She lays down her sword and shield within easy reach of the bed, starts shedding her armor while Eitri peels off his shirt. From the corner of her eye Freyja catches sight of the solid wedge of his back, the pull and flex of his shoulderblades like two broad axe heads as he shucks the garment over his head. When he turns back to her she quickly averts her gaze. He shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you broke into their headquarters. You’re a brave woman. Gods only know what they’d have done if they’d caught you.”
“There was no one inside.”
"Still. You shouldn't have done it."
"I specialize in doing things I shouldn't."
He smiles a little, takes a step forward. Brushes a strand of hair off her cheek. Freyja jerks back. "No."
He looks startled by her abruptness. Truth be told, he probably has a right to; half a moment ago she was aimlessly admiring the play of muscles beneath his skin as he undressed. Most men would take that as an encouraging signal. And she can't deny that she does want him, in the most primal of ways - that her body liked the way they fit together. He cocks his head at her. Freyja grits her teeth. She has her reasons - complicated ones, and she’s not about to explain them to him.
"A man told me once that there's nothing like a woman after a good fight," she murmurs, searching for a simpler explanation. "My tastes run to men, but I'm as much a warrior as he was." Even as she says it, she winces. She’d never call what they did making love, but it doesn’t feel right to dismiss it as an inconsequential tumble, either.
"Of course you are." Eitri‘s tone is so fierce that she raises an eyebrow at him. He shifts, ducks his head. His voice is gruff. "You saved my life, I'm not like to forget that," he says.
“You’re welcome.”
There’s a long silence. “If I offended you--”
"You haven't offended me," Freyja says sharply. "I don't sleep with travelling companions, is all."
That furrows his brow. "Let me get this straight," he says. "When I was just some stranger whose life you’d saved you were happy to have me in your bed, but now that we’ll be sharing the road you want none of it.”
"That's about the shape of it.”
He looks at her curiously, scrubbing his beard, and then shrugs. “I – fair enough.”
He handles rejection well, she’ll give him that. Freyja crawls into bed. “Good night.”
Eitri hesitates. “Do you - that bedroll--” “Oh, don’t be an idiot,” she snaps. “I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor like some blushing maiden. We’ll be sharing a tent for the next two weeks - it’s not much bigger than this bed, I promise you.”
He pulls his shirt back on before climbing in beside her, which Freyja finds quaintly endearing in spite of herself. Soon, though, she’s wishing she’d taken him up on his offer. It’s not the first time she’s shared a bed with a fellow traveler - crowded inns, lack of funds, sheer safety in a hostile place. A number of those beds were significantly smaller than this one. Still, she spends the next twenty minutes excruciatingly aware of the rise and fall of his broad chest beside her. Only natural, she tells herself. You did sleep with him, you’re not just going to forget. And it has been a long time.
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timeasmymeasure
Songs For Nomads 2.9
Date: 2013-07-18 10:58 pm (UTC)“There was no one inside.”
"Still. You shouldn't have done it."
"I specialize in doing things I shouldn't."
He smiles a little, takes a step forward. Brushes a strand of hair off her cheek. Freyja jerks back. "No."
He looks startled by her abruptness. Truth be told, he probably has a right to; half a moment ago she was aimlessly admiring the play of muscles beneath his skin as he undressed. Most men would take that as an encouraging signal. And she can't deny that she does want him, in the most primal of ways - that her body liked the way they fit together. He cocks his head at her. Freyja grits her teeth. She has her reasons - complicated ones, and she’s not about to explain them to him.
"A man told me once that there's nothing like a woman after a good fight," she murmurs, searching for a simpler explanation. "My tastes run to men, but I'm as much a warrior as he was." Even as she says it, she winces. She’d never call what they did making love, but it doesn’t feel right to dismiss it as an inconsequential tumble, either.
"Of course you are." Eitri‘s tone is so fierce that she raises an eyebrow at him. He shifts, ducks his head. His voice is gruff. "You saved my life, I'm not like to forget that," he says.
“You’re welcome.”
There’s a long silence. “If I offended you--”
"You haven't offended me," Freyja says sharply. "I don't sleep with travelling companions, is all."
That furrows his brow. "Let me get this straight," he says. "When I was just some stranger whose life you’d saved you were happy to have me in your bed, but now that we’ll be sharing the road you want none of it.”
"That's about the shape of it.”
He looks at her curiously, scrubbing his beard, and then shrugs. “I – fair enough.”
He handles rejection well, she’ll give him that. Freyja crawls into bed. “Good night.”
Eitri hesitates. “Do you - that bedroll--”
“Oh, don’t be an idiot,” she snaps. “I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor like some blushing maiden. We’ll be sharing a tent for the next two weeks - it’s not much bigger than this bed, I promise you.”
He pulls his shirt back on before climbing in beside her, which Freyja finds quaintly endearing in spite of herself. Soon, though, she’s wishing she’d taken him up on his offer. It’s not the first time she’s shared a bed with a fellow traveler - crowded inns, lack of funds, sheer safety in a hostile place. A number of those beds were significantly smaller than this one. Still, she spends the next twenty minutes excruciatingly aware of the rise and fall of his broad chest beside her. Only natural, she tells herself. You did sleep with him, you’re not just going to forget. And it has been a long time.
She wonders if he’s facing the same struggle.