Touch Starved Bjorn Part 3
The weeks of winter has been the best of his life. Years ago he had been reborn in the ice, surviving the season alone, killing a bear, proving to himself he was strong in ways he couldn’t have measured. He could survive anything. But now he had a reason to live. Back then he was alone with his thoughts and was forced to carve within himself for answers, however uncomfortable, to grow.
But this winter he had you.
He had his answer to his most private prayers.
Even if your relationship was a still a secret from everyone.
Your father had made it clear he thought Bjorn was a womaniser driven by fickle passions and therefore beneath his daughter, prince or not. One day he wanted to win him over. To prove to him, as he proved to you, how much you had changed him. But you weren’t ready for that. So he watched you from afar in Kattegat. Trying not to draw too much attention he passed you in crowds and your fingers brushed lightly- maybe just for a second- so others wouldn’t see- but it would tingle on his finger tips until he could hold you again. The Christians had their churches and he never understood it. But your little secret wooden shack in the woods where you met to talk, (and kiss) for hours, was now the place he went to to worship.
He loved seeing how your face changed in the candle glow. He loved learning all your little quirks and nuances. You loved pear and cheese so much you never refused it even when you said you weren’t hungry. And you hated fish (but were too polite to ever say which was difficult as people in Kattegat loved eating fish). He knew about the girls who had picked on you when you were little and how some of their words still played on the edges of your mind. He watched how when you got self-conscious you moved your hair across your face as if it could hide you; and noted how you always made a silent wish on the first star you saw when you didn’t think he could see.
You lay on his chest to comfort him when he talked about the death of his sister and how he wondered what sort of a woman she would have become. You listened to his stories of the desert endlessly and asked him about what he felt when he saw such things. You held his massive hand in yours and drew symbols absentmindedly on his palm while he talked about the life he dreamed of as a boy. You knew he loved leeks because they tasted like his childhood and there was still a fence somewhere where one summers day he had carved an imaginary boat to take him to England. You wanted him to take you to see it.
Tonight, you took the time to find his only ticklish spot and were relentless until he pinned you down to the furs by your wrists to stop you.
This was the moment that was the most tempting for him so far.
You lying beneath him, both a little breathless from laughing, his hips on top of yours, your wrists pinned above your head, you felt so damn good, and he could just take you right here. His kisses became more hungry and he began to grind into you but as his hands went to wander you paused him.
He took a deep breath and leaned up releasing you. “I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “I said I would go as slow as you wanted and I will, I just... got carried away.” He leaned off you so his excitement would be less evident to you not meaning to further pressure you.
You leaned up onto your elbows. “No don’t apologise Bjorn! I want you too... there’s just some things I haven’t told you.” Bjorn adjusted so he was lying beside you rather than on top of you. “Go on.”
You nervously shifted. “I want to be with you Bjorn. I’m finally... ready to be with you because... I love you.”
Bjorns chest spread with warmth.
Like something had burst.
Was this what it felt like? He had heard it spoken of in sagas. But this was better?!
He reached across to draw your face an inch from his. “You love me y/n?” You smiled blinking back a tear.
“I am in love with you Bjorn.”
“I am in love with you Bjorn!”
He pulled you on top of him now, his hands buried in your hair as he kissed you with a fever and lightness equally balanced. “I love you too,” he murmured around your locked lips. “I’ve loved you for so long now.” And you kissed back. And it was the best night of his life.
But when the candles burned too low it was time to go. Your time together was stolen and always seemed short. He walked hand in hand with you until you edged closer to Kattegat and that’s then when you had to walk ahead of him and his body ached where you had been moments before. Always you first, so he could make sure you were safe. Weaving past the houses and stalls until you made it towards your front door. He would wait on the street to exchange one last look before you went in to greet your family. Luckily they had been used to your woodland walks so suspected little, as yet. But it couldn’t go on like this.
Didn’t that mean it was time to go public? To tell people? Your father??
At your next meeting he waited outside the shack on a rock, rubbing his hands together for heat, nervous for you to appear. He would ask you now, now that you were in love with him, if he could speak to your father man to man. To earn his trust.
You bounded over the snow towards him and threw your arms around his shoulders to kiss him and he scooped you up to carry you inside the shack.
“Y/n- I have something to ask you-“
“Me first.” You started, so eager to finally come clean about something. Bjorn froze, then nodded. “I have to be honest about something.” His throat felt like gravel when he swallowed. “Anything.” He said with more confidence than he felt.
“I...I am jealous.” You blurted out, then bit your lip as if to take it back. He snorted and raised his eyebrow in disbelief. Of what? Of who? You captured his every thought!
“You have a reputation for being with a lot of women. I am... not so experienced.” Now you chewed your bottom lip a little. You were tipsy, he could smell it now and his heart panged for how nervous you must have been to down mead to tell him this. “There. I’m ....afraid.” You said flatly, taking a steadying breath as if the room was spinning. “Afraid I will disappoint you. That I will not live up to,” your voice became a spiteful singsong of jealousy, “- desert princesses and English Christians and wild thralls, or- or sultry shieldmaidens.”
