Ch. 4: “I always was an opportunist”

In the following weeks, Godrik taught me to hunt and track humans and use my extra heightened senses.  He challenged me repeatedly with new tasks and I relished the moments when I was able to exceed his expectations.  He was an excellent teacher, if not a bit of a madman at times.  Like his stint with the silver brooch, he loved creating all kinds of dangerous games and scenarios by throwing me – sometimes literally – into trouble.  To be sure, he never actually put me into any situation beyond his control, but it still felt wild and risky.  I wasn’t a month old when he dared me to go into a village pub, order a cup of ale, and sit for ten minutes pretending to be human.  It would have worked until, distracted by a rather voluptuous woman, I took a big swig of beer out of sheer habit that immediately bounced back out as a sheet of blood vomit across the table.  Godrik could barely stop laughing long enough to glamour the human patrons.  It annoyed me to no end that he took more delight at my failures than in my successes.

“Child, your dick is going to be your downfall,” he said as we sped through the woods back to our isolated cave.

“And whose fault will that be?”  I spat unthinkingly in frustration.  Although I had been relentless, he continued to reject my advances.  I was still unable to feed without killing and he knew perfectly well that the thought of raping a dead or dying meal horrified me.  My glamour was also not yet completely reliable, so luring willing lovers back to the cave was out of the question.  Needless to say, I’d never been so ridiculously horny in my life and I’d certainly never gone this long without someone else giving me a hand.

The waves of fury rolling off of his end of the bond caused me to slow to a jog.

“Oh this is priceless!”  I shot at him with as much disgust as I could muster.  “You only get angry with me when I tell you something true that you don’t want to hear!  What maker denies their progeny something as basic as sex!?  You won’t fuck me.  You clearly have refused to help me fuck somebody else.  You might as well deny me blood too!  You’re a shitty fucking maker!”  Before I saw it coming, Godrik turned and cuffed me over the head so hard I saw stars.  It was the first time he’d ever hit me.

“Fucking Thor’s tits!  AAAHHHH!”  I screamed, blinded by the pain.  He’d flattened me with the flick of a wrist.  I laid there like a dead codfish in the damp leaves, waiting for the dent in my skull to heal.  Godrik stood over me with an indescribable look.  His fists were balled and his jaw was set, but a hint of crimson tears welled up in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I gasped breathlessly, holding my hands over my face protectively in case he struck again.  “I’m sorry!”

“No.  It is I who am sorry.”  He turned then and vanished into thin air.

I called after him, but he was gone.  A few minutes passed before I started to worry.  I was hardly ever out of his direct line of sight, let alone separated from him by any distance.  I called to him but knew he was nowhere nearby.  In fact, I couldn’t feel his location at all.


The only reply was an owl’s angry screech, disturbed by my hollering.  I ran back to our cave at record speeds and was horrified to find he was not there.  I waited, trying to keep a grip on my increasing anxiety, daring to venture out in a few meticulous, fanning circles to see if I couldn’t pick up his scent, only to be disappointed.  As dawn neared, I dug out a soft spot of earth and braced myself for a day alone in the ground.  He may not have allowed me much intimacy, but he always let me ball up around him in our day death.  This would not be pleasant.

The next night, I awoke by myself only to feel the same hollow absence.  Godrik’s end of the bond was closed down to the tiniest wheedling spark.  It was only enough to know he lived.  I had thought surely he would return.  But I was still alone!  He couldn’t possibly have left me for good.  Could he?

Cold fear struck through me.  I wasn’t naïve; only an idiot would think he had mastered the skills needed to survive an eternity.  I didn’t even know where to find another blood drinker, let alone anything about the strange customs about which Godrik had only obliquely told me.  I was a newborn, I reminded myself.  I couldn’t even feed without leaving a body count!  I would not make it without my maker.  And here I had run my mouth off to him like a spoiled child!

