This short story was inspired by the TV series "Vikings", and especially Floki, whom I had in mind when I thought of Magnus. Enjoy!
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Maybe it was the full moon that kept me awake, its silvery light filtering into the bedroom through unclosed curtains that billowed in the light breeze of the night. The cool air felt refreshing after an uncharacteristically hot day in early June.
I lay in bed, propped up on one elbow, and drank in the sight of my naked husband sleeping next to me. He hardly ever slept under the covers, not even in winter. I never complained, as his aversion to blankets provided me with wonderful views such as the one I was enjoying in this moment.
Magnus lay on his back, his face half buried under his forearm, the other arm draped over his stomach. His broad chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of his deep, peaceful breaths. I loved the way he looked in this light. The pale, almost milky white skin of his torso contrasted nicely with his much darker limbs, tanned from being exposed to the sun all day long.
I had to hold myself back not to trace the tan lines with my fingers. I didn't want to wake him, he had to get up early the next morning. Still... My fingers yearned to touch him, to trace the outline of his sharp nose and his lips that so often curled up in a smile, framed by the wiry blonde curls of his long beard, which was his pride and joy.
I wanted to lay my hands on his chest, rest them there so I could feel the steady beat of his heart. I longed to run my fingers down his body, over his abdomen, which was still as toned as it had been when we first met ten years ago.
His entire body was lean, but strong and muscular, thanks to his job that required him to lug around heavy objects and climb onto rooftops. Magnus was tall - 6'5 or 1,98 m - and with his shaved head and long beard he looked more like a Viking warrior than a modern day carpenter. His tattoos, intricately entwined patterns strewn with runic symbols and images from Old Norse myths that covered his arms like sleeves, added to that impression.
I loved his seemingly wild appearance, but he had the most gentle soul I had ever come across. The laugh lines around his slate blue eyes, now hidden beneath his arm, spoke of his sense of humor and his easy-going nature. That shorn head of his was full of interesting thoughts he wasn't shy to share, and I appreciated our long talks and heated discussions. He was an attentive lover and partner, making an effort to surprise me and create romantic moments every now and then. And he was always honest to me, whether I liked it or not. (Most of the time, I loved it.)
In the moonlight, his shaved skull showed the faintest hint of stubble. A few more days, and he would ask me to shave it again. He would sit on the bathroom floor, and I would stand over him - it was the only way I could reach his head.
He liked it when I shaved his head, just like I liked it when he combed and braided my hair sometimes. It was a very special form of intimacy.
My gaze wandered further down his body. Even while sleeping, his manhood in its relaxed state was a sight that made my heart jump. It wasn't necessarily the size - though for me it was just right, not too big and not too small, there were certainly men who were equipped more generously. No, it was rather the slight curve, that made it seem like our bodies were two parts that belonged together like puzzle pieces, so perfectly did they fit together. It was the way he could make me feel, also with his fingers and his tongue.
Just the mere thought of this made my heart rate speed up. Ten years together, four as a married couple, and he could still have that effect on me. How did I get so lucky?
A single tear of happiness and gratitude ran down my cheek, and I brushed it away with the back of my hand, grinning and shaking my head at my own melodramatic outburst.
"Baby?"
I thought Magnus had talked in his sleep and didn't reply, but he rolled onto his side and reached for me, eyes still closed. When he caught hold of my midriff, he pulled me against his naked body.
"Baby, I can't sleep if you're staring at me," he mumbled into my ear drowsily.
His beard tickled my neck and I wiggled in his arms to get away from it.
"How do you know I'm staring if you're sleeping with your eyes closed?" I inquired, grinning even wider now.
"I can feel you undressing me with your eyes," he replied with a grunt, and pressed me closer to his body. "Now stop squirming, will you?"
"Babe, you sleep naked!" I giggled, way too awake at this point to let his sleepiness drag me along. "I can't undress someone who's already a naked little monkey!"
"Are you calling me a monkey?" The menacing tone in Magnus' voice was undermined by his playful nibbles on my earlobe.
Failing to suppress a pleasant shiver, I responded teasingly, "What would you do if I did?"
"Probably something like this," Magnus growled, sinking his teeth into my neck.
