[Sexual content]
You're off on campaign. Theo ther men, your brother, the Warriors Three and Sif, you've let them all go home, a day here, a day there, some rest and respite amongst the battles, but you've never gone. You're starting to miss it, even though someone comes once a week with Idunn's fresh pickings.
It's more than the food that you miss, though you miss that too. It's not the maidens, though you miss them too and you are growing tired of what spare comfort your right hand can offer you. It's home, but you know that every battle brings you closer.
A fresh warrior is waiting in your tent when you return from the battle field. You strip off your armor as you talk, idly, and make use of the fresh bowl of water to clean yourself with. The dirt is beginning to have layers and you're beginning to think that only a bath at home will ever manage to get all the dirt and sweat off.
You barely notice how he's watching you until you look up and the look in his light colored eyes, blue you think, maybe green, is all too well known. It wouldn't be the first time a warrior had looked at you thusly, but it has been a long time since you've partaken of this particular comfort. He's not a bad looking man, dark hair, a wide, generous smile that comes easily once he notices you noticing him.
There will be no more battles fought tonight and you tell the warriors standing outside your tent that you will be resting for the remainder of the night. They nod, accepting, even as you disappear into your tent again. You don't throw him out and he's already stripping out of his own armor, his smile different now, tempting and teasing you. Leif is his name, a second son from the borderlands. You could care less about his lineage at the moment though, as you tumble onto the furs.
Leif has pleasantly little body hair and the first time you take him, it is in the old manner, with his thighs hot and slick and your cock between them. You find your release there and he finds his as well. The second time you find it, it's between his lips and on the edge of his tongue. The third, he is salt sweet and hard in your mouth, your own hand gripping your length far tighter than you ever gripped your hammer. The fourth and fifth are spent inside him, once with him riding you as surely as you ever rode any horse and once with you thrusting so hard that the bed is a wreck when you are done. The night is lost in a haze of his flesh, a reminder that life is not all fighting, blood, and glory.
When you finally fall asleep, you know you will get no more than an hour, but his body is warm at your side and you are content.