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Chapter Text

I stand behind the register, fighting the urge to slouch against the counter to alleviate the pain in my feet from standing up all day. I ought to spend the time sorting the bestseller shelf or do -something- productive, but I am beyond tired and past caring. Then the bell rings - the first time in thirty minutes - and in walks a very tall boy, clutching his blue backpack over one shoulder. He looks up at me, through his huge, rounded, 70s style glasses. He looks silly and beautiful at the same time. I have seen him before, but where?

"Hi," I exclaim brightly, awaiting his reaction before I proceed with my how-can-I-help-you spiel.

He looks at me for a good moment, as if he's surprised by my presence and subsequently forgot what he's doing in the bookstore. His feet are planted firmly on the ground, legs apart, hips square; his body seems to grow from the floor all the way to the tufts of his blonde hair nearly two meters above, like a tree: Impossible to knock over. His eyes are human though. Endlessly kind. Blue as the sky.

"How may I help you?" I try to give him my best retail-smile, but the form my face takes is probably a tad too honest and intrigued.

"Um... I'm looking for a birthday present for my brother.”

"Okay." I instantly remember how I know him: He is the brother of Laurits, the gender bending rebel who was one year behind me in school. Even after he moved to the city, people still talk about him and that time he held a speech dressed up as the conservative, -female- school director, in full bunad dress. Badass. His brother though is not so controversial.

"And I really don't know what to get them."

Laurits' brother was quiet. Unpopular. Heartbreakingly tender. What was his name?

"Do you know what he likes to read? What are his interests?" Something old fashioned. Like Valdemar. Mar...tin. Malte?

"They've been obsessed with Loke from nordic mythology lately. Says they're gonna change their name. But I'm not sure if he's being serious..." They? He throws me an awkward smile, that kind of turns my insides all mushy and warm.

Magne! It's Magne!

"Loke would be such a cool name, though. We do actually have this series about the nordic gods, but set in modern day. It's witty, bloody, chaotic..." As I'm babbling about the book, I gesture for him to follow me to the fiction shelves, concious of the feeling of his gaze on my back. "It's kind of like American Gods, if you know that one? But with more violence. But in a funny way." I pick out the first volume, a heavy hardback with a beautiful navy and gold cover.

"No, I don't know that one, but it does sound like something my brother would like." He concedes and accepts the book from me, taking with it what I thought I knew about my taste in men, as I look up into those kind eyes. I thought I liked tall, dark and handsome. At least that's what I've always found. Not blonde, square and awkward. He turns the book over in his hands, one square finger rising to push his glasses up, and then he settles his eyes back to me. "Have we met before? You look familiar."

"I went to secondary a year above you."

"Oh, that's right! You worked in the library - now I remember. Frida?"

"Yes. Magne."

He looks a bit taken aback that I know his name, but he quickly refocuses his attention to the book between his hands. I watch him stroking a thumb over the back of the book, perhaps noticing the difference in texture between the soft matte background and the glossy embossed lettering. I wait for him to come to a conclusion about the book, but he seems lost in thought.

"Do you want me to show you other options?”

He looks up. "No, no this is perfect." He hands me back the book, and when I turn to walk back to the register, he follows behind me.

"Is your brother coming home to Edda for their birthday, then?" I ask carefully while beginning to wrap the book in gift paper.

"No, my mom and I are visiting them in Oslo. I can't believe how 'adult' they are now."

"I know the feeling... My brother's having a baby, and he's only three years older than me. AND he moved away to Lillestrøm, making the whole thing feel unreal because we can't see each that often anymore, and I can't like..." I struggle to find the right words.

"Follow his every step up close, like when you all lived in Edda?" He suggests with a melancholy smile.

"Exactly," I sigh. "It's kind of sad, but I guess that's 'adulting'."

"Yeah..." He trails off. "I'm not sure it agrees with me."

I snort and he smiles, and I realise I forgot to ask him if he even wanted the book gift wrapped. "It'll be two fifty."

"What?" He asks dumbly.

"The book is 250 kroner."

"Oh, right." He fishes out his card and pays, before stuffing the wrapped present into his backpack. It looks like a school backpack. It's kind of endearing.

"I'll see you around, I guess-"

"Have a nice day."

He doesn't, however, come back to the store. I tell myself it's all the same. I'm just feeling lonely, that's why I constantly try to connect with people I don't even know. People I don't actually care about. And I'm just horny, I'm not really attracted to him. He just looked incredibly kind. Just made me feel good for a moment. That's all it was.

