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“Here, they still had some left,” Askeladd said as he set a full bowl of steaming food in front of Bjorn, who was still in the process of finishing his first one.
“Thanks, Askeladd,” he responded, beaming as if Askeladd had just bestowed some great gift upon him.
Well, maybe it made sense. Bjorn was fucking smitten after all—everyone knew it, even Thorfinn. What point there was in falling in love, especially with a piece of shit like Askeladd, remained a mystery to him, though.
The thing that confounded him was Askeladd's behaviour. Usually, it was Bjorn fussing over Askeladd's nutrition, urging him to eat more, even carrying snacks around so Askeladd didn't have to go hungry even on days they had no time to cook a proper meal.
It wasn't unheard of for Askeladd to do something nice for Bjorn; they were fucking, after all, but it never happened this consistently. He'd been bringing Bjorn seconds all week, ever since they'd made it to Gorm's for the winter.
It wasn't like Bjorn was ill or injured; he could've easily done it himself. He could've cooked his own food, too, and he did! Just a few days ago, he'd given Thorfinn multiple thick slices of the fresh bread he'd baked, but had still happily accepted the honey cakes Askeladd had snatched from the kitchen to share.
That, too, was strange. Askeladd loved sweets, even if he would've denied it if asked, and he never shared them with anyone. Except Bjorn, it seemed.
“We came back pretty late this year,” Askeladd mused, taking a sip of mead, one leg stretched out on the bench to deter anyone from sitting next to him. “Perfect time to go mushroom picking.”
Bjorn nodded enthusiastically. “I'd be happy to go with—”
“No, no. I was about to suggest I go with Thorfinn. As long as you promise to cook us dinner.”
“Hey!” Thorfinn protested. “Don't volunteer me for your shit courting attempts.”
Askeladd eyed Thorfinn with an almost pitying look. “I don't need to court Bjorn, he puts out anyway.”
At that, Bjorn visibly flushed. “Askeladd!”
Askeladd shrugged. “What? It's the truth.”
“I hate it here,” Thorfinn muttered, pushing around the remaining food in his bowl.
“It's settled then,” Askeladd decided. “It'll give you something to do, instead of getting into trouble.”
“Whatever.” If he did get into trouble, it was mainly to annoy Askeladd, but he'd have the rest of the winter to focus on that.
As unappealing as mushroom picking in the wet autumn weather sounded, it might just be worth it for the resulting dinner. Bjorn was a decent cook even with meager ingredients, but at Gorm's village, they had all the good stuff, and the winter hadn't had time to deplete any of the storages.
And of course, mushrooms were Bjorn's speciality, whether it was cooking them, finding them or using them for… other purposes. The window for eating fresh mushrooms was pitifully narrow, too. Thorfinn knew he'd regret not taking advantage of it.
“Why are we doing this?” Thorfinn couldn't help but whine the next morning despite not putting up a fight when Askeladd had woken him up.
Askeladd turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Don't you like mushrooms?”
“Obviously. But why not just let Bjorn pick them himself, he's better at finding them.”
“He's earned some rest, he worked hard all season.”
Thorfinn frowned—he wasn't stupid enough to swallow that answer. “He's stronger than you. Younger too. If anyone should be resting, it's you, baldy.”
“You think so? Should I head back then?” Askeladd asked.
Might be worth it to get rid of him, Thorfinn thought. But no, it'd take longer to find any mushrooms without Askeladd, who knew the local spots better from experience. Whether he liked it or not, the prospect of eating buttered mushrooms had made Thorfinn crave them enough he'd even dreamt about it.
“You're not getting off that easy,” Thorfinn said.
Askeladd let out a bark of laughter, urging his horse into a trot and forcing Thorfinn to follow. His horse was smaller, its legs short like Thorfinn's, and Askeladd seemed to find endless amusement in running them around, never quite catching up to Askeladd and his long-legged beast.
It was aggravating how rare it was to see Askeladd out of his element. Despite none of them having ridden all summer, Askeladd looked like he'd been born in the saddle, his body easily adjusting to the horse’s gait, while Thorfinn felt like his mount's unsteady rhythm might turn his insides into mush before they found a single mushroom.
