Watching Over You - Chapter 5
Title: Watching Over You - Chapter 5
Author: Bluespire
Pairing: Ville/Bam, hinting at Ville/Mige and Ville/OC
Summary: Ville is a Viking warrior, eldest son of Kari, a Viking Jarl. Bam is a slave (called a thrall). What happens when Ville pays Bam's slave price and moves him from the kitchens into his bed?
Rating: Will eventually be NC-17
Disclaimer: While Ville, Bam, Mige, Kari, Anita, Jesse and some of the others mentioned within this story are real people, the events that take place in this work of fiction are not real. No harm or offense is meant by the characters and events depicted within.
Warnings: This thing reads like a bad historical romance novel. Minimal research was done so it will likely be wildly inaccurate. Much suspension of disbelief is required.
Author's Notes:This was started from a drabble and just kept going. Written and posted with minimal editing. Flying by the seat of my pants over here.
Kiss
Ville gave Bam a week to learn his new duties before training started. After that they trained in the afternoons for an hour or two. Bam spent the rest of his time observing and assisting Ville and the others in their training. He was also learning to maintain and repair the warriors’ weapons.
Bam did not find his duties too difficult. He was responsible for Ville’s room, keeping the floor rushes clean, keeping the fireplace stocked with wood and the fire going at night, keeping Ville’s sleeping furs and clothes clean and well maintained. And he had to empty the chamber pot. Ville ate with the others in the hall so Bam had no serving duties. He was used to working hard in the kitchens. This new work, including the work with the weapons, was challenging because it was different but not so strenuous, all but the training.
If Bam was honest with himself, he’d admit that the most difficult part was his proximity to Ville. The man unsettled him. The icy glare was gone but Ville still watched him. Bam never knew what to expect. Ville was kind and patient one moment and angry the next. His heart raced with excitement when Ville was near but whether it was fear or something else that set his blood galloping, Bam knew not.
The worst of it was at night. Bam slept in his bedroll near the fire on the floor in Ville’s room. Bam would usually drift off to sleep alone but awaken when Ville retired. Ville was always relatively quiet removing his outer clothing and getting into bed but Bam couldn’t help listening nonetheless. Sometimes he watched surreptitiously from beneath the edge of his blanket. The sight always left his breath short.
Sometimes Ville brought someone back to his rooms with him. Again, they were quiet, probably believing that Bam remained asleep. He knew that if he stirred, Ville would readily excuse him but he never did, avoiding the interaction by pretending slumber. On those nights, Bam dare not peek but he couldn’t help listening.
It left him with a hollow feeling.
***
Bam awoke to quiet laughter as Ville’s door was being pushed open.
“Quiet now, Gwendolyn. My man is asleep,” Ville’s whisper came.
Gwendolyn. Bam knew her from the kitchens. She was beautiful, blonde and shapely, if not a bit silly.
“Your man… is that Bam then?” Gwendolyn asked.
Bam could hear Ville walking closer, stopping dangerously near where Bam slept on the floor, pausing then turning.
“Yes,” he answered. “Do you know him?”
“Of course.”
Bam heard rustling on the bed, then a feminine giggle.
“Did you bed him?”
More giggling, then some quieter wet noises before Gwendolyn answered. “No, not that I would have minded. But he was Missy’s.”
“Missy?” Ville’s voice had an edge to it that made the muscles in Bam’s back tense.
“She tends the garden and is outdoors a lot. Doesn’t do a lot of serving, so you might not know her. She’s a mouse of a thing, but she fancied Bam so we left him alone.”
“You speak in the past tense.”
“Well, they have no chance to see one another now, do they?”
Bam held his breath, waiting to hear by Ville’s voice if he was angry or not.
“That’s right,” Ville replied. His voice seemed calm enough but there was still something in it. Bam would have to think on it later.
Bam squeezed his eyes closed and tried to control his breathing, preparing himself for what he knew was to follow when Ville spoke again.
“Sweetheart. I think I will sleep alone tonight after all. My old wounds are aching with the cold.”
“Awww!” Gwendolyn pouted. “Let me have a chance to warm you.”
“Not tonight, darling. Go now.”
Gwendolyn huffed in disappointment but Bam could hear her getting up, followed by her light steps leaving the room.
