Work Text:
“So, you got a date?”
It was closing time. Thorfinn had already closed the kitchen and was finishing mopping the floor. It was pitch-black outside, and the yellowish lights of the café made everything look a little bit orange. One of the lights wavered, and Thorfinn frowned at it. Too late to get the ladder out now. He'd have to change it at the start of his next shift.
“Thorfinn? Does that silence mean something or are you simply ignoring me?”
Thorfinn blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts, and peered at the only customer left at this late hour. Askeladd sat at his favorite spot at one of the tacky tables at the back. He looked out of place there, like an emperor in a shack. He had removed his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, exposing his forearms, lightly dusted with blond hair. His blue tie—matching his eyes—hung loosely around his neck, and two of his shirt buttons were open, revealing the base of his throat if you looked closely.
“Sorry,” Thorfinn blurted. “I was just thinking about the lights. One of them is flickering and I’ll have to change the bulb tomorrow—” He immediately felt stupid. Askeladd didn’t want to hear about the damn lights. Thorfinn hurried on: “What were you saying?”
“I asked if you had a date,” Askeladd said, fiddling with the spoon he’d used to stir his coffee—decaf, of course. Thorfinn didn’t let him have caffeine after noon, no matter how much he asked for it. Askeladd was prone to insomnia whenever he was stressed, and judging by the dark circles under his eyes and the upcoming elections, he probably didn’t sleep more than two or three hours a day. Thorfinn didn’t understand why Askeladd hung around the café after closing hours instead of just going home to rest.
He leaned on the mop handle, confused. “Why would you ask that?”
“Your coworker—the girl with the long bob. Gudrid, I think? She’s very pretty.” Thorfinn suppressed the violent twist of emotion that rose in his stomach. “I overheard her asking you out to the movies before she left.”
“Oh,” Thorfinn laughed, a little awkwardly. “That’s just something we do sometimes, as friends. It’s not a date.”
“Are you sure?” Askeladd’s gaze pierced through him, and Thorfinn wet his lips, flustered. Age had taken its toll on the man before him—wrinkles were especially noticeable around his eyes; deep creases on his skin that seemed rough to the touch. Yet he was handsome, with the kind of cocky elegance that used to anger Thorfinn in his teens. “I think she fancies you.”
Thorfinn shook his head immediately. “Of course she doesn’t. Gudrid is—” Pure. Good. Kind. Not tainted like me. “She’s too good for me,” he finished lamely.
“Mmm,” Askeladd hummed thoughtfully, still looking at him in that way that made his hands sweaty against the mop. “Would you like to?”
Thorfinn must have looked as lost as he felt because Askeladd elaborated:
“Would you like to date her?”
“I—” He hesitated, unsure. It would be nice to have someone to tell about your day and hold in your arms at night. Thorfinn often felt alone, draped in his childhood sheets in his mother’s house. He would have liked someone to hug when he awoke from nightmares, paralyzed with fear; someone to tell him it was okay to be afraid of his ghosts—but Gudrid was not who he wanted. “I don’t know.”
Askeladd tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table, his mouth pursed. Thorfinn watched him take a last sip of his coffee, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He resumed his scrubbing motion, trying to distract himself from Askeladd’s throat.
“Have you dated before?” Askeladd’s voice was mild, yet it made Thorfinn raise his head again. The man looked as casual as before, but Thorfinn knew all of Askeladd’s tells—the way he acted when he was after something. He just had no idea what it was.
“Why are you asking me all of these questions?” He asked, suspicious.
Askeladd raised his hands in a parody of innocence, smiling widely. It only made Thorfinn more wary. “C’mon, Thorfinn, I’m trying to help you! What if that girl fancies you as I said? You must be prepared.”
Thorfinn sighed. “I’ve already told you—”
“You didn’t date much when you were in my band, that’s for sure,” Askeladd said casually. Too casually, given the subject he was bringing to the table. “Though you did grow close to Canute during the last months of it. Did you two ever…?”
“What? No!”
“No?” Askeladd’s face was one of polite surprise. “What about your time in prison? No one there caught your eye? No one to hold hands during mealtime?”
“Of course I did not date anyone in prison, what are you even—”
“Is that because you don’t like men?”
Time seemed to screech to a halt. Thorfinn gaped at him, while Askeladd regarded him as calmly and nonchalantly as before.
“That would not be a problem for our dear Gudrid, I suppose,” the man added with an amused smile. “But Einar might find it disappointing.”
Thorfinn stared wide-eyed. His ears felt hot; he wanted to put his head under cold water and never face any of his friends again.
“Einar?”
“He fancies you too.”
“He doesn’t!”