I was spoiled, I realized.  Godrik did nothing but indulge me.  He could have been cruel in my lessons, but instead he was playful.  He was never pedantic and preferred I learn through firsthand experience.  He’d never punished me for my errors, only insisted I get back up and try again.  Gods, I was an asshole!  The thought that he’d given up on me circled dangerously in my mind and I felt completely paralyzed.  I’d never felt as helpless as I did now and I despised feeling so weak.  I lay unmoving deep in my earthen grave well past an hour after sundown and let tears slip from my eyes.

A muffled voice called out from above.  “Are you going to stay planted down there all night feeling sorry for yourself?”   Instantly I shoved an armload of soil away and sat up, still buried waist deep.

“Godrik!” I gasped in relief, feeling him re-open the bond.  “Bless the fucking gods you’re back!  I’ve behaved terribly.  Forgive me!  I’ve learned my lesson.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “Oh?  What lesson might that be?”

Worming my way out of the ground, I fell to his feet, wrapping my long arms around his waist.

“To never take you for granted.  You do nothing but try to make this life easier for me.  You are my life, in every way.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“No.  I haven’t begun to give you what you deserve.”

He sighed and pulled me to my feet muttering something under his breath.

He made no move to say where he had gone in his absence and I felt I deserved no explanation.  We found our meals that night with relative ease.  I tried desperately to stop drinking from the drunken traveler I’d picked as his heart began to slow, but only when I thought of Godrik abandoning me again for being such a terrible excuse for a child did my fangs pop back into my gums.

“Look!”  I pointed at the pile of filthy human taking raspy breaths.  He sauntered over to inspect my handiwork, wiping a smear of blood off his face.

“Hmm.  Good.”  He clapped me on the back.  “Now kill him.”

“What?  But it’s taken me this long to figure out how to not kill him!”

“You heard me.  Kill him and viciously, too.  Destroy him!  Never be afraid to be what you are.”

“For fucks sake!”

Godrik shot me a look that could have frozen the sun.  “I am not teaching you not to kill,” he hissed threateningly.  “I am teaching you to choose to kill.  Whether and how you end a life must always be in your control; that they die is irrelevant.”

I lowered my head in submission and quickly ripped the man’s throat out and gorged on what the few gulps of blood he had left in him.  I had to admit that feeding with cruel abandon felt wonderful.  I was noisily licking my fingers when Godrik caught me by the waist and shot into the air.

I clung to him as the wind tore around us and closed my eyes, thankful that he’d returned and that I could make him proud of my growing self-control on tonight of all nights.

He remained virtually silent the rest of the evening, lost in his own thoughts.  Having always been meticulous in my personal grooming when I was alive, the discovery of warm baths had become something of an obsession for me in my un-death.  I was bathing from the heated cauldron in a corner of the cave when he finally spoke.

“Forgive me for striking you,” he said in a small voice.

I stopped mid-scrub.

“No, I deserved it.  I pounded my own children for similar disrespect.”

“Do not doubt that I will ‘pound’ on you, as you say, if you ever again dare to insinuate that I do not take seriously my role as your maker.  There is nothing in this world more important to me.  But in this case, I hurt you because I was angry and afraid, not to teach you a lesson, and so I ask for your forgiveness.”

“Everything you do teaches me something, Godrik.  I’m not so proud that I can’t recognize when I am wrong.”

He snorted in laughter, lightening the mood.  “What’s that, Viking?  Not proud, you say?” he joked.  “Easily admit your mistakes, you say!?”

I heaved the kettle over one shoulder and sent a good splash over his head.

Godrik shook out his hair like a muddy dog and shot me an amused look.

“I suppose I am overdue for a bath.”

“You stay filthy on purpose.”

His mouth twitched slightly.

“Imp,” I teased, then picked up the soap and tentatively – giving him plenty of time to stop me -began lathering up his crusty locks.  Much to my surprise, he let me.

“I deserved your anger, but what could you possibly fear?” I asked gently.

Godrik hung his head limply, submitting to my attempts to detangle his disastrous hair.

“I’m afraid that in trying to avoid repeating the mistakes of my master I’m merely making another one.”

