Shared by the Vikings (3 page)

The feasting was well under way, and Leo felt a little dizzy and exalted, but not drunk. The aches in his body seemed to melt away with the warmth of the great bonfire and the few sips of mead he had drunk. It was powerful liquor, tasting of honey and herbs, and it burned in his belly like a live coal.

A group of Viking warriors close to the bonfire began shouting rhythmically, and he tried to follow the words. Something about the Guardian sheaf, he thought, and about blessings.

They stamped around the fire, and then the men were right in front of him, shouting and singing and waving guttering torches.

Runolf was in the front, wearing a wild grin and not much else. Rivulets of sweat streamed down his bare chest from the heat of the great fire.

“Come!” Runolf cried, and Leo looked up, startled when he realized that Runolf was speaking to him.

“What -” Leo began, but then one of the Vikings grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along. It was Isgrim, a tall bearded man who was deaf in one ear, and he ignored everything Leo tried to shout to him.

The men moved fast, circling around the huge bonfire and shouting, then veering off toward the edge of the field, leaving the crowd of women and thralls behind.

They were moving toward the Guardian sheaf.

Leo’s blood ran cold. For all that he lived among Vikings, he didn’t know their customs yet. He hadn’t understood the song, or what Frelda had tried to tell him. But now a dark foreboding blossomed in his mind.

What were they going to do to him?

Would they sacrifice him to the god of the harvest, make his blood their offering? Cut his throat and let his life run out upon the fields?

He struggled, but Isgrim’s grip on his arm was like iron.

“ Battle-bold Freyr rides!” the men sang in their deep voices, waving the torches in time to the rhythm of the song.

“Gold-tusked his boar,

“First to the bale-fire,

“Lord of the land!”

Leo was dragged to the Guardian sheaf. It was huge, twice as tall as a man, and in the pale moonlight it looked strange and unearthly, as though it was made of stone rather than stalks of grain.

Ogrim stood there waiting for them, his great horn hanging at his side.

“Freyr!” he shouted in a voice like bronze, and then he blew a blast upon the horn that made Leo flinch, it was so loud.

“Lord, we ask for a safe harvest, a good winter, and a fruitful spring!” Ogrim bellowed.

The men shouted and stamped their feet, and Ogrim went on, “We offer you this thrall, the youngest and fairest, to bring forth your blessing!”

O Lord in Heaven, deliver me from evil
, Leo prayed silently. He had almost given up praying, but in his fear the words he had learned as a child returned to him. Still, no help came to him, and he hadn’t really expected any.

Leo could not see any weapons on the men - even Runolf wasn’t wearing his massive sword on his belt tonight - but it brought him no comfort. They could break his neck with their bare hands if they wanted, and who would stop them?

Isgrim let go of his arm, and Leo stifled the sudden, desperate urge to run. He knew he wouldn’t make it past the stubbled edge of the field, before being brought down like a deer.

Hands tugged at him, turning and pushing him until he stood in front of the crowd, his back to the great sheaf.

“Get that off him,” someone said, and more hands tugged at the brief linen shirt he wore, pulling it over his head.

Leo stood naked before the crowd of Vikings. It wasn’t a cold night, but he began to shiver anyway, feeling very alone and afraid.

“Kneel,” Ogrim told him in his harsh, loud voice.

Silently, Leo knelt. He didn’t think it would do any good to beg for his life. The stubbled earth was rough against his bare knees, and he looked up at the Vikings thinking that this might be his last moment on Earth.

Roughly, Ogrim tied his wrists behind his back with a leather thong.

Then Isgrim stepped forward. Like Runolf, he was stripped to the waist, and his broad scarred chest gleamed in the dancing light from the torches.

Leo swallowed hard. He couldn’t think of anything to do but await his fate with what dignity he had left. He didn’t want Runolf to see him as a weakling.

Isgrim took another step, and now he was right up against Leo, his strong legs pressing against Leo’s torso.

Leo looked up at him, at his grim bearded face, and felt his pulse racing. Was this the last thing he would see in his life?

Then Isgrim reached down, unlaced his breeches, and took out his stiff cock.

A shout went up among the Vikings. “Freyr!”

Leo swayed, dizzy with relief, and opened his mouth. This, he knew how to do.

“Don’t swallow,” Isgrim told him gruffly, and suddenly Leo remembered what Runolf had told him.

What Runolf had made him do, last night. Now he understood a little better what the ‘training’ had been for.

Oh God in Heaven, was he supposed to do…that…to all the Vikings? There had to be at least a dozen of them.

Isgrim cuffed him in the head, a mild blow for a man his size, but it set Leo’s ears ringing. Clearly he was growing impatient.

Hurriedly, Leo clasped his hands behind his back, opened his mouth, and began to swallow Isgrim’s cock.

Isgrim grunted, slowly feeding himself into Leo’s mouth, and the men cheered him on.

His cock was thick and heavy, and it tasted different - it wasn’t Runolf, and that was a strange sensation. Now he really was whoring himself out, Leo thought giddily.

Well, if that was what he had to do, then he would do it. He wouldn’t let this break him. If this ritual appeased their strange god, then maybe the Vikings wouldn’t even think less of him afterward.

He sucked on Isgrim’s stiff cock, and remembering what Runolf had told him, Leo tried to make it as loud and wet as he could. The noises seemed to be part of it; the men cheered whenever he slurped, or whenever Isgrim thrust deep into his mouth and made him choke.

When he was close, Isgrim pulled at his hair.

Leo let his cock slip out of his mouth, waiting for what was going to happen next. And just as he thought, Isgrim stripped his cock in his own fist and let his seed spurt out, all over Leo’s chest.

That got another shout of “Freyr!” and cheering from the men around them.

