---Tyr’s perspective---

  I’ve just sat down on the seat pad of a chest fly machine in the Terran section of the gym.

  My pectorals start to burn pleasantly from the strain but my arms feel insufficiently worked out at this point.

  I’ll need a few sets on the dumbbells on the end to properly round off this upper body day.

  At just that moment, another person enters the room from the gardenworlder section.

  A woman who originated on the planet we’re currently orbiting, though not a Don.

  She wears a pair of shorts, a matching sports bra and sports shoes, all looking newly printed and all in a matching crimson and black colour scheme.

  The outfit doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

  Her clavicle, the entirety of her slim arms, her well toned stomach and the majority of her legs are fully on display to any who might care to look.

  I look away so she doesn’t perceive me to be gawking and become uncomfortable.

  The moment she sees me, however, her pretty face whips to where I sit fast enough to make her voluminous head of red curls bounce.

  Her green eyes fixed on me, she strides directly for where I am.

  Stopping about 3m away, she smiles down at me and says “Hey… Tyr, right?”

  “Yes.” I answer, not breaking rhythm.

  Her smile falters for an instant before reasserting itself.

  “I was just gonna have a little run on one of the treadmills, Tyr… Do you mind if I put some songs on the rooms speakers? I can wear headphones instead if you don’t want to be disturbed?”

  “Do as you prefer.” I answer, simply.

  “Alright… cool!” she says before her attention drifts to the weight stack behind me “Woah! What’re you racking, muscles(?)”

  I frown “I’ve set it to 120kg… About 90% of my weight…” not directly correcting her slightly off verb usage before asking “…Who told you my epithet?”

  She looks back to me… some kind of expression on her face that I’m not able to confidently identify before asking “You’re joking! You’re actually called Tyr ‘Muscles’ Kollsveinsson!?”

  “Yes.”

  She nods her head and gestures up and down where I sit, observing “That makes sense, I suppose… Looking like this and lifting twice my weight like it’s nothing, what else were your dormmates supposed to call you(?!)”

  “Bodybuilding has always been of interest to me.” I answer, not really sure what else to say.

  Her face falls as she starts to turn around “Alright… sorry if I bothered you…”

  “You didn’t.” I respond, simply, before adding “Feel free to play your music, Ms Stellan.”

  She looks back, her smile returned, and nods.

  She chooses the closest treadmill spot to me, placing herself directly into my line of sight as the control panel rises from the floor.

  She slots her holo into the holder and taps the screen.

  A Synth-Poppy beat begins to play as the belt moves beneath her.

  Her hips and shoulders begin to sway hypnotically as she runs.

  Noticing myself staring, I once more avert my eyes so as not to be in danger of becoming a gym creep.

  I begin my first rest just as the lyrics start

  f? SOS, she’s in disguise

  SOS, she’s in disguise

  There’s a she wolf in disguise

  Coming out, coming out, coming out

  A domesticated girl, that’s all you ask of me

  Darling, it is no joke, this is lycanthropy

  The Moon’s awake now with eyes wide open

  My body’s craving so feed the hungry ?f

  ---Kara’s perspective---

  It’s been about half an hour I’ve spent running in place, sporting the sexy gym clothes I printed specifically to wear here when I knew It’d likely just be me and the large bearded man.

  I’ve not really been able to actually enjoy any of the playlist I curated. I’ve been too busy trying to step in rhythm, sway my body sexily, mentally keep track of his position and notice whether I’m being noticed.

  I don’t think I’ve had butterflies in my stomach like this since I was a teenager!

  The reason is obvious; what I stand to lose isn’t only my chance for my first dicking down since before I was arrested, it’s a dicking down by. the. single. tastiest looking piece of boycandy I’ve ever personally met!

  Piercing blue eyes!

  Gorgeous blond hair and luxuriant blond beard!

  Handsome facial features that are mass before detail(!)

  I would’ve said I was light skinned but, next to this guy, I’d look practically Mediterranean(!)

  At a shade under 2m, he’s nicely tall. Not gigantic or anything but respectably above average height.

  What ‘above average’ would not do justice to, however, is his Schwarzeneggerian physique!

  Holy hell, those muscles!

  ‘Yeah, I’m just gonna put the machine on 120kg and sit on it for 15mins before going to a different machine and doing the same on that… No big deal.’(!)

  What’s even hotter is that he clearly isn’t showboating about it!

  He’s not announcing how big and strong he is with manly grunts, he’s not making the irons slam into eachother to let me hear how much he’s lifting, he clearly isn’t doing any of what he’s doing to be seen doing it!

  He’s just over there, quietly minding his own business as he lat pulls two of me down over his head in a controlled stroke!

  I’m pulled out of my fantasising about getting that bod of his all up on and in me by him finishing his set on that machine.

  I watch as he scrupulously wipes down every point of contact he had with it to remove any trace of sweat he might have left there.

