Rivals' Wager

NOTE: This story may NOT be re-posted anywhere else without my clear permission. This story was made without AI, and may NOT be used to train AI models of any kind for any purpose.

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Once every third year, just before the first thaw of spring, warrior bands from across the human kingdoms made camp at the head of Westward Fjord. For a month, they contended against each other in training and games by day, then retired to taverns and alehouses by night for boasting, carousing, and the occasional brawl. This blademoot was held even in times of war, but in those days of smaller feuds there were over a dozen bands gathered to King Hakon's stout-walled city.

Hither came Rohn Greenshanks and his fearsome archers from the borders of the elvish woods, and the vigilant company of the Fatebound Kindred. The Roving Swords of Old Dena came from out of the central steppe to greet their ancient cousins, the reavers of Captain Vedis, the brazen queen of the outer seas. Even the heroes among the reindeer herders of the far tundra came to test their mettle against what they called the "giants of the southlands." Among this mighty company, there were two who distinguished themselves beyond all others.

Beor Raven-Friend was the strong arm of the Sea King's Thanes to the south, equally at home on the oar-bench, steppe, or taiga. Only Ostenn Cloudbrow and Triethy Half-Giantess were taller than him, and none could best his record in the ox-yoke toss. Last winter, his boundless vigor had pursued the dread aurochs of the Burrowmoors across leagues of trackless country. The same great strength that could withstand half a dozen foes at once was strained to its limit to wrestle that aurochs to the ground, where at last Beor ended its wrath with a riven tree trunk. With spear and shield in hand, Beor had terrorized foes of the southlands for nearly a decade.

Also gathered to this company was Lithy, chieftess of the Rimemaidens of the Last Hall, not three days' journey north of the blademoot. After just five years standing in the shieldwall, none had risen to command those warrior women so quickly. Lithy's small stature belied a terrible strength of arm and hand that bent all foes before her like a gale wind. Her long braid of pale gold flowed from the top of her jeweled helm like a second standard for her warrior band. It was she who claimed the head of Red Ranta, even when his marauders had pressed the Rimemaidens to the brink of the sea. To be bested by her had become an honor unto itself, for it meant one had mastered their courage to face down a tempest in woman's form.

The Rimemaidens and the Sea King's Thanes had proven themselves many times over in the first week of the blademoot. Each day, warriors gathered in the training hall of King Hakon, there to drill with weapons and bodies by morning and afternoon. That day competition was especially fierce. All but the hardiest were spent after two hours of ferocious grappling in shirtsleeves and smallclothes. Many had revealed new tricks to their rivals, and many had learned cunning stratagems through bitter toil. The warriors left singly and in small groups, headed for the bathhouse, the stables to settle their horses, or to the taverns for the night's revelry.

"Never have I seen such a ploy," Beor called out to Lithy before she filtered out with her band. The two had squared up at the goading of all others in attendance, to cross quarterstaves for the duration of 10 blows. Neither had landed a hit on the other, though both had managed to leverage the other off their balance once each.

"Ploy?" Lithy turned with her strong hands on the blades of her hips. "Do they not play at staves in the southlands?"

Beor cast back his head and laughed with the confidence of one who sees every equal as a challenge to overcome. "Staves in plenty, but never has one of my foes sought advantage with a firm grasp on my ass!"

Lithy took two steps closer and folded her arms across her pale green breastwrap. Sweat still shone all over her supple torso. "None among yours have braved so tempting a distraction?" It was her turn for a disdainful laugh. "Are there no foes of true cunning in your lands to test you?"

"Few enough," Beor said, drawing within arm's reach of Lithy. He stood head and shoulders over her, but he knew there was no chance to spark intimidation in her fierce eyes, the same rare blue as the depths of a glacier. On the contrary, standing so close only seemed to ignite her spirit. "But there are none for certain so cunning as to seek the upper hand by groping me."

Lithy shrugged and settled on the floor to massage her feet. They were the only two left in the hall. "It gave me the opening I needed." They both recalled how Beor ended up one knee after that exchange.

Beor laughed again. "And when you felled Red Ranta, did you distract him with your feminine wiles too?"

"My wiles have bested many foes," she said simply without looking up at him. "I wager they could drag you beyond the point of return, in the heat of battle or of passion."

