Hi guys! I've finally gotten around to write the next chapter. I really hope you enjoy! It is part two of my Ragnar-installment. Warning: Smut is coming.
Oh, and Sweden! I see that you are liking my story too! I am very glad :D Skål från Danmark!
*Hjemkost del 2
A gush of air escaped all the villagers' lungs when the tall foreign men entered the market place of the small village they had come by in their search for a city. The villagers' eyes were blackened when Ragnar and his fellow Northmen slowly walked past the wooden gates that were open for them to merely stroll through. And the Saxon faces turned white when they heard their church bells starting to ring out in alarm.
Ragnar sneaked a quick look out of the corner of his eye to Rollo, who was staring at him with a heaving chest and a dead look in his eyes.
Rollo always got that look in his eyes when in battle, the look of a slayer. It was knowing that whatever would happen next, the gods would follow his every footsteps on the path.
"Pagans!" someone hissed in a whisper from behind a wooden stand, and Ragnar's eyes quickly turned to his side, his muscles tensed, his body flexed.
His eyes caught a couple of grey ones behind the counter of the wooden stand, a fearful grey substance staring at him from behind dirt covered shaggy hairs, and they widened as Ragnar smiled at him, a hint of regret flushing over them. When Ragnar noticed movement from the tower north of the market place, he quickly crouched his body, scanning the balcony of the tower.
Archers had moved to the stony edge of the tall building, and they were already pointing their arrows down at his men.
"Shield wall!" Ragnar roared, and in a swift movement, all of his men gathered into a wall looking position, covering themselves behind a wall of shields, shadowing themselves behind the woods of their homeland beeches.
The whistling sounds of iron cutting through air sounded around them, and soon their shields were hit with a rain of arrows.
Ragnar felt his heart drumming heavily in his chest, a smile growing on his lips. His eyes traveled quickly to Bjørn who were not far from him, and he sent him a crazed smile.
"You are not going to win, Northmen!" a round voice flared over the market place, causing a certain silence to fall over the many men in there.
Ragnar turned his ear in the direction of the shouting man, smiling up at Torstein in front of him. Small pearls of sweat started gathering on his upper lip, and he clenched his fist around his axe. The weather was so humid in England, he wondered if that was why all the Saxons smelled so badly.
The round voice rang over the crowd in the market place again, stronger this time, steadier. "We have you surrounded already. Give up now, and spare yourselves of a pointless death."
Ragnar quickly translated the English words into Norse, and he soon heard Floki snicker behind him, and he looked up to see Torstein laughing behind his shield, shaking his head lightly.
"The wolf and the dog do not play together," Rollo growled form his chest, and Ragnar smiled at his brother's words, remembering them all too well from the old sagas.
Ragnar lifted his hand into the air, signaling for his fellow warriors to hold their position. He wanted to see if these Saxons would be open to talk.
He cleared his throat, rising a bit on his feet, just so that he was just covered by the shields. He felt many eyes on him, awaiting his next move. Ragnar closed his eyes for a quick moment, his breathing deep, as he turned towards the tower.
"We have not come to make enemies," he said, a small smile curling his lips. "We are sea traders, coming from the lands up North."
A moment of silence made sweat pebble from his armpits, his eyes warm and drowsy from the climate. The sun was high even as midday had passed.
"Yes," sounded the voice, "we know who you are. You are the Pagans that have attacked King Ælla's land several times now. You are not welcome here."
Ragnar bit his lower lip, and furrowed his brows in frustration. Word spread fast in England. He had wished to come upon someone who had not yet made a picture of the Northerners, someone who had not heard of the Vikings before.
"What is he saying?" Rollo gnarled from behind his heavy beard.
Ragnar shook his head, waving his hand at his brother. Ragnar looked up into the blue sky above him, dotted with white clouds, and sighed out.
"If you tell us where to find King Ælla, we will leave your village in peace," Ragnar voiced from behind the wooden shields, glad that his fellow warriors were not able to speak the English language. Yet.
"Betrayal is not something we are very fond of here in Northumbria. Not between us civilized, decent men. You will leave immediately, or you will suffer death as your final warning from King Ælla."
Ragnar lowered his shoulders and let his eyes fall to the ground as he tightened his hands around his axe, his lips pushing out a little as he made a whistling sound, the chiming of a small bird sounding for a mere second. But all of his men heard it, and they were ready for it.
"We are not welcome," Ragnar stated bluntly, a little curl on his lips.
