"The Shieldmaiden" (closed)

(OOC: I'm assuming he would do this. If not, I'll change it.)

This wasn't the first time Ilga had undressed a man, of course, and it wasn't too long before Gareth's trousers and woolen undergarment had dropped to the middle of his thighs. She reached to his groin and confidently grasped the almost fully solidified sword pointing her way. She gripped it tightly, stroking it a couple of times to fully harden it.

"Lay down, Young Gareth," Ilga said, making room for him on the bed. As he moved in beside her -- his extra few inches of height making it necessary for him to bend his knees to fit on her bed -- Ilga moved to straddle his groin, still clutching his cock as if afraid it might get away. Her head touched the overhead -- what, on the other side, was Rollo's station for steering the Crimson Maiden -- as she placed Gareth's erection at her already sopping wet hole. As lowered herself slowly upon him, Ilga groaned out in pained pleasure at the feel of him, whispering, "Oh ... m'boy..."

Gareth felt his pants slide away and then he felt her hand grasp him stroking him a few times to get him ready. He stiffened fully for her, unable to stifle a low moan. She was moving quickly, quicker with less foreplay than Gora ever did. He heard her order to lie down and did so.

He couldn’t see her clearly but could still feel her hand clutching him as if he might run away. He soon felt her press him against her opening, forcing his girth into her soaking pussy. He had planned on massaging her, taking his time and possibly leading up to this, but she was having none of that, she apparently needed him now. He let out another low groan. She was just as tight as Gora was, and for some reason, was wetter than Gora ever got, at least when they first started. She eventually got to get that wet around him, but that first time she’d barely been wet. He really did not know enough about women to understand that Ilga wanted him, and Gora had grown to want him but that first time with Gora she had been doing her duty.

Ilga had already primed herself by her own hand, so little time passed before she was riding Gareth in total abandonment. She reached her hands above his head, grasping the oak ribs that supported the craft's deck. Again and again, harder and harder, faster and faster she pulled her pussy forward, almost allowing Gareth's cock, before ramming her body backwards once more to drive him solidly, deeply, entirely into her.

This wasn't about love. It was only barely about lust. This was about an end result: satisfaction, her satisfaction specifically. Ilga needed to cum, and as her moans and soft cries soon became near screams with every thrust, she knew -- praised! -- that that ecstasy was only moments away.

And then in the middle of this rampage upon Gareth's cock, Ilga had to laugh. Above her, Rollo -- who had always served as her protector when needed -- had enticed the Warriors, Shieldmaidens, and slaves into a loud, rambunctious ditty about Dragons and gold, to cover the sounds of sex that he was hearing through the deck boards. The song had spread, down through the hatch to the others in the hold, and while the happy, boisterous song may have hid Ilga's cries as she exploded atop Gareth, everyone aboard who cared already knew that their Lady was getting what she wanted tonight.

It was merely seconds before she was driving herself upon his shaft with abandonment. She seemed to Gareth’s eyes to be enjoying herself, which was good. For him, he had mixed feelings, physically, her pussy was tight and he enjoyed the feeling, however, emotionally he could sense that this was about her. It didn’t come across as she wanted him but wanted cock, and he was the one she had chosen.

That being said, the pussy was a wonderful tool and it did not take long for gareth to be near his own peak even as she exploded atop him. He frowned at her laugh, but then realized why she was laughing and was able to laugh himself a bit hearing the viking’s song, apparently a tune the entire clan knew.

“Do you like that m’lady?” he asked softly. Gora had mentioned that sometimes people enjoyed being talked to during sex, however had not really felt comfortable showing him, she was generally fairly quiet. She had said she would if he ordered her to, but he had not been willing to do so, therefore he was just trying this out on his own with no real experience.

“Do you like that m’lady?” he asked softly.

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Ilga would have fallen upon Gareth had her orgasm not intensified her grip upon the oak beams. The euphoria invaded her entire being, racing her heart and staggering her breathing. Upon climaxing, every inch of her skin had exploded in goose flesh, followed quickly by a sheen of sweat that was partially the making of exertion, partially the making of ecstasy.

As she came down from her cloud, Ilga hung her head before her, eyes clothes. In another setting, slouched as such with her hands upon her, a casual observer might have thought she'd been tied to a beam and beaten into submission. Of course, beaten into submission wasn't far off from what her body was feeling.