Chapter Text

I haven't had this much fun in a long time. Marit's laughter rings in my ears as we climb into a bright green cart and buckle up. I should be questioning her brilliant idea of riding the carousel immediately after finishing off two shots in the party tent. Suddenly the cart sets off and we're both squealing and trying to breathe and hold on at the same time. We fly by carneval goers at lightning speed with my laughter caught in the back of my throat from the exhilaration. When the ride comes come to a stop once more, everything's spinning and Marit has to hold on to me not to fall over. I lead us to the wonky rail lining the carousel, so we can catch our breath with the dignity of standing (mostly) upright.

"Let's do the haunted house now," she says while wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Not gonna happen, Marit. Besides I'm super hungry,“ I say while bending over the fence and taking a few deep breaths.

"Let's get churros."

I stand up carefully and look around for the churro stand, and my eyes catch on a big figure standing in line with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He turns to speak to someone, revealing those more-than-retro glasses and soft features.

"Hey Marit," I say while tapping her shoulder blindly, "am I having an aneurysm or is Magne Seier kind of hot now?"

She bursts out laughing. "Who? Where!?"

I point him out, where he's standing in front of the hotdog stand with a shorter woman. A jab of jealousy shoots through me, followed by apprehension of feeling like that for even a second, when I don't know him. On top of that the woman, considering her age (maybe 50), can't be his girlfriend. But I still wouldn't care if it were.

"You like him?”

"No... He came in the shop a few weeks ago, I just noticed," I cringe at my self, "that he seems to have grown a few sizes."

"And sports a manbun now," she adds. "Wait a minute; isn't he the brother of that guy who dressed up as the headmaster? On Constitution Day?"

"Yep."

"I've changed my mind," she interjects. "We're getting hotdogs."

"No, Marit. No! We're too drunk,” I try to sound serious, but it only comes out as nervous.

"Hey Magne!" She says, feigning surprise at seeing him, once we join the queue.

I feel the blood rising to my face, can almost see the whole thing in slow motion as he and his friend (mother?) turn around.

”Hey..."

"Marit," she offers.

"Frida,” he says in surprise when he sees me, and I'm turning even more red with every second.

"Hi Magne." How is he so sweet? "Hi," I greet the woman at his side.

"Hello. I'm Turid," she introduces herself and extends a hand to me with a warm handshake, then shakes Marit's hand. "Nice to meet you girls."

Marit giggles.

"This is my mom," Magne adds awkwardly.

The silence spreads uncomfortably and I feel like it's all my fault. So I ask the only question I can come up with: "Did Laurits have a nice birthday?“

"Yes. They loved the book, it was a great recommendation. Thank you."

"Good. And... Their name is still Laurits?"

"So far, yes."

The hotdog guy behind announces their food, and his mom turns around to pay for it.

"So..." Marit cuts in. "Do you want to come with us to the haunted house? Frida refuses to go with me alone, she's too much of a wuss. But if we were three..."

I feel an urge to elbow Marit in the ribs, but instead I open my mouth to-

"Haunted houses is not really my thing either, sorry," he says.

Good. That's good. His company wouldn't have convinced me to go anyways. That sour feeling in my gut as he turns away, is just the liquorice shots in my belly.

"I'll see you around," he adds looking uncomfortable as he shuffles off with his mom trailing behind.

"He brought his mom to the carneval," I state, not really having a point.

"Or his mom brought him," she counters. "He seems nice, Frida, just a bit, uhh... original," she finishes resolutely. "And anyways, going to the haunted house straight after eating is probably a recipe for disaster."

I wrinkle my nose at that thought, and hold on to the feeling of relief. I'm here to have fun with my best friend, not fret over fleeting things. We get our own food and drinks and it helps lessen my rumination. We walk through the carnival, looking at all the colorful lights and talking like we haven't seen each other in years. She tells me about her plans of moving to Trondheim, to be closer to university and all the social things she's been struggling to find time for while also commuting from Edda. She's been living at home to save the money, but now she's excited to move out. We set up plans for me to come visit her in the Harvest Holiday.

On the way back through the carnival we come upon two of her friends from volleyball practice, and she's ecstatic when she manages to rope them into trying the haunted house with her. I assure her, I'm more than happy to wait outside, that she should just go and get the adrenaline fix she's been craving. It's nice in fact to have a break from talking and listening as I stand outside the entrance, just scrolling through my phone. Actually I'm feeling about ready to go home. I don't pay attention to the worn, white sneakers edging into my field of vision until their owner speaks: "Are you waiting for your friend?"