“Tell me,” I ventured, knowing we were treading into dangerous territory.  Godrik was already a quiet one, but any mention of his past and he would clam up entirely.  I had quickly learned not to ask, lest I wanted to spend the entire night in silence.  My maker revealed things at his own measured pace.

“It’s…not something I like to talk about.”

Well, obviously, I thought, but wisely kept my mouth shut.

“You were barely out of the ground when I promised you I would never abuse my maker’s power over you.  I meant every word I said.”

“I know that.”

“You do and you don’t.  Perhaps in a few more months I will take you to Roskilde to meet more of our kind.  Then you will begin to understand.  It might be useful for us both to make a study of maker-progeny relationships so we don’t both completely fuck this up.  My own experience was…unique…to put it mildly.”

The prospect of leaving the rancid cave had me giddy, but I kept focused.  “How am I supposed to understand when you’re being so obtuse?”

“Use your brain, Eirikr.  I can command you to do anything and you must obey.  Anything.”

My eyes widened in sudden comprehension.  “Your maker…” the question caught in my throat.

Godrik sighed deeply and looked up at me from under his sudsy hair.  “My master did absolutely anything and everything he wanted to do to me.  For 300 years I was nothing more than a sex toy, a diversion, a punching bag, an assassin, a quick gold piece.  I was whatever his foul mind wished me to be.  And then some.”

I’d never felt such uncontrolled rage in my life.  Only the tiniest bit of Godrik’s anguish leaked across our bond and I was positively out of my mind in the need to avenge him.  I went out stark naked into the night and began kicking over trees, hurling boulders, anything to release the anger.

“Eirikr!” he whipped me around by the arm.  “I command you to stop this instant!  Calm yourself!”

I was panting unnecessarily but I felt his maker’s power curl around my will.

“A vampire is never at the mercy of his emotions.  He masters them!  Look at yourself, huffing and puffing!”

“I’ll fucking kill him.  Where is he?  Is it the dark-haired man I saw in your mind when I was drinking your blood?  I’ll kill him, Godrik!”

“He’s dead.”

I howled in frustration and he simply put a hand on my shoulder.

“He is dead, Eirikr.  I killed him,” he said, looking me straight in the eye.

For a second I thought I’d misheard him, but he held my gaze and cold horror shot up in goosebumps over my preternatural flesh.

“You…your maker?” I gasped in a whisper, clapping a hand over my mouth, incapable of even uttering the blasphemous words.  The very thought of harming Godrik made me positively ill.

“I said master, not maker.”

I was utterly confused.  “Master?  You were a slave?”

Godrik dragged me back to the cave, shaking his head at my mindless destruction of the forest around our territory.  I knew he’d have me chopping every last twig of it into firewood.

Stripping off his grubby leather leggings, he sat back down on his stool and handed me the bar of soap.  It was the first time I’d seen his glorious body entirely nude.

“Finish,” he ordered calmly.

All I could think of was someone hurting the exquisite expanse of skin before me, someone forcing their attentions on it.  I couldn’t bear to touch him.  I thought of all the times I’d snuck a kiss on his shoulder or neck before we’d fallen asleep or my shamefully ridiculous attempts to convince him to pleasure me.

“I didn’t know…”

“Don’t be absurd.  Continue.”

Reverently I bathed him, as gently as possible.  Kneeling behind him I soaped up his back and worked my thumbs in circles into his thick, lean muscles, massaging him as I went.  He moaned under my touch and the sound struck deep within me.  I dawdled behind him trying to will away my massive erection.  I worked over his hard chest, sluicing bubbly streams over his blue tattoos and down the peaks and valleys of his chiseled abdomen.  Although dirt doesn’t really grind into our impervious flesh like it does in a human’s, his feet still required some serious scrubbing since he rarely wore shoes.  By the time I was done even they were pearly pink.  I went to rinse off the last of the suds on his powerful thighs and calves.

“You missed a spot, Ei.”

I raised an eyebrow at this nickname.  Eirikr meant something along the lines of “eternal ruler” or “the one prince.”  Ei, separated from its suffix, bore the sense of being singular or lonely.

