He bit into a leg of roasted goat, the juices from its meat dripping down his chin. Whipping the lquid from his chin he glanced over his shoulder at them, "You have my word, I won't do anything to you that you won't like." Björn ran his hands through his medium length hair, brushing the top length back and noticing he needed to trim the shorter sides.
The seemingly eldest of the women peered at him wearily, but held up her hands towards him. Staring at the trio from over his shoulder, his lower lip pouted with boredom. Björn set the meat back onto the plate and shook the crumbs from his hand, sighed, then turned on his heel and approached the women on his bed.
They all shook, trembling while he untied the ropes around each of their wrists. He set the ropes down on the nightstand beside the bed. Each woman rubbed their wrists and surprisingly thanked him, although quietly. He kicked his leather boots off, pushing them beneath his bed and stretched.
His olive skin was pulled taut over his lean body. The rippling tissue flexing beneath his skin, with cool air teasing his flesh and causing his dark hair to stand mildly erect. Light dustings of hair was sprinkled over his chest, even more prominent on his detailed forearms.
An even more delectable site was the trail of courser hair that started at his navel and droplets of water continued to tickle down his abdomen. Björn's body was not the only thing that was appealing to those women who met him, it was his mesmerizing deep blue eyes, resembling the swirling colors of the deep mystical ocean.
His dark brows were sloped down in a serious expression, his lips drawn into a tight frown. Yet his lips were ripe and perfect for kissing. His chiseled nose was long, centered between his evenly spaced, prominent eyes and long lashes. With his dampened hair, he once again ran his hands through the messy length on top and scratched at the shaven sides.
"Move over lassies." he said, gesturing them to move out of his way. "You're on my bed, and if I'm not going to be able to touch you lot: I'll be going to sleep. I've had my fill of meat and ale, I'm tired."
The women shuffled to the side and foot of the bed, allowing him to lazily crawl onto his sheets. He stretched out and rested on his back, his head cradled by his pillow. Björn exhaled slowly, trying to relax when there were three very tempting prizes ever so close to him.
He caught their gazes drifting to the plates of food across the room, all while a conveniently timed grumble echoed from one of the girls stomachs. He couldn't help but chuckle as he watched one of the girls clutch her stomach, her pale cheeks flushing pink. He gestured towards the excess food, "Help yourselves."
The three of them all glanced at the direction of the table, eyeing the mouthwatering food yet none of them moved to stand and approach the food. He heard yet another grumble from one of their stomachs and sighed, pushing himself up from his mattress. The women all gasped, flinching backwards at his sudden movement.
Once again he rolled his eyes at them, but stood back up and crossed the tent to the table. He picked up a loaf of rye bread and a bowl of plums, carrying them back to the bed where he handed them to the women. They accepted the food hesitantly, watching as he returned to lay on his back on the bed.
"You're not going to do anything?" one woman asked, breaking the bread into thirds and sharing it amongst themselves. They each claimed a plum, chewing on the bread and fruit as though it was their first meal in days.
"Aye."
They looked at one another, and then at the doorway to his tent. They were contemplating on fleeing from his tent, and he knew it was not a good idea to try such a thing. He could warn them, but he would not stop them. His men were drunk on wine and war, they would see the women and do to them what he refused to do.
The women seemed to realize that as well after a moment of whispering amongst each other, settling down at the end of his bed and clinging to their meal. He listned half heartedly to their nervous whispers, shielding his eyes with his forearm from the candlelight beside his bed. His night would be incredibly long is this is how he would spend it. Three lovely ladies staring at him, tempting him, while he simply wanted to sleep.
"Who are you?" one of the women asked.
"Björn." He answered without opening his eyes.
This one reached for another plum, "Björn who?"
He sighed, "The son of Eskil, if you know of me, you'll know me by that."
Bjorn heard a loud gasp escape the lips of the youngest, "I've heard of you!" she said. "My cousin told me stories about you that he'd heard during his travels!" She looked at the two ladies beside her, "My cousin Bo, you remember him yes? Oh he would tell me all sorts of tales, a commander of armies, a master of arms, he would always tell me of your great accomplishments in battle. The undefeated Bjorn, master of the armies of Roldheim, they call you a dragon!"
The frightened expression lit up with surprise and curiosity on the youngest, while the other two seemed to appear less weary. "Are you really as strong as the rumors say you are? Bo said your feats of strength are legendary, something of myth."
Björn smirked at them, flashing his dimples while slowly opening his eyes, constricting his reptilian pupils at them. "Perhaps."
"Is he the one Bo said was the," she covered the young woman's ear and whispered. To which she smiled and nodded excitedly.
The women seemed to visibly relax and approached him out of curiosity once they knew his name. His reputation was not one a woman needed to fear, he knew that, as did they. If they were a man, a warrior, an enemy: then they would have every right in the world to be afraid.
Björn was not typically a threat to women, he was their friend and their lover. He had heard of the heated rumors that spread about his lovemaking, it was something that fueled his self-esteem. It was also something that made women flock to his bed seeking his attention. During his time in the cities, he was never short a bed mate.