I look up into Magne's eyes and once again get sucked into this strange energy he carries. I feel nervous and giddy, just like that. "Yes. She finally found someone to drag along to the haunted house."

"Good for her. Are -you- enjoying the carnival?"

I smile at his consideration. "I am, yes."

"Good," he states, followed by a pause, where I fight the urge to look down at my phone again the avoid this awkward limbo. "What's your favourite part?"

"Of the carnival?"

"Yeah."

"The carousel, I think. I like the fast rides..." I trail off, trying to think of something more to say. What are we even doing? I was sure he wasn't interested in me. "Um... What's yours?"

He lifts his gaze to loud squealing and sound of running footsteps behind us, then bows his head again and answers: "The haunted house. I like the company."

I blush all the way to my ears.

"Hey Magne!" Marit exclaims behind us. "Did you regret that awful decision to pass up the haunted tour?"

"No, I didn't," he tells her.

"Oh! I see," she waggles her eye brows in the silliest way, and she's impossible not to laugh at. "Well, now you have the chance of joining all of us in the party tent!" She starts off along her tour companions. "Woo! I'm high on adrenaline!"

"Actually," I interject, "I think I'm going to head home now."

"Nooooo," she whines and drags herself back to me, and throws her arms around me. "I've had so much fun, Frida."

"Me too," I give her a proper hug. "And I'll see you soon."

She lingers for the longest time, then pulls back with a smile, waggling her finger at Magne behind us: "Let me guess, you aren't joining the party train either?"

"No, I'm good."

"Yeah, that's what I thought..." She shakes her head at him, heading back towards the party tent where her friends are already entering.

"I'm going home too." He adds from beside me. "Just wanted to say goodbye."

"Oh. Goodbye," I parrot like an idiot. I don't usually feel this nervous with guys. Even with ones I really like.

"We could walk together some of the way?" He looks at me unfased, making me blush. Again. Who was the awkward one?

"Sure."

We start off, none of us saying a word until we're out of the crowds; the jolly tunes and the blinking lights left behind. It feels so good to have the cool wind on my face again, my eyes relaxing in the darkness only lit up by the warm light of the streetlamps. Normally I feel paranoid walking in town when it's dark, but there's none of that with Magne walking beside me. It feels curius, walking like this with a near stranger. I have to urge to know him better; for example know why he is even walking me home right now? Is he flirting with me? Or he just that altruistic kind of person to always offer his help? Why isn't he saying anything? Minutes pass like this and soon we're already half way to my flat.

"So, how was Oslo?" It's the only thing I can come up with to ask about.

"It was okay. I like Edda better."

I scoff. "I feel like we're supposed to be sick of Edda and want to move to Oslo or Trondheim like everybody else, and study something we're passionate about, and have the best days of our lives, and I just-" I stop myself from spiralling into my existential angst. "I agree. Edda is really nice."

"I know the feeling," he replies softly. "Sometimes I feel like I'm the younger brother, because Laurits is so far ahead... moving away and pursuing their dreams, meeting lots of new people, and I feel a little left behind...I don't even know what my dreams are."

I reach out and loop my hand through his arm to comfort him, belatedly realising it might be misinterpreted, but also feeling really warm when he doesn't pull away or comment on it.

"Me neither. I only took the full time position in the bookstore, because I don't know what else to do. Marit has always known what she wanted. I envy her that."

"Well... The bookstore is better than working in Spar."

I smile. "Well, it's nice to know I'm not alone."

"Hm. You're sure you want to put yourself in the same boat as me? My uncool might rub off on you."

I laugh, a little taken aback by his self insight. Then I realise that he just hit the nail on the head, regarding how I feel about him. What do I say?

“This is me," I exclaim, gesturing to the block of houses ahead.

He stops walking, effectively forcing me to turn and face him. He smiles carefully. "I really enjoyed spending this time with you tonight."

I muster a friendly smile and force myself not to blush. How does he say things like that, like it's the most natural thing in the world? Like it doesn't make him super vulnerable. Fuck if it doesn't make me feel so good, though.

"Uh yeah, me too."

"Good," he establishes. "I'll see you around, then."

I watch him walk off, once again noticing his large frame, how he hunches over just slightly, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and moves like Atlas; like he'll be walking down my street everyday for an eternity.

