Chapter 7: The Bathhouse

Like a horny rat escaping a very amorous ship, I snuck from the main hall, hoping my exit was half as impressive as my entrance. Using the chaos of celebration as cover, I dashed toward the quiet side of the stronghold. I’d made it past the last guard and the last of my common sense when the scent of steamy air and freedom filled my lungs. All I knew was I’d found the bathhouse, a perfect refuge from Sigrid’s curiosity and Felix’s laughter.

The door was massive, like everything in the northlands, but it gave way to my eager push. I stumbled into the cavernous chamber beyond, letting out a satisfied sigh and a long-held breath. Steam obscured the walls, the floor, and even my awareness of where I’d landed. I sank against the nearest pillar, closed my eyes, and imagined I was anywhere else, anywhere without warriors, plans, and impossibly attractive hazards.

Tired and sticky with half-dried mud, I crept further into the bathhouse. It stretched out like the perfect dream: dark, dimly lit, and enough pools to host a party of two. I had no clothes to ditch, only Bjorn’s collar, so I plunged into the hottest water, hoping to find relief for both my bruises and my pride. The air was thick with moisture and the sharp, clean scent of herbs.

Steam swirled in lazy arcs, reminding me of the crowds that had swirled around my exposed flesh. I’d taken a more thorough beating from Sigrid than I wanted to admit, but with the hot water soothing my muscles and quiet soaking into my bones, I hardly cared.

The room was full of possibilities, and all of them seemed better than the last few days. A month ago, I’d never imagined barbarians thinking I was worth the bother. Now, the bother was all I imagined, and even worse, I didn’t mind.

A rough knock at the door gave me half a second of warning. With a creak, a crash, and more certainty than I had in my entire life, Helga burst into the bathhouse.

There was no way in or out that wasn’t sealed by her presence. She wore nothing but a towel and a grin, both as large as her massive frame.

I kept my head low, hoping she’d miss the top of it. The thought lasted as long as it took for her to lock the door behind her.

“Where is my little rabbit?” she said, her voice echoing through the stone chamber.

I submerged myself up to my ears and prayed she’d mistake me for a pool of my own terror.

Her laugh let me know I was failing, and her confident steps let me know how much.

Steam curled around her body, an outline of what I’d imagined even before she reached for the towel. When it dropped to the floor, so did my jaw.

My only hope was escaping before she got too close or before my body showed just how interested I was.

I snuck a glance to where Helga had been, only to find her much closer.

She lifted the corner of a massive mouth in a satisfied smile, pleased with how I’d caught on. “There he is,” she said.

I tried scrambling out of the pool, but the slick stone floor was no friend to a naked man trying to cover up. Her first step covered half the distance between us, her second almost all the rest.

Desperation, panic and impossible arousal nearly drowned out Helga’s next words. “This time,” she said, “I do not have to share.”

I ducked behind a pillar and averted my eyes from her strength.

“My husband may own you by night,” Helga said, “but the day is mine.”

Her powerful steps echoed on the floor, each one a reminder of what I’d feel if she closed the gap.

“I’m not part of your tribe,” I shouted, not part of her tribe and not part of my right mind.

But I was, and she knew it.

“Your hands are warm enough,” I shouted, struggling to keep ahead of her and of my growing urge to stop running.

“You liked Sigrid’s hands,” Helga said. “Why not mine?”

The only thing worse than being caught was my awareness of how much I might like it.

Helga’s eyes sparkled with something besides conquest. “The way you ran with Bjorn’s girl,” she said, “one might think you did not enjoy her.”

“I was just...”

“Come, little rogue!” she called. “Do not make me catch you!”

“You make me do all the work!” Helga shouted, not a trace of doubt or hesitation in her voice.

Her laughter boomed off the stone, and I ran into the far wall.

“My turn,” Helga said, and the certainty of her voice was enough to pin me to the wall even before she closed the final gap.