With slow silence, Beor lowered himself to the floor beside her. He watched as her hands kneaded her feet, then her calves, then finally her bare thighs. She was content to let her last words hang in the air.

"In fact," she said at last, looking up from her work to meet his gaze, "I wager I could do both."

----

Beor searched her face. "What are you proposing?"

"A wager, nothing more."

It seemed a good deal more than just a wager. "We've tested each other in combat once already today. You mean for us to test our mettle again... in lust?"

"Do you doubt you'll prevail?"

Even with both of them seated on the floor, Beor looked down into Lithy's brilliant blue eyes. He had seen her strength tested many times. He knew she did not lack for might or skill, but he must have weighed twice as much as her.

"You can't think to overmaster me," he said, incredulous.

"To best you is within my power," she replied, rising to her feet. "Strength will often a save a warrior, but in this game, the greater skill is resistance."

She stepped toward Beor. His eyes were at the level of her navel, exposed above her loincloth in the middle of her tight stomach. He saw the pale line of a scar across her right flank. She stood so close he felt the heat of exertion wafting from her. She touched his bearded chin and drew his attention upward, past her breastwrap and back to those keen blue eyes. He found a smug challenge gazing back at him.

"Do you think you can overmaster *me*?" She turned and stepped away with a sway in her hips Beor hadn't noticed before. No part of her was large, but every part--her shoulders, her arms, her backside, her thighs--were full and firm.

Brow still furrowed in thought, Beor rose to his feet. Lithy felt the air snap into the familiar tension before a bout.

"I don't play to lose," he said, towering over her. "Ever."

"Good," she flashed a wicked grin. "You'll need to give me everything you've got."

With a bark of laughter, Beor lifted his hands in concession. "All right, then! Lusty combat." He pulled off his shirt to reveal the corded muscle of his chest, arms, and back. Much of it was covered in hair the color of tree bark. "What are the terms?"

Lithy stretched her neck. "No weapons and no strikes in earnest, only glancing blows and grappling. Whoever wrestles release from the other fighter is the winner."

Beor nodded. "No weapons, only glancing blows and grappling to release." He sized her up once more. Lithy's skillful movement and her confidence, even audacity, had drawn his eye as long as he'd known her, but he held too many advantages here. This would be easy.

"One thing more," he said, extending his open hand. "The loser rewards the victor with a massage in the bathhouse."

Lithy clapped her hand into his and shook. "We'll see if those big hands can soothe all my aches soon enough!"

They parted to opposite sides of the hall and signaled their readiness. Beor offered his usual gesture, his hand placed upon his chest and then extended toward his foe. Lithy responded with an extended hand of her own, then settled into her stance.

They stepped closer and circled each other, feeling for openings. If either of them were tired from their training session with the others, they didn't show it. Lithy's bouncing probes were met with Beor's steely stillness.

Impatient, Lithy sprang forward to grip Beor by the wrist. She planted one foot on his knee as if to leap upward, so Beor pulled back in an attempt to take her into his arms. Bitter was his reminder that Lithy was a master of momentum and redirection. Beor did indeed lift Lithy off her feet, but she used this freedom to plant her other foot at his waist. As soon as his foot settled back on the ground, Lithy gripped his arm with both hands and heaved as she shoved him with her legs. Beor was thrown forward and flipped to sprawl across the floor onto his back.

They shifted through grappling positions, trading advantage back and forth with impressive speed. Beor's enormous strength was impossible to overcome head-on, but he lost count of how many times he went for what felt like a secure taking, only for Lithy to slip out from under him, or suddenly shift direction to send him careening back to the floor. When he thought he'd learned a pattern, it turned out to be bait for yet another throw. Every time, she leapt after him to seek a submission of her own.

Lithy felt she was fighting for her life. She was strong for her size, but there was no matching this big brute in a straight-up fight. She used every trick she knew to make Beor work against himself, but it was a slog. She would get the upper hand and he would recover from his fall almost faster than she could think. She'd tangle her limbs in his just so, but he would power his way out before she could set her hold.

They proceeded this way for minutes, but already their competition took on a different character. Once when they were entangled, Lithy escaped by lashing her tongue out to lick Beor's lips. Once when she'd nearly pinned his legs, his hand flashed down to smack her seat. For a moment they forgot the game and sprawled across the floor, kissing deeply and roaming over each other with their hands.

