Freya Save Me!

Satisfied with the day's progress, the sun an hour from setting, he went to the stream to clean up. She went inside to make their evening meal and to hide the gift she'd made for him. While he washed, he heard the clamor of several horses speeding towards them. Rushing back he caught them just as they had begun to approach his home. She'd know to stay hidden, but the earth that was built up around their home muffled much and he feared she would come out looking for him, unaware of their guests.

"We ride with news for you, berserker of the Bear Clan."

"Tell it then."

"The chieftain has died. His son will take his seat and may be challenged. Your services may soon be required."

"I am ready." After a thought he couldn't stop himself from asking, foolish though it was. "Tell me, how does the old chieftain's wife mourn?"

The mounted men looked between one another before their lead answered. "She is no longer with the living. Why would our berserker ask such a thing?"

"I heard she had a girl sacrificed to Freya for Yule. I couldn't believe my chieftain would allow such a thing, and so naturally I am curious, and wary."

"Watch your tongue, Bjørn. It is not your place to judge our late chieftain or his late lady wife. The gods sent her a vision that she was merely reticent to divulge. You can understand why easily enough. It is her misfortune that the new chieftain is not so pious."

One of the men behind the leader spoke up, "The girl that was killed was his beloved, ever since he was a wee lad. Never before have I seen such beauty, and I doubt if in my lifetime another will even compare. If I was ever to get between those legs, I doubt I would find room for any other devotion either!"

Bjørn clenched his fists as he fought to control his rage. His newfound possessiveness and protection stung him through the chest, but he knew it would only spur suspicion to defend her so. Keeping her safe had quickly become his priority. He forced himself to nod his head solemnly. "It's a shame he could do nothing to save her."

"Well he has now," the lead sneered.

"So it would seem," Bjørn said with a hint of scorn.

"Tell us, berserker, do you perhaps have someone new to warm your bed? This seems out of character for you, settling in as you are."

"Preparing for the winter. A storm is coming in the next few days. You can see it in the wind." They all agreed with him, and he brusquely sent the messengers on their way. After they were out of his sight he went inside to find Yrsa combing her hair. Their supper kept warm near the firepit. The sight pulled a smile to his heart and to his lips. She returned his smile as he came further in, and that sense of protectiveness overcame him again.

He pulled her to him, pressing his lips to hers, kissing her slowly and with intention. If this was to be the last time he would have her, he was going to savor every bit of her before losing her forever.

He took her as he had that first night, rough and in a lust fueled haze. As she lay on top of him, satiated and dripping, tracing the countless scars on his chest, he let out a long and heavy sigh. She looked up at him, curious but patiently giving him the time he needed. "My gift..."

"The comb?" she asked.

"No," he chuckled good naturedly, "you! I have news from your village."

She sat up, straddling him again, his seed freely spilling out of her and running onto him. She'd come to realize how much she enjoyed the sensation of it resting inside her, almost as much as she enjoyed the scent of their mixed juices. "I am no gift. And it is no longer my village."

With a grunt of amused acknowledgment he placed his hands on her smooth and slick hips. "The chieftain of a nearby village has left this world, his deceitful wife followed shortly. His son is to take his seat. It would seem that if anyone had been wrongfully sacrificed that they could return. I doubt anyone would question her lack of being dead. Especially the new chieftain. I hear he has recently lost his beloved."

She smiled sweetly down at him, shaking her head. "There is nothing for me in that place. You are my purpose. And that man already lost his beloved, if indeed he ever had one. I've come to realize his vanity will never allow him one, no matter what one may have previously thought in her own naivety."

"Why? Why should I be so fortunate?"

"You are not the fortunate one, my Bear. When I was informed that I was to be sacrificed to Freya, and that I should be grateful for the opportunity to show my faith, I prayed. I prayed to Freya, and I asked her to save me. I knew the chieftain's wife was trying to get me out of the way, nothing more. I knew this just as everyone else did. And so I prayed and made my own sacrifices."

"It doesn't appear as though she was listening." He looked dejected as he stared up at her.