Ville lay in silence for several moments before getting up and walking to the fire. When Bam heard him retrieving a piece of wood, Bam pretended to rouse and pulled the blankets from his face.
“Let me, sir. You should not have to get out of your bed for this.”
Ville stopped and turned to look at Bam, his green eyes searching before he nodded and handed Bam the piece of wood, returning to his sleeping furs.
Bam took his time feeding and stoking the fire. He could feel Ville’s eyes on him from where he lay propped up on his sleeping pallet. When, finally, the fire was in a nice blaze and there were no adjustments left to be made, he turned and bowed slightly. “Is there anything else you’ll be needing just now, sir?”
“Were you awake when Gwendolyn was here, Bam?”
Bam was startled at the question.
“Back to the tongue-tied Bam from the kitchens,” Ville murmured. “Perhaps you can answer this question. Did you bed Missy?”
“I…” Bam took a deep breath through his nose and forced himself to answer. “I did not.”
“Why not?” Ville asked.
“Missy never wanted to. She was afeared of having a child born into slavery.”
“Right-good concern.” Ville nodded. “And did you bed any other women?”
Bam shook his head. "No, never.”
Bam held his breath as Ville stood and walked toward him stopping when they were face to face. “Why not?” he asked quietly.
“It… it just never seemed…”
Ville laughed low in his throat. “And what about men? Have you ever been bedded by a man, Bam?”
Bam could feel Ville’s breath ghost over his face. Of course the answer was ‘no’ but Bam hesitated. He caught his breath as Ville, unbelievably, took a step closer and reached for his hands, drawing them up and over his head to rest on the mantle above the fire, holding them there while he carefully eased his knee between Bam’s legs.
Bam let his breath out then in a carefully controlled exhale and closed his eyes, turning his head to try desperately to get some distance from Ville.
“Did you let any of those strapping kitchen lads this close? Did you let them press against you in the heat of the kitchens?” Ville pushed his knee up farther until his thigh revealed the hardness between Bam’s legs. “Did they feel your manhood this swollen for them? Answer me, Bam.”
Bam took a breath in and was overwhelmed as Ville’s scent filled his head. “No, never,” Bam whispered.
Ville chuckled and took a step back. Bam felt suddenly chilled by the air where Ville’s body was once pressed against his.
“A virgin then. What is your age, little Bam?”
“S, se, seventeen,” Bam got out.
“Seventeen? I went on my first raid at sixteen. You have not lived but we shall amend that. Tell me, have you even been kissed?”
“No.” Bam shook his head, his eyes dropping to where he’d clamped his hands in front of his crotch. Bam felt Ville’s finger beneath his chin and was forced to meet his eyes.
“Well, let’s start there,” Ville breathed before his mouth clamped down over Bam’s.
The kiss was nothing like Bam imagined it would be. And in the depth of the night, listening to Ville’s breathing, or worse yet, listening to him make love to one of the serving girls, Bam had imagined plenty. Ville’s mouth was hard and demanding, but he didn’t take or invade. He licked. He coaxed. He invited and encouraged. Bam opened to him and the feeling reminded him of the time he’d been allowed to drink mead by the kitchen fires. His mind felt cloudy and his body warm. Ville’s tongue was slick and smooth and before long he had Bam’s tongue joining in. Bam’s breath was coming in pants when Ville groaned lightly and broke the kiss, again putting a step between them.
Bam risked a glance at Ville’s face and found his intense searching expression had returned.
After a moment Ville looped his finger in Bam’s tunic and pulled. “Join me in my bed this night… for warmth. The cold is bothering my wounds.”
Bam nodded and followed Ville to his sleeping pallet. Once under the furs, Ville pulled Bam against his chest, burying his face in the curls at Bam’s nape and tangling their legs together. Bam knew that he should think this odd but it seemed very natural. He felt at ease immediately.
“Ville?” Bam risked.
“Yes, Bam, what is it?”
“If you wanted warmth, why did you not let Gwendolyn stay? She offered. It seemed as though she really wanted to.”
Ville was quiet so long that Bam was afraid he wasn’t going to answer but finally he spoke. “I didn’t want her. My father would like me to choose a woman and so I dally, to please him. But it’s not what I want.”
Bam knew better than to ask more, surprised that Ville had offerred this much. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to drift off. Sleep found him easily.