“I am not ‘alone.’  I have you, right?”  I asked, hoping he’d promise to never leave me again as he’d done.

“Aye, you do.”  He shot me a dark, mischievous look before leaning back on his hands and spreading his knees suggestively.  I looked elsewhere, afraid his gaze would utterly destroy my attempt at respectful self control.  Soaping up my hand, I caressed the glossy curls of hair crowning his manhood then stroked his length and the tender skin of his plump balls.  I moved for the dipper of water, but Godrik caught my hand, guiding it back to him.

“That’s not good enough.  I’m very dirty,” he said in a sultry voice that had me clenching my eyes and breathing unnecessarily.  He’d never spoken to me seductively and I thought I might explode with over-excitement.  A long thread of pre-cum dripped down between my knees to the ground.

I took his flaccid cock in my hand and pumped a soapy fist over it, letting my thumb play on the sensitive underside of his rapidly hardening head.  He swelled thickly in my hand.

“Gods!  You have really been holding back on me.”  My mouth was watering at the girthy sight and secretly I was relieved to learn that his body responded as a man’s should.

Godrik chuckled softly and raised my chin to meet his eyes with a finger.  “Not everyone has to be a blond giant to be well endowed.”  Before I could avail him with more intimate touches, he rinsed himself suddenly and stood to dry off, leaving me kneeling there in desperate need.  I don’t know what came over me then, but suddenly I felt like bursting into tears again for the second time in my undead life.  I’d reached my breaking point.

“Please, Godrik,” I said, barely audible.

He ignored me for a long moment as he blotted himself dry.  “You said you have been with men?  Tell me about this.”

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“How, when, who, how often?” he paused, adding, “Why?”

“Hmm, you sound a touch jealous, my future lover.”

“Eirikr,” he cautioned, but I swore he nearly blushed at this new term of endearment.  Or perhaps it was my boldness that caught him off guard.

I plopped down onto the bear rug I’d stolen to replace the ones we’d lost during my turning.  The feel of the ruffled fur against my nude immortal flesh was divine and I rolled onto my belly, trying to think where I might begin.”

“I’ve always been an opportunist, so it’s hard to remember all of them,” I explained, more than a little boastfully and realizing suddenly that my human memories already felt fuzzy and distant.  “As soon as I discovered my body as a maturing young man I think I messed around with most all of our thralls, regardless of gender.”

“You mean slaves,” he said harshly, making me instantly cringe at my stupid slip.

“Yes, but you know we care for them as our own people,” I quickly added, trying to backtrack.  “We all slept under the same roof.  It’s not like the stories I have heard about how things are in the southern lands.  We did not trade them like cattle – they were adopted into the family and everyone obeyed the household head.  It was better than being killed simply for being in the wrong village at the wrong time.”  I stopped, feeling like I was digging myself into a hole.

“Go on,” he waved me off, uninterested in my feeble justifications.  It would take centuries before I would understand his weird, paradoxical sense of violent supernatural superiority and quirky liberalism.

“One of the washer women had a son, Håkan.  He was a little older than me and we would sometimes sneak off in the forest and he’d tell me naughty things that he did with other boys in his age grade and touch me.  I didn’t yet spill seed, but I liked it.”

“Who else?”

“Young warriors, of course.  We spent a lot of time away fighting Ulrike and we found release with each other, though it was mostly furtive and fast.  They would come to my tent, emboldened with drink and making small chat.  I could always tell the ones that came wanting more.  They’d suck me off or sometimes let me…”  I felt sheepish, admitting to something that was commonplace among my people but that we didn’t ever really talk about.

“I can feel that you are nervous.  Are you also ashamed?”

“No.  I’ve just never told anyone before.  I don’t mind telling you.  They liked when I fucked them in the arse.  It felt fantastic.  I was happy to discover some women liked it too.  So tight and hot.”

“Hmmm,” he responded vaguely.

I wished to Freya he’d turn around so I could see his face, but he merely stood there in the shadows with his back turned, swaddled in the red linen cloak he’d used to dry himself.

