Of Vikings and the World

Asgeir would have done anything for Skjaldr. All because of those eyes.

Those Odin-cursed blue eyes.

'Ironic,' he pondered. 'Odin only had one eye.'

Okay, maybe not only the eyes. Skjaldr was absolutely stunning. Soft locks of straight, golden hair cascaded over his shoulders and down his back. His jaw, slightly angular and currently shaven, gave him a manly yet youthful look, fit for his twenty-five years. Thin, full lips were curled into a happy but confident smirk. A muscular frame – but not too muscular – along with lightly tanned skin completed this delightful picture.

But damn... those eyes. Sometimes, they were of a clear, icy and wintery blue; at other times, closer to a summer sky or dark waters. But never cold. They held a glint of malice-... no. Not malice. Amusement, with a spark of intelligence and confidence. They kept that glint even under unabashed anger.

They shone with a childish mischievous light whenever Skjaldr was pinned to a wall, their bed or the ground. Asgeir loved to see those blue orbs half-lidded under pleasure, those pink lips parted, cheeks flustered with desire. He loved the feeling of Skjaldr's warm skin under his fingers, the firm body against his and the powerful legs around his waist.

Asgeir thrust inside the blond. A feral growl escaped his throat. Skjaldr's nails dug into his tanned skin. He had to admit, Skjaldr's manliness aroused him. There was something about mounting and dominating this reckless hunk that sent him over the edge. He loved it when Skjaldr playfully fought against him, when he felt that lean body struggle and writhe in his grip. He lost it all every single time he faced those teeth-baring, lustful smirks.

Their house. No children, no slaves. All it took a flicker of those blue eyes. Asgeir would have killed for those damned blue orbs. He would have given all his possessions if it meant keeping Skjaldr by his side, would have plundered every single village in this world if Skjaldr wished for it. He'd have killed.

He'd have given his own life to protect the only man he loved. To protect those blue eyes.

Insane? Perhaps. Infatuated? Definitely.

Asgeir grunted as he held the blond against his body. He savored every moment, every thrust, every touch, every feverish grin this other man brought to him.

Skjaldr only had to say one word, and he'd do it. But Skjaldr was always Skjaldr, like the blue waters; one moment calm and playful, the other relentless and deadly. A source of life for Asgeir... and what he was sure would be his demise.