"You are wise when it comes to many things, my beloved. But you are wrong about this. Freya did save me! She placed me on your path. She brought me to you. I do not know how my Bear can be so blind." He reached behind her left knee to tickle her. It was the only place she was actually ticklish, and he loved to hear her bubbly giggle while she tried to escape or throw him off, the sound of her laughter filling his head and his heart.

He eventually let her push him back down as she kissed him slowly, sensually, rubbing her drenched pussy over his hardening cock, letting her tongue teasingly run over his lip as they parted. She reached over and below their bed, nearly tipping over from the angle, he grabbed hold and held her stable.

"Close your eyes!" she called to him.

"What witchery is this, woman?" Another bubbly giggle. He loved how comfortable she'd become with him. "Eyes closed, my gift," he whispered to her, still holding her steady.

She righted herself atop him once more, situating her pussy lips along his cock. "I wish I had more to give you."

"I want for nothing now that I have you," he confessed, eyes still shut.

"Open your eyes, my beloved Bear." In her hands she held a little straw yuletide goat. It was clear she'd put a lot of care into this creation. The horns were braided impeccably, the ribbon was taut and placed beautifully, and its beard was almost as full as his own, proportionately so. He hadn't seen one this perfect since his own childhood, and he told her so.

"Do you really like it?" Everything she'd been through, and this was the first time he'd seen her truly vulnerable.

"Njord himself couldn't have made one better." Her contagious smile and consequent kiss told him he'd said the right thing. He wanted to ask her if she was sure about staying with him. If she shouldn't take some time and consider it all. Her life would be far harder out here, and while he could not yet understand that he loved her, he wanted her to be well taken care of, even if it wasn't with him. Had he confessed this she would have told him a hard life with him was far better than an easy and mundane life without him, and that no one could take care of her as well as he did. She loved being his, just as she loved him.

When she slid her hand down his side and between them, guiding his cock back into her, any doubt that remained was forgotten. She sat up again, hips swaying back and forth, using his cock to hit her in all the right places. He hiked up his legs to give himself a better thrusting angle, making her moan as his movements jostled her body. She leaned forward over him, grasping his shoulders to steady herself as he began fucking her furiously.

Yrsa's pussy had never been used with such regularity, let alone such ferocity, as it had been the last few days since falling into Bjørn's path. She'd been dreadfully sore after that first night and had never completely recovered before it was put to worthy use over and over again. Now she felt herself coming to the end of what she could handle. "Bjørn...I... I...can't... take...anymore..." she wailed as best she could as he took her right breast into his mouth, tonguing her nipple fiercely.

He let her breast fall out of his mouth as he continued to pummel her from underneath. "Yes...you...can," another wail from her, interrupting him before he could continue, "trust me...do you...trust me?" He took her other breast in his mouth, the sound of their bodies slapping together reverberating off the walls.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she called out, needing to be heard through the cacophony of their love.

She soon realized he had been restraining himself. He started truly pounding up into her pussy. Words now failed her, just as her body began to feel that it too might soon fail her. But she did trust him. Her Bear would never hurt her.

He let her breast fall from his mouth, both nipples glazed with his saliva and painfully hard. His head fell back as she collapsed on top of him, biting onto his shoulder, trying to weather the sensual abuse he was putting her body through. His primal roar pierced the air, spurred at the sensation of her teeth on his flesh. As he pushed her hips down hard onto his thrusting cock, ribbon after ribbon of his cum shot out and up, coating her walls. Deep breathes as their bodies begin to settle and the crackling of the fire is all the noise in their home now. Whimpering against his shoulder as he runs a hand down her back, he tells her, "Good girl. You did very well in trusting me."

"I am no girl," she faintly grumbled. Too weak for any rage. Even though she knows he adores it so. Her body thoroughly fucked and satiated. All she wants now is to rest in his warm and loving embrace.

"Yrsa?"

"Mmm?" she mewled against the small of his neck.

"Would you be mine?" The words said clearly, although more timid than she'd ever heard him.

A light noise, not a laugh, but a humored sound. "I already am." Her words said plainly and proud as his strong arms lull her to sleep.

The following day, the fifth day of Yule, the new chieftain himself paid a visit to the berserker. Bjørn was outside while Yrsa was down by the stream. His only hope was to send this lad away before she returned. "Greetings, Bjørn. Glad Yule to you."