“Get foraging then,” Askeladd said once they reached a copse of trees.
“Me? There's two of us!” Thorfinn objected.
“You're the younger one, as you like to point out.”
Cursing, Thorfinn dismounted and started eyeing the ground. If they got lucky and managed to fill their baskets quickly, he might not have to waste the whole day out here.
Bjorn had brought him along on his foraging trips enough times that Thorfinn could identify the most common edible mushrooms as well as the most dangerous ones. He knew better than to eat any of them without consulting Bjorn first, not that he tended to eat uncooked food anymore.
And the poisonous ones could be useful too. Bjorn ate them and used some for medicinal purposes, but in the wrong hands, they could be deadly. Or in the right ones—Thorfinn wasn't above fantasising about adding some to Askeladd's plate, and his current behaviour wasn't helping his case.
He wouldn't do it, of course, not after swearing he'd kill Askeladd in a fair duel. And because he'd be forced to confess, unless he wanted to watch Bjorn blame himself for Askeladd's death. It wasn't a mistake Bjorn would make, but he'd never forgive himself, regardless.
“Finding anything?” Askeladd asked, still making no move to actually help.
“Piss off.” Against his better judgment, Thorfinn turned to look back where Askeladd was standing, holding onto the reins of both horses.
He had an amused look on his face, like he thought he'd outsmarted Thorfinn by making him do all the work. If only he knew. Sometimes it was simply easier not to turn something into a fight, undoubtedly a skill Askeladd thought was beyond Thorfinn.
Smug bastard doesn't know everything, Thorfinn thought as he pushed past a thick bush and came upon a cluster of golden chanterelles.
“Hah!” he exclaimed triumphantly, snatching them one by one, the bottom of his basket soon entirely covered.
Once he'd exhausted what their first spot had to offer, they continued to the next one. Thorfinn's knees were wet and muddy from crawling on the ground, while Askeladd had not a single speck of dirt on him.
“I'm telling Bjorn you made me do all the work,” Thorfinn grumbled as Askeladd extended his hand for his horse's reins again.
“And I'm sure he'll deprive me of dinner and make me sleep on my own because of it,” Askeladd said, sounding bored.
Probably not, Thorfinn had to admit. The best he could hope for was some soft scolding that was as likely to turn into flirting as into a fight.
“You're lazy,” Thorfinn muttered as he turned away to eye the brown penny buns growing at the foot of a beech tree. “Selfish bastard.”
The next thing he knew, a well-aimed kick to his back had him planting face-first into the damp grass, his head almost hitting the tree. It hadn't been a hard kick—just enough to render him out of balance. Still, he was better at enduring pain than embarrassment.
“Oi!” Askeladd cried out as the fistful of mud Thorfinn had thrown his way splattered all over his light coloured tunic. “You'll pay for that!”
“I know what you're doing,” Bjorn said as he sat down across from Askeladd after filling both of their mugs with fresh ale.
“Yeah? And what's that?” Askeladd asked, dipping his head back to take a long drink.
Bjorn couldn't help the way his lips curled into a smile. “Fattening me up.”
Askeladd shrugged. “You lost weight again this summer.”
“I lose weight every summer, that's just how it goes.”
It was how it had always been. During the winter, Bjorn was less active and more focused on chores that could be worked on indoors. Stuff that required more precision than strength. And here, at home, the food storages were always filled to the brim, and in their use, it was what Askeladd paid for. All the free time also afforded them the chance to go hunting and foraging whenever they wished, resulting in their meals being plentiful.
But whatever fat he gained during winter always quickly melted away once they left Denmark. Long days spent rowing and fighting helped him gain back his strength, and the food they ate was rarely bad, but there was less of it, and some days they went without much more than scraps.
He didn't need Askeladd's help to gain back whatever weight he'd lost, but he wasn't complaining either. The attention was nice and pretty novel, even if Askeladd's reasons were selfish, like Bjorn knew them to be.
Bjorn glanced at Thorfinn, sleeping on a sheepskin near the hearth like he wasn't too old for afternoon naps. Both he and Askeladd had returned home in clothes covered in mud, yet in a surprisingly good mood.
