#coffeeau

 “I am just thinking that it would make life a bit easier for you, not having to deal with all the little things all the time.” Aslaug tried a kind smile, tilting her head at Ivar. Usually, this worked on him.

 “You mean you want to hire someone to run around to get me my coffee, and to run errands, because I can’t?” Ivar mimicked his mother, tilting his head too, but of course lacking the kind smile.

 Aslaug sighed deeply, diverting her eyes from Ivar to look out of the windows of his office.

Of course, he would twist her words, to make it sound this way. Sometimes she wondered if he did it on purpose, or if he was just projecting his insecurities.

 “No. That is not what I am saying, as you well know.” Aslaug looked back at Ivar. “You need someone who can do all that, and much more. This is not only about ‘running errands’, Ivar. You have an important position in this company now, and it is only natural that a man in your position would have a personal assistant. Bjorn has one, Ubbe has one too. Even Hvitserk has one.” She smiled again.

 Ivar mustered her without saying anything, his expression unchanging. Any man in his right mind would have turned and left, but Aslaug was much stronger than any man. She just shook her head once more.

 “Anyways, interviews for the position will start at three o’clock, if you want to be part of them. If not, I’m going to choose someone for the position myself.”

 With that, Aslaug winked at her son, before leaving him behind, with a very annoyed expression on his face.

 -----

 You were nervous. Like, really, really, super nervous. Actually, thinking back, in recent history you could not remember a single moment where you had been quite this nervous.

Yes, indeed, you thought, you had not been this level of nervous since you finished school, and that was a while ago. Although with Russ happening, the end of school was a bit of a blur.

 You blinked a few times, not wanting to mentally drift off, trying to stay in the here and now. The here and now being a fancy office building.

You had, thinking of it, no idea what had made you apply for this job, what had made you think that it would be a smashing idea to send out your CV.

 Thing was, you needed money.

As a grad student at university, times were hard. For the last year, you had the privilege to have a part time job, as an administrative assistant of one of the professors of your faculty, but the position had not been renewed for the new autumn semester. You hated to rely on your parents and their savings, and with rent definitely not being cheap in Oslo, you really needed another part time job. There were also a few textbooks you needed to get, and a new winter coat, which definitely would put a dent in your budget.

 This is how you ended up scrolling through endless job sites, bookmarking retail jobs ‘just in case’, hoping to find something more office like, when you finally stumbled across a posting that looked as if it was sent by the gods.

 Personal assistant for the Lothbrok Corporation.

Twenty hours per week, flexible hours, possibility to travel. Requirements kind of covering what you thought you were capable of. Paying way more than any other part time job you had seen, covering way more than your usual expenses, almost paying as well as a full time job.

It just sounded way too good to be true.

So good in fact, that you were kind of convinced that it was a scam.

 Still, you had applied for it, bullshitted your best motivational letter to date, and when you got an email a few days later, inviting you for a job interview, the coin finally dropped that this was, in fact, a very real position.

The coin dropped, that you had just been invited to a job interview, as the personal assistant of some manager of the Lothbrok Corporation, one of the biggest and most successful companies not only in all of Norway, but also in all of Europe. A company who had their fingers in every cake imaginable, from pharmacy and weaponry, to transporter ships and agriculture.

 After you had confirmed the time and date of the interview, you once again looked up everything about the position that had been posted, unfortunately not finding out who the manager would be you would be working for, nor what exactly it was that you would be doing. It was just the usual vague babble that every position had, which did not reassure you.

Considering the pay, you were sure that the person you would work for was either incredibly important, or incredibly hard to work for. You were not sure what prospect was worse.

Still, all of that was completely hypothetical. Who knew if they would even take you?

 That thought brought you back to reality, back to your nervousness, as you were sitting in the well-lit hallway of a tall, modern office building in central Oslo, right at the fjord. The company headquarters were part of the ‘Barcode Project’, one of the super fancy buildings constructed as part of the redevelopment of the dock area, overlooking the opera, the fjord and the new and hip beach area on one side, and Oslo Sentrum on the other side.

 You were waiting together with around twenty other young men and women, all waiting to be called into, what you assumed was a large conference room at the end of the hallway.

 You had to admit, that you were more than intimidated by some of the others around you, who all looked way more professional than you did, wearing expensive looking suits and dresses, and looking as if everything they had been born to do was being the personal assistant of a CEO of a multi-billion krona company.

 From what you gathered from the few people around you actually talking to each other, most of them seemed to speculate on a full-time position, hoping that this job would be the one bringing them into the world of business and management.

Being here just to have a good paying job next to Uni, you felt really, really stupid.

 The longer you had to sit there and wait, the sillier you started to feel about the whole thing. This was probably just a massive waste of your time, and you just should’ve applied to work at Peppe’s Pizza or something instead. You would never ever get this job, with there being so many other, far more qualified people around you.

 Ultimately, you were pulled out of your thoughts, when a smartly dressed woman called your name, about one and a half hours after you had arrived for the interview, and about five minutes before your nerves would’ve gotten the best of you and caused you to just leave.

With a rapidly pounding heart you got up, gathering your things and straightening your clothes, before you walked over to the door, not really believing the encouraging smile the woman gave you.

 You stepped into the room, the door behind you closing, and you were, just as you had suspected, in a conference room. In front of you, sitting at a large table, you were faced with three people, and the face in the centre, which you immediately recognised, made your pounding heart stop. This was certainly not what you had expected.

 Aslaug Lothbrok, second wife to Ragnar Lothbrok, founder and director of the Lothbrok Corporation.

