Chapter 5: Bjorn’s Claim

Bjorn’s massive cock slammed into me, and my ears were ringing. War horns. I blinked and tried to listen. Yeah. Definitely war horns.

“Why are you slowing down?” I gasped, panting and trying to wrap my head around the sudden change in tempo. Wasn’t the earth supposed to move in a different way?

Bjorn grunted something about “under attack” and “invaders,” but I didn’t care if the whole world was falling apart. I was too busy getting my brains fucked out to worry about it.

“They’ll be fine,” I panted, pushing back against him. My body was slick with sweat, a layer of it glistening on both of us as he kept pounding away. His breath was hot on my neck, each thrust pushing a moan out of me that I was trying to turn into words.

“Under attack! Blood and thunder!” he shouted, trying to look serious about it while still wrecking me like I was the only enemy he cared about. Multitasking wasn’t really his thing.

“Yeah, yeah,” I teased, playing unimpressed while every muscle in my body tightened around him. “How about you finish here first?”

Bjorn laughed like a madman, or maybe just a regular barbarian, and rammed harder. The war horns kept blaring outside.

“Do you hear me, Skullcrusher?” I taunted, pushing him. “You afraid of some puny invaders?” I couldn’t stop the whimper that followed, as he gave one final push.

That did it. Bjorn roared, buried to the balls, and came inside me in long, hot pulses. He pulled out and stood, his massive cock leaving me with a loud, wet pop that made me wince and gasp. The sudden emptiness was almost as shocking as the sensation of his massive cock, and I missed it more than I wanted to admit. My ass was left gaping and open from his size, the cold air hitting it, and his come leaked out of me, running down my thighs into the furs.

With a roar of “For the Bloodfist!” Bjorn snatched his double-headed axe from beside the bed and stormed out of the tent, not bothering to put on a stitch of clothing. His voice boomed as he bellowed orders to his warriors, yelling about “gnome invaders” and “the little bastards are back!” The whole camp was alive with shouts and pounding feet as I lay there panting.

It was chaos out there, but my ass was still sore, and that was my primary concern.

“Amateur hour!” a loud, grating voice shouted from somewhere near my feet. “You need to prep for next time, lad!”

I groaned, but not in a good way this time. “Shut up, you damned book.”

The Tome of Wanton Desecration sat smugly on the floor, its unblinking eye staring at me with amusement. It shuddered with a laugh and gave a few pointers I wasn’t keen on hearing.

“A little prelude and proper lubrication, and you’ll be ready for—”

“—An audience with the chieftain’s wife?” I shot back.

The eye narrowed in disgust. “You’d never survive the ordeal,” it taunted, and I wasn’t sure if it meant Helga or Bjorn. The cover of the book twitched, and a weird giggling sound came from it that made me uncomfortable in all sorts of ways.

I pushed myself up, still leaking onto the furs, and looked for my clothes. The tent was empty except for me and that damned book, and the din outside was like an all-you-can-scream barbarian buffet.

“Felix!” I called, hoping he hadn’t bailed on me in all this mess. “You out there?”

Bjorn had my real clothes somewhere, so I tied the napkin of a loincloth back on, the knot rubbing against skin that was raw in too many places. The stronghold was a madhouse, and all the shouting about gnomes gave me a bad feeling I couldn’t shake. Maybe I should find him and tell him he fucked up even worse than usual.

On the other hand, it could be my chance to escape.

I grabbed a cloak off Bjorn’s pile, far too big for me, bundled the Tome up in it, and pushed out of the tent, wondering how far I could get while the barbarians were too busy to care.

Half-naked in a tiny napkin of a loincloth and Bjorn’s huge cloak, the Tome bundled up in it under my arm and Bjorn’s come still leaking down my thighs, I ducked back into the shadows as the stronghold erupted around me. A group of warriors thundered past, and I was nearly trampled by Bjorn’s very loud, very naked troops. The air was thick with chaos and the metallic tang of blood, which I tried to avoid stepping in.