With how full their baskets had been, Bjorn couldn't even find it in himself to be irritated about the extra laundry that'd fall on him. He'd made them wash and change clothes before allowing them to rest, though. He didn’t need them dragging the dirt all over the house.
On Thorfinn's insistence, he'd cooked the chanterelles first. It had been a simple meal—fried in butter with onions and served with some rye flatbread and the fresh herrings Atli had gifted Bjorn that morning. Not that Thorfinn would've even known what to do with something fancier.
In the end, even Askeladd had eaten more than usual without Bjorn having to cajole him. That alone made the meal a success. Of course, Askeladd had grumbled at Thorfinn asking for seconds and outright denied him a third portion, no matter how Bjorn tried to insist it was fine.
There was still the rest of their harvest to sort through. Some of the mushrooms he'd dry and preserve for later, and the wood hedgehogs would make for a fine stew later that week. Perhaps if Thorfinn was still craving more chanterelles when he woke up, Bjorn might go on a foraging trip of his own.
“If we didn't go raiding, though,” Askeladd's words cut into his thoughts, “you'd stay like that all year.”
Bjorn snorted. “Like what? Fat?”
The look Askeladd gave him was full of heat. “Big.”
“Askeladd…”
“Can't survive the winter without some meat on your bones.”
“Tell that to yourself. And Thorfinn!” Bjorn huffed.
Askeladd waved his hand dismissively. “I couldn't care less if he survives.”
And what about you? Bjorn didn't say. He knew better by now.
Bjorn had never been particularly self-conscious about his body. People stared sometimes, especially on Laugardagr, since he was bigger than average—in more ways than one. Hairier too. It might've bothered him if it wasn't so clear that any taunts he received came from insecurity.
In addition, Askeladd had never once complained. Even before there had been anything more than friendship between them, Bjorn would occasionally catch him looking, eyes lingering on Bjorn's bare form. It'd been enticing enough to get Askeladd to switch from bathing alone to joining the rest of them most weeks.
And once they'd started fucking, Bjorn had been too ecstatic with the development to give much thought to the fact that Askeladd's enthusiasm for intimacy doubled or tripled in the winter. Didn't it make sense, anyway? They had more privacy and could afford to let their guard down. Their duties took less time, too, and the weather often made spending time indoors more compelling than the alternative.
It was no wonder it had taken him years to realise those weren't the only factors in Askeladd's increased vigour. He'd never complained about Bjorn's physique regardless of the season, but it had finally dawned on Bjorn that in the winter, he received more compliments and Askeladd got more handsy in general.
He'd been hesitant to bring it up, fearing Askeladd would react badly. After all, it didn't matter to Bjorn why he was getting more of Askeladd's attention—he didn't want it to stop.
It wasn't a hardship to please Askeladd; all he had to do was eat and sit on his ass, and if he needed something, Askeladd was happy to wait on him. A strange reversal of their usual dynamic, but one Bjorn was happy to accept.
Plus, the extra fat really did make winter more bearable. He never got cold the way Askeladd did once the snow arrived, shivering even when clad in winter garments. He could've benefited from gaining some weight even more than Bjorn did, but that was one thing he'd never managed to convince Askeladd of.
They'd already passed from autumn to winter when Askeladd returned home in a bad mood. That wasn't exactly unusual; his meetings with Gorm rarely left him smiling even when there had been no disagreement or bad news.
“What did Gorm do this time?” Bjorn asked as Askeladd was pulling off the outer layer of his clothing.
“Wants to send me out to deal with some of his business,” Askeladd huffed.
“Can't he send someone else?”
Bjorn could see why Gorm wasn't eager to go himself; he was getting on in years and wanted to stay home both for comfort and to deal with any urgent issues. Winter wasn’t the ideal time for travel, even when you were in your prime.
Askeladd scoffed. “Who? He doesn't trust many people—for a good reason.”
“Your cousin, maybe,” Bjorn suggested.
Only slightly more appealing than Gorm, she’d inherited his shrewd nature and appreciation for money. Bjorn had never gone out of his way to associate with her, but there were few he would’ve trusted more when it came to business.