Askeladd’s laugh startled him. It sounded genuine, though you could never know for sure with him. But there was mirth in his eyes, and they were always the most honest part of him.
“I’m just teasing, Thorfinn, you don’t need to get so flustered,” he smiled at him in a way that caused his stomach to flip. He patted the chair beside him. “Come sit with me for a moment; the floor is not going to get any cleaner.”
Thorfinn leaned the mop against the counter and wiped his hands on his apron, unsure. He decided to take it off and fold it next to the cleaning tool. Following Askeladd's orders still felt like second nature, even after all these years. He walked over and sat down in the chair next to him.
“This is the last time I let you have coffee this late, old man,” he muttered moodily. “You get too excited.”
“It was decaf!”
“Just the taste of it already goes to your head.”
“You are worse than a nagging wife,” complained Askeladd dramatically. Thorfinn flushed furiously. “You won’t be able to seduce Gudrid with that attitude.”
He was worse than a dog with a bone.
“I’m not seducing Gudrid. Could you drop the subject already?”
“Einar, then? I thought you didn’t like men—”
“I never said that,” Thorfinn regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth, but it was too late to take them back. Askeladd looked caught off guard for a moment, then smiled again, a glint of something like victory in his gaze.
“I suppose you didn’t,” he said softly. “I just assumed. My bad. Einar will be glad to know he has a chance.”
“Einar and I are just friends.” He was pretty sure Einar was straight, anyway. He’d been crushing hard on Arnheid for a while before he found out she was married. “Seriously, what got you so obsessed with matchmaking? Are you finally going senile? Is this a sign of dementia?”
“You are so mean to me,” said Askeladd, smiling like a shark, not a trace of sadness in his voice. “I just want to help you, as a friend. We are friends now, are we not?”
Friends.
“I— Yes,” Thorfinn’s mouth felt dry, and he licked his lips. Askeladd’s gaze followed the movement briefly, and Thorfinn’s stomach did that weird flip again. “If you want to.”
Askeladd nodded, satisfied. “And friends help each other with their love life, don’t they?”
“Should I help you with your love life, then?” He asked sulkily. It came out almost as a threat.
“I’m too old for that,” Askeladd waved his hand dismissively. “You, on the other hand, are a young man with a long life ahead of you. I’m not saying you have to chain yourself to a person for the rest of your life, but aren’t you interested in a little messing around at least?”
Thorfinn was starting to fear his face would never return to its normal color, as flushed as he was.
“I have other things to think about right now.”
“Like what? Mopping the floor to exhaustion?” He raised his hands in appeasement when he saw Thorfinn’s glare. “I’m not saying what you do is wrong, but don’t you ever want to have a little fun? Have you even kissed anyone, like, lately?”
Thorfinn fumbled over his words. “That’s none of your business!”
“Friends share these things,” Askeladd reminded him smugly. “You haven’t, have you? You are probably out of practice.”
“I’m not out of practice,” he shot back, annoyed.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, you can always practice—”
“I’m not ashamed,” Thorfinn interrupted, exasperated. “I’ve just never kissed anyone.”
This is Hell, he thought miserably. Why did he keep embarrassing himself in front of this man? He always revealed too much in his presence.
At least Askeladd was the one caught off guard this time, though he recovered quickly. “Really? Not even Canute?”
“You are the only one here obsessed with Canute,” Thorfinn pointed out darkly.
“Sorry, sorry. You caught me by surprise.” Askeladd’s lips curved into a sly smile. “But it’s the same principle: you just need to practice.” He hesitated for a beat. Thorfinn watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed. “I could even teach you if you want.”
Thorfinn was sure he had misheard. “What?”
“I can give you some pointers, make sure you know what you are doing.” He began to gesture with his hands, as he always did when he was nervous. Thorfinn watched him in fascination. “Just so you don’t embarrass yourself with Gudrid or Einar when they get over their shyness and decide to throw themselves at you. Not that there’s anything wrong with inexperience, but it’s always better to be prepared, don’t you think? It’s kind of my fault you didn’t get to fool around as a teen, so I don’t mind taking responsibility,” he added with a wry smile.
“Would you kiss me?” Thorfinn blurted, then immediately cringed. “To teach me, I mean.”
Askeladd licked his lips, and Thorfinn’s pulse quickened.
“If you are comfortable with that,” Askeladd said carefully.
“Yes.” Thorfinn couldn’t look away. He felt lightheaded. “I am—I mean… I don’t mind.”
Askeladd’s smile softened. “Come closer, then.”
Thorfinn dragged his chair forward until their thighs brushed. He felt naked, laid bare for exposure—as if anyone who entered the café right now could learn the truth of his soul simply by watching him draw closer to Askeladd like a satellite orbiting its planet.