  I wait with bated breath to see what he does next.

  Is that the end of his workout?

  Is he leaving now?

  If so, how long should I give it before I leave? If I run into him back in our dorm immediately after he gets back, he’s obviously going to realise that the only reason I was here was for him.

  Might be a little creepy, whether he’d otherwise be into me or not!

  I feel relief as I watch him walk over to the rack of weight plates.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him grab a set of two 6kgs in each hand and lay them on the floor.

  After that, he goes up one rung to grab four 4.5kg plates, then four 3kgs, then four 2kgs.

  With what (some quick mental maths tells me) is my entire weight in iron laid out at his feet, he goes for two dumbbell bars, adding another 8kg to his total.

  ‘Oh, this? Yeah, thought I might just bicep curl with 70kg of weight to finish up. Don’t worry about it.’(!)

  The spinlocks each rattle as he twirls them off the ends, one by one, to assemble his dumbbells.

  ---Tyr’s perspective---

  I watch the beautiful woman turn off the treadmill and come to a stop.

  She silences the music and retrieves her holo.

  The machine folds itself back into the floor.

  She looks over in my direction.

  Seeing a box of fresh towels near to where I stand finishing my workout, she begins walking this way.

  Plucking one from the top of the stack, she meets my eyes, points to the bench between us and asks “Mind if I sit here… to catch my breath?” breathlessly.

  “Go ahead.” I answer as clearly as I can.

  She sits down facing me and begins to towel off her sweat, intently watching my arms as they smoothly alternate between curling the weights to my chest and extending them down to my thighs.

  There’s a moment of silence as she keeps scrutinising my form and I look resolutely ahead.

  Finally, she speaks “That’s really impressive, dude!” gesturing vaguely towards my midsection.

  “Thank you.” I acknowledge.

  Another long silence follows.

  She stands up and approaches (just outside the distance where I would be worried about the possibility of accidentally hitting her in the head with my dumbbells) and crosses her shins to bring her right foot to the left of her left.

  With eyes narrowed and lips curled, she extends a palm up hand and asks “So… there a Mrs ‘Muscles’ Kollsveinsson, Tyr?”

  I frown in confusion for the few seconds to work out what’s being asked there.

  When I realise, I helpfully inform her “No… Norse women don’t… take their husbands’ names… upon marriage… No Terran culture I know… has women taking their husbands’… epithets… If I had a wife… she would keep her own… name and epithet… not take mine.” between reps.

  Some sort of expression plays over her face for a moment before she says “Riiiiight… Thanks for letting me know…”

  She clears her throat and continues.

  “…Sooo, there’s nothing going on with you and Mpanzudóttir then?”

  “Of course there’s… something going on… we’re professional partners…” I state.

  “Yeah… but… you’re not a couple, are you?”

  “Ah…” I say, realisation dawning.

  I come to a rest and place the dumbbells on the floor before straightening back up to look down into her eyes “…I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Ms Stellan, but Agent Mpanzudóttir has a wife of 49 years. From what I understand, the marriage is a very happy and entirely monogamous one. I don’t foresee any chance of her being receptive to your attraction.”

  From her face, it looks as if the news of Thrúd’s unavailability hits her harder than I would’ve expected.

  Her eyes narrow, her mouth falls open and her right eyebrow raises in what looks like it might be disbelief.

  “No… uhm… that… that wasn’t where I was… going with that.”

  “Where were you going with it, Ms Stellan?” I ask.

  “Uhm…” she bites her lip and averts her eyes down and to her right “…I was… maybe thinking… you and I… We could… get a drink together… after you’re finished here, of course… We could… chat?”

  “Alcohol after a workout inhibits muscle protein synthesis, thus making the exercise less effective.” I explain “Besides, if you want to talk about ways to get closer to Agent Mpanzudóttir, I believe I’ve said all I have to say.”

  Looking quite unhappy to my eye, the beautiful woman takes a single step back from me and says “No… yeah… you’re right… I was being stupid… I’m sorry…”

  She spins on her heels and makes rapidly for the exit, leaving her sweaty towel behind on the bench where she sat.

  ---Thrúd’s perspective---

  As I enter the Terran gym, I see a pretty, pale skinned redhead beating a hasty course in the other direction.

  Her body is clad in a very goodlooking combination of sports bra and booty shorts but her blushed face is painted with misery.

  Seeing me coming, she makes an unconvincing pretence of needing to adjust her hair in order to bring her hand between her face and mine.

  My steps falter as she passes me by and I turn to watch her walk away, frowning slightly.

  She doesn’t break step, merely speeding away from me towards the exit back to the rest of the ship.

  I turn to resume my course into the gym section where I see a single individual.

  Kollsveinsson picks a towel off a bench and walks over to drop it in the repository for used ones.

  I catch up with him as he’s returning to his dumbbells.

  “Kollsveinsson, are you coming or going?” I ask, gesturing at the ludicrous dumbbells that represent either a warm up or cool down exercise for him.