You had no reason whatsoever to be jealous of those ghosts.
Clearly, you didn’t understand the depth of his feelings.
He rose to hold you. “There is nothing to be afraid of. We will discover our bodies anew together. As you are ready. And I will honour your perfect,” he kissed your cheek, “tantalising,” he nibbled your earlobe, breath hot upon your neck before he kissed it, “arousing body, only as you bid me.”
His lips traced the weak point in your throat that made you moan. “I have no room or care to think about anything but my obsession with you y/n. Does that not scare you?”
Tingles shuddered up and down you and between your legs but your heart still beat with nerves. “But what if I-“
“-are so beautiful I cannot stop? I promise you I will find a way to restrain myself. My love for you will bid me stop so I don’t ravage you before you are ready. Though I looooong to ravage you.”
You giggled, “No- what if I am... not like the other women you have been with.”
Bjorn growled a little as his lips returned to your ear. “But my love, that’s exactly what I’m counting on.” He hoisted you up by your hips to press onto his, one handed, and you wrapped your legs around him. He grinded a little and you loved the friction between you. “You turn me on uncontrollably. You are the most mesmiring thing I have ever seen in all my travels. I have never yearned to discover anything, as I have,” his finger trailed across your collar bone, “this.”
Secretly it made him feel powerful to know you hadn’t been with many, if any, men before him. He liked the thought he possessed you.
But he needed to address your fear head on.
“A body, is a body is a body,” he said softly but soberly, “they are comprised of the same parts- each man, every woman. What makes them special is how you connect to the person beneath them. And while your parts are already sculpted from my darkest fantasy I can also remind you I have only ever connected this way with you. You will be my undoing.”
He hesitated unsure whether to say what was on his tongue. “I... will be a little nervous myself. I want you so badly but I am under some pressures myself.”
To please me, you thought. To impress me.
To not come too early when presented with his fantasy incarnate, Bjorn thought.
You kissed him and stroked his hair, still hoisted high. “Then, let us discover each other together.”
Bjorn lowered himself to his knees then, cradling your head, laid you on the fur strewn floor of the shack. Your fingers scrambled to lift his shirt from his shoulders and you gasped a little at the muscles underneath.
He let you and soaked in the experience of your hands hungry on his skin. It was better than he had fantasised. Seeing you pleased with his body, wanting him.
His fingers lightly traced the hem of your dress and slowly he began to roll it up over your thighs, your stomach, your chest and finally over your head. There was a chill and your nipples hardened to it to his excitement.
Without taking his eyes from you he tossed the dress as far away as he could and took in your body, a growl building in his chest.
“You’re so sexy you drive me crazy.”
So beautiful and sexy it hurt him actually.
You smiled and reached for his bulge. It was hard and throbbing under your hand and he growled again. First he pressed your hand harder against him rubbing it so you could feel it’s full length through the cloth. “You see what you do to me?” He asked.
But then he removed your hand.
“But I want this to be about you first.”
So he kissed you. For the longest time until you coaxed his hand, saying it was alright, to wander as he yearned.
He took in your breasts first, squeezing them, rolling his hand over your nipples, then lowering his head to kiss then and flick his tongue softly over your nipples, eyes still locked with yours learning which ways made you gasp a little and moan.
Then as he lay on top of you his fingers traced down lower to your pubic bone. Then they caressed your inner thigh where they rested for a moment before they slipped confidently between your slit.
You gasped instantly and he growled again with animal satisfaction.
You began to make small moans and arch your back a little as your breathing became uneven, the pleasure instant and hot.
You began to feel a pleasure, like a building pressure, you had never felt before.
He moved his fingers steadily at first, bringing wetness from your entrance to cover your clit and began to build the pace. His breathing was ragged with lust and restraint hanging by a thread as you squirmed beneath him.
You shuddered as waves of heat and pleasure drew moans from you in a voice you’d never heard from yourself. Louder. More guttural sounds.
How was he doing this to you?
Your legs trembled and your hands grabbed his chest for reassurance.
“You’re safe with me,” he whispered through gritted teeth, “let me give you this,” and so you arched your hips into him.
Sweat prickled onto your body as the pleasure built and built and you couldn’t breathe, and you closed your eyes, and you thought you would faint-
-but then your toes curled back and your thighs tightened and shook and you realised you were screaming “Bjorn!!! B-Bjorn!!!”
Pleasure and heat flooded you up to your stomach.
And then you were floating.
Bjorn seemed to tremble a little too as he coddled you tight to his body, holding all of your pieces together. He kissed your head and murmured into your hair. “I love you.”
You wanted to say it back but the air- you needed the air for your lungs.
You felt dizzy and floaty and high after as you lay together. Eventually you spoke.
“That was... amazing. What you did to me!”
He smiled, proud of himself.
“I wanted to make you feel good.”
You paused. “When can I touch you?”
Another pause. “When can we have sex?”
He moved the hair from your eyes, and you could see he was torn.
“I want to y/n. But I had thought... you might... want to wait.”
You shook your head a little no, “why?”
He cleared his suddenly dry throat.