“Kissing isn’t difficult,” Askeladd whispered as he leaned in. His breath smelled faintly of the decaf coffee Thorfinn always made for him. This close, Thorfinn noticed the faint pink at the tips of his ears. “Once you get the basics, it’s mostly instinct. You’re a man of instinct, so you’ll catch on quickly.”
That sounded dangerously close to approval in Thorfinn’s mind. He nodded silently, unable to trust his voice.
Askeladd closed the distance between them, his lips brushing Thorfinn’s in a brief, feather-soft kiss before pulling back.
“You are supposed to close your eyes,” Askeladd informed him, frowning slightly.
Thorfinn risked speaking: “How am I supposed to know what to do if I can’t see?”
Askeladd rolled his eyes. “Just follow my lead. Try not to freeze like a statue.”
“If you don’t tell me what to do, of course I’m going to freeze,” he argued. “You said you’d teach me.”
“Fine, fine,” Askeladd relented. “Follow my voice if it’s that important to you to have instructions. But close your eyes, you are creeping me out.”
Thorfinn obeyed, frowning. One of Askeladd’s hands came to his forehead and he caressed the frown with his fingers.
“You look so much like your younger self when you make that face,” he mused, sounding far away. Thorfinn wondered vaguely how insane it was to feel jealous of himself.
Askeladd cleared his throat and the hand fell away. “Right. Back to the lesson.”
He leaned toward Thorfinn again. “Start by just moving your lips. No tongue yet. Breathe through your nose. You don’t want to start messy—it’s better to ease your partner into a rhythm.”
He kissed him again, with more force behind it this time. His lips were soft, the faint taste of coffee lingering. His beard tickled his cheeks. Askeladd closed his mouth over his lower lip and sucked, and Thorfinn made a frankly embarrassing sound with the back of his throat.
Askeladd pulled back, his voice hoarse. “Good?”
Thorfinn nodded, hoping Askeladd would do it again. But Askeladd just leaned back, smirking, and said:
“Now try to do the same to me.”
He didn’t feel prepared for that, but he really wanted to kiss Askeladd again, so he gathered himself and tried to catch Askeladd’s lip between his teeth.
“Fuck!” His kissing partner cursed, moving away with a wince. His lower lip was bleeding slightly. Askeladd rubbed it with his hand. “What did I say about teeth?”
“You didn’t say anything about teeth,” sulked Thorfinn, licking his own lips and chasing the taste of Askeladd’s blood.
Askeladd looked startled. “I didn’t, did I?” He huffed a laugh. “My fault, then. Now: Thorfinn, for the love of God, try not to tear my lip off with your teeth.”
He nodded, hoping to look contrite.
Askeladd raised an eyebrow. “Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Try again.”
The second attempt went better. Thorfinn captured Askeladd’s lip between his own, drawing a low hum of approval. He could still taste the faint tang of blood. He wanted to savor it fully but Askeladd had said no tongue, so he held back.
When he pulled away, Askeladd nodded approvingly. “Better. No attempted maiming this time.”
Thorfinn tried not to scowl. “Can we use tongues next?”
“Impatient, aren’t we?” He laughed under his breath. “Damn. I feel like a teenager.”
“You are the one who offered this, baldy,” Thorfinn pointed out irritably.
“I know, I know. I wasn’t complaining.” Askeladd grabbed him by the chin. All his nerve endings focused on the area where their skins touched. “The key to a French kiss is controlling your drool. You’re aiming to touch tongues, not drench your partner’s face. And don’t go spelunking for molars.”
He kissed Thorfinn again—the hand on his face keeping him in place. Thorfinn’s hands had been in his lap the entire time. He was afraid to move them. They were so sweaty he had to keep drying them on his trousers discreetly.
Askeladd’s tongue touched his upper lip lightly before adventuring into his mouth. Thorfinn let him in, trying to remember the rules. Don’t bite him. He wanted to be good. But his entire body felt on fire, and Askeladd’s light teasing was driving him mad.
He’s doing you a favor. You need to behave.
Their tongues met tentatively, and Thorfinn made another embarrassing sound. He was starting to get hard. He could barely think. Everything tasted of coffee and blood and Askeladd.
When they broke apart, both were panting. Askeladd’s cheekbones were flushed, his blue eyes darker than usual.
“Good, Thorfinn,” he murmured, stroking his chin with a calloused thumb. Thorfinn shivered at the praise. “I knew you’d catch on quickly.”
The words unraveled whatever was left of Thorfinn’s self-control. He surged forward, climbing into Askeladd’s lap, making the chair creak beneath their combined weight, but Thorfinn heard nothing over the blood rushing in his ears.