  “I’ll be leaving as soon as I’m done with this set, Mpanzudóttir.” my partner informs me, picking up the clanking metal.

  “I see… Would you mind enlightening me as to what exactly had Ms Stellan storming out of here looking to be on the verge of tears, Kollsveinsson?” I ask in a voice of neutral curiosity.

  “She was… asking about you… Took it fairly hard… when I let her know you… were married.”

  Internally, that causes me to doubletake but, externally, the only indication of it that I give is the cock of an eyebrow.

  If Kollsveinsson is to be trusted in that assessment, this would be the single greatest failure of my straightdar on record!

  That woman gives me every impression of being as straight as an arrow!

  I find it highly dubious that she was brought to that state by being told I was married.

  I look up into the face of my socially oblivious partner (psychologically far more in line with Neanderthals than Sapiens, despite only being a quarter) and flatly instruct “Kollsveinsson… I’m going to need you to tell me exactly what she did to make you think she was interested in me.”

  ---Kara’s perspective---

  I step out of the watershower in the ensuite of the (way too high ceilinged) room I moved into a few days ago and towel myself off.

  It’s a little hard to reconcile with the fact that I’m a guest on this ship that, only a few years ago, I was a prisoner aboard… when I learned the truth about what I am…

  For the twentieth time in the last 20 minutes, I feel my guts twist and my chest ache from the bitter sting of the absolutely dickish rejection I was just on the receiving end of.

  I groan and grimace as I throw on a fluffy dressing gown and *flump* myself down into a soft chair in this room more luxurious than any I’ve ever inhabited.

  He could’ve just said ‘I’m sorry, Ms Stellan, I’m not interested.’! Did he really have to play dumb like that!?

  It smarted so much worse for that… for the fact that not only did he reject me, he refused to even acknowledge me as someone worthy of being considered!

  Well… I can’t exactly blame him for that, can I…

  I knew it was a longshot… Knew a man like him probably wouldn’t have any time for a girl like me.

  A criminal who’d be in prison if she wasn’t here.

  A woman who spent the first 26 years of her life doing bad things and believing bad things… who only stopped because others came along to tell her she’d been lied to.

  A woman who shouldn’t even exist… Whose entire life represents something stolen.

  I look up at the only picture I’ve displayed on the wall to see my own face staring back at me, smugly, from beside a broad shouldered, sharp featured, blank faced boy with black hair and brown eyes.

  I imagine her here with me.

  I imagine trying to apologise for having been made and her *shush*ing me before I can say more than a few words.

  I imagine her pulling me into a cuddle and telling me it’s alright, she knows, she doesn’t care.

  I imagine calling her ‘mum’ and her not correcting me.

  I feel tears welling up in a way that I just never used to allow to happen back in my old life.

  Then, I hear a knock at the door.

  I consider pretending not to be here until whoever it is goes away.

  I really don’t want to talk to anyone right now.

  Probably should though… it might be important and my knowledge of Bastion is the entire reason I’m here… I shouldn’t shirk!

  Reluctantly, I get up and check the nearest mirror for evidence of the tears that were just aborted by that distraction.

  Seeing nothing, I brace myself for dealing with whoever it is and whatever they want.

  Stepping over to the door, I press the button and it slides open.

  I find myself staring into a broad Human chest.

  Looking up, I see a thick, blond beard beneath a broad nose and two blue eyes.

  Aghast, reflexively thinking he’s hunted me down to humiliate me further, I back up, my arms tensed and a look of mild horror on my face.

  The man raises his treetrunk thick arms, allowing me to notice that he’s carrying two golden glass bottles with a sheen of condensation on them, indicating they’ve just been instachilled.

  “I have been informed, Ms Stellan, that I may have somewhat… misread the situation earlier.” he announces in a flat, resonant voice.

  Sceptically, I ask “You needed Mpanzudóttir to explain that you’d just blown off a girl who was all but throwing herself at you(!?)”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  He nods once with a slow blink and states “I have ASC… Reading social interactions, facial expressions, conversational implicature are all quite… challenging for me… I often believe I have understood things only to later have it be explained that I have misunderstood entirely… I apologise for any distress I have caused you.”

  He extends his left arm out to offer me one of the bottles.

  I reach up to take it from him without thinking.

  I’m still incredulously examining the chilled bottle of mead I’ve been handed when he speaks again “If the invitation still stands, Ms Stellan, I would very much like to share that drink you offered.”

  A small part of me wants to tell him to get lost after how he made me feel earlier!

  The larger part, the part that my rehab therapist has been encouraging me to cultivate and listen to over the last 2 years, realises that that would be irrational defensiveness.

  Hurting him on purpose because he hurt me accidentally does neither of us any good.

  A third part is just now thrilled by realising the implications of him having come here, knowing what he now knows, and asking to share a drink.

