The door handle begins to turn and the door swings slowly open. I jump up from the bed and take a step back, unconsciously groping my way towards a corner.

Then he’s there. He fills the doorway, his face cast in shadow. I’m frozen to the spot as he advances into the room, and my fingers curl involuntarily around the silky folds of my nightgown.

He shuts the door behind him, then stops to regard me. I stare silently back at him.

Slowly, he unhooks the axe at his waist and lays it upon the table by the fire, his gaze never leaving my face. My eyes flicker to it briefly, then back to him.

He begins to strip off the beautifully embroidered tunic he wore during the ceremony. Then he peels off his boots and socks, tossing them aside. Bared to the waist, he stands before me in nothing but trousers, the firelight setting his brawny, burnished body aglow.

I’m trembling as he crosses the room in slow, measured steps. He pauses, mere inches from me. I feel the heat from his body through the gossamer thin fabric of my nightgown.

The scent of him envelopes me, a heady melange of wood fire and fresh air. And something else that is just him. Earthy and virile. For a moment, my breath catches in my throat.

He gazes down at me and I meet his eyes. The realness of him, the strength and energy of him, are almost radiating from his skin. Flustered, I turn my head aside, staring distractedly at the flickering fire in the grate, and try to forget that his bare chest, thick with dark whorls of hair, is almost brushing my cheek.

Suddenly I feel the rough warmth of his calloused palm on my cheek. Gently, he guides my head back up to face him, lifting my chin. Swallowing hard, I hesitantly raise my eyes to his again. This time, I meet his gaze unflinching.

Something is happening to me as we drink each other in. My eyes are absorbing him, memorizing every angle of his features. The curl of his thick lashes surrounding startlingly ice-blue eyes. The neatly trimmed beard skimming his jawline. The scattering of tiny scars and freckles that speak to a man who has seen much and done yet more.

My heart begins to beat faster and a deep flush floods my cheeks and neck, my whole body brimming with desire. My body is tingling, singing all over, aching and arching towards him even while my mind screams with paltry logic, fainter and fainter with each beat of my heart, that this is a very, very bad idea.

His thumb brushes over my cheek, then his fingers drift down over my neck and gently brush my hair back over my shoulder. Then he bends slowly.

My lips part breathlessly and I still myself to receive his touch. In that moment, on the precipice of pleasure, I feel time slow. The fullness of each moment feels so, so vivid.

And then his lips press to the nape of my neck and something ancient and primal within me awakens.

Trembling, barely aware of what I’m doing, my hands are reaching out to touch him, aching to stroke the taut muscles of his chest, his shoulders. His warm hands are groping my breasts, then sliding down my waist and gripping my bottom tightly and scooping me up towards him.

I press my body to his, clinging to his broad chest. His scattered kisses upon my neck become licks, then bites, and I’m crying out for more. And he’s pressing his lips to my own and we’re devouring each other as if we were two starving wanderers, given their first meal in days.

Dear reader, welcome to my first published web story! This started with me writing purely for my own enjoyment, because boy is it fun to write smut. (But better than reading it? Debatable.) Then it grew until it became something that I decided to share with others, on the off chance that someone else out there is equally obsessed with absolutely ripped fantasy Nordic men with thick beards and smoldering eyes. (Yesssss….)

Everything in this works is pure fiction, but I would like to acknowledge sources of inspiration: from one of my favorite fairy tales, East of the Sun and West of the Moon, to the rich world-building of The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim, to historic works like The Völsungasaga (Saga of the Volsungs), to my own family’s Swedish and Norwegian ancestry and my (poor) research attempts at decoding the Old Norse language.

I love mixing fantasy with sci-fi and the idea of alternate realities, so expect to see some strange twists and turns because that is how my brain works and it makes total sense to me.