TW/DISCLAIMER: This story includes non-consensual sex. The author affirms the story is fictional and in no way condones rape or sexual assault.
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The first thing Halfdan noticed was the warmth of her body, the smell of her skill, and the way she fit perfectly nestled into his body. Gone was the heathen fire goddess from the night before, in her place a supple, content kitten, curled up, just begging for his touch. His prize, selected from the cream of the captured villagers, a spoil of war. His to do with what he wished, though she had yet to accept it.
She was no innocent, a widow despite her young years. He had just had her the night before, and yet he craved more. When she had railed against him, he had seen passion buried in her resistance, evident even more when he sunk into her wet depth. Since she appeared to have no desire for his touch, he had used her quickly and fallen asleep with her locked in her embrace. He knew that she had fought sleep, hoping for a chance to escape, but when morning arrived, she was still there.
Just as well. His men were just outside. She had nowhere to go.
He allowed himself to create just the slightest amount of space between them, so he could gaze down the length of her naked body. The furs had slipped during the night, exposing her naked body. Her curves were full and luscious, hips that fit his rough grip as he rode her and a ripe buttocks able to absorb the impact of his thrusts. His broad palm followed the path his eyes traced, drifting down her waist before desire got the better of him and he cupped her hip firmly.
He was shocked to feel just the slightest movement as she unconsciously moved even closer to him, pressing the crease of her ass into his already hardening cock. In her sleep, she desired him. If only his little Scottish wildcat could admit that when waking.
Curiosity got the better of him. She was so small, all he had to do was reach down and his hand was between her legs, gently slipping one finger between her nether lips and curling as it pressed inside her. He groaned. Was she always this wet? A snarl of jealousy and possessiveness bubbled up from inside when he thought of another man bringing her such pleasure.
His hips moved without thought, his cock cradled between her butt cheeks, straining for a different home. His hand left her hip and positioned himself between her legs. He almost came at the feel of her soaking quim. Hoping to prolong this moment, enjoying her soft and compliant, he pressed forward slowly. Torturously slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully engulfed. He heard her give a soft exhale of pleasure, and he felt a thread of primal satisfaction at the noise.
He knew she was awake, though she didn't acknowledge him. Didn't acknowledge the snugness of him being sheathed within her, the walls of her pulsating around him, drawing him deeper.
He withdrew from her until his tip was once again resting at her entrance, before sliding home with even more force. If he hadn't been listening for it, he would have missed her silent gasp of indignation at his absence. His grin was feral with primal satisfaction. His grip on her waist tightened as he took up a steady pace. She moved with him, her back arching to accommodate his invasion, little mewling noises escaping her lips.
Her breasts taunted him. In their given position, he knew one was flattened into the bed, its size accentuated by the contrast of her pale skin against the dark brown pelts. The other rolled seductively with each thrust. His calloused fingers abandoned her waist and reached up to tease her nipple, taut and straining.
He wanted to see her. He wanted to see the defiance fade into lust. As he propped himself up on one elbow, he could see her lip caught between her teeth, almost as if she could contain her response. Even now, she wouldn't let go. He admired her protest even as he wanted to yell in frustration. So be it.
Without breaking his rhythm, he rolled her slightly until she was face down, and he could pound into her, the sound of his hips and balls slapping against her skin filling the small space. She struggled to tuck her arms underneath her, to prevent her from being buried face first into the covers, but he placed a hand on the small of her back to hold her, submissive, nothing more than a warm body upon which he could slake his lust. Struck by inspiration, he reached forward with his other hand to grasp her long blond braid, tugging her head back and into view, her mouth hanging open as she panted each time he filled her.
He dropped his hand, adjusted his angle, and increased his pace. His thrusts dug into her, stroking repeatedly against the sensitive ridge until she could no longer contain her groans of desire. That was enough to send him over the edge. He jerked in release, emptying himself deep within her, claiming her. Marking her as his.