  Still… I can’t let him get off scot free(!)

  I turn my eyes up to him and smirk “What happened to alcohol inhibiting muscle proteins or whatever, Tyr(?)”

  He shuffles, sheepishly, before answering “That… is still accurate… I generally don’t drink after a workout… but, in this case…”

  “You’ll make an exception for me(?)” I provide along with my most charming smile.

  “Indeed.” he says with a curt nod.

  “Well, in that case, you’d better come in…” I invite.

  A small smile replies from behind his beard as he steps over the threshold and into my room.

  My door slides closed behind him and my hand extends to the doorpanel to lock it and activate the privacy field.

  ---Tyr’s perspective---

  I’m unclear on exactly how this beautiful woman and I ended up in the position of being sat on the floor of her lounge area (at the foot of the sofa rather than on it) but that’s where we’ve found ourselves.

  She’s sat on my right, still wearing the dressing gown she was wearing when I entered.

  Having our respective dominant arms abutting does make drinking slightly awkward but… somehow I don’t mind.

  Our meads are both about halfway gone.

  250ml at 15%ABV means we’re a touch under 4 units deep at this point… though it bears mentioning that she’s only about half my mass, which is consistent with the fact that while I’m barely feeling the effects at this point, she’s quite giggly.

  “How the hell did you end up becoming a spy when you’re so bad at reading people, Tyr?!” she demands through a broad, tooth baring smile at my shoulder.

  “There are other axes to intelligence work besides the social.” I answer, smiling slightly in spite of myself “Agent Mpanzudóttir is the one in charge of all the interpersonal aspects of our work. I handle the technical, the analytical and, when the occasion calls for it, the combat.”

  “OK, so you have to have some pretty craaazy nonsocial skills then?”

  “I do.” I answer.

  “Liiiiike…?”

  “Near photographic recall, first percentile spatial reasoning, heightened sensory processing, heightened kinaesthesia, broad and deep well of semantic memory… I’ve also not been beaten in hnefatafl, chess, checkers, go or any similar strategy game by any biological opponent since I was 6 years old… for whatever that’s worth(!)”

  She giggles “Was that a joke, Mr Kollsveinsson(?) My, my, my(!) You must be tipsier than you seem(!)”

  I chuckle slightly, proving her right as I do.

  She narrows her beautiful green eyes and asks “So… photographic memory, huh?”

  “Is this doubt?” I clarify.

  “Well… doubt or not, I’m interested in seeing it in action…” she says, leaning her shoulder into mine.

  “How about a game?” I suggest.

  “A game, you say(?)” she says, baring her teeth again.

  Without looking, I point behind me to the photo on the wall and say “I saw that picture of you and your ex once, as I came in and sat down. Quiz me on it; what you’re both wearing, what the background is, his hair colour, eye colour, height. Anything.”

  The smile drops from her lips dramatically enough that even I’m able to figure out I’ve said something wrong.

  She casts her eyes downward and says “Erm… that’s… not my ex… and that’s not me… That’s Esme and Oskar Taylor… They’re Victor’s parents… She’s the one I was… cloned from…”

  Fuck…

  “Do you… want to talk about it?” I ask.

  She smiles with her mouth but doesn’t meet my eyes as she shakes her head and says “Not really, Tyr…”

  I agonise about whether to share what I’m considering sharing.

  On the one hand, it could be a nice thing to commiserate with her about.

  On the other, it could look like I’m dismissing, minimising or one-upping her pain with mine.

  I finally decide to risk it but to start with a disclaimer “I… know our situations aren’t the same, Ms Stellan… but I never knew my mother either… She died 4 years before I was born.”

  Her face whips back up, twisted with some sort of expression I’m guessing to be confusion.

  “How did that…?”

  “My mother and father were engaged at the beginning of the War. They knew she would need to have her cycle paused, even to join the Humanitarian Corps, so they froze their genetic material in case something happened… My father made it back. My mother didn’t. I was grown in an artificial womb and my father raised me alone.”

  “Oooooh…” she moans, her brow furrowed “…I’m sorry, Tyr!”

  “It’s alright… You can’t miss what you never had, right?” I lie.

  She answers with a chuckle, then picks up her bottle and extends it away from us.

  I frown, trying to work out the meaning of the gesture before she explains “A toast…” with a smile it makes me feel good to see.

  Taking the cue, I pick up my own bottle and extend it alongside hers.

  She twists her wrist to *clink* them against eachother, continuing “…to we motherless two(!)”

  I laugh more heartily than I have so far at the beautiful woman’s flippant toast but “Skál!” all the same and drink down the rest of my mead.

  My drink finished, I briefly turn my head away to place the empty bottle on the floor beside me.

  As I do, I hear some shuffling from Kara’s position.

  I feel a weight on my right shoulder.

  I look back to find Ms Stellan’s face close enough to mine that I can feel her breath on my lips.

  I freeze.