“My wife and I would sometimes invite friends to join us in bed.  I wouldn’t let them penetrate her fertile little womb, of course.  She was mine alone to have like that and besides, as royals we couldn’t risk her having another man’s child.  But we had our fun.”

“You smelled of many women even when I found you.  No doubt you plundered virtually every willing pussy from here to Uppsala as well.”

I grinned broadly.  “More like Trondheim.”

His shoulders bounced in a quiet laugh.  “My child is a bit of a slut, it would seem.”

“You can see why I’ve been frustrated,” I replied defiantly, without an ounce of embarrassment.

“I should spank you for being so insolent.”

Gods!  His words went straight to my groin.  I swallowed unnecessarily.

“That could be fun,” I teased.

“Or incredibly unpleasant,” he shot back.

“I suppose that would be up to you,” I dared.

He sighed at my stubbornness.  “So, who was the first to penetrate you?”

The question caught me off guard.  “In my bum?  I…I never…”

Godrik whipped around, a frightening, predatory gleam in his eyes.  I couldn’t help but notice a very prominent tent in the cloak wrapped around him.

“You mean you are untouched in that way?”

“Yeah.  I mean, I never…I told you…I’ve never submitted to anyone…before you,” I added.  My sense of loyalty to him was an indescribable thing, more than any sense of duty or awe I ever held as a human.

He narrowed his eyes, his fangs running out fully.  Taking a deep breath, he turned and began pacing the cave, his footfalls softly crunching in the stray pebbles and gritty granite crumble strewn about the floor.  “Eirikr, you are what we call a dominant.  Men and women throw themselves at you and you have always been the boss.”


“So?  These past weeks, you have incessantly tried to get me to pleasure you.  You realize I will always be stronger than you?  I will always be the one in control.”

I felt ashamed that I had acted so selfishly, especially now knowing that he had been sexually abused.  “I want to please you just as much.”

“I did not turn you to be my play thing!  I turned you because the moment I saw you, I couldn’t accept that anything would ever defeat you.  Not even death.  I fear your interest only comes from your natural obeisance to me as your maker and my own desire for you humming around in our bond, spurring you on to actions that aren’t yours.  I refuse to advantage of that and have you resent me later.”

My undead heart leapt at his words.  He wanted me.  My Godrik desired me!

I flipped onto my back to better see him.  “Maker, look at me.”  He stopped his pacing and crossed his arms impatiently.  “You are right.  Death did not defeat me.  He chose me as his companion and I am grateful to be at his side.  He’s an eternally beautiful young man and I am his, body and soul.  I want you to claim what is yours, Godrik.”

He froze stock still and stared, statue-like.

“Those are…powerful words…to our kind.”  I could sense something unraveling in him.  No, not in him, all around us.  It was as though he sighed and filled the world with himself.  His strength unfurled into the very air and his presence vibrated louder in me than I’d ever sensed before.  I sat up on my elbows, trying to understand what was happening.  He’d been using some unfathomable restraint on his powers.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”

He dropped the cloak and in a flash was kneeling before me, balanced on the delicate balls of his feet and fingertips, the feral demon gleaming wildly in his eyes.  I watched, quivering with anticipation.  He cocked his head, pupils swimming black with excitement, and scented me deeply.  Then in a blur, he struck at my neck with razor precision, biting into my flesh.  Every rough pull drew out my arousal, spiraling me higher and higher.  His hands crushed me to him, enveloping me in his delicious scent and velvety skin.  I heard myself telling him to drain me, to make me all over again.

All too soon he released me, ruby-lipped and cheeks flushed with a delicious pink.

“You. Are.  MINE,” he growled ferociously through his fangs, eyes blazing.

I thought my fangs and cock would literally explode at the declaration.

“Say it,” he hissed.

“I am yours.”

He pounced on me, placing his weight across my lap and holding me down with his impossibly strong thighs.  He leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine.  “Say it!”

“I am yours, Godrik.  YOURS.  Forever.”