I could hear shouting from the main gates, high-pitched gnome voices mixed in with the barbarian bellows. “Defend the north wall!” a huge guy with red braids yelled. “Get those little fuckers!”

Sam and Felix, rogue team of the century. We steal some shiny magic rings, and now we’ve got an army of tiny dudes tearing up the place.

Moving fast, I did my best to disappear into the chaos. I had to find Felix and get the hell out before they killed each other over a couple of trinkets, or worse, found me first.

The camp was an absolute warzone, gnome warriors in platform boots hopping around like frenzied fleas, taking cheap shots at barbarian ankles. It would have been hilarious if I wasn’t one accidental stab away from disaster. I breathed in sharply and melted into the shadows, Mistress Ashara’s Shadow Dance running through my head: breathe slow, heart rate down, feet quick. I moved with the pandemonium instead of against it, a half-naked ghost through the melee.

“Find their leader!” someone yelled. “Shortstack’s here somewhere!”

Shortstack. Felix and I had heard the name before, back when we raided their stupid gnome village and stole everything that wasn’t nailed down. The little guys could hold a grudge.

“And get those sacred rings!” another barbarian screamed, somewhere off in the mess.

I froze, my blood running cold. Or maybe it was just the puddle I stepped in. Sacred rings. The ones Felix thought would be fun to “borrow” and left me with to hold on to, and that I’d gone and bet away to Bjorn. Damn it, Felix. Guilt stabbed at me, along with the fear that this was a hell of a lot more serious than we thought.

“Shortstack will not be bested!” a very loud, very tiny voice cried. “Find the rings!”

Gritting my teeth, I headed deeper into the madness. What the hell was I thinking? I should just cut and run. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d regret it if I didn’t find him first.

“Remember your training!” a gnome commander barked. “And don’t get stepped on!”

I moved fast, ducking beneath wooden beams and through shadowed alleys until I heard voices and heavy footsteps nearby, real close.

“Those tiny bastards—” I caught the voice of one warrior, followed by another one shushing him and a giddy squeak. The sound stopped me dead in my tracks.

I pressed into a corner, sweating and struggling not to get noticed as I waited for them to pass. My legs burned from constant motion, my breath was ragged and sharp. If it weren’t for the strange grunting and moaning, I might’ve lost it.

What the fuck?

I saw a storage room ahead, secluded, empty-looking. It was my best chance for an escape route or at least a breather, and my curiosity got the best of me.

Peeking through the door, I nearly choked. My eyes went wide at the bizarre scene unfolding inside.

Helga was riding Grimble like a wild pony, her powerful thighs crushing the tiny gnome as he squeaked with glee. It was ridiculous, and I couldn’t look away.

I pressed my face to the crack in the door, trying to stay silent as I watched Bjorn’s massive wife bounce the gnome chieftain up and down on a pile of furs. My brain was a mess of shock, disgust, and yeah, okay, I was getting really turned on.

The gnome’s cry echoed as he took charge. “The mighty Grimble conquers again!” he squealed, then his voice dropped, like he didn’t want anyone to hear. “Oh, Helga.”

Grimble’s pointy hat bobbed with each thrust, and he yelled things like “Who’s your little stallion?” in that squeaky voice of his. Helga let out thunderous moans, her scarred arms wrapped around the tiny bastard. They were tangled together in a sweaty, obscene knot, the huge difference in size making the whole thing look impossible.

Helga’s booming voice responded. “You are!” she shouted, and I was afraid her thighs would snap him like a toothpick. I was also kind of afraid for myself because the harder they went at it, the harder I got.

“The rings were supposed to stop this!” he yelped, and my heart skipped a beat. “Without them on her, Sigrid will tear the camp apart!”

“I love you!” Grimble’s high-pitched confession rang out, and Helga almost lost her pace.

Samuel, I thought. Sam, old buddy. You should probably stop watching this.

But I couldn’t.

Helga’s powerful thighs clenched around him, a huge grin on her face. “Who’s breaking my skull now?” she shouted.