  I stare blankly back into her green eyes, too worried that I’ve misread the situation to take any action.

  The tip of her nose touches mine as she moves her face forward and leans her hand on my shoulder to pull me closer.

  Her gemmeous green irides disappear beneath her eyelids as her lips push through my beard to contact mine.

  I’m now 100% confident I’m not misreading the situation.

  I’m desperately trying to overcome my paralysis to kiss her back.

  ---Kara’s perspective---

  I break off the kiss I chanced with the big, beautiful man.

  He clearly wasn’t into it.

  He was just sat there like a mannequin while I kissed him.

  That was stupid of me!

  I need to apologise and hope he doesn’t operate a ‘three strikes and you’re out’ policy because, after the gym and the photo, this makes the third awkward misunderstanding.

  “I’m sor-huwah-HMMPH!?” I say, my apology being cut short by an immensely powerful arm curling around my back and hurling my entire body to the left, a pair of now very active lips silencing my shriek as a large hand presses through my hair to clamp my head in place against his.

  My eyes bulge wide in surprise where his are shut tight as the normally cool man kisses me with red hot ferocity!

  My arms ended up tossed over his shoulders and my hands now claw against the sofa cushions.

  My surprise subsiding, I melt into the man holding me against his superHumanly hard body by the small of my back and the back of my head.

  I don’t think there’s a thing in this universe that would make me feel quite as much like a woman as being held in the arms of a man like this does!

  His thick beard tickles and scratches my face delightfully.

  I feel the power in his arms that could crush my bones if they wanted but, instead, just desperately hold me close to him.

  Even his lips are strong enough that they have mine at their mercy(!)

  Just as I’m thinking that, he angles his face downward to break from the kiss and pant “I’m sorry… Ms Stellan… I interrupted you… You were saying?” in his sonorously deep voice.

  “Not… important…” I pant back, giggling “…but it’s… Kara… Tyr!… You don’t call… a woman… ‘Ms Lastname’ when… you’re about to… fuck!”

  “Noted, Kara…” he smiles lightly, eyes still closed “…May I take my… hair down?”

  Instead of answering, I simply bring my fingers to the bit of black tusk that his bun is fastened around and gently tug it out.

  Long, loose hair cascades down the shaven back and sides of his head along with two long plaits from just behind his temples.

  I try to pull away but find the arm at my back, clamping my front to his, utterly unresponsive to my efforts, the big man seeming not even to have noticed the increased strain of holding me in place.

  “You need to let me up a little if you want me to take those braids out for you, big boy(!)” I murmur, having caught my breath a little “I can’t reach like this…”

  “Sorry.” he winces as I feel the pressure on my back release.

  “Don’t apologise…” I purr, noting that he keeps his hand in place as I pull away to start unwinding the plaits of hair on the sides of his head “…I very much like a man who can put me where he wants me…”

  His plaits out, I lean back into him and bring my lips to his right ear.

  In my most sultry whisper, I invite “…and you can put me wherever you want me, Tyr… Use me however you want… I’m yours tonight…”

  He turns his head to me.

  Our eyes meet.

  Nervously, he says “I… uhm… I might… need you to tell me if… I’m getting too rough… if I’m hurting you…”

  Abandoning the sexy whisper, I give a genuine giggle in return and answer “*heheheheheheheheeeh* Threaten me with a good time, why don’t you(!)”

  His face drops as he clarifies “Kara, I’m seri-” but I bring a finger to his lips.

  “*Shhhhh* I know, sweetie, I know… I promise I’ll let you know if it’s getting too much for me… If my mouth’s otherwise engaged, I’ll tap out…” I intently pat his shoulder three times to demonstrate “…otherwise I’ll just tell you to stop, OK?”

  His smile starts returning as he nods in confirmation.

  “Juuust… promise me one thing, alright?” I smirk.

  His smile transforms into a curious frown as he asks “What’s that?”

  Narrowing my eyes at him, I make the request that I really hope I don’t come to regret “Unless and until you have me begging for mercy… don’t give me any… I like it hard and I like it rough… I want to be used and abused… Are you able to oblige me in that, big guy?”

  For the first time I’ve seen, his teeth bare in the slightly feral looking smile he gives me.

  My answer comes in the form of an evil “Alright then…” followed by a two handed shove to the tits which winds me and throws me backwards to skid across the floor.

  Coughing and spluttering, I look up and see the heartstoppingly gorgeous man looming over me.

  A fat fingered hand shoots down to my chest and gathers a fistful of my lapels.

  The floor disappears beneath me as I’m hauled to my feet.

  ---Tyr’s perspective---

  Having unmistakable consent and full permission to unmask in hand, I tear the dressing gown off of her shoulders.

  She shrieks as I expose her pert and perky chest and keep going to push it off of her hips, to the floor.

  With one hand, I seize her by the jaw (careful of crushing her windpipe) and push the naked woman over to slam her into her bedroom wall.