“Only mine,” he whispered hotly.  He pressed a rough kiss on my mouth and exhaled, trying to calm himself.  “And I am yours.  Always.”  The possessiveness his quiet words suddenly riled up in me was shocking.  It was the first taste I was getting of this aspect of our nature.

“MINE!”  I growled into his mouth, claiming it with a passionate abandon.

His tongue worked over mine expertly, while his hands caressed my back and tugged at my hair and wandered across my chest in utter perfection.  Just when I thought I couldn’t be any further spun up, he suddenly sucked at one of my fangs, sending me into a complete, bucking frenzy.  I’d known of course that they were extremely sensitive, but to have someone else touch them…to have him touch them with that devilishly talented tongue of his…Well, I was in grave danger of ejaculating without a single touch to my cock.  At least I was consoled knowing that my newly transformed body never really tired – a fact I had learned during my extended forays in masturbation of late.  If I blew it now, at least I’d have another raging hard-on waiting right in line after this one if I so desired.  And Odin’s eye, how I desired.

Sensing my state, Godrik pushed me flat onto my back, pinning me down by my wrists.  He didn’t move for a long moment, waiting for me to regain a bit of control over my overloaded supernatural senses.  He was pushing calm at me through our bond and judging by his expression, struggling to rein himself in as well.

“What do you want?”

“You!  Whatever you want,” I plead, barely making sense.

“You want me to pleasure you?”

“Yes, maker.  Please!”

“Then I will pleasure you.  Tell me why I choose to do this.”

“Because you want me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head.  “That is true, my arrogant Norseman, but not why.”

My mind scrambled, trying to figure out what answer he was trying to impress upon me.

“Because you can.  It is your choice.”


“Because you are my maker!  Mine and mine alone!” I cried out, desperate to satisfy his question.  “Because you want to please me, you choose to please me, it is your right to please me and…and…and because you ask me what I want and you offer me your gifts.”

He smiled.  “Exactly right, my beautiful, perfect Eirikr,” he purred into the shell of my ear.  “You ask and I offer.”

His lips met mine in another searing kiss that threatened my sanity.

“Please,” I panted.  “Tell me what you want, lover.  Teach me how to please you best.  You promised to teach me all that you know.”

He laughed mirthfully, shaking out his locks and giving me a nip on the chin.  “My lover is so eager.  Such an earnest lover.”

He voiced the word over and over, turning in his mouth in amused consideration as though it was a foreign concept.  If I thought about it carefully, perhaps it was unknown to me too.  Despite my innumerable exploits, I had never really indulged (or thought possible) such unmitigated affection for anyone.

Godrik seemed to pick up on my thoughts.  In fact, I had already begun to suspect he could read my mind much more clearly than he let on.

“What does it mean, Eirikr?  Blood drinkers do not love, we claim.”

“Pshah.  Who told you this?  I think that person lied, Godrik.”  How could he deny the surging, torrid emotions that now pulsed so easily in our psychic connection?

He rolled back on his hips, thinking carefully.  I could feel him prodding our blood bond searchingly.  Perched over me like my personal alabaster god of the night, I was painfully aware that his cock had fallen heavily over mine.  A seductive smile ghosted at the corner of his mouth as he hit upon an answer that pleased him.  What he uttered took me by surprise.

Our conversations had been, up until this point, clipped and focused on the harsh realities of the world I now inhabited.  I knew him to be cold, precise, and deadly.  He was a shrewd tactician and a clever, inventive person, not to mention experienced beyond measure.  But he had also proven to be given to unpredictable extremes.  In one instant, he could be dangerously excitable and playful, and in the next, withdrawn and standoffish.  I did not know until that moment that he could be poetic, nor that he saw beauty in anything.  More truthfully, I did not understand the magnitude of the potential he saw in our relationship or the enormity of his aspirations in turning me.  A lesser man would be intimidated.  I took it as a worthy challenge.