She released one hand, dropping it to Gareth's still clothed upper body, then dropped the other as well. She clenched her fingers into the layers of spring clothing, wanting to rip them from his body. But without the strength to do so herself, she simply rolled off her new lover's body to lay before him, commanding in a whisper, "Take your clothes off. We're not done, Young Gareth."

As she lay there, still panting, she had no idea whether the young noble had achieved his own orgasm. She also had no care as to whether he had. This was about her ... to her.

Gareth had not quite reached her climax when she slowed her pace and then rolled off of him. He did not say anything he did not know what to say. He did as she asked though, taking off the rest of his clothes.

He was quiet on the outside but inside he was angry. Her stopping that way made him feel even more like a piece of meat for her enjoyment. He did not have the confidence or knowledge to take what he wanted, he needed. Instead he just lay there beside her, his only way to show his disappointment was to turn away from her, his cheeks burning with his embarrassment.

"Come to me ... Young Gareth," Ilga said, her breathing not yet back to normal. She tugged at his arm and body, urging him to roll to her, even parting her knees in invitation as she grasped his nearest hand and pulled it into her groin. "Finish me."

Ironically, the me, me, me sound to her words and gestures of her actions were not meant to seem to one sided. Ilga's previous lovers had always been men who took what they wanted, even when the Shieldmaiden hadn't wanted to give it. She wanted satisfaction from Gareth -- more satisfaction -- and any concern as to whether he got some of his own wasn't even worth thinking about. He was a man. Men took what they wanted, so ... wouldn't Gareth?

The real irony was, of course, that part of Ilga's interest in the Earl's still young son had been and was now -- even after Gora -- his naïveté and inexperience. She knew she could control this man to a greater degree than she ever had her previous Viking lovers. She liked that. And yet it still hadn't dawned on her that her commanding presence might have an ill effect on his desire for her ... or his desire to please her.

He rolled back to her as she requested, his hand sliding along her pussy lips, fingers slipping into her pussy. “May I teach you some of what I have learned?” he asked tentatively. He wanted his own pleasure, but he was starting to figure that if he pleased her well enough she might return the favor, or allow him to finish. “The lady Gora told me I was unlike any other lover she’d been with, although I don’t really know if that was a good thing.”

Ilga reached a hand down between their bodies, eagerly grasping Gareth's cock and urging it past his own fondling hand to her pussy. "I'm sure it ... was a compliment."

She lifted her hips to press the tip of his erection against her wet folds, wanting him inside her right away. She released her hold on his shaft and grasped his buttocks, pulling him to her. She said with a desperate tone, "Show me what you have learned, Young Gareth. Show me now."

“That wasn’t really what I meant my lady.” He said with a blush, glad at the moment she could not see him. He finally shrugged and did as she asked, this was pleasing her and that was his goal, in this way he would also enjoy pleasure.

He lowered himself down over her, propping himself on his elbows so as to not smash her. He began to make strokes in and out of her, varying his speed, attempting to tease and please her. His inexperience meant he was not holy successful at what he was attempting to accomplish, however it showed with practice he might be a talented lover for sure.

Ilga lifted her knees, turning them out to open her more, to allow Gareth to penetrate her deeply and smash his groin against that little nub of flesh that caused her such great pleasure. And while it was obvious that he was making a good faith effort at giving her what she wanted from him, Ilga knew that at this rate she would be beaten to soreness before she got what she wanted.

She pushed her arms against Gareth, wiggling her body about to get him out from between her thighs as she commanded, "Wait. Let me free."

Once she'd gotten him from between her legs, she milled about in the darkness for a moment, again telling him politely, "Wait."

Suddenly, a spark illuminated the tiny stateroom for an instant, accompanied by the sharp sound of steel on flint. Again, then again, then again Ilga struck the two objects together until suddenly the simple whale oil lamp took flame. She licked her fingers, then grasped the wick just below the flame. The saliva sizzled, but before she felt pain, Ilga was able to pull her fingers away and smile at the slightly larger flame.

She turned to place the lantern in a dangling hanger over her head, turned to lay down before Gareth again, then pulled him once more between her parted thighs, wasting no time to direct him back inside her. She clutched her hands to his back, looked into his eyes, then said firmly, "Listen to my words ... feel my body ... be a man ... and treat me like a woman."

As they returned to fucking, Ilga guided the Young Gareth in finding just the way to please her ... and within a few minutes ... she had little doubt whatsoever that they were both going to remember this night with great fondness.