She was insanely famous, constantly on TV, Norwegian high society and involved in every important charity in Scandinavia. She was basically the public face of the company.

 On her left was another woman, which you did not know, maybe from HR, or her secretary, you were not quite sure. On her right though.. was also a very famous face.

 Even though he looked insanely bored, and uninterested in just everything going on right now, as if he would rather be literally anywhere else, and looking out of the tall windows of the office building, you clearly recognised Ivar Lothbrok, youngest son of Ragnar.

Despite him wearing an expensive designer suit, he also had a well kept undercut, the long hair on the top neatly pulled back into a bun. His arms rested on his wheelchair, his hands absently kneading each other in his lap. You didn’t know enough about body language to interpret that.

 “Miss Y/L/N, welcome. Please take a seat.” Aslaug said with a smile, standing up. You quickly walked over to shake her hand, surprised that her handshake was quite firm, despite her thin figure.

 “Good day Mrs. Lothbrok. It is a pleasure to meet you!” you answered, taking a seat offered to you by the blond woman after she had sat down as well. It was a pleasure, though an unexpected one. Your nerves were on fire.

Shaking her hand, you noticed how much you were actually sweating.

 You had not expected this position to be this important. Never. The pay should have been a dead give-away, of course. But even so, the literal heads of the corporation interviewing you? That was as if Bill Gates would interview you for a job at Microsoft! You felt very silly right now. This was going to be really embarrassing, but it was too late to chicken out now.

 You just had to go through this with as much dignity as possible, and then maybe go to Vinmonopolet and buy yourself enough alcohol to forget this ever happened. Or, buy a tub of ice-cream and a packet of sprinkles and eat your emotions away. Also a good choice.

 “So, Miss Y/L/N.” Aslaug started, looking down at your application and CV, that were laying on the table in front of her. You had used a template, that you had found online, and also felt stupid about that now. “Why did you apply for this position?” she asked, raising her eyes to watch you patiently. Her features gave nothing away.

 Well.

That was a very good question, actually.

You blinked a few times, now noticing how Ivar’s blue eyes turned away from the windows, looking directly at you. He was more handsome in real life than on TV.

Ivar’s demeanour had changed, instead of slouching in his chair completely bored, he sat up slightly, his head tilted and his whole attention on you. He looked.. for a lack of a better comparison, like a predator watching his prey. You swallowed hard.

 “I.. to be honest, I,.” you swallowed once more. Dignity, you tried to remind yourself. You tried to gather your thoughts, taking a deep breath. “As you have seen in my CV, I am still a graduate student at the University of Oslo, and during my time there, I have worked as the assistant of Professor Geving. This position was mostly administrative, and I have gained an interest in more organisational work and management. The position at your company would provide me with a great chance to expend on my experience, and would also give me a chance to learn about business outside of academia. It would be a splendid opportunity to apply the skills that I have gathered in my past years at University and at my previous job.” You said, what you had more or less prepared the day before, together with your roommate, if a question like that would come up.

 “But your current studies and your Bachelor’s degree have little to do with management and business.” Aslaug stated. It was not a question.

 Most of the other applicants probably had a background in finance or economics or something, so once again you wondered how and why you had been even invited for an interview in the first place.

 You nodded quickly.

“Navigating academia, regardless of subject, requires a great amount of self-management and organisation, just as my previous job has, which are skills I have managed to acquire during my time at University.”

 That sounded so stupid. It had sounded so much better in your head. Aslaug’s face just affirmed that thought, and you were sure, even if the chance had already been very slim, there was no way in Hel you would get this job now. So, it kind of didn’t matter what you would say now, right? You could not embarrass yourself even more.

 “Next to that, the bureaucracy heaven and organisational chaos that is Oslo University have prepared me for any kind of file-, organisation-, or scheduling-horror imaginable, and working as a professor’s assistant has also taught me how to deal with the most eccentric of people in a nice, polite way, no matter their stubbornness.”

 There was a moment of silence. You did not dare to breathe, while the three opposite of you stared at you. Then suddenly, Ivar started to laugh.

 You froze in your seat, watching him shake his head in amusement, not knowing if you should feel even more embarrassed or relieved. Either way, a trip to Vinmonopolet tonight sounded like a good idea to deal with the shock.

 Ivar raised his hand, pointing a finger at you.

“I want her, mother. Cancel the interviews, and send the rest home.” You felt as if you were not the most shocked person in the room right now.

 With that, Ivar pushed himself away from the table, navigating his wheelchair towards the door. He drove past you, not without shooting you an amused smile and a wink that made your heart flutter in your chest.

 Faster than you could comprehend what in Hel had just happened, he had opened the door, and left the conference room, leaving you behind with Aslaug and the other woman. For a second Aslaug seemed speechless, although she hid it better than the woman next to her who gaped at the door.

 “Well.” Aslaug sighed, regaining her composure. “It seems to be your lucky day, Miss Y/L/N.” she stood up, and you followed suit. “It you want to accept, Margarethe here will go with you through the paperwork. If you decide to sign the contract today, we can schedule the times you are available, and you could start with the coming week.”

As if Ivar was surprised by you responding to his kiss, he suddenly pulled back, his blue eyes staring into yours with shock, looking from one eye to the other as you were so close. His mouth was slightly ajar, his breath coming out shaking.

Your frowned at him, not quite understanding his reaction, when he blinked a few times, the expression on his face turning from shocked to confused.

 “You.. want this?” he asked, unbelievingly.