***
Chapter 6 - Custom
Author: Bluespire
Pairing: Ville/Bam, hinting at Ville/Mige and Ville/OC
Summary: Ville is a Viking warrior, eldest son of Kari, a Viking Jarl. Bam is a slave (called a thrall). What happens when Ville pays Bam's slave price and moves him from the kitchens into his bed?
Rating: Will eventually be NC-17
Disclaimer: While Ville, Bam, Mige, Kari, Anita, Jesse and some of the others mentioned within this story are real people, the events that take place in this work of fiction are not real. No harm or offense is meant by the characters and events depicted within.
Warnings: This thing reads like a bad historical romance novel. Minimal research was done so it will likely be wildly inaccurate. Much suspension of disbelief is required.
Author's Notes:This was started from a drabble and just kept going. Written and posted with minimal editing. Flying by the seat of my pants over here.
Kiss
Ville gave Bam a week to learn his new duties before training started. After that they trained in the afternoons for an hour or two. Bam spent the rest of his time observing and assisting Ville and the others in their training. He was also learning to maintain and repair the warriors’ weapons.
Bam did not find his duties too difficult. He was responsible for Ville’s room, keeping the floor rushes clean, keeping the fireplace stocked with wood and the fire going at night, keeping Ville’s sleeping furs and clothes clean and well maintained. And he had to empty the chamber pot. Ville ate with the others in the hall so Bam had no serving duties. He was used to working hard in the kitchens. This new work, including the work with the weapons, was challenging because it was different but not so strenuous, all but the training.
If Bam was honest with himself, he’d admit that the most difficult part was his proximity to Ville. The man unsettled him. The icy glare was gone but Ville still watched him. Bam never knew what to expect. Ville was kind and patient one moment and angry the next. His heart raced with excitement when Ville was near but whether it was fear or something else that set his blood galloping, Bam knew not.
The worst of it was at night. Bam slept in his bedroll near the fire on the floor in Ville’s room. Bam would usually drift off to sleep alone but awaken when Ville retired. Ville was always relatively quiet removing his outer clothing and getting into bed but Bam couldn’t help listening nonetheless. Sometimes he watched surreptitiously from beneath the edge of his blanket. The sight always left his breath short.
Sometimes Ville brought someone back to his rooms with him. Again, they were quiet, probably believing that Bam remained asleep. He knew that if he stirred, Ville would readily excuse him but he never did, avoiding the interaction by pretending slumber. On those nights, Bam dare not peek but he couldn’t help listening.
It left him with a hollow feeling.
***
Bam awoke to quiet laughter as Ville’s door was being pushed open.
“Quiet now, Gwendolyn. My man is asleep,” Ville’s whisper came.
Gwendolyn. Bam knew her from the kitchens. She was beautiful, blonde and shapely, if not a bit silly.
“Your man… is that Bam then?” Gwendolyn asked.
Bam could hear Ville walking closer, stopping dangerously near where Bam slept on the floor, pausing then turning.
“Yes,” he answered. “Do you know him?”
“Of course.”
Bam heard rustling on the bed, then a feminine giggle.
“Did you bed him?”
More giggling, then some quieter wet noises before Gwendolyn answered. “No, not that I would have minded. But he was Missy’s.”
“Missy?” Ville’s voice had an edge to it that made the muscles in Bam’s back tense.
“She tends the garden and is outdoors a lot. Doesn’t do a lot of serving, so you might not know her. She’s a mouse of a thing, but she fancied Bam so we left him alone.”
“You speak in the past tense.”
“Well, they have no chance to see one another now, do they?”
Bam held his breath, waiting to hear by Ville’s voice if he was angry or not.
“That’s right,” Ville replied. His voice seemed calm enough but there was still something in it. Bam would have to think on it later.
Bam squeezed his eyes closed and tried to control his breathing, preparing himself for what he knew was to follow when Ville spoke again.
“Sweetheart. I think I will sleep alone tonight after all. My old wounds are aching with the cold.”
“Awww!” Gwendolyn pouted. “Let me have a chance to warm you.”
“Not tonight, darling. Go now.”
Gwendolyn huffed in disappointment but Bam could hear her getting up, followed by her light steps leaving the room.