Before Leo could even recover his breath, someone else stepped up, and it all began again.

After a while, his jaw ached and his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth. He no longer looked up to see who he was servicing; all his focus was on not falling over. It was difficult to stay balanced with his hands bound behind his back like this, and he welcomed it whenever someone grabbed his hair to anchor him.

The man he was sucking yanked his cock out from between his lips so fast that Leo nearly bit him, and then rained more seed all over him.

It spattered him, warm and wet.

Leo was covered with it, all over his chest and chin and arms. It felt wet and sticky and strange, like his skin didn’t even belong to him anymore.

Maybe that was true. He belonged to Runolf, after all, and Runolf had offered him up for tonight. Offered him up to this strange god, who apparently liked the spilling of seed in the night and the sound of men having sex.

Leo just hoped desperately that Runolf would take him back afterwards, because he didn’t know what else the god might demand from him.

Another man stepped up. He was shorter than most of the other Vikings, and so was his cock, but it was as thick as a man’s wrist.

Startled, Leo did look up this time, though it made his neck ache, and saw that it was the jarl himself.

The jarl’s stern, grizzled face looked down at him with a frown, almost as if he disapproved of seeing Leo like this - a thrall stripped bare, kneeling, and licking men’s come off his lips. But the jarl’s member was rock-hard and already leaking.

The jarl grabbed a handful of Leo’s hair, rough and impatient, and then rubbed the head of his cock against Leo’s swollen lips.

Leo moaned. He couldn’t help it. The rough treatment was just what he needed now; there was a voice in his head crying
take me
,
use me
,
fill me
, and that was exactly what the jarl was doing.

The jarl spent some time rubbing his cock over Leo’s face, smearing other men’s come all over him. When he finally stuffed his cock into Leo’s mouth, Leo could taste the seed of those others on him, and it only made him want to taste more.

The width of the jarl’s cock was remarkable - it filled his mouth, distending his cheeks, and Leo closed his eyes to concentrate on sucking all of him deeper. He felt hungry and desperate, and he wanted to swallow, but he wasn’t allowed. He had to keep remembering that.

The men were singing again, their deep voices very loud in the night. It was the same song as before, with a driving rhythm that seemed to match the jarl’s thrusts into his mouth.

“War-weary Freyr comes

“Striding from battle,

“Spears lie shattered,

“Shields lie splintered!”

As they sang, the jarl worked himself deeper into Leo’s mouth, tugging hard at his hair to bring him closer, then dragging him off again. Leo licked and sucked desperately, moaning without restraint.

Finally the jarl’s legs began to shake, and he held Leo hard against him, both hands heavy on his head, pushing his cock as deep as it would go.

Then, only just in time, he pushed away and painted Leo’s face with a new coat of come, striping his hair and cheeks with it.

Leo licked his lips without shame, and heard the men cheering.

More men stepped up, and Leo was losing count of how many had fucked his mouth already. How many had spattered their come on him? He felt as though he was bathing in it, streaks of white painting him from the crown of his head to his thighs.

He felt dizzy and sticky and yet, he knew he could take more. He wanted more.

Someone pressed thick fingers into his mouth, and Leo reared back for a heartbeat, startled by the sudden change.

Those thick fingers pressed against his tongue, exploring the thickness of it, the wetness of his mouth, and slowly Leo relaxed and sucked on the fingers, licking them wetly and fervently.

The man laughed, and Leo looked up to see that it was Eirik, an older Viking with a brown grizzled beard and a huge gold ring around his neck.

“He’s sucking on my fingers like a lost lamb,” Eirik said to the other Vikings. “Did you not feed him, brothers?”

There was rough laughter in response. “We fed him and yet he hungers!” someone called.

Eirik grinned down at Leo. “Well, then I guess you haven’t had enough meat to chew on yet, have you?”

Leo was too far gone to join in the banter. He just waited, his mouth open and ready, and when Eirik finally stepped forward, he licked his lips.

Eirik groaned when his cock slid into Leo’s mouth. His wet fingers dug into Leo’s hair, holding him steady as he fucked his mouth, rough and hard and demanding.

Leo swallowed and swallowed around his shaft, engulfing him in his wet mouth, and let Eirik use him how he liked.

“That’s right,” Eirik whispered, just for him. “That’s it, not long now, take it -”

He stroked Leo’s come-streaked face with those thick fingers, and then he was coming hard, spraying seed all over Leo’s face.

Leo put his tongue out and tried to catch some of it, before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to do that, but Eirik just laughed.

“More, brothers, more!” he cried, and two other men stepped up.

Now Leo began to get lost again, as the men wound their fists in his hair and dragged his swollen mouth from one cock to the next, barely giving him time to swallow them down.

His entire world contracted to the musky smell of aroused male flesh and the taste of salt.

His jaw ached and his lips felt raw, but he kept sucking and licking and swallowing and opening his throat wide to be rammed full of cock.

Then, finally, there was a pause in the rhythm. More come rained onto his chest, but after that there was no cock pushing against his lips, no more hard hands yanking at his hair, no muscular thighs pressing into his torso.

Moving slowly, like a man coming out of a strange dream, he looked up.

Runolf was standing in front of him. He was clearly almost ready to finish, his cock was aroused and rampant in his hand, and yet he wasn’t close enough that Leo could touch him.

Leo stared up at him longingly. He wanted Runolf desperately, even if his mouth felt stretched and raw.

He wanted Runolf to smile at him, and tell him that he had done everything right.

In the waiting, expectant silence, there was a sudden huge noise. It was Ogrim, blowing a tremendous note on his horn for the third time.

All around Leo, the deep-throated chorus started up again, singing the last verse of their song: