Winter Nights

And again.

Until her tight, brown cunt is riddled with his seed and her throat is sore from use. And in the afternoon he comes to her aid, hunting and skinning a large hare, covering her body in his second shirt, gathering it around the pucker of her waist with a binding of gleipnir. The rough hewn, undyed fabric is scratchy against her skin.

Over an evening meal of rabbit and cooked wild mushroom, she asks him for permission to ask her second question.

"You may mistress" he replies, "after you have sucked my cock as hungrily as you have gobbled your supper!"

She obeys him promptly, as she has grown to love his pleasure as much as her own, the act of serving his need. On her knees, by the merry fire, in his shirt, she sucks him 'til he cums.

When he is done, when she is wiping the sticky sheen of his load off of her lips with the back of her hand, only then does he permit her to proceed.

"You have pleased me well again today mistress, and been there for my need. What is your second question?"

"Master Drake" she asks, her voice still thick with his taste. "Earlier today... I, I noticed that you have a... um... a scar... on your back. Will you tell me please, how it came to be, Master?"

It is hard to say in the incoming darkness, but Heidi thinks she sees his face darken. Nonetheless he answers her.

"The scar was given to me in a fight between me and my younger brother."

After a moment he adds, "My brother's claws would put those of the hiinsi to shame... but that was a long time ago..." he trails off.

"Did you win, Master?" she asks before she can stop herself, coloring at his rebuking glare.

"YOU have asked enough for today." He says, but then, his voice softens somewhat, and he adds "My little brother Fen is known for his ferocity, mistress. If I had lost the fight, I would not be here answering your idle questions today."

And as she ponders this new revelation, he saddles his supplies onto his broad shoulders and retreats into the night.

Heidi's sleep is fitful though her body is weary from sex and survival. Her mind is racing with thoughts.... Images and stories whose meanings just elude her... and fragments of child's tales told to her by her mother... and her loins are restless too, provoked by her nudging fingers... so that her night is far from refreshing, troubled by things both known and unknown and her leafy bed is soon a mess with her movement. The minutes tick by endlessly, but midnight passes and he does not return... and gradually, gradually, her eyelids droop until finally she is fast asleep.

He returns hours later, as the owls are beginning their final hunt. And she does not need the benefit of sight to know that there is madness in his eyes. He is jerking her out of her pallet, probing her with his freezing hands. She is on her hands and knees, still shrugging the sleep out of her eyes. She can feel his insistence beneath her, but he is passing over her moistening cunt, and she is suddenly startled and a little bit afraid. But he has no patience for her reservations. He is gripping his own shaft in his hand. She cannot see what he is doing. And he is stiff and hard. And the wind is eddying around them. And he is tending to his great need. Like a clap of Thor's thunder, he is inside her wriggling ass, forgoing any gentle introduction. Like a fist, he pushes into her, bending her muscles to fit his hunger... the great veins of his cock pushing aside her walls. And she cannot scream, for she has no breath, and he is deaf to anything but his demons. Her walls close around him like quicksand, the suction of her brown ass, the hot tropic of an arctic animal... And he is pushing into her, withdrawing only to push again and again... the three-fingered width of his cock spreading her open, stretching her ligaments... filling voids she did not know she had. And her eyes are refracting, her lips ripped apart at last with her plaintive cries... her pale body trembling in the first dew.

Under the grove of pines, Heidi is stricken, feels her insides melting. He is stroking the cracking flesh of her ass, and the only thing that sustains her is the knowledge that she is filling his need. That her virgin ass is gripping him, sending seizures of pleasure to rack his body, now when he needs her, in a way that her mouth or even her wet-with-desire pussy never can. And he is cumming over and over, a maelstrom inside her, his milk-white seed gobbled like water in the desert sand. But he continues, fighting exhaustion, plumbing the twists of her body until at last her body relaxes, releases... feels the tensions ebb out of her body... unfurling like petals in spring. At last. Her helpless cries turn to a kitten purr, a suggestive invitation... her posterior, rising in his hands, rubbing against him pleasingly... and her ass is swallowing him in great gulps. And so he takes her that night... as the sun slowly rises, carving himself into her curves until his madness gradually melts away.

Still, there is a pallor over the day, a malaise that lingers. A foreboding that fills her belly with doubt. She tends to him lavishly, doting on his needs, resting his weary, curling head in the luxury of her lap. Allowing him all the pleasures of her body, but as the day wears on, he becomes restless, so that when the evening eventually draws near she is afraid to ask her final question.

Wearily he turns to her. "You have no need to worry mistress" he says. "You have pleased your Master today as best as any mortal could. You may ask your final question."

She looks at him directly... although she is afraid.

"Where do you go at night?"

