Page 18 of Valkyrie Confused

He doesn’t wait to be asked again. He leaves theparamana—that’s what they call the large serving tray apparently—on the empty table between us and Room Five and sits on my other side.

“Aren’t you eating?” I ask, as I poke at the admittedly tender meat on my plate.

He mock-shivers. “Rabbit?Never.”

When I flounder for a response, he chuckles. “I’ve been taste-testingeverything for the past two hours.” He looks from me to Arnlaug. “Can’t remember the last time I was this stuffed.”

Yeah, okay. Like I’d miss the sexual innuendo.

Arnlaug ducks his head and shovels stew and mashed potatoes into his mouth like there’s no tomorrow.

I arch an eyebrow at Panos, who gives me the most innocent of shrugs. “Guess he likes my meat.”

I can’t stifle the laugh that bubbles up my throat, and Panos grins.

Arnlaug raises his gaze from his food, to roll his eyes. “I do like how soft it is,” he says. “Pity that it’s tiny.”

“The portion,” Panos clarifies.

“Of course,” I say.

He reaches for my fork and uses it to separate a bite of stew. I’m about to tell him Ireallydon’t appreciate people eating from my plate, when he brings the forkful to my lips. “Open wide,” he says.

And now my mind is rolling down the gutter and splashing around the filth there, as I imagine kneeling at his feet and spreading my lips over the tip of his cock. Or maybe Arnlaug would be the one kneeling, and I’d watch him pleasure Panos while Mr. Long buzzed against my clit.

“Come on. You know you want to.” Panos’s voice returns me to the here and now. “Just a little nibble? For me?”

I definitely hate being fed—it’s infantilizing—but I open my mouth anyway, because his meat smells divine, and his voice is smooth like honey and could get me to do virtually anything.

The explosion of flavors in my mouth makes me moan. I chew slowly, savoring the succulent delicacy. “I’m sorry Bugs, but you’re delicious.” I reclaim my fork from Panos and moan around another mouthful.

Panos groans, and I’m pretty sure Arnlaug kicks him under the table.

I swallow faster this time and say, “So, how did you two meet?”

“Fishing accident,” Arnlaug says, as Panos replies, “He broke my flute.”

Huh?

Arnlaug dabs the corners of his mouth with a napkin and sits back, giving what’s left of his meal a forlorn look. “A long time ago, I took some time off… work, and Greece seemed like the perfect place to hide. From responsibility.” He speaks slowly, carefully, as if to make sure I follow, though his English is perfectly clear if a little guttural. “You know, get closer to nature, fish my own lunch,etcetera.” He enunciates the last word very authentically, and it strikes me as funny. “Any way, one day, I’m in my… wild mindset, and this one”—he indicates Panos with a tilt of his head—“thinks it’s a good idea to sneak up on a huge, hairy b—“

“Beast of a man,” Panos interjects.

“Right.” Arnlaug shifts in his seat and picks at a slice of bread, tearing holes in the spongy center but not using it to soak up the yummy sauce.

I, on the other hand, dab some bread in the sauce on my plate and toss it in my mouth—yum—while he goes on. “So he sees a big man, up to his thighs in Lousios river and pawing at fish—“

“You were trying to catch fish with your hands?” I ask around a mouthful of the creamiest, fluffiest, most delicious, mashed potatoes I’ve ever tasted.

“Um… I…”

“It was part of hisZenprocess,” Panos supplies, before leaning back to ask the couple from Five if they feel like dessert.

They’d apparently love some, so he excuses himself and gets up. He props theparamanaon his shoulder and goes to pick up their table. I can’t say for sure that Arnlaug is staring at Panos’s ass, because I may be staring at it too, but I bet good money that he is.

When I return my attention to him, he drops his gaze to the crumbs he’s made on the tablecloth and starts picking them up, pressing the pad of his thumb to them, and depositing them in his napkin.

“So he sees you, and…?” I prod.

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