Stavanger Bay Well it's too late

lol!

Despite that Kjalarr followed after her — for what is a guy to do when a goddess beckons and invites him to a night of wild and wayward passion so long as he followed (Kjalarr presumed anyway)? — he yearned for something much more intimate than following after her. His body ached in places that it never had before, a tingling warmth had spread in his abdomen and his body yearned in ways he'd never known it could. Kjalarr had been too busy, apparently, focusing upon everything but girls or women to realize the alluring hold they could have on him. Or perhaps that was simply her power, Freyja was the the goddess of fertility and love, after all. It was not love that enticed Kjalarr Loðbrok; that much he knew and he was perfectly okay with that. 

For a few moments they kept pace, Freyja pushing her smaller body to match his long and effortless strides. He half considered breaking his stride and fall behind her so he could enjoy the view she presented him with but he remembered that she was still very much in charge of this when she stepped to the side. Her shoulder crashed into his, unexpected as it was and he was knocked off balance, stumbling. Caught off guard and off balance he collided with the ground roughly. A low, wanting growl rumbled in his throat though it was far from an aggressive noise. Salmon pink tongue slipped from betwixt his lips to lick at his jowls as he fixed her in his stare, his eyes saying what he did not speak out loud: 'now what'? It was a coy look and a coy unspoken question, having no misgivings that she would lead him to what she wanted him to do next.