The two doors at the bottom of the tower sprang open in a gush of wind, and out of them streamed a big group of Saxon warriors, dressed in shiny iron armors but with fear shining from their faces.
"May the gods be with you," Rollo growled in a deep voice as he shot a quick look over the shields at the men coming towards them.
Rollo let his eyes travel to Ragnar, and he lifted his axe at him, earning Ragnar to repeat the motion. Rollo smiled at him, before turning his head, facing the oncoming crowd, roaring loudly: "Hurra!"
Ragnar turned toward the battlefield too, joining his brother. "Hurra!"
Soon all of Ragnar's men were fronted with the Saxons, and the Northern axe and Northumbrian sword crossed each other, resounding a ringing clank as the blades bounced off each other. Ragnar moved stealthily, hammering his axe down from behind the round shields, feeling his axe carve into the skull of one of the Saxons before he pulled his arm back.
Blood followed the blade of his axe and left a red trail over his face as his eyes turned upwards to the tower, soon staring into a couple of light brown eyes.
They were the eyes of the man that had spoken before.
Ragnar smiled before diving down between his men, striking from below, pulling in a Saxon warrior by the legs, quickly planting his axe into his face before he could even scream for the mercy of his god. Ragnar felt the power snaking between them, like lightning charging through all of them, causing their hearts to beat in the same heavy rhythm, setting their hearts on fire.
He was going to get to that man and talk to him. He was going to know where King Ælla resided.
...
"Ragnar, my love, are you okay?"
He opened his eyes and felt his body twitching, and he looked around to find Frida's concerned eyes hovering over his face, the words still on her lips as he straightened himself in his chair.
He shook his head slightly, and curled his lips at her.
"Yeah, my thoughts just… wandered," he heard himself say, still reminiscing the bloody scene from back when they were in Northumbria, fighting the men from the tower city.
He reached his hand over to grab his drinking horn, and he closed his eyes as he let the dark liquids fill his belly.
He felt a hand on his thigh, traveling slowly towards his groin, and he opened his eyes to see his wife's staring into his with a hungry light in them. He felt a smile grow over his lips.
He saw her bite down gently on her lower lip, and he tilted his head to the side, taking in the view of her as she touched him.
She opened her lips and started talking, and he was mesmerized by their movement, how they rounded so sweetly when she talked in his language, as she said: "Do you… maybe want to have your thoughts on something else?"
Ragnar chuckled and closed his eyes when he felt her hand squeezing around him between his legs, hissing out as fire shot from his pelvis. He was not used to her being this straight forward, and he took a quick look around to see if anyone had noticed.
Not that it was uncommon here, but it was not common for Frida.
When he felt her squeeze even harder, his eyes shot back to hers, a small gnarl rippling from his chest from her roughness. She cocked her eyebrow at him, and soon rose to her feet, her eyes on his as she started walking towards their bedroom. When Ragnar sent a last look around the people sitting around the fire, he noticed Torstein smiling at him, noting his head in Frida's direction.
"The duties of a husband, huh?"
Ragnar rolled his eyes and sighed out dramatically, throwing his arms in the air. "I cannot get a break."
Torstein laughed out heartwarmingly, raising his horn. Ragnar did the same before turning around, stalking towards his bedroom in calm steps.
Even though he had waited for months for seeing her again, seeing her eyes and her face and her body, he was not prepared for the fire that burned through his body when he saw her lying naked on their bed, only lit by the small flames from the candles that were scattered across the room, shadows dancing over her skin as her eyes roamed over his body as he stood by the door, captivated by the mere sight of her.
Ragnar moved stealthily towards her, pulling at the threads that held together his shirt, feeling like a beast of prey as he closed in on her, staring down at her as he soon towered over her from the end of the bed, throwing his shirt down on the ground in a swift movement.
"I have missed the feeling of having your eyes upon my skin," she whispered in something that reminded him of a moan, and he felt himself hardening as he untied his pants, his blood pumping hastily through his veins, excitement burning his cheeks lightly.
He watched her as she scooted close to him, sitting up on the bed right in front of him and spreading her legs out over each side of him, reaching her arms up to stroke over his bare back. He reached his hand up and stroked her hair, their eyes not leaving each other as she let his pants fall to the floor, leaving him standing naked in front of her.
"And I have missed your taste on my tongue," Frida whispered, her breath clouding over the skin of his stomach, leaving warm shivers to run over his body.
He felt a deep hunger boil in his insides, his breathing deepening, and he closed his eyes hard when he felt her gentle fingers closing around him, for the first time in what seemed like forever.