Chapter Text

After spending the next few day with Magne constantly on my mind, I decide to look him up on Facebook. It is not so easy. I end up finding him through his mother's friend list, since he doesn't have his picture on his profile (instead he has a "No planet B" sticker) and he has no public content. Like zero. I click 'add friend' before I can overthink it, then get back to planning my groceries. I try to find him on Instagram, but give up almost immediately. I doubt he's on there.

He doesn't accept my friend request that day. Nor the next. Nor after a week has passed. I try not to feel rejected, since all signs point to him never using Facebook anyway. But my emotions don't respond to logic apparently. To my mortification, I discover that I kind of miss him. Is it even possible to miss someone you don't really know? I consider for a moment showing up in Spar to talk to him, and just having that thought is sobering. I'm not a stalker. And I don't have a crush on him. I'm just lonely and he's the only... emotionally available option left in Edda. He's not my type. He's weird.

Then one day at work as I'm carrying a stack of board games from the basement for the carts outside, I hear his voice carry through the store. I follow it, stepping into view of the register and it -is- him; in his blue denim jacket and baggy jeans and his stupid glasses and I just... miss him? And I feel upset with him for not seeking -me- out to help him buy whatever he's buying, and I feel upset with my colleague for stealing him from me. I don't speak up, I wouldn't know what to say, and I don't move away either. When he turns around it's already too late for me to hide, so I just watch as he spots me.

"Hi," he gives a little melancholy smile.

"Hi."

"How are you?"

I can't hold his gaze. "The same." I shrug and wait for him to pack his new Tangle in his bagpack. "You?"

"The same," he says and trails after me outside, where I carefully dump the games into the little cart. He heaves his backpack further up on his shoulder.

"I'll se-"

"There's som-"

We speak at the same time, both stopping to give the other space. I look at his face, trying to extract from it whatever he was going to say.

"Yes?” He promts.

"There's just something I wanted to say. Nothing important, it's uh... Last week you said something about, if I wanted to be in the same boat as you, something about your uncool rubbing off on me?”

I try to sound casual, and I think I manage well enough, but I can't look him in the eye.

"Yeah?"

"I don't know if you were being retorical, I just wanted to say... I don't mind." I keep my eyes fixed on the games. "In fact." I move one box to make better room. "It's kind of nice."

He doesn't answer. I move another box, that doesn't need moving. I fiddle with the sign, making it stand straight. But in the end, when he still doesn't answer, I have to turn to face him, to have some type of idea of his reaction. He just looks neutral; his mouth closed, watching me quietly.

"Do you want to come visit me?" He says like it's no big deal. "I just moved into my own apartment."

Holy shit, he just asked me on a date. Right?

But do I? Want to visit him? The slow smile creeping up on the corner of my mouth answers that for me. "Yeah. I'd like that."

"Great. Can I have your number?“

“Why don't you just find me on Facebook or Insta like a normal person?“ I joke.

He furrows his brows. "What makes you think I even know how to use the internet?"

A chuckle escapes all the way from my belly and I feel lighter for it. I tell him my number, and needlessly finish up stacking the cart.

"What did you need?" I ask even though I already know.

"Need?"

"From the store," I clarify.

"Oh, a new Tangle," he looks down at his hand curling around the non-present toy, like a phantom limb. "It's a miracle my old one lasted as last long as it did."

"Yes, I can image with your-" big, clumsy, strong hands.

"With my what?"

I need to change the subject. Tangle. "You have ADHD?“

"ADD."

"Okay." I shrug. I'm not nervous. "I don't."

He smiles at that. "I have to get to work. I'll text you."

I unsuccessfully supress my grin. "Okay. See you."

Chapter Text

The walk to his apartment is less than 10 minutes. I wonder how he has set himself up, hopefully he has chairs and a dining table, and we won't have to eat sitting on the floor. Hopefully he has a bed. I reach his building and the door is open like he said. My heart rattles uncomfortably in my chest, reaching a frantic state as I'm climbing the stairs. My hands feel sweaty. What the hell am I doing? Are we going to have sex? I catch my breath for a minute, as I try to push away these anxiety inducing thoughts. I knock on his front door. Does it smell burnt?

The door swings open and there he is; solid, real and smiling nervously at me. "Come in."

I step inside and it's cold. Doesn't he have heating? Then I notice the windows are open. He shows me where to put my shoes and coat.

"Is there still smoke in here?"

"What?"

