Villager, 8

Keeping Warm When In a Cold Environment Is Just Common Sense

Ao3 Link

Odin woke up thinking that he’d really like to stop waking up with his head hurting.

Why did he keep waking up with his head hurting? He didn’t drink and wasn’t really prone to migraines, but it seemed every other day lately he’d been waking up with…

“Pierre!” Odin sat up, wincing. “Ow.” The back of his head was throbbing where the Brotherhood of the Nickel had hit him to knock him out. Which they’d done because they’d been in the process of kidnapping Pierre, holy shit…

“Odin?” That was Murph, who Odin just now realized was sleeping beside him. “Ow, oh fuck, ow, my head.”

“Ow,” Odin agreed, getting up, knocking over something metal beside him. They were in a dark room that was probably a dungeon or a torture chamber but was definitely cold. Someone had nicely put a blanket over them, but Odin had never been that good at getting cold, so he pushed it off and let Murph have it, standing fully.

He banged his head. “Oh, fuck.”

“Are you okay?” Murph’s hand touched his knee, now the only part of him that felt nice.

“Fine,” Odin muttered, crouching. “Just banged my head, which really bothered the other bangs on my head. The ceiling is really low.”

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know. A dungeon or something? The Brotherhood of the Fickle kidnapped us.”

“Oh, fuck!” Murph said, and Odin felt him stand up. “You’re right, they…ow.” There was a thud as he banged his head, and he crouched back down too, which was good because only after he’d done that did Odin realize that him crouching and Murph standing meant that Odin was at dick height with Murph. “Okay, the ceiling’s really low. Their dungeon sucks. I wonder where we are.”

“Yeah,” Odin agreed. “Outside of town somewhere. Someone will find us. Is Pierre down here?”

“Oh, shit, Pierre, that’s right,” Murph said, sounding worried now. Right, he was worried because Pierre was his boyfriend. “Pierre! Pierre, are you down here?”

Pierre didn’t answer, which meant he probably wasn’t down here, or he was down here and he was sleeping. If Odin had called him he might not have answered, but probably he wouldn’t do that to Murph.

“He was the one they wanted to kidnap,” Odin remembered, which made sense because if he was going to kidnap someone he’d kidnap someone exactly like Pierre. “They came for him, and I think they only grabbed us because we were there. Maybe they have him in a different dungeon.”

“Fuck, how many dungeons do you think this place has?”

Odin shrugged, and started crawling around, looking for the walls. “I don’t know. Bandits usually live in like, abandoned castles and stuff, right?”

“Yeah, or like networks of caves, which this isn’t,” Murph said, authoritatively. “I didn’t know there were any abandoned castles around Great Scar.”

“Neither did I. Ow, fuck!” Odin had banged his head again, on a wall this time. Some glass rattled. “Huh?” He reached out and touched it, found some jars. “There’s something here. Jars, I think.”

“Why are there jars in a dungeon?”

“I don’t know, maybe they keep the severed body parts of their other victims in them?” The whole place smelled weirdly like potatoes, which Odin hadn’t realized that dismembered human remains smelled like. The thought of Pierre turning into a potato was almost enough to make him vomit.

“Fuck, that’s scary,” Murph said, teeth clacking. “Also cold.”

“There’s a blanket.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m wearing it.”

“Oh.” Obviously he didn’t need Odin to tell him to get a blanket if he was cold. Odin was such a dumbass. He crawled back over to where Murph was, sat down. “It’s okay, they’ll come rescue us soon.”

“Yeah,” Murph agreed. “My dads will probably track them all the way here. This one time when we were down near Archer’s Rest, these bandits kidnapped me and they were going to make me a sex slave, but my dads tracked them through this whole forest and rescued me and all these other guys, so they’ll probably be able to do the same thing here on account of they probably left footprints in the snow.”

“Also probably like drag marks,” Odin agreed, reassured.

“Yeah,” Murph agreed. “We’re not as portable as Pierre. He’ll be okay. He’s really resilient.”

He was, but he’d never had to resile through being kidnapped by bandits. But who was Odin kidding? The Brotherhood of the Pumpernickel would be working for him in two days. Murph clearly knew that too. Of course he did, he knew Pierre really well.

“Odin?” Murph asked, probably because Odin wasn’t saying anything.

Odin nodded to avoid saying anything, but then he remembered Murph couldn’t see him and so he had to say something, and of course he said the worst thing. “So how long have you been dating Pierre?”

“Oh.” Murph cleared his throat. “Right, yeah, uh. I’m really sorry about…that. I wasn’t, uh…I mean we’re not really dating or anything, just kind of…fucking?”

“Oh.” Was that better or worse? Maybe better, Odin thought, because Odin hadn’t spent all this time weirdly pining after his little brother’s boyfriend. As long as he wasn’t being shitty and just using Pierre for his—no, Pierre would never let him do that. “How long have you and Pierre been fucking?”

