Viking Raider

Elias had been taken during a raid.

His village had been small and peaceful. The longships had appeared on the horizon at dawn, and by midday, everything he had ever known was burning.

He had been dragged onto one of the ships along with a handful of other captives. Most were sold at the first port. Elias was kept.

The reason was the tall, broad Viking who had taken him.

His name was Ragnar.

He was everything the stories said Vikings were — tall, muscular, covered in tattoos and scars, with long braided hair and a beard. He looked at Elias like he was a prize he had won in battle.

And in a way, he had.

On the first night aboard the ship, Ragnar took Elias to his private quarters at the stern.

“On your knees,” Ragnar said, voice low and rough.

Elias obeyed.

Ragnar freed his cock — thick, heavy, and already hard. He grabbed Elias by the hair and guided himself into Elias’s mouth.

“You’re mine now,” Ragnar growled as Elias sucked him. “My thrall. My bed warmer. My fucktoy.”

Elias moaned around Ragnar’s cock.

Ragnar used his mouth roughly, fucking his throat until tears streamed down Elias’s face. When he finally pulled out, he spun Elias around and bent him over the small bed.

He didn’t bother with much prep. He spat on his cock and pushed inside Elias with one brutal thrust.

Elias cried out.

Ragnar didn’t stop. He fucked Elias with deep, powerful strokes, growling filthy things in his ear the entire time.

“You were made for this,” Ragnar snarled. “Made to take Viking cock. Made to be bred and claimed.”

Elias could only moan, completely overwhelmed.

Ragnar fucked him until Elias came untouched, his cock pulsing as he made a mess of the furs beneath him. Ragnar followed soon after, burying himself deep and flooding Elias’s insides with thick ropes of cum.

He stayed inside him for a long moment.

Then he pulled out and turned Elias around. He grabbed his chin and forced him to look up.

“You’re not going back,” Ragnar said. “You belong to me now. Forever.”

Elias was still shaking, cum leaking down his thighs.

He should have been terrified.

Instead, he whispered,

“Yes, my lord.”

Ragnar smiled — sharp, satisfied, and possessive.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m never letting you go.”

He kissed Elias then — rough and claiming.

And Elias knew, with terrifying clarity, that he would follow this Viking anywhere.