She started to kiss her way down his hairy chest. Without warning, Lithy felt a hand grip her braid and crane her head backward. The smile that broke out on her face was an attempt at cocky disdain, but Beor spied the surprise and spark of lust beneath it. He pulled her off of him, then sat up to pull her into his lap. The kisses resumed, their bodies grinding softly to better feel each other. His manhood brushed against her bare thigh through his braies. She had noted his bulge across the hall more than once. To feel it now, the rumor of what the future held for her, ignited a defiant need in her guts.

With little effort, Beor stood with Lithy still in his arms. Her kisses lulled him just enough for her to slip around to his back, where she snaked her arms around his throat and shot her feet downward to wrap around his mighty thighs. He laughed at the attempt until she bit him on the neck, just a shade harder than playful. He roared in surprise, reached back to grip her shoulder, and peeled her off of him with a casual toss.

Lithy landed with a panther's grace near the training pells on one side of the hall. "Too much a gentleman," she leered, weaving between the stiff arms of those wooden targets. "And I can already feel you stirring. This game is mine, Beor."

The challenge sparked a fire at the base of Beor's bull neck. He charged after her as she retreated, shoving against the pells to propel himself forward. When he finally reached her, she tried to leap up for a grapple but his thick forearm was already in the way. He pressed forward, pinning her by her shoulders to one of the pells, her feet dangling inches above the ground.

"Too much a gentleman?" he mocked as the fire spread up to his dark gray eyes. His free hand gripped the center of her breastwrap and tore it away like muslin. Her breasts were little more than welts, but they were the softest part of her warrior's body. "Perhaps I was only giving you a sporting chance." He pinched one of her hard nipples and she squirmed.

That lusty smile returned to Lithy's face. "You'll need to do more than pinch to claim this prize." Her legs groped forward, seeking to wrap around him and draw him closer. His hand shot down between her legs and pushed her hips back up against the pell. He ground his palm into her and she squirmed again.

"More than a pinch, you say?" Even through her loincloth, Beor could feel the heat of her. Despite herself, she pressed back into his palm.

"More than a push too." Determination flickered on her face.

Beor's eyes bore into Lithy's as his fingers pushed her loincloth to one side. He felt her warmth with his own flesh. His fingers grew slick. Through tangled fur, he felt her sex already opening at his touch.

"Seems I've acquitted myself well thus far." He silenced her retort with two thick fingers pushed inside her. They lingered just inside, stretching her opening in preparation for what was to come. Lithy shifted her hips to push them further in. Beor withdrew and pushed to this depth again, then curled a finger to touch the place of her bliss. Lithy's eyes closed as her head dipped down to Beor's hairy arm, still pressed against her shoulders.

"Three," she breathed as her hand groped down to his, to move him herself if she must.

Beor pushed a third finger inside her. Lithy felt herself stretched wide and ground her hips upon him. Her hand joined his in her crotch. Soon they were both covered in her wetness. "Easy," he thought as her hand felt its way up to grip his forearm.

Before he knew what happened, Lithy was gone from Beor's arms. She had grown slick and he had grown complacent. Hands gripped his waist as feet found his ankles. Lithy jerked with all her might and staggered Beor one, two steps. But once Beor regained his feet he stood still as marble.

As Lithy careened away, her hands tore free from Beor's braies. A scrap tore off one side as she stumbled, still clutched in her fell grip. She turned to face him, breasts bared, hands raised in readiness. Beor stood just outside his reach. His braies hung slack on one side, revealing the top of his mighty thigh above a deep valley that plunged into thick, dark hair.

With grim determination set on his face, Beor ripped his braies off and tossed them away like garbage. Lithy's eyes beheld Beor's bludgeon, heavy and rising. Nearly as long as anything she'd conquered before, and as thick as her forearm. She took an instinctive step backward, but felt herself grow slick at the challenge of it.

In all his nakedness, Beor stepped toward her. She tried to slip around him but his hands shot out to hers. His leg swept forward, his thick ass planted against her stomach, and he cast her backward.

Lithy scrambled away until her back hit the wall. Her eyes were level with Beor's member, now standing as proud as the rest of him. He stepped closer again and took hold of himself, as if in lusty salute. Dark veins stood strong on his shaft.

"A fine cock." Lithy's eyes lit with courage and hunger. She licked her lips.

