It was dark and damp as Beowulf carefully scaled the walls of the grotto. Revenge was on his mind and sweat was on his brow. He had but one aim; to find and kill the foul monster Grendel. He had been searching for days and was weak with exertion. He had been forced to leave his heavy armor at the top of the grotto because he could no longer bear the weight. Even scantily clad as he was, the heat was nearly unbearable and he labored to breath, his bare chest expanding and contracting heavily. Pieces of his disheveled hair fell in front of his face and his thighs ached from climbing.
After what seemed like hours in the darkness, he at last reached the floor of the grotto and was relieved by the feeling of moist sand beneath his unshod feet. He lit a torch and, seeing no sign of Grendel, decided to rest his weary body before continuing his quest. He sat and pressed his naked back against the cool stone wall. Although he fought to maintain consciousness, his eyelids soon flickered shut.
Before he even realized he had fallen asleep, Beowulf was stirred by the heavy sound of deep breathing. Knowing instinctively that his foe was nigh, Beowulf realized that he must devise a plan before he gave away his presence. Having left his weapons behind, he would have to overcome Grendel with the sheer power of his limbs. Without further hesitation, he leapt from the shadows onto Grendel's exposed back, wrapping his powerful legs around Grendel's sturdy torso. He gripped into his neck with his bare hands and clung with all his worth.
Grendel fought back viciously and bucked violently to throw Beowulf off him. Despite his strength, Beowulf could not hold on and was flung to the ground. As Grendel turned to face his foe, Beowulf was taken aback by the fearsome sight.
In the torchlight, Grendel's figure was formidable and beneath his rugged hair his skin glistened with sweat and manhood and his rage made his muscular frame rife with energy. His unclothed body caused Beowulf to pause in awe of the raw beauty and power of his enemy.
Yet, he should not have hesitated, because Grendel threw himself at Beowulf, and before he could defend himself he was pummeled to the ground. Their limbs were soon hopelessly entangled and their proximity allowed no escape from the raw power of their violent embrace. Suddenly, Grendel took Beowulf and forcefully flipped him onto his stomach. He tore what little clothing remained between them. Beowulf resisted, but half-heartedly because he deeply enjoyed succumbing to Grendel's raw power. In his lonely life, Beowulf had always longed to encounter someone who's strength surpassed his own.
Now, as Grendel's mighty member stood tense above Beowulf's pulsing body, Beowulf could not help but anticipate his impending ravishment. Grendel eagerly stroked Beowulf's taut buttocks to savor the moment of his triumph. Having caressed him he could not resist slapping the silky skin beneath his fingers, tentatively at first, but as his adrenaline gushed he began to brutally claw at Beowulf's tender hind-quarters. At last aroused to the point of no return he thrust violently into Beowulf's awaiting abyss. Beowulf fought to maintain his stoic composure, but could not repress deep guttural moans that progressed to shrieks of mingled agony and joy. As the passion intensified, Grendel reached forward and sunk his sharp teeth into Beowulf's shoulder and he screamed, "More!" Grendel began to thrust frienziedly to the hilt of his blue steel shaft.
Suddenly, the torch went out and Grendel began to withdraw but Beowulf clung desperately to his conqueror and begged him to continue. Grendel screamed, "Beowulf," as he plunged more deeply into his now willing victim/rectum.