 Now it was your turn to be confused.

This gorgeous, incredible man, who always seemed so insanely self-assured, strong, and confident, and who never did anything risky if he had not precisely calculated every possible outcome, was honestly sitting here, questioning your reaction.

 “Ah, yeah.” You answered, not knowing what else to say.

 “Really?” Ivar’s brows furrowed, the confusion and disbelief on his face only intensifying.

 Despite his strong arms around you, you managed to sit up a bit straighter in his lap, bringing a bit of distance between the two of you. You looked down at his face, now spotting next to all that confusion, also a tad of fear.

 “What is this Ivar? Are you testing me? Or what in Hel are you on about?” you had to admit, you got a bit angry. Was this all just a way to test your reaction? To test if you were interested in him or not? Had he noticed you staring at him, had he noticed your crush, and now wanted to see if it was true?

 Ivar inhaled, but did not speak, just continued to stare at you as if he was ringing for words. Taking his silence, and his lack of an immediate denial as confirmation, you were shocked and appalled.

This man was apparently really as unpredictable as the gossip magazines had made him out to be, not only at work, but also when it came to private matters and the feelings of other people. You had thought you knew him, knew him to not be like that, but apparently you had been wrong.

 Kissing you as a test, and then backing away as if you had overrun him, then not even being able to straight up answer a, in your opinion, very simple question was really not what you had expected from him.

 “Ok, alright. Fine.” With a groan you pushed yourself away from Ivar, shaking off his grip and standing up. You shook your head, before you turned your back on him, leaving the kitchen with large steps, walking towards the door to get your things.

 You had endured a lot of shit from him over the last year, had often had to tiptoe around his moods, had worked late hours and had to use your weekends for uni stuff, because your week was filled with assignments from him, but this? This took the cake.

You were not his plaything to test how far he could go, nor were you here for him to make fun of your feelings, in the way he always made fun of Hvitserk, when he had once again fallen head over heels for a random girl, he had met like two days ago.

 “Y/N, wait! Please!” you heard Ivar’s voice behind you, when you were just pulling on your left shoe. His tone was so soft again, and you could not but turn around to face him. He had followed you out of the kitchen, a pleading expression on his face.

 “I.. I’m sorry.” He brought out, causing you to freeze.

 Never ever, not in the year you had worked for him, had you heard Ivar ever apologise to anyone for anything. Admitting that he had been mean or wrong, sure, but this man never apologised for his actions or behaviours. But now, here he was, telling you that he was sorry, with the most vulnerable expression on his face that you had ever seen. For some reason he looked so much younger than this, and far less intimidating.

 “What is it, Ivar? Tell me. Please.” You heard yourself say, your voice almost breaking away now. There were too many emotions caught up in this. “What is it with you?”

 Ivar’s eyes dropped to his lap, where he was kneading his hand. He chewed his lower lip, and you could see in his face that this was hard for him, although you were not sure what exactly ‘this’ was. This situation? Talking about feelings and not having the upper hand in this conversation?

 Finally, he took a shaking breath, looking up at your once more. His eyes were wide and unsure.

“I.. I like you. A lot. I really do, I just..” he pressed his lips together, exhaling through his nose. “I’m a dick.” He finally said.

 “Yes, you are.” You agreed, quicker than you could think, quicker than you could even really comprehend what he just said. If he liked you, and still kissed you to test your boundaries, ‘dick’ was a good description for him.

 Your quick responds seemed to surprise him, as he gaped at you for a moment, before he collected himself again. Pursing his lips, he raised his eyebrows.

“Well, to be frank, I did not expect you to agree with me so easily on that.”

 You would have laughed, if the situation had not been so tense. So you just rolled your eyes, turning away from him again, your hand massaging the bridge of your nose. This man, by the gods..

 “How could I not agree, when it is completely true, Ivar?” you started. “You are a dick, and you are rude and angry and to be honest, sometimes I really wonder why I keep working for you, when you ignore me, bark at me, or command me around like a dog sometimes.” You sighed. Even if you liked the work, Ivar was not an easy boss, even if you knew how to navigate his moods.

 “Then why are you still working for me?” his voice was low, and you heard a mixture of wonder and interest in it.

 “Because..” you closed your eyes, shaking your head slightly.

 You could just lie, of course, saying that the pay was just too good, and that this job would do so well in your resume. But whatever had happened tonight had already certainly destroyed your work relationship with the youngest Lothbrok, everything from the kiss to your rude words. Telling him the truth now and looking for something else in the morning would probably be the best option.

 “Because you are cunning and smart and witty and funny and kind, and you were so lenient with me when I was stressed out because of uni. Working for you is maybe the most exciting and most interesting thing I have ever done in my life. I have never met anyone like you, and I am just so.. so fascinated, I-“ but you were stopped in your ramblings, when you felt a strong arm wrap itself around your waist, pulling you down into Ivar’s lap once more.

 Your breath hitched in your throat when he pulled you against his firm chest, feeling his warm breath against your neck.

 “You really mean that?” it was almost a whisper against your skin, as you felt Ivar’s soft lips at your ear, not kissing, just slowly moving along it.

 “Yes.” You managed to say, although your voice was odd. “Yes.. I mean that. And yes, I want you. And if that gets me fired now, so be it.”

 Ivar did not answer, and before you could say anything else, you felt a hand on your cheek, turning your face over to him. His lips were on yours a moment later, kissing you again, though this time not shy and slow, no. This time the kiss was passionate, almost forceful and desperate. You gasped out of surprise, what Ivar took as an invitation to deepen the kiss even more with his tongue, one of his hands on your hips to try and turn you to your side, while the other one wandered into your neck, pulling you even closer to him.