“‘Love’ is a dry, flimsy word, is it not?  Let us leave the piddling love to humans, whom inevitably crumble to ash and dust in the blink of an eye.  They are all blindly grasping towards their each other because deep down, insignificance is the reigning star in every one of their fates.  Words cannot do justice to our bond – what it is, what it will be.  Languages will emerge and die while we will live on in every tongue, in every age.  In time, we will be all things to each other.  Some apparently sooner than others,” he grinned conspiratorially, running a hand down my chest and then playfully added, “Lover,” pinching my left nipple into a hard peak.

I melted at his words and touch, feeling the passion coursing ferociously through our bond.

He took torturous time caressing my body, memorizing every dip, curve, and line of me with the soft pads of his fingertips.  More than a few times he bit me, sinking his fangs into me but not drinking, claiming every inch of me as his.  I was growling in need when Godrik bit his palm suddenly.  He worried the wound with his fangs, never taking his eyes off me.  He squeezed his fist hard over his thick shaft, then, pressing himself against my own length, he stroked us, rocking forward to rub the super sensitive skin under our heads together.  I cried out incoherently, nails digging into his tattooed biceps, clinging to him with the last shred of my sanity.  We writhed together like this, encased in his strong hands, sliding in his sacred blood.  I felt my loins tighten and I knew I was about to be done for.

I managed to gasp his name in warning.

Bite me! he called within my mind.  I nipped him lightly with blunt teeth, my fangs absolutely unwilling to descend against my maker’s flesh.  Quickly tearing open a wrist, he shoved it into my mouth as he bit into my neck, completing the circle.

It was beyond exquisite and beyond unsurpassable.  It was simply sublime.

I had been virtually blacked out, awash in ecstasy for who knows how long when I finally came around.  Godrik was lazily ghosting circles with his tongue across my groin and inner thighs.  I was positively covered in seed and suddenly distraught that I didn’t get to taste his.

He laughed with a happy abandon I’d never seen him possessed by.  Joy actually crinkled at the corners of his eyes.

“We made a mess,” he professed.  “You’ll have to wash me all over again.”

I grabbed his wrist and he willingly tumbled against me.

“You smell like the snow before it falls,” he confessed, nuzzling my temple.  “Of the frozen sea and warm, rare spices, with the softest hint of a summer breeze in an evergreen forest.”

My nostrils flared as I tried to pick out his own delicious musky signature – sandalwood, vetiver, and sweet fall leaves.  It was difficult because my own scent now strongly bore traces of him too.

“I smell like you now.  Do you mind?”

“Always fishing for compliments…”

He kissed me deeply, setting my body on fire once more.  The demon boy was positively luscious.  I couldn’t get enough of his fragrance, his taste, his touch.  My cock was throbbing painfully in need.  Godrik released me and fell back down between my thighs, where he easily hitched one of my long pale legs over his shoulder and shifted my other knee to expose me.  I should have felt incredibly vulnerable, yet I trusted my maker implicitly.

“I do not mind at all that you bear my scent.  I want to fill every bit of you with my essence, over and over.  You are mine.”  A dark, hungry look passed over him and my skin turned to gooseflesh in anticipation.  “Is that what you like, Eirikr?  When naughty young boys take you into the woods and whisper dirty, filthy things to you?  That is exactly what I’ve done, yes?”

I swallowed, my throat dry with carnal hunger.  The crazed look in my eyes must have given away the answer, because he began whispering the most depraved ideas about what he might do to me.  Seeing his delicious mouth utter such filth had me clutching at the rug for some hopeless measure of control.

“Mmm,” he half-purred, half growled, and suddenly licked my exposed ass.  The sensation surprised me, both tickling and making me ache in need.  As he lapped at me, he pressed two fingers to my lips and I trapped them, sucking them just as I wanted to suck another part of him.  He withdrew his hand and sliced open the same fingers I’d been enjoying only a moment before.  Slowly, taking me further into his mouth, he slipped one digit into the tight ring of muscles at the base of me.