Her huge fingers wrapped around my shoulders, around my arms, and around all my hopes of getting out in one piece.

My erection happened next. And last. And most of all.

Just as her grip tightened and my hopes did the opposite, Felix picked the lock Helga had set and the door swung open. I saw the look on Felix’s face and almost died on the spot, not from terror but from embarrassment. Helga’s massive hands kept me in place but also kept her attention on the new arrival. A smirk played on Felix’s lips as he surveyed the scene: a helpless, hard Sam caught between terror and lust. “Am I interrupting?” he asked, more amused than anyone had a right to be.

He leaned against a pillar, letting the steam rise around him.

“I can come back later,” Felix said, sounding almost innocent. Almost.

“Or you can stay,” Helga offered. The noise she made was either an amused grunt or a distracted moan. I had no idea which, and I had no idea if it mattered.

The bastard was no help at all.

“Felix!” I shouted, my face red with effort and humiliation. “Help!”

“Help with this?” he asked, indicating the massive woman and the massive distraction she’d created.

“He’s lasted longer than I thought,” he said to Helga, putting me somewhere between delighted and defeated.

“We’ll see how long,” she answered, somewhere between promise and challenge.

“You are man enough to share?” Helga asked. She let the question hang as heavily as her certainty that she’d get the answer she wanted.

“This,” Felix said, “is too much to miss.”

Helga’s voice was confident, resonant, and enough to make me question what I wanted. “You, too?” she asked, holding me in place while the rest of the world spun.

Felix watched, curious and cruel, while Helga held me with one massive hand and closed the other around my cock and balls together, squeezing until I was rock hard in her fist. Her smile grew as I squirmed, her delight as obvious as my arousal.

With the help of steam, desperation, and sheer luck, I wriggled until her grip on my shoulder slipped. When she noticed, I had one last chance. When Felix noticed, I had no chance at all.

“You cannot escape,” Helga said. “You cannot last!”

Felix nodded, more satisfied than any lover had a right to be.

“I think he can,” he said.

My hope broke loose, even if I hadn’t. Felix thought he was watching the last moments of my most humiliating capture, but I thought I had one more trick up my not-quite sleeves.

And I did.

I reached for the nearest shelf, and chaos exploded around us. Oils, bottles, and my best hope for survival crashed to the floor. Helga slipped, and I slipped past. Her furious bellow was almost enough to make me reconsider, but I ran for the door and my life. “You are his!” Helga shouted, though I had no idea if she meant me, Felix, or my terrifying reaction to both. Felix was two steps ahead, grabbing his clothes as he dashed. We bolted down the corridor like our pants were on fire.

Felix’s laughter echoed behind us and above us and too damn close to be entirely reassuring. He was thrilled, even more so than I’d imagined.

We tore through the camp, me bare-assed and slick with spilled oil, and I didn’t dare turn around to see if Helga followed.

We sprinted, skidded, and scurried until we lost sight of the bathhouse and lost our last shred of dignity. When we rounded the final corner, Felix nearly plowed into two half-dressed northlanders.

I stopped in time to avoid them, but not in time to avoid the inevitable: “You will be his,” one of them shouted, filling the stronghold with her boisterous declaration.

Her friend caught on, then joined in. “He likes the little one better,” she said, and I had no idea if she meant Felix, my growing response, or something even worse.

Felix ducked behind a row of barrels, then paused long enough to grab my arm as I caught up. His touch sent a jolt through my already shocked body, and I stumbled after him as he led me further from the main hall and closer to an actual escape.

“Almost there!” Felix said, hauling me toward the outbuildings at the far end of the stronghold, where a ladder climbed to a hayloft. His clothes hung over one shoulder and his grin hung over his face like he was the most pleased-with-himself rogue in the land.

We scrambled up the rungs and collapsed in the hay at the top, gasping and laughing. I shook my head in disbelief, not sure if I wanted to hug him or punch him or punch him, then hug him.