He sighs then, his back stoops with the weight of his burden, and for moments she fears he will not answer.

"What night is this mistress?"

"It is the last night of Winternight festival, Master."

"You are correct, mistress. Do you know the lore of Winternight?"

"I know it is a time when many rules are broken, Master."

"Yes..." he muses, "It is, but there is more. It is a time when the gods... when the gods... will grant gifts to those who prove their worth... gifts of divination and other powers even greater... to those who can stay one night on a barrow during Winternight."

"And that is what you have been doing all these nights..." she presses carefully.

"Mistress I do not crave idle insight into petty mysteries..." he pauses as if catching his breath. "For two nights I have sat on the barrow of my father, though the demons test my soul. Tonight will be the last attempt afforded me. Are you satisfied with your answer then?"

He has risen from her lap, prepared himself for his journey.

She stands too.

"No, Master."

He turns.

She swallows before she begins. "Master... although you have graciously told me many things about what you are doing each night, you have not answered my question, Master 'where do you go at night, my Lord?'"

She could be mistaken, but she believes she catches the briefest of smiles flicker across his face.

"My father's barrow lies to the south," he says, "where the sea snakes abide."

And then he is gone.

Heidi does not sleep that night at all. Instead, drawing her red cloak around her, pulling the fur lined hood over her head, she sits in the glimmering moonlight and thinks. There are wolves beying in the distance, but instead of being frightened, the howls trigger memories like mysteries... the thoughts swimming in and out of her head like mists on a lake... fen... and mountains... barrows and snakes and ... roots. Her mother's voice weaving bedtime stories out of the tales of deities.... the fragments of many dreams and many starless nights. Heidi's green eyes flicker in the darkness... lost in thought as the night-time hours tick away.

And it is dawn, and still he has not returned.

The sun is just visible in the uppermost branches of the Autumn trees when he creeps up on her at last, clasping her about the waist, dragging her to the forest floor. And now there is warmth coursing through his body and she is glad to have his scent around her, the smell of morning. And he presses his lips against her mouth, his tongue against her tongue, pinches the twist of her nipples until they ring with pleasure.

On the first day of the winter months, he takes her, down on her knees, in her ass while his three fingers trouble her pussy... and the great tremors of energy roll down her body, stiffening her body with their current. His thumb mauls her clit, and he is tireless, and his eyes are gleaming a frosty blue. And she feels like she is sinking, sinking into Heaven, the wells of pleasure that contort her body that gobble up her mind... so that all that is left is need. And he is urging her on, and there is strength in his voice... and in his bones.

"Beg me for it..." he tells her.

But all she can say, between her panting breaths is one single word, repeated over and again... "more..."

And he is pressing the tantrum of her clitoris, the sweet depths of her cunt. Her sweet ass belongs to him. And she is in a havoc. And he is cumming. Many times.

"More..." her hoarse whisper is urgent. Her mouth is dry.

He is stroking her with abandon, the seizures of her body grazing his flesh, the pleasure of her ass... the rhythm of her dangling breasts. Her long, white body huddled along the leaves... copper and orange and gold. And then in an instant it happens... a strangled little cry... a pop... a spray of moisture that soaks her thighs... before her body finally gives way.

And so, he finally lets her rest, curled in the leaves at his side.

And she dreams of wolves that whisper secrets and that snarl their name in the darkness of a snake pit...."

So that when she wakens she is sure.

She finds him by the brook; he has bathed and cleansed himself and his tools, his sword and his other implements. She approaches him. He is much taller than her, broad shouldered and dense... his long hair is shaggy with river water. But his blue eyes are calm... calm and deep with hard-earned knowledge.

"Master..." she says simply. "I am ready."

He turns to her. "So, you have discovered the secret of my name..." he is smiling.

His smile gives her the courage to proceed.

"Master" she begins. "Thrice you have permitted me to question you... and each time you have answered me truthfully. Though..." she adds thoughtfully "There were times I suspect you would have preferred another path..." her voice trails off.

He looks at her expectantly.

She takes a very deep breath. She is a clever woman. "Master, if it is true, then I guess... I guess that your name is the only thing about you that... is a lie..."

He looks at her intently... and smiles.

As she relaxes into his arms at last. "You are the son of Loki-Lie-smith, the father of Fenrir the wolf and the slayer of Baldr and Heimdalr, skywalker and birther of earthquakes... whose barrow lies on top of the venomous snake."

And when he hears her name him, he laughs. Her craftiness delights him, and he pulls her close. There are secrets to share, but they will wait until morning... as he fucks her and fucks her... over and over... as her moans fill the forest and his cum soon coats her legs, as her throat grows sore from practice... and the Autumn day idly dwindles into a long and passionate Winter night.