“Rikissa? She’s been gone for weeks, and who knows where. But I'll have words with her after I return.”
“Oh, so you agreed to go?” Bjorn said, trying to keep his disappointment from being too obvious.
It wasn't his place to tell Askeladd what to do, and being difficult about it wouldn't do any good. Staying on good terms with Gorm was important, no matter the cost, and yet the thought of having to stay home while Askeladd wasn't there left him despondent.
“What am I supposed to tell him then?” Askeladd snapped. “He may be a manipulative asshole, but I'm not gonna jeopardise our system for something this small.”
“Right, I didn't mean it like that. Just—” I'm going to miss you.
“It doesn't matter, I'm simply biding my time till he dies.” Askeladd frowned. “He can't have much time left, right?”
Bjorn snorted—he was hesitant to wish for anyone's death unless they were an outright enemy, but he'd never warmed up to Gorm. “He might be immortal simply out of spite.”
“Where's Thorfinn?” Askeladd asked, piling things on the bed in preparation for his trip.
“Dunno. Haven't seen him since breakfast. You want me to go looking?”
“Nah, I was hoping to slip out unnoticed. Don't need to be babysitting on this trip.”
Thorfinn had never needed much babysitting, even less now that he'd learnt to defend and feed himself. But if he knew Askeladd was leaving, he'd insist on coming along, just in case Askeladd got in trouble, and somebody else tried to steal Thorfinn’s prey.
It was unlikely anything would happen this close to home, but in truth, Bjorn would feel better if Thorfinn did join Askeladd. Scrawny and impulsive as he was, he'd have Askeladd's back as surely as Bjorn did.
“Suppose I'll be on my own tonight, then,” Bjorn sighed.
Perhaps he'd get some mending done or ask Atli and Torgrim if they wanted to share a drink with him.
Askeladd paused, straightening his back and turning to Bjorn. “I'll make it up to you when I get back.”
“You will?”
Grabbing his waist, Askeladd leaned close. “Just don't forget to eat while I'm not here to supervise.”
“I'm not the one who forgets to—” Bjorn's words were cut short by Askeladd's lips on his, a kiss that went on for too long considering there would be no follow-up.
“And don't tell Thorfinn where I've gone,” Askeladd said once he pulled back, turning to his packing.
“How could I? I don't even know,” Bjorn grumbled.
Askeladd cursed his bad luck—not only had his inane assignment taken two weeks instead of a few days, now his return journey was prolonged by a torrential snowstorm. It seemed like his legendary luck had taken a vacation, but perhaps a scrap of it still lingered since he'd already been close to home when the visibility dropped to nothing.
It was already dark as well, even though he'd calculated plenty of time for the trip. At this point, his best chance of making it home was to let the horse lead, because Askeladd had lost all sense of direction.
“You'd better get us home alive,” he muttered, the wind immediately stealing his words.
He was dressed appropriately, but even his attire had its limits. Hours ago, he'd dug into his pack to search for the mittens and the hat Bjorn had gifted him one Yule, the result of many a winter night spent nålbinding. Still, even those couldn't entirely banish the cold, and by the time he saw the familiar lights of Gorm's village, he was shivering so hard it was a battle to stay in the saddle.
First thing, he handed his horse over to the first poor soul he came across before heading in to announce his return to Gorm.
“Askeladd! I thought you'd never make it back,” his cousin said as he stepped inside.
She looked cosy and infuriatingly warm, not a single silver strand of her hair out of place, while Askeladd was painfully aware of what a mess he was.
“Well, that's n—no thanks to you,” Askeladd said, teeth still chattering from the cold.
They could go over the details another day. Right then, he wanted nothing more than to get home and warm up beside the fire.
“Whatever do you mean? I would've gladly gone in your stead had I been here,” she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
“Indeed,” Askeladd said, not in the mood to get into an argument. “You'll inform Gorm that I'm back?”
She looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “Why the rush? Are you that eager to return to your… roommate?”
“Eager to get warm and get something to eat,” Askeladd grunted, refusing to entertain her speculations.
