Njáll nodded, one side of his mouth lifting at the low chuckle vibrating in his father’s chest as he returned to their assembled warriors.
After fastening the last bit of the linen bandage in place, Njáll shrugged on his tunic, ignoring the slight sting in his upper arm with the motion.
He strode through the village, his face hard as women whispered gossip in his wake. They murmured about the foreign girl who’d stolen their Jarl’s heart.
Children chased dogs, dust kicking up under their feet. Their bright, tinkling laughter showed off gap-toothed smiles, making his chest swell.
An image of his kona, round and heavy with their child, flashed before him. His cock twitched, and a quiet groan rumbled in the back of his throat. He imagined a daughter, fierce in will and soft in grace, like Elara.
Or a son, fearsome and devoted like him.
Soon, his feet paused at the ashy fire pit outside his dwelling.
The door to their home was ajar, and Njáll slunk in unnoticed, content to observe Elara. The fabric of his tunic stretched as he crossed his thick forearms, leaning against the wall.
Sunlight spilled from the smoke hole, illuminating her in an iridescent glow. Her hair shone like fresh flames, cascading freely down her back. A simple shift hugged her curves, showing off her ample hips.
The tip of his tongue licked across his teeth.
Steam billowed from the metal basin by the fire. Sweat dotted her nape as she pushed her mane to one side.
Unable to resist her, Njáll took three long strides, sliding his palms along her hips and nuzzling into her neck from behind.
A gasp hissed through her teeth. She spun, the surprise on her features twisting into displeasure. His cock jumped, making her glower more pronounced as she slapped his chest.
“Njáll! How is someone as large as you so deathly quiet? You cannot sneak up on me like that.”
“Training,” he chuckled. “Forgive me, kona. Did I interrupt your bath?”
Streaks of pink colored the swell of her cheeks. She attempted to quickly hide her fluster, narrowing her eyes at him instead.
“What are you doing back so early? Are you alright?”
“Fine,” he grunted when her shoulder rolled into the bandaged wound.
Her ire shifted to concern, and it was dangerous how much Njáll enjoyed it—her fussing over him. She gently prodded the raised bandage under his tunic, her lips turning down at the corners.
That, however, he did not enjoy. His thumb brushed away the worried creases framing her pale, plush lips.
“Do not fear, Elara,” he said, savoring the tang of her name on his tongue. A breath caught in her chest, but he continued. “I am unharmed. Only a scratch. It will not scar. Come, let us bathe. I fear I have intruded on yours.”
The pink on her cheeks flared into an intense shade of scarlet, her throat bobbing.
Gods.
Something about his kona being shy undid him. He tugged at the ties of his tunic, loosening the collar.
“Us? Together?” she asked, pointed teeth gnawing on her lower lip.
“Say yes,” he moaned, nipping at her ear. “Do not send me away, little flame.”
Tiny fingers splayed over his torso, her nails bunching the material. Without answering him, she tugged the tunic off him, letting it pool in a puddle at their feet. His cock strained his trews as her hungry gaze took her fill of him.
A harsh noise itched his throat as Njáll trailed a hand along her thigh, his fingers closing around the hem of her shift. The soft linen rubbed between his fingers; a silent question posed in the dark rings pulsing in his eyes.
Her chin dipped, the permission shredding through the last of his restraint. Saliva coated his tongue as he peeled her shift from her, exposing all of her.
A strangled sound rasped from him, his chest heaving.