“Rescue,” I said, sprawled in the hay with nothing to put on, “is when you get me out before I lose my clothes.”

“Again?” Felix asked, raising a perfect eyebrow and his perfect voice.

“Thanks,” I said. “You saved me.”

He ignored the sarcasm and caught the sincerity.

“I was about to take her up on the offer,” he said, snapping his own tunic in the air before slipping into it. “You looked like you needed help.”

“Think you’re safe?” he asked, pulling close enough for me to want more than either of us imagined.

“Think you can keep up?” I asked, pulling him even closer.

Felix’s eyes glinted with mischief and a dozen other things, each more promising than the last.

“And still,” he said, “you’re hard for the north.”

I choked on a laugh, caught somewhere between horror and excitement.

“They all want you, Sam,” Felix said, his words and his lips more aggressive than usual. “Bjorn. Sigrid. Helga.”

“They’ll eat you alive,” Felix said. The suggestion was more tempting than he knew.

“You will if they don’t,” I said, surprising myself more than him.

Felix smiled. “Maybe I will,” he said, sealing the promise with the hungriest kiss I’d ever known.

He grabbed me, the force and heat of him putting me in an entirely new and entirely exciting situation. This time, I wasn’t going anywhere.

“You really want this?” I asked, hardly believing he wanted me more than to laugh at me. “Really?”

“I do,” Felix said. “Before the whole tribe claims you.”

He shifted until he was on top of me, straddling my hips in the hay, and I dragged his tunic off over his head and flung it into the dark. His hands were everywhere, his mouth demanding.

I’d thought I wanted a break. I was wrong.

Felix took control, and I let him. I was still slick from the bathhouse oils, but he took his time anyway, pushing in slow, an inch and a pause and another inch, until the stretch burned and melted into a deep, full ache that had me groaning at the rafters. The hay prickled my back. I locked my legs around his waist and dragged him in to the root.

“My Sam,” Felix said, “you are so welcoming.”

“That’s the oil,” I managed.

“Is it?” he asked, and rolled his hips until I saw white.

He built it slowly, long strokes that turned shorter and harder, each one dragging across the spot that curled my toes, my cock trapped and leaking between our bellies and sliding through the mess with every thrust. “Look at me,” he said, and I did, those violet eyes dark and fixed on mine, and that was what undid me. I came with a shout I swallowed into his mouth, hot across both our stomachs, clenching around him, and Felix followed a heartbeat later, shuddering deep inside me with my name caught in his throat. It went on longer than it should have, and I didn’t want it to stop. Neither of us named what it was.

Felix draped himself across my chest, his perfect blonde hair catching the light of the round moon and the bright stars through the loft door. He was satisfied and smug. So was I.

“You were ready to share,” he said. “Or was I seeing things?”

I kissed him. He was as smooth as he was perfect.

“We’ll see about that,” I said. “Little rabbit isn’t done yet.”

“Or exhausted,” Felix said, as he let himself drift toward the warm, satisfied sleep of a rogue who knew exactly what kind of prize he’d claimed.

Lying there, I put together what I should have in the bathhouse. Helga hadn’t wandered in. She’d knocked, locked the door behind her, and picked the one hour when the whole hold was drunk in the main hall and nobody would hear me squeal. She’d called me Sam like she’d been practicing it. She was loud and filthy and enjoying herself, but she wasn’t stupid, and a woman who wasn’t stupid had wanted me alone. The second Felix walked in she let me go with a lot less fuss than a woman on a mission should make. I couldn’t work out what she wanted me for, so I filed it under things to worry about when I was wearing pants.

Something else was bugging me, and it took me a while to place it. I’d climbed up here without checking how else to get down. I hadn’t looked at the hatch once or guessed at the drop from the edge. I always count the exits. Somewhere in the last week I’d quit, and now I was lying in a hayloft in a stronghold full of people who owned me, thinking it would be nice to still be here in the morning. That was stupid, and I didn’t like it. I filed that one for later too.