“You're no fun today,” she sighed. “Fine, I'll inform my father. I suspect he'll want to talk to you soon.”
“Tomorrow. Or better yet, the day after,” Askeladd said, already at the door.
“Tell Bjorn I said hello.”
Askeladd wasn’t keen on returning to the snowfall, but there was no choice unless he wanted to spend the night at Gorm’s house—something he hadn’t done in over a decade. He could only hope Bjorn would be home and that he wouldn’t be returning to a cold and empty house. He couldn’t have faulted Bjorn even if that was the case, since he had no reason to think Askeladd would be returning today. Still, he was already prepared for a sulk, just in case.
Perhaps it was just instinct, but Bjorn was there to greet him the moment Askeladd stepped through the door. “Askeladd! You shouldn’t have ridden in that weather!”
“To be f—fair,” Askeladd said, doing his best to disguise his shivering, “it wasn’t like this when I set out.”
“You could’ve frozen to death,” Bjorn scolded him, warm hands coming up to cup Askeladd’s numb face. “You should leave reckless stunts for raids.”
They could argue later—right then, all he wanted to do was lean into the heat of Bjorn’s skin. He’d already spent too long away from home, on such a simple matter, and he’d started to suspect Gorm had picked him on purpose. He must’ve known how difficult the other party would be, refusing to give in an inch and forcing Askeladd to use all of his best tricks just to arrive at a compromise.
“We’ll get some food into you,” Bjorn said, moving to help Askeladd out of his clothes and shaking the snow out of them before it could melt entirely.
“Is Thorfinn home?” Askeladd asked.
“He’s been acting antsy since you left without him, so I’ve tasked him with helping Svipul. Lots of herbs from this summer still to preserve and turn into something useful.”
“Good.”
If he’d been around, Askeladd would’ve had to come up with an excuse to get rid of him. He was in no mood to deal with the brat, and his presence always ensured Bjorn wouldn’t be up for sex at least until Thorfinn was safely asleep.
However, his presence at the village healer’s house might prove detrimental to anyone who fell ill in the following year—Askeladd didn’t trust Thorfinn to follow instructions without getting distracted. But that’d not be his problem, Bjorn would be the one taking care of any injuries he happened to acquire, after all. Perhaps if the gods were real, they’d bring Gorm in contact with the medicine mixed by Thorfinn.
“I already ate, but the food is still—” Bjorn’s voice cut off as Askeladd pressed himself against his body, seeking warmth.
Normally, it was Bjorn who initiated any intimate contact, but damn if he was going to suffer from the cold any longer when the cure was so temptingly close. It was worth the dent to his dignity, especially since it was just the two of them in the room, to stop his body from trembling.
“Askeladd,” Bjorn mumbled fondly into his hair as he wrapped his arms around him.
Askeladd had no explanation for it, but he had always been sensitive to the cold despite having grown up in the same environment as Bjorn, who never seemed to suffer from the chill. Maybe it was due to his larger bulk that he could withstand the winter weather like he did, just like a bear.
Speaking of which, Askeladd couldn’t help but note that Bjorn’s belly seemed a little bigger than the last time they’d been this close, pressing distractingly into Askeladd, soft and inviting. He would have been lying if he’d said he didn’t prefer Bjorn like this. As nice as his build was in the summer, there was something about his softer body in the winter that made him irresistible.
“Been eating well while I was gone?” Askeladd asked.
“Wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” Bjorn replied.
It had taken him a while to get over his bafflement when he’d realised Askeladd’s preference for his physique, but he didn’t seem to mind it now. Askeladd gave in to the temptation and squeezed Bjorn’s ass, a little rounder now than a few months ago. Somehow, Bjorn’s fat distribution was perfect, making him a little softer everywhere, but because of that, it sometimes took a while for any changes to even be visible.
“The food—” Bjorn started to protest, breaking into a moan as Askeladd nibbled at his throat.
“The bed first,” Askeladd insisted, and predictably, Bjorn wasn’t difficult to convince.
