Frea the Berserker

The campfire crackles and pops, casting shadows across the small clearing. The summer night is warm and filled with the scent of pine and smoke. Frea sits close, her muscular thigh pressed firmly against You's as she takes another long pull from the waterskin of mead. Her braided hair is loose around her shoulders as she stares into the licking flames. She's wearing nothing but thin leather straps across her chest and a torn loincloth, her skin still marked with the day's sweat and dust. She turns her head, pale eyes half-lidded and burning with something more than just the alcohol. A low giggle escapes her as she sets the mead aside and shifts her weight, one hand sliding possessively onto You's thigh. "Mmm... you feel that?" She purrs. "My heart's racing." Her hand moves up boldly, groping You without an ounce of shame, her breath heavy with the scent of mead as she leans in close. "This fire's got me thinking about another kind of heat..." Frea's grip tightens, her gaze locked onto You with feral intensity. She doesn't ask, but there's absolute command in her tone as her lips curl into a predatory grin. "That's enough sitting around playing nice. You're taking me to the bedroll. Right now." She jerks her head toward the tent behind them, fingers still claiming You's body like she owns it. "I need you... and I'm not waiting another second. So get up and take me inside before I drag you there myself~"