And him?
He’s standing like a god carved from bone and fire, fists clenched, that beautiful axe slung over his shoulder. His chest still painted in dried blood and Viking ink. His thickness pressing hard against his leathers, straining like he’s seconds away from snapping the whole world in two.
My heart skips. My cunt clenches.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Bjorn doesn’t share. He doesn’t even look when someone else breathes near me.
But this one?
This one’s for the gods.
This onepaidto die.
A red-brand. An offering.
So he lets it slide.
But only, for the gods.
Besides, he knows I’m not letting this man touch me.
Not really.
I’m in control.
I’m always in control.
I flash Bjorn a wicked little grin—one he knows well. The kind that saysI’ll be on my knees for you the second this one's dead.
Then I drag my blade lower, slicing across the sacrifice’s ribs. Not too deep. Just enough to make him gasp. Make him twitch. Make himleak.
“Aw, you like that?” I croon, voice sticky-sweet. “You dirty little offering.”
I ride him faster now, dragging my nails down his stomach, making him writhe beneath me. His breath stutters and his eyes roll.
He’s close.
I lean in close to his ear, whispering like a bedtime story soaked in blood.
“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? Right here. Right now. While the gods watch. Whilehewatches.”
He moans, high and pathetic as his whole body tenses.
“Good boy,” I breathe. “Now take all that ecstasy... and deliver it straight to Valhalla.”
And just as he breaks—right as the orgasm hits, face twisted in that perfect moment of agony and bliss?—
I bury the blade in his throat.
It punches in deep. The steel severs flesh and voice and worship all at once. His cum spills as his blood does, mixing in a final, holy mess across my thighs.
He gurgles, twitching beneath me, dying while still coming.
Gods, it’s beautiful.
“There it is,” I moan, grinding once more as the light leaves his eyes. “There’s my altar song.”