 A shiver ran down your spine at his touch, want rising inside of you and making your feel dizzy. You were glad to be sitting in this moment, as you would not trust your weak knees to hold you up right now. Absently you toed off the shoe you had put on minutes before, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud.

 Your hands went back into Ivar’s neck, pulling him closer as you moved to be in a bit more comfortable position, the shifting of your body in his lap causing the man to groan into your mouth.

 You had completely lost track of what was going on, and frankly with his strong hands around you, his firm body beneath you and his skilled lips pressed against yours, you also did not really care anymore. Who cared if you still had your job after this? Who cared what was going to happen? All that was important now was right there in front of you.

 Ivar broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours while he was breathing hard against your lips. His hand was absently stroking over your hip, the other one caressing your cheek, as he licked his red lips, his beautiful eyes still closed.

 Outside the window the sun was slowly setting, the warm orange light creating deep shadows in the apartment.

 “Do you.. do you want to move somewhere.. more comfortable?” Ivar asked breathlessly and a bit hesitantly and shy. Still, his voice was much firmer than just a few minutes earlier.

 As much as you enjoyed being this impossibly close to Ivar, you sadly had to admit that balancing on his wheelchair, so close to his front door, was not the most romantic position you could imagine.

 You just nodded slowly, holding onto his neck a bit tighter when he carefully let go of your body, lowering his hands to grab the wheels of his chair. He rolled backwards and away from the door, before turning around.

 Ivar placed a quick, but firm kiss onto your lips, almost feeling like a promise to you, before he leaned back a bit to see where he was going, starting to move again. It was a bit awkward for you like that, as you did not really know what to do with yourself, unsure if you should get up, or if that would ruin the moment. Instead, you just held on, lowering your head slightly out of the way, and placing small kisses on Ivar’s strong neck. You heard his breath hitch slightly in his throat.

 A few moments later you felt the wheelchair stop, but before you even had the chance to look up from Ivar’s neck, you felt his hands around your waist, pushing you off his lap and causing you to fall off. But instead of hitting the hard, marble floor of his apartment, you landed straight on the soft furs covering the mattress of his bed.

The bed itself was quite low, maybe only thirty or so centimetres of the ground, surrounded by many furs and carpets and covered in soft beige and white woollen blankets. Truly a very Scandinavian aesthetic.

 Still shocked you looked up at Ivar, who had a very amused smirk on his face. The shyness seemed to be entirely gone now, and a shiver ran down your spine and straight in between your legs, as he just sat there, mustering you lying on his bed.

 “What a view.” He said, tilting his head.

 Your breath was shaking as you exhaled slowly, watching him as he moved his chair away from the bed and off the many furs surrounding it. He heaved himself off, lowering himself to the floor, before pulling his body across the ground back towards you, and crawling over the furs and onto the bed like a snake. He towered over you with a grin, like a predator who had just managed to catch his prey, that he had watched for so long.

 How something so intimidating could be this sexy and attractive, you did not know. The expression of the man above you made you freeze like a deer in the headlights, unable to move, while your body wanted nothing more than for him to touch you.

 His blue eyes were locked with yours, as he started to slowly, very slowly lower his body onto yours, his strong arms on either side of your head. He didn’t break eye contact for even a second, and you had to bite your lower lip, staring back at him. He smirked, noticing your expression, this devilish, intense smirk that made your head spin.

 A moment later his lips were on yours, which suddenly seemed to break the spell he had cast over you. Your hands shot up and moved into the back of his neck, before they started to wander over his strong, muscular shoulders, down his chest and sides. Your fingers slipped under the hem of his grey shirt, finally able to touch the hot, smooth skin of his upper body. At your touch, you felt Ivar’s muscles flex, before he relaxed again. You smiled into the kiss.

 “Your hands are cold..” Ivar murmured against your lips, before he broke the kiss, only to move his mouth along your jaw and neck, kissing and biting the soft skin there. One of his hands started to travel down the side of your body, resting at your waist.

 His fingers left a burning trail on your skin, his touch enticing you even more, making a ball of ‘want’ grow inside of you. You felt hot, wanting nothing more than to get out of your clothes, wanting to feel Ivar’s hot skin against yours.

 Ivar sighed, as he kissed up your neck again, lightly nipping at your earlobe, before his hand started to move again, traveling down further, before pulling your thigh up, putting your leg around his hips. You gasped loudly, when he pressed down his hips, and you felt him harden against you. Grinning against your skin, Ivar repeated the movement, again and again, causing you to throw your head back into the soft furs underneath you, your fingers digging themselves into his heated skin.

 A second later Ivar was kissing you again, deeply and passionately, and you lost every sense of time, every sense of where you were. All that was important now was Ivar, his lips, his body. Nothing else.

 “Move up the bed.” Ivar positively growled into your ear, after he had broken the kiss again, sending another shiver down your spine that pooled right between your legs. His voice was low, and his teeth once again scratched over your earlobe.

 You quickly nodded, opening your eyes and looking up at Ivar, who had not lost the intense expression in is far too blue eyes. He propped himself up a bit more, so you could slip out from underneath his body, scurrying up the bed until your head reached one of the man’s many pillows.

 Ivar watched you like a hawk through hooded eyelids, licking over his lips absent minded. Then, however, he pulled out his phone, the sudden illumination causing you to notice how far the sun had already set. It was not dark yet, not entirely, but it had gotten harder to see.

