The Agony of Choice
He'd considered his options. Balder the Pure was nothing if not methodical.
Asgard had, of course, an abundance of beautiful men. But it also had an abundance of beautiful women, and while Balder knew he was not alone in his preferences, such things were not discussed in public. So he had to speculate, and hope.
He'd considered Thor. But Thor belonged to Midgard, to the Avengers and occasionally to Sif. And Thor roused nothing in him save brotherly affection and loyalty. Someone who is less like kin to me, he thought.
He'd considered Heimdal. Heimdal would be kind, understanding, and likely as not Heimdal already knew of his lusts. Heimdal knew and saw everything. But although he found Heimdal physically attractive, he was sure in his heart that Heimdal was committed to celibacy; not once in countless millennia had he displayed any inclination towards the pleasures of the flesh.
Hogun was no good for idle conversation. Volstagg… no. A fine man, a stalwart warrior but… no. Tyr would have no time for gentle loveplay, for poetry or sweet kisses, and Balder had already decided that, man or not, he desired all these things greatly.
In a moment of madness, he'd considered Loki (who came with the added bonus of being able to change into a woman if Balder lost his nerve at the crucial moment.) He had been horrified to find his body intrigued by the notion, and quickly squashed it. Not Loki. The man was trouble enough outside of the bedchamber, Odin only knew what he'd get up to with Balder's genitals at his mercy.
Fandral listened to all this, nodding his agreement, and then he leaned across and kissed Balder, very softly, on the lips.
"Alas, dear Fandral," said Balder, when they broke away after several seconds, "I have already discounted you. I was hoping for a lover without a beard."
Fandral looked so terribly indignant that Balder laughed as he pushed him down on the table and kissed him back. He didn't quite know what he was doing, but he trusted Fandral the Dashing to be patient.
"You will be punished for that, whelp," murmured the swordsman, letting his fingers run through the king of Asgard's hair.
"Delightful," said Balder, as his clothing fell away.