  She brings both hands to my forearm and vainly attempts to pull my hand off her face. She isn’t tapping out or begging for mercy, though, so I don’t release her.

  Pinning her in place with my weight behind my arm, I bear down on her and snarl “You think you can take it?!”

  “I can take it!” she snarls back, meeting my eyes despite me twisting her head to her left, forcing her to face away.

  “All of it!?” I demand.

  “I can take everything you have and more!” asserts the naked brat.

  “Is that sooo… and, in return, I can help myself to everything you have, can I?” I ask, leaning forward to press my left thigh into her crotch, bringing my left hand up to trace the finger tips down from her right shoulder to the top of her right thigh “I can take all of this?!”

  “*Pfft*! All this is already yours, idiot! You’re already holding all this! What you’re yet to do is anything about it!” she says in what I’m fairly sure is intentional mockery.

  “Alright then, girl… Just remember that you asked for it!” I growl before turning her face back and keeping her pinned in place for the most ferocious kiss I have in me.

  I feel her grip slacken at my forearm but she doesn’t let go.

  I slide my hand between my thigh and her exposed crotch.

  Feeling how wet she is, I slide a finger inside her.

  Her entire body tenses and judders in what I’m taking to be either pleasure or surprise… perhaps some mix?

  I shift my hand from the front of her jaw to the back of her neck and feel her body react to the grip I apply there.

  A few moments longer pass before I decide I no longer wish to be contorting myself down to kiss her.

  ---Kara’s perspective---

  The thick finger is pulled from my pussy and that hand is transferred to my right armpit, allowing me to feel my own wetness against that shoulderblade.

  The possessive grip at the back of my neck moves to under my dominant armpit.

  My feet leave the floor as the immensely powerful man slides me 20cm or so up the wall to kiss me while at full height.

  My toes dangle in free space, my naked tits squash against his clothed pecs and my skull is crushed between his and the hard place behind it.

  My guts are dancing around worse than they would if I was in freefall right now!

  Every movement he makes brings home to me just what a beast of a man he is, just what power I’ve unbridled with my request for no mercy and just how utterly helpless I am in the face of it!

  For all the resistance I could show this man, it might as well be a ragdoll he’s pinning to the wall(!)

  I’m about to be used as his cocksleeve, his fuckpuppet, his helpless little fleshlite and, other than tapping out or telling him to stop (which I am absolutely not going to do), there isn’t a thing I could do about it!

  Without warning, he pulls away, dropping me.

  My knees are weak enough from all the bodily reactions occurring elsewhere that I don’t stand a chance of staying upright.

  I crumple to the floor.

  With weak arms, I prop my shoulder up against the wall so I can get my eyes back on him.

  I see him hook his hands beneath the hem of his tight top and pull upwards.

  I gasp so hard I briefly choke on aspirated spit as I see his bare torso for the first time!

  His muscles make him look like a man chiselled out of rock by a xeno with a shaky grasp of just how roided out a Human should look(!)

  They’re so bulging that they actually have clefts between them! Not grooves, not divots, not furrows! Clefts! Wherever one abuts another, there’s a trench between them so deep I could stick my fingertips in them almost up to the first knuckle and have muscle on both the pad and nail sides(!)

  My admiration of his chest is cut off by him dropping trou.

  “Oh my god…” I quaver, staring wide eyed at the sight.

  His legs are exactly as impressive as his chest and arms… but they’re not what I’m looking at!

  He’s… enormous!

  It was the muscles I was interested in! I swear!

  From the way he showed through his clothes, I’d guessed he was… above average but that is so large it would be bordering on the comical if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s going inside me!

  “Mmm…” he grunts, his blue eyes flicking to my pelvis, seeming to be thinking along the same lines I am as he lightly sneers “…you might be a bit too tight for me…”

  He takes two steps back towards me and swoops down to snatch up my left wrist in his right hand.

  I shriek in a mix of delight and (a little) genuine fear as he effortlessly yanks me into a kneeling position with my head between his hips and the wall.

  A wide thumbpad contacts the top of the single largest cock I’ve ever seen to align it horizontally, towards my face.

  “…better have you lubricate.” he growls, pushing his tip into my lips.

  I open my mouth to speak but all that comes out is a “*Hrrkhhh*!” as all his girth pushes its way between my teeth, forcing my jaws apart to an actually slightly painful extent and dilating my throat muscles as he bends himself down my oesophagus.

  My mouth is filled with the flavour of salt and savouriness… in addition to the airway obstructing quantity of penis it contains(!)

  My skull is clamped between two powerful hands, cutting off any escape short of tapping out (which I genuinely think I’d rather pass out than do(!))

  The man who has me entirely in his power flexes his abdomen to pull back, letting me get the briefest breath through my nose, then drives himself home, back down my throat.

  I am so fucking wet right now!

  ---Tyr’s perspective---

  Wide green eyes stare up at me from the level of my iliac crests as I hold her head in place against the wall.