He was surprised when she stopped him but then she lit a lamp, presumably so she could see him, and he could see her reactions. Gora had been a good teacher, but admittedly had been better at teaching him other things aside from fucking. She did not have the nerves to tell him if he wasn’t pleasing her. When she wanted him to please her she typically rode.

Her words were helpful. He looked into her eyes, pleased this time that he was pleasing her. “Thank you for teaching me.” He said softly. He let his hand come up to stroke her face as he began to pick up speed, showing a very unique blend of softness she probably was unused to.

He continued to pick up his speed, realizing he was close. He bit his lip as he orgasmic, his seed filling her.

He let his lips brush hers. Before he lay down beside her.

It was a very unusual fuck for Ilga. She'd never taught a Warrior what to do with his dick. Even if she'd tried, she would have been ignored or punished, for the men she'd previous allowed inside her weren't there for her enjoyment anyway.

Gareth was very good at listening to her direction, and it wasn't long before she was digging her finger nails into his back as she came yet again. Even before she'd come down from the summit, she felt and heard him orgasm, too. It was incredible to be laying there, ecstasy rushing through her, and feel her lover erupt with her.

When he laid beside her, Ilga rolled to her side and tossed a knee over his body, sinking her foot between his thighs and giggling at his reaction to the cold toes against his warm thighs. She pulled their bodies tightly together, whispering, "Thank you ... Young Gareth."

She laughed at that, too, adding, "A few more nights like this, and I'll have to stop calling you that."

She listened to his reaction to her statement, then lifted herself up on one elbow to look into his face. Ilga took a more serious tone as she explained, "Ragnan and I are lovers. He is ... a tool ... that I need to establish my settlement in the Western Lands. Assuming that we see him again ... find him already ashore or see him land a day or two behind us ... I will need you to not..."

She didn't finish the statement. She didn't know how to do so.

He lay beside her letting his arm come around her. He felt her cold toes on his thigh and yelped a little. “You’re most welcome m’lady, I’m glad I could please you.” He said softly. “You can call me whatever you want m’lady, I don’t mind.” He was feeling peaceful and content, the confusion about being with Ilga rather than Gora swept away by the orgasm.

However, the afterglow rapidly faded as she leaned over him and spoke again. He had heard rumors that Ragnan was her lover, but was this the place to discuss it. He might be naïve, but he did have pride. He sat up swiftly. “Why didn’t you wait for him, if he is your lover? I am so glad I could please you my lady.” He spaced the words and it came out with a very acidic tone and reeked of sarcasm. “But now that it’s done, you want me to keep quiet, lest your lover who you are using slit your pretty little throat. He clenched his fists. She could tell he wanted to hit her. “You do not need to worry; I will not mention this incident again.” He spat the warm spittle landing on her inner thigh, still damp from their combined fluids.

He dressed rapidly growling stuff under his breath about being done with women.

“Did she throw ye out lad?” Rollo asked as He stalked onto the deck.

“No, I left.” He snarled.

“Being daft again pup?” he asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said. “I’m just here to stand watch with you.”

“Fair enough boy, I can go take a piss then.” The soldier said moving to do just that. Even as he pissed over the side of the boat he commented over his shoulder, “Sounded as if ye did a good enough job.”

“That wasn’t the problem. I served my purpose so I left.” He knew he had to say something the man would understand. This earned a grin and a nod from Rollo. “Good Lad. Better ye than me. I can fight and I’d not want to tangle with Ragnan.” Gareth only sighed and looked away, realizing the truth of his words, Ilga had probably just put his life in danger, and he’d let her without even trying to say no.

Ilga remained quiet as Gareth dressed, preparing to abandon her bed not that he'd done his duty within it. She probably should have said something to him, but what would it have been? Thanks for the great fuck. I'll call on you when I need another one, but don't forget ... by lover will cut you open if he learns about you, so ... shush.

Once he was gone, Ilga simply pulled the elk fir over her body and closed her eyes. She tried to contemplate the ramifications of what had happened her tonight, but before she knew it, she was sound asleep.



She awoke to the sound of the oars creaking in their locks. She dressed and went topside to find the Oarsmen helping the boat along in a mild wind. Rollo nodded to Ilga and pointed down to the disk bucket. When she gave him a curious expression, he called out, "Nearly Mid Sun, m'lady."

Ilga laughed, thinking Rollo was playing with her. But when she looked to the sky and realized that it was close to noon, she understood. She headed to stand near the man at the stern and was about to speak when he asked wryly, "Suffering a bit of exhaustion, m'lady?"

