Thori nodded, unable to withstand the temptation to press himself a little more firmly against Norrin’s chest and lay his head on his shoulder.
He felt Norrin heave a heavy sigh.
“It won’t stay that way for long.”
“I’m feeling much better already,” Thori hastened to assure him. “Maybe it’ll be enough if we stay like this for a moment.”
Norrin chuckled. It was a warm sound, not a hint of mockery, and it made heat rise in Thori’s groin, his cock twitching.
“As we both know, herseiðris meant to get what she wants, and she plans to humiliate you along the way. This won’t just stop.”
The words had Thori bristling with sudden anger.
“Then what are we talking about?” he snarled. “Are you going to fuck me or not? Or do you want me to beg? Do you want to wait and see how much herseiðrcan drive me wild and watch me grovel? Too bad, I won’t give you the satisfaction.”
He’d expected Norrin to get angry as well, craved it even, to be hit or pushed off the bed, but instead, Norrin’s embracetightened, his hands running gently over Thori’s shoulders and upper arms.
“We need to talk because while I can’t give you a choice, I can offer you some sort of leverage over the situation. Tell me what your body needs, and I will help you survive her curse.”
Thori blinked. The offer was far too good to be true, more generous than a thrall or a captured enemy could hope for. But Norrin sounded sincere.
“What kind of compensation would you expect?”
“None. Remember that I already own you. And you promised to serve me.”
Indeed, he had. A fresh wave of desire made it hard to follow the conversation, but Thori bit his lip and forced his body to remain unmoving.
“What if I refuse?”
“Do you really want to do that to yourself?” Norrin asked, his voice soft and coaxing. “It would mean so much pain, possibly death even, and you’d make it easy for Svanhild to gather some of your power for herself. Let’s thwart the priestess’ plans together. Allow me to help you.”
“Allow?” Thori echoed, overcome by another wave of arousal. Only this time, he wasn’t sure if Svanhild’sseiðrwas to blame.
What Norrin was offering was outrageous, overwhelming. Giving the reins to someone who’d take care of him, if only for a moment, if only for a brief tumble in the sheets, seemed marvelous.
“Svanhild’sseiðronly fans the fires of your desire, Odinsson, but your body is still yours. I can read its signs. I can give you what you need.”
Perhaps the enchantment had clouded Thori’s head, but he didn’t care. Eyes fluttering shut, he relaxed into Norrin’s embrace.
“Do it,” he rasped.
Norrin hesitated only for a heartbeat before closing his hand around Thori’s cock.
“You like it this way,” Norrin said matter-of-factly as he jerked him off in measured strokes.
Thori melted into his touch, knees falling apart to give Norrin better access, his hands fisting the sheets.
“Yes.”
Why should he lie? Norrin was seeing right through him anyway.
Norrin’s fingers were rough from shipboard work and adorned with the calluses of a swordsman. His large hand enveloped Thori’s cock just right, the feeling nothing like the delicate touch of a maiden. He stifled a moan by hiding his face against Norrin’s neck, the warrior’s beard tickling his nose.
This…
This felt so good.
Delighting the maidens was fun, but it had always felt more like a sport, another chore on the long list of things a Prince of Asgard had to excel at.