"I feel like such an idiot, but... Let me get the window," he slams the window shut again and does up the latch. "I wanted to try cooking something new. It burnt. I ordered pizza. I'm so sorry." He looks deflated.

"It doesn't matter," I shrug.

He runs his hands through his hair. Twice.

"Magne," I say, trying to catch his evasive eyes. "I didn't come here for your food. I came here for your company." I walk up to him, seized by the need to comfort him, so I wrap my arms around his middle, lifting my chin to rest on his shoulder.

He sighs; sags against me and hugs me back. "I do know how to cook. Just so you know... Passably."

"Sure." I really don't care, instead I'm wondering how I got myself in this situation so quickly. I don't ever want to let go of him ever again, but at the same time I can't get away from this hug quickly enough.

He turns his head, and now I can sense his breath causing the faintest brush against my neck, and suddenly I feel tense. It's too intimate for me. I'm caught up in this back and fourth of wanting to stay and wanting to pull away, that I don't react except to fist his shirt in my hands.

"Are you okay?” He asks halfway into my hair.

"Mmhhm," I lie. I haven't been okay for a long while, I just didn't realise it before he showed up in my life. Now I know exactly what I don't have.

Thankfully he lifts his arms and I assume he's finally going to pull away from this limbo hug, but then he proceeds to wrap his arms -properly- around me and it kind of knocks my breath away. I'm standing in Magne Seier's cold, smokey kitchen, locked in an awkward embrace, and he's not going anywhere and he's so warm against my chest and he's breathing into my hair now and it kind of makes me want to cry a little. What is my life? I cling to his shirt, and I think an inappropriate amount of time passes.

Suddenly someone's knocking on the door and I almost yelp in surprise. Magne lets his arms drop and turns around to greet the person, who turns out to be the pizza guy. In the meantime I turn myself around twice on the spot, not knowing what to do with myself, then decide to go lean against the kitchen counter. I see the table set with plates and cutlery and even candlelights and I almost can't bear it. I cringe internally. I watch him set the food on the table, considering everything for a second.

"Hungry?"

"Yes." I feel famished actually. All these emotions are like running a mental marathon.

We split the pizzas, and thankfully he doesn't use the cutlery, allowing me to do the same, and I feel a tad less anxious with every bite. He talks a bit about the new kitchen, particularly his oven, that he's not satisfied with, but mostly we eat in comfortable silence. I observe him whenever he isn't looking. I think I need to stop kidding myself that I'm too cool for him, and that he looks awkward, because I'm so... Caught up in him. I want to smack myself in the face. I feel so ridiculous.

"I like your dress. You look cute," he states as if he's come to a conclusion after thinking about it for a long time.

I blush all the way to my toes, even though I try not to. How the fuck does he just say stuff like that?

"Thanks," I mutter, before shutting myself up with another bite of the cheesy mushroom pizza.

I kind of want to tell him how beautiful he looks in return. The way his blue eyes almost sparkle when he smiles, and how his jawline is so square and strong I find it difficult to not stare at it. But I don't know how to word any of it. How do I tell him his smile melts my insides with a frightening efficiency? That those wide, thin framed glasses look so silly and beautiful on him, it makes me feel bubbly. That just thinking about his hands makes me shiver.

"I-uh... You look..." I drop my gaze and finish cautiously, my cheeks burning: "Good."

"I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I'd like to spend more time with you."

"Oh - okay."

"Get to know you. If you'd like that."

"Um yes." I keep my head tilted down. My face feels so hot. I hope he doesn't notice. Is he flirting with me? He sounds so formal.

How do I flirt with him?

Once I'm done with my pizza I thank him and ask for the bathroom, while he busies himself cleaning up the kitchen. I check myself in the bathroom mirror, check my teeth and my mascara, my whole body thrumming with expectation. I want him so badly, I'm not sure I can wait until the third date, or whatever that rule from the movies is. I'm not sure I can wait until the end of this one.

I walk back into the living room, where he sits at the table again with his tangle in one hand and a small stack of board games next to him.

"I thought we could play a game?" He suggests. "Or we could watch a movie."

"I like playing board games." It feels like my voice is shaking. I eye the stack of games. "How about The Mind?"

"Sure. You know how to play?" He asks as he puts down the tangle and starts unpacking the game.

"Yeah." I watch those sturdy hands as they deal the cards.

Five minutes later we've already lost the game thrice, and Magne smiles overbearingly at my exasperation.

"You're too cautious!"