“Uh, like a few months?” Murph asked. “How long have you and Pierre been fucking?”

“Uh,” Odin said, shifting uncomfortably. “Like a few months?” It wasn’t like Odin had intended to start fucking Pierre, Pierre had just wanted to know about dicks and orgasms one night and things had escalated somehow until he wanted Odin to put dicks inside him a week later, and an orgasm inside him about nine seconds after that. Every time Pierre had asked, Odin hadn’t really been able to say no, mostly because his dick and also the rest of him hadn’t wanted to. The fact that it had started around the time Murph had moved to Great Scar and had increased Odin’s overall horniness by a million times was probably a factor.

“Oh.” Murph exhaled kind of loudly. “Uh. I promise I didn’t, you know. Come to Great Scar and start fucking the cutest boy I saw right away.”

“I mean you definitely did,” said Odin, counting on his fingers how long Murph had been in Great Scar. “But it’s okay. Um. You know. Pierre can make his own decisions and I know he’s very…forward about what he wants, so it’s…fine. I mean I don’t own him.” It did explain the various times Odin had expected Pierre to be in his room and not found him there, though.

Murph swallowed audibly. “Okay. Thanks for not beating me up,” he said, through chattering teeth.

“I would never,” Odin promised. He was mostly just relieved that Murph was still single. He still wondered why Pierre hadn’t just told Odin they were fucking, though. “Are you still cold?”

“Yeah. Oh fuck, I’m just hogging this whole blanket, aren’t I?” Murph said. “You must be freezing, come here, we should huddle for warmth.”

“Okay.” Odin wasn’t that cold, but he let Murph put the blanket around him, their bare skin touching, which would have given him a boner if talking about fucking Pierre hadn’t already. “Sorry I’m naked.”

“It’s okay, me too. It’s not weird because we’re just huddling for warmth,” Murph explained. “It’s what you have to do. This one time I had to do it with my dads when we were stuck in this blizzard.”

“R-right, it’s a survival tactic,” Odin agreed, thinking that made sense. Huddling naked with Murph’s dads would also be fun. And, because they were touching, he could feel with his knee that Murph was also hard. Odin swallowed. “I’m sure we’ll stay super alive this way.”

“Me too. Oh wow,” Murph said. “You’re not cold at all. Like, I knew you were hot, but you’re really hot.”

“Oh,” said Odin. “I guess high body temperatures just run in my family?” Howard had always used to stick his hands down Odin’s pants to warm them up in the winter too. He still did, but he used to, too. Owen had always been warm in the winter too.

Murph leaned against him, almost fully hugging Odin now. “More like hotness runs in your family,” he muttered.


“Oh, uh.” Murph cleared his throat. “I mean, objectively, you’re all hot, is all.”

“Oh. Yeah, same. I mean, you’re all hot too. You and your dads are. Objectively.”

“I guess, yeah,” Murph said, one arm around Odin now and the other on Odin’s thigh. Odin’s free hand was resting on Murph’s leg, as still as he could keep it so Murph wouldn’t feel the need to move. “Hey, um. I’m still kind of cold. Sorry if this is weird but would it be okay if I jerked off a bit? To warm up?”

“Oh, sure,” Odin said right away. “Yeah, that always helps me warm up.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Murph, sliding his hand up and taking Odin’s dick. Odin thought about telling him that was the wrong dick but he didn’t want to embarrass him and he’d probably notice in a second anyway, right? “Plus like, we did fuck Pierre together, so it’s probably cool for us to jerk off together, right?”

“It definitely is,” Odin said, also taking Murph’s dick. Maybe if he did that, Murph wouldn’t notice that he had the wrong dick in his hand. Murph’s dick felt so nice, holy shit. “We can definitely jerk off together to stay warm and also for fun sometime if you want. It’ll be just like fucking Pierre but Pierre won’t be there. Or maybe he will be sometimes.” Holy shit, Odin felt so smooth.

“Cool,” said Murph, nodding. “Yeah, awesome.” He was panting. “You know, it’s so weird. Pierre kept saying I should like, uh, ask you out or something.”

Odin’s dick skipped a beat. “Shit, wow. He uh…” he had to be cool about this. “He kept saying I should ask you out too. It was really weird.”

“Yeah…” Murph stroked Odin harder. “Like he, like he really wants us to date for some reason.”

Odin nodded, pulling Murph closer. “I wonder why,” he said.

“Yeah, me too…”

They kissed, and Odin came as soon as his lips were on Murph’s, and it was okay because Murph was making a mess all over Odin’s hand too, but honestly Odin didn’t care about the illusion that either of them was holding the wrong dick because this was the best thing that had ever happened to him and he’d get kidnapped by bandits every day if this was what came of it.