"Glad Yule to you, Ulf. Or should I call you chieftain then?"

"I don't rest on my titles. Call me what you wish."

"How can I be of service, chieftain?"

"Always right to the point. I've brought some mead to celebrate this holy time. It is only hospitable to invite me inside and out of this cold."

"I have much to do, chieftain. You know I am not one for pleasantries. What do you need?"

"Some of my scouts found a few wolves massacred not too far from my village. I wanted to ask if you knew anything about it."

Bjørn wasn't one to lie, a trait he and Yrsa shared. "Ay, I was attacked, and my fury took over."

"What were you doing that close to the village without paying your respects?"

"I cannot say. Something seemed to call me there, and it bares an ill will to ignore those voices, especially during such a holy time. I heard the wolves howling. They seemed to be hunting something."

Ulf's face paled. He knew it must have happened the night they sacrificed Yrsa. Of course it was the wolves that got to her before he could. There was enough blood, but strangely no other sign of her. "I will be off then, berserker. Next time you take down a small pack like that, let me know. We need to—"

His words were cut short as he saw her ghost coming towards them. He was so consumed with her visage that he didn't hear Bjørn curse under his breath. Ulf dismounted his steed and fell to his knees as she came to comfortably stand beside the berserker.

"Ulf," was all she said as a means to address her chieftain.

"Is it really you, my Yrsa?" Bjørn's body stiffened as his possessiveness flared through his body once more. A low grumble barely audible began to escape from his body. Yrsa rested a hand on his arm to steady him as she forced him to look at her.

She smiled sweetly at Bjørn as she answered Ulf, "It is. Thanks to the savior Freya sent me." She turned back to Ulf to see his expression go from awe to disbelief to indignation. Ulf looked back and forth between the two of them, realization coming slowly to him as he stood.

"Our village is in your debt, berserker, as am I. And now, Yrsa, I'll return you home. I have assured it. You will be my wife, just as before all this nonsense began."

"Nonsense?!" she asked him, her own rage and exasperation battling one another. "You stepped aside and allowed me to be tied to a stone slab to await my death because of NONSENSE?! And now you dare tell me you will return me to the place that so uncaringly cast me aside?!"

It was Bjørn's turn to comfort her as he put an arm around her waist and placed a kiss on her enraged temple. He may find her fury endearing with his little taunts, but he sincerely hoped to never have this kind of rage of her's leveled at himself.

Ulf realized he'd get nowhere with a woman this angry and turned his attention to the one he believed he could reason with. "She is angry now, but she will not stay that way. She is not accustomed to this life, berserker. She needs her people. She will return with me, and I will bring you two women for you to do with whatever you wish." Yrsa's heart fell. How could he not accept this offer? The chieftain was asking it of him, and to refuse two women? Two women who would be better for him, more useful.

"Get along, young chieftain. Save those women for yourself. Yrsa is mine and will stay that way until I am slain. And perhaps not until the days of Ragnarök. Unless you'd like to give that a try yourself? Or perhaps you'd be willing to have your entire army cut down before you yourself were to fall?"

Ulf was certain that after another week of this life Yrsa would be begging to come back. The berserker could only do so much damage to her body in that time. "No need for threats, berserker. Have her calm down and I'll return after Yule to see if her mind has changed."

The young chieftain turned to her, self-assured that he'd be leaving with Freya's gift of a woman in a week's time. Bjørn took longer to acquiesce to the idea. He was not sure in his own heart what she truly wanted, and for all the rage and fury that made him what he was, he still feared losing the woman that had made him whole. But he knew he would never stop her from whatever her heart desired.

"I will be staying at Bjørn's side, where I belong, now and for always. I am his, and he is mine." She left no room for doubt or question. She'd loved Bjørn before she thought the idea plausible. She didn't know when, but at some point he'd begun to see her as more than a mere physical comfort and she took that to heart.

Rage again flew across the young chieftain's face, but he knew to keep his mouth shut. The berserker was necessary for him to hold his position and his lands. And even if he wasn't, the young man's rage could never hold a candle to the inferno that burned inside Bjørn. Not in battle, and not in Yrsa's heart. Though he'd be damned if this was over.