Ivar’s brows were furrowed as his thumb moved over the screen, when suddenly a dozen small, almost orange lights went on all over the apartment, like small candles, tinting the loft in a soft, comfortable light, easy on the eyes.

 Ivar looked back at you again with a smirk.

“Thought that would be a bit more..” he started, but stopped himself.

 “Romantic?” you raised an eyebrow, and he chuckled.

 “Something like that.” Ivar pressed the power button on his phone, the screen turning dark, before he carelessly tossed the device to the side, where it came to stop on some fur lying on the floor.

 His full attention was on you again, and just like before, he started to move his body, crawling up the bed like a snake. He was over you in a second, his lips immediately finding yours, pulling you in yet another deep kiss that made your head spin.

 Suddenly, Ivar turned the two of you, pulling you up, so that you were above him now, straddling his thighs. You gaped at him for a moment, full of surprise, but he just grinned, now using both of his hands to wander along your body. Slowly he started to undress you, freeing your torso from your top, his eyes studying every centimetre of uncovered skin like a piece of art. Demanding equality, you also moved your hands underneath his shirt, pushing it up his body until Ivar sat up with a smirk, grabbing his t-shirt at the back of his neck, and pulling it off in one swift move. Once the garment had been thrown onto the floor, you were provided by an amazing view of his muscular upper body, with large tattoos covering his back, shoulders and chest. Intricate knot work, medieval motives, which just fitted him and his character so well.

 Your lips found his, and this time the kiss was a bit softer, although just as passionate as the ones before. You broke apart again, and Ivar’s hungry eyes ran over your body, before he grabbed you by your thighs, pulling you even closer towards him, his hot mouth connecting to your neck. He kissed and bit his way downwards, along your collarbone, finally reaching your breasts.  

 One of Ivar’s hands reached around you, unclasping your bra, while the other one pulled down the straps, quickly removing the disruptive piece of fabric from your body.

 You dropped your head into your neck, when you felt his lips on your heated skin, kissing over your now exposed breasts, your hands caressing his shoulders, your nails lightly digging into his firm muscles. You were lost in the sensation, and it was hard to form even one coherent thought.

 His mouth finally found your nipple, his lips wrapping around it and kissing your sensitive skin, causing you to moan lowly, while his other hand moved up your side, stroking over your torso until it cupped your other breasts, massaging is lightly.

Hearing the sound that escaped your throat, Ivar tensed, his hip bucking up into you as his free hand, still around your waist, pulled you down, now making you moan even louder, as you felt his hard member against your centre once again.

 Ivar groaned against your skin, teeth slightly scratching over your nipple, making your head spin.

“Gods, I want you..” You heard him murmur, his breath fast and ragged.

 Before you could really react to his words, Ivar had both hands on your waist again, rolling the two of you over to he was hovering above you, his lips crashing into yours forcefully in the most intense kiss you probably ever had. It was all lips, teeth and tongue, taking your breath away as Ivar positively ravished your mouth, his hands moving all over you, until finally they moved to open the fastening of your trousers.

 You got impatient, not able to wait to get the rest of the clothes off your body, and off Ivar’s body for that matter, everything inside of you just yearning for this man, the tight coil of want forming in your midst riving you insane.

 Your hands wandered along Ivar’s torso, your fingers mapping out the shape of his muscles, until you reached the hem of his black jeans. With one hand you stroke along his skin, while the other one simply slipped beneath the waistband at the front of his body, shamelessly grabbing his hard member and causing Ivar to loudly moan into your mouth.

 For a short moment it seemed as if Ivar was not sure if she wanted to intensify the kiss, or break it, but as your hand slowly started to move, he pulled away from you ever so slightly, breathing hastily against your mouth while trying to press small kisses against your swollen lips.

 His eyes were pressed shut, lost in the sensation, and his hands had stopped their movement trying to open your trousers for a moment. Your actions distracted him, and he seemed to lose himself in the movement of your hand.

A smile formed on your lips, enjoying far too much what an effect you seemed to have on him.

 The strong, powerful and intimidating Ivar Lothbrok, a ruthless businessman, with his face printed on the front of magazines, melting away right there under your quick fingers. What a sight, indeed.

 You gave him one last, firm stroke, before you pulled your hand out of Ivar’s trousers again, starting to open the button at the front of his jeans. This seemed to pull him back into reality, his lips pressing against yours again, as he kissed you with a growl. He positively ripped your trousers open, starting to pull them off your hips.

 Ivar kissed down your body, his strong arms pushing himself along while he undressed you, leaving you in nothing more than your underwear, lying on the blankets and furs in front of him. As if you were the most precious thing, he had ever laid his eyes upon, Ivar ran his hands carefully along your legs, a sigh leaving his parted lips.

 “You are so very beautiful..” he looked up at you through his eyelashes, which cast shadows onto his face in the dim light of the room, simply taking your breath away. Seeing him down there, caressing your skin, between the furs on his bed in what looked like candlelight, was probably one of the most attractive things you had ever seen.

 “You are the one to talk.” You said, sitting up and reaching out your hand, wanting to pull him closer to you once more.

 A wicked smile formed on Ivar’s lips, when he simply evaded your hands, before pushing you back down, and sliding himself in between your legs, his hands pulling away your last bit of clothing, carelessly discarding it next to the bed. You could only watch him, when his arms found their way around your hips, pulling you towards him with one, strong tug, your thighs now on either side of his head. You gasped.

