me, the contrast between his sharp, graceful thrusts and the steady presence of Bjorn still sheathed in my ass. The feel of both was more than I could handle.

He pressed down hard, pushing me back against the unconscious barbarian. My head spun as the force and fullness threatened to overwhelm me a second time.

I came hard enough that my whole body clenched around both of them, and I screamed so loud that Felix had to cover my mouth with his. The noise still escaped, and I was sure we’d wake the whole camp. My pulse roared in my ears, in my chest, in every inch of me as I finished in spasms that went on forever.

The intensity was enough to send Felix over the edge, and he shuddered as he came inside me, whispering my name. I felt the warmth of it, the heat and slickness and absolute need. It mixed with the barbarian’s come and dripped down my thighs as Felix collapsed against me.

We lay there in a sweaty, sticky heap of three, and only two of us knew it.

“You have terrible taste in men,” Felix said, finally catching his breath.

“You have terrible timing,” I replied.