Askeladd was still cold enough that tarrying with undressing didn’t even cross his mind. As soon as he was naked, he slid under the covers, relieved when Bjorn followed him just as quickly. He’d gladly admire the process of Bjorn undressing another time when he wasn’t feeling so cold.
“Did you miss me?” Bjorn asked boldly, one big hand splayed across Askeladd’s back, pulling him close.
“Missed not having to deal with idiots all day long,” Askeladd said, capturing Bjorn’s mouth in a kiss before he could get any more sentimental.
Bjorn moaned into his mouth, easily letting Askeladd take control of the proceedings. His mouth tasted vaguely sweet, like the honey mead he must’ve drunk with his meal, and Askeladd vaguely hoped he’d saved some for him. He hadn’t eaten since that morning and had drunk only a little, but he was used to ignoring his basic needs, even lust when need be.
No reason for that tonight, though, with just the two of them and no other duties to attend to. Askeladd encouraged Bjorn to get on top; the heat of his body covering him was welcome, but it also sent a thrill across Askeladd’s body, being pinned down by Bjorn like this. He was too heavy for Askeladd to shift without serious effort, and even then, he might’ve not succeeded.
“You’re still too cold,” Bjorn said, concern evident in his voice. As if Askeladd hadn’t suffered through much worse in his time.
“That’s what I’m trying to fix,” Askeladd said, grabbing Bjorn’s thick waist.
“How do you wanna do this?”
“Like this,” Askeladd replied, “you on top.”
Might as well take advantage of the safety and privacy of their surroundings now. They’d get a chance for hurried handjobs next summer while surrounded by their crew and potential enemies. Not to mention Thorfinn, who strangely fell into both categories and kept skulking around with no care for what he might accidentally witness in the process.
Bjorn grinned at him. “You’re in luck. One of the kids burned themselves yesterday. I’ve still got some of the flaxseed gel left.”
“Just go get it then,” Askeladd ordered impatiently.
Bjorn got out of bed, his cock already half-hard, and headed to the shelf where he stored all of his medicinal supplies in an assortment of jars and containers. Askeladd propped himself up to admire the view—Bjorn’s backside was a sight to behold in the dim firelight. Not just his ass either, Askeladd could’ve spent hours tracing the shape of his wide, hairy thighs.
“You think Svipul might house Thorfinn for the rest of the winter?” Askeladd asked as Bjorn returned.
It’d be worth dealing with the backlash if it afforded them the chance to do this every day without having to worry about an audience.
“You don’t really mean that,” Bjorn said, propping Askeladd’s hips up with the help of a pillow.
Askeladd narrowed his eyes at Bjorn. If he thought he was being sneaky, he had another think coming. Usually, Askeladd insisted on doing this the other way around to avoid having to look at Bjorn’s face, and more importantly, to keep Bjorn from staring at his. This was something Bjorn was more than aware of.
“Just because you have motherly instincts towards him doesn’t mean I give a damn about the brat,” Askeladd replied.
“I don’t believe you,” Bjorn said softly, his slick fingers probing at Askeladd’s ass.
With a sigh, Askeladd made an effort to relax. Thorfinn was the last thing he wanted to discuss in a situation like this, and so he focused on the feel of Bjorn’s thick finger pushing into him at an infuriatingly slow pace. It had been a while since they’d done this, certainly, but Askeladd was no delicate virgin that needed to be treated with gentleness.
Trying to explain that to Bjorn had never worked, however. Unless there was a pressing reason for him to hurry, he took his time like he was tending to a sick patient. But he wasn’t above being manipulated.
“I’m cold,” Askeladd complained, staring at Bjorn with a pleading expression that Bjorn could’ve clocked as exaggerated in any other circumstances.
Now he simply cursed lightly, working another finger in hurriedly before pulling out and crawling between Askeladd’s legs. He slicked down his cock, and soon Askeladd felt him press the tip of it inside. He hovered over Askeladd as he pushed deeper and deeper, only lowering himself down once he was fully sheathed.
“I know what you’re doing,” Askeladd murmured as Bjorn’s long hair fell over his face, smelling of smoke and herbs.
“Fucking you like you requested?” Bjorn said, voice hitching as Askeladd clenched around him purposefully.
“Picking this position.”