 “So, so beautiful..” he repeated, before he lowered his head, pressing a soft kiss onto your centre, that was already wet with want for him.

 You arched your back off the bed, when you felt his tongue pressing against your most sensitive spot, kissing, sucking and licking, as if you were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

His hands were still on your hips, holding you in place for a moment, but soon started to roam over your body, stroking over your stomach and sides, wandering up and kneading your breasts.

 You could only moan, moan his name, while your hands found themselves in his long hair, stroking over his shaved sides, your nails scratching his scalp. He hummed at the feeling, his lips moving a bit more intensely.

This felt so good, you felt so good, feeling as if you had reached the gates of Valhalla, your legs trembling as your breath got faster and faster.

 “Oh, Ivar..” you moaned, throwing your head to the side, not knowing what to do with yourself.

 “What is it, dove?” you felt the vibrations of his voice against your core, before his tongue moved against you once again, making you moan even louder. “What do you need?”

 “You..” You managed to open your eyes, looking down at him.

 Ok, you had been lying when you had said seeing him in this dim light was the most attractive thing you had ever seen. Him lying between your legs, hands on your body and lips attached to your most sensitive spot, while his far too blue eyes looked up at you with such an innocent expression that you almost believed it: that was the most attractive thing you had ever seen.

 A shaking breath escaped your lips.

Your heart was pounding rapidly in your chest at the thought, and you bit your lower lip, not quite knowing what this whole thing would mean now. And if it would change anything between you. You hoped not, but in the same way, you did hope.

 Getting your private life mixed up with your job probably was not a good idea. On the other hand, this whole situation kind of freaked you out, but in a good way. It was exciting.

 You and Ivar had reached the street, next to the national gallery, where a few minutes later the taxi arrived. Personally, you would never get a taxi in Oslo, as it was just insanely expensive, but with a lot of public transport, such as the tram you had taken to get here, not entirely being accessible to someone in a wheelchair, you could understand why Ivar had called it.

 Ivar maneuverered himself into one of the back seats, while the driver put his chair into the trunk of the car. You felt Ivar’s blue eyes watching you, as you rounded the vehicle to get into at the other side.

Even though he always successfully overplayed it, you saw that he was a bit self-conscious about his legs, often cursing them underneath his breath when they once again got into his way. He could move them a little bit, and also seemed to have some feeling in them, was even able to stand up for a few moments, if he could support himself with his arms. But in general, they did not really seem to be working.

In the office, Ivar hated to use his wheelchair, often just dragging himself from his desk to his sofa, his immense upper body strength enabling him to pull himself up with not much of an issue.

 Now, sitting next to you in the taxi on the way to his apartment, he readjusted his legs a bit with tight lips, appearing a bit nervous once more. You still could not quite wrap your head around what was happening right now, it all felt a bit like a dream to you. Just so, you managed to resist the urge to pinch yourself.

 Your boss, your grumpy boss, the infamous Ivar Lothbrok had just casually invited you to go out for coffee with him, had questioned you about almost every aspect of your life, paid for your drink, and now took you to his home to cook for you. It almost sounded like a very bad rom-com, like a romance story some bored, lonely woman would think up. Not that you expected it to end that way, of course. Even if you honestly wished it would.

 Until now, even if you sometimes chatted on business trips, your relationship had been purely professional, and you had only been over to his flat once, when you had brought him a set of suits to his home, when there had been issues with his dry cleaner. It had not really surprised you, finding out that he also lived in Majorstuen, actually not very far from you, although it had been a stress factor for you. Of course, he did not live in one of the old buildings, like you did, with paper thin walls, no elevator and wonky doors, no. He lived on the top floor of one of those new, fancy apartment buildings, costing a few ten-million krona, overlooking Frognerparken.

 When you had brought the suits up to his apartment, you had also met a famous Norwegian actor in the lift, so it was clear what kind of people occupied the other flats of the building. You had never been inside his home, had only delivered his suits to his door, but even the entrance and the lift had been very fancy and expensive looking. Admittedly, you had taken a stupid selfie in the mirror of the lift and posted it to Instagram.

 As Aker Brygge was, as stated, not far from Majorstuen, the drive was quite short, and the few minutes of silence were only broken by far too relaxing music coming out of the car radio. The taxi stopped in front of the apartment building Ivar lived in, and he paid the driver, while you got out, retrieving Ivar’s wheelchair from the trunk. You set it up and positioned it next to the car, for him to climb into.

 Ivar clenched his jaw a bit, obviously annoyed at something, even though you were not quite sure what exactly it was that he was annoyed by now, only hoping that it was not you. Well, at least you would have not far home now.

Ivar climbed out of the car, moving himself over to sit in his chair, before unlocking the breaks and rolling towards the door of the building, while the taxi behind you departed.

 Just as you remembered, the entry hall of the apartment complex was very posh, and you were reminded that this was a completely different world from yours. A different world from your shitty apartment, where you could hear almost every conversation your neighbours were having, and where you had push your full body against the bathroom door to get it to close properly.

 Following Ivar to the lift, the two of you got in, and Ivar pressed the button of the top floor. As soon as the doors had closed, Ivar’s eyes were on you, mustering you intently. His gaze was a tad intimidating, you had to admit, once again looking like a predator looking at his prey. Still, you managed to look back with a smile.

 “Are there any things you don’t eat, before I work my magic?” he asked, a smirk on his handsome face. You had to laugh at his choice of words, but told him about any dietary restrictions or things you didn’t like, and Ivar nodded.