"You're too impatient," he counters with a smile. "Thirty is a big distance."

I sigh at him, but I'm smiling soo broadly, he cannot mistake it for actual annoyance.

I gather the cards and hand them to him, and the ways his fingertips skirt over my skin doesn't seem accidental. I look up into his eyes to confirm it, my hand still hovering between us, electrified. He looks back at me intently as he returns his hand to mine and strokes the pad of his thumb over my palm. I suck in a breath, struck with desire like lightning zapping through my body. He observes me calmly as his hand cradles mine and with his thumb he strokes the same spot twice, thrice- I stand up. My chair skids against the floor, rumbling like thunder, and without extracting my hand from his, I move around the table. We stare at each other, curious and intense, and when I stand in front of him, he scoots back his chair as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Inviting me in. The fingers of my other hand itch to touch him and without further thought, I lean in and let them sink into his shoulder, so broad and warm and real.

He doesn't stop me, but he observes me keenly.

"Can I..." I bend down, slowly bringing my face closer to his until I feel his breath fanning my lips. I kiss him, warm and soft, then pull back to see his reaction. His lips part; his focus now on my mouth. It makes me feel bold. I lean back in and kiss him, slower this time, deeper and wetter than before. It feels so fucking good. His hand gently settles against my lower back. I try to keep my breathing noises under control, but when I suddenly feel his tongue against the inside of my lip, I moan embarrassingly loudly. His hand on my back urges me closer and, fuck it, I sit down on his lap, front to front, and this time it is him, who moans. I feel delirious with it, certain I have never been so turned on in my life, I think I might be soaking through my underwear.

He turns his head away and gasps: "Wait a second."

I pause automatically, but then decide to ignore him, to see what he'll do. I'm plastered to him, every important bit of my body pressed against every bit of his larger one. I lift my hand to run my fingers through his soft hair, turning my lips to a spot just below his ear. I let my breath ghost over it, before- he gently pushes my shoulder away, prying me off him.

We stare unreservedly at each other. He opens his mouth to say something, but no sound comes out. Those lips that felt so warm and welcoming are now slightly puffy and red. His eyes alight with excitement. His chest moves rapidly to the rhythm of his breathing. I wonder if I'm the same.

"Stand up."

"Why?" Why on earth would I do that? What a terrible idea.

"I want to talk."

I don't react, baffled as I am with this situation I've gotten myself into. He doesn't want to?

"Sit back in your chair, please." He looks calmer now. But I'm pretty sure he's hard underneath me.

I finally do what he says, extracting myself from his lap, but not without a good amount of sighing. He doesn't say anything for a while. I sit down opposite him again, and proceed to look anywhere but at him. I cross my arms. What the fuck is he getting at? Does he want me to leave?

"I want to have sex with you."

Oh my god, he is really weird. I squirm in my seat.

"Me...me too." So why did he stop?

"It would be my first."

"Oh. Okay." I kind of figured he might be a virgin. I stay quiet, not feeling as forthcoming. But he has other plans for me.

"And you?"

I really try to sit still. But I want less talking, and more touching. This is horrifically awkward. "Same." I look at the stack of playing cards on the table.

"I thought you might be."

I scoff, but still can't lift my eyes to his.

"We should go slow. I have condoms - you okay with that?"

I nod, blushing. All my bravado is gone. I feel so vulnerable. But also incredibly horny.

He is silent again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him adjusting in his seat. I curl my toes tightly against the floor. I really want to touch him. Everywhere.

"Do you want to come and sit in my lap again?" He suggests.

I nod, like an idiot. Then I stand up on my seriously shaky legs and round the table. He steadies me with his hands on my hips as I gingerly sink my weight onto him again, both of us breathing heavily. Being pressed against him is heaven. My entire body tingles and lights up with pleasure.

"Will you look at me?" He asks.

I slide my arms around his neck and lean back to look at him. His blue eyes are electric. I lose my breath.

"Hi there," he says with the slightest smile playing on his lips.

"Hi," I sigh, then break out in a cautious smile.

Then he leans in and kisses me, carefully at first, then with hunger. Strength. I curl my fingers into his skin and press closer. I feel his spit cooling on my upper lip as he licks against my tongue. I feel his erection against my cunt and a strange whine escapes my throat.

He reaches a hand out to steady himself on the table, while pressing me close with the other. "Hold on, little one," he mumbles, then stands.

I lock my legs around his considerable waist, and bury my face in his neck, closing my eyes. I can guess where he's taking us.