  Her voluminous red curls are still slightly damp to the touch from the shower I infer her to have taken shortly before I arrived.

  Her hands are braced against my thighs, making as if to try and push me away or slow me down, but, since she has not yet tapped out (which I have allocated a portion of my mental energy to monitoring for), I do as was requested and show her no mercy.

  The wet, spluttering, choking sounds she is making are extremely arousing.

  Her every vocalisation vibrates my glans in an incredibly stimulating way.

  Hmmm, perhaps a little too stimulating.

  I would consider it a slight waste…

  Decision made, I act.

  Releasing her head, I step backward to pull my more than adequately spittle lubricated length from her mouth.

  Screwing up her eyes, she coughs and gasps for breath, drool dribbling from her bottom lip to land between her knees.

  Not giving her more than a moment to recover, I reach down to snatch her wrist and yank her to her feet.

  She looks up at me like a beaten dog, her lower face covered in her own saliva and (likely) some of my preejaculate.

  I wrap my hands around her and yank her into my front, holding her left buttock in my right hand and with my left at her right scapula.

  She braces one hand at my shoulder and brings the other to wrap around my humerus, the fingertips against my triceps.

  Crouching down to bring my penoscrotal junction to the gap between her labia, I affect a snarl to consent check “Enjoying yourself…?! Still think you can take everything I have and more!?” in the cruellest tone of voice I can muster.

  With… some kind of expression on her face, she narrows her eyes and tilts her head back, curling her wet lips to murmur “I’m very much enjoying myself… I very much think I can take all you have… I very much want more than a jaw workout tonight(!)” pressing her stomach against the ventral side of my penis to push its dorsal side into my midline abdominal furrow.

  “Good!” I bark “I’m looking forward to more than getting my cock grated by your teeth!” seizing her by the armpits again.

  ---Kara’s perspective---

  The autistic man who’s blown past my wildest hopes in terms of his physique, his endowment (a little too much in that case) and the quality of his Dom performance hoists me off my feet and leans his upper body to align my pelvis with the titanic cock he’s about to impale me on!

  The blunt tip meets my lips.

  There’s the briefest moment of resistance where it seems like he’s as likely to glance off as find his way in but then-

  “Oh… fuck…!” I groan as the ludicrous cock splits me apart!

  He’s brought me close enough to him that he’s able to slide his arms around my shoulders.

  My spine is taking the entirety of the weight of my lower body as the invading behemoth guides my lower body down onto itself, steadily raising the level at which my guts are being rearranged.

  That is until I feel my clit being squashed between his pubic bone and somewhere between 10-15% of my own weight as I reach his base.

  I squeak, then giggle, then moan from how it feels.

  I am in a little… difficulty from taking a man so big… the pain makes it better for me though, not worse.

  He lifts me back off himself while flexing and angling his pelvis away.

  I feel every last girthy, spitlubed centimetre of him slide out of me before he reverses back in.

  I gasp and pant like I’ve just eaten a bowl of food that was way too spicy as the platinum blond bearded strongman fucks me like I way as much as a blowup doll(!)

  This!

  This is exactly what I wanted since I went to prison!

  Before then, even!

  Oh… fucking hell!

  Am I being ruined?

  Is that what’s happening right now!?

  I just wanted to get fucked by a tasty piece of boycandy!

  I didn’t sign up for spending the rest of my life daydreaming about him when he (inevitably) says ‘Well, it’s been fun. Gotta go.’!!!

  How dare he have such an adorably charming personality(?!)

  How dare he have such a mouthwatering bod(!?)

  How fucking dare he hoard enough fucking penis to give three other guys each their own respectable one(!?)

  And how dare he do such a good job of Domming me that I’m actually finding myself unwilling to brat anymore(!?!?!?)

  This isn’t allowed!

  My indignancy about the situation this Norse heartthrob has unknowingly put me in is driven from my mind by him increasing his pace and, as a result, my pain and pleasure.

  Reflexively, my legs wrap around his thighs, attempting to restrain just how vigorously he’s able to fuck me.

  It isn’t very effective…

  Through my crossed eyes, I become aware of the room moving immediately followed by finding myself hurtling downwards.

  I don’t have time to scream before I feel my back impact something soft.

  He’s dropped me onto the sofa we were sat against to drink our mead.

  Pinning me beneath him, he brings a hand to my chest, fondling my left tit.

  I look up at the normally placid gentle giant, currently snarling as he fucks my brains out.

  Unbidden, a stupid, ridiculous, idiotic thought enters my head… ‘I’m going to marry you one day!’

  Furious at myself (and at Tyr for giving me a dicking so good it should be illegal) I banish the brainless, childish fantasy and focus on just taking his dick like the good piece of fuckmeat I am and want to be right now!

  ---Tyr’s perspective---

  The stunningly gorgeous brat beneath me has had several fits of shrieking and wailing in the time I’ve been inside her.