 “Alright. I think I know what to make, then.” He leaned back in his chair a bit, biting how lower lip, a move that made your knees feel very weak.

 “Thank you.” It came out of your mouth, earning a very surprised expression from Ivar.

 “What for?” he asked honestly a bit confused, tilting his head at you.

 “For the coffee. And for inviting me over, and for cooking.” You studied his face, hoping to find something there, something that would give up his intentions, something revealing why he was doing this. You just needed to know, needed to know if you could get your hopes up or not. Was this really just a social call because you had been working for him for a year now, or was it something else?

 “Thank me after you’ve tasted my glorious food! Then I will gladly accept your thanks.” Ivar winked, and the elevator doors opened. Ivar left the lift, pulling his keys out of his pocket as he stopped at his front door.

 His flat was the only flat up here, and you guessed it had to be gigantic, covering the whole top floor. You were sure, his flat probably also had a roof terrace.

 You had to admit, this was another thing you found kind of intimidating about this man. The sheer amount of wealth he had, the wealth his family had. While you lived in a flat share with an old kitchen and horrible, tiny bathroom, with just a wet room and not even a proper shower, he lived in this extremely modern, borderline futuristic building, overlooking Oslo.

 Ivar opened the door, and pushed himself into the flat, with you following close behind, walking past him before he closed the door again behind you.

 Obviously you had imagined this place to be huge and expensive, but what you were seeing in front of your eyes was just.. something else.

It was less of a normal flat, and more of a large loft, most of the rooms merged into one big space. There was, similar to his office, a gigantic glass front overlooking the famous park, and West Oslo. The sun was still in the sky, the sunset not being for another one and a half hours or so.

 In the centre of the room was a big, beautiful white sofa, the kind where one could just stretch out like a starfish and not fall down. In front of it was a coffee table made out of driftwood and glass, the dark wood in stark contrast with the sofa. On the right of it were large, metal, urban looking bookshelves, filled with many thick books, some leather bound and old looking, dividing the living area from the ‘bedroom’, and there were a few doors opposite of the windows, that seemed to lead into extra rooms, probably the bathroom and other rooms.

 Behind the bookshelf you could see a large bed at the wall, so large in fact that you were sure that it could comfortably fit three to four fully grown people. It was covered and surrounded in white and grey furs, sheep and reindeer as far as you could tell from the distance. Furs also covered parts of the marble floor of the flat.

 There were many more furs on and in front of the sofa, and in general it seemed that grey, white and black, together with different shades of brown were the only colours in the whole apartment, making it look very sophisticated.

 On the left-hand side was a giant, very modern kitchen, seemingly equipped with everything a cook could wish for, with a large kitchen isle and a big table in front of it, a rustic looking piece of furniture, made of wood and carved with beautiful knot patterns, probably hand made by a very skilled Scandinavian carpenter knowing a lot about medieval woodcarving.

 The kitchen itself, you noticed, was lower than what you were used to, and while it confused you for a moment, you quickly realised that it was built so that Ivar could easily reach everything from his wheelchair, without having to get any help.

 “Welcome to my humble home.” You heard Ivar’s voice behind you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You swallowed and turned to him, looking at him as he watched you with a knowing smile on his lips.

 You could not hold back a laugh.

“Humble?” you simply asked, slipping out of your shoes and walking further into the big room, looking around.

 The whole flat was modern and elegant, yet had such a rustic and clearly Scandinavian aesthetic, it was truly impressive. Whoever was the interior designer, was truly a genius, and showed an amazing appreciation for medieval Scandinavian design. Similar works you had only seen in the Folksmuseet in Bygdøy.

 The walls that were not made out of glass were covered in picture frames, displaying either old Viking artwork or photographs of Norway and Iceland, of runestones and old temples. Somehow, it fitted in perfectly with the rest of the decoration.

 There was a door in the glass front of the flat, leading out, just as you had assumed, onto a large roof top terrace, furnished with even more rustic, wooden, and probably handmade tables and chairs, and, as cliché as it sounded, a beautiful hot tub. It was built into a frame, reminding you of a Viking ship, with a set of carved stairs leading up to it, probably so that Ivar had an easier time to get in and out of it, without requiring any help.

 “Alright, I admit, not so humble.” Ivar chuckled. “It was a present from my father when I started to officially work in the company. He had his friend Floki and his wife Helga design and build this whole thing.”

 That made you turn around to him once more. You knew these names.

“The Floki and Helga?” you swallowed.

 Floki and Helga were very, very famous, highly awarded architects and designers, often hired to design important landmarks and museums. Houses planned by them costing up to a hundred million kronas. They were famous for being able to combine the traditional aesthetics of their ancestors with the modern designs of this century, creating masterpieces that were rewarded all over the world. Now, looking around Ivar’s loft once more, it seemed obvious that this was their handy work.

 “Yes, The Floki and Helga.” Ivar chuckled. “The two of them almost raised me when I was a kid. With my parents busy all the time and me being bound to.. this.” He gestured at is chair. “Floki made all the wooden furniture himself. I am very lucky.”

 “Indeed you are.” You shook your head, unable to believe what you had just heard.

 Obviously, he had been raised by the two of them. Obviously, they had made his home for him, being like family to him, and being friends of his father, the most powerful businessman in Norway, and probably even all of Europe.

By now, you wouldn’t even question, if Ivar casually told you that he was descended from Odin.