A door is pushed open and I'm carried into a dark room, the only light coming from the doorway. Then he awkwardly lowers us to a soft bed, lifting me further backwards before releasing me. I slide my hands over the cool, soft duvet I'm cocooned in and let my legs fall open around his waist. I feel less embarrassed with the dark. He is running his hands from my hips down my legs, still hunched over me, only separated by a thin layer of fabric.

"I think you are the prettiest and sweetest girl I have ever met."

I feel happy. Easier.

"I like you, Magne. I really, really like you."

I shift around to drag up my dress and pull it over my head, then struggle to resist the urge to cover the skin I just exposed.

He leans down, making me suck in a breath as his lips touch my stomach. I grab his hair tightly, while, on its own accord, my body squirmes underneath him. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my tights and pulls everything down, at a torturously slow pace, while pecking the exposed skin.

After my bottoms have joined my dress on the floor, his warm hands start roaming across my skin. I feel helpless to the way my legs and hips and breasts press into his touch wherever it goes, especially when he mumbles "amazing", or "so perfectly soft," under his breath.

But he is still fully dressed, and it's really not good enough, so I reach as far past his hulking shoulders as I can, grab two fistfuls of t-shirt at his back. I pull it off, trying not to choke him in the process. Once I succeed, I immediately go for his jeans, and he mercifully stops touching me, in order to divest of them himself, while I pull off my bralette.

Then all at once, we are both completely naked in his bed room. His hand on my thigh slides closer, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin. Then suddenly his fingers are there, slipping into my heat, and I grip his wrist, wanting to force him closer or tear him away, I'm not sure.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

His finger pushes inside me and it feels weird. Not bad, just... foreign. And then. It feels good. Too good, like I can't really fathom it, like how I imagine taking a drug for the first time feels like.

"More," I demand of him, needing to find out where this sensation leads.

I whine, probably sounding pathetic, desperately clutching at this feeling of weightlessness, clutching at his wrist. His thumb presses against my clit, and I lift my pelvis into his hand.

"More," I moan, desperate for my release that's just millimeters away. I reach for him, blindly, needy.

"You really like that."

"Yes," I sob. "More."

He holds me down with his other hand, while working me diligently, fucking me with his finger, hitting something so good inside me and somehow I manage to reach that peak faster than ever before, doubling over, clutching his hand so hard, I worry if I'm hurting him. And as soon as I am able to move my muscles again, I crawl into his embrace, urging him down into the bed so I can lie on top of him, pressed against him as the violent waves of pleasure slow down. I kiss every bit of his skin that I can reach from my position, panting loudly.

"Shh..."

I realise that he is shushing me.

"Easy now, little one."

I realise, that maybe that was a bit selfish of me. It just happened so fast.

"I've got you."

I realise that he is still hard beneath me, and I roll my hips against him at the raw pleasure.

"I want you." I do it again, roll my cunt against his bare skin, while kissing his neck. "I want more."

"You're being a little demanding, aren't you?"

"Sorry," I reply unthinkingly. My focus is on the way the skin of his neck vibrates against my lips when he talks.

"That's okay."

"Tell me what to do." I don't mean to be bossy, I just want to know how I can please him. How did he know what to do?

"Well fuck... Maybe you could straddle me more, and-" he stops talking in favour of watching me sit up, straddling him properly. I roll my hips again, this time directly against his erection and I'm still so sensitive, my clit feels swollen, and he groans underneath me. His hands grasp my hips, following their movements as I do it again.

"Fuuck," he curses, squeezing his eyes shut. "Enough."

I try moving again, answering to the building need in my belly, but his fingers dig into my skin, keeping me in check. Immobilized.

"If you want more, I suggest you find the condoms in the top drawer, before it's too late."

I giggle before climbing off him and reaching for his night stand, where I find a row of condoms. I break one off and carefully open it. He reaches out his palm, and I figure I better let him do it, or I'll just embarrass myself, so I place the rubber in his hand. I can't help but watch. Watch his stiff, bobbing cock as he rolls it on. His hands don't make it look small, in fact it looks... Big. Significantly larger than the finger that was just inside me. Maybe it's going to take a few tries.

"Come," he breaks through my haze, and I blink, following his lead blindly. "Do you think you need me to open you op a little bit more?" He suggests.

I nod dumbly, feeling my cunt gush at his words. He carefully inserts two fingers, stretching me slowly, making me whine a little from the pinching pain. I grab hold of his wrist as I did before.