“Oh God…”  The feeling was alien and burned for a second but was rapidly soothed by my maker’s healing blood.  He slid his gorgeous mouth up and down my shaft, down further and further, greedily taking all of my manhood into his throat.  I gasped, never having been sucked so fully or deeply.  He began working me in a rhythm, swallowing my length and pushing me, stretching me.  I grasped the ground wildly, searching desperately for some restraint as he slipped a second finger in and pumped harder.  He struck something deep inside of me that had me crying out instantly.  I was writhing and incoherent under his masterful touch.  Somehow I managed to hear him ask for his “blood kiss” – the very one I’d longed to give him the night I turned.  Instantly I had bitten my tongue for him and saw through a bloodlusted haze that he was palming more of his thick crimson juices over his erect member.  As he sought my mouth, he pushed at my entrance, sheathing himself deep within me and claiming me as his for all eternity.

He was exceptionally gentle, at least in the beginning, which I did not expect.  He slowly rocked his narrow hips against mine, massaging that secret place within me that made my cock leak and beg for more.  As I grew accustomed to his width, he began to pull out at a tortuously slow pace and work back into me, teaching me how to receive the battery of amazing sensations he was unleashing on me.  Suddenly, much to my chagrin, I realized that I must have been a rotten lover this entire time, jamming my big dick in people and rutting at them like a common barnyard animal.

“Stop?” Godrik asked, feeling my emotions shift.

“No!  Sorry,” I snapped out of it and dared to grab his firm buns to bring him closer.

“Do not let yourself be distracted again,” he chastised, falling over me and pinning my arms over my head.  “You will think only of me.  Or there will be consequences.”  With that, he rammed a hard thrust at me.

“Oh fucking gods, do that again!”

He did.  And it sent me right over the edge.

We lay together for hours upon hours, to the point that my body ran out of seed for several runs as it struggled to keep up with the rate I was pumping it out.  Godrik maneuvered me into an array of different positions, showing me how we might connect our forms together to make love.  I was truly surprised to discover how good surrendering to him could feel, even when he took me from behind in an unyielding hold, pulling my hair and demanding that I cry out his name.  Normally I despised feeling so open and vulnerable, but this was something else entirely.  He freed me to simply feel, experience, and be.  Submission, he explained, required far more strength of character, for it was much harder to do.  My favorite position, however, was exactly where we’d begun – my arms and legs enveloping him as he was enveloped by me, his muscles rippling with the force of his exertion, his mask of calm lost to the bliss of release with me.


The fire had long ago burnt out and only the softest hiss and pop of the dying coals lit our stony den.  I lay tangled with Godrik in the plush brown bear rug, nude and silent.  His head rested in the crook of my shoulder and his hand was lost in a tumble of my blond hair.  Pressed together, satiated, our bond pulsated with unfiltered expressions of fulfillment and serenity; a happy discourse finer than any words we might utter.

Beyond the walls of our nighttime lair, the first of the larks’ songs floated across the early morning, signaling dawn’s approach.  Godrik stirred minutely, pasting a kiss onto my chest.

I squeezed him tighter, not wanting this night to be overtaken by the sun.  Within a few minutes, however, I knew he would pull me up and insist that we dig our earthen grave for the day.

“I hope we never meet your gods,” he spoke softly.

“Why?” I asked, confused.

“Because I do believe I’ve just run afoul of Odin.  I’ve stolen his finest warrior from his rightful place in Valhalla.  I expect he had reserved the seat next to him,” he replied with an amused grin.

“Well, if we suddenly are attacked by menacing crows, I suppose it will be confirmed.  But I think you were fated to find me.”

He grunted a neutral response.

Once situated safely in under a thick layer of soil underground, I was nearly asleep when I heard Godrik speak to me in my mind, confessing something far more sobering.

“You are the first and only thing I have ever had to myself…the greatest gift…”  

Love.  Mine.  I pushed back before succumbing to the sun.

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  1. Liliput

    Wow, that was beautiful. Intense & erotic, but beautiful too. Interesting to get some insight to the beginnings of your version of these characters; their bond & personalities. He’s definitely an individual, your Godric!

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