 Ivar just shrugged at your words, although the expression on his face was a mixture of amused and pride. He bent down to slip out of his shoes, before moving his wheelchair over to a spot next to the door, where another wheelchair was waiting for him, this one looking a bit different, similar to the ones used by disabled athletes. Easier to navigate and probably a bit more comfortable. Ivar heaved himself up from his chair, navigating himself into the other one, a sigh leaving his lips.

 “I don’t fancy the dirt from the streets in my home.” He explained at your confused face, before he pushed himself towards you.

Oh yes, that made sense. Just as both of you had taken off your shoes, it would only be logical for him to also ‘change wheels’.

 A faint smile was on his lips, as he looked up and into your face, his expression soft and open, something you were not quite used to from him. His body language was relaxed too, his arms simply resting in his lap, as his head was once again tilted slightly.

He was truly a beautiful man, you had to admit. It was difficult to ignore, and sometimes you caught yourself staring in meetings, hoping that no one had noticed how your eyes had been practically glued to your boss. Solveig had made fun of you even more, when you had told her about it.

 “I think I’m going to start to cook now, before we starve to death. So, sit down, get comfortable.” He winked at you, before moving his chair towards the kitchen, in the process letting the wheelchair roll a bit, while he pulled his long hair into a tight bun at the back of his head. “Or would you like to help?” he looked back at you with a raised eyebrow, looking at you from underneath his long eyelashes. You had to swallow.

 “Well, I am still your personal assistant. So, I will assist you.” You smiled, following him into the kitchen. You hoped that reminding yourself that you were still his employee would calm your nerves.

 “I had hoped you’d say that, dove.” There it was again, that nickname. Your nerves were certainly not calm now.

 Ivar started to pull out pans and a cutting board, gesturing at the fridge for you to take out certain ingredients and washing them in the sink.

 You were not entirely sure what he was going to make, but you were positively surprised that his fridge and his whole pantry was stocked very well. You had to admit, you had taken him for one of those bachelors who had never touched their kitchen in their lives, and with all the money they had always ate out.

 But, as Ivar casually explained while you were preparing food, he enjoyed cooking for himself, and did so almost every evening.

While you were washing some vegetables, and he was skilfully cutting up an onion, he casually told you about the cooking schools he had visited when he was younger, and about the occasional dinner parties he threw for his close friends and family, where he cooked up five course meals for them all by himself. He moved around his kitchen as if he knew every millimetre of it, knowing the layout like the back of his hand.

 You enjoyed this far too much. You rarely saw Ivar this casual, only on business trips when he was not in the mood to talk about work anymore. And though you did not like to admit it, you were keen to know more about his personal life, to know more about the man behind the name Lothbrok.

 It was nice to see him here, in his home. He seemed so at ease, so open, the usual anger and annoyance he often seemed to carry around with himself in day-to-day life completely absent in this moment. This was his space, where he did not have to worry, to think about what upset him.

 This flat truly seemed to be his place, and his place alone. His kingdom far from the influence of other people. Here he was himself, independent of everyone else, everything built in a way that he did not need help from other people.

 Whatever else would come of tonight, you were just happy that you could witness this. You would see Ivar differently now, you knew. And would probably fall even more for him.

 You noticed it getting a bit darker out, and a quick look at your phone told you that it was already half past nine PM. It had not seemed that long, getting to Ivar’s home and starting to cook, as you had not even finished the preparation for cooking yet, but frankly, you didn’t even mind. The setting sun tinted the whole apartment in a magical, golden light, making it look even more beautiful and magical. Ivar’s face turned away from his work for a moment, his blue eyes wandering over the horizon, where the sky was slowly tinted in orange, pink and purple. A faint smile appeared on his face, before he returned his attention to the food.

 Absently minded you put your phone on the kitchen isle, before you grabbed a jar of mixed spices, which Ivar had instructed you to get for him while he was still cutting up vegetables. You read the label, not surprised that he had not purchased them in Norway, but in Spain, turning around, eyes still on the jar. Thus, you only noticed too late that Ivar was right behind you, his chair almost inaudible on the marble floor.

 With a slightly embarrassing yelp escaping your throat, you lost balance, tripping over Ivar’s wheelchair, falling over and landing straight in his lap. His strong arms were suddenly around you to keep you from completely falling to the floor, and your face probably had taken on a crimson shade.

 “Careful there, dove. I’m usually not that hard to miss.” He smirked, to your surprise not even remotely angry with you.

 You had once, in your third month at the Lothbrok Corporation, seen a small clerk run into him in the office, who had been a bit late and had not really paid attention. After Ivar had yelled at him for good twenty minutes, he had never been heard of again.

 “Gods, I’m so sorry, I..” but you stopped, swallowing, not knowing what to say. You tried to get up, the jar of spices still in your hand, but Ivar’s strong grip around you firmly held you in place.

 The man tilted his head, eye flickering to the glass container you were holding. He let go of you with one of his arms, while the other one was still around you, taking the jar from your hands and placing it on the counter next to him. His blue eyes mustered you once more. Your heart was pounding. In the light of the setting sun he looked even more handsome than he had already.

 “I have told you, that you look good today, right?” he asked, his voice low. His hand had returned to hold you again, and you noticed his fingers carefully caressing your back, which sent a shiver up your spine.

 Your mind was racing, as was your heart.

You could not but stare into his piercing blue eyes, not sure what to say, how to respond to him right now, or if you should say anything at all. You were unable to think even one coherent thought, as you felt his strong arms around you, his firm body below you, and his hot breath against you skin.. wait. When had he gotten this close to you?