She punched him in the chest for his inappropriate comment, which only caused him to laugh. The two worked to check their latitude and, seeing that they were very close to right on course, made a small alteration and soldiered onward.



When Ilga finally got an opportunity to talk quietly with Gareth, she said in a sincere, quiet voice, "Please forgive me, m'lord ... if you feel that I used you in any way last evening. It was not my intention."

Gareth stood watch with Rollo all the morning and then retired to he hold to sleep only a short time before Ilga rose. He slept restlessly, and then rose to assist the medicine woman. He checked on the woman who had been sick the night before, when Thurgan, the warrior had found him to order him to see Ilga. “I am fine m’lord, you need not worry over me.” Gareth knew this was true, and knew she had suffered far worse from the hand of a male than merely being knocked down, but yet he felt it a good idea to check on her. It was below, seated in a corner, reading a map that Ilga found Gareth. He looked up at her approach, yet did not say anything, preferring to allow her to set the tone. Her apology seemed sincere. “He shrugged, “It was your right to do with me as you pleased m’lady, and you are my lady now that my father gave me over to you.” He offered softly. His words were a front, a wall a shield; they served to insulate him from her. They were strangely formal, a formality that had somewhat diminished as they had gotten to know one another. “I should have thought about Ragnan before I said yes, not that I could have turned you down without enduring your displeasure, but your words to me should not have come as such a shock. I guess it was just a bad time to bring that up m’lady.” He looked down then back up, “If you’ll forgive my bluntness.” He sighed, “It was just like, I was enjoying this time with you, you took the time to teach me how to please you, I was enjoying lying with you afterward. Lady Gora said I was unlike most men she’d ever met, apparently as a man I am not supposed to enjoy such a time, but I do, and I felt some sort of moment or connection to you and then poof it was shattered.” He eventually stopped talking, having summed up without directly saying that she had fucked up the afterglow and their time to cuddle. However, He had things mixed up in his head. To him what they did could not be emotion free, it was not just sex, when to her, and it seemingly had been just sex.

As she listened to Gareth's explanation and disappointment, Ilga couldn't help but think of Gora's morning recaps of her sexual encounters with the young man. Gora had become emotionally attached to Gareth quickly, falling in love with him she'd admitted when her Lady asked.

That love -- and the fact that she was likely carrying the Noble's child -- was the reason Ilga had left the woman behind and, ultimately, given her her freedom. It had not her uselessness as a plaything for her Warriors. Gora could have pleasured her men for months to come if Ilga had demanded it, before retiring to the kitchen or stables for dirty work.

Others of Ilga's sexual servants had become pregnant over the years, obviously, but the Shieldmaiden had never given them their freedom because of it. The Medicine Woman had plenty of ways of terminating a pregnancy without doing too much damage to the woman in question ... usually, anyway.

No, the special relationship that existed between the two -- Ilga's slave and her new ally -- had been different, and it had warranted freeing the woman and presenting Gareth with the opportunity to become a father or dismiss the bastard child. Ilga was happy that he'd chosen the former. It offered her a bit of control over both Gareth and Ilga, and once the settlement was established and secured, she planned on utilizing that power.

So, why had she wanted to fuck Gareth so badly if she also wanted him to maintain his relationship -- be it long distance, for now -- with Gora. Honestly, it came back to that same issue: power. Ilga's previous lovers had always had control over her in bed, and sometimes out of it, too. To be the Leader she wanted to be -- again, in bed and out -- she needed a different kind of man. A man like Gareth.

But she didn't feel love for the man, not like Gora had and still did. Gareth, like Lothbrook and Ragnan, was just a tool. She would use him to communicate with the Nobles and Royals in the Western Lands, and she would use him in bed to find her release from the pressures and horrors of leading a warrior force in a harsh land.

Would she discard him in the end, as she had Lothbrook and intended to do with Ragnan when the time was right? It was too early to tell, but she doubted it, at least now.

Ilga moved closer to Gareth and, with a sincere tone yet again, explained, "I have never had a mate who I could be ... close to, Young Gareth. I have never been as one with a man. I fuck. I give pleasure ... and if I am lucky, I receive it in return. You are different than other men, as Gora told you. I ... I would like to learn to be close to a man ... learn how to curl up in a man's arms and feel safe ... and appreciated for more than my hole."

