Even after a thousands years of living life, of seducing and being seduced by all sort of men, there was still a delectable thrill for Freyja in kissing someone new. Standing this close now she could see that they were close in height, although Freyja was a little taller. (This was not unusual or unattractive for Freyja: She was slightly taller than the average woman in America, and so was not unused to being with shorter men. Besides, Freyja had slept with dwarves. She knew power in the bedroom didn't correlate to height.)
Freyja lifted the non-sword hand to Much's cheek, thumb brushing against the slight roughness of a day's worth of stubble. "I would very much like for you to undress me," she said, breaking the kiss but speaking against his lips with her eyes still closed. "We should put these swords away."