  I couldn’t say how many (if any) of those were genuine orgasms.

  I hope it was at least one because I can feel myself on the precipice.

  Her eyes widen, her eyebrows raise and her lips form a circle as I quicken my pace to finally break this wave of pleasure.

  I bury my length as deep as it will go just as I arrive.

  I silently observe her as I release a jet of semen at the entrance to her cervix, enjoying the pleasure as it undulates down my limbs.

  She is not so restrained.

  Her face twists into all sorts of incomprehensible shapes as she pants and her arms flail.

  She reaches her palms up and slaps my shoulders, chaotically.

  Alarmed by the possibility that she doesn’t have her cycle paused and was relying on the (barbarically crude) pullout method of contraception, I begin pulling away.

  “NO!” she says, snatching both my wrists and wrenching them back down with surprising strength for one so small and light.

  Breathlessly, she’s silent a moment while I look into her eyes, waiting for an explanation.

  “I’m…*hhh**hhh*… sorry…*hhh**hhh*… Tyr!…*hhh**hhh*… I wasn’t…*hhh**hhh*… tapping out…*hhh**hhh*… there! …*hhh**hhh*… Just got…*hhh**hhh*… a bit…*hhh**hhh*… overwhelmed! …*hhh**hhh*… Please stay!” she pants.

  “You want me to stay inside and on top of you?” I ask, back to my normal conversational manner now that the scene is over.

  She nods “Yes…*hhh**hhh*… please!…*hhh**hhh*… We can…*hhh**hhh*… move to…*hhh**hhh*… the bed when…*hhh**hhh*… I’ve caught…*hhh**hhh*… my breath!”

  ---Kara’s perspective---

  The man who just gave me the best (and most exhausting) fuck of my life lies on his back, on my bed, with his eyes closed.

  I lie with my front squashed against his left side, his bulging bicep acting as a pillow as his powerful arm wraps around my shoulders, making me feel safe… held… warm… wanted…

  Stupid little fantasies of moving into a Fennoscandian cottage to live as this man’s cook in the kitchen, maid in the parlour and whore in the bedroom keep rattling around my head.

  I keep seeing myself in a cute little white and red polkadotted retro dress as my big, strong, handsome man comes in from a hard day at the office and wraps a hand around my waist as I offer ‘Would you like dinner, a bath or me?’ with a sultry smile and he picks me up bodily and says ‘I’ll have you for dinner in the bath!’ carrying me away as I shriek delightedly.

  No matter how many times I annihilate them they just keep coming back!

  It’s the kind of domestic life I’ve never allowed myself to want before because it just didn’t seem like there was any point pining for something so unrealistic.

  If ever there was a man who could domesticate me, though… who could turn a she-wolf into his little lapdog… this is that man!

  ‘You can’t even cook or clean, Kara! Those weren’t skills Bastion thought you needed to be equipped with! That’s a lot of faith you’d be putting in your ability to keep a man just by being enough of a whore in the bedroom!’ I point out.

  ‘I could learn!’ I counter ‘Lysivangr have courses on exactly those kinds of things!’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ I sneer ‘You think pussy so good he’s gonna wanna put up with years of conjugal visits while you finish your rehab programme! Get real!’

  I take a deep breath.

  I channel my therapy.

  ‘You’re right.’ I acknowledge the valid point the voice of my doubt and selfloathing is making ‘I definitely can’t start planning a relationship with a man just based on the short time I spent forming a crush and a single night of sex… You’re also right that I can’t assume, just because he was willing to have sex, that he’s up for anything more or else.’

  ‘Then you’re gonna-?’

  ‘BUT…!’ I interrupt her before she can sneer at me again ‘…I know I want more of this right now and, right now, that’s all that matters! Maybe it won’t last… hell, it probably won’t last but, even if it doesn’t, that doesn’t matter now… I’m going to be bold and ask for what I want!’

  “Tyr…?”

  “Yes?” he answers immediately without opening his eyes.

  “I really enjoyed myself and I hope you did too…”

  “I did.” he states, his tone neutral.

  “I’m glad… Would you maybe like to… keep seeing eachother? Do this again another time?”

  Eyelids part and a pair of ocean blue eyes swivel towards me just ahead of the rest of his skull.

  My heart is in my throat while I wait for his answer.

  After about 2 seconds (that felt more like hours) he speaks “I would also very much like to do this again. Is tomorrow night free for you?”

  I smile and chuckle at how eager he clearly is by the slightly overprompt offer but just answer “Think so… I’ll shoot you a message if anything comes up but, otherwise, it’s a date.”

  “Good.” he says, giving me a little squeeze as his eyes close again “I could also make us breakfast if you would like?”

  “Sounds great.” I beam “What are you thinking?”

  “Pancakes is what I’ve put in my nutrition schedule.”

  Gym | | | | | | | | | | | |