Bjorn chose that moment to start moving, perhaps in an effort to distract Askeladd from the topic. It worked, of course. Wasn’t so easy to keep a conversation going when you were being fucked in the ass by a beast like Bjorn, the size of his cock matching the rest of his body.
The slight burn of being penetrated soon faded to the background as Bjorn got going, his technique flawless from experience and from always paying attention to what Askeladd enjoyed. Still, as good as it felt, he wanted something more.
“Down,” Askeladd ordered, grabbing at Bjorn’s shoulder roughly.
“I don’t want to crush you,” Bjorn gasped.
“I do.”
Without giving Bjorn a chance to prepare for it, Askeladd struck him in the crook of his elbow. Losing his balance, Bjorn landed on top of Askeladd with his full weight, a small, surprised sound escaping his throat.
“Asshole,” Bjorn growled, lifting himself on his elbows so Askeladd wasn’t entirely buried.
“Warmer this way,” Askeladd reasoned, clinging to Bjorn to ensure he wouldn’t go anywhere.
“Next time,” Bjorn panted as he found his rhythm again, “just take me along. I’ll keep you warm.”
“There better not be a next time,” Askeladd grunted.
As far as he was concerned, Gorm owed him for this one already. But that was something he could ponder when Bjorn wasn’t making him see stars, his stomach dragging against Askeladd's cock and making him damn near lose control of himself.
“Thought about you while you were gone,” Bjorn rasped. “I wanted to wait for you, but—”
Askeladd huffed out a laugh, only Bjorn would apologise for jerking off. If it really weighed on his conscience, he could’ve simply kept silent. Not like Askeladd hadn’t spent a few evenings with his own hand during his trip, even if that had been more out of boredom than anything else.
“I don’t care about that,” Askeladd said, arching his back.
He’d thought he’d allow Bjorn a period of this, then insist on turning around for the rest, but all that suddenly seemed like too much effort. He was warm, finally, and so was Bjorn if the sweat drops hitting Askeladd’s face were any indication. The angle was perfect too, Bjorn’s cock inside him so good it turned his legs weak, his whole body primed for the climax that was inevitably close.
“Askeladd,” Bjorn whispered against his lips, catching his mouth in a hurried kiss that he broke to groan out a warning, “I’m gonna—”
Fuck, Askeladd cursed, rolling his hips into Bjorn’s erratic thrusts. He could’ve sworn he felt Bjorn’s cock twitch inside him as he came, face buried into Askeladd’s neck, a shout muffled against his skin. Askeladd wasn’t far off himself; he needed just a bit more. There was little room to move, pinned under Bjorn as he was, but he managed to rock himself back and forth, just enough to rub himself against Bjorn’s stomach.
The hairs prickled against the sensitive flesh of his cock, Askeladd’s pre-come mixing with Bjorn’s sweat as he chased his orgasm, finally falling over the edge to the tune of Bjorn licking the salt off his neck. Askeladd clung to Bjorn, mind blank with pleasure as he spilled between their stomachs, biting his lip to keep from crying out.
Afterwards, a wave of drowsiness hit him hard enough that he considered not even opening his eyes. If he let himself drift off to sleep, he wouldn’t have to face Bjorn’s pillow talk. And surely Bjorn was capable of taking care of the mess they’d made by himself. Not that Askeladd wanted him to leave just yet, his body warmer and more comfortable than any blanket.
“I know you’re awake,” Bjorn huffed, placing a kiss on his forehead, disgustingly tender.
“Don’t want to be.”
“Leaving the cleanup to me, huh? Typical,” Bjorn said, but his voice was fond.
“Mhm. I’ll do all the work tomorrow,” Askeladd promised, yawning.
“All?” Bjorn asked, amused.
“Once I’ve recovered from my journey,” Askeladd muttered.
It wasn’t like fucking Bjorn wouldn’t be worth the hardship if it gave him a chance to admire him from behind. He’d gotten what he’d wanted, and face-to-face would be off the table for the foreseeable future.
“I suppose I’ll tell Thorfinn Svipul’s gonna need his services for a few more days, after all,” Bjorn mused.