VBS - Dawn of the Gods: Prequel ~BL~

(Modi)

The dark depth of the possessive obsession that Fjolnir stokes within me should be worrying. But as I bury myself to the hilt inside him, all thoughts of propriety cease. Hot and cold sensations chase over my skin like pricks of lightning, aligning my mind and body with a singular focus. He came here for me. He needs me. And I’ll always be there for him.

His tight heat grips me, pulling me in as if desperate to keep me as close and deep as possible. Sweat rolls down my spine with the effort of holding back my orgasm, but I can feel that tell-tale twitching in Fjolnir’s muscles letting me know he’s close. All he needs is my command to let go, and I’ll get to watch him fly.

The way he hands himself over to my care this way is humbling. Crowding him against the tree, I nip and suck on the skin of his neck, branding him with my love. He manoeuvres his hands to lace our fingers together and squeezes hard, another silent plea for me to give him what he needs.

Rolling my hips throws off the rhythm we’ve built, but it ensures that I peg that sweet spot inside him at just the right angle to drive him wild. His breathy moans turn into keening cries, and the soft sound has my balls drawing up tight.

“Please,” he stutters between hitched breaths.

But it’s the errant tear that drags through the thin kohl line under his eyes that undoes me. Stretching my tongue, I lap it up. His beautiful blues, glazed with desire, take a moment to focus before they hold me captive. His back arches before locking in place, his mouth parts in a silent scream, and his hole clenches so tightly around me that he steals my breath.

My eyes slam shut, my teeth grind together, and my release shoots so hard and fast that my knees buckle. Each loaded pulse is so strong that I’m sure he can taste it. I pant heavily against his sweat-soaked skin.

His heart pounds within his ribs as if searching for a way to be closer, and he turns his head my way. The imprint of the bark is clear on his cheek and, as I slowly soften inside him, he strains to kiss my knuckles where our hands remain linked. A soul-deep contentment is all I feel as we take our time to recover.

“I love,” he begins but clears his throat when his words catch. “I love you.”

Sliding from his body, a trail of my cum spills in my wake. I turn him to face me. “I love you, too.”

Our kiss starts slow, nothing more than a tender swipe of parched lips. But it soon grows more fevered as our breathing returns to normal and strength returns to our bodies. Pulling back slightly, I look over the erotic mess before me.

I can’t do much for his dilated pupils, but I smooth back his golden hair and tuck the long strands behind his ear. The beads in his braid clank together and I roll one between my fingers, smiling at the familiar carvings. It’s the one I made for him, so he can always carry a piece of me with him.

The cold metal of his rings against my skin serves to ground me, and the reminder of why I punished him earlier sets in with a chill. His recklessness in sneaking out of these meetings early is becoming too bold. It invites a level of attention we don’t need.

Whoever is trespassing in the forest and mutilating animals could see him - see us. I’m accepting of my fate, but what would become of Fjolnir if our relationship becomes public knowledge? I doubt his title would protect him then, and the idea of harm coming to him turns my blood to ice.

Taking a step back, I tuck myself away and pull down his tunic. “Did anyone see you leave? Were you followed?”

Hurt flashes briefly across his face before defiance wins out. Pushing from the tree, he fights his leather pants over his thighs, but it’s not until he’s buckling his belt that his gaze finally locks on mine, “No.”

I search his face, although I’m unsure what I’m looking for. He steps toward me, stacking his spine and squaring his shoulders, “It was what I said - I needed to see you.” His shoulder collides with mine as he barges past. “Now I’ve done that, I’ll be going.”

My hand closes around his wrist before he makes it two steps, “Stred mik, Fjolnir!” He doesn’t turn to face me. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Seconds tick by as the sounds of the forest drift between us. When the tension in his muscles finally drops, I release a sigh and tug him into me. Wrapping both my arms around his neck, I breathe him in. “I never want you to leave.”

Fjolnir presses his forehead against mine as he seeks comfort in my embrace. “I just needed to get away. I felt like I couldn’t breathe!” I release one of my hands to lift his chin with two fingers. Stress lines mar his brow, and he takes a slow inhale. “I don’t want a union with any of them. I only want you.”

His pain mirrors my own; I want what he wants. “I know.”

I kiss his forehead and attempt to tidy the smudged kohl under his eyes with my thumbs. Ours is a tragic love. The House of Vanir is weak, and the other elite families are circling like vultures. The consumption of power is all they ever focus on, but the Nornir and their prophecy have made it worse.

The reclusive oracles peddle the magic of the past, present and future. When their magic aligns, it creates a destiny. Recently, they declared that the Nine Realms is entering a new Røkkar Cycle. A natural act to rebalance Soul Energy - the element of our creation. Those families with access to this element are the strongest.

Fjolnir’s family still have access, but without a strong union to produce the next generation, they are at risk of being eradicated should the Røkkar Cyce fail. Tensions between all the Houses are high, but Fjolnir is the only one I care about. As far as his family is concerned, his role is simple - he needs a wife of standing to bear him children. The fact that there have been no births for years is being ignored.

Likely, it’s the imbalance in Soul Energy that is the cause. The stores were depleted when the House of Aesir created Midgard, and there’s been a slow decline in life across the Nine Realms ever since. All the Houses are concerned with addressing the issue, but Fjolnir has no choice.

I smooth my hands down his arms, righting his heavy cloak as I go, before clasping his fingers in mine. No good will come from going over this conversation again. Nothing has changed. He came to me this evening to escape this burden, and I know exactly how to take his mind from it.

“I found four muntjacs nailed to the oak tree behind the market this morning.”

His eyes widen, and he frees his hands to cradle my jaw as panic sets in. “Skitr! Really?”

Fjolnir knows of these recent attacks. He was present when I was first blamed, and then when Asgardians suggested that they could be next.

“I cut them down and threw their remains in the peat bog beyond the cliffs.”

“Who’s doing this, Modi? What do they gain?” His fingertips press into my jaw, “Why can’t they just let you live in peace?”

“I don’t know.” My hands encircle his waist so I can pull him closer, “But today is the first time I’ve found the bodies before anyone else.”

I stop short of voicing my concern that this could cause the perpetrator to escalate. That if they’re out there now, watching me, they could also see Fjolnir. He could become the next target.

Turning my head, I look across the mist-covered meadow towards my hús. Squinting, I can just make out the roof silhouetted against the solitary lantern I left burning under the porch. If someone is out there, I’d never see them in these conditions.

“I’m sorry,” His voice is a whisper. “I wasn’t thinking of anything beyond getting to you.” His eyes track my line of sight, and that same wayward braid comes untucked from behind his ear. Likely it’s the weight of the beads that are to blame. “Are you safe? I can speak to the General, and we can find somewhere else to stay.”

“I’m safe.” Reluctantly, I step away from the warmth of his body and recover my quarry from where I deposited it earlier. “This weather works in my favour.”

Settling the twine that binds their feet over my shoulder, the weight feels more than what I know it to be. But it’s not just the prey from my traps that I carry - it’s the inevitability of Fjolnir’s impending departure. He can’t stay. He can never stay. The risk is too great.

His hand slips inside mine as if attempting to help share the burden. This isn’t fair on either of us and yet we’re powerless to stay away from one another.

His vibrant, blue eyes drift my way and the longing that shines from them is enough to steal my next breath. Neither of us moves, nor do we speak. What else is there to say? We know what comes next. Fjolnir will return to his pampered life as Heir, and I will return to my hús in the forest.