Beor stepped closer again and tapped his cock against her cheek. "A free blow to a fine foe." His lips were set with desire. He slid his shaft along her cheek until his swollen head nearly touched her lips.

Lithy's firm hand gripped his cock. She kissed it deeply enough to slip her tongue over his tip.

"Freedom to try my best?" She looked up at him, still skirmishing with her mouth. Beor grunted his reply.

Lithy's mouth, her tongue and fingers, played over every inch of Beor's cock. Her other hand found his sack and tickled and tugged. She took him in her mouth and savored the feast of him. She worked her tongue around his head. Soon, she tasted the forerunners of his seed. This mighty one could be beaten. She redoubled her efforts and felt him begin to grow tense.

Beor was not completely tireless. Worthy foes tested many of his limits. Lithy tested rare limits that day. To see her face slick with their lust was a hammer blow. Her brilliant eyes wrapped him as if in iron chains. He ached as he watched the supple hardness of her stomach, as it rolled in rhythm with her head and neck. His passion swelled and sparked his hunger for more, to glut until he was spent.

----

Beor scooped Lithy up beneath her arms to grip her tight and bury himself inside her, but she leaned back and wrapped her arms around the pillar first. Beor's hands slipped down her sides to her hips. He gripped as he stepped away, to pry her from the pillar and plow her as he desired. His hands found only cloth, which tore away as her grip held strong.

Beor stumbled backward and they both froze. He held the scraps of her loincloth in one hand. He beheld Lithy's bare body from head to toe, turned away from him, hands wrapped around a pillar, bent over at the waist. Her rippling back swept down to two firm cheeks above a thick patch of hair the same pale gold as her braid. Lithy looked back at him, but her sex is what held his gaze.

"Ah," she smirked, "it wasn't a grapple you were trying." Her fingers appeared between her legs and pushed past her fur to reveal pale pink folds, spread wide in welcome. "You want to test yourself against this pussy?"

Beor approached slowly, steeling himself for the trial ahead. Their contest so far had made everything between her legs a glistening mess. It begged to be used. Her legs, already planted wide, were strong enough to withstand heavy blows. Lithy arched her back to bring her pussy further into view, swollen and spread.

Lithy's smirk deepened. "Intimidated?"

Beor huffed and stepped until their thighs met. He settled into a wide stance and guided his cock beneath her, where it pressed upward along a surprising length of her belly. She sighed again.

"Now the contest begins in earnest." Beor pulled his dick back up and thumped one of Lithy's cheeks. He dragged it over both her holes and her dripping lips to wet himself anew. Equally firm and tender, he placed his thick head at the mouth of her pussy.

"Sheath yourself in my cunt, if you dare." Lithy rocked backward to press the first inches of him inside her. That alone stretched her just as much as his fingers had a moment earlier. She hissed with deadly eagerness. "Your doom awaits you."

Beor leaned forward and pushed in over half of his length before her grip stalled him. It was such a tight fit that he could hardly believe it when she pushed back, fitting another inch inside. He curled his hips to push deeper, but the action only pushed her bare chest up against the pillar.

Lithy's long, golden braid fell down her arched back. Beor gripped it again and pulled her face upward to meet her eyes.

"You've stopped short," he said, close enough that she felt his breath on her lips.

Lithy moaned in frustration and worked her hips. As she pulsed on his cock, she felt her walls struggle to receive him. She'd need time to recover after she finally bested him.

Beor's other hand rose to grip Lithy's sharp chin. He filled her mouth with his tongue as she ground on as much of his dick as she could manage. He felt an ounce of her tension melt away and pressed his hips to meet hers.

"This contest is mine, little lion."

Beor's hips on Lithy's barely registered to her. His huge cock filled her so completely that she forgot her surroundings. The iron embrace of his arms paled in comparison to this pressure, at once a terrific strain and a dire pleasure. Any more might have broken her, but Beor pushed Lithy to the edge of exhilaration.

As she pumped forward, then back again, her awareness dissolved to nothing more than a needy cunt struggling to contain its rival. He thrust back into her, and for the second time they forgot the contest between them for a long moment. Beor gripped her by the hips and lifted to fuck her, deep and slow, while her toes brushed the floor. Lithy's face lolled against the pillar, mouth open and eyes closed.