She reached out and touched her fingers to his chin in a soft way. "Would you like to teach me this?"

A wiser man probably would have pushed her hand away. Could have told her no, would have been able to sort out his feelings for Ilga, Gora, and not confused them. However he was young and he had no idea of Gora’s true feelings for him. The longer he was away from her the more he was confused about those feelings he had for her. They were becoming mixed up with the lust feelings for Ilga, and now her words were soft, sweet, and described what he wanted.

He cleared his throat, “I would like that.” He offered. “He didn’t regret his words at that moment, didn’t consider Gora in that moment that would come later.

“I would like that.”

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Ilga stared at Gareth for a moment, smiled with delight, then only said, "Good. We start tonight."

Her response made it sound as if Gareth had agreed to practice her sword play or archery. She hadn't meant it to sound as such. It just had.

"M'lady...?"

Ilga turned to look at Rollo, who continued, "The watch change...?"

"Yes, yes ... make it happen."

She looked back to Gareth for a moment, then turned away to handle her duties as commander of the boat. She threw orders about with quickness and authority, and within just minutes the previously sleepy atmosphere was alive with fresh arms and legs at the oars, platters and bowls of both fresh and salted foods distributing about the boat, and more.

When at last every thing was squared away, Ilga turned to look for Gareth again but found him unavailable*. She was disappointed, but shrugged that emotion away. She moved to the bow of the boat and climbed up the steps behind the dragon's head that decorated the front of the boat and -- as often happened -- scared those on shore when the devilish icon was first sighted coming forward. She searched the sea again for Ragnan's boat, but saw nothing. She dropped down to the deck, joked with her Warriors and Shieldmaidens, then spent the next few hours gambling with the adults, playing games with the children, practicing hand to hand with a young Warrior-to-be, and fantasizing about her lesson with Gareth.

At noon, Rollo had checked the boat's latitudinal location and found them a bit too far south. Ilga ordered their course a bit more northerly, with hopes of being back where they should be by sun up the following day, then excused herself from the main deck. Down below, she was bathed by one of her servants with fresh water collected by the sails in buckets during a late afternoon shower.

Finally, as the sun dropped beyond the horizon, she sent for Gareth. She was dressed in little more than a thin, woolen night shirt through which her stiffened nipples were easily seen. There was food and drink and burning lanterns. There was everything Ilga knew Gora had often prepared for Gareth on the nights he came to her.

She was ready. And ... she was nervous.

“Good,” is all she said. Gareth only shrugged and nodded, not sure what to make of her response. He was soon left to his own thoughts as she went away. Gareth continued what he had been working on. He was working on redrawing the map Ilga had originally shown him. He was labeling it neatly with the names they had for places when appropriate, as well as filling in further details as to the course they had taken so far. He kept this Last part in a written log, noting the days, the readings that she had gotten at noon, etc. She had never told him to do this, but he figured keeping such information would be helpful. It seemed like a useful way to spend his time.

Later he spent time learning some basic things about the sea, how to tie the knots used by the sailors, and even talked to Rollo about how to steer the ship. Later he helped the women to prepare food. He knew some of it would be for his time with Ilga that evening. He too was somewhat nervous, their first time had felt wrong, confusing for sure, and he wondered how this time would be different, if it would be such.

He came to her and slipped into the private space. “Good evening m’lady.” He offered summoning up a slightly shy smile. “May I say that you look lovely this evening?” as he said that, the more light this time showed his blush, for saying that admitted that he had seen her in her revealing clothing, could see how it clung to her curves flattering them perfectly. “Thank you for having me come to dinner with you.” He said, still sounding formal, as if they were genuinely trying to court one another, and not on a ship bound for distant lands and they hadn’t already fucked like mad rabbits the night before.

“Good evening m’lady.”

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"Good evening, m'lord," Ilga replied, gesturing him to fully enter and close the door behind him. She wished that the little stateroom was larger than barely a man's height across and long, but even as small as it was, it was private. Well, except for the sounds of ecstasy that had escaped through the oak bulkhead the night before and, with any luck, would escape again tonight.

“May I say that you look lovely this evening?”

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Ilga's lips widened as she saw Gareth's face darken with a flood of blood. The man upon whose cock she'd found such pleasure the night before was blushing for complimenting her appearance...? That, she thought, was simply darling.

She was in the middle of the bed, on her knees with her haunches upon her ankles. She rose her body up a bit straighter, causing her firm breasts to press even harder against the thin cloth. She responded politely, "Thank you."