Askeladd’s shocked face was millimeters from his as Thorfinn grabbed his loose tie and pulled him into a kiss, this time with teeth.
Askeladd made a strangled noise, his hands gripping Thorfinn’s waist, but he didn’t push him away. Thorfinn traced the lines and creases of Askeladd’s face with his fingers, marveling at how soft they felt. He had been wrong; they were not rough at all.
He licked greedily at Askeladd’s wounded lip, savoring the coppery tang of blood. There was too much drool and too many teeth for it to be the perfect kiss Askeladd wanted, but Thorfinn couldn’t care less. He was so painfully aroused he feared he might come in his pants at any moment. Askeladd’s fingers dug into his waist as Thorfinn rocked against him.
Shame flickered at the edge of his awareness at the thought of being seen like this—so desperate for a man who didn’t care for him in the same way. An awful, terrible man who had ruined his life. Thorfinn wanted to dig into his chest and make a place for himself there and never get out, so Askeladd could not leave him again.
He bit him, angry and embarrassed, and then a strong hand tangled in his hair, yanking his head back forcefully. Thorfinn whined.
“What did I say about teeth, boy?” Askeladd growled against his mouth. His lips were red with blood and his eyes were dark.
Thorfinn was leaking in his boxers. The humiliation felt so intense that tears gathered in his eyes.
“Sorry,” he babbled when he found his voice. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Sshh, it’s okay.” Askeladd’s grip on his hair relaxed and he massaged his scalp. Thorfinn leaned into the touch with a whimper. “You needed this, didn’t you? It’s fine. You’ve been so good, Thorfinn, you deserve to have it.”
The hand still on his waist went under his shirt and caressed his skin. “Do you think you can come just from humping me like a dog?”
Thorfinn nodded, tears of arousal and humiliation rolling down his cheeks. Askeladd smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. But then again, Askeladd was not a nice man. “Are you close?” Thorfinn nodded again. “Good boy. Take what you want, c’mon. My boy deserves to get everything he wants.”
Thorfinn obeyed, rubbing against Askeladd’s stomach like a cat in heat. He could still taste Askeladd’s blood in his mouth, and when the man grabbed his hair again and pulled, Thorfinn came with a shout.
He trembled in the aftershocks of his orgasm. Askeladd held him close, murmuring soft words that Thorfinn was too dazed to catch. Wrapped in the warmth of Askeladd’s embrace, he felt safe and cared for, his mind hazy with pleasure.
“My dear boy,” mumbled Askeladd against his hair, still petting him. He sounded raw and soft and tender. Thorfinn had never heard that tone from him before.
He loves me. The realization hit him like a blow on the head. He doesn’t just tolerate me. He loves me. He was suddenly awake, watching the world with stark clarity. The truth of it looked back at him, and Thorfinn could not tear his gaze away from it. It seemed impossible to be loved by this man, who had only shown him cruelty and violence for most of his life, but Askeladd rubbed his back affectionately and kissed his temple, and Thorfinn’s chest tightened with the urge to cry again.
It was easier when his father’s killer was a bastard who didn’t care for him at all, when there was no chance of his shameful feelings being reciprocated.
He buried his head in Askeladd’s throat and bit him, hard. Askeladd cursed, but Thorfinn didn’t let himself be pulled away until he knew he had left his mark. He licked the wound, as an apology, and then let Askeladd manhandle him away from his neck.
“You are one insane feral brat,” Askeladd accused, touching his neck and wincing when the hand came out bloody. “I haven’t bled this much since I left the criminal world.”
Thorfinn just stared at him, and Askeladd’s indignation faded into concern. He frowned, the lines in his forehead deepening.
“Did I—” He started, softly.
“Do you regret killing my father?” Thorfinn asked.
All color left Askeladd’s face, and he stared at Thorfinn with wide eyes, something vulnerable swimming in his gaze. Then he pressed his lips together, still bitten and bloody, and looked away. He didn’t say anything. Thorfinn climbed out of his lap. His boxers felt uncomfortably sticky.
“Would it matter if I said yes?” Askeladd asked quietly, head bowed as in prayer.
“I don’t know,” Thorfinn answered honestly.
“I thought you didn’t hate me anymore,” Askeladd said. It sounded like an accusation.
“I don’t,” Thorfinn said. “I just don’t know if that’s enough to let myself love my father’s killer.”
Askeladd raised his head—his face struck with an emotion that looked too much like hurt. Thorfinn’s mark was on his neck, still bleeding.
“Thorfinn,” he said his name very, very softly.
“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t make it worse.”
Askeladd fell silent, and Thorfinn finished closing quietly.
His shift was over.