Page 34 of Last Thrall of Asgard

“Andyouare ready for breakfast, aren’t you?” He whirled away from me, keeping only the visible side of his face within range. “Since we’ve already brought him up, I think I know exactly who to send you to next.”

“Loki—”

“If you’re so interested in stories, no one tells them quite like—”

He tapped me in the center of my chest, and as the scenery around me changed yet again, I heard Loki’s final word:

“—Thor.”

The following chapter contains:

Food Play and Rimming.

Chapter five

The Glutton

LOKI

Iwasn’t going to look.

I wasn’t.

Not this time.

Not this time!

I did not need to watch.

Butfuck me. I went anyway, right on Oli’s heels.

OLI

Which realm I had been transported to was immediately apparent. Mostly because of the array of drunken, passed out dwarves littering the hall—a massive feasting hall with walls that gleamed as if made of gold.

Nidavellir.

The dwarves, or dark elves as they were sometimes called, might be shorter than the average man, but their ingenuity with crafting and building meant everything they made was grand, fit for giants. Or for visiting gods from other realms who were as large as giants. As I pivoted to take in the scene of great revelry, which had long since ended, one partaker remained in good spirits, still eating and drinking at the long table.

“You’re no dwarf!” He boomed—the real reason he was thought to command storms.

Thor, just as I’d seen him in Balder’s sweet memory with his brothers.

Could lightning really fly from his fingertips and his voice command clouds to roll in with a downpour? Right now, he looked more like a gluttonous warrior having his fill after a battle. But the battling was all over now, wasn’t it?

“On some quest, mortal?” Thor turned to me while taking a bite of meat off a bone. He was a beast of a man that made mewonder how close he might be in size to Freyr. Not as large, according to lore, but proportionate to his towering height and broadness, with muscles bulging.

He had removed any tunic or true armor, and instead, was bare chested with leather straps crisscrossing his pecs, holding pauldrons to his shoulders lined with fur. From his belt hung leather straps as well like the mimic of a tunic, but his thighs were naked too. There was an undergarment there but no trousers, and I could see clear to the tops of his hips through those strips of leather, and the shapely curve of the ass he sat upon.

“‘Tis rare to see your kind in these halls. Have a seat! I am in need of more company, having outlasted all my friends.” He laughed.

He had outlasted them indeed. I didn’t see a single dwarf awake.

As I moved toward Thor over slumbering and even drooling dwarves, I took in more of the warrior god. His hair was my color with a few darker highlights in bloodier red, a curly mane, almost as wild as Freyr’s and as long as Heimdall’s to his waist. Except one side had a deep, scalp-close shave, and upon his skin there was a blue tattooed rune often associated with his name that meantthunder.

His beard was the fullest of the gods so far, to mid-chest, braided and adorned with iron baubles. Iron gloves rested on the table beside him, with the shape of Mjolnir, Thor’s fabled hammer, branded upon their wrists, for they helped him to wield it.

If Freyr and Balder were the most beloved of the gods among themselves, then Thor was the most beloved among mortals. I had yet to meet a single noble who didn’t wear a finely crafted pendant that looked like Mjolnir. More for fashion these days than belief, but still. Free men and slaves crafted our owncrude approximations, because to embody Thor was to be brave, strong, fierce, and to survive any hardship.

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