Ville lay in silence for several moments before getting up and walking to the fire. When Bam heard him retrieving a piece of wood, Bam pretended to rouse and pulled the blankets from his face.
“Let me, sir. You should not have to get out of your bed for this.”
Ville stopped and turned to look at Bam, his green eyes searching before he nodded and handed Bam the piece of wood, returning to his sleeping furs.
Bam took his time feeding and stoking the fire. He could feel Ville’s eyes on him from where he lay propped up on his sleeping pallet. When, finally, the fire was in a nice blaze and there were no adjustments left to be made, he turned and bowed slightly. “Is there anything else you’ll be needing just now, sir?”
“Were you awake when Gwendolyn was here, Bam?”
Bam was startled at the question.
“Back to the tongue-tied Bam from the kitchens,” Ville murmured. “Perhaps you can answer this question. Did you bed Missy?”
“I…” Bam took a deep breath through his nose and forced himself to answer. “I did not.”
“Why not?” Ville asked.
“Missy never wanted to. She was afeared of having a child born into slavery.”
“Right-good concern.” Ville nodded. “And did you bed any other women?”
Bam shook his head. "No, never.”
Bam held his breath as Ville stood and walked toward him stopping when they were face to face. “Why not?” he asked quietly.
“It… it just never seemed…”
Ville laughed low in his throat. “And what about men? Have you ever been bedded by a man, Bam?”
Bam could feel Ville’s breath ghost over his face. Of course the answer was ‘no’ but Bam hesitated. He caught his breath as Ville, unbelievably, took a step closer and reached for his hands, drawing them up and over his head to rest on the mantle above the fire, holding them there while he carefully eased his knee between Bam’s legs.
Bam let his breath out then in a carefully controlled exhale and closed his eyes, turning his head to try desperately to get some distance from Ville.
“Did you let any of those strapping kitchen lads this close? Did you let them press against you in the heat of the kitchens?” Ville pushed his knee up farther until his thigh revealed the hardness between Bam’s legs. “Did they feel your manhood this swollen for them? Answer me, Bam.”
Bam took a breath in and was overwhelmed as Ville’s scent filled his head. “No, never,” Bam whispered.
Ville chuckled and took a step back. Bam felt suddenly chilled by the air where Ville’s body was once pressed against his.
“A virgin then. What is your age, little Bam?”
“S, se, seventeen,” Bam got out.
“Seventeen? I went on my first raid at sixteen. You have not lived but we shall amend that. Tell me, have you even been kissed?”
“No.” Bam shook his head, his eyes dropping to where he’d clamped his hands in front of his crotch. Bam felt Ville’s finger beneath his chin and was forced to meet his eyes.
“Well, let’s start there,” Ville breathed before his mouth clamped down over Bam’s.
The kiss was nothing like Bam imagined it would be. And in the depth of the night, listening to Ville’s breathing, or worse yet, listening to him make love to one of the serving girls, Bam had imagined plenty. Ville’s mouth was hard and demanding, but he didn’t take or invade. He licked. He coaxed. He invited and encouraged. Bam opened to him and the feeling reminded him of the time he’d been allowed to drink mead by the kitchen fires. His mind felt cloudy and his body warm. Ville’s tongue was slick and smooth and before long he had Bam’s tongue joining in. Bam’s breath was coming in pants when Ville groaned lightly and broke the kiss, again putting a step between them.
Bam risked a glance at Ville’s face and found his intense searching expression had returned.
After a moment Ville looped his finger in Bam’s tunic and pulled. “Join me in my bed this night… for warmth. The cold is bothering my wounds.”
Bam nodded and followed Ville to his sleeping pallet. Once under the furs, Ville pulled Bam against his chest, burying his face in the curls at Bam’s nape and tangling their legs together. Bam knew that he should think this odd but it seemed very natural. He felt at ease immediately.
“Ville?” Bam risked.
“Yes, Bam, what is it?”
“If you wanted warmth, why did you not let Gwendolyn stay? She offered. It seemed as though she really wanted to.”
Ville was quiet so long that Bam was afraid he wasn’t going to answer but finally he spoke. “I didn’t want her. My father would like me to choose a woman and so I dally, to please him. But it’s not what I want.”
Bam knew better than to ask more, surprised that Ville had offerred this much. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to drift off. Sleep found him easily.
***
Chapter 6 - Custom