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Summary
As Loki tended to the fire, entranced by the vapors of henbane, a tall, broad-shouldered berserker approached. The man inhaled the smoke with a grin of approval, eyes gleaming under thick, sharply angled brows. His muscular torso was still splattered with drying blood. Rivulets streaked down his darkly furred stomach, disappearing into the cropped curls framing his thick cock.
Loki rose from where he’d crouched on the floor, an answering grin upon his own lips.
“Well met,” said the man. “A warrior and a shaman both. You’ll have to tell us what you foresee for tonight’s celebrations.”