"May Freya bless your union," he sneered through clenched teeth. They stood in the biting cold and watched him ride away, Bjørn's arms about her, keeping her pleasantly warm. He knew this wasn't over, but he didn't need to scare her.

"Perhaps he has a point," Bjørn said in a serious and contemplative manner. She turned in his arms to look up at him, fear clouding her vision. Was he really going to push her to leave him?! He smiled wickedly down at her. "We really should ask Freya to bless our union."

She prodded him in the ribs and when he pretended to be hurt she made a dash for their home. He loved chasing her, something she had quickly learned. He let her get inside before catching her and pulling her back flush to his chest. He kissed her neck and let his teeth scrape along the most sensitive parts. Her whole body shuddered with anticipation as his other hand began pulling her dress off.

He leaned her against the wall, placing her hands precisely where he wanted them. She felt his chest leave her back and before she could turn to see what was happening she felt his face press into her womanhood. His tongue circled her clit while his nose rubbed back and forth as far inside of her as it could reach. She was already so excited it didn't take long under his skilled and dexterous tongue before her legs began to shake. It took all of her strength to not crumple to the ground. He'd placed her where he wanted her, and she wasn't going to move from there, not yet, not for all the world.

He drank in her juices with a hungry growl. His tongue leaving her sensitive nub, trailing into and down her dripping pussy. He rubbed his face along her rump and up her back as he righted himself. Her hands were still where he'd put them. Her submission always spurred him on. It did not go unnoticed.

He pressed himself into her and they fucked with a primitive desire. He had a primal need to claim her after a threat had come so near. His hands digging into her hips as he crashed into her over and over. Her cries and moans feeding his hunger for her. She was always so warm inside, but now she felt like a slippery, blissful blaze. She came again, her walls sporadically squeezing him as she rode wave after wave of pleasure. When her legs stopped spasming he slid out of her and turned her to face him.

Her hand slid between them and down to his cock, slippery with their juices. He groaned as she stroked him firmly, his eyes closed, enjoying the smell of their mixed juices. The smell wasn't enough for her, and she fell to her knees, taking his cock in her mouth. He gathered her hair in one hand, forcing her to look up at him as she sucked her juices off of his engorged and ruddy cock. He pulled her up on her feet and his lips came crashing to hers. She moaned into his mouth as his tongue explored every corner of hers, taking in the secondhand taste of their fluids.

He grabbed her ass and hoisted her up around him. She made greedy little moans every time his cock bumped against her, enjoying the sensation but also impatient for it to be filling her once more. Bjørn couldn't tell if he was more aroused or amused at her desire, but he wasn't going to make her wait any longer. He placed himself just inside her, enjoying how tight her perfect little cunt felt around him for a moment before plunging himself entirely into her.

It was all she could do to hold on while he used her body, sliding her up and down his cock. Her legs hooked over his arms as he held her, moved her, her breasts smacking against his muscled torso. She loved how his chest hair agitated her nipples when they were this taut. He fucked her mercilessly as she screamed out her pleasure over and over again. The sound of his balls slapping her ass was loud enough it could be heard between her moans, adding to her stimulation.

Her arms wrapped around him, she had to again confess she couldn't take much more. He'd have to build her stamina. It'd be a process they would both enjoy. Her moans of pleasure became blended with her pleas as she begged, "Bjørn, please! I...I can't take any more!" As if on cue her body began to spasm more violently than before, starting with her legs. She bit down onto his shoulder as she tried desperately to be able to keep going for him. The slight pain mixed with her tight pussy clenching down onto him, as he thrust into her again sent him over the edge. With a beastly roar of pleasure he hit his own climax. His body shook with each ribbon of his seed that he shot into her as he pressed in as deeply as he could. Still holding her, still inside her, he walked back to their bed, laying back as she unfurled, letting her body rest on top of his.

In between their sweet, whispered nothings of their afterglow, she confessed to feeling lacking as a bride. She had no ancestral sword to give him for a ceremony, and they had no rings. "Worry not about the blade. Your protection is already mine to look after. And we have no need for rings. We will bind ourselves together, as the old ones did. You are mine after all, and I am yours. What else do we need?"