“Thank you for having me come to dinner with you.”

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"Thank you for coming," she responded without hesitation. She gestured him to the mattress and leaned to the ledge along the bulkhead to retrieve the clay jug of wine. "Drink...?"

She retrieved the platters of food and laid them out between them, and soon they were devouring the meal while talking about the Western Lands. At one point, Ilga said, "I would like you to begin teaching me their language. If I am going to rule a settlement within the Western Barbarians, I will need to know how to talk to them."

It was ironic that Ilga referred to the current residents of the English Isles as barbarians. Every since the first Viking long boats began landing on the Isles almost 300 years earlier, the residents there had referred to the Vikings as the barbarians. And, of course, they had been. In many cases, they still were. They arrived, they kicked ass, they left ... with gold, silver, slaves, and more. If ever there had been a truer definition of barbarian...

Ilga had a difficult time keeping the conversation going with Gareth, despite the great interest she had for all things Western. The problem, of course, was that she wanted to get naked and get fucked. But ... tonight was supposed to be different. Gareth was going to introduce Ilga to something new tonight, a man who cared for more than just his own pleasure and a man who wanted his lover to care about more than just her own pleasure.

This was, of course, a foreign concept to Ilga. She'd never loved before, nor had she been loved before. And, to be honest, she didn't know whether or not she was even capable of the act. She was a Shieldmaiden, a woman of war and action. Love was for peasants and parents.

Eventually, the food and drink was tapped, and Ilga was ready for the next phase of this new experience...

Her responses were very polite, even if they seemingly both felt awkward. As she sat up his throat went dry. This was the closest look he’d gotten at her breasts in decent lighting, even barely covered like this. “Mmm.” He actually made a soft noise of appreciation at that.

He covered up that noise by looking to the food, “Mmm, looks good.” He said beginning to eat. He spoke to her of the western lands, tales he had heard from his mentor “There was this king, his name was Arthur, and he gathered his warriors, they called themselves knights and they met around a round table, and were a sworn brotherhood.” He went on to tell some tales of Arthur.

He also began to teach her some greetings in the local languages, including what would become English, and old Celtic languages. However the conversation soon died out. He lay a hand over hers, feeling its strength. Her skin was a combination of soft and rough. He loved the contrasts of delicacy and strength in just the feeling of her hand. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, gently playing kisses over her knuckles. Gora used to kiss all over him, although rarely his lips, something he wished she’d done more of. However he’d learned that far more places were sensitive on a person than their genitals. He gently turned her hand over, holding it to his cheek, letting his facial hair tickle her palm. He kissed along her wrist, letting his tongue play over her skin. He didn't say anything, he let his actions speak for him.

As Gareth's lips began playing at the inside of her wrist, a shiver ran up Ilga's spine, causing her body to tense as she giggled like a little girl. She only said, "Tickles."

But it felt good, too, which her expression and tone must have implied as Gareth continued to work his lips and the tip of his tongue against her freshly cleaned skin. As he continued to kiss her, Ilga got closer to Gareth in smallish movements. And while the distance of their proximity was shrinking, it was the slow rise of her gown up her otherwise naked thighs that was the most obvious effect of her movement.

As the young man's lips reached the inside of her elbow, now causing Ilga's breathing to noticeably change, she reached for his other hand and pulled it under her gown to the inside of her thigh, so close that he could likely feel the heat coming from her excited hole and the juices already flowing from it. Despite the forwardness of the move, Ilga whispered, "Take you time, Young Gareth. Teach me to take my time. Teach me..."

She wanted to use the word love in that sentence, but it was such a foreign concept to her. Since the deaths of her parents, the Shieldmaiden had never known love. Would she ever know it again...?

Gareth continued his slow kissing up her arm, tongue swirling in small circles. It stroked over the pulse point in her elbow. By this point he could hear the hitching in her breathing that suggested he was having an effect on her.

He could feel the delicate smoothness of the bare skin of her inner thigh. “So soft.” He murmured his eyes lifting to meet hers. She requested he teach her to go slow and he nodded. He leaned in his lips finding hers, his left hand stroking the side of her neck gently pulling her into the kiss, letting their lips meet with gentle pressure. He found it somewhat weird that he was the teacher, so new were sexual relationships to him; however, she had obviously never done something like this before. It was just proof that a person could learn something from anyone they came across, a belief that Gareth held onto tightly.