Sigrid? Bjorn’s girl? The berserker rage was because of the rings? I struggled to process that little bombshell, given the massive, sweaty distraction bouncing across the room.

Their obscene coupling was unreal, huge limbs and tiny body twisting and moving together, piling against walls and wooden barrels, while the bundled Tome stayed silent under my arm. The sound of flesh on flesh was almost enough to drown out the cries outside, but not quite.

A chill ran up my spine, despite the heat. I’d been wrong about the rings. They weren’t for Helga at all. They were for her stepdaughter.

My whole body ached with tension. I wanted to be appalled. I wanted to not find this whole thing so fucking arousing. But it was, and I was panting in the shadows like a damned fool.

Helga and Grimble went harder and faster, her voice shaking the very bones of the storage room. “Give me all you’ve got!” she yelled.

Their climax was thunderous.

I swallowed hard, trying to process, trying to breathe, and trying not to go totally insane as Helga’s ecstatic roar and Grimble’s high-pitched yelp echoed through the room.

They lay in a heap on the furs, wheezing. “You made them for me,” Helga said, still catching her breath. “I know what they cost you.”

“Anything for you, my love,” Grimble squeaked into her collarbone. “As long as the rings keep Bjorn’s girl quiet.”

Felix slid beside me, violet eyes wide with amusement. I nearly jumped out of my skin as he appeared like a fucking ghost, grinning ear to ear.

I didn’t know if I was more relieved or pissed off. “Took you long enough,” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest and in my pants.

It was a wonder I didn’t shoot through the ceiling as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.

We were crammed into a tiny space, practically tangled together as I gaped at him.

“Enjoying the show?” he teased, watching me twitch with shock and arousal.

I had half a mind to be angry at him, the other half too hard to care. “This whole thing is your fault,” I whispered.

I tried to focus on anything besides how bad I wanted him, but all I could do was moan under my breath as he pressed closer and slid his thigh up between my legs, rubbing hard against my balls.

His lips brushed my ear. “Need help with that?” he whispered, with a low, wicked laugh.

I wasn’t sure if he meant my situation or the stolen rings or maybe the fact that I was a quivering mess, but he was definitely having a good time figuring it out.

“Or you enjoying the amateur hour?” Felix whispered as Helga roared.

I groaned as his hand closed around my cock, then slid lower, and his fingers found me still wet and open from Bjorn. “My Sam, you are still dripping from him, and I find I do not mind in the least,” he whispered, his smile driving me wild. “I swear it’s not what it looks like,” I tried, but Felix gave a sly grin that said he knew better.

“Sam?” Felix whispered, kissing my neck, his hair falling against my cheek. I turned, met his lips with mine, and forgot everything else.

We kissed harder, and I lost myself, grinding into him.

His hips were moving against me, my thrusts getting desperate as he gasped for breath. “Felix,” I groaned, barely coherent, rutting against him.

Felix pushed back. “Come on, Sam,” he panted.

All the tension from Helga and Grimble burst, all the chaos from outside fell away. I forgot my frustration. I forgot everything. My mind blanked as my body took over.

I shoved Felix’s trousers down and backed him against the wall by the storeroom door, hooked his thigh up over my arm, and pushed into him standing, breathing hard as I pounded him. He wrapped around me, arching his back against the wall as I filled him.

Helga and Grimble’s cries rang through the storage room. Felix moaned in my ear, each thrust pulling us closer to the edge.

His arms tightened around me, and his raised leg pulled me in. My lips found his neck, then his lips. My kiss swallowed his cries as we both exploded with lust, riding the chaos until it shook us apart and together again.

My whole world narrowed to the feeling of Felix around me, and I bit his lip as we went over the edge, hard and loud and completely caught up in the moment.

Afterward we slid down the wall into a heap, and I lay there with Felix tangled up under me, listening to the horns outside finally die down. Helga had asked for the rings, Grimble had made them, and they were meant for Sigrid, who’d looked ready to take my head off that afternoon. I had no idea what to do with that yet, and I wasn’t going to figure it out with Felix’s thighs still around my hips.