Murph fell backwards, his arm around Odin pulling Odin with him, and the blanket fell away as Odin ended up on top of Murph, still kissing him, and still jerking him off. Murph took his hand off Odin’s dick and it went between his legs for a minute before coming back and sliding up and down Odin, Murph touching every part of Odin like he was trying to find the warmest part, even though the warmest part was definitely Odin’s dick. Odin touched Murph too, making sure to touch him everywhere just in case any part of him was cold, trusting their dicks to rub against each other to stay warm.

They did that, especially after Odin started thrusting his hips, and that was working really well so he kept doing it, grinding his whole body against Murph’s, letting Murph grind back, filling the dungeon with lots of moaning and panting and grunting as they worked to stay warm, and it worked so well Odin imagined steam rising from their bodies, a vision so much better than his usual naked fantasies about Murph. But this whole thing was so much better than his usual naked fantasies about Murph, because Murph was actually here helping him with it instead of not.

Murph came again before Odin did, but only by one spurt. He stopped kissing Odin for a second after that, hand behind his head. “Um. Hey I was thinking, you know, uh. We should tell the Brotherhood of the Dickle guys we’re boyfriends. Because then they’ll feel bad about killing us.”

“Oh, yeah,” Odin said, nodding. His whole body felt tingly, and Murph’s hand was on his dick again. “That’s a great idea.”

“Great,” said Murph. He took Odin’s dick and spread his legs, sliding it between his thighs. Holy shit, he was pointing it at his hole. “Um. I’m still cold.”

He was not at all cold between his legs. “Me too,” Odin agreed, thrusting by accident and popping his dick into Murph. “Oh, shit.” How had it gone in so easily? Murph didn’t bottom for Pierre, did he?

“Yeah,” Murph agreed, voice taut. He started kissing Odin again, pulling him closer, so Odin didn’t ask any of the questions he had about whether Murph was okay or wanted more because both were clear despite the darkness in front of his eyes. Odin just kept moving his hips, like he had been before.

He didn’t really know how hard was too hard, so he went at the speed he usually fucked Pierre at, and Murph seemed to like that, yelping a little between kisses, saying Odin’s name when he could, gripping Odin tight, holding him in place either because he was still giving off heat or so he wouldn’t break them apart.

Odin wasn’t sure how long they fucked like that, but it felt like a really long time and also not nearly enough time, because eventually it ended even though if there was literally any justice in the world it would go on for eternity. But eventually he started to cum again. As Odin shot inside Muprh—holy fuck, he was having an orgasm inside Murph, holy fuck—Murph was cumming too, and everything was perfect. This was actually perfect, everything was the best ever, and Odin buried his face in Murph’s neck, not sure what else to do with it when everything was so perfect. He was overcome with desire and he bit Murph, just gently, just enough to make Murph gasp.

Panting, the two of them held each other, and Odin looked down into Murph’s eyes, kissing him again, and then frowning. He could see Murph’s eyes.

He looked up, saw that there was a lantern behind them. And holding the lantern was a bored-looking boy with his hair sheared short, wearing rough clothes, a sickle sewn on his shirt for some reason. “Are you guys fucking done? We’re going to start cutting your fingers off.”

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6 thoughts on “Villager, 8

  1. Countdown to bandit boy getting his teeth kicked in in 3…2…1…

    I mean seriously, he went alone into a room with two unrestrained prisoners, while one of his hands is occupied holding his only light source. And he just a) ruined the moment, and b) threatened them with mutilation. It’s like he’s begging them to beat him up and (if they’re smart—which given this is Odin and Murph is a really big if) use him as a hostage.


    1. Yeah, this was indeed a very stupid move on his part, on the part of whoever sent him here. It quite possibly ends with him getting his ass kicked and used as a hostage. Fortunately Odin and Murph are the stupidest people around, so it may not come to that, but with anyone even marginally more competent it easily could. And still might, because we do presume that he’s got Pierre somewhere, and Odin and Murph want him back.



      1. Clearly they are going to merge with another gang/secret society/cult, the Hammer Syndicate, and bring about a Glorious Workers’ Revolution. And inexplicably start speaking in thick Slavic accents.

        I have no evidence for this aside from their logo and how satisfying I personally would find a proletarian overthrow of the oppressive and exploitative upper classes (which I personally think is pretty compelling) but I choose to believe it nonetheless.


        1. Hey, you never know, that’s all very possible! Maybe not so much the Slavic accents, but I guess anything could happen.

          I mean I would also find that pretty satisfying, not to mention really narratively interesting. So maybe it’ll happen. Sure would be something if the workers’ uprising began in the hometown of the prince’s husband, wouldn’t it? 😀


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