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From the Depths of the Fjords
I could barely breathe as Jarnja crushed me in a headlock. I bit her wrist hard, drawing blood, and she yelped, releasing me. I rendered her into a half nelson, wrapping my thighs around her to pin her under me.
She just sat there, smirking: “You like to be on top?”
“We’ve – ugh – been sparring for two hours, Jarnja,” I choked, sweat dripping from my brow.
“And we haven’t kissed yet,” she mourned playfully.
Queen Jarngrimr stood, about to carry me, but I did an upper reap on her thigh, knocking her to the ground, and she wheezed as I crushed a foot on her ribcage.
“Feisty minx,” Jarnja purred, grabbing my leg and slipping me down into the bed with her.
“Let me go, Beast!” I laughed, losing myself. “I am bone tired, Queen.”
She carried me to bed, laid me down, and began to brush my hair with an ivory comb.
I threaded my fingers around
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