His hardness throbbed almost painfully in her hands, and without thinking he bucked his hips at her when he felt her warm breath spreading over its tip.
"Mh," she moaned in a liquid voice as she planted small wet kisses along its shaft, while her other hand carefully found its way to the skin below it, her nails steadily crawling over his most sensitive spot, sending another wave of shivers to run over his entire being.
Ragnar felt the muscles of his thighs tensing up, and he reached down his hands to finally feel her skin again, the softness like silk on his calloused skin.
When he felt her closing her mouth around him, warmth and wetness spreading over it like warm milk, he opened his eyes and let them fall down to hers, his breath stuck in his throat, his body crouching down over her. Her eyes were wide but gentle, her soft pink lips spread around him beautifully, and he watched her as she stroked him with her mouth, feeling her tongue run along his hardness and spread over the tip, earning a wave of pleasure to shoot from his pelvis and down through his legs.
There was something extraordinary in looking at a woman when she had your penis in her mouth, some play of power pulsating through her eyes, and Ragnar finally let out his breath, sighing out heavily when she stroked him again.
He reached his hands down to cup her breast, and he noticed how they had grown fuller as had her beautiful belly, and he felt his heart grow inside of his chest. The pleasure waves washed over him repeatedly as she stroked him, and he helplessly watched her, unable to do anything else.
The moans that sounded from her throat sent vibrations over his hardness, and he bucked his hips again, causing the tip to hit the back of her throat. A breathy snarling sounded from her sweet lips, and he tried to control his movements, his breathing staggered as he looked at her.
She smiled and bit her lower lip. "I have missed the feeling of you inside of me, Ragnar, filling me."
An unexpected growl escaped his lips as she looked up at him with innocent eyes, and he bent down and crashed his lips upon hers, forcing her down on the bed with him on top, both of her arms raised above her head.
He reached one of his hands down between her legs, and he breathed out heavily when he felt her wetness spread over his fingers as he let two slide through her lips down there.
If her sweet fragrance had not already brought him on fire, the whimpers that now sounded from her lips would have done the trick.
She responded readily to his touch by bucking her hips at him, causing his fingers to slide deeper. Ragnar growled as he watched her writhing beneath him, and he let his fingers press lightly over her entrance, causing her body to tremble.
His eyes widened when he felt her fingers clasp around his throat, tightening roughly around it, almost blocking his airways completely.
His mind exploded when he saw the look in her eyes as her hand strangled him, and he grabbed her hand in a quick motion, forcing it down wildly while staring into her eyes. He saw her closing her eyes while a smile grew over her lips, and he pushed himself closer to her, reaching down a hand to steer himself to her warm wetness.
He felt wild fires pumping with his blood as he thrust himself inside her, feeling her tight walls around him as he penetrated her, her liquids spreading over him, causing him to hiss out as waves washed over him once more.
Frida cried out, and while Ragnar did not know whether it was from pleasure or pain, he slid out slowly before roughly thrusting himself into her once more, pounding his pelvis against hers, the wet sound of skin hitting skin sounding between them.
"Exactly," Frida whispered in a sensitive voice, a strange tone of relief in her breath as he forced himself inside her again.
Her warmth and tightness had him groaning out over her, and he felt himself shaking with pleasure as his movements became quicker, his thrusts harder. He was not going to last much longer, he felt the explosion building in the pits of his stomach, and he reached one of his hands down to let his thumb trace her lower lip, his eyes staring into hers.
Her eyes flickered as he worked her body, and he panted heavily as the explosion closed in.
"Yes, please Ragnar, come, come, come," Frida whimpered in a small voice that he did not know whether she intended him to hear, "come home, come inside me."
He exploded in a growl, shooting his seed deep into her core, pleasure taking over his body, washing over him under the sound of Frida's moans.
His body trembled as the pleasure rolled over him, and he felt his entire figure slumping down on the bed as soon as the explosion was over. He breathed heavily, and Frida soon scooted over to him, resting her face on his sweat covered chest.
He listened to her breathing for a moment while he looked at her as she lay there, naked, her hair spread wildly over the furs of the bed, panting while tracing a finger over his belly, tickling the skin around his belly button.
"I am home," he breathed in a whisper, stroking his hand over her head, causing her to turn her face to look at him, "finally."
*Homcoming part 2
Fun fact: Did you know that "hurra" (hurray) was used by the Vikings before going to battle, as a battle cry? Today, we usually just use it around birthdays, like English speakers use "hurray" I guess. I wonder, is "hurray" maybe another Norse word that the English took into their language?