He reaches that same sport as he did before, and suddenly I can't hold myself upright anymore, bracing myself on his warm chest so I don't collapse completely.

"More."

He smirks to himself. He doesn't look like a virgin now, he looks like he knows exactly what he is doing, as his thumb swipes my clit, his other hand trying to keep me somewhat still.

"I can take it now." The truth is I have no idea, but I just don't want to wait anymore to know what it feels like.

"Okay." He pulls out his fingers. "Can you sit up?"

I do, already missing the close skin to skin contact. But it means I have a perfect view of his soft, muscled form and his red lips and his hand fisted around his cock.

I lift up on my knees, my hands still on his chest, so I don't topple over from the lightheadedness. I search him out, feeling on instinct exactly where I need to press down.

"Go slow, little one. I think you're still very tight."

I don't go slow: I bear down on him, putting in not an insignificant amount of pressure, before the head slides inside me, and my pained moan is swallowed by his grunt. His hands shift to my hips, holding me firmly.

"Does it hurt?"

"Mm," I answer honestly, before bearing down further, chasing that - good - feeling.

"Then go slower. And try to relax."

It's impossible to relax. I'm brimming, tensing, wound up from the delicious stretch, and all I can think of is 'more'. I bear down again, feeling it slide further inside me, impossibly tight.

"I want to make you feel good," I say unguardedly.

He groans. "You are, sweetie, you are." He breathes, his brows furrowing as he brings me pleasure like I didn't know was possible. "You feel so amazing around my cock," he breathes, closing his eyes in bliss. "I would like to feel you orgasm while you're sitting on me."

I can't help but squirm from his words, running my hands all over his chest, whining in frustration that I can't fit all of it inside me like I want to.

"Shh..." He opens his eyes, and adjusts his hand so he can thumb my clit again, making me squirm and shake even more. My thighs muscles burn, my entire body is electric, and I want more.

"More." I bear down, but I'm stuck, so instead I lift up, and let gravity push him back inside.

"Fuck, sweetie, I'm close. Can you come one more time? Because I ask you to?"

His politeness feels obscene, even as I begin to bounce as well as I can, on the length of him that will fit inside. His left hand slides towards my boob, which he palms with reverence, while his gentle message of my clit becomes uncoordinated.

"You're so pretty. Your breasts are so beautiful when they bounce like that. I'm sorry I'm too big for you. We'll make it fit next time, because I don't think I can-" and his stream of consciousness stops, and his face crumbles, as he comes inside me.

I push myself down, squeeze my thighs around him, and rub my clit, my eyes shut tight, and I finally manage to orgasm again, almost uncomfortably but so, so good. I lie down on top of him as my spasms ebb out. His arms hug me to him. I am so hot and clammy. He is so hot and clammy. I rest my head on his shoulder.

We catch our breaths, while I cling to him, feeling elated, but vulnerable. His hands stroke soothingly down the expanse of my back.

"Hm," I hum.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm." I roll off him and onto the mattress.

"Don't go," he whispers.

"I'm not. It's just," I cautiously search out his hand in the darkness, "so hot."

He promptly rolls away. The bed creaks and shifts. Then I hear the window open. Once he returns next to me, finding my hand again, I feel the cold breeze on my forehead.

"Ahh, that's good!"

He shifts beside me, and I don't bother with anything except holding his hand and feeling that wind cool me down. He edges closer, heat radiating off him, and then I feel his fingers play with my hair. I turn to look at him, his face barely visible in the low light from the door behind me.

He looks back at me like I am a goddess. "I want to stay here with you forever."

"You're so honest, Magne."

He shrugs. "Things are hard enough without also having to pretend I'm something I'm not."

I frown, not liking the idea of things being hard on him. I wonder what he struggles with?

"You're right."

The freezing temperatures outside quickly manage to make me shiver and want to crawl underneath the covers. If he wants me to stay?

He does though. He just said.

He wordlessly gets up and shuts the window again. I scoot under my duvet. He pauses by the bed.

I lift the duvet on his side in invitation. "You said something about staying forever?"

He smiles and lies back down and immediately scoots over to my side and pulls me into his arms. I rest my head on his bicep. I can't believe what I just did. What WE did. I'm not a virgin anymore. I'm sore. It happened so fast. I grab his hand and sort of hug it against my chest.

"I like the sound of that."

